#forgetting all of your childhood trauma and putting the rest in a box for later works wonders for the mind
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Amoreena | chapter eleven
chapter eleven
main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.
Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.
Chapter Warnings: Y/N POV: details of what happened to Stephen, her grandmas cancer, and very detailed explanations of how babies are made (as biologically accurate and not very graphic as possible) this is an angsty trauma filled chapter that made me cry a lot just writing it so I'm sorry in advance
word count: 3K
from the beginning <3
June 13th, 2010
There’s a knock on her parent's door at 4 in the morning, Y/N’s sound asleep on the couch back at her grandma’s, awoken by said grandmother as she hears all the noise beyond the porch. There are 2 cop cars at the main house, worry starts to settle over them.
She puts on a pair of shoes, taking her grandmother's hand in hers as they begin the early morning trek up the road, anxiety seeping in deeper and deeper as they get closer to the lights illuminating their driveway.
Her father is talking to an officer on the steps, her mother is crying behind him. “We’re so sorry for your loss,” the officer says and Y/N’s blood runs cold, numbing her from the impending despair.
“What happened?” Her grandmother asks, rubbing a hand along Y/N’s back in preparation for the worst.
“Evan was in a car accident,” her father says softly, knowing that Y/N knows Stephen was with him tonight. She breaks away from her grandma and without thinking she’s right in the officer's face.
“Which one of them died?”
“Ma’am,” it was never a good way to start the worst conversation of her life with that word or in that tone. She felt like a '40s housewife learning her husband wasn’t coming home from the war, only he wasn’t even her husband yet.
He would have been on next Saturday.
“I’m sorry, Stephen was pronounced dead on the scene,” he says the worst sentence she’s ever heard, and now she’ll never forget it. “The passenger side took the worst of it, once again, I am so sorry for your loss.”
She’s surprisingly calm, managing to whisper, “thank you,” before she’s walking off into the field, pushing everyone's hands away as she travels as far as he feet will take her.
She ends up at the willow tree by the pond as soon as the sun is rising, it happened a lot earlier in June than the rest of the year. The birds singing, the wind blowing against the leaves making them carry a tune in harmony together. The world is still spinning, life is moving on, but how?
She sat there against the tree for a while, picking blades of grass and weaving them into a chain, soothing her brain as she makes a pattern. Giving her hands something to do so they stop going numb, it’s the only thing that really reminds her that she's real, that she’s controlling the twists and tucks, the shape and length and the fact that it was created at all.
Ending the life of the single blade of grass as she picks it, never to be whole again. Snatched from its happy place, where it grew loved and surrounded by other matching green strands as they blew in the wind.
Then she's pulling fist full after fist full of grass out of the dirt, her hands covered in mud as she shouts, throwing handfuls of grass and dirt towards the pond. The once blue water starting to turn cloudy; disrupted and upset with her anger as it swallows her weapons, but it doesn’t make her feel better. All she did was disrupt the earth, changing the way this once beautiful patch of land used to look. She couldn’t help but sob, realizing that she was like this field now and her beautiful green pasture was disrupted, overturned and ruined.
The life that flowed through her died along with the love of her life.
“Stephen was pronounced dead on the scene,” the words echo in her mind in a constant circle like she’s stuck in a tin can.
It starts to reverberate, getting louder and louder as the same 7 words all run around in her head. Bouncing off the walls, smacking her down again and again as she hears them over and over and over… she’s holding her hands on her ears, shaking back and forth, sobbing when she feels someone wrap their arms around her.
She doesn’t open her eyes, instead, she's rushing to push them off of her, struggling out of their grasp as she fights them. Finally, she loses, being held in her brother's embrace as they both cry, he barely has a scratch on him when she finally looks at him.
she’s never been physical in her life, but she punched him right in the face. Her twin brother, best friend in childhood and the person she’s known the longest in her life. He held her close in the womb, crying if they separated as soon as they were born, she loved him deeply and yet she hated him something fierce at that moment.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Evan cries, “we were stopped at a red light, Y/N!”
“I don’t care! He was supposed to be my husband!” She swats at him, smacking his arms again and again as he tries to hold them back, holding her so tightly as she basically screams bloody murder in the field.
All she can see is his face, her beautiful happy Stephen. The first time she ever saw him, standing under a street light in Boston, papers in his hand and wonder in his eyes. The way he looked up at her, the glow of the light making a halo glow over his head.
She should have known he was too good to be true. Always destined to return to the heavens, he was truly angelic with his big emerald eyes that were only the tiniest bit yellow on the edge of the pupil, the way her name sounded on his tongue like a blessing coming true.
They buried him 2 days after what was supposed to be their wedding. Disrupting another beautiful patch of earth to hide him away forever, she placed a single rose on his casket, she never said goodbye and she never planned to.
“See you later, superstar,” she patted the glossy black box once last time before sending him down into the earth.
—
September 2012
This fucking willow tree and 7-word sentences…
“What do you mean you have cancer?”
Her grandma let a tear slip from her eye, “I’ve got colon cancer, honey, the doctors said I have another 2 years, maybe 5 if I'm lucky.”
Every time someone sat beside her in this one spot, she learned the worst information in the world. Sure Evan didn’t mean to kill Stephen, doesn’t mean she’s talked to him at all in the last year. with Grandpa dying only a few summers back, her favourite house cat now buried in the yard, she can’t lose her grandma now too.
“Okay,” she starts to plan in her head, her eyes about ready to jump out of her skull as she tries to think of all the things they need to do before it’s too late, “let’s go to England, let’s blow my bank account, you can’t leave me without going to England with me? We were supposed to get tea and pretend to be the queen and princess?”
She couldn’t stop the tears, her whole body heaving as she sobbed into her grandma’s dress, “you can’t leave me too!”
“Your grandfather and I have a fund for you, you were the last baby we got to raise when your mom went back to work, I want you to use it for that baby we talked about,” her grandma’s voice is barely a whisper, softly getting the words over her vocal cords as the tears joined Y/N’s on her dress.
Without another word, she took her hand and walked home, getting in her car together and heading to the closest fertility clinic, she booked her first insemination for February, pre-paying for a round of IVF hormones and everything to start in January, she had 3 months to plan.
Finding the perfect donor was the only hard part. She had 3 different books to choose from with all the clinics in the DC area sharing 1 sperm bank. She finally made her decision 3 weeks before they were set to get her pregnant when they updated the books.
Sample 2319, male 30’s, healthy, high IQ, 6’1, brown eyes, brown hair (curly). “Sounds a lot like Stephen,” her grandma agreed, saying his name for the first time in over 2 years, she knew this was her guy.
—
June 14th, 2021
Peeing on a stick shouldn’t be as terrifying as it is.
She hasn’t been this nervous since the first time Dr. Collins inseminated her. Laying back on the table at a weird elevation to make sure she got pregnant, her whole body tense as she thought of the possibilities of her future child.
Sample 2319 sitting in a cup not too far from her face as she prepared for a man she barely knew to put the semen of another man she didn’t know, inside her. She only picked this guy cause he was smart and tall, no health issues to report and the number made her think of Monsters Inc.
In her mind, she made a baby with a man she named mike wazowski, not knowing his real name was actually Spencer Reid and he was only just down the road at Quantico the whole time. It was the weirdest day ever, and then it became the second-best day of her life
Nothing could top holding her baby in her arms for the first time. Her grandma and mother beside her as they all cried, the perfect purple baby screaming on her chest as they tried to wipe the white gunk off her tiny body. her sweet little coos, seeing her swollen eyes open for the first time, the silence that overcame her as they made their first introduction to each other. Her little person, the love of her life, her wonderful Amoreena.
Her cry was perfect, like music to her ears she wanted to hear her little voice as long as she could because it meant she was alive and real. She was healthy and beautiful and the most perfect bundle of joy she could have ever made.
Now she was hiding in the bathroom to pee on a stick while her 7-year-old had breakfast in the next room. Oh, how times changed, but one thing remained the same, she was finding out alone again. Only this time she meant for that to happen, it was exactly 4 days since her period was supposed to start and it wasn’t there, neither was Spencer.
He had something to do that morning, but he’d be meeting them later that afternoon, it was Amoreena’s last day of kindergarten after all. She wanted time to either enjoy the thought of having another baby or cry in peace because for once it didn’t work, giving her a week to recover before trying again.
Amoreena was a miracle, the easiest IVF baby they ever made at the clinic, apparently. If she was pregnant this easily again it was a sure sign that he was Amoreena’s father too, only he could get her knocked up while not even trying.
She didn’t remember pregnancy tests taking this long, she flipped it over and walked out of the room, unable to think of anything else while she waited for 3 minutes to pass. Amoreena noticed she was being weird, studying her mother's movements as she paced the hall outside of the bathroom door.
“What are you doing?” She asked, curious as ever as she twirled lightly in her new princess dress.
“Can you keep a secret?”
“Always mom, I’m the best secret keeper in all the kingdom, remember?” Amoreena smiled, holding onto her leg as she stared up at her.
“Your dad and I tried to make a baby,” she whispered, petting the litter hairs on her forehead as Amoreena looked up at her, her first little baby. “I’m waiting to find out if it worked, but we can’t tell anyone in case it didn’t, okay?”
Amoreena’s eyes were wider than she’s ever seen them, her mouth opened slowly as she understood the words in her mind. She didn’t look happy or surprised, nor upset or worried. She looked confused, “how?”
She laughed then, shaking her head as she lifted Amoreena into her arms, she would have to know soon anyway. “You know how every month mummy has a bad week where she bleeds and her tummy hurts?”
“Yeah?”
“When people with our parts grow up they make little tiny eggs but we don’t lay them like chickens do, they stay inside our tummies and wait to become babies and if they don’t we have a period and release all the stuff our bodies saved up that month to make a little person. You’ll have one soon too in a few years, probably when you're 12 like I was, and when people with a penis get old enough they’re able to help us make the babies like roosters help the chickens. Our bodies are really special and make some really cool things when we try to,” she explained it in the most simple farmhouse way she could.
“Like when the goats are all born in the spring and they just show up?” She tried to clarify, understanding it at the basic level.
“Kinda, you’ve seen the photos of you in my tummy and how aunty Shannon’s stomach grew when she had your cousins, I’ll get really big like that too if I’m pregnant, the baby will grow for 9 long months till they’re nice and healthy and then we’ll have another person in the family,” she couldn’t help but smile as she thought about it.
“How do we find out?”
She opened the bathroom door then and carried Amoreena inside, setting her down on the sink and pointing at the upside-down test stick. “We create a special hormone when we’re pregnant, it’s something that can be detected in our pee!” she explained it like it was magic, watching her get excited instead of grossed out.
“So I peed on that stick and if it has 2 lines I have a baby in my tummy, if not then your dad and I have to try again.”
Amoreena picked up the test and looked at it, keeping it out of her mothers sight as she did so, “there’s two lines,” she lit up waving the stick lightly as she squealed.
Y/N wrapped her up in her arms and twirled her around, “you’re gonna be the best big sister ever!”
“How do we tell dad?” Amoreena’s soft voice whispered in her ear as she snuggled into her shoulder.
“I have an idea,” she whispered back before carrying her back into the kitchen.
Her All About Me project was sitting on the counter, ready for Y/N to drive her into school today. She set Amoreena down on the floor to watch her as she took some tape and taped the stick to the bottom corner of the project. “Pass me the marker, please?”
Amoreena ran to the counter to get it, coming back and placing it in her mom's hand before leaning in to watch what she was writing.
“I’m going to be a big sister sometime next February!” Amoreena read the words as her mother wrote them, unbelievably excited.
“Your dad can read that at the ceremony tonight!”
“I thought you said we can’t tell anyone yet?” Amoreena questioned her, like always.
“Your teacher can know, the other kids won't know what it means, it’s just important Spencer sees it, but we will wait to tell nanny and poppy, okay? Sometimes the babies don’t always stay, it’s sad so we keep it a secret until they’ve got a tiny little heartbeat in there,” she didn’t want to scare her, but she knew it was always a possibility.
“Then we try again,” Amoreena smiled, “It’ll be easier now that you don’t need Dr. Collins to help you, how did you even make me without Spencer?” She didn't use his real name often anymore, only in times when she wasn't referring to him as her father.
She sat down then, pulling Amoreena into her lap so she could hold her while she thought of the right words. “So we have eggs, but people with penises have something called sperm. When adults, and I mean adults you have to be at least 25 to have a baby it’s the rules,” she teased her slightly, ticking her arms.
“Adults have sex, babies are made when someone with a vagina and someone with a penis get together. But when you don’t have a partner with a penis to help, sometimes they’ll donate their sperm to the doctor's offices to help people like me make their perfect little families all by themselves.”
“Interesting,” is all her little mind can say, she has learned so much in one day, Y/N was surprised she was still listening and surprisingly still for once. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
“We won't know for a while,” she smiled, holding Amoreena closer to her chest. “How do you feel about all this?”
Amoreena was quiet as she thought about it, “is Spencer the guy who gave the doctors the sperm for me?”
“We think so, but we don’t know, why?”
Amoreena looked at her softly, “it wouldn’t be fair, I know he said I don’t need a father but why do they get to have him for both?”
“I think Spencer is your father, you’re just as smart and wonderful as he is, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re his baby too. but if you want to know if he isn't, when you turn 18 the doctors will tell you who it is, it's completely up to you to find out,” she whispered, the tears starting to fall down her cheeks as Amoreena tried to wipe them away.
"I like thinking he's my father, so he is." Her mind worked in the most wonderful way. Y/N couldn’t help but hold her close as she lightly cried, “I had a dream yesterday that I had 8 sisters,” her voice was so soft and innocent as her tiny hand cupped her mother's cheek.
She gasped lightly at the words, remembering Spencer’s panic in the middle of the night last night, how scared he was to leave her all alone with 9 babies and no one to help her. They knew something that she didn’t yet, cheaper by the dozen seemed less like a dream and more like a prophecy.
“I’m so happy to make your dream come true,” Y/N whispered, “I promise I’m happy, the baby just makes me emotional.”
Amoreena placed her hand on her tummy then, “I love you, baby.”
Y/N stuck her tummy out as far as she could, “I love you too, big sister,” she said in a funny voice to make Amoreena laugh, leaning back in the chair as she held her.
And just like that, getting pregnant with Amoreena was bumped into 3rd place for the best day of her life. Sharing the moment with her and no one else was perfect, insuring she knew that she was just as important moving forward as the little person she was growing this time.
tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 let me know if you would like to be added as well!!
#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid request#criminal minds smut#criminal minds imagine#amoreena
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Finding A Light
Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader
Summary: Ron was left broken in the aftermath of the wizarding war. In an attempt to build a better life, he feels he may have unknowingly met someone who could put those pieces back together.
Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, fluff
A/N: Remus is very much alive in this series! This will be more than one part, I hope you enjoy!
Ron Weasley was a man of few words when presented the daunting task of expressing his emotions, preferring to stuff them down and deal with the consequences later. He never outright says what he’s feeling unless it’s pried from him, and in those times it’s usually expressed through anger. He isn’t great with his words either, so it didn’t come as a surprise to Harry and Hermione to see him so closed off after the war had concluded its disastrous rampage.
It was a battle that anyone and everyone involved was more than likely to never forget, the losses and hardships engraved in their minds as a permanent reminder should their memory allow it as they age. Some had come out on the other side more fortunate than others. Some had handled it far better than others. Ron was not one of those people.
His long awaited ambitions on becoming an Auror were rapidly diminished and pushed to the very back of his mind for a good while. He had wanted absolutely nothing to do with magic beyond that very day, thought that maybe if he hadn’t used it, it wouldn’t remind him of his tragedies. That maybe that part of his life would be forgotten in time if he tried hard enough. So, his wand, his robes, his Hogwarts letters and what was left of his sentimental wizarding memorabilia were hastily shoved into a cardboard box, taped shut and stuffed away to collect dust. Out of sight out of mind was his reasoning, though it didn’t quite work out that way.
The loss of his childhood home paired with the devastating loss of one of his older brothers had been a weight too heavy to bear, pressing down on his chest with each day that passed. He nearly lost two of his closest friends amidst the chaos the Dark Lord left in his wake. Such a lifetime of pain and loss was something he never anticipated to experience all by the young age of eighteen, and it left him feeling like a mere shell of the person he once used to be. As if the years of extraordinary magical endeavors prior to that day were completely erased and replaced with utter heartache.
It took him four years to bring himself out of the pit he found himself stuck in and find some semblance of strength, if only for his mother, and he wanted to build a better life for himself. One without so much sorrow written into his story. He wasn’t entirely sure how to go about doing so, knowing a return to a normal life simply wouldn’t be feasible. Not that his life had ever been considered normal per say.
The emotional scars were something that would never go away, he understood that, but he didn’t think he could go another day having the same mundane routine night and day. He felt ready for more.
Now, at the age of twenty-two coming up on twenty-three, he found himself returning to Hogwarts with hopes to become a professor. His heart nearly beat out of his chest when he arrived, sick to his stomach with nerves as he stopped and stood in the middle of the newly constructed stone bridge. His letter crinkled under the pressure of his tightly clenched hand, luggage in the other, eager students curving their stride to avoid running into him. The castle was more grand than he’d remembered it to be, perhaps they’d made it bigger to house more young witches and wizards, perhaps it wasn’t. Either way, against his instincts, he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and continue forward before he convinced himself to turn around and apparate home.
He quickly found that things had been kept fairly the same as he roamed the grand halls in curiosity, as similar to the school he’d grown up in as it could be. The wondrous ceiling of enchanted candles in the Great Hall was a detail that briefly gave him watery eyes; the varying hues of reds, oranges and yellows coloring the Gryffindor common room, down to the house flags pridefully ornamenting the new quidditch pitch. He found himself turning to express his awe to Harry or Hermione on more than one occasion, but was only met with the unfamiliar faces of new students. His shoulders would slump as he exhaled a deep sigh.
It had taken him nearly two months to fully adjust to his newfound routine, to come to terms with the memories that flashed in his mind of their own volition. Whether they be good or bad, they had a habit of making themselves known at the worst of times. Over the course of that time period crumpled pieces of parchment had accumulated around the desk in his room, unsent letters to his mother of his wishes to return home. All of which were written hastily in either frustration or tears, or a mixture of the two. And of the ones he had sent, they were promptly returned with enchanted letters vocally telling him with the utmost of love and sternness that he will be staying, he needs this. Those letters kept him going on those days.
Amongst those days and nights it was strange not having his two best friends there, loneliness still having its hold on him.
Remus Lupin had made his return all the more welcome though, himself and McGonagall being two of the only familiar faces that he’d truly connected with. He felt it was an honor to be taken under his wing and trained, he always had been Ron’s favorite instructor of Defense Against The Dark Arts. He’d even go so far as to say he’s the best if he was being honest.
Regardless, despite his own personal conflicts, he was beginning to feel more comfortable residing there than he had ever thought he would. It was as if the nagging rain cloud dumping over his head was starting to dissipate for the time being.
“You did very good today, Ron,” Lupin says once his final class of the day has left, “the teaching of boggarts is never easy I’ll say, and if I recall correctly it wasn’t your favorite lesson.”
Ron chuckles at the thought, pushing his chair in when he stood. “Not particularly. I still have a nightmare or two about that bloody spider.”
Lupin laughs, nodding at the pleasant memory. Things fall quiet for a few moments as Ron moves to sling his bag over his shoulder. “Off you go, Mr. Weasley, enjoy your weekend,” he urges, grabbing Ron’s attention again before he gets too far. “Here’s your weekly report. You’re becoming a fine up and coming professor I’d say. I have no doubt that I will be leaving my classroom in the best possible care.”
Ron nods with a soft laugh, cheeks flushing a pale crimson at the reassurance as he takes the parchment from him, tucking it into his bag to be read later. “Thank you, Professor Lupin, really. It means a lot to hear.”
He smiles appreciatively before making his way across the long classroom, stopping in his tracks. He takes a breath to gather his thoughts before spinning on his heel to face him again, returning to the desk he sat at. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I suppose.”
He offers Ron a smile upon seeing the clear hesitancy written all over his face. Ron gulps, fumbling with the strap of his bag that rested on his shoulder. He could practically see the gears turning in the ginger boy’s head if such a thing existed. “Was it…was it hard coming back here? After the war, I mean.”
Lupin huffs out a soft laugh at the sudden ask of such a deep question, though he can’t say he was surprised. “I was waiting for this question to arise,” he says, lifting a hand to stop Ron from apologizing. “To give a short answer, yes. It took great thought. To give a long answer, one you may not like but I’m sure you already know, there will always be bad days after experiencing such trauma. It is not easy being born into a life where magic is real and not just a trick of the eye. While it can be wonderful it also brings with it a great deal of damage.”
Ron nods as he listens to his words, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“Despite all of it, Hogwarts is a place that can be good just as much as it can be bad. You just have to take it in your stride. You’re stronger than you think, Ron. If you really want to be here, I believe it is worth it to try.”
Ron exhales deeply, taking a moment to process his insightful words, a certain wisdom he appreciated. It left him feeling considerably lighter than he had before, like he was a bit more hopeful of a better experience here. “Thank you.”
That’s all he can manage to say.
The blue eyed man in front of him nods. “Go on now, you’ve had a long day, Weasley.”
—
Ron found himself to be rather excited for this weekend. It would be his first time making a trip to Hogsmeade in nearly five years, though he’d been putting it off because the experience wasn’t quite the same when doing it alone. Third years buzzed around him with the excitement of their newfound privileges and independence, bouncing from shop to shop to fully take in all that it had to offer.
He, however, walked at a leisurely pace amongst the students bustling around him, taking a moment to fully appreciate everything he hadn’t seen for so long. Catching details that otherwise went unnoticed like the chipping pink paint on the curved windowsills of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, and the happy young couples residing inside. The vibrant green moss that formed inbetween the crumbling cracks of the old cobblestone walkways. However, the sight of Zonko’s Joke Shop made his heart lurch in his chest the moment he saw it.
He averted his gaze immediately, swallowing thickly as he tugged at his shirt collar that suddenly felt a little too constricting. It had been Fred and George’s favorite shop to frequent, always buying new things to add to their inventory of pranks. But now that one half of the pair was missing it wasn’t such a fond memory anymore, moreso a taunting one.
The sound of a couple students joyously greeting with a chorus of ‘Hi Mr. Weasley!’ pulled him from his thoughts and he was quick to smile, giving them a half wave as they had already begun to walk away. He let his hand fall back to his side, huffing out a sigh as he continued to walk along the path towards the one place he looked forward to the most, Honeydukes.
The little bell overhead alerted his entrance as he opened the door, the air noticeably sweeter than outside. He found himself smiling as his gaze bounced around the near unchanged shop, any candy you could possibly think of lining almost every brightly painted wall. Though not every single one is a desireable find, he learned that one the hard way. He almost didn’t know where to begin, much like how he felt the first time he ever entered the place, and every time after that for that matter. So he perused the shop, something he’s never done by himself.
His eyes landed on familiar chocolates, and he was quick to grab a box for Hermione because he knows they’re her favorite. Despite such knowledge she still adamantly denies having a sweet tooth to this day. To go along with that, he snags one of the last chocolate frogs for Harry.
It was a fond memory when he thought of it, a tradition they’d had as young students. He’s still got the cards he’d collected from each frog, they were tucked away in that box filled with other things. Maybe when he returned home he’d have the courage to reopen it.
He continues to look around for a bit more, finding himself wishing he had the same sense of enjoyment and innocence as some of the younger students held. For they were fortunate enough to narrowly miss being involved with such negative events. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t looming over his head anymore, to let himself enjoy this very moment. So, he tried his best to clear his mind and bring himself back to his current situation in the middle of an aisle filled with hard candies.
When he had turned the corner of said aisle he collided with something, someone to be more specific, the box clutched in his hands opening on impact and sending the assortment of sweets clattering to the ground with the addition of others. The chocolate frog had fell from its decorative box and hopped out of sight before he could process it.
“I’m so sorry!” A soft voice sounds in front of him, a warm hand enveloping his wrist.
“It’s okay…” Ron trails off when he matches the voice to its owner, blinking slowly as his mouth hangs slightly agape. He found himself staring at the girl, he was quite sure he’d never seen someone so alluring, so captivating. He didn’t know if he could manage to stop gawking. “I-it’s okay.”
His cheeks redden when he realized he’s repeated himself, the fiery heat of embarrassment burning from the very tips of his ears down to his neck, leaving his pale skin flushed. You too came to the realization that you were still gripping his arm, quickly dropping it as you laughed softly to stave off any awkward silence. He averts his eyes momentarily, needing a moment to regain his composure and not make a complete fool of himself in front of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Though he’s quite sure he already has.
“I told Mr. Flume it shouldn’t be quite so cramped in here, but he never seems to listen,” you laugh, looking at the smattering of sweets scattered around the two of them. Ron was focused less on the mishap and more on the way you smiled brightly at him, knowing his cheeks were undoubtedly the same shade as his hair. “Give me just one moment, please!”
He nods just a little too late as you rush off around another corner and out of sight, leaving him to stand there awkwardly as students in the vicinity stared at the mess sprawled at his feet. Shortly, you indeed did come back, a new box of chocolates and what was now the last chocolate frog in your hands. You thrusted them in his direction with a warm smile, one that made his heart flip in his chest. “Take these, it’s on the house.”
“Oh I couldn’t do that,” Ron rushes.
“Please, it was my mistake. I insist.”
He laughs softly, nodding after a moment. “At least let me help you clean up?”
You nod up at him with a laugh of your own, “deal.”
He tries not to think about the way your fingers brush over his as they pick up chocolates from the checkered floor, tossing them into the nearby trash bin. And he tried not to think about the way you’d had his stomach twisting in knots as if he was a thirteen year old again experiencing his first crush.
“I’m Y/n, by the way.”
He scrambled to think of a response, seemingly forgetting his own name momentarily. It hadn’t gotten any better when you looked up at him politely as if waiting for a response. “I’m Ron…Ron Weasley.”
He could’ve kicked himself for being so awkward, knowing him stumbling over his words couldn’t possibly give off any sort of appeal. He brushed his hands off with a sigh as he stood to his feet. Though you didn’t seem to mind his nerves as you brushed your hands off on your jeans.
“Nice to meet you, Ron. I only wished it were on better circumstances.” The pale blush on your face deepened a shade.
“That’s quite alright,” he says with an airy laugh, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “It was nice meeting you too.”
That same silence took up the absence in conversation again as Ron tried desperately to think of something to say, not quite ready for the interaction to be over. You beat him to it.
“I hope to see you around here again, maybe without the mess,” you say with a soft smile, “and don’t forget your chocolates.”
He was confused for a moment, too caught up in the way your eyes sparkled as they looked at him, or the way your hair fell around your face before following where you’d been pointing. “Oh! Y-yeah…thank you,” He grabbed his sweets in his shaky hands, feeling rather bold suddenly, “I’ll see you around then, Y/n.”
He was sure your words were only friendly, something you probably said often as a kind gesture. Probably not because you actually wanted to see him again. But he let himself think otherwise if only for a moment.
You simply nod, your grin widening a fraction, “bye Ron.”
—
Ron’s lifted spirits did not go unnoticed, not by Mrs. McGonagall who made it a point to bring it up at dinner later that evening. He could tell she picked up on it, could tell by the very way she’d glanced at him frequently. Though he wasn’t sure he was hiding it very well. He pretended not to notice, focusing his gaze on the rows of tables occupied by dozens upon dozens of students seated at them, the hardwood adorned with some of the best food he’s ever eaten. Second only to his mother.
“Is there a particular reason you’re so cheery, Mr. Weasley?” She finally asks, and he sighs at the question.
“Not particularly,” he responds using her wording, glancing at her as a smile pulls at the left corner of his mouth. He watches as she raises a skeptical brow; he knows what’s coming.
“I haven’t seen you smile like that in a number of years, Ronald. I know when you’re lying,” she says with a soft laugh, though she doesn’t pry.
Ron chuckles down at his plate as he shakes his head, pushing his food around as he thought about her. The way she smiled at him, so brightly the corners of her eyes crinkled. It still felt as though those butterflies were still fluttering around in his stomach. He quickly found himself wanting to hear your voice again, or hear your laughter—
“I’ve met a wonderful person today, that’s all,” he blurts, looking to his side.
She gave him a fond yet knowing smile, nodding her head. “I know the look of young love when I see it.”
“I’m not in love, Mrs. McGonagall,” he urges almost immediately, cheeks reddening once more at her preposterous conclusion, “I’ve only just met her today.”
“If you insist, my dear.”
“I do insist.” He tries to be sure of himself despite his inability to get you off his mind, but he hides his smile behind his goblet as he takes a sip.
Later that night he went to bed with something other than sorrow clouding his thoughts, instead feeling rather optimistic about the week ahead. Or maybe it was the plans he’d had at the end of it that had him so eager, time feeling agonizingly slow. It was definitely that. He couldn’t wait to see you next Saturday.
—
#ron weasley#ron weasley x you#ron weasley x reader#ron weasley angst#ron weasley fluff#ron weasley fic#ron weasly imagine#ron weasley fanfiction#ron weasley one shot#harry potter fic
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what’s left of us
a/n: welcome to the first chapter of ‘the choices we make’. I've been teasing this for so long that I'm so excited to finally have something to show for it. I really hope someone reads it.
main masterlist | the choices we make masterlist | story description | discovery
summary: The Hargreeves have slowly been putting the pieces of their lives back together after coming back from the 60’s. Upon clearing out Reginald’s old office, the siblings find a box containing the files of their birth families. What happens when Luther makes the choice to open his?
warnings: swearing, canon childhood abuse and trauma, canon death/murders
word count: 1,566
The siblings stood in the doorway, no one daring to go in. Diego awkwardly cleared his throat. “So... who first?” Luther glanced down at him as Klaus shoved past. “Oh, you big bunch of babies. He’s dead.” Klaus waved his arm about as he moved further into the office, the bottle of brandy in his hand.
“Are you seriously drinking right now?” Diego asked incredulously.
“Well, the bastard might be dead but”, he shuddered, “I still don’t like thinking about dear old dad.”
“Well, the study won’t clean itself.” Five said, following Klaus into the room. “Everyone take a box. Like the rest of the house, if you think it’s important, bring it up, otherwise trash it. We don’t need more of the old man’s stuff than necessary.” The siblings moved apart, some grumbling, others sighing. The clocked ticked as they worked, and Luther thought back to how they got here. After getting back to 2019, after saving the world, the family had planned to settle in and enjoy being together. Unfortunately, the consequences of what came before were bound to catch up with them sooner rather than later. Diego and Vanya had both been arrested almost immediately following their arrival. While Klaus got shitfaced and Allison called every lawyer friend she had, Ben and Luther sat and sat, wondering where to go from there. But yet again, Five seemed to have a plan, and had somehow managed to get Hazel and Cha-Cha’s guns to the police without suspicion of family involvement. Diego had been released pretty quickly afterwards, and so had Vanya, on account of Leonard’s murder being self-defense. Diego suspected his death had probably done the police department a favor, given Leonard’s history and the fact that he had killed at least 2 other people that they knew of. Ben rejoining the living after the doomsday incident in Texas had been a welcome relief to all of them, and the family had never felt more cohesive. The town had mostly left them alone, but the siblings were trying pretty hard to stay out of the public’s way.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, guys, I think I found something.” Allison’s voice broke through Luther’s thoughts and he looked over to where Allison was lifting a big box onto the desk. The siblings turned and gathered around the desk. Five grabbed the box from Allison, and his eyes widened.
“What? What is it?” Diego asked, standing next to Luther.
“It’s our files.” Five said quietly.
“Our what?” Luther asked, eyebrows raising.
“Our files. All the information about our biological families, it’s in here.” Five responded. An uncomfortable tension settled over the siblings as they looked at the box.
“So... who wants to go first?” Klaus asked tentatively. Five shook his head.
“Forget about it, I’m not interested.” Five said, moving away from the box. Allison let go of it and moved back from the table and Diego turned back to his project. Klaus and Ben moved back over to the fireplace, where they were definitely not cleaning. Vanya and Luther looked at each other. Vanya eventually shrugged, and moved back to her earlier spot. Luther swallowed. Why was he so curious?
-
Luther couldn’t stop thinking about the file and the information it might contain. He was content sure, happy even, but he couldn’t stop wondering. Did he have a biological sister? A biological brother, maybe? What about his parents? Why had they given him up? Did they regret it? Luther’s thoughts consumed him so much that he missed the uneasy looks his siblings shared over breakfast the next morning. “Whatcha thinking about?” Klaus singsonged, sitting down next to him. Luther startled, and looked up at him. He sighed and sat back in his chair.
“Are you guys really not going to look at your file?” Luther asked. The siblings all looked at him, worry etched onto their faces.
“What, this family not good enough for you or something buddy?” Diego half-joked.
“I just... how are you not curious?”
Allison shrugged. “I’ve got you guys. Isn’t that enough?” Luther sighed.
“Luther, opening those files is opening a can of worms you can’t close again. Once you know, you know. And you may not like what you find.” Five said solemnly.
“Yeah, whose to say any of our biological parents were any better than dear old Dad?” Klaus said.
“I mean, they did give us up. For money.” Vanya said, sitting down next to him. Luther looked at her.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” That seemed to be the end of the conversation, and the family resumed their normal breakfast chatter. And yet... Luther continued to wonder.
-
The Academy was dark and quiet, the only semblance of peace this place seemed to get. It was 3:32 am and Luther was trying desperately not to wake anyone as he snuck into Dad’s study. He needed to know, can of worms be damned. This was driving him crazy, and he just... he needed to know. He pulled the box out from where it had been set in the corner, and pulled the lid off. His file was the first one, labeled NUMBER ONE. Luther sighed, and closed his eyes. Was he really going to do this? Luther opened his eyes and flipped the folder open. His eyes flicked over the page, looking for the information he cared about.
Mother: Taunya Roberts
In a relationship with Richard Gray. Might prove to have complications later on.
Paid: $7 million
Location: San Diego, California
Luther’s eyes focused on the name of his biological mother. Taunya. Huh. Not exactly what he had been expecting, but it would do. The page mentioned nothing about already existing siblings, but he was curious about the “complications” his father mentioned.
Which is how he wound up at the police station the next morning asking Diego’s cop buddy that had helped him escape if he could track down his mother for him. He had agreed and promised to give Luther a call when he found something. It hadn’t taken long and he met him back at the police station a few hours later, almost anxious to finally get an answer. Luther sat down at the man’s desk and he sighed. “Well, you’re in luck. Found the family. From San Diego like you mentioned. Here, take a look for yourself.” He turned the computer towards Luther and he leaned in, eyes scanning the document.
Taunya had married Richard in 1990. Richard and Taunya divorced in 2006.
Had four kids. Elena, Steve, Madison, Addison. Elena, born in 1993. Steve, born in 1996. Madison, born in 2000. Addison, born in 2001.
Luther’s eyes continued to skim the document. All still living in San Diego until- there.
Elena Gray current place of employment: Manhattan District Attorney’s Office
Elena Gray current location of residence: Manhattan, New York
Luther sat back in his chair. Not only did he have 4 biological siblings, but he had a chance to talk, meet, see one of them? Manhattan wasn’t too far, only a few hours drive. He sighed, thanking the man. Luther mulled this thought over in his head. Was he really going to do this?
-
Apparently, he was. Luther took a deep breath and shook out his nerves as he stood in front of the prestigious looking building. 1 Hogan Place. That’s what the information Diego’s police buddy had given him. There were no guarantees she’d be here, or that she’d even want to see him, so he’d written a letter, just in case. He walked in, and the front desk lady directed him to the office he presumed was hers. There was girl sitting at a desk in front of the office and Luther’s heart skipped a beat, wondering if this was her. The girl looked up at him and gave him a smile. “How may I help you?” She asked politely.
“Hi, um, I’m looking for Elena Gray?” Luther asked, hoping the girl-Lucy, the name plaque said, he noted- didn’t notice how much his voice was shaking. His nerves were vastly vanishing and he was wondering why he hadn’t listened to Five when he’d had the chance.
“Oh, she’s not here at the moment. She in court.” Lucy offered, still smiling. “Can I pass along a message for you when she gets back?”
“Actually, uhm yeah. Could you give her this letter?” Luther said, extending the arm grasping the paper.
“Of course. Who should I say it’s from?” Lucy said, taking it from him and placing a sticky note upon it.
“Uh, Luther. Luther Hargreeves.” Luther said nervously and Lucy’s eyebrow quirked. “What?”
“Nothing... it’s just that your family is a bit uh.. notorious around these parts.” He nodded, not sure how to respond. “And would you like to leave a phone number so she can get back into contact with you?”
“Uh, it’s in there.” He said, nodded to the letter. Lucy nodded, and looked back up at him.
“Perfect. I’ll give that to her once she gets back. Anything else I can do for you?” Luther shook his head and realized his feet needed to start moving for fear of embarrassing himself any further.
“Thanks for your help.” Luther offered the girl a smile and headed out of the building to his car. As he walked he began to feel a painful mixture of regret and elation. What did he just do?
#the choices we make#luther hargreeves#luther hargreeves fics#the umbrella academy#law and order special victims unit#the umbrella academy fics#law and order special victims unit fics
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Oasis
This is my Art-trade piece from November I totally didn’t have time to post here yet :’DDD <3 It’s written for the lovliest Cero! I knew she enjoyed it, haha.
About 16 pages of Maverick/Nomad, it’s sweet, I swear! <3 Hope you enjoy!
Erik Thorn struggled with sleeping for most of his life. His problem wasn’t insomnia, or some mental illness, it was just his brain functioning as it did. Starting from a very young age, most of his nights were one of these two: either sleepless tossing and turning, or strange dreams about emotions, colorful storms and a few times even nightmares. It would have been strange or even scary for anybody else, but for Erik, it was just… life.
During the day, his brain was working on high; during the night, it needed a fast and efficient way to store all the information he received - and for a boy who was barely allowed to leave his backyard, the amount of input was- surprising. Being homeschooled for most of his childhood, never having a chance to explore, make friends or just learn to climb a tree- it was not an easy way of living for a kid, especially when the child in question was energetic and interested in everything.
Being closed in and supervised, shielded from even the wind with such a lack of stimulus would have made any grown up go crazy. Having all the time in the world, and still nothing to do, no way to process, could push the brain into overdrive; and in order to protect one’s sanity, the mind would try to tire itself - mainly with asking every question, or opening every trauma; thinking about things a normal person doesn’t have time to think about on a regular day.
Experiencing something similar for just a few months made adults develop depression and other issues, so it was expected that a child would not be able to bear with years and years of the same cabin fever. But Erik - being as resourceful as he was - developed a way to manage. Instead of trying to escape his prison all the time, he decided to store these desires in his heart for later use. He was a smart boy and he knew more than enough that his parents wouldn’t be able to shield him for all his life, so he turned to learning. And by learning, he meant books, and by books, he meant all the books he could put his hands on, not caring if it was about tales, science, culture, languages, geography, animals or history - he wanted to read all.
And since he had all the time in the world, with nothing to do, he did indeed read all the magazines, plays and books he could reach. When other children were hanging out in school, he was reading about space and stars. When boys his age were playing hide and seek on the streets, he learnt about ancient Greece; and when they were making friends, he was making plans. After all his parents were able to keep his body in one place, but they had no power over his mind wandering to the fantastic castles of Russia, the beautiful seas of Australia or the endless deserts of Africa.
Books gave him so much inner freedom he was able to completely shut out the fact that he had never experienced a true childhood, and he was happy. At the age of 15, instead of chasing girls like a normal boy would, he spent his days reading and learning about everything, and during the night he lied restlessly, dreaming about the places he wanted to visit, things he wanted to see, goals he wanted to achieve. The images were so vivid in his head, he sometimes thought he could just reach and touch them.
He read all about the wonders of the world and, while patiently waiting for his turn to decide, he planned fantastic journeys to places his parents would never even dream about. He locked all these desires deep into his heart until he finally became old enough to choose his own path, and by the time he got asked ‘What do you want to do with your life’ he already had an answer ready.
He knew his parents wanted to keep him safe, that they wished him to become a lawyer, stay close to them, have a peaceful career, with a silent family of his own and die after a long, successful and very boring life - so of course he did the exact opposite!
Signing up to military training was his way to rebel, and soon he discovered that it was the best decision he ever made.
By the age of 25 he was able to travel to countless countries and cities with the army. Becoming an Intelligence Officer was the most suitable for his abilities and desires, and after learning Dari and ending up in Afghanistan he finally - for the first time in his life - found his place and purpose. For a while. He had all the time in the world to explore the colorful culture, the traditions, the good and also the bad sides of Kabul, and he fell in love with the city in no time. He could say that he was finally living all his dreams, but Erik still struggled with sleeping.
He was busy with all the work, all the information, all the responsibility day after day, yet it was just not enough for his brain to get tired - or this time maybe it was too much. During his childhood, the lack of input kept him awake; when he was a teenager, the fantastic future was not letting him have his rest. And when he was just fulfilling the dreams he always had, working for greater good and helping others and living in a different country, it turned out to be a bit too much to handle. It was without a doubt pretty ironic.
As the situation in Kabul grew more and more tense, he got less and less sleep. He needed to work 48-72 hours in one go, and when he finally had a few hours of peace, he fainted. It was sleep, but not rest. Both his mind and his body were strained to their limits, and as the tension collapsed in the city, so did he. He arrived at a crossroad, and in order to survive, he took the harder path and cut every connection that tied him to the outer world.
After he escaped Kabul for the first time in 8 years of active service, he felt- hopeless. Lost. Weak.
Relieved.
Relieved?
Relieved like a man who just cut all the chains that held him down would be. For the first time in his life, he had nobody to tell him what to do. No parents, no commanders, no nothing. When this realisation washed over him, he felt exhausted and energetic at the same time.
For a few days, he had been wandering close to Kabul to see if anybody would come after him, but when nobody arrived after two weeks, he understood the gift that fell into his lap.
It wasn’t simply about shaking all the chains of command off himself, but it was true and total freedom. He had the power to forget his original culture, his ways of living, his career, his belongings and even his name. He got the chance to peel every layer of paint, and start with a blank, white canvas if he wanted- and oh he wanted! He wanted to escape from his previous life.
The next day the first thing he did was to sell every item he owned, even his watch. He got so drunk on the newly discovered freedom, he allowed himself to get lost in time as well. With nothing but the money he got, a small backpack and water, he started his aimless journey around the country, and for two whole years, he didn’t even look back. Without doubt, that was the happiest time of his life… or so he thought.
He spent his days wandering from town to town, exploring more and more of the rigid beauty of Afghanistan. He was living from one day to another: when he found work, he got paid, when he gambled, he lost his money, and when he couldn’t find any food, he didn’t eat. All of his previous life experiences were stripped off him, and he became a man whose only purpose was to satisfy his needs. He fought for food, water and shelter, like an animal, and it was just such an easy way of living for him that he was able to shut his brain out for a while and live for the moment.
During his second year of complete isolation, he travelled through the Dasht-e Margo desert in order to get to Lashkargah for his next Buzkashi tournament. Crossing the endless sands on foot was a challenge on its own, and he wanted to try it for so long now.
Before he started his journey, he planned his route and scheduled in a few extra days as well. He wanted to allow himself the luxury of getting lost. He packed all the water he could and got on his foot to conquer the grim dunes of The Desert of Death .
As he arrived at the Dasht-e Margo, he allowed himself a minute of silent appreciation. He knew that it was one of the deadliest deserts of the globe, and he knew that he needed to respect it. He felt that if he could cross these sands without getting lost or going insane, he could do anything, so he set foot in the desert, having no idea about the way it would change him.
The first day and night went as peacefully as possible, but the next morning he discovered a very important factor: There was nobody here to talk to . He was completely alone, with nothing but the sea of burning sand under his feet, the september sun on the sky and his own thoughts. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he only had his mind as company, and getting deeper into the desert, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to open Pandora’s box, yet it was too late to turn back now.
By the second night came the realisation of the parallel between his childhood and this desert. His body might have not been confined in a house, but wherever he turned there was nothing except the sand and the sun. It was a physical jail in a form, with his mind having all the time to think - and as a good cabin fever worked, soon he started to ask every question, open every trauma and think about the things he didn’t have time to think about in one and a half years.
By the third day, he opened up every shut door in his soul, and gave himself into the unspeakable amount of remorse he felt for his parents and the army. He knew that he was being selfish when he cut his ties, and truth to be told, he missed his previous life. He knew that everybody thought he was dead, and he didn’t go back to tell them otherwise. He simply didn’t want to. He wanted to be alone, he wanted to do whatever he wished for, so he just did that without thinking twice. He lied to himself that it was for his survival, but it really wasn’t. He just saw the opportunity to disappear from the radars, and he took it.
He allowed himself to be dead, because death meant free from the burdens, but it also meant being free from all the good he had in his life, the things he missed! For example, he missed his friends from the army, he missed calling his father on a silent sunday evening, and he missed having people ready to catch him if he was falling. He missed being alive.
Four days into the desert, he felt the worst he had ever felt in 33 years. His body was burning, his heart was breaking, his mind was ready to shut down. He couldn’t shake the memory of his own betrayal out of his head, no matter how he tried. Even worse, every time he closed his eyes, he could imagine the worried face of his father, and the tears of his mother as his colonel told them he disappeared. He knew he needed to go back, but still wasn’t ready to accept his failure.
On day five, he couldn’t take a step. He just sat for hours, looking into the mirages the sun created, thinking about his decisions, and where he turned wrong. He shouldn’t have left Kabul, he shouldn’t have learned Dari, he shouldn’t have signed up for military training. He should have stayed home, to not disappoint his family like this. He should have listened to his parents.
The sixth morning came with a short rain, and he just stood there, eyes closed, shoulders dropped as the water was sinking into his hair, beard and clothes. It was a perfect match to his also cloudy mood. He felt like the worst shit the world has ever seen. He planted his face into his hands and let himself be weak for just a second, the rain was there to hide the pain anyway.
He didn’t know where to turn or what he wanted from life anymore. He was ready to give up. The Desert of Death was getting the best of him, yet his legs were still moving, his lungs still filled with air, and his heart still pumped blood. He felt like dying, yet he kept going on, for reasons unknown.
On the seventh evening, he reached both the breaking point and the oasis. He felt the same when he escaped Kabul, only this time, it was all his fault. All the betrayal, all the pain, all the selfish decisions were on him, there was nobody else to blame.
He dropped his bag in the sand and, collapsing next to the shallow waters of the oasis, he simply pushed his head under in an attempt to calm his storming mind. Since he was here, in the oasis, he got less and less rest, and by this point, his whole body trembled with every step he took. He wasn’t even sure if he would be able to cross the desert anymore.
He pulled his head out of the water, taking big gulps of air and he just stared at the small waves he created. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to fix everything. He took a deep breath, and lied on the ground, turning towards the sky. The sun was just about to set, he could already see the first stars of the night.
He kicked his boots down, and pushed his burning legs into the chilly water, waiting in silence as the last rays of the sun disappeared. He wanted to fix it, yet he wanted the freedom. How would the two of these meet..? How could he make it work?
He knew that he needed to go back, he didn’t know how, but he knew that it was the right thing to do. But how would he still keep his independence? How would he still travel and live his dreams? He didn’t want to be stuck in the same place for eight years without change. He was still in love with Kabul, he could imagine himself living there, but not as an intelligence officer, just a native. He still wanted to travel, and explore and live his life.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He needed to solve this somehow.
He needed to let go of everything one more time, and start with a blank canvas yet again, but this time, he needed to make it good. This time, he needed to make his decisions based on his happiness, not out of rebellion or fear. He needed to keep himself and his well being in the focus, while still satisfying others.
He took a deep breath, wiggled his cooling toes and slowly, opened his eyes, to be greeted by the clearest night sky ever seen. When he was a child, and he read about space, he always wished to see the stars and the Milky Way in person, and now that he was here, he simply didn’t know how on Earth did he miss this until now?! What a fool he was.
Watching more and more stars lit up, one after another, he suddenly felt small… insignificant. His problems were gone as he was drinking up the fascinating view.
After a week of feeling down and tense, he suddenly felt calm, even happy. From this perspective, his problems seemed as small as he was at the minute. His lips pulled into a smile and closing his eyes, he fell into a gentle, deep sleep, for the first time in his life. That night, there was nothing in his mind, no storms, no emotions, nothing. He felt empty and peaceful, and he slept like never before.
It was the most fucked up feeling ever; spending seven days breaking down all the walls he built around himself just to end the terror fulfilling a childhood dream that washed tranquility over him, and the next morning he woke up refreshed, relaxed.
He sat next to the water and refilled his bottles, letting his mind wander again. This time, it wasn’t about hatred and remorse, but ways to fix this. He counted the memories from all across his years that he considered happy, and analysing them, he set foot on the sand to finish the journey.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Erik spent approximately two whole weeks in the Desert of Death, and this trip on the endless sands turned to be his personal El Camino . The Erik who entered the desert died on the way, and the Erik who left was a different person. From the next day, he started to work on his return, thankfully he didn’t need to wait for too long. When Nokk found him, he was more than ready to live.
To his biggest surprise, getting into contact with the military again was easy. His knowledge and input about the country and the people came in handy, and even though he wasn’t completely off the hook because of this whole disappearance act, his help with dismantling a major insurgency operation was his testimony of loyalty, and without a doubt, he excelled. He even got the attention of a whole new circle, and when Six reached out to him, he accepted the opportunity with gratitude.
Arriving in England opened a whole new chapter for him. He never imagined living in this country, it wasn’t too appealing for him; but as he learnt more about Team Rainbow and his new teammates, he decided it was worth every rain-soaked shoe and shitty weather. Being selected into a group with such amazing soldiers was a blessing and a curse at the same time.
Here he needed to fight to prove that he was worthy of his place, and the others kept challenging him all the time for the first few months. They wanted to see if the new guy could handle the weight or not. It was hard, but he kept pushing against them, and soon, they welcomed him in the team with open arms.
He also realised how terrible he was in social interactions. He was just so bad at making friends, he worked so much different than the others, it was madness. For the first few weeks it seemed that he always spoke before thinking, he kept hurting people, making the others mad at him. It was very similar to a bunch of kids in the playground, but since he never experienced that, he had no idea how to make it work, but eventually he started to change. Slow and steady, he learnt to listen, think and answer. The team started to get used to him, and soon he was an anchor for everybody. They came for his insight and advice, and friendships started to form.
By the time the two new teammates arrived, he had already carved his name in the marble side by side with Morowa. They had been in active duty for almost three months now, and he was satisfied with how his life was going.
Both his mind and body were equally tired most of the days, he was able to rest. It was still not the same as in the desert, but he was getting there. He called his mother every week, and he actually told her stories about the places he visited and the things they worked on. He also already had a few vacations planned to countries he had yet to visit, so all in all, it was a decent way of living. He didn’t have any reason to complain, until- until the two new arrived.
He heard a few rumours about them from Mike and Jordan. He knew that one of them is some old, experienced captain of a fortress. He also heard that the other was an adventurer, and he was already excited to hear their stories in exchange for his own. He really wanted to have a friend who would be as invested in traveling as him. He couldn’t wait to meet them.
On the morning of their arrival, he had been hanging out with Yumiko, testing a few new breaches for Jordan in the workshop. When they got back to the canteen, there were the two newcomers. The old man with white beard and a real sword tied to his side, and the other was- um...
Blinking, Erik stepped next to Jordan, to get a better look at the other newbie. He felt his mouth dry, his knees weakened. The other newbie - a lady - was just- she was so beautiful. Her darker skin, her curly black hair, her features, her everything. He never expected to see something this mesmerizing in the middle of Hereford.
Around him, everybody was moving to greet the duo, and he was just standing there, questioning the existence of God.
Jordan looked up at him and slapped his upper back gently. “You are drooling, pal.”
His eyes snapped at the man. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Come, pretty boy, let’s greet them!”
Nodding, Erik followed Jordan, and soon he was shaking hands with both the old man - Jalal - and the woman - Saana. She even had a pretty name. That was just unfair. She also had a firm handshake, sparkling eyes and a sassy smirk hiding in the corner of her mouth. Erik already knew that she was amazing.
“Oh, are you really Erik Thorn? I’ve read about your work in Kabul, it sounded risky.”
Erik’s heart skipped a beat again as he nodded. “It was risky, yes. Especially keeping the tourists alive!”
Saana’s lips pulled into a wide smile hearing that, and that was the end of Erik. He felt his hands shake so he let go of Saana’s hand and looked away. He felt his face warming up. It was- it was the most embarrassing thing ever. He was 36 years old, the Afghan ladies loved him, and he had plenty of experience with them, but this- this was a whole different deal. He felt like a little boy all of a sudden. He felt so stupid. Thankfully Saana didn’t seem to notice, or she was decent enough to pretend not to notice his obvious longing. She looked up at him once more, and stepped away, to greet Mike instead, leaving Erik just enough time to slap himself in the face mentally.
He hoped that this sudden interest in Saana would fade after a few days, that it was just the excitement of something new, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. After bumping into the woman in every goddamn place possible, he realised how small Hereford base really was. His life turned into a hot mess and suddenly he missed his good old hermitage very much, thank you.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Saana - it was the exact opposite. Erik found her fantastic. Sanna was not only very attractive in appearance, no! She had the audacity to be smart, funny, interesting, gentle and on the top of it an excellent soldier! She got the hostage out, she solved the team dynamics, she was flexible and confident, and she was everything Erik has ever wanted to be. Saana made life look so easy, but Erik knew that it wasn’t, even for her. He has heard about the adventures of the woman, and he couldn’t imagine how hard it was to keep everything in order, but Saana made it work and he just wanted to learn from this amazing woman.
He found himself wanting to be around Saana, not just in the terms of friendship. He wanted to show her Kabul, and he wanted her to guide him through all her own adventures. He wished to be by her side, but he had no idea how to approach somebody so perfect. He was afraid that he would mess it up, so he didn’t do anything for a while.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
His lucky day -or maybe lucky night- came on a stormy Friday in early March. The base was still freezing, and he couldn’t for the love of god fall asleep. They had a big mission going on soon, and he was lying in bed, eyes open, thinking about the new triggering mechanism for his torch, when the first lightning hit the ground. It was so loud he winced in his bed. He looked out of the window as the first drops of rain started to fall. This weather reminded him of his childhood; during storms his mother always made a cup of tea for him, and they stayed up late, cuddled in a big blanket, talking.
He scratched his beard and glanced at the other bed, where Olivier was sleeping peacefully. With a small smile on his lips, he got to his feet and put on a sweatshirt. A cup of tea sounded nice, especially in the cold. He left his room and headed towards the cafeteria. When he turned into the corridor that led towards his destination, he was surprised to see light inside. Shrugging it off, he walked to the door. His hard guess was Ryad or Timur wandering around, or maybe Dominic trying to steal some of Adriano’s delicious biscotti. Without thinking twice, he pushed the door open and stepped in, only to be greeted by Saana, hunched over something at a table.
Blinking a few times, he bit his lips. Nobody was around, just the two of them, he wasn’t even sure if that ever happened before. “Good evening!” he greeted gently, but when no answer came, he stepped closer to the woman, to notice how her eyes were shut. She fell asleep on top of her papers and notebook, hand still holding the pen. He couldn’t hide a smile. Oh, so amazons still needed rest.
He watched her sleep for just a few seconds, and went to the kitchen to put up a kettle of water to heat. Then he left into the common room, to get a blanket from one of the armchairs. Arriving back, he made two cups of tea. He placed both mugs on Saana’s table, and unfolding the blanket, he gently covered the woman with it. To his touch, Saana winced and looked up at him. Her face was wrinkled, hair messy, eyes tired. Nobody was in their best form two seconds after waking up, but Erik still found her perfect.
Saana rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulder. “Thanks. I was working on our next mission, but I guess I fell asleep.” she smiled. “Thank you” she took the mug Erik offered her, and when the man gestured to the place next to her, she nodded.
Sitting down, Erik smiled at her. “Do you always work during the nights?”
“Only when I can’t sleep!” Saana smiled and glanced down at her work.
Erik lifted an eyebrow and followed her gaze to the maps, and weather forecasts and notes. “You sure take this seriously,” he said in amazement.
Saana nodded. “I have never been to this side of Chile, and we are approaching a fortress in the mountains. I just want to make sure that we will come back in our original packages.”
“And I thought I did my homework!” the blonde snorted. He then looked at the leather covered notebook by Saana’s left. “Can I?” he reached out and with an approving ‘sure’, the woman handed him the book.
Erik opened it gently and started to scan through the pages. There were notes and amazing sketches about the places Saana visited before. He couldn’t hold back a smile as he slowly shook his head.
“What?” Saana asked, embarrassed.
“It’s just- I’m just wondering, how are you even real!”
Blushing, Saana placed a hand on her chest with an almost offended smile. “Excuse me?”
“Oh nothing, nothing! It’s just that you exist only to selfishly humiliate us, normal human beings, with this amazing, sassy elegance you have!” Erik smiled at her.
With mouth falling open, Saana rolled his eyes. “I- I will take that as a compliment!”
Tilting his head, Erik smiled. “Good. It was a compliment.”
“Oh, so you compliment every lady like this?”
Erik stuck out his bottom lip and shook his head. “No, not at all. Just the special ladies!”
With a soft giggle, Saana placed her hand on the notebook, trying to pull it away from Erik. “You are horrible!”
“Oh no, no, no! Please! I will behave! Please let me look at your amazing pictures!” Erik did not let go of the notebook just yet.
Saana shook her head. “Okay, okay, fine! But only with one condition.”
“Which is?”
The woman let go of the book and instead, she pointed gently at Erik’s tattoo. “I would like to hear about Afghanistan a bit more.”
Erik glanced down at his tattoo, then back at Saana. “Well… if you want to hear everything, one night is not enough time. I’ve spent ten years in the country.”
With a cheeky smile, Saana nodded. “I don’t think that we will be able to get rid of each other soon anyway.”
His lips pulling into a smile, Erik said. “That is true. In this case, I would like to hear more about your adventures, starting with how you lost your fingers.”
Saana looked down at her hand, and up to Erik again. “That is a gory and disgusting story.”
“I’m all ears!”
Saana poked his side with her elbow gently. “No! You owe me a story about Kabul for now!”
With a resigning sigh, Erik nodded. “But Kabul might not even be that exciting! You can’t build up my interest like that, and then leave me hanging!”
“You are such a- so we are playing mind games now, hm? Emotional blackmailing, hm?”
Erik glanced in her eyes with a pout. “Only if it's working…?”
A good hearted laugh burst out of Saana, filling the canteen with life. “I can’t believe this! Okay, let’s make a deal. You will tell me a story about Kabul now, and then we will go to have some sleep, and tomorrow, I will tell you the story of how I lost my fingers during dinner?”
The blonde shut his mouth immediately, looking the other in the eye without blinking. He considered every possibility and outcome thoroughly and started to nod furiously. “Yes, I would love that very much!”
Satisfied with herself, Saana produced one of those fantastic, bright smiles. “It’s a date then. You pick the restaurant.”
Now it was Erik’s turn to get flushed. A date-a date-a date- adate . He felt his mouth open, but the sound didn’t come out. He was shocked. “A date?”
Saana smirked at him. “You didn’t think that I would invite you to steal food from Adriano and eat it surrounded by the others, right? So it’s a date. If you want it to be a date too!”
Erik looked at her, and started to nod furiously yet again. “Yes, I would love that very much!”
The woman next to him laughed again, and turning towards Erik she waited patiently until the man’s head cleared out just enough to start one of the Kabul stories. He didn’t plan this to be so easy, but he was undoubtedly happy with the sudden turn of events.
The next day, they accidentally stayed at the restaurant talking and exchanging stories for so long, the main chef needed to warn them that they were about to close. Erik knew he would remember that day until the end of his times.
During the dinner, Saana mentioned that she never visited a planetarium, and Erik discovered that despite his undying love for space, he neither set foot into one before. With that, their second date was decided.
They spend the third date in one of Maxim’s hunting huts, eating cereal out straight out of the bag, talking about their life in the army. Erik asked what was the worst thing that happened to Saana, and in exchange, he told her about the day he disappeared. He felt insecure at first, talking about his biggest shame, but Saana just lied there next to him, in the dirt, and listened to his every word without a single word of judgement. When he finished, the woman propped herself up on her elbow, and touching his face gently, she kissed him. It was the best date of all his life, and he already knew that he wanted more. He wanted it all.
For the fourth date, Erik planned a trip for them to Arthur’s Stone, which was just about 20 kms away from Hereford. When they began their journey in the morning, the sky was clear, the sun shining bright, but in a few hours the weather turned upside down, bringing an earth shaking summer storm with it. They were in the middle of nowhere when it hit, and both of them were soaking wet in just a few minutes. He was so angry and disappointed, he could shout. He knew that there was a National park near the Stone, and Saana loved forests, yet they were stuck on a plain field, drowning in mud.
When he opened his mouth to say his apology to Saana, the woman just hugged his neck and gave him a kiss, getting him even more wet, than he was before. She then smiled at him, with that amazing, bright smile of hers and pointed at a barn in the distance. “I bet, you can’t outrun me, Erik!”
She let go of him, starting her race towards the destination, and with that Erik’s anger was gone.
They spent the night in the barn, accompanied by a few horses, cuddled close to keep each other warm, talking about the places they wanted to visit. Until this point both of them planned for only themselves, but soon, their separated trips merged into shared ones. Saana - with all honesty - told him that even though she would never want to leave Erik behind, there were still a few places , like Antarctica, where she wanted to go alone. Understanding what this meant to Saana, Erik obviously accepted her decision, and asked if he could wait for her at the end points of those trips.
With sparkling eyes, Saana put her head on his shoulder, caressing his cheeks with her gentle fingers. “Yes, I would love that very much,” she whispered.
Erik smiled at him, and hugged her close, planting his face into her naked shoulders. “I will wave you goodbye, and I will greet you again, after the 50 days.”
Saana chuckled. “You mean 52 days. The first guy who crossed Antarctica on foot took 52 days.”
With a smile, Erik looked at her. “Saana, I think both of us know that you will never be satisfied with a second place.”
Laughing, the woman nodded, giving him a kiss yet again. “I guess you are right!”
Erik placed a kiss on top of her forehead and hugging her waist closer, he closed his eyes. During that night, in a shitty barn, surrounded by horses, cuddling naked next to one other, Erik found his deep slumber again, just like back at the oasis.
The next morning, he thought it was just one occasion. He was most surprised when, during their fifth date, he fell asleep just as easily as the last time, with Saana pressed against his back, hugging his waist.
They had spent the day in a small Welsh village, exploring the history of it together, then they had dinner in a fantastic little restaurant, and arriving back to their hotel room, they spent the next hours making love to each other. He planned all these outcomes, but he was sure, he won’t be able to sleep, so waking up in the morning, to Saana’s ice-cold feet pressing against his upper thighs, was both a pleasant and an unpleasant surprise. He opened his eyes with a loud yelp, and when he turned to the woman, she just smiled at him innocently. “What happened darling? A bug bit you?”
He wanted to make a smart remark, but before he could open his mouth, he decided to look the woman up and down. Her hair was messy, her eyes sparkled, she was covered in the soft sheets of the hotel, and he knew his future was next to her. So instead of commenting on her being a mountain troll, he gently cupped Saana’s face in between his hands, and gave him a soft kiss. Giggling, she hugged his neck and pulled him closer. As they parted, he pressed his forehead to the woman’s, eyes closed, caressing her arm and that was it. He never looked back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Slowly their relationship got stronger and stronger, and they spent more and more time together. Erik found true rest only with Saana sleeping next to him, and couldn’t have been more grateful for it. It was clear as day that they were happy together, and as he discovered more about Saana, he fell deeper into the pit.
It wasn’t easy all the time, there were days, even weeks, when both of them were stressed from work, and he started to see how Saana - despite being a goddess in his eyes - was just as human as him. She was messy, she spent way too much time working, and when she was stressed she sometimes took it out on him. He soon understood her struggles with always trying to be the best and that she often forgot that she could count on him as well.
To his greatest surprise, the biggest discovery was that he didn’t mind any of this. He wanted to be there for Saana, even if his only job was to make her a tea and cover her in a blanket, when she worked. He never asked her to change, and just as easily as he did, Saana accepted his own strange bits as well. She was by her side, when he was angry, when he was broken, when he was weak, always holding him together with all the love she could give.
Both of them listened when the other needed them to, and they knew how to help. They were not afraid to ask for help and let the other close, because both of them knew that they were just meant for each other, and that after the storm, there will always be able to see the clear skies again.
Their days together turned into weeks, the weeks into months, and the months into years, and they never stopped to love and support each other.
Erik was there, when Saana was shot during a mission, sitting sleepless next to her hospital bed until she woke up. She was by his side, when his father got sick, holding his broken pieces together, shielding him from the world. And, as he promised, he was the last one waving goodbye when Saana started her journey across Antarctica, and he was the first to greet her by the goalline.
When Saana was not next to him, because she was on a mission alone, he tended to go back to his old habits of lying in their empty bed, thinking about his previous life. He got himself remembering his childhood, the early years of the military practice, Kabul, his two years long runaway, and that first date with Saana. He found himself smiling, because after all, every struggle he ever had was worth it in the end. He was happy, he loved like never before, and he was loved just the same.
He sometimes got himself thinking that what if it will be over one day? What if, Saana will get to her sober senses and just leave him behind. He wouldn’t blame her, he was not a Prince Charming on a white horse. He wasn’t rich, he wasn’t perfect, he still didn’t know how to say her mother’s name correctly, and he always left the toilet seat up. To his luck, Saana didn’t care about any of these, and she was not afraid to tell that to him over and over again, if she saw he needed it.
Saana had an inhuman sense to read his mood, even when he turned inwards. She always knew what he needed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For example, now, on the evening of the 6th of May, mere minutes before midnight, just as his insecurities were about to rise in him about their wedding tomorrow, Saana sensed his distress and waking from her sleep, she placed her hand on the sides of his face. “You are not sleeping, my love,” she whispered.
With a low chuckle, he pressed a kiss in her palm. “Yes, but you can rest, I’m all good.”
Saana yawned and fidgeting, she rolled him over gently to be able to press against his cooler back with her chest. She hugged his waist, pushing her warm cheeks against his skin. “You are not, I can tell. Let me guess… You are afraid that my father will not accept you in our family. You are sad, because your dad can’t be with us tomorrow. And you are thinking that after eight damn years of strong and stable relationship, I still deserve more than what you are able to give me.”
Erik bit into his lips, listening to Saana with a wide grin on his face. “You know me.”
“Of course I know you. And I know that my father will love to have you as his son-in-law. I also know that even if your dad will not be able to be here physically, he will be looking down at us from Heaven and he will be pretty damn proud about your sexy little wife. And for the last part- Erik, I know you love me, you keep telling me every day. Not with your words, but with your actions. For example how after eight years, you still bring my morning coffee to bed in my favourite mug. How you only fill the rows of the newspaper crosswords I have no idea about but leave the rest for me because you know that I love them. How you suppress your muffled screaming every time, I press my cold feet against your skin… These are small and insignificant to you Erik, I know! Trust me, I know! But I also know that I would never want to press my feet against anybody else. I will press them against your skin for the rest of our lives, and if you have any complaints, I don’t care!”
Erik closed his eyes, listening to Saana, biting the inside of his mouth to hide a soft sniffle. He lifted one of the woman’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into his palm. “Have I ever told you about the Oasis in the Desert of Death?” he whispered.
He felt Saana’s lips pulling into a small smile against his back. “Only a few hundred times, why?”
“Because you are just like that Oasis.”
At that, Saana propped in her elbow to get a better look at his face. “Elaborate, please, my love.”
Erik looked up at her, with a soft smile on his face. “When I arrived at that oasis, I was nothing more, but a broken man. I was depressed and weak, I was barely able to stand. I just realised how big of a fool I was for running, how wrong I was. I collapsed on the sand ready to die, but by that oasis I found a piece of myself I lost during the years. I was just lying there, looking up at the sky, and I suddenly felt light and calm. By the water, I realised everything I did wrong, and the ways to fix it. That oasis gave me new life, and you are just the same. You are always there to help me, always there to catch me, always there to remind me why I want to keep going on. You bring me peace and rest, and for that, I love you more than I have ever loved anybody else. You are my present and you are my future.”
Now it was Saana’s turn to hide a sniffle. She rubbed her nose, and took a deep breath glancing away. After a few minutes of silence, Saana looked back at him and clearing her throat, she smirked. “If this is not your goddamn wedding vow for tomorrow, I’m going to be very disappointed!”
Laughing burst out of Erik, as he hugged Saana close to himself, pressing soft kisses on her neck and skin. Shaking with laughter as well, Saana hugged his neck and pulled him into a deep, loving kiss. Parting, she placed her hand on Erik’s face and smiled at him. “I love you so much Erik Thorn. I would not give you up for anybody or anything. You are mine, and I’m yours. And nothing can change it.”
The man looked up at her, eyes sparking with love and hope, and after a gentle kiss, he hugged Saana close to himself. They fell asleep, holding onto each other like they usually did, and that was it. That was true happiness.
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Flashlight: Chapter thirteen
Story summary: This is an AU
Two years ago, the love of your life walked out the door, breaking your heart into a million pieces. He had been unable to deal with his ptsd and you hadn’t been able to help him.Now that your best friend is marrying his friend, he’s coming back to town and you try to brace yourself for the reunion. Will you finally get closure?
Ship: Bucky Barnes X Reader
Warnings: mentions of ptsd, descriptions of ptsd, angst, heartbreak, reader wants to help but doesn’t understand ptsd.
Words: 2996
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A/N: So, this had been a bad week for my health, but I still managed to get you a new chapter! So a win overall, I guess.
I hope you’ll like it
As always the wonderful @beanstalk007 helped me with this (and all) chapters, and I am so grateful.
Feedback is greatly appreciated! And if you want to get tagged, let me know.
***
Masterlist Story Masterlist
***
Nerves were coursing through your body as you knocked on the door before you. Clenching and unclenching your fists, you tried to keep them from shaking too much. The nervousness surprised you and made you take a deep breath in order to calm yourself. You wondered why this was so difficult, there was nothing to it really. All you were doing was returning something he had lost. He’d be happy with that, wouldn’t he? After all it was a family heirloom. He’d be missing it.
It had been three days since you all came together to watch the wedding video. Three days since you had been trying to come up with a reason to visit Bucky. And finally, Natasha had come to the rescue, offering up a wonderful chance. During the clean up the day after, she had come across Bucky’s watch, the one his grandfather had gifted him at his high school graduation. And she had not been able to bring it by yet. Hopefully, he would be too happy with the return of his watch, that he wouldn’t wonder how you came in possession of it. Then again, there really wasn’t anything strange about Natasha asking you. It just felt weird because you had been searching for a reason.
And yet, as soon as he opened the door, you began to babble. Non-stop.
Soon after your initial knock, the door had opened to reveal a slightly dishevelled Bucky. Immediately you worried that perhaps he had not been alone and you were interrupting. Which had set in motion the mind less rambling, fuelled by the worry that he had in fact moved on from you. Quick to apologise, you turned to walk away again, the watch completely forgotten on the bottom of your bag.
“You’re not interrupting anything,” his voice halted your hasty retreat, his words pulling you back from the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions you had so easily fallen into. Turning back, you realised Bucky had taken a few steps into the hallway, as if to follow you. He seemed utterly confused by your reaction and you could feel your cheeks colouring with the rush of blood. You offered a pointed look and waved at his messy appearance and he chuckled as he looked down to his half buttoned shirt. Running a hand through his locks he looked back at you with a shrug.
“Right,” he said with a smile on his face, “I’ve been packing and I was looking for something,” he explained and waved his arm in the direction of his room, now visible through the open door. Compared to the state of his room, Bucky looked rather put together.
“Shit,” you exclaimed and began rummaging through your bag, “That’s why I’m here.” You pulled out the watch and held it out to him, mentally slapping yourself for almost forgetting the entire reason you had come by.
“Are you leaving?” You asked, nervously gnawing on your bottom lip, as he happily took the timepiece from your outstretched hand. He shook his head and invited you inside for some tea.
Putting on the kettle, Bucky explained that he had received a call the day before from Wanda’s brother, Pietro. Through Wanda, Pietro had heard that Bucky was looking for a more permanent place to stay, just as his roommate got engaged and was moving out. Sipping your tea, you listened intently, finally able to relax again and silence the worry in your head.
“Need a hand with the moving?” You finally asked as he finished his explanation.
“Thanks, but I’m sure I can manage the two cases I own,” he chuckled and you smiled, realising that he obviously thought you had thrown all his stuff out after he left. It was probably time to inform him that you hadn’t. Wondering just how that slipped your mind before.
“True, but maybe it would be good to have help with everything that’s in storage,” you countered, smiling again when he regarded you with confusion written all over his face.
“I kept hoping you’d come back,” You confessed with a blush, “Though, truth be told, I am not responsible for all that’s in it.” You explained, while rummaging through your bag once more and getting a key out. Handing it to him, you gave him the address to the storage unit.
“Who else is responsible?” He wondered and you explained that when his parents had sold their house, his mother had added boxes to it. You could only imagine the wonderful things that had still been at their home by that point. His childhood bed, his old posters and who knew what else. Winnifred Barnes wasn’t one to throw things out and you hadn’t had the heart to do it for her.
“So I might finally get my action man back,” Bucky joked.
“I think that might not have been in your house to begin with,” his joke had prompted your confession and he barked out a laugh that you could only match. So many fights had been fought over that doll when the two of you had been kids. Many threats that neither one would play with the other ever again had been spoken, only to be forgotten the following day.
“So you did steal it!” Bucky accused, laughter still clear in his voice.
“Barbie needed a man,” you defended your six year old self with a bright smile.
“You had Ken!” Bucky exclaimed, trying to keep a serious face and failing miserably.
“Ken wasn’t as cool” you shrugged simply and Bucky just shook his head as he placed his now empty mug back on the desk next to him. He sat down next to you on the bed and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispered and kissed your temple. Words evaded you right then and all you could do was lean in to him and hum in agreement. It felt so good to have him back in your life. After all he had been your friend years before he was ever your boyfriend.
***
Two days later, you and Bucky made your way to the storage unit, ready to search through the boxes to figure out which he would want to bring to his new place. To the best of your recollection, there had been about 15 boxes in there, but his mother also had a key and as soon as the door opened it was clear she had made good use of that. Shocked, the two of you looked at the racks that lined the walls and were full of boxes, while the stacks on the floor completely hid the cement look that it had. With just one look, you decided this was not a two man job.
Pulling out your phone, you quickly opened the group app that Bucky had recently been added to again and sent out an sos to the rest. In it, you quickly explained the situation and added a picture of the storage unit to fill in the blanks and convince them of your plight. You already knew Wanda was out of town for a family weekend, and this last minute it would only be logical that others had plans as well. Still, you took a chance to ask.
Maria and Sam quickly replied that they too were out and unable to be back in time, though they were happy to help moving him in the following weekend. And not even thirty minutes later Steve, Natasha and Clint pulled up in the parking lot, laughing loudly at the sight before them. Bucky was lazily searching through a box filled with his childhood toys, happily rediscovering it all. While you stood next to him, slightly exasperated and wondering just how you would get through all these boxes in a timely fashion.
“Okay,” Steve began as the laughter subsided, “Three different stacks; one to bring back home, one to throw away and one stack for things you want to keep here,” true to his nature, Steve formed a clear plan for everyone to follow.
“Sure, but how do we make those decisions?” You wondered out loud, giving Bucky a pointed look. If he took as long with every single box as he had with the first one, the day would not be long enough.
“I’ll help him sort through everything,” Natasha offered and you smiled, knowing you could trust Nat to speed up the process exponentially. Natasha never had any qualms about throwing things out. She was always rather practical about it. Which was why the apartment she and Clint shared was always pristine. There was never any clutter.
“Steve and Y/n will get you the boxes, sort them by whatever is in them and I’ll help until there is a load to take to the trash,” Clint joined in and with the agreement of everyone, the three of you set out to make the first stacks. Soon the space was filled with talking, laughter and banter, teasing and reminiscing.
At some point Natasha had asked Bucky how he was paying for everything and he explained that he had been living on his savings the past few weeks, but thanks to Sam, he would soon begin a new job. The job was at the veteran centre that Sam worked at and would be mostly administrative, not something Bucky had done before but he was perfectly okay with that. Natasha even opted that perhaps at some point in the future, Bucky could help others with his experience and Bucky blushed, telling her he wasn’t ready for that just yet. They all agreed that Bucky would be a catch for the other veterans and were happy that Sam had given him a heads up about the vacancy.
Bucky went on to tell them that the interview process had been absolutely nerve-wracking. Though it had been a good experience and he didn’t need to explain his trauma, or his arm. They had only asked him about his relevant past jobs and his work for the army in broad strokes. There had been zero pressure to talk about anything he didn’t want to share. You were happy that he had such a positive experience. Seemed like life was looking up for him.
After a while, you began to notice that Steve repeatedly checked his watch and finally you asked him why. He was reluctant to speak, though the blush on his cheeks told you plenty already. After some light teasing from Clint, he finally confessed that he had a date that evening and would have to leave by 16.30 at the latest. Clint was quick to add that Steve would not just be going on any date, but a second date. Clint’s smirk told you that he had been sitting on this piece of information for a while and had been dying to share.
“So the first one was a success then, what’s her name?” You asked with a smile, genuinely happy for your friend.
“Sharon,” his hand was scratching the back of his neck and his eyes trained on his feet, the small blush on his cheeks extended to his neck now. Bucky gently smacked his shoulder with a smile and both you and Natasha gushed over his reaction.
“We’ll see where this goes,” Steve said, trying to tone down the excitement of his friends a little. His last few dates had not been very successful and you understood his hesitation. Walking past him, you squeezed his hand and grabbed a new box, ready for the conversation to be steered away from him. Finally you called everyone back to work, since Steve only had a little more than an hour to go. This seemed to work for a moment or two, until Clint suddenly started laughing softly. You knew right then and there that his favourite pastime was about to commence. Teasing.
“Remember when he was dating Lisa?” Clint’s shoulders were shaking with the contained laughter as he spoke those words.
Steve scoffed and tried to offer his friend a stern look, though the corners of his mouth were twitching. You and Natasha could not help but break out laughing as you thought back to the poor girl. Lisa had been so overwhelmed by the friendships in their group and the shared history that was between them. Instead of embracing his friends, she had become insecure. Especially Steve’s relationship with other women was a sore subject for Lisa and she had quickly gotten a little petty over it. It had been years since Lisa had left their life and everyone laughed about it now, but at the time the mere mention of her name was enough to sour the mood.
“Or his little fling with Maria?” Natasha added laughing, bringing them all the way back to their high school years, when the two friends had thought there was more to their relationship. It had not been pretty.
“I was certain they’d kill each other before the year was over,” Bucky chuckled, as he closed another box and Natasha placed it on the pile that Bucky would be taking with him to his new place.
As much as Maria and Steve loved each other, then and now, there was no room for two captains in one relationship. Something had to give. Luckily, they had been able to figure that out before their friendship had been damaged beyond repair.
“Or Sabine?” Clint added fuel to the fire, teasingly winking at Steve.
“Do we have to go through all of them?” Steve asked with a whine, causing everyone to laugh.
“No, we don’t,” Natasha said, taking pity on Steve, “We can talk about Natalia instead,” she added with a wink and Steve laughed loudly, while Clint’s face fell at the mention of his ex-girlfriend.
“Now, that girl was a trip,” Bucky jumped in, his loud laughter joining that of the others.
Natalia had been a daredevil, ready to take everyone along on her destructive path with her. She had been impulsive and a little crazy, though there were some good memories there. At least for the group. Clint didn’t remember her quite as fondly and when he tried to break it off, she had exploded on him. Apparently, three months was enough for her to bank all her future plans on him and she did not take kindly to him walking away.
“It’s a wonder we didn’t give up on love all together,” Natasha joked, opening another box. Everyone chuckled in agreement. They sure had some wild experiences in their combined past. Although your personal dating life had always been rather consistent. Before Bucky, there had been two guys you had kissed. But other than that, it was very uneventful. Not until Bucky’s accident and the subsequent break up.
“But look where we ended up,” Clint finally said in a sickeningly sweet voice, walking closer to Natasha. She batted her eyes at him, pretending to swoon.
“Be still, my heart,” she whispered dramatically and allowed herself to fall forward into the arms of her husband. You laughed loudly at their antics and shook your head as you climbed on an old discarded chair to reach the boxes on higher shelves.
“I just hope she’s nice, Steve” Natasha added with a smile as she stood straight again and everyone jumped in to agree with her. Steve smiled thankfully and the conversation finally truly steered away from his love life. Natasha put Clint to work and he began loading the first stack of boxes that were to be thrown out, in the trunk of your car.
As you grabbed a box from the highest shelf, the chair beneath your feet wobbled and an unattractive yelp escaped you. With the box in hand, raised a little above your head, all you could do was to try and keep your balance. Naturally, if you hadn’t been so scared to fall, you would have thought of putting the box down. Unfortunately that kind of thinking was lost to you.
Luckily, before worry could fully take a hold of you, two hands were placed firmly on your waist to steady you. The sudden chill on one side told you it was Bucky even before you could look down. Your stomach flipped as you glanced passed the box and looked at his smiling face, barely hearing him as he spoke; ‘I got you’.
Reaching over Bucky’s head, Steve took the box from your hands and now free of the weight of it you place your hands on Bucky’s shoulders. Carefully, you stepped down from the still unstable chair. He didn’t let go of your waist, nor did he step back and the close proximity quickly fogged up your brain.
Caught in the moment, you stared deeply into his eyes, feeling Bucky’s arms shift and his hands landing in the small of your back. He kept staring at you with that beautiful smile playing on his lips, his eyes shifting from your eyes to your lips and back. Your breath hitched in your throat and your heart was hammering in your chest.The air between you was thick with tension as you licked your lips, his head was moving closer and you were certain he was going to kiss you.
And that was the exact moment a loud crash broke the electricity that had been building in the short time that his hands had been on you. Shocked, you whipped your head to the left, towards the origin of the sound and found Natasha holding a box that was missing its bottom and its content. The grimace of her face told you that she knew exactly what she had interrupted. With a sigh, you turned back to Bucky, who was still standing close. And though his eyes were still boring into yours, he had now removed his hands from your body. The magic had been broken, the moment had passed.
***
Chapter fourteen
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The Psychology of the Governor- So many people seem to assume that the Governor was a jerk from the start, when he wasn’t, and I will never portray his character as such. When I write a character, I never base my opinions on a character solely on their actions, but the reasons behind why they do the things that they do. The Governor is a villain, so I already expect him to do bad things, so the fact that he does bad things is boring. Why he does those bad things? Far more interesting. At least to me personally. That’s why I like digging into a villain’s psychology... and so I hope that this helps you guys understand him a little better, too.
The Governor’s childhood- For part of this character analysis, I will be using the novel written on Philip’s/Brian’s backstory, The Rise of the Governor, since they didn’t really go into his background much in the show. In the book, The Governor’s name is actually Brian Blake (but the show condensed everything) and Brian was the eldest of three siblings. He was also described as a sickly book nerd... or the “runt” of the liter. He was highly intelligent and even went to college! But his home life wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. His father, Ed Blake, was a violent drunk that frequently yelled and screamed and beat on his children... however, his younger brother, Philip, would always stand between him and his father and protect Brian from the beatings that they would receive and this is a fact that Brian also mentioned in the show:
Brian: “I remember the first smoke I ever had. Me and my brother huddled in the garage puffing on one of my dad's Lucky Strikes. He must have smelled the smoke, because he came barging in looking to beat up on us. But my brother got between us. Said he stole them. Wasn't true. It was me. But that was my brother. Hero. He got two black eyes and a broken rib for that. And I got beat anyway.” (S4E07)
(Since this post got a little long, the rest will be beneath the cut.)
I won’t go into Brian’s entire childhood history, but suffice it to say that, even though he was the older brother, he came to see Philip as his hero. He wanted to be just like him. He was everything he wanted to be and more. His brother was popular in school, had lots of friends, helped people, did ‘manly’ things like hunting, etc. etc. etc. Brian was the exact opposite. He was weak and could not take care of himself in hardly any setting. Philip honestly came to see Brian as a burden and he resented him for it... because Brian was the bigger brother and Brian should be the one that he could look up to, and not the other way around.
The Apocalypse- When everything went down, Philip (along with Bobby and Nick, two of Philip’s friends) found Brian hiding in their parent’s basement. Philip became the leader of their small group. They traveled from Waynesboro, where they originally lived, to Wiltshire Estates (where they lost Bobby), and then onto Atlanta, Georgia. Brian initially couldn’t kill a zombie. He just couldn’t bring himself to kill something that used to be a human being and he even broke down crying at the thought of it a few times, which would always piss his brother off. He would either push Brian out of the way, or kick him, and beat on him and try to drill it into his head that he NEEDED to be the bigger monster in order to survive.
Still, Brian didn’t mind the beatings so much. He actually tried to impress his brother a few times and do impossible (for Brian) things, just to prove to his hero that he could do what he needed him to do and be who he wanted him to be.
He still failed. Penny died. They were running away from crossfire and Penny was shot through the stomach and she bled to death in his arms. Later in the show he says:
Milton: “What would your daughter think about what you are?”
Brian: “She'd be afraid of me. But if I had been like this from the start, she'd be alive today.” (3x16)
“If I had been like this from the start.” You see how he is blaming himself for her death? How he believes that if he was the bigger monster from the start, like his brother literally beat into him, that be believes that she would still be alive? This is what it’s all about. Not just Penny, though. Shortly after he lost her, he lost his brother, too, who at this point was starting to lose his own sanity. The stresses of leadership had gotten to him enough that Nick decided to kill him... and Brian of course defended his hero and told Nick that he believed that, if given the chance, he could fix himself... but Nick didn’t listen and shot Philip... and then Brian wrestled the gun out of Nick’s arms and shot Nick. Philip also bled out and died in Brian’s arms just as Penny did.
This is when they arrived at Woodbury. Before Brian was the leader of the small town. This is where it gets tricky, though.
Woodbury was, at the time, ran by Gene Gavin, who was a ruthless National Guardsman that held the town by force. Brian had gone into a dissociative state after his brother died... wondering how he would make it without him or if he even wanted to... and then one day Gene Gavin held a town meeting and when there was a disagreement, someone tried to leave and Gavin shot the man. Brian kept asking himself what his brother would do over and over again, and as if something else controlled his body, Brian stood up and walked up onto the stage and unloaded his gun into Gavin and encouraged the rest of the town to take their town back from the National Guardsmen.
And so they did. Martinez was one of the first people on his side and when he asked Brian what his name was? Brian didn’t say Brian. No. Brian told Martinez that he was Philip Blake. Brian essentially develops a dissociative fugue, and took on the personality of his brother... which eventually morphs into the monster known as the Governor.
In General Psychology- So... Brian has always been weak. Always. He couldn’t survive, so he took on a personality that could survive. Something that was far more ruthless and monsterous. Brian tried to do right for a while, but he was thrust into the position of being a leader before he was ready. He was still mourning his brother and Penny and all he had to go on when it came to being the leader is what his brother beat into him. Be the bigger monster in order to survive. So he did try that. He even tried to desensitize himself by putting head in fish tanks and forcing himself to look at them... and to remind him that he was still alive and if he wasn’t careful, he would end up exactly like those guys. Dead.
Brian has a dual personality. Himself and that of his brother. He’s constantly waging a battle for dominance inside of his head... but the Governor eventually gets strong enough to overtake him.
Weakness is the trigger that brings this monster out. Because it was his own weakness that got everyone killed.
Why do people develop multiple personalities?
Dissociative identity disorder, previously called multiple personality disorder, is usually a reaction to trauma as a way to help a person avoid bad memories.
The definition:
Dissociative identity disorder is characterized by the presence of two or more distinct personality identities. Each may have a unique name, personal history, and characteristics.
This is Brian/Philip/The Governor and this describes him perfectly.
You can see the monster triggered by weakness when he kills Marinez, like a switch being flipped in his head, please pay attention to his eyes. You can tell he’s slipping into a dissociative state here:
youtube
Brian’s immediate reaction to Martinez admitting to no being able to defend the camp is “oh my god, you’re going to get my family killed. You can’t do what it takes in order to survive and I DON’T WANT IT. I don’t want to share the crown. I don’t want the crown at all, damn it.”
But the question is... why didn’t he want it? Brian didn’t want it because, when he killed all of his own people at the end of season 3... Brian came back out. It shocked him to see what he did... what he became... he knew he was a monster and he was afraid of what he was capable of... so he separated himself from everyone... because he knew that if he had a reason to care, he would have a reason to fight and that meant the monster would come back out... and he didn’t want that monster to surface again.
Except it did, after Martinez triggered the monster/the Governor to come out again by admitting that he was too weak to defend the camp... and then he tried to squash the monster down again.
The problem was... he was starting to realize that he was the only one that was there that could lead--- he shouldn’t lead, but he was the only one that was capable of it and he didn’t like it.
Brian: “We need to leave. It isn't safe here anymore.”
Lily: “What are you talking about? We can't just run off. I'm the only nurse in camp. Tara's got Alicia. What about Megan?”
Brian: “Look, things are about to go very wrong here. It's happened to me before. I can't put you and Megan through that. Can't lose you again.” (4x07)
“Can’t lose you again.” This whole conversation is about him and Penny and how everything circled back to that moment that he lost her (because he couldn’t lose Meghan a second time if he hadn’t lost her the first time). HE was what was about to go very wrong there. It had happened to him before... he was referring to the monster resurfacing again when he tried so hard to put it away in the box and forget about it... but it was bubbling to the surface once again and there was nothing he could do except try to run from himself... and as you know, he wasn’t capable of escaping it.
So like I said before jsbkjbg the Governor is many things, but a sociopath isn’t one of them. He is very misunderstood. He is an abuse survivor and yes, he has done a lot of terrible things, but he is a product of nurture, not nature.
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Nameless - Trigger Warning. This story contains sexual assault
Dear -----,
Even your name feels like a privilege you don’t deserve.
Should you stay nameless, or should I out you to the world? Scream from the tallest building what you did to me? What you’ve done to so many just like me?
Apart of me wants your memory to stay tucked in the dark pocket of my brain where you live now, only seeing the light when I am triggered by a hotel room or when men buttoned tightly in business suits that resemble you linger when they look at me.
Another part of me thinks my story matters, that saying the truth out loud will make it real, tangible, throwable, crushable, flammable and maybe...healable.
I was newly 20 when we met. I thought I was an adult. My freedom was still new, my hips still narrow, my childhood trauma still unrecognizable - hidden in the basement of my chest.
I wouldn’t go looking for it for years.
I would spend weekends at my friends 1920’s built studio in the beating heart of Seattle. The hallways smelt like a dusty thrift store. The dark green carpet and scuffed walls held memories of tenants for 90 years.
My friend has long red colored hair to the small of her back, she taught me to buy furniture from thrift stores and how to steal accessories from Nordstrom. We share clothes and dance at underage clubs in the city. It seems I am her only friend.
We would laugh little girl giggles listening to her neighbors fight through the wall.
We would share red wine from the bottle before going out in small skirts and knee high socks. We got into bars by over lining our eyes and flirting with bartenders outside while they smoked cigarettes. Most nights, we stumble back in passed two and fall into each other on her bed.
This friend told me about you one night in the winter. I remember the holiday lights lining the streets, I remember the white sweater I wore - my mother bought it for me the previous Christmas.
We sit in the back of an old Chinese restaurant. Sharing the entire place with only two other customers. The bartenders never ask us for our IDs. They know we’re underage...they also know we’ll spend money. We drink long island ice teas, the only drink we knew how to order.
She tells me about her new gig being a stripper. I’m entertained. I’m envious. She seems sexy and mysterious in this moment. She tells me about making $700 in one night. She tells me her stripper friends told her about this new thing called “sugaring.”
“He pays me just to go to a movie! he paid me $200 just for a date!” She says.
My friend explains that there is a website filled with rich men who pay young girls to do various things like have sex and go on vacations with them.
Getting attention from men had been second nature to me, I was good at it whether I wanted to be or not. I thought of my mothers friend from work being in our apartment when I walked through the door after school. I was eleven, my mother hadn't arrived home from work yet. She had asked him to look at the desktop computer.
“You must have a lot of boyfriends at school…don't you?” He nods up at me from under the computer desk.
I realized then that I wasn’t a child but a girl. I was something to be looked at and consumed.
“No way!” I say, shifting in the bar stool. My friends red hair matches her red lipstick. Suddenly, I felt too far from home.
“I’ll show you!” She says and pulls out her phone.
She texts you. She tells you she has a friend she wants you to meet.
You walk into the Chinese restaurant some time later. I’m slurring my words by the time you arrive, there are four empty long island glasses melting onto the bar counter. We’re the only two in there now. You walk confidently, relaxed…Like you’ve come to meet two girls twenty five years younger than you before.
Your hair is too straight, peekaboos of grey mixed in with jet black. You have small lips and tiny teeth. Your neck has started to sag with age but your face lacks wrinkles of a man your age. You look at me as if you are looking through me, as if you are testing my boundaries, seeing if it was safe to trust your dirty little secret with me. Unfortunately, it was.
“wow he’s so normal! He’s not a creep!” I whisper to my friend while you order us a round of drinks.
You hid it so well. I flip my hair at you, apply lipgloss in the bathroom, regret not wearing something sexier. Suddenly, the white sweater doesn’t seem to fit.
I want you to like me.
I’m begging for your approval.
Lucky me, I get it.
We meet up just the two of us after texting for a few weeks at a Cheesecake Factory. I am embarrassed being out in public with you. Do people know what we’re doing? I see an old friend from high school serving tables near us and I almost run out.
“Calm down. We’ll say I’m your uncle.” You laugh, the way a dad laughs at his toddler falling trying to walk - like it’s cute how worried I am.
I applied too much makeup, I’m trying to look older.
I’m wearing a fake fur vest and heels I can’t walk in.
You ask me about my parents, my friends, where I live, you ask if I’m in college. I tell you the intimate details of my life, spilling out all over the booth like you slipped truth serum in my drink. I tell you about my poetry, about my mothers alcoholism, my fathers absence, about my dreams of getting a college degree.
You listen with eye contact, the way a therapist does. You nod and sit still in silence, waiting to hear more. You reach across the table and touch my arm. You tell me you want to mentor me and pay for some of my college. You say that it would bring you joy to help me reach my goals. I don't touch my food. The waiter clears our plates. You slide your American Express into the leather pocket next to the bill and tell me how much money you’d give me to have sex with you.
I ride in your car after we finish eating and leave my car parked in the cheesecake factory parking lot. I watch it out the window wondering if its too late to open the door and jump out.
“You know what?!” You say pulling out of the lot. We’re driving to the nearest hotel. You already have the cash in an envelope in your glove box. I would see you reach over me and grab it when we arrive to the hotel.
“What?” I ask.
“I think you are my muse! I write poetry too and you have inspired me to write, you’re my muse!”
I’m flattered by the compliment, how did you know I always wanted to be someone’s Edie to their Andy?
I shed myself at the door of the hotel. I don’t find myself until a couple hours later when I am dressed again and have $500 cash in my purse.
Once I do find myself I’m surprised at how great I feel. “It was soooo easy!” I tell my friend on the phone. “I know!” She says.
We giggle on the phone my entire drive home. I ignore the smell of your sweat coming through my clothes. I have just sold my body for the first time.
You text me good morning and good night. You check up on my day every other day. I send you pictures of myself and receive compliments back of how beautiful I am. We meet late night in candle lit lounges or hotel bars for drinks and every time I shed myself at the door once the hotel key clicks. I am hundreds of dollars richer the next day and all I had to do was shed my body and watch my soul crawl away.
You set up your laptop in each hotel room and I wonder if you are video taping but I never ask. You bring a backpack full of sex toys that you use on me without asking. You put your fingers and tongue and body places I don’t want you to. You pull me into to lay on your cold clammy chest, and I rest my hands on your rubber belly. You put on Japanese porn and ask me to relieve you while you watch it. You take pictures of us together and put them into a folder titled “Tori” in your phone - incase you need proof I consented. I smile in the pictures, often my bare shoulders showing, hotel sheets behind us, while I fight a war within myself. My eyes are always blood shot because I am always drunk. I ignore the countless other files titled with other names like “Heather” and “Shelby.”
You give me psychological tests, tell me my Meyers Briggs results, ask me about my classes, tell me what you think I should major in. You like to read me your awful poetry and I cringe at the warmth on my neck as you whisper your ballads too close.
You tell me you love me for the first time while you cry on the phone. You’re sad your other girlfriend broke your heart. I talk you through it. I comfort and coo to you like you are a small child. You tell me through hysterics that I am the only person that makes you feel better. This makes me feel important.
You call me honey, send me poetry books in the mail, send me pictures of yourself while on vacation. I ask you for money to go to Mexico, LA, to pay my rent, my tuition and my car payment. You do. So I keep coming back. I send you sweet texts and pictures of myself. I share my poetry with you and give you insider details to my daily life. You help me make up lies to tell my friends when they wonder where I am.
“Real friends don’t judge you baby.” You tell me in a hotel room chair by the window.
I’m special, because you tell me I am.
I’m special because you give me money.
I am special because you need me.
You ask me to go to Vegas with you twice and I say yes and then no. Both times.
I can’t imagine anything worse than being stuck so far away from home with you. When I am with you I feel like I am walking slowly on pins and needles.
Your gaze feels violating. You don’t care that waiters stare, that women your age in the bar ask “how do you two know each other?!” through giggles.
I hate holding your hand in public. I drink swigs from a vodka bottle in my glove box before I go to meet you, to ease the nerves, to forget what I’m there for.
You take me to Victoria Secret and make me try on lingerie sets. You tell me to come out into the hallway so you can see. I’m mortified as I spin in front of you. I see the sale associate make circles on the floor with her foot. You buy me the lingerie set and I walk away while you pay at the counter. I am looking over my shoulder for any familiar faces. I am thinking of lies I can tell if I run into a family member, an old teacher, anyone who knows my other personality.
Each time I pull open my drawer and see the jeweled pink panties and matching bra, my chest tightens. I eventually throw it away because it feels as if you are touching me all over again with every time they are on my body.
When I ask you if we can use a condom after I start seeing someone regularly, you ask me why I don’t trust you.
You do a puppy dog face that makes my gut drop, you say “you know I love you bareback. You know I get tested, I just wish you just trusted me...” I decide I’m wrong for not trusting you. I don't bring it up again.
You ask if you can take me on a ferry to Bainbridge island. I agree, I needed the money.
I have told you that I don’t do drugs. I have told you I don’t like being out of control, that it scares me. You nod understanding, tell me “I know, I know.” You repeat stories of you getting high on MDMA on business trips and how the sex high is “so good!” I still refuse to do them with you.
At dinner on Bainbridge island you pull out two small red colored pills with cartoon characters stamped into them. You take one while I look. “Guess I’ll be alone getting high then!” You say, swallowing the pill and grinning at me.
I think I am a consenting adult on a vacation with my much older, married, kind-of boyfriend who pays me each time I sleep with him. I think that I am in charge on all of our encounters. I’m convinced that society has this whole sex worker thing wrong - that this is a two way street, that I want you to offer me drugs ten more times after I say no the first ten times.
I think that you taking the drugs in front of me was about what you wanted, not about what you wanted me to do.
My heart races after you swallow the pill, I text my friend - ask her what the red pills do. She tells me it’s just ecstasy and it’ll be ok. I copy you, take mine with a swig of wine.
The car ride home from dinner I’m already buzzing. I turn the radio up loud and play a song by the spinners that I no longer listen to. I stick my head out of the window and sing “I’ll be arouuuuund.” When we get back to the house you rented for us you parade your bag of pills around me. I feel so good, I beg you for another. You give me one. I catch myself in a mirror and don't recognize the reflection. I can only see a fully black eye, the brown of my eye has disappeared behind my pupil.
I lose myself soon after that in a cyclone of hallucinations and electronic music you play on the stereo. I see cartoon colored objects floating around the room while you sweat on top of me. I don’t remember how we got to the bed upstairs or how my clothes came off.
I am too high to make a sound. I am too high to keep my eyes from rolling back into my head. I am too high to focus on what is happening to my body.
I slip in and out of reality for hours, I’m not sure when the sex stops and when the light begins to peak through the blinds. I’m not sure I slept.
We gather our things around the house silently. I feel dirty. My limbs are still vibrating. The drugs are still pulsing through my veins, and I wish I never took any. My hair is curled in various places and my swim suit is in a wet heap near the bathroom. I vaguely remember being in the hot tub.
Finally I say, “That was crazy.” I’m hoping to get some clues about the night before.
“Well, you barley talked…you were silent most of the night.” you say.
I was voiceless.
You offer me a breakfast sandwich on the ferry home and I refuse. A breakfast sandwich and the hundreds of dollars you will wire me later that day doesn't seem like payment enough for what I gave away in that twenty four hours.
It takes me longer to find myself this time. I search for days and it seems I lost apart of myself on Bainbridge island. Maybe you accidentally packed the part of me I’m missing in your suitcase, maybe you took it when you were on top of me all night, maybe I gave it to you.
Maybe I won’t ever see it again.
I hide the memory of our night together to the darkest part of me that I can find. I zip it up tightly hoping it never finds it way out. It will find its way to the surface of course, as all of our time together will.
I color that night in humor, laughing with my friends about how high I was.
I color it in guilt, saying I consented, I asked for it. After all, I went with you willingly. After all, we had a “relationship.”
I color it in silence, I don’t talk about it, don’t think about it - hold it down in the dark space for as long as it will stay.
Do you justify what you did? Have you found a way to sleep at night? Have you found someone with a small voice and a shaky foundation who will easily let you in and stay a while?
Do you ignore the way she can’t keep eye contact? The way she shakes slightly at dinner?
Have you practiced and perfected your act? You’ve got that caring way you look at someone when they share their trauma down. You’ve found a way to pull out women’s stories from their body the way Ursula pulls out Ariels voice box. Once you have them, you use them to your advantage - pushing every boundary and seeing what you could safely cross.
It’s easier to cross young girls with alcoholic mothers and absent fathers, turns out you get away with it.
Your daughter is only three years younger than I was when you met me. Does she wonder why you come home in the quietest part of the night smelling of hotel liquor and perfume? Do you wipe your hands clean of the shame on your way home? I wonder if you look at her and see the 17 year old baby sitter you raped. The one you bragged about to me. You told me you were in love with her, that society was wrong for keeping you two apart.
You must take showers and scrub off your night telling yourself it was consensual, that the twenty year old girl you left in the hotel sheets wanted it. You must tell yourself that she was closing her eyes the whole time because she liked it.
I have decided that you will stay nameless.
Your name will eventually die out and my memories will fade but my story will not.
My shame will see light so that it can breathe, so that I can breathe.
I’ll bathe my story in so much sunlight that it’ll grow into something beautiful, the way ‘Lily of the Valley’ flowers grow despite losing their color for some time in the Winter. They come back even more vibrant and beautiful come Spring. They return happier and stronger.
Although, they look delicate, this tough but beautiful flower fights off predators with a poisonous sweet smell and her strong base can make it through even the harshest climates.
#spilled ink#spiled words#spilled thoughts#spilled words#writers society#new poets on tumblr#new poets society#poetry#poets on tumblr#metoo#me too movement
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I think body language is really important in breaking down the TJxBuffy interaction. TJ seemed genuinely sorry. On a side note, could you do one of your verbose analysis and anaylze the burden of fault between Buffy, Cyrus and TJ in the context of moral relativism or whatnot?
So, this ask was sent to me last week while I was already in the middle of writing that whole TJ post that went deep on body language, but I kept it for a couple of reasons.
1. It referred to my writing as verbose, which is the perfect adjective for it. Thank you.
And 2. I wanted to wait a little for more clarification on the whole Buffy, Cyrus, and TJ thing. And, now, an episode later and with the knowledge of those text messages from the app, I feel no more certain about what happened.
Still, let’s try to look at the situation anyway.
TJ asks Cyrus how he could get Buffy to do something for him. Cyrus says it’s easy, you just have to tell Buffy her favorite thing to hear. And the two walk off and we don’t see the rest of the conversation but we understand later Cyrus told TJ to tell Buffy “You’re right.” Hearing this, Buffy chooses to do TJ’s homework for him.
Here’s how I originally read this: Cyrus, knowing Buffy as long as he has, knows Buffy loves to win, so Cyrus tells TJ that if he wants something from Buffy, he needs to make her feel as though she’s won, ie. something like telling her she’s right.
Then who’s at fault? Well, mostly TJ. He initiated a plan meant to trick Buffy. But Cyrus shares a small chunk of the blame. He gave TJ a psychological window into Buffy that TJ was able to exploit. And Buffy? I’d say, yeah, some blame. Her love of winning at all costs is a character flaw. (Guys, it’s ok to admit Buffy has character strengths and weaknesses, like literally every other character on the show.) It’s led her in the past to doing some questionable things, like running an entire relay race by herself or destroying Marty’s sneakers. So, Buffy, feeling she’s picking up a victory on TJ, decides to do his homework. I don’t know how you want to slice up the blame pie, but that’s still a conscious decision she makes, so she does at least take a sliver of the blame pie. The kind of slice someone takes when they go, “I don’t know. I’m on a diet. Oh, alright! I’ll just have a little piece. It is a blame party after all!”
Given this framing of the situation – which, honestly, that’s what I’ve been presented on the show, how could I imagine it’d be something wildly different? – I thought Buffy’s ultimatum to Cyrus was harsh. I don’t think it’s entirely unreasonable, but, for my tastes, harsh. He’s a childhood friend. You have a couple days left with him. But, you know, I’m speaking from my perspective. I’ve always been a forgive and forget type of guy. I dealt with a similar situation with a couple of friends in middle school and I spent the better part of a week trying to mend fences.
Anyway, this was my line of thinking before those insane text messages came out on the app.
I asked around last week trying to figure out how canon those texts are but I still don’t have a great answer for it. @citrusella-flugpucker put it best, I think: “At ‘worst’ it’s ‘level 2 canon’ probably (i.e. canon unless disproven).”
Without posting the entirety of the conversation, here are the most important parts. Buffy texts Andi talking about the Cyrus situation and she says this:
“Remember how my grandma used to doubt everything I said? And always asked me “are you sure?” and “that doesn’t sound right”? … Years ago, I told Cyrus that b/c of her, now I’m a sucker for anyone who DOESN’T question me to death… And just agrees with me and tells me I’m right. … He told TJ that! He told TJ to manipulate me by telling me that I’m right!”
Wait. What?
The framing I had made sense, right? With what we know of the characters, it made sense. TJ manipulates. Cyrus maybe doesn’t realize the full extent of what he’s doing when he gives TJ insight into Buffy’s desire to win. Buffy’s desire to win gets the better of her.
But this? This changes that interaction wildly. TJ’s blame sort of stays the same, Buffy’s blame is entirely gone, and Cyrus looks horrible here.
There’s a huge distinction between saying, “Buffy likes to win, so you’d have to make her feel like she’s won,” and “Sure, TJ, here’s a deep psychological trauma that Buffy has that goes all the way back to when she was a child around her withholding grandmother. You just have to say ‘You’re right,’ to her.”
It’s the difference between: here’s something I know about someone that anyone who gets to know her would understand and here’s a Manchurian Candidate style code word she once told me about in confidence that you can now use to make her do whatever you’re asking. The first one a lot of people might’ve been able to tell TJ about Buffy. TJ might’ve even been able to intuit that out himself given a little time. The second one? Yikes.
Cyrus even tries – again, in the text game on the app – to explain he didn’t mean it to be malicious. But, dude, you can’t share something so deeply personal to someone else like that. Even if you don’t intend it to be malicious, even if you don’t share the story itself, you know the story behind telling TJ to say “You’re right.” And you know you’re not telling him for any reason other than manipulation. TJ made it clear right out of the box what his intention was.
Also, not as important, but just to note: in this context, the interaction between TJ and Buffy in the library gets weird. Instead of Buffy looking at TJ, thinking she feels sorry for him and feeling good about having diagnosed his disability and winning this little battle they’ve been having, she’s instead looking at TJ when he’s saying, “You’re right,” and thinking, “Grandma?! Grandma!” TJ’s talking, but all Buffy can see is her elderly grandmother finally, after all these years, admitting to her that she’s smart and is right about something?
My problem is, other than that being odd storytelling, there’s no way you watch that scene and pick up on any bit of that subtext.
(This whole post, by the way, is based on the idea that she has never mentioned her grandma in this context on the show before. I don’t think she has. I definitely don’t remember it, but I did some searching just to be sure and I couldn’t find anything. Feel free to yell at me in the comments if I’m blanking on this.)
Anyway, I was honestly just hoping to ignore those texts. I want to assume the app is just a game run by the social media team to engage some viewers who go looking for it and whoever was writing them got a little carried away in creating backstory. I’m guessing the majority of people who watch the show don’t go sniffing out all those texts.
At the very least, there can’t be enough people reading those texts that you’d drop a prism-changing bomb in them like that.
Then again, I have to assume the writers’ room at least has some idea of what’s happening on the official app, if someone from the room isn’t writing those themselves.
Unfortunately, we didn’t really get any clarification in this week’s episode. It was being weirdly cagey about it. Cyrus asked multiple times for Buffy to explain what he did, and Buffy never really got into it. Just a lot of, “you know what you did” type stuff.
But then I guess that sort of makes sense, because if Buffy did say something about Cyrus betraying her over the “Grandma stuff,” most people watching the episode would’ve been like, “Wuh?”
Since it seems like the Buffy/Cyrus break-up storyline is sort of wrapped up, too, I don’t think we’ll ever really get a concrete answer to what Cyrus really did.
If it’s the original reading, I feel Buffy’s being reasonable, if a bit too harsh. If it’s the grandma reading, she might not be behaving harsh enough. You cannot be out here sharing those kind of traumas with people.
It also shades how much Cyrus is standing up for himself in this week’s episode. Would he really be defending himself as strongly as he was if he leaked the grandma stuff? He’s a good, caring kid. He’d have to understand how far a line he crossed.
It’s all a bit strange.
Anyway, I was going to bring this up in the episode recap I’m working on, but I figured I’d save a ton of real estate in that post by putting down all those thoughts here.
Hope that was verbose enough, anon.
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bring on the sunshine
Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 2 | Read full story on ao3
A short christmas drabble is up!!!!
Read the rest on AO3!! Please leave kudos and comments if you wanna!
Summary: With the help of their five-year-old “matchmaker” Taehyung, Yoongi and Jimin stumble into each other’s lives. Cue the awkward, messy pining and dating adventures with a noisy kid in their way.
The Min household doesn’t do much for Christmas.
The only decoration in sight is a cut-out of a Christmas tree that Taehyung had coloured in pink back when he was...two? It’s pasted haphazardly on the closed front door of their apartment, signs of wear and tear evident in the way the sides of the tree are curling inwards.
Besides that, there are no Christmas lights, no Christmas tree, no Christmas stockings. Taehyung’s present is there waiting for him at the feet of his bed. The heater is turned up high and the curtains are drawn. When the father-and-son wake up, nothing is out of the ordinary other than the fact that Taehyung gets marshmallows in his hot chocolate and gets to choose what movie he wants to watch that day.
It’s not that Yoongi has some animosity towards Christmas or anything. He’s not avoiding it due to some past childhood trauma. It’s just simply that his family never had the tradition of celebrating this festivity, and thus it’s never occurred to him that Christmas should be a special day, especially not when he’s not religious.
Taehyung’s happy to receive his present (a build-your-own-telescope set) and it’s just what he wanted. He’s happy to spend the entire day sprawled on his father’s lap as they watch Ponyo for the tenth thousand time. He’s happy watching the way his strawberry marshmallows dissolve into his cup of hot chocolate and how the steam smells instantly of pink goodness.
Yoongi’s happy to have a day of absolutely nothing to do. He’s happy that it’s nice and toasty in his apartment and that they’re not facing the harsh winter out there. He’s happy that Taehyung’s satisfied with his gift.
In the Min household, they’re content with the simple things. Christmas is just another day.
But not for Jimin.
Jimin loves Christmas.
Christmas is absolutely not just another day . It is the day of the year, probably the most important holiday in his opinion.
Imagine his utter shock when he enters the apartment breezily, red Santa hat perched daintily on his head, patterned Christmas socks pulled up to his thighs and presents tucked under his armpits, only to find Yoongi and Taehyung just....there.
“Merry Christmas!” dies on Jimin’s lips as he glances around the apartment. Where are the lights? The tree? That movie they’re watching isn’t even a Christmas classic!
“Mr Park!” Taehyung yells heartily as he gives Jimin his usual run-and-tackle embrace.
“Hello, Tae,” Jimin smiles a little blankly, bopping Taehyung’s nose half-heartedly after dropping the presents and scooping him into his arms.
Yoongi saunters over to Jimin, pressing a lazy kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek. “Morning, sunshine.” He taps the end of Jimin’s hat. The bell jingles melodiously. “This is cute. You’re cute.”
“Did you forget?” Jimin whispers, pulling a scandalised expression.
“Forget what?” Yoongi replies, shooting a quizzical glance back as he scratches the back of his head.
“Christmas!” Jimin widens his eyes exasperatedly, voice a little more raised this time.
“Oh.” Yoongi shrugs. “No, I didn’t. I know today’s Christmas but..so what?”
“So what ?” Jimin’s mouth falls open. He’s looking at Yoongi like he doesn’t recognise him anymore. Yoongi’s a little frightened.
“Daddy got me a present!” Taehyung offers sweetly. “And we pasted my Christmas tree on the door last night!”
“That’s nice,” Jimin immediately relaxes his face as he kisses the top of Taehyung’s head. “And I did see the tree you coloured. It’s beautiful.”
Taehyung giggles.
“We don’t really celebrate Christmas…” Yoongi reasons, biting his lip unsurely.
“What?” Jimin’s eyes snap up to Yoongi’s.
Yoongi shrugs once more. “I don’t know...it was just never a big deal to us, I guess?”
“B-but…” Jimin looks a little lost. He puts Taehyung down gently and shuffles to the window, drawing open the curtains. Sunlight floods into the apartment. “How can you be missing out on this?”
Taehyung practically flings himself onto the window, nose and cheeks pressed against the cold surface as his eyes turn round in delight. “Wow!” he breathes. “It’s snow! So much snow!"
Jimin ruffles Taehyung’s hair endearingly. “It’s the magic of Christmas, Tae-ah.”
“It is?” Taehyung grins with awe at Jimin. “I didn’t know Christmas was magical.”
Jimin frowns slightly. “No. This won’t do.” He folds his arms. Clicks his tongue. Nods. “Okay boys, dress up. We’re going out.”
“In this weather?” Yoongi sputters. “It’s so c-c-cold!” Just thinking about it makes Yoongi shiver.
“Poor kid over here has never experienced the magic of Christmas, I can’t just leave it be.”
“But—” Yoongi tries pouting.
“Not working on me,” Jimin shakes his head resolutely. “Also, grumpy people don’t get presents.”
He picks up a larger package from the floor. “Taehyungieeeee,” he sing-songs. “You’ve been a good kid right?”
“Uh-huh!” Taehyung nods frantically, practically salivating at the sight of the massive box. “I’ve been very very good. I promise! ”
“I know you have,” Jimin smiles. “Merry Christmas! Here you go!”
“Thank you!” Taehyung squeals, tearing apart the wrapping paper in a flash.
Upon seeing the gift, Taehyung exclaims, “Oh! My! Gosh!” His hands fly up to his cheeks. “How did you know I wanted a dragon pet?”
“Christmas magic, remember?” Jimin winks, beaming at the way Taehyung lit up.
Taehyung hugs the huge stuffed toy close to his heart. “I love it I love it I love it I love it! I’m going to name it Magic and I’m going to love it and never let it go.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Jimin smiles genuinely.
After a beat, Taehyung quips, “Does Daddy get a present?” Of course, he wouldn’t forget his daddy.
“I don’t know, Taehyung. Has daddy been a good boy?” Jimin asks in a teasing tone. “He doesn’t seem very excited to go out with Mr Park right now, though.”
“It’s cold,” Yoongi mutters sadly.
Just then, arms wrap around Yoongi tightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here to keep you warm,” Jimin tucks his chin on Yoongi’s shoulder and kisses the nape of his neck softly. He pulls away, keeping Yoongi at arm’s length. “It’ll be fun, I promise!”
Maybe it’s the way Jimin’s eyes are twinkling. Maybe it’s the way that subtle kiss made Yoongi blush. Maybe it’s Christmas magic. Whatever it is, it’s working. Yoongi’s resolve crumbles.
“Fine,” he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, a smile rising to his lips.
“Yay!” Jimin and Taehyung cheer simultaneously.
He could never say no to Jimin anyway.
Barely an hour later, Yoongi regrets everything.
His heart is beating wildly and wet snow is falling into his jacket and he’s tired.
“Time out!” Yoongi waves his arms in surrender as he clutches onto his chest, catching his breath.
Jimin and Taehyung emerge from their snow fort, hooting triumphantly as they dance around celebratorily.
“The enemy has been defeated! Christmas forces have prevailed! It is truly the magic of Christmas!” Jimin announces into the air.
“Enemy feeted ! Christmas forces prewailed ! Truly the magic of Christmas!” Taehyung echoes clumsily after Jimin, chuckling at Yoongi’s red face and red nose.
“Yes, sure, gang up against the old man. That’s the spirit of Christmas!” Yoongi says bitingly, eyes rolled skyward with sarcasm. “I knew Christmas was a bad idea.”
“Oh come on, you Grinch,” Jimin nudges Yoongi with an adorable grin gracing his features. An expression Yoongi cannot resist. “It’s just fun and games.”
“I’m going to die of frostbite,” Yoongi pants dramatically.
“Don’t be silly,” Jimin giggles as he lovingly brushes off the snow from Yoongi’s garments. “Look at Taehyung. Aren’t you glad he’s having so much fun?”
Yoongi glances over Jimin’s shoulder, only to find Taehyung spreading his hands and arms across the canvas of white snow, animatedly attempting to make his very first snow angel. He looks so happy, even with his cheeks all rosy from the cold.
“Maybe I should have done this earlier,” Yoongi muses, eyes still fixated on his beautiful son.
“It’s not too late,” Jimin corrects. Something warm presses against Yoongi’s cheeks. “Better?”
“Why are your hands so warm?” Yoongi can’t help but sigh, leaning unconsciously towards the touch.
“Because I’m your sunshine,” Jimin jokes.
“You truly are,” Yoongi breathes, eyes fluttering closed as he soaks in this moment.
They stay like that for a little while more, bodies subtly pressed against each other as Yoongi pulls Jimin close, Jimin’s mittened hands reaching up to cup Yoongi’s face. It’s perfect.
“My lips are cold.”
“Are they now?” Jimin cocks an eyebrow surreptitiously, a knowing glint in his eyes.
“You said you would keep me warm, right?” Yoongi opens up his eyes and puffs out his cheeks.
“Taehyung’s here, we can’t,” Jimin hits Yoongi’s chest playfully.
Yoongi licks his lips. “He’s not looking, hurry.”
“Fine,” Jimin relents, cheeks tinted with the prettiest pink. “Since you’ve been good today.”
They meet halfway, smiling through the kiss. It tastes of Jimin’s cocoa-butter lip gloss and marshmallows. Even with Yoongi’s cracked lips and the squishy feeling of snow in his socks and many layers of clothes between them, it feels wonderful.
Flashes of white catch Yoongi’s eyes and he breaks apart before Jimin’s satisfied, resulting in the smaller boy chasing after his lips.
“Wait, look.” Yoongi prompts, using two fingers to nudge Jimin’s chin upwards. “It’s snowing.”
Jimin’s eyes brighten up as he gasps. “It really is! Taehyung! It’s snowing!”
“Wow!” Taehyung exclaims, raising his arms in the air as he sits up. He hasn’t seen anything like that before, eyes gleaming in curiosity as he observes the way the snow descends down, glittering under the sunlight like fairy dust. Like magic.
“Wow!” he exclaims again, a little dazed as he stands up to spin around and around and around, his carefree laughter bouncing off everywhere.
“It tasth likth sthrawberthy!” Taehyung blabbers with his tongue stuck out.
“Does it now?” Jimin laughs.
“It must be Christmas magic.” Yoongi thinks out loud, his arm reaching out to pull Jimin close by the waist as he beams at his lover.
Jimin gazes back up, the look on his face brighter than all the Christmas lights on the streets combined. “It must be a Christmas miracle.”
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🎃💀👻 I know you don’t know me (very well), but I’m deathly afraid of clowns so could you just hold my hand until we get past this trick or treater…I know they’re only a toddler, but they’re scary!!!🎃💀👻
Relationship: Adam Rose/Heath Slater
Author’s Tags: Alternate Universe – Modern Setting; Phobias; Childhood Trauma; Panic Attacks; Alcohol; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Kissing
WSL Prompt Contest Entry number: NS1
Summary:
It’s Halloween and Heath is afraid of clowns. Will his new co-worker Adam protect him?
Heath hated Halloween. He loved Halloween, but he also hated it. Actually, there was only one thing he hated about it – ever since that incident in his childhood.
At least he didn’t need to walk home alone today. His new co-worker Adam lived in the same direction. Heath still wondered why his boss had decided to hire another employee, although the little music store they worked in barely made any money as no one bought CDs anymore. But Adam seemed to be a nice guy and – just like Heath – he liked rock music. He’d even been the lead singer of an underground band which almost caused Heath to admire him.
Heath checked everything one last time and then grabbed the keys his boss had left behind. “Are you ready to leave?” he asked Adam.
When the other man nodded, they went outside and locked the store. It was pretty cold this night. Adam pulled up the collar of his coat and buried his hands in his pockets. Heath looked around. The streets were busy with people and there were many groups of children in several different costumes. He became a bit nervous and tried to focus on his co-worker while they walked down the sidewalk. Adam told him about his divorce last year and that he wanted to start a new life in this town.
Heath listened to him and nodded until it happened. He already saw it from afar and immediately stopped dead in his tracks. His heart was beating fast, his throat felt constricted and he broke out in a cold sweat. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!
Adam turned around and looked at him. “Heath, are you okay? Is something wrong?”
His voice sounded like it was coming from far away. Heath wanted to answer, but he was afraid he would collapse, vomit or piss his pants any moment. Adam put his hands on Heath’s shoulders; his big eyes were filled with worry. “Hey, please talk to me. How can I help you?”
Heath pointed to a group of trick or treaters that came towards them. “Do you see that?” At first his voice was trembling. Then it just burst out of him. “I know you don’t know me very well, but I’m deathly afraid of clowns. Could you please hold my hand until we get past them? I know they’re only a toddler, but they’re scary!”
Adam looked at the child in a clown costume and then grabbed Heath’s hand. It was already too late when Heath noticed that his hand was drenched in sweat. He was even more ashamed than before. Adam, though, didn’t seem to care. Instead he just smiled at him. “Let’s go.”
His warm palm pressed against Heath’s, his skin was surprisingly soft and his fingertips rested on Heath’s knuckles. Some color returned to Heath’s pale face.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m a grown adult and yet…”
“Don’t worry.” Adam squeezed his hand lightly. “Phobias aren’t always rational. I understand that.”
It only took a few minutes until they had passed the group. When they were out of sight, Heath breathed a sigh of relief and pulled back his hand. “Thanks.”
“Are you alright now?”
“To be honest, I think I need a bathroom break,” Heath said, embarrassed.
“My apartment is only about three minutes from here. Is that okay for you?”
Heath nodded. Three minutes sounded way better than the more than 15 minutes to his own.
“I gotta warn you, though,” Adam said while they walked down the path to the big building. “You know I just moved in a few days ago. So it’s still a bit chaotic.”
“No problem, as long as your toilet works.” Heath grinned tensely and hoped his desperate attempt at a joke would make Adam forget how pathetic he was.
They entered the apartment and Adam led him to his bathroom. Some minutes later Heath returned and looked around. Adam hadn’t lied. There were a lot of moving boxes – some opened, some emptied, some still taped shut. But there was no decoration anywhere. Heath imagined Adam sitting alone in this uncomfortable place, and it made him sad.
“How about we head over to my apartment and have our own little Halloween party?” he suggested.
Wait, that sounded wrong, very wrong. Heath felt heat creeping up his cheeks. “I mean…”
“Sounds great!” Adam smiled at him. Either he hadn’t really understood him or he was polite enough to ignore it.
Heath was unusually quiet on their way to his place. Adam seemed to be such a cool guy and he really wished they would become friends. But he had to stop embarrassing himself.
When they arrived in his apartment, Adam was surprised about the many pumpkins and skeletons and… zombies. There were a lot of zombies and there was even a The Walking Dead poster in Heath’s living room. So he obviously didn’t hate Halloween or spooky things in general.
“Would you like a beer?” Heath asked as he returned from the kitchen with some bottles in his hands.
Adam nodded, grabbed a bottle and sat down in the armchair at the head of the table. Heath put the other bottles on the table and took a seat on the sofa.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Adam asked. “Is there a reason why you are so scared of clowns?”
“Yeah, there is. But it’s a bit silly because nothing really happened.”
“I won’t laugh. I promise.”
“Okay.” Heath took a sip of his beer. “It was on Halloween. I was ten years old and I went trick-or-treating with some friends. The brother of one boy was the only older guy in our group. I think he was 14 or 15. He was supposed to look after us. But of course he was annoyed and just wanted to meet his own friends. I don’t know how exactly it happened… I was dawdling around and suddenly all my friends were gone. I went back and forth, looking everywhere and then there was a man in a clown costume. He asked me if I was alone and I told him that I lost my friends. He grabbed my hand and said he would help me. I was frightened and he sent out creepy vibes, but I didn’t know what else to do. So I followed him. When I realized that something was wrong, it was already too late. He took me to an old building, probably his house. It looked really scary from the outside and I told him that I wanted to go back. But he tightened his grip and pulled me closer. Just before we entered, the brother of my friend appeared. The stranger said he just wanted to call the cops, let me go and left. My friend’s brother was angry and forbade me to tell anyone about it. He said he would beat me up if I did.”
“Have you told anyone?”
“No. And one year later I pretended to be sick, so that I could stay at home. The year after that I told my parents that I was already too old for trick-or-treating.”
“Damn, that’s a horrible story. I’m glad the guy couldn’t hurt you.”
“Yeah, but I still feel guilty that I didn’t tell my parents or the police about it. Who knows how many other kids he hurt…”
“But that wasn’t your fault! You were still a child.”
“And I was never able to forget that incident. Every time I see a clown on Halloween I’m so scared, I feel like I’m ten years old again.”
“Have you thought about getting therapy?”
“I don’t know… I mean it doesn’t affect me in my daily life. It’s just one night a year.”
“How about we spend this one night together every year from now on?”
Adam’s smile gave Heath a warm fuzzy feeling inside. Did he mean…?
“I know we just met a few days ago,” Adam continued. “But it feels like we are on the same wavelength and you’re almost like the little brother I never had.”
“Oh, you mean like friends…?” Heath couldn’t help being disappointed. Wait, had he just said that out loud? He cursed his own mouth for being faster than his brain.
Adam was surprised. “Like I said, we just met… I don’t want to be hasty. But, yeah, if you want to know, I think you’re really cute.”
Heath felt a familiar warmth rising to his cheeks. He patted on the sofa. “Can you hold my hand again?”
It only took a few seconds, then Adam sat down next to him and grabbed his hand. It was sweaty; but this time the sweat wasn’t cold. Heath turned his head and admired the beautiful eyes of the other man before his gaze wandered down to his lips. He wondered what they would feel like and unconsciously licked his own lips. Adam came closer to him, slowly enough for Heath to stop him. But he didn’t. Instead he closed his eyes when Adam’s lips touched his.
It was a short sweet kiss. Then Adam pulled away again and Heath opened his eyes. Adam looked happy, but also a bit insecure. Heath shot forward and pressed their lips together. He wanted this, needed this. Adam felt so good, tasted so good. Heath’s eyes went shut. He was moaning, sucking, licking. Their tongues met, played with each other, fought, danced. Heath’s hands were buried in Adam’s hair, searching fingers moved over fabric, skin.
He climbed onto Adam’s lap, straddling his thighs. No, fuck, he was going too far. Why was he always so impatient? He broke up the kiss and leaned back. He’d ruined it. Adam would hate him now. Slowly, he opened his eyes.
Adam didn’t look angry or shocked. He smiled at him. His hands went to the back of Heath’s neck. He pulled him closer and pressed their foreheads together, a gentle touch. Heath relaxed and rested his hands on Adam’s shoulders. Maybe this was good. He’d found someone who accepted him with all his flaws.
“This is my favorite Halloween so far.”
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When We Were Young - Chapter One
Pairing : Misha/OFC
Warnings : trauma, PTSD, family members’ death (including child), therapy, flashbacks (not in every chapter), cheating. Long fic. Angst, fluff and smut will come later in the story.
Words : 2698
Summary : After her grandmother's funeral, Lily must return to the place she lived in when she was young and has to confront the ghosts of her past. She will run into an old friend that she thought was lost forever.
Note : I was deeply touched after watching a video of Misha tearing up telling us the story of his childhood. I started daydreaming about it, and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I decided to write it down. Even if it's based on Misha's real story and what he kindly chose to share with us, I do not know him personally (or any of the real characters mentioned in this story), and a lot of my work is just out of my weird and twisted imagination.
Though Misha won't appear in the first three chapters, he is mentioned in every single one of them. I needed the back story to be settled before throwing him in Lily's life.
Please keep in mind this is my first fic ever, and english is not my native language, but I had the incredible luck to find the most patient beta ever to help me for the first chapters: @dixseptdixhuit.
No hate towards Vicki or any member of Misha's family here, I truly respect Misha's personal life and I just didn't want to pretend he wasn't married in this story.
Also, I will post the first four chapters today because I’ve already posted them before but I only linked to AO3 and I thought this way would be better. (And I will try to make a masterlist because it will be very long)
Oh, and I will love you forever if you give me some feedback. (good or bad, but if it’s bad it has to be constructive so I can improve lol)
CHAPTER 1 - Family
“Ugh, that smell!” Lily exclaimed, unable to suppress her gag reflex. That was a stupid idea really. Here they were, at 11pm, burning stuff on a beach in Seattle in order to move on after a horrible break up... like silly teenagers! She was thirty-eight, for God's sake!
“You okay, sweetie?” Katie asked, suddenly worried, gently laying a hand on Lily's shoulder. She had weird and silly ideas sometimes, but she was Lily's best friend and she deeply loved that woman. She had known her for a very long time. They had met when Lily was seventeen and Katie was fifteen, back when she started her new life in France, when everything in her life was chaos, and she owed her a lot. So much! They never left each other again and when Lily had the opportunity to go back in the US, it was just obvious to bring Katie with her. They just couldn't live apart from each other. Katie had been here when Lily was completely lost and she was very grateful for that.
“Yeah, I just hate that smell with all of my guts.”
“What smell? Fire? I like it.”
“Yeah. You know perfectly why I hate it. And what are we anyway? Twelve?”
“Oh come on, Lily! You found that bastard in bed with one of your coworkers! In YOUR bed, right after your grandmother's funeral! Really that's the least you could do, he's just lucky I don't burn him alive for what he did to you.”
“Don't say that...”
“Sorry... I didn't mean to... I just mean – ”
“Whatever.” Lily interrupted. “Let's get this over with and go home. I'm tired and I have a fucking long day waiting for me tomorrow. If I have to deal with her stupid face at work, I need at least to be as pretty as I can for her to be super jealous and hate me as much as I hate her, which means I need my beauty rest.”
“Yes... because you're old now so beauty rest is not an option anymore, right?” Katie said with a huge grin on her face.
She actually made Lily laugh with her comment.
“You're over thirty too, moron, I can see your wrinkles even from here! That means you need it too! Let's go.”
“Alright grandma, let's roll!” Katie answered playfully, dancing on the beach, happy to go back home after such an awful day.
____________
When they arrived at their place in Seattle, it was already late. They both lived in the same apartment complex near the ocean, but not on the same floor. Lily's apartment was on the second floor and Katie lived right up on the third floor.
“Goodnight Kat. And thank you for everything.” Lily hugged her friend tight.
“You're welcome, Lily. We'll laugh about it in a while, you'll see.”
“Sure. Try not to be late tomorrow.” Lily winked at her best friend before entering her apartment and closing the door behind her. Katie was always late and she always had an excuse. It became a game to mock her about it and she had to admit the more she tried to find a good excuse, the more Lily enjoyed teasing her.
“You know me!” she heard Katie scream through the door. God, Katie, the neighbors!
Lily turned on the light, threw her keys on the kitchen counter and went straight to the bathroom. She needed a shower before going to bed. Mostly to get rid of the horrible smell of fire that was still laying on her clothes, almost penetrating her skin.
As she stood under the warm spray of water, trying to relax, she sighed deeply and thought about her day. What a day... Her grandmother died last week; she was everything to her, literally the last member of her family, and now she was gone for good. Lily realized she was now truly alone, and she felt empty, sad and lost. She had not felt like that for a long time but there she was, crying in her shower, thinking about her family.
She was lucky to have friends to help her feel better, and she used to have a boyfriend too... but that was gone too. God, that jerk! Who does that? Cheating on her was already terrible, but she had to find out today?? She threw those thoughts away for now, she had to focus on something else, she would have time to move on with her love life later.
So yes, she had very dear friends, like Katie, and some nice coworkers too (except that bitch!), but it wasn't the same, they were not family. They were not home...
Home... as she finally laid in her bed, she thought about that word. Home.
Next week, she would have to go back where she grew up, where she had her most precious memories, the happiest part of her life, but also the scariest and the saddest when it ended.
Home. She used to try so hard to forget and not think about it anymore. But after her grandma died, she couldn't think about something else, it was like losing it all over again, and as she was trying to fall asleep, she was still thinking about it. Home... She had a home, she had a family, she was loved, she was happy, and it had ended brutally.
********************************
August 1990. Nice – France.
“Elise Hagen?”
She stood up slowly and walked the few steps separating her from the woman who called her name.
Dr Dorville, psychiatrist, extended her hand, inviting her to come in her office. She entered the room and scanned it quickly. Yellowish walls, a huge wooden desk, two chairs, lots of books on shelves, a huge carpet on the floor, some plants and a few candles, a tissue box on the desk, a sofa near the window... Typical.
“Nice to meet you, Elise. I'm Dr Dorville. Please have a seat.” The doctor said with a nice smile.
“Thanks. I prefer Lily.”
“Alright Lily. Make yourself comfortable. Today I'm just going to ask you a few questions to know you better. You can relax.”
She sat, put her dark blond hair behind her ears, crossed her legs and swallowed deeply. She was so damn nervous. She didn't want to be here, in this office, in this country, on this freaking continent. Everything was different and she felt like an alien from another dimension. Lily noticed something strange right away though.
“You speak English?...” Lily asked shyly, almost ashamed.
“Yes.” Dr Dorville paused and looked at her, still smiling. “I know you're not from here and it must be hard for you to adapt when you don't even speak the language, so I thought I could at least make the effort. Don't mind my terrible accent though, I just can't help it. Plus I need you to be as honest and open as possible and I'm pretty sure you can't do that if you speak a foreign language and can't find your words, right?”
“Right.” Lily agreed. She at least could appreciate that this woman was trying to make her feel less weird and more comfortable. That was kind of a good start. Plus the french accent was kinda cute, to be honest.
“So, let's start easy.” The doctor sat behind her desk and checked her computer. “Your full name is Elise Grace Hagen, you're 16, born June 9th 1974 in Hartford, am I correct?” she asked nonchalantly.
“Yes.”
“How long have you been in Nice?”
“About a month.” Lily sighed. This was already super boring.
“Do you want to tell me about your family?” Dr Dorville asked cautiously.
“Do I have to? I'm pretty sure you already know everything you need to.”
“I know some indeed. I'd like to hear it from you though, if you don't mind.” She observed Lily silently until she spoke again.
“Fine.” Lily sighed and looked down at her hands, playing with her fingers. “I was living in a huge farm in Northfield with my mother and my little brother. My grandmother lived a few miles away in Litchfield. My father passed when I was ten in a car accident.” She spoke too fast and then stopped, still playing nervously with her fingers, not wanting to give too many details. She knew she would have to eventually, but it was her first session and she wasn't ready yet.
“What was your brother's name? How old was he?” The doctor asked, and Lily couldn't help noticing she used the past tense.
“Ryan... He was six,” was all Lily could answer.
“Any other relatives?”
“No. I don't have a big family. It was just us.”
“Would you say you felt lonely because you had a small family?”
Here we are... the how do you feel questions.
“No. We had a lot of friends.”
“So you had a great social life then?”
“Yes. My grandfather was a great man, he was respected because he did a lot of good around him, especially for the kids in our area, so everybody kinda knew us thanks to that, more or less.”
“Where is your grandfather now? You didn't mention him earlier.”
“He passed away a few years ago. He was older than my grandma.”
“I see. That's a lot of deaths for such a small family. I'm sorry to hear that, Lily.” Dr Dorville said honestly.
“Yeah... That was just the beginning though. But you know that already, am I wrong?” Lily started to be pissed: so many useless questions when she knew the doctor had her file right on her damn computer.
“Of course not. I have your file indeed, but you're here to talk about yourself, right? If you can't even talk about the basic facts about you and your family, I'm afraid it's gonna be a problem to talk about what happened recently. Don't worry, we'll get through that, but not today. I just need you to trust me, I'm here to help you. You know that, right?”
Lily could feel the lump in her throat, but she knew she had to move on and she couldn't do it alone.
“Yes.” She honestly answered.
“Good. So... You said you were living in a huge farm with your mother and your six year-old brother... That sounds like a lot to deal with for a single woman and two kids. How were you managing?”
“We could afford some help from local farmers, money was never a problem for us, and we often had people staying at our house.”
“People?”
“Yes, umm... My mom and my grandparents liked to help people in need and we had a big house, so they thought it was normal to help as much as we could.”
“That's very generous. Was there someone living with you when... when it happened?”
Lily noticed the hesitation in her voice, and she was actually glad she avoided that subject for now.
“There was a family, yes... A single mother and her two sons. My mom and her had become good friends a few years before, and when Mom heard they were in town but homeless, she wanted to help. So she offered them to stay with us.”
“Did you like these people too?”
“Yes. They are... They were very good people.” She swallowed the lump in her throat again.
“Then why won't you name them?”
“Why should I?”
“Because they were real people... Naming them is part of the process.”
That fucking past tense again!
Yes they were real people and now they're all gone so what's the point?
Dr Dorville was silent again, patiently waiting for Lily's answer, not pushing but looking her in the eyes with a sympathetic smile on her face.
“Rebecca, Sasha, and Misha.” Oh, the fucking load of guilt that just punched through her heart when she actually voiced their names!
“There.” The doctor smiled once more. “I know this is hard for you, but you're doing really great. How old were Sasha and Misha?”
Oh please, God, will this be over soon?
She fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair and sighed deeply again.
“Sasha was thirteen and Misha was sixteen.”
“Oh, so Misha was your age, did you go to school together?”
Lily really started to lose her patience here.
“For a little while only. They were traveling quite often and I was going to a private school they couldn't afford.”
“Ok, that's good!” The Doctor said with a sincere smile. “So I have one last question for you and I promise it will be over.” The woman paused and put her arms on the desk, crossing her fingers and staring directly in Lily's eyes.
Why do I have a bad feeling about this? Lily silently asked herself.
“What are you expecting from our sessions?”
Oh... good question. She was the shrink, she was supposed to know that much better than anyone, right? Lily sighed again but took her time to think about her answer, and her eyes turned a little darker.
“I would like...” she started and thought again, “I want to forget my past, stop hurting and move on with my life.” Tears were now threatening to fall but she managed to blink them away.
“Why would you want to forget your past?”
“You said only one more question...”
“Humor me.”
“Because it hurts too much.” Lily couldn't hold her tears back at that point, and she mentally cursed herself, but she suddenly couldn't stop speaking.
“I can't go on with my life if I'm obsessed with the bad things that happened to my family, and I'm scared of what I could do if I keep being obsessively guilty about it. I don't want my grandma to worry about me, she's been through enough already, I just don't want to be a burden for her.”
Where did that come from? She did not plan to talk that much on her first session.
“This is the point, Lily: you can't change your past, and you can have your life back even when you remember everything that happened to you. Good or bad. That's why I'm here, I'll make sure you can deal with your past and use it to move on without forgetting who you are or trying to be someone else. And I will prove you that you're not guilty of anything, and you're certainly not a burden for your grandmother who loves you enough to fly to another continent to start all over. Do you believe we can do that together?”
“I... I don't know.”
“It's okay. You're probably lost right now and it's totally understandable, but I can assure you we can do this, taking baby steps, and it's gonna be okay in the end. That is, if you really want it, though.”
“I do,” she answered honestly.
“Alright then. I guess it's gonna be it for today. You did really great I'm very proud of you. We're going to dig a little deeper next time, but don't worry, I will never push you past your limits, I promise. As long as you trust me, it's going to be fine.”
“Alright. I'll try.”
“Great! See you next week, then? Try to keep yourself busy until then. I'm sure that won't be a problem, considering you need to start a new life in a new country.” Dr Dorville stood up and extended her hand to Lily.
“Yeah,” she scoffed, but shook her hand anyway. “That will be so easy. Goodbye, Doctor.”
“See you soon, Lily.”
She left Dr Dorville's office with mixed feelings after that first session. Lots of bad feelings, but still a little sparkle of hope, and it felt good to hope again.
#misha collins#young!misha#misha fanfiction#misha x ofc#misha/ofc#supernatural#supernatural fanfic#when we were young#slow built#ptsd#trauma#flashbacks#cheating#character death#child death#fire#therapy#long fic
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that’s 3/7(?) post stolen-century fics done!! or, aka, episode 66 still hurts a week later and its nice to get it out of my system, again.
(as usual, the text is copy-pasted under a readmore in case you dont want to hop on ao3, but ao3 has bonus content, so i recommend checking that out!!)
“Oh, Jules - After you’re done, can you go check on Magnus?”
“Your new apprentice? Why would he still be there that late at night?”
“It’s a long story - do you want me to explain?”
“No Dad, you know I’m rushing, I’ll go check, bye, love you!”
“Bye, honey, love you too, stay safe!”
“I will!”
“Magnus?” It was past midnight when Julia creaked the door open of the Hammer and Tongs per her father’s request. She hadn’t understood why he’d ask it - how long could the guy work? - but as she peeked in and found most of the room still lit, she knew he was right after all. “Magnus? You there?”
It was only when she fully opened the door when she found him; he slept over the bench he was working on with a light snore, yet by his murmuring and fidgeting in his sleep she could tell his rest wasn’t very peaceful. “Magnus… Wake up….”
“I’m busy…”
“You’re not busy, you’re sleeping.” She laughed, and put her hand on his shoulder, this time shaking him as she said “Magnus, wake up!”
His eyes flickered open in a daze, and he blinked a few times, gauging his surroundings before looking at her. “What… Did I fall asleep?”
“On your first day on the job, no less.”
“Oh… Shit.” He wiped his eyes, then stood up and stretched before looking at Julia again. “Have we met?”
“I don’t think so.” She extended her hand. “I’m Julia."
“Magnus.” He shook her hand. “Though I think you already knew that.”
"I figured it out." She smiled. "You're lucky Dad told me to come check on you, otherwise you'd be here all night and still have to work tomorrow."
"Dad?"
"Steven Waxman? My dad? The one who runs this place?"
"Oh, you're Julia, Steven's daughter..." He laughed. "Didn't put two and two together."
She laughed too; and it was then, in that sleepy daze, that Magnus first fell in love with that laugh. It had a gentility fitting the time of night yet still retained Julia’s heartiness and spirit, somehow managing to capture her intelligence, energy, kindness, and unbelievable heart all at once - and, of course, it didn’t fail to express how ridiculous she found Magnus to be at that moment, to his slight embarrassment. (Embarrassment, the kind that flared at a stereotypical childhood crush, was a new feeling to Magnus - he knew even with the memory loss that he wasn’t at all the type to care about what people thought of him - but there was something different about Julia.)
Magnus scratched the back of his head. “We should go.”
“Yeah.” Julia turned around and started heading towards the door. “After this, I don’t think Dad will expect you to come that early, but time is still precious.”
He nodded, and began to follow her out. “Do you have keys?”
She held them up in her hand, letting them jingle around, before closing the door behind him as he walked out. “You do know the way home, right? We’re going the same way, so if not you can follow me, but I can’t help you find your own house.”
“…”
“Magnus?” She turned to him.
He stood by the entrance, just staring in front of him. His eyes were wide, and expression blank; as opposed to his earlier sleepy daze, Julia then saw Magnus in a state of shock. “Magnus, you ok?”
“It’s dark.”
She laughed - less of an endearing, lovable one and more of a nervous one. “Yeah, it’s 1 AM. You scared of the dark or something?”
“No… It just hasn’t been this dark since….”
“Since what?”
He looked at her for a brief moment, and she never forgot the look she saw on his face. It was pained, almost. Confused. There was fear in there, but it wasn’t fear of the dark - it was that the dark should have reminded him of something greater, but he had no idea what it was.
And just as quickly as she saw it, it was gone, and was replaced with a Magnus lost in his own thoughts before answering her question. “I don’t know.”
She froze, for a second - it was hard to find something to say after that - and then felt her hand slip into his, almost instinctively. “It’s okay, Magnus. I’ll walk you home.”
~
Since that day, Julia had seen Magnus around a lot, both in and out of her father's shop - Raven's Roost was small, and that was how it was with everyone - but any sign of trauma Magnus had shown that night seemed gone during the day. Her dad noted that he slept in a lot more than usual, and that he was never a morning person even when he was late - his work seemed sloppier, as if he was too tired to be precise - but besides that, he seemed fine. But she didn't forget that night - how he was still in that daze as she walked him back to the residential district, how as soon as they entered his neighborhood he led her to his house with his eyes closed, having memorized his address and the streets around his house as if they could disappear at any moment - and it came back to her every time she went out with her friends late at night.
It was one of those nights that she saw him again: they had gone to the tavern as they sometimes did, just to hang out and drink a little; her friend Quincy knew the band that was playing in the background that evening, and had convinced them to come listen. Julia had gone to get them refills when she noticed Magnus sitting at the bar, an empty mug in hand; he seemed out of focus, again, but she couldn't tell how much of that was due to alcohol and how much wasn't.
"Magnus?"
"Oh.... Hey Jules." His words didn't seem slurred as much as his voice seemed heavy, as if he was more tired than drunk.
"It's Julia."
"Sorry, Julia." He put his mug down. "What brings you here?"
"Just hanging out." She nodded towards her friends. "And you?"
"You know..." He held up his mug.
"You're here for the drinks."
"Yeah."
It was quiet, for a moment; but then the silence was broken by the voices of her friends approaching the bar.
"Yo Julia, who's that?" Quincy peeked out from behind her chair to look at Magnus.
"That's Magnus, my dad's new apprentice." She lifted the halfling up and placed him on her lap. "Magnus, the small one is Quincy, and the taller ones are Casey, Tess, and Jack."
Magnus straightened up and put his mug down. "It's nice to meet you all."
After their chorus of "Nice to meet you too"'s, Quincy hopped off of Julia's lap and stood next to Magnus. "Alone at the bar, huh? I know what that's like."
Tess gave him a look of disapproval. "Quincy, you're being rude. And besides, you're not alone anymore!"
"It's alright." Magnus's expression softened. "I know what I signed up for when I came here."
"Which is why I can't trust you to stay here." Julia laughed; her nervous laugh, again.
"Why?" Jack asked, his voice quieter than its usual hush. "He looks like he can hold his alcohol."
"Yeah, but no one can hold deep-seeded emotional trauma." Casey blurted out, getting confused looks from his friends. "What? It was kind of obvious."
Magnus laughed. "I never was any good at hiding my emotions. But you're right, Julia, I should go. I'll see you around?" He began to stand up.
"Yeah, I'll see you- Magnus, don't fall!!" She held her arms out as he stumbled backward, clearly dizzy, yet he caught himself last minute before falling onto her. "Okay, you know what? We're walking you home."
~~
After that night, Julia never really saw Magnus in the same light. She was always more concerned about him when she saw him, that was true, but as they were walking home and Magnus opened up a bit she began to understand him more. He was vulnerable despite his size and physical strength, but also kind, funny, strong-willed, and smarter than she thought; he was a fighter through and through, but he seemed, at that time, to be at war with his own thoughts. So she kept an eye out for him, but it was the casual interactions later - whether it was starting conversations in her dad’s shop or inviting him to go out with her friends - that really made her fall in love with him. She loved Magnus for his smiles and his carpentry skill and the way he gave piggyback rides; she loved how he took every opportunity he had, how he read books aloud to the animals in the park and was confident they could understand him, and how he always had a box of (store-bought, but still good) cookies at home in case someone came to visit.
She never saw him at the bar again, but he never told her if he stopped going until the day she caught him heading over there.
She was going back home as she saw him walk past her - still sober, but in that same daze, the same desperate look on his face that she saw when he told her and her friends, through the alcohol, just how much he wished to know what he had forgot. Yet she approached him casually - her voice shaking, a bit - and asked him where he was going, as if she hadn't already known.
"Yo Magnus! What brings you here?"
"Oh hey, Julia." Magnus shook his head as if trying to clear it. "I just needed a drink."
She nodded in understanding. "Do you have to get one? Or will something else distract you just as well?"
"It sounds like you have a plan."
"Magnus Burnsides, you have known me for almost a full year; do I ever not have a plan?" They both laughed after that; it was a true statement, but so typical of Julia Magnus couldn't help but laugh.
"True. How are you distracting me, then?"
Julia thought about it a bit. "Have you ever been at the edge of town, where the cliffs are?"
"Not yet." He admitted, knowing it was a popular spot but realizing going that far from home wasn't something he had done since he moved in.
"So we'll go there! You can see the stars and the waterfalls, and we can talk or something."
"Talking does sound less boring than drinking alone," he admitted. "Take it away then, tour guide."
They walked for a while, past downtown and the craftsmen's quarter and the edge of town and off into the distance, where the roads were gone and the only sound was the faint rush of waterfalls far below them, and it was a lot darker than the faint glow of the town, and they sat down on the ground by one of the cliffs and just stared, for a moment. And then they talked. They talked about not knowing constellations and about the upcoming election for governor; they talked about childhood and how Magnus wanted to get a dog; Julia told him the long story about how she met her friends and Magnus told her about his hope to one day find the friends he lost, about how the first thing he remembers from the past year is waking up with a letter from a friend he didn't remember telling him about his new home. He told her how at one point, he felt like everyone knew him better than he knew himself. But the subject changed pretty quickly; from there, they bet on who could win at arm wrestling and Magnus lost, they talked about what Julia wanted to do with her life and whether it was carpentry, they taught each other their favorite childhood games, laughed every time Magnus's stomach rumbled, and debated whether Magnus could have possibly gotten into college; but sometimes, they could spend minutes just lying on the ground, staring at the sky.
They didn't go home until about 3 am that night. They were tired, and Magnus was the happiest he had been in a long, long time; yet he still felt a twinge of nervousness when he asked Julia if that was a date.
"Yeah, I think." She seemed relieved, yet Magnus was a bit too distracted to tell.
"So can I call you Jules now?"
"Only if I get to call you Maggie."
"Deal." He laughed, and gave her one of his signature bear hugs, and as she hugged him back, he felt the same twinge of familiarity whenever he was grasping on a memory, and almost faltered. Yet when he heard Julia's laugh, felt her breath on his face, he felt calmer again, slightly more grounded, and said: "Jules, can you walk me home?"
#eden talks#the adventure zone#taz#magnus burnsides#julia burnsides#alcohol tw#i hope yall enjoy!!!#feedback is always appreciated as usual#eden writes
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13th February 2017- All for the Game series
Author: Nora Sakavic
Genre: Thriller, sports, relationship
Rating: This is the only series ever to challenge Harry Potter as my favourite. It is incredible
Favourite Quote(s): (You should be lucky I narrowed it down to five)
‘Fight because you don’t know how to die quietly. Win because you don’t know how to lose.’ David Wymack, The King’s Men
‘Is your learning curve a horizontal line?’- Andrew Minyard, The King’s Men
‘I’ve been a problem for nineteen years. I’m too tired to be one tonight.’- Neil Josten, The King’s Men
‘Don’t look at me like that. I am not your answer, and you sure as fuck aren’t mine.’- Andrew Minyard, The King’s Men
‘I won’t be like them. I won’t let you let me be.’- Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, The King’s Men
I’m going to warn you now, this is going to be long, and spoiler-y, and probably make little structural sense.
So I hate sports. Any kind of sport. I just about tolerate swimming, and never just doing lanes.
I would also probably sell a kidney to be able to play Exy.
This series, quite honestly, has changed my life (and not just about sport). It features; diversity, therapy, alcohol, abuse survivors of all kinds, not enough playing the actual sport, torture, the MobTM, extreme character development, my OTP and too many chess references.
I will start, quite appropriately, with Neil Abram Josten, the many named man. I will not lie and pretend that one of the main reasons I love this series is not because Neil is the first canon demisexual character I have ever read. As a demisexual, this representation was something I didn’t even know I had been craving until I got it. His character made me more secure in my identity; he meant that I wasn’t making it up, that I was real and valid and there wasn’t anything wrong with me. I wasn’t picky or just ‘hadn’t had enough alcohol yet’ (thanks mum); what I felt was different but it wasn’t bad. For all the demisexuals out there, Neil was a godsend.
(For clarification on Neil’s sexuality I recommend reading SpangleBangle’s one-shot ‘Swinging Along the Z Axis’ on Ao3.)
More than that, Neil’s character just broke my heart. He’s haunted and hunted and desperate not to let anyone else get caught in the crosshairs. He doesn’t always do the smart thing, but he does generally do the right thing, and never takes the easy way out. He’s scarred and easily triggered and in some ways damaged, at least when he first arrives at Palmetto, but never, ever broken. Not even Baltimore or Evermore could break Neil Josten and while he’s sometimes regarded in the fandom as the soft to Andrew’s sharp, you’ll never find the Foxes thinking that because Neil is sly and underhand and play’s dirty when someone he cares about is on the line. If Andrew had to be the one to cut the deal with Ichirou, he would never have gotten out of that car alive.
He asked Andrew TO HIS FACE why his ex thought Andrew was tying him up, and didn’t clock for a single second until Andrew literally told him he’d blow him. He asked Nicky if they were friends because he’d never had any before. He is about as quick to get a social cue as I am running. He is so respectful of Andrew’s boundaries even before he found out why, even before their deal. He left Andrew, a person whom nobody had ever admired, whom no-one had ever been grateful for despite Andrew giving up EVERYTHING for them, with “thank you, you were amazing” and figured that would be enough to cover the destruction his death would bring. He chose being tortured by Riko on the off-chance it might spare Andrew some pain, and he chose to be taken to quite literally his worst nightmare, giving up his life and his freedom and everything he’d managed to accomplish that year to keep his Foxes safe.
For the first canon demisexual, he’s certainly setting the bar high.
I’ll save Andrew for last, so let’s get on to the rest of the Foxes.
I’m quite sure I could write an essay on each of them (except maybe Seth. Sorry. I just. Hated that guy). For your sake I’m going to keep it short, but feel free to ask me for a full character eval I’ll be happy to do it.
Matt Boyd- Literal sunshine, saw actual homeless child Neil Josten and decided immediately he would die for him, half of the brOTP of the century, you just KNOW he’s so sweet and attentive and respectful of Dan because she’d never go out with him otherwise. He canonically has a white and orange themed wedding… I actually can’t. He didn’t blame the Monsters for forcing him to go full cold turkey even though he knew Andrew didn’t do it for him and he was ready to fight to keep Neil after Baltimore.
Dan Wilds- Absolute BAMF, can and will kick your ass, the only female captain in Class I Exy and she’s had an uphill battle on her shoulders for years before Neil or even Matt arrives at Palmetto. She has short hair and probably wear gym shorts 90% of the time but she’s still allowed to dress up without everyone being like ‘omg wow dan in a dress’ like it would be in any other book. She was a stripper and she owns it because it’s what she did to survive and it was selflessness not ignorance or anything else that’s stereotypically attributed to strippers, that drew her to it.
Renee Walker- Basically a flower, if it was a flower that could also slit you from neck to gut and plaster on a serene smile a second later, she’s an accepting Christian who isn’t gay herself (*cough* EXTREME RENISON SUBTEXT THO *cough*), she’s working her way through her trauma in a way that is healthy, she wants to put her past behind her but she’ll bring it out to protect/help her friends. She’s the only person that stays with Andrew without some kind of deal between them and she doesn’t do it out of pity.
Allison Reynolds- will slay anybody with her look, refuses to let her grief break her, came through being cut off by her family for not being picture perfect and an eating disorder with confidence and grace and sass. She’s brutally honest in a refreshing way and I think that post King’s Men, with all the secrets out of the way, her and Neil can become much closer.
Aaron Minyard- oh he’s an asshat but he still wheedles his way into your heart. He loves Katelyn more than he probably thought possible, and he’s so snarky I love it. He also killed Drake despite training to be a doctor which I think is something everyone always forgets. I think the thing that annoys me the most about him is not that he’s mean to everybody but that he doesn’t even try to understand Andrew; he just immediately blames him and hates him but not enough to let Andrew go.
Nicky Hemmick- ‘let’s get this straight: I’m not’, nobody really talks about how horrific his childhood being raised in such a homophobic household did to him. They sent him to CONVERSION CAMP and only falling in love with Erik managed to save him from that dark place. His parents refuse to love him on account of his sexuality and then they manipulate him in order to set up Andrew for rape. Obviously it’s Andrew who gets hurt the most here (well I mean Drake dies but like that’s a good thing) but Nicky, like Neil, has to live with that guilt for the rest of his life. He’s a constant ray of positivity despite everything, despite his cousins never thanking him for doing this long-distance mess from his home just to be there for them.
Kevin Day- oh Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. Kevin comes perhaps the farthest of all the foxes over the course of the series and it makes me feel so proud. I screamed in delight and had to put the book down to do a little victory dance when he got his Queen tattoo. I worry sincerely about his liver. He’s a sad little history nerd who has made Exy his LifeTM and an actual asshat on the court. Probably about as good as Neil at knowing how to make friends and he shows he cares through Exy references only but I still love my toll bean.
Ok. Deep breaths. We’re onto Andrew.
Sometimes I think about his character and it just makes me tear up slightly? He’s an apathetic shitty midget who hates Neil and sits on tall buildings because he’s scared of heights for the AestheticTM. Basically everyone on this Exy team is some shade of LGBT+ and yet there’s no similarities between how they express their sexualities. Andrew is gay and a sexual abuse survivor and a foster kid and ex-juvie, but he’s not stereotyped into any of the boxes any other series would put him in.
I know too many people who have been sexually abused. Any other time that I’ve read a book where someone was sexually abused it was either liberally ignored/easily overcome or the person was driven to committing suicide. Neither is particularly helpful to survivors in my opinion, not that I am any kind of expert, and therefore Andrew’s story blew my mind. Andrew is never going to ‘go back to normal’. He is always going to have boundaries and yes or nos and triggers. He is never going to smile often or take Neil off on romantic dates or care about more than his minimum. And that, that is ok. There is no checklist for trauma survivors that they have to work through to be counted as better. Even more brilliant than Nora allowing Andrew to be changed permanently by his trauma, is the way he has an active and encouraged approach to his own recovery. His relationship with Bee is something I truly treasure. I am lucky enough to have not ever gone through something similar to Andrew, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be extremely happy that other people have that representation. Recovery is a slow process, with setbacks and bad days, which is also shown in this series, but it’s possible.
I like that Andrew didn’t always somehow magically know to go and get therapy. He survived Drake through self-harm and while he doesn’t encourage it, which is good, he also doesn’t completely demonise it like some people do. I will be the last person to condone harming yourself, but wanting to be able to make choices in an otherwise choice-less situation is completely understandable.
Proust trying to ruin his scars makes me want to vomit.
He was put on meds after he attacked some men for attacking his cousin and everyone thinks he’s dangerous? And manic? And out of control? Neil is perhaps the first person Andrew lets in enough to understand that everything Andrew does has a reason, and while it’s not always a good one it is also never a selfish one. Their relationship was a trust-build for two and a half books and it makes it so much more powerful. By the time they progress to anything physical, they’re already tied by something unbreakable, not that Andrew’s likely to admit it any time soon.
This is already like five pages long oops so I’m going to round off now.
This series made me laugh, and cry, and I quite literally screamed into my pillow when Andrew finally kissed Neil but I think most importantly it opened my eyes to lots of previously not-thought-about topics and I’m a better person for having read it.
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