#you know i can’t even wish my brother happy birthday without feeling nauseous | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherrybracelets · 5 years

Text

why [s. harrington x henderson!reader]

song inspo | steve playlist | masterlist

word count: 3.7k / warnings: none really, mostly fluff, alcohol mention

an: hi guys!!! i kinda went off on this one oops!!! please check out my masterlist for more fics if you like this one, and i always appreciate feedback and a reblog! ❤️

“God, Dustin, if you don’t get out of that bathroom in the next five minutes I’m literally going to kill you!” You screamed, slamming your fists on the wooden door for the thousandth time this morning.

“Relax, (Y/N), I’m almost finished! God you’re so annoying!” Your little brother, Dustin, yelled back. You groaned loudly and stomped back to your room, desperately needing to finish blow drying your hair before the party.

You heard the bathroom door open, and Dustin walking over to your room. He popped in your doorway with a devilish grin, his hair slicked back with hairspray.

“Bathrooms all yours, sis. Make sure you wear that one red lipstick, I think Steve will love it,” Dustin said, winking at you.

“Ew, Dustin. How many times do I have to tell you, me and Steve will never happen. Get over it. We’ve hated each other since middle school, and that’s not gonna change!” You stood up quickly and stomped to the bathroom, Dustin following behind you, frowning.

“C’mon! Give him a chance, (Y/N)! He’s a good kid!” Dustin has been pleading for you and Steve to date since the first time they fought Dart together. Dustin saw Steve as an older brother, and if you two ended up together, Steve would literally be his brother (in law). That was Dustin’s dream- and he reminded you of it every day.

“Jesus, you are so annoying. Why don’t you just shut up and make sure you have Wills’s gift ready!” You slammed the bathroom door in Dustin’s face, making sure to lock it so he wouldn’t barge in. You took a few deep breaths, trying to ground yourself from screaming out of frustration. You plugged your hair dryer on and began styling your hair, using the noise of the machine to drown out your frustration.

You had never really liked Steve, but it became especially frustrating when he decided to informally adopt your brother. Dustin thought the kid was a god, and that did not help Steve’s already overbearing confidence. You understood that Dustin only had you and his mom, and he needed a male role model, but you wished it was anyone but him.

You and Steve had a long- and very negative- history. You guys used to be friends, way back in the day, when life was simple. But that all came to a firey halt in seventh grade. You had a huge crush on one of Steve’s friends, Tommy, and you made the mistake of spilling that to Steve.

Steve took it upon himself to tell Tommy, and they apparently though it was hilarious. You hadn’t really developed yet, so you weren’t as ‘pretty’ as the other girls in your grade. Even though, let’s face it, it was seventh grade, and no one was attractive. But your self confidence was especially low, so when Steve apparently dared Tommy to fake ask you out in front of the whole school- you were crushed. And rightfully, you have never forgiven him.

It haunted you all the way up until you graduated. People never seemed to forget, and every one in a while you’d get reminded of the most humiliating day of your life. And it was even worse having to see the man who orchestrated the event around all the time. You never told Dustin about it, because you knew he looked up to Steve, and you didn’t want to take that away from him. But it was hard when you constantly had to hear how amazing he was.

You were feeling yourself get worked up just thinking about it, your breathing get quicker and your cheeks getting hot with stress. You tried to shake the memory out of your head, tousling your curls as you moved. You put a light lipstick on, double checked yourself in the mirror, and headed out of the bathroom. Dustin was waiting eagerly with a poorly wrapped gift in his bedroom.

“I got Will this super cool new edition of D&D! He’s gonna freak,” Dustin said excitedly, hoping up from his bed and following you down the stairs.

“Super happy for you nerds,” you groaned, grabbing your purse from the kitchen counter and rustling around for you keys.

“You’re gonna regret being so mean to me one day when I’m super rich.” Dustin raised his eyebrows at you, and you just rolled your eyes, walking out the front door to your car.

“You’re gonna regret being such a brat when I sacrifice you to the demodogs,” you said, laughing as you unlocked your car.

“That is not funny! Don’t joke about that!”

“Oh, relax Dustin, don’t go crying to Steve about it.” You hopped into your drivers seat and waited for Dustin to get buckled up before starting your car. He was excitedly fiddling with the bow on his gift, hoping that no one else got Will the same gift.

“I still don’t understand why you hate Steve so much, anyways,” Dustin mumbled, leaning his head against your car window.

“I’ve told you a million times, we just have a history, okay. It’s none of your business,” you snapped, raising your voice at him. “Besides, I’m going on another date with Andrew this weekend.”

“Ughhhhh,” Dustin groaned, rolling his eyes obnoxiously. “That guy is seriously the worst, (Y/N). He is super boring, his hair sucks, and he doesn’t know anything about the upside down. You can’t actually date a guy who doesn’t know what you’ve seen!”

“I don’t care about his hair, Dustin! That’s not a priority to me!”

“Well, it should be, okay? I don’t want my nieces and nephews having dweeb hair.”

“Don’t talk about my future children like that, idiot.” You punched Dustin lightly on the shoulder, and he screamed loudly, clearly faking pain to try and get on your nerves. You just pushed him again, and continued driving to Wills. The rest of your drive was spent listening to Dustin tell you about the new rules of his game, and you trying your best to pretend you were interested.

When you finally got to Wills, you recognized Steve’s car and instantly felt nauseous. You really did not want to spend time with him, but you also knew Joyce was excited to see you today, and you couldn’t let her down. You parked your car grudgingly and took a few moments before getting out. Dustin had already ran inside to his friends, showing off his wrapped gift.

You walked into the house quietly, not wanting to distract anyone from the birthday celebrations. Joyce ran to you, excitement on her face, and greeted you with a warm hug.

“(Y/N)! It’s so good to see you, you look beautiful,” she said, cupping your face in her hands and looking at your outfit.

“Sorry we’re late, Dustin is a brat and takes forever to get ready,” you responded, rolling your eyes and giggling a bit.

“There’s drinks and food in the kitchen, help yourself. Everyone else is scattered around somewhere, I’m sure you’ll find them!” She kissed you on the cheek before walking away and finding her son. You walked over to the kitchen, hoping to get a few seconds of peace and quiet. To your disdain, you were greeted by Steve, standing alone and pouring himself a drink.

“Hey, sorry if I’m in your way,” he mumbled, moving from the counter and spilling his drink on himself a bit.

“It’s fine, I’m just gonna grab a beer and go say hi to the kids, anyways,” you responded, pulling a cold bottle out of a cooler. You tried to twist it, but couldn’t manage to get the cap off.

“Can I help?” Steve asked, reaching out to take the bottle from you. You handed it to him without saying a word, and he took the bottle to his lips and bit the cap off with his teeth.

“Jesus,” you cringed, the thought of that against your teeth making you shiver.

“Little party trick I learned back in high school, I forgot some people get freaked out by it,” he laughed, handing you the bottle. You took a big swig, realizing Steve’s lips had just touched the mouth of your bottle. The thought made you a little uncomfortable, thinking about his lips on yours. He did have beautiful lips though, soft and pillowy. And he was always wearing this vanilla chapstick- you figured he kisses would taste like a milkshake.

Why the fuck are you thinking about kissing Steve? God, Dustin has really got in your head. You thanked Steve and walked out of the kitchen before your brain could dive any deeper into those thoughts.

The living room was packed with all the kids, eating chips and drinking soda. They were laughing over something Mike had said, and you smiled at Dustin, seeing him so happy made you warm inside. He had been through a lot- they all had- but seeing them all here, laughing and playing like kids are supposed to do, it made you feel good.

“(Y/N)!” Max yelled, running up to you and giving you a tight hug. El quickly followed her and hugged you as well.

“You two look absolutely gorgeous- new outfits?” You asked, tugging a bit on Max’s new shirt.

“We went to the mall this weekend!” El responded, putting her hands on her hips and posing for you. You laughed at the two girls, happy to see them enjoying things. You had felt a need to protect them, especially, knowing how hard it is for girls at that age.

“Could you teach me how to curl my hair later?” El asked, running her hand through your soft curls.

“Of course, lady. I think you’d look gorgeous!”

Mike had yelled at them to come see something, and they said they’d talk to you later, before running off back to their friends. Nancy and Jonathan were hanging on the couch, watching Will and the kids having the times of their life. You sat down next to her, making small talk with them for a few minutes before Joyce walked into the room.

“Alright, I have to run up to town and pick up the pizzas. Are you guys all good here for a bit?” She asked, keys in hand. She looked at you and Nancy, a look that said ‘If anything happens, I’m blaming you two, since you’re clearly the most responsible ones here besides myself.’

“We’ll take care of them, Joyce. No worries,” you responded, smiling kindly at her, letting her know you wouldn’t let anything happen to anyone. She smiled back, and headed out the door.

“Alright, now the real party starts!” Lucas yelled the minute Joyce closed and locked the door.

“Woah- woah. What are you talking about?” Nancy asked, standing up quickly and putting on her mom voice.

“Oh relax, Nance. Just a friendly game of truth or dare,” Mike responded, raising his eyebrows at the group around you. “And you all have to play, too,” he said, looking at you, Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve, who was now standing behind you.

“No, no. We’re just here to supervise, we’re not playing any games,” Jonathan responded in a stern voice.

“Please!! It’s my birthday!” Will whined, making a fake pouty face to try and get you all to feel bad for him.

“What’s the harm, right? They’re just kids,” Nancy said, putting a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder.

“You shouldn’t trust any of them- they’re evil geniuses. One of them even has super powers!” Steve said jokingly, eyeing El and making her laugh.

“Fine, we’ll play for a bit, but everything stays PG, got it?” You said, crossing your arms and the group and raising your eyebrows. They all nodded in agreement, smiling at each other, happy that you all agreed.

“Okay, first things first, everyone write your name down on a piece of paper and put it in this bowl,” Lucas instructed, pointing to a small blue bowl that was sitting in the center of the coffee table. You all did as you were told, passing around a pen and notepad until every name had been put in the bowl.

“Then, we’ll go around in a circle and pick a name, so it’s not biased. The person you picked gets to give you your truth or dare,” Mike quickly said, shaking the blue bowl around with his hand.

“Sounds easy enough,” Jonathan answered, sitting forward in the couch.

“And once everyone goes, you put the names back in the bowl and start again!”

Everyone nodded in understanding, the older group just wanting to get this over with. You sighed loudly, waiting for someone to start. Steve came and sat next to you, his knee slightly touching yours and you all squished on the couch together. You felt a heat growing as his skin touched yours, wanting so desperately to move away, but feeling physically unable too.

“I’ll start!” Max said, happily, pulling a name out of the hat. She giggled a little when she read the name of the piece of paper. “Lucas!”

“Alright, truth or dare?” He asked, jokingly making faces at her and making her laugh.

“Dare, obviously!”

“Alright...” he said, thinking intently on what to do. He looked over to the kitchen and smiled devilishly. “I dare you to eat a spoonful of mustard!”

“You know I hate mustard, you ass hole!” She crossed her arms and pouted at him.

“Exactly. And you have to do it- a dares a dare!” Lucas looked around for approval from the other guys, who were all nodding in agreement.

“Fine!” She responded angrily, standing up and walking towards the kitchen. She came back a few moments later with a spoon piled high with mustard. The though even made you a little queasy. She looked at Lucas with a smile, before shoving the spoon in her mouth and swallowing.

“Ewwww!” The kids all said in unison, looking away from her as she did it.

“Oh god, it’s so gross. Someone get me water!” She yelled, reaching out around her for a drink. Steve handed her his water bottle, and she chugged it with a disgusted look her face. The kids were laughing in hysterics as she struggled to get the taste out of her mouth.

“You guys are evil!” Steve said, laughing as he shook his head in shock.

“God, I am so going to get you back for that, Sinclair,” Max said, her face still scrunched in disgust.

“Steve, your turn,” Mike said, pushing the bowl towards him.

“Oh god. I am not letting any of you little shits make me eat anything gross, got it? I’m an adult!” He said, pulling a piece of paper out of the bowl. He looked at it and groaned, rolling his eyes. “I’m in for it now. I picked Dustin.”

“Hell yeah!” Dustin said, excitement glowing on his face.

“I’m picking truth, because I especially do not trust you, Henderson!” Steve laughed, sitting back and crossing his arms.

“Oh come on! Don’t be a pussy! It’s Wills birthday, have a little fun for his sake. Pick dare!” Dustin looked at Steve seriously, widening his eyes at him. Steve sighed and shook his head.

“Alright, fine. But be real careful with what you say next, kid,” he laughed.

“Easy. Seven minutes in heaven- you and my sister.”

You looked at Dustin, shock and embarrassment running through you. You felt your cheeks heat up, you knew you were turning a bright red. You looked over at Steve, who was also clearly uncomfortable.

“Absolutely not, we said to keep it PG!” You yelled, crossing your arms and shaking your head at Dustin.

“Yeah, for us! You guys are adults! Don’t act like you haven’t kissed before!” Dustin said back.

“I am not kissing Steve!” You yelled, floored with embarrassment.

“A dare is a dare!” El said, shrugging at you. You looked at her, disappointed that she wasn’t on your side.

“Cmon, lets just do it to please the kids. It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Steve whispered to you, the scent of vanilla chapstick flooding your senses.

“Fine. Dustin, I hope you know I am going to murder you later,” you said, standing up and walking down the hall to the bathroom. Steve followed suit, and you heard the kids giggling as the two of you went off to ‘Heaven’.

Steve came into the bathroom behind you, shutting the door as he did so. You wouldn’t look at him at first, too embarrassed to make eye contact. Finally, he put a hand on your shoulder, causing you to jump a little in shock.

“Sorry, just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you seem upset,” Steve said, quickly removing his hand.

“I am. This is ridiculous. I can’t go a day without Dustin shoving the idea of me and you together down my throat,” you muttered, sitting down on the sink counter and crossing your arms.

“I’m sorry. I know it sucks, but he’s just a kid. He doesn’t mean anything by it,” Steve said, pushing his hair out of his face.

“I know, but he doesn’t know about everything that happened between us, and I don’t want him to hate you so I won’t tell him.”

“What happened between us?” Steve asked, laughing a bit awkwardly. He looked genuinely confused, which offended you, because that meant he didn’t remember what he did.

“Are you serious? Seventh grade, you telling Tommy to ask me out in lunch as a joke? That ruined my whole life, Steve.”

“Woah, woah, woah. I didn’t tell Tommy to do anything like that. I didn’t even know about it until it was happening!” Steve responded, clearly upset about the accusations you were making.

“What do you mean Steve? Don’t lie to me! Mark told me it was all your idea!” You pouted at Steve, confused and upset, feeling yourself tearing up as you were recalling the event.

“Mark is a lying sack of shit, (Y/N)! He told you that to save his own ass! It was all him and Tommy- I swear to God!” Steve was defensive, pacing up and down the bathroom in frustration.

“But I told you about having a crush on Tommy, not Mark!”

“Okay, that part was my fault. The thing is, I sort of had a crush on you back then, and Mark knew... but when you told me about Tommy, I got upset and told Mark... but I swear, if I knew he was planning that I would’ve never told him! I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Steve was upset, his face red and his eyes watery as he pleaded for you to believe him.

“You really had a crush on me?” You asked, completely blown away by the fact that he even noticed you back then.

“I kind of always have... I always tried to talk to you in high school but you never gave me the time of day. Now I know why,” he said, sounding defeated and broken. He sat down on the edge of the bathtub, shaking his head and staring at the floor.

“Honestly, Steve... I had no idea. I thought... all this time...” you looked at the man sitting in front of you, falling apart in front of you. You sat down next to him, putting a hand on his, trying to comfort him.

“I’m so sorry... I never meant to hurt you... you didn’t deserve that...” Steve mumbled.

“I’m sorry too, I just believed him and I never let you explain... I’ve been such an ass to you for years for something that wasn’t even your fault!” You started laughing, an uncontrollable giggle that was just rolling through you. For years you had pushed away a sweet, funny, and handsome guy for a lie someone told you when you were 13. Unbelievable.

“Why are you laughing?” Steve said, also starting to laugh himself.

“Because, I just can’t believe this. And it took a dumb game of truth or dare to find this out... I’m just shocked, I guess.” You stood up, wiping tears from your face as you continued to giggle. Steve stood up too, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you towards him. He kissed you, the kind of kiss that he had been waiting for all his life. A kiss that you felt everywhere in your body, his lips moving intricately with yours. And you were right, kissing him was like tasting a vanilla milkshake.

Steve’s hands were locked on your waist, pulling your body closer to him every second. You had wrapped your hands in his hair, the soft locks melting through your fingers. He finally let go of your waist and his hands trailed down to your butt, squeezing slightly. You giggled a bit at his touch, and felt him smile through your kisses.

“Times up- OH SHIT!” You heard your brother yell after he swung open the door. You and Steve quickly jumped away from each other and stared at Dustin. “IT WORKED!” He yelled, running down the hallway to the living room.

“Dustin!” You yelled, running after him. Steve followed close behind.

“They kissed! It worked!” He exclaimed to the group, a proud toothless smile plastered across his young face.

“Finally!” Max said, shaking her head and laughing.

“Was this.... did you guys do all of this just to get me and Steve to talk?” You asked in shock.

“You little shits are unbelievable!” Steve yelled, hands on his hips.

“It worked though... didn’t it? You like her, she likes you... I was right!” Dustin was ecstatic, and you felt yourself blushing again as you looked over to Steve.

“I mean... I guess I do kinda like you...” You avoided his eyes, but he took your hand in his and smiled at you.

“Yeah, I kinda like you, too.” He squeezed your hand tightly, his smile making you melt, thinking about kissing him again.

“But you’re still dead, Dusty, you understand that? I’m going to kill you for real this time!” You laughed, ruffling Dustin’s hair and shaking your head at the kids. As much as Dustin annoyed you, he really did want you to be happy. And he was right on this one.

#stranger things fanfic #stranger things 3 #stranger things #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stever harrington fluff

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virgyvandijk · 4 years

Note

For that au idea, idk if it meant any ideas or juat your own. But if its any could you do a liverpool x peakyblinders/mafia style one if you don't mind?

this got so long i’m sorry it’s going to have to go under a cut

virgil’s father is the kingpin of a drugs gang that near enough rules the netherlands. they control what goes in, what goes out, and ron built the empire up from scratch, dating back to long before virgil was born

he was a flaky dad when virgil was a kid, but when he turned twelve, he disappeared completely. just upped and left without a trace, leaving a whole trail of destruction in his wake. eventually he got back in contact and left his number

when virgil got old enough, he realised what his dad actually did. it disgusted him, to be honest. made him feel sick, because he knew what happened down the production lines of drug gangs. he knew about the violence that so many innocent people inevitably faced, and he couldn’t believe his dad was a part of that

people still recognised him though, when he was in the right bars or even just walking on the right streets. they knew who he was and who his father was, and they’d stop him. sometimes it’d be compliments, sometimes anecdotes, and sometimes threats. he hated all of them

when he turned 18, all those people on the streets started asking him when he was going to follow in his dad’s footsteps. then it turned into trying to convince him to join, and it began to feel constant

the day after his 19th birthday, he packed a bag, kissed his mother goodbye, and moved to the uk. he had a friend in liverpool who had somewhere for him to stay and the offer of a job, so he got on the next flight out and started fresh

he set up a life in liverpool – a good one. he had a decent job as the head of security for concerts in the city, and moved into his own little flat, right near the docks. nobody recognised him, and that was absolutely perfect, it was a proper New Start

he met jordan through a friend of a friend of a friend at a house party and they hit it off straight away. he’d never been so attracted to someone after only speaking for them for a few minutes, and he wasn’t even nervous when he asked jordan if he’d like to go for lunch the next day, because he knew jordan was going to say yes

their dates were more often than not, every other day for the first week and then every day after that. they got on so well, just spent hours talking and laughing and getting to know each other. virgil didn’t think he’d ever met someone quite like jordan

it wasn’t long until they decided to move in together. they were together most of the time anyway, spending time at virgil’s flat away from jordan’s housemates, so it just made sense. they both had decent jobs and put together a considerable amount for a deposit on a house, and they moved in not even a month later

things were good. virgil knew that he’d found his forever and he was happy about it, settled in his own little house with his own little family (jordan and two cats), in a country where nobody knew about his father and what he did for a living

except, of course, things aren’t always that easy.

gini is the only person he still talks to from back home, because he moved to liverpool shortly after virgil did – after virgil told him how happy he was in the city. they’re inseparable by now, and virgil considers him a brother

they go out for dinner every tuesday (jordan leaves them to it, has a night in with the cats and a pizza), somewhere different each week. gini chooses the restaurant, because he’s much more exciting than virgil is, but that’s fine by virgil. he doesn’t need to be exciting, he enjoys his life as it is thank you

one tuesday, virgil parks somewhere in town and walks to the restaurant that gini suggested. he’s never been there before so he’s using google maps, head buried in his phone, and he quite literally bumps into someone heading up paradise street. he looks up, and he swears he recognises the bloke, but he can’t quite place him

before he can ask, the man speaks. his accent is dutch – the same recognisable region as virgil, and he grins, but it’s more evil than kind. says, “i know you – your dad is ron van dijk. expanding his business, are you?”

virgil tries to walk away, but the man calls him back. he says he’s got some information about his brother, about what he’s been up to. virgil didn’t even fucking know, but the man has some documents on his phone and virgil can’t deny it. his grin grows wider, and virgil wishes he could forget his next words completely

it’s a choice, that’s the thing. it’s a choice and he makes it, but it’s a choice between his brother’s entire life being ruined for a stupid little mistake that he made when he was a kid, or virgil running a few slightly illegal errands for some shady man. it’s a choice, and it’s one he makes willingly. not only is his baby brother’s wellbeing at stake, but also his own. he doesn’t know what he’ll do if hendo finds out about how shady his family is

but it gets out of hand. at first it’s just a few drops of packages that virgil determinedly doesn’t look into, because he knows he won’t like what he finds. he can do that, can just pretend it’s something different, that this stranger doesn’t have all the information in his pocket to ruin so many lives. the packages eventually turn into bigger requests – into violence. virgil has never been a violent person. he might be big, and some people might find his stature imposing, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly

the violence is where he draws the line. he tells the stranger that he’s not going to do it anymore, that he’s done what he asked and he’s done it perfectly, so there’s absolutely no reason for him to carry on

in hindsight, he probably should’ve been a little suspicious about how calm and casual the stranger was when he said that, but he was just so relieved that he didn’t think twice

he forgets about it. well, as much as he can – it still plays on his mind but days pass and turn into weeks, so he doesn’t think about it. it’s over, as far as he’s concerned, and now he wants to make his boyfriend a nice meal and spend quality time with him and the cats

he picks a friday night, when neither of them have got to be up in the morning. buys a nice bottle of wine and cooks jordan’s favourite meal, because he always finishes earlier than jordan does

except jordan doesn’t come home when he’s supposed to. virgil doesn’t hear the familiar crunch of his tires over the gravel in the driveway, or his keyrings clinking against each other. he doesn’t hear the familiar inflection of jordan’s accent shouting virgil’s name or the incomprehensible muttering about virgil leaving his trainers in the middle of the hall

at first he thinks jordan is just caught up at work, but then an hour turns into three, turns into five and the worry is gnawing at his stomach, making him nauseous. it doesn’t help that jordan isn’t answering any of his calls, either – no matter how many times he dials that familiar number

on the twenty second time he calls, the ringing stops and there’s silence. jordan has finally fucking picked up, and virgil snaps at him, asks him where he’s been and why the fuck isn’t he home, but the voice that answers isn’t jordan. the accent is dutch. familiar. virgil’s heart sinks into his stomach and tears prick at his eyes, because he should have known he wasn’t getting out of it this easily

his chest feels tight, breaths struggling to go in, but the stranger just laughs. tells virgil that he got what he deserved for thinking he’s the one in control here. tells virgil that if he doesn’t do as he’s told, his little boyfriend will die, and it won’t be quick and painless

virgil agrees, says that he’ll do whatever he wants, whatever he needs – as long as he doesn’t hurt jordan. that’s the only thing that matters

the stranger gives him instructions and hangs up. he sounds so smug that it makes fury boil in virgil’s veins and before he even realises what he’s doing, he’s scrolling through his contacts until he finds his father’s number. he’s not even sure why he kept it, but right now he’s glad. the nausea sets in while he listens to it ring, and he bites his tongue when his dad answers

“i fucking hate you,” he spits, means every word of it. “i hate you. i hate what you’ve done to me. you’ve ruined my life, you’ve ruined everything, and i will never, ever forgive you.”

“okay,” his dad replies, completely unfazed. virgil somehow hates him even more. “is that all you called for?”

“i’m in liverpool. where does your gang operate?” virgil asks, voice hard. he knows his father will give him an answer, because that’s the least he deserves. “they’ve taken my fucking boyfriend, ron. they’ve taken him and i won’t let them hurt him, so tell me where they’ve set up around here.”

ron does the only decent thing he’s ever done in his life, and tells virgil. he doesn’t even say goodbye before he hangs up and then he’s dialling the number for jordan’s dad. he’s a police officer – virgil needs the back up. he’s rational enough to know that he’s too emotional for this, and he’ll never forgive himself if jordan ends up hurt, or worse, because of him

he stands back and watches as armed police surround the warehouse. it’s nothing out of the ordinary, really – there are hundreds of empty buildings around the docks, and this one is no different. virgil has walked past it dozens of times and he didn’t think twice about it

he’s not really thinking twice about it now, to be honest. he just wants his jordan back, in his arms and in one piece, and his heart is hammering against his ribcage when the armed officers burst through the doors. jordan’s dad stands next to him, an arm around his shoulders, and he’s really surprised that he’s not blaming virgil

it feels like hours, days, but it’s probably only minutes before that familiar stranger is being dragged out. he’s glaring, and if looks could kill then virgil would be six foot under already, but he makes a point of not looking at him. instead, he watches a few other men being dragged out, ones that virgil vaguely recognises from his dad bringing them around when he was a kid

eventually, jordan is being helped out by an officer, and virgil’s knees almost buckle with relief. he’s got a few cuts and bruises, blood streaked through his hair, but he’s okay. that’s the main thing – he’s okay

he heads straight to virgil, not even blinking at the sight of his dad standing there, and throws his arms around his neck, shuddering out a sigh when virgil tightens his arms around jordan’s waist. it’s only been half a day since he’s had jordan’s skin under his hands but it felt like years, and he buries himself into the older man’s warmth, into his scent

“i’m okay,” jordan whispers, thumb stroking along virgil’s hairline at his temple. virgil still isn’t quite convinced though, and he guides jordan towards the ambulance that’s waiting and makes sure he gets checked over properly

he is okay, to which jordan mutters, i told you so, but still, virgil would rather be safe than sorry. he takes jordan home and then helps him up the stairs and into the shower, hesitating when jordan tells him that he’s okay, that he can manage to wash himself. still, he knows that jordan probably needs some space after what just happened to him, so he heads downstairs and lowers himself into an armchair

what just happened – fucking hell. jordan nearly died, and it was virgil’s fault. dragged him into this and didn’t even give him any warning. he had no idea who virgil’s dad was or what he did. he probably feels like he doesn’t even know who virgil is anymore, if anything he told him was true

he’s probably going to leave.

jordan is taking his time in the shower, and virgil manages to convince himself that he’s in their bedroom, packing a bag and trying to figure out how to tell virgil that he’ll come back for the rest of his stuff later. nothing would surprise him after the fucking mess he’s made of everything

when jordan comes back down, he’s dressed in a comfy pair of joggers and one of virgil’s hoodies, fingers tangled in the baggy sleeves of it as he pads across the living room. he says something, but virgil doesn’t even hear it, let alone reply

“virgil?” jordan asks, close enough that virgil has to snap out of his thoughts. he doesn’t look up from the floor, can’t bring himself to make eye contact, because he doesn’t deserve that. “i said, do you want a cup of tea?”

“if you’re going to leave me, can you just – not drag it out?” virgil says quickly, the words choked as they leave his mouth. the thought of it makes his heart beat twice as fast, tongue too big for his mouth, and he quickly wipes the tears away that have spilled over his cheeks.

jordan drops to his knees just as quickly, both hands coming up to frame virgil’s face. he lifts his head, makes him look at him, and whispers, “i’m not going anywhere, virgil.”

virgil blinks. he’s so confused. “even after all the lies? all the pain i’ve put you through? you could have died, jordan. it would have been my fault,” he says.

“no,” jordan says, shaking his head. his thumb traces along virgil’s bottom lip carefully. “i love you, and that means i love all of you. even the parts that have a shitty excuse of a man for a father. even the parts that you haven’t told me about. i love you, and that means i’m all in.”

virgil can’t help it. he bursts into tears, sobs wracking through his entire body. he’s never felt unconditional love like this before, because even his mother was half terrified he’d turn out like his father, but jordan doesn’t see any of that. jordan sees virgil, and nobody else

jordan slides his arms around virgil’s shoulders and pulls him in close, for a tight hug. he lets him cry it out for as long as he needs, shushing him gently, and doesn’t say a word when virgil falls silent

that’s unconditional love. it means more to virgil than he could ever describe.

send me an au and i’ll give you headcanons

#anon #asks #vh #lucy writes

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astarisms · 6 years

Text

blood of my blood

word count: 1334 warnings: blood & violence mentions notes: michael wanted so badly to believe in his brother. happy birthday @rusteddolls, you’re the gift that keeps on giving 💕

“Watch out for him. I see something festering inside him.”

Michael doesn’t know what to make of Raphael’s words, when he recalls them to Gabriel later. It was a warning, he’s absolutely certain, because he’s never seen Heaven’s doctor look so grave.

It’s such a vague turn of phrase, though, and Michael doesn’t know how to address it.

He watches Lucifer throw his head back in laughter when the rock that strikes Uriel’s shoulder sends him tumbling off of Zadkiel’s shoulders. The same old Lucifer.

He thinks Raphael must be mistaken, because there’s nothing different about his little brother. And if there was, he would come to him about it. Michael is sure of it.

There’s bigger problems before him, anyways, so he puts the omen to the back of his mind to deal with at a later date.

He doesn’t have the time to deal with riddles. That’s what Gabriel is for.

***

“Luce!”

Lucifer turns to greet him, and Michael smiles broadly. They’ve both been plenty busy, apparently, because Michael has hardly seen him in days.

He slings an arm around his brother’s neck, pulling him in close.

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Where have you been?”

Lucifer makes a sound that’s a cross between a scoff and a laugh, trying halfheartedly to duck out of Michael’s grip.

“It’s been barely more than a week,” he counters, and Michael laughs.

“Father needed less time than that for all of Creation. It’s a long time to go without your favorite sibling.”

Lucifer unwinds Michael’s arm from around his neck.

“I’m afraid you might have to wait a bit longer. I’m a little preoccupied right now, but I’ll find you first when I’m done.”

Michael watches his retreating back.

***

The Garden of Eden is destroyed, and Heaven mourns its death.

Michael is running himself ragged trying to find the culprit. He has Gabriel talking to guards and Zadkiel interrogating suspects. He has Chamuel scouring what remains for evidence and Jophiel making sure no one gets in or out.

It’s an act of treason. An act of war.

Michael is sickened by the very notion of it, and knowing that someone among them is filled with enough hatred to commit such an atrocity is almost too much for him.

I see something festering inside him, a part of him recalls Raphael’s words from what feels like so long ago.

He immediately dismisses them, feeling guilty for even having the thought.

His brother, who is so diligently doing his part to find witnesses, could never have done this.

***

There are murmurs following the destruction of the Garden. They’re little, baseless rumors, but they’re enough to cast a cloud over Heaven.

They’re enough to make the angels restless.

They’re enough to make dread settle like lead in Michael’s stomach.

Something is coming, but he doesn’t know what. There are still no leads and he can feel the restlessness in the air. Even though it’s only in the background, it permeates.

He searches for Lucifer, and eventually finds him talking to an angel. The angel bows his head towards Michael respectfully, then ducks out of sight.

“What were you doing?” Michael asks, watching the brown head bob away.

“Following up on a witness account,” Lucifer says, turning to face him. There’s something about him that makes Michael uneasy.

“...Do you have a minute? I’d like some company.”

Lucifer smiles.

“Of course. For you, brother, anything.”

***

Michael is tired in a way he has never been. The investigation is dragging, and Gabriel has not stopped talking for the past three hours.

“We should have a culprit by now,” he says, standing abruptly and cutting Gabriel off, right before the door opens.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Lucifer says, looking between the two of them before his eyes finally settle on Michael’s face. “Would you mind if I stole Michael for a bit, Gabe?”

Gabriel shakes his head, and Michael sighs in relief at the out. He rubs at his temples, grumbling, until they’re out in the courtyard.

“Did you need something?” Michael asks. “Anything new from the witnesses? Any new witnesses?”

Lucifer shakes his head, amused.

“No work. I just thought you might want to escape Gabriel’s droning for awhile.”

Michael’s eyes widen in shock, and then he laughs. Lucifer has always known him best out of all their siblings.

***

Michael has never slept a day in his life but he’s heard accounts of what it’s like from the angels who are closer to the humans. Who were closer to the humans, he corrects.

The concept of dreaming especially fascinates him, and though he’s never slept, he wonders if what he’s been experiencing lately is similar.

He’s been zoning out lately. His eyes don’t close but he sees things, terrible things, and they’re imprinted in the back of his mind. Fire and blood and screams and beautiful, stunning feathers at his feet.

He hears Raphael’s voice so clearly, more often in his head than in person now.

Watch out for him. I see something festering inside him.

He wishes they would go away because he feels nauseous after seeing them, more tired than before, and more unsure of himself than he’s ever been.

He wishes they would go away because they make him doubt Lucifer.

***

Michael catches up to his brother, trying to meet his quick strides.

“Hey, hey, slow down, Luce! Going somewhere?” he teases, and Lucifer immediately drops his pace so he can catch up.

When they’re level, Lucifer’s eyes scan his face. Sharp as ever, he catches what’s bothering Michael instantly.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

There’s an offbeat about him. He’s not used to being unsure of himself or what he’s doing. Lucifer tilts his head at him, sympathetic.

“What is it, brother?”

“I just want to be sure,” Michael begins, and hesitates. Lucifer’s expression is open and understanding. He feels silly for even needing the clarification. “If you had a problem, you would come to me with it, right?”

Lucifer smiles.

“Of course. You’re the first one I go to, Michael. You know that.”

The admission should be a relief. It isn’t.

***

The tension is so thick, Zadkiel could slice through it with one of her knives. It’s been gradual, but the murmurs are not background noise any longer.

Instead, Heaven is silent.

Everyone can feel it. There’s something heavy in the air and no one can pinpoint it, least of all Michael. He wants to believe this is just a product of not having found whoever ruined the Garden, but it’s far beyond that at this point.

Something else is happening. The shadow over Heaven and the eerie silence that accompanies it are not a coincidence.

Lucifer is nowhere to be seen. Michael can’t find him in any of his usual spots, or in any of his unusual ones.

The pressure on his chest is almost suffocating.

Watch out for him.

Where is his brother?

I see something festering inside him.

***

Michael gasps as he comes out of his dreamlike state, ash on his tongue. Fire and blood and screams and, instead of feathers, a smile.

Sharp and deadly, like a serpent.

Michael wonders how long Lucifer has been poisoning him with his silver tongue.

***

Heaven is no longer quiet.

It’s filled with chants of his brothers name, and the march of hundreds of feet. Their cheers are deafening as they swarm towards the edge.

Michael doesn’t know what to make of it. All he knows is that the sting of betrayal drives him forward, burns so brightly it overwhelms the flame of his sword.

When he finds Lucifer, at the center of it all, he’s blinded by his rage.

All those months, all those lies…

He doesn’t think, doesn’t feel, he just does.

And when the dust settles, when the ringing in his ears quiets, there are rainbow feathers at his feet and blood on his hands and fire all around him.

Michael wishes he had heeded all of the warnings.

#satan and me #thisiskindagross #archangel michael #lucifer #star light star write

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greengargouille · 7 years

Text

A change of perspective, chapter 2 - Tearing

Read from the start here

Read this chapter on ao3

Rating : General audiences Characters : Kayano Kaede, Horibe Itona, Shiro. Pairing : None.

Kayano didn’t come in class the next day.

She didn’t answer the text her newly made friends left her. Not when Kurahashi asked her if she was okay, not when Hara asked her if she wanted her to come to her house, not when Kataoka informed her they would all be in self study for an indefinite time till a new teacher was appointed.

As far as Akari was concerned, Kayano already died. She had ditched the hair dye bottle and put the grey uniform far, far away in her closet. Kaede was only a fake identity to approach this monster ; with him dead, she had no more utility for such a name.

It took her hours for the new to truly impact her. Even if she assisted to how the octopus was reduced to a slimy mess, she had needed time to accept it. Dead. Killed by the one she wanted to use as her cover and a few idiots that she thought were barely worth her interest.

She had wished for the satisfaction of seeing that smiley face when she would have told him who she truly was. She had wished for the joy of his fear, when he understood the consequence of killing her big sis, the best sister in the whole world. She had wished for something to take on her anger, something to tear apart and endure the pain she shouldn’t have to suffer.

Instead she was left with only her bitterness, frustration and a pair of useless tentacles.

It hurt. Even after the retribution this murderer deserved, Aguri’s death still hurt. Even after her goal was achieved, the living weapons stuck to her neck still hurt.

The bloodlust of the tentacles was sucked out as soon as that monster died, and so their cry for vengeance had extinguished, leaving only their need for energy. The spikes of pain drilling into her brain were coming at longer intervals now. They felt less sharp, too. Without an iron resolution to keep steady, they felt like torture.

She didn’t need them anymore, but Akari didn’t know how to remove those tentacles, nor did she knew anyone who would.

...Maybe Yanagisawa. He was the head scientist of that project on which Aguri helped. If anyone had a clue, it was him.

She hated him, though. He took her sister away from her, and her father only cried from happiness, as if it wasn’t wrong for Aguri not to be with them and that they should all go live their own separate life. She also hated how his smug, confident face reminded her so much of older colleagues in her acting job, kind to her but full of contempt in her back. And then he always treated her as a child, as if with fourteen years of existence, a solid career and having to deal with her mother’s death at an early age didn’t made her mature enough as far as he was concerned.

She also hated how she felt he would see that hate as validation of her childishness.

Akari could - she would hold on without his or anyone’s help. She won’t let that kill her. It would be infantile to let herself die just not to see her... brother-in-law. So she absolutely couldn’t let those tentacles win.

She didn’t know how to contact Yanagisawa, anyways. She had removed his phone number and mail adress from her phone soon after her sister added them, and did not know where he might live. The last time she have seem him those last months were during Aguri’s funeral. Her sister didn’t have many friends ; her social life fell so low after she had to work through two jobs at the same time. It was easy, in this half-empty room, to see the man come mid-ceremony, his face ill and his left eye all patched up, and see him go before the end.

-He should have been in the front, seated next to her and her father, offering incense to Aguri’s memories, he was her fiance, didn’t he care about her-

Akari felt some relief that the decision of not meeting him was already taken for her, in a way. She wouldn’t have to constantly justify it to herself til her motivation grew thin.

...She still wondered where he could be, though.

Itona never have seen Shiro be in such an horrible mood. The white clothed man left such a solid impression of calmness that it was difficult to see him in that impostor-like figure, broking things and screaming in anger.

“He can’t have died - he was mine to kill !! He was mine !”

His underlings didn’t seems too fazed by this attitude, though, showing an air of resignation as if it was to be expected. They didn’t even seem that concerned about it either, the thrill of another new shadowing the worry.

“Did you hear ? That monster - -I can’t believe it ! And to think he killed so many- -You think he went mad from the outside world ? -Possible, he was confined during so much time after all- -Wait, so it was some kind of suicide ? -No no, it’s the children, they killed him-”

So much chatter. It hurts Itona’s head. He disliked how he was left in a corner without explanations. Today was supposed to be his day. He was supposed to get tentacles. It’s been days he’ve been trained for it, his body modified to handle the shock. Instead of what he’ve been thrown on the side, the attention of the whole team centered on that event.

He have been trying to understand what everyone was talking about. What was that monster ? It couldn’t be the creature he was supposed to kill. It was stronger than any human or weapon ; it couldn’t have died. The one they talked about must have been very weak. Why were they still going on that instead of prioritizing the strong ?

That must be because Itona was weak. Even if his body could now easily crush the students that have bullied him, he was so weak compared to what he could be.

He felt the bitter taste of the time his father’s factory went bankrupt. Everyone going left and right and speaking over each other of things he couldn’t grasp, not paying any attention to the child seeking something to hold on to on those stressful times.

During those times he regretted not going into his father’s office to support him when he needed it. Itona should have shown him stability ; maybe he wouldn’t have left then.

The boy slowly made his way to the room everyone seemed to distance themselves from. “It’s best to leave him alone in those cases”. Screw it. What did they understood ? They were weak. That’s why they weren’t the head of the project.

Itona didn’t dislike Shiro. He didn’t have strong feelings of attachment to him, but he met him when he needed someone to look over him and be concerned about his situation.

That day that happened after weeks of his uncle travelling across the country for work. “I’m young and single, it’s normal they give me those missions, if they knew I had to take care of a child it would bring me lot of trouble, you know ? Will you be strong enough to stay alone for a few days more ?” Itona wasn’t strong then, but he hadn’t been able to say it. Even if he couldn’t go to school because the other students were starting to be painful. Even if he felt nauseous from only eating convenience-store food. Even if he was scared because the moon had exploded two weeks ago and he didn’t understand how it was possible and what might happen then.

That day when he avoided coming back to an empty, messy house, by dragging himself in the streets way after night. It was when he was picked up by that man, that saw him and promised a strength he pretended to have and needed so much.

That rainy day by the end of March. His 14th birthday.

That’s why, even if they weren’t close, Itona wanted to see if he could help Shiro. He would ask him for his tentacles and become the strongest person on Earth, and then he would be able to destroy any obstacle standing their way, and maybe his father would hear about it and he would come back, too.

The door of the office made an awful noise as it pushed through bit of glass and pile of papers.

The faint noise Itona heard before Shiro suppressed it almost sounded like a sob. The man was sitting at his desk, slouched in his chair instead of his usual upright position, his mask still on his face. Of course. Itona likely wouldn’t want to show his expression either if he had cried, whether from sadness or anger. That was weakness. That’s why he tried so hard to keep an inexpressive face.

“Itona.” A voice devoid of choke. Yet, there was a certain heaviness to it. “I was supposed to obtain my tentacles today. -...That was the original plan, yes. But there’s no need anymore. -...Why ? -My... The creature is dead.” Shiro paused an instant, as if admitting this took him a considerable effort. “Everything is useless now. You’re no longer needed.”

Itona took that last sentence as a punch to the guts. He however did his best so it didn’t show how it affected him.

“You promised me I would get tentacles. -Wrong. I promised to make you strong. We have hardly finished the modifications on your body, but as far as normal humans are concerned, your physical abilities are way better than average. -I still want the tentacles. -No you don’t.” The answer was unexpectedly sharp and fast. “You won’t be able to sustain them. The only reason the project was viable was because we had the means to produce large quantities of energy in a short time, regularly, and there’s no reason for us to do that now that we don’t need such an unstable weapon. What you’re asking for is merely a long and painful death. -But...” Without tentacles, Itona wouldn’t stay strong very long. His body would soon return to that of a small fourteen years old boy. Useless. “Ask someone to drive you back at your home. We will send someone later to give some false explanation to your uncle. Ah, and when you leave, close the door and tell everyone to let me alone, I... need some time to think by myself.”

Your home. Was there even such a thing anymore ? His father, that was his home. It disappeared soon after him, the house taken and sold.

“Goodbye, Itona.”

Shiro insisted as he saw that the boy didn’t move.

This place felt suddenly suffocating. Too big. Too heavy. No longer needed. You’re a loser who ain’t got nothing. Why did he thought that would change ?! From the start, he always... he always needed someone to be strong !

He wanted to protest and scream, he wanted to destroy everything. But there was nothing left that wasn’t already broken.

He didn’t close the door when he left.

Itona hoped nobody noticed how he was close to tears.

#assassination classroom #assclass #ansatsu kyoushitsu #gargouille writes #a change of perspective #kayano kaede #horibe itona #shiro (assclass)

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gildanwhitetshirt-blog · 7 years

Text

9/29

Happy 21st. It’s crazy to me that I met you 5 years ago when I was a senior and you were a junior (trying to do the math so that makes you what, 16? I don’t know it’s hard for me to think of you at 16, but it was ages ago) Anyway, this is the most important milestone everyone in their 20s can’t wait to achieve. No more using a fake, no more sneaking around for alcohol, you have freedom, mobility, credentials! Today will stick out in your memory for many celebratory and benchmarked reasons. Have a drink on me, something I feel like you would enjoy, I recommend ether an amoretto sour or a dark & stormy. Both of those are good, going out, bar-style drinks, served in a squat cup with a fat ice cube.

I have debated for a while whether or not to even write you something for your birthday, but I know how upset you got last year when I didn’t say anything for your 20th. I know you hold birthdays in high regard but that isn’t the reason I’m writing to you. You probably thought I didn’t even know your birthday, haha.

When we spoke at one point some time ago, you said that I was always on your mind, even though it has been days, weeks, months, and now, years since I’ve seen you in person. For some reason or another, that struck a chord with me, and I didn’t realize or notice it then, but that expression stuck to the back of my mind with industrial adhesive. I see so much now, so much in front of me and so much of my past, and it is all reminiscent of you.

That’s not hard for me to admit, everybody misses certain people from their past, regardless of where they are currently, it’s just a fact. I’m not saying that everyone is that special or that everyone needs to be remembered, but like you and I know, there are always people who come in and out of you life and change you for better or for worse. I know that over the course of meeting me, getting to know me, dating me, being hurt by me, you learned a lot. Hell, I did too, but it has been especially clear to me for some time of the effects that my past and actions have had on you, my family, and the people surrounding me.

I’ve been reading so much more than I am normally able to, with my course load and work/gym schedule, so I have much more time to ponder, reflect, and feel insight that is not usually such luxury to come by.

There’s a lot of my past that I’m not proud of, and I’ve been thinking so much about that lately. Mostly, I’ve been thinking on how I treated a lot of people who were close to me in my life. You and other friends among them. A large part of my oppressive, maniacal, and off-putting behavior stems from my relationship with my father. He is a man that is hard to love, hard for me to respect, and hard to even be around for more than an hour. Our relationship was never anything short of strained and although I never liked admitting it, it had fucked me up more than I let on. I have some particular memories of first getting a sense of that when I was in the seventh grade, sleeping over at a friend’s house and having their dad make breakfast in the morning. I was full of envy and self-pity, because deep down, I wished I could have that with my dad. My father, who never liked surprises, spending money, or having fun without the added benefit for him. Here I was, twelve years old and subconsciously aware that my lack of male role models was apparent. As I got older, it got worse, and I outrightly expressed my distaste and dissatisfaction with male figureheads, usually teachers or bosses. There have been few men that I have actually respected in my life, normally I either tolerate them for the duration of the class or job span. Presently, I can think of four men I actually respect and thoroughly enjoy, my grandfather among them.

Going back to my past, our past, and the effect of it all, I was not level-headed when you met me. I was filled with a malice I had never experienced before, a downright hatred of Illinois and having to leave a life I loved so much behind. Part of that caused me to not allow myself get too attached to anything, to live in the moment, even if I regretted it, which I often did. There are many parts of my past that I am not proud of, and I know you don’t even like hearing about them or discussing them, even if you’re curious to gain an understanding on it. For you specifically, I treated you like absolute shit. I know that I made you cry when you weren’t with me, hell I remember seeing you cry when you were with me. I know your friends thought the worst of me, which made no difference to me or how I acted. I figured that your parents were never too fond of me, being around them always made me tense and I suspect they didn’t like the seriousness to my “boyfriend” title. Maybe I’m just overthinking what they actually thought of me, I never really spoke to them that much because you would always get upset if I spoke with them for very long before we went off wherever we were going but I would’ve liked to make more of an effort with both of them and your brother because I believe forming those relationship with one’s family is just as important as the relationship with the person in general. That is all perfectly understandable, because I think about the future, about having children, especially a daughter, and how worried I would be when a boyfriend enters the mix. I know that I lied to you, made you worry, stress, nauseous, and above all else, pick at yourself. Because when I was unwilling to accept neither the responsibilities nor consequences for my actions, you turned to yourself, for surely you thought that was the cause of the issues. I want you to know that there were never, in the history of knowing you, anything about you that made me do the things I did. It was never anything you did, it was all a combination of the issues I never addressed and the resistance I had to caring or working on them that caused me to act the way I did.

You’re more in touch with your emotions, that’s definitely something to be proud of, I still work on expressing myself because for me, it’s a daily task to become better and better each day. When I was always so hard on you about being away from me, being drunk or high, trying new things, even if I gave off the impression that I wanted nothing to do with you, it was because I couldn’t admit to you or anyone else that I needed anybody. At the time, I had myself convinced that the only thing better than somebody was nobody, which is absolute crap. Having someone is supposed to empower you, keep you going through the drudgery and mundaneness of life, and work towards all things positive. It wasn’t like that when we dated. Not the first time, the second time, or even the last time, despite our talks and my half-assed promises. I had the mentality and dexterity of a lazy, selfish, asshole, and that is something that took me a long time to realize. Even after I moved to Georgia, I still hadn’t realized it.

But when I spoke with you some time ago, expressing my moment of clarity, my “awakening”, that was for real. I know by this time you had probably just rolled your eyes at the mere thought of it and written me off as a lunatic, but something changed for me. No, it wasn’t some monumental moment where my life flashed before my eyes or I was visiting by the ghost of Christmas Past, but something that had never clicked finally did and I don’t know, my outlook just got completely different. When I began dating Emily, I wasn’t looking for a relationship. I wasn’t looking for a rebound. I was very presently sad because that was around the time that you and I had called it quits, no more chances, a head-to-jail, do-not-pass-go revelation of sorts. That was a big slap in the face from reality to me and I needed that. I always stress that people who don’t know how to be single truly don’t know themselves, and I still stand by that. For example, my roommate, Brad, is an extremely insecure man who can’t be alone or without some form of male companion for more than a week or two at the most. This causes him to seem over desperate, a submissive type with the desire to be babied and fussed over, as I expect he never really got growing up with two homophobic foster parents. I can’t imagine how playing those cards dealt would set the tone for the rest of your life, but I’m just using him as an example. Moving forward, he started dating a guy last September, right around this time actually, and now they are moving out October 1st, with Brad fully ready to give up his secure job with the government in order to travel wherever the “man of his dreams” decides to get his master’s degree in psych, at the young age of 26. I don’t know how you’ll take this story, but personally, I find it completely stupid. Brad has never been by himself except when he was closeted from admitting his sexuality, and even then he had no semblance of experiencing his freedom, financial prowess, and being in complete control of his own choices. But the matter of fact is, that’s his life and he’s going to live it the way he thinks best. He and I don’t really communicate much, if at all, I just think it’s so strange how he’s going about this, with student loans, and no other job prospects lined up when faced with the possibility of moving to a different state.

For a part of my adolescence, I used to think I was a sex addict. I don’t really think that exists, except in maybe sadists or submissive rapists, but I saw porn by accident at an early age and then started looking at it more and more in middle school, until I was ultimately caught by my mother trying to dispose of it before anyone saw, as I was cutting it to pieces and hiding it in a lunch box under my childhood bed. My parents and sister acted as though I had been caught murdering someone, and when pressed for details on how I knew what that even was, much less where to find it, I lied and told them that I had overheard boys at school talking about it and looked it up to see what it was about. Which was bullshit, as I had been looking at it for maybe six months by then. Still, I felt a deep sense of shame and embarrassment for being caught with that, and I’ve never told that story to anyone else, because it always filled me with a sense of self-pity and sadness. (Madeleine loves to bring it up, she thinks it’s hilarious)

When I lost my virginity, I wasn’t ready. I was put on the spot at the time, and rather than look like a chicken, I agreed to it and just got it over with. Not to say I didn’t enjoy it, or having sex regularly after that, but looking back I think I still could’ve waited a little longer and still been fine. That was a big reason that I was so resistant to taking you virginity, because I didn’t want you to make the same mistakes that I did, and then have complications come up.

As I’m sure you are aware, for a long time, I used my sexual flexibility as a means to avoid commitment, to not be tied down, and to live for myself. While being sexually active is totally normal, it took me a long time to realize that the total majority of those times were entirely fleeting, emotionless, and a regret. I know that that part of my life had a profound effect on you, which is a big factor in why I hid a lot, because to me, you were the model of innocence, and I didn’t want to corrupt you.

I know that we were both aware of strangely I treated you, ranging from being over-protective to distant and bitter with no warning. It was a very trying life to live, you being stuck between being wanted by me and being chastised over anything. I think of myself as a dominant person but I have never been dominant with another person like I was with you. I talked about that in many of my therapy sessions before I moved away. My mother, a firm believer in therapy, has had me explaining problems to paid professionals since I was fourteen, rather than try and deal with them on my own, or at the very least, let someone into my life who truly cared about me unconditionally, to try and work through them. Not to say that the therapy didn’t help, my last counselor was the one of the most helpful people I have ever met, giving me advice and structure that I didn’t know I was able to handle. I still think of her very fondly to this day.

Although we may not have dated much, we have a past. Everyone still assumes it when they discuss me, or us, the whole “William and Addison” moniker stamped on all details of that part of our lives. People are hesitant bringing you or us up, because they are unsure how I will react. Which I get, because while my face or mouth says one thing, my mind could be completely elsewhere. And I also know, that of you, the better part of the past was not beneficial. You put on the best face you could, for you loved me and I loved you, but I was still unhinged and reckless, hot and cold at all times, an unpredictable wave of uncertainty.

I want you to know that commitment no longer scares me, or even intimidates me. It’s not through the trails of dating other people but rather the majesty of time that I have learned how to be, to simply exist with others, and be alive. I think that when people are together and know it, nothing seems as hard. That person is more than a person, they’re your rock, your source of stability, something you can pour yourself into at all times and not worry about seeming like too much or too little. People are often afraid of expressing things about themselves to others, me being a prime example. But maybe this writing will give you a clue that my life is very different nowadays. I am not saying that I have that “one, true person” presently, or that I will ever have it in the future. The future is completely unpredictable and we have to take it as best it comes. But one thing I realized so many years ago, is that I had that with you. It wasn’t reciprocated from me because of all my faults, but you were that better half. You were there for me when I felt so alone, in any event when I wasn’t for you, you saw that best in me that I refused to accept was even there. Your unwavering vision of me, which I mistook for puppy love, was actually an incredibly clear reality of who I was. The kicker is that you saw it at seventeen and I didn’t see it until I was past twenty one.

I don’t know where my future is going to take me, I am graduating soon so I am trying to get a clear idea set out before me myself, but I just wanted to tell you how truly sorry I am. From the absolute bottom of my heart, it is finally apparent to me to extent of the effects I had on you, and I know that that will certainly take some time for you to get past. But I can assure you that you will get past it, with time, that dreadful person I was in my past, a person I have been studying for some time, and have a deep hatred for. For a while, I wondered why you were the person that I called when I was completely black out drunk, even last summer, when we weren’t anything by definition but acquaintances. The times that I have called you drunk I have had no recollection of what we spoke about, only the feverish texts I see us exchanging when I was up the following day, but still, you were my go-to contact. One day it just clicked for me, you are the only person who knows me as well as I used to say nobody knew me. You know things about me others have never heard of, secrets I am never willing to share, even meaningless facts about me that don’t bear any special recognition. While I know you just as well, I would definitely argue that you took the time to focus more energy on those parts of my life than I did for you, which is a regret I still have. Looking back through old photographs, seeing how different we looked, who we were back then, I never would’ve guessed that this is where it would all end up. Sure, I had scenarios played out in my head before I ever even moved away, but none of those ended with me having this clarity that I have today.

I understand now the reasoning behind both you and removing photos with each other from the past off of social media, it only makes sense due to their sensitive nature and even has a double meaning of semblance for me, at least. While our relationship stretched over multiple years, I think that the idea of deleting those photos from sight is healthy strictly because looking back I can’t agree with how I acted and treated you during those times. Yes, there are a lot of photos together, but it was always with the same veneer of my shitty attitude/ lack of appreciation. You may be deleting the photos for other reasons, but I like to think that if there is anything positive to look forward to in the future, it’s something entirely different than the first go around, which in my eyes, wasn’t fair to you whatsoever.

I’m not saying that I’m taking this letter and turning it into all my hopes and dreams, that I’ll wait patiently forever, because the reality of it is, I probably will. I had a chance, a real chance, and I neglected it for years, refused to see it for what it actually was, and rather, for what I wanted it to be. My own perception was my downfall and I’ll always have to live with that. Knowing that when I was actually ready and for the first time you weren’t, was the reality-slapping instance I had had coming. You are a great person, only deserving of the best, and that means someone who is there for you no matter what, to build you up, not tear you down.

It’s not hard for me to admit that I miss you, I think any person strong enough to know themselves can admit when they miss someone from their past, regardless of how it ended, or where they currently are. I know when we last spoke you had expressed some worries about my relationship, and while that helped me see things about myself that I needed to see, it wasn’t better or worse, it was a learning experience that made me more aware of myself, which I think of as a win. I see things that remind me of you, I do things that make me think about you, I exist in everyday life, but a part of me still sticks to you. While life moves forward and the late gets later, I think back to the adolescence of it all, knowing only now what was staring me back in the face.

I don’t know exactly what compelled me to write to you in the first place, part of me thought that it would be nice since I feel like I had never really written you anything particular in-depth or about me, but I hope you’ll take this information to heart, as I know in the past you’re somewhat apt to believing me outrightly, which I get. Have a good birthday.

You’re one of a kind.

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