#Another piece of my adolescence that goes away...

[jerrylewis-thekid]

💔​ Rest in peace... Brenda 💔​ April 12, 1971 - July 13, 2024

[halsteadlover]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Will Halstead x Female!Reader.

• Requested by @klovesreading: I was wondering if you could do a story where the reader is married to Will but is a detective with Jay and is really close with Jay. But one day a case goes bad and the reader gets shot and almost dies and just a lot of angst but the reader survives in the end!

• Warnings: mention of blood, drugs, gunshots, tiny bit of angst and swearing.

• Word count: 5018.

• A/N: this is my first Will Halstead fic and it’s ugly as fuck, I don’t like one bit how it turned out 😭 you can actually notice I didn’t want to write anything else but I know if I kept going it would’ve ended up being so much longer than this so here is this piece of shit. I hope you’ll like it anyway but please bear with me 😭 comment, like and reblog if you want. I love you all so much ❤️

You, Will and Jay had been good friends for as long as you could remember.

The three of you grew up in the same neighborhood, your families being friends for a very long time. They were like big brothers to you or, at least, only one of them was.

You never managed to hide the crush you had on the redhead since you were a teenager, no one missed this detail – not even Jay who never wasted time teasing you about your crush on his brother – only Will seemed to not to see it.

You spent years of your adolescence and youth pining for him, trying to suppress your feelings knowing he didn't feel the same. You tried to move on, you had some boyfriends but it always ended the same way: you leaving them because you could never completely get Will out of your head. And as time passed you had resigned yourself to it, accepting you’d never be anything other than best friends.

There was a time when the three of you drifted apart, Will had gone to medical school, Jay had joined the army and left to go overseas and you spent a lot of time training to get in the police academy.

But fate really seemed to work in wonderful ways.

You thought you’d never reconnect with the Halstead brothers again but this was proven wrong when one day you met Jay at the police academy. You were a patrol cop with about two years of experience and he had just joined the Chicago PD after returning from his mission overseas.

And just like that you learned that Will had recently returned to Chicago and started working at Med's. It was as if time had never passed for the three of you, returning to having the deep bond that had united you since childhood.

But just as you thought your love for Will had somehow passed, it was enough for you to spend just a day with him to understand those deep feelings had never faded and that Will would forever be in your heart.

As time passed though, Will realized he was starting to look at you differently, continually craving your company. He didn't know when it happened or how it happened but he found himself inexorably losing his mind for you, in a way that shouldn't have happened with his best friend.

So for an amount of time you found yourselves lusting for each other from afar without either of you growing any balls and confessing your feelings.

The turning point came when the morning after spending a night at the bar and drinking too many shots and cocktails, you woke up in Will's bed with only a sheet covering your body. You were both too drunk the night before to remember what had happened but that blurry sexual encounter didn’t only happen once.

In fact after this rendezvous, it was as if a magnetic force attracted both of you and no matter how much you both fought it, one way or another you ended up having sex at one or the other's house.

Jay's teasing was pure torture as he could see from miles away that something really had happened between the two of you.

It was Will who confessed his love first, in the grip of emotions and no longer able to pretend you were just friends with benefits for even a second. You told him it took him a long time and that you loved him madly too, and the rest was history.

So here you were several years later, married to the love of your life and living the fairy tale you've always dreamed about.

“Babe please…” you sighed, eyes half closed as his lips worked their magic on that particular spot on your neck. You had to go to work but that seemed to take a backseat as your mind was completely dazzled by the hurricane that was your husband.

His arms wrapped around your hips and his hands went down to your ass, which they squeezed and groped without any shame. That made you sigh as you wrapped your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his soft hair and pulling it lightly.

“Fuck,” he hissed, making him lose the last bit of control he had in his body and you grinned knowing how much he liked it when you pulled his hair. Before you could say or do anything, his lips had captured yours in a deep, passionate kiss as you took slow steps towards the bed

You both fell onto the mattress, bouncing slightly and you both let out a laugh before kissing again, him on top of you. It didn't take long for both of you to undress and throw all your clothes on the floor, losing yourself inexorably in each other.

Needless to say, you arrived at Intelligence incredibly late, thanking all the angels in heaven when you realized Voight hadn't arrived yet by the time you entered the unit.

“Why were you late?” Jay asked as soon as you arrived, handing you a cup of coffee he had set aside for you. He only had to look at you for his question to be answered, the stupid smile on your lips clearer than sunlight. “Actually never mind, don't answer. You're disgusting.“

“Hey! First of all you asked and second, go talk to your brother, he’s always so insatiable,” you replied with the sole purpose of annoying the younger Halstead. You succeeded in your aim when an expression of pure disgust and horror appeared on his face.

“You make me sick I don't want to know about you having sex with my brother for God's sake!” He exclaimed as you continued to laugh out loud.

You and Jay were now detectives and members of the Intelligence Unit for quite some time and as luck would have it, Voight even assigned you as partners. It was great to work with a friendly face, to have someone to deal with all the shit that humanity presented, to be there for each other when the other felt like everything was too hard to handle.

You and Jay continued to have a little banter but that little idyllic moment was interrupted when Voight entered the unit with Sergeant Platt and from their expressions you immediately understood they didn’t bring any good news.

Badly cut drug was circulating through the Chicago streets, causing numerous overdose victims, and there was pressure to get this case solved immediately.

Something told you this case would take much longer than necessary, so you took advantage of every free moment to text Will and update him on the evolution of the situation.

Will was afraid he’d be committed to Dr. Charles' psych ward sooner or later due to the stress your and Jay's job brought him.

He couldn't help but feel the anxiety eating his stomach up every time you told him you had some kind of field operation to do. It was a horrible feeling, having no idea what was going on out there, not being able to protect you or his brother if something horrible happened.

Every single day was a prayer. He prayed you both would come home safely, he prayed he could hug you both again at the end of each shift.

He tried not to give too much weight to his paranoid thoughts and convince himself it was only his sense of protection speaking. You and Jay were more than capable of defending yourselves even in dangerous situations, Will knew that, but that didn't make it any easier.

Many times he had wondered why neither you nor Jay had opted for a safer career, so he wouldn't risk a heart attack every time you left the house. You could’ve been teachers, or cooks, coaches, anything, but no, you both had to choose one of the most dangerous professions in the world. And so he didn't have to worry about his wife or just his brother's, but both.

His heart could only bear it to a certain extent.

And that day was no different when you texted him you and Jay were on your way to question a suspect.

Knowing you were in the district would calm him down a little since you were safe there, but knowing you were both out there with the risk of dying just around the corner was pure torture.

“How much you wanna bet he’ll run away as soon as he sees us?” You asked Jay as you got out of the car and walked towards the driveway of the house where the suspect was supposed to be. He wasn't directly involved with the drugs but, after the team started the investigations, you discovered he knew who was indeed involved and both you and Jay were determined to find out who that person was.

“Nah I pass, I know for sure this will happen so let’s just get ready to do some running,” he replied and you laughed before knocking twice loudly on the door.

“Chicago PD! Open up!” You exclaimed and you and Jay waited a few moments in which there was nothing but silence.

Jay moved away from the door and went to the window to check if there was actually anyone inside and you knocked again with two more loud thuds. “Open the door we just want to talk!”.

What happened was so quickly you wouldn't have been able to tell it if someone had asked you.

The suspect you were supposed to question – a guy in his mid-twenties – opened the door but you had your guard down so you couldn’t react as quickly as you wished. You saw him hold the gun and point it at you, you had tried as quickly as possible to take your gun from its holster but before you could do so a shot had already been fired and a bullet had already passed through your abdomen.

As you said, everything happened quickly.

The bullet shot immediately triggered Jay who quickly pulled out his gun and only then realized with pure horror you had been shot.

Before he could attempt to shoot the suspect, the bastard had already run away at the speed of light even if at that moment Jay didn't care.

He ran towards you and picking you up he dragged you away from the porch of that house, not wanting to run the risk that someone else might shot at you, and he carried you behind your car.

“Hey, hey, hey it's okay, don’t move. Everything's going to be okay, you hear me Y/n? You’ll be fine,” He tried to reassure you, to no avail as you had a bullet in your abdomen and were bleeding profusely, before immediately calling for help as panic coursed through his veins.

You were still shocked even as you lifted your head for the asphalt and saw your wound bleeding more than it should have. You tried to cover it with your hands but Jay did it for you, after taking a jacket he had in the car and pressing it to the wound.

“Shit,” you hissed. The pain was excruciating, even if the adrenaline helped to dull the sensation a little. A flood of emotions overwhelmed you, panic, fear, confusion. Your eyes looked around frantically as if to try to convince your mind you were still alive, that everything was going to be okay.

“Help is on the way Y/n, please hold on okay? You’ll be fine I’m sure,” Jay continued to babble, more to himself than to you.

“It-it hurts…” you stuttered, closing your eyes for a few moments as you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

“Hey, hey, hey, don't you dare fall asleep, just hang on for a minute. Please… Everything will be fine...“ he kept repeating.

But his voice began to reach your ears far away. That warm, burning sensation coursing through your abdomen was starting to fade and the weakness was instead starting to take over you. You were fighting so hard to try and stay awake, even though you were in that state you knew this didn’t mean anything good.

“Y/n!” Suddenly you heard Jay's voice and your eyes widened. You didn't even realize you had closed them.

“Jay can you believe…” you winched “Can you believe for just one second I will live?” You continued trying to smile seeing the way Jay was looking at you. You saw him so scared and worried for other few times in your life, and if it hadn't been for the bullet, you would probably have made fun of him.

“Of course you’l live Y/n, of course I believe it. Who will make my life a living hell if you're gone?”.

You giggled at those words. “L-look at my little brother-in-law worrying about me,” you whispered, as you got weaker with each second that passed. Your eyelids felt heavy, you were struggling to keep your eyes open, or even just to speak.

Your mind was racing, a thousand thoughts were invading it, which was in stark contrast to your physical state as you struggled to even lift your hands.

But the first thought was your husband, your beloved Will. How would he react? What would’ve he said? You hated the thought of not being the first to tell him, to comfort him knowing how worried he would be.

“No of course I’m not,” Jay replied, letting out a sound of mock disdain, making you smile weakly again. “I'm just worried about Will, I don’t care about you. I know he’s going to fucking kill me once he’ll find out.”

You tried to let out a laugh but a cough stopped it.

You fought for Will above all, because you refused to leave like this, to give up right when you were living the life of your dreams with the love you had wanted for so long. But in that moment, as your strength slowly left your body as quickly as your blood spread across the asphalt, you needed him so much.

You wanted Will, you wanted him to hold your hand, you wanted him to whisper it was going to be okay and you’d be fine in no time, you wanted him to hug you and make you forget all the pain and fear that was paralyzing you, you wanted to run a hand through his hair and tell him to calm down when he’d freak out.

And you really tried to resist.

But you were tired, so exhausted, you just wanted to be able to rest a little.

And that was exactly how you let yourself slip into the darkness of oblivion, the last thought being Will's eyes.

“Y/n? Hey! Please don't play with me right now,” Jay shook your shoulders slightly when he realized you had closed your eyes. “I know you're joking, just wake up it’s not funny.”

But nothing, he didn't receive any response.

And after several attempts to wake you up he had to accept you had lost consciousness and you weren't joking at all.

He looked around waiting for the damn ambulance to arrive and when he finally saw it from afar, he thought it was a mirage, too good to be true.

Meanwhile Will was unaware of everything that was happening out there, that his world was collapsing on him without even realizing it.

“Your tests came back normal but we'll keep you here for observation for another couple of hours just to make sure everything is fine, and we'll keep you hydrated in the meantime, okay?”.

“Okay, thank you so much Dr. Halstead.”

Will gave the lady lying on the bed a smile before leaving her room and closing the door behind him. He sanitized his hands and walked over to the nurses' station where he took the patient's medical records, updating her tests and treatment.

He couldn't help but take his cell phone from his uniform pocket, noticing with disappointment there was no message from you. He let out a sigh, trying to stay calm and convince himself he was just overreacting even if anxiety was gripping his stomach.

He put down the patient’s chart he had just seen, playing with the ring on his ring finger while a nurse informed him of the arrival of another patient who was already waiting for him.

If only he had waited a few seconds longer, if only he hadn't immediately entered that room, he would’ve seen that the person who had just entered the emergency room, unconscious, was the very last person he would’ve ever wanted to see in those circumstances, the person whose safety he worried about night and day, one of the people he loved most in the world.

Jay couldn't reach you at the hospital right away since he was waiting for Voight's orders on what to do but nevertheless he didn't stop thinking about you for a second and hoping that you were still alive.

Will treated the patient who came to the hospital following a chainsaw accident while chopping wood. With the help of a nurse, he sutured and dressed the fairly deep cut on the patient's leg while in the next room Connor and the rest of the team worked to revive you from the cardiac arrest you had just fallen into.

It took about twenty minutes for him to finish treating the patient, who he recommended to return to check the wound and assigned medicines in case of infection or pain. When he left the room, he did again what he had done earlier: disinfect his hands and update the medical records.

“Woah, what happened in there?” Will asked one of the new nurses that had recently started working when his gaze fell on the now room.

He saw the state in which that room was, copious traces of blood stained the floor on which numerous bright red patches were scattered, soaked in the same blood of the victim he thought he didn't know. The defibrillator was nearby and positioned crookedly on its trolley indicating it had been used and Will hoped that whoever it was, had managed to survive.

“A gunshot victim, bad story. She went into cardiac arrest twice but they were able to revive her and Dr. Rhodes just took her to the OR,” explained the nurse who, being new, didn't know that said victim was his superior's wife.

Will nodded, looking away from the room for a second before handing her the patient’s medical record he had just seen and putting the pen back in his white coat’s pocket.

He took out his cell phone again, noting with equal disappointment that no message had arrived from you. He sighed again before putting it down and his gaze fell on that room again.

His gaze fell on the victim's objects which were in a transparent bag placed on one of the bedside tables next to the now absent bed. He didn't want to snoop but curiosity got the better of him and he thought maybe he could help track down the family.

His heart almost stopped when he recognized your clothes in that bag.

“What the fuck?” He whispered as his brain struggled to process what he was seeing. There was a police badge, among other items. Anxiety gripped his stomach in a vice, twisting it until he almost felt like he was going to throw up.

“No, no, no, no,” he babbled to himself as his eyes continued to scan the numbers on the badge again and again.

It was yours.

No, it couldn't be true, there had to be an explanation. There had to be a reason why your badge and clothes had to be there.

While his heart continued to beat voraciously in his chest, Will continued to look among those objects. There was also the gun and a cell phone, yours.

His hands began to shake as all of his worst nightmares seemed to come true. He couldn't believe it, he just couldn't, until the very end he hoped there had been some kind of misunderstanding, that it was definitely someone else but for some strange reason they had managed to take your gun, badge, cell phone and even your bloody clothes.

But it was when he saw the ring that he felt as if a train had hit him. There was no doubt it was your ring, a ring that was stained with your own blood.

Will felt as if the ground had slipped beneath his feet, for a moment so out of his mind everything seemed to happen in a blur.

He immediately ran out of that damned room, making space among his colleagues and passers-by and running like a madman towards the ORs. He looked crazy, but he didn't care, he didn't care to stop and apologize to the people he was clashing with, he just wanted to reach you.

This can't be true, please God.

He had to make sure, it couldn't really be happening.

He didn't even wash his hands before entering the OR, he simply took a surgical mask and placed it in front of his nose before entering where Connor was operating.

If Will had to describe how he felt, he would’ve said he felt like he was dying, that he felt the air stuck in his throat and his lungs collapsing. He felt his legs give way and had to lean on the doorframe leading to the OR to avoid falling on the floor.

It was you.

It was really you.

Unconscious and with a tube down your throat, but it was you.

“Why the fuck didn't anyone call me!” Will almost shouted, his hands shaking with fear and anger, holding back the desire to run to you and grab your hand since he wasn't sterile.

“Will, get out of here,” Connor replied, looking up from your open abdomen for just a second so he could look at his friend and the desperation he had on his face.

“How is she? Connor please tell me something,” the redhead begged as his eyes filled with tears.

“Will. Out. Now.”

“I'm not going anywhere until you tell me how you she is. She's my fucking wife, I'm her husband! I have to know!”.

“This is exactly why you can't stay here! I can't operate if you're here and I'm trying to save her fucking life so get out of my OR immediately!” Rhodes exclaimed loudly, feeling guilty for the tone he had used since Will was only worried about you, but thinking it was necessary. He looked up at one of the nurses and nodded at him at which he nodded back and walked over to Will, inviting him to come outside.

“Don't fucking touch me,” Will spat through gritted teeth, his eyes shining before walking out of the OR.

He slumped against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor, legs bent and elbows resting on his knees while he had his hands on his face.

What the fuck happened?

It was unbelievable, he couldn't process it.

How did you go from making love that same morning to you having surgery a step from the death?

Where the fuck was Jay? Why wasn't he there?

Will let out a sob, praying with all his heart that at least his brother was okay. God only knew he wouldn't be able to survive if Jay got hurt too.

“Will!”.

But when he heard Jay's voice calling him out, a wave of relief washed away some of the anguish that had been plaguing him. Will stood up and saw Jay running towards him. He hugged him, in tears, holding him so tight his bones almost broke.

“What the hell happened Jay? Where the fuck were you? Why didn’t you call me? You okay?” Will peppered him with questions, taking a look at his brother and noticing with horror the blood staining his shirt.

“I'm fine… I-I'm so sorry Will, this shouldn't have happened I…” Jay blathered, also scared to death even though he knew what he was feeling was nothing compared to how Will must’ve going through at that moment. He told him what had happened. “How is she?”.

Will shook his head, as if to tell him he didn't know, and collapsed, letting himself go into tears full of terror, fear, fright. Jay wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him sit down, trying in vain to comfort him.

What would he have done if you hadn't survived? How could he go on with his life if you weren't there?

He didn't even want to imagine it, he didn't want to find answers to these questions because there actually weren't any answers. Will couldn't be without you.

He had known you since they were only a few years old, he had grown up with you, he had laughed, he had cried, he had fun with you, he had confided to you his deepest secrets, his deepest fears, he couldn't even think of not being able to do all this anymore. He remembered your friendship with so much warmth and joy before falling in love with you without even realizing it.

You made him happy, you understood him, you were his best friend, his lover, his wife, his confidant. Loving you felt like winning the lottery, marrying you was the most beautiful gift life could ever give him, he couldn't even think that all this was hanging by just a thread.

What would he have done without your laugh, your horrible jokes, without your smile, your eyes, the warmth of your hugs? How was he going to survive?

No, no, no, she’s going to be fine. She will be okay.

You were strong, one of the strongest people he had ever met in his life, there was no difficulty you wouldn't have solved, there was no obstacle you wouldn't have overcome. If anyone could do this it was you, Will knew you were going to be okay.

He jumped up, no longer able to sit still. Time seemed to stand still, passing so slowly that every minute was pure agony.

“Will…”

“Shut up Jay!” Will exclaimed loudly, not caring about other people. Jay remained silent as he stood up as well, letting his brother vent. “Where the fuck were you! You were supposed to protect her why weren't you there?!”

Will was not thinking clearly anymore because of the anger, not anger directed towards Jay – he knew it wasn’t his fault but only of the bastard that pulled the trigger.

He approached Jay and pushed him but Jay didn't react, his heart actually clenched as he saw the suffering Will was going through. He would probably have reacted the same way if his wife was fighting between life and death.

“If anything happens to her Jay… Fuck!”.

Jay raised a hand and shook his head when one of the doctors passing by tried to intervene, telling him he had everything under control.

“She’ll be fine brother. C'mon, this is Y/n, we know her, there’s nothing that woman can’t do.”

“How do you know huh?!” Will exploded, running his hands through his hair in frustration and desperation.

“I just know Will, she’ll make it, I'm sure of it,” Jay replied more calmly, moving closer to his brother. This time he was the one to hug him although Will resisted for a while, telling him to let him go. Jay didn't do it, he continued to hug him and hold him until he gave up and returned the hug.

Will cried on Jay's shoulders for the longest time, praying with every fiber of his being and whoever was up there to make you survive, to make you okay.

“I just want her back…” he whispered, not sure if Jay had heard him.

Jay helped him sit back down. “And you’ll get her back, just have a little faith. She is so strong man, do you really think she’ll leave us like this? C’mon, she has to be here and annoy us for the rest of our lives.”

Will chuckled through his tears, his eyes so blurry he couldn't make out the objects in front of him. He and Jay sat in that waiting room, waiting for hours to hear from you as he kept desperately praying.

Will sat with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees while he continued to move a leg obsessively.

He had always tried to calm the patients' families, never fully understanding how they must really feel. But now that he knew, he felt guilty for not trying harder.

Please stay with me baby. Please just hang on for a little bit, please fight for us.

He had never understood what it felt like to be completely useless, what it felt like to be unable to do anything for the person you loved most in the world, to be unable to do anything to prevent that person from suffering.

He had always sworn to protect you, to not let anything hurt you and he felt like a failure for not being able to do this. He wished that damned bullet had hit him, that it had been him on the operating table having to fight for his life.

At every slightest noise he jumped, hoping it was Connor bringing good news but when he finally actually saw him appear in front of him, he feared it was just a hallucination.

Connor approached Will and Jay who jumped to their feet as soon as they saw him arrive.

“How did it go? Is she okay? Please tell me he's okay, Connor,” Will stammered, his heart beating so fast he thought he was going to have a massive heart attack.

“It was tough but she did well. The bullet had hit an artery and I managed to extract it but she lost a lot of blood and the next few hours will be delicate. But I'm pretty optimistic and she'll make a full recovery.”

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[purpledemonlilyposting]

I didn’t know whether to send this ask on the lorch blog or the main, but re: why people view Dios as a villain from your last stream, I think there’s 2 main reasons:

- his entire portrayal at the end of adolescence where he’s taunting Anthy and begging her to come back to Ohtori as she & utena are riding away

- when he’s shown on the carousel after Utena gets stabbed. It’s the same carousel that’s shown before Akio goes to unlock the gate, and I’ve seen a few people claim that his speech to Utena is almost mocking her for her efforts

I’m not trying to be a lorch here, just wanted to give my 2 cents on this topic

It's best for Utena asks to go here I'd rather not clutter up my main blog XD

That's Akio at the end of the film. Dios is only seen once in the film when Anthy has a vision of him in Utena's place during Juri's duel.

(Edit: And like a couple glimpses of him by Juri and Miki which don't even ask me wtf it means the movie is nuts.)

The second argument is the one that really drives me crazy. If you've paid attention at all to Utena's symbolic language: when you see a character who is a dark silhouette you're not seeing the truth.

The "Dios" mocking Utena on the carousel whose sentences Akio finishes is not the real spirit of Dios. Akio has been trying to convince Utena that he and Dios are still the same person in order to get Utena to do what he wants.

But far, far away from the carousel with the mocking false version of Dios another Dios appears, one whose face we can see, one who seems to be the same one that came to Utena in her coffin. The one that exists because of Anthy. I don't think it's a coincidence that Utena meets him once again in a space between life and death.

This Dios says to her: "Don't look so sad. You've tried so hard until now. Don't blame yourself. You've treasured the Rose Crest ring until now. A kiss, to show my appreciation".

He then leans down to kiss her ring. The ring that is, remember, a promise that Utena will retain her childhood nobility and free Anthy from her eternal suffering.

Unlike the false puppet Dios this one is laying there crumpled on the ground with her. They're both far away from the carousel in a quiet, intimate moment. Akio is unaware this is happening. I see the true spirit of Dios kissing the ring the same as Anthy blessing the sword.

And he blesses her ring as the chorus in the background swells with the words: "I have vanished yet I still live. I exist. I am here. I exist. I am here."

And then in one of the most badass moments in anime Utena slams her fist into the ground and lifts herself back up. Refusing to give up on saving Anthy from this. She's only been stabbed once, Anthy is being stabbed a million times.

Now what seems to have happened is some people have gotten it in their head that Utena slamming her fist with the ring on it into the ground is her rejecting Dios. You know, cause they desperately want this to be "feminist" in the way that Utena don't NEED no man to help her! Despite the fact its more sexist to act like you can't be inspired to act by someone of the opposite sex.

Utena embodies Dios' spirit. She has since the beginning. Dios has been her ally throughout the entire show. That's why Anthy's heart has been moving to her instead of her memories of what Akio used to be. How is anyone possibly reading it as a rejection other than a willful misinterpretation based on what they WANT the show to be rather than what the actual text is communicating.

I even had someone try to tell me the ring is smashed to pieces here which uh... no?

The ring is a symbol of the promise to Anthy. The promise to become like the prince Anthy once loved and believed in for HER sake.

We see this true spirit of Dios two more times in the final episode. First he's lounging around listening to Akio brag about how Utena is going to lose. To me it seems like he's just waiting for Akio's defeat now that he has passed his purpose on to Utena. A purpose he's known he can no longer fulfill, because Akio exists and he no longer does outside of Anthy's wish and will that he could.

Akio doesn't notice Dios at all in this scene. He's just monologuing to himself about how Utena, the one who embodies the spirit of the Prince he once was, whose power he is hungry to regain, is a fool for being so persistent. And that's why Akio will never change the world. Because this twisted world and system only exists due to the hold he has on Anthy and his efforts to fully control every piece of her.

And then my final piece of evidence that Dios is Utena's ally: he vanishes behind the drink Akio is sucking up that represents Utena's remaining lifeforce. Dios quietly disappears forever behind that glass. And it's that exact moment that Utena opens the way to Anthy.

It's also worth noting that the fake puppet Dios peaces out when this happens too.

So anyone saying "Utena rejected Dios in the end" I have to assume is hearing this through 2nd or 3rd hand information from someone who has never experienced the actual show as anything beyond a "sword lesbians" mood board on Tumblr.

[berenicehernandez15]

Blog 4

Berenice Hernandez UNST- 242A

Article 1: Inequality at school: What's behind the racial disparity in our education system?

Inequality at school (apa.org)

Article 2: Daily multidimensional racial discrimination among Black U.S American adolescents.

Daily multidimensional racial discrimination among Black U.S. American adolescents - ScienceDirect

ARTICLE 1

This article talks about the statistics between black and white students. Racial discrimination in students is another main aspect in this whole issue. One of the points that this article talks about is the graduation rate amongst black and white students. In 2014, the percentage rate for whites was 87... for blacks it's 73%. It is crazy to see how much of a gap there is in between races. Another point that this article touches base on is that 54% of black students are less likely to be recommended for gifted-education programs. So why is this? Is it something having to do with behavior as well? This here proves my previous point about blacks being pushed away and not getting the opportunities they wish they did.

ARTICLE 2

This article also has many statistics on racial discrimination. More so on the psychological effects it has with adolescents and students. One of the points that this article states is how racial discrimination contributes to anxiety, depression, increase in substance use. As well as high blood pressure. A piece of data that I found interesting is that a study shows that Black adolescence experienced racial discrimination on average of 2.44 days over a two-week period. I found this to be a bit crazy, how a student goes through this and can only do so much to ask for help or else it is bad for them.

[josie-anne-darling]

The Home of An Overlord

So I apologize in advance for this. I'm sure this isn't something a lot of people do and that the format is gonna turn out looking strange but here goes nothing.

I have not been on Tumblr for very long and I actually wrote this short story quite a while ago, although I have edited it since then (It was originally posted on Amino). It is a small narrative surrounding my Hazbin Hotel OC, Josie/Josephine who is Alastor's daughter.

I am aware Alastor is canonically asexual and I fully acknowledge and respect that. Josephine's story generally still paints him in that light actually but I thought I'd just make note for anyone who may be concerned. There's a lot more to the whole thing of course but I'll save explanations and Josie's full character layout for another day or DMs :)

I have had her for around 5 years now so she is quite dear to me.

I will do my best to respond to any appropriate comments or questions if I receive any.

Anyhow! I hope you enjoy the short read and if not, I still wish you a great day/night! ^-^

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The Home of An Overlord

A frost demon was exceptionally rare to be seen in Pentagram City, let alone one so young walking alongside that of yet another adolescent soul. To Matthias, it felt as if he'd been following Josie for hours despite it only being just under 45 minutes. The manor in which the couple of kids sought was quite a ways away from everything else the city had to offer, making it quite the trek unless one had the ability to teleport or fly. This was of course done on purpose as the master of the dark estate valued his privacy. Though it wasn't necessarily uncommon for various walks of death to come snooping around the place here and there. Just seemingly curious folks wanting to get a glimpse of it as if it were some sort of haunted attraction. Nonetheless the spry doe continued her stroll towards the main gates of the manor, not nearly as nervous or frightened as Mathias. One would think the girl should be quaking with fear and yet she seemed perfectly collected. It was odd to him how a single soul from the first circle could have such a comforting and exciting influence over him but for the record, he hadn't met many beings his own age. Let alone a female.

 Josephine came to a halt just outside the gate, her delicate ears twitching as the two pieces separated and screeched open for her. All three of her friend's eyes blinked with awe as it did so. The boy appeared so easily amused at times.

"Alright. Let's go over this one more time, okay? Stay close to me and keep to the edges of the walls. If you absolutely must say something, keep your voice down and be sure to whisper. He's not home but we still need to be cautious. We'll be taking the long way around to the library, avoiding the kitchen and the den. Do you understand?" The fawn questioned, glancing at her friend, waiting for his response.

 Blinking his darkly lit eyes in an expression of blank acknowledgement to her words, Matthias nodded. "Yeah, I think so." The young man answered, watching as Josie knelt down and gracefully placed a small green orb upon the ground just outside the property's edge. "Come on then, we most likely do not have a lot of time to waste." 

 With that being said, the crimson haired doe motioned for her companion to follow her forward. Their silent and seemingly tedious task began the moment they both set foot on the smooth stones that made up the narrowed pathway that led to the porch of the towering manor. Plucking a single and simple enough looking key from her messenger bag, Josephine carefully slipped the contorted piece of metal into the lock and proceeded to twist it until they both heard a decently loud click. The doe was quick to slide the key out and drop it right back into her satchel before hesitantly turning the handle on the left side of the double door styled entrance. 

 As delicate gray hands pushed the door open with a creak, a decent sliver of amber tinged light from the outside climbed its way across the main entryway, illuminating the details in the rug that laid there. However as soon as both teens were inside, Josephine immediately but softly shut the door and made sure to lock it back up from the inside. With little light coming in from the windows it was somewhat difficult to see much at all, let alone enough to navigate a place they had never been before. At Least that was what Matthias thought as he glanced about the darkened home in curiosity.

 Josie immediately started off by taking her own advice and sticking close to the walls, her heels only an inch about from them as she slowly made her way along. Mathias followed suit, glancing about and taking notice of the only place any light seemed to emanate from. This being a large living space in the opposite direction of which they were heading, presumably the den mentioned earlier. The shadow of dimly burning coals danced about the ceiling, trickling into the hall every so often. It seemed there had been a fire burning not too long ago. 

 Mathias' thoughts were broken as he realized Josie was waiting patiently for him at the edge of the next doorway left of them. Picking up the pace ever so slightly, the young frost demon shuffled over to his friend whilst attempting to make as little noise possible. How in all the circles did this little doe-demon know where they were even going? Blueprints? Unspoken psychic abilities? It was anyone's guess if one were to ask Matthias. The further the two ventured inside the home, the darker it got and the more nervous one of them became. Just when it seemed pitch black, a delicate but bright enough light beamed from Josephine's eyes. A sort of golden glow. Some may argue that it was a useless skill at times but it was not one to be taken for granted and also one that she'd learned to control quickly after discovery. 

“Why are we keeping so close to the walls like this?” Matthias asked in a whispered voice as requested, copying the way Josephine was moving to the best of his abilities.

“Traps. He leaves them around from time to time when he’s feeling…paranoid.” She answered, leaving her friend wondering how she knew all this.

Josie continued onward, leading their two person party along as she had been. She appeared to be on high alert, looking from corner to corner and avoiding shining her eyes in certain areas. The doe's ears twitched and moved as she surveyed each movement whenever they needed to turn a corner or pass another hall, all the while making certain she didn't lose track of Matthias. What a clever and meticulous little creature she could be when she so desired.

It was only a few moments later that the two of them reached a decently sized staircase, one that they needed to use from the look of Josephine's face. The girl turned her head slightly to glance at her counterpart, mouthing the word edges as a quick reminder and then pointed to the opposite side of the first stair. With a nod, Matthias caught on quickly to how they'd be going upwards. One step at a time. Once in position, the almost dance-like maneuver began as the two young demons matched their footing. Moving from one small platform to the next in perfect sync, carefully avoiding any loss of balance or falling out of rhythm with one another.

 Smiling at each other in the presence of darkness, they made their way up the stairwell with little falter on both parts. Soon enough, the duo reached the end of the little game and came to the top of the stairs. Josie couldn't help but let out a single breath she had been holding within her chest throughout the tactful ascension of the stairwell, relieved that they had yet to set off any traps. She seemed almost bewildered with herself that she had actually managed to lead Matthias this far. If it hadn't been for her ears abruptly reaching for the ceiling at the sensation of noise - she may have felt the slightest bit of pride.

 Unfortunately for Matthias and Josie, there would be no time for that or any other emotion beyond panic for the time being. Any noise was an unwelcome one in that moment and Josephine made that clear by quickening her pace and dragging the young frost demon along by his wrist. She knew that there was only one thing, or more accurately one being, who'd be making such blatant noise without a care in The Radio Demon's home. The crimson clad overlord himself.

 Shoving open a door further down the hallway, Josie pulled her companion inside the room right behind her. As quickly and as quietly as possible, she shut the same door as impulse and guilt took the reins. She had obviously underestimated how much time they would have and now the plan would suffer because of it. But there was no time to dwell on it now and Josie knew that was certain. The doe pushed at Matthias' back, shoving him towards the closet. 

"In there, as far back as we can go." She whispered into the side of his neck. It would be the best hiding place for the moment, given that her identifying smell was all over the various articles of clothing already. Hopefully it would be sufficient enough to mask Matthias' scent, surrounded by her own. She was fairly confident it would work for a while. Or at least this detour would give her some time to ponder what their next move would be. Regardless, Josie needed to think and she needed to think quickly.

The continuing sounds of a presence in the home seemed to consume the fawn’s train of thought. The downside of having such excellent, yet selective hearing. Her behavior definitely dredged up anxiety and panic within the young frost demon beside her. He looked to his friend to find her softly nibbling on her bottom lip in thought, being careful not to draw her own blood. Baby fangs or not, the girl's canines were still abnormally sharp. He wouldn't enter this room of all the ones that made up the large manor. Why would he? As far as he was aware, there would be nothing within those four walls to interest him after being out and about.

Thinking to herself, Josie began internally listing off the most likely places Alastor would venture to. His room, the kitchen, his studio or study and the room they were in seemed to be the most prominent in her mind - unfortunately. Out of those she could imagine, his studio would be her preferred choice. Worst case scenario out of the options would be the room in which they were hiding or his own as it was quite literally across the hall from the one they remained hopelessly trapped in. But even if he went to his studio, it would still be treacherous getting her companion out with both him and the book still intact.

Rolling the little green marble like trinket between her petite fingers, Josephine released a gentle sigh. She reminded herself of why she'd put herself in such a fine predicament in the first place. To help Mathias and ultimately The Pentagram in a way. The girl cautiously removed her bag from her shoulder and hung it up silently within the closet. It wasn't like she'd be needing a portable satchel anymore. The emerald ball of mysterious intent remained in her hand as she met Matthias' gaze.

"Matthias. Listen closely. The book you're looking for is navy blue with raised writing on it. It's leather bound and should be to the right between two similar looking red ones when you first enter. You must be very quiet and be sure to leave the door exactly as you found it. Opened or closed." 

The young doe took the young man's somewhat larger hand into her own, placing the green pearl in his palm and then gently aiding his digits to close around it. 

"As soon as you have the book, place this pearl on the floor and step on it. Make sure you crush it beneath your foot and do not raise it until you're outside. There’s no need to be frightened, it won’t cause you any harm." She instructed and reassured, letting her hands fall from his.

Matthias opened the hand that Josephine had caressed a moment ago, looking at the little orb with concern upon his brow. "But...I don't-"

Two delicate hands gingerly grip his shoulders in the darkness of it all, a reassuring gesture to balance him once more and bring him back into the moment. "Down the hall to your left and straight down, you can not possibly miss it." She smiled and gazed into his eyes, doing her damnedest to dispel any doubts he had. Those bright yellow eyes. So big and entrancing, maintaining a radiance within them that was all their own.

The boy gulped. "I meant to say, I don't understand. I thought we'd be doing this together."

His statement caused Josie’s smile to falter slightly although Matthias couldn’t see it too clearly. Of course she wanted to make sure her friend got home safe but plans changed and this seemed to be the best choice for him to move forward as safely as possible. 

"I know but I can't have him hurting you and someone needs to keep him busy…it's the best idea we have and I don't believe we have the time to come up with a better one." She reasoned before finally pulling her hands away and turning around to place one on the doorknob of the closet, only to have her opposite wrist firmly grabbed.

"I'm not leaving you here, I can't. You're my friend and I don't want to imagine him chopping you up into itt- bitty deer pieces and eating you with a side of rice!”

His slightly louder exclamation earned him an immediate shushing from Josephine.

“...Please, let's find another way." Matthias pleaded, despite Josie’s arm slipping from his loose grasp. 

"Trust me, he won't be eating me. I'll be alright I promise…" The young lady insisted with her ever present and pure grin that he could actually somewhat admire once the closet door was at last opened again. "No matter what you may hear or think has happened, you must stay here for a few minutes. Remember to keep to the edges and please be careful." She reminded him as she took the first step out into the large bedroom.

"Josie..?" Matthias prodded with a whisper.

"Hm?"

"Thank you...for everything. I hope we meet again someday. I think I might…ya know, miss hanging out with you."

A rather flattering and almost unnoticeable shade of pink dusted the fawn's cheeks in response to Matthias' kind words. Nonetheless, she replied. 

"You're welcome...and perhaps I may miss your company as well, Matthias. I hope you make it home safely... goodbye and good luck."

"Goodbye... Josephine."

And with one somewhat blunt and final goodbye, the two young demons separated.

[missmeganlee]

The Parentification of Simon Eriksson

Fair warning this is gonna be a sad post (it's my brand at this point lol), I'm sorry besties.

Parentification: the process of role reversal whereby a child or adolescent is obliged to act as parent to their own parent or sibling

The parentification of a child often occurs when the child's physical and/or emotional needs are not met because a parent has a physical or emotional impairment such as:

The parent has an alcohol or substance use disorder.

The parent or a sibling is disabled or has a serious medical condition

The parents are divorced or one parent has died.

The parents are immigrants and have difficulty integrating into society

These are not all of the ways parentification of a child occurs, but they are reasons why Simon's parentification happened. Micke abuses drugs and alcohol. Sara has ADHD and autism, and was bullied because of it. Linda got divorced from Micke (and not soon enough according to Sara). It's not confirmed that the Erikssons are immigrants, but they are Latinx living in a predominately white country, which is not easy. And from where we meet Simon in s1, it seems like he had to pick up the pieces of his family from all of these events and make them whole again.

There are two types of parentification: Instrumental and emotional.

Instrumental parentification happens when parents assign their child responsibilities that aren’t age appropriate. We can see this happen with Simon when he's the one finding ways to pay back his tutoring bill. Yes, Linda did question Simon how they were going to pay for it, but we never saw her act further in finding the money to pay Hillerska. We can also see this when Simon goes out to the store in e6 to buy milk, although Linda and Sara are home. An argument could be made that Simon insisted that he go out himself to get it, can't hide from the world forever, but I think that reasoning goes back to him feeling the need to be strong all the time.

Emotional parentification occurs when a child moves in to fulfill specific emotional needs of the parent. The child is expected to figure out the emotional needs of the parent, to respond to the need, and to provide support. I see this a lot in how Linda really leans on Simon to "deal with," for lack of a better word, Sara's attitude. I think this is most obvious in the big fight that Simon and Sara have in e6. It's Simon scolding Sara for her attitude and disrespect towards Linda, instead of Linda herself. And it's Simon who's consistently calling Sara out for the rude things she says. I do not remember a single time when Linda directly confronted Sara about her attitude and the way Sara speaks to her. My mom would never let me get away with talking to her in the way that Sara talks to Linda. It's like Simon is doing all of the scolding to somehow protect Linda from the hurtful things Sara says. Because he couldn't protect her from Micke (just theorizing)

There is also parent-focused parentification or sibling-focused parentification, meaning that a child becomes the primary caregiver for a sibling who is sick or disabled instead of acting like a caregiver to the parent(s).

I'd say that this is where we see parentification the most with Simon. He acts like Sara's older brother and protector, although he is the younger sibling. Yes, siblings should look out for one another, but I think the line between siblings and caregiver is blurry in this instance because of how Simon not only acts as her protector, but also as her critic or judge (for lack of a better word) with how he reprimands her.

Parentification can cause stress, anxiety, emotional detachment, disruptive behaviors and much more in a child.

I hope that in season 2 we see Linda step up as a parent, so that Simon has one thing less to worry about. As great of a mother as she is, always supporting her kids, physically being there for them, and taking cues from them, I think she can take on a more active role as a parent. I think she leans on Simon too much for certain things that she really should be dealing with instead of him.

I know we talk a lot about how Wille has the weight of the world on his shoulders in this fandom, and rightfully so baby's been through a lot, but I don't think we put enough focus on how much Simon has been through as well. They both carry the weight of their own worlds on their shoulders.

[yanderememes]

some yandere diego headcanons to stimulate your brain and because its scarce

buckle up buckos its gonna be long

-diego and s/o met right after the soup incident at the farm with his mother

-because diego and his mother had nothing to eat out of, the young s/o gave diego their cup.

-this was the first act of kindness he had received outside his mothers.

-they instantly because friends and developed a strong bond

-diego found himself being able to engage in emotional openness with s/o.

-after the death of this mother, they especially became closer.

-their relationship developed into a romantic one when they reached adolescence.

-they both work on the joestar ranch

-they rely on each other emotional, physical, and mental support.

-nights he snuck into their quarters and ushered them to his chest. drunk on each other’s tender lips and longing gazes-savoring such closeness and intimacy. they lulled sweet nothings into the other’s ears in between having conversations that would range from philosophical perspectives on life to the sizes of the bales of hay they had to feed the livestock that day, hours before they fell into an harmonious slumber. they lie intertwined like vines through the night. then they awake, unfolding like morning glories.

-under the tree apple tree in the meadows, they sit and embrace one another. the serene spring atmosphere amplified their romantic daze. more so, when diego pulls an engagement ring from his pocket and asks for their hand in marriage. elated, s/o accepts

- at that point, they transcended being a couple, existing as one. two halves of one soul, separated by flesh and bone.

-isn't it funny how short lived love is?

-diego's jockey career had taken off and he preferred to keep his and s/o's relationship as private as possible. not staying in the same household, scheduled and private rendezvous, never taking them to these supposed important and elaborate meetings and parties with top echelon officials.

-why? s/o would often ask themselves this. not because, they wanted to flaunt around as fiance to the famous jockey diego brando, but because they knew diego was too arrogant and prideful to not flaunt them around. however, he still seems to love and treat them all the same

-they questioned him on this and he simply replies with a gentle smile: "my dear, the paparazzi can be ruthless. and i prefer intimacy between us." he squeezes their hand for reassurance, but it doesn't work. something is telling them otherwise. something is definitely up

-suddenly, diego doesn't contact them for a week. s/o tries to contact him and when that doesn't work they begin to search for his whereabouts in the byline.

-they scan over the jockey section and finds...

DIEGO BRANDO, ENGAGED TO NOBILITY!

-the picture shown diego and a woman about 80 years old hugging and kissing each other.

-everything had fit like a puzzle piece

-not only has he cheated on them, they thought, he going to take this feeble old woman for a ride for her inheritance-to satiate his greed.

-they couldn't even force a tear from their eye. was he really this stupid that he thought they wouldnt find out?

-immediately, s/o goes to a nearby river to throw away the engagement ring-until...

"perhaps i could use this as a motivator..?"

-perhaps they should become a jockey themselves? become diego's rival? and that they did (women would dress up as a man because time period 1880s-1890s lol).

-s/o decides to keep the engagement ring their pocket at all times

-they quickly cover the tracks to their past life and begin anew. no one would know who they were, not even that bastard, diego-not matter how hard he searched.

-soon diego got married to the woman and suspiciously enough, she died 6 months later. s/o figured he killed her.

-months of relentless training payed off as the became one of the most notable jockey's in britian a long side of diego. she participated in a few of the same races as him, but they couldn't defeat him.

-it was in these races that they realized that he was shittier than they had originally thought. talking down to people, insulting fellow competitors, even when they were nice to him. goodness, they were glad they didnt marry him

-s/o kept a good distance away from him, never talking to him once as their new persona in fear of being caught.

-sbr is announced- diego and s/o apply and join.

-months later, ship containing the British SBR contestants sets sail for America for the race.

-as the race begins in san diego, diego cant help but to feel a strange, yet familiar aura emitting from the disguised s/o as he observes them.

-this is rationalized immediately after the 4th stage of the race when s/o takes off their disguise to take a piss (yeah bitch, they got a full body suit).

-he pursues them:

"Bloody hell... S/o, is that you?"

-'SHIT, SHIT SHIT!' they think. 'how in the FUCK could I be this foolish? out of all the people it could have been...!'

"A-ah, no? Sir, I do believe that we have raced against one other? You should know me."

"Do not play stupid, S/o. You revealed yourself when you relieved yourself!"

-s/o tries to distance themselves from him, but diego grabs them by the arm

"Wait...please. I understand why you're doing this. You're angry with me because I married that old hag. Believe me, darling, I did not marry her for love. I married for fortune; so that you and I could-"

"Enough! I already knew, and that makes the situation worse! I know that you murdered her too! You're a horrible man Diego! Leave me be and allow me to indulge in my life by my lonesome!"

"Everything I did, was for our sake."

“You didn’t do it for us. You did it for yourself. You did it for money and power.”

-diego’s eyes narrowed; as if her ungratefulness wasn’t difficult enough to bear, the sweet and relaxed tone he was fond of was now replaced by sharpness.

-they had never had an argument before until now. How they craved for the earlier years where this unbearable tension was absent and beyond their thoughts.

“If you wanted to get back at those farmfolk, there were more moral ways of going about it. You are talented Diego, you didn’t need to wed a old woman and murder her for her money. You could’ve-“

“It wouldn’t have been fast enough, S/o!"

"That eager to gain power, huh? Oh and if you were truly in love with me, you would’ve cared enough not to suddenly leave me, cheat on me, or resort to those primitive methods of garnering a higher socioeconomic status!”

-S/o peered into his enraged eyes with their weary ones, motioning an index finger in his direction.

“I will not be wed to a greedy, vengeful murderer!”

-It felt almost euphoric to have relieved their chest of the constriction caused by the unease and tension of this idle romance . Diego, on the other hand, was perceptively seething. He had lowered his head, his golden blonde locks concealing his expression with a menacing cast.

“If it wasn’t clear enough from your sudden absence in my life recently, we are not together and never will be. Oh umm..."

-they took one of his hands in theirs and began digging around in their pocket until they found the engagement ring. They held it up to the sun, noting the dullness of the gold and the gaudy diamond propped upon a pedestal. A long, heavy sigh drew from their lips as they nostalgically recalled its weight on their ring finger. In the past, it was light upon their finger, complimented with sentiments and notions of love and devotion. Obviously, the memory of it all had the opposite effect when he left and cheated on them. At the time, they could barely stand to look at the ring, as it’s pseudo-promising presence ignited sentiments of sorrow, resentment, and, strangely enough, a vivid determination within. With that putrid ring in their pocket, they felt a burning determination to best him in everything; morally above all else. That was when they got the idea to use it as a motivator in races.

-now, after meeting him as themselves again, it casted cloud of burden upon her. It acted as a reminder for the years wasted with him, and all they wanted to do was return it. With great gentleness, they placed it into the palm of the very man who broke and scattered the promise that the ring signified onto the ground.

-diego could only stare in disbelief at the ring in his hand.

“I used it to motivate myself in the races because I resented you so. Now, I figure it would be best if it was returned to its owner, considering that he is standing before me. I once thought you to be my lover, and, above of all, a gentleman. I can certainly say I no longer feel that way.”

"Take care, Mr. Brando.”

-as they try to break free from his grasp, his grip becomes tighter.

"Let go!"

"No! I will not allow this!"

-he shoves them to ground and pins them beneath him.

"Allow me refresh your memory, dear. It seems you've gotten a little dumber since you've been away from me."

-diego brought the accessory to his face for examination. Brushing his finger along the inside of the ring, it met with an all to familiar engraving that read: 'For my beloved S/o, may we be intertwined forever. -Diego Brando'

-he then holds that part of the ring to s/o's face

"You see this? I intend to keep my promise...do you even know how long I've been looking for you?"

-his face begins to close in on theirs

"I joined this Steel Ball Run race for the notoriety and money. I then figured out the true reason behind this race...even greater power exists. I intend to take that power... the corpse...for me, for us.

"Corpse? Are you talking out of your ass? You're fucking crazy!"

-the skin around diego's cheeks begin to crack and mimic dinosaur scales and his nails become claws. he brings a claw to their neck

"W-what the...let me go!"

" I was able to maintain this power because of the corpse. With its power, it would allow us to be together forever. You've been away from me for so long..."

"Now, enough of this stupidity. Read the engraving on the inside of this ring then look to me.”

“This means that you are mine and mine alone.”

-his claw was starting to dig into their skin

“I will be kind enough to give you an ultimatum. I do not want to do anything thing drastic either, as I cherish you dearly, after all. Either you come with me, allow me to put this ring back on your finger, or… I may have to resort to something like those ah... ‘primitive methods’ you spoke of earlier…”

OH SHIT. OH SHIT.

OMG

This is beautiful!! 😭 I'm such a Brandhoe so I'll take any breadcrumbs of yandere Dio/Giorno/Diego 🙏🏻

Thanks for sharing, anon! I really love hearing all of your hcs! Diego does seem like the type to be an asshole to the world but a sweetheart for his darling~

I personally would like to experience his "primitive methods" hehe. BRANDHOE SIMPS, ATTENTION! 🫡

[ryusxnka]

A frostbitten world turns to fire, A shadow of a wing remains. I try and I try again, it slips away, Shadow of a wing. 

Here’s my Interpretation of Hitsugaya’s Poem.  Keep in mind that this will mostly be influenced off of my Portrayal, therefore, will certainly differ from others. I’ve at present seen three dissimilar varieties of this poem around, but i’ll stick with this one since it’s the first one i’ve seen. This will be short, but regardless.

A frostbitten world turned to fire, 

By frostbitten world, he means a field of Ice, his inner world, Hyorinmaru’s home, which was initially introduced in his special flashback chapter. The very field with which he’d often have “ nightmares “ about - where he’d hear a loud, crushing, and unfamiliar voice. Hyorinmaru’s Voice. The field in which he will one die upon. -- The mention of fire is evidently appended to the upcoming war. As we’ve seen during the captain’s meeting, Hitsugaya appeared to be very upset with the information given, with the declaring war with the Quincies. -- Warfare causes destruction much like flames and thus is his world turning into fire, thawing, demolishing his peace. He is young and very kind-hearted, so he lacks the capability to fully solidify his heart amongst the battlefield. - Which, if most recall, at the end of the manga, at the ten year mark, he was relieved that they had peace for the duration of ten years with softness across his countenance. Those panels are and were a narrative most momentous. 

A shadow of a wing remains.

I firmly believe that a shadow of a wing is a representation of Hyorinmaru. He is amongst the shadows and provides Hitsugaya wings. He is the covert source of his strength and assists the adolescent by elevating him in battles and other difficult situations. Despite his world burning, he still had his companion by his side. At least until Cang-Du had temporarily taken his Bankai -- His friend. --  Another translation was:  A shadow of a wing remains unmelted. Hyorinmaru cannot be melted. He is the ethereal pillar of the frostbitten world and Hitsugaya’s strength. In addition to this, it could also mean that regardless of things, Hope remains.

I try and I try again, it slips away, Shadow of a wing.

This part could mean so much. But i believe its attached to when he’s calling for Hyorinmaru again, and again, feeling his presence slipping away, his shadow of a wing. Which is interesting in a very painful sort of way. His wing has been taken, but even so, he will try again.  After the first battle, he then goes back to basic sword training, knowing that he must press forward and not waste time moping on things that may not return. He trained with Rangiku, creating a fusion-like technique with her in a very short time. Ultimately regaining Hyorinmaru, with a little help of Urahara.  // Another translation was: Even if I come closer and closer, It slips through my hand, that shadow of a wing. Which can mean that no matter how hard he tries to extend his reach to Hyorinmaru, it merely slips through his hands considering he was purloined from his grasp. Another take could be that no matter what he does, how much he trains, he’ll never be able to acquire the level of strength he so desires to possess: Be strong enough, on his own, to protect Hinamori. Thus a shadow of a wing.

The sword imagery

The fact that while he spoke the poem, his sword gradually turned green, the color of the Tenth division is telling.  -----  To me, it represents that he’s accepted the loss of Hyorinmaru, broke the high dependency he had with him, and found a piece of himself, of his own strength, to move forward in a war full of unpredictability. Therefore, had Hitsugaya, as in his essence, ultimately becoming his Zanpakuto’s sheathe..

[lululeighsworld]

(making this an actual reblog cuz i think my answer will be a bit long)

krad asked: if you were to add any three gunter supports to any route (barring corrin rev, goes without saying), what would you add?

okay first of all. Gunter/Nyx. this LARGELY comes from my headcanon that Nyx performed her eldritch-killing-many-in-the-process-spell at a time when Gunter was an adolescent and a terrible rumour spread to his village that another community close by had just horrifically been wiped off the map. I think it would be interesting!! If Gunter had more supports I'd like to believe we would learn more about his history. Definitely keeping this idea rolling around in my brain cuz I do wanna write this support convo someday.

gotta also add in a real support for Gunter/Flora. they are soooooooooo dear to me. I am glad they at least got to have an earnest heart-to-heart in the DLC but that just goes to show there is so much more to be explored there!! I kinda get this feeling that out of anyone in the Northern Fortress, Gunter would probably be the one to support Flora's mounting resentment towards the royal family. Not to the extent that he would end up revealing his past, but they're both very good at hinting at the greater meaning of their conversation. Hell, maybe Gunter is where Flora learned to do that. stopping that thought there cuz I could go on forever. I love them so much.

lastly. oh man this is so difficult. I want to say Gunter/Xander but also Gunter/Azura!!!!! a short explanation for each (future leigh: they in fact were not short at all):

Gunter/Xander. at least in my brain cavity I think that if anyone can address the elephant in the room and get away with it ("hey. i see you never return to your family anymore.") it's most likely going to be Xander. in my headcanon at least Xander + Gunter's kid would be the same age--not that they would ever meet, but I think the crown prince would at least be slightly aware of the king's most notable knight being gone for periods of time, and not to war. also would make for some interesting background set-up to the coronation scene in conquest!! i dunno. it's a dynamic I like to tinker with.

Gunter/Azura. okay now what I would REALLY love is if the support changed between conquest and revelation. for conquest: let me learn how she found him in the canyon!! tell me about his initial impression seeing her in nohr with arete for the first time!! there's some interesting pieces there!! rev however would just be pure and hateful tension cuz they are BOTH. KEENLY. AWARE. OF WHAT SIDE OF THE BOARD THE OTHER IS ON. god that might be as much fun to write as the gunter + possessed!gunter forging bonds convo was to write >:3ccccccc

gone fishin', ama !

[introvertguide]

Abuse of Children Portrayed in Film

I like to use movies as an escape from the harshness of the real world and one of the things that I have learned about in my education is the effects on children when they are mistreated. I have a Masters Degree in Developmental Psychology and one of the hardest classes for me to handle was Abnormal Development in Children and Adolescents. We covered everything from dealing with dyslexia and ADHD to surviving severe abuse and loss at a very early age. We had guest speakers that ranged from people who had escaped genocide as children, to individuals who had been sold into prostitution by their parents, to people who had suffered severe abuse from their parents or guardian. I have heard stories that will stick with me forever and that is nightmare fuel that I don't want to share.

Because of my background education, I take note of the treatment and behavior of children and adolescents in the movies that I watch. There have been many great movies over the years that have depicted the suffering of children and it has always been difficult for me to deal with. There are more well known examples of films that focus on suffering but throw in more of a "sometimes we all suffer, even the children" message that demonstrate that kids aren't immune to great travesties (basically any film about The Holocaust). There are also well known films that show children "coming of age" through hardship (Annie 1982, Oliver! 1968) but end perfectly. There is a more current series of films that focuses entirely on a boy discovering a fantasy world that was robbed from him when his parents were murdered by a tyrant (Harry Potter series). But in this list I want to review some lesser known films that show examples of abuse. Even after all that I have seen and heard, the following list of films have affected me personally for one reason or another. Sometimes the children in these films endure and overcome their situation in the end. Sometimes these children do not survive or sadly remain in their misfortunes. To me, this can make the movie all the more powerful because of the incredible amount of pathos that endangering a child character can add. It can also make it a heart wrenching experience that is painful to watch. Here are some powerful films in which children suffer and the struggle is one of the main plot lines of the movie:

SPOILER WARNING AND VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISORY!!! I AM GOING TO GIVE AWAY THE PLOT TO THESE FILMS AND IT SHOULD GO WITHOUT SAYING THAT SOME OF THE PLOTS ARE DISTURBING!!! EITHER WATCH THE FILM IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS OR CHECK OUT THE FOLLOWING SUMMARIES IF YOU WOULD RATHER JUST HEAR WHAT HAPPENS SO YOU KNOW IF YOU WANT TO WATCH OR NOT!!!

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Sybil (TV Movie) 1976

I just recently saw this film after I had heard of the story in my abnormal development class almost 10 years ago. It is the story of a woman who developed multiple personalities to deal with a childhood in the care of an undiagnosed schizophrenic mother. The movie stars Sally Fields and is based on a true account of Shirley Ardell Mason and her treatment by psychologist Cornelia Wilbur. The acting in the film is overdramatic at times, but it definitely reminded me of some of the actual old videos of Shirley Mason and her sudden strange switches in personality when she was scared or anxious. Dr. Wilbur used hypnosis to actually introduce Mason to her alternate personalities and she was able to recognize her disassociative identity disorder and overcome it. It still hurts me to think that this person was mentally wounded so deeply by her parents that it basically shattered her into pieces in an effort to make sense of things.

Leon: The Professional 1994

I mention this film a lot because it is a heartwarming story of an assassin teaching a young orphan how to murder. It is the breakout role for Natalie Portman and it is just amazing. Leon is a "cleaner" that lives next door to an abusive and addictive family with a troubled girl named Mathilda. The father gets in trouble with the mob and some enforcers come by and slaughter most of the family while Mathilda is getting groceries. She returns during the massacre and realizes what is happening so continues next door and pleads for shelter. Leon takes her in and teachers her the trade and protects her from the men who want to finish her off. The movie was written and directed by Luc Besson and stars Jean Reno, Gary Oldman, and Natalie Portman. The suffering that this girl endures because of her parent's addictions hurts me, yet I have seen and enjoyed this film many times. I recommend watching when in the mood to be deeply affected by the trials of a little girl and the killer who protected her.

Kids 1995

This film came out when I was early in high school and bothered me greatly. It is a story by Harmony Korine, and one of his many attempts to capture the hopeless lives of unmotivated and unsupervised teens. These are young teens having unprotected sex, stealing money to do drugs, and attacking people in the park. I did not really go to these kinds of parties when I was that age (or ever really) and it has bothered me to think that adolescents would partake in this kind of behavior. It is hard for me to believe that these kids had the ability to mentally comprehend the consequences of their actions and some of the characters end up contracting HIV from each other. I would not recommend the film because it is a depressing day in the life that no youth should have.

Gummo 1997

I would not call this a good movie and I wouldn't really recommend it. It is another work by Harmony Korine and really details the depravity that can occur with unsupervised youths living in low socio-economic conditions. This movie is just depressing and motivated me to find something to motivate me into action. I got into both psychology and teaching, which has served me well for the past 20 years. It was this film that showed me how low the bar for quality of life could be, and I guess for that I am thankful. However, I still wouldn't recommend it.

Happiness 1998

This movie I didn't see right away but noticed it at the video store on many occasions. I final watched it when I was about 25 on the recommendation of a friend and one particular storyline greatly disturbed me. It is basically the story of 3 sisters that feel they should be happy and project a face of happiness, yet they are miserable and have horrible lives. One sister in particular is married to a psychiatrist who turns out to be a pedophile that rapes the friends of his young son. At one point rather early on in the movie, this man confesses to his son that he raped the boy's friends and that he would do it again. The son is so confused that he asks his father why he never raped him. It is so disturbing to me because I know the boys that were assaulted will be forever damaged and this boy who was not actually raped will be mentally scarred as well. The fact that there are people in the world that would harm children that way, recognize what they had done, and then know they didn't have the self control to stop themselves from doing it again is horrifying to me.

Lilya 4-Ever 2002

This film is deeply disturbing and I highly recommend never watching it. I will spoil it for you now so you never have to see it if you don't want. A 16-year-old girl named Lilya lives with her mother. The mom gets a boyfriend and the couple move to America and abandons Lilya with a neglectful aunt. The aunt movies into the old apartment of her sister and Lilya is forced to move out and become a prostitute to make money. A boy comes along and convinces her to move to Sweden to escape her life. When they arrive, this boy sells her to a pimp and she becomes a teenage sex slave. She almost escapes, but is then captured and beaten almost to death. She escapes again and this time commits suicide so she won't be recaptured. This movie is awful and changed my mind about giving every film a chance. I wish I could forget this film, but I can't. Perhaps it is just not for me, but this film presentation is definitely an experience that you won't soon forget.

The Kite Runner 2007

I read this book in my twenties and saw the film in my thirties and both affected me greatly. A well-to-do boy and his friend are in a kite battle competition and the friend is beaten and raped when he goes to retrieve a fallen kite. The well-to-do boy denies knowing what happened to his friend (he does know) and basically shames and abandons him. This action haunts the well-to-do boy for the rest of his life. How the boy who was raped is basically falling prey to blaming the victim is heartbreaking, and the lifetime of guilt of the other boy is pitiable. Neither boy was the actual attacker yet they both were the ones that suffered.

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There are many other examples of movies along these lines and could be found if you feel like suffering. I can't say that I would recommend them because they are very difficult to watch. Beyond just dealing with the content, it is rare to find child actors who can actually portray somebody who has truly suffered. The mix of bad acting and a depressing plot can make for a terrible movie going experience. The genre of movie involving suffering does exist, though, and it could be enjoyed (?) by some. Just not generally by me.

[brywrites]

Gifted

Spencer Reid x Reader. Summary: All his life Spencer Reid has been told he’s gifted. And all his life he’s wondered what the point was of those gifts that felt like curses. Until her.

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Though he holds so many memories in his mind, Spencer Reid isn’t quite sure who the first person to call him “gifted” was. It was probably his mother, he thinks. Certainly not his father, who thought he was strange. Perhaps a teacher, or maybe even his Aunt Ethel. All he’s certain of is that he’s lost track of the number of times people have praised the so-called gifts he possesses. His eidetic memory, his autodidactism, his absurdly high IQ. His mind, they say, is a gift. But it’s felt more like a curse for most of his life.

Those same things that helped him skip grades and earn the praise of adults brought him years of bullying taunts and miserable adolescent trauma. They isolated him from his peers. His companions were library books and stories and mathematic proofs – nothing with a beating heart. They plagued his nightmares, for his mother had been brilliant too and what had that done for her? And those gifts came with a tremendous burden of pressure, they demanded use in a powerful way. Reid was always terrified he’d fail to live up to that impossible potential, proving himself unworthy of such great and terrible gifts.

By the time he’s thirty-six, he wonders why he was ever given such gifts in the first place. Clearly he’s squandered them, spent them on chasing monsters he thought might be human. They turned out to be hydras – for each one they catch, two more take its place. He’s let his mind waste away on drugs, on grief. In shacks and in prison and in grudges he just can’t let go of. He’s saved lives, he knows, but his team do that same thing without the gifts he’s been cursed with. What’s the point of him? Of any of the talents or tricks he possesses?

And it’s that question on his mind as he walks into a Virginia library to interview a witness to the latest in a string of serial arsons. Her name tag says Y/N. She’s clearly nervous, a little shaken, but she manages a smile when a child runs up to interrupt and ask her how to find The Magic Tree House books. And when she turns back to look at Reid, that smile still lingers – her eyes so bright it catches him off guard. She takes him back to the area of the library that was burned to talk about the crime scene, and she off-handedly asks if he has a favorite.

And when he says, “Oh I could never choose just one favorite. I love books too much for that,” that smile returns, unexpectedly bright.

“A man after my own heart,” she says. “Tell me a few then.” 

So he rattles off a handful, hoping at least one of them will keep that light in her eyes. They do. “Bradbury is one of my favorites, too. I just love Dandelion Wine. Sorry, I probably should focus on the fire. I try to distract myself when I feel stressed, and well, remembering what happened that night doesn’t exactly help with my anxiety.”

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I tend to ramble when I’m nervous. Or excited. Really, I think I just talk a lot.” Another smile, one that crinkles the corners of her eyes. Over the course of the investigation, the BAU has to ask her to come to the station twice. By chance, Reid finds himself interviewing her both times, and both times he finds himself rambling a little more than he means to – because he finds himself inexplicably a little nervous and a little excited in her presence. It’s that smile, the one that lingers long in his mind after she leaves each time.

There’s something about her, about the light she seems to carry, that draws him in. That compels him to say yes when he shows up at the library to inform her they’ve caught the unsub and she asks, “Could I buy you a cup of coffee to show my appreciation? If that’s not too much, of course.”

“I think that would be perfect,” he says. And as they sit at the café across the street with lattes in oversized mugs, he’s never been so grateful for his vast knowledge of literature. Each title is a start into a new conversation with her, and they swap stories about stories – the ones they have lived and the ones they have loved. When she disappointedly announces her break is over, she adds, “But maybe we could do this again sometime?”

“Yes,” he says. “Please.”

“How should I get in touch with you if you’re not showing up at the library to interrogate me, Dr. Reid?” she teases.

He hastily withdraws his cell phone from his pocket and offers it to her. She begins to type in her number. “You, um, you can call me Spencer,” he tells her.

She grins at him and something in his chest shifts at the sight. “I’ll definitely call you soon, Spencer.” He’s never liked the sound of his own name more. And he thanks that eidetic memory of his for allowing him to replay it again and again in his mind until he can see her next.

.

They get coffee again the first chance he gets. And then again. When she asks how he has time to read so much and he tells her about how his mind works – about his memory and speed-reading and quantified intelligence, all the things that have been called gifts – she thinks for a moment before saying, “That must be lonely.”

The relief he feels at her understanding is immense. “It is sometimes,” he admits. “But it’s felt less so lately.” They go to a park together. Then out to dinner. By the time he realizes he’s falling, he’s forgotten what it feels like to be on solid ground. Fortunately, he isn’t the only one at the mercy of gravity. She feels it too. And when she laughs at his joke as he walks her home from dinner, he just can’t help himself. He leans in and cups her cheek to pull her to him, pressing his lips to her still-smiling lips. The taste of wine still on her tongue. And though he doesn’t drink anymore, the sensation of her is enough to make him feel utterly intoxicated.

Slowly, his life fills up with her. His sabbatical arrives with the perfect timing to allow him evenings and weekends with her. He picks her up after work. She meets him for breakfast. He takes her to the planetarium. She falls asleep on his couch. He tells her it won’t always be this way and she assures him that’s okay. But it gives him the chance to build the foundation their relationship needs. It’s in that time that he begins to catalogue her smiles in his memory. The dazzling ones she sends his way when she spots him at a coffee shop. The soft, shaky ones she wears after a long kiss. The coy ones that twist the corner of her mouth when she’s teasing him. The nervous one that slowly grows when she meets his team for the first time – not as a witness, but as his girlfriend. A title she declares like a badge of honor. He holds each smile in his mind, picture perfect thanks to that eidetic memory. When a case has been particularly tough or he’s away for longer than he’d like, he flips through them in his mind, trying to remember the cause of each one, trying to hold on to that light until he can hold her in his arms again.

.

He surprises her with flowers on her birthday. “You remembered?” she gasps, her eyes wide. “And these – these are my favorite. How did you know?”

“I could never forget,” he laughs, but she stares down at the bouquet and clutches them to her chest.

“I don’t make a big deal about my birthday, so people don’t usually remember,” she says quietly. “And nobody’s ever gotten me flowers before. Thank you, Spencer.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

He grins from ear to ear. Forget the sound of his name, those three words are the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “I love you, too.” It’s a first for both of them. And one week later comes another first – witnessing her panic attacks for the first time. She’s shaking too hard to tell him what she needs, so he tries to do what would help him. He sits down next to her on his living room rug and wraps her in his arms. He rests his head on her shoulder and murmurs the words to her favorite poem. She seems to breathe a little easier and so he recites another one she loves, and another until her breathing finally steadies and she unclenches her fists to wrap her arms around his neck, burying her face in his sweater.

Suddenly it doesn’t feel like such a curse to remember everything he reads when it means he can give her the words she loves when she needs them most.

The first time they sleep together is only the second time he’s been intimate with someone and he feels more awkward than he wishes he was. But he commits himself to studying, to remembering what she likes and what she doesn’t, and the next time he proves to be the quickest of learners when he succeeds at making her come within a matter of minutes. He discovers a new smile of hers, one of dreamy bliss and kiss-swollen lips. He loves it. He loves her, adores every single part of her she’s shared with him and every piece yet to be found. And to his continued surprise and delight, she loves him just as much.

He tries every day to be worthy of that love. He makes time for her. He goes to meet her friends and he shakes their hands even though he hates touching people, even though she insists, “You don’t have to. They won’t mind.” He does it because she’s the only person in the world whose touch he actually craves.

When she swoons over a dress Penelope has shown her on Instagram, he makes a note of it. She’s utterly enamored by it by her smile falls upon checking the price tag. It’s far out of her budget. So the next week when he’s out on a case in Atlantic City, he swings by one of the few casinos that doesn’t have his picture framed on the wall of their security office. He wins more than the cost of the dress in an hour and leaves before anyone can get suspicious. The dress arrives at his apartment the same day he gets home, and he invites her over to surprise her with it. When she opens the box, her eyes go wide.

“Spencer, this is… this can’t be. It’s… do you know how expensive this is?” Y/N asks.

Bashfully, he replies, “Now might be a good time to mention I’m banned from casinos in almost every state for my card counting abilities.” It’s well worth the little effort he expended to see the way her face lights up at the sight of it. And though he’s never been a gambling man, when he sees her wearing it for the first time he considers trying his luck a little more often.

At times he worries he’s doing too much, but how could it ever be when the way she loves him has been so much more than enough? For the first time in his life, he feels like maybe he’s enough. When she says, “I love you,” he believes it. When she says, “I’ll be back,” he trusts her. He’s given another person more of his heart than he ever has before, and for once he’s not afraid of it breaking. She doesn’t mind the strange hours he works or heaviness he sometimes carries with him. When he wakes up from a nightmare, she holds him close and keeps him grounded. He sends postcards from each city he visits and she makes his favorite food when he comes home and home is suddenly a place they share. She moves into his apartment and it feels like it was never complete without her there.

.

Not long after, there is a case in Boston. Their terrifyingly intelligent unsub taunts Reid as he leaves the interrogation room. “Judge me all you want, Dr. Reid. But I’ve used my mind to change the world. You’ve done nothing with yours.” The words haunt him on the flight home. He sits on the back of the plane lost in thought. What has he done? Sure he’s saved lives, but could he have done more? Could someone else have used those gifts he’s been burdened with in a way that was better? Why does he have any of these talents? Why has he acquired any of these skills?

His phone chimes. A text from her. Brought home a new book from the library I think you’ll love! Can’t wait to see you, dearest. And it hits him.

It’s her. All along it’s been her.

The answer echoes in his head as he races home to her. Everything in his life has led him to her, has let him be the person she needs. He can memorize all her favorite songs and poems to recite for her when her anxiety gets the best of her. He can remember every date that matters to her and everything she adores. He can read her favorite books overnight to talk about them with her in the morning. He can profile from her body language and her microexpressions when she’s having a bad day and needs him to be there for her, even when she’s too afraid to ask for what she needs. When she asks absurd questions out of the blue, he can give her actual answers with the useless encyclopedia of knowledge he’s obtained over the years. When she needs a distraction his rambling finally proves useful. It’s all for her.

She’s the reason his mind doesn’t feel like a curse anymore. How could he ever think of it with disdain when it’s the reason he can picture every smile she’s ever let him see? When he can catalogue every wonderful word from her lips, every inch of her skin, every action that drives her wild.

Reid can’t seem to open the door to their apartment fast enough. When he finally steps inside, she’s sitting on the couch. She turns away from the book in her lap to smile at him. “Welcome back,” she says. Then, tilting her head, “Is everything okay?”

An unshakeable grin spreads across his face and he knows he must look like a madman right now as he crosses the living to sit beside her. “Everything’s perfect. I just… I had this epiphany. All the things I hate about myself, you love. And all the things I can do let me love you better. It just feels like everything – everything has led me to you. Even the bad things, I mean, being in prison forced me to take sabbaticals and if I hadn’t we wouldn’t have had that time together early on and maybe we wouldn’t have worked and I don’t believe in fate,” he says, taking a breath. “But I can’t help but feel like for the first time, I’m right where I’m supposed to be. With you. Like that’s where I was meant to be all along. And I… I just thought you should know.”

His long-winded rambling is rewarded with one of his favorite smiles from her – one that makes her eyes soft and puts sunsets to shame. The kind she wears when she is incandescently happy. Her fingers lace through his and they are a perfect fit in his big hands. “There is nowhere else I’d rather be,” she says, leaning in to kiss him.

All his life, Spencer Reid has been told he is gifted. But this time, he thinks it might actually be true. He holds the greatest gift the universe has ever granted him in his arms and knows that no part of him is a curse if he is loved by her.

[taeyongers]

Exile (M)

pairing: hyunjae x reader

genre: smut, rival mob bosses au, childhood friends to lovers 

summary: basically two orphans grow up and end up in rival gangs without knowing, until you meet in the middle of a gunfight

warning: drugs mention, bullying, sexual harassment, old style orphanages, gangs, gunfights, slight mentions of blood and wounds, sexual content (be warned) but it’s mostly soft and fluffy, light sub! hyunjae for a time

word count: 8.5k 

a/n: loooool @letteredwings hi friend this for u, pls don’t headbutt hyunjae anymore

The earth is cold under your bare feet. Your toes are spread wide. Wet pebbled mud meshes through the spaces in between.

It’s raining. The pitter patter of raindrops against the concrete pavement makes you want to step a little farther out from the awning you stand under, to just feel it against your skin. Your hair has already gotten wet. You just need more, a feeling to break you free from the unchanging hell you face each day.

“Y/n!” A sharp voice, familiar, cuts you out of your thoughts. “What are you doing!? You’ll catch a cold!”

It’s Hyunjae, of course. You let him tug you back from under the awning, through the doors, up the wooden steps and into the dreary warmth.

He is your height at this age. His eyes are young and shining, brows furrowed in concern and anger.

“The headmistress will be angry,” he mumbles. His hands rub your sides to get some warmth in you.

“The headmistress doesn't care,” you mutter.

He scoffs at your words, takes your little hand in his and trudges up the stairs into his dormitory. He sits you down on his bed, rummages through his dresser, which is not even a foot away from the bed. It’s a pathetically small room.

“You'll need dry clothes,” he says to himself and pulls out a towel. He places it on your wet hair, brows still furrowed. “You need to take those off. You’ll get sick.”

Finally, your cheeks burn. “All the other children already tease that we’ll get married someday and you want me to take my clothes off in your room!?”

You shove away the towel from your head. His cheeks tint pink and he sits down beside you with a huff.

“I didn't mean you need to change right now. You can do it in your room. Just dry off first.” He picks up the towel and holds it out to you.

You give him a glare and snatch the towel before placing it on your hair. He looks at you, eyeing the water dripping down the strands.

“Why were you even outside in the rain?”

“I was bored.”

He doesn't believe you. “They were making fun of you, weren’t they?” You glare at him again. He smirks like he knows something. “And you ran outside? You could have come to find me.”

“Why? You’re not my brother.”

He falls silent.

You shift on his creaky bed. “Why do you help me so much? You protect me from the kids who throw food at my hair. You fight my bullies. You talk back to the headmistress when she is angry with me. You share your cookies with me. You hug me when I cry, take care of me when I’m sick, now you’re drying me off when I’m wet. Why?”

He looks at you and shrugs. “Because you can't defend yourself. You’re small.”

Anger rips through you. “Yes I can! I don't need you!” You shove at him, nearly toppling him from the bed.

He grapples your hands. “Fine! Fine, it’s not because of that!” He says, calming you down. “It’s because… I know that sad kids end up in those bad groups around town. The headmistress says those who don't behave will never find parents and will stay here until they turn sixteen. Once they leave, they are taken in by those bad people. And I know she says that for kids who don't behave but I think those kids are just sad.” You stare at him as he stutters. “So, I don’t want you to be sad. I don't want you to end up with those people.”

“So you’re saying I’m sad?” You ask. He touches a stray piece of your hair.

“I mean...I see how the other kids treat you. How the teachers and mistresses treat you. I would be sad.”

You look at him until your gaze falls. “Then... we should both make a promise to not be sad and end up with those people.” He nods and holds out his pinky. You interlace yours with his. “We’ll find parents, or we’ll grow up and become good people.”

He nods resolutely. “Yeah.”

Your hands fall away from each other.

“Do you.. wanna change into dry clothes and come back here? I hid some extra cookies for you.”

Your lips break out into a grin. “Okay!”

He grins back. You rush off, something light fluttering in your chest.

This is how childhood goes. You do everything together. He’s your rock and your shield, your only friend. He protects you from the other children, your teachers and from the world. When they manage to slip past him, your iron defense, and get to you, you hide away and cry. He always finds you, hugs you through your tears, shushes and comforts you.

Childhood years fall away into adolescence and teenage years. By sixteen, you will be thrown out into the world, forced to brave it on your own. Hyunjae and you try to make the most out of whatever miserable years you have left at the orphanage, and whatever little protection it offers you both during this time.

As you grow, he surpasses your height. His jaw becomes defined, his body lanky and tall until he's a head above you. He's handsome… so handsome and it makes your heart flip and cheeks burn. You still share food and he still comforts you when things are hard. You find a special place together, the rooftop of the orphanage, where you lie flat and feel as if the universe is swallowing you into itself.

“We can’t turn out bad,” He reminds himself and you. “We can't fall into those gangs that plague this city. We need to make a life for ourselves once we get out of here, no matter how hard it will be.”

“It won't be hard for you,” you say. “You’re a good person. You’ll be a doctor or something. I know it.”

He scoffs, staring up at the night sky. “You don’t know that.”

“I do!” Your brows furrow. “You’re the best person here. This place doesn’t deserve you.”

He looks at you with stars in his eyes. He moves as if going to touch your cheek, but changes his mind.

“Okay,”  he whispers, “but it doesn't deserve you either.”

You stare at him. You wonder constantly if he feels something for you. You find him looking at you when you don’t notice, something akin to stars in his eyes, though to be fair, they have been there since childhood. But you’re not convinced that he feels anything for you other than that of a sister, a friend.

He holds out his pinky finger, a reassurance of that promise. You cross your finger with his.

Life’s problems change as time goes on. Bullying from the other orphans becomes more personal, more cruel. At just 15, the children have been introduced to drugs, sex, and using violence for intimidation. They wonder loudly about your relationship with Hyunjae. They wonder what you’re giving him for someone like him to care about such a loser like you.

Like that one time when a boy and his friends corner you after dinner, sneers and hatred spouting in their mouths.

“Are you his whore or something?” He asks, eyes burning holes into you. “Do you have to use that mouth in convincing ways to keep him protecting you? Maybe we need convincing as well,” he laughs with his friends.

You slip past them and run to your room. You cry until you can't breathe. Hyunjae finds you, he always finds you, soft voice filled with concern asking what, what is it, please tell me.

You tell him in between sobs. His eyes grow hard and cold. He hugs you tightly, shushes and strokes your hair until you calm down and fall asleep in his arms. His grip is gentle, but something in him is colder than usual.

The next day, he disappeared. You hear shouting in the headmistress’ office. He returns in the night, bruises sprouting across his face. His hand is clenched tight, swollen and bruised and messy. His eyes are still hard and cold.

You sit him down in your room. On this rare occasion, you’re the one taking care of him. You drag a wet rag gently across his swollen knuckles and his bruised cheekbones.

“What happened? Where were you?”

He doesn’t respond. He’s glaring at something far off and refuses to tell you.

The next day, you find that he’s been sentenced to weeks of latrine duty. You find out from another boy, Chanhee, about what happened. Hyunjae had attacked the boy who harassed you the day before.

“So then Hyunjae shows up and beats the crap out of him behind the building. If you think hyunjae looked bad, you should have seen the other guy.”

You get angry. Not at him, but at yourself. Why, why were you so weak? Why does Hyunjae put himself at risk for you? Why did Hyunjae grow up putting himself at risk for you, just because you couldn't protect yourself?

The other kids already think you’re doing some kind of sexual favors for him to protect you from abuse. You feel ashamed, disgusted. Why does he associate himself with someone as weak and useless as you?

You begin to distance yourself from him. You don’t go over to his room or let him stay in yours. You don’t hang out with him when you’re permitted to go outside. You begin to talk less, eat less together and, stop your rooftop meetings all together, feigning a headache or something else each time he asks. You feel it’s for the best. He should live his life for himself, not for you.

It doesn’t work. He ends up cornering you one day, hurt flooding his eyes, something you never want to see again. “Why are you ignoring me?”

You sigh.

“Did someone say something? Did they threaten-”

“What am I to you?” You ask.

His resolve burns away, and he’s left confused, mouth bobbing open and closed like a fish. “You’re my friend-”

“Do you love me?”

His brows furrow. “Of course I love you.”

“Are you in love with me?”

He goes still. Silent.

You look away. Of course not. He’s just protecting you because he feels that you’re too weak to do it yourself.

“I feel like a burden  You keep making up for my weaknesses.”

“Hey,” he tilts your chin up. “It’s not your fault. People are shit. I’m just helping you.“

“And you keep getting hurt. Our lives are already miserable here, and I’m just making yours worse.”

“Stop,” he says, eyes conflicted, unable to get the words out. He never was good with them.

“I’m turning sixteen soon. I’m going away.”

His brows furrow. “Where?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere. I’ll get a job, and live my life.”

“But I don’t want you to go!” He erupts, rattling you. He sees your expression and softens. “We can… we can go together. Live together.”

“I’m already a burden on you. And besides, why would you? You’re not in love with me.”

He’s silent. His eyes are burning with something he wants to say. But he doesn't. He never does. And neither do you.

...

You turn sixteen, no longer legally allowed to stay at the orphanage. You move away and become a waitress. You don’t hear from Hyunjae again. You get used to your new life, find an apartment, and appreciate the small, new found freedom of living by yourself. Of course, the struggle for money is always there as well as a deep ache in your heart that refuses to go away, but it’s more than you’ve ever had.

Eight years go by and you break your promise. You ended up getting involved with the wrong people in the allure of deals for quick ways to get money. You meet a charming woman who convinces you to join her friends, that they could use your skills and knowledge. Now, you’re in a gang, one of the many in this god forsaken city.

You fight, you shoot, you kill, and you get money. You live in more comfort as a criminal than you’ve had in your whole life. You’ve broken your promise and don’t regret it. It’s as if it's always meant to be. You finally feel like you’re in charge of your life.

Hyunjae fades from your mind. You’re not sure if you ever fade from his.

Gang wars are all too familiar to you, and the strategy involved in conducting them is as well, now that you have become the leader. You like the new found power, your members depending on you, your success in proving yourself over and over again as the boss.

One gang in particular has been tormenting you for the past few years. They have been picking off your members, stealing your business, moving into your territory. You’d decided enough was enough and engaged them. It takes place as gunfights through back alleys in the middle of the night.

You decided to join in this time on the dirty work of fighting. The new enemy seems capable and more threatening than the others. Besides, as leader, you’ve been tucked away in the safety of your headquarters, sending orders from there. You haven't had a good gun fight in a while.

Right now, you’re hidden behind a building, shooting at shapeless figures in the dark. You know you have more numbers, superior guns and skills, when you begin pushing them back, cornering them, suffocating them. Victory is close and soon you will be queen of these lands once again.

Then, you hear a voice, your subordinate shouting something at the same time a shapeless figure melts from the shadows and darts across the street.

“That’s their leader!”

Oh, you are not one to miss out on this opportunity, of taking out this leader, of ruling both groups, both territories. So, you tear yourself from out of the shadows and sprint after the figure.

Your members call out after you but you ignore them. Your group is winning. Their leader is making a last ditch effort to escape. There is nothing to worry about.

You chase the figure into a darkened alley that stops abruptly at a dead end with one dim streetlight. You corner him, gun raised, and watch the male turn around.

“What kind of coward leader runs from a fight?”

He freezes, as if something has seized and taken hold of his entire body. Then, he steps into the light. A shock runs through you. Your eyes widen, and the gun almost slips from your grip.

“Y/n?”

His voice floats to your ears. Yes, it’s familiar, one you’ve memorized, but it’s deeper now. You can hardly overcome your shock as men appear behind you with guns pointed at your head. It was a trap. 

“Stop!” Hyunjae orders, shock and concern taking over his features, ones you’ve known since childhood. “We’re taking her with us.”

...

Your feet hurt from pacing the room, but you don’t stop. You hear an exasperated sigh from off to the side.

“Are you going to sit down and talk?” Hyunjae asks. He is seated at a table, a spare chair beside him. Your eyes run over him briefly. 

He’s older, much older. He’s grown half a foot since you saw him last. His body is bigger, toned from fighting. He has the same eyes, though - young looking and twinkling- and the same smell, something that makes your stomach wrench.

You continue to pace, glancing at the window, the air vent, the door- anything that can let you escape.

“Y/n.”

Your eyes snap to him. “No. I’m not going to sit down and have a talk. Especially not with you,” you spit out.

He blinks. “What do you mean, especially not with me?”

You don't respond. He stands up abruptly, and without thinking, you grab the knife from where they never found it when they searched you.

He freezes at the sight. His hand curls around the gun in his holster. “Don’t be stupid, Y/n. There are men right outside those doors. One word from me and they’ll barge in and kill you.”

“Then why don’t they?” You yell.

“Why are u so angry!?” He snarls, finally showing his anger. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in years! What did I-“

“What did you do? I thought I left you in that orphanage years ago and now I find out that you’re the head of the gang that keeps invading our rightful territory? That it was on your orders that my members were killed for years? That I was almost killed!?”

Something flits across his eyes.

“Yeah I know,” you sneer, “how ironic is it that you were my knight in shining armor back then and now you’ve been trying to kill me for years.”

He exhales, holding his hand up in a placating gesture. “Y/n, I didn't know.”

“And what about those dreams you had, huh? About being a doctor? Something good? You promised you’d not fall into this scene and yet you ended up here anyway!”

His face is hard. “We both made that promise.”

You falter, glaring at him. “I was always the less promising one out of us two.”

He steps forward. “That’s not true.”

You purse your lips. “Are you going to kill me now?”

He stops, looking hurt. “Of course not.”

“Why not? I’m the enemy leader.”

He looks exasperated. “Y/n-“ he reaches for you but you step away. His hand falls from the air.

The silence is deafening and you grip your knife. “I should kill you. I will be better for it.”

Hyunjae sighs, running his hand through his hair . “Don’t be stupid. The guards outside-“

“I can take them.” You say with full confidence. He seems surprised. He looks at the anger, the hurt in your eyes, then down at the knife, in your experienced grip. “I’m going to kill you,” you say again, almost as an effort to convince yourself.

Some light kindles in his eyes, a look of interest, curiosity. Maybe he’s caught onto your bluff.

He raises a brow. “Really?”

You blink and nod. He steps closer, so close you’re just inches away, until you can see the deep brown of his twinkling eyes, the scent of him that takes you back years. He grips your hand holding the knife and presses it against his chest, right over his heart. His gaze is intense.

“Then do it.”

You stutter. “I- I will do it…”

His eyes aren’t wavering from yours. He imperceptibly presses the knife harder against his chest. Your hands are shaking, and you make no move to pierce him. He realizes this. Without taking his eyes off of yours, he gently pulls your wrist away from his chest. With a simple twist, the knife clatters to the floor. Now, you’re both looking at each other, silence flooding the room.

His eyes never break their lock on yours except for one flicker down to your lips and back. Then, he moves so slowly, head tilting, lips nearly brushing yours to kiss you. You can barely get a hold of yourself to jerk away.

“What- what are you doing!?” You breathe hard, stepping back.

He grasps your elbow and pulls you back. His eyes soften, hand coming up to run across your face. “Please, I … just missed you...so much” His voice is shaky, a rare break in character from the short amount of time you’ve seen him recently, eyes vulnerable instead of cold steel.

“I have to kill you.” Your voice cracks. “After all those years of fighting-“

“But you can’t,” he speaks, eyes drinking you in. “Because you feel something for me like I do for you, even after all this time. And in the middle of this war and senseless violence, can’t we just have this?”

You freeze. “You feel what for me?”

He catches on. Something soft floods his eyes, his thumb stroking your cheek. You would have torn away if not for the ridiculous amount of comfort it brings you.

“Is that why you are so angry?” He chuckles, letting his hand slip from your cheek before releasing a defeated sigh. “I should have told you I was in love with you before you left.”

You still. He rubs the nape of his neck.

“When you left, I … I lost it.” Hyunjae’s voice cracked. “I was angry for the longest time. I resented you for leaving. I resented myself for not trying harder to make you stay, for not telling you the truth when you asked me how I felt.” He paced. “You.. called me a good person. Then I lost you and I threw away everything about myself that was good. I got into drugs… crime. Now I’m here.” He glanced at you. “I never thought you’d be here too.”

You silently digest his words, feeling the knot in your stomach loosen.

He steps closer and takes your hand.  “I couldn’t sleep at night for years. I constantly wondered if you were in danger.”

“I don’t need you to protect me anymore,” you whisper.

“No,” he gazes at you, talking almost to himself. “No, you don’t.” He drops your hand and sighs. “I can see I’ve hurt you too much, back then and even now, to earn your forgiveness.”

Silence hangs heavy. The entrenched hurt in your heart lightens. Of course he’d been hurting all this time too. But your throat is too heavy to form any words in response.

“So, what do we do now?” You ask hoarsely.

He’s silent, eyes going from you to the door. “I can’t take you back to my members. They’ll have you tortured and killed immediately, and there’s no way in hell I would let that happen.”

You make a show of rolling your eyes. Of course, he protects you, even now.

Hyunjae paces across the floor, stroking his chin. He stops by the table and looks up at the air vent in the ceiling. He turns around, eyes determined.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do. We have to fake a struggle. Give me a few bruises. I’ll lock the door so the guards can’t get in immediately. Then, you climb up through the vent and make you way out of the building. Hopefully they won’t catch up.”

You can’t help giving a small smile. “Hopefully?”

He nods, eyes softening for a brief moment. Suddenly, he presses forward and kisses you deeply. A shock of butterflies bursts through your stomach, fluttering up and up to your chest. You barely process his soft lips, his calloused hands on your cheeks, the fringes of his hair tickling your forehead. Your mind turns to mush before he pulls away. He looks at you softly as he releases you. Then, he punches you in the shoulder, hard.

“Ow!” You reel back.

He smirks. “Where do you think you’re going?” He calls out loudly, much louder than is needed.

You catch on. “I’m leaving!” You yell just as loud and shove him hard towards the door. He grins approvingly at your play and spins around to lock the door. Someone pounds on the wood from the other side.

“Sir!? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he calls. “I just have a difficult prisoner, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Something playful flares in his eyes as he nearly tackles you. You stumble violently for a moment, his large arms wrapped around yours to pin you in place. You try to wrestle out of his grip but he manages to hold your arms tight around you so you can’t move, giving you the odd sensation of being in a straitjacket.

“No, let me go! I’ll--” you pause, glaring at him. “I’ll headbutt you, I swear.”

He smirks. “Then headbutt me.”

You pause for a second and then you swing your head into his cranium. His head jolts backwards and his arms release you to grip his throbbing head.

“What the hell- you actually did it!?”

You snicker at him before the sound of pounding resounds throughout the room.

“Sir, the door isn’t opening! We’re going to break in!”

Hyunjae whirls around to face you, gesturing you to go up the vent. “Alright, hurry up!” He yells to guards.

You step onto the table and reach up onto your tiptoes to remove the covering. With one last look at Hyunjae, who’s face seems to be a mess of regret, affection, longing, and panic, you muster out a “see you later,” before disappearing through the hole.

...

Hyunjae knows he is seen as a cold leader. Like he said, once he lost you, he lost everything about himself that was good.

He killed. He punished. He executed.

He would beat a man for looking at him the wrong way. Give brutal tests of loyalty to his subordinates. Make it so that they quake when he walks into the room.

It was to maintain order, dignity, balance.

No one can defeat him at a mental game. No one can make him falter, doubt, outsmart him, move him. No one. That’s how he climbed the ranks and became the boss.

That is, until now. Fifteen minutes in that room with you and his mind has turned to mush. You’ve grown up, more beautiful than you were before, and it utterly stopped his heart. Your smiles, enough to make his knees buckle. Oh, how he wanted to take you in his arms, like he’s imagined for years, to hold you, hug you, kiss you, never let you go.

Of course he couldn't do that. The universe is not that kind. He got in one kiss - just because he desperately needed to know how you felt - and you melting into him was all the answer he needed. But then he had to say goodbye to you far too fast.

Now, the guards have burst into the room, searching feverishly for you who’s long disappeared. He mentions that you used the air vent to escape and leaves through the door. He knows they can never catch up to you in time - you’re far too good.

That sad, insecure girl he knew from his past seems to have changed. You’re a leader of a gang now, the one he’s been fighting and struggling to outsmart for years. If he had known it was you all along, how quickly he would have stolen you away from the fighting and left to live somewhere far away, somewhere peaceful. He would abandon his members, everything he built after all these years in a heartbeat for you. It was never even a question.

But he barely knows if you want the same thing. All that he knows now is that he has to see you again.

He thinks about these things, mind rumbling and turning, as he walks briskly to his meeting. His head still pounds from your headbutt and he catches himself smiling at the thought of it. It’s one ache he doesn’t mind.

He enters the room filled with high ranking members. They wait patiently for him to take his seat at the head of the table.

“So? Any updates?” He asks.

One guard steps forward, the same one that had been searching for you. “Sir, we couldn’t find her. I believe she escaped.”

Internally relieved and unsurprised, he outwardly slams his fist on the table, making everyone jump.

“Damn! Do you know how valuable she would have been alive? The information we could have gotten out of her?” He glares. “And how much of a mess they would have been without their leader?”

The guard ducks his head. “Yes sir. Sorry.”

Another man leans forward in his chair, Juyeon, his close, right hand man. “But we found intel on their next plans. They are raiding the HQ of a much smaller group, If we meet them there, we can catch them by surprise, and take their leader out.”

Hyunjae doesn’t know how to feel. On one hand, he’ll see you again. On the other, you’ll be in danger.

A grunt leaning by a wall says, “I hope we take her out. That bitch deserves that and worse. If I-”

Before he can finish, Hyunjae has him shoved roughly against the wall. His shirt is clutched in Hyunjae’s fist and a knife pressed to his neck. Hyunjae barely registers his rage, the look of fear and shock from everyone around the room, from the man in his grip. His eyes are eyes wide, looking at Hyunjae for an explanation.

Hyunjae rolls with his show. “Less talking. More doing. Talk after you bring her to me. She’s already escaped once from us.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” he sputters out.

Hyunjae releases him from and glares at the room. “We’re done here.”

...

I should have told you I was in love with you before you left.

Those words echo through your mind nonstop, refusing to give you any mercy. And even worse is the memory of the kiss - of his lips pressed against yours, his hands on your skin, his smell - you secretly wish that moment had lasted forever. You wonder if you’ll ever see him again, and your heart aches in response.

Then, you rip yourself from your thoughts.

“Ugh!” You yell, slamming your gun onto the table. You’ve tried to assemble it for what seemed like the 50th time in the past ten minutes but your thoughts keep distracting you.

“Y/n?” Your subordinate, Younghoon’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “We’re ready to leave.”

You finally manage to click the gun in place. With one last order to your mind to let go of useless thinking, you stand and slip your gun into the holster.  “Let’s go.”

The place you’ve decided to raid has many resources like valuable drugs and money, all hoarded by a smaller group that you can beat out easily. You surprise them, your members jumping out of cars and invading in from all openings of the derelict headquarters.

There’s shouting, scrambling, and finally gunfire. You know this mission will be easy enough - the other group does not have enough people to defend their resources. This will be over before you know it.

At least, that’s what you thought until you spot strange black vans pulling up to the curve outside, men jumping out in large numbers to join the fight. They immediately engage your members with gunfire. You panic, unable to understand what is happening before you catch sight of Hyunjae exiting a van and tucking himself behind the building entrance for shelter against the bullets. He catches your gaze and a number of different emotions pass by his face. He settles on a hesitant smile.

Confusion, then anger rips through you. So much for all those sweet words he spoke yesterday. He’s still fighting you, still trying to kill your members, still prolonging this war. If he wants it that way, then that’s what you’ll give him.

You step out and begin shooting. Chaos seems to erupt with two sizable forces fighting each other inside one building. You can tell that you will not win without a large loss of life.

“Just find whatever you can and go!” You bark at your subordinates. They scramble to obey your orders, grabbing suitcases and locked chests in between the shooting.

Before long, you’re calling them all back from the scene, ordering their retreat. They scramble into the cars you came in. You glance back to see Hyunjae’s men lowering their guns, glancing at him for their next orders - whether to pursue or retreat. However, his gaze is only fixed on you.

Then, he makes a break for it. He runs directly after you without a second glance, without a word to the rest of his group, leaving them stunned in confusion. You would’ve had half a mind to guess that he means to kill you, if it isn’t for the slightly sad expression on his face.

One of your girls steps forward to aim her gun at him. A shock of fear runs through you. “Wait! Stop! Don’t kill him!”

With wide eyes, she obeys and resorts to landing a good punch on Hyunjae’s cheek that sends him tumbling to the ground. Shouts ring out in the air and you see that his members are now running after you.

“Get him into the car! Hurry!”

They do as you order. Soon enough, the party of cars is driving off with Hyunjae’s men trailing behind on foot. They eventually stop and run back into their vans. A car chase ensues through the streets but your smaller cars outrun their bigger vans within minutes. You’re left speeding through the night with a slightly unconscious, groaning Hyunjae in your lap in the backseat.

...

“Does it hurt?”

Hyunjae peers up at you under the dim lighting of your room. You inspect the nasty cut on his cheek, one caused by the punch that took him out.

“I’ve dealt with a lot worse,” he replies, expression unreadable. “Funny how we’re back in the same situation, except...the other way around.”

You know what he means. Last time, you were captured and held in his room as a prisoner. Now, he’s yours, except he came willingly.

You sigh, pouring a bit of rubbing alcohol onto a clean rag. You press it to his cheek and he winces slightly.

“Why did you run after me?” You ask, patting down his skin.

He sighs, eyes running over your face. “Because I wanted to see you.”

You ignore how your stomach flips. “But you left all your men behind, people who depended on you.”

He shrugs.

You scoff, shaking your head as you step back. “You planned that entire raid just to see me? Don’t you care about them? Right now, they’re thinking you’ve gotten captured but really, you ran away.”

“Y/n, I became involved in this filthy life because I had nothing left after I lost you. But now, I found you and…” he trails off, large brown eyes falling on yours. “There’s something more now.”

Your heart thrums but you maintain a frown. “So that’s it? You’d just leave?”

He blinks slowly and smiles. “Yeah. That’s it.”

You carefully place a square piece of gauze on his wound and tape it down. You almost miss his smile, his eyes filled with softness and stars as they gaze at you.

“What is it now?”

He smiles. “Isn’t this familiar?”

You have flashes of memories - cleaning his wounds in the orphanage after he got himself in a fight over your honor.

“Don’t get used to it,” you mutter, tossing a few wrappers in the trash. You move to step away but he’s suddenly standing up, hand shooting out to grip your arm.

“Y/n-“

“Should I remind you that you’re the prisoner in here?” You glare.

His brows are knitted, face forlorn. “You act like you hate me but you don’t really.”

“Oh, I don’t?”

“No, you don’t.” He levels his gaze with you. “You told your gunman not to kill me. You cleaned and dressed my wounds. You kissed me like you’re in love with me-“

“That’s enough,” you growl, tugging harshly away from his grip but he holds onto you tightly.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you I loved you back then,” he says again, and again it flips and cleaves and destroys your heart. His eyes are full of regret. “Maybe you would have stayed.”

He searches your face for something that you’re hesitant and unwilling to give him. Something seems to fade from his eyes as he slowly releases you.

“Or maybe you wouldn’t have.” The smile falls from his lips. “Maybe it was meant to be this way.” He sits back down on your bed. “And maybe I truly was an idiot for getting myself captured by people who want me dead.”

You study his features, twisted in defeat. He’s always been so dependent on your moods, your signs, the words you say to him. He can be emboldened by your subtle signals and just as easily defeated by your rejections. Your heart flips again and you curse it. He really did love you, then and now.

“Maybe, maybe not,” you sigh, earning his attention. “I hated being a burden on you, regardless of... if you loved me or not.”

He gazes at you in such pure confusion that you look away. “Y/n, you were never a burden.”

You feel the sting of tears, a lump forming in your throat. He stands up slowly, steps close to you.

“You were my family-“ he begins.

“You were my family too but you kept getting hurt, kept suffering because of someone so useless as me,” your voice cracks.

His heart seems to break, you can see so in his eyes. He reaches for you tentatively, and you don’t pull away this time. He places a gentle hand on your cheek, gazing deep into your eyes, taking hold of your heart.

“You were never a burden. Never. All those things I did because I loved you,” he says softly. “You could never be a burden.”

Something shatters in your chest and you surge forward to kiss him, tears rolling down your face. He embraces you, eagerly welcomes the kiss, grasps your cheeks as if you are the most precious thing ever.

The kiss is desperate - a release of more than a decade’s worth of repressed love. You’re hypersensitive to the feeling of his lips, his tongue brushing against yours, the deep groans resounding from his chest as you melt in his arms.

“Y/n,” he groans, holding your waist in a tight grip as you pull away, panting for air. His lips attach to your throat, leaving open mouth kisses down the column. Your breaths stutter, fingers curling into his hair. A nip of your skin by his teeth has a light moan slipping past your lips.

He pulls back to gaze at you with an expression you’ve never seen before. His irises swirl with affection mixed with want.

“I- Do you want-“ he manages out, drinking in your gaze, but unable to finish his question.

You swallow thickly, mind racing. Your body is burning with need and longing for him, after so many years. You can only manage out a nod. He presses his forehead against yours.

“I need you to say it.”

You let out a shaky exhale. “I want you.”

He seems to revel in those words before swooping in to kiss you, somehow even more desperate this time. He pulls you gently towards the bed, littering kisses on your lips with breathless words in between.

“Tell me any time if you want to stop, alright?”

You nod. “Okay.”

His eyes twinkle before he kisses you again. You fall back against the sheets. His fingers flit down across your shirt and your pants, stopping to unbutton them. You kick them away impatiently and tug your shirt over your head.

He stares at your semi nude form in awe. He slowly places his hands on the skin of your waist, feeling your skin underneath his fingers.

“Have you had sex before, Hyunjae?” You chuckle.

“You have no idea how long I imagined this,” he whispers, eyes finding yours. “But you’re more beautiful than anything my brain could conjure up.”

Your cheeks burn at the cheesiness but your heart thrums all the same. Then, your mouth goes dry as he reaches and pulls his shirt over his head.

Inch by inch, the deep black ink of tattoos curling across his skin are revealed. His muscles ripple with movement and settle again once he’s cast his shirt away. He gazes at you in anticipation.

You find your voice. “You got tattoos.”

He smiles. “You like them?”

He takes your hand and places it on his stomach. You swallow hard, finger tracing one line of onyx ink. “W-Why would you care if I like them?”

He chuckles. “I care what you like.” He grips your hand softly, entangling his fingers with yours.

You glance at him. “Are you sure you’re a gang leader?”

He smiles and tugs you forward, humming as he kisses you. “You know, you look really hot when you hold a gun.”

You chuckle as his arms wrap around you. “Really?”

“Yeah,” kisses down your throat, hot and open mouthed. “I lost my mind the first time I saw you standing tall, directing orders, shooting.”

You gasp as he grips your ass harshly and sinks his teeth into the skin of your neck at the same time. “I wanted you then and there.”

You can’t respond, your mind slowly descending into the depths of incoherency. He presses you flat against the bed, and leans over you, hips rolling deep against yours. Gasps and moans fall from your lips as he watches, mesmerized.

“I always wanted to hear your moans,” he says breathily, grinding against you. “God, how many nights I’d spend just thinking of you.”

“Hyunjae,” you gasp, grabbing his hips. “You can tone down the love sick puppy-ness.”

He chuckles, a deep low sound that sends tingles straight to your core. “But I can’t help it.” He places a kiss below your heart, trailing down your stomach and your navel, settling between your thighs. “I love you. I have always loved you.”

Warmth floods your chest as you gaze down at him, at his eyes that are filled with affection and the stars of the universe. Then he presses a kiss to your clothed mound and all your thoughts are shattering.

He hooks his fingers under your underwear and drags them down. You shift to sit up on your elbows. “Y-You don’t have to-“

He cuts you off with a disbelieving laugh. “I have waited and imagined every detail of this for years. I can’t not.” He peers up at you. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”

You swallow thickly. “N-No. I want to.”

His lips curl into a smile. “Good.”

He removes your underwear, and spreads your thighs around his shoulders. His hot breath meets your core and you release a shaky breath. He gives you one last, heated look, before he’s dragging his tongue across your center, stopping at your clit.

You throw your head back and moan. The sound spurs him on. His hands grip your thighs harder, tongue dipping into your entrance and stealing your sanity. Your ragged breaths turn into gasps and moans, and you involuntarily buck your hips against his face.

He holds you down firmly against the mattress, the muscles in his forearm flexing around your thighs. His eyes burn into yours as another stroke of his tongue sends you reeling.

“H-Hyun,” you gasp out. His eyelids flutter at the sound of his name. He groans into you, shaking you to the core, continuing his ministrations.

You lose your mind slowly. Every movement of his tongue sends you to another dimension. When he pushes a finger inside, you shake and clench and cry out, gasping harshly as he pumps his fingers. He releases a shaky breath against your core when you arch at another finger. A cry and moan crawl up your throat and spill into the air. Your fingers curl into his hair and tug harshly, earning another deep moan from him.

Your mind is descending. He’s kept a slow place so far but is speeding up. Your moans pitch high and the knot in your stomach grows tighter. Just when you’re about to crash, whirl, die and be reborn, everything stops.

His fingers are gone, mouth is gone, his warmth and it's all cold. Your eyelids slip open to find him, kneeling before you, eyes dark, hands tense, slightly shaking. You want to ask why, why he stopped, why he looks as if he’s been wound so tight that he’ll snap.

He wipes his mouth absently, makes the pit of your stomach whirr. He fixes his dark eyes on you.

“I need…” his voice is hoarse. “I need you on top of me, I need to feel you around me.”

You swallow dryly and sit up. A push of his shoulder to the side and he’s rolling onto the bed, head settling upon the pillow. You straddle him easily, as if you belong there. He’s splayed out underneath you, every inch of his skin in reach, every ribbon of muscle, and every inky curl and dip of tattoos across his body, all for you.

You place a hand on his chest, feel him release a sigh and watch your hand dip with his skin with the movement. He is hard underneath you, and you can feel him getting harder.

“So this is how you’ve always imagined it?” You ask, trailing your hand down his skin, under his navel, to stop at his pants button, watching him shudder.

“Yes,” he breathes, eyes closed. You unbutton him, peel his pants off and provide him with some degree of relief. You straddle him again and lean forward to kiss him deeply. He sinks into the kiss, sighs when you move to kiss down his throat, and then trace his tattoos with your lips.

He reaches up to grip your waist. You stop.

“You can't touch.”

He gazes at you, wide eyed. He seems to want to protest but he swallows it and keeps his hands down.

You smile in victory. You hips rock and grind against him, watch him arch in pleasure. His fingers flex and clench the bedsheets beside him. His eyes are heady,  burning into yours, his jaw clenching.

“You’re not used to this, are you?” You ask softly, removing his boxers to feel his hardness in your hands. He makes a muffled sound, refusing to part his lips. “Having someone tell you what to do?” You ask, stroking him slowly, watching a storm of emotions pass his face. “And you can't say anything back?”

You lift your hips up and sink down on him in one movement. There is a pleasurable burn, but you are more focused on the way he tips his head back and groans, his eyelids clenching shut. His fingers twitch against the sheets, his veined arms straining to not touch you.

“And you’re listening so well,” you praise, feeling him stretch you. You release a shaky breath, swallowing a moan.

“Y/n,” he pants. You gasp as you start moving, slowly, almost too slowly at first. After all these years, you want to revel in the feel of him inside you. He releases a broken moan and thrusts up into you in desperation.

You still immediately. “No doing that, either.”

He groans and rolls his head to the side, gazing at you in need, in exasperation. But his hips stay still when you begin riding him again.

Your heart flutters at him listening to you, the head of a mob, who hasn't taken orders from anyone in a long, long time, turning to putty under your hips. You speed up , breaths turning harsh as you roll and bounce your hips against him.

He pants beneath you, a layer of sweat settling on his tattooed skin, his jaw clenching and sheets crumpled into his fists in an effort to hold back. You admire him, beautiful and unholy beneath you. As you palm your own breasts, you take in the sight of his lust filled, darkened eyes watching every movement you make, burning with need to touch you.

Suddenly, his hands are on your waist, gripping the skin as he thrusts up into you. Pleasure explodes from behind your eyelids as you cry out. Somehow, with all your willpower, you remove yourself completely from him. You straddle him further down his thighs, out of reach of his aching cock.

“Y/n,” he straight up whines. His arms reach for you, brows knitted, eyes pleading. “Please.”

Your resolve almost shatters, but you enjoy seeing him like this too much. You merely shake your head and he huffs, resigning himself.

“Will you behave?”

He seems to glare at the ceiling before nodding without a word. Something thrums in your heart. You settle over him and begin the process anew. You like this, seeing him under you, controlling the pace, making love to him. He groans again, and you lean forward to leave open mouthed kisses down his neck, biting the skin so it makes him shudder. Your hips speed up slightly, moaning into the air as his pants. His fingers strain and clench, his eyelids fluttered closed in concentration. You marvel at his self control.

You think of that too late when he thrusts into you once again. When you slow down, he grasps your sides and gives another thrust. You gasp and remove yourself from him but before your warmth can leave his dick completely, he’s rolling you over, flat on your back against the sheets. He harshly rolls his hips against yours.

“Hyun-“ you moan as he gives another thrust, his head tipping back. He picks up pace, hands roaming your body, his self restraint snapping. “I’ve waited for years,” he moans, leaning forward to litter kisses on your neck. “Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

With a bite of your skin, he’s speeding up his thrusts, sending you clawing at his back. He presses his forehead into yours, working his hips in wonders, has you seeing stars, relentlessly, until you cry out his name, clenching hard around him.

“Oh my god,” he groans at your walls milking him. He swallows your moans with his kisses, thrusts into you a few more times until he’s coming with you.

He collapses against you, one lazy arm propped upon the bed so as to not crush you. Your head is swimming, heart thrumming, feeling the tickle of his hair against your cheek as you catch your breath. Pleasure tingles throughout your entire body. He gives a breathless laugh, plants a kiss to your forehead and rolls away to lie on the sheets beside you.

It’s quiet for a heartbeat before he speaks. “Lets run away together.”

You chuckle, “we’re criminals, Hyunjae.”

“So?” he asks, facing you. His eyes are twinkling once again.

You find your words. “So, we can’t just go anywhere. We will always be wanted by the law. Besides, we should have thought of that before getting involved in this stuff.”

He releases a deep exhale. “You were always my dream, my guiding light, whatever I wanted in life. I just became involved in it because I lost you and I ended up here.”

You look at him, silently. “You never say it’s ‘because I left’, only ‘because you lost me,’.”

He blinks at you. “Because I did.” His hand entangles with your own. “I was too afraid to tell you I love you, and so I lost you.”

You squeeze his fingers. “I was… also too afraid to tell you, so I passed off the responsibility to you by asking that question.”

A smile slowly spreads across his lips. “So you’ve always loved me?”

You smile. “Yes, Hyunjae. I’ve always loved you.”

He scoops you into his arms and pulls you close. He litters kisses over every inch of your face, pulling giggles from your lips.

“So since we can’t run away, how about we call a truce between our… groups?”

“Deal.”

He holds out his pinky. You laugh at the old but familiar gesture. You interlace your pinky with his. “Okay, now, deal.”

He giggles, pressing a final kiss to your lips. “I guess you’ll have to let me go so I can convince them.” His brows furrow. “Hopefully they don’t find this place and charge in.” 

“Don’t worry. You haven’t found this place in years, what is one more day?” 

He smiles. “You always were smarter than me.” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Do you think they can wait one more day, though?”

Hyunjae thinks on it. “I’ve waited for 8 years. I think they should’ve learned a thing or two from me.” 

[stovetuna]

Oh! Oh! Your Tony-finally-accepts-Steve-Loves-him fic was so lovely. A+ 🥺

And the reverse-ish! The first time Steve realizes Tony doesn’t actually believe him when he says I love you and how Steve both reacts and comes to term with the situation (does he plan on talking about it? Love offensive with super romantic dates? Figure out that the solution to this problem a marathon not a sprint?)

aaaaaahhh I am gonna EXPIRE

can you imagine?? the moment I think about it my heart absolutely BREAKS in the best, most bittersweet way, because oh, Steve. you really thought the moment you kissed Tony the first time—you were sitting next to him on the living room sofa, a whole empty seat on either side of you because you were so unnecessarily close together, but then you were struck by the thought not close enough, and you were in the middle of listening to and watching Tony watch the Lost in Space reboot (so many science critiques you didn't understand a lick of but you are more than happy to play audience to the things Tony cares about, loudly) when you leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on the corner of Tony's motormouth, which apparently was all the invitation Tony needed to crawl into your lap and press his warm, warm, warm lips to yours and kiss the breath out of you—he understood.

because it was so easy to go from best friends to romantic partners, and you had years of friendship between you to hearken back to. Plenty of moments when you thought you'd made it clear to Tony that you loved him, that you cared about him, that you admired and respected and yes, deep down (not that deep, really) were very much attracted to him.

you thought.

so when you kiss the first time, you think he knows. when you go on your first real date and play footsie all night under the table and hold hands the whole walk home, you think he knows. when, a few days later, he slides inside you, deep and hard and wet, and butterfly-kisses the tears from your eyes and tells you how beautiful you are as he fucks you, wailing, into the mattress, you know, down to your soul, to the basest atoms of your existence, that Tony loves you as much as you love him.

but something isn't right, because even as weeks, months go by, and you move into Tony's suite and fall asleep wrapped around him almost every night (except those when he's in another country, and the bed is almost as cold as the ice, or when he's consumed by some project in the workshop and loses track of time), and you tell each other "I love you" out loud multiple times, and say it without words in a million other ways, you get the feeling that Tony. doesn't. believe you?

you're baffled. genuinely, it doesn't make sense. you've loved each other for years. even when you fought, bloody and fierce and deeply, horrifically wrong, you loved each other. it wouldn't have hurt nearly as much—felt like a piece of you being ripped away, phantom pain aging you inwardly until every step in any direction that wasn't toward Tony was agony—if you didn't.

but even though Tony says it back, and he does, every time, even when you're yelling at each other after a battle goes "tits-up," thank you, Logan, he has this look in his eyes, and the only word you've been able to put to it is doubt.

at first you think it means Tony doubts you—your feelings, your intentions, yourself and all the baggage that entails—but that thought quickly passes. because you know he doesn't. you know, from experience, that Tony's worst thoughts and feelings very rarely have anything to do with anyone other than himself. which means Tony doubts himself. maybe even reality. not in a "you might be a Skrull" kind of way, but in a "this is too good to be true" kind of way.

and doesn't that just break your fucking heart.

for months you watch this doubt flicker like a guttering little flame in Tony's bright blue eyes, every time you say "I love you, Tony" with your voice. it's never there when you're brushing your teeth next to other in the morning, bumping hips and giggling like the children you never got to be; it's not there when you silently hand him his coffee and kiss him on the temple on his way out the door to a morning meeting, grousing on the phone even as he blows a kiss to you before the elevator doors close; it's not there when you sit down next to him after a battle, on the steps of some middle-of-nowhere courthouse that just got blown up by some no-name villain, taking unspeakable comfort in the radiating heat coming off the armor that kept Tony safe in combat, and without having to ask or say anything at all Tony takes the helmet off and you lean your foreheads together and just breathe each other's air, too relieved and too exhausted to kiss; it's not there when you make love to him, slowly, excruciatingly sweet, your hips rolling in a steady, undulating wave between Tony's long, golden thighs, his arms loose around your neck, his gorgeous voice gone raspy and quiet from screaming through two orgasms already, and you tell him to look at you as you come together one last time.

it's only when you say it. put words to it. make it real. that's when that banked ember of doubt flickers to life, and it feels like you have to start all over again. which isn't a hardship, per se. not at all, really. it's an honor and a privilege and an absolute pleasure to be a part of Tony's life like this. it's also frustrating, and infuriating, and dangerous, but that was always the case. the only difference is now, you can have make-up sex.

you fight about it first. it starts out in earnest, a forthright—if frighteningly vulnerable—conversation over dinner that turns into a shouting match to rival anything from the war that of course gets cut short by the Avengers alarm going off and having to Assemble before you can clear the air. he almost dies in the battle, short-circuited by an exceptionally advanced EMP that takes out the RT (and whoo, boy does that make you spiral, thinking back, to the moment you did that to Tony, almost killed him, and thinking those thoughts while you keep vigil at his bedside for days makes you wish harder than you ever have before in your life that you could drink yourself to death), and you're too relieved when he opens his eyes and the first word out of his mouth is your name, like he's the one who should be relieved, to bring it up again.

you love him. he loves you. it works. better than that, it's good. and eventually—quickly, even—you learn. you learn tell him in every which way you can think of, without words, how much you love him, and why. you text him pictures from your runs through Central Park (he makes the photo you sent him that spring, of the adolescent raccoon emerging from a hollowed-out tree, his lock screen for a week before he changes it back to a picture of you in bed drooling onto your pillow). you help him take off the armor when he's dead on his feet. you feed him. you train with him. you listen to him ramble on about bad movie science and cheer when Matt Damon mentions him in that Mars movie. (You literally cry laughing when Tony picks up the phone at the end of the movie and calls Matt Damon and tells him to text him next time, "I'll come pick you up, just stop getting lost in fucking space, asshole!")

you kiss his scarred fingers, with their fresh cuts and scrapes and bruises from working in the shop, with a reverence. you draw baths for him and don't join, even though it's one of your favorite things to do in the world, because you can just tell Tony is going through something and he needs the space to work it out for himself. you're always there to fish him out when the water gets cold, and by that time Tony's ready to tell you about whatever's eating him.

you call him every foul, dirty name in the book when you fuck him loudly against the wall and sob yourself hoarse when he makes love to you for what feels like hours, so slow and deep and steady you honestly lose track of how many times you come. you clean him up after and tuck him in. you kiss him on the forehead before you go on your morning run, every morning without fail (except for those when you're apart, and you still, even after almost two years, catch yourself mid-motion sometimes, about to kiss empty air—you text Tony about it and he laughs every time).

you learn to be patient. you learn to show more than you tell. because you realize that Tony was lied to his entire life, about so many things. Lied to his face about who he was, who he was going to be, who he never would be allowed to be. Told over and over again by liars and cheats and villains and friends and lovers and family that he wasn't worth the effort of loving. that he would never be loved for anything other than the black credit card in his wallet, the cars in his garage, the houses and the private jets and the clothes and the money and the things he invented—the things he made—that were supposed to help people but only ever ended up killing them.

money, and blood.

it's no wonder he doubts.

so you set yourself to the long and genuinely joyous (if at times frustrating) task of convincing Tony that not only do you love him, more than you've loved anything else in your life, ever will, but he is lovable. not worthy of love, not deserving, and he is those things, but inherently—he is a sweet, caring, kind, fierce, sexy, strong, dangerous, incredible, dorky, suave, fumbling genius of a man and he is loved for those things.

it takes time. good things always do.

you've had a little velvet box hidden away in your bottom bedside drawer for four months when Tony wakes up and sees you in bed with him, realizes you've been watching him sleep—so peacefully, the furrow between his brows erased, as you play with his slightly overgrown hair (you wish he'd keep it, but it's a hazard, in your line of work). you kiss him on the forehead and say good morning, sweetheart, because it is, even if it is pouring down rain outside.

maybe especially because it's raining outside. because here you are, high up among thick grey clouds that smother every inch of the city, so it's just you two, in this bed, together in your own little world, and you're watching that stubborn ember of doubt in Tony's eyes finally get washed away.

read part one

[unholyobsessions]

I love you, please don’t break my heart

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Description: Falling in love is stupid, or it was until you met him.

Warnings: implied sex 

Word Count: 1.5k

Some people can name the exact moment that they fell in love. Growing up you thought that was stupid. It seemed impossible to look at somebody one day and just know. It seemed impossible to fall in love with someone. You didn’t believe it was natural to want to give everything to someone, to be emotionally tied to one person for the rest of your life. Your cynical thoughts as a child persisted through adolescence and adulthood. You never had a relationship that lasted more than a few weeks and would often settle for meaningless hookups. You didn’t believe in falling in love. Not until you met him.

Your relationship with Dr. Spencer Reid started like any others. You met him at a bar (classy right?) and he took you back to his place. It’s a routine for you, new guy every weekend, hook up, sneak out, repeat. Which is exactly why you’re surprised when that routine is broken. You don’t know what happened but you woke up too late and the space next to you was empty.

You entered a state of panic, a flutter of curse words slipping quietly past your lips. You quickly scrambled around the room, picking up your abandoned clothes and slipping them on. You all but ran out of the vaguely familiar bedroom only to stop dead in your tracks at the sight in front of you.

Spencer was standing in front of the toaster, shirtless, spreading raspberry jelly on a piece of bread. The delicious smell of brewing coffee overcomes all of your senses and you start moving forward before you even realize what you’re doing. The loud creak of the floorboard is what inevitably catches Spencer’s attention.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he starts. “I umm...made breakfast. I’m not a good cook but I made toast.” He’s nervous, that much is clear to you and you can’t help but find it slightly endearing.

You don’t know how to respond. This goes against a system that you have kept up since you can remember. You rarely stay the night and never stay for breakfast. But the smile he gives you, the way his eyes light up, and the awkward gesture toward the plate sitting on the counter, make the tiniest crack on your walls, but it’s enough to convince you. You smile back at him and walk the rest of the way into the kitchen, grabbing the pot of coffee and preparing a cup for yourself. You take it black, and the disgusted look on Spencer’s face makes you let out a small laugh. You sit together and make conversation, somehow managing not to mention the intercourse of the night before. His eyes speak a thousand words though and you find yourself flushing under his intense gaze.

Noon comes far too fast and you leave his apartment with his number and a promise to meet again.

. . .

You go on four dates with Spencer before you realize how serious your relationship with him is getting. It should bother you, it should make you want to block his number and forget about him. You entertain the thought for a while before shaking your head. You don’t want to forget about him. Without you even realizing Spencer has been breaking down each of your walls one by one and you don’t find yourself caring.

Your phone rings and a picture of Spencer with the biggest grin on his face lights up your screen. You eagerly answer the call and accept Spencer’s offer to come by his apartment after his flight lands.

Forty minutes later you’re standing in front of his apartment, your fist raised about to knock on his door when he opens it.

“Hi.” He breathes out.

“Hi.” You match his smile. He pulls you inside and into a kiss, mumbling against your lips how much he missed you and for once in your life, you find yourself feeling the same. You allow him to push you against the wall as you thread your fingers through his messy hair. He pulls back and pulls you to his couch, holding you close to him. He looks exhausted, and you want to ask him about the case but you know he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. Right now he just needs a distraction and you are more than happy to provide him with one.  

You suggest a movie, saying the first title that comes to mind. The change in his demeanor is instantaneous. His eyes light up and he starts gesturing with his hands as he goes on a tangent about the director and the history of the movie and you smile. You lean your head on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering upwards to gaze at him. And in that moment, you know. Your heart stops at the realization.

You finally understand the way you feel whenever he gets so excited when talking about statistics or random facts he knows. You understand the feeling in your chest when the he scrunches his nose when he is in deep thought, the butterflies in your stomach because he always asks for your opinion and never makes assumptions of you. You understand why you are so entranced by his laugh, his humor, his radiant personality, and the way he just seems to bring life to every situation. You can finally explain the never-ending happiness he makes you feel.

You are unbelievably, irrevocably in love with him. And God you’re terrified.

You don’t know what to say. He’s stopped talking and is now studying you, silently asking if there’s something wrong. You shake your head and lean forward to grab the remote. You try to ignore the tightness in your chest as his fingers subconsciously trail down to your thigh and start to draw random figures on it.

You love him but you can’t tell him.

Not yet.

You wonder if he knows. If he can feel your heart beating erratically or see the look in your eyes. Maybe he can read it on your face, he’s always been able to know what you’re thinking with just one look.

I love you Spencer Reid. I love you. Do you know that? I need you to know that.

Your head is screaming at you and you can hardly concentrate on the movie playing in front of you.

You wonder how he will react if you tell him. Will he say it back? Will he reject you? Will he confirm your fears that you are not worth it. That you are not good enough to have an epic love story. Just like your mother wasn’t.

I love you Spencer Reid. Please don’t break my heart.

. . .

You don’t tell him until a month later.

You’re sitting on a picnic blanket at the park with him. He is looking up, pointing out different clouds. You are not gazing at the clouds but are however admiring the way he looks. He is leaning back on his hands, his purple button up shirt rolled up just above his elbows. He’s smiling, completely entranced by the captivating sky and he’s relaxed, calm, for a single moment not worrying about the monsters hiding in the dark. He’s happy. The angle of the sun hits perfectly and lightens his face with an angelic glow. He looks nothing less of ethereal. You are mesmerized by the man sitting in front of you and you have this strange need to paint him, to capture this perfect moment in the way only an artist is capable of doing. You apparently allow yourself to ogle him for too long because he turns to you with a confused grin before speaking.

“What?” He lets out a small, adorable laugh and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I love you.” He pauses. The peaceful atmosphere breaks and you avert your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. You feel the infinity of milliseconds between each second. An eternity passes by again, and again, and again. You find yourself counting in your head.

Point zero-one. Point zero-one-two.

Your mathematical tangent is interrupted by a featherlight touch on your chin. You allow Spencer to move your head but you still refuse to meet his eyes.  

“I love you too.”

The world stops. Your eyes snap to his and he’s grinning. A beautiful, dazzling smile that knocks the breath from your lungs.

You kiss him.

You kiss him because it’s the only thing you can think to do in that moment. Your brain has stopped functioning and you’re not one hundred percent sure your heart is still beating. But you don’t care, if you die, you can’t think of a better way to go, because Spencer Reid loves you. You and only you. You both pull away wearing similar lovesick smiles.

The atmosphere changes but at the same time it doesn’t change at all. The feelings have always been there, the only difference is that they have now been spoken. They are out in the open and the air around you whispers the words back hoping to engrave the passionate moment of declared love into the earth forever.

Spencer looks back up at the sky and points out another cloud, a bunny riding a motorcycle, and you allow yourself to lean against him as you peer up at the sky.

[iamanartichoke]

I wrote a Thing. It’s extremely long. I’d prefer it not be reblogged; I wrote this for my own catharsis and would prefer it not be circulated, bc of Reasons. 

I changed my mind, okay to reblog. <3 

Under a cut for (extreme, did I mention?) length. 

So I got about 12 minutes of sleep last night, as you do, and around 3am or so I found myself - out of sheer curiosity - going down a meta hole of Ragnarok discourse, trying to figure out where this "satisfying redemption arc" for Loki happened. (I mean, there's a lot of things I would like to figure out, but I started there.) Because I could. 

Basically I was looking for meta that went into detail about how Loki was redeemed in a satisfactory way. The ‘satisfactory’  is an important word here bc there is a redemption arc in the film, in that Loki starts off the film as an antagonist (kinda) to Thor and he ends the film as an ally to Thor, standing at Thor's side. In that sense, yes, there's a redemption arc. I didn't find much (and I had no idea how much people just despise Ragnarok "antis" [I really dislike that word] but that's another topic [that I don't particularly want to get into, tbh]) but I did find some. I read what I could find, and I read it open-mindedly, and overall I came away feeling like, okay, there are some valid points being made here and I can kinda see where they're coming from.

But it was a bit (a lot) like -- flat. Idk. The best comparison I can think of is that it’s like if a literature class read, I don't know, The Yellow Wallpaper for an assignment, and some of the students came away from it feeling like it was a creepy story about a woman slowly driving herself insane, and the other students came away from it incensed at the oppression and infantilization of women in the late 19th century -

- and neither side is wrong, but the former is a very surface-level reading and the latter isn't (bc it stems from looking at why she drives herself insane, why she was prescribed 'rest' in the first place, the context of what women could and couldn't do back then, etc; basically, a bit more work has to go into it). 

[Note: I am not disparaging the quality of The Yellow Wallpaper. At all. It’s just the first relatively well-known story that popped into my head.]

In this sense, I can see the argument for Loki's redemption arc, but I don't think it's a very good argument. Not invalid, but not great.

I mean, for example, I think the most consistent argument I found variations of re: Loki's redemption is that Ragnarok shows Loki finally taking responsibility for his bad behaviour and misdeeds. This includes recognizing that his actions were fueled from a place of self-hatred and a desire to self-destruct in addition to bringing destruction on others. That he probably feels awkward and regretful of these things and doesn't know how to act around Thor, but he figures it out by the end, and decides that returning to Asgard is the best way to show that he's ready to make amends. His act of bringing the Statesman to Asgard is an apology. He allies himself with Thor and ends up in a better place, both narratively (united with Thor once again) and mentally (having taken responsibility and made amends for his past).

And setting aside that he had already made amends by sacrificing his life in TDW (and also setting aside that the argument is made that Loki redeems himself in IW by sacrificing himself to Thanos but if that's the case, wouldn't that imply that he hadn't achieved redemption in Ragnarok or else there would be no need to achieve it again in IW? Or, if you think he did achieve redemption in Ragnarok, then what the fuck did he give his life in IW for? What was his motivation there, and why did the narrative not make it clearer? I digress.) 

- setting aside those two factors, I think this is a very fair argument. Loki is fueled by self-hatred, and he does want to self-destruct, and he does want to inflict that pain on others as well (particularly Thor). No lies detected here. 

However, I also need to know where that self-hatred and desire for destruction (toward himself and others) comes from and for that, we need to go back to Thor 1.

Thor 1. 

Loki starts Thor 1 out as "a clenched fist with hair," to borrow a quote from the Haunting of Hill House (that I tucked away in my mental box of Lovely Things bc it says so much so very simply). He's very used to bottling everything up, pushing it down; he slinks around behind the scenes, pulling the strings to this plot or that. He's "always been one for mischief," but the narrative implies that the coronation incident is the first time Loki's done anything truly terrible. And it all immediately pretty much goes to shit, so Loki spends the rest of the movie frantically juggling all these moving pieces while trying to seem as if he's got it all under control, every step of the way. That's how I view his actions. 

But I always come back to that quote where Kenneth Branaugh tells Tom, of the scene in the vault, "This is where the thin steel rod that's been holding your mind together snaps." In other words this is where Loki discovering he's Jotun is just one thing too many. He can't take it. But though the rod snaps, his descent isn't a nosedive. It's a tumble. As the story progresses, the clenched fist starts to loosen, the muscles are flexed in unfamiliar ways (that feel kinda good, after being stiff for so long), and it culminates with the hand opening completely and shaking itself out. All of that repression, that self-hatred, that rage and jealousy just explodes so that, by the time the bifrost scene happens, Loki's already hit bottom. It's not just about proving his worthiness to Odin. He wants to hurt Thor, too; he, essentially, throws a tantrum. (That's right, I said tantrum.) 

(Note: The word 'tantrum’ has negative connotations bc we normally equate it with a toddler stamping their feet and screaming in the aisle when their parent won't buy them the toy they want. But in itself, the word tantrum isn't infantalizing. It's an "emotional outburst, an uncontrolled explosion of anger and frustration" [paraphrasing from dictionary.com]. That's exactly what happens here [and why Tom called Loki's actions a massive tantrum, but people took that to mean Tom agreed it was childish whereas I doubt Tom meant it that way]).

He's been pushed past his limit, and he does bad things. He does really shitty things. He hurts Thor, he hurts his family. I'm pretty sure he knows this all along so this isn't, like, some revelation further down the line that "hey, those things I did were probably kinda bad." He got the memo already. 

Ragnarok 

Fast forward to Ragnarok, and we're introduced to a version of Loki who's had 4ish years to sit with everything that's happened. To sit with it and not do much else. The rawness of it has faded, and now it seems as though it's just become a thing, like when you move through life aware of your childhood traumas and have more or less just accepted them (and you probably share a lot of really funny depression memes on Facebook, which is kinda the equivalent of Loki's play, but that's probably just me). 

Loki has, more or less, chilled out. He seems more bored than anything else; he's been masquerading as Odin for longer than he ever planned or intended to, so he's more or less ended up hanging out, letting Asgard mind its own business, and entertaining himself with silly plays. This is the version that starts out the movie as an antagonist to Thor - a version that is, arguably, in a much different place [and is a much milder threat] than the version who originally did those Bad Things. 

And of course Thor is still mad at him, and of course they're going to butt heads, because that's what they do (and Thor's grievances are genuine, I’ll add, bc it's not really his fault he assumed Loki faked his death, nor can he be blamed for being pissed about Odin).

One argument framed this version of Loki as being a person who is facing the awkwardness of coming out of a dark place, which is fair. If we're going to frame his actions in Thor 1 as a tantrum, then Ragnarok would be the part where the toddler has been taken home, possibly has had some lunch and a juice box, and is now watching cartoons. They're over the tantrum, and would probably feel pretty silly about it if they weren't, yknow, toddlers. They probably can't remember why they even wanted that toy so badly. If they're a little older and self-aware, they might even be embarrassed for having melted down.

Like the word tantrum, this feeling isn't a thing limited to toddlers. I know I've had a few epic meltdowns as a grown ass adult, and I know I always feel deeply embarrassed afterwards - like, want to crawl into a hole and die. I've said things I can't take back. Adolescents and teenagers throw tantrums, mentally ill people throw tantrums, adults throw tantrums (I mean, my god, look at all the videos of Karens having screaming meltdowns - screaming! - over having to wear masks in order to shop at stores). Humans throw tantrums. And usually, after the feelings have been let out and the tantrum has passed, humans feel pretty regretful and awkward and embarrassed about whatever they did and said in the midst of their meltdown. 

I get all of that and agree it's valid and that Loki probably feels it. By the time Ragnarok happens, Loki's had some time to reflect and think hmm, yeah, probably could've handled that one a lot better. The argument further goes that in order to navigate this awkward period, Loki must come to terms with what he's done, acknowledge that some things can't be unsaid or undone, and begin to make amends. Supposedly, some people feel that Loki becomes a better person because he does "own" everything he did wrong and, even though he feels like a jackass (paraphrasing), he sets that aside to become a become a better person by choosing to help Thor and Asgard at the end. 

Thus, the overall arc goes like this. Loki, Thor's jealous little brother, 

throws a tantrum of epic proportions bc Reasons 

continues to act badly and make things even worse (Avengers) 

has to face consequences for his actions (prison sentence) 

ends up with a stretch of time in which he's free to contemplate and chill out 

feels embarrassed and awkward about how he's behaved

sees an opportunity to make up for it and decides to take it 

helps Thor, saves the day, and ends the film a better person. 

Redemption achieved.

None of this is wrong. The film supports it. It's a fair interpretation. But it leaves. out. so. much.

To circle all the way back around Loki being "a clenched fist with hair," and his actions stemming from his self-hatred, you have to ask - how did he get that way? He didn't end up with all this self-hatred on accident. Generally, one isn't born despising themselves, it's a learned behavior. (I realize chemical imbalances are a thing, obviously, as I have Mental Shit myself, but for argument's sake I'm assuming that's not the case with Loki [at this point in time]). 

Where did Loki learn it? From his family, from his surroundings, from his culture. We see examples of these microaggressions in the first, like, twenty minutes of the movie - a guard openly laughs at Loki's magic after Thor makes a joke about it (the tone of the conversation implies that Thor "jokes" like this often) and though Loki does the snake thing, the guard faces no real consequences. Thor doesn't acknowledge that anything went amiss. Not much later, on their way to Jotunheim, Loki's barely gotten two words out to Heimdall before Thor cuts him off, steps in front of him, and takes charge. Loki doesn't look annoyed at this; he looks resigned. 

Then, for absolutely no reason at all, Volstagg decides to make a jab at Loki ("silver tongue turned to lead?") just because he can. The ease with which he makes this comment and the way that no one else blinks an eye at it implies that this isn't out of the norm. And Loki doesn't react, not really. In the deleted version, he delivers a particularly nasty comeback but he delivers it under his breath, without intending Volstagg to hear it. In the final version, he simply says nothing, though his expression can be read as hurt or stung. Either way, the audience sees an example of Loki being walked all over by Thor and his friends and bottling up his reactions instead of standing up for himself. 

Microaggressions matter. They are mentally and emotionally damaging. They hurt. The implication that this is not unusual treatment for Loki means that Loki's probably gone through this for most of his life. It's like the equivalent of being, I don't know, twenty two and you're the friend who has to walk behind the others when the sidewalk isn't wide enough, and it's been that way since the first day of kindergarten. At this point, you're used to it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less when the jabs come seemingly out of nowhere, for no reason other than to make you feel bad.

(I personally identify a lot with this bc I experienced passive bullying in social settings for years. I was the 'doesn't fit on the sidewalk' friend; I hung around with people who'd pretend to be my friend and would be more or less nice to my face, but would laugh at me and make fun of me behind my back for whatever reasons. And often there'd be the random jabs at me, things that would come out of nowhere to smack me in the face, followed by the fake laugh and “just kidding!" so that I couldn't even get upset without being made to feel like I was overreacting and couldn't take a joke. I'd deal with this socially, particularly in middle school when girls are their most vicious, and then I'd go home and, because I was the only girl with a lot of brothers and because boys are mean and because I am who I am, the dynamic was that my brothers would just endlessly roast me to my face and sometimes it was a "just kidding!" thing, where I was the only one not laughing. But that’s beside the point; my point is that microaggressions, passive bullying, and consistent invalidation are harmful and that shit stays with you into adulthood.) 

So, yes, Loki needs to be held responsible for his misdeeds, and it's valid to say that he recognizes those misdeeds and wants to make amends. I have never disagreed with that. But the problem with this interpretation is that it lets every single other character who contributed to Loki's self-hatred and mental breakdown (let's just call a spade a spade here, that's what it was; he was broken psychologically) get off scot-free.

First of all,

Odin is not held accountable for instilling in the princes a mentality of Asgard first, everyone is beneath us but Jotuns are benath us the most, they are literal monsters. He is not held accountable for pitting his sons against one another (even if it was unintentional, he still did it) with "you were both born to be kings but only one of you can rule" being the general tone of their upbringing. He's not held accountable for his favoritism toward Thor.

Frigga is not held accountable for deferring to Odin both in supporting the above things and in keeping the truth of Loki's origins a secret while doing nothing to discourage the "monsters" narrative. 

Thor is not held accountable for his own tendency of taking Loki for granted (he assumes Loki will come to Jotunheim, he oversteps Loki constantly, “know your place,” etc.. He grants his implicit permission for Loki to be treated as the sidewalk friend in their “group,” a group which is loyal to and takes their cues from Thor as Thor continues to do nothing in his brother's defense).

[Note: Wanting Thor to be held accountable for things he's done wrong isn't vilifying him. Acknowledging that Thor benefited from Odin's favoritism and his own place as Crown Prince doesn't negate Thor also being raised in an abusive environment. I don't think anyone's saying that or, if they have, it's not something I agree with.]

Furthermore, 

Odin is not held accountable for his cruelty in disowning Loki (”your birthright was to die” is never going to be forgotten, speaking of people saying things that can't be unsaid or taken back) and in sentencing Loki to a severe prison sentence (life! only bc Frigga wouldn't let him execute Loki) for crimes that are no worse than what Odin himself has committed (around which the entire plot of Ragnarok revolves! Colonialism (and subjugation) is wrong is, like, a major theme [that people rush to praise, even] here). 

Thor is also never held accountable for not trying harder to understand what made Loki snap (fair enough, he didn't have a ton of time after returning from Earth, but certainly he had lots of time to sit around reflecting while Loki was being tortured by Thanos for a year). He knows Loki is "not himself" and "beyond reason" and accepts it at face value; he questions it once and then lets it go. He's fine with assuming Loki's just lost his mind, and isn't that a shame. (I realize I'm simplifying Thor's emotions but my point is that Thor could've tried harder to figure out that Loki was being influenced and/or not acting completely autonomously.) 

Thor is also never held accountable for - if not facing consequences for his own slaughter of Jotuns - then at least addressing why Loki can't kill an entire race even though Thor tried to do that, like, two days ago. (Granted, it’s difficult to understand how Thor got from Point A ("let's finish them together, Father!") to Point B (this is wrong!), but that failing belongs to Thor 1 (which is not, by the way, a perfect movie).

The interpretation that Loki is fully redeemed because he took responsibility for his actions, returned to Asgard, and allied himself with Thor to save their people is all well and good - but, why is Loki the only one here who has to take responsibility for their actions? 

What about all the loose threads in his story? 

For example, how did he get from: 

Point A (believing himself a literal monster, having a complete mental breakdown, getting tortured and further traumatized after that, etc) 

to 

Point B (Hey, yknow what would be fun? I'm going to write and direct a play about how I heroically died to save Thor and Jane, and I'll go ahead and have Odin say he accepts me and has always loved me. I'm going to do these things because Odin never said this in real life and instead of acknowledging my sacrifice, Thor left my body in the dirt, so someone has to validate what I've done right and that someone might as well be me. And hey, while I'm at it, I'm going to control the narrative on revealing myself as Jotun to Asgard, instead of living in fear of it being found out, and I'm going to do it in a way that they have to sympathize with me and revere me in death, bc they never bothered to do so when I was alive. And Matt Damon should play me, also.) 

to 

Point C (Yeah, I guess I feel kinda awkward about that whole tantrum thing, also I should help Thor and support him being king.)

? 

The answers to these questions are handwaved and the audience takes that to mean they don't matter. Furthermore, framing Loki's redemption around an act of service (more or less) to Thor makes Loki's redemption about Thor. Does Loki make this decision for the sake of Thor and of Asgard, or does he make it for himself? It's not super clear to me, and I think arguments can be made for both. Which, again, is fine, but - whatever.

If we're going to collectively agree, as a fandom, that Loki is complex, that he's morally gray, that he's worthy of redemption and therefore arguably a good person who's done bad things, then why is it asking too much to have it acknowledged that Thor (also a good person who's done bad things) played a part in Loki's downfall and has shit to apologize for, too? Bc one can only assume the reason is that you're taking a very gray concept and making it black and white by saying Loki has to apologize and make amends because he is the villain, and Thor doesn't because he is the hero (and it's his movie). And it's lazy.

This is where the crux of the issue lands. There's more than one valid interpretation, yes. And no two people (or groups of people, or whatever) are going to consume and therefore interpret or analyze the source material in the same way. I think I saw a post recently about how studies have been done on this, in fact. But, there is a lot going on under the surface that tends to get overlooked when exploring Loki's redemption arc in Ragnarok, as far as I can see, and that’s why I don’t consider it satisfactory. 

[I did read similar arguments regarding other issues that are often debated ('debated'), like Loki's magic and/or being underpowered, whether or not Loki's betrayal of Thor was the natural outcome of the situation on Sakaar or not, whether Thor actually gets closure with Odin [if he does, how does he reconcile the father he's idolized with the imperialistic conqueror he's discovered? Why doesn't he hold Odin responsible for covering up Hela's existence and the threat of her return, especially as he knew he was nearing the end of his life? Is Thor's "I'm not as strong as you" meant to imply that he acknowledges those shortcomings of Odin's and that he's okay with them, or that he's just overlooking them, or is he not okay with them but didn't have the chance to get into it bc he was in the middle of battle? T'Challa confronted his father on his wrongdoings in Black Panther; could Thor not have had at least one line that was confrontational enough to establish where he stands as opposed to this gray middle? Can someone explain to me how any of this equates to Thor gaining closure? Please?) but obviously I'm not going to go into all of them (well, I tried not to), bc this mammoth post has gone on long enough (I may not even post this tbh)]

- but my overall point to this entire thing is that when I say I'm critical of Ragnarok bc it's flawed, that Loki's arc was neither complete nor satisfactory, that many things went unaddressed and, due to all of these things, I do not think Ragnarok is a very good movie nor a very cohesive movie, this is where I'm coming from. I have not seen anything to change my mind to the contrary. 

But I am not saying that anyone satisfied with it is wrong, or shouldn't have the interpretation that they do. I'm not vilifying Thor in order to lift Loki up, just acknowledging that Thor is arguably just as flawed as Loki without the stigma of being Designated Villain. I think a lot of these arguments get overlooked or dismissed, and that's fine, but it doesn't make the people who do engage with them hateful, or bitter, or trying to excuse Loki's crimes, or feeling like redemption means that Loki's crimes should be erased rather than reconciled. 

And sure, yes, perhaps we are expecting too much and exploring all of these themes (or wanting them explored) means that somehow we think it should be Loki's movie (we don't). Loki is a supporting character, but he's still a character. And the movie itself doesn't have to delve into all these things - no one's saying that. (At least, I'm not.) We just want acknowledgement, from the narrative, that this stuff was an Issue. 

This could have been accomplished with - 

Some dialogue closer to the novelization (and original script), like Thor and Loki both acknowledging the harm they've done one another and their kingdom due to their Feels.

 A single line of Thor confronting Odin, or even asking "Why?" 

A narrative acknowledgement that Odin did both Thor and Loki dirty (”I love you, my sons” isn't an apology, because it doesn't acknowledge either that there's been wrong-doing or express regret for having done the wrong in the first place). 

A little bit more nuance in the way Loki treats his own past (ie, instead of flippantly telling the story of his suicide attempt, maybe - if it must be flippant - talk about getting blasted in the face with Hawkeye's arrow or sailing through to Svartalfheim [And in that moment, I sang ta-daaaa!]) or whatever. 

I recognize that wanting full, in-depth exploration on all of these issues regarding a supporting character is probably too much to ask or expect - but, I also feel like, if you're going to be professionally writing a narrative (or rewriting/improvising, as it were), it's not too much to ask that a little more care be taken in regards to all of the layers that have contributed to said supporting character's downfall and subsequent redemption arc. I don't think that's an unreasonable thing to want. 

And maybe if there had been more nuance and continuity in how these things were portrayed on screen (ie, if TW had actually done as good a job as his stans think he did), the fandom wouldn't have divided and conquered itself over which "version" of the same character is more valid and whether or not the film did its best to close out a trilogy (not start a new one), to the point where everyone in this fandom space makes navigating it feel like walking through a minefield. 

But, I mean 

(Again, please don’t reblog if possible.) 

Edit: Okay to reblog. <3 

[stydiaeverafter]

Ch2: Hidden Nightmares

Summary: Heather helps Ray through his nightmares but also worries about her own—her future.

Rated: T

Warnings: PTSD from the challenges of Panic

A/N: Thank you for all the kind words! I'm excited to continue this story between Nillhall. As much as I love writing from Ray's POV, I will be switching back and forth as the story goes on. I hope you all enjoy it!

Read on ao3

***

"I'm scared I'm falling in love with you." Heather could not get those words out of her head. They were floating alongside so many feelings that she couldn't ignore, even if she wanted to.

"I'm scared, too." It was the truth. Ray had been right. Since the challenge, everything frightened Heather. Sometimes she didn't know which way was up from down.

After she received the money from the Bagman, Heather was living in a constant state of anxiety. It didn't help that someone had thrown a scarecrow dummy at her car—a warning that Panic wasn't through with her, that she was being watched.

Though, she had been the fool and hadn't told anybody about it. Heather had wanted to wait to see if anything else would happen. Plus, she knew that Ray would freak, and she didn't want him going off the deep end, primarily because of her.

Besides worrying if someone wasn't through with her yet, the money would be stolen. The challenge was just beginning. Heather also thought about the relationship with Ray.

They were in the beginning stages of figuring out what this all meant between them. Heather had joked, saying, "We don't have to fall in love, Ray,"  but she realized soon after that the falling was inevitable.

Heather had been falling in love with him since he finally had opened up to her at the Player's Ball. Even though she had tried to push anything serious from her mind, fate had a different path for her.

Ray brought out a wild, not-so-sheltered side of her. It was fun, exciting, and new. Natalie, before leaving Carp, had warned her for the millionth time, saying men like Ray don't always change. But the problem was that many people didn't actually know the real Ray Hall. They saw what was surface deep—not the man behind the iron mask.

She was taking the time to really get to know Ray after so many years of witnessing the facade.

It had been almost a month since the game and surrounding herself around Ray Hall. Heather tried to keep digging to get to know him, even though they had difficulty keeping their hands off each other. There was a chemistry between them that was electrifying. She knew he felt it, too, as he would often tremble when they kissed.

They had hooked up a few times, still not having sex, and she was grateful he was willing to take it slow after what had happened at Graybill Manor.

However, Heather couldn't stop thinking about that. This part Natalie didn't have to warn her about. It was only the truth that Ray had hooked up with many girls and had since their freshman year. As she replayed Graybill Manor often in her mind, Heather still couldn't figure out why he had gotten so upset. Part of her whispered that it was because what was going on between them had been different for him, special,  and when she had said, "What's the big deal," it had stuck him in the heart. But was that the real reason? Maybe so, now that she knew he was falling for her. But would it last? In her mind, she was sometimes scared she was one of the many on his list, and when he was bored, he'd throw her to the side. However, her heart would beat, saying that was a lie. This man loves you. He'll wait.

Heather had fumbled a lie saying she wasn't a virgin, but the truth was, she very much was. She had wanted to wait for the right person and always thought it would be with Bishop. But they had failed romantically, and that was okay. Sometimes just being best friends was enough.

Being around Ray, her thoughts shifted, and more and more did she want her first time to be with him. But how could she tell him that? Unless he already knew. That man was perceptive.

She looked over at him, sleeping in the sun on his boat as she wrote ideas for her stories that would probably never be published. The way he encouraged her to write was as beautiful as watching the sun touch his face in the light.

His arms were folded, and his eyes were closed in a peaceful way. He looked younger this way, not the troubled adolescent who had been forced to grow up too soon, even though she knew exactly how that felt.

Ray truly was gorgeous, and she resisted the urge to run her fingers down his cheek. Instead, she gripped her pen tightly and continued to write.

Writing gave her purpose. The inner words, too scared to speak, found their escape into the world. Heather wanted so desperately to take her writing a step further. But to do that, college was a must. She had more than enough money, but part of her was scared to use it, and the other part didn't want to leave Lily or Ray. This hadn't been the first time Heather considered taking her sister with her, but could she give her the life she deserved? It sure would be a hell of a lot better than what their mom was giving them. But it was a custody battle she didn't want to play, even though she was 18 now.

That didn't stop Heather from still applying to the University of Austin, the place she always saw herself going. She looked back down at Ray, wondering how he would take the news that she had applied. Heather knew he had changed a lot from the boy before Panic, but would he be willing to do long-distance?

Her thoughts evaporated as Ray started thrashing around, whimpering in his sleep. She closed her notebook and made her way over to him.

"No...don't...don't leave me. Heather..." She froze at his words, wondering if he knew exactly what she had been thinking only seconds before. "No, help. No...."

Heather knew Ray spoke in his sleep, especially with his nightmares—the unfortunate pleasure of having a traumatic past—but this seemed unusual. Worse in numerous ways, especially given how Ray was shaking like a scared child.

"Ray! Ray, wake up." Heather shook his bare arms as he tossed around the small boat. "Ray!"

Finally, his eyes shot open, and he gazed up at her as Heather attempted to block the sun from his eyes.

"Heather?" Ray asked after a moment, sitting up slightly, his body covered in sweat.

"It's me. I'm here," Heather replied, bending down to gently kiss his forehead. "Are you okay? You were having another nightmare."

Instead of answering right away, he just gazed into her eyes as if he were getting lost in something that only he could see. Then all of a sudden, Ray shook his head and ran a hand through his already messy curls. "I'm fine. Sorry to worry you."

"How often are you getting them?"

"Nah," Ray shrugged, "it's not a big deal. Just my fucked up brain." He ran his fingers gently through her hair, a habit that had formed since spending so much time together. "No worries, babe."

"Ray, stop it." Heather gripped his hand tightly, and he froze, "Don't do that! Please don't push me away. It's a big deal to me if it's hurting you." She placed her palm against his warm cheek, and the facade disappeared instantly as Ray closed his beautiful blue eyes.

It still took a lot for Ray to be vulnerable, but he would for her. Sometimes though, it took a bit of convincing. Old habits die hard. She was working on letting someone in as well.   In her past, Heather had to be a closed-off box inside her own comfort zone—being with Ray expanded everything she knew. It was scary but worth it.

"I'm sorry," Ray responded, opening his eyes. "I don't mean to be an asshole, especially not to you. I appreciate that you want to be there for me. Guess I'm still getting used to it, though." Heather nodded with a smile, confirming that she understood the journey and making positive changes. He sighed deeply as he took her hands into his lap. "The dreams?" Heather bit her lip, waiting for when he was ready. "You. Lately, so many of them are about you."

"Me?" He nodded. Heather squeezed his hand, "Can you tell me what this one was about?"

Ray glanced up at her, with a crestfallen expression, "You left me again."

Her heart stopped in her chest—Ray must've known. Heather cleared her throat, "Left you how exactly?"

"It was the fire this time. I could see your lifeless body on the ground as we tried to do CPR. But...it didn't work. Just a reminder that even when I ran in to help you, I was the one who couldn't save you."

Heather gasped and held her breath, "You ran into Graybill?" He nodded with a sad defeated grin. "I had no idea. No one told me. Why didn't you?"

"Explain how I couldn't find you?" Ray shuttered, gripping her hands tightly. "You almost died, Heather; I felt like a failure."

Heather couldn't explain what that meant to her. He had tried to get to her, even if he hadn't found her. Ray had searched for her, even after their argument and him calling what had happened between them a mistake. They weren't a mistake; they never would be.

"It means the world to me that you tried, though. I hope you know that." He didn't answer her, so Heather went back to the dream, remembering to focus on the issue at hand. "But damn, I'm sorry you keep reliving it," she whispered. Heather scooted closer to him in the small space. "It was a close call, but I'm okay."

"I never know which one is worse. They're all fucking horrible." Ray let go over her hands and covered his eyes with a groan, "Last night's dream, you fell off the plank, right through my damn fingers."

"The challenge is over, Ray. We both made it out in one piece." Now was definitely not the time to tell him about the weird dummy being thrown at her car. She really didn't want to send him into a nervous breakdown.

"Maybe that's what Panic does to you, though, screws with your mind even after it's over."

Heather sighed, "But the nightmares are only of me?"

"Yeah, and I fuckin' hate it. I'd rather it be me."

She shook her head rapidly—Heather wouldn't want that...never. "No, don't say that. Listen, I know they're probably terrifying as all hell, but I'm okay. See?"

He nodded but didn't look at her. Heather could tell that Ray was still far away in that mind of his. "Ray, I'm here." Heather took his hands and placed them firmly on her shoulders. "Feel me. I'm not leaving you."

Ray finally peered at her. The look reminded her of the day he told her he was scared he was falling in love with her. "Promise?"

It was a double-edged sword making the promise to Ray. If she got accepted into UT, Heather would be leaving him unless he came with her, which she doubted he would. But she had to do something to alleviate his worries, at least for a little while. "I promise, sweetheart."

His lips were on hers before she realized Ray had moved. "I love it when you call me that."

She smiled at his words spoken against her mouth, feeling a small dose of relief. But as he kissed her softly, Heather felt like she could cry at the desperation behind it. As much as she yearned to leave Carp, she was terrified to say goodbye to Ray Hall—the man she loved.