#WELL depending on things maybe i could get away with not coming in on thursday | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eddiemunsonw · 2 years ago

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Paint me red.

PART 1

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're one of Vickie's best friends. Her girlfriend, Robin, is in need of a distraction for her best friend, Steve Harrington, who you vaguely remember from school. Which is where you come in.

CW / Disclaimer: A bunch of cute stuff, just a nice feel good fic about our dear boy Steve.

Author’s note: It was time to write about Steve Harrington, so here it is. Four parts, can find them both on here and on my ao3: eddiemunsons. Enjoy!

Words: (of current chapter) 1432 / (complete fic) 13059

Thursday afternoon usually wasn’t one of the busiest times of the coffeeshop you worked at. Three regulars sat dispersed throughout the room. The tall auburn haired man working at the window always brought a stack of papers and seemed to be doing some type of research on a topic you had zero knowledge about. You had glanced over his shoulder before and didn’t even have a clue how you’d go about pronouncing it, so you never bothered to ask either. The other regular was a younger guy around your age. He had been two years below you at Hawkins High. Most of the time he brought a book, or he just listened to his Walkman as he scribbled in his sketchbook. The last regular sat at the bar, looking at your pretty foam creation of a cat that you had just given her. However, she wasn’t just a regular. She was also your friend, Vickie.

“Ohh that’s adorable! You’re getting so good at this, honestly,” Vickie exclaimed as she carefully turned the cup around on the saucer. Her eyes wandered back to you and you could tell she was dying to tell you something. She smiled awkwardly, which was a telltale sign of something peculiar spilling from her mouth soon.

“Okay, cute foam kitten aside, I have a favor to ask. I think. Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe I’m doing you a favor, depending how you look at it? Or, well…”

“Just, tell me, please?” you asked with an innocent smile that hid your impatience only a little bit. Vickie conceded and smiled.

“It’s kind of a long process thing, maybe. Again, it depends on—”

“Vic, spit it out already oh my god.” At this point you were starting to worry that she was about to ask you for something horrible.

“I need you to come with me to DGMG,” she glanced away shortly, only to meet your eyes again with a pleading look. Somehow it seemed important to her but you couldn’t help but frown, confused at what she was asking you.

“What?”

“Dark Glow Mania Games. See why I used an abbreviation? It’s a horrible name. It’s that glow in the dark game center, you know? The one I told you Robin started working at recently? Actually, ‘recently’ being two months ago. I really should’ve met up with you sooner, it’s been so long!” Vickie said apologetically. Her red hair bounced as she shook her head to emphasize how disappointed she was in herself.

“You were busy with girlfriend duties… and perks,” you shrugged, a smile laced on your lips. “It’s not like I’m obliged to know your girlfriend’s workplace within an estimated amount of time, Vic.”

“I know but still. I always ramble on on the phone and yet I forgot to mention it until… last week?” She seemed to wreck her brain over the details that were not at all important to you, as you were still curious why she even brought it all up in the first place.

“Something like that. Anyway, why is going to DGMG with you doing you a favor?”

Vickie smiled awkwardly and reluctantly sipped from her coffee, the foam cat slowly dissolving. After cleaning the foam off her upper lip with the tip of her tongue, she sighed.

“Because… that’s not all there’s to it.” When she didn’t elaborate you gave her a pointed look, urging her to go on.

“Right. Uhm, do you remember Steve Harrington?”

Do you remember Steve Harrington? Of course you remember Steve Harrington. The popular kid they called King Steve, Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington or Mr. Harringtongue, which had apparently to do with how skilled he was in pleasuring a lady. It was hard to not know about a guy like that. You wondered what happened to him. You had only transferred to Hawkins High in your third year, meaning you had only shared one year of hell with the guy because after that one, he graduated. You could vaguely recall having English together once and seeing him in the cafeteria every now and then but that was about it.

“Uh, yeah?”

“He works there too,” Vickie said, as if that would explain everything all of a sudden. Only barely, you managed to not roll your eyes at her.

“Okay?”

“According to Robin he needs more people his age around him. A girlfriend would be nice too, or a boyfriend if he’s into that but we only know total dweebs so that’s not going to work in our current plan. Not saying you should be his girlfriend or anything! But… Robin thought it might be nice since you’re cool, and he’s cool, and that way he won’t always stick out like a sore thumb when I hang out with her either,” Vickie watched your frown deepen as she spoke and she let out a nervous giggle, your gaze always being somewhat intimidating to her even though she knew you wouldn’t hurt a fly.

“You don’t even have to do anything! I mean, just, stick around, maybe say hi but that’s all. Maybe it’s enough to restart his heart and make more room for people other than Robin and a handful of others that aren’t around all that much.”

A quick break to serve a customer gave you some time to let her words sink in. Once you sent them on your way with a frappuccino and a matcha latte, you still hadn’t come up with an answer though.

“Sorry but, why does Steve Harrington need help with getting himself a friend or a girlfriend or whatever else? Wasn’t he like this popular dude? Handsome to the masses?”

Vickie gave you a side eye.

“You say that as if you’re not part of the masses. Steve is attractive, it’s a fact written in the stars, undeniable unless you’re blind.”

“If you weren’t with Robin I would’ve told you to hook up with him yourself,” you tell her flatly after a dramatic eye roll. “But you’re proving my point as to how ridiculous your request is.”

“I don’t know! Ask Robin! It was her idea after all, I’m just the messenger.”

“What’s in it for me?” you quipped, knowing that you would go with her regardless, but you couldn’t help but like a little bargaining.

“Free glow in the dark mini golf. Perks of the girlfriend. If you’re nice, I’ll pay for our drinks too,” Vickie promised with the sweetest, angelic smile that matched her pleading blue eyes.

“Now why didn’t you start with that, silly? I’m in.”

For a reason you didn’t know other than that Vickie had very convincing puppy dog eyes, you agreed to go. Only after you said it, you realized that you actually weren’t that much of a social creature at all and wondered if you had just agreed to the most awkward evening of your life. Vickie assured you that Robin and Steve would be working, so there wouldn’t be that much interaction anyway. It was a nice first step, she had said, giving away that this wasn’t just going to be a one time thing. Oh dear. All in all you could do with a fun evening if you were honest and you decided you would just ignore the whole plan. After all, Vic had said you didn’t have to do anything apart from the bare minimum which consisted of saying hi and looking at him while you did that, which shouldn’t be that hard.

Once Vickie left to meet up with Robin, you were left alone with your thoughts which drifted back to Steve Harrington all too easily. You tried to dig into your memories, to see what you really remembered of him yourself rather than hearsay. The latter went many ways in your last year. While some still called him the King, others said that he had become a total loser working dumb jobs and hanging out with ten year olds. You had expected him to get into some fancy school, with the power his last name seemed to hold. It was all just guessing work. In the end you knew very little about Steve Harrington. It had been three years since you graduated and you had been blissfully unaware of the town’s gossip since then. You would be lying if you said you weren’t the tiniest bit curious about him though. After all, Vickie had been right. He was a treat to look at. And after spending the rest of your afternoon thinking about a guy you hadn’t thought of in years, you found yourself strangely excited for Saturday.

Next part

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fanfics #joe keery

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mareastrorum · 1 month ago

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Hi I just saw that you have the same 'why am I watching XMen (derogatory)' feeling! Same hat!

Yeah, and it’s like, theoretically, I should love the X-men. I’m mixed race, grew up in shitty circumstances, dealt with a lot of -isms and violence, and did well in school despite intense challenges on multiple fronts. But they just don’t appeal to me. There’s some novelty and entertainment value, but it gets old quick. It’s similar with other superhero stories, but the X-men story depends on the status quo not changing. Once mutants are accepted and the goal is achieved, that’s a different story. The narrative posture depends on never meaningfully moving toward that goal. That’s alright in short form, but any long term stuff loses my interest.

Campaign 3 feels similarly to me. I tune in every Thursday to watch, but the characters’ arcs just haven’t hooked me. They could TPK tomorrow and I wouldn’t feel a thing—except maybe Braius because he’s a lying liar who lies, and those are fun. I don’t dislike any of them; I just don’t concern myself with how their stories will end because they don’t have any interesting goals in mind.

I like characters with ambition, ruthlessness, and/or competitiveness. Of course, that means I often adore villains, and I’ve embraced that. Characters don’t need to cave to the negative impacts of those traits for me to enjoy them. Unfortunately, the Hells don’t really have strong facets of those. They can get into the right mood, but generally, that isn’t their vibe. Braius is the only one that comes close, but he’s still so new that I don’t know if there’s even enough time for me to get invested.

Caleb’s arc was wonderful. Insane, obsessive ambition to change reality that eventually was pushed aside by love for his friends and the life he built with them. The potential of their future mattered more than correcting his past. That dedication wasn’t thrown away; just redirected. Percy had a similar arc in C1.

I liked Beau and Fjord for the same reasons: directionless and abandoned in the beginning, then deciding upon a purpose and persistently moving toward it. They stumbled, suffered loss, but eventually came into their own. Fjord was more ruthless than the rest when he made decisions, and Beau had a wonderful competitive streak.

I like characters with goals, dreams, or plans. Better if they’re insane. Wonderful if they fail. Fantastic if they succeed. Make it a spectacle. Make it hurt. Add fanfare and pizazz.

But there has to be some kind of end point for that character in mind. Not dying and preventing the apocalypse are good motivations, but they don’t compel me as an audience member to pay attention to a character arc. That’s a plot hook, not a reason to give a shit about who the story has focused on. Like, Vox Machina’s and the Mighty Nein’s character arcs are done, and I still would have enjoyed following them through the C3 plot more than Bell’s Hells. At least those teams have a vision for their own futures beyond their immediate needs. The Hells are just (un)happy to be here.

It’s like the Matron’s speech in the last episode: if you don’t want to do this, leave. I’m too far along in my own life experience to care about characters who are paralyzed by the fear of consequences. Make a choice or make way for someone who will. Even better, get crushed by someone with a spine. Villains fill that role so well, and I adore when I get to see that play out.

Unfortunately, the Hells are just the X-men: they don’t have a purpose other than dealing with a shitty situation. They don’t achieve goals; the most they accomplish is interfering with others’ goals. Maybe they could have come up with personal goals more easily in a different plot arrangement, but it wasn’t impossible to achieve here. They just didn’t do it.

#my asks #bell’s hells #that was a bit of a rant #but I haven’t come up with how to concisely explain my apathy towards these characters #Exandria worldbuilding is fascinating and I love learning more in every episode #and it if wasn’t for that #I’d have probably stopped watching

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yuyuonabeat · 1 year ago

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Heart Without a Brain Pt.1

🧠❤️💌

Pairing: College!Student!Yunho! x College!Student!Afab!Reader

Synopsis: Its been a couple days and you’ve been trying not to have inappropriate thoughts about your friend Yunho. Only thing is he makes it a little harder to deal with since he’s always near you. One day you decide to write a letter to your brain(it’s metaphor) explaining your behavior.

A/N: This fic started in Spanish but I’m changing it since half of the people here speak English and I don’t want people to miss out on this. Hope you like it and please do let me know if you want a third part since the second part to this is already written I just have to upload it.

<Afab: assigned female at birth >

Thursday May 24th thoughts

Hi there. I hope I’m not bothering you with my loud thinking. You know, I depend a lot on my thinking. On how it helps my life. On how it defines me. On how it controls me.

Sometimes I feel like I may be crazy. Oh I don’t know, let’s see. How sometimes I put myself in someone else’s shoes and wonder what they would think of me. Of my life, of the way I act and of the crazy things I sometimes may do.

Anyhow. I won’t keep you for long because I know you may be falling asleep already, or at least getting tired of thinking.

Today was a bit rough. Don’t you think, dear Brain? I overthink it a lot and I can’t stop using you. I don’t let you think for me and act for me. I’m the one that has to use you like a steering wheel and give you twirls because if not, neither of us work correctly. And if I can be honest with you, I don’t think we make a good team.

For one part, I want to think about the good and the right. The sane and what’s real. But for the most part, you my dear Brain. You want me to think of the impure and the sick. The impossible and the bad. Look, I know that I said I wasn’t going to keep you for long but I actually want to talk to you about something, or well. Rather someone.

Do you remember Yunho? If you do then, know I think of him everyday. To be honest I can’t shake away the way he looks at me, the way he talks to me. Or the way he talks about me to his friends. The way he smiles so brightly, how he laughs with me, how he’s so handsome and intelligent. So so generous. A literal angel.

I sometimes think I’m crazy for that. He’s just so nice and kind to me and I think there’s times in which he acts a bit too nicely. Like when he pays for my lunch for a whole week because I have no money. Or how he picks me up before and after school every day. Or how he lets me stay at his house a lot of the times when my parents fight at home. Or maybe just the way he always makes sure I’m dressed nicely. Tucking my hair behind my ears, lending me his jacket when it’s a bit cold, tying my shoe laces so I don’t trip over and het hurt. When he fixes my jeans so they are neat. That one time I didn’t expect my period to come and had stained my pants, he came to me and wrapped his hoodie around my waist so it could cover the stain. Smiling at me while reassuring me everything was going to be ok. How he after school was done, bought ice cream and chocolates and just cuddled with me in his room.

I’m not sure if I should consider him a friend. He just acts like as if we were dating and he was my loving boyfriend. Or maybe I’m getting a bit delirious and am mistaking his generosity and kindness with him having feelings for me. That could just be his love language. The way he treats his loved ones. That’s the reason I started thinking of him more and more.

Like it or not, he will always occupy a space in my head next to you. Because you’re my Brain, but you’re not my Heart. Now, Do you know why he has a space in my head and not in my Heart? Well that’s because I still can’t put a ring to what I feel for him. Ok I do feel butterflies in my stomach whenever he’s nearby. I sometimes even think I may be going crazy since I’ve started to see things that I’m maybe just imagining.

Him winking at me at random times, that he blows kisses at me. Perhaps that’s just what you want me to see. I’d like for you to tell me the truth. Do I have a crush on him or do YOU have a crush on him? Because be honest, the one that gets goosebumps and feels the hair on their arms tense up whenever he’s around is me, because you don’t even have hair.

Sorry I think that was a bit mean. I try not to offend you but you make it so hard not to. I just want to scream at your face but wait you don’t even have a face. Sorry, sorry I apologize again. Ok enough of joking around. Now tell me Brain. What do I do?

Let’s see if you can tell me since Heart went AWOL on us. Acting like a traitor leaving me to develop feelings when the three of us had agreed on focusing on school and work. Only thing Heart is good at, is beating and pumping blood to keep us alive as a system. But Heart needs to do its job.

I want to know if what I feel is real or if it’s just to fill the void in me. A fantasy or something I don’t know! I just want an answer please! Whatever it is I’ll accept it. If I like him I’ll accept it. If I don’t I’ll accept it. I just need an answer.

Well anyways tomorrow I need to go to the supermarket with Seonghwa and I don’t know if I should tell him what’s wrong with me. He could help me figure out what I feel. Maybe he’ll give me some advice.

Also am a little nervous since we have school after and every time I’m near Yunho I can’t help but stare at him. Dying on the inside while wanting to tell him how I feel. The way I want to kiss his soft lips so badly. But how can I do that when I don’t even know exactly what I feel.

Whatever. This is the end of this letter from me to you. Oh and thank you for listening, I know I can be a lot sometimes….well all the time but thank you. It’s nice knowing that you’re still up there in my head. Sleep well and take care.

With love, Y/N.

#ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez yunho #ateez #ateez au #ateez angst #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez yunho smut #ateez fantasy au #ateez fanfic #ateez roleplay #roleplay

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thebroccolination · 2 years ago

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missing your live reaction thread of Between Us on twt...

Thank you, Anon, sincerely. That really means a lot to me.

So, I erased Twitter off my phone a few days ago. I haven’t opened it on my computer since Thursday, I think? I don’t know when I’ll open it again. I think I need time away from it.

Nothing in particular happened. I’ve just been really unmotivated and discouraged by fic engagement in the last six months or so, and I never used to value that kind of thing, so I wondered if the amount of time I was spending on Twitter could be related. Sure enough, since I stopped opening the app, the urge to “compete” and the obsession with numbers and kudos and comments has been diminishing rapidly. I think I was spending too much time on Twitter and depending on it for serotonin boosts instead of dealing with general life stress in a more constructive way.

I felt really guilty about not continuing my live reaction thread. I’m doing it for myself as well as to connect with the fandom, to have a memory of this first experience, but having just sat on the sofa and watched it on TV without pausing to take screenshots on my computer was really, really nice. I’ve needed to take a step back, and I think Twitter’s fast-paced system has been consuming too much of how I measure my self-worth.

Writing WinTeam fic has been the greatest joy of the past nearly three years, and over the past month, I’ve started and discarded about ten fics because “what if they don’t get the same or higher amount of kudos as the last”. I can’t think like that or the joy of it will die, and I don’t want to think of this as a competition. Twitter’s algorithm-based system just…makes me feel competitive, and that bled over into AO3, too.

I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, and I don’t like making “I’m leaving/taking a break/hiatus” posts. I wasn’t planning on doing it. I just woke up and thought, “Maybe I should see if I feel differently if I don’t open it all day,” and then it continued until today, and I don’t really want to open it at the moment.

I’m honestly a lot happier here for the time being. I like the longer posts, I like talking about WinTeam, and I like not feeling the need to chase likes and retweets. I just want to vibe and have organic ideas come to me for WinTeam fics and to write them and share them without worrying about how many people will leave kudos or comments. I don’t know if Twitter was the culprit for all of that, but I do feel a lot calmer and more like myself right now than I have in a long time.

When I rewatch episode five next, I’ll make a li’l document of my reactions and upload them whenever I open Twitter next.

Once I feel less anxious and, like, scattered? then I’ll probably open it again.

Thank you again, Anon. This was definitely more than you were expecting, I’m sure. It makes me smile that someone missed the thread. :’)

#kiranokira answers

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registeredsinnertm · 2 years ago

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Don't Look Away

Lots of people have told me about this “Hat Man,” often referring to him when I talk about my own hallucinations. “He sounds like The Hat Man,” “Have you heard about The Hat Man,” “Maybe it’s The Hat Man.” It got me interested in figuring out what everyone was saying about this entity. So I did some research only to come to a dead end. Everyone's experience with The Hat Man is the same. He just watches, doesn’t talk or touch the person, no face but sometimes has eyes; he’s just there. It seemed silly to me, that he just watches. Especially when my hallucination actually interacts with me, he attacks in a way. What makes things worse is that I don’t believe in the paranormal. For some reason, not believing in it helps prevent me from experiencing what others have dealt with. It’s a blessing, but also a curse from this experience. He wants me to believe.

The first time I saw him was while I was getting ready for school. I was a freshman in High School and actually had a good year, compared to the previous year in Junior High. A group of old friends decided to torment me at the end of the year, all because I didn’t want to follow along with what the ring leader had to say. I was lonely and desperate, made some imaginary friends along the way to cope; that’s something I regret.

Around this time of the year, the sun rose later and set earlier in the day. Though the dark never bothered me, it gave me an eerie feeling every time I woke up. I had a routine. Wake up, change out of my pajamas, go downstairs for breakfast, and pack my bags. Every time I went downstairs, something felt different. There’s a feeling people get, like someone is watching. I knew everyone was still asleep and none of the neighbors were out yet. Our kitchen only had one window that faced the backyard and the backdoor, nothing people could really look through unless they’re a creep. So when I went to look around to find out why I had this feeling, I’d be faced with nothing.

One Thursday morning, I got up and did my routine. Wake up, change out of my pajamas, go downstairs for breakfast. The feeling followed along like a shadow. As I went to make my food, I had turned to get a plate from the cabinet when out of the corner of my eye I saw something different. Snapping my head in that direction, I laid eyes on him. People sometimes catch glimpses of things out of the corner of their eye only for it to disappear when they look back. This wasn’t the case though. I could see his silhouette so clearly outside the backdoor window, standing behind the tool shed. He had no eyes, but I could feel them train on me.

The fear of him disappearing made me frozen in my spot, staring right back. I was never good at staring contests, but it felt like my life depended on this. No burn in my eyes could make me look away. That was until the noise of plates clattering caused me to jump and look away. I dropped the plate when I jumped, noting it was my dad who just was coming down to get some food as well.

“Are you okay?” He asked cautiously, raising a bushy eyebrow as he made some toast. “It’s as if you saw a ghost.” Laughing at his own comment, I placed a crooked smile on my face and laughed dryly.

“Yeah… I’m fine, just tired, I guess.” Every morning after that, the same scene would play out; it’s as if a DVD for a movie was scratched. Wake up, change out of my pajamas, go downstairs for breakfast, make sure he doesn’t move. He never did for the longest time, but this became part of the routine now and I despised it.

While this kept happening, a few months later I had started going to a club at my High School. We’d stay until 4:30 pm every Wednesday and I had to take the bus home. By the time I got on the bus, the sun had practically set. During my walk home, it was dark. Since he hadn’t moved from his spot until someone came in and distracted me, I was never worried about dealing with him outside of that situation. I’d walk home with headphones in, blasting some random music from my playlist and maybe dancing along. On that Wednesday, I followed the sidewalk home and quickly stopped halfway there. The feeling was there. The feeling that someone was watching me and I could feel it right behind me. Stupidly confident that it was my mind playing tricks, I turned to look over my shoulder to find him standing there; however he looked different. His silhouette wasn’t clear, more glitched-out as he moved towards me. The empty face was now filled with multiple eyes, all staring at me while I hurriedly backed away. “If I look away, he’ll get me,” was the thought that ran through my head. Not looking away felt like the only solution, but it didn’t work this time.

As soon as he reached me, his hand grabbed my shirt as his body grew larger; towering over me as I leaned back to look up into his eyes. My shaky breathing came to a halt as one of the eyes suddenly turned to a mouth, opening wide and hanging over my body. His mouth suddenly consumed me as I let out a horrified scream, finding myself sitting up on the sidewalk and panting crazily. My eyes scanned the area, head swinging around frantically as I got up. There were no more signs of him, but I could feel him staring at me. Grabbing my backpack from the ground, I hurried home without hesitation.

One of the neighbors had heard me scream, only seeing me turn around and fall to the ground. It raised concern, so they headed to our house and told my parents. My dad already had suspicions, catching me staring out the window on our backdoor every morning. So, he questioned me as if I was in an interrogation. At this time, I had no idea what he was or what I was dealing with, only describing it as best as I could with words. Words aren’t my strong suit, so I took out my sketchbook and drew out what I saw. A glitched figure with multiple eyes. This is when I first called him by the name I use to refer to him. No, it’s not The Hat Man. I called him It.

The only good news was that this didn’t happen every time I came home. I’d still see him near the toolshed, just not on my walk home. My parents decided to try and pick me up when they can as well. We all worked as a team to get this fixed. Even though there were still moments I dealt with him on the walk home. Every moment was different. Sometimes he’d just follow me or stare back. I’d prefer those over the majority. Most of the time, he’d attack me. His new multi-eyed figure pushed me down to the ground either to rip out my throat or stab me. It was always a different item too, not just a knife. A glass shard, sharp stick, or even just his hands that morph into something. The one thing that was always the same were his eyes and glitched figure.

I can’t remember if a month had passed or a year. You lose track of time when you’re reliving the same moments over and over again. All that was memorable was seeing a doctor concerning my mental health to try and get medication. The hope was there only to be wiped away again.

“We’ll be starting you on a low dosage of Zoloft and raise it in about a month.” She gave a smile to my mother and I, holding out the information for my prescription. “If there are any complications, call me and we’ll try to set up an appointment. Do not stop the medication unless another doctor states to do so.” Once the medication had arrived at our pharmacy, my mother immediately started giving it to me as the doctor instructed. Who knows how much time passed, it felt like a week when it most likely was another month by the time I’m sitting in her office shaking.

“The medicine has been making them worse, it’s not helping at all.” My mother spoke through gritted teeth as her face twisted in rage. “And you want to increase it?”

“Sometimes increasing medication works. I think we just need to wait a bit longer as well.”

“No! We are taking them off the medicine.” She whipped her head to me and gave a worried frown. “It looks like they saw a ghost. They thought the mail man was going to kill them!” Scoffing out a dry laugh, she leaned back against the coach and crossed her arms. “I had gone to their room to wake them up for school only to find my child curled in the corner of the room in fear.”

“I’m sure it’ll get better if we increase the medication and-” “No, we won’t do that!” As my mother quickly got up, she grabbed my arm protectively so I stood up with her. “In fact, we’re not seeing you again. You only caused more pain, so we’ll find another doctor.” Before the doctor could reply back, I found myself quickly following my mother out the door. Looking over my shoulder, my eyes landed on the nameplate on the doctor’s door and a small smirk found its place on my face. Doctor Goodfriend certainly was not a good friend.

Whatever the medication had done to me stuck for a long time. This time, the hallucinations turned to voices I could hear in the corners of the room. I drowned in terror day after day, paranoia following me around like a lost dog. It also kept glitching after me. His face would be everywhere; I could see him on the bus I took, in the window of my lovely neighbor’s house, and soon enough in the silhouette standing at the bottom of the basement steps. It’s oddly comforting to see him inside the house instead of outside. That was the only area where staring at him kept him in his place. However, it concerned my parents more as time passed.

As a few more months passed, the sun would start rising earlier and setting later. I’d try to spend my days in the sunlight, hoping that It wouldn’t like that and leave me alone. Although it worked more than I anticipated, the rest of my demons didn’t let go as easily.

“Did you hear me?” My brother asked, causing me to snap back into reality. His small hands held out a small video game that was clearly new, making me furrow my eyebrows and tilt my head to the side.

“No, sorry… Could you repeat yourself?” I asked with a soft smile which he gladly returned.

“That’s okay! We got a new game for our DS though! It’s the newest Pokemon.” He chuckled out, turning the cover of the game to him and admiring it.

“Oh, did Mox get it for us?” I asked, leaning against the kitchen counter as I reached for the kitchen knife.

“It’s sharp enough to get stabbed with.” A feminine voice muttered from next to me. Puffing up my cheeks, I tried focusing on my brother’s ramble on his new video game. “The water pokemon you can choose at the beginning is–” “He could easily push you and grab the knife.” Followed a masculine voice. The other still there as well, just not as loud.

“– but I don’t like the new grass pokemon we can–”

“Honestly, I could see him killing you with it. It would be worthless to call for help.” The two took turns to talk about the scenario as my grip on the knife tightened.

“Oh! There’s some new legendary–”

“Screaming would just get the rest of the family to come down and help him finish the job. Would that be a better way for you to die?” Shaking my head, I tossed the knife on the kitchen counter with a clatter and backed away. Their voices kept bouncing around the room around me, making me feel way too dizzy but I didn’t want to grab onto anything. Turning to face my little brother, I froze slightly at him as he reached out. “Are you okay?” He asked worryingly as I backed up. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I just nodded a bit before holding out my hand for him to stop.

“I just… need to be alone for a second…” Jogging upstairs, the loud slam of my bedroom door shook the house as I sat at my desk. There wasn’t anything I could do to stop them from speaking and it was causing so much frustration to bubble up. Leaning against the desk, I grabbed my sketchbook and pencil, quickly sketching out a few things to help. Putting a face with the voices seemed like the best option and the noise of my pencil against the paper brought me back to reality. As soon as the pain in my hand was too much, I pushed away from the desk and looked at the mess I made. A page filled with eyes and two faces I could easily name as Andrew and Lexi; the two imaginary friends I made up when I was too lonely and anxious to talk to people. Releasing a pained breath, my body slumped against the chair I sat at and I rubbed my eye. Grumbling slightly at the sound of our family dog barking outside my room, a sudden wave of smell hit my nose, making everything in the world freeze for a bit. My mom must have been preparing dinner and it smelled delicious. Sitting up, I stared down at the new drawings in my sketchbook before closing it and standing up from my desk. Food would be a good distraction, especially since I could feel the hunger in my stomach. Our dog was still barking outside the room for whatever reason, so I prepared to hush him up as I opened my bedroom door.

So many eyes snapped to my direction and I found myself quickly pinned to the wooden floor underneath me. As I panted heavily, my hand automatically reached to grab the wrist that belonged to the hand around my throat. I looked up at It and tried to push myself deeper into the floor, hoping that I could get away from him. My legs lifted up to kick him, but he quickly yanked me up a bit and pulled me close to his horrendous face. While one of his eyes turned into a mouth, my face dropped in defeat as my other hand grabbed his wrist as well, fighting back to get released. Despite knowing how this’ll end, I still tried to fight back instead of watching me once again get consumed by him. Replaying my inferno, his mouth hung open over me and snapped shut with a harsh chomp and I found myself gasping against the ladder that led up to my bunk bed.

I must have caused some commotion because my mom was crouched in front of me with a startled look. Seeing her there made me push myself away from her and figure out where I was again. I could hear her quiet comments, the best efforts of comfort from her. The only response I could give was shaking my head repeatedly as she tried to reach for me. Our dog came in and scurried past her, sitting next to me so he could lick my face. The three of us sat there for a few minutes, waiting for me to calm down as my brother and dad ate their meal downstairs. When my breathing slowed down and I seemed more stable, she gently grabbed my hand and helped me up.

“Let’s go eat and get a nice rest tonight…” Caressing my hair, I looked up at her with tired eyes and nodded slowly. “We’ll be seeing the new doctor this weekend, I promise.” Leading me down to the dining room table, I sat down and tried my best to focus on the food she had spent making. It was only then when I realized how different my hands looked; there was a small tint of darkness that I could make out, like ink. Rubbing my fingers against the markings I made out, I figured it was from the drawing I had made earlier. Art can be messy at times, especially if you do traditional, but my gut seemed to be saying that that wasn’t the entire story.

After we all finished our meals, it was time to head to bed. Our dog followed me up the stairs, seeming to still show some worry about me. As I reached the top of the stairs, I stared at the door to my bedroom as the encounter with It played again in my head. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and walked in with our dog close behind. He sniffed around my room intently as I changed for bed and made sure my backpack was ready for school the next morning.

Even though our dog doesn’t make a mess, I tend to close the door when I go to bed but decided against it this time. There was a feeling that he knew something I didn’t. Dogs have a sixth sense, as people say and that comforted me. So he found his place in my room as I turned off the lights and climbed up the ladder to my bed. Reaching the top, my breath caught in my throat.

There I was, sitting in my bed. Staring at me with bright eyes and pitch black skin, similar to It and his appearance. The only difference was that I looked normal with two eyes. With the darkness of my skin, I couldn’t tell if there were any other features on my face besides those two. Instead of just staring back, I decided to move forward a bit and sit opposite to my lookalike. There was no way of telling if this thing would do harm to me like It does, so I just stared back. My eyes furrowed as it adjusted to the darkness and I could see a small line of white where the mouth is supposed to be. As I stared more, the line became more apparent against the silhouette. It wasn’t until there was a full on smile on this thing that I also noticed another eye appear, right on the forehead. My mouth opened to say something, but before I could even do that they jumped towards me and made me stumble back.

Shooting up from my bed, I looked over to my window to see it was now day and I had been asleep. I didn’t remember ever laying down and tucking myself in. Looking down, I took note that everything hadn’t been like how I remembered, that I definitely did go to bed. But what caught my attention was the fact that the tips of my fingers were now black. I lifted both of my hands to see it more clearly, only to be reminded of the interaction with It and the lookalike I faced last night. It dawned on me that I finally touched It back yesterday when he tackled me. The blood drained from my face as I thought about the lookalike.

Maybe the paranormal does exist.

#creepypasta #horror #original story #creepypasta story #horror story #scary stories

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vykko · 2 years ago

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So didn’t from my regular posts I’m going to bitch about my old English teacher I had last year

Oh yeah trigger warning she was a ableist bitch also when I’m upset I curse more so this contains some colourful and Australian language then normally also I get angry so my spelling and grammar goes flying out the bloody window. Also also I’m not fucking missgendering myself for the sake of being accurate

I used to think maybe I was too harsh but now I honestly could not give a shit even if my life depended on it as she was a horrible teacher. Also I’m making the closest thing to my real nickname because it is very obvious what my legal name is if you know it do I’m going to coni I place as it’s similar sounding also anytime I say connor it’s in place of my legal name

so first day i meet her in person i tell her im dyslexic and might need some help with stuff, it went down hill from there as if adhd ASD and dyslexia aren’t on my file

how did she treat me, well not like everyone else that’s for fucking sure

Talked in the “hay sweetie/buddy” voice, for people who don’t know it’s the kinda voice used when you talk to a very very young child and fucking pets so it’s not very nice eg Miss Paulings line to pyro gives me flashbacks(joke I’m not serious)

I draw in class do I concentrate I told her that, she didn’t hear I guess as she always went “coni you can draw afterwards” or “coni could you look up at the board”

even if I finished the work I’d still get the same replies as the top one. Once I did all the work in the group project thingy and I got “coni you need to talk with (name of friend) so you can do the project then you can draw” becuase I guess I can’t possibly do work and finish it quickly it fucking quickly

unit on how stereotypes are bad and dehumanising when she was infantilising me so yeah she was also a hypocrite bitch

i had to be out of school for two weeks first week is kinda personal and the other was wisdom teeth removal. She emailed MY FUCKING MOTHER and not me that she’d send me the work

she sent it halfway through Thursday after I got back home from a blood test, IT WAS THE DAY BEFORE I WAS GETTING SURGERY ALSO IT WASNT EVEN THE RIGHT FUCKING WORK

i get back I ask how to catch up as she emailed me she would, she didn’t. She said not to worry about it and didn’t actually help me at fucking all with work where I needed to of done the work pipe and read the bloody book to s point

SO I HAD TO FUCKING FIGURE SOME SHIT OUT TO HELP MY FUCKING SELF AS SBE COULDNT DO HER BLOODY JOB AS A DAMN TEACHER

she then proceeded to slowly go from never choosing me to answer questions with my hand down to fucking telling me “you can tell me later coni” “not now coni” and like the bloody bitch she is she never call on me again

My friends can fucking see the shit she is doing because is so bloody blanet you’d have to buried half way to hell head first not to tell

i somehow managed to bet a a decent grade on my essay exam and here’s some crap I was going through at the fucking time : psychosis from hiding amount of stress, only getting 2.5-4houes of sleep for a month and returning to school when I hadn’t even fully recovered because the doctor note had bloody fucking stupidly only let me stay home for a week even when I wasn’t getting better for several days. I SOMEHOW MANAGED TO GET A C- and then she comes up to my fucking desk to tell me how I could of bloody done better

LIKE IM SO SORRY I DID NOT THAT BLOODY WELL AS YOU COULD NOT DO YA DAMN FUCKING JOB. She also didn’t do this for anyone else

she introduced me to the new English teacher because thank the fucking heavens she had to schedule change and the audacity this fucking bitch

she, 20cm tops away from my desk and indrodues me too the new teacher, I wasn’t in the damn convo she was talking about me in front of me. Effectively doing it like

“That’s coni he is disabled, you need to be a condersending wanker as I think it works best oh yeah he isn’t like the other students so I obviously need you to treat him like dumb toddler who can’t understand anything” (if you couldn’t fucking tell I’m trying to make a joke it’s a joke)

also 2 last things

I never introduced myself as ‘coni ‘ to her or said she could call me that I said my name is Connor

also she didn’t like how I did stuff, even tho I didn’t do it wrong I just did it differently then she wanted so she made me do work in a way that doesn’t actually work for me and 2 apparently doing something that was effectiving no one is so bloody horrible

also new English teacher was fucking amazing and actually did their bloody job

ive claimed down again I think I need to add I never once got angry at her in person. I honestly had some fun in the class be of my friends not because of her

#Large angry vent #tw ableism

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1d1195 · 9 months ago

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It’s nice to be noticed and missed! That so sweet of you. Always make me feel welcomed like a long lost relative when I pop in. ❤️

I absolutely understand about the engagement between readers and the stories, I think as a reading community we could stand to show you guys the writers more love, praise and engagement because these amazing stories and worlds you guys conjure are really great. And help as entertainment as well as just something nice to look forward to once or twice a week. But for you Sam, I think you’ve got to take yourself out of the equation here. If I’m understanding you correctly it seems that you’re attaching the engagement a post or story will have with you worth and that’s just not it babes. If one of your stories “fails” (and I use that term very very lightly) it’s honestly just timing. You’ve got a Taylor Swift wide catalog of stories both new and old masterlists and your writing, character and world building has only gotten better as each new piece comes out. You do every thing right, every single time. If it’s not working out it’s just the timing. I’d be willing to put money on it. You yourself are amazing. Your blog is such a safe place for people. And yeah maybe it’s the stories that brought them here in the first place but we—at least me—stay cuz you’re awesome, kind and generous. No matter what’s going on in life, I know that I can count on at least one story either on Monday or Thursday depending and having that to look forward to is such a small and kind gift that you give to people like me.

Who you are and what you’ve got to give is absolutely good enough.

I hope all of that made sense I just wrote and wrote. As for myself I’m doing okay. Told my dad he can’t come to my wedding and he sent me a goodbye and good riddance letter. I think he thought it was going to make me feel guilty or something but I’m so immune to his games now it’s hilarious. But other than that. I’m hanging in there. Trying to take care of myself and be happy, whatever that looks like. And doing some of my own writing (little short love stories) but I’m pretty rusty so it’s not quite what I want but I’m liking rebuilding that muscle.

I hope something I said in all that is helpful. If you take anything away: you’re perfect as it, everything else is just noise. -🐱

You're so logical, I wish I could. You would think as a math person I would be MORE logical but I just get all wrapped up in being emotional I get all flustered.

Everything you said made perfect sense. I'm extremely grateful to you and how kind you are. I am definitely not too kind to myself almost ever so I get very emotional when people are kind to me. Also, I'm a pretty big push over in the real world so people just expect me to be kind and do things for them so it's really overwhelming that you just pointed out like REALLY nice things about me and are making me feel valuable even if I don't see it myself. I'm glad I created a safe place here, that's what I really want more than anything 💕

That's extremely sad about your dad but I'm so proud of you for doing that. Your wedding is about you and you deserve it to be all you want and more. I'm so happy for you 💕

ALSO ALSO YAYAYAYAYAYAYAY I wanted to ask about your engagement/wedding plans but I didn't know if that was still a plan and I think I would have jumped into traffic if I asked and you weren't getting married still.

If you feel comfortable, I would love to hear more details about your wedding! Color, theme, location (nothing specific--beach, barn, backyard, church, etc). I love to hear wedding plans! If my bf ever proposes we will NOT be having a wedding (we are poor-poor) so I love to live vicariously through others and their plans 😍 ALSO I'm so excited to hear you're writing! Writing short little love stories was how I got my start here too so I'm sure it won't be long till you're writing Harry stuff with the rest of us 😉

Thank you for your sweet message. I adore you 💕

xoxo

#🐱

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alex-guerin · 1 year ago

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So. Two weeks ago on a Thursday, my car overheated on my way into work. Annoying, inconvenient, but an easy fix my brother and I were able to take care of on that Saturday. Drove into work on Sunday, no issues. Drove into work Monday, no issues. Driving home from work Monday night, issues. Big issues.

Took my car into the little shop in town, guys were able to determine the valve gasket was leaking oil into the sparkplugs, fried my spark plugs and coil pack, AND a PVC vacuum tube had cracked and that was what was causing my car to shudder. They fixed it up for me, $500 later, I picked it up on Saturday.

Drove it to work yesterday, no issues. Drove it home yesterday, no issues. Started for work today, issues. Big BIG issues. The kind of issues that resulted in me using sick time at work cuz I was sitting on the side of the road for an hour, on the phone with fucking roadside assistance for that whole hour, while some guy who claimed his name was Daniel (...yeeeeah, there's no way it was Daniel) attempted to find me a tow truck that would come out to get me and take me back to my mechanic. Who thankfully was able to get my car into the shop right away, but fears it might be something transmission related...and the fact I haven't heard back from him today makes me worried...

My damn car still has 2.5 years before it's paid off. My dad used me as a co-signer so HE could get a new car that he can't afford and keeps missing payments on so now MY credit score is tanked and fucked, so getting a new vehicle is essentially out of the question.

If it turns out it's my transmission, I honestly don't know what I'll do. I know it's gonna cost well over $1,000 to get those things fixed/replaced and I have a whopping $1200 to my name right now. I literally can't afford to replace my transmission.

Maybe, depending on how much it'll cost, the shop will let me do some kind of payment plan thing? Like, pay them half up front and then X-amount each month (hell, week if I could swing it!).

I just...I don't know what to do. I am out of money and out of ideas. At least I do still have ways to get to work...most of the time... =/

#fuck life #life isn't even giving me lemons right now #and the ones it is giving are rotten and gross

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wanderinglotus7 · 1 year ago

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Postcards from VA

There's nothing like being able to go home and get a nice recharge from my typical day to day of my new life. It's kind of weird saying "my new life". I'm still figuring out if Boston feels like home; or even if I can call Boston home. Every place that you live at has its pros & cons, you just hope that wherever you reside that there's more pros than there are cons. Some things I do appreciate about living in Boston (Newton) is that most places are walkable, public transportation is easy to access, I can always find something to do, my church community at NewCity, the history, and the diversity. Some of the cons are the lack of parking, the high cost of living, the busyness of the city, difficulties of establishing new friendships along with dating, and the overt/covert racism (and other isms). There's no such thing as a perfect place unless it's in my dreams.

Thinking logistically, If I cannot longer financially support myself in MA, I began looking into other living situations. Like relocating to Rhode Island or North Carolina. North Carolina would be my first choice because it reminds me of Virginia without returning to Virginia. If I want to visit home or attend family functions, I won't be that far away from everyone. Maybe no more than a 4-to-5-hour drive at the most compared to a 9-hour drive. Like Massachusetts there are plenty of job opportunities it just depends on what I am interested in pursuing. The job opportunities in Rhode Island seem a little small however, I can still work in the same line of work I'm currently doing. Yet, the work would be more related to domestic violence and sexual violence. Not much related to trafficking. If I were to relocate to any state in the US, I can always get a job as a school social worker. I'm not permanently attached to any one job or place. I think this is becoming my catch phrase, but I'm riding the wave. I'm remaining in my stillness.

We received word on Thursday that Adelante was rewarded the OVC grant. This means that the trafficking program has funding for the next three years. This also means I have a job for three years. If I want to continue my work in the anti-trafficking field but want to change the population I'm working with, I would work with youth in a counseling or mentorship framework; no case management if I can avoid it. Or I could go another route and teach a psychology or social work course or two at a university or provide mental health services to young adults (college students). Time will tell. I know for sure that I don't want to work more jobs than necessary. My work ethic isn't based on money. My work ethic is based on my passion and interest in the work that I am doing. Either way, let's see in 2 or 3 years where I am at in my life. I may be single now, but I might find myself in a relationship next year or my financial situation may change.

Roots. Home. Gloucester will always be home. So much has changed, but so much has remain the same. I was happy to see that my dogwood tree came back to life because the last time I laid eyes on it it was on the brink of death. Spending time with Snoopy, family, and friends was comforting, but also disheartening. Some people just don't change (smh). The answer to that is it to love those from a distance if they are worth my energy in maintaining those relationships especially when it comes to family. And sometimes it's best to let those relationships dissolve for my own growth and emotional well-being. I still get emotional when I think and speak about my Grandma Shirley and my granddaddy. It hurts seeing their homes empty. It's like all the life around there has been sucked away. I did take the opportunity to visit their grave sites, but it didn't make things easier. I do know that I can still feel their presence, but they make themselves known in different ways. I wonder when the pain will settle. I wonder when the pain will become less to bare.

#homesick #grief #changes

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trashlie · 2 years ago

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Ooooohhh whenever I get a notification from you, I get SO excited because I know I’m in for a READING FEAST and once again you do not disappoint! Under a cut to spare your friends lmao (I think mine have just accepted that I won’t shut up; I like to hope SOMEONE follows along in the “I don’t go here but I can’t help taking a look” way lmao)

GOOD POINTS I have not thought about! I always get caught up thinking about Kousuke resenting Rand because I worry that this night will cause a regression that I never have considered what happens if (when I hope) Kousuke realizes not only was he a pawn, but he was a pawn against the man he strived to be.

I do worry it can go a couple ways. The obvious is that he will come away from it like Nol, jaded and disillusioned, which would obviously be in Yui’s favor. She’s driven that wedge between them this entire life, both so that he would continue to work towards their (her) goal AND so that he would stay on her side. That’s the whole thing about making him dependent on her in all ways. Someone else I was talking to also made a good point I think a lot of other readers don’t consider, that Yui could very easily and effectively cut Kousuke off from everything. Even if he came to see through her, in a way she still has him tethered to her because it would be so easy to strip him of his fortune, his security, his roles, even his image. I can’t fault someone who is self-serving in that manner - I, too, would fear losing everything.

BUT that said! I think that’s where the planting of the seed becomes important. It’s not enough, I think, to know that Yui intends to get rid of Rand, especially in case Kousuke comes away with that disillusionment. HOWEVER I think the most important thing is that he learns that Yui has been sabotaging their relationship. Knowing that, perhaps, Rand has made more effort than he ever thought, that Rand WAS looking out for him in the best way he could considering who he was dealing with, and that Yui played interference would at least get him to question her motives AND maybe come to a realization that Rand’s words alone can’t - that he was good enough just as he was.

I think Nol is impossible for him to reach - and clearly Rand seems to think the same - so yes, I really hope something good can come of him meeting Kousuke. I worry how it will go, since we know Yui has arrived - would she leave the scene at any point? I feel like she must be expecting Rand to arrive at some point? I can’t see her leaving Rand the opportunity to show up and have an honest moment, but we’ll have to see what Thursday has in store for us. I AM at least rooting for Rand. You are right that he needs to get through to someone, and as Rand noted, I think Kousuke right now needs it the most.

Also GOD right, I think that’s one of the WORST parts of that whole pool fiasco! That she was willing to take the risk of Kousuke getting injured, just to further traumatize Nol. She couldn’t help herself, it felt like. It simultaneously makes my skin crawl and makes me seethe with anger. You said earlier that she makes such a FANTASTIC antagonist and it’s exactly that stuff! It’s the way she put Shinae’s life in danger as well as theirs, and then puts on that act of pretending to care, just to reallyyyyyyyy rub that salt into Nol’s wound. It’s the way she took advantage of this girl and trapped her into a contract under false premises knowingly taking advantage of her desperation and has no remorse. It’s that she was willing to risk injury to Kousuke if she could say that it was, yet again, Nol’s fault.

Like, I hate the “that’s her husband’s illegitimate child you can’t expect her to love him” arguments whenever I see them, but especially so because it doesn’t matter! She is a grown woman using people - including her own son - as pawns, she has antagonized and traumatized someone’s child for her own satisfaction.

Off topic but it makes me wonder who, exactly, Nol was hiding himself from. At every turn, he’s downplayed himself, tried not to stand out. Let’s his father think he doesn’t share Kousuke’s intelligence, his own friends think he’s bad at math even though he can do the work without showing his work! On the one hand, it would have gotten Rand off his neck (maybe) had he been able to show that he is not as dumb or unintelligent as they think. But what Rand knows, Yui would know.

Does Nol know that she sees him as a threat, or is it just that he knows she hates him and has made his life hell. Is it more that Kousuke treated him as a threat, so he tries to downplay himself to look as innocent as possible, to prove that he doesn’t have any ulterior motives? And that’s also.... DOES he? It’s hard to tell with him - on the one hand he feels like he should stop fighting, that nothing good ever comes, just go with it. When we see him at the Christmas party, it feels like it’s the first time he’s started to really fight back and stand his ground, given how Yui responds. Was his dream to go to Oxford just to impress Rand AND get away? Because I think a lot about that scene when Nol asked Kousuke what he’d do if somebody else got the role he wanted. Was that just him goading Kousuke for his lack of other plans, for his certainty that no one can contest him? The whole point of that scene was “nobody is after you” and who is Nol but nobody, the underestimated underdog of the champion.

Has he hidden all of this about himself so that he could spring an attack? Just to defend and protect himself?

Up until then, Nol seemed like he was still trying to... I wouldn’t say make peace but at least get along? Bide his time until he could get the hell out of there and never look back. Maybe it was just that he hid himself so that escape would be easier (if Yui had no idea what he was planning, then it wouldn’t be as easy for her to jeopardize him). But also, the idea of whether or not he was planning his own ambush begs the question: why did he even reveal to Kousuke that he was going to interview with Oxford? A foolish hope at a connection? Did he really not expect Kousuke to go to Yui?

Idk, this is all tangential LMAO

At any rate, yes, I agree that it’s really important that Rand at least gets that seed planted, so that even if it doesn’t have any bearing on Kousuke at the current, it will start awakening something in him, make him start questioning things. I think that’s what we’re going to start seeing? (Or maybe I am, as ever, hopeful.) There’s just something about getting to see Yui’s tactics play out after the admission Kousuke made that makes me think the seeds are being sown. Even if Yui’s “calming tea” blurs his memories of what happened, I hope that enough of those fragments will come through to him that it can trigger again in the future. And if Rand gets his seed of doubt planted, as well, enough that Kousuke will start to see things in a new light, even if that’s not what he wants?

IDK idk let’s free Kousuke!

Replying to @trashlie and @hotdamncomics for their reblogs on this post under a cut so I can spare my friends the walls of text of a comic they're not reading lol.

Trashlie, friend, reblogger of theories and fellow Thursday night feels partner absorbing all the details... you bring up such great points.

But on the other, Yui has spent Kousuke’s entire life gaslighting and manipulating him; it’s only natural that it would be difficult for him to reconcile these two versions of her, and sometimes he’s unable to in the end.

Every time Yui makes a move she says she does it with either his or their family's best interest in mind. Over and over. Kousuke has seen himself benefit time and time again from her unorthodox methods. And we know that he's not against life being unfair in his favor.

He has never had reasons to doubt that was her only motive, but he isn't a child anymore. He has seen and experienced things she has done that are worse than merely giving him an unfair advantage.

I'm actually curious about how Kousuke would respond if he realized his mother is trying to ruin and remove Rand from the picture.

This is why I so desperately want Rand to connect to Kousuke that evening. Even if Kousuke doesn't immediately believe him and thinks any mushy words mean Rand is disappointed in him (as he thought earlier that night when Hansuke took the call sneakily) the seed will have been planted.

Kousuke might see that he is been a pawn in a power struggle he's never signed up for. He didn't want to reach the top to ruin his father, but to meet him. He didn't want to reach the top to be to busy to spend time with his father, but rather if his father's burden were less, then maybe they would have time to spend together.

Yui's played a game that can backfire on her.

Because if Kousuke doesn't end up resenting Rand for his neglect, for having another family, then she can actually lose her pawn to him.

Especially if Kousuke uncovers that his mother sabotaged whatever closeness they could have had.

I really need Rand to be able to reach to at least one of his sons before the time skip. Even if it's just to plant a seed.

If Yui wanted to ensure that Nol never stood a chance against Kousuke, then damaging not only the way others see him but also the way he sees himself was a sure fire way to do it, wasn’t it?

Indeed, psychological manipulation in the hands of professionals with the intent to harm instead of helping is very dangerous.

And it makes me think back on the formal.

We know that Yui could not have predicted Nol's involvement or how things played out with him entirely, but she took the chance when it presented itself.

She knows damn well that Nol doesn't like her touching him, so she crept up on him deliberately to cause the rest of the events to unfold. She's so threatened by his existence that she'd risk her precious heir in order to cause another situation—a very public one—for Nol being unstable and malicious toward Kousuke, the heir.

After all, her son could have sustained far more serious injuries, but she didn't care. Yui was willing to risk it if it meant ensuring Nol had another mark against him.

She could always blame any lingering health issues after that accident on Nol purposefully hurting Kousuke.

Of course, the one who got hurt was Shin Ae, which she could still use against him to at least trigger him to go back to whatever state kept him down and defeated before.

Either way, she took a huge risk, which means she is actually very concerned about Nol's existence.

He is the one who truly gets under her skin, as we've seen.

[That lip quiver at the Christmas party was so satisfying...]

/ / / / /

Okay, so hotdamncomics, yes! I remember you from the kdrama life. Glad to see you have similar taste in comics. You bring up interesting points! I think the formal arc really helped us see the personalities, as well as "core" values (at that time) of the major characters.

Kousuke who didn't help Shin-ae when he tripped her at the formal is his real self, someone concerned foremost by how people see and perceive him than someone else's comfort or safety. He's not a nice and proper gentleman at core. That's a mask, one he put on when he invited Shin-ae to dance to prove a point that he was a gentleman. Even here he's failed to act in her interest regardless if he was genuine. He took priority. Let me fix my previous blunder by offering that poor girl a dance and not so much about proving he wasn't embarrassed of her.

He knew someone like her wouldn't know how to dance but he put her on the spotlight because repairing his image was more important than proving he wasn't ashamed of her. He could have chosen to play the piano with her by his side. It would still draw attention, still show her he's not ashamed of admitting he knows her, but would have placed her comfort ahead of his image.

This is actually a fantastic observation and you proposed a great alternative to inviting her to dance that would have conveyed the sentiment that he knows her and doesn't mind being seen with her without further embarrassing her by offering to partake in an activity he should have assumed she wasn't accustomed or knew how to do.

But, we see this again when Shin Ae's falls. Yes, he is the one closest to grab her when she falls over the railing, but once they hit the pool, he's first concerned with getting himself out and then remembers she's fallen too which is entirely different from Nol's eventual choice.

Nol comes up to air with Shin Ae.

And after the Christmas party arc we were aware that he was dealing with suicidal thoughts in that moment—he wanted to remain there, essentially drown, but seeing her pushed him to go back to his hell.

He didn't deserve the "peace of death."

It's not that I think there is something wrong with people who will prioritize themselves, but it does serve as a contrast between just how different Nol and Kousuke operate.

There have been so many hints that prove Kousuke isn't in fact that kind gentleman—that is part of the persona, of the expectation of a well-rounded heir and the type of man his father would admire.

Kousuke often slips out of that mask, particularly when stressed, to show who he is. A man who says more than he should under the veil of honesty, often hurting or insulting those around him.

"I don't mean to offend," is always said by those who will offend.

Yujing's actions feel too personal and led by revenge to be something shallow. Someone important must have urged her to try for a story that can ruin her career if she doesn't execute it perfectly and with no room for a counter defamation lawsuit.

I think this is actually quite right. We don't know what kind of "terrible situation" Rand helped her out of—but he had a hand in getting her to where she is. Someone who has tasted defeat or loss is protective of security and more prone to self-preservation.

She does have a strong ethic and she mentions she wants to restore faith in journalism by exposing the truth no matter how ugly. It'll be interesting to see what prompted her to take this risk to bring a very powerful woman like Yui down. Perhaps Yujing isn't meant to hit the knock out, but weaken her enough where the others on the board (if we go back to the chess theory) can act.

#I Love Yoo #ILY Brainrot #Kousuke Hirahara #Yui Hirahara #Randulph Skuli Hirahara #poisonheart #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years ago

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“We Go Way Back”

Relationship: Yelena Belova x Reader Warnings: angst, attitude, possible vague Black Widow spoilers Summary: Your and Yelena's date night takes an unexpected turn when a surprise guest shows up at your shared apartment. A/N: So. I saw Black Widow on thursday....i loved SO much.......maybe even found a new comfort character..........and now here we are :) please enjoy

Masterlist

You were just finishing up dinner when two arms snaked around your waist. You giggled, staring down at the sautéed vegetables, as you leaned into your girlfriend’s touch.

"Smells good," she mumbled against your neck. Light kisses were beginning to litter your skin.

You sighed. "Thank you, love," you said, giving everything a final stir before turning off the burners. You went to start carrying items to the table, thinking your girlfriend would let up on her hold on you, but that ended up not being the case.

With a joyous laugh, you playfully scolded her, "Yelena, please," you smiled. "Do you want to eat or not?"

She hummed. Her hands drifted now to your sides and began creeping their way to your hips and thighs. "Depends on what you had in mind."

You let out a faux surprised gasp. "You’re shameless." You shook your head and peeled her hands away from you. She let out a little defeated sigh but you just shot her a playful look and continued with your initial mission of setting the dining table.

Thankfully, this time, Yelena lent a helping hand as opposed to lending her hands…elsewhere. The latter was a common occurrence, especially before date night dinners, such as ones like these. There had been one too many meals you were forced to reheat everything after you let Yelena get carried away.

After the food was placed — a nice spread of local meats, fresh produce, and bakery bread — you began working on getting plates and cutlery. Yelena had taken it upon herself to start breaking out the wine. She brought out two bottles you had just bought that morning based on the recommendation from the butcher. You maybe took cooking and dinners a bit too seriously, hoping everything was right especially when it was for your love.

You set out the cutlery just as Yelena finished pouring two (hefty) glasses of wine. You shot her a smile in thanks and began filling each of your plates. You did have to pat yourself on the back a bit, everything smelled wonderful.

Once you two had full plates and eager stomachs, you sat down and dug in. Yelena immediately let out an exaggerated moan as she practically devoured the meat. You blushed at her enthusiasm.

"This is wonderful, dear," Yelena praised and took a sip of her wine. "Very reminiscent of my momma’s cooking."

Your ears perked up at your girlfriend’s mention of her family. She did that every now and then, slip in random comments about them. You liked trying to explore it but knew the topic was a delicate one. You trod carefully.

"Yeah?" You asked, moving some vegetables around on your plate. "Did she cook a lot?"

Yelena shrugged. "We’d have dinners together, all of us, pretty much every night."

All of us. You had heard so far of a mother and a father but could there be more? Or were you reading too much into it?

Eventually, you settled on, "Family dinners sound very nice." That was enough, you thought. Just safe but still engaged. You eyed Yelena as she continued to eat. She hadn’t noticed you stalled or, well, she probably did, but wasn’t saying anything. You took large gulps of your wine, impulsively.

Just as your liquid courage was getting to you to maybe inquire further about your lover’s family, a hard knock at the front door disrupted the entire dinner. Both of your movements stopped abruptly. You looked between the door and your girlfriend.

"Were you expecting someone?" You asked.

Yelena shook her head. Her fork dropped with a loud clang as she pushed away from the table. In quick, determined strides she collected the gun kept in the side table in the living room. You watched her, quite stunned by her response. You don’t think you ever actually saw any of her guns come into action. When you first moved in, she just explained they were a precaution. You never asked what kind of precaution. You feared you were getting your answer now as Yelena walked to the entryway.

Gun drawn, pointed dead on with the wooden door, she called out, "Who is it?"

"You can put the gun down." Surprisingly, that was a female voice answering your girlfriend’s demand. Your brows furrowed in curiosity. You watched for Yelena’s reaction but she was still so stoic and intense.

Yelena scoffed. "Are you sure?"

Probably a bit foolishly, you decided to chime in. "Love," you said, "is everything okay?"

The female on the other side of the door spoke again, this time with an element of shock in her voice. "Love?"

Yelena let out a dramatic sigh as she relaxed her stance and surrendered her gun, placing it on the little table in the foyer. What seemed to be a bit reluctantly, Yelena opened the door forcefully.

Despite the mystery woman finally being revealed, it answered approximately zero of your questions. There, in the doorway, stood a redhead whose unamusing expression mixed with a slight smugness matched your girlfriend’s. The two just stared at one another, neither dared to move, as if they were challenging one another to try it.

Curiosity finally getting the best of you, you stood from the dining table and slowly made your way to the front door. Your fingers fumbled in nervousness as you stepped with caution.

"Hi, there," you said with a weak smile and gentle wave. The redhead’s eyes flicked over to you only briefly. Still, you continued, "Are you alright? Do you need something?"

"Oh, do I."

Yelena shook her head. "The only thing she needs is to leave."

You turned to your girlfriend, "Who is she?"

"Natasha," the redhead explained. "Me and your love here," she nodded towards Yelena, "we go way back."

You didn’t know how she had the air in her but Yelena let out another ridiculous sigh and stomped away. Like some defeated child, she took her seat once more at the dining table. You had never seen her like this before, so unattached and dismissive. You wracked your brain on how to mend this.

You turned back to Natasha. "Please, come in." Natasha took the offer quite well and gave you a nod of thanks before entering the apartment. You followed her into the dining room.

"We were just starting dinner," you explained as you raced for the kitchen, grabbing Natasha her own set. "Sit, have some food."

Natasha mumbled a "thanks" as you began filling her plate now with food. You even offered up some wine despite Yelena’s weird look she shot you when you reached for it. You ignored her odd behavior and took your seat once more. Somehow, the tension from the situation just got worse. Neither woman was eating now.

You cleared your throat as you prepared to dig into your meal once more. "I hope it’s still warm. If not, I can pop everything in the oven to warm."

No one said anything.

"Alright then…" You shrugged. "If I may, how exactly do you two know each other?"

That was the question that opened the flood gates. Yelena turned to you abruptly. "She’s my sister."

"Sort of," the redhead quickly retorted.

Your jaw went slack. Your appetite completely abandoned you now as your interest was greatly piqued. "Your sister?" You asked and looked between the two women. Well, they didn’t really look alike…

"Not biologically," Yelena explained. "We just kind of…lived together for a while."

"I see," you nodded. You scraped your fork against your plate, awkwardly. "If I may again, what brings you here, Natasha?"

The question certainly made Yelena perk up as she stared down her sister — or, whatever they considered each other. You resisted the urge to grab her hand under the table, unsure of what level of affection she was comfortable showing in front of this woman.

"Some business to attend to." Short and sweet. You felt these two were definitely related on some level.

"This couldn’t have waited until the morning?" Yelena gritted.

Natasha shrugged. "I guess it could’ve but then, apparently, I would’ve missed out on this lovely dinner with you and your… your, what? Girlfriend?" She took a bite of food. "Hmm, tastes close to someone else’s cooking." A shrug. "Anyways, I didn’t know you dated."

"You don’t know a lot of things."

"Okay!" You explained, trying to salvage whatever was left of this civilized conversation. Natasha and Yelena shared a look before turning to your flustered state. "We’re very happy you dropped in, right, love?" You glanced at Yelena. "And you’re more than welcome to stay, Natasha. I’m afraid all we have to offer is the couch if that would be okay."

Natasha glanced behind you at the living room before nodding. "That would be great," she smiled.

***

It wasn’t until you were standing at the kitchen sink cleaning the dishes from dinner that Yelena approached you to talk. Natasha was off getting ready for bed and your girlfriend hopped on this opportunity.

"I’m so sorry," she said as she stood beside you, taking on the role of the dryer in your little dishwasher assembly line. "I-I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry she dropped by, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her—,"

"Love," you shook your head, giving her a sympathetic look, "it’s okay. I’m not really mad you didn’t tell me or that she’s here. From what I gather, it’s a complicated relationship."

Yelena let out an annoyed huff. "You have no idea." A beat. "But, still. I shouldn’t hide these things from you. She was a big part of my life and now you… you’re a big part of my life. It’s only fair."

Your heart warmed at her admission. She could be quite the affectionate one when she wanted to be. Quickly, you leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She tried hiding her blush but failed beautifully.

"For what it’s worth, she seems very interesting," you shrugged. "I think she could be fun to get to know. Probably has a few embarrassing stories about you as a child."

Yelena gasped. "Don’t even think about it."

"Too late," you giggled, mentally marking that down as a subject for conversation. A brief silence passed over you two as you finished up with the dishes. Reaching the end of the chore, you said, "So, should I be on the lookout for any other siblings?"

Your girlfriend chuckled. "No," she admitted. "Natasha is it."

You let out a content hum in understanding. "One day we should have them all over."

"Them?"

"Yeah," you nodded, "your whole family. A nice, big family dinner. That could be exciting, right?"

Yelena rolled her eyes. Whether it was playful or not, you couldn’t quite tell. "That’s certainly one way to describe it."

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boldlyvoid · 4 years ago

Text

Amethyst you so much

Summary: Spencer has had a crush on Y/N since she started working at the bau. She only ever works the night shift after a case, handling all the aftermath gracefully. one night, Spencer stays back and they strike up a conversation about rocks, causing their feelings to dig a little deeper.

Warnings: pure fluff, weed mention, hurt/comfort, grief and mourning

Word Count: 6.4K

Read on Ao3

Late nights at the office had become his thing since Gideon left.

He couldn’t bring himself to go home some nights without a game of chess, a cup of coffee, and the ambiance of the post case staff working. He would’ve had no idea about what goes on after they close a case if he didn’t stay behind most nights.

The phone rings almost every 10 minutes, and it’s always answered by the sweetest voice. The fax machine never turns off, and the most beautiful girl in the world is always running around placing papers in different places.

He’s been smitten with her since she started here, 2 years ago. Never seeing much of her since she was switched to the night shift, always wanting to just watch her from afar, never speaking to her unless he needed to.

“Yes, again we are so sorry for the door,” he can hear her voice from the back corner of the room. “Agent Morgan will be paying for that out of his paycheck, don’t worry, Mr. Kennings. We’ll be sure to remember your hotel when we’re in the area again. The FBI has a very generous budget for overnight cases. Of course, you have a good night too.”

She hung the phone up harshly and let out a deep sigh. He turned around to see her face in her arms, resting against the desk. She looked done, completely fed up. He would be too.

She looked up then, noticing that he was making eye contact with her. She awkwardly smiled and waved at him, “sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Spencer replied. “We asked for the key, I should have stopped him from kicking it in.”

She laughed then, walking over to his desk so she didn’t have to yell across the room. She sat on the corner of his desk lightly, “why do you stay every night?”

“Oh, um,” he wasn’t prepared for this. She had never talked to him before. She was barely able to even look at him when she used to place papers on his desk 2 years ago, now she was on his desk.

“I don’t like to bring the work home with me, it’s better to destress here before I go to my apartment,” he answered, half honestly.

She nodded slightly, “I get it. Luckily I go home in the mornings so the sun helps me feel better.”

“Going home in the dark isn’t fun,” she lightly smiled up at her.

“Do you want a coffee or anything?” She asked softly, “seeing as I am still your assistant as long as you’re here?”

He laughed lightly, “I would, but I’d like to join you in the staff room for it?”

“Okay,” she stood, straightening out her shirt as he stood as well.

He held the doors open for her, letting her walk out first, still smiling as she waited in the hall for him. Never being anything less than 1 foot from him for some reason, and he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Do you like your job?” He asked lightly.

“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “It’s like customer service on crack. Have you ever had to explain to someone why you can’t pay for the cracked foundation after Agent Morgan’s ransacked a place?”

“I honestly never thought of who has to deal with the aftermath,” he awkwardly admitted to her. “I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t stop laughing as they entered the kitchen, “it’s fine. I never have to apologize on your behalf, it’s everyone else who seems to be reckless. Sometimes I feel like it would be better if I came along to babysit.”

“That would be helpful,” he smiled softly as she entered the staff room.

He watched as she took a new coffee filter out of the cupboard. Emptying the coffee pot with ease, rinsing everything before adding the water and scooping in the grounds. He was mesmerized by how fast she was able to do it, then again it was sort of her job.

“What mug would you like?” She turned to him with a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Um, the purple one, if it’s there?”

“You really like purple, huh?” She teased him, standing on her tippy-toes to reach the mug for him.

She placed it on the counter before grabbing a white mug, it had a bumblebee on it, “bee happy” written along the top. It was perfect for her.

“Purple is a stress-reducing colour,” she explained. “When I was a kid my parents painted my room purple so that I’d sleep better.”

“I’ve always been drawn to it.”

She leaned against the counter while the coffee pot started to percolate, “Probably because of your anxiety, coffee doesn’t help that.”

“It’s in my DNA to be like this,” he tried to joke, knowing he succeeded when her smile crept back onto her face.

He was on a mission to keep seeing it.

“For someone who spends a lot of time with dead bodies, creepy places and bad people, you sure are a mousy little thing aren’t you?” She teased him.

“I also love Halloween, go figure.” He’s not sure where the confidence came from, being able to make light-hearted jokes like this was only easy with the team.

Which she technically was a part of. He’s seen her almost every single day for 3 years, slowly being able to get comfortable enough for this very moment.

“What else are you into, outside of here?” She asked honestly, making his heart swell as no one else had ever asked him before.

“Lots of things,” he sighed. “I love to read, I’ll read anything. But mostly I enjoy far-off worlds. Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Sherlock mostly.”

“No supernatural?” She gasped. “Sacrilege, honestly. What kind of nerd are you if you don't support supperwholock?”

“That's the show with the monster hunting brothers right?” He tried to recall it to his mind.

She nodded with a pressed-lipped smile, “it’s bad but in a way where I can’t stop watching every Thursday, they just introduced an angel who is pretty gay. Star Trek is cool too, I guess, I was raised by Trekkies.”

“My mom was into Doctor Who.”

“Mamma’s boy,” she teased him slightly, returning her focus to the coffee as she poured the now finished brew into their mugs. “She was nice when she came in that one time, I made her a very sweet coffee just like yours.”

He reached for the sugar then, poring a generous amount into his mug with a grin, “how much do you like?”

“the same amount,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “I hate the taste of coffee, but it keeps me awake.”

He poured the sugar into her mug as she places a spoon in each. Allowing him to stir his own before picking it up finally. Holding the warm ceramic in his hands, it was almost as warm as the feeling in his chest when he looked at her.

He’s felt it for a long time. He’s been caught staring at her by Derek, JJ even tried to get him to give her his number. Which she already had for when she calls him into work in the middle of the night. They knew he had a crush, he did too. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

“Come to my desk, I want to show you something?” She asked softly, avoiding eye contact as she walked towards the door.

He followed, like a lost puppy, all the way back to her desk. It was always neat, he always looked at it when he made his way up the stairs to the briefing room. He could even see it from where he sat at the table sometimes. Always wanting to see her leave in the mornings.

She had a collection of rocks that always changed, he loved the blue one the most but it wasn’t there currently. She had all new ones since the last time he looked.

“Here,” she hands him one. It’s brown and gold, the colours moving and shifting as he turns it with his fingers. The gold running through it like a beautiful wave.

“what’s this for?”

“It’s a Tiger’s eye, for good luck and happiness,” she smiled. “Keep it at your desk and maybe it’ll be easier for you to relax when you come back?”

The butterflies in his chest were swirling then as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. Wanting him to take it, wanting him to feel better. Caring for him.

“Thank you,” he barely whispers, clearing his throat softly. “It’s very nice of you.”

“You’re always nice to me, so,” she shrugged.

They sat down then, he dragged his chair from his desk over to hers. Sitting in close as she explained all the meanings to her rocks. He listened carefully, getting to examine each one as she spoke.

“This one is Jade, it’s for balancing emotions and allowing compassion so I don’t scream at everyone on the phone,” she laughed as she placed one in his hands. Her fingers brushing his palm softly.

It was a beautiful green stone with a thin white line running through it, separating into 3 directions as he flipped it over, “it’s beautiful.”

“I know some people don’t believe in this stuff,” she started to get embarrassed as she placed them all back on the shelf. “But I’ve always thought; if the moon, which is just a rock, can control the water, and humans are 70% water, then who’s to tell me the moon cycles don’t control my emotions and these smaller rocks can’t help problem areas?”

“You’re not wrong,” he shook his head softly as he thought her words over. “People depended on the stars and planets for guidance originally, as well as rocks and herbs for healing, just because it’s outdated doesn’t mean it doesn’t work?”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “No one has ever agreed with me that easily.”

“Anytime you want to talk, I’ll just be over there,” he pointed at his desk. “And I’m a phone call away?” He swallowed sharply at his boldness, trying to stay calm as he awaited her answer.

“I do have your number,” she smiled, reaching out to place her hand on his. “But you should go home, I’m sure you’re chilled out now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, staring at her hand as they touched. He lightly wrapped his hand around hers, holding it slightly, running his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after,” she whispered, tilting her head as she smiled at him.

This was going to be interesting.

—

Penelope was always dragging him out. She would take him shopping, to dinner, to the movies. She was like his big sister, dedicated to making sure he wasn’t always cooped up or trying to retreat into a fantasy life.

She kept him busy.

She had 4 bags in her hands as they walked down the street, peering into the store windows to see what else she could possibly be interested in taking home for someone. That’s when they passed the natural health store.

He stopped in his tracks, seeing all the different rocks on the wall accompanies by little cards that described how they could help. He opened the door and rushed inside before Penelope even noticed he stopped following her.

“Good afternoon!” The shop owner called out to him. “How can I assist you today?”

“Um, the girl I like has a rock collection,” he says softly, knowing Penelope is behind him listening. “Crystals more specifically, I’d like to get her some?”

“Well, you came to the right place,” the man beams, escorting him to the wall of rocks. “What is she like?”

“Wonderful,” the words are carried out of his mouth on a sigh as he thinks about her. “She’s confident and nice, and caring. She’s always positive and just so lovely.”

“I’ve got you,” the man starts picking rocks off the wall and placing them in his hands.

Spencer follows him to the desk where he lays down a handful of rocks, Penelope is shockingly quiet as she stands beside him, staring at the collection. She’ll be full of questions later, all of which he is terrified of.

“This is a rose quartz, pretty basic love, beauty, anti-depression stone,” he pushes the pink and a green rock towards him. “Serpentine is for new adventures, observation and insight. I have a feeling you’re up for an adventure with her?”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, “I like that one. It would be better to get her some rare ones, some that have to do with friendship, new beginnings, or opportunities?” He tried to explain his feelings as best as he could. Not knowing if he sounded dumb for a change.

The man smiled wide, “here,” he dipped below the counter and dug out a box. “Chrysocolla is literally for new beginnings, love and opportunity.”

He hands Spencer a vitreous, raw blue stone with small green marks running all through it, it’s beautiful like her. “This is perfect.”

“I’ll throw in a Kiwi Jasper as well, it’s for being by someone's side, support and trust. As well as a Ruby in Zoisite it symbolizes finding the joy in life with someone,” he hands Spencer two equally beautiful stones, prepping a bag and wrappings for all of them.

Spencer lays out the 5 stones he picked out, watching him wrap them with care before placing them in a bag. He rings everything up, Spencer pays and before he’s even out the door Penelope is pouncing on him for answers.

“Who?!”

He can't help but blush and stutter, trying to brush past her and continue walking down the street. “You can’t hide forever Spencer, who is she?”

“How do you know it’s a she?”

“You literally said so?” She looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Come on? I won't tell anyone!”

“Y/N.”

The gears are turning in Penelope's head as she tries to place a face to the name, knowing she’s seen her somewhere, “From the office?”

He nods softly, “the one Derek bullies me for staring at?” He clues her in more as they walk.

“He also bullies her for staring at you,” she adds with a smile. “She’s going to love those, when are you going to give them to her?”

“I was thinking about just leaving one on her desk every day? Maybe with a note for why I picked it?” He really wants to woo her, she’s too special to just flirt with.

“She’s going to love that.”

—

Sure enough, he walked into work every day for the next week, placing a rock on a sticky note on her desk. He was never around when she was able to see it, only knowing she got it when he'd arrive at work the next morning with a note reading 'thank you ♥︎ ' on top of his files.

He thinks about her all weekend, planning how he'll give her the last rock as he takes the elevator up that morning. Only to see her sitting at her desk, phone pressed to her ear as she tried to talk someone out of suing the FBI, she looked absolutely miserable. Just a casual Monday morning for her, almost at the end of her shift.

He rushed over to his desk, putting all his stuff down to dig one of the rocks from his satchel. Picking the Kiwi Jasper for today, he grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote her a little note.

“Always here if you need to talk, -Spencer ♥︎”

He walked over to her desk, she was still talking so she didn’t notice him until he was right there, she looked up at him with a thankful smile.

“Yes sir,” she answered the person talking to her. “Can I call you back after I speak to the chief? thanks.” She hung up on him, turning all her attention to Spencer.

“I know you know it's been me leaving these, but I brought you in another one,” he says softly, placing the rock in her hand and sticking the note to the shelf where it would end up.

“oh my gosh, Spencer?” She placed her free hand on her heart as she looked at the rock.

“You looked upset?”

She stands and pulls him into a hug, he can feel all the eyes on him as he holds her back, letting his chin rest on her shoulder as she squeezes him.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled back, awkwardly smiling at him as she also noticed everyone staring.

“Always,” he smiled back, hand still resting on her arm. “Um, I have a case I need to get to.”

“Of course, good luck,” she smiled.

He pulls the tiger's eye out of his shirt pocket, showing her that he still had it, “kinda hard not to have good luck with this.”

She bit back a smile, her eyes gleaming as she took a deep breath through her nose. Releasing the same feelings he was keeping inside, allowing both their butterflies to swarm out together.

—

He loved when they had cases in Virginia. Being able to stay in the bullpen and work was relaxing, it was easier to think where he felt safe.

He was working on the geo profile all alone, a huge map stretched across a clear case board as he laid a yardstick across it. Drawing a thick red line with marker over it, in his own little world as he worked away.

He doesn’t realize she’s standing there too until she’s lightly pressing her hand on his back.

“Hey,” she whispers softly. “It’s 10 pm, thought you’d like a coffee?” She places the purple mug on his desk with her purse, turning her attention back to what he’s doing.

“Thank you, I’m almost done here,” he says softly, finishing the red triangle he was making on the map.

“I’ve always found it fascinating how you do this,” she complimented him. “You’re so careful.”

“Like baking, it’s an exact science,” he smiled softly.

It made her giggle slightly, placing her hand back on his back as she moved in closer to look. He wanted her to stay there forever, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus. He tried his best to steady his hand as he finished the line.

Putting the yardstick back down and turning to her, she doesn’t move her hand, instead, softly moving to rest on his arm as she stands close to him. “How are you?”

He feels nervous for some reason, it’s not like she hasn’t been this close to him before. It’s just that she’s close and she smells wonderful and he wonders if her lips would be a better wake-up call than the coffee she brought.

He realizes he’s staring at her lips when he licks his own, “I’m good,” he furrows his brow and clears his throat with a nod.

She smirks at him, “how come you’re the only one still here? Hotch said it could wait till tomorrow?”

“I was waiting for you,” he admits, “but I got carried away setting this up, I never heard you come in?”

“Cause I didn’t,” she scrunches her nose slightly as she straightens her stance. “I saw you working hard and went right to get you a coffee.”

“You’re wonderful,” he blushes as the words slip out, trying his best to keep eye contact when all he wants to do is kiss her.

She pats his arm slightly as she backs up a little, grabbing her bag from where she set it on his desk. “I’m going to set up for the night, come talk to me before you leave?”

“Of course,” he says as she walks away, letting out a small sigh as he realizes just how badly he wants her.

He never gets to talk to her before he leaves, she’s on the phone when hotch comes storming in. Saying something about another body and making Reid leave with him. He’s busy for 3 days straight, thinking about her with every free thought he’s able to squeeze in.

He carries the rock from her in his pocket everywhere he goes; in his pants beside his keys, in his bag with his books, in his breast pocket, over his heart, behind a bulletproof vest. Feeling it press against his chest, a part of her keeping him safe where ever he went.

They finish the case with minimal damage, Spencer specifically making sure that Derek leaves all the doors on the hinges for Y/N’s sake, cleaning up any messes they make so she won’t have to hear about it over the phone. They all notice that he’s doing it for her, quietly appreciating the fact that Spencer is happy for a change, that there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes again.

He arrives back at Quantico 30 minutes before her shift starts. Everyone else is packing up for the day while he sits at his desk, reading to occupy the time before she comes in.

Only she doesn’t.

30 minutes pass and she’s nowhere to be seen, it’s only 9:02 by the time he starts to panic. Wondering if she’s okay, hoping she’s just in the elevator or grabbing a coffee that’s actually good, somewhere outside of the office.

“Reid,” he hears Hotch calling him from his office door. “She just called in, her grandmother passed away last night so she won't be in.”

“Oh,” he furrows his brow, looking at him with confusion. “How did you know?”

“Penelope,” he smiles. “She’s still here too, and she knows where Y/N lives.”

“It wouldn’t be weird to go see if she’s okay?”

Hotch just smiles at him again, “go see her, Reid.”

Getting her address from Penelope felt a little weird, but she writes it on a sticky note for him and he’s out the door before she can even pry into what he’s going to say. Which is good, because he doesn’t know yet.

It’s late, but he stops by the little rock store on his way to her house. Seeing the lights still on and the same man from before behind the counter.

“Welcome back,” he’s overly cheerful for it being so late. “How did she like them?”

“She likes the ones I’ve given her so far,” he smiles, looking over the wall himself this time for the right one.

Scanning past every emotion and affirmation known to man as he looked around, picking out a beautiful pink Rhodonite for healing grief, supposedly acting as a hug from emotional troubles. And a Rainbow Moonstone for inner peace, harmony and strength.

“She’s lost someone recently?” He asks as Spencer places them on the counter.

“Her grandmother,” he says softly. “These are good, right?”

“They’ll be perfect, we also have amethyst bracelets, they’re good for healing and drawing in positive energy,” he points towards the small display of bracelets. Small purple stones separated with small gold beads.

He picks up 2 of them, placing them on the counter as well.

“Is she still just a crush?”

Spencer laughs lightly, “unfortunately.”

“She might be more after this,” he smirks, ringing him up. “I’ll give you a 2 for one deal on everything, I have a feeling you’ll be in a lot.”

Spencer thanks him as he pays, picking out a small purple bag for the rocks and bracelet. Placing one on his own wrist before leaving. Also picking up some cookie dough ice cream and a card at the corner store just beside her apartment. Remembering all the times Penelope, JJ or Emily has mentioned it being the best ice cream for crying.

He takes a very deep breath before knocking on her door, hoping to every god out there that she doesn’t find this incredibly inappropriate and weird.

“Spencer?” He hears her voice before she even opens the door, looking out the peephole at him.

She whips the door open, eyes puffy and swollen as she looks at him in shock. She’s in a big sweater and shorts, tears dripping down her cheeks as she shakes her head at him.

“I thought you could use some cheering up?” He awkwardly smiles, holding the ice cream up for her to see.

She wraps her arms around his middle, burying her face against his coat. Still crying as she holds him, he holds her with his free hand, shushing her as he presses his cheek to her head.

She pulls back with a sniffle, “come in,” she offers with an arm out, ushering him inside the small room as she closes the door.

He takes his shoes off, handing her the ice cream so he can take off his coat and satchel too. “This isn’t weird right?”

“Not at all,” she laughs slightly through the awkwardness. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you care this much.”

“I brought something for you,” he says as he struggles to dig everything out of his pocket.

He hands her the card and the little purple bag, seeing the overwhelming glance grow on her face. Her eyes grew wide as he mouth opened, speechless.

She opened the card first, reading the passage about grief that was already provided. Dealing with grief was something Spencer knew too well, adding something a little special to the bottom of the card.

“To live in hearts we left behind is not to die,” -Thomas Campbell. As long as you remember her, with a smile on your face and love in your heart, she will always be with you ♥︎ Spencer

She wipes her tears with her forearm, placing the card on the counter beside the ice cream before she opens the bag. She pulls out the bracelet first, absolute shock on her face.

“Spencer?” Is all she can say, in a high squeak as she shakes her head at him.

“I didn’t want you to be sad,” he says softly, stepping into her space and placing a hand on her arm. “I love seeing you smile, and I thought this could help.

He takes the bracelet from her grasp and places it over her hand. Resting it on her wrist softly, straightening it out against her sweater as she notices the matching on over his shirt sleeve.

“Oh this is so cute,” she swoons. “thank you, really Spencer.”

“And there are some rocks for grief healing in there too, one is supposedly like an emotional hug which should heal the grief and sorrow, and the other is more for inner peace and harmony,” he rambles away, not wanting her to miss anything.

She pours the rocks from the bag, into her hand, looking them over silently with a smile, “they’ll look great on my desk.”

“The purple looks nice on you too,” he compliments her, watching her eyes drift up to him.

She places the rocks on the counter before wrapping her arms around him once more. This time he’s able to actually hold her back, tight as possible as he rubs his hand over her back.

She smells like home, clean laundry and happiness. She’s soft and warm, he holds her perfectly against his chest, like she was a missing puzzle piece that someone finally found under the table, she fits into his life like she was supposed to be there.

She kisses his cheek softly before she pulls back, causing him to pull her into a real kiss on impulse. Connecting their lips as she sighs into the contact, melting into his grasp as she kisses him back.

Her lips are soft, fitting between his own gently as she breathes him in. Her hands reach up to grip his cheeks, kissing him again and again, placing pecks to his lips and cheeks with her eyes closed as he giggles.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his lips, “for everything.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers back, kissing her one last time before she pulls away.

“I was actually about to smoke some weed on the fire escape and probably cry some more,” she laughs lightly. “would you like to join me?”

“I’ll stick with a bowl of ice cream,” he smiled awkwardly.

“Nice one,” she laughs as she opens the ice cream.

“What?”

“Oh, you didn’t even get the reference you made,” she laughs lightly, “to get high you smoke a bowl, so…”

It makes him smile, “I'm a comedian part-time.”

He makes her laugh again, loving the sound of her giggle replacing the tears. “Why aren’t you this funny at work?”

He thinks about it for a little, watching her scoop the ice cream into two bowls, “it’s a little hard to make jokes when people's lives are on the line, I know everyone else does but I get too focused.”

“They probably wouldn’t appreciate your jokes even if you did make them,” she says as she handed him a bowl with a spoon. “They’re kind of mean to you, in a family way but it still sucks sometimes to overhear.”

She walks into the living area then, grabbing a few blankets and opening the window to the fire escape. Crawling out to sit on the ledge, waiting for him.

“I don’t mind it,” he says as he finally sits down beside her.

She places the blanket over their laps, both of them sitting criss-cross applesauce as they ate.

“Do you like your job?” She asks him, just like he once asked her.

“Most of the time,” he nodded as he got brain freeze. The cold air, the cold ice cream, everything that was catching up to him as he scrunched his face up at the feeling.

She laughs at him only a bit before she’s also attacked by the brain freeze, holding the vein in her neck as she chokes out another laugh, trying to warm up the blood going to her head so the pain would stop.

They’re both just a mess of giggles together, unable to say any words as they let it all out. She leans her head on his shoulder lightly as they calm down to just soft chuckles. He presses his cheek against her head.

“Thank you, Spencer,” it sounds like she’s crying a bit. “My grandma was a lovely woman, she’d be glad I’m laughing right now.”

He reached out a hand for her to hold over the blanket. She interlocked their fingers softly, both cold from holding their ice cream bowls.

“If she was anything like you, I’m sure she was the most wonderful woman,” he says softly, not intending to make her cry but having a feeling he might.

“Would you be interested in holding me on the couch while I cry?” She asked softly, tears in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

—

He’s late for work the next morning.

Waking up to the smell of coffee, opening his eyes to a strange view. He’s on a couch he doesn’t recognize in a room he doesn’t know too well.

Then he remembers, they ended up cuddled up on the couch. He wakes up to the memory of her on his chest, crying softly as they listened to some music, he ran his hand over her back while she went through it all, blessed to have his support.

He fell asleep under her at some point, waking up alone with a blanket laid over him. He sat up to see her in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a travel mug.

“Good, you’re awake,” she smiles at him. “Coffee is ready, I uh, I have this button-up shirt from a guy friend, if you wanted to wear that to work today? So they don’t think you stayed here?”

“That’s smart,” he replies as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

Getting up, he uses the bathroom, changes and takes that coffee from her. He’s not expecting her to kiss him on the lips at the door, but she sends him off to work like an old housewife.

He doesn’t want to pull away from her, keeping her pressed against him as he leans in for 4 more kisses before she finally pushes him out into the hallway with a laugh, “get to work!”

“Fine,” he sighs, “are you going to be in tonight?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “funeral is in West Virginia next week, so I’ll be in until then.”

“I’ll see you later?”

She nods slightly with a soft smile, “you’ll be seeing a lot of me soon, Spencer.”

“Good,” he winks at her before heading down the hallway and towards the street entrance.

He sighs as he walks outside, resting his back against the apartment complex door, taking a moment to think about everything that just happened, the night of company and the wonderful send-off.

It was something he could get used to.

He rushes into the briefing room when he arrives at Quantico, sitting down with his coffee and pretending he wasn’t late. Listening carefully to JJ’s presentation of the case as he flips through everything he missed already.

“Wheels up in 30,” he heard Hotch say as he zoned back in. “Nice of you to join us, Reid.”

“I know that travel mug from somewhere,” Derek said as he stared at Spencer, who was taking a sip to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hmm?” He played dumb.

“That’s Y/N’s. She washes it every morning when she leaves to go home, I see her do it every morning,” his eyes open wide. “Holy shit.”

“Isn’t that the same tie and slacks from yesterday?” Emily teased him as well.

“Her grandma died, I brought her ice cream and slept on the couch okay?” He all but yelled, flailing his arms slightly so they’d all back off.

Derek reached his fist out for him to pound it, “good man.”

Then Penelope noticed the bracelet, “did she get you that?”

He sunk his hand into his pocket then, “no.”

“What?” Emily and JJ asked in unison, straining their necks to try and get a good look at what she was talking about.

He nervously held his arm out for them, showing them the purple bracelet resting over the sleeve of his shirt. “I got one for her too, it’s for healing and peace. It’s what she needs right now.”

“Oh, so you love her,” Derek smiles as he teases him. Making everyone else in the room swoon slightly.

“Okay and?”

“Oh my god!” Most of them shout at him, embarrassing him to no end. He was so glad she wasn’t at work this morning or else she would be able to hear this from her desk.

“Did you kiss her?” Rossi pries, asking what everyone else was thinking.

He scrunches his face, pushing his glasses up slightly as he clears his throat, “a few times.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” JJ kept the questions coming.

“Not yet,” he said softly. “Kinda weird to walk into her apartment while she cries to say ‘hey sorry about the death in your family, want to date me?’”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees, shrugging lightly. “At least she knows you like her now, it’s been what? 2 years?”

“2 years, 3 months, 17 days and 43 minutes,” he confirms with a small nod and pressed lips.

“Gross,” Derek teases him.

“The plane is leaving in 10 minutes,” Hotch cut into their fun.

Making them all gather their things and continue the interrogation in the elevator, and eventually on the plane, and in the police precinct. Even Penelope called him in the middle of everything to bug him about her.

The questions were never-ending, everyone wanted to know how they even started talking, who made the first move, how he plans to ask her out. They were relentless, he almost regretted admitting to anything.

They bug him all throughout the day, all the way until they’re arriving back at the BAU late that same night. He almost doesn’t want to go back to the bullpen and see her with all of them, knowing they were going to follow and say something.

She’s waiting in the hall when the elevator doors open, a pressed-lipped smile on her face, “bad news.”

“Another one?” Hotch sighs, “have Garcia send us the info. Be at the table in 10.” He pushes his way out of the elevator, passed them all as they stare at Y/N.

“Hi?” She awkwardly waves at them all, showing off the bracelet on her wrist.

“See ya, Spence,” JJ and Emily say as they matt his shoulder, dragging Derek and Rossi towards the bullpen doors.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for them softly, stepping into her space.

She wraps him up in a quick hug, keeping one arm around his waist as she guides him towards the bullpen, “it’s fine, they’re going to have to get used to us being together.”

“Together?” He repeats her words.

“I only cry on my boyfriend's shoulders, if you're up for the title?” She teases him softly, pinching his side as they walk towards the doors.

“Can I frame “Dr. Spencer Reid, Y/N’s boyfriend” beside my Ph.D.’s?” He keeps his hand on her shoulder, holding each other slightly as they walk towards her desk. He felt like one of those kids who wouldn’t let go of their girlfriend's hand in the school hallway, attached to her at the hip.

“I’ll make one for you while you’re gone,” she laughs lightly.

They stop at her desk where he sees all rocks he got her collecting on the shelf, as well as a cup of coffee and his favourite kind of donut.

“Thought you deserved something nice too,” she says as she nudges his side.

He kisses her on the cheek as a thank you, “you’re welcome,” she smiles to herself. A feeling of pride growing in both their chests.

“See you later?” He asks as he picks up the coffee and donut, walking away slowly as she smiles at him.

“Come home to me safely, Doctor Reid,” her voice is just loud enough for everyone in the briefing room, where everyone is waiting at the window, watching them, deciding to put on a show in return.

He stops on the steps to look at her softly, “I’d fight a thousand unsubs to come home to you.”

“I’ll leave the light on,” she blows a kiss at him, making him blush a deep red.

He waves, making his way up the steps and into the briefing room. A smile on his face, heart thumping in his chest, all the support in the world swarming around him as everyone patted him on the back.

That tiger’s eye really did bring him good luck and happiness, and her name was Y/N.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #one shot #fluff

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stargazer-sims · 2 years ago

Text

Journal Entry #46 (part one)

previously - Journal Entry #45

Yuri

Victor came home on Thursday afternoon.

In a plot twist that I should've seen coming, I was left to cope with Victor's hospital discharge alone. My father, who'd insisted on staying with me since the previous Friday night, suddenly declared on Thursday morning at breakfast that he was going back to his house.

For all his talk about how important I am to him and how he felt uncomfortable with me being by myself, I saw that I was once again lower than everybody else on his list of priorities. Even Koichi, his personal assistant and Yuki's de facto babysitter, apparently rates higher than me. It was a call from Koichi that sent him scurrying back down to the valley. I don't know what it was about, but whatever it was, it obviously rated higher than me and Victor. It was probably some business emergency, because clearly the threat of losing money is always more urgent than consistently supporting his son.

As angry as I was about him leaving at the precise moment I needed him most, that wasn't my only emotion. There was some measure of relief mixed in with my anger, as contradictory as that sounds. Our week together had been tense. It was as if we'd been performing some sort of complex dance on a floor made of glass. One misstep by either of us, and the whole fragile foundation would shatter and damage us both.

I don't know if I could've handled more of that and the stress of caring for Victor too. Besides, Victor would never have tolerated Papa's presence, and perhaps he knew that as well. Maybe his abrupt exit was for the best, notwithstanding how confusing and hurtful it felt to me.

I hate that my relationship with my father is so fraught. I wish we could be more like my friends and their parents. Takahiro can go to his father and mother about anything without worrying about being criticized or judged. Seiji is so close with his parents that all three of them cried when he moved out to a house less than a kilometer away, and Mr. Hinamori kept saying how proud he was of Seiji's newfound independence. My father, in contrast, tried to stop me from moving out by telling me I was too weak and frail to live alone, but then didn't even help me put my suitcases in my car on the day I left. Recently, he barely batted an eyelash when I told him I'm considering immigrating to Canada.

Honestly, I don't know what to think. Most of what Papa does for me, when he does anything at all, seems to be performative, like he's doing it because he's my father and certain things are expected. But then, there are times when I almost believe his concern is real, like last Friday night when he came back to the hospital to check on Victor and me and offered to drive me home. I'll probably never discover the truth, though. I've already resigned myself to that.

But, I was telling you about Victor, wasn't I?

Unfortunately, I'd been living under the false expectation that once Victor was home again, everything would somehow be okay. I thought maybe, once he was in a familiar place, he'd be less depressed and scared, and he'd start to feel more confident about trying to do a few small things for himself. At the very least, I'd hoped that he would be able to walk from the sitting room to the bathroom by himself, even if he did need my help while he was in there.

Needless to tell you, every assumption I made was wrong.

I had absolutely no clue how dependent Victor would be, and how difficult and exhausting it would be to have him home. Don't get me wrong; I'm glad he's out of the hospital, but I was utterly unprepared for it. It's only Saturday, and our current reality is already starting to take a toll on me. Fortunately, Dr. Grace and Dr. Julian are here to help us now, but that's a whole story on its own, and I'll come back to it later.

As Dr. Sato had foreshadowed earlier in the week, she sent Victor home in a wheelchair. After a round of neurological, orthopaedic and motor function tests that took up a good chunk of the day on Wednesday, all the doctors and technicians agreed that there was no physical reason why he shouldn't be able to walk. It was the psychologist that assessed him on Thursday morning who officially reported what I, and probably everybody else, had known since Sunday. The problem is in his head, but in a part of his brain that the doctors couldn't see with their various scans. The issue is a purely conceptual one. In short, Victor can't walk because he's convinced himself that he can't.

I'll admit, I hadn't been thrilled about the wheelchair when Dr. Sato first mentioned it. For his part, Victor hadn't seemed to care one way or the other, and barely reacted when I rolled him out of the hospital in it.

We must've been a sight, making our way across the hospital parking lot with Victor slumped in his wheelchair and huddled in a blanket like a disaster survivor, and me struggling with the unfamiliar task of pushing him. He'd outright refused to wear his competition jacket, and I hadn't brought another coat for him since I incorrectly guessed he'd wear the one he already had with him. It was a bitterly cold day and I couldn't take him outside without something to protect him from the elements, so I'd had to go out to the car and collect the big red fleece blanket we usually keep in the back seat to wrap him in. The end result was that it looked like I was kidnapping a homeless person. It was something Victor and I might normally have laughed about, but at that moment, nobody was in the mood for laughing.

Despite my initial misgivings about the wheelchair, I'm grateful for it now. I'd never be able to get Victor from one room to another without it.

We were limited to the downstairs portion of the house for the remainder of Thursday and all of yesterday. The wheelchair was of no use on the stairs, and I realized fairly quickly that I lacked both the skill and the physical strength to help Victor up to his bedroom, so he spent Thursday night on one of the sofas in the sitting room. I occupied the other one. I would've liked to be in my bed, but I decided I'd better stay close to Victor, in case he needed anything in the night.

As it turned out, my instincts were good. He needed quite a lot during the night, and neither one of us got much sleep because of it.

One of the side effects of the pain medication Dr. Sato prescribed for him is abdominal discomfort and nausea, and that was the main reason our rest was interrupted. He had almost nothing in his stomach due to his continued refusal to eat, but that didn't prevent him from repeatedly heaving into the bin I'd brought down from the upstairs bathroom as if there actually was something his body needed to expel. I'm sure you can imagine how much pain that caused him, especially with his cracked rib, and it led to bouts of heart-wrenching tears which I felt inadequate to soothe, although I tried my best.

The thing with many painkillers is that they don't eliminate the most severe pain. They dull it enough to make you reasonably comfortable and more or less functional, presuming you don't do anything to exacerbate it in the meantime. Something like throwing up multiple times when you have a rib fracture, for example.

The cruel irony of the situation, I knew, was that Victor wouldn't have been so sick if only he would eat. I had that same pain medication once, and my stomach had been so upset that I thought the meds were making the symptoms of my illness worse instead of better, until Victor read the instruction sheet that came with them and pointed out to me that they were supposed to be taken with food. After much comforting and coaxing, he got me to eat a bowl of yogurt and fruit half an hour or so before my next dose, and the difference it made was remarkable.

I was sure Victor must've been starving, but no amount of pleading seemed sufficient to persuade him to eat, Normally, he loves food and eats enough to make my belly sore just watching him, but the most I could get him to consume on Thursday was half of a cut-up apple and a few spoonfuls of sweet rice.

He didn't want me to feed him and he said he couldn't manage it by himself, and at that point we didn't have any other options. I was desperately afraid he'd become dehydrated, which would've opened up a whole new set of problems, but luckily he's able and willing to hold his water bottle between both hands, so at least he can drink on his own.

Around two in the morning, he finally fell asleep, only to wake up again about an hour later, literally screaming. I have to tell you, I've never heard a sound like that come out of a human in real life before. It was like something you might expect in a horror movie. I think I'd been on the threshold of drifting off, but all traces of sleep instantly vanished when I heard Victor making that noise.

I nearly tumbled onto the floor in my haste to get to him. He'd turned over in his sleep so he was facing the back of the sofa, and he was thrashing against it with his left hand and arm with enough force that I was certain he'd get injured even more seriously than he already was.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to touch him, in case he accidentally struck me with his flailing arm, but I didn't not want to touch him either. I needed to find out what was wrong, and help him if I could, or get help if I couldn't.

"Victor!" I exclaimed, too frightened and breathless to get out much of anything else.

"Get it off me!" His voice sounded even more strained and terrified than mine. "I can't move!"

I said his name again, perhaps a little louder and more urgently. Swallowing my fear, I caught him by the shoulder and used all my strength to pull him toward me. I succeeded in rolling him over, and he flopped onto his back with an inarticulate sound of distress. His eyes were wild, and he was gasping so hard that I was worried he might stop breathing.

"Victor, what's wrong?" I cried, too overwhelmed to be calm. "What can I do?"

He didn't answer straight away, which in hindsight is unsurprising. It took him several seconds to get his breathing under control enough to speak.

When he finally recovered his voice, he said shakily. "I... I lost control on a turn."

"I know," I said. "Were you dreaming about that?"

"Y-yeah." He gulped air. "Did I wake you?"

"No," I assured him, not exactly glad he'd been having a nightmare, but infinitely grateful it wasn't something more serious. "I was still awake. It's all right."

"It felt real, like it was happening again."

"You're safe now," I said, as I knelt beside the sofa. "Are you okay? Is there anything you need?"

"Just stay here."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay," he said. He lay there for several seconds with his eyes closed, breathing slowly and deliberately. When he finally opened his eyes and turned his head toward me, his expression looked calmer but his eyes were no less haunted. "I flipped over. I don't know how many times. Then I knew I was gonna crash into the gate and there was nothing I could do. I didn't mean to put my arms out, but I panicked."

"It must've happened fast," I said. "You wouldn't have had much time to react."

"Everything went black," he whispered. "I thought I was yelling, but I couldn't hear myself."

"Takeshi said you were yelling in the first few seconds after it happened," I confirmed. "He said you lost consciousness almost immediately after that, though."

"When I woke up, I realized I was tied down and I was in the ambulance with Takeshi and some woman, and I couldn't move," he said. "I know they had to, 'cause they didn’t want me to fall off, but I didn't like it.”

“Off the rescue board, you mean?”

“I didn't remember any of this stuff before, but now I do," he said. "I wanted to tell Takeshi I didn't like it. I couldn't move, and I thought I was paralyzed, and I kept trying to tell Takeshi I couldn't see, but... but I couldn't make any words come out, and..." He raised a hand in what I guessed was an attempt to cover his face, and let out a little sob when his cast came in contact with his skin. "I hate this. I wish I still didn't remember."

"I'm sorry," I said, because I was at a complete loss as to how else I should respond.

"I just want to go to sleep and not dream about anything," he said. "I want to go to sleep and... that's it. Not dream, and maybe not even wake up ever again, 'cause this is a nightmare too."

"Please don't say that,” I said.

“Why? It’s how I feel. It is a nightmare. I don’t want to live like this.”

"You're not going to have casts on your arms forever."

"I'm not talking about my arms," he said.

"I don't know what I'd do without you. What would I do if you went to sleep and never woke up?"

"You wouldn't have to deal with me any more.”

I bit my lip, mostly in an effort to distract myself from the ache in the center of my chest. Hearing him talk like that was painful, not just because a future without him would be devastating to me, but because I couldn’t bear the thought of him believing his life was suddenly worth nothing and that I’d be better off without him.

“I don’t want you to go to sleep and never wake up,” I told him.

His reply was, “I don’t want you to suffer because of me.”

I reached out to touch his fingers, but he whimpered and jerked his arm away from mine. I wasn’t sure if I’d hurt him, or if he simply couldn’t handle the physical contact.

Lowering my hand to my lap, I sighed. "How can I make you understand? None of this is easy or fun for me, but I promised I'd be with you for better or worse, and I don't intend to break that promise. Maybe that means I’m going to suffer a bit, but I’m not about to walk away just because things aren’t the way they used to be.”

“Maybe you should.”

“I won’t,” I said.

"I don't want you to take care of me.”

"I know you don't," I acknowledged. "But, you haven't got much choice until your mother and stepfather get here, have you?"

It was his turn to sigh. "I guess not."

"What I need to understand is why you don't want me to help you," I said. "What can your mother do for you that I can't?"

I don't know what I expected, but his next words weren't it. He began to cry, and told me, "I've already complicated your life enough because I’m stupid. I don't want to make it worse."

"You’re not stupid.”

"All of this… It's my fault."

"I've told you a dozen times already, it's not your fault,” I said. “If anybody should take the blame, it's me. If I'd been there—”

"It would've been the same thing," he said. "If you were there, you would've been thinking about your job the whole time, so it wouldn't have mattered. It's my own fault because I was angry and upset, and I knew it was making me too unfocused to compete, but I did it anyway."

"You wouldn't have been so upset if it weren't for me."

"Maybe not, but if I wasn't so dumb and immature, maybe I would’ve just gotten over it instead of sulking about it. Or maybe I would've backed out of the competition. But I stayed in it because I wanted to prove I could do it, with or without you there. I know it makes no sense, but I wanted you to be proud of me if I won, and at the same time I wanted you to be sorry you missed it."

"I am sorry I wasn't there," I said. "And I'm always proud of you, regardless of whether you win snowboarding competitions or not."

"None of it matters now, anyway," he said.

"Of course it does. I still love you and I'm still proud of you."

"For what? I'm never going to compete again. I can't travel or go to university or do any of the other stuff I was gonna do, and I can't look after you the way you need me to. My whole future... my whole life is just... gone."

"Not your whole life," I said. "You still have me."

"But, why?" he asked. "I'm no use to you like this."

"Do you think you have to be useful for me to love you? Do you think I'm only with you for what I can get out of it? If that's what you think, then maybe you are stupid after all.”

I regretted that last sentence the second it eft my mouth. Tiredness and frustration had erased all my filters, and without pause for consideration, I'd given voice to exactly what had been in my mind.

I don't actually think Victor is stupid, but I can't deny that I was starting to wonder what was going through his head. It was as if he was still questioning my love and devotion, and if anything he'd said or done over the past week hurt me, that certainly did.

The effect of what I'd said was to make Victor cry even harder than he already had been doing. "I'm sorry," he said, his words barely audible through his tears. "I... I don't think that. It's just... I promised I'd always protect you, and... and now I'm failing at it."

"Yes, you are right now," I agreed, "but not in the way you think you are."

"What?" He sniffled loudly, and he looked as if he was about to swipe his hand across his face, but only stopped himself at the last moment. With a grunt of frustration, he observed. "I have to wipe my damn nose, and I can't."

"Let me help you with that," I said.

He made an unhappy noise, but didn't protest any more strenuously. "Okay."

It took some effort to sit him up, but once he was upright, I fetched the box of tissues from the table and used a few to dry his eyes and wipe his face. Holding a few more under his nostrils, I gently encouraged him to blow his nose, just like I'd seen my mother do with Yuki when she was a toddler. I was a mildly shocked when he actually did it, and even more so that I didn’t flinch at the warm dampness that leaked over the edge of the tissue and onto my fingers.

I could hardly believe I was doing such a thing and wasn't even put off by it. Under normal circumstances, I'd find anything to do with bodily functions disgusting, but miraculously, I was managing intimate tasks like face wiping, nose blowing and bathroom assistance with only minimal squeamishness. I've astounded myself by discovering this hidden ability, honestly.

Once Victor was sufficiently tidied up and I’d thoroughly washed my hands at the kitchen sink, I came back to the sitting room and climbed onto the sofa with him. He didn't exactly crawl onto my lap, but I helped him arrange his limbs so that his legs formed a bridge across mine and his arms were tucked against my chest. He was curled up enough that he was able to rest his head on my shoulder. I reached up to pet his hair.

"Comfortable?" I asked, although in that position, I couldn’t imagine he was.

"As I can be," he said. "What'd you mean before?"

"You said you're failing at protecting me," I said.

"Yeah."

"And you think that means...?"

"You know. Taking care of you. Making sure you're happy and safe, and that you have everything you need. Making sure you don't get hurt."

"And you have to be strong and tough to do all that, right?" I said. "Not show any signs of weakness?"

"Yeah," he said.

"What if I told you that trying to prove how strong you are is actually hurting me more than helping me?"

He sounded perplexed. "How?"

"Remember when we were staying at the hotel in Kyoto? I told you then that I wanted to take care of you the way you take care of me," I said. "I didn't necessarily mean like this, although this is part of it too. The main goal was to stop making everything about me, and consider your needs more, All your needs, not just physical things. And you said you liked the sound of that, remember?"

"It sounded good, but I didn't think you meant it," he admitted. "Not that you were lying to me or something, but like, how can you not make it all about you when you just... need so much?"

"Relationships aren't supposed to be one-sided, Victor. I think we should both understand that by now, don't you? Just because it looks like I need a lot, that doesn't mean you don't need anything or that I’m incapable of giving you what you need.”

"It didn't bother me that much," he said. "I didn't really mind if it was all about you."

"But, it can't be all about me. That's the point I'm trying to make. It's not fair, and it's not practical, particularly right now."

"I guess."

"You might have thought I didn't mean it, but I did," I said. "I do, and you know, the fact that you don't seem to trust me to take care of you really hurts."

"I trust you," he insisted, although his tone seemed to lack conviction.

"Do you?" I countered. "Because that's not what it looks like from where I'm sitting. Did you ever consider that I need to feel like an equal partner in this relationship? I love how much energy you put into looking after me, but what I don't love is being shut down when I try to give even a tiny bit of nurturing back to you. If you're failing me in any way, it's that."

He was silent for a while, but then he said quietly, "I'm sorry."

"Let me take care of you," I said.

"But, you can't—" he began

"I want to, and I certainly can. Let me have the chance to prove it."

There was another, longer stretch of silence, and then a pitiful, "It's hard."

He didn't elaborate, but I understood. It's hard not being the strong one. It's hard to switch roles in a relationship. It's hard to give up control.

"I know, love," I said. "I know it's hard for you, but I think we'd both feel better if you tried."

#ts4 #sims 4 #eagames #snowy escape #Victor Nelson #Yuri Okamoto #tw suicide mention #tw suicidal ideation #tw accident #tw injury #tw vomiting #stargazersims #victorsworldadventures

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homoose · 4 years ago

Text

Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part VII

Summary: Spencer’s unresolved trauma catches up with him. Reader gets her heart broken.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, I’m so sorry guys

Warnings/Includes: brief mention of violence and details of a case; brief mention of prison, past trauma; a lil self-loathing and self-sabotaging

Word count: 3.8k

a/n: I knew that this was where this story was going from the very beginning. The dialogue is one of the first parts I had written. It still hurts. Relevant to the story: I operate with the understanding that the Jeid arc does not exist, which also means that Spencer never went to therapy in season 15. Also, huge thanks to @reidscanehand for beta-ing and just generally being my hype person!!!!

Song Recs: Shrike by Hozier; Better As a Memory by Kenny Chesney (don’t come for me if Spencer made playlists this would ABSOLUTELY be on there)

Series Masterlist

———

Spencer made his way to Emily’s office, ignoring the team’s eyes on him— varying degrees of understanding, concern, and uncertainty plain on their faces. As he reached the threshold, he paused for a second before moving into her line of sight. When he moved into the doorway, she looked up and waved him in. He closed the door behind him.

She gestured to the chair in front of her desk. Spencer hesitated for only a split second, but it was long enough for her to notice. He lowered himself into the chair and met her eyes.

She folded her hands on top of the desk. “How are you feeling?”

He drummed his fingers across his kneecaps. “I’m fine.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it. She bit back a sigh and flipped open the folder in front of her. “I’m finished with the official report. I wanted to go over it with you before I submit it to the director.” She looked at him briefly before reading out the report. “On January 9th, our team pursued a lead at the residence of suspect Andrew Hurley. We divided into teams to cover the two entrances to the home, as well as the barn behind the house.”

Spencer fidgeted slightly in his chair and rubbed the tips of his fingers together. Emily continued, “During the raid, Supervisory Special Agent Spencer Reid became separated from the team and was ambushed and disarmed by the suspect in the barn.” She paused but didn’t look at him. “The team was unaware of the altercation for some time, during which Dr. Reid employed various approved restraint methods and was ultimately forced to utilize self-defense measures to preserve his own life. Consequently, Mr. Hurley sustained serious injuries.”

She did look at him then, a steady and unrelenting gaze that had him shrinking inside himself. “However, I have determined that Dr. Reid’s actions were justified in order to maintain his own safety.” She returned her eyes to the report. “Mr. Hurley was detained and treated for his injuries at Sebastian River Medical Center, and he is expected to make a full recovery. Based on the cognitive interviews and physical evidence, a grand jury hearing is scheduled for January 25th.” She brought her hands to rest on top of the report.

“I’ll sign off on it and deliver it to the director by the end of business today.” She let out the sigh she’d been holding back. “Reid.”

He pressed his mouth into a thin line, torn between shame and vindication. “Emily.”

“What happened in that barn was unacceptable. And I need you to recognize that.” Her eyes were back on him, a leader’s gaze boring into a weak link. “You went against a direct order. You put your life in danger unnecessarily, and in the process you endangered this entire team. Furthermore, you could have cost us the ability to close this case, to put Hurley away and bring justice to his victims.”

“It won’t happen again,” he assured her.

“No, it won’t.” Her tone told him that if it did, he’d have bigger problems than a meeting in her office. “My recommendation to the director is that you transition to your next mandatory leave cycle early.”

“I can handle—”

“It’s not a request. You’re on sabbatical starting tomorrow. That’s an order, and one you’d do well to follow.” She closed the file in front of her. “We’ll see you back in the bullpen on March 7th.”

“I don’t need more time off, Emily,” Spencer snapped.

He could see her grind her teeth together at his tone, but he couldn’t seem to care enough to feel contrite. She took a deep breath in through her nose, leveling him with a pointed look. “If Simmons hadn’t broken it up, you’d have killed Hurley on the floor of that barn.”

His mind snapped back to the lifeless eyes of Hurley’s victims— eight year old boys in shallow graves. Boys who died afraid, and in pain, and crying out for their mothers. His thoughts raced to the feel of Hurley’s throat under his arm, the crack of the zygomatic under his fist. Emily was right of course. If Matt hadn’t found them in the barn and dragged him up and off of Hurley’s nearly lifeless body, Spencer would have killed him without compunction.

“Reid.” The stern edge was gone from her voice. Spencer refocused his eyes on her face, now showcasing an underlying concern that made his stomach turn. “I’m not recommending another cycle of mandatory counseling at this time, although I reserve the right to require it moving forward. But… I’m asking you to take care of yourself. You’ve been through a lot in the last two years. More than a lot.”

“I said I’m fine,” he insisted, but there was less fire behind it this time.

“And I’m not saying you aren’t,” she countered. “But I am saying that the person in that barn… that wasn’t you. That was not the Reid that I know.” Emily tilted her head and furrowed her brow. “The Reid I know uses his intellect and empathy to see angles that the rest of us miss. He depends on the strength of his mind and his unwavering compassion to diffuse conflicts without violence. He invites his friends to foreign film showings and puppet theater.”

When he didn’t budge, she let out a long breath. “I want you to take the next fifty days to find that Reid and bring him back to us.”

...

Y/N dropped into her desk chair with a huff. They’d been back from winter break for two weeks, and she already needed another vacation. But tomorrow was Friday, and then they had a long weekend. She could make it through one more day.

She closed her eyes for a long moment, tired in the way that only kindergarten teachers fresh off a long break can be. She heard the click of Anita’s shoes coming before she even entered the room, and Y/N couldn’t stop the twitch of her lips.

“Dude. How is it only Thursday?” Anita flopped down into the plush Calm Corner chair.

“This has been the longest week of my life,” Y/N agreed. “My kids were off the chain.”

“There is so much drama in middle school right now,” Anita groaned. “I can’t keep up with all the tea, and you know how I love to stay up to date on the freshest brews.” She shot Y/N a look. “Speaking of, where’s the good doctor?”

“I think they’ve had a lot going on at work,” Y/N surmised. “I haven’t seen Mrs. Jareau in over a month.”

“Well, I’m getting antsy,” Anita complained. “Thought for sure you’d be going steady by now.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but feel a little impatient herself. If she’d known it would be this long before she’d see him again, she might have made a move when he’d volunteered. Then again, probably not. She sighed.

Her phone chimed with an email message, and she automatically swiped the screen open to read it.

Spencer Reid Re:

Are you free today? If you are, I’ll be at Soho.

...

Spencer sat at the table in the corner of the coffee shop. He sipped absentmindedly at his tea, almost gone cold. He hadn’t waited for a reply before leaving Quantico. He drove straight to the city, figuring he’d wait at Soho until he felt some semblance of calm returning to his body.

He didn’t know why he’d emailed Y/N, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted her to show up. Usually he’d talk to Penelope or maybe JJ. But he’d wanted to get as far from the BAU as possible, and he didn’t want to drag Penelope away from the colorful, safe corner of the world she’d created for herself. He didn’t want to fill it with all the tragedy she’d tried so hard to leave behind.

If Y/N did show, he was certain he could keep the conversation vague, focus on her and the classroom, ask her about her holidays. She wasn’t a profiler, didn’t know his tells well enough. She’d be none the wiser, and he’d have her warmth and presence to focus his energy on, if only for a few hours.

Every time the bell chimed, his eyes flew to the door, searching for her. He knew it was ridiculous. He’d only known her for one hundred and eleven days. Pragmatically, he knew she shouldn’t be the one he wanted to talk to. Realistically, he wasn’t planning to burden her with all of the mess of the past week, the past year, his entire life.

But in the six hundred and forty seven minutes he’d spent with her since September, he’d felt more like himself than he ever had. He was never afraid to be himself with her— the silly story voices, the ridiculous costume, the magic trick, the vulnerability about his mom. All of these pieces of himself were things he usually waited years to show people. It had taken her a matter of weeks to draw them out.

He couldn’t help but believe that if he wanted to, he could tell her everything. She’d know exactly what to say. She’d listen for as long as he could keep talking. She’d cover his shaking hands and wrap him up in the warmth of her spirit. She’d give of herself to guide him back to the person he used to be. She’d be more than willing to use her radiance to illuminate the dark so that he might have a little light again.

The bell sounded, and his eyes focused, and there she was. She was wrapped up in a puffed jacket, a bright blue scarf tied around her neck. Her nose was adorably red from the cold, and she rubbed her hands together as the door closed behind her. Her eyes found him immediately. A small smile turned up the corners of her mouth, and she gave him an enthusiastic wave. And he knew that he was right about all of it.

She approached the table, unwinding her scarf. “Hi!”

“Hi.”

Her eyes flickered over his face, and then settled on his mostly empty mug. “I’ll get you a refill, and then we’ll catch up?”

He nodded, and she headed to the counter. There had been a part of him that thought she wouldn’t come, but of course she did. For some reason, unbeknownst to him, she liked talking to him. Even among his closest friends, he was often made to feel self-conscious about his tendency to ramble, but Y/N had literally asked him to. She sought him out, asked him questions, listened intently, and remembered things he’d told her. She was kind and thoughtful and genuine. Of course she came when he called.

She returned with two mugs, carefully setting them down on the tiny table. She unzipped and removed her jacket, hanging it on the back of her chair and revealing a crew neck sweater covered in tiny astronauts and rocket ships. When she sat across from him, her hands wrapped around the mug and her eyes met his.

“Hi.”

He couldn’t stop his lips from twitching, despite the events of the day. “You said that already.”

She laughed, and he felt the weight begin to lift. “Yeah, well, I haven’t seen you in forever, so— I’m just making up for lost time.”

“Sixty one days.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s been sixty one days, eighty eight minutes, and approximately,” he looked at his watch, “fourteen seconds since we saw each other last.”

She laughed again, and his mouth completed its curve. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I like that you’ve been counting.” She let her chin come to rest in her hand, eyes studying his face. “How are you?”

He wanted to lie, but she was looking at him so earnestly that he mumbled out, “I’m managing.”

She mirrored the way he’d looked at her across this same table nearly three months ago. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” That was a lie, too. But asking her to meet him was enough of a burden.

“Okay. Well, if you change your mind at any point, let me know.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Until then, I can just regale you with all the kindergarten stories you’ve missed while you were out saving lives.”

And regale him she did. For almost an hour, he listened to her tales of love (budding crushes were taking over recess time), loss (the class pet— a stuffed zebra— had accidentally taken a swim in the Atlantic on a vacation to Florida), and lessons learned…

“So, in case there was ever any doubt, we are now painfully aware that we shouldn’t attempt to flush our underwear.” Y/N let out an exasperated laugh.

She’d been talking to him for fifty three minutes, and his heart already felt one thousand times lighter. “I’m really glad I wasn’t there for that one.”

“I really wish that was the only poop story I had.” She shook her head. “There are a lot of things they don’t tell you in grad school. I think there’d be a global teacher shortage if they warned you about the amount of bodily fluid management involved in teaching kindergarten.”

She toyed with the edge of her empty mug. He watched the movement of her fingers.

“Do you—”

She laughed and gestured for him to speak first.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

…

They ended up in Mitchell Park. The trees were bare and the grass was brown, but he was with her, and so it was beautiful.

They’d been walking in comfortable silence, when she asked, “Did you change your mind? About talking about it.”

Spencer put his hands into his pockets. “It’s, um— it’s kind of a lot.”

She shrugged. “I’ve got time.”

“I don’t mean— I mean, it would take some time to get through it all. But it’s also— it’s a lot.”

“We don’t have to.” He could feel her eyes on him. “Do you talk to— someone about it?”

“I talked with my unit chief today,�� he answered.

“Okay. But— I mean, have you ever— talked to someone. Like, a professional.”

Spencer bristled slightly. Although he knew she wasn’t passing judgement, her question exposed the reality that she thought he could use it. “I’ve had some mandated counseling over the years.”

“Obviously it’s your choice whether you talk to someone or not,” she mused. “I just— I know that I’ve benefited a lot from seeing my therapist.”

Spencer was unsure of what to do with that information. Here she was, confessing that she went to therapy— sweet, lovely Y/N. In comparison, he wasn’t sure if even daily meetings with a counselor would be enough to tame the darkness that had grown and festered inside him over the years. That sometimes threatened to swallow him whole.

For a long while, there was only the crunch of the frozen ground beneath their feet. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was an uncertainty about them that felt uncharacteristically heavy. He was hyper aware of her presence, and so he felt her pace slowing down before she came to a complete stop. He walked a few more paces before it became clear that she wasn’t planning to catch up.

He turned and saw that she’d taken a seat on one of the park benches. He carefully made his way to the bench, sitting beside her quietly. She didn’t look at him, but instead studied her fingernails intently. She cracked her knuckles once, twice, and then turned her body slightly toward him on the bench.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” she hedged carefully. “I didn’t mean to tell you what to do, or like, imply that there’s anything wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with you at all. I just—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer assured her. The way she looked at him then— like he was something fragile, delicate— made his eyes burn. He kept his voice even. “I know what you meant.”

She smiled, eyes crinkling and filled with something that felt familiar and far away all at once. “Good. I can’t have you out here thinking you’re anything less than wonderful.”

He couldn’t stop looking at her, attempting to solve the impossible cypher behind her irises. As he failed to decode it, his inability to read her blinded him to what came next. He missed the dilation of her pupils, the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips, the increase of the beats in her carotid. So when she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his, he was momentarily paralyzed.

Her lips were so soft against his slightly chapped ones, pressing with a perfectly gentle pressure. She brought her hand up to cradle his cheek, the pads of her fingers just barely ghosting the curls falling around his ear. She sighed into his mouth and pressed a little closer. He took one peaceful moment to bask in the realization of a desire he’d had for almost four months.

And then she swiped the very tentative tip of her tongue against the seam of his mouth, and his hands involuntarily wound into her hair, dragging her closer. He opened his mouth against hers to swallow her sweet little gasp. His grip on her hair tightened, and she let out the tiniest mewl, and like a switch had flipped— suddenly his mind was full of the darkness she’d spent the evening chasing away.

Y/N beneath him in the dark. Maeve in a pool of blood. His hands around Cat’s neck. His mother’s slap against his cheek. Max walking away from him. His fingers pressing the plunger on a dirty syringe. The slam of the door behind his father. Y/N calling out his name. A knife at his throat under a canopy of bones. Innumerable sets of lifeless eyes staring up at him. His life being snuffed out on the dirt floor of a shed. The clanging of metal bars and fingers ghosting over old bruises. Y/N looking at him with warm, loving eyes. The violent crack of bone underneath his fists. Y/N’s face, lovely and perfect— and then twisted in pain.

He broke away from her, releasing his hold on her hair and pushing her back into the bench. He took a second to gather himself before he dared to look at her. Her hair was tousled from his rough grip; her eyes were half-lidded and focused on him; her lips were red and kiss-bruised and turned up in a small, sweet smile.

And all at once he knew he had to hurt her, and it had to be now. Because what Cat had said about him was true. He might have escaped his mother’s illness, but he hadn’t been able to outrun the violence— and unlike her, he didn’t have the excuse of being sick. He had hurt people, and he had enjoyed it. He would have killed Hurley, and he would have slept soundly. He was no better than the men his team hunted.

Every time he thought he’d moved past it, that wickedness lurking just under the surface would grab him by the throat, choking everything else out. Emily’s directive rang in his ears. Find that Reid and bring him back to us. He knew who she was talking about. The problem was, he wasn’t sure that person still existed.

He was going to hurt Y/N eventually. Better to do it now, before things got too far.

“You’re Michael’s teacher,” he said, as evenly as possible.

Her smile faltered, and she pressed her lips together. He could still feel the phantom press of them against his own, and he was sure he’d never forget it. She cleared her throat. “You’re right, you’re totally right. I, um— I won’t be in a few months, and maybe then—”

“You don’t even know me,” he interrupted.

Now there was confusion in her eyes. That much he could read. She huffed out a small laugh. “I— I don’t think that’s entirely true.”

He looked directly at her. “Why? Because you read my bio on a university website? Because we got tea a couple times?” His voice sounded harsh, patronizing, and he hated it.

Her confusion shifted into shock, and he ignored the tug on his heart. “Are you serious?” she questioned, genuinely searching for a sign that he was joking.

“Dead serious.” He shrugged, and it felt like his bones were breaking. “You don’t really know anything about me, Y/N. If you did, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“Where— where is this coming from?” Her voice was small, close to breaking. He lined up the last nail on the lid of the coffin.

“Maybe I gave you the wrong impression. I’ve appreciated talking to you. Volunteering in your classroom was entertaining. But I don’t— I don’t see you that way.” It was a lie, and if he didn’t have such a practiced poker face, she might have seen through it. As it was, his poker face had helped get him banned from every casino in Vegas, so he watched her as he hammered the final nail. “You’re just Michael’s kindergarten teacher.”

“Oh.” The hurt flashed across her features— the furrow of her brow, the tightening of her mouth, the storm clouds in her eyes. “Well, I— I really read this wrong, huh?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Yeah.” He put his hands into his pockets to keep himself from reaching for her, the desire to comfort her a strange juxtaposition to the pain he was intentionally inflicting on her. “I guess so.”

She opened and closed her mouth twice before taking a deep breath and nearly whispering, “Okay. Well. I’m— I’m gonna go.”

She brushed some imaginary dust from her pants and then stood. She turned to him, and he waited for her to explode— to scream and curse at him. But it didn’t come. She didn’t look at him at all. “Um— yeah. I’m gonna go.”

He didn’t say anything, and he knew she’d take his silence as indifference. But he had to keep his mouth shut, because if he didn’t, he’d beg her to stay. He’d tell her every single random piece of information he had stored in his brain. He’d tell her that he loved her from the moment he watched her help a child pick a solution from a pencil box. He’d tell her that he only ever dreamt of two things these days— her or the lives he didn’t save. He’d tell her every single one of his deepest, darkest secrets. He’d tell her that sometimes he was so afraid of himself that he could barely breathe. And if he told her all of that, she’d walk away anyway.

So instead, he watched her turn and start back up the path, hugging her arms around herself and swiping her cheek against her scarf.

When she disappeared over the slope of the path, he scrubbed his hands over his own damp face and let himself break.

———

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#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid imagine #homoose writes #tmsidk

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