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fanficfanatic000 · 2 years ago

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Eddie munson x female reader

Chapter one (The first day )

I just moved to Hawkins] story name

Hi this kinda goes with the storyline so spoilers ahead Eddie will not die I promise 18 plus story feel free to leave a comment sorry for typos WARNING 18 PLUS CONTENT

You just moved out of the town you grew up in now your moving to hawkins for your mother's job. It's not like you had friends back at your town you always had been introverted in certain ways and making friends was one of the many things that got your Sevier social anxiety up to the roof. But you can live with it. It's not like you didn't want friends, you just had any. Even at school you had zero friends and your grades haven't been the best, And today was my first day of school at Hawkins high. Your not a freshman your almost at the end of high-school

Now you got up and dug through your moving boxes and looked for clothing Till you found a pair of ripped jeans, a tank top that was your favorite color and layered necklaces plus your converse And jacket you looked pretty good Then since you already had showered last night you don't have to this morning but before you walked out you sprayed your favorite perfume. You grabbed your keys off the hook and walked out the door your mom wasn't there because she basically has a 24 7 job so you locked up the house door and drove your car to school (At Hawkins high) You got out of your car as you walked through the doors you felt your stomach turn. You walked through the halls and you saw jocks talking to cheer leaders, two friends, and not one looked at you. Then you walked to math class but when you got there you were early, only a few people were there. 6 min went by, all the seats were full but one then you suddenly hear a voice You turn to see the voice was coming from a small child who was wearing a t-shirt that says hellfire he spits his word out sounding as if he ran here 'Sorry Ms Linda I kinda lost track of time Then they argued until she gave him detention because he was late for math class for the 3rd time apparently The bell rang and you had to find your way to the cafeteria so you chose to subtlety follow two girls to the cafeteria one named Tammy and one named Vanessa. I guess when your invisible you know and hear alot. The cafeteria you had got apple slices, chips and soda but no where to sit except for the empty table in the corner. You sat and listened to the laughter and chating until this guy got up on the table he was sitting at and said ' as long as your into band or science or parties or a game where you toss balls in a laundry basket we are considered lame!!!' Then a guy said want something freak I think he was a jock Then the boy on the table did a weird face thing at him. There was something about this boy his long dark curls around his face His rock sense of style and his voice not to mention his pretty dark brown eyes. I wish he would even take a look in my direction but probably not. So you were walking out of the cafeteria and the small child from earlier bumped into you knocking you down he stuttered i-i um sorry…… wait are you new? I just nodded Well I'm Dustin and you are? My name is y/n. Well y/n sorry I bumped into you I just have to hurry and find a fill in for my club. Ok well I have to go catch the next class Goodluck Dustin. So we went our ways I headed to class He went to get a filler for his club (Class) Bored. I am bored….. it felt like a hundred hours went by then the bell rang. FINALLY Then you walked through the halls to your locker with only a few items in there. Since you were new. You were at your locker when you heard. What do you mean you found no fillers?. The voice was from the guy at the cafeteria, not Dustin the one that stood on the tables. But he was talking to Dustin. Eddie calm down just give me one second…. Y/N!. Then Dustin walked up to you. Hi y/n Can you fill in for the hellfire club tonight? I don't know dustin I barely know anyone here….. Dustin smiles. Well I'll be there And maybe you can make some friends there. Your social anxiety sky rocketed… Fine I'll fill in for your club.. I guess… but you owe me. Dustin's face lit up with excitement. Ok well the campaign is at the theater club storage room in about 10 minutes. Your stomach turning, heart pounding.

(10 mins later) You walk up to the doors of the hellfire club and felt the urge to walk the other way but you didn't you walked through and saw Dustin and the rest of the club the boy called Eddie stood up from his throne and walked towards you slowly with his head up. his eyes following you. Dustin you didn't mention that the filler for lukas was a cheerleader. "What? I am not a cheerleader i-I'm just new here. Butterflies in your stomach waiting for his response. I'm Eddie welcome to hellfire. I-im y/n. Well y/n take a seat and let's play

(After hellfire ) Better luck next time princess . He says with a boyish smile on. You roll your eyes And uncontrollably smiled. You walked out of the room after kinda helping pick up. You knew everyone's names by the end of the hellfire campaign. But you just figured they would probably forget yours. Hey y/n you did pretty good for your first Campaign you should comeback next week. Thanks Dustin but I don't think they liked having me there. Sure they did you were funny and smart with your choices. We didn't win. Yeah sure we lost but we lost together and it was your first game. I don't know we will see bye Dustin. Bye y/n Then you got in your car and drove to your Little new house.

At your house) You unpacked all of your stuff but of course you were starving and thirsty but since you just moved to Hawkins there was zero food and just water it was kinda late but you really needed it and you mom wouldn't notice if you were gone even if she wasn't at work.

You grabbed the keys and headed to a convenient store Your driving through the trailer park and you see Eddie and a cheerleader going inside a trailer. Y/n stop being a stalker you think to yourself.

You got your snacks of chips and a soda And you were tired but I guess time for the next day.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson lives #Eddie #I just moved to Hawkins #Chapter 1 #Original fan fic

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unfortunate17 · 6 months ago

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bestie you are truly so kind, thank you so much for your reassuring words. my anxiety has been through the roof this past week and when i realized that pre-sale sold out my heart just started to sink. i know it seems silly to worry about something like this, but yr has got me through some pretty rough times and i would love nothing more than to see omar live. based on what you said i'm going to stay optimistic and keep my fingers crossed! once again, thank you <3

nono I totally get it being devastated over something so “silly” I would’ve been upset too - I remember losing the Taylor Ticketmaster war all too well 😭.

I would DEFINITELY set an alarm for Friday though because it looks like the demand for the Brooklyn show is much bigger than the demand for LA and I think there’s a lot of ppl who didn’t get tickets during presale who will try again on Friday

I wish you all the good luck please let me know how it goes!!

#ask

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darkmoonslayer · 2 years ago

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Secret

Bucky was late, and he hasn’t texted her yet. It was odd because he was rarely late and if he was, he would text to let her know what was happening. He had briefly mentioned something about a mission, but she had no idea what was going on. Right before he left, they had a small argument. They had been together for over a year and a half, and she still hasn’t met the team. She was tired of being the secret. She wanted to get to know his best friend and the people he considered family.

She was getting worried, she paced back and forth next to the dinner date she had cooked. She no longer cared about it getting cold. She felt guilty for telling him that she felt not good enough for him, and that he was embarrassed with her.

She felt relief as she heard the phone ring and see the bucky was calling. ��Hey, buck. I was getting worried.” She said as she answered the call.

But it wasn’t bucky.

Meanwhile back at the tower...

Bucky groaned in pain as he was being pushed out of the jet on a gurney. Steve was running next to him holding a cloth to his bleeding abdomen. Bucky’s hands shook as he pulled out his phone. He pulled up his girlfriend's contact info and handed it to Steve’s free hand. “C-Call H-Her Please. S-Sorry i didn’t tell you” Bucky said before passing out.

They rushed him into the med bay and Steve stood there looking at the phone. It was to a girl. Steve hesitantly pressed the call button. It only rings once.

“Hey, buck. I was getting worried.” She answered.

“Ugh Hi I’m Steve. He told me to call this number” Steve said confused.

“Oh my God is he Okay?” Panic starts to settle into her chest.

“Uh He is in surgery now ugh who is this?” Steve questioned still very confused.

“Oh, Right I’m Bucky's Girlfriend. He hasn’t told any of you yet. I’ve wanted to tell all of you for a while now, but he didn’t want too yet. we actually fought about it before he left. Oh God what if that's the last time we speak to each other.” She said as she tears up. A lump in her throat just thinking about it.

“Okay let's not get ahead of ourselves do you know where the tower is?” Steve asks

“Yes, i do” She answers.

“Okay, are you able to get here or do you need someone to pick you up?” He asks.

“I can get there. I’m not to far i can be there in 10-15 minutes.” She said as she starts to get her purse and her shoes on.

“Okay i will meet you in the lobby, okay?” Steve says

“Okay Thank you Steve” she says before they hang up.

She Rushes out the door. Steve stood there shocked.

“Hey, you know he will pull through.” Tony says as he notices the confused look on his face.

“Oh yeah i know that it’s just did you know Bucky had a girlfriend?” Steve asks

“Bucky? A Girlfriend? I didn't know that.” Tony says in shock.

“Yeah, he told me to call this number before he passed out. she will be here in about 10 minutes.” Steve says.

“Well go wait in the lobby and bring her up to the med bay.” Tony says.

Steve nods before quickly heading down to the lobby. It takes her 10 minutes to get to the tower. Her anxiety is through the roof, and all she can think about is Bucky. She quickly walks into the lobby of the building and recognizes Steve from the pictures.

“You must be the girlfriend?” Steve asks.

“Y/N, Nice to meet you. Wish it could be under better circumstances.” She says.

“Nice to meet you Y/N, no come with me” Steve says

The two stand quietly in the elevator as it goes up to the correct floor. Once on the correct floor she follows Steve as he makes his way to the waiting room in med bay. And everyone is there, waiting to hear news.

Being Tony, he had spilled the beans as soon as he got there. It was only a few minutes later so they were still in shock, but She felt better that they weren’t in the first stages of shock. She was worried and didn’t want to explain everything to them. She just wanted to see Bucky.

“Why don’t you sit down, do you want any water?” Steve asks She nods and Steve leaves to get that.

She could feel the eyes on her. she just kept her head down tears were forming, and she felt ridiculous. She didn’t want to cry the first time seeing the team. Nat moves over to the seat next to her.

“I’m Natasha. You can call me Nat.” She says softly.

“I’m Y/N” she says shyly.

“So, Bucky’s Girlfriend? How is that working?” Nat asks smiling.

She giggles, smiling.

“Yeah, he’s good. I don’t know if i could have gotten this far without him.” She smiles.

“How did you meet?” Nat asks.

“He saved me from HYDRA. He remembered me from one of his flashbacks and he couldn’t get me out of his head, so he took down a whole base to save me.” She says.

“Thats amazing. How long have you been together?” Nat asks.

“A Year and a half. We had an argument about how i haven’t met all of you yet and i would give anything to take it back” Her eyes water.

“He’s going to be okay; he has one of the best doctors working on him.” Nat comforts her.

That moment interrupted by Dr Cho walking into the room.

“He’s Okay. I got the bullet out and he’s stitched. With his super solider serum, it shouldn’t take too long for him to wake up. He’s in room 3.” Dr Cho says before walking back.

Everyone walks to his room. They look through the window to see Bucky sleeping. He almost looks peaceful if it wasn’t for the bruises on his face.

“Go on, we will check on him in a while.” Nat says

She nods before making her way into the room. She sits next to Bucky and holds his hand. She watches him, all the emotions 40 minutes comes rushing to her.

She sniffles as she wipes the tears from her eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry” Bucky says his voice horse.

“Buck, I-I thought i was going to lose you” She grips his hand tighter.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily. Now come here” Bucky smiles to her. She leans up to bucky and kiss him.

“I’m sorry for the argument, i shouldn’t have said anything.” She says quickly.

“Hey don’t ever be sorry to tell me how you are feeling. I’m sorry i have been so scared. I love you too much and everything with you was just perfect. But i’m sorry i didnt think that not telling people would affect you” Bucky says kissing the back of her hand.

“So how was meeting the team?” Bucky smirks.

“oh god, I probably look like a mess. and i was pretty much crying.” She says hiding her face in her hands.

Bucky chuckles but then groans grabbing his abdomen.

“Baby i’m sure they liked you. Plus, we will do an introduction later.” Bucky says

“Okay, I love you so much Buck” she says intertwining their hands together.

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big-boah · 2 years ago

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Autistic Thing of the day:

Autistic Catatonia 😵

I made a TikTok on this too with the same info (link here!)

I wanted to talk about autistic catatonia, which isn’t something I’d heard about until I researched it on my own. When I brought it up to my doctor, she said it made perfect sense.

Autistic catatonia affects, at minimum, about ten percent of autistic people. And the best way I can describe it is “getting stuck.”

I’ve dealt with this my entire life, I plan to do something, or respond to someone, and my mind goes blank and I just can’t move. If I fight it, my anxiety goes through the roof. I can’t talk or respond, only maybe stim a little or communicate using eye contact or eye gaze. For me, it can last anywhere from a few seconds to several hours.

Unfortunately, my bodily functions still continue when I’m stuck, so I have to be guided to the bathroom, need help in the shower, and kept out of harm’s way. My partner and I both have ADHD and have a similar thing happen but can still kind of move even if it's difficult, but that’s more executive dysfunction.

This is also a little different than derealization and depersonalization in that most people still feel entirely like themselves when these episodes happen, your inside mentality is the same. I can carry on commentary in my head during these episodes and I feel like I'm myself, just stuck.

Being catatonic is almost like every cell in my body is frozen in time. I know what’s going on around me, but my brain just can’t make that connection and that spark of purposeful movement doesn’t make it outside of my own mind. I wish there was a better way to explain it.

A lot of autistic people experience this differently. Some people have this and believe it's a shutdown (which is a little different because in shutdowns usually you can communicate.)

People with mild catatonia may feel like they've "gone nonverbal" and also feel physically stuck, although others can assist you to move if needed.

A lot of people have this experience when they're frightened of experiencing high levels of overstimulation. I've always said it's like my brain pressed pause on my life, because I wouldn't.

If you know someone who goes through something like this, make sure they stay safe, hydrated, and make sure to check in on them even if they don't respond. I like when my partner acts like nothing’s up, he will just hang out with me there. Some people like touch when they get stuck while others don’t. This can happen no matter what your support need level is in general. This actually happens often enough where it increases my support need level, I need to be supervised anyway. 😅

Once I realized this was a feature of my autism, I was able to come up with a plan with my loved ones because it happens about 2-3 times a week. Ever since I started taking ADHD meds it happens less, and research has found that benzo medications can actually prevent this from happening and help the episodes. Research needs to catch up to the rest of us on this one!

But if you experience this or periods of hyperactivity where you also feel like you can't interact with others on your own command, it may be autistic catatonia.

Hopefully this helps someone! 🤟🏻

#actually autistic #autism #autistic catatonia #catatonia #neurodivergent #adhd #audhd #ptsd #autistic thing of the day #dan.posts #autistic #autism things #autistic adult #high support needs #actually disabled

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reidsaurora · 3 years ago

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"Best Friend's Brother, PT. Three" ~ D. Winchester

Summary: After Y/N and Dean's fight, Y/N finally convinces Sam to tell her where Dean is… only his answer isn't exactly what she was expecting.

Pairing: Teen!Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,267

Content Warning: swearing

Genre: ANGSTY AS FRICKKKK

Extra Notes: Y/I = your initial // Y/F/N = your full name

Based On: the other two parts lol // the equation in the tutoring scene was based on a scene from Alexa and Katie though

Originally Written: 11/08/2021

Series Masterlist can be found here!

Supernatural masterlist can be found here!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It had been three weeks since my fight with Dean. I hadn't seen him at all during that time, not even at school. And every time I tried to talk to Sam about where he was, Sam would avoid the conversation.

To take my mind off things with Dean, Sam had been coming over to my house. Turns out, I was worse at algebra than I thought, so Sam had been tutoring me.

"OK, I have an equation for you, smart boy," I said in the middle of our tutoring session.

"Hit me," he replied.

"If Student Y/I and Student D have an argument and Student D goes away, but Student S is in the middle of Student Y/I and Student D, what is the probability of Student S helping Student Y/I to get Student D back?"

"This feels like toilet paper math," Sam said, completely serious.

"Seriously, what's the probability?" I asked.

"I don't think I have enough information to answer your equation."

"Sam!" I shouted, shoving him. Not hard, but it was enough to let him know I was annoyed.

"OK, OK, do you really wanna know where Dean is?"

"Yes!"

"I don't know where he is. Your guess is as good as mine, Y/N. He calls me once a day and all he'll tell me is that he's OK and that I don't need to worry about him."

"I wonder if he'd answer if I just called him over and over and over again."

"Good luck. He calls from a different number every day."

"I just wish I knew what happened."

"Dad definitely had something to do with it," he said, almost like he didn't mean to. His facial expression let me know that he immediately regretted it too.

"What?! John had something to do with this?"

"Me and my big mouth," he rolled his eyes at himself, "Dean and Dad had a fight the day before you came over to apologize."

"What about?"

"Dean told Dad he had a girlfriend. He didn't say who, he just said it was a girl he went to school with. Dad got pissed because he told Dean he didn't want him bringing anyone into our screwed-up family drama. Things got a little out of hand and they had a screaming match. I ran off because it was causing my anxiety to go through the roof, so I didn't hear the rest. All I know is that when I got back, Dean was throwing stuff in his duffel and said he was gonna finish working on his car the next day and that he'd be leaving town after he finished. Hence why he drove off in a fit of anger not long after your argument."

"Of course," I scoffed, "Every problem me and Dean have ever had was because of John. Why didn't I see this before?"

"I don't like him much these days either, so…"

We sat in silence for a minute before going back to my math problems, though I didn't pay much attention because I was too busy worrying about how I was gonna get Dean back home, safe and sound.

☆☆☆

"I've called him eight times. Seriously, why won't he answer?" I shouted, throwing my phone on the bed.

"He's not gonna answer, Sissy," Sam spoke softly.

Sissy… Sam's nickname for me, but only in times of sadness or distress. He always called me "Sissy" as a kid since I was basically his twin sister, but as we got older, he only used it when one of the two of us needed comforting.

"He has to after all the work I put in. I mean, I follow his trail of motel stays, finally find his motel room in Edwardsville, and now he doesn't even bother to answer the phone," I complained, lying back on my bed.

"Hold on, did you say Edwardsville?" Sam asked, almost as if that fact was important.

"Yeah, why?"

"Edwardsville is only like a half hour from Lawrence," he said, immediately followed by a groan of complaint, "He's going home."

"Home? Wow, last I checked, he told me 'Anywhere you are is home.' Glad to know he doesn't feel like that now."

"You know what, Sissy? Contrary to popular belief, this isn't about you as much as you think it is."

I was a little angry with his comment at first, but I took a step back. This wasn't about me, and I knew it. It was about John and I knew that.

Dean had spent his entire life trying to get approval from John, and eighteen years later, John still couldn't give him the approval he was searching for.

"I've got an idea," I said.

"You've got one of those gleams in your eye, and I don't like it."

"Just trust me on this, Sam."

☆☆☆

"Y/N, there is no way we're stealing your dad's car. We can't even legally drive!" Sam whisper-shouted as we snuck around in my dad's bedroom. My dad had fallen asleep on the couch, but he always left the spare set of keys to his car in the drawer in his nightstand.

"Relax, he's been letting me drive since I was like ten," I replied, grabbing the keys.

"Yeah, when he's in the car."

"Sam, you worry too much."

"You don't worry enough. I mean, we could get arrested."

"Not if we don't get caught," I said with a smirk.

"OK, you have been hanging out with Dean too much," he spoke, rolling his eyes.

We quietly snuck out of the house and into the garage. I open the garage door before climbing into the driver's seat of my dad's '66 Nova.

And I know what you're thinking… yes, all hunters do drive old cars… it's like an unspoken rule or something…

"I'm not letting you drive all the way to Kansas!" Sam protested.

"Of course not. I'm gonna have to sleep at some point. Then you can drive."

"Y/N!"

"I'll go without you! I may end up falling asleep at the wheel though."

Reluctantly, he sat down in the passenger seat, closing the door as quietly as he could.

"Remind me again why I ever agreed to be your best friend?"

"You didn't. You just got stuck with me," I grinned.

☆☆☆

"So, here's a story from A to Z!" I sang along to the radio.

Sam reached over and lowered the volume. "OK, if I'm gonna have to ride with you all the way from Indiana to Kansas, at least pick some decent music."

"You've already made it through the first two hours. Plus, I think your brother puts it best: driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

And with that, I turned the radio back up, this time it was even louder than before.

"Could you turn it down?" he said, his arms crossed and his face serious.

"Sorry! What was that? I couldn't hear you!" I shouted, turning the radio up even higher. "If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends!" I shouted, pointing at Sam when I said the word "friends".

"Please!"

"OK, OK," I giggled, turning it down. "Hey, you think there's anywhere to buy coffee at this time of the night?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, I don't particularly wanna fall asleep at the wheel."

Sam hesitated for a moment. He had a worried expression across his face, his puppy-dog eyes were prominent.

"I suppose I can try driving for a little while. Dean's let me drive before," he said hesitantly.

"Would you? I just wanted to take a little nap. But I promise, the second you feel even the slightest bit tired or uncomfortable, I will drive."

He nodded in response, so I pulled over and we switched seats.

Soon enough, I'd fallen asleep. Much to my surprise, Sam was actually a decent driver.

☆☆☆

Next thing I knew, it was 6:00 a.m. and my phone was ringing. Had I really let Sam drive for five hours?

"Crap, it's your dad!" Sam groaned, passing my phone to me.

I quickly answered, scared for what he'd say to me. I knew I'd be grounded for the rest of forever, but I didn't really care. Not if it meant I'd get Dean back.

"Hey, Dad," I answered awkwardly.

"Where the hell is my car?" he asked.

"Look, I don't really have the time to explain right now. I'm driving to Kansas. Dean ran away and I think he went home."

"You what?!" his voice rose. "You drove my car halfway across the country by yourself?!"

"Not by myself. Sam is here," I admitted, hoping that would somehow calm him down.

"Wow, 'Sam is here.' That makes me feel so much better," he whispered sarcastically.

"Look, Dad. I know how to drive. You've been teaching me for years. And Sam knows how to drive too. We'll be OK. Just trust me on this."

"Where are you?"

I silently mouthed to Sam, "Where are we?"

"In Blue Springs, Missouri. About an hour out from Lawrence," he mouthed back.

"Blue Springs, Missouri," I answered, stuttering a little.

"You're in Missouri?!"

"Dad, I'm sorry. I know you hate taking the bus to work, and I'm sorry. I will make it up to you when I get home. But I promise I'm fine. Sam's fine. We just need to find Dean. We've been taking turns so no one fell asleep at the wheel. I promise we are OK."

"I trust you. As long as you can find Dean. John's been worried sick. He's been calling all morning, freaking out because neither of his boys were home."

Yeah, because that definitely sounds like John… actually giving a crap about his children…

"We'll find him, Dad. I promise."

"We're not finished talking about this. But I don't wanna cloud your judgement even more than it already is. Just, be careful out there. Carry some holy water in your purse."

"Always have, always will," I replied.

"Love you."

"Love you too, Dad."

And with that, we hung up. I felt bad for lying about the "taking turns" thing, but then again, it wasn't my fault Sam never woke me up.

"Why didn't you -"

Sam cut me off by answering, "Because you needed the rest. You've been worried sick for the past three weeks. You barely sleep because of how stressed you've been about Dean. You needed it."

Damn you, Sam, and your empathetic heart.

☆☆☆

After an hour and a half and a small breakfast pit stop, we finally made it to the Winchesters' old house in Lawrence. I hadn't really seen the house other than when I was a baby, except for photos. The one that stuck out in my mind was of our moms holding me and Sam outside the front door in the summer. Sam and I were in bathing suits and our moms were wearing matching American flag tank tops for the fourth of July.

The house looked like it was in decent shape, like it had been rebuilt recently. Though the yard was pretty unkept, the grass high and the bushes, well… bushy.

"Are you sure no one's moved in?" I asked Sam as I parked.

"I'm sure. After hearing about how Mom's ghost supposedly haunted it, no one wanted to buy it," he said, almost like he was offended. "Their loss. I'm sure her ghost is just as kind and loving as Dad says she was in real life."

OK, maybe he was offended.

The two of us walked up to the door, looking around to make sure no one was watching us. We each carried a gun and a flashlight, my gun had salt bullets while Sam's had real bullets.

BAM!

The door swung open. It was completely dark and there was no furniture, as if no one had even so much as thought about the house in decades.

"What the hell?" I wondered. There wasn't any evidence that Dean was squatting there.

"There's no way he's not here," Sam sighed, shaking his head.

"Well, there's no sign that he is here."

He spoke up louder when he said, "Haha, very funny, Dean. You can come out now."

RING!!!

My phone began ringing in my back pocket. An unknown number… that's weird.

"Hello?"

"Where the hell are you?!"

"Gee, Dean, I could ask you the same damn question," I exhaled with an eye roll.

"I'm at home," he replied.

"Obviously not, or I'd be looking at you."

"Wait a minute. Where are you?"

I sighed, having figured out where he actually was. "I'm at your house in Lawrence."

"Of course you went to Lawrence," he grumbled. "I'm at your house."

"Oh, no!" I groaned.

"What?" Sam asked, oblivious to mine and Dean's conversation.

"Dean's back at the house."

Sam let out a loud growl, letting basically the whole neighborhood know that he was pissed.

"Y/N, I have something to tell you. I wanted to do it in person, hence why I came home, but I don't wanna wait any longer."

"What is it?"

Here it comes…

"Y/F/N, I love you with my whole heart."

Was not expecting that, considering we'd never used the L word before.

"You what?"

"I love you, Y/N. But I can't keep living like this. You shouldn't have to live like this. I think it's best if we go our separate ways."

Ooh, was my blood boiling now.

"Dammit, Dean! I did not make Sam illegally drive for six hours for you to tell me you're just gonna give up on us!"

"Well, I just did," was his response.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

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thisstableground · 3 years ago

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still thinking about dolores’ verse in we don’t talk about bruno - “grew to live in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling”, that doesn’t sound like her having any fear of him being creepy or mysterious or Foreboding Prophecy Man Going To Feast On Your Screams. those are signs of him being anxious. i mean i’m sure being in the wall for a decade exacerbated his social awkwardness but he definitely comes off as an intensely anxious guy even talking to mirabel who is the least intimidating person on earth (the way he holds onto that plant leaf, immediately apologising and shrinking back and dropping his voice just because he said her name in a mildly startling way) and i don’t think that’s all just from isolation

my take is that bruno was never able to put on the mask that everyone else in the family managed to. maybe just because of who he is as a person, maybe also because his gift is kind of unavoidably truthful: your fish is still gonna die whether you’re in denial about the prophecy or not (maybe he has that gift because of who he is as a person). and even if you look at it as the prophecies being changeable like mirabel’s, you have to face the difficult truth first to get to the good interpretation, you don’t get there by hiding from it.

i grew up in a house with some of these dynamics: you hear your mother getting angry about your sister forgetting to do a chore and you immediately start frantically checking to make sure there isn’t anything you’ve missed because you know that when it starts with one of you it will spread to all of you and suddenly you’ll be in big trouble for something tiny that you never even knew you were supposed to do in the first place, and even if you catch it before she does you never know if you’ll keep the peace or if it’s too little too late or if your attempt to avoid being in trouble yourself means you end up throwing your sister under the bus without even meaning to. the anxiety level of the whole house goes through the roof and its never usually even for anything deliberate or huge, its for a simple, easily-fixable mistake or for showing the wrong emotion.

when is he most likely to stutter and stumble? if he’s actively going against his mothers wishes. if he’s having to give a prophecy that he knows will be badly recieved. hell, maybe even just if he’s had to show up to a crowded event that he’s uncomfortable at because of his familial obligations. all the things abuela wants him to do that he can’t do. he disrupts the image, which then means everyone else has to fit their roles and play their parts and double-check their own actions twice as hard to try and shift things back into place and make sure that abuela’s happy. dolores isn’t actually fearing bruno when he’s stuttering and stumbling, she’s fearing the emotional impact that him breaking the act has on everyone else in the house

#fandom: encanto #character: dolores #character: bruno #encanto spoilers #encanto #i guess im just like in this fandom now then

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strawnarrries · 3 years ago

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Hi love !!!! Can you do one where Niall and y/n are together and they go grocery shopping . They separate in the store and y/n goes to female isle while Niall goes to check something up . She grabs what she needs and goes to buy her fashion magazines. While looking and deciding , a man is hitting on her , telling her she is beautiful and all those lame lines and he doesn’t leave her alone . Immediatly she texts Niall to come and that a man isnt leaving her and flirts with her . Niall comes and tells the guy to back off and starts a talking fight with him. Y/n tells him to stop and they leave . She is a little shaken off by the whole situation and her anxiety is through the roof right now and she starts to feel not so good . They go home and Niall takes care of her and showers her with kisses , snuggles, cuddles , hugs etc and he is sorry that he picked a fight and that is his fault that she is feeling like this now . Y/n is really emotional and starts to cry and knows that is not his fault and that she is so lucky to have him . You can go from there . Thank you so much . Always looking forward to read your imagines , love your writing !!!💖❤️

ahh omg yes I love this idea!!! this is also def how i would react to that situation too! id get such bad anxiety and get so upset hahah. this ended up turning out to be a lot longer than i expected (def too long to be considered a blurb so i'm making it a one shot) but i had so much fun writing it so I hope you enjoy!!!!

It was a lazy, Sunday afternoon. The day was full of house chores and spending time together before the busy week ahead of you both began. You and Niall decided to go grocery shopping together. You currently were in the pasta aisle when you remembered you were running low on girly products.

"'m gonna go get tampons, okay?" you told him.

"kay, babe," he hummed, eyes scanning the shelves for your all's favorite pasta sauce.

You walked to the feminine aisle and began searching for your favorite brand of tampons. Once you found them, you picked them up as well as some pads and panty liners too, not knowing if you were running low on those too, but having an extra box or two wouldn't kill. Making your way back towards Niall, you spotted the magazine aisle and decided to take a look at some of the new fashion magazines. While browsing through a couple of them, you felt the presence of a strange man walk up to you. You ignored him, hoping he was just browsing just like you, until he spoke up, "Hi there."

You looked over at him and smiled sweetly, "Hi."

He looked about 25 years old and he definitely wasn't your type at all. He had patches of facial hair spread throughout his jaw, and his dark brown hair was slicked back with one too many scoops of hair gel. He was around 5'9 and wore a pair of black, Adidas sweatpants, matched with a dark blue t-shirt and a pair of old, beaten-up gym shoes.

You turned your attention back to the magazines in front of you, trying to give off the obvious hint that you weren't interested in talking to him.

"I don't wanna come off too forward but you're honestly the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and I just had to let you know that."

"Aw well thank you," you smiled, flattered by the compliment but immediately averting your attention away from him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Y/N," you told him without looking up at him and instantly regretting telling him your real name, wishing you had just said a random one.

"Y/N," he repeated, "that's a beautiful name," he says and you started to get extremely uncomfortable, not even bothering to ask him what his name was because you didn't care at all.

You smiled slightly at him, slowly inching away from him as you browse through the magazines, but of course, he followed you, taking steps closer and trying to talk to you.

"You have a beautiful accent. Where are you from?"

"America."

"What's a pretty girl like you doin' here in London?"

"My boyfriend lives here," you replied, glad you could easily slip Niall into the conversation, hoping that after hearing you were taken, the man would leave you alone.

But oh were you wrong.

"That's a shame, I bet I'd treat you so much better than he does."

You didn't even acknowledge that comment, not wanting to give him anything to work with.

"You into fashion?" he asked, nodding towards the magazine you were looking through.

"Yeah," you replied softly, not saying anything else.

"Was thinking about startin' to up my fashion game. Maybe you could teach me a few pointers."

You just fake giggled at him, not knowing what to say to that. You didn't wanna be rude but you also didn't wanna give him the impression that you wanted to talk to him, not that he was taking that hint anyway.

"Do you work in fashion or anything?" he asked.

"No."

"Just a hobby?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. My sister's into fashion too. There's a lot of fakeness in it though. I like a more natural girl like you. No plastic surgery and you don't cake on the makeup like those models do."

What the fuck is he talking about?

"You're natural and I love natural girls," he stated.

You fake chuckled at him again, having no clue how to respond to that. It went on like this for what felt like forever. It didn't matter how dry you were being with him, or what such obvious hints you tried to give off, he would not leave you alone. He continued to try to talk to you and flirt with you. You gave him absolutely nothing to work with, yet he would not leave. He even started to make some borderline creepy comments and that was when you pulled your phone out of your sweatshirt pocket and started texting Niall, come to the magazine aisle this man won't leave me alone.

"Maybe if I get your number we can hang out sometime and get to know each other a little better," he stated after seeing you pull out your phone.

"No, I'm sorry, I already told you I had a boyfriend," you slipped your phone back into your pocket, praying that Niall sees the text ASAP.

"I don't see any boyfriend around here."

"He's over there," you said blankly, pointing to the direction that Niall was in.

"Who cares? He's not here right now, he doesn't have to know about us," he smirked at you, a devilish look in his muddy, brown eyes.

You felt sick to your stomach and giggled nervously, "No I'm sorry, I'm not comfortable with that."

"What? You go through each other's phones or something?" he chuckled back.

"No, I'm just not looking for anyone else," you replied.

Just as you said that Niall immediately turned around the corner, pushing the cart holding your things and you felt instantly relieved knowing he was here to save the day, "Hey! What's goin' on 'ere? Babe, ya know this man?"

You shook your head no.

"Is he botherin' ya?" he asked.

You shook your head yes.

"What? C'mon, 'm not bothering you!" the man defended himself, throwing his hands up in the air for effect, "If anything you should take it as a compliment that I'm trying t' get with you."

"If she says yer botherin' her, then yer botherin' her. So back the fuck away," his voice was low, but he came off strong and intimidating.

You put everything you were holding in the cart and crossed your arms over your chest, standing back intimidated as you watched Niall deal with the man.

"I wasn't fuckin' bothering her! I was complimenting her, she loved it," the man fought back.

"Can ya not take a fuckin' hint? 's obvious that yer makin' her uncomfortable, look at her," Niall growled at him before glancing over at your timid stance.

The man didn't say anything, he just rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"Did ya tell him ya weren't interested?" Niall asked, his harsh voice now softening as he talked to you.

"Yeah," you nodded

"Seriously mate?" Niall asked, shocked by this man's behavior, "When she says no, that means no. Don't keep goin' at 'er like she owes ya somethin'. Ya don't even know 'her! Yer not gonna get a girl bein' an asshole like that. And that doesn't jus' go fer her, that goes fer every other woman ya come across," he preached, taking a step closer to him.

"Jesus, you're gettin' all worked up over nothing, I'm sorry. There."

"Ya shouldn't be apologizin' t' me, should be apologizin' to her," Niall stated, glancing back at you.

"I don't feel like I have anything to apologize for, I didn't do anything wrong, this is ridiculous." he retaliated.

"It doesn't take much t' be a decent fuckin' person," Niall started and you could see he was getting angrier and angrier by the second, his accent thickening and his muscle tensing.

"Oh fuck off, I didn't do shit to 'er! She's just being a fuckin' baby tryna get me in trouble with her little boyfriend."

You could see something switch in Niall. He was angry earlier, but now he was livid. The fact that this man wouldn't leave his girl alone, made her extremely uncomfortable, and was now insulting her pulled something out of him that he didn't even know he had. He couldn't remember the last time he was this angry.

Niall would never physically fight anyone, of course, but the angrier that Niall got, the angrier the man got and you didn't know what this man was capable of. You didn't wanna see it go any farther then it already has so before he could even react, you spoke up, grabbing Niall's tensed up arm and pulling him back towards you, "Niall don't."

"Ya dont ever treat a woman like dat ever again! Ya hear me?" his voice began to rise and people began staring.

"Niall, please stop," you begged, digging your nails into the skin of his arm to get his attention more, just wanting the entire situation to be over.

"Go. Leave." Niall snapped at the man, pointing to the front of the store.

"Whatever, fuck you both," the man spat before turning around and walking away from you both, muttering bitterly under his breath, "she's not even that hot anyway."

You felt relief wash all over you as you watched the man walk away. Niall then turned to you, his hands wrapping around you to pull you into a tight hug, asking, "ya okay?"

"Can we go home, please," you whispered against his chest, feeling the strong urge to just start bawling, but you didn't, you held it in and stayed strong.

"Yeah, c'mon," he hummed back and you began following him and he was pushing the cart towards the front of the store to check out what you all had picked out, planning on doing the rest of the grocery shopping another day.

You checked out and loaded up the car before beginning your journey home. Once settled on the road, he placed his hand on your thigh and glanced over at you before asking again, "ya okay?"

"Mhm," you nodded, trying to ignore the pressure in the pit of your stomach and the urge to pick at your skin from the anxiety you were experiencing.

Niall could see right through you, he knew you weren't okay and he knew you were shaken up by this entire situation. He knew you would talk when you were ready so he stayed quiet and lovingly rubbed the skin of your thigh with his thumb as he drove you both home. Once arriving home, he turned off the car and looked over at you, "let's put da cold stuff up then we can cuddle okay?"

You nodded and got out of the car, helping him carry in a couple of bags of groceries. You both put up the cold stuff, leaving the pantry stuff out on the counter, planning on putting it away later, just wanting nothing more than to have Niall love on you for the rest of the day. He took a step towards you and cupped your jaw, aiding you in looking up at him.

"Y/N," he hummed, looking directly into your glossy eyes, "ya okay?"

And that's when the waterworks began and you did everything in your power to keep them in, but you couldn't. You shook your head no and the tears began to fall. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, swaying you back and forth as you allowed yourself to cry. He rested his cheek on your head, feeling awful that you felt this way.

"Baby, I'm so sorry, 's my fault ya feel this way, I shouldn't have picked a fight wit' 'em, should've just grabbed ya and left,"

"Mm-mm," you shook your head, "it's not your fault. You were just trying to protect me."

"I was, but still," he sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"He's the one who wouldn't leave me alone."

"Fuckin' prick" he whispered under his breath and you chuckled softly at him through your tears, loving how protective he got over you, "he made me so fuckin' angry. ya shouldn't have t' deal wit' assholes like him babe, 'm sorry."

"Thank you for taking care of me," you sniffled.

"I'll always take care of ya, darlin'. ya know that right?" he asked and you nodded, "good. I'll never let anyone hurt ya. love ya too much t' let anythin' bad happen t' ya."

You felt your heart melt at his words and you squeezed him tighter, wanting to be as close to him as you possibly could. He dipped his head down and began to slowly pepper the side of your face with sweet kisses, his scruff tickling your skin.

"Look at me" he hummed, slipping his index finger under your chin to aid you in lifting your head to look at him.

You looked up at him with irritated, teary eyes. using his thumb, he wiped away a stray tear on your cheek, a smile rising on his lips, "yer cute when ya cry."

"Stop," you giggled shly, letting your head fall back down to his chest before he lifted it up again.

"'m serious though, babe. I will always keep ya safe."

"You're so good to me" you whispered, closing your eyes as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I love ya."

"I love you too."

Pressing his lips to yours for a sweet kiss, you melted into him, feeling extremely safe and so lucky to have such an amazing man to call yours.

"Let's go upstairs, I'll give ya some of me famous Horan cuddles."

You loved this man to death.

#niall blurbs #niall horan blurb #niall horan blurbs #niall blurb #one direction #niall #niall horan #one direction blurb #one direction blurbs #answered #katyhoran02

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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

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shut in [10]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, ptsd, shooting, abuse

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: double digit chapter!!! like 3 parts to go everyoneeee woo!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

The nostalgia was strong.

The last time you and Sam were sitting like this, you were deciding on what to make of the bread supply that was now dwindling. The soup had ran out maybe a day or two ago and you were left with just bread, peanut butter and jelly.

You two had to devise an escape plan. You’d been there long enough and now with Sam making his first public appearance as Mob’s Most Wanted, even if it was for a good cause, there was no doubt that people would be after you.

“What if we go back to Ransone and let the rest sort itself out along the way?”

You made a note of it on the paper but you weren’t very convinced with the idea, not with the realisations you had made along the way.

“Do we know any other hideouts?” you asked instead, tapping the pencil against the paper.

“None that you don’t already know.” He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “What are your thoughts on caves? Think we can make a bed outta some leaves?”

You wrote down ‘Sam’s cave idea’, just to humour him. Stupid, but more plausible than other options.

“If we make a run for it, what are the chances we’ll survive?”

“With law enforcement, civilians and gang members looking for us, I’d give us about-” you said candidly, “-two months. Three max.”

It wasn’t like you had no experience running from the state, but it was never on this scale.

“We’d have years if it was only law enforcement, but we had to go get the entire fuckin’ mafia involved,” he huffed in annoyance.

An idea occurred to you that made you pause, but you hated it.

“What if we split up?” you suggested halfheartedly. “It’ll take them more time to find the both of us, if they’re looking for us together.”

When he didn’t reply, you looked up at him from the sheet in front of you.

“We’re not splitting up,” he began steadily, just as you knew he would. “The same people who are after you are after me. We need to stick together.”

“I know. I’m not saying we can’t meet again after that, I’m saying that maybe it’ll be easier for us to hide.”

He couldn’t deny that it wasn't the worst idea, but something didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t want to do it.

“Okay, then how do we find each other after that? When? I don’t have your email; fuck that, I don’t even have your number.”

“We’ll schedule it, I guess,” you murmur, trying to work out the logistics. “Whoever gets there late has to buy ice cream. And I’m particular about the flavour I like.”

You tried to lighten up the mood but he wasn’t having it, as much as he appreciated it.

“I don’t care if it’s more difficult,” he said slowly. “But I’d like us to stick together. Not until we’re out of this mess. Then if you want to never see my face again, which you shouldn’t because it’s beautiful, we’ll go our different ways.”

He was adamant about it, and you knew he’d argue and poke holes into the plan until it didn’t make sense anymore. You weren’t going to argue.

“Okay,” you accepted. “We stick together.”

A smile spread across his face which equated to one of triumph. “You got any other ideas?”

“We stay right here and fight off whoever comes.”

It was dumb. This place wasn’t yours, and staying here would be a death wish. That didn’t stop you from saying it since neither of you were holding back on implausible ideas.

“This is our house now,” Sam added with determination, playing along.

“Damn right,” you affirmed, cracking a smile at him.

Bringing your attention back, you stared at the list. There is one option you wanted to explore but you weren’t sure if you could because you didn’t have the resources. But he may.

“You got any friends whose help we could use?” you asked cautiously, unsure of how this would play out.

He continued chewing on his lip for a second like he was analysing all options, before nodding.

“I got a friend. Well, my only friend,” he corrects himself. “His name’s Riley.”

“He got a place we can stay, this Riley?”

“He does. But I don’t want to involve him. He’s-” he paused, trying to find the right words to frame what he’s thinking “-he’s been through a lot.”

“We’ll leave him alone then,” you assured, realising that it must be a touchy topic for him.

Sam didn’t move on, though.

“I’m all ears if you want to talk,” you offered.

He pressed his lips together, giving you a tight smile. He looked like he wanted to say more but was holding back. You reciprocated, hoping it would give him some reassurance, noting how he exhaled softly.

“When I joined the cartel, I didn’t really have anyone to talk to since everyone was much older than I was. Riley was the first friend I made. He was a mouthy li’l one.” Sam smiled wistfully and you found yourself smiling with him. “He talked so much shit and he had the spunk to back it up but he never really got that far because no one wanted to test their luck with him.”

“We spent whatever free time we had together. He didn’t have a family so he and I-” he trailed off but you knew what he was getting at. “Ransone found out. Didn’t like anyone in his stupid squad becoming all buddies because if we turned against him, he knew he’d lose.”

Shared experience. You didn’t have any friends in the organization either; they were always separated from you willingly or by force. You wondered if that’s why you had taken such a liking towards Sam, knowing fully well that it was the first time in years you were able to be friends with someone without having to worry.

“He started pittin’ us against one another. Combat training, preferential treatment, just plain out sabotage. Riley’s the reason my back’s all kinds of fucked up.” He gave a short laugh. “Tried everything he could to make sure we’d stay away or even kill each other if it came to that.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But we didn’t,” he confirmed. “Ransone fuckin’ hated it, so one day, he decided that he’s going to finish it once and for all. Sent us on a fake mission so that we’d be alone together, then told us that only one of us could come back. One of us had to die or else both of us would. Some sick fuckin’ form of entertainment.”

It was exactly something that Ransone would do. Dramatic, vile and utterly despicable, just for his own joy,

Your eyebrows knit together when his eyes glazed over.

“Riley, he- he didn’t even let me have at the gun. Just straight up chose for the both of us that he was going to be the one who died. He was so tired, of everythin’.” The muscles in your jaw tightened at where this was going. “He didn’t do it though. We figured out another way.”

You didn’t realise how tensed you were until you forced yourself to relax.

“Faked his death.” He shrugged. “It was the only way. Let Ransone believe he bled out and that I buried him behind the warehouse he sent us to. Shot him in the leg to make it look convincing. He’s still got a limp.”

“He made a run for it. Found himself a place in New Orleans, changed his identity, basically made turned into a whole new person. Ransone bought it for a while because I’d make it a point to visit the grave, leave some flowers and shit. Told him that if he messed with it that I’d put a bullet in his head and I was angry enough for him to see that I wasn’t kidding. I knew he’d figure it out eventually but I was hoping I’d get rid of him by then.”

“He lived in New Orleans for years. Never had a problem until recently.”

Sam paused for a second, but it gave you the time to pull up an old conversation you had with him.

“He’s the one Ransone threatened you with,” you connected the dots. “He’s the one he found.”

“Said he’d kill him if I didn’t take out Pierce for him,” his words were bitter, confirming what you said. “Sent me a picture of him in front of his house to prove it.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” you breathed, leaning back. Sam’s situation was more dangerous than you initially thought. Having Riley in the picture just made it more difficult to help Sam get out of the organization, especially since he was now leverage material.

“You asked me once what the scariest thing I had done was.” You didn’t get immediately what he was talking about until you remember the questions you had asked to get to know him better. “It was that. Getting him out of this life and trying not to get caught in the process.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“He’s the only family I got left.” The way his voice dropped made him sound so tired. “He’s already on their radar. If they find out I’m staying with him or that he’s helping in any way, they’ll kill him.”

You didn’t say anything, not like you had anything constructive to offer at that moment.

“That got dark real quick,” he remarked, the corners of his lips quirking upward.

Clearly he didn’t have anyone to talk to about this. To explain the entire thing from the beginning must have drained him completely.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you said quietly.

He paused for a second, looking like he was thinking to himself.

“Me too.”

______

The sky’s beautiful, you decide.

You could stare at the clouds for hours.

Which is what the both of you have been doing.

“If you fucking say it’s anything other than a dog, I’ll push you off the roof myself.”

“It’s clearly a penguin, Samuel.”

“I hate you.”

The cement was cool against your skin even though there was a blanket serving as a mediator between you and it. The sun nipped at your skin and your back was aching from staying in the same place for a prolonged period.

Sam tended to think better when he was outside, unconstrained by harsh white walls and artificial light. So you grabbed a spare blanket, a bottle of water and the ladder to haul the both of you to the roof. It was filthy, as you expected but you managed to tidy a part of it to the best of your ability before laying the blanket down.

“I know why you brought me up here, Y/N,” he piped up.

You just knew that when you needed some space, he often implored you to go outside. You figured the best way to help him was to do the same, not knowing what else you could have to give.

“Just wanted to let you know that I appreciate it,” he added.

Okay good. It helped.

“That’s a tree.” You pointed upwards, avoiding his gaze.

“You get three more seconds to change that answer to a table.”

“That looks nothing like a table. You’re delusional.”

He laughed, not offering a counter argument.

The outside did him good. He was calmer than when you first came here a few hours ago. He didn’t let his spite towards Ransone show very often, especially at this volume. Talking about Riley only reaffirmed how much he despised the man.

“We need to get out of here eventually, you know?” you mused.

You don’t want to. You don’t want to admit that saying it out loud made it worse.

“We do,” he sounded sure and you wondered if he ever felt bad about it too, “but we need a proper plan.”

The clouds shifted. It looked like a kid on a bike; not that you’d ever tell him. He would never agree.

“We need help,” you stated.

“We can’t.” You knew he’d say that.

“You know we do, Sam.”

“There’s no one out there we can trust.”

You liked that he used ‘we’. The only other times you had been referred to as ‘we’ had been for things so sinister, so violent.

His elbow was touching yours lightly. You wanted to move closer, press against him.

“There’s one person who might be able to.”

He turned to look at you questioningly. You did the same.

You waited till he figured it out on his own. His face shifted the minute it clicked in his head.

“No way.” He turned away, almost laughing out of bewilderment.

“It’s our only option.”

“Then we’ll find another one,” he began to sound more insistent, realising you were being serious. It was a crazy idea, you’d give him that, but it’s the only one you had that had a sure shot of working.

“We’ve tried. You’ve tried. There’s only one way,” you knew that getting annoyed wouldn’t get through to him and you also understood his hesitations. “He’ll help.”

“We don’t know that. It’s too fuckin’ dangerous.” He couldn’t afford that; not this late in the game.

“I know it. Lis- Sam. Look at me,” you commanded gently, and he obeyed reluctantly. “I understand that this is absolutely batshit wild, but I promised I’d help you. This is the only way I can think of. But I need you to trust me.”

He looked unsettled.

He didn’t have anything to go on. Only your word and his faith in you. He could say no and he knew you’d spend countless hours pouring over multiple options just to find another way. He could say no and you’d take it in stride and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. It wasn’t about trusting you, it was about not trusting the others.

But he could also say yes and let you take control, trust your instincts. You had never let him down before and he knew you wouldn’t now. He could say yes and help you work on one solid plan that had equal chances of failing as it did being a success, but it was something that you could be sure of.

“I’ll tell you this though, Sam. You always have a choice.”

He felt your fingers trace at his face patiently. He scooted closer, letting your bodies press gently against each other.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I trust you.”

He didn’t know if he made the right choice or not, but the smile that appeared on your face made him think that maybe he did.

God, he was done for.

___

“You ready?” you asked him.

“No, but what the hell; let’s do it.”

You let it ring right to the very end.

“Hello.” It seemed gratuitous at this point because you knew the conversation wouldn’t proceed with that.

“Code?”

“1993.”

“Y/N. Hello,” his voice came back loud and clear.

“Hey.” You snuck a glance at Sam. He was completely stiff.

“How are you?”

“I’ve been… good,” you admitted.

“Oh?” he sounded amused. “That’s a change.”

“Yeah.” You shifted on your feet awkwardly. “Listen, I need help.”

“Help with?”

“We need to get out of here. We can’t do it without you. I mean we can, but it’d be better if you lent a hand.”

“When you say ‘we’, you’re referring to…”

“Me.” Sam stepped forward towards the phone. You shifted it so it was between you.

“Oh, hello,” he sounded surprised, and he had good reason to be. “You know about-”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Y/N, you trust him?”

“Yeah,” you looked up at Sam, “I do.”

“Alright. If shit goes wrong, you’re both fucked. I’m not taking any responsibility.”

“We get that,” you sighed. “Can you help or not?”

There was a momentary silence on the other end as he thought.

“Tell me what you had in mind.”

“We got a hit.”

They turned away from their conversation with the person walking beside them at the interruption.

“This better be important.” They gestured to their companion who looked annoyed at being interrupted. He was too dangerous to have on anyone’s bad side but the agent didn’t care. This was crucial.

“Someone saw him. Wilson.” He was breathless from the flight of stairs he had run to come upstairs.

“Where?” They could hardly believe their ears, restraining to contain the excitement that was threatening to rise.

“A town, miles away from Pierce’s place. Said he roamed around looking for a store, bought some food and then left.” His eyes shone. “We think we might know where they are. A rough sketch at least. Couldn’t follow him too far because he kept checking.”

“Finally,” their face gleamed, completely discarding the guest they had and the confusion on his face. “Some good fucking news.”

“Do you want us to put a hit out on them?” The relief the agent felt was almost overwhelming. His partner may have died but it didn’t look like he was going to.

“No,” they said crisply, certainly. “This one’s on me.”

Next part

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maraudererasmut · 3 years ago

Text

Life Update and All That

Hey all!

It’s T here!

I know it’s been a very long while since I’ve been around, and I figured I’m finally at the point where I can pop by and give a bit of an update, in case anyone was curious.

I left Tumblr and Discord for a bit to get my bearings and re-evaluate things. I needed some time to myself to sort through my mental health, figure some stuff out, and get to the point where I was finally at a better place to be able to come back.

A few things have happened since I’ve left that are actually kind of neat!

I published a book and wrote another manuscript!

I’m not going to share too much information about my book here, because I still do want to keep my smut-writing-pseudonym separate from my professional life, but suffice it to say that I published a novella, which got me started on the strange journey that is publishing!

I’m currently in the process of querying my first full-length manuscript, with the intention of getting an agent and publishing it. Hopefully that will be able to go somewhere, but if not, at least I have learned a lot while on my journey!

I realized that I am trans!

To the shock and surprise of absolutely nobody, the person who wrote gay romance and focused on a storyline that predominantly featured a transmasc character is actually, in fact, gay and trans. Shocking, I know!

It took a bit of thinking and talking and self analyzing that mostly occured during the many, many hours of alone time provided by a global pandemic for me to realize that wanting to be a boy does, in fact, make you probably a boy. Who would have guessed.

Anyway, I’m going by he/they pronouns these days. And uh... I guess my descriptions of dysphoria in all of my fics were a bit closer to home than I was ever willing to admit. Funny how these things work.

I bought a house!

I finally did something that I never thought would be possible in my entire life: I actually purchased a house in my city, which is notoriously expensive. It’s the perfect home for me: a large backyard; my very own shop space, which will soon be filled with tools; a sunroom with tons of windows for writing; a roof that I can climb up to and sit on... It’s really such a great home, and I am so excited to start this new chapter of my life here.

One door closed and another opened!

When I first left, there was a job opportunity that was a bit up in the air that would’ve involved me uprooting my life. While it didn’t end up panning out, I was ended up stumbling upon a different job in my field. I almost forgot how much I love what I do, and I am so glad to be back into the thick of it!

I figured that I should probably also try to pre-emptively answer any questions that you may have while I’m here and typing this all out. So... here goes!

Will you be continuing *insert fanfiction*?

I’m honestly not sure. The best answer that I can give right now is: Maybe?

I definitely want to try to continue some of my storylines, tie up some loose ends, and actually put together those plots that I had swirling around my mind.

That being said, I also have other projects that are currently on the go that might take precidence. Most importantly, I have several original stories that I plan to eventually query (or even publish, if I can!).

If I find that I am inspired to go back and write more Wolfstar, rest assured, I absolutely WILL. These boys will always hold a special place in my heart, and I honestly don’t know if I will ever be truly rid of them, even if I tried.

Will you still be making art for the fandom?

Again, I’m not sure.

I’ve been doing a LOT of fanart, on a different account, just to keep up my skills while I was away. There are quite a few fandoms that I have been making art for, and I don’t know yet if I want to merge these two accounts.

That’s a decision for the future. :P

But you can always try to pop into my ask box and send a request, and if I can get to it, I will try my absolute best.

You and I have unfinished business!! Will you be getting to that?!

Ah, yes. I remember now. I left the fandom while I was in a very BAD place, and most things fell by the wayside while I worked on my mental health. I’m sorry.

If we do have any kind of unfinished business at all that you need to talk to me about, please do! I want to try to resolve things and make sure that everyone is satisfied with whatever solution we can come to. Feel free to reach out, and I will try my absolute best to respond and rectify.

Rest assured, if we have had any kind of negative interraction in the past, I have absolutely spent the past year and a half allowing that to eat away at me. I’ve been feeling guilt up the wazoo, a ball of anxiety so tight, you could probably play baseball with it.

I’m trying not to let these kinds of things bother me anymore. I’m trying to learn to let things go, and focus on the present and the future. I am truly sorry for things that I have done in the past, but I am finally at the point where I am ready to put my effort into making things better instead of dwelling on what was.

Will you be active on this blog now? Are you back for good?

I think you already know the answer to that question...

I don’t know.

I haven’t made any decisions yet about whether or not I’m here to lurk and like and reblog or if I’m going to be actually producing content again. I have no idea yet how active I will be here. That really depends on how I’m feeling, how I’m doing mentally, and what the reception to this post looks like.

So... Maybe?

DID YOU MISS ME WHEN YOU WERE GONE?

Yes. Yes, I did.

If you are actually asking me this question, chances are that I did miss you. Yes, you specifically. Yes, I thought about you a lot. Yes, I wished that I had the courage to go back and just say “HI, I MISSED YOU, PLEASE CAN WE BE FRIENDS AGAIN!”

I am not great at reaching out, though. I’m not great at handling my emotions period. Hopefully, if you’re wondering if I missed you, you’d be interested in reconnecting, knowing that I did, in fact, miss you a lot.

Are you okay now?

I will be.

Even when I’m not okay these days, I at least have the wherewithall to be able to say “while I might not be doing great right now, I know that I will be okay.”

And isn’t that what we all want? :P

Anyway, if you made it this far, thanks for reading. I hope this was interesting and/or informative.

And... I’m glad that I wrote this. It helped.

With love,

#maraudererasmut #writing my thoughts out #T Talks

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kuroopaisen · 4 years ago

Text

tiny love || iv

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime was easy. iwaizumi ultimately decided to rebuff you. but that was a year ago - things are different now. and you have other things to worry about.

warnings: f!reader

wc: 2.6k

m.list | ch. 3 ↞ ch. 4↠ ch. 5

“Are you sure you’d be okay with that, Tooru?” You asked, trying to keep your voice as normal as possible.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. You were sat on the edge of your bed, phone pressed to your ear and fist twisted up in your sheets. There was a chill in the air that wouldn’t have bothered you under normal circumstances.

But after those words had left your brother’s mouth, something about the room felt sharp.

“I’m the one who suggested it, aren’t I?” Tooru chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pain blossoming through the muscle. “I don’t know,” you mumbled. “I just didn’t think you’d be comfortable with me living with one of your friends.”

“Iwa’s a good guy,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Besides, you guys have known each other for ages. He’ll look after you, I’m sure of it.”

You chewed on your lip for a moment, at a total loss of what to say.

“It’s not like he’s going to try and get in your pants or anything,” Tooru snorted.

Godzilla. The couch in your family’s entertainment room. The warmth of his lips on yours.

But you couldn’t tell Tooru about any of that. Although, the moment he’d suggested you move in with Iwaizumi almost made you crack.

By some stroke of bad luck – or perhaps as the set-up for some cosmic joke – you’d gotten into the same university as the boy you’d been so enamoured with as a seventeen-year-old. And you’d genuinely had no idea.

But it was too late to change your plans. You’d already gotten a scholarship, and you were sure you parents wouldn’t forgive you if you pulled out now. Even if your instincts were telling you to do just that.

“Have you spoken to him about this?” You asked. Perhaps this was your out. If Iwaizumi wasn’t all for it, then there was absolutely no reason for you to agree with it. Right?

“Yeah,” Tooru said. “He’s all for it.”

You frowned. Iwaizumi? Okay with this? Even though he was the one who’d decided that you needed to distance yourselves from each other?

But… it’s been a year. And he’s been a university student living in another country. A lot had probably changed for him.

A lot had changed for you.

And as much as you wanted to deny it, there were benefits to living with Iwaizumi, at least for one semester.

Moving to America is scarier than you’re willing to admit. The thought of living with an unknown roommate in a country you’d never stepped foot in before had kept you up at night a few times.

What if you hated each other? What if something went horribly, terribly wrong and you were left stranded? What if they were a creep?

At least Iwaizumi was a known quantity. One that you hadn’t necessarily left it on terrible terms one; just awkward ones.

“You still there?” Tooru’s voice shocked you back to the present moment.

“Oh, yeah,” you cleared your throat, “is his LINE still the same?”

“Sure is!”

Your throat felt dry. “I’ll call him later.”

You twisted your fists in your bedsheets, a weird knot forming in your stomach.

“Good,” Tooru hummed. “I think it’ll be good for you. You don’t need to be completely alone when you first move over there.”

Guilt twisted in your chest. You knew why he was saying that. He’d told you just how lonely those first few months in Argentina had been.

He didn’t want that for you. That’s why he’d suggested this damn roommates idea.

If only he knew.

“That’d be good,” you said. It wasn’t a lie.

Another thought sat at the back of your throat, forcing its way out.

“Tooru, I… I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”

Your voice was painfully quiet as you finally breathed life into the one fear you didn’t want to admit. You hadn’t even mentioned this to Amaya. But you knew you could trust Tooru with this – perhaps, he might even be able to say something useful.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his tone as gentle as he could muster. “I didn’t think I was ready, either.”

“I figured,” you grinned. For all his bravado at the airport, a few dozen follow-up phone calls had really sowed that idea in your mind.

Tooru scoffed. “Here I am, trying to be a good older brother—”

“Sorry, sorry,” you laughed. “I appreciate the attempt.”

“You know, you’d think that me moving half way across the world would be enough to get you to finally be nice to me,” Tooru sighed, and you don’t need to see him to know that he was running a hand through his hair dramatically. “But alas… I’m doomed to be mistreated by my very own sister.”

“Have you considered being less dramatic?” You teased. “Then maybe I’d take you a bit more seriously.”

You held the phone away from your ear as Tooru started his tirade,

“If I’m being completely honest,” he said, his tone now much heavier than before, “I thought I was making a big mistake for a second there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Two weeks in and I wanted to run back home. I wondered if I could really do this.”

A part of your brain told you to be surprised. Another part told you that of course he’d be frightened.

Tooru is just a human, not some superhuman who’s above mortal concerns – no matter how much he tried to hide that fact.

“Turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.”

A gentle, relieved silence settled between the two of you, the only sound the distant din of traffic from Tooru’s end of the phone.

“I’m glad to hear it,” you murmured. Sincerity was rare between the two of you, but you weren’t about to pretend to be anything but relieved.

“Trust me, it’s going to be fine,” Tooru sighed. “And if it doesn’t end up working out, you’ve still got time. You’re young. And you’ve got a home to go back to.”

You searched for the comfort in those words as best you could. But you couldn’t find any. He hadn’t intended it, but within those words was a little reminder that you might fail. That you might not even come close to the brilliance that is Oikawa Tooru.

“Thanks, Tooru,” if all you could say. He’s just trying to be helpful.

“Besides, if it all goes to shit, you can join me in Argentina!” His voice was a tad more gleeful than you would’ve liked.

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that,” you chuckled.

“Aw,” he whined, “why not?”

“You’d be such a helicopter parent.”

Tooru gasped, the sound piercing over the phone line. “I would not!”

“You would!” You laughed. “You’d meddle in everything?”

“And?” He scoffed. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes!” You protested. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“Ah, well you see,” Tooru tutted. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’ll always be a child to me.”

You rolled your eyes, a comfortable feeling of familiarity settling in your chest. Suddenly, your room doesn’t feel so cold. “I didn’t answer your call just to be coddled.”

“You should be used to it by now.”

“You know, whenever I start to miss you, I’m going to remind myself of this.”

“You are so mean to me!” Tooru wailed.

The bickering went on, an endless cycle of well-worn insults and epithets. But the conversation had to come to an end. You knew you couldn’t put off contacting him any longer.

Eventually you ended the call, holding the phone to your ear for a couple of moments after it was over.

You sighed, letting it drop onto the bed. You flopped back in tandem, staring up at your roof.

Life really was just one big joke, huh?

Although, you wished you understood what the punchline was.

✧ ✧ ✧

You stared at Iwaizumi’s LINE profile a little longer than you should’ve.

It’d been a couple of hours since you’d ended your call with Tooru, and you’d only just worked up the courage.

In your defence, you hadn’t been planning on this. You’d expected to have a very different phone call with a complete stranger, deciding from a handful of phone conversations as to whether or not they were trustworthy enough to live with.

But there you were, about to call The Iwaizumi Hajime.

It’d be fine, right? That little heartbreak had happened well over a year ago now. It’s irrelevant. And you’re well and truly over it.

Not that the thought of calling him didn’t make you feel like you were about to throw up from nerves.

God, why did it feel like you were about to sit an exam?

No, you weren’t going to let your anxiety get the better of you. Not when your education was – sort of – at stake.

With a heavy sigh, you clicked the little call icon and held the phone up to your ear.

The ringing sounded like a death march.

“Hello?” Iwaizumi’s unmistakable voice crackled through your speaker.

Yeah, you definitely felt like you were about to throw up. “Hello.”

The line fell silent.

You bit your lip. Maybe you shouldn’t have done this. Maybe you should’ve just lied and told Tooru that you’d already worked out lodgings. Sure, there’d be a last-minute scramble to get something in place before your parents caught wind of your little lie and—

“How are you?” The words were a little gruff, a little awkward.

This was going to be a very long conversation. You could feel it in your bones.

“I’m alright,” you said, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. “How about you?”

“I’m doing pretty good,” he said. There’s something different about his voice. Maybe it was a little deeper than when you’d last spoken? Or maybe you were imagining it.

Truth be told, you can’t really remember what he sounded like.

“That’s… good to hear,” you said, a paltry attempt at an implied olive branch.

“Yeah, uh…” He cleared his throat. He was probably scratching the back of his neck as he spoke. You hated yourself for even assuming. “Things have been going well.”

A long silence followed. A very painful silence.

A silence, you realised, that you had to break.

“What are you studying?” You asked. A nice, neutral question.

“Exercise science.” The response was immediate. Was that… relief in his voice?

“Oh, really?” You blinked.

“Yeah,” he said. “You sound surprised.”

Your mouth hung open for a moment, searching for a response. But nothing felt adequate enough. Did you really sound surprised? Why did you feel the need to defend yourself?

“I mean I…” You bit your lip, frowning. “I don’t know, I just… wouldn’t have picked that for you.”

Did he just chuckle? You could’ve sworn you heard a chuckle.

“What would you have picked for me, then?” He asked.

“I…” You racked your brain, trying to stitch together all the knowledge you had of the boy – no, the man on the other end of the phone. “I have no idea, actually.”

He distinctively chuckled that time. Damn the swell of pride in your chest.

“Why exercise science?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s the only chance I have of beating Oikawa.”

It’s so instantaneous and ludicrous that you laughed.

“That… doesn’t make much sense, but okay,” you smiled. You were well-aware of the competitive edge that ran through their friendship. Good to see that hadn’t faded, at least.

“You’ll see,” he promised. “Just you wait.”

You chuckled in response as another silence settled over the two of you.

What was there to say? What did you want to say? It’d been so long that you weren’t even sure.

“So…” Iwaizumi said, voice unusually tentative. “Oikawa told me you’re coming out here.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. That’s right. That’s the whole reason you were calling him.

“That’s a big move,” he marvelled, as if he hadn’t done the exact thing he was talking about.

“I know,” you murmured. “I’m kind of scared.”

“What of?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. Perhaps your lips were looser than they should’ve been. “I just… I’ll be in a whole new country. Alone.”

“I see.” There’s something comforting about his voice. Something stable. He’d always been a good listener, hadn’t he?

“And… it gets more daunting the closer it gets.”

“Mhm.”

“And I’m scared I’ll regret it.” There it was. The one fear that you hadn’t admitted to anyone else – not Amaya, not your parents, not Tooru.

“Why?” Iwaizumi asked.

“I don’t know, I…” You bit your lip, a frown settling on your face.

Now you’d given that fear a voice, you understood it less. Wasn’t the opposite supposed to happen?

“Do you regret moving so far away from home?” You asked.

Iwaizumi wasn’t Tooru. He wasn’t driven by the same insatiability. He had his ambitions, yes, but he didn’t break his back trying to reach for them. Maybe, just maybe, that meant he’d be easier to understand.

“Sometimes,” he admitted.

“Ah.” Not quite the answer you wanted to hear.

“But…” he sighed, “it’s been a good experience.”

“So… a net positive?”

“I’d say so,” he said. “I’ve had a lot of experiences I’m grateful for.”

“Right,” you nodded.

“I heard you got a scholarship,” he said.

“Did Tooru brag about that?” You groaned, running a hand down your face and bending over your knees.

“Sure did,” Iwaizumi chuckled. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, biting back the urge to say, ‘it’s not a big deal.’ The last time you’d said that, Amaya had shot you quite the glare.

You swallowed roughly, looking down at your feet.

One deep breath, and it would be time.

“So…” you started, the back of your neck prickling. “Tooru said he’d spoken to you about me… potentially moving in with you?”

“Yeah, he did.”

Ah. Nice and blunt.

“Would you… be alright with that?” You asked, hands a little clammier than before. “I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“Well, I don’t like the idea of just dropping you in America with nowhere to go, so… the offer’s open.”

He sounded honest, at least. Not that you had reason to believe he would be anything but.

“Right,” you nodded. “Thanks.” You licked your lips, trying to stop your nerves from getting the better of you. “I appreciate it,” you added, unsure of how strange that might be to say.

“Not a problem.”

You couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.

“I can send you the information over email,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“The lease and stuff like that. Also, the address so you can actually see where it is.”

“Oh, right…” you swallowed. “Yeah, that’d be useful.”

“Alright, I’ll get that ready for you.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I need to discuss this with my parents, so I’ve got to go…”

“All good,” Iwaizumi said. “Talk to you later.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, lowering the phone from your ear and tapping the red ‘END CALL’ icon.

You tossed your phone at your pillow, watching it land with a muffled ‘thump’. It pinged with a notification – probably Iwaizumi asking for your email, you realised.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

You groaned as you flopped back onto your bed for the second time that evening.

What was going on? How had you ended up in this situation? Which cosmic force had it in for you?

Everything was so confusing.

One thing was for certain, though.

Amaya’s going to kill you.

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: hhhhhh thank you for your kind words about the last chapter! this one is also unbeta’d but Oh Well

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu x reader #tiny love

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gureishi · 4 years ago

Note

Saeyoung + 13? Or Saeyoung + 11?

[417]

Of COURSE, my friend~

Oh boy, this one was fun to do. I really hope you enjoy it ♡

thirteen: left your mark on me

Saeyoung X Reader, T, words: 2643

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

It’s the first time Saeran has ever texted you.

Technically, you think—heart pounding—that’s not true. Him texting you was, you suppose, the catalyst for everything that’s happened to you over the last few months. But the Saeran you know now—the quiet, tired boy who’s just recently started saying hello to you when you show up at his home—never. Certainly not.

Your hands tremble as you swipe to open his message. Something’s wrong, you think, because why else would he reach out to you? You feel your heartbeat in the roof of your mouth and say a prayer in your head. Be okay be okay be okay be okay…

“Come over,” says the text.

What?

“Is everything okay?” you text back with one hand, already tripping across your room, grabbing a jacket. Be okay be okay be okay be okay…

He answers immediately. He types fast, like his brother.

“Yeah,” he says. You let out the breath you’ve been holding. “Come talk to him. I don’t want to.”

You pause, one arm in your jacket. Come talk to him? That ambiguous phrase could mean so many things, and god, you want to know more, but you can’t want to press him—that he reached out at all is a huge step, one you wouldn’t dare jeopardize.

“Be right there,” you text back, stuffing your other arm into your jacket, slipping into shoes. You keep your phone in your hand as you throw the door open, taking the steps two at a time, but he doesn’t text you again. Of course he doesn’t—he’s said what he needed to say.

You put on loud music in the car, feeling the need to drown out the sound of your heartbeat. You roll down the window even though the wind blows your hair into your eyes, making it hard to see. You go over the messages again and again in your head: talk to him, he said. Talk to him about what?

Your music pounds over the speakers, rocking the car a little, and you grip the steering wheel slightly too hard. You’ve just missed rush hour and the traffic is dying down, so you make good time, driving just the tiniest bit over the speed limit. He’d scold you for it, you think—he’s always admonishing you for driving too fast, even though he pushes his fancy little cars to their limits on the empty dirt roads around the bunker. Hypocrite.

You take the exit, follow the street as it loops round and round, make the turn-off onto the unmarked road that leads to his home. The stars are starting to come out now.

You slow down as you see the bunker looming in the distance; from the outside, it’s ominous, and yet it fills you with an inexplicable warmth, flips your stomach around.

You shout the password at the garage without stopping, grinning as the first door opens for you. You half-expect to find him here, body mostly hidden under one of his cars, mysterious tools littering the ground around him. He’s often here when he’s sulking—today, though, the garage is empty, dark and dank. You pull into the one parking spot he’s left open for you—as far as possible from his cars, dressed for nighttime in their little protective hoods. I can park, you think grumpily. He doesn’t trust me.

But you know this isn’t true, and it’s confirmed again as you slip out of your car, keys in hand, and step cautiously toward his main door.

“Welcome,” it says to you in it’s robo-voice.

This is new.

“Šukran,” you say.

And without any further prompting—without questions, or quizzes, or nearly impossible translations, it opens. Almost as if it recognizes the sound of your voice.

Huh.

You kick off your shoes, tossing them into the jumble by the door. Saeyoung’s are heaped in a pile, some upside down and sideways; Saeran’s are lined up nearly beside his, in a perfect line as if to say “look, this is how it’s done.” This makes you smile.

Neither twin is in the living room. There’s a light under Saeran’s door, but you leave him be.

Anxiety building in the pit of your stomach, you pad down the hall in your socked feet. Saeyoung’s office is dark, but there’s light on in his bedroom. This, by itself, is unusual—without you here, it’s rare that he goes into that room at all.

You knock softly on the door, and when he doesn’t answer you push it open.

“It’s me,” you call softly, squinting as your eyes adjust. The room is as bright as the rest of the bunker is dark; all the fluorescent lights on are, starkly illuminating the black and yellow decorations. There’s barely any empty space on the walls, and it reminds you of his mind—so crammed with thoughts that there’s no place to rest.

In spite of his near-inhuman senses, he doesn’t see you at first.

He’s sitting on the floor, back propped against the side of the bed, headphones over his ears. His eyes are closed, knees tucked up to his chest. He looks small, like this—like you could scoop him up in your arms and carry him away.

“Hi,” you say, a little louder.

He jumps, eyes flying open, headphones slipping off one ear. He makes a spluttering noise that could be “huh?” or “hi” or just “haaaaah!”

You smile.

“Saeran didn’t tell you I was coming, then?”

“N-no, I…Saeran?” He blinks up at you as though he doesn’t quite believe you’re there. It’s then that you notice the sunken-in look about him: his eyes are clouded and sleepy, a little red-rimmed. His cheeks are pale.

You sink onto the floor beside him; you copy his posture, tucking your knees to your chest.

“Saeran told me to come talk to you,” you admit, looking down. You’re not sure why, but now that you’re here, you feel a little embarrassed. “So I did.”

“He…he…” Saeyoung looks lost for words. A part of you—a little bitter, self-conscious part—wonders if he wishes you hadn’t come. As if he senses what you’re thinking, he spins abruptly to face you, sitting cross-legged. He moves fast: in an instant, you’re almost nose-to-nose. “Sorry,” he says quietly, and you feel his breath on your face; your cheeks burn. “I’m soooo happy to see you, kitten. I was just…ah, surprised.”

It’s hard to breathe with him close like this. You bite your lip.

“I’m happy to see you, too,” you tell him.

And you are. His hair’s a little messed up, like he’s been running his hands through it, and there’s a sparkle in his eyes now—though he’s still got that harrowed, tired look about him.

“I, uh…” He looks down, his face reddening a little. “I was actually wishing you were here, earlier. I should’ve just called you myself.”

He pushes up his glasses and rubs his eyes with one shaky hand.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” you ask.

He sighs, and you feel like maybe he’s been half-holding his breath all day.

“Not really,” he says.

“Saeyoung.”

He peers at you through his fingers; you feel you must look foolish with the stern expression you’re making, but he smiles.

“Oh, I just adore you,” he groans, now dropping his face into both hands. “I can’t resist you, you know.”

“I know.” Gently, you place a hand on his knee; he twitches in response.

“It’s something silly,” he warns, voice muffled by his hands. Suddenly, he tips forward; you realize what he’s doing just in time and shift your weight so his head lands on your shoulder. His breath is on your collarbone now, and a shiver runs through your body.

“I’m sure it’s not,” you say.

He exhales again, and fleetingly, you wonder if he’s doing this on purpose—breathing on the exposed skin of your shoulder just to tease you. Even gloomy like this, he can’t resist the urge to try and rile you up.

“I guess I sort of…realized something,” he mutters, voice low. You have to tilt your head down to hear him.

“Yes?”

“Having Saeran here is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he murmurs. He’s almost whispering, as if he’s afraid to be heard. “One of the greatest,” he adds, grazing your wrist with his thumb, calloused and rough and wonderful.

You hum your affirmation, not wanting to interrupt now that he’s talking.

“But…” He trails off as if he’s not quite sure how to explain it. His head is still on your shoulder and you can’t see his face; with your free hand, you gently brush his hair off his forehead. “My whole life,” he continues, a little more confidently, “I’ve just had one thing I’m trying to do. Everything I’ve done has been about making sure he’s safe. Now that I’ve got him, I…”

“Don’t know what to do next?”

He twists his head sideways—like a cat, you think, seeking out attention. You tangle your hand in his hair, pulling it a little, and you swear he purrs.

“Yeah,” he admits, voice breathy. “I’m not sure what I’m…here for, now.”

“Saeyoung.” You say his name firmly—something has dawned on you. You straighten abruptly and he pulls back if as startled. He’s still got that weary look, like he’s spent the day like this, buried under a pile of his own thoughts. “Saeyoung, has anyone ever asked you what you want before?”

“What do you mean?” He sits up straight too: faces you, fingers still gently gripping your wrist.

“Listen,” you say. “I know you want to live together with Saeran, and now you do. And you want him to be safe and happy. But aside from those things, what do you want?”

You can tell he’s puzzled; he cocks his head thoughtfully.

“I don’t, um…”

“Try to think.”

“I mean, I…”

He’s got this sort of helpless look about him, and you can’t take it anymore. You take his face in both your hands, gently holding his cheeks—which are flushed, almost feverish. Touching his face makes your body tingle.

“Let’s start small,” you tell him. His eyes are so big and bright behind his glasses and you feel a strange impulse to kiss his eyelashes. “Tell me one thing you want right now.”

His eyes lock with yours and then you see his face flush—if possible—even darker. His gaze trails down your face, lingering on your lips.

“Well…” he lilts, tilting his head to the side. “There is one thing I wanna do, but—I mean, ahh, I would say that I’m thinking about…”

“I’m gonna help you,” you whisper, hands still on his cheeks. “Tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.”

His face is red—oh, so red.

“Well, the thing is, I…I really want you to kiss me,” he murmurs. Finally. The buzzy air between you was becoming almost unbearable.

You lean forward and he waits, patient, still, longing. He’s already so close; you ghost your lips over his and he melts into you instantly. You swipe your tongue over his bottom lip.

When you pull away he’s panting, eyes cloudy.

“Good,” you tell him. “What else do you want?”

“I…ah…” His voice sounds almost slurred: he’s overwhelmed, you think, by the way you’ve taken control. There’s a sort of dazed smile dancing over his lips.

“Tell me,” you urge. “Think of this as practice. I’m gonna teach you how to ask for what you want if it kills me, Choi Saeyoung.”

Oh, the look on his face is wonderful: delighted and spellbound.

“I want, ah…um, th-this,” he says—which isn’t really a request, but it’s a start. He takes your hand in his and guides it upwards, pushes your fingers into his hair.

“You want me to pet you?”

“Yeah, like…like how you did before.”

You comb your fingers through his messy curls, separating the strands with your fingertips. And you face is still so close to his, and he looks so hopelessly adoring, so you lean forward and kiss him again: once, quick and soft.

“Can you, uh…can you do what you did before? With my hair?” he asks weakly. What you did before…?

Oh.

You tangle your fingers in his hair a little more roughly, pulling it, and he squeaks and kisses you again, this time with unbound enthusiasm. You feel like you’ve unlocked a secret weapon.

Hand buried in his hair, you kiss just his lower lip, then the tip of his nose, his cheek, his jaw. You trail kisses down the side of his neck and he inhales sharply.

“Will you do that again?” he asks.

“This?” You kiss his neck again, gently, just under the curve of his jaw.

“Y-yes, but um…harder.”

Interesting. “Do you want me to?” you ask him—because this is practice, after all; you’re helping him—not just satisfying your own curiosity about how much he’d squirm if you just…nibbled him a little.

He giggles, high-pitched and awkward. “Mmmm…yes, I want you to,” he mutters, and that’s enough for you.

You take the smooth skin between your teeth, biting down, and he yelps. You were right—he does squirm, wiggling around like a fish. You suck the skin into your mouth, biting a little harder.

And by the time you pull away he looks dizzy; there’s a beautiful, silly grin on his face.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” you say softly, touching the already-reddening skin with your fingertip.

“I…think I like that,” he says, with some surprise.

“Good job,” you tell him, opening your arms—he eagerly leans into you, rests his head on your chest. “That was, uh…good practice.”

He laughs, warm and open and sleepy, and you wrap your arms around him.

“Excellent practice,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna need a lot more practice, though, so…”

“I’ve got you,” you tell him. You plant a kiss on the very top of his head and he hums. “I want you to start thinking about other stuff you want too, though. Okay? Life stuff.”

He gets comfortable, snuggling sleepily into you. He’s exhausted himself worrying, you think; he needs to power down that gigantic brain.

“Aaaaanything?” he sings, his tone lighter now, more relaxed.

“I mean…” Oh no.

“I want a hundred cats!”

“Saeyoung.”

“I can get them and squish them all and have them all sleep in my bed with me?!”

“Saeyoung…”

“And make a cat army and ride into battle on the back of a giant cat?”

“No.”

“Heeeeey,” he whines, and you squeeze him tighter, stroking his beautiful, messy, overwrought head. “You said anything.”

“Within reason, honey.”

He murmurs something only half-coherent about horse-sized cats and nuzzles into your chest. You wonder how much he’s slept in the past few days, stewing over his future. It’s normal to worry about these things, you think—but for Saeyoung, who’s never once thought about his future, it’s nearly impossible.

But this is what you want for him. You want to see him make choices for himself—to learn how to put his happiness first.

“One cat,” you murmur into his hair. “Let’s start with one cat.”

He hums, head heavy.

“Three,” he mumbles. “One for each of us.”

“Sure, baby,” you tell him, curling a lock of his thick red hair around your fingertip. He’s so soft and helpless like this—dozing off curled up in your arms, humming softly as you pet his head. “If that’s what you want,” you say, “I’ll make sure it happens.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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1engele · 4 years ago

Text

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 7. roof

Previous | Next

[warnings: violence mention, smoking, suicide mention]

"i love this feeling. this feeling of calm." — When you and Sal left the unoccupied classroom, the halls were already bustling again. It was easy to remain unseen, as the both of you gently shut the door behind you and slipped into the crowd.

You'd both missed the entirety of your first class.

The school's faculty was unreliable, though—maybe you'd get away with it.

You knew you looked like a hot mess, so you kept your head down as you walked alongside Sal through the halls. He was silent for the time being—but you knew he was there because he walked closely to you.

"Your lipgloss," you hear him say. You look away from the floor to meet his eyes, gazing up at him curiously. "It's messed up."

You nervously laugh. "I'm sure it is—that's what I get for wearing a colored one. I'm sure you're wearing some too, now."

He chuckles, silent for a moment. You bet he's licking his lips. "Yeah. Tastes nice."

Your face feels tingly all over. You raise your fingers to touch your lips, skim over the skin just around them—and sure enough, the sticky residue is all over. You'd kissed most of it off, but a good amount of it had just smeared.

"I'm gonna go freshen up," you say, gesturing toward the girls' bathroom. "I was just laying on a floor a few moments ago."

Sal follows your line of sight. "Okay. I'm gonna head toward my next class. Text me if anything happens."

You smile and wiggle your fingers in farewell as he turns and walks into the dense crowd of students. You breathe out a shaky sigh as a feeling of complete and utter disbelief washes over your body.

When you entered the bathroom, you avoided locking eyes with anyone else inside of it—instead, you made a beeline for a roll of paper towels, ripping off a sheet and crumbling it up in your palm. You moved toward the sink, turned it on, and passed it beneath the steady stream of cold water running from the faucet. You then raised it to your lips and wiped the stickiness off.

Once you'd done that, dried your lips, and thrown the paper towels away, you allowed yourself a moment to stare into the mirror.

It was kind of hard to look at yourself. Every time you made eye contact with your reflection, all you saw was the sight of a head with blue hair between your legs—and pale hands clad with silver rings holding your thighs open.

Your body began to feel fuzzy, so you whisked the thought away, fixed your hair, and continued to your next class.

When it was time to gather in the cafeteria, you ran into Ashley on your way toward it.

"Hey!" She called, approaching you from one side of the hallway. She tucked a wispy strand of hair behind her ear, blinking down at you with lash-fringed green eyes. "Let's walk together."

You had no problem with that. "Sure."

You absentmindedly watched her pull her sleeves down to make sweater paws as the two of you walked side by side.

Your lips felt dry. You wished you knew where your lipgloss had gone. It had been in your jacket pocket earlier—but had fallen out or gotten lost inside of it. You had no clue, but chalked it up as a mysterious disappearance and accepted the loss.

The both of you found Todd first, then Larry and Sal who were together.

A nervous feeling swirled in your gut. You knew Sal wouldn't, you trust him—but something inside of you feared that he'd told Larry what had happened. Which made no sense, on your part. Sal definitely wasn't the type to get up and tell someone directly after having a sexual encounter.

Your anxiety worsened for a different reason when you'd realized that Sal and Larry weren't interacting like you were used to. Larry's body language was stiff—and his features were drawn into a frustrated expression.

The whites of his eyes weren't red anymore, though, so you guessed his high wore off.

Sal didn't seem to be in the same bitter mood the other boy was, but you'd grown accustomed to reading his body language in a lot of different situations—and he didn't seem as chilled out as he normally would be.

Sal was a laidback person. Seeing him so tense was strange.

On the way into the cafeteria, you and Sal were momentarily separated from the rest of the gang after a group of students cut the two of you from the other three. Even though you had this moment of alone time, you didn't ask Sal about his and Larry's behavior. It wasn't your business.

You felt ringed fingers wrap around yours. Your heart jumps, and you seriously think Sal is going to walk you into this cafeteria by the hand—but instead, he raises your arm and places something in your palm.

You look down. It's that pink tube of cherry-flavored lipgloss.

You laugh and meet his eyes. "Where did you find it?"

"I- uh, went back into that classroom," he replies. "I left a ring in there."

The crowd is thinning out, and you watch your friends settle at a table. You redirect your attention back to Sal, inclining your head toward him. "Why did you take them off, anyway?"

He speaks to you closely, leaning toward the side of your face so he can speak lower. His hand ghosts your waist.

You've quickly begun to understand that a huge part of your.. involvement.. with Sal involved a good amount of touching. You weren't uncomfortable with touching him, and that gave him the confidence to not be scared of doing the same to you.

"I thought I'd be using my fingers," he answers, the tone in which he speaks a bit nervous, as you place the lipgloss tube in your jacket pocket. "But I got carried away, I guess."

Your heart pounds against your ribs, anxiousness rushing through your blood more so than your blood did. You want to reply, continue this conversation—but you know this interaction has been going on for too long and you can practically feel someone's eyes burning holes through your back.

You hadn't realized how close you were to him until you'd stepped back. "Come on, we should sit before-"

Before you can even finish, someone's rested their hand on your shoulder. You jerk, instinctively whirling towards the person and bumping back into Sal. You steady yourself quickly and look up to lock eyes with Travis.

"Holy shit," you breathe, genuinely startled. "What the hell?"

Sal hasn't said anything, yet. But you know he isn't very shy. He isn't really afraid of Travis.

"You're in my way," Travis sneers, not looking at you, but at Sal. "Move."

You look around you before meeting his dark eyes and giving him a deadpan expression. You weren't blocking anyone's way, as countless students were continuing to file around the both of you and head towards their tables. "There's more than enough room for you to walk around us." You reply even when he isn't speaking to you.

Travis's gaze locks with yours, pupils dilated. He looks back to Sal. "Your friend here really loves to involve herself in our business, doesn't she, Fisher?"

Your jaw clenches.

"You involved her whenever you touched her," Sal says lowly. His voice grows deeper as he speaks slower. "If you have something to say to me, talk to me."

Travis's face slowly grows red with rage. He jerks, his cross necklace glistens in the corner of your eye, and suddenly his fingers are gripping your arm. You barely have time to process before you're pulled just a bit and your blood goes cold.

It's not like he's yanked you hard enough to hit the ground—but you stumble, just a bit, and now you're closer to him. His initial grip didn't affect you, but the moment he'd tightened his fingers to pull, it hurt.

You hear the sound of someone abruptly standing off of their seat. You know it's Larry, you saw the mood he was in—and you pray something happens before he can make his way over here and beat Travis to a bloody pulp.

All because of you, everyone would be in trouble.

What happens is not what you expect.

Sal reaches forward, wraps his long fingers around Travis's skinny wrist, and hastily rips the other boy's hand off and away from you. Your mind goes blank and the feeling of your raging heartbeat dissipates when he laces his cool fingers through yours and tightens his grip around you.

He flicks his eyes over Travis' paling face, meets his wide eyes, and leads you off.

It doesn't take very long to reach the table. Just before you've parted through another small crowd of teens, Sal lets go of your hand. You have nothing to complain about—you knew it wouldn't last long.

You assume the number of people bustling through the cafeteria would have obstructed your friends' view a bit, so you doubt they saw the handholding. You knew that they'd seen the altercation, though—because you'd heard Larry jump from his chair.

As soon as you've finished easing into your seat, someone's speaking.

"So?" Larry starts, impatiently flexing his fingers atop the table. He looks you straight in the eyes and continues, "What'd Travis say? Why did he grab you? Do I need to-"

"He was just being Travis, Larry," Sal cut in, tone short. You witnessed each and every person at the table's eyes widen. Your heart jumps a bit, too—you've never heard him sound like that. "He'll probably try to find me after school later and beat the shit out of me. I'd let him, at this point."

"He's never done that before, though," Ashley points out warily. "This time won't be any different than any other time, right?"

"Not unless something else happened," Todd speaks up about the matter for the first time, swallowing a bite of his sandwich.

"But it was different," Sal breaks in again. "I touched him."

Larry's dark eyebrows jump. "Did you hit him?"

"No." You assert for Sal, nervously glancing his way. "Nothing like that."

Everyone at the table seemed like they wanted more information—shifting in their seats anxiously (save for Todd) and casting inquisitively wary glances toward Sal—but you guessed no one wanted to make Sal any more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be.

Eventually, Larry dissolved the intensity with a joke and eventually a conversation started back up. You put your input in occasionally, wanting to make an effort and be present.

That was a bit hard, though—considering Sal's current timidity. He hadn't spoken for the rest of lunch and barely acknowledged anyone on the way out of the cafeteria.

When your classes had finished for the day, it was time to attend detention.

That was uneventful as well. Sal was placed on the opposite side of the classroom, so even with the teacher who was nodding off and pounding rain concealing any noise you would have produced, you couldn't have genuinely spoken with him.

On the way home from school, the sound of squeaking wet grass and squelching mud beneath your feet grew very unbearable and you quickly broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Sal, but-"

"You should just stay away from me."

Your heart jumps. It seems to leap from a cliff because it seems to settle in the pit of your stomach. "What?" Your eyes fly towards his prosthetic face, wishing you could search it for anything—but you can't. "Sal, what do you mean?"

"This'll just keep happening. I shouldn't have involved myself with someone like you in the first place."

"Someone like me?" You echo, feeling a bit faint. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Someone who deserves better than the likes of me," he says lowly. "You don't deserve to be grabbed and made fun of just for associating with someone, Y/N. I don't want that for you."

"I don't give a shit, Sal," you bite, tugging at your backpack straps roughly. "I think I can choose who I hang out with."

Sal's quiet after that. It's torture, listening to the breeze rustle the tree leaves and whistle past your ears for 5 whole minutes. Something that calmed you so greatly now made you feel like punching something. You just wish he'd speak.

He does after that thought. "I just want something good for you. I don't want someone else to be dragged into the mess that's my life. Within a few days, Larry's already gotten you fucking high as a kite, you've had to deal with Travis more than once.."

You wrinkle your nose. "I'm not an angel, Sal. I hadn't gotten high before I met you because I didn't have friends—I wasn't tainted because of you or Larry. And as for Travis, he's just a dick. We've all had to deal with someone like that in our lives."

You're both now stood on the pale concrete of the sidewalk. You watch Sal's blue hair blow a bit, the sky blue shade of the strands blending prettily against the multicolored sunset behind him.

"You don't know me," he tries.

"You don't know me," you reply.

The mask shifts and he looks down at his shoes. You follow his gaze, tracing the color of his cornflower blue sneakers.

"I think we shouldn't do this anymore," Sal mumbles quickly, and you wouldn't have picked it up if you hadn't been straining to hear him so much.

You swallow thickly. "Do what?"

He does the same, Adam's apple moving against his throat. "Whatever.. this is."

Your eyebrows pull down. "For 'my sake' or because you don't want to bother with me anymore?"

Sal doesn't reply, flexing his fingers and standing there helplessly. He avoids your eyes and chooses not to reply.

"You're not supposed to choose what's right for me," you chide. "You can't-"

His head jerks up, and he seems to snap. "I don't want this anymore. There, is that good enough?"

Your heartbeat stutters, and you feel the blood draining from your face. Initial confusion and shock are quickly replaced by vexation and frustration. You turn around and hastily walk away, away from Sal and leaving him behind you.

You walk, and walk, and walk. You continue even when the sun disappears behind the line of Nockfell's horizon and when the stars show themselves in the sky. The night is even colder than the day and continues to grow even more frigid as your legs carry you away.

Eventually, your feet are too numb to continue, and you settle on the sidewalk. You shiver, the night's breeze gusting into your face. You pull the denim jacket you wore closer to your chest.

You try not to think about it too hard, but the thoughts are intrusive. You've never felt stupider than you did at this moment.

He didn't want to deal with you anymore. You should have never involved yourself in Travis and Sal's business. You'd just made it all worse for him. He didn't want to have to protect you—who would?

It was over. Whatever it was—it was gone.

Eventually, you find yourself laying on your side. The concrete is cool against your cheek, and the wind is even cooler.

The cars stop coming. You don't know what time it is, and you don't want to check.

You stare out at the sideways road for a while, and eventually the numbing cold lulls you into a dreamless sleep.

You're not even fully awake when a blinding light is shining into your closed eyelids. You groan, pressing the palm heels of your hands into your eyes before blinking them open. In front of you, a vehicle has pulled to the side of the road, just up against the curb. The headlights are way too bright to tell the make or model, or even the color.

"Holy shit, that's Y/N!"

You pull your body into an upright position, wincing as your stiff joints protest your movements. You're barely on your feet before someone's firm hands are on your shoulders. You blink, your eyes trailing from a male's chest to his face.

It's Larry. And stood not far behind him are both Todd and Ashley.

Well, that's certainly a sight to see. Despite your disorientation and overall confusion, you still find it within yourself to feel embarrassed.

"Are you alright?" Todd asks, adjusting his glasses and stepping to Larry's right. "We were driving by and saw someone sleeping on the sidewalk, and turns out it was you."

Suddenly. Ashley is on Larry's left, her pretty features twisted into an expression of terror. "What are you doing out here? It's one in the morning."

You blink fast, absentmindedly raising your hands and placing them atop Larry's which are on your shoulders. He was the only thing steadying you right now. Your body felt weak and sore and your feet were stinging.

"I'm- I'm fine," you breathe. "I sat down and I fell asleep."

Everyone in front of you exchanges concerned glances before returning their attention to you.

"Y/N," Larry speaks first. "I'm sorry for letting you smoke so much. Maybe you're still high-"

"I'm not high," you scratch the back of your head. "That wore off a while ago. I just.. was walking.. for a while."

That was when you finally realized the proximity Larry's hands were to the bruises on your neck. Nonchalantly you slid his fingers off of your shoulders and pushed your hair to shadow the bruised flesh.

It was too dark to see much out here. You doubted they saw anything.

After answering the same question a few more times over ("You're sure you're okay?") you all climbed back into Ashley's vehicle, Todd in shotgun and Larry in the seat beside you, and began the drive to Addison Apartments.

Soon after the vehicle began to move the volume of the radio had been turned higher. The tranquil sound of an acoustic guitar soothed your aching skull as you watched the streetlights pass by. You leaned your head against the window, the cold glass pressing against your forehead spreading a chill down your face.

You breathed slowly. Every puff of hot air that escaped your lips blurs the glass before the frigidity of the window itself evaporated the fog. This sequence continues until you've arrived at Addison Apartments.

You hadn't even realized Todd had been dropped off already until you looked at him to say goodbye and he wasn't there.

Ashley bid both you and Larry goodbye and drove away. Silence hung between the both of you until you entered the bittersweet interior of Addison Apartments. But, for once—the atmosphere of the ground floor calmed you. The lights were dimmed, and a shaded lamp was the main light source of the lobby. The walls were cast over with a calming golden hue.

It reminded you of home—a home you'd never known.

"Weren't you with Sal?" That's the first thing Larry says to break the newfound silence. "You had detention together."

You hesitate. "Yeah. We went to detention—didn't see him afterward."

Larry searches your face with deep, cryptic eyes. "I'm seriously sorry about the weed," he states, the tone on his tongue sincere. "That was my bad—and I see that now. Sal told me how high you got, dude."

Your heart tumbles in fear. "What else did he say?"

"Nothing—just how you'd ran into each other and you were high."

"Was that the reason things were so tense between you before lunch?" This genuinely made you curious.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I think that's why he was kinda snappy. He's never really like that when it comes to Travis. Sal's a patient guy—he usually just avoids talking about anything at all after a confrontation with Travis."

You didn't want to talk about him or any of it anymore. You wanted to climb in bed and stare up at your ceiling and listen to the dead air and the static in your ears. "I just-" you swallow. "I... never mind. I'm gonna head up and get to bed."

Larry blinks down at you, his inquisitive eyes searching for something. "Alright. Get some shuteye, dude. Okay?"

"Okay," you murmur, nodding tiredly and retreating toward the elevator. Larry walks back outside—you assume to light a cigarette—and you step into the elevator. As soon as those doors close, the light inside shuts off.

You're too tired to jump in surprise or feel fear. Instead, you wait it out and walk to your apartment once you're free.

Once you've unlocked the door and stepped lightly to your room, you fish your flip phone from the depths of the pocket in your denim jacket and open it up.

Sal :) Missed Call (3)

Sal :) just let me know you got home safe

Sal :) i'm on the roof if something's wrong

That message was sent 11 minutes ago.

Maybe he'd still be there.

But why would you want to go after what he'd said to you? Why would you want to see him so soon?

How would he have even got to the roof, anyway?

Despite yourself, and all of your better judgment, you go towards your window and slide it open from the bottom. Sure enough, the stairs of the fire escape sit just below the sill. You swing a leg over it, then the other, and pull yourself onto the metal steps. They rattle a bit, but they're steady.

You pull the majority window closed (leaving just a bit of space so you can get it back open) and head up the steps of the fire escape.

It doesn't take long to reach the top. Whenever you step on the roof, despite the fact your feet are planted on something firm, you sway dizzily.

Maybe you had a fear of heights.

There he is. He's sat on the edge, legs hanging over. His back is to you, but you can make out the fact that he's holding a cigarette by the way smoke trails from in front of him into the sky.

You walk forward, making slow movements. You then step beside him and lower yourself to where you're sitting on the edge with him.

And as you stared out into the night, felt the breeze grow warm, almost like it had done so for you—all that you felt was inner peace. Your feet swung back and forth, nothing below to catch them but a free fall and the concrete.

You looked out at the sleeping town and the golden streetlights that lit it.

"Do you ever think about it?" Sal murmurs, his voice is a bit clearer than it was normally because of the way his prosthetic was halfway unbuckled. You heard the crackle of a cigarette and then smelt smoke.

"Think about what?"

"Jumping," he replies. "What if we jumped together?"

Your chest tightens painfully. "Sal-"

"Think about it," he says. "No one would know what went through our minds when we jumped—they'd never stop talking about it. Nothing ever happens here. Something like that.. you'd feel important."

"You wouldn't feel anything," your voice shook despite your best efforts. "You'd be gone for everyone. All of the people who love you now would only lose you."

Sal stays silent, taking a drag from the cigarette and inhaling.

"I know how it feels to want to be missed. To want to feel appreciated." Your hand grows closer to his. "I know that's how you feel. The difference between us, though—you're loved, you're probably even missed when you skip a day of school," you smiled softly. "I'm not. I know what being unloved looks like, Sal. You're not that."

You turn your head to meet his gaze. Moonlight shines against the white of his prosthetic face. He blinks those blue eyes slowly, tiredly. Instead of saying anything, he closes the distance between your hands and locks your smallest finger with his.

"I didn't mean what I said," he whispers, smoke falling out of the mask. "It's sick but I told you that because I care."

Your shallow breaths are barely audible to yourself beneath your racing heart.

"I want to take it at a pace with you, Y/N," he continues. "I don't want to fuck it all up. I wish I could just get up and leave you here so you wouldn't have to deal with me but I can't do it."

You hesitated. "Why not?"

"I don't know."

"I don't want this to be over," you breathe. "I know you don't want me to involve myself with you because you're scared of what will happen. But this involves me, too. This is about both of us. Let me decide for myself."

Maybe he was right. Maybe you shouldn't be doing this—involving yourself with the mess that is Sal Fisher. There's too much you don't know about who he is.

But you wanted to try.

"We can take it slow," you assured. "I understand you're scared but there's nothing to be afraid of."

Your hand inches over his, interlacing your fingers, your palm on the back of his hand. You squeeze them in comfort, not searching for any reciprocation, but it's given anyways.

Nothing is said after that. You sit with him until you're drifting into sleep while sitting upright. You know you can't leave him here—so you wait until he's ready to go home.

You can wait.

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader

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angstymarauder · 4 years ago

Text

Arch Enemies {M.M}

Marlene McKinnon x Female!reader ; marauders era

summary: where two long-time rivals realize how thin the line between love and hate really are after an unfortunate quidditch incident.

word count: 3.4k ish

contains: angst, fluff, a heated kiss?, side of wolfstar,

a/n: i didn’t re-read it bc I'm lazy. Also if people could drop some wlw angsty harry potter recs that would be phenomenal.

· · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene McKinnon has been your rival since as far back in your Hogwarts years as you can remember. Always at each other’s heads. Always a competition between the two of you. Always striving to be better than the other.

The two of you made just about everything a competition. Chess Matches. Pranking. Grades. Eating. Walking. Detentions (you almost got kicked out of Hogwarts that year.)

Anything that could somehow be made competitive, you two competed. And while you tended to beat her with grades, she often beat you in things that took place outside of the classroom.

The Marauders, apparently, have been placing bets and keeping track of your wins against one another. Lily even claims that one time she walked into their room unexpectedly and caught them writing on a poster on their wall that had both your names in big letters on each side and a series of tallies below each with dates and event names on the bottom, but as soon as they saw her one of them casted a spell to make it disappear.

This year was no different. You knew it was stupid to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to try out for the quidditch team without Marlene fighting you for the same spot. You have no real desire to be on the quidditch team, quite honestly, but your older siblings play quidditch, your parents played quidditch, your aunts, your uncles, your cousins, your grandparents, your great-grandparents.

You have a quidditch family and you do not want to can not disappoint them.

The hope that Marlene may leave you alone for this one was shattered, as you expected it to be, when you walk into the team's locker room, a bag of quidditch gear in your hand. “Y/L” Marlene spoke as soon as her eyes met yours. Her eyes widened more than usual, a change most people don’t notice, but then again, you’re not most people. You know Marlene better than anyone else, you’ve memorized the meaning of every look in her eyes, every curve of her lips, every flick of her hands. You know her brain, how she works, what she is thinking, for the most part at least because right now you found yourself momentarily confused by the surprise lacing her voice. Why is she so surprised? Did she not expect you to be there? Your thoughts are cut short when the blonde standing at the other side of the room clears her throat in an attempt to reactive her favorite tone of voice when speaking to you, cockiness, “you going for the beater position too?”

“Yea,” you respond, walking over to one of the lockers.

“May the best player win,” you continued unpacking your bag, putting on the final touches to your uniform, but you didn’t need to look at her to know that she was smirking as she spoke, you could hear it clear enough in her voice.

She awaited a snarky response from you, you know that, but you didn’t want to waste your energy on a catfight right now. Your anxiety is already through the roof, there is enough pressure on you at the moment that you feel like your brain physically cannot handle any more conflict, so you ignore her.

Her eyes burn holes into your body as you continue to pull your knee pads on. Eventually, the door opens and you listen to her steps as she walks out of the locker room, closing the door with a slam and leaving you all alone.

It’s not long before you’re 100% ready for tryouts. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a moment before leaving. Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. Calm your mind. It helps a little bit, but maybe not enough.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“Y/L! Watch out!” is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

The tryouts were going great, James was the captain this year and after stealing a glance at his little sheet, you could tell that you were going to beat Marlene out for this spot.

You should’ve been happier with that knowledge than you were, but somewhere deep down you almost wanted Marlene to beat you. This wasn't what you wanted and by the look in her eyes, you knew that this was what she wanted. A strange feeling arose in your chest each time she looked at you during tryouts, her eyes conveyed a message you hadn’t seen her wear yet and all you wanted to do was decode it. To understand why her eyes looked… sad? Almost. Like she knew you were going to beat her and she was upset about it. She’s never been upset before, always a team player. She took her losses as they came and just vowed to beat you next time. But for some reason… for some reason this was different.

· · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene’s Pov:

You looked so pretty. Flyaway hairs and a look of determination on your face as you swatted away Bludgers so effortlessly. She loved quidditch, but she wasn't as good as you. Jealous, not because you’ll win whatever competition the two of you are probably making out of this, but jealous because she knows she won’t get the position she’s been working her ass off for. Lost in thought she doesn't even notice the bludger coming towards her, luckily she hits it just in time, but then… Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Marlene watched as the bludger tumbled straight towards you, “Y/L! Watch out,” was all she could get in before it hit you right in the head.

· · · ∞ · · ·

The first thing you felt when you woke up was an intense pounding in your skill that caused an unconscious groan to leave your mouth. As you increasingly became aware your head began hurting more and more. You went to bring your hand up to rub your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up when you felt another hand on yours. Opening your eyes only increased your headache, but the desire to know whose hand was holding yours overruled the pain. Their hand was soft, warm, it felt like … like home. That's the only word you could find in this pain-forsaken state to properly describe the feeling.

The blur of a person who held your hand made you think you were crazy. You found yourself blinking a few times in attempts to clear your vision, not initially trusting your eyes and barely trusting them now as you see Marlene McKinnon's hand, holding yours.

Marlene McKinnon.

Your arch-nemesis?

The one who practically hates you?

Yea… her.

What the fuck.

Why is she holding your hand… and why do you never want her to let go?

You can feel your lips curve up into an unconscious smile as you stare at the place where her hand connects with yours before roaming your eyes up to her figure to her sleeping face being held up by her other hand, elbow resting on her armchair next to your bed. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and you wonder why you’ve never noticed how gorgeous she was before. How her lips look so soft and her skin so smooth. The way the waning gibbous moonlight shines into the room from the large infirmary windows and lights her face up in a way you’ve never seen in before and in that moment you want nothing more than to stare at her face like that forever. You don’t even notice your other hand moving up to touch her face until you hear a voice whisper from a few beds over from yours. “Oh, you’re up.” Startled, you feel like you were just caught committing a crime and immediately pull your hand back to where it was before. Marlene shifts in her sleep from your quick movements and you’re watching this moment slip through your fingers, silently begging whatever runs the universe to let you stay in this moment just a little bit longer. Thankfully, they answer and Marlene stills, returning to her peaceful sleep. “Don’t worry, Lils says she sleeps like a log.”

You giggle at these words, turning to face Remus with a smile, “yea, she does. We can never get her up in the morning.” “It’s the same with Sirius. He never wants to wake up.” The two of you giggle quietly, afraid to wake up anyone in the castle this late at night, especially the girl sitting beside you. You talk about Remus first, asking if the full moon the night before was really that bad that Pomfrey made him stay overnight again and if he's okay. He assures you that he is fine and redirects the conversation to you, “What about you? Are you okay?”

“I don’t even know what happened to me,” you tell him, “or why my head hurts so much or why M-” you pause, now looking at the girl. You’re scared of speaking the words out loud, afraid it may reveal that her presence is only a dream or a figment of your imagination and that you will sound crazy if you speak about it.

“Or why Marlene is here, holding your hand.” Remus finishes your sentence.

“Or that.” you turn your gaze back to Remus, now wishing the moon was a little darker so your close friend can’t see the blush that is surely on your face.

“Well to answer your first questions,” started Remus, “You got hit with a bludger during tryouts, Marlene and Sirius rushed u in here while I was taking a nap - thanks for that by the way”

“Sorry” you giggled

“- and then Sirius went back to practice, as for McKinnon there, she refused to leave. I think she feels bad cause she's the one that hit you. Pomfrey said you probably have a concussion which means you can’t … well you can’t play quidditch this year.” You should be focusing on the quidditch part, it was something you were working so hard for, but you can’t stop your mind from trailing off to her. Is she only here because she feels bad? Or is there more to it? You hope it's more. You’re not sure when these feelings came to fruition, but they’re there now and you’re worried about getting your hopes up because it means risking yourself getting let down.

“I think she likes you,” you take a minute to process the werewolves' words, glancing between the blonde’s head and her hand.

“You think so?” you say with a hopeful smile.

“I think she’s liked you since first year and you’re just too oblivious to realize it,” you look up with him, your confused face causing a slight chuckle to leave his lips, “I’m observant, you know that but it's not that difficult to see how in love you two are, even though you act like you hate each other. I think she knows what she feels,” you both glanced at the girl, “and I think you just figured out what you feel.”

You smile at his words. “I think you’re right,” you admit, too tired to be stubborn and reject what your heart says is a fact.

“Just wait till January to tell everyone please, I have a bet going with the boys and- “ Suddenly the door to the infirmary opens, Remus goes quiet with confusion and Marlen begins to stir from the noise. She’s really waking up this time, you immediately close your eyes, unsure of what else to do or even say to her. You can feel her eyes on your face, her hand holding yours. “Good morning sleepyhead,” remarked Remus. You curse out his name in your head as you feel Marlene’s hand immediately rip out of yours. All you want to do is look at her face, read her mind. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Your mind went to the worst.

“How’s the girlfriend?” marked a new voice, Sirius. Of course. Who else would come to the infirmary this late other than Sirius to check up on Remus?

“She’s not my girlfriend.” remarked Marlene, her tone sending a brief stab of pain through your own heart, “I don’t even like her,” another stab.

“Yea, okay, and Moonys not my werewolf boyfriend.” You would’ve laughed, hearing the noises of Remus hitting Sirius in response to his words, but your mind was stuck on the words of the girl who was still standing close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her body.

“I don’t like her,” she said, her words laced with annoyance and anger, “In fact, I hate her. We’re literally enemies.”

“Then why are you here then?” Remus rebutted, he probably meant to be helpful, but the words she spoke next only made your heart ache more.

“Because I’m not a monster! I hit her with the bludger and I felt bad. That’s it. Nothing else.” you were almost thankful when you started to hear her moving around, collecting her stuff, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes and you didn’t want her to see. “I’m tired so I’m going, goodbye.” And with that you waited, listening to the sounds of her footsteps, getting quieter with each moment. You listened to the opening and closing of the infirmary door and only dared to open your eyes again once you could no longer hear the clicking of her shoes down the hallway.

“You okay?” Remus spoke first, witnessing the silent tears now streaming down your face. You wish you stayed asleep. You wish you never looked at her. Never let yourself feel something you knew she wouldn’t reciprocate. You curse yourself for believing Remus’ hopeful words.

“Fine,” you spoke quietly before turning to your side, the back facing the two boys who get to share the kind of romance you find yourself only able to dream about.

“M’Sorry,” you heard Remus whisper, before the weight of your head and your heart lulled you into a dreamless sleep.

· · · ∞ · · ·

You woke up to Madam Pomfrey's voice urging you awake. Her soft voice reminded you of your mother and made you want to curl up into her arms and cry, Marlene's words last night still resting their weight on your chest. “How are you this morning, love?” she asks, placing a plate of food on the bedside table, you're thankful that she doesn't mention the tear stains that probably made their home on your cheeks last night.

“M’fine,” you mumble, “better.”

“Good, good,” she smiles, handing you a glass of water that you didn’t realize how much you needed until the whole glass was gone in a minute and Madam Pomfrey had to fetch you a new one. “Took a big hit yesterday, that Miss McKinnon has a good arm.” You hum in agreeance, an attempt to not be rude to the elder in front of you, but hearing her name still hurts, the wound of her words still leaving scars on your heart that haven’t even begun to scab. “Speaking of the devil,” the nurse spoke, your head raising up to see Marlene's figure entering the curtain that surrounded your bed. Her hair looked so soft, messier than you usually see it, but you liked it. You couldn’t stop your eyes from travelling down her face, taking in her beauty while she was awake. Bags plagued her beautiful brown eyes, she didn't sleep much last night. Your gaze moved to her lips, the same lips that unknowingly cut scars along your heart mere hours ago. Memories from the night before that you had allowed yourself to forget for a moment returned as fast as they left, returning the heartache that accompanies them. Suddenly, you found the hem of your shirt more interesting, keeping your gaze and your hands on that. “I’ll leave you two alone,” spoke Madam Pomfrey, ignoring the tension-filled silence that laid in the air, “I’d like to keep you here for a little while longer but you should be discharged by dinner,” and with that she left the two of you alone, your breaking heart not even strong enough to look at her.

“Hey,” she spoke first, breaking the silence, but not moving from her spot where she stood at the end of your bed. “Sorry I hit you with a bludger,” she tried to joke, but the tension was too thick that it was just awkward.

“Why are you here?” you ask, a sudden surge of bravery coming from the anger that stems from your sadness.

“Wh-What?”

“Why are you here?” “Because I feel bad? Because I'm not a total bitch and I care about you?” she remarks.

“Why do you care?” your voice grows louder, angrier than you want it, but you’re too stubborn to stop speaking now. “I can’t play anymore, you got the spot on the team, didn’t you? “I mean you said it yourself we’re enemies, right? You hate me?” you continue, repeating her words from last night. “So isn’t this what you wanted? You won. You beat me. Congratulations.”

“So you were eavesdropping?” she asks, her tone attempting to stay angry, but her eyes revealing that look you’re slowly seeing more and more often.

“It’s not eavesdropping if I’m lying right there.”

“Merlin, y/n, I don’t hate you!”

“Liar.”

“You’re so stubborn,” she yells, getting closer to your face.

“If you don’t hate me then why would you say it?” You sat up, both your voices were raising, anger surging through the air.

“Because I don’t hate you! I love you,” she yelled, and then everything went quiet. She loves me? Only now did you realize how close your faces were. Her lips were inches from yours, your ragged breaths intermingled with one another, both of you already exhausted from your previous argument. You looked up from her lips to her eyes, just to find them already staring into yours.

“You what?” you whispered so low that only she could hear it.

“ I-” her eyes were filled with fear. Fear that her feelings won’t be reciprocated. Fear to express the vulnerable emotion that has plagued her heart for how long? You don’t know. So you move forward and capture her lips in yours.

After the initial surprise, Marlene began to kiss you back, her hands finding the back of your neck and your head while yours found her hips. You broke apart too soon for your liking and she rested her forehead on yours. One of your hands moved to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before speaking. “I love you too.” You watched as her eyes lit up with joy and you couldn’t help but smile. “I get a point on the leaderboard for admitting it first,” she chuckled.

“Mmhm,” you hummed in agreeance leaning forward again so your lips brushed against hers as you spoke, “but I get one for kissing you first.”

“Dammit,” she whispered, before leaning in for another kiss.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“So Gryffindor Beater, huh?” you asked Marlene. The two of you laid together in the infirmary bed, her back pressed up against half of your chest, your arm hanging around her shoulder twirling and untwirling her hair with your one hand while both her hands played with the fingers of your other.

“Yea, James said it’s mine if I want it, but I don’t need to take it if you don’t want me to.”

“No, merlin no,” you said quickly, “I know how much you want that spot, I barely even wanted it. Was only doing it because with my family I felt like I had to.”

“Really?” She looked up at you hopefully, “you don't mind.”

“Nope.” “Promise?”

“Promise.” She gave her a peck on the lips before turning her head around again. “Plus, you’re going to look so hot in that uniform, I feel like I’ll be the real winner in this situation.” Your words earn a loud laugh from the girl in your arms and you feel like you're on cloud 9. You place a quick kiss on her temple and want nothing more than to be the one to make her laugh for the rest of your lives. Lives that you hopefully get to spend together.

Meanwhile…

“Told you so,” he whispered.

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” the second boy groaned, placing coins into the other boy's outstretched hand.

“Yea, but look how cute they are, Moony the Matchmaker.”

“Oh shut up Padfoot,” he groaned, “I’m hungry, let's go to dinner.” “Whatever you say handsome,” barked the boy before looping arms with his lover and walking away from the two girls in the infirmary who looked utterly and completely infatuated with one another.

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theprologues · 4 years ago

Text

SUBMISSION - Grammys performance symbolism, part two

So, with those reservations safely out of the way, and a warning to readers NOT to hurt themselves by getting their hopes up again …

What aspects of Taylor’s Grammy’s performance made me think there might be light at the end of the tunnel for Kaylor?

First, Taylor’s blue and gold performance dress. “Deep blue but you painted me golden” is a line from Dancing With Our Hands Tied, a song that is widely assumed to be about the night of Kissgate. It’s a song where Taylor talks about how miserable (“deep blue”) she was after the collapse of her relationship with Diana and her public reputation in 2013. She describes how her new lover, Karlie, brought her back to life and lit her up with the glow of a new, true love. She painted her golden. But then they were caught in an intimate moment at Kissgate, and Taylor panicked. Her fears and anxieties threatened to drown her, and though she and her new lover tried to dance through the catastrophe, they eventually came to realize they were doing so with their hands tied. They had no hope of swimming to the surface together and breaking free. They could only have done so if Taylor had stood firm and owned their love in the moment, instead of setting in motion the bearding contracts that would change everything. (This is what she means when she says that “if I could dance with you again”, she would “kiss” and “hold” her lover, instead of presumably backing away. If she could do the moment over, she would claim Karlie as her lover, and hold her hand for the world to see, through hell or high water.)

Though it’s a depressing motif in DWOHT, Taylor has, interestingly, returned to this imagery of a golden tie several times in other songs, painting it in a much more positive light. Most recently, the Willow music video explores this, visually representing the “single thread of gold that tied me to you” which Taylor sings about in Invisible String. Both IS and Willow are happy songs, which describe their lovers as being tied together by fate. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow,” Taylor sings in Willow. In DWOHT, the lovers followed each other to a place of deepest blue. The bottom of the ocean, under the waves, where they couldn’t breathe. In Willow they follow each other to freedom.

That freedom is represented in the Willow music video by the open cabin door the lovers step through at the end of the video. Taylor incorporates this door into the Willow section of her Grammy’s performance, performing first in the open doorway and then stepping through it to perform with her band out in the open.

But returning to the blue and gold dress. This is not only a very Karlie motif which keeps recurring in her art (often to postitve effect). It’s also a representation of Taylor finding happiness WITHIN the closet. It’s talking about how her partner’s love helps her to bear the depression being in the closet, and fearing exposure, causes her. The fact that Taylor chooses to wear this dress throughout her performance, with no costume changes, suggests a) she is still in the closet, and b) she is still with Karlie, and still considers her love to be such a lifeline.

If Toe was real and Taylor was happy with him, she could have chosen to wear an all-gold dress for the occasion. If Kaylor was over and she had decided to return to the closet, she could have communicated that by wearing all blue. If Kaylor was over and so far in the past she had moved on with someone new, there was no need to evoke the motif at all. She could simply have laid claim to another color, or worn another prairie type dress to fit the aesthetic. And yet, she didn’t. Why not, if not to communicate what I said above?

What else is worth considering, in Taylor’s medley? Well, there’s the cabin setting. Taylor and Karlie famously took a trip to Big Sur forest and stayed in a cabin together in 2014, where Karlie was the first person to hear 1989 in full. They took many photos on the trip, including one captioned with “on the way home” (a lyric from You Are In Love, which talks about hearing love in the silence) and one of the two of them looking up at a fallen tree. A VERY similar looking tree appears in the Cardigan music video, and the slanted, moss-covered roof Taylor opens the medley lying on also looks a lot like this tree. Again, curious that she would call back to this if she and Karlie have separated.

Moving on. Taylor opens the medley singing on the roof, looking straight up into the camera. When we pull back we see the stage around set to that of a starry night. Taylor is thus cast as the romantic, the star-gazer. She also calls back to another lyric Kaylors have previously tied to Karlie - “up on the roof with a schoolgirl crush”. It’s been repeatedly tied to Karlie and Taylor’s attendance at the Victoria Secret show after-party. Again, why evoke imagery so tied to the early, happy days of this relationship?

We then move through a progression of events that sees her hiding inside with friends, before eventually stepping out into the light. That all reads like a visual interpretation of her relationship with Karlie, from her early loneliness and lovestruck dreaming, to the happiness she finds within her little hideaway, to her eventual decision to step out of it and claim her lover. The medley ends on a repetition of “that’s my man”, seemingly hinting that Taylor’s freedom is tied up in her ability to finally say those words.

What else? Well, there are the Ivy allusions. Taylor’s cabin covered in greenery can’t help but evoke the lyrics of Ivy - “my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you”. Ivy is widely interpreted as a sapphic song about two women finding love despite their commitments to men. Another line in the song “he’s in the room, your opal eyes are all I wish to see, he wants what’s only yours” is alluded to in Taylor’s choice of opal jewelry on the night. What a weird thing to draw attention to, if you’re not secretly in love with a woman while parading a beard around in public. We’re also told in the song that “he” (possibly the same man, possibly another) wants to burn the house of the Ivy lovers down. Jerk just so happened to announce the baby’s birth on this night, in what felt like an attempt to undermine Taylor’s joy. Hmm. Curious.

You know what else is curious? Taylor’s choice of outfit for the Grammys red carpet. Not only is the floral dress very reminiscent of a floral ensemble Karlie wore to cover a June (pride month) issue of Spanish Vogue. (Cover subtitled, “flowers of change”.) It’s also by the designer Oscar de la Renta. Taylor and Karlie famously attended one of his shows together early on in their relationship. They sat in the front row looking very cozy, while Taylor refused to answer questions about why she was there and reportedly giggled “my publicist will be mad at me”. Hmm.

Taylor has also worn Oscar de la Renta on numerous occasions while out with Karlie, including most famously at the Met Gala. That iconic pale pink gown that she was buried in the Look What You Made Me Do music video? That was an Oscar de la Renta. There are many interpretations of the scene in the video, but it’s worth noting that Taylor is buried alive in it (which could be interpreted as a metaphor for being closeted) and that in a video all about her various revenge fantasies, she depicts herself crawling back up out of this grave. She views coming back to life and walking away from the flaming wreckage of her past with Big Machine as the ultimate revenge. At the end of the video she clips her own wings while all the past iterations of her argue amongst themselves. This would seem to suggest that she can defeat her enemies but she can’t defeat herself, because she can’t outrun her past, and until then she will always be doomed to self-sabotage. Nevertheless, this Taylor (lurking in the background bedecked in peaced-out palm tree print) is in a much better position than the Taylor who opened the video as a zombie corpse. She’s on the surface and has some hope of freedome, at last. This is a theme we see carried through in the following video, where Taylor goes one-on-one against herself and eventually breaks free.

Long story short? Taylor wearing such a floral, literally blooming dress from THIS designer, of all people, suggests she may finally be about to rise again. The aborted coming out apparently planned for the Lover era (and thus seeded during the Rep era) may finally be a go?

Again, I’m very reluctant to get people’s hopes up here. But it’s hard to look at this dress and not think of that June (Pride month) floral magazine cover. Or of the Spade riddle, “Why worry? She blooms in June.” Or of the fact that Taylor’s stunts are often loudest before the end. She acknowledged Calvin and hugged him at an awards show before he was booted out of the narrative and Tom H appeared to replace him. (Something like ten days or so after the “split”, if I remember right?) And the inconsistencies of the Toe timeline speak for themselves. There was speculation - unpopular though it was - among Kaylors in the Rep era that guessed Taylor wouldn’t come out until 2021 / 2022. It seemed a world away at the time but who knows? Maybe this was always the plan. Maybe this is all “part of the fucking story”, even the parts that seem ugly or counterproductive. A lot can change in a couple of months in Hollywood, and with Taylor in particular. By June, it’s possible we COULD be looking at a vastly different landscape. Maybe this was one last hurrah for the Toes. Many of them are just harmless fans taking Taylor at her word, after all.

Only time will tell, and I don’t blame Kaylors for checking out. This isn’t healthy, especially for those of us who are gay ourselves, and can’t help but feel a personal connection to Taylor’s journey out of the closet. We know what a big deal it would be. But for those who still want to hope … It’s just possible Taylor has a plan, and this is the dark night before the dawn.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Pro: I added the photos and the bolded parts. Love symbolism. This was truly a spectacular performance. Awesome submission anon!!

#submission #submitted by anonymous

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