#even WORSE than his own abusive parents. I hope he goes to bed every night crying and knowing exactly how he went wrong and still being | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thetravelerwrites · 3 years

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Bashir (Troll) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Human/Male Troll (World of Warcraft Design) Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Troll, Fake Dating, Hired Boyfriend, Fake Boyfriend Content Warnings: Stalker Ex-Boyfriend, Stalking, Mention of Guns, Brief Violence Series: OkCryptid Words: 6365

A commission for @floral-and-fine! A woman getting out of a bad relationship has moved across her home state to get away from her controlling ex-boyfriend, only for him to show up at her job. Scared, she goes on OkCryptid to recruit a "boyfriend" in hopes of frightening him off. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

>Hi. I know we don’t know each other and this is pretty sudden, but I have a proposition for you, and it isn’t what you think.

Vague, yes, but it would catch his attention quickly enough, you thought. You were desperate and didn’t know what else to do.

>Oh, He messaged not long after. >What would that be?

>I want to pay you to go out with me for a while.

>I’m not a prostitute. Lol

>That’s not what I mean, You replied, rolling your eyes. >I know this sounds weird, and if I had more money I’d probably just hire a bodyguard, but I don’t.

>Why would you need a bodyguard?

You sighed. >I have a stalker ex-boyfriend. I dated him for about five months, but he was really possessive and crazy so I broke it off, and now he won’t leave me alone. I moved here last month from across the state and he followed me. He showed up at my work today.

>Ah, I see. So you want me to rip his arms off?

>No, I just want him to see me with someone who is big enough to rip his arms off. Maybe it’ll scare him away. You’re the biggest guy I could find on here. Well, I did find a cyclops that was pretty big, but she wasn’t interested.

>Have you gone to the police about this?

>Yeah, but they said unless I get proof he has intent to do harm, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even get a restraining order unless he hurts me or causes property damage. It’s like he has to beat me up before they’ll do anything, and I’d rather not let it get that far.

>Gotcha. Why don’t we don’t meet for coffee tomorrow and talk it over?

>That sounds great. I’m free at lunch.

>Me too. I’ll meet you at Leo’s Diner, you know that one?

>No, but I can Google it. See you tomorrow at 11.

Bashir arrived right on time at eleven the next morning. He was a large troll, dark blue in color, with large, off-white tusks jutting out from the sides of his mouth and his long red hair braided in several placed and pulled back at the nape of his neck. He was muscular, thick in the waist, and around nine feet tall. He wore a suit, which was finely tailored to his body. You raised your eyebrows: his profile was sparse, so you didn’t know what kind of job he did; you’d only chosen him because of his picture. But dressed like that, you were surprised he even agreed to take this “job.”

“Hi, you’re the one I’m supposed to meet today, right?” He said, extending his hand.

“Yes,” You replied, standing and shaking his hand. Your hand was dwarfed in his. “Thanks for agreeing.”

“It’s no trouble,” He said, gesturing for you to sit back down as he took a seat opposite you. “So tell me about this boyfriend of yours.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” You said. “His name is Jake. I met him at work; we worked in the same department. He seemed nice, so when he asked me out, I didn’t think anything of saying yes. The first two months was fine, and were got along really well. As soon as we decided to be exclusive, he got really clingy really quickly. Every time I’d try to pull away, he’d clutch at me tighter. He started pressuring me to put distance between me and my friends, he wanted to know where I was all the time, he was constantly texting and calling and got mad when I didn’t respond right away. I got sick of it and broke up with him.”

“When did the stalking start?”

“Almost immediately. It didn’t help that we still worked in the same department, so I had to see him every day. He’d show up at my house after work and on the weekend. He’d either be super angry and demand that I let him in, or he’d be there with flowers and candy and cry and tell me that I was the best thing that ever happened to him, that he was sorry and he’d do better. He kicked my door in a couple of times and I had to call the police. I finally managed to get a restraining order against him, but it didn’t really help. He couldn’t come within five hundred feet, so he would stand on the curb exactly five hundred feet from my house and just watch the house. I was scared for my life. So I quit my job and moved across the state with just my savings. I found a job and I started last week. And yesterday, they said I had a new client, and it was him.”

“What did you do?”

“I freaked out and called security, telling them I had a restraining order against him. He mistakenly thinks the restraining order is void because I moved, but I called and that’s not the case at all.” You sighed in aggravation. “I really hope this asshole doesn’t get me fired.”

“Hmm,” He said. “So what’s your offer?”

“Hmm?” You asked.

“You said you’d pay. What’s your offer?”

“Oh,” You said, surprised. “Uh, fifty bucks per date, plus the date expenses. I can’t really afford more than that.”

“That sounds fair. Okay,” He said. “I’ll do it. You just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

“Really?” You replied. “You’ll take the job?”

“Sure,” He said. “I’ve got some free time, and the extra money will be nice. I could buy a new suit in a month.” He grinned and plucked at his own, no doubt worth several months of dates.

“That’s great, thank you,” You said, sighing in relief. “So, Friday night? Around six o’clock? Would that work?”

“Absolutely,” He said, pulling out his phone. “Give me your phone number. I’ll add it to my contacts. That way, if you see him, you can call or text and I can head over and do the arm ripping thing.”

You laughed and took out your phone.

After exchanging information, the two of you had lunch and discussed the finer points of the job. PDAs were acceptable, but you’d prefer if he didn’t kiss you. He had a nine-to-five job, just like you, but his position was flexible and let him leave the office for errands, as long as he didn’t abuse the privilege. You left the lunch feeling a little safer.

Friday night, you met him at a nice Greek restaurant, and he wore another nice bespoke suit. He offered to pick you up at your home, but you didn’t really want him to know where you lived. You were still pretty paranoid about Jake finding out.

“I’m surprised you chose this place, considering you’re footing the bill and everything,” Bashir said, looking around. “It’s pretty fancy.”

“It has to look believable,” You reasoned. “And I do like Greek food. If you like, you can pick the place next time.”

He chuckled. “Have you ever had Mediterranean troll food?”

“No, I haven’t,” You said, interested. “What’s it like?”

“It’s very similar, except there’s no bread of any kind.”

“So what do you eat the hummus on?”

“You drink it like sauce.”

“You’re not supposed to drink sauce!” You protested.

He snickered.

“I feel like you’re making this up.”

“Maybe, but you’ve never met any Mediterranean trolls, so you don’t know.”

“Are you a Mediterranean troll?”

“I am, actually,” He said. “My parents came over from Morocco when I was a tot. I don’t remember much about Morocco, but I’ve always dreamed of going on a trip there, I’ve just never had the chance.” He gave a cursory look over the menu. “Maybe that’s what I’ll use this money for.”

“Sounds nice to me,” You said. “If we both get something good out of this, then that’s a plus.”

“What do you get out of this, other than getting rid of a bothersome ex?”

“Security and peace of mind,” You said, picking up your own menu. “That’s worth the price.”

He looked at you seriously. “This guy really shook you up, didn’t he?”

You set the menu back down and sighed. “He’s never hit me or threatened me verbally. The most he’s ever done is break my door, but…” You looked out of the window. “I feel like… it wouldn’t be hard, you know? It wouldn’t be that much of a leap from breaking my door in to doing something worse. If he gets mad enough, if he gets obsessed enough, who knows what he could do. All I know is that I don’t want to find out.”

“I understand,” He said. “I’ve never had to deal with something like that, because… well, look at me…” He gestured at his massive body. “But I do know people who have, and it sounds terrifying. I’m glad I can help, even if I am getting paid to do it.”

You smiled. “Well, it helps that you’re good company.”

“You don’t have to flirt with me, you know,” He teased. “That’s not part of the deal.”

“I will throat-punch you,” You said with a grin, and he laughed.

The next date was the following Saturday, and he chose to go to a concert. He wore a black v-neck shirt and a pair of black slacks, which was as dressed down as you’d seen him, but still very business-casual. It was a showcase of up-and-coming local bands, and they were all pretty good. You didn’t know that he liked Djent and progressive metal, too, but you were happy to have a common interest.

In truth, Bashir was pleasant to be around, and you were relieved that this entire thing wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. It definitely helped make this “dating” business look real from an outsider perspective. He held up his end of the bargain really well over the next dozen dates, holding your hand and putting an arm around you as if it was perfectly normal to do so. Thankfully, it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable when he did it, as he was very warm and the height difference meant he couldn’t be too cuddly naturally. You hoped that if Jake was watching, he believed you’d moved on and had no thoughts for him.

Unfortunately, if he was watching, he didn’t take the hint.

One night, as you were turning off lights and getting ready for bed, you looked out of your bedroom window and there he was, standing on the curb across the street, Jake stood in the shadow of a tree, vaping, and looking toward your house.

Panicked, you didn’t your best to stay calm while you were at the window, not wanting him to know you had seen him, but as soon as you walked away, you turned off the bedroom lights, snatched up your phone, dashed downstairs, and frantically checked the windows and doors, making sure they were all locked.

You meant to call the police, but instead, you dialed Bashir’s number. He answered immediately.

“What’s up?” He asked, sounding caught off guard. You weren’t surprised, you never called or texted him unless it was about the next “date.”

“Jake’s outside,” You whispered. “He’s across the street, I’m looking at him right now from my living room window.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“I’d recognize that stupid snakeskin vape box anywhere,” You said.

“Okay,” He said. “I’m heading over. Stay on the phone with me until I get there. Do you have a landline?”

“Yeah,” You replied.

“Get it and call the police. Don’t tell them he’s stalking you because, well frankly, they won’t care. Say you’re a concerned member of the neighborhood and there’s a suspicious man hanging around outside and you’re worried about a break in.”

It wouldn’t have been a lie. “Okay,” You said, picking up your cordless phone.

After calling the police, you waited with your heart in your throat, listening to Bashir get into his car and drive. He’d heard you tell the operator your address. He arrived before the police did, his vehicle a nondescript SUV, and he got out wearing sweat pants and a tank top and pulled a duffel bag from his passenger seat. He didn’t acknowledge Jake at all, simply walked up to your door and knocked. You went to open the door for him.

“Hug me and kiss my cheek,” He said in a low undertone. Gulping, you did as he said with him turning so that your display of affection was clearly visible to anyone watching from the street. You let him in and closed the door behind him, locking it.

“What now?”

“Let’s turn on the lights and make some coffee while we wait for the police,” He said.

“Okay,” You said, your voice shaking. You went to go into the kitchen but he stopped you by taking your hand.

“Hey,” He said gently. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here, and the police are coming. You’re safe.”

Tears came to your eyes and you nodded, wiping them. He released you and you went to the kitchen, putting a pot of coffee on.

The police arrived. You and Bashir watched covertly from the breakfast nook. Eventually, Jake walked to a car and got in it, driving away. The police followed him.

“They let him go?” You asked, worried.

“Well, they may not have know he has a restraining order, and even if they did, he looked plenty far away enough to not have violated it. He wasn’t breaking any laws other than loitering, so they couldn’t arrest him. At least they made sure he left.”

You held your head in your hands. “God, I don’t want to have to do all this over again.”

“It’s okay,” He said. “I’ll stay the night to make sure he doesn’t come back tonight.”

“What about tomorrow? Or the next day? You can’t be here all the time,” You said, your voice shaking.

He sighed heavily. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

You scoffed in disgust. “I don’t want a fucking gun.”

“Okay,” He said. “Then, I’ll put up a security system. I brought one with me; it’s in my bag. I’ll set it up tonight while he’s not here.”

“It’s late,” You said weakly.

“Do you want to sleep or do you want peace of mind?” He asked you levelly.

You scrubbed your face, took a deep breath, drained your coffee cup, and stood up. “Okay. Let’s do it, then.”

It took a few hours, but he managed to get several security cameras fixed to the building, focused on entryways and the front and back yards. You helped him by holding the equipment and tools for him as he worked, handing up what he needed as he needed it. By the time the two of you were done, it was three a.m. and you both had to be at work in mere hours.

The two of you fell into an exhausted sleep on your bed. You didn’t even have the energy to be affronted by the fact that you were sharing a bed with him. The next morning, before he left to go home and get ready for work, he downloaded the security camera app onto your phone and showed you how to use it.

You went to work, checking your phone surreptitiously to see if Jake was outside of your house. So far, he hadn’t reappeared.

>Today’s Friday, You texted him. >I know you’re probably tired after last night, but do you want to have a date today?

>What about a home date at my house? He replied. >I’ll cook dinner and everything. I don’t want you to be at your house at the moment.

>I can’t argue with that, You said in return. >Sounds good to me. What are you cooking?

>I was thinking a kefta meatball tagine with couscous on the side, and a snake pastry for dessert.

>That sounds amazing. Thanks for putting me up. I know this all is a huge inconvenience, and I really appreciate it.

>It’s no problem,” He said. >It’s what I’m getting paid for, right?

You sighed. Well, this wasn’t exactly what he was getting paid for. How much would an overnight stay cost you?

He sent you a message with his address and you went home after work to shower and pack a small overnight bag. You snickered, pulling out your pretty underwear and a sexy negligee, wondering if you should pack this, too, before putting it away and just throwing some pajamas in your bag.

Checking the cameras before stepping outside, you left the house and hurried to your car, heading to Bashir’s house. His place was a two-story, bungalow style house with a dark brown cliffstone brick pattern and a detached garage. It was charming, and a lot cuter than your tiny yellow ranch-style house. The yard was well kept and three were full flowerbeds next to the wide porch. You wouldn’t have imagined he lived in a place like this.

You knocked on the door and he answered it quickly, wearing a comfortable t-shirt and pair of tight jeans. You tried not to stare, but it was difficult. His clothes left very little to the imagination. His hair was also down and cascaded down his back and shoulders.

“Come in, come in,” He said, taking your bag for you.

“Thanks,” You said. “Your house is really pretty.”

“Oh, thanks!” He said. “It was actually condemned when I bought it. I basically had to rebuild it from the ground up. I’m not quite finished with it yet, but I’m happy with the progress.”

“You should be, it’s amazing,” You said. “I’d never have guessed it was a fixer-upper.”

He grinned at you, showing off his sharp teeth. “Come on, dinner will be ready soon.”

“It smells great,” You said, inhaling the savory smell of lamb and vegetables.

“All my mom’s recipes,” He replied, heading into the kitchen. “She owns a restaurant three towns over.”

“I’ll have to go and visit it sometime,” You said.

“Maybe I’ll take you myself one day,” He said, smiling as he stirred the couscous. Your heart fluttered a little.

How long were you going to have to keep this up? “Dating” Bashir was fun, but it wasn’t going to last forever. Either Jake would give up or get arrested, so either way, it would be over. Maybe you could stay friends. He was nice enough, and you enjoyed hanging out with him. But still… why was he talking about things that might happen in the future if there was no future for the two of you?

Dinner was delicious, and so was dessert, and afterward the two of you went to the living room to watch a movie. He even put his arm around you, since the window was uncovered and anyone could look in, he said, and you felt comfortable enough to relax into his side. It almost did feel like a real home date.

After the movie, though, you both decided to sleep, since you were still tired from the night before. You decided that you were both adults and could share a bed without it being awkward, and besides, his bed was huge and could fit five of you easily. You both fell asleep almost immediately.

Sometime during the night, you got a ping from the motion detector on your phone, but when you checked the security system, it was just a raccoon in your trashcan. You sighed and put your phone down, rolling over.

Bashir was on his back, asleep, with his face turned toward you. He was breathing deeply and relaxed with one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach.

You couldn’t help but stare. He really was an attractive guy, and if circumstances had been different, you might have dated him for real. But… until Jake left you alone, you didn’t want to drag anyone else into it. Bashir didn’t have any emotional connection to you, so Jake couldn’t affect whatever “relationship” you had.

But maybe things could be different after? You weren’t sure. He hadn’t expressed any interest in you other than what he had to to make the job believable. He hadn’t been flirty or more affectionate than he needed to be. You couldn’t afford to develop feelings for Bashir, not right now.

Even still, you brushed your fingers gently against the skin of his arm, feeling the hairs that covered it, and followed the curve up to his hand, allowing yours to rest on top of his for a moment or two before retracting it and trying to fall asleep again, sighing heavily.

The next morning, Bashir recommended that the two of you spend the day together, to keep up the weekend stay appearance.

“How much is this ‘weekend getaway’ going to cost me?” You asked dubiously.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, today’s a freebie, since I suggested it. You still have to pay for last night, though. The normal fifty bucks is fine.”

“Mm-hmm,” You hummed flatly, fishing the money out of your wallet and handing it to him. “Well, what do you want to do?”

“Ah, it’s a freebie day, right? You get to choose this time.”

You smiled. “Well, let’s start with breakfast. I’ll cook it. I can cook breakfast blindfolded.”

“If you like,” He said, sitting at the bar in the kitchen and watching you putter around, looking for cooking tools.

After breakfast, you decided you wanted to go to the local botanical garden, which you hadn’t been to in some time.

“Your flowerbeds outside reminded me of this place,” You told him, walking slowly through the rows of Japanese maples. There was a beautiful and an extremely rare Chinese Red Maple behind a gate at the end of the row, the centerpiece of the garden. “Did you plant them yourself?”

“Yep,” He said with a smile. “I helped my dad do a lot of gardening when he was still alive. He had a landscaping business, but he was really passionate about it. I actually inherited the business. Gardening helps me keep his memory alive.”

“That’s really sweet,” You said, smiling softly. “Is that what you do for a living, the landscaping job? I’ve never actually asked what you do for work.”

“No, actually. I mean, I own the company, but I don’t work for it. My actual job is something else entirely.”

“What is it?”

He laughed. “Honestly, I don’t think you’d believe me.” Before you could ask, he took you by the hand and said, “Let’s take a break and get a coffee. I have to use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” You said, letting the subject drop. For now.

You got to the food court outside of the botanical gardens and sat down at the outdoor cafe.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” He said, putting some money down on the table. “Can you order me a large black coffee?”

“Yeah, sure,” You said. He smiled and headed off. You got up and put in your order, then sat back down at the table and opened the security app, looking through the cameras and checked to see if anything was out of place.

The chair opposite to you was pulled out and he sat back down while you were still looking at your phone.

“The coffee should be out soon,” You said.

“I didn’t order coffee,” A voice said. It wasn’t Bashir.

You jerked your head up and saw Jake sitting across from you. You stood up so fast that you knocked the chair over.

“Get away from me, Jake,” You said.

“Look, just talk to me,” He said, standing up and advancing on you. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“Get away from me!” You shouted. “Bashir!”

“Are you calling for that monster?” He sneered. “You could do so much better than him. Besides, you’re not even really dating him, you’re just paying him to keep you company, you slut. You think I wouldn’t figure that out?”

“Fuck you!” You back up. “Bashir!”

Jake was snatched back and slammed down onto the cafe table. Bashir had him pinned down with a single hand. It wasn’t hard to do: Bashir was almost twice the size of Jake in height and weight.

“Let me go!” Jake said, struggling against Bashir’s iron grip. “I’ll have you arrested! My brother’s a cop!”

“Ah, that explains how you got her address so quick,” Bashir said. “I don’t really care if your brother’s a cop. Actually, I think I do, I think an internal affairs investigation is warranted. Regardless, you’ve just violated a restraining order.”

“What does it matter to you?”

Bashir snorted. “I’m FBI, dickless.”

You gaped at him.

“Bullshit!” Jake said. “I’ll fucking sue you! I’ll ruin your fucking life!”

“Whatever you want, you’re still under arrest,” Bashir said, pulling out a set of handcuffs from an inside pocket of his jacket.

“You’re kidding,” You said slowly, staring at Bashir.

“I told you you probably wouldn’t believe me,” He said, grinning at you sheepishly. He jerked his head at his jacket. “My ID is in my pocket.”

You reached in and fished it out, opening the leather fold to reveal a… rather official looking ID and badge.

You laughed in disbelief. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have.”

The police arrived to detain Jake and took him to the station. Bashir drove you to the station, as well, so that you could make a statement.

Later, Bashir drove you back to your house.

“I’ll bring your bag over later,” He said. “He’ll probably get ninety days in jail for violating the restraining order, and hopefully you won’t have to deal with him anymore. Although, if you hear from him again once he gets out, let me know, and I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” You said. “Really, thank you for everything.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here,” He said, handing it to you. Inside was all the money you had given him for the dates, plus some. There had to have been almost two thousand dollars in there.

“But this is…”

He laughed. “I’m a federal official, you know. I can’t take bribes. I’d get fired.”

“This wasn’t…” You started, but stopped yourself. This could absolutely be seen as a bribe. “What do I do with all this?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you like. Go on a trip. Buy something nice. It’s your money, after all.”

You sighed a little sadly. “I guess this is it, then.”

He sighed, too. “Yeah, I guess so.” He leaned forward, bent down, and kissed you on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

Jake did end up getting three months in jail, which made you feel a lot better. You were worried that he would come after you, but the three months passed and when he was released, he moved clear across the country and you never heard from him again.

Finally free of him, you thought you might try actually dating again, but you could only think of Bashir. You and he had only spoken a few times, mostly him checking on you, but you hadn’t seen each other since Jake’s arrest. You missed him, but you couldn’t tell him that. He didn’t have any feelings for you, anyway. If he did, wouldn’t he have asked you out after Jake was out of the picture?

Even still, you wanted to see him again. So once Jake was gone, you texted Bashir.

>I have something for you, You told him.

>Oh? What’s that?

>I want to give it to you in person. Would it be okay to come over this weekend?

>I’m free now. Why don’t you stop by?

>Okay. I’ll be there soon.

Before leaving, you hesitated and decided to throw on your best, sexiest underwear. Just in case.

You arrived at his house to find him out in the front yard. He was digging a hole in the yard with a sapling sitting in a bucket, ready for planting. There were also stones and gravel he was going to use for a decorative barrier. He stood up and waved as you drove up into the driveway.

“Hey!” He said, pulling you into a hug. Well, as well as he could, being so tall. “It’s good to see you!”

“You too!” You said. “What kind of tree is that?”

“A Chinese Maple,” He said. “I got inspired when we went to the botanical gardens that time. It cost a pretty penny and I had to wait for the cutting to grow, but it’s finally ready to plant.”

“That’s so cool,” You said. “Can I help?”

“Really?” He said, grinning. “Yeah, sure! There’s a pair of gloves over there on the porch. They might be a little big, but it’s better than blisters.”

You ran to retrieve them, and picked up a trowel. “Why did you decide on the maple?”

“Cause it reminds me of you,” He said, digging. “When I look out my window every day and see it, I’ll think of you.”

Your heart beat faster, but you couldn’t look at him.

It only took about an hour to dig out the hole, plant the sapling, fill the hole with soil, lay the stones, and spread the gravel. Thankfully it was a cool day and you didn’t sweat too much. The two of you caught up on what had happened in the three months since you’d seen each other. You wanted to ask if he had started dating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“It looks great,” He said, standing back and grinning. “Thanks for your help! We got it done in record time. Let’s get cleaned up and have a drink.”

“Okay,” You said. “Let me grab my purse from the car.”

“Oh, right, you had something to give me, right?”

“Yep,” You told him, grabbing your bag.

He laughed. “Sorry I side-tracked you.”

“It’s fine, I had a good time,” You said. He opened the door for you and let you go into the house before him.

You went to the bathroom to freshen up and when you looked down, you realized your toothbrush was in the holder, the one you had forgotten when you’d stayed over. You had bought a new one and figured he’d just throw it away when he found it. Why had he kept it? Why was it in the holder with his?

You went back out into the kitchen and found him shirtless, water beading down the muscles of his back, and you stopped in the doorway, staring.

“Oh, sorry,” He said, laughing and throwing on a clean shirt. “Needed a quick wash. I felt a little grimy after the yardwork.”

“It’s okay,” You said, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Iced tea?”

“Yeah, sure,” You replied, sitting at the bar. He poured you a drink and sat at the bar opposite you.

“So, what was the thing you had for me.”

You swallowed your tea a bit too hard and reached into your purse, handing him an envelope.

“This isn’t the money, is it?” He asked, smiling.

“No, it’s not money,” You said. “Open it.”

He grinned playfully at you, but it slipped from his face when he looked inside the envelope, pulling out two plane tickets.

“Morocco?” He asked, looking up at you in surprise.

You nodded. “Those are good for a year, so make sure you get some vacation time soon,” You said, anxious.

He stared at them. “There are two.”

“Yes,” You replied. “In case you wanted to take your mom. Or maybe a girlfriend or boyfriend or something.”

You kept your face as neutral as possible, but he was staring at you.

“The extra ticket is for you, isn’t it?” He asked softly.

You looked down and away. “If you don’t want me to go, that’s okay. You can take whoever you like. I just wanted you to have the trip you always dreamed of.”

He got up out of his chair, came around, and got down on his knees, so that he was face to face with you. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was firm and testing, and you responded, throwing your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you as well.

“I missed you,” He murmured against your lips.

“Why didn’t you ask me out?” You asked him, pulling back to look at his face.

“I thought you weren’t interested in a real relationship,” He said, pulling you against him. “If I had any inclination you did, I would have asked you out on the spot.”

“I thought the same thing,” You said. “I never expected you’d actually like me.”

“I do,” He said, kissing you again and standing up. “I like you very, very much.”

He walked you into his room and lay you down on his bed, stripping your clothes off your body.

“Pretty,” He said with a grin as he came across your lacy black underwear. “Did you wear this for me?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Well, it would be a shame to take it off so soon, then, wouldn’t it?” He said, palming your breasts over the fabric of your bra. He touched your slit over your underwear, and you gasped. You lifted your leg and rubbed him through his pants, and he grunted. You felt him harden under your touch. He was… uh… large.

You pulled off his shirt and ran your nails down his chest. He moved his hand away and pressed himself against you, still clothed, grinding himself into your clit, and you moaned. You reached for his belt and unbuckled it, unbuttoning it, and pushed his pants down with your toes. Because of his long tusks, he couldn’t bend down to kiss you in this position, so he picked you up as if you were a doll, kissing your body. You were always a little self conscious about your weight, being a big girl, but he seemed not to notice.

He lifted you all the way up to his face, kneeling down so that you weren’t so high up, and licked the cloth covering your slit, putting your legs over his shoulders and his tusks under your body. Using just his tongue, he moved your underwear out of the way and teased your clit. His tongue was long and thick. You whimpered and rocked your hips against his tongue. He pushed it in side of you and thrust it back and forth, and you writhed in his grip.

Carefully, he pulled you down and eased you into his lap, pressing himself against your entrance. You pressed your hands against his stomach and watched him disappear slowly inside you. He couldn’t go all the way in, but once he reached the back and knew where the limit was, he pulled back out slowly and thrust in again slowly, easing you into it. He must have had a similar size problem in the past and had learned how to overcome it in these situations. You were glad for it.

He lay you on the edge of the bed and pressed your knees back, thrusting a little faster, and you reached down and touched yourself, rubbing quickly as he sped up. He pulled the cups of your bra down so that he could grasp your breasts, squeezing gently, and grunted. You held his hand there with your own, pulling up your head and sucking on his pointer finger, looking up at him through your lashes. His breathing was erratic and he watched you hungrily, his sharp teeth biting into his lower lip and pricking the skin.

“I’m so close,” You moaned. “I’m going to cum.”

He nodded as if in agreement, squeezing his eyes shut. He grimaced as if in pain, but then shouted, roaring, and released inside of you. It was a torrent, spraying out of you. Another few hip thrusts and circles around your clit, you came too, your head thrown back against the bed, crying out.

He pulled out and turned his head, resting it against your stomach as his arms gripped your sides, breathing hard. After a moment, you both sat up, and you realized that his legs were covered with his own release.

“Wanna get cleaned up?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He said dreamily, standing up and leading you into the bathroom. You took a shower together, helping him clean himself. He did the same for you, kneeling down and washing your body. The way he knelt in front of you combine with the way he looked at you, it almost felt like he was worshiping you. Honestly, you didn’t mind that at all.

Your underwear would have to be washed, but he said you could borrow one of his shirts, if you wanted to. Honestly, you were happy to lounge in his bed naked. He seemed happy with that, too.

“When would you like to go?” You asked him, laying on his chest and playing with his chest hair. “To Morocco, I mean?”

“Soon,” He said, entwining his fingers in your hair. “I’ll put in for vacation time as soon as I get back to the office. I don’t really take vacations, so I’m sure my colleagues will be surprised.”

You smiled and kissed his skin. “I’ll have to put in for time off, too,” You said. “Although, I only just started working there six months ago, so they may not approve it.”

“Let me know when they do and I’ll schedule for the same time,” He said.

“Sounds good to me,” He said, sitting up and crossing his legs, looking down at you. You posed a little for him and he grinned, running his hands up and down the soft skin of your torso and belly. “You know what I’d like to do right now, though?”

“What’s that?” You asked.

“I want to take you on a date,” He said, smiling softly. “A real one. I'll pay and everything. And I want to be able to kiss you.”

You smiled back at him. “Deal.”

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whump-town · 3 years

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Was Hotch Abused?

I offer you my 2,300+ worded thoughts on the matter with episodes included. There's going to be lots and lots of talk about abuse so you're going to want to steer clear of that if that's something you're not cool with but for those of you interested... I give you all the proof I could think of:

Natural Born Killer.

In the eighth episode of the first season, “Natural Born Killer”, we meet Vincent Perrotta. His father was abusive but from the outside looking in, no one knew a thing. Perrotta started drinking at fourteen and committed petty crimes, as well as assault, for pleasure. Going as far as to kill his own father not too long after. But Perrotta is a monster and a psychopath so it’s clear we’re not supposed to sympathize which makes his interaction with Hotch so peculiar.

Hotch is our “Captain America”. A true neutral with an infinity for doing what’s right so it’s inconceivable to compare him to Perrotta and yet Hotch gives us some rather conflicting lines to dissect.

Before Gideon hands the interview over to Hotch, he spends a moment talking with the others out in the bullpen. The whole time he’s leaned back and he’s watching Morgan and Hotch. Now, at this point, we don’t know about the sexual abuse Derek Morgan faced at the hands of Carl Buford but there’s something about the way that Gideon spends the entirety of the conversation only looking at the two of them. Waiting for them to put together what he clearly already has and when Hotch does…

Hotch jumps straight into Perrotta’s profile, asking: “You grew up in a house that looked normal and happy, didn’t you Vincent?”, “But your father beat you every chance he got”

Perrotta excuses it with a shrug, “he smacked me around some, didn’t everybody’s old man?”

Abuse is a complicated thing and, often, abused children just don’t know what their parents are doing to them is abuse. It can be a subtle and outright thing but there’s an element of normalcy to it. The parent’s abuse is as habitual, as minimal as biting your nails to the child. Adults often can’t identify their parent’s past abuse.

With Hotch you learn that his lack of expression is often as telling as his expressions and as Hotch looks back at Perrotta, there’s something so sad about his eyes. His voice goes from loud, assertive to his whispered answer to Perrotta’s question. “No.” As if, well, maybe that’s a question he’d raised once too.

Perrotta doesn’t care about that though and he taunts “well, maybe if yours had you would have learned to fight”. But is it not more telling that Hotch didn’t make a sound? Perrotta got in several hits and the only sound Hotch made was when the wind was literally punched out of him. Not even when Gideon called to him and at that point, Perrotta did not the garrote around Hotch’s throat. That’s another thing mentioned before in the profile and something Hotch mentions to Perrotta directly. You learn to take the beatings, smile even. So, it’s just a little odd how little Hotch responded…

But that’s all nothing, you can take that how you want

Which leads us to the fateful, not everyone comment.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent. When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers"

That can’t mean NOTHING, there’s so much there but there’s something about Hotch’s subtle wording. The way he’s unconsciously slipped himself in there (a very real thing that people do) and he hasn’t even realized it. Doesn’t even know he’s done it until Perrotta pushes and he pauses, asks what Perrotta means. And the subtly of it, the way he doesn’t even mean to that says more than anything else.

“And some people grow up to catch them.”

It’s a super-specific comment to make. He can’t possibly be talking about Derek because he doesn’t even know about Carl Buford yet not to mention saying that about him would be incredibly rude if he were talking about Reid (and again, he doesn’t know about Reid’s childhood yet). So… that really only leaves him because JJ, Garcia, and Elle were not abused.

“P911”

In season two, episode two “P911” the team is hunting down a man trying to sell a young boy, Peter, on the black market. Kevin Rose is an underage boy “selling” himself on the internet while his abusive father has been in prison. I’ll let you just guess who it is that leads the team on finding out more about Kevin.

Your guess is more than likely right-- Morgan and Hotch. Now, we know about Morgan but come on. Nothing to say about it being Hotch who makes the emotional appeal?

The camera even follows his gaze, he’s crouched down (to appear non-threatening because he’s so close) and we watch his eyes take in the scars on Kevin’s chest. You can also note that while Gideon remarks that Kevin’s father was “always drunk, you never knew why he was hurting you, why he was so angry” both Kevin and Hotch look away from him.

AND FUCKING TRY AND TELL ME THE “some grow up to catch them” LINE WAS NOTHING TRY BECAUSE GUESS WHAT GIDEON SAYS? NO, NO GUESS--

Gideon: “At night you’d cry yourself to sleep hoping someone would come and save you”

And it’s HOTCH, HOTCH IS THE ONE TO SAY: “You have the chance to be the one who saves someone, Kevin. You can be the one who answers him, the one who stops his pain.”

PARALLELS PEOPLE THE PARALLELS

“Profiler, Profiled”

I bet you weren’t expecting this one, huh? But there’s something about people who faced trauma that makes it so perceptible to other traumatized people-- they sniff it out like coke to a drug hound. And, just guess, who it is that spends the majority of his time fighting with Morgan? Who knows (like I said about the bloodhound) immediately there is something Morgan’s hiding.

Hotch is angry, he’s upset that Morgan would hide anything. Mumbling about there being “larger implications” and how the team can’t have secrets. With the knowledge of exactly what that secret is it makes Gideon’s eye roll a little telling. Because it’s like they both know but neither will say. Driven home by Gideon turning the attention to Hotch, asking “would you want us profiling you?”

And again Hotch is the one to leap onto the abuse. The one to put the pieces together. Hotch’s anger makes no sense. He says he’s angry that Derek’s keeping a secret but the team has many, way too many. Over the years the team unwraps all kinds of secrets, he’s never angry then. So, it’s not about the implication of a secret at all. It’s what the secret is, like misplaced anger. Anger with himself may be leftover from his own abuse. But still…

Hotch lets Morgan escape. Knows exactly who and what Carl Buford is but all he tells the team is that “he won’t even speak about him”. He always knows how to find the abuse… like I said, a bloodhound.

George Foyet

I know you’re going to find this so fucking surprising but guess who also was abused? George Foyet was beaten by his biological father and his mother didn’t save him so he hates women (bleh, men are disgusting what’s knew).

Now, blah, blah, blah Hannah, I know you’re not about to say Foyet and Hotch are a lot alike-- no of course not. Don’t be silly. What I’m going to say is that they’re foil characters? They accent one another in an opposites sort of way. Foyet is a manipulative narcissist who doesn’t work well with others. Hotch is a guilt-ridden team leader who can’t let The Reaper’s case go. There are meant to be comparisons drawn between them. A good villain does that. George Foyet shows us that Hotch is not at all this removed, cool guy that we’ve previously assumed him to be. He cries in an alley because he blames himself when The Reaper kills a busload of people.

We see he has a rather compulsive nature. He never let The Reaper case go and has very personal ties in this case. Not even after Foyet attacks him, if anything it’s worse. He brings the case file home.

But it’s certainly interesting to see yet another “villain” with that same tragic abusive father and submissive mother come into play with Hotch. We’re nearing a point where it’s getting hard to call it coincidence (and according to David Rossi, there simply is not such thing).

Haunted.

In the second episode of the fifth season, “Haunted”, Hotch voice’s over a Dickinson quote: “One need not be a chamber to be haunted, One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing. Material place.” These quotes are often cheesy, if not a little cliché, but given the premise of this episode is in exploring the ways in which a man’s traumatic childhood has left him now grappling for a truth he can not define… well, maybe we can say the writers were onto something here.

Darrin Call, debatably the Unsub of “Haunted”, was abused by an alcoholic father. We see several signs of it throughout the episode-- Darrin’s delayed speech & severe neglect that leaves Darrin in dirty, hole-riddled clothing. If what we see is not enough, the reports that the team is given on Darrin explicitly state that he was extremely physically abused. It is this abuse that leads to the PTSD that he’s diagnosed with.

As sad and disheartening as Darrin Call’s life is, overall it’s the sort of episode that is forgotten over time. When it’s placed right after the episode that viewers have to watch Hotch say goodbye to Haley and Jack then, who is Darrin Call when compared to the agony of watching Hotch show genuine weakness? After watching Hotch lay in a hospital bed, tears in his eyes wondering if his son will remember him? His fears become our own and after watching George Foyet disarm and mutilate the one guy we’ve been led to believe for five seasons is infallibly, unflinchingly never going to break… well, Darrin Call has it bad but our focus is elsewhere.

It’s on Hotch, right?

The guy who is coming back to the job after only a month (and a day) off to recover. Who Morgan worries might have PTSD but he knows they can’t easily measure because Hotch wrote the questionnaire, he knows all the right answers. Who we see has had new locks installed since the attack and has Foyet’s file sitting open on a table for easy access. Who hears Darrin Call’s life (worked the same job without promotion for years before getting fired, no wife, no kids, a hermit) and bluntly asks why Darrin hasn’t just killed himself.

And let’s just take a moment to break down that comment. Hotch, who in the episode previously lost his wife and child, wants to know why a man who is steadily starting to sound a lot like him hasn’t just killed himself.

And I don’t say “sounds a lot like him” lightly.

Darrin Call has PTSD. Hotch, more than likely, has PTSD

Here are some signs just from that episode: hostility (he yelled at Garcia over something very small), self-destructive behavior (he ran into Darrin Call’s father’s house without a vest, back-up, or telling the other’s what he was doing), and guilt (blamed himself for missing the eye twitching Darrin exhibited because of his years of antipsychotic use)

Darrin Call was abused… this marks the second HEAVILY implied time that Hotch has been compared to another man abused by his father

Vincent Perrotta was the first with that hard to forget the exchange

George Foyet and his notably exactly the same past as Perrotta

“Haunted” feels like it’s supposed to prove to the audience that Hotch is losing it. He distances himself from Morgan, leaving every room that Morgan is in. He doesn’t pick up Garcia’s calls after Darrin Call attacks his therapist. The only glimpse we see of the old Hotch is with Emily, pulled to the side, but his guilt burns and he even brushes her off. Shaking his head and turning his back to her because somehow he should have seen something no one else did.

Throw in Reid’s comment about Call “victims are often drawn to the scene of their first trauma” and we’re painfully reminded of Hotch’s apartment. A place you’d think he’d want to escape but didn’t. The man was stabbed nine times in his own apartment and stayed in that same place. Almost sounds like that statement could be applied to Hotch too.

A dash of Hotch’s own comment about where Call would go to in his confusion and he says “to what he knows”, even the importance of how that orphanage is “where he became Darrin Call”. Where does Hotch go? What does Hotch know? The job.

So… we tally now three total Unsubs that Hotch has this direct relationship with. Three Unsubs with abusive fathers and mothers who couldn’t protect them. Hmm… coincidence?

Brothers Hotchner

Supervisor Special Agent Hotchner is a master of hiding, that is undeniable. It’s hard to see anything behind those furrowed brows and impersonal suits and that’s likely for a reason. However, anyone with a little sibling can tell you that no one on this Earth can and will annoy the ever-loving shit out of you like a sibling.

But that’s not really important. Sean and Hotch don’t talk about their parents. At all. Ever.

Hotch says that when Sean was in the first grade he got sent off to boarding school. “I was the screw-up making bad choices”. Interesting enough of a statement to make but you throw in the rough ages of Sean and Hotch at that time and it’s a little more than just “interesting”. You have Hotch at roughly 14-15 getting into trouble just like Morgan did at that same age (coincidence???).

(now you can certainly look at Hotch’s parentification vs. Sean’s immaturity doubled with substance abuse problems but we’d be stretching. “The Tribe” touches on the parentification but Sean just calls it “the big brother” thing and tells Hotch that he’s not Sean’s father and it’s fine it’s whatever. Hotch is a bit pushy. That’s not new. Substance abuse can just be a problem, it doesn’t have to be bc they were abused but again… a little coincidental)

So... was Aaron Hotchner abused as a child? I certainly think so

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner

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destieltropecollection · 3 years

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Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 3: Angst with a Happy Ending

39 fics under the readmore

Conditional Miracle | @vampamber

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,551 Main Tags/Warnings: season 12 finale, in-canon temporary character death, love confession Summary: Chuck can bring Castiel back to life, but only on one condition: Dean has to tell Castiel how he feels about him. Not that "You're family, Cas" stuff, but how Dean actually feels. A coda for s12e23 "All Along the Watchtower" (a bit late, but better late than never)

Sharp edges | @chaoticdean

Rating: General Word Count: 1,638 Main Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, (although he does come back at the very end), Temporary Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt, Angst with a Happy Ending, Letters, Five Stages of Grief, post spn 15x18spn coda, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, written several months before the actual episode Summary: Castiel told him he loved him right before getting swallowed up by the Empty. Sam told him to talk, but words won’t come out, and really, how is he supposed to tell anyone how it feels to lose everything? So he writes. Letters on napkins, motel notepads, paperback books. He writes as he goes through every steps of grief, until finally there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

What the Water Gave Him | @mattzerella-sticks

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,794 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Canon, Implied/Reference Character Death, Sam Finds Out Summary: It was over. Chuck lost, Sam and Dean can live their lives how they want them. But their victory wasn't without losses. The biggest upset nearly taking Dean out of the game, happening so close to the final battle. Now he's on the other side, alive against all odds, but Sam knows he isn't happy. Not truly happy since the Empty stole his best friend. But there's a chance they can save him. A slim chance. A risk that Dean's willing to take despite every logical nerve in Sam's body screaming at him to look for better options. That threading a needle this small is too dangerous. That they don't have to take on another big bad, not anymore. That they don't have to risk their lives anymore. Dean is far past the point of listening. Dead set on this mission, Sam can only watch. And pray his brother proves him wrong.

A Classic Fear Of Rejection | @vampamber

Rating: General Word Count: 1,841 Main Tags/Warnings: pining, anxious Cas, Dean has self worth issues, love confession Summary: Castiel has been in love with Dean for almost ten years now. Ever since he'd raised the Righteous Man from perdition, actually. But Dean appears to be straight, so the angel just pined for him instead, fearing rejection. At Sam's insistence, Castiel finally admits his feelings, and it turns out that the angel may have been wrong about the elder Winchester's orientation.

The Things You Almost Say (But Never Do) | @wingsdestiel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,967 Main Tags/Warnings: Light Angst, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonverse, Season 11 Summary: Team Free Will hasn't been much of a team lately, and Castiel wishes that Dean would stop avoiding everything.

Forget Me Not | @imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,932 Main Tags/Warnings: top Castiel/bottom Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Car Accidents, Hospitals, Amnesia, Temporary Amnesia, Therapy, Makeup Sex, Marriage Proposal, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: A tragic accident during an argument leaves Cas with a head injury and amnesia, but Dean is determined to stay by his husband's side, even when the memories that return are painful. Can they move past the memories?

Forgetting Your Blues | @amirosebooks

Rating: Mature Word Count: 3,440 Main Tags/Warnings: Season 12 finale fix-it, amnesia, temporary main character death, fluff and angst, getting together, openly bisexual Dean Winchester Summary: Dean Jones doesn't know his real name. He woke up on a public park bench a few months back with an empty wallet and a driver's license listing the name Dean Jones with his picture. The name doesn't feel right on his tongue, but he doesn't remember what part is wrong. The cop who found him in the park got Dean a job in a local diner. The diner feels comfortable to Dean. He understands the rhythm of the place, the ebb and flow of the people and food, even if he's clearly never carried a tray of hot plates in his life. He settles into his new life. He makes new friends. He takes beautiful women and men and people to his bed for comfort on long nights. He has nightmares about blood covering his hands. Who is he? Why has no one come looking for him? What has he done? Why did he fall apart when he saw a guy wearing a tan trenchcoat?

I NEED YOU | @cooloddball

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,675 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, Smut, Making up Summary: Sam is so done with Dean and Cas' bullshit. Time to get some things sorted out.

Even if the sky gets rough | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5,360 Main Tags/Warnings: Fuck Or Die, cursed!Dean, dubcon, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, First Kiss, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings Summary: Dean can’t believe he got cursed again. Only this time it’s a lot worse, because if he can’t find someone to fuck him… well, he dies.

spes alit et falit. | @celestialsilhouette

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5,524 Main Tags/Warnings: djinn fic, angst with a happy ending, first time Summary: ~hope sustains and deceives~ Dean wakes up with a gasp. He shoots up in his bed, panting, heart pounding, and wide awake. He grips the sheets in his hands tightly and swivels his head to look around the room, making a half-aborted movement to reach under the pillows for the gun he knows always lies there, the smooth metal familiar and comforting. He doesn’t recognize where he is.

Don't Call Me Demon | @angzlicas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,432 Main Tags/Warnings: Demon!Dean, MOC!Dean, Human Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Smut, Canon Compliant, Top!Dean, Bottom!Cas Summary: Dean’s shouting at this point, his eyes pure black again, and Castiel can feel the anger and panic tainting the room. It’s charged with emotion, even though most demons are incapable of feeling anything other than hatred and malice. It feels like fear. Or the one where Cas wants to take the mark from Dean

Life in prison | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7,084 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt Dean Winchester, Dean had to steal food to eat, Dean had sex for money in this, Thief Dean Winchester, almost murderer Castiel, Semi-Public Sex, implied bottom dean Winchester, Non-Penetrative Sex, Soft Dean Winchester, almost rape (non Destiel), Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, First Time, Alternate Universe - PrisonPrisonAlternate Universe, Prison Sex Summary: When Dean gets arrested for stealing food, he has to face prison at 21. He is scared and his cellmate seems a bit harsh too. Will he warm up to him eventually? Or could he even fall in love with a prisoner?

Four of Swords | @mattzerella-sticks

Rating: No Rating Word Count: 7,127 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Canon, Human Cas, Baths, Dean Winchester has Self-Worth Issues, Castiel Takes Care of Dean Summary: The Four of Swords, in the present position, means you don't want to interact with the rest of the world. Because of stress, you need to spend some time with yourself - unhealthy always being 'on'. That the healthiest thing to do is to escape. Dean might crave escape, but it's not something he thinks he can have. Something he deserves, even. After his and Sam's most recent hunt, this cancerous feeling has grown heavy and weighs him down. He cannot escape on his own, as best he tries. Luckily a guardian 'former angel' angel swoops in at his lowest. Helps pick up the pieces as best he can and lovingly put them back together. But he can only do so much. The rest is up to Dean. Can Dean take those final steps, say those final words, and finally free himself?

Free To Be Us | @imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8,011 Main Tags/Warnings: Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, Anal Sex, Switching, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Claiming Bites, Semi-Public Sex, Kidnapping, emancipation, broken bonds, Suicide attempt mentioned, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Dystopia Summary: In a Dystopian world, Alphas and Omegas are rare. So rare that they meet only at semi-annual, semi-corrupt conventions organized by Betas, all for the purpose of breeding. Dean is one such Alpha, prized more for his seed than for himself, and untouched. Raised to value the system, he's about to have his world turned upside down, and it all starts with a decadent scent.

Not Here for Me | @mattzerella-sticks

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 8,113 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Humans, Alternate Universe - 2000s, Gay Bars, Closeted Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, references to Dean's bad childhood Summary: If he had the choice, Dean never would have stepped foot inside this place. But Sam was curious - and curious is a hell of a lot better than the depression that clung to him day after day since Jess left him. So Dean swallows his pride, joins Sam as his babysitter. So he won't get find himself in any trouble. Trouble, however, is more likely to find Dean. In the bowels of his personal hell, can Dean resist temptations that have plagued him his entire life? Or will someone descend and lend a hand, showing Dean that the darkness he imagined only lived inside his own mind. And all that he feared was not as he seemed if he let himself step out of the shadows of his past.

Bearing A Heart | @lockandk3yfiction

Rating: Mature Word Count: 9,421 Main Tags/Warnings: Female Castiel (Supernatural); Castiel in a Female Vessel (Supernatural); Genderbending; Pregnant Castiel (Supernatural); Possessive Castiel (Supernatural); Miscommunication; Running Away; Death Threats; Angst with a Happy Ending; Abundant Mention of Death pertaining to an unborn child Summary: Castiel believes she is becoming more human in the way that she sleeps and eats. It’s a repercussion of falling after all. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s what she gives up to maintain her relationships with the people that she cares about. But what if she shared more than a “last night on Earth” with Dean Winchester? When Castiel learns that she is bearing the heart of another living being, the angel decides to do all in her power to protect her child.

Take Your Human Charge To Work Day (WIP) | @pointyearedelvishprincling

Rating: Mature Word Count: 11,222 Main Tags/Warnings: mutual pining, fluff and smut, case fic, top!castiel/bottom dean winchester, canon typical violence, angst with a happy ending, love confession, castiel dream walking, memory alteration, Summary: Written in third person with alternating POV of Dean & Cas. Something's changed between Dean and Castiel. Dean asks Cas to take him along wherever it is the angel goes when he's not around the Winchesters. He's curious, that's all. No feelings involved. It'll be fun. Dean's ready for Cas to take the wheel on their adventure, but turns out some feelings aren't so easy to repress when it's just the two of you. Cas needs some time alone. It's a heavy burden hearing Dean's longing like a constant prayer while Cas is trying to resist his own feelings. Now he's stuck in LA on a case that could have taken him minutes to solve, and Dean is very distracting. Why is it they can only let their guards down when faced with losing the other?

Scentless | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11,416 Main Tags/Warnings: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Getting Together, Alpha Dean, Omega Cas Summary: Cas lost his mate and his scent a year ago when his scent gland was burned in order to brand him as a barren omega. Ever since then, he has been trying to pass as a beta, hiding his mutilated scent gland under the collar of his shirts. This works pretty well for him, until he meets alpha Dean Winchester, who turns his life upside down.

Mated (WIP) | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 14,721 Main Tags/Warnings: Falling in Love, Strangers to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, Dean in Denial about Sexuality, Alpha Cas, Alpha Dean, Bottom Cas, Top Dean Summary: Of course, if Dean had known that it was possible for an alpha to mate another alpha, he would never have let himself get carried away and bitten the hot alpha’s mating gland in the throes of passion. It wasn’t like he was into alphas, after all… Right? Having accidentally mated the most awesome alpha, he might have to rethink some things about himself as he gets to know his mate and starts falling for him.

Scented | @destielshipper4cas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 19,298 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Mpreg, Alpha Dean, Omega Cas, Top Dean, Bottom Cas Summary: Cas could not believe that a sweet and sexy alpha like Dean was interested in him—burned and barren omega, social outcast with an abusive ex-mate. To make their new relationship work, they have to figure out how to deal with Cas’ insecurities, society’s prejudices, and a surprise here and there along the way…

Tacoma | @ellis-park

Rating: Mature Word Count: 20,055 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon divergent, season 15 breakup, angst with a happy ending Summary: After an explosive fight, Castiel leaves the bunker and Dean decides to let him go. As Cas ventures halfway across the country on a journey to find himself, Dean reevaluates what he needs from life. And what he needs is Cas.

I Will Hang My Head Low | @andimeantittosting

Rating: Mature Word Count: 22,403 Main Tags/Warnings: Fairytale/Folklore AU, Sick Cas, Temporary MCD, Grief/Mourning, Boy King!Sam Summary: Dean Winchester gave up hunting when his brother became the prophesied Boy King of Hell. Now he ekes out a meager living, chopping wood for a nearby village, until one snowy night, he follows what appears to be a falling star, and encounters an injured angel. Afterwards, he tries to put the strange night from his mind. When he meets Castiel, a mysterious man with healing powers, they form an instant connection, and the more Dean learns of Castiel's powers—to heal, to protect, to purify—the more he begins to hope that Sam can be saved. But as they prepare to save Sam, Castiel grows sick, and then sicker still. Too late, Dean learns how much Castiel is willing to sacrifice for him. Inspired by the Decemberists' Crane Wife and the Japanese myth on which it is based.

The Awakening | Eggplant47 (A03)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 39,144 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe--Human, past child abuse (not explicit), past rape (not explicit), past child sexual abuse (just mentioned), Drug Use, Drunk Driving, Prostitution (past), Infidelity (not between Dean and Cas), Switching Summary: Dean Winchester had always lived on the surface of life, but a bump on the head and his young, blue-eyed brother-in-law are about to push him into the deep.

Lost Together | @imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 40,551 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel/Lucifer (Supernatural), bottom Castiel/top Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Witch Castiel (Supernatural), Familiars, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Minor Character Death, Racism, Homophobic Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, True Mates, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Explicit Sexual Content, Claiming Bites, Knotting, Mpreg, Happy Ending, Shapeshifting Summary: Castiel is a powerful Omega witch, but even his magic can’t save him and those around him from his ex, Lucien. When his familiar is brutally killed, Cas vows never to take another familiar because he can’t imagine risking another animal’s life. A wolf roaming his property has other ideas. Meanwhile, his new neighbour, an Alpha named Dean, is worming his way into his heart in a way that Cas can’t resist. Can the two souls overcome danger, broken hearts, and secrets together, or will they remain lost? Through tragedy and misunderstandings, Dean and Cas are destined to be together. But destiny’s road can be deadly.

The Driver | @friendofcarlotta

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 40,963 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Stunt Driver Dean Winchester, Getaway Driver Dean Winchester, Convenience Store Clerk Castiel, Waiter Castiel, Kid Fic, Single Father Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Inspired by "Drive" (2011) Summary: Dean Winchester is a mechanic and occasional movie stunt driver living in LA. Most people don't know that Dean also drives getaway cars for armed robberies. For months now, Dean has been nursing a crush on his neighbor, a single father named Castiel. When a violent turf war between Dean's boss and a rival gangster threatens to compromise the safety of Castiel and his son, Dean makes a choice that will change his life forever.

(You Don’t Have To) Say You Love Me | @darknessbound3

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 44,379 Main Tags/Warnings: Heavy Angst, Top!Cas/Bottom!Dean, Separation, Reconciliation, Pining Summary: Six months after Castiel walked out on a twelve year marriage to Dean, he decides it’s time for a divorce. Dean, on the other hand, isn’t so sure, and is willing to stop at nothing to win his husband back.

The (Un)Buried Past | @gii-heylittleangel

Rating: Mature Word Count: 53,282 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Deaths, Gore and Blood, Angst, Intense Violence and use of guns, background relationships, Implied Smut Summary: After six years of living as a civilian, Dean has gotten rusty when it comes to defending himself. But, when the past comes knocking down everything in its way, Dean has to sink back into his old skin to get back what he wants. Ad what he finds out during the journey is not what he wants.

A Driver Worth His Salt | @thefandomsinhalor

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 67,844 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depiction of Violence, Mafia AU Vibe, BAMF Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean, Trauma Summary: The job is simple: drive the passenger a few times a week to yet-undisclosed locations and return with said passenger without fail. Be on time. Be discreet. And never interact with each other outside of work. Once twenty-year-old Dean meets the passenger in question—the sharply dressed and rough-looking Castiel Novak—he finds that abiding by those shady rules may be more complicated than he had anticipated.

All the Night Tide | @funnywings

Rating: Mature Word Count: 72,315 Main Tags/Warnings: Pirate AU, Golden Age of Piracy, Mythology and Lore, Temporary Major Character Death, Pirate!Castiel, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: Kidnapped for ransom by his childhood best friend, Dean is eager to return home and escape the pirate ship that has become his prison. But when Castiel sets his sights on a dangerous new quest, Dean chooses to stay by his side, even if it means facing down Death itself.

help me get where I belong (WIP) | ravenkings (AO3)

Rating: Mature Word Count: 73,437 Main Tags/Warnings: alcoholism, substance abuse, referenced child abuse, referenced assault, extensive crafting Summary: Dean Winchester just needs to get through a quick three-month stint in rehab to appease his little brother, then he'll be back to boozing away the rest of his short, shitty life. Except he kind of likes the group therapy leaders for AA, he's getting way better at watercoloring, and the crazy-haired guy on the NA side of the ward keeps winking at him.

Missing | @kitmistry

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 93,025 Main Tags/Warnings: Slow Burn, Murder Mystery, Post-Breakup, Mutual Pining, Heavy Angst, Minor Character Death, John Winchester's A+ parenting Summary: Two years ago Dean Winchester broke his heart. Now he's at Castiel's doorstep, asking for his help, but there's nothing Dean can say that will convince Castiel to listen. Or so he thinks. Faced with the news of Sam's disappearance, he decides to put his anger aside and follows Dean to a rural town in Nebraska, where they end up tangled in the missing girl investigation Sam was looking into. With an unknown threat closing in on them and all the things left unsaid between them about to be revealed, Castiel and Dean race against time to find Sam before it's too late.

All the Reasons We Are Real | @charlies-secret-closet and @jupiticas

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 96,466 Main Tags/Warnings: Slow burn, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Fluff, Canon Adjacent, Sam Winchester Ships Destiel, Destiel Fluff, Abusive John Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Charlie Ships Destiel, Self Worth Issues, Major Angst, You Will Cry, Summary: Sam is tired of it. Tired of the staring contests and the eye-sex and the 'standing two inches apart' thing. With a little help from Rowena and Heller-Queen-Charlie, Sam becomes the matchmaker: and tries to make his ship canon. Meanwhile, Cas is hiding a painful secret about a certain deal, and Dean is hiding his deepest truth. Until one night, when their long-awaited happiness becomes their greatest sorrow. Written in the original canon universe, this fic uses many canon scenes from the series to show that Destiel doesn't need fanfiction to be real. It has always been there, it will always be there, and it is REAL.

Twenty-Nine Steps | @scones-and-texting-and-murder

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 113,621 Main Tags/Warnings: underage, rape/noncon , PTSD, past child abuse, child sexual abuse, suicidal thoughts, repressed memories Summary: At the age of forty, Dean Winchester has a strong, loving marriage, a successful business, and a young nephew he absolutely dotes upon. He and Cas are living the kind of life Dean never thought was meant for him, one where the future stretches out before them, solid and bright. When a series of small and seemingly unrelated events coalesce into a larger, horrifying realization, he’s rocked to his very core. With so much of what he thought he knew about himself ripped away, he’s trapped between confronting the trauma of his past and believing he’s worthy of the life he’s built.

Still Breathing | @casbelieves

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 124,924 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-con, Drug Use, Self-Harm, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Depression, Mentions of Suicide, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Reunion, Angst, First Love, Unrequited Love, Foster Care, Smut, Switch!Cas, Switch!Dean, Angst With a Happy Ending Summary: Castiel has no reason to trust anyone. As a teenager in the foster care system, he’s experienced horrific and unspeakable acts of violence and abuse that will haunt him for the rest of his life. When he arrives in Pacifica, CA, as the newest addition to the Singer’s foster family, the last thing he expects is to develop a deep and unbreakable bond with the boy-next-door, Dean Winchester. But Dean isn’t as in control of his own life as it seems, and the two struggle to navigate homophobia, trauma, and the pressures of an impending adulthood. When they meet again as young adults, eight years after their falling out, they are given a chance to rekindle a fire that never truly went out.

Patient Love (WIP) | @chaoticdean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 152,765 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Settings, US Navy SEAL Dean Winchester, Journalist Castiel, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, War Injury, PTSD, Grief/Mourning, Friends to Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Angst With a Happy Ending, Switch Dean/Switch Cas Summary: Castiel Novak is 27 when he suddenly loses his twin brother Jimmy, and his whole world turns to ashes. After 10 years as a Navy Special Warfare Operator, a battlefield injury forces 28-year-old Chief Petty Officer Dean Winchester to chose between being stuck behind a desk for the rest of his career or going back to civil life. Things are already complicated and painful enough as it is, but when former lovers Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak meet again after 10 years of radio silence and a galaxy of wounds and scars solidly standing between them, it feels like both a curse and a blessing has been placed on them both. Is there any hope in putting back their broken pieces together after a decade, and how do you deal with grief and broken dreams?

The Offering | @deans-jiggly-pudding

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 167,703 Main Tags/Warnings: Incubus!Castiel, AU - high school, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, rape/non-con elements, heavy angst with a happy ending Summary: As a pastor's son, Dean Winchester is expected to be all the things he's not: the church poster child, compliant with every plan his father has for him, and of course, straight. Fighting the confines of his father's faith and the control it has over his life, Dean is caught in the middle of a teen lock-in activity that will change his life. The boys accidentally summon an incubus named Cas, and his demands are clear. Dean discovers Cas to be everything he expected... Yet, even the darkest of creatures has secrets of his own. Can they be together, despite who they are, and despite everything designed to keep them apart?

A Ghost Story (WIP) | @valleydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 248,988 Main Tags/Warnings: Temporary Character Death, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Gardener Dean Winchester, Rich Castiel (Supernatural), Hunter Dean Winchester, Period-Typical Homophobia, References to Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide, Magic, College | University Student Dean Winchester, Ghost Castiel (Supernatural), Haunted Houses, Established Relationship, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Arranged Marriage, POV Dean Winchester, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Witch Hunters, Animal Death, Alternate Universe - Past Lives, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Secret Relationship, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Soulmates Summary: Castiel Novak has haunted his family's estate for 150 years, awaiting the return of his lost love. Upon their reunion, Dean Winchester learns of his past reincarnation. After the night of Castiel's resurrection, the two try to find out why they've been given a second chance. The answers may be hidden in the forgotten memories of Dean's former life - but sometimes the truth is better left buried.

Time Won’t Let Me | Aketch-22 (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 253,520 Main Tags/Warnings: Non Explicit Sex, Closeted Castiel, Hurt Comfort, Harry Potter Crossover, Angst and Feels Summary: Entering his 5th year of the Voldemort-controlled Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, muggle-born Dean Winchester is faced with the prospect of the Choosing - a ceremony where twelve students are picked based on blood status to participate in the Mudblood Games. In the Games, the tributes are transported to Purgatory. If you're the first to find your way to the portal out, you become part of Voldemort's world - and if you're not, you die. Will Dean, Sam, Castiel and the others be Chosen, or will they simply have to sit by and watch their friends suffer at the hands of the cruelest supernatural threat the trio have ever faced?

The Exceptional Bad Boy | @thedevil-is-in-the-details

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 329,619 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - High School, Bottom Castiel / Top Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester / Top Castiel, Past Rape / Non-con, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Alcohol Abuse / Alcoholism, Drugs, Suicide Attempt, Fluff and Smut, Tattoed Castiel, Depression, Anxiety, Self-harm, Stalking, Minor Character Death Summary: Again, they move to a new town and Dean is so sick of always moving around and always being the new kid at school. And he wants something better for his little brother Sam. But their father can't manage to keep a job for longer than two months. No matter where they are, there is one thing that is always the same though. Dean's reputation as bad boy. It was never a problem that there were already other bad boys because Dean was always the worst. But now, he has keen competition – Castiel Novak. Covered in tattoos, drinking, smoking, doing drugs, breaking other people's noses... Novak's reputation precedes him. But that he's still different than every bad boy Dean's ever met is pretty clear though, from the very first moment they meet.

#destiel trope collection 2021 #day 3 #angst with a happy ending #destiel #fanfic #supernatural #saving blogs; queuing things; the tumblr business

161 notes · View notes

imonthinice · 3 years

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 14/?

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name

Somehow! I decided that Y/N became more of an OC, I don't know how this happened, but I might release an AU just because I clearly can’t fanfiction Y/N lmao.

Warnings: Discussion of arrests, Mentions of alcoholism, Mentions of drug use, Mentions of Jason’s trauma, Mentions of relationships ending bad, Mentions of abuse (domestic), No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

“Your friends... all got arrested?” he paused, “Do you remember this? At all?” he questioned.

“Do you expect me to remember any of this? I was black-out drunk, Jason,” she said, “There’s a lot of questions that need to be answered now, I know that.”

“You going to worry about this now and fix it?”

“I really don’t want to deal with it. My memory of the night is non-existent anyway.”

“Getting drunk does that to you.”

“You’d think I would know that by now,” she muttered under her breath.

He chose to ignore that statement because clearly, she wasn’t prepared for everyone to know of that part of her past yet. But that was neither here nor there.

“Do you have any notes that you need to write?” he asked, trying to ease the tension. Hoping it would clearly make her feel better if he changed the subject.

“No, I can read my own notes. I only printed them out for you, Jay.”

“Well that’s very sweet of you to do, baby.”

“Got to make up for my recklessness somehow, I guess,” she laughed, “It is what it is, I guess.”

“You should be more confident in the fact that you don’t need to make up for recklessness,” he paused, “Did I ever tell you about that time I dared Dick to tuck and roll out of the car?”

“Dick mentioned it.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you that he made me do the same first, actually,” he laughed, “We were with dad, he was teaching me how to drive as one does, and when we stopped so dad could answer a phone call, Dick leant over to me and said, ‘During my demo, twenty bucks if you tuck and roll out of the car.’ and me, being a stupid teenager took the deal,” he laughed, “Dad was pissed at us two and refused to take Dick on my driving lessons after that.”

“Well that doesn’t explain why you made Dick tuck and roll out of the car,” she laughed.

“I’m getting to it! So the next time Dick was going to go for a drive with Dad, probably because he wanted to tell Dad about Barbara or something, I don’t know, I said, ‘To get your twenty bucks back, you tuck and roll out of the car this time.’ Dick, also being a stupid teenager, did it,” he laughed, “And that’s why dad never takes us on car rides now.”

“Have any of your other siblings tucked and rolled out of cars?”

“You say that like it’s a daily activity people just do.”

“Well, who’s to say your family is not one of those types of people?” she joked.

“Logic?”

“Logic? In the Wayne Manor? That’s rich.” she joked.

“Like you would know!” he retorted to her before grabbing her and yanking her onto his chest as he laid down on his bed.

“You’re dating a girl who flipped off the press twice, you cannot look at me and say your family possesses logical thinking.”

“That’s valid, I won’t dismiss that,” he laughed.

They let the news play in the background as they cuddled. Jason still had his stitches in and he said it was because Dick said, “You’ve been moving too much’ and the two of them laughed, knowing that that was likely going to be the outcome. They knew what they did, they knew it was worth it. Dick probably didn’t think it was worth it, if he even caught on,

Bruce had reamed Jason out for that, because Bruce did catch on. Bruce had to play the parenting role in this all, and he knew what Jason was like. He knew Jason likely wasn’t prepared for the escapade and journey they had took.

He was right. Jason wasn’t prepared for that, he didn’t have the necessary items for it. Y/N and Jason didn’t care about that at the time, so they didn’t even bother to realize. Kids will be kids, Bruce supposed, and he hoped for the best possible outcome out of this. He knew Jason wasn’t ready, he didn’t know if Y/N was ready, but he knew if what he was scared would happen actually happened, he’d support the two of them unconditionally.

But they would continue to do their own thing as time went on, and even at 3 in the morning, no one could stop them from doing what they wanted, what they needed.

That was the beauty of the chase they had done to get to this point, the drama, the love, the pain, it all got them to the point where they were side-by-side in his bed, naked. Obviously they were going to have sex eventually, they just didn’t expect it this early on, but they also seemed to be speed running the entire relationship to the good parts, where they knew each other like the back of their hands, just enjoying the quality time they got with each other.

Yes, it was soon. But it worked for them, and that’s what mattered to all of them. Not just Jason and Y/N, it mattered to his family that even if they were quickening their pace, they were happy and understanding of sometimes it just goes a little faster than one would expect. It doesn’t mean it’s bad or doomed to fail, it just means it’s clicking in a lot of ways others didn’t.

Jason had a dating rep he didn’t like to admit. He was known for being a womanizer, a playboy, someone that dads everywhere didn’t want their daughters to be with. He was given this through the fact that he did have women come in and out of his life. He didn’t want it to be this way, but that’s how it ended up being when some women, most women, would crack under the pressure of his life. He moved fast because he thought it made up for the craziness that was his life.

So, when he found out that Y/N didn’t like the press very much, he was ecstatic. He knew she didn’t know about what was being said about him everywhere, he knew she didn’t feel scared either, when she proved time and time again that she had a backbone to stand up against the press. Was she one-of-a-kind for this trait? No. Barbara also exhibited this with Dick and their relationship. But Jason had been so shit on by women he tried to date that Y/N was a nice change.

He didn’t want the press to be her new norm, that running from them would become her life, but he also didn’t know if that bothered her for a while, until he saw the articles. The ones calling her names and insulting her every feature, physical and character traits she had shown them. He knew that of course, with the games she had been playing, that they would insult her, and with the court case going on with her attacker, they were just more vicious.

That’s why he demanded she get into Dick’s car the morning after he found out about her drinking, not because he didn’t trust her or anything, but he knew with the ongoing case that she’d be bombarded worse than before. She realized this was his reasoning eventually, probably when she was in his arms.

Her dating streak had been better, but it still wasn't the best. She had a lot of secrets she felt like she needed to hide because of how they made her feel, but eventually she would come out with her stories, the assaults, the bad men, the way they used and used her and how she let it slide.

Being assaulted was something a lot of the population had to deal with and cope with, most likely never actually telling people of their assaults and just letting it simmer, deep, deep down in their brains. Wishing it would have just not happened.

She wanted to talk about it, but she had also healed so much from it with the help of Jason. Sure, he didn’t fix all the issues she had with exes, but the fact that he didn’t treat her the way the others did, sure as hell helped.

Writing and dance also helped her cope with a lot of the bad things that had happened to her. She figured if Jason went through bad things, he had an outlet too, because he did seem torn up, but not massively affected. Maybe he was good at hiding how he felt about it all, but maybe he had a way to deal with the trauma.

She knew his parents’ stories and how he was so young during so much of it, and he hoped, prayed even, that he had coped well with those events. But she had no control over most if not all of the events that transpired and how he handled dealing with them.

Both of their minds had a thing for wandering away from them at the worst yet best moments. When she got a call.

“Hello?” she questioned into the phone, when an automated voice returned.

“This is a prepaid call from Gotham County Jail. From inmate ‘Justine Wong’, to accept this call, please dial 1.”

She did.

“Thank you for your cooperation. All inmate calls are recorded. Your account balance is $40.50.”

“Y/N?” Justine asked.

“Hey, I’m here.”

“So, we have an issue,” she joked, “How much do you remember?”

“Nothing. I don’t remember anything.”

“I figured, fuck.”

“It seems issues follow me wherever I go, huh.”

“No, no. It’s our fault, myself, Kaitlin, Thomas, Christopher, we all dragged you out of the house and got you drinking. I barely even remember how it got to where it ended.”

“Well that... that isn’t ideal, Justine. Do you know when your court date is?” Y/N asked.

“I don’t even know if the guy is pressing charges, I hope he doesn’t.”

“You can say that again,” she joked.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess, I took you to the bar that night.”

“You did, yeah.”

“I should have known better.”

“It’s... it’s not that you should have known better, man. It’s... it’s that a bunch of unfortunate circumstances lead us to this point,” she tried to say to comfort her friend. She did feel like it was Justine’s fault in a way, but she didn’t know if fighting with her over the phone while she was held in jail for bodily harm charges was the best idea.

“I feel like you’re mad at me,” Justine admitted.

“It’s not important, really. We can talk about it in anywhere from a couple months to a year, hoping you get lucky.”

“I think we all want to get lucky, Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I think we’re running out of time here, with the call.”

“We are.”

“Well, I love you, man. I’m sorry about all of this.”

“I love you too.”

Click. She paused for a second, with Jason sleeping next to her, she questioned a lot. Whether these friends were even worth it at the end of the day. She had changed so much since she last saw them, trying to cut clean of alcohol, drugs, partying. And trying to better herself,

But she knew all 3 of them were trying to do so too. They really had just ended up in a bad situation. It was 4:34am, and she was just lost in thought when Jason turned into her in his sleep. She smiled.

She played with his hair a bit while he slept, trying to just calm herself. He seemed sweaty, and clutched his bed sheets with one of his hands, She thought maybe he needed comfort right now, not her. She didn’t ever notice this behavior before these moments, and it concerned her.

He was a grown man having nightmares, she assumed, but she didn’t like it. He deserved to sleep peacefully throughout the night when he woke up in a cold sweat, clutching his sheets and having his hair stroked.

He didn’t question it and just laid on top of Y/N, and let her stroke his hair as he tried to go back to sleep. They didn’t say anything, either of them. It was just really early on a Thursday morning, and they were making the best of the situations they had been thrown in.

There wasn’t any tension between the two of them, but they knew they were a ticking time bomb, that eventually they would fight and the supposed ‘Honeymoon Phase’ would be over. They didn’t like that thought, that one day they might be at each other’s throats, forgetting that a problem in the relationship is them two versus the issue and not them vs. each other. Fighting with their s.o scared them.

Jason would fall asleep in her arms, slowly drifting away into unconsciousness. But he would exhibit the same behaviors as before. The fear in his face was palpable.

But Y/N was asleep this time, so when Jason woke, trying to scream, he slapped his hand over his mouth and cried, he didn’t want to wake her, but he also craved just telling her what had happened and how sleeping was so, so much harder for him than she thought.

People thought the nightmares had slowed, but he just got good at hiding them.

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rosyk · 3 years

Text

Deja vu

pairing: bang chan x reader, (a bit of han jisung x reader)

genre: heavy angst, passion, romance, one-sided love, bestfriends, long distance relationship

warnings: light curses, death, depression, mentions of alcohol and drugs, family problems, mentions of forced sexual activity, insecurities, anxiety, etc. (Its quite detailed in the first part and could trigger some people in these type and if you are one of them, I advice you not to read. It can really be uncomfortable on the first part)

word count: 11.5k

inspiration: Before We Knew It ch. 36-38 (webtoon), White Flowers- Olivia Rodrigo (unreleased song)

a/n: This is the least fic I loved but I had to continue it to start a new one and i won’t ever write things as long as this (it’s hard) lol. I don’t know who’ll ever read this long and cringey story but I hope it’s worth your time (?)

If I were to describe a man I’d love to marry someday, it would be someone tall, doesn’t openly show their true feelings towards me, and leads me in life. However, you were the exact opposite of it.

I didn’t even know when and why I fell in love with you. Was it at first sight? No. Was it because someone told me about my indistinguishable feelings for you? No. It was like how love was portrayed in novels and books. I just knew it. Instead of leading my life, you made me, myself, want to lead and search for my future. After you happily talked about your passion for music, you made me feel as if you were the right one. It made me think, “Maybe I do want to be with him until the end of life”. I believe something great would occur and I want to be there when that happens. When the music he produces, raps he created, genres he invented, and when his voice reaches the world, I want to be on his side and be proud I was able to witness all of that. You were everything in times I was the “nothing”.

I truly wished to be a singer right from the start. My dream was unaccepted by my family because the job isn’t as stable as it seems. I had to study medicine since then. Therefore seeing you was like seeing how I could’ve been. I stopped my passion but you made me pursue the unpursued, break off the imaginary limits I had created in my mind. I developed a fear of having to try again. I never sang after years and tried to let go of my past. But you? You lifted me away from the cage of darkness I trapped myself in. My anxiety was too deep to the point I was afraid of people, nightmares, thoughts, happiness, living, being alone, home, and simply just everything.

Even I was scared of myself.

Then I knew this is the worst a person could be. It isn’t when someone takes drugs, drinks alcohol, or flees away from home. It is when he or she no longer wants to take a step forward. I was frightened by the idea of love but also the idea of being alone. I was terrified to open up when the people closest to me never understood but was scared when I keep everything to myself too much up until I’m tired. I feared death the most, how much more if I was living? I remember cutting myself in bed when I overheard my parents fighting because of my presence. I was shaking, desperately trying to suppress my weeping. Was I sad because I didn’t have good childhood memories I could reminisce? Or was I happy for myself because that was the bravest thing I did? I was too young to understand what I truly felt but I didn’t regret a single thing.

I know the difference between wrong and right but why can’t I tell when it comes to situations that involve me? Is it wrong to think it would’ve been best if I was sleeping forever, in a depth of endless time even though I know I should live for a purpose I couldn’t find or for people who don’t care? But is it also right to live and hope miserably someone out there would find and help me even though it means staying and coping with the pain? Whenever I make a decision, I could hear trapped voices rambling in my head, time ticking as fast as my heartbeat, my soul pressuring me, and my mind that creates negative scenarios which cause me to step back before even having the chance to run. In general, I’ve had to overthink my overthinking.

I also have the habit of blaming myself. As deeper as it goes, it became my lifestyle then. I blamed myself for playing the victim as if I was the only one hurting amidst the world. I blamed myself for crying when I had no right because I gave people terrible occurrences. I blamed myself for the inability to be brave and commit what I feared the most. I also blamed myself for silently not crying loud enough to the point that my facade turned out stronger.

Looking back, I was a total mess in which I couldn’t even call myself human. My only best friends were the mirror and my own shadow. I was 10 so I appreciated how the mirror felt the same feelings as mine. It doesn’t laugh when I cry even though the creatures surrounding me do. But for the same reason, I hated it. It reflects my despair, how horrible I looked causing me to despise it the most. My shadow on the other hand makes me feel I’m not alone at the end of the day. But I also despised it the moment my mom locked me up in my room, isolating me in darkness to forget all the traumas I had given her. Because even the shadow disappears in my darkest hours. And just like friends, it all just ended. I no longer want to feel love if love was meant to hurt.

Years of living in hell passed by, until you came.

“You okay?”

I was crying at the staircase in the nearest tunnel found at school. I was a 16-year-old who tried to break away from my dad’s drunken behavior. Running away was another brave thing I did but it was because the thought of him doing me was scary enough.

It was embarrassing to let you see me like this but surprise was the first reaction I had. No one ever dared to approach me because of my low status and the suspicious silence that I give. Questions filled my head as to why you bothered talking to me. Were the rumors unbelievable enough?

“I am new here but I haven’t seen you a lot in school. Are you the same as I am?”

So he’s a transferee. Honestly speaking, I was discouraged. It’s clear that he would slowly stop approaching me as soon as he knew the rumors. You introduced yourself and asked for my name. I gave you a silent treatment causing you to face my direction. We stared at each other for minutes. You finally gave up and sat beside me as I turned my gaze back at the people playing in the park, sighing heavily.

“Would you like to hear my life?” You look at me, expecting something. I turned back at you, both eyebrows raised. You showed your smile, with those little cute dimples on each side to get away from the awkward atmosphere. Trust me when I tell you that was the brightest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life. Maybe you did show me the colors I didn’t know I needed in my life.

“Oh… I guess you don’t then? I mean why would you be interested right?” You laughed yourself off but as usual, expected some remarks from me. My eyes panicked as I shook my head quickly from side to side. My eyebrows creased as I bit my lip, hoping you understood what I meant.

“So you do want to hear it?” I shook my head up and down as an approval of your question. Unnoticeably, it was the first time I felt eager especially when it comes to humans.

“Isn’t it annoying though?” I got the hint you wanted to tease me considering your giggles but I was too caught up in assumptions that you wouldn’t continue your storytelling. Thus, I did the same thing, turning my head from side to side, trying to convince you that I desperately want to know what happens in the lives of some.

“Cute” you mumbled to yourself but I was able to hear the word that came out from you. You patted my head casually as you started to talk about your life. I grew slightly embarrassed, curling myself, holding my knees, and acted as if I didn’t hear anything.

You were transparently open in talking to the point that I finally knew what “precious” actually meant. Although it was for a moment I knew it would stop soon, you definitely saved me from all I felt.

There I knew how our lives were exact opposites. If I felt everything, the happiness, and sadness, contrasting feelings I couldn’t comprehend, you on the other hand felt nothing. As soon as your dearest brother got into an accident, you didn’t know what to do. If I had abusive and malicious parents, you had no one to be with. I couldn’t even imagine what would happen If I lived your life.

I knew I was bad for thinking of such a way but I took advantage of your life. It made me feel relieved that there were people who faced the worst monsters than I have inside me. It made me look at the positive side of mines.

Much especially when I didn’t expect it would be you. My first impression of you was this carefree pure guy who had no problems in living his life. Little did I know, you were waking up feeling nothing, smiling with no joy, cries without letting out the pain, and laughs despite the numbness and burden that weighs in your heart. I guess we can’t judge people by the way they appear. We never know how much tears they’ve shed every night.

You summarized and wrapped things up. You asked for my name one last time before leaving. But there I was, hung my head low and sniffles could be heard. You looked in confusion as I tried to cover my face. A surprise was evident in your reaction and it was obvious due to your stuttering. You tried to ask what happened but instead hugged me unconsciously.

That was the first time I’ve ever felt warmth. I was born a mistake so even my parents couldn’t give me this kind of comfort. I cried worse as I had thought of it. The idea of a stranger giving me a better meaning of how home felt like than a family does, who wouldn’t tear up after that?

I don’t want to be ahead of time. But hope filled my mind. Maybe I could find more people like him. Maybe someone out there could notice my emotions. Maybe someone could act as my light. Maybe someone does care about my wellbeing. Out of a huge percentage of people living on Earth, there should be one who could at least meet and save me right? I know I settled in all “maybes” but it was much better than having none.

Recalling the series of events, I was a total problem. Yet you were always there for me no matter how heavy of a burden I am. You were the one who believed in me when I couldn’t, picked me up when I was drowning in a wave of traumas and worries, and lightened my deep void. You were my first and swore you’ll be my last, who broke my past and created my unknown beginning. I hated risks but whenever you are involved, I for sure know it is worth it no matter how many needles it may pain me. It had been years before noticing how much you mean to me I may be late, but would never get tired of this. I will listen and enjoy our memories until the end. You will, for eternal love, be my last song in my only playlist.

Although it’s true we never believed in love since the beginning. But all we do know is that we’d like to spend our whole lives together. It’s as if we were bound by the heavens to meet and help one another. With all that’s happening, I would like to assume that this is love people were talking about. Who knew it could be this powerful to change someone?

[CHAN’S POV]

And what happened to the “messy innocent girl who was stained by reality?” She became an unrecognizable teen, as pure as ever. In the past, I wasn’t able to feel the emotions most do but look at me now, smiling every time I see you do. Even though I’ve never felt heavy feelings, these light ones are taking a toll on me whenever you call my name.

We had arguments but never had any misunderstandings. This is all because no matter what I say, you are always by my side. I could tell you day by day how much you mean the world to me, my downfalls, and everything unnecessary but you’d still listen to it with no regrets.

Right now, we’re meeting up for a “little date” as you mentioned. I was going to decline because there had been many requirements in class but you seemed too interested that I didn’t want to break it to you.

I was wearing my usual hoodie sweater with baggy pants and ordered for both of us. After all, you would always choose chocolate whipped shakes over anything. You seemed to take too long so I decided to work on some demands given. I turned on my laptop and opened the application as I placed the headphones on my ear, silencing the noise in my surroundings.

Now all I can hear is my heartbeat pounding and swallowing as my throat started to dry. The loading symbol appeared on my screen and I hoped it would stay like that forever. I hoped it would crash and tried to find more excuses for me not to use it.

I was consistently looking at the time shown on the panel below the main screen. The blue circular sign still turns and turns as I see it from my peripheral vision. 3:31, 3:32, 3:33, the minutes kept moving and hands that are now shaking because I assumed this would be the worst nightmare that could happen. But no, cause “worst nightmare” is an understatement when we are referring to this. It would’ve been better as a nightmare because I could wake up from this traumatic moment. I was focused on my screen that I hadn’t noticed the calling in my front.

“Channie?... Chris?.... Christopher?... Mr.Bang Chan?.. Chan!”

[Y/N’S POV]

He finally noticed me as soon as I tapped on his shoulders. He flinched and looked at me in horror. It creeped me out but it took seconds before he could pull his eyes away from mine. He bit his lips and I noticed him covering his hands. The staff called out a number which I believe was from our table considering the way he closed his laptop.

“I’m getting that” You forced a little smile as you made way to the counter

I smiled at the thought of our “date” but seeing you sweating and nervously fidgeting your fingers to avoid them from shaking bothers me. Did something happen before you came? Why was he that nervous? Thoughts bombarded my mind, but you coming back with my favorite drink and snacks, looking all-smiley, tells me as if you noticed my discomfort so you tried cheering me up. You sat down in front of me and got rid of your problems. As usual, this guy notices even the littlest gestures I make.

“Did you wait too long?” I asked you with enthusiasm because our little date has now started. The idea non-stop makes my whole day

“No, I just arrived before you did.” You respond with a genuine smile despite the clear lie you just gave. You stroked my hair as you looked at me lovingly

“Oh, I just passed by that bakery we talked about a year ago…..” I started chatting about our fond memories that remain vivid in my head.

It took several hours of talking and enjoying our time together. We also watched that Philippine movie starring two exes who broke up and lived in one house, but being an emotional wreck, it took 30 mins of you trying to comfort me as I cry ugly. Of course, you didn’t miss an opportunity to laugh at me and even took a video. Teasing me and showing my picture as your wallpaper, made me playfully angry.

We also enjoyed visiting the same tunnel where we met. The nostalgia is present. The moon is shining and I can’t help but smile looking at you.

[CHANS POV]

You look beautiful under the moon if I must say. I wanted to show the magnificent view because it reminds me of you whenever I see it up above. You were my only light when my days in the past were too dark.

We continued strolling around, counting the streetlights that passed by and talked about a lot of things. Until you decided to speak up-

“About…. the thing that happened earlier?” You looked up to me, but your eyes soon started moving away from mines. You were held on with the anxiety of trying to speak up whenever it had come to my personal life. I don’t know whether it was the trauma you’ve stumbled upon when you asked about my father or it’s just due to your manners. Nonetheless, if it was indeed your trauma, I’ve felt guilty about it and wanted to reassure you I won’t hurt you ever again. “But if you don’t want to talk about it-“ I cut your sentence off.

“My father was a musician..” your eyes shined with glee in my response

“That’s cool!” You exclaimed but it soon faded into a frown after hearing me sigh. Tilting your head, you tried to calculate everything that’s wrong with it. I nervously fidgeted with my hands and knuckles, contemplating a decision that could change and even affect both of us.

“Everything’s wrong... He was into it, music took his mindset and life” I faced my head sideways and gulped without looking at your eye. The trauma, I’m finally telling my pent-up feelings after a lifetime keeping it to myself.

“He was so into composing music and started to forget about the reason he had started to do it. And by that-“ you cut off my sentence and started to nod a few times, pressing your lips together. You pointed your shaky finger at me and spoke softly.

“I think I know where this is going.” You looked at me in disbelief but all I could do is look at you with concern and guilt, asking for forgiveness. “Is this why you didn’t want to love again even after all these years?” Your eyes that shined stars a moment ago, turned into sun at night. It wasn’t raging darkness, but plain agony.

“Can you blame me? I know I love music, I’ve told you that on repeat for years. Is love what I need when that was the cause of everything?”

You didn’t take one glance at me and started walking faster. You were trying to leave me behind but I was quick to grab your hand.

“Please, let’s not act like this. It’s starting to get..” I was trying to think of a less harsh word because things get complicated day by day. And here I thought this date would be an exception. “Childish. Okay? I don’t get why you’re so out of place and it’s like-“

“So now I’m the one getting childish here?” You turned around and faced me, finally. Though it wasn’t any relieving as I expected. You were having tears stuck in your eyes, ready to fall at anytime yet you don’t want to cry in front of me. Are we going to keep this up? I was about to talk but no words came out of me. Until you decided to continue your sentence.

“You knew about this all the time, right? You knew how I was starting to fall for you and yet you continued our relationship without feeling love?” You bit your lips as your eyebrows creased. Trying to push me away, but all I could do was hold you tighter. “I know how trauma feels like. I’ve been there, we’ve been there. But you could’ve told me sooner at least so I’m not the only one looking like a whole fucking fool here, Christopher.” You tried to get away from my hold and yes, you did. Though as I tried to grab your hand once again, you took a step backward and placed your hands up in the air as a sign of surrender. “Call me sensitive but for God’s sake! How could you get me all wrapped up in your finger for the past years and call it something that isn’t attachment nor love? What was I to you then?” It took seconds for me to get the gist of what you’re trying to say and I did understand but I couldn’t answer that simple question.

Because now that I think of it, was I awful to hesitate who you were in my life? Was those years nothing for me then? I want to protect you until the end and I wanted to see you happy but I’m pretty sure I felt this for some of my friends as well. Did I just get into a relationship whilst thinking of my significant other as a friend? Is it called using someone? Taking advantage to make my life better? I know what’s right and what’s wrong. But I don’t know which is which. Getting into a relationship is a risky choice and I don’t want to hurt anybody in between. Because I know that’s what’s wrong. Using others for my need of affection and love is wrong as well. But is this exactly what I’m doing? I don’t know...As things grow, it just gets complicated to the point that I couldn’t even comprehend situations.

“I thought so” you continued, and those words crushed my heart. I didn’t notice the time we’ve been arguing, though technically it’s just you who was able to speak, that we’ve already reached your house. You opened the tiny gate in front of your house and I know what’s going to happen sooner later.

“Maybe, you need time to think about it alright? I don’t think I can keep up with a relationship like this if it’s too one-sided. But don’t worry I’ll wait. Even though what I want may not come,” you chuckled but the sigh was still evident. “I’ll wait for you.” You smiled, but it isn’t the one you’ve always shown me. I was the reason for your happiness but also the reason for your pain. How tragic must have been that sound.

You went your way to the door and closed it. I knew you were crying as I heard little sniffles but never looked my way. Closing the door, that was the last time I had ever seen you. With no goodbye kisses and hugs, you left feeling the ache you didn’t deserve.

[YOUR POV]

It was supposed to be “taking a break”, but considering this, I should’ve accepted it as a break-up. You never took time texting me after the whole 4 months. I guess I was no one in your life. But even though I was still hurt, I regretted spatting out things as if it was your fault. You always get guilty over things and I know it was all just because you had a hard time reciprocating your feelings because of the lack of love you’ve felt. I should’ve understood that part but being the sensitive me, I was unmindful. I’ve also never seen you walk past the corridors nowadays, so it’s basically been also the same 4 months of actually not seeing you as well. You really bothered trying to get out of my life.

I groaned as I sat up in the bed. It was around 8:30 and I’m like 1 hour and 30 mins late? Not that I’m bothered by it since I’ve gotten used to it. It’s not like our teacher is there by the time I arrive.

-SCHOOL-

“Outside, now” was the first and last thing I’ve heard as I entered my classroom. And here I thought the teacher wasn’t present. Not only did I embarrass myself in front of my classmates, but I’d also have to stand holding a chair, outside the classroom for lower and higher-ups students to see. Awful, and my reputation is broken. Well, not that I had any significant reputation in the first place but come on, you know how hard it was to see students bickering while looking at you.

I heard the door click open and I hoped it was the teacher who finally would let me in. It turned out to be another classmate of mines which I thought was unnecessary. But as I looked back up and noticed his eyes, a sense of familiarity came unto me.

“Han?” My eyes widened at the sight in front of me. I’m not expecting people to be perfect but our class president was the last person I expected to be scolded by our teacher. “Weren’t you inside the classroom way before me?”

“I cursed.” The guy spoke shortly and lifted the chair just like the same punishment I’ve been doing. I blinked my eyes twice but understood nothing.

“Pardon?” I replied in a high tone as if I was questioning what he was trying to say. Cursed? Is he out of his mind, trying to curse in front of the teacher? Besides, he had always been this quiet kid, but girls still tend to simp over. The latter though is out of my knowledge.

“What did you say?” I leaned in as you jolted quite a bit. Reacting to the sudden flinch, I assumed it was bold of me to do so and it scared you. But looking straight at you, pink tints were found on the side of the cheeks. It was light and definitely cute.

“F-fuck” he faced me with eyebrows creased and hesitated in replying. It was so short and awkward whenever he’d say it or maybe it’s also due to his stuttering. The thought was so out of the place and even I, who is quite free doesn’t curse in front of the teacher for no reason so why would someone who tries to stay low, would curse? But the way you told me the “forbidden” word made me laugh out loud.

“You’re funny, Mr. class president” I replied after a silent 2 minutes and laughed while hitting him lightly. Little amounts of liquids were falling down my deep brown eyes as I tried to regain my breathing. He’s awkward and that’s what makes it funny. I like him.

I wiped off my tears and stared at you. My laughs slowly died down after seeing your confusing expression. I don’t know whether your eyes held a safe haven or a place I was indulged in and forgot about the point that everything was complicated in between. Whether staring at you was comfortable or confusing. All I know is that I was distracted by the genuine smile you gave. It was little but I knew it was a smile after seeing cute dimples on the side of your lips. Now that I think of it, I haven’t ever seen the president smile.

You noticed my pause and coughed, trying to clear out the tension. The usual demeanor was back. Was everything just an illusion then?

“Anyways, I don’t know about you but I’m gonna have to go. Don’t want stay here standing when time’s already up” you lazily said as you pressed your lips together, leaving me speechless all alone. Raising your hand, you waved back at me while walking away and didn’t even take time to look back.

That was weird. Or was I the only one weird? True, I’ve never seen him around that much but I’ve painted the guy as someone responsible considering the works he finished even after given such a small time. He was indeed open-minded but wasn’t out-spoken or friendly. Work is work and he has to make sure he aces his tests for his reputation to not tarnish even one bit, that’s all that matters to him. He was never used to smiling so he doesn’t do it as much, at least that’s what I’ve heard. I’m guessing it must be my imagination.

/LUNCHTIME/

Guess what? It’s already lunchtime and I haven’t learned a single bit of information from my teacher’s discussion. Shrugging all my homework, projects, quizzes, oral recitations, and performances that are all due this afternoon, I walked out of the classroom.

But before I did so, I found a familiar guy in my peripheral vision. Trying to confirm whether it was him, I turned and called his name out.

“Mr. president?”

The same awkward and serious guy turned around, raising his right brow. You were confused at first about who would call you with no respect, but hummed in surprise as a response.

“It’s Han for you... and for everyone” trying to continue the work you’ve been doing for our school camp which is totally several months later. What’s the rush?

“Drop the formalities! Besides, I like Mr. president way better.” I smiled and tilted my head then flipped my hair. I was a whole smug for thinking my naming sense was the best thing about me.

“Like, like?”

The same vibe always comes up whenever I’m talking to you and I don’t know why. How is it so hard to interact with smart ones? I feel like their language is different and I couldn’t even comprehend what this guy is trying to say.

“like?”

“You like mr. president. That’s what you said”

And that’s how it struck me. Looking back on everything, it seems pretty weird. (I like Mr. President way better) rings all throughout my head. I know he’s been surrounded by girls who have a crush on him but surely he doesn’t think of this as a low-key confession, right?

Please, I didn’t deserve any of this awkward tension. I did walk up to him first but blame my curiosity for wondering what he’s doing in his free time, does he always go to the library whenever, or what do the lifestyle elites like him actually have? Maybe, I did just want a friend but who knew it would be this complicated. Wrong choice.

“The names you provide for people are so dull” you faked a yawn to show how uninterested you are.

I laughed out and tried to hide the embarrassment I’ve felt inside. He meant the name of course! What was I thinking? He quickly got up and proceeded to leave the classroom as if he understood what I wanted to do. He catches up with things fast if I must say. But the feeling didn’t subside in me and I tried to cover up my face with my hands as soon as he left. Heaving a deep sigh, I reassured myself and followed him.

-CAFETERIA-

“This is all they’ve got?”

It’s been a second we’ve entered the school cafeteria and yet this elite beside me was already complaining. We sat down on the white benches and I was also relieved the cafeteria doesn’t have many students since our class ended earlier than the desired time.

“You’ll get used to it. Besides, what do you commonly eat for lunch? This is good.” I replied and waited for a response that never came back. I’m thinking it was a wall I’m talking to. You ate the soup and showed a face of disgust. Of course, I don’t give up.

“Do you have different cafeterias?” “Or do you eat in your respective rooms?” “Do you actually eat? cause you looked really busy with the requirements.” “Being a class president is that hard huh? I don’t think I’ve seen anyone as hard-working as you even if they have high titles.” “You know if I was the class-“

“Why do you ask so many questions? Geez” you swept your hair and sighed. You felt tired talking to someone as chatty as me but all I could do is playfully pout and raise both my eyebrows up. Shrugging, I respond.

“Why not?”

You glared at me but I wasn’t taken aback by it so you decided to reply, finally. “The real question is, why?” you tried to peacefully eat and finished it quickly so you could go to the library, I suppose. It was going smoothly until my small brain with low grammar or structure skills decided to pop up the least moment I wanted it to.

“Because I’m interested in you.”

Choking was all I could hear after I simply stated. Panicking, I gave you my water unknowingly and you drank it. I patted your back and stroked it gently.

“You okay?” I tried to calm you down but your face seemed to ask me whether you were okay even after everything was obvious.

“You mean you’d like to know about my lifestyle?” You analyzed my reaction as I tilted my head. I mean isn’t that clear? Your eyes seemed like you got the hang of me again and scoffed, rolling your eyes. Wow! Now, what’s up with this attitude?

“It’s common. Just some random New York steak.” My eyes widened and my ears couldn’t believe what they’re hearing. That’s common? Gosh, even my monthly allowance couldn’t afford to buy a whole steak, what more if it was specifically in New York? And the way he didn’t bother to flex about his lunchtime food and acts as if it’s unimportant.

“Enough about me, how about you?” I believe you were trying to ask for the sake of the conversation but it excites me anyway. I mean, an elite asking me about my life? It boosts my pride, internally laughing as I thought of the idea.

“What do you want to know about me?” Grinning, I eagerly waited for the question. How blessed I am to have an upper-class student to not just interact, but ask about me as well.

“What happened between you and Bang Chan?”

I’m taking it all back. I don’t want to hear any questions. I was wrong. By Bang Chan, I knew straight away he was referring to Chris. The mentioned ex became an elite, or so I heard. I don’t know how, why, or when but that’s the only reason possible for him to know there was a thing between us. But unlike me, Mr. President wants to make sure of everything and not just the rumors he had heard.

“No.” I simply stated and continued to eat.

“Why not?”

“I should be the one asking you why”

“Because I’m interested in you”

I paused and was slightly surprised by the sudden declaration. Okay, my way of telling him made me look crazy. I looked up to him and saw a pair of teasing eyes. This is who mr. president is? Now it was my time to roll my eyes and I knew at that moment I had no escape.

“Exes. We’re exes.” I expected a startled expression from you but your lips curled downwards as if you expected it. How was it hard to read this guy’s mind though he immediately catches up on everything I’m feeling?

Days passed by and as usual, I was the one annoying you. At that very time, we became close because I knew you were a comfortable place for me to be in. You don’t judge unlike what others do each time I open up my problems especially when it comes to my relationship with an elite and Christopher, out of all. For sure, you were the right choice of friend I never knew I needed to rely on.

[YOUR JOURNAL]

Just a few days passed by and I hear lots of students whispering. What’s the occasion? I don’t even know myself yet I’ve brought a ring that matches mine. I’m naive but I always trust my instincts no matter what. As I try to recall the date and puts everything together in one piece from all the clues I’ve gotten.

A familiar man appeared in my sight. But he wasn’t mr. president. He was looking at me and I continued to look at those deep brown eyes I’ve longed to see after a long time. Was I prepared? No. Did I want to see him? I’m not sure so myself. But did I actually like that view? Indeed. My very first heartbreak or hiatus came back after months and to see he felt the same way I did. Did the moment I waited for all of my life would finally happen?

Each step you take, the more my anxiety rushes through me. I felt the shivers either because I was scared or it was the tears I’ve forced to stop from rolling down my cheeks. Or simply both, ignoring the fact that I was hurt yet I did want to see you after all. I wanted to walk away, but if I did then I’m making the same mistake twice. Therefore I stood still silent and only my heartbeat is the loudest out of all.

Closing my eyes, I expected strong grips around my wrist which marks it deep red because anger was the only thing present in the space between us. I didn’t take consideration of the things you’ve gone through but instead became selfish just because I’ve moved on from the past. I did tell you I would wait for you forever but all I gave you was the pressure of making you choose decisions at times you were having a hard time. Just because you made me learn the definition of love, doesn’t mean I could anticipate that you felt the same thing.

Quite on the contrary, I’ve felt warmth and comfort. The grip was truly strong, strong enough to hurt me emotionally and not physically unlike what I expected. The grip I’ve felt was hanging around me, a hug was given to me even when I didn’t deserve this.

“I’m sorry” that was what I’ve heard in the muffled and low volume of voice the man had spoken because he was on the verge of tears. I was supposed to be the one asking for an apology, yet this guy took it to heart once again. Typical Christopher.

“I missed you. I’ve realized I can’t do things without you. It’s been hard..” Your sentence cut the uncertainty I’ve felt. It came, he came. I cried my heart out after not breathing for a second. It would finally work out, after months of trying to ask for support from other people, you entered my life once again. And better? You loved me.

It was your graduation, and I’m glad to be there just like what we dreamed it to be. You may have left, but our romance never stopped.

Cliché right? Of course, that never happens in reality. What happens, is the point that we argue every day because of the long-distance relationship that serves as an obstacle in us. We don’t even know whose mistake it is but considering you, you’ve always been the one who let your pride down and ask for forgiveness. There are times it’s also been me because I realized that this guy doesn’t deserve more burdens in his life. Support is everything I could give.

“Everything working out?” I was astounded by the call Hanji decided to initiate first. He’s always been there for me when I had it rough. He cares for me though he doesn’t show it as much.

“I don’t know. I’ve rarely been receiving texts but he made sure to call me anytime soon. We’ve both been fighting against this. Thanks by the way” You sighed after I finished my sentence. I hoped my exhaustion wasn’t able to reach you but you knew straight away.

“What do you see in him? He is talented and ideal but do you think you both match up?“

It was good he called but hitting it directly at me and doubts our relationship? That’s what triggered and ticked me off. “I told you not to talk about this.” I firmly uttered.

“He doesn’t get the way you act, talk or even feel”

“I’m sorry? What do you mean by that?” It’s rare to see us quarrel because you didn’t want to reach that point and yet it’s you trying to get all complicated once again. Here I thought I got the hang of how you think. “He understands me more than anyone.”

“If he does then why didn’t he call by then?”

“He was busy. I repeated that to you more than thrice throughout the whole call. But if he wasn’t busy then he’d take a grasp of everything.”

“Was he? Because the last time I knew you had a rough day, crying all alone, he didn’t. The time I knew I had to cheer you up, he didn’t. The time I knew I needed to reassure you that no one’s ever going to leave you but stay by your side, even though you didn’t realize about it, he didn’t.”

3 seconds passed by before my voice was heard in the line.

“What does that have to do with all these?”

“I understand you but the guy you wanted to be with, doesn’t”

That was it, the final blow. Both were concerning, the whole sentence is. Starting from the conclusion you understood me up until the thought of me wanting a guy who doesn’t pick me up the way I assume couples needed. We had a relationship with Chris, but was it called a relationship with lots of things in between?

“I’m sorry. Slipped out. I was just irritated.” It was a first for you to apologize but my mind wandered to the part where you compared yourself to Christopher.

“What do you mean by you understanding me when he doesn’t?”

“I mean... If I did understand you, then I’m pretty sure a lot more boys out there would be a better match and would recognize your desire. They would be able to take care of you. You know I’m just.. worried.”

If it was the usual vibe, I would’ve laughed at that lame excuse. But thinking back, it’s hard for me to perceive the way you feel about me. I’ve heard rumors but ended up being nonchalant about it because mr. president having feelings? I chose to believe it wasn’t real especially when I’m already facing a hard time.

“good night.” You continued after the short silence. It was now you who was starting to get exhausted. You cut off the line quickly before I could even reply. Was the relationship between me and Chris wasn’t able to follow up fate? How innocent of me to think that true love comes so easily.

Days turned to months and I lost count of the weeks Chris has been gone by my side. He had never failed to text compared in the past, but I still yearned for his affection.

He seemed excited on the phone today and unknowingly called me 5 times and now a 6-

“Christopher, aren’t you busy?” I giggled as I heard him laugh. It made my day and filled up the void in me that was created because of the thought he isn’t able to be with me on my graduation day.

“I have duties... as your boyfriend” I playfully rolled my eyes without expecting a turn of events.

It was my final day in school and to think that I have to spend it alone because I had no friends, awful. Chris made my day though, so I wanted to enjoy it to the fullest. But the feeling of not seeing Hanji anymore still lingered in my mind. It was harsh but I had to accept it. We didn’t talk that much but undoubtedly, he was a good friend in times I need him.

Whilst looking around the stalls in the halls, I found him. He was talking to a guy seemingly the same age as ours and he looked so happy. But as his eyes met mines, was it just me, or did it die down? Maybe he doesn’t want to see me after all? His eyes traveled back to the sushi he ordered but sighed as I ran up to him.

“Mr. president?” The happy and annoying tone of calling him wasn’t present anymore. It was gloomy, hesitating if I should bother his hours or time. “Did I do something?” What happened to our closure? it flees away.

I saw you in the process of trying to smile a little and just hummed to let me know nothing’s wrong. But everything is. You ignored me and walked up to the classroom. I followed you, as I always do. I decided to speak up but you cut me off.

“I’m sorry if I did-“

“Are you still interested in me?”

You turned around and confronted my small figure. It hurts the way you try to smile in front of me but failed to do so. Usually, you always made me believe what you wanted me to. You’d say you’re fine, you’re happy, you’re not exhausted, but right now? I’m not buying it. I may not be able to read you that much, but you seemed too tired to the point that your magic of convincing me didn’t work.

“Interested..?”

“You said you were interested in how elite ones live. Now that you got the answer and your boyfriend is one, what am I there for?”

“You were there for me-“

“when he couldn’t be there”

You were being on and off, getting more complicated as time passes by. You don’t go straight to the point but instead, run circles until I have a hard time contemplating whether I’m the wrong one.

“What are you trying to imply?” I questioned

“I don’t need a quote that says don’t expect something in return”

“Return? After everything, we’ve been through? Our friendship? Was it all just nothing? How doesn’t that benefit you?”

“Because the more I give you your need, why do I have to receive pain instead?” Your voice was shaky and I can see you biting your lip, trying to suppress yourself from falling and breaking. “You wanted to know me because you were curious about my life. Now that you know of it, what do you want from me?”

“What do you mean what do I want? I want nothing from you. The bond that we’re tied in is enough for “

“Then who am I to you?”

“I told you, a friend.”

“My purpose in your life?”

“Lifting me up whenever I feel....down”

“So did you recognize how that sound like to you?”

Among both of us, I broke down first. Why am I being the one treated like the villain in this story taking advantage of people around me? Why am I the perceived the evil being in our friendship? Why does he want to make me feel guilty? I didn’t even know what the problem is yet, but I was already the bad one here. Call me clueless, but I couldn’t be blamed for something I don’t even know about. Quiet sobs filled in the silence and I could feel your sympathy filling the empty room.

“If ever..” in a low volume, you decided to speak “Why do you want to spend more time with me?” I looked up to you and wiped away all my tears if that’s possible.

A reason, that’s all I need to prove but no suggestions came up to my mind. Recollecting tragedies, was I the one who didn’t bother calling you when you didn’t do the same to me? Why didn’t I? You didn’t even pass my mind one single time in the past days. So why didn’t that happen? I appreciated him but when did things gradually just..stop?

Tears fell down yours as well but you didn’t want me to look at you in the eye. “You were supposed to say for more memories, you know? Like because I actually made you happy so you wanted me to appreciate our moments. Believe it or not, that’s what they say” you laughed to lift the air but I was still left dumbfounded after everything. How terrible of me, that thought echoes repeatedly.

Hours passed by and I wasn’t feeling it. The sun turned gloomy, the loud cheer of students turned to noise, the sky turned monochrome and the atmosphere turned dull. All I could do was ask Chris regarding it. All he could say is that he appreciated how Hanji backed off and didn’t want to complicate things more by telling me. Understanding none of it, what does he mean by didn’t want to complicate things more when our quarrel was? Wow, I really am this hopeless. Slow and unaware.

I was lost in thought that I late realized how I could hear vehicles in Chris as he was on call. Was he lying then? He mentioned he was staying in but why are there noises and people chattering? I was baffled hearing one of the familiar voices behind. One seemed to be the same as my classmate.

“Where are you? I thought you said you were in your home?”

“I am home.”

Clichè as it seemed, It all felt like a slow-motion in a fast-paced sequence of events. Firstly you were just talking to me but at the next second, you were personally doing it.

Holding your phone, I finally found the guy I’ve seen and lost on the same day in the past. But now? He’s here. Promising me that he won’t leave ever again. I knew I could trust these words no matter how repetitive they're going to be. Once you tell me it, I just know you’d be by my side no matter what until the end of the world.

You were looking the same as I remembered in the past and it’s played out like deja vu. You walking up to me and giving me a whole hug of comfort, as I cried in your arms.

“How about your-“

“I don’t want you to worry about it. I’ve chosen myself, with no additional pressure, to live with you.” You stroked my hair and patted my back.

“Live with me?”

“Don’t you want to?” I was delighted and surprised by the sudden decision. I wasn’t given enough time to think about it, not that I needed time anyway. I would always choose you over anything else.

It was the event and yes, I graduated with my boyfriend cheering me on and allowed me to soar high and fly, to start a new beginning.

[HAN POV]

It was good seeing you happy. Even if it was Bang Chan, I’m sure he is the only man that can make you smile like that.

But indeed, I was hurt. I was a book you wanted to read but as soon as you got ahold of the main idea, everything starts to get boring. Usually, you would never fail to not make me annoyed each day because as you always say, I cross your mind every time. When you were indulged in your relationship, I was forgotten.

It was all my mistake and you don’t have to feel guilty about it. I may not have any expectations of you loving me, but I had hopes and that’s what made me receive pain. If I hadn’t hoped you would be with me, hoping you forgot about him, hoped you could see I am just here waiting, hoped you could realize I can treat you better, then both of us wouldn’t get hurt. It’s my fault and I’m held accountable to live in regrets.

But even for a split second, I am happy that I am capable of distracting your worries and making your day better. I wasn’t thinking well in the argument a while ago but I did get the benefit. Seeing you happy, makes me happy. So letting you go is the best choice for both of us to receive joy. Scratch that, I don’t have the right to tell you I would let you go.

Because I never stood a chance did I?

[YOUR JOURNAL]

After graduating, I moved in with Christopher. He let me listen to some of the tracks he had created to stop me from bothering him all day.

The music he had composed was nothing personal and was based on people from different perspectives. I had never felt the same experience as well but something about the way he writes and produces brought me to tears. The pain and emptiness inside were well shown in the midst of harmonies. He was also a genius writer with well-structured sentences and livens up feelings in the words to make the listener feel as if he or she was the one narrating it. His father is a musician, but to think he would be able to express that much in songs just shows how deeply connected he is with music. He wasn’t motivated because he tries to stop himself from being like his father but it was a pity for him to stop something he is incredibly good at.

“You’re really something Christopher! Do you know that?” I hugged him from behind and heard his little laughs. “I think I’ve fallen for you all over again. But honestly, I knew you’d write and produce this good” I wore on a smug look as he asked while giggling because of the face I’m giving.

“How?”

“How about calling it an intuition from an expert music lover?” You playfully rolled your eyes in my response because you expected something more detailed. You urged me to explain it to you so you’d knew my opinion about the music and so I did.

“Your words are beautiful that it makes me believe anything you’ll say, Christopher” I smiled and kissed your cheek. I rested my head near your neck as we were sat on the bed, facing each other.

It was true. You made me feel different feelings and opened up a new perspective to move on from my past. You influenced me a variety of changing thoughts. I don’t like the idea of losing myself to someone because it forgets the real me. I don’t like the concept of being crazy in love with people because it doesn’t feel sweet somehow whenever the risk of it being one-sided and unable to move on is present. Not realizing that whenever the talk comes about you, it feels heavenly. I don’t know who I would be if I wasn’t yours but it all feels enchanting. Although you made me insecure, at the same time you made me laugh throughout the day. You were a gold rush. Perfect and gentle, to think that someone like me got you is like winning once in my entire life. Luck is rare but fate was there. By fate, it turned out you were destined to meet me and get me out of the hell hole, no one tried to do. By fate, it means I will love you and will forever do. By fate, we’ll stand strong and fight the cracks alongside our journey.

[CHRIS POV]

You wouldn’t take a no for an answer when I was asked to create more songs. A single shed of tear from listening to my music encouraged you to push more song requests unto me. Make-me-a-song was all I could remember hearing from you.

I remember you publishing one of my songs and I was accepted by it. You were jumping up and down as I was worried about its outcome. I was starting to get known, that was also the beginning of how the unforgivable musician started to forget about the important ones in his life. It was as if the result would be dragging my only light into my darkness. I don’t want to be a musician and yet, here I am composing more songs even if I knew what was coming soon.

I’ve started with light romance that I think you’ll enjoy but seeing you look so happy with just a simple work of mine, gave me that motivation I least wanted to have. And like a recorded cd, everything was played the exact same way in different men. I hated it but it was truly like father, like son.

I continued to write songs with deeper ones but as I got the recognition all the more, I produced as if I was possessed. I was indulged in the way words can be conveyed differently and ideas, stories, and theories were constantly overflowing my mind. I was wrapped up in music and I hated myself for it. Even though I despised the process, I couldn’t help but continuously write. All of my pent-up feelings in the past years were expressed in my songs, making me create heavy tracks and don’t run out of stories to tell. The man I’ve been hiding and was traumatized from came back and it’s as if he mocks me that we are on the same page after all. I felt myself sinking and sinking despite you telling me that I am not like my father because I made you feel the definition of love. I was trapped in a room with no escape that relates whenever I had started making music, I couldn’t get out of it. I wasn’t forced but this drive is what makes me continue because I feel like I’m creating a new genre that makes people deeply appreciate and maybe understand what I’ve been going through.

4 years came by but it felt like days in my studio.

“Chris, are you sure you’re fine? Get enough rest okay?” the young girl called me but I was busy finalizing the song.

“Yes, thank you,” I replied shortly after your question. I wasn’t paying much attention so I didn’t know the accurate response for it.

“Anyways, what’s that ab-“

“I’m working on music that’s going to be showcased and submitted to the famous JYP company later. It is really important so I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me by asking so many questions. Come by later, we’ll talk about it then.” I looked at my watch on my right arm and noticed how I still got a few hours left before attending the ceremony. The albums will be released soon after but I have to submit another title track.

I was busy with all the scheduled dates and songs that I hadn’t realized

she wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Mr. Bang Chan?” hours came by and truly the CEO came. We have a friendly bond and he gives me advice so it’s casual for him to call on me. I hurried up to the door and went to the car.

“Why didn’t you invite her to the big event?” The CEO of the company asked me to start up a conversation. He crossed his hands and tapped his fingers as if he thought of something so deep and significant because he was getting impatient.

“It’s a big hassle. She isn’t good and comfortable in interacting with people she doesn’t know” I simply stated and smiled for respect.

“I don’t interfere or meddle in the personal affairs or lives of others but I hope you aren’t neglecting her because of this, are you?”

“She will understand” I looked up to the car window and stared at the illuminating lights from buildings. I know you took a lot of time waiting for me, but please don’t give up and let me finish this song about you. By then, our Disney-like dreams would finally come true and I swear I’ll make you even happier.

I held a box of ring in my pocket. I’ll make you happy, just hang a bit in there okay?

[YOUR POV]

The CEO told me about the new album he’s been working on. It was about his first love. It would be no other than me, right?

I went up to his room and read the paper scattered alongside his desk. There were lots but I decided to read the one that I assumed was already done. It was near the porch and I understood how he wanted to compose in front of the moon.

The moon shone brightly that night

but I realized that wasn’t my source of light

You look lovely

as the smiles you beamed lasted an eternity

I was persuaded and lost in thought

unknowingly, my heart was caught

Because even under the moon, you’ve shone the brightest

and cleared my problems at most

Even under where light lies,

I was indulged deep in your eyes

Even when it illuminates through the void,

a different view is what I’ve enjoyed

Because even if their minds were fixated on the scene,

looking at you felt more serene

I stopped reading the paper and placed it back on the desk.

“That can’t be me..” I thought.

Starting from the mentioned smiles, how could that be me? You stated you enjoyed looking at me, but I felt like I was invisible whenever you compose songs. Did you make songs while thinking of me? I don’t think so. You should’ve known that you were dragging me along with your darkest nights. I wasn’t even your light anymore, it died down. I was overshadowed by your passion or the one you’re talking about in this script. Can I still make you happy? No. Am I still happy? No. The whole lyrics proves how you didn’t even take a single glance at me right now. Because if you did care, you would've known I changed because you did. I changed because the person I was relying upon, didn’t find motivation in me. We started together but it lost while it progresses just like how you started music because of me but lost my figure in your sight along the way. It was reality, I was being forgotten. When I was alone crying, where were you? I know you don’t understand me quite well but I was the whole climate. I changed for seasons unlike in the past where it was mild swings. Because you know what hurts the most? Not the fact that I waited and kept waiting as I am already used to that and no matter how many years it may take, I’ll always wait for you. But it’s all because everything went back. You picked me up from the trauma and showed how love is but it’s as if my past resurfaced from the waters and told me how tragedies would always stay the same. That I would always end up this way no matter who I’m faced to. I felt guilty for slightly regretting that I praised your songs. Indeed you were meant to be connected with music and it’s your passion. I’m happy that I was able to show it to you but wouldn’t these happen if I didn’t start it all? I was wrong. I thought it made you happy but no. None of these made us happy. Your pieces of music weren’t to blame, I shouldn’t be blamed and neither were you. Where did everything go wrong? I don’t know, it just started to fall off. These lyrics were deeply engraved in my mind. You seemed so in love when I wasn’t able to show you what love is. If it was a person, she must’ve been so kind and understanding. She must’ve been someone who understood your secrets and feelings. And me? I couldn’t still get to you. I’m confused about what’s best for you or what you wanted all along. I don’t recognize the woman you’re writing about. Either it was the past me or someone new. Chris,

who is it that you’re in love with?

Cold air rushed through my skin as I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of calm air. It wasn’t possible but it was enough to make me feel calm. I still appreciated our moments but I feel like I can’t wait anymore, Chris. It’s not because I’m tired but because I feel like you’ll be better without me. I hate the idea of me regretting I showed you your passion. I’ll be nothing but a whole burden. You’ll meet someone better who recognizes your life and by then she’ll be a brave one who can communicate with you. You’ll find someone new, or you already did. If anything, happiness is all I need in the end, at least at the ends of the world. It did happen. I was happy because the next thing I’ll do will be the bravest thing I had ever done after all my cowardly decisions in life, and it’s all because of you.

I stood up at the top of the porch and imagined a vivid scenery. It was you kneeling down to someone new. She did accept it and you were celebrating. Tears ran down my cheeks but was I smiling? Yes, it was indeed happiness seeing you take a break from the pressure and realize you needed to receive joy. I wasn’t able to give it to you but to think someone else would, contrasted the happiness and pain. “It’s time to let go” I opened my eyes slowly as I thought and saw the moonlight. I snapped out of my thoughts and cleared out my head. Because no matter what happened in between us, you crossed my mind in a second. And that’s when I knew, I still loved you despite the bittersweet rain.

[CHRIS POV]

I heard sirens in front of the place that doesn’t feel like home anymore. Why? I heard how young and innocent the girl was and it was a pity to see her leave. It was a shock for me to the point that I hadn’t shed a single tear. Empty, hollow. It was all I could feel at the moment. Was she gone? Did she conclude to leave her out of my life?

Paper. That’s all I’ve seen on the desk. It’s prohibited to enter but I couldn’t believe what I’m seeing. The paper was crumpled and I believed you took the time to read this. Was my perspective wrong about you? Wasn’t this about you? I read the paper without further thinking and realized how I painted her as an angel. She is human, she was a human. Yet I’ve acted as if she was happy all the time, trying to save me from being a mess. Did I take a look back at her? No, instead I assumed too quickly. But what could that change? I was late and you’ve already given up. I was this close to preventing this but because I was so into writing a song made for you, I had forgotten the purpose to the point that it doesn’t seem like you anymore. Can I turn back time? If only I could. I needed to feel your warmth, I needed to see you one last time. I need you.

“Excuse me, do you know the victim?” A man from the authorities asked.

“Yes.”

Mixed emotions were vivid. I felt guilty but hoped you were happy in your last breath. The context of mines was complicated and I didn’t even notice it before. I abandoned to treat, as what I comprehend. Miscommunication rode the tides but it was undoubtedly true when I started to ignore people that surround me. I want to focus on you without realizing I left you. Is that even possible? It is now that I’ve seen it. Just like CDs, everything was played out in deja vu. People were different but things were just the same. It was how I became just like the person I despised all my life. But I did it for a reason, it’s not like I forgot about you. I just didn’t think how your feelings are right now but pursuing this song, is how I still remembered every bit of you. Would the ring I held on be given if I arrived earlier? No, I should’ve realized. I should’ve loved and made you feel how important you were to me in the days back then. In times you felt a hole in your chest, I should’ve been there to feel it up with love. I should’ve been there when you felt insecure. I should’ve been there when you felt all alone. But no matter how much I hurt myself, tear myself apart, it all ends with “I should’ve.” I’m sorry I couldn’t show you what I wanted to. I’m sorry I couldn’t love you until the very end.

I continued explaining to the man,

“She was my fiancée”

would you love me if I let go?

43 notes · View notes

livingforcoopsandoknutzy · 3 years

Note

I just read all of your fics and they are so so good! Can you write something with 41 and 45 for coops?

Thank you so much!! <33

“Do you want to talk about it or be distracted from it?” + “It’s bad again. It’s really, really bad again."

All credit goes to @lumosinlove bless that beautiful brain of hers

TW: depression/mentions of past abuse

Remus could always tell when Sirius was trapped in his head. Sirius would get reclusive and silent, he would go from being clingy to touch averse and it broke Remus’s heart without fail every single time.

Sirius would often get that way around the anniversary of leaving and a certain time in November, which was what was happening now. It was November 19th and Sirius had been in the process of shutting down for two days but today was the worst of it.

Remus had gone to bed at two in the morning, not being able to stay up any longer. Sirius had promised to come to bed soon but when Remus woke up the next morning the sheets on his bed were still made.

Making his way downstairs, he found Sirius sitting on the couch staring blankly at the wall, purple bags under his eyes that confirmed Remus’s suspicions that he hadn’t slept at all. Remus had made his way loudly over to the couch in hopes of not startling Sirius.

It hadn’t helped and as soon as Remus sat down Sirius’s head snapped to him, his eyes wide and panicked. Remus knew better than to touch him when he got like this so he sat farther away and talked to him in a calming voice.

“Baby, it’s just me. You weren’t there when I woke up, did you sleep in here?” He asked gently, relieved that Sirius had calmed down when he realized it was Remus instead of freaking out further. Sirius just shook his head, not vocalizing which Remus had expected.

Remus just nodded and snuggled into the couch, offering a silent strength for Sirius if he needed it. They sat like that for about an hour before the tension finally left Sirius and he actually laid his head down in Remus’s lap.

Sirius let out a quiet sigh when Remus’s hand found his hair. “You okay, love?” He asked quietly. Sirius shuddered at the name and shook his head slowly. “It’s bad again. It’s really, really bad again.” He said quietly, a slight waver in his voice. Remus dropped his head so he could kiss Sirius’s forehead.

“I’ve got you, baby. Do you want to talk about it or be distracted from it?” Sirius laid quietly for a second, his hand finding Remus’s free one and playing with his fingers. “Can I talk about it?” Remus was almost shocked into silence. Sirius seldom talked about things from his past, not more than two sentences and never into details but Remus would be damned if he didn’t listen when Sirius finally did.

Remus just nodded, his arm tightening around Sirius’s waist so he could pull him to where he was more laying on him than sitting his head in Remus’s lap. Sirius snuggled into the embrace, his forehead pressed into Remus’s neck.

“When I was growing up there were only two people in my family who didn’t hate me. Two people besides my brother who never laid a hand on me.” Remus clenched his jaw, fighting the anger that washed over him every time Sirius mentions or subtly mentions the abuse he suffered as a child.

“My Great Uncle Alfred and my cousin Andromeda. My Great Uncle Alfred was cast out when I was about six years old, he’d send me secret cards when he could and would tell me to keep my head up. He’d been gay and when my family learned his secret they’d kicked him out. They burned him off the stupid family tree.” Remus buried his nose into Sirius’s curls when Sirius took a break to get his voice back under control. Sirius leaned his head back into the touch.

“He was great and I loved him but Andromeda was always there for me. She’d show up randomly as if she could just tell when things were getting worse and she’d take me away for a weekend or something.” Sirius had a faint smile on his face, it was bittersweet and Remus was almost afraid to hear the rest of the story. “Eight years ago today she came and told everyone she was moving away with her boyfriend who was half Swedish.”

Sirius scoffed and Remus felt his heart sink when he saw the tears in his eyes. “My family, of course, lost their minds because he wasn’t French and she was kicked out of the family, her picture burned off the family tree just like that.” Sirius cleared his throat and pushed harder against Remus’s neck as if he needed the reminder that Remus was there.

Remus held his head close and dropped kisses to his dark locks. “I was so mad at her for leaving me, I was just so angry but my family kept talking about her. They kept calling her a blood traitor and a whole bunch of other names I didn’t understand then. I went off, told them that if anything she was doing the right thing, she deserved to get away she was too good for us all anyway.” Sirius let out a weak laugh and shook his head.

“I told my mother that they shouldn’t talk about her like that because at least she wasn’t still in the loop of inbreds.” His voice dropped off and when he started talking again it was much darker. “My mother hadn’t found that amusing. She had slapped me across the face before it even left my mouth. She had been too angry to properly punish me so she left it to my father.” Sirius started trembling and Remus tightened his hold around him protectively.

“I’ve got you. You’re okay.” Remus whispered as he pressed a kiss to Sirius’s temple. Sirius just huddled closer and fell silent for a minute. “He beat me so bad I nearly died. I broke three ribs and my wrist but they wouldn’t let me go to the doctor. My mother locked me in the cellar and left me there for a week. Regulus had to come and sneak me food because neither of my parents thought about the fact that I was going to starve.” Sirius let out a bitter laugh. “Or maybe they did, maybe that was the point.”

Remus bit his lip hard as his vision swarmed with tears. How could someone so precious and so amazing be treated like that? It was times like these that Remus remembered how strong Sirius was, if it had been anyone else Remus knew for a fact they would have been broken by now.

“I was so mad at Andromeda for such a long time. I never returned any of her letters but she never stopped sending them.” Sirius sniffled and closed his eyes tightly. “Until she did. I thought she had finally taken the hint, it had made me much sadder than I thought it would have since I was the one ignoring her anyway. Turns out she had a daughter and had died during childbirth. Regulus had to tell me since no one else ever spoke of her.”

Sirius shifted so he could press his forehead against Remus’s seeking more comfort than Remus knew how to give. Remus tightened his grip and pulled Sirius closer until he was straddling Remus, chests flush together but in a way that was more intimate than any of their other ‘intimate’ moments.

Sirius made a broken sound and Remus felt tears fall from his own eyes as he watched Sirius’s expression change into a deeply tortured expression. “It was my own fault for never reaching out to her. I- I should have answered.” Sirius let out a sob and buried his face in Remus’s chest. “If I had just returned her letters instead of being stupid and petty I would have gotten to see how she was, I would have gotten to knew her daughter. Re, I could’ve been an Uncle to her but I was so angry about being alone that I ignored all of it. She probably hates me.”

Sirius made an utterly broken sound and Remus held him as tightly as he could, trying to keep his own cries silent.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” He said quietly, wishing at that moment harder than he ever had that he could have known Sirius growing up, that he could have helped him through all the stuff he went through. He never should have had to go through that, much less as a child. Nothing in Sirius’s life was fair and all Remus wanted was to fix it.

“You’re so strong, kind, and good Sirius. She couldn’t hate you, it sounded like she loved you a lot. You never should have gone through any of that and I’m so sorry you had to go through it alone, just know you don’t have to anymore. You’ve got me, or James, or Dumo. You have the whole team, you’re not alone anymore.”

Remus dropped sloppy kisses all over Sirius’s shoulder. “Thank you for telling me, I know that’s hard.” Sirius let out shuddering breaths and pulled back to look at Remus. A slightly hysterical laugh rose from his throat and he rested his forehead back on Remus’s.

“You’re not supposed to be crying mon loup, that wasn’t my intention.” Remus shook his head quickly. “I know I’m sorry but just- none of that was fair. You shouldn’t have had to go through any of that.” Sirius laughed softly and kissed Remus gently.

“I love you.” Sirius whispered, his eyes fluttering closed again. Remus basked in the warm feeling of being so close to Sirius. “Je t'aime aussi.” Sirius opened his eyes and shook his head, a fond smile on his face as Remus wiped the tears on his cheeks away with the pad of his thumbs.

“We should go to bed, I know you didn’t sleep last night.” Remus said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Sirius’s nose. Sirius just buried his face in Remus’s neck. “You know me too well, mon loup.” Remus laughed quietly.

Sirius pulled his face away with a tired smile. “Carry me?” Remus laughed as he gripped Sirius’s thighs and shifted to the edge of the couch. Sirius let out a contented sigh and wrapped his arms around Remus’s neck.

Remus picked him up with minimal problems and carried him to the bed where he dumped him precariously on the bed making Sirius laugh. Remus smiled at the sound, it was something that he hadn’t heard in days and he had missed it more than he cared to admit.

Remus climbed in next to him and put his arm out so Sirius could tuck himself into his side. When Sirius was in the need of comfort he would tuck himself into a ball and rest his knees on Remus’s stomach.

Normally, Remus would push them off but Sirius was already drifting and Remus didn’t think he could move him even if he wanted to. So he ignored the ache it caused and turned his nose into Sirius’s hair seeking out the comforting smell he hadn’t gotten in a few days.

Remus kissed Sirius’s forehead and sighed. “I hope you’re happy now. I hope you know you have a family and we are here no matter what. We love you no matter what.” It fell on deaf ears as Sirius had already fallen asleep, Remus drifted soon after.

#coops #remus lupin #sirius black #fanfics for a fanfic #lumosinlove #tw: mentions of past abuse #tw: depression

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clonewarslover55 · 3 years

Text

Walon Vau’s story

I decided to write out Walon Vau’s story, especially his home life and childhood. Why is Walon Vau the way he is? Read this and find out why.

Notes: I used my own headcanons mixed with the small details Karen Traviss gave us in the Republic Commando books. Please don’t steal this because you think it’s all hers!

Warnings: Bad childhood, abuse, child abuse, wounds, whipping, exile, royal drama, evil in the form of a man, thoughts of suicide, angst,

Let’s start this off with a little bit of planet information and backstory!

The planet Irmenu is a small ocean world, the only land masses being large rocky islands. Most seem like mountains, with dangerous cliffs leading into the cold unforgiving sea. The ocean is riddled with beasts and monsters, but the only way of life is to sail. There are some valleys for livestock or farming, but not many. The valleys usually flood anyways, the storms always ruthless. So the Irmenu people fish and sail, searching for months on end just to survive and feed their family.

Sailing is easy enough. The winds are strong and the seas rough. It’s cold year around, but the people have learned to adapt and survive. Wearing the fur of the air breathing sea beasts, making larger boats, etc.

The kingdoms are clusters of islands, not one large land mass. Many islands are in large clusters, huge oceans between each cluster. The islands are all under the rule of the religious leaders, but sometimes there is still conflict. Conflict never lasts long on Irmenu though.

This oceanic planet is in the Outer Rim, in the Belsmuth sector. Their planet is in the middle of the Crombach Nebula, which is extremely hazardous. This gives Irmenu a very good excuse to be so isolated. The leaders of the world use this to their advantage.

This planet is a Feudal world, which means it’s controlled by a strict religion that also runs the powerful military. This means his world is very close minded and far behind on certain technologies and such. They still have spaceships and holopads, yes, but they’re out of date and ancient.

The Imperius Priesthood runs the planet under very strict rules. They control what leaves and goes, along with who. They control the nobles and their money, using the Count’s as their marionettes. If you didn’t follow their rules/beliefs, you were either publicly executed, exiled, or sent to a nunnery. All depends on the situation.

They’re everywhere, spying on their people and arresting whoever they please. Being so strict and ruling by fear affected the Irmenu people terribly. Most were religious fanatics, which means religion dictates every single part of their lives. They read the Irmenu Bible over and over instead of other books, and they follow the rules like good puppets.

This planet is clearly terrible on it’s own, which only made Walon Vau’s childhood even worse.

Walon Vau was born around 79 BBY on the planet Irmenu. He was the first and only son of the Count of Gesl, who was also an admiral in the very large Irmenu navy. Walon was raised like any royal, so he didn’t have much of a childhood.

Every second of every day was planned out by his father. He was highly educated, classes every day of the week and all day long. He rarely saw his parents, and when he did it was never under good circumstances.

Walon learned proper etiquette, dancing, poetry, politics, and many other things he’d need to know for his future as a ruler. He was taught by a number of tutors, each brutal and cruel. He either learned, or was beaten.

Once he reached the age of ten he began to work harder, practicing and studying for the navy. He didn’t want to follow in his fathers footsteps, but Walon had no choice. Plus he loved sailing, the ocean was calming and vast. The navy was his only hope for a better life.

Pa Vau, Walon’s father was a harsh man. He was described as domineering, cold hearted, and unpleasable. He beat Walon when he didn’t do perfect on his lessons or training. He wanted Walon to be like him, so he tried to beat all emotion and feeling from his son. He almost succeeded.

A good ruler in Irmenu has no heart or soul in Pa’s eyes.

He would never hit Walon on the face or anywhere visible, he had to have a good face as a royal. As Walon got older the beatings became more often and more brutal, because he wasn’t doing good enough in Pa’s eyes.

When Walon was fourteen and tried out for the navy his own father rejected him, saying he was not good enough. Walon continued to train, the beatings even worse. The training didn’t help, Walon never made it into the navy. Pa was so unpleasable his only child was never good enough for him. This caused Walon to quickly lose hope, the thought of suicide seeming more appealing by the day.

Walon only ever got to see his mother at nights, when she would come clean up his bloody lashing marks and other wounds. She was a soft gentle woman, but timid. Pa beat her as well, making sure she didn’t see her son for too long. She was never allowed to see Walon alone, because Pa didn’t want Vau to go soft by a mothers love.

She was a religious fanatic just like his father, so she would lecture him as well. He had to be better, he had to. He was royalty, he was better than how he acted. Her words were often more cruel than intended.

When she finished cleaning his wounds she’d read him a chapter of the Irmenu Bible, a book Walon was forced to know every last word to. He never listened though, he would always zone out and dream of a better life…….Or even of ending his life.

His parents were never in love, their marriage arranged. His father married his mother because of her wealth and bloodline. His mother had rare golden eyes, a symbol of high status to his people. He got her eyes, but his father said that the color of his eyes meant nothing compared to how much of a failure he is.

When Walon turned sixteen he was at a ball for some religious holiday, where we meant a beautiful princess of a neighboring province. After a few dances they quickly hit it off, and grew close rather fast. She basically saved his life, keeping him from ending it once and for all. She also changed his future for the better.

He would sneak out as often as he could to meet her under the stars, but more often than not they wrote love letters on flimsy back and forth. Each letter, written with the finest penmanship and finest poetic words was kept by the princess. Walon kept hers as well, in a box under his bed.

When Walon was eighteen, he asked his father if he could marry the princess. His father and her father both rejected the marriage, along with the Priesthood. Not because of politics or religion, but because Walon was not good enough or worthy to marry such a beautiful woman.

His father was enraged that he had dared to ask such a question, so he was beaten worse than ever and nearly died. All because his father was embarrassed. When Walon healed a little he learned his love had been shipped away across the planet, to a nunnery. She would learn her lesson for sneaking out and falling in love with someone who was not of an arranged marriage.

He knew he’d never see her again.

Walon was exiled temporarily aftwards, being sent to some neighboring shit hole of a planet. He was eighteen and alone, with no idea of the outside world. His mother sobbed for days, her only child and her last hope gone. She prayed every night that he would be allowed back soon.

Luckily for Walon Vau, he used to sneak out to the large library every night to read books. They had no fiction books, so he just learned about other societies and their ways. Most books pointed out how “bad” they were, but Walon always thought they were so much better than his planet's society.

Thanks to reading, he knew a bit about the real galaxy.

Walon had nothing but the clothes on his back. He had no money or possessions. No title, no name. So he wandered.

Soon he ran into a group of Mandalorians, one by the name of Jaster Mereel. They quickly took in a teenage Walon, teaching him a new way. The way of the Mandalorian warriors. He never believed his home world's ludicrous ideas, so switching religions and cultures was very easy for Walon.

His family found out and disowned Walon for giving up his culture and religion. He lost his title and broke his mothers heart. His mother apparently died of a broken heart, after she heard the news that he would never return. But he knows deep down that his father finally snapped and killed her.

Walon became a perfect warrior, his body and mind already scarred from years and years of abuse. He was cold, calm, and calculated. Walon was also highly educated and very intelligent. So much so that some other Mandalorians taught him how to torture and dismember. He learned about the medical field and could have even been a doctor, but he preferred dead bodies and torturing.

Jedi could hardly sense him in the force, his soul too broken. He was a perfect Mandalorian Warrior, fighting along with his friend Jango Fett and many others for years. He fought in the Mandalorian Civil Wars, killing Jedi with no issue.

Early in his time with the Mandalorians, Walon met a Strill. The Strill could sense Walon’s shattered soul and broken mind, so it adopted him. The Strill was named Lord Mirdalan, jokingly after his favorite uncle. The uncle that had beaten him the less, and had been executed when Walon was ten. Walon did not miss him, or anyone from his home world.

That’s Walon Vau’s childhood story. He’s ice cold, calm, and utterly detached for a reason. His body is scarred, as is his shattered soul. He was so traumatized and beaten down into the way of the soulless that he had a hard time trying to escape that pit.

He was cruel to his Clone Commandos, but every day he would be up all night thinking. He wanted them to survive the war, that's all he wanted. He didn’t want them to be failures like him, he couldn’t allow it. Failures never survived.

Walon Vau hardly ever sleeps at night, his mind plagued by nightmares. Not of the wars, but of his home life.

Mird held Vau together a little better, but his soul never healed. He could never escape the hole of his traumatic past, and it ruined his life forever.

They call him a psychopath but he really isn’t. Walon Vau can still feel, he just doesn’t know how to. Walon Vau is just a shattered and traumatized man, one who never got proper help. One who never had a childhood.

(Please reblog this if you like it! I worked very hard on it!)

Tags: @leias-left-hair-bun @iamassbuttkingofhell @catsnkooks @mxndalorians @colorfulloverbatturkey @ahsokatano-thetogruta @jedi-mando @peacefulwizardfox @hounding-around @julyzaa @feathersforclones @chr0nicbackpain @strangebroadwaykinks @jedi-nila-rhyn @crimson-dxwn @detroitbydark @passionofthesith

#walon vau #Walon Vau's story #Republic Commando #Planet Irmenu #Pa Vau #Ma Vau #republic commando novels #republic commando game #republic commandos #delta squad #walon vau’s boys #repcomm novels #repcomm game #repcom #repcomm

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wouldpollyapprove · 4 years

Text

Whiskey Lullaby

Request: Could you do something where reader goes to Tommy after Arthur gets drunk and scares her?

Requested by Anonymous

Arthur Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: mention of alchol, violence, mention of abuse, language

A/N: If any of you are formiliar with Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley, this is not based off of that, I just liked the name. It’s not super sad, so don’t worry. I hope to have the second part of It’s Quiet Uptown out soon cause I don’t like waiting for the next part of fics and I know you guys don’t either. I hope you guys enjoy this and feedback is always apperciated.

Masterlist

A sigh escaped her lips as Y/n glanced up at the clock. It was nearly two in the morning, she should have gone to sleep hours ago, but that couldn’t be done when the space next to her would lie empty for hours. She wanted to believe her husband was finishing up work or helping Tommy with something but she wasn’t a fool, she knew exactly where he was. Arthur could be found at the same place every night and it most certainly wasn’t at home.

Y/n couldn’t put her finger on when it started, everything seemed fine for a long while. Arthur would go to work and come home right after. Then he started coming home a little later and it sprialled from there. Where he once came home an hour late turned into four hours or not at all. There were mornings Y/n woke up to a call from the Garrison, some poor barmaid informing her that her husband was passed out in a corner. Being the kind soul she was, she said nothing. Lips tight, Y/n didn’t complain, what would come of it? So, she’d get dressed and march over to the pub and drag the drunk man home.

It had become their new normal. The tired wife and the drunk husband, not one Y/n liked but she didn’t verbalize her thoughts. If she prayed enough it would all be fixed, right? That’s what she’d been taught as a child. But as she prayed and prayed and prayed nothing got better. In fact, it got worse.

And that is how she ended up, wide awake, at two in the morning.

The front door creaked open, something tumbling through it. Y/n didn’t have to take a guess at what as she stood from the bed and walked through the house. Leaning against the doorway, she watched Arthur struggle with his coat and shoes. Had they gone out drinking with his family, Y/n would have been giggling, struggling with her own coat as well. Instead, she glared at him, hurt in her eyes. Often she wondered if she had done something to drive him to drink so heavily.

“What kept you so late?” Her voice was a flat line, no emotion present.

Arthur whipped his head up, a small smile peeking out under his mustache. “There you are, love,” he slurred, nearly tripping over his feet as he approached her. Before he got the chance to wrap his arms around her, Y/n escaped his embrace and walked back into their room. “What’s wrong?” he frowned.

“What’s wrong?” she sighed, the late hour starting to get to her. “What’s wrong is my husband comes home at two in the fucking morning shitfaced and thinks nothing of it!” Y/n spat, careful eyes scanning the man in front of her. Y/n almost rolled her eyes, almost, when she caught the hint of anger in Arthur’s eyes.

“Ya saying I can’t go out?” he raised his voice, his suspenders falling off his shoulder.

“No, I’m saying you should be home at a reasonable hour,” she huffed. It was silly she even had to have this conversation with him. There was a point in their marriage where Arthur wanted nothing more than to spend time with his wife. Oh, how those times had disappeared.

He huffed. “At least I’m home! I could not come home at all!”

“Then don’t!” Y/n yelled to match his volume. Who cared if the neighbors were being woken from their sleep, listening to the marital problems that could no longer be hidden.

In a fit of rage, the man threw his weight against their dresser, throwing all the belongings on to the floor. Y/n was no stranger to Arthur’s temper, he’d never done anything violent in front of her. Eyes wide, with the dressers contents scattered across the floor, she knew it would only get worse. Quickly, without much thought, she scurried past him, fleeing the room. There was no telling what he would do next and a part of her feared that she would be hurt in his rage.

It broke her heart that the thought crossed her mind.

“Yeah, fucking leave!” he shouted at her back.

Shivering in the damp morning air, toes frozen without the protections of shoes, Y/n knocked on the big wooden doors in front of her. She never wanted Arthur’s family to be aware of the issues she dealt with. What happened in their home stayed in their home, but she couldn’t live with it any longer. So, there she stood in front of Tommy’s door, waiting for someone to let her into the warm house. There wasn’t anywhere else she could go, her family lived in a different part of the country and she didn’t know anyone who could talk sense into her husband besides his brother.

“Mrs. Shelby, what are you doing here so early?” One of the maids asked, opening the door and escorting her in. The woman didn’t even bother to ask Tommy or Grace if they wanted a visitor, not when she saw the state Y/n was in. She must have looked miserable from the look she was given. “Come in here,” the maid guided her into the parlor. “I’ll inform Mr. Shelby of your arrival and fetch you some tea.”

Y/n nodded and sank into the soft fabric. She would have fallen asleep, something her body was screaming for, if two figures hadn’t walked into the room.

“Y/n, what are you doing here? What happened to you?” Grace asked, rambling off questions she didn’t have time to answer as her friend came to sit beside her. Wrapping her arms around Y/n’s cold frame, the woman pulled her against her chest, allowing her to soak up some of the warmth. “You’re freezing!”

Standing in front of her, Tommy eyed the redness around her eyes, worry in his own as he paced around the room. “Does Arthur know you’re here?”

With a sigh, Y/n shook her head, the memories of the events from hours before playing before her. Shutting her eyes, they disappeared. “No.” Y/n winced at her voice, sounding like a child that had disobeyed her parents. “He’s the reason I’m here.”

“What’d he do?” The blonde beside her asked.

Y/n and Grace had been friends ever since the Irish woman had moved back to England. Though she understood why some members of the Shelby family were hesitant about allowing her back in their lives, Grace had never done anything to her and was like the sister she had never had. For the most part, they were inseparable. Spending most of their free time together since their husbands didn’t want them to be in harm's way when it came to the family business. Even with them being so close, though, Y/n had never even alluded to the fact that she had become trapped in an unhappy marriage. But Grace wasn’t a dumb blonde, the fact could be seen in her friends eyes, the way her lips turned into a frown at the thought of going home.

“He came home late, real late, again,” she sighed, thinking about the countless times she waited up for the man to make sure he was still alive. “And then we got into a fight and he threw things a-and… I was afraid he was gonna hit me.” The last bit was barely a whisper but both Tommy and Grace caught it.

With a sigh, Tommy ran a hand down his face. Someone had mentioned that Arthur had been drinking more, but he thought nothing of it. His older brother drank, it was fact everyone knew, so the information that he was drinking more didn’t faze him. But clearly, it should have. “I’ll take care of Arthur,” he said as he turned for the door. “Grace, why don’t you get her in bed?” His wife nodded, brushing a few loose hairs out of her friend's face. Standing from the sofa, Grace gently pulled Y/n up beside her and guided her to an empty bedroom. With exhaustion starting to set in, she needed all the help she could get to find her way. With the touch of a mother, a warm hand helped her under the covers and pulled them over her cold body. Before she knew it, her eyelids grew heavy and she was drifting off to sleep when a figure slipped into the room, a cup being set on the bedside table.

A stream of light peaked between the curtains, the brightness causing the man in bed to stir. Blinking awake, Arthur stretched his arms, turning over to wrap his arms around the body that was absent. Pushing himself up on his elbows, the events of the night before… well, the hours before, flooded his memories, causing his lips to turn down. He thought, a now foolish thought, that Y/n would have come home. She wouldn’t forget their argument, but he thought that, at least, she’d come home and sleep in their bed. Fully sitting, Arthur thought that perhaps she had done that, come home that is.

He threw his feet over the edge, knocking the bedding off, and began to search the house. It wasn’t as massive as his brother’s, only a few rooms to be checked, and he checked every one of them. There was no sign of his wife in the parlor, the sofa tightened as it had been the day before, or in the kitchen, there was no sign of a fresh pot of tea. Standing in the hall, the man caught a glimpse of the coat that hung on the hook, light pink, matching the shoes that lay abandoned below it. Alone with his thoughts, Arthur feared what had become of his wife in the dangers of the night.

Once dressed, throwing on any fabric within arms reach, the oldest Shelby brother didn’t care how presentable he looked as he rushed out of the house. The neighbors raised their brow as they watched him run down the road like a mad man. They’d all heard what had been said in the early hours of the morning, there was no pretending it hadn’t woken them, but they couldn’t help but feel pity for the man. Just like so many others, he was left to pick up the pieces of what he’d broken.

Tommy was leaning over a pile of paperwork, trying to focus on the work he had been putting off, when the office door flew open, hitting the wall with a bang. Unimpressed, he glanced up to meet his brother’s eyes, regret pouring out of them.

“Have you seen Y/n? We fought and she left and she didn’t come. She's never not come home,” he rambled, face red as he forgot to breathe from both his run and his worries. Leaning back, Tommy rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. “You know where she’s at,” it wasn’t even a question when he could read his brother like a book.

The man across from him shrugged, staring at the desperate man in front of him. “I do.”

Blowing out a breath, Arthur tried to calm himself. It wouldn’t get him anywhere to blow up on anyone else with the damage he’d already caused. “Where is she, Tommy?”

A sigh parted his lips as the brunette rested his elbows on the hard wood of his desk, disregarding the papers he had once been working on. “You need to quit the whisky.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, that wasn’t the information he was looking for. He could ask a stranger on the street and they would say the same damn thing. All he wanted to know was where Y/n was and whether or not she was safe. That was all he was asking for. “What does that have to do with?” As the words left his tongue, his face fell, the gears clicking into place as he pieced together why such a statement would be relevant.

“It has everything to do with it, Arthur, since you’re wife was found on my fucking doorstep this morning, fucking crying and freezing, all because of something you did!” his brother shouted, shooting out of his chair.

Arthur sighed, defeated, and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the large desk. He wasn’t even going to argue, there was no argument. His drinking had become a problem, one he liked to push aside. It wasn’t a problem unless he believed it to be, right? Wrong. Clearly, wrong. “I know.”

The man across from him scuffed. “You know? Then why don’t you fucking act like it!” his voice rang through the room. God knows those on the other side of the door were listening closely to the conversation being had. “You love her. You have since you fucking met! And she loves you! Y/n doesn’t deserve to wait up all night for you to return, you should know to come home! You scared her, Arthur,” the last sentence was low, soft compared to his previous shouts. “She thought you were going to hit her.”

The room was silent as the words hit his ears, hurt evident in his eyes. Arthur had promised Y/n that no one would ever hurt her, lay a fucking finger on her. That promise was to be held until the day he died. For to believe he would break that promise, being the one to do her harm, broke his heart. Never had he wished to heart her in any manner, whether physical or mentally. It would break him, shatter everything that the war had left untouched.

“I fucked up,” defeated he rested his head in his hands. “I fucked up.”

Watching his brother wither at his words pulled at the gangster’s heart strings. Though there was no one to blame but himself for his actions, Tommy felt he was partly responsible, ignoring the problems he saw as they were being created. “Y/n at home with Grace and Charlie, you should go talk to her and fix what you’ve done.”

Almost an hour later, Arthur stood in front of the grand doors of his brother’s house, shifting from foot to foot. The ride over was nerve racking. All he wished to do was mend the damage he’d created, but he feared his wife wouldn't want to see him. That Y/n would be informed of his presence and wish for him to be sent away. Arthur couldn’t blame her if that was to be her reaction, but he wanted a chance. All he wanted was to be able to become a better man and that couldn’t be done without her by his side.

The door opened, exposing one of Tommy’s longest housekeepers, Mary. “Oh, Mr. Shelby, what a surprise, please come in,” she opened the door wider as he stepped in.

Fiddling with his hat, the man felt like a young boy about to go on his first date. “I’d like to see my wife if you could fetch for me,” he asked, words meek as his eyes darted around the room.

“If you’d like to sit in the parlor, I’ll go get her,” she smiled. Arthur couldn’t tell if she was aware of the fight the couple had that morning, it wouldn’t surprise him if she did. Maids were aware of everything, though, they pretended to only know how to dust and make beds.

Nodding, he let himself into the parlor as the woman disappeared down a hallway. She must have been gone barely five minutes, but it felt like an eternity as he bounced his knee, waiting for the woman he loved.

“Hi Arthur,” Y/n greeted, words almost a whisper, as she entered the room, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, securing the robe she wore.

“Y/n,” he breathed, lips turning up in a smile. Though, it had only been hours since he’d seen her, it felt like a lifetime. He didn’t dare step closer, letting her keep the distance. “I… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, love. For everything,” Arthur clarified. “I’m sorry that I’ve been worrying you so much and that I’ve caused you to stay up waiting for me. It’s not fair to you. And I’m sorry…” Tears pricked at his eyes. “That I made you fear I would hit you.”

By the end of his sentence, tears had escaped his eyes, racing down his cheeks. Y/n was by his side in an instant, holding him and letting him cry. As much as she wanted him to learn, to change, she didn’t want him to hold that kind of pain in his heart. No one deserved that. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she cooed, rubbing his back as he rested his head against her shoulder. “We’ll get through this, I know we will.”

Arthur pulled away, eyes red and puffy. “What if it’s not?”

“It will be, love. We love each other and I know you can beat this,” she smiled up at him, using her thumb to wipe away his tears. “You have me and your family, we’ll help you. I’ll help you. I’ll always help you.”

It would be a long road, but Arthur wanted to get better. He wanted to fight the demons he pitifully attempted to drown every night. He wanted to kick them to the curb with something other than whiskey or vodka. With the help of his wife, perhaps that could be accomplished. He wanted it to be.

*~~*~~*

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#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinder imagine #the peaky blinders #arthur shelby imagines #arthur shelby #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby fanfiction

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whore4anime · 4 years

Text

My Fault- Oscar Diaz

This was requested but anonymously

Pairings- Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x Reader

Summary- You have abusive parents and Oscar finds bruises all over your body. Vowing to never let anyone ever touch you Oscar goes to your house and things don't end so well for your parents.

Warnings- This mentions and talks about physically and mentally abusive parents if you are easily triggered please do not read.

(Credit to owner of this gif I think @merakiaes I've saved so many gifs so idk man)

“Stupid bitch” My father said as he pulled his hand back and slapped me. My hand instantly going up to touch my cheek the sting getting worse. Tears began to form in my eye.

“I-I’m sorry” I mumbled looking up at my ad from where I sat on the floor cleaning up the drink I spilled. “Yeah you better be sorry Puta! That was my cerveza!” He yelled kicking me in the stomach. Tears fell and I gasped for air holding my stomach. That’s when I wished I wasn’t there anymore but with Oscar.

“Finish cleaning this shit up” my father walked away. I was glad my mom wasn’t here it was always worse when she was there. They always liked to gang up on me. They’d leave black eyes, bruises, and cuts all over my body from beating up on me.

I wish I could leave but I couldn’t bare to leave my sister there with them. I always took the beatings so she didn’t have to. I began to scrub the carpets tears still falling down my red cheeks.

Once I finished cleaning the spilled beer I went to my room closing the door quietly and getting my phone from where I hid it last. Oscar had gotten it for me so I can text him knowing that I didn’t have a phone of my own.

I had a text from Oscar, “Good morning mi amor”. I smiled to myself looking up at the door making sure no one was coming into my room before I sent a message to him. “Morning baby” I quickly replied putting my phone under my pillow waiting for a reply.

I began to get ready for work covering the bruise on my neck with an insane amount of concealer. The bruise was from yesterday when my dad held be against the wall by my neck.

I changed my shirt seeing the bruises on my rubs from where he kicked me today. I was use to the mental abuse by now but after getting kicked and slapped after so long it starts to hurt not just physically.

Makes me wonder if I even need to be here anymore. Wishing every night that I didn’t have a little sister look after and that I didn’t have a boyfriend waiting for me to get out of here.

Wishing that no one cared anymore so I didn’t have to either.

I pushed the thoughts going through my head away and finished getting ready for work. Putting on the casual face of makeup I always wore eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. I grabbed my phone that was still hidden under my pillow I got message from Oscar. “You on your way to work? Want me to watch y/s/n?” I smiled at how he always looked out for me.

I would have him watch y/s/n when my parents were to drunk and were being abusive. I quickly replied “Yeah ill drop her off in 10 minutes” I quickly put my phone in my purse.

I walked to my little sisters room. She sat on her bed reading the book I got her for her birthday. She was 13 years old. She was 5 years younger than me. I planned on moving out as soon as possible and taking her with me but I don’t have enough money saved up.

“Y/s/n get ready you’re gonna stay with Oscar till I get off work” she nodded her head and smiled in response she loved Oscar. She slipped her shoes on and put her hair into a high ponytail. “I’m ready.” She said walking over to me.

Our dad was already passed out on the couch with a beer bottle in his hand. Our mom who knows where she was at.

We walked to Oscars since he only lived a block from my house. “Ill pick you up around 4 okay?” I said knowing that we would probably hang around Oscar a little longer after I get off work. “Okay” she said looking down at her feet.

Once we got to Oscar house I was greeted by several Santos that hung around Oscars house everyday for some reason. I saw Oscar get up from were he was sitting on the porch. A smile growing on his face “Hey princesa” he said giving me a kiss and then greeting y/s/n.

“Hey papi” I said returning the kiss. “Cesars inside if you wanna go hang with him” Oscar said turning his attention to your sister who was awkwardly standing there. She gave him a smile and began to walk inside all of the Santos now greeting the shy 13 year old.

“Okay well I have to go to work I’ll be back at 4 okay?” I said giving him another kiss “Okay I love you” He said pulling me in for a longer kiss. I pulled away from his soft plump lips, “I love you too”.

I pulled away thanking God that he didn’t notice the bruises on my neck and cheek that were poorly covered. Oscar would have went to my house and beat the shit out of my dad. Which he promised me he would do last time I showed up to his house with bruises.

“Bye Najiy” I said waving at one of my friends I worked with. When I walked out I saw the iconic red cherry impala that you loved seeing. Not because it was a nice car but because it meant your favorite person was close.

I walked towards the man leaning against the cherry red impala “Hey baby” he said a smile growing on his face. I walked over putting my hands around his neck “Hola papi.” “Hey mama, how was work?” He said giving you a kiss and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“It was good. I’m tired and my back hurts though and there was this one rude costumer that I couldn’t go off on.” Oscar chuckled at I waved my finger when talking about the rude costumer.

“How about we go back to my place and I give you a back massage while you tell me all about this rude costumer.” Oscar lifted his brow and smirking to see what I thought about his idea. “Deal” I replied pulling away from his arms and he opened the door for me.

Once we got home Cesar and Y/s/n were sitting down on the couch watching a movie a little bit to close. But that back massage was calling my name so I would deal with that later. I walked into Oscars room and took off my shirt because back rub were so much better skin to skin.

“What the fuck happened?” Oscar said coming up to me and touching my bruised stomach. Fuck. “It-It’s nothing I..” I paused trying to think of an excuse “ran into a pole” I blurted out. His eyes and hands now examining the rest of my body he quickly found the bruise on my neck in the shape of a hand. Then soon finding the one on my cheek. “Y/n what the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me?

“Don’t fucking lie to me y/n.” Oscar said looking back up into my eyes. His eyes no longer brown but black, I feared for what was going to my dad. “It was my fault” I said making excuses for the man who physically and mentally abuses me everyday.

I don’t know why, I don’t owe him anything but I couldn’t seem to get the thought that it was my fault. “I dropped his drink all over the carpet…it’s my fault.” I said a tear now falling down my cheek.

“Mi amor,” Oscar said now wiping away the tear with his hand leaving his hand on my face. His facial expression now looks hurt. “no one deserves this. No es tu culpa mamas. I made a promise to you that I would never let anyone touch you again not after last time, and if they did they would regret it.” He said now focusing his attention back to what my father did. He kissed his teeth, “I can’t let him get away with this.” Oscar made his way out of the room and I quickly put my shirt back on to chase after him.

“Oscar p-please no!” I shouted chasing after him. Cesar and my sister getting up to my yell. “What happened?” Cesar asked looking at me worried and then back at Oscar who now slammed the door shut.

“Y/s/n we need to go. Cesar come help me get your brother under control.” I said tears still falling down my face. I heard Oscars car pull out of the driveway. I ran as fast as I could back to my house hoping I could make it before Oscar killed my dad.

I ran inside the door open my eyes going to the sound of a smack from Oscars fist connecting to my dads jaw. “Oscar stop! You’re going to kill him!” I cried out Oscars fists still hitting my dad.

I ran towards Oscar… Well now Spooky and tried to pull him off. Cesar soon coming in and helping me get him off of him. “If you ever touch her again voy a matarte!” Oscar yelled pointing his finger at my dad who laid on the floor blood all over his face.

“Y/n and y/s/n get your stuff you guys are moving in with me.” He said looking at me and then at my sister who was now crying and being hugged by Cesar. I looked at my dad then to Oscar. I didn’t know whether to be grateful or mad. I knew I should be grateful but that’s my dad he wasn’t always like this.

But my gut told me to get my stuff and get out of there. I ran to my room and grabbed some of my clothes and everything I needed so did y/s/n.

I got into Oscars car my hands trembling from what just happened. Oscar saw this and put his bloody hand on mine trying to calm me down. “It’s gonna be okay.” He said glancing over at me. I nodded my head a few more tears now falling.

I laid in Oscars bed staring up at the ceiling looking back at everything that happened today. Oscar broke the silence, “As long as you’re with me no one will touch you.” I moved my head and placed it on his bare chest my hand moving in circular motions on his chest.

“I love you Osc.” I was now looking up at him into his soft brown eyes. “I love you to princesa.”

Taglist- @babienay @dcpcnxx @merakiaes @amethyst09 @firebenderwolf @dolanackles @flamingweasley @tinydramatist

#oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz x reader Imagine #Oscar diaz #on my block #Netflix #Netflix imagine #spookysnena #omb #cesar diaz

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Cross My Heart - CH.02

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: There’s really none. I don’t know if I can warn awkward tension?

WC: 2181

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean left while the police are still working in her house and Y/N paces around in her bedroom. Her mind races. This is a sick joke isn’t it? She expects Chuck to jump out of her closet when she opens it, making jazz hands and laughs while he tells her that she’s been fucking pranked.

But nothing happens. Her closet stays silent and dark until she switches on the light.

She looks through her clothes, lets her fingers trail along the fabric on their hangers.

Pack light.

Pack light?

What the fuck does that even mean?

She doesn’t even know where they’re going. Doesn’t even know the weather. Doesn’t even know how long she’ll be away and for how many days she needs to pack for.

This is fucking ridiculous. How can she pack light when she might need to have something to wear for a month? She feels nauseous all of a sudden. What if it’ll be longer than a month? Or worse? What if she doesn’t get to come back? What if she’ll stay on the run? She knows it’s a ridiculous thought but her mind’s going crazy.

Y/N finds a backpack somewhere buried deep in the corner of her walk-in closet and takes it out, dusts it up and then she begins to pack. She mindlessly throws in underwear and socks, shirts and blouses, shorts and skirts, one hoodie and one cardigan. She has to decide on only one heeled shoe and that is actually a crime against fucking humanity. She doesn’t even bother with her jewelry or make up, though, because there’s just no space left.

It’s starting to get dark outside and she hears the doorbell. Dean returns earlier than he said he would.

Zipping up the backpack, she swings it around and secures it behind her back before walking down and out the door. The policeman who stood guard gives her a courtesy nod.

Dean’s standing in the doorway, and she squints her eyes a little because she first thought it was someone else. Gone is Dean’s suit, which is really a shame, but instead he wears casual grey jeans and a black shirt with a black leather jacket.

“Hey, we’re twinsies!” She declares because she’s wearing her black leather jacket too, she thought she’d dress the part since Dean said that they’re going to travel on a freaking motorcycle.

She hears him chuckle. It’s the first time that he lets himself go like this and she thinks that he finally resembles a human being when he shows emotions. She likes the sound of it, and would like to hear it more often.

“Good that we’re only twinsies with the jacket. I don’t think that dress would look good on me.” He smirks when he eyes her up, “You ready?”

“Yeah,” She says and Dean grabs at the backpack, lets her slip out of it and carries it to the motorcycle. “Is that yours?”

“Yeah,” He says and smiles. She can see that he’s proud. Dean secures the backpack on the back of the motorcycle. “It works better if we have to shake off people who might be following us.”

“Okay,” Her heart is beating fast. She’s never been on a motorcycle before.

Dean notices her timidity and walks over to where she’s standing with her arms wrapped around herself. He places his fingers underneath her chin, making her look up to him. “You don’t have to be scared, okay? Nothing is going to happen on that motorcycle. I know what I’m doing and I wouldn't put you in danger.”

She nods her head, “Okay.”

“You’ve never been on one before?” He asks when he hands her the helmet.

“No?”

He laughs, “Oh, you’re going to love it.”

She puts the helmet over her head and Dean does the same. He steadies his motorcycle and straddles it before waiting for her to hop on.

“What you have to do is to move closer to me,” Dean grabs her by the back of her knees and pulls her closer to him. So close that they’re chest to back. He leaves a wake of goosebumps on her skin that’s been touched by him. “Good, now put your arms around my waist and hold on tight, got it?”

She nods.

“Y/N, I need you to tell me that you understand.”

“Yes.”

“There you go,” Dean chuckles. “Okay, I can’t see what you need but if you want me to stop anywhere, just tap on my body, you understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

“That’s a good girl,” Dean laughs.

But then his laughter dies down. She’s still blushing at the good girl comment, loves how it sounds out of his mouth, it hits the right button, can’t lie about that. Dean’s body goes tense. He probably realized that he crossed a line he shouldn’t be crossing in the first place.

“‘M sorry. That was out of line.” He apologizes.

“Don’t worry about it.” She answers because it’s true. She likes it. Dean has nothing to worry about. If possible, she would like to hear it more. Which really is not a good thing to be wanting, is it?

Dean starts the engine without another word to her and she hopes that he’s not completely disappointed in himself because she likes the playful Dean. The Dean who can make jokes and smile and laugh.

After about six hours, they arrive at their destination.

They had to stop for gas six times, and every time she would ask him where he’s taking her but every time she got shot down.

Dean’s really good at what he does, apparently. And that includes keeping things to himself, as well as feelings, because the bodyguard Dean is back. He’d only answer in riddles and they’re mostly one syllable. There’s no playfulness in his voice anymore, no smirk that dances along at the corner of his lips. Maybe it’s also because after the fourth stop, he realizes that she still has her phone with her and technically everyone can track a phone so he took it from her and unceremoniously breaks it in half and throws it away.

Y/N has stopped talking to him after that stunt either.

It’s already night and she can’t lie, it’s fucking creepy out here in the woods. There are trees everywhere and right in the middle is this small cabin.

“I grew up here.” Dean just says. As if he knows what she’s been thinking. He takes the backpacks from the bike, walks them to the front door.

She has to hurry to keep up, “You grew up in this cabin?”

Dean has to chuckle at that.

Finally she hears the deep rolling sound of his voice.

“No, I grew up in the town about ten miles from here. This is my uncle's cabin. He has several in the woods. Little safe houses that he set up.” Dean steps in and turns on the light and she closes the door behind her.

“For people like me?”

“Not exclusively. For other people as well, people who need to get away from abusive partners, people who need to hide from abusive parents, I don’t really know. All sorts of people. The world is a scary place.”

Dean drops the bags and walks over to switch on more lights.

The decor of the cabin is sparse. There’s a couch, a TV. A table for two and she can see the kitchen from here. There are two other rooms and she guesses that one is a bathroom while the other one must be a bedroom.

It’s a stark contrast to the house she used to live in. But nonetheless it feels cozy? She doesn’t know what it is but there’s something about it that makes her feel comfortable and safe. Maybe it’s the presence of Dean.

“You hungry?” Dean asks as he carries a bag towards the kitchen and begins to put the groceries he brought with him into pantries.

“No, thanks.”

It’s already late and she’s exhausted. Can’t lie, her ass is also sore from the bike ride and to be sitting down is the last thing on her mind.

“There’s the bathroom, and you’re sleeping in the bedroom.” He points at the two doors.

She takes a peek into each of the rooms and sees that there’s only one bed in the bedroom.

“And where are you sleeping?” She eyes the couch, it does in fact not look comfortable to sleep on at all.

Dean nods.

“We can trade. I take the couch and you take the bed.” She offers him, because the couch looks too small for him to sleep on. She on the other hand would fit in perfectly.

She earns a chuckle from Dean.

“Y/N, that’s okay. I slept worse. My job is to keep you safe. Your husband would kill me if he knew that you’d be sleeping on the couch.”

“I don’t think Chuck really cares where I’m sleeping.”

Dean doesn’t say anything, he frowns and then he turns around to finish the tasks he set out for himself.

She goes into the bedroom. It’s quite spacious and she’s sure that Dean would fit into the bed too if she’d make room for him. They could sleep in the same bed but she doesn’t think that Dean wants that. She doesn’t know if she really wants that either.

After she takes a shower, she goes in to change into her pj and climbs to bed. Dean slips into the shower after her, comes out with damp hair and a simple t-shirt and pj pants. She sees it because the door to the bedroom is wide open.

“You’re going to stay in bed?” He asks her while he makes himself comfortable on the couch.

She pulls the blanket up to her chin, “Yeah, I’m exhausted. And my ass hurts.”

He chuckles from the other room and after a while he says, “I hope it’s okay for you that we leave the bedroom door open. I need to always be able to see and reach you at all times.”

“Okay,”

It’s silent until Dean speaks up again, “I’m sorry about your phone,”

“You should be,”

“If you want, you can use mine. But I have to listen in to every conversation and read every text you send out. It’s for your own safety.”

She thinks about it. Thinks who she would even reach out to. Chuck knows where she is, and he has Dean’s number. Maybe Meg? She’s her friend after all and she hasn’t updated Meg yet about any of this. Maybe she’ll take Dean up on his offer. She doesn’t talk about it now though, it’s late and Meg is probably sleeping already anyway. So instead of saying anything about the phone, she just wishes him good night, “Good night, Dean.”

“Night, Y/N.”

She tosses and turns in her bed and it’s impossible to fall asleep. She keeps hearing things outside and it frightens her.

“Dean?” She calls out in a whisper. Doesn’t really want to wake him up should he already be sleeping.

She gets out of bed when she doesn’t get an answer, and wanders out to get a glass of water. Maybe that’ll calm her down.

Walking out into the living room, she can’t help but stop at the couch. Dean’s sleeping, his lips are slightly parted. There’s a frown on his face even when he’s sleeping. She brushes against the couch in passing and that’s when Dean jumps up and she’s looking into a barrel of a gun.

Y/N’s so shocked, she doesn’t get a word out.

“Jesus, don’t sneak around like that ever again!” Dean growls and lowers his gun, puts it back under his pillow.

“I’m sorry,”

“Fuck, I could have hurt you!” Dean rubs a hand over his face, she can hear his palm rubbing against his scruff. “Why are you up anyway?”

“I-I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d go get a glass of water.” She blushes as she walks to the kitchen, pours herself a glass of water and walks out again.

Dean’s sitting upright now while he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. When he hears her approaching, he makes room on the couch. “You wanna watch TV? Maybe it helps to fall asleep. It’s the sound of the trees and animals outside, isn’t it?”

There’s a crease between her eyebrows, “How do you know?”

“Been there. When I was a kid I came out here with Bobby, that’s my uncle, a lot. He’d take me hunting. I could never sleep at night. Now I can just sleep anywhere.”

“Ah,” She settles next to him as he turns on the TV for her. They settle on some cartoons. After a while she leans her head against him and Dean’s body goes rigid. He doesn’t say anything, though, just pulls his blanket up and covers her with it. Her eyes are already almost closing when she mumbles, “Thanks.”

He doesn’t say anything, only nods as he sits beside her until she falls asleep.

CH.03

#cross my heart #dean winchester #bodyguard!dean #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #nathalie writes

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saeyoungchoivibes · 4 years

Note

(Are asks open right now? If not ignore this!) How about saeran and saeyoung when their s/o is pregnant?

Let’s see if I still got it.

Saeyoung

Before meeting you, Saeyoung had never entertained the idea of having a family of his own. He convinced himself he didn’t want it nor need it and firmly believed he was better off alone.

After the events of the game, his entire world view changed. His life was, for the first time ever, bright and full of a foreign love he couldn’t even imagine ever having. He had a future worth living for.

While the two of you had talked about having kids in the distant future (neither of you felt really ready for it at the time, but is anyone really ever ready?), it was only ever a discussion and never something that either of you were actively trying to push for. When you found out you were pregnant, however, you were both over the moon.

And then came the doubt, the fear, the worry.

When the initial high of excitement wore off, Saeyoung realizes how much his life is about to change. Even worse, he realizes that he has no understanding on how to be a good father or parent. All he knows is the stereotype of children of abuse tend to repeat the cycle, and he’s terrified.

He becomes more skittish around you, becomes just a bit visibly uncomfortable when you have to talk about your baby, and despite your prodding and your own rising anxieties over whether or not he’s having regrets, he refuses to confide in you. He doesn’t want to stress you out any further, and he knows he can deal with his own emotions and fears on his own.

Until he can’t.

You wake up in the middle of the night and find him gone from your bed. He’s in his computer room, every monitor with some lengthy article on parenting or infant care or child abuse. His hands are shaking at his keyboard.

That night, it doesn’t take much prompting for his wall to crumble and the cascade of emotion to tumble forward. He’s freaking out, apologizing profusely for being distant (he’s self aware enough to know when he’s doing it) and finally telling you everything he’s been thinking since finding out you were pregnant.

All you can do is hold him close to you, reminding him that he’s tackling his own demons as if he were alone instead of as part of a team. You just tell him that you are by his side through everything, there to pull him up if he ever falls and to love him unconditionally, just as you know he’ll love you and your child unconditionally. Sometimes, he just needs that affirmation that he deserves the blessings he now has in his life and that he is more than his past.

After that, he becomes dad-to-be extraordinaire. Every single craving you have has him running out the door to provide for. Every ache or sore body part is met with a tender massage. Every hormonal breakdown ends in him holding you in his arms, rubbing your back and whispering those same sentiments you told him: he’s here for you, he loves you, you aren’t alone in this either.

He has no mental data for any of it, so he’s meticulous in keeping up with your ultrasounds and doctors appointments and any medications/vitamins you have to take.

That doesn’t mean he’s perfect; he still has his moments of doubt and his days of believing he could never be the father that he thinks you expect him to be, but now, he begins to share those fears with you with a little less hesitation each time.

Saeran

Like Saeyoung, had previously never even thought about, much less fantasized about or hoped for, ever having a family to call his own. Even after you two get together, it’s never a possibility in his mind. He can’t be a father. He can’t.

When you find out you’re pregnant, he’s silent. He doesn’t want to freak you out, but holy shit, he doesn’t know what to do, and he’s freaking out.

Saeran was never the affectionate type to begin with, but you notice that as soon as you tell him of your pregnancy, he starts to become more sparse and he declines. He goes out on long walks by himself, comes to bed later and visibly sleeps much less, and when you bring up the pregnancy with him, he doesn’t say anything. He just nods.

He takes a long time to come around, and he realizes that it’s not because he doesn’t want this (he does, desperately, and when he finally understands that, he grows even more distressed. He doesn’t want to want this.) but it’s because he genuinely believes he can’t have it. He wasn’t supposed to have it.

He finally starts to come around when he feels your baby kick for the first time.

The two of you are in bed together late at night watching a movie. You’re falling asleep when you’re jolted awake by a foreign (and alarming) sensation in your abdomen.

At your distress, he snaps awake as well. You’re his anchor, the thing in the world he loves most (right up there with Saeyoung), and regardless of his feelings about the situation, if you’re upset or in pain, he’ll do anything to stop it.

“What’s wrong? What hurts?” he asks quickly, throwing the sheets off as his adrenaline spikes.

“No, it’s just… I think it’s kicking,” you answer when you finally calm yourself down and think rationally about it. Then, you start to laugh in amazement, and the warmth radiating off of you mesmerizes him. It’s those moments that he wonders how you’re ever with him; you’re just ethereal.

Without asking, you grab his hand and place it against your abdomen, and when he feels that first kick, he almost jumps out of his skin. Everything gets put into perspective for him, and he realizes that this “thing”–his child–is alive and growing. The way he had been acting during the entire pregnancy up to that point was, to him, indicative of becoming a cold and absent parent, and though he wasn’t consciously trying to act like that, he feels the weight of that guilt deeply.

He resolves then and there that he will not be like his mother or father. He will not allow his child to feel unloved, ever. He will not let his past and his pain to continue to ruin his future nor his relationships with his loved ones.

Saeran isn’t one for talking about his feelings, ever, so he doesn’t give much more than a quick “I’m sorry. I love you.” But you understand what he’s saying loud and clear.

After that, he doesn’t suddenly become a prime example of a father-to-be, but he’s more present. He becomes warmer, even growing excited as you get closer and closer to your due date. Without having to say it, he just wants you and your child to know that he’s here, and he always will be.

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daughterofhel · 3 years

Text

My icon died last night.

The little black and white cat, Auk (or-ick). A silly name from a badly remembered name from my childhood.

He was pretty much deaf; car got him.

I haven’t seen him since I left Texas, as I moved for a year to VA before finally moving to be with my wife in Vento. One of my guy friends family took him in on their ranch.

It was fitting; I did get Auk from a ranch. He was used to it, loved it even. And this was without the competition of an unhealthy amount of breeding stays like the ones I grabbed him and Ivy up from. I could only take two, my friend the same.

Funny. I had originally gone there to see the birth of a colt only to leave with a cat. Return the next day and get one more, a friend for my tiny runt of a thing.

And who should but all demand it be him to leave with me but Auk? The friendliest of cats that I’ve ever had the pleasure to be around. He also thwarted my attempts at having two girl cats. He was insistent to leave with me and you don’t argue when you’re chosen you know?

I won’t detail the tears following or the rough road and chaos that went on, but many double shifts back to back to back endlessly, a medicated clumsy grandmother with rapidly failing health, and complex roommate situations, I just wasn’t able to provide the needed time and care for my cats.

I cried the entire 45 minute drive to my buddys property when he said he could take them in. I had to pull over twice. They also cried the entire time, being afraid of the car, which made it harder. My buddy, He was the same guy who rescued a big pup clearly abandoned some years back. I had helped train him to not jump on people and other stuff. His folks also owned a longhorn ranch, lots and lots of space.

Those cats deserved better and this was a familiar element, now neutered, vaccinated, and with no stray competition and the dog was so careful. But god. I never wanted to say goodbye to my cats. It didn’t matter though, what I wanted; they needed care and time I wasn’t able to keep providing.

So I dropped them off. As expected, Ivy kept close but never got too close to the family. She simply doesn’t trust; I’ve no idea why such a little thing bonded instantly with me and remained quite the fixed cuddle bug. But she had. I felt worse about it with her than Auk if I’m to be honest.

Auk loved attention. Loved fetch. Belly rubs. This cat was a classic dog and a huge whore for attention. XD He essentially made himself at home and lavished any and all attention, to which my buddies mother instantly fell for this fuzzy dorks charms. He has been well cared for.

I know younger me could’ve and should’ve done better when I got these cats. Mind you, I’ve been gone for over 10 years now, so it has been quite some time. I’m doing what I wish I could have done for my cats then with the two rescues we got last year here.

I was young and working so many hours for nearly no profit after stuff was paid, even living at home and with roommates. I couldn’t afford the extra vet fees I needed or the fanciest of foods or any of that. I loved them, and I felt them being with me instead of the half starving state they were in from constantly competing with so many other cats, was still a better option for them. I still was at least able to do some of the important visits for them.

I cleared their fleas and earmites. I never did get rid of Ivys worms, though I desperately tried. I tried so many ways to get this pill into that cat. Even crushed into wet food. Friends helping to wrap and hold her to make her swallow. All the tricks we found, failed. She just. She wouldn’t take it. And I didn’t have the cash to go every single day and time she needed a dose to a pet clinic. I had checked more than once. It was so much money.

Older, better situated now.. I’ve been able to do right by the cats, Nyx and Tivali, that I have now.

We even saved Nyx’s eye. We have a system to give her her seizure medicine every 12 hours. They’re both fully up to date with their shots and are fixed. Ears totally clean. Monthly newly added anti flea tick collars.

The best food we can reasonably find at the local pet shop; their pelts are beautiful, soft, shiny, and they never smell.

We’ve even found a biodegradable corn based litter we can flush which has been the greatest find.

We get semi regular check ups on our girls and they’re doing just fine now. I’m still proud about saving Nyx’s eye. It was a tedious ordeal. 3-4 times a day we had to clean and medicate a cats eye. We got good at it even if she wasn’t fond of it. Thankfully the vitamins they required were like treats. Even the antibiotics from the colds they had from the shelter.

I miss Auk. And Ivy. And I wish I could’ve not only given them the life I’ve given my current cats now, (I’ve constructed basket beds, hammocks, a whole canopy jungle gym and rope bridge to boot for them with my wife!), but I wish I could have been the one to have them in my life still. I know it was not possible. It wouldn’t have been possible.

But I think of them. A lot. And I knew it was inevitable. Auk would’ve been well over 13 or so years by now. A little old but could’ve lived longer yet for sure. My buddy didn’t mention he has gone deaf. Of course he rarely goes home himself; I don’t blame him. Life’s complicated.

I have mourned these two cats multiple times now. So I’m not thrown into tears upon this news, I’ve cried plenty over the years already. But I’m still sad to hear that fuzzy delight has passed on. I won’t ask, but I hope, and believe, the accident was a quick end for such a friendly guy.

I’ll mourn him eventually in full. I know I will. But considering this is the fourth major bad news I’ve gotten in less than a month and most of it a week, I thought to write about it. If only to keep sane.

May I not receive the same news of my grandmother or my sister who both remain in the hospital.

And god. May my mother stop forcing me to recall and talk about our shared trauma under my father and just keep me up to date on my families health. I don’t want to be crushed under this suffocating vice on my neck that makes me hesitate to call and see my family. I know she needs to vent. And god. I try to let her. I do. I try to be kind; she needs it.

But it isn’t the time and place when I’m trying to figure out if my grandmother is dying or getting better. I shouldn’t have to receive that confirmation, be granted a brief video called hello and check in, with the price of an hour long dredge through a past I personally have gone to two different types of therapy through to try and cope with. Which, only to some degree, have helped.

One of the last longer calls we had she all but said she hoped her theories on my father possible molesting me were true, so, you know, that would be one more trauma we had in common. She went on and on, even trying to provide loose evidence to her theory. Troubling sentences I would say in my rare visits. Etc. She just. Wouldn’t. Stop. And that was after an hour of recalling how terrible her life was with my father and the abuse, the screaming, the terror, the hiding, the injuries, all of it. As if I wasn’t left to live my life with this very man she said her three years with ruined her more than all her past shit combined.

She assured me she was a good mother who tried. And honestly. No. But I do believe she tried. But she was already weak emotionally and mentally and my father wrecked what was left. She left me sometimes for a couple days lock in that house when I was in diapers. You don’t forget that shit. I’m still scared of the dark. I can’t reason with myself on it. But being mad about all of it doesn’t change anything and would hurt a woman already broken. Why would I do that.

Still. It bothers me. So fucking much. But she’s such a fragile person in a fragile emotional state with everything else on top. She’s been heavily depressed for many many years and it’s a bunch of other stuff that spirals and honestly, at this point, she’s toxic even to herself. I’ve tried working on it with her but it matters not if she’s not willing to work on it too. I don’t know my mother besides her many traumas. We’ve been separated and estranged for most of my life. Unless I was physically able to actually be there and provide a use.

But that’s par for the course; no one will have you around if you’re unable to provide something for it. My wife’s the first person who genuinely seems to enjoy having me around just because and wants nothing more. I do stuff of course; but with her I am not afraid a slip up could mean everything it taken away and lost. I can forget the dishes once or had a bad mental health day and stay in bed without it having catastrophic consequences. She’s such a wonderful kind woman; I cannot help stressing over how to repay her.

I try and I’ve expressed my distraught on the topic and though she always seems baffled and confused about my insistence that I should be doing far more, that lass doesn’t agree at all. It’s her parents home so I am not able to freely run the house as I would on our own, as I’m able and have in many places, so I’m often less useful with the restrictions. She’s also use to the flow and swing of things and has things half done before it’s being asked.

Our own place will make life smoother and calmer for both of us; most importantly her. I’ve watched this family, sweet, but absolutely tone deaf to how many and often their demands are tossed to her. All the other kids moved out with partners. Hell, the oldest s child basically lives here. Our own hurdle with raising a kid who we don’t have the final say on any single thing. His grandparents are enablers cuz they don’t want to hear any loud noises, no matter what. And that causes strain when the kid can and does get anything and everything as long as he kicks up a fit. And he sure as hell does. There are days it’s so bad my wife’s in tears. And that pisses me off. The kids a good person, but the fact no one will actually parent and draw definite lines and be firm with No’s can also make him horrible too.

I’ve to deal with the chess match that is my father. I often call him my own personal Devil. He kind of is. But one I’m familiar enough with at this point in my life. I know where and when to cut my losses, where to step around, when I need to swallow my pride or the easily seen through lies, and nod my head. If he was all terrible, I could have cut him from my life. But no one ever really is. And I do know I owe it to the man; he has helped tremendously in my life as much as he’s been a big problem of it. I know his biggest fear is to be alone and forgotten. I wouldn’t do that, not even to the devil.

I need some bland news. Not thrilling. Not depressing. Just some ‘hey that happened’ ‘oh cool.’ Kind of news. Just a small reprieve.

Im. Scared. Of what’s next.

I. Know that things are teetering dangerously into a very very tragic terrible story on my mothers end. I know her husbands already super suicidal. My half brothers severely autistic, non verbal, among a few other things and will require his whole life to have someone be there for him. He’s not stupid, and I hate when people treat him as so, but he is absolutely unable to care for himself. He doesn’t have the right motorskills even, though we’ve gone to many different places to try and help him find ways to do actions in his own way that still get the same result. I admire how he’s such a positive little man, generally not just happy, but delighted. I aspire to look at the world like he does. He reminds me to try. I do love that about him.

He is, however, a Big boy, 15 now, and growing. He’s also very strong now. My mother is getting to an age where his, as well call em happy slaps, are really hurting her. He is generally good about slapping your hands and not your back if you provide them. But when he is upset he is a shover; one bad fall could really cause a lot of chaos for my mother with her health. The husband spends most of his time locked in his room.

My half sister is epileptic. They have done tests for years and can’t figure out all her triggers or the whys. They just sometimes stop for a long time then suddenly happen. She’s 16, turning 17 soon. And I don’t even know if she’s going to be, since my mother won’t let me know. And there are large gaps from my sister being on tech due to concerns of what triggered her seizure this time so she’s often removed from electronic devices for a time.

When I had turned 21, my mother and her husband tried to have me sign a paper to become legal guardian of my half siblings, should something happen to them, so the kids didn’t get separated.

At that time, I was still taking care of my fathers mother along with working at a shit job, and had a house full of temporary roommates who I had offered rooms to as a sort of safe house for them. I have a knack for finding people from broken homes, what can I say? With the house my father and I built, we had space, so I used it. I was able to help the girls get out of toxic places, get on their feet, and move on. Not all of them always. But it did generally work out. One has a boyfriend who was growing worse to her on top of getting more and more into hard drugs while also she dealing with an abusive aunt who got worse once her mother died of cancer. So she was stuck with the terrible boyfriend. I had her stay with me as soon as I heard.

Another was complicated, but generally revolved around the alcoholic mother and the many, shady, men in and out of the house. The dangers of that alone were.. problematic without the friend also being suicidal and not taken seriously. I’ve stayed many times with her to just hang out, clean, cook, or even read a book cuz she just wanted to hear someone talking and such. You know? Until eventually I had her move in with me too.

Another’s mothers died of a cancer and dad an alcoholic; not abusive, he just became childlike and super forgetful. To a hurtful degree in his totally dependent state, whenever he was home. Plus their whole little trailer smelled of piss. And her boyfriend (they’re married with kids and happy now) was in jail. He had a bad past but had cleaned up his act quite well, but. Well that’s complicated. We all know that the police don’t squint at details of any issue if the accused has a problematic past.

I had two different girls with trouble at home who were being used by their family to constantly work, clean, and pay for everything.

I had an ex and her girlfriend with problematic homophobic parents who were terrible and semi violent so I had them stay with us so they could be together somewhere safer.

I did not. At all. Have the assured means to also be a parent of ten children with very different needs nor any medical benefits to help out with.

I also knew, that, with how my mothers husband was, if he had some guarantees for his children’s safety, he would likely end his life if he could. He’s been so close so many times. If signed this paper, he would have the last big most important concern that’s kept him from.. I just. I didn’t want him to do it. I selfishly didn’t want to be responsible for my siblings that would take away any bit of time I had for myself away. If anything happened, I would not abandon and forget my siblings. That’s absurd. But my mother implied heavily she wanted to be sure of that. And thus this paper.

I was struggling to find aid for college so I could go to school (never got to, by the way. Minus two classes in total. Aced them both, but it doesn’t matter. Credits in the wind). I was already dealing with my grandmother. The girls I chose to help. My shit job. My fathers temper and his horrible horrible ‘on again off again’ girlfriend. The chaos that alone committed.

I was busy providing a safe space in my home and making sure it stayed that way for the rare times trouble makers made the mistake of stepping up to my door to try and harass my girls.

I often worked 10 days in a row before a day off. Many of those days often had double shifts which were 16 hours. Sometimes I got an hour nap on the double shifts.

I just couldn’t do it.

And now. I remember something that came to mind back then that comes back to mind now. My moms husband adores my grandma. She’s been better to him than his own mother. She’s dying. He’s not taking it well and his mental health has always been pretty low and in the last couple years, already dangerously rock bottom. I’ll admit, same.

His daughter is now in the hospital. My brother is smart but there are some things we can’t really explain for him to get. He understands something is wrong but not sure what and it upsets him. He doesn’t like change and gets super fussy for it. Which can be taxing and hours and days and weeks of it. Grandmas been in the hospital for a couple more or more now. She coded a few days ago but they got her back.

If grandma dies. If something happens to my sister…

God. I don’t see that man sticking around.

And with my mom isolated. A lot of it her doing with her own family but also a good part of it being dumb petty bs of other folks that have no reason to behave like that (a whole drama I don’t have the energy to keep up with..). I just.

I see it as a domino effect of terrible terrible events I don’t want to write.

My mothers side im not very close to. I don’t blame my cousins, we were kids ajd our meetings were brief as they were. But the adults kept their distance with me. No one expected me to survive and decided it was easier to not get attached. To not get involved with me, and by extension, the devil himself, my father. So I never got the chance to know that family. Even when I tried.

So the only family I do have some ties to ajd know, is in a hospital bed, or on my dads side, and they’re dying to. And I get it… that at a certain age in life, many of the people around you start to. It’s just life. Ajd it sucks. And I miss having a best friend. I miss having friends who just seem to like to have me around. Want to have me around.

And I wonder if the friends I thought I made with my roommates were just because I provided something for them. Sure we laughed a lot, we cried over shared traumas, celebrated holidays together so as to not be alone.

But not a one speaks to me now. And hey. That’s also life. But it makes me feel pretty shitty; every where I look in the past, I can’t see any relationship, family, partner, friendship, that ever had me around unless I was providing services they wanted and needed. And I don’t mean the natural give and take.

I’m aware that I’m not the friend folks have around. I’m a fun distraction at best and have been told and reminded as such. I feel like shit cuz my wife’s wonderful and the best person in my life, and yet I still mourn having close friends to hang with. I miss gaming together the most. Or the bullshitting. Sharing food.

I’m not a nice person. I’m working on it. I am. I’ve also, for years, been working on my own personal problems so as to not bring them into even conversations. I don’t know what I am doing wrong but I just.. can’t seem to keep anyone around. And frankly.

I find myself crying about it a lot with no idea what to do.

And. I’m burnt out.

I don’t want to make friends anymore. And yet I still crave it. Which sucks. I can’t stop seeming to want that. And I keep trying. And trying.

I’m trying to accept and be happy with any bit of time I get from the few friends who talk to me. I try to take my chances where I can to hang out (online, as they’re all distance by now), cuz I know it’s a short window and I’ll be lucky to get a next time in the near future.

Online is harder to provide a use, and once the ‘honeymoon phase’ of the friendship winds down, some drop off the map entirely. A few abruptly. And I just. That’s fucked me ho a ton. I can’t even express how many hours I stay sitting. Thinking. Unable to understand what I am not doing or what I am.

It’s a pity party. I know. But it’s fine. I’m still the only one at it and though I’m quite forward even with nerves eating away at me, I still just don’t know how to keep anyone in my life.

It’s taken almost 6 years for me to relax enough to believe my wife will, in fact, stick around.

But at this point in time, I’ve realized, on a note I just keep getting really sad over, that the bits of friendship I’ll get to experience with people, will be brief, snippets, and frankly, only if I am providing something they’re not getting.

I’m essentially the magazine next to the toilet when you have a bad bad stomach bug and your phones dead.

Man’s that’s.. probably my own doing. I know I’m a lot of woe is me in here. And it’s a post talking to me, so I’m indulging in it. I absolutely can’t out loud or in life. I’m working on just.. trying to feel instead of ignoring it. Per my therapists suggestions. So I feel fucking overwhelmed, sad, and alone. Isolated. Heavily.

Ignorance is bliss for real. I wish I wasn’t so aware that I was the friend you go to when all options are down and you’re bored. When you are in a bind and need a safe spot (I don’t mind that one but it does suck that it’s the only time some folks pop back in or up). That if I’m not working then no one even has a small little want to just say hi. I wish I had people who just wanted to say hi because they just.. missed me? I gues?

I wish I knew how to be better as a person and a friend. I thought I was making strides on that. I really had. And yet.

Here I am. Just.

Bitching to the void. Becuase my wife doesn’t need me to add more to her life with her father (finally back from the hospital after surgery) and his health concerned along with everyone else’s and the own sets of ordeals here. I don’t need her to fret over me.

She’s needed distraction and I’ve left her alone for a couple weeks now to her drawing. Probably one of the best things I did do for her was clean up a space for a literal drawing room for her. She’s happier for it. People compliment her art and she rather enjoys the well deserved attention.

I personally would love to have her around more. But I’m having a lot of bad shit days. Weeks at this point. And I’m using my energy to be useful in setting the table or doing the dishes, the cats, playing with the nephew, etc.

All I want to do is sleep.

Frankly. I’m tired of waking up.

But for her. I will.

#void screaming #ignore

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clairvoyantsam · 4 years

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#JUSTINDESERVEDBETTER talk & 13 Reasons Why S4E10 thoughts

So ... I’ve already watched the series finale, did it right after episode 9 but it was hard for me to watch and write my thoughts simultaneously because I was ugly crying the whole freakin time. Thus, I’m posting this now. Haven’t cried this much in a LONG while. My heart is fucking broken. I’m gonna start by talking about my favorite character whom the show did SO. FUCKING. DIRTY. JUSTIN FOLEY DESERVED BETTER. (obviously, OBVIOUSLY, it was gonna be MY favorite character who gets screwed over and dies a horrible death, just my luck, why did I expect a happy ending, I don’t even know).

Justin was the most tragic figure of the show. Raised by a junkie mother who never gave a damn about him, sexually molested as a little kid by one of her many drug addict & violent boyfriends, he often went to school dirty and hungry because of the neglect. He never had a positive influence in his life. He only managed to do better with Bryce’s help (Bryce was a bastard but he did care about Justin in his own way, that’s for sure).

After the events of S1 with Hannah’s suicide and the tapes and everything that happened with Jessica and Bryce, he left his abusive home and lived in the streets where he barely ever found food and what money he got from charity or the men who paid (and hurt him) to use his body, he gave to drugs.

In S2, Clay and Toni, found him and saved his life, helped him get back on his feet and he tried his best to set things straight with everyone. He even saved Clay’s life who came so close to killing Bryce and even worse himself. He didn’t hesistate to face the legal consequences if it meant helping the girl he loved. And Clay eventually became his brother as his parents decided to adopt him.

In S3, he started going to school and doing well, got a job, tried to start his life over, this time in a safe environment with a real family and friends who supported him. He was doing exceptionally well, he looked much happier, he finally felt what it’s like to be loved by a mother and father and a brother and he got some sense of normalcy in his life. He was there for Clay when things got bad, believed in him and he had his back ALWAYS. (still emo about their scenes together where they told each other “I love you” & “I’d do ANYTHING for you”), Plus, he was one of Tyler’s biggest supporters stating Tyler deserved a second chance to be better.

Come S4 ... he’s fresh out of rehab, looking better than ever. His friends welcome him when he gets back but everything is different. EVERYTHING. And everyone has changed. THE ENTIRE SEASON, NOBODY, NOT A SINGLE PERSON gave a fuck about him except for the coach and to a point his adoptive parents. He had done so much progress, he wanted to make his new family proud so bad, he was clean, he was doing great at school, he even got accepted into college!!! And what did he get in return???? NOT ONE OF HIS FRIENDS HUNG OUT WITH HIM ONCE, NOT EVEN ONCE. Every time he tried to approach someone or help THEM deal with their problems, he was turned away and even insulted. They would tell him he shouldn’t be giving advice and that he would never change who he used to be. He confessed to the coach that he felt like nobody believed in him and frankly?? NOBODY SHOWED THEY DID!!!!!!!! Jessica brushed him off all the time because she was MAD he broke up with her so he could FOCUS ON HIS HEALTH!!!!!!!!!! WHAT??????!!!!!!!!! She kept parading everywhere with Diego when she knew this was hurting him deeply. Clay was so fucking MEAN to him and I didn’t understand WHY after their great bonding their previous two seasons. Sure, he had his own problems, but there was NO reason for this, absolutely none. He was jealous of the moments Justin shared with his parents and how he was doing well at school and sports and got accepted in college. He even told in his FACE that Matt and Lainie are his parents ALONE, not Justin’s when he knew Justin’s biggest need was to feel the love and warmth of a family. Justin wanted to go to a free college so that Clay could have the money go to the BEST one and so the Jensens didn’t have to spend any on him. And I’m 100% sure he never told them how sick he was until it was too late because he didn’t want to be a burden so he decided to die quietly and slowly without upsetting them. Clay had the NERVE to pin the positive drug test on Justin when Justin was fucking CLEAN and then went on to smoke POT at that party. It broke my heart in 1000000 pieces when Justin asked him why he hated him so much. Zack wasn’t better either, basically telling Justin that he’d be a junkie his entire life and he could never change. The others mostly didn’t give a flying fuck, focused on nobody else but themselves and stayed far away from him the entire season. His mom died of OD and he didn’t tell anyone but the Jensens and Jess and he had to deal with everything all on his own again. He only had the coach to listen and there was a limit to what help he could give. So, he finally broke. He stopped caring since nobody was giving him a chance, he started using again, he lost his job, he didn’t care about anything. Jess and Clay knew he was using again and did NOTHING to help except tell him “Hey, I thought you quit! I thought you were getting better!”. Wow, BIG HELP, ASSHOLES. They all left him alone on prom night, and Clay SAW how sick he looked but he preferred to go to prom rather than stay with his brother who needed him.

Justin, with what little strength he had left, got dressed and went to the prom towards its end, he looked so beautiful in his suit, like Prince Charming. He lived one last carefree moment with the girl he loved and then he collapsed. And THAT’S when everyone said “OH, NO! Let’s go see our sick friend!”. Well done, now he IS DYING, YOU IGNORANT IDIOTS. Now that he’s at death’s door, you want to be there for him but WHERE WERE YOU WHEN HE WAS SO DESPERATELY TRYING TO LIVE?????????? Yes, it was proven that he had HIV, probably from the time he lived on the streets and without the proper care it went on to become fully AIDS and he had numerous other issues with his health as a result of that and the drugs to the point that he could no longer breathe on his own. BUT. Had he shared his problems and told the Jensens how sick he was feeling for so long, his death could have been prevented. I know someone in real life who got HIV in his 30s and he’s now in his 60s and his life is perfectly fine. He has friends, he has family (didn’t get married), he travels, he does what he wants. Justin could have been saved if someone had NOTICED. Like HANNAH could have been saved if someone, ANYONE was paying attention. Needless to say, I fucking died during his scenes in the hospital, it was so hard to watch him waste away in that hospital bed. When they took the tube out so he could say his goodbyes to Clay, Jess and his adoptive parents ... I LEGIT haven’t cried so hard in SO long ... I still have a headache from all the crying. My poor CHILD, he was scared but he told them all how much he loved them and eventually died in his sleep, holding his brother’s, Clay’s hand. The episode was meaningless after that for me. I only watched to see how everyone’s stories would end, even though I didn’t care and knew that they’d get their happy (mostly) endings. The one character who TRULY deserved the best and happiest ending, got royally fucked and buried six feet under while everyone went about their lives like nothing had happened.

I really don’t have much to comment on the rest of the story. Clay did one final extreme act by walking in the police department, saying he had a gun. Not convinved he didn’t really want to die too after Justin but perhaps his psychologist was right and he was just trying to make people notice he was hurting. I’m happy for Toni for doing what’s best for him and deciding to accept the scholarship and go to college, same goes for Tyler, he deserved to be happy and I’m glad he ended up with Estella. Relieved that Jess and Diego tested negative for HIV but disappointed they were ready to get back together so soon after Justin. Winston decided to not use what he found out about Bryce’s death against Alex and the others and that made me respect him a little bit. (Winston and Ryan btw? hehe, I kinda saw it coming ever since I saw Ryan and Courtney at the graduation-did anyone also notice Bryce and Monty in the crowd too??lol). Liked the graduation and Hannah’s little cameo (although it was archived footage) but it left me with a sour taste because Justin wasn’t there among the rest, only as a ghost in Clay’s mind. Also that Heidi girl talking to Clay, uh, SO cheesy and unnecessary. Clay reading Justin’s college essay with Justin’s ghost in their bedroom and seeing how it was all about him and Justin calling him his brother ... IT DESTROYED ME. UTTERLY AND COMLETELY. WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME. WHY WOULD YOU KILL THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CHARACTER OF THE SHOW. THE MOST COMPLEX AND DAMAGED ONE. WHY COULDN’T HE HAVE A HAPPY ENDING LIKE THE REST OF THEM. IT’S FUCKING UNFAIR.

I’m glad the final scene was just Clay and Toni driving away, always enjoyed their friendship. Having no word exchange between them was pretty powerful because you only needed to read their expessions to feel the emotions.

All in all, a powerful season who dealt with so many important issues, well directed and full of action but disappointing for me where it mattered the most ... Right now, I don’t want to even touch another show for a long time, I need a break to recover from this, it was too much. I wish I didn’t get so attached to certain characters, but I do and it hurts me deeply when shit like that happens to them. Anyway ... Goodbye, show ... it was (mostly) good while this journey lasted ... I sure hope I see all these HUGELY talented actors and actresses in other projects in the future, especially Brandon Flynn (Justin), Dylan Minnette (Clay), Katherine Langford (Hannah) & Justin Prentice (Bryce). I also hope Brandon & Dylan get ALL the awards for their performances in S4. THEY DESERVE EVERYTHING. I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts on all this, it was such an intense experience.

#Justin Foley #13 Reasons Why Spoilers #13RW Spoilers #13 Reasons Why #Clay Jensen #Brandon Flynn #Dylan Minnette

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maria-scribbles · 4 years

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glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part three

summary: while mother nature isn’t very kind to the obx, jj’s dad is even worse to him. sailor sees the aftermath, relives a day that changed her life forever, and realizes she’d be down with murder if she could get away with it. between nutella sandwiches, story time, and a shared bed, an unspoken thing slowly starts to become a little more real.

word count: 6.9k+ (oops 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings: abuse/neglect, blood, mentions of parental abandonment/gambling addiction, swearing, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, blatant references to hocus pocus, the little mermaid, percy jackson and the olympians, and mean girls (and a teeny, subtle reference to stranger things, see if y’all can catch it! 😉)

a/n: i was so excited to write this part, not gonna lie (if you couldn’t tell, just look at that word count). hurt/comfort is my shittt and i’m a pretty big slut for physical comfort/touches so i kinda went ham with it lol. i’m also very happy to finally introduce everyone to peyton, who’s a character i really love and enjoy writing, especially her relationship with her gf alison. both of them will get some time to shine in this part, peyton in the present and alison in the past! as usual, this is unbetaed so all mistakes belong to me. enjoy!

gif credit to @sci-fi

~Masterlist~

part one | part two | part four | playlist

part three: storm surge

It rains the entire week. Scratch that -it storms: the whole island buffeted by howling winds and blanketed by a thick layer of dark and angry clouds that make life just shy of miserable. For someone who spends 99% of her time outside like Sailor, miserable doesn’t begin to cover it. And to think, it’s only the beginning of hurricane season.

The redhead props her chin in one tan hand as she leans against the cool marble counter of The Butterscotch Bonnet Ice Cream Parlor, watching the rain pound against the shop’s bay windows. Across the street she can just make out the rough, gray surf of the Atlantic through a tiny gap in between two buildings and she sighs wistfully, thinking about all the beautiful shells getting tossed onto the beach by the waves. She’s half tempted to just throw off her apron, hop the counter, and make a break for the sand, storm be damned.

She’s almost positive she wouldn’t even be missed. There isn’t a customer in sight and there hasn’t been one since she started her shift three hours ago. Peyton was still in the back kitchen, messing around with whatever convoluted ice cream flavor she thought up for this week; her boss definitely has a knack for concocting weird combinations that somehow work together, at least most of the time. Sailor thinks back to a few weeks ago when they debuted that delicious blackberry balsamic that sold out every day without fail, then followed it with a cilantro lime that was hit-or-miss (a definite miss in her opinion, as cilantro just tastes like soap to her; Peyton had just smiled her infectious smile, shrugged her tiny shoulders, and said, “Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.”) This week’s flavor involves mascarpone and peaches and she can’t wait to steal a sample because if the wonderful smell coming from the kitchen is any indication, it’s gonna be bomb, even though it probably won’t upset the shop’s namesake flavor from the top of her list.

Thinking about ice cream makes her kind of hungry, on top of the fact that she has a terrible habit of eating when she’s bored, so she dishes out a small scoop of Butterscotch Bonnet and grabs a spoon before leaning back against the counter, digging through the cup to find the best part: salted caramel-filled chocolate sea shells, made in house. The days Sailor gets to help make them are her favorite days to come to work, when she and Peyton commandeer the kitchen and have the time of their lives, blasting music and dancing as they slave away. Of course, the little bag of chocolates she gets to take home is a pretty big plus, too.

“That’s coming out of your paycheck, Sail.”

Spoon halfway to her mouth, she sheepishly glances up from her snack as Peyton emerges from the kitchen, fondly shaking her head and sending her inky black braids dancing across her shoulders.

“What am I gonna do with you?” She continues with a wink before starting to make herself a milkshake, dropping two scoops of their tiramisu flavor into a malt cup.

“Sorry, you know I can’t help myself!” Sailor knows the other girl was joking but she apologizes anyway and opens the cabinet to grab a cup and straw for her, setting them on the counter beside the old-fashioned milkshake machine. As far as bosses go, Peyton is one of the all-around best to have and the redhead loves working at her shop. While the Buckleys are rich as shit and total kooks, the family’s youngest daughter is down to earth, kind, and prefers to work hard for what she wants instead of flaunting her parents’ wealth and The Butterscotch Bonnet is proof that, despite her last name and penchant for the finer things, she’s a pogue at heart. It’s no wonder Alison’s head over heels for her.

“I also know you’re bored as shit.” Peyton calls over the sound of the blender, sending a knowing smirk toward the younger girl, who rolls her eyes and shovels another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth as she replies, “Obviously. This weather fucking sucks.”

A loud clap of thunder seems to shake the very glass in the windows and she gestures toward the storm outside, her point proven. Peyton glances around the deserted shop, still bright and cheery despite its lack of movement and life, then back to the relentless downpour, before shrugging and turning back to finish blending her milkshake. “Wanna go home early?”

“Seriously?”

“Why not? You’ve already cleaned this whole place from top to bottom and I don’t think we’re gonna be getting customers any time soon.” Ignoring the paper cup, she plops the straw straight into her drink and takes a big sip, then nods in satisfaction before adding a huge swirl of whipped cream on top.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?” Sailor asks, smiling excitedly as she grabs her bag from under the counter and tosses her empty cup into the trash.

“Only every day,” the older girl replies cheekily, smiling as she’s pulled into a one-armed hug of thanks by her employee.

“Well, you’re gonna hear it again: you’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peyton pats the redhead’s shoulder with one deep brown hand and then gently pushes her toward the kitchen. “Now get out of here, brat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Sailor throws a peace sign over her shoulder as she heads out the door, cackling at her boss’s offended call of “don’t call me ma’am!” After clocking out, she fishes her keys out of her bag and dashes through the downpour to her beat-up clunker of a truck. A hand-me-down from Alison, Flounder’s nothing to look at with all the dents and chips in his blue paint, but he gets her where she needs to go and has room for surfboards in the back and two other pogues up front on the bench seat -and the other two unlucky ones riding in the bed, hiding under the boards- so she’s not complaining, even though she wishes his radio worked more than half the time.

(Two reasons why John B’s almost always the group chauffeur: the fact that he can legally drive all five of them around without breaking the law -not that they’ve ever gotten caught in Sailor’s truck but anyone with a brain knows that where one pogue goes, the other four aren’t far behind- and good music flowing from a perfectly working stereo.)

Unfortunately, it’s on the fritz today so her drive home is spent listening to the sounds of Flounder’s windshield wipers and the pounding of rain against his roof. She heads inland from the beach, away from Peyton’s shop in the outskirts of affluent Figure 8 and its kook mansions to the more homey, laid-back Cut, passing by the turnoff to the Chateau and through the woods before pulling into the empty driveway of her tiny house. The fact that her mother’s car is no where to be found doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. Waiting for her on the porch is Binx, the stray black cat she’s taken to feeding and more or less adopted, stretching on the blanket she left out for him.

“Hey, handsome,” The redhead says, kneeling down to give him a loving scratch behind the ears; he meows in response and rubs his fuzzy face against her ankles, weaving between her legs as she slides her key into the lock. “Come on in.”

The front door closes behind them with a hollow bang that echoes through the empty house like the thunder outside. Sailor hangs up her keys and follows Binx down the hall toward her room, ignoring the closed door that leads to her mom’s room and a bed that she assumes hasn’t been slept in in months. Not that she would know: she’s made it a habit to spend as few nights as possible alone in the house, instead crashing at the Chateau or Kiara’s place and hoping her mom’s comfortable in her makeshift room at The Sandbar where Carmen doesn’t have to deal with the teenager she’s supposed to be caring for (Sailor’s always been an independent girl and has no trouble getting by alone but fuck, that doesn’t mean she wants to.).

Her father’s green eyes, the same color as her own, stare back at her from a picture hanging on the wall of a better time, when everything was alright and her family wasn’t so broken; the three of them on the beach with a twelve year old Sailor in the middle and surfboards in hand. Carmen looks like the mother she remembers and misses so bad it hurts, and while Ryan wasn’t always the most caring of fathers and only acted like a dad when it was convenient, she’d still do anything to have him back, terrible parenting skills and all. She turns away from the picture and the complicated mess her heart becomes when she thinks about him, continuing down the hall to her room.

Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover her feelings about her dad, though. She’s always believed she was an afterthought to him, never first on his list but still good enough to tag along for company when he was doing something he wanted to do. He was a man who liked the idea of having a kid but never wanted to actually step up and parent when things weren’t all fun and games, instead deciding to take off to Atlantic City for a month or two at a time to gamble away whatever money they earned at the surf shop.

She wants to hate him. She should loathe him and in a way, she does. She hates the way he still makes her feel like everything’s her fault, even when he’s not around. She hates the person her mother becomes when he disappears, someone distant and cold and so unlike the good, caring mother Sailor remembers. She hates that home doesn’t feel like home anymore and it’s all his fault, and she hates that despite everything he’s put her through, all the hurt he’s caused, she still can’t find it in her big, bleeding heart to truly detest her father. After all, he could’ve been worse. So, so much worse.

The only place she can get away from everything is her room, her own little sanctuary from the cold emptiness of the rest of the house and constant reminders of Ryan’s absence. It’s warm and bright, the walls painted a sunny yellow that reminds her of lazy days relaxing on the beach. Her first surfboard hangs on the wall above her bed, tucked away in a corner, doubling as a shelf for her massive shell collection while pictures of her and her friends dangle underneath, pinned to a long piece of twine. Her current boards stand propped in another corner, leaning against a wall plastered with all types of movie and music posters. Through the windows covered with curtains as light as sea foam, the rain steadily pours but in here, she’s safe. In here, she can breathe.

Sailor strips off her uniform, tossing it along with her bag onto the chair by the door and slips out of her worn red high-tops before pulling on a pair of sleep shorts and the first long-sleeve shirt her fingers find in the closet, then flops onto her bed and pulls the soft blue blanket around her shoulders, reading glasses and well-loved copy of The Lightning Thief in hand while Binx curls up at her feet. Every summer without fail she rereads the series (why, she’s not exactly sure: maybe its nostalgia, maybe its because she lowkey relates to water-loving, steadfastly loyal Percy) and she’s fallen behind this year, so she fully intends on reading as much as she can tonight before bed. The storm provides perfect background noise and soon she’s five chapters in before a sudden loud knock on her window causes her head to snap up in alarm.

Oh no. Without bothering to save her place, she tosses the book and her glasses aside and scrambles from the bed to the window, tearing open the curtains to reveal a sight she always dreads seeing. Her best friend stands outside in the rain, soaked to the bone, hand pressed against his side, and the sight of bright red blood trailing down his face and staining the collar of his gray shirt makes her heart drop to her stomach. Wordlessly, she opens the window and helps him climb inside before closing it firmly and drawing the curtains, once again blocking the world from her -now their- sanctuary, then grabs her blanket from the bed and wraps it tightly around JJ’s shaking shoulders after he kicks off his sodden boots.

Her hand slowly moves to cup his face and her heart breaks a little more when he tenses, blue eyes carefully tracking its movement until he seems to remember who it belongs to and lets himself lean into her touch, cheek resting against her palm. Sailor runs her thumb under his split lip and and wipes at the crimson staining his tan skin, her mouth curving into a small frown when she only succeeds in smearing it further.

“Come on,” She breaks the silence with her gentle voice, barely above a whisper, and reaches her other hand out to take his, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

His fingers hold so, so tight as she leads him down the hall to the bathroom and she’s so laser-focused on the way they tremble against hers that she doesn’t notice the blood left behind on the handle when she opens the door. After flicking on the light she turns to face him and gently pushes the blanket from his shoulders with her free hand, letting it fall to the floor in a damp heap, then blindly reaches behind her to turn on the shower, cranking the heat as high as it’ll go.

“Sorry about your blanket.” JJ says at last, his voice quiet, and Sailor shakes her head, running her thumb in circles on the back of his cold hand.

“I don’t care about that, J.” She replies just as quiet and before she can stop herself, before she can think about what exactly she’s about to admit, she adds, “I care about you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a barely-there smile and while it may be tiny, it’s a smile nonetheless and she feels the tight knot in her chest begin to loosen as she lets go of his hand, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Can you lift your arms for me?”

He does as she asks but his pained wince doesn’t go unnoticed by the redhead when she pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on top of the discarded blanket, and her jaw clenches at the sight of deep purple bruises in the shape of his father’s fists marring the skin over his ribs.

“Let me know if this hurts.” Oh so carefully she reaches out with one hand and gently touches the darkest mark, where she’d seen him clutching at outside her window, her fingers delicately feeling for any damages.

“A little.” He admits, shaky breath warm against her forehead and she does her best to keep her hand steady as she checks over the rest of him, then feathers her fingers back over that first bruise.

“It doesn’t feel like anything’s broken or cracked, so that��s good.” She says, allowing her hand to linger for a second before letting it fall from his side. “A rib or two might be a little bruised, though, so we’ll put some ice on them later, just in case. Sound good?”

JJ nods and watches her with those ocean blue eyes as she pulls her own shirt over her head, leaving her in a plain black cami and shorts, before grabbing his hand once again and pulling him into the shower with her. The water’s just a tad too hot and it instantly starts turning her skin red but Sailor doesn’t mind, instead choosing to embrace the heat and the way it burns everything away, leaving behind brand new skin that’s ready for a new day, new adventures. She reaches up and gingerly wipes the blood from her best friend’s face; in a mirror of earlier, he leans his cheek into her palm, eyes slowly closing while both arms wrap around her waist and pull her close.

“Sail,” He whispers her nickname into the humid air between them and she barely registers the tremble in his voice before his knees buckle, sinking them both to the shower floor until they’re face to face, sitting in between each other’s legs. He clings to her, arms even tighter around her waist and face buried against her neck, and she feels the shake of his shoulders when she winds her own arms around them. One hand moves to steadily run through wet blond hair, over and over, comforting in the best way she knows how, the fingers of her other hand tracing circles on the bare skin of his back as water continues to rain down on them like the downpour outside.

She’s eerily reminded of another time they sat like this, sobbing in each other’s arms five years ago, the first time she saw just how cruel his father could be, the first time she realized she’d do absolutely everything and anything to keep him safe, and it was both one of the best and worst days of her life.

Eleven year old Sailor shoved her math textbook into her cluttered locker and kicked it shut with a scowl. She hated math, her math teacher, and especially whoever made her schedule- who in their right mind would put math in eighth-period? She swung her backpack onto her shoulder and grunted softly at the extra weight it carried. JJ hadn’t come to school that day and Sailor had volunteered to take his missed work to him; it made sense, considering she lived closest out of the pogues and it’d make her feel better if she got to check on him herself -there was a reason the rest of the group called her the mom friend, after all.

She’d already collected assignments from the classes he shared with Pope and Kiara as well as herself, so now she was just waiting for John B to drop off his own. As if summoned by her thoughts, the brunet boy rounded the corner and waved, weaving his way to her through their fellow middle-schoolers. “Sorry, you know how Mr. Jefferson likes to go on and on and on...” He said, pulling some papers from his backpack and handing them to the redhead. “Do you remember where J’s house is?”

Sailor rolled her eyes and carefully slid the homework into her own bag. “Considering I live, like, five streets away, I sure hope so.” She fired back, ignoring his cackle of laughter as they joined the rush of students, excited for the weekend, flooding out through the double doors of Kildare County Middle School. She lingered by her friend as he unlocked his bike from the rack and then climbed on, asking, “You’re helping out at the shop on Saturday, right?”

She nodded, scanning the sea of waiting cars and waving when she spotted her ride. “Yeah, why?”

“My dad and I are gonna hang out at the beach that day so we’ll stop by and say hi.” With a casual salute in her direction he slowly started pedaling down the road, calling back over his shoulder, “Tell JJ he can come too if he’s feeling better!”

“Tell him yourself!” She yelled after his retreating back, not surprised in the slightest when he didn’t turn around and disappeared into the trees. Alison’s beat up blue truck pulled up to the curb seconds later and the older redhead leaned out the open window, a shit-eating grin on her face as she joked, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

Sailor laughed and climbed into the passenger seat, dropping her backpack on the floor with a loud thump. Alison winced at the sound, raising her eyebrow as she waited for the younger girl to put her seatbelt on. “What the hell do you have in there, rocks?”

“One of my friends missed school today so I have his homework. Do you mind driving by so I can drop it off? He only lives a few streets away.”

“Sure,” Alison replied, flicking on her turn signal and merging into the stream of cars leaving the school’s parking lot. “So who skipped: Smarty Pants, Bandana Boy, or Surfer Bro?”

The eleven year old giggled at the nicknames -she’d never admit it, but they were honestly pretty accurate- and replied, “Surfer Bro. And his name is JJ, Ali.”

“Rightttt, JJ. What do you think it stands for, huh? Jesse James? John Jacob?”

“Oh my Godddddd!”

The high school senior continued to come up with names, each more ridiculous than the last until Sailor exclaimed “There!” and directed her to park near a small, run-down house on a quiet road. She pulled a folder from her backpack and was out the door before the older girl could blink, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back!”

The redhead slammed the truck door behind her and made her way toward the porch and what she assumed was the front door; she’d never been inside JJ’s house but he always came out to meet them through there so she figured it was a safe bet. The smile fell from her face, ears registering the sound of horrible, angry yelling just as she brought her fist down to knock and she anxiously fidgeted back and forth on the step, her heart starting to beat fast in her chest. What the hell was going on?

"Fucking hell!” An enraged shout came clear as day from inside and as she heard the person’s stomping approach, something in her, a feeling, urged her to hide the folder in her hand behind her back. She jumped in surprise when the door was suddenly ripped open, revealing a fuming, red-faced man who glared down at her with heavily lidded eyes and one hand clenched in a fist at his side, the other holding the threshold in a white-knuckled grip. “What the hell do you want?”

“H-hi, I’m Sailor, one of JJ’s friends? He wasn’t at school today so I came by to check on him.” She said, proud of herself for keeping most of the tremble out of her voice while she studiously avoided his cruel gaze, instead subtly trying to peer behind him and hopefully catch a glimpse of her friend. The man, who she realized with sheer horror had to be JJ’s dad, was absolutely terrifying, with breath reeking of booze and mouth curled into a vicious snarl as he moved to block her view into the house and snapped, “Kid’s fine. Now get the fuck outta here.”

“Can I just see-”

She was cut off when he slammed the door in her face with the hand that had been by his side and her eyes widened, stomach sinking with dread as she caught sight of the splotch of bright crimson left behind on the wood. Oh, God. This could not be happening. She remembered John B’s warning about JJ’s dad, saying he wasn’t a very nice man when she became friends with them last year but she didn’t recall him ever saying anything about this and it hits her like a freight train: he probably didn’t know. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. If JB didn’t know then Pope and Kiara definitely didn’t and a sickening feeling started to churn her belly, both at the thought of JJ facing all of this by himself and the fact that she alone had the power to help.

Inside the house, she heard his dad resume his screaming, every other word accompanied by a sickening thumping noise she’d only heard in person once before, a few years ago on the beach with her parents when two drunk tourons started wailing on each other over a spilled beer: the sound of a fist hitting flesh. Sailor started to panic, both hands flying to cover her mouth in terror. Underneath the screaming and punching, she couldn’t hear anything, any cry or yelp or whimper from her friend and, mind racing with million terrible, awful thoughts, she turned and ran back to the truck, flinging open the door and scrambling inside to grab Alison’s arm, folder in her hands falling to the floor.

“Ali, please, we’ve got to help him-”

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” The older girl joked as she looked up from her phone, smile falling from her lips when she caught sight of the eleven year old’s pale face and wide eyes. She reached over and placed her hands on Sailor’s slight, trembling shoulders. “What’s going on?”

Her lip quivered terribly as she told Alison everything she saw and heard, watching her expression slowly twist into outright dismay, the fingers on her shoulders tightening their grip when she finished, “Ali, what’re we gonna do? We have to help him right now!”

“Fuck, okay, first off let’s calm down- don’t give me that look, kid! We can’t just burst in there like Wonder Woman or something, let me- oh, look!” Alison pointed through windshield, where JJ’s dad furiously stalked from the house to his truck, climbing inside and violently slamming the door before taking off in a cloud of dust. Sailor quickly ducked when he drove by and stayed down until the older redhead gave her the all clear, “He’s gone. That was perfect timing, huh?”

She didn’t reply or even wait for her to unbuckle her seatbelt, taking off at a sprint and bounding onto the porch in no time, furiously knocking against the door. “Hey, J, are you there? It’s Sailor.”

There was no reply and her heart dropped to her stomach. Alison joined her on the front step, her face blanching when her eyes landed on the blood stain on the corner of the door. One of her hands reached out to grab the handle while the other found Sailor’s smaller one and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on,” With no hesitation and the bravery Sailor wished she had, the eighteen year old pushed the door open and pulled them both into the dusky house. The younger redhead wrinkled her nose at the sight of beer cans and pill bottles littering a circle around the couch but she pressed on, calling his name as the girls moved room to room.

“Sail?” The sound of JJ’s pained voice coming from the room at the end of the hall made her heart skip a beat and she dropped Alison’s hand, running forward and bursting through the door in a rush, not even thinking about what state her friend might’ve been in. Feeling like she’d just been sucker punched right in the gut at the sight of him lying face down on the floor with a small puddle of blood forming under his mouth, she dropped to her knees beside him and delicately took his hand in both of hers, nearly crying in relief when his fingers gripped tight to her palm. Behind her, she heard Alison’s sharp intake of breath as she entered the room, darting over to kneel on JJ’s other side and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, and together they carefully helped him roll onto his back, then up into a sitting position with the older girl’s arm behind him as a brace.

Her jaw trembled as she tried and tried to say something, anything; her head was filled with so many questions -what happened, how could he do this, when did this start?- but the only thing she managed to ask was a simple, “Why?”

“It’s just what he does.” He replied with a shrug, wincing at the movement, “I’m sorry, Sail.”

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” She asked incredulously, then followed his finger as he pointed at a pile of jagged yellowish-brown pieces on the floor by his bed.

“He broke the shell you gave me.” He looked so upset, so distraught over the broken whelk and she felt her heart swell with waves of affection for her friend, who was more concerned about her broken gift than he was about himself.

“Hey,” She said softly, turning away from the mess to look him in the eye with a small smile, her hand reaching out on its own accord to brush a lock of fine blond hair away from a cut near his temple. “It’s just a shell, okay? I’ll find you another one.”

The sight of blood on his teeth when he returned her smile reminded her of the task at hand and she shook her head, wrapping her thin arm around his waist. “Let’s get you out of here. Think you can stand?” At his nod, both girls put one of his arms around their shoulders and slowly stood, shuffling out the door with all the grace and speed of an old man with two bad knees, but hey, they were moving and getting JJ out of that terrible place, so she’d go as slow as they needed to, even if her anxiety was getting worse and worse with each passing second they spent in the house.

After loading the kids onto the bench seat of the truck, Alison quickly drove them to the empty Flynn residence -Carmen and Ryan still working at the shop- and helped Sailor move JJ into the bathroom. “I’ll go grab you some towels and dry clothes, okay? I think some of your dad’s old stuff might fit him.” She said, watching as the young girl kneeled beside her friend and started untying his shoes.

The eleven year old nodded at her older friend and sent her a small smile. “Thanks, Ali.”

“No problem, kiddos.” With a quick smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes she was gone, heading down the hall toward the laundry room.

Sailor reached over and turned the shower on as hot as possible. “Okay, um, take as long as you need, I guess. I’ll wait outside.” She jerked her thumb toward the hall but before she could even take a step, his hand darted out and grabbed her wrist.

“Stay.” It was more of a demand than a question and JJ seemed embarrassed to even be saying it, the uninjured parts of his face turning an endearing shade of pink. “Please?”

She just nodded and reached a leg out to gently kick the door shut, her mind racing. She stayed but what the hell should she do now, keep her back turned? Get in the shower with him? From the way he was fidgeting back and forth and avoiding her eyes, he was probably thinking the same thing.

“Oh, come on.” She finally said after a minute or two of decidedly not looking at each other and kicked off her sandals, darting forward on impulse to grab his hand and pull them both under the spray. The water uncomfortably soaked into their clothes and made their movements sluggish as they clumsily shuffled around -stepping on each other’s toes and mumbling identical apologies- before finding a position that was only a little bit awkward in the confined space, his arms on either side of her waist and bracing against the wall, her hands tentatively resting on his shoulders.

“This okay?” She asked, feeling her cheeks reddening from more than just the steam curling around them and frizzing her hair, and JJ nodded, swallowing thickly and blinking away a droplet of red-tinged condensation that slid down his forehead. Her hand, moving on its own accord, slowly reached for his face until her palm gently came to rest against his flushed cheek, the tip of her pointer finger just brushing a small cut that sliced through one eyebrow.

“How...” Sailor shook her head, taking a deep breath before finally asking the question that’d been on her mind since this whole thing started, “How long has this been happening?”

Once again he avoided her wide-eyed gaze, eyelids fluttering shut as he answered hesitantly, quietly, “I...I don’t remember a time when it didn’t.”

His answer chipped away the last brick in the dam and the floodgates broke. She flung herself into his chest, arms wrapping around his shoulders and fingers twisting in the sodden fabric of his shirt, sobbing into the warm skin of his neck. He froze in her embrace, whole body stock-still until something in him seemed to break too, and his own arms encircled her waist, bit by bit, pulling her close as he buried his face into her shoulder and two sixth graders slowly slumped to the shower floor in a tangled mess of limbs.

“J, why didn’t you say anything?”

His body trembled in her arms and she inhaled sharply at his reply of, “Because I’m not worth it.”

Pulling away from his neck to rest her forehead against his, she cupped his face in both hands and forced him to look her in the eyes, her voice quiet but adamant, insistent as she said, “Don’t you dare say that again, got it? You are worth it. So, so worth it.”

The look behind his red-rimmed, ocean blue gaze was made of pure, unadulterated disbelief and Sailor, at a loss, wracked her brain for something, anything she could do to make him see himself the way she did: loyal, adventurous, funny, and oh so brave, already a beloved, dear friend to her in the short time she’d known him. How could she help him realize he was so much more than his father’s abuse?

‘What can I do to make you believe me?’

An epiphany came to her like a bolt of lightning straight to the heart. It was more than a little crazy and the thought of actually doing it was lowkey terrifying but she’d seen it work beautifully for Alison and her girlfriend Peyton that one time and hell, she was so desperate to help her friend that she’d do just about anything. And so before her anxious mind could start to overthink she surged forward, both hands still holding his face in a gentle grip, and firmly pressed her lips to his.

JJ’s eyes were almost comically wide while he stared, frozen still at her touch, and her own eyes were just as huge as she held the kiss for a few seconds and then abruptly pulled back, her face slowly changing into a shade very similar to her hair.

“Y-you, I-” He stuttered, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as a deep pink flush started to color the tan skin of his neck. “Wh-why-”

“Because you are worthy, J. Promise me you won’t forget that.” Her words were as fierce as the hug she pulled him into, only letting the tension bleed out of her when she felt him gradually return her embrace and nod against her shoulder.

“I promise, Sail.”

“Good.”

And with that they fell silent, holding each other tight until the shower ran cold.

Sailor didn’t know it at the time but that hadn’t been just her first kiss but JJ’s too, as they never talked about it until two years later, during a game of truth or dare with the rest of the pogues. Neither actually told the truth, both giving a vague answer about a bet that seemed to placate their friends enough to let the matter drop, never to be brought up again.

The only kiss that happens today is the light brush of her lips against his forehead as she holds him close, even as the water slowly begins to lose its warmth. His embrace is tight, their limbs intertwined so fully that it’s hard to discern where one ends and the other begins and when he speaks, she has to strain to hear the words mumbled against her neck over the pounding spray of the shower.

“I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His confession cuts her deep. Hearing him admit something so utterly heartbreaking and vulnerable, coming from the side of him Sailor alone gets to see, ignites a fury that simmers under her skin and burns her from the inside out, thoughts turning venomous and, dare she say, downright homicidal. Fuck his dad. Fuck his dad and everything he’s ever done to hurt her best friend, both with and without fists.

“If I could get away with murder, I would.”

It’s true. For JJ, she’d do anything and everything to keep him safe without hesitation, up to and including maiming his dad so he could never touch him again (and if she happened to take it a little too far and straight up kill the bastard, she’d most definitely be fine with it.). He laughs, but it’s empty, hollow, and sorely lacking the joy, the carefreeness, the pure life that it normally radiates.

“You’re not the only one.”

Some time later, after the water raining down on them turns ice cold and their tears have dried, they reluctantly disentangle themselves from each other and towel off before making a quick detour to the kitchen to grab an ice pack for his ribs and have a meager dinner of sandwiches made with the last of her bread and a near empty jar of Nutella. He laughs, for real this time, when he reads the note she writes herself on the fridge future sailor, as much as you want to, you can’t live off just nutella and sheer spite, okay? please go shopping. love, past sailor <3 and grabs the marker out of her hand, adding +past jj and a little smiley face that makes her smile brightly.

They return to her room where they change, back to back, into dry clothes -one of her dresser drawers is full of his things she’s stolen acquired over the years- and, after throwing everything wet, including their discarded shirts and blanket retrieved from the bathroom, into the washing machine to be dealt with some other time, they lie on her bed side by side, shoulder to shoulder, wrapped up together in a spare throw stashed at the bottom of her closet. Binx slinks up from his spot at their feet and lazily drapes himself across their laps, purring like a motorboat when Sailor starts running her hand along his back.

“I almost sat on those,” JJ says, handing over her glasses, “and this.” He holds her forgotten book in his hands, casually flipping through the pages before turning it over and scanning the back cover.

“Have you read it before?”

He shrugs, a barely-there grimace briefly twisting his features as the motion jostles his sore ribs. “Started it, never finished.”

“Well,” She starts, slipping her glasses on and snatching the book out of his grasp, “how about we fix that? I’ll read, you pet the cat.”

Sailor’s voice is soft and steady as she starts to read aloud, a content smile on her face that’s echoed by the boy lying beside her when she settles against his side, head pillowed on the arm he curls around her shoulders without a thought. JJ’s the near perfect listener, only snickering once or twice at her total butchering of some of the more difficult Greek names (how come she can say Hephaestus just fine but gets tripped up on Dionysus?) but otherwise hanging off her every word and the relaxed ease with which he runs his hand through the ends of her damp hair fills her with a warmth, a happiness that she can’t describe but never wants to stop.

Hidden away from the rest of the world, curled up together on her bed, they forget the day’s past horrors and replace them with bright hopes for the future, exchanging comforting touches, deliberate yet played off as unintentional, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp -a caress of knuckles here, a brush of a palm there- as she reads into the night, until the cloudy sky darkens to black and they’re both fighting off the languid pull of sleep.

“I think that’s enough for today.” He plucks the book from her hands without waiting for a response and marks their place with a gas station receipt she was using as a makeshift placeholder, and setting it on the beside drawer.

“It’s your turn to read tomorrow,” He takes her glasses off with gentle fingers as she speaks into what little space still exists between them (that’s not otherwise occupied by Binx), smiling at the slow graze of his thumb along her cheek and nestles further against his side. “I’m done botching the names of deities for a while.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Damn it, Sailor kind of hates it when he says that cause it makes her feel things that she’s not quite ready to think about yet. Thankfully, her blush is swallowed by the darkness as he turns off the light and settles down beside her, arm slung low over her waist; her hand carefully brushes against his bruised ribs over the old shirt he wears, ice pack long ago thawed and thrown somewhere onto the hardwood floor.

“How do these feel? Better?”

She feels JJ nod, his chin brushing the top of her head. “Much.” There’s a pause, long enough that she starts to feel like she’s about to nod off, then he whispers, “Thank you, Sail. I know I don’t say it enough.”

She takes a deep breath, fingers stilling on his side, “Because you don’t need to, J. Remember what I said earlier, in the bathroom?”

He nods again but doesn’t reply, instead drawing circles on the small of her back, so she takes it as a cue to continue, “I care about you, okay? You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just...doing what feels right.”

After a beat, the arm she’s using as a pillow curls and pulls her tighter against him as he says quietly, almost shyly, “I care about you, too.”

The rain outside had slowed to a drizzle without either teenager noticing and the gentle pitter-patter against the roof casts a somnolent spell into the air, dazed and dreamy. It wraps around the pair, not unlike the way they wrap around each other, and slowly, easily, safely, they drift off as one.

let me know what you think!

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