#he was like ‘we’re all gonna work dead end jobs and be in therapy forever’ like be an asshole on your own time and not ours
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glanced disdainfully at the guy in group therapy blowing his tongue out at the teacher while she was talking yesterday and he immediately stopped and didn’t come in today. chat did i kill him
#he was like ‘we’re all gonna work dead end jobs and be in therapy forever’ like be an asshole on your own time and not ours#if you don’t wanna get better than don’t!!! but don’t stop ME from getting better!!!#shed petals
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Random midnight inspiration hit again. This time some Jones family chatter.
~~
“We’re just amazed you kept her so long.” Sighing out his nose, Kevin leant back in his seat with a half-hearted shrug.
“Guess it proves I’m mom’s son- can’t just accept something’s dead in the water and move on.”
“Aw, kiddo-” Eva reached out and shook his shoulder with a fond but sad little smile- “you’re already doing so much better than me. I don’t see a single traumatized grandbaby milling around.”
“She’s got a point,” Molly said as Kevin snorted a brief laugh despite himself. “You didn’t even marry her or anything. It took you a while to figure out the rest of us were right, yeah, but you got there before everything went to total shit. Now you can take what you’ve learned and have better relationships with the next people.”
“If I don’t just swear off this shit forever.” He took a sip of his drink and leaned, just slightly, into the comfort of his mother’s touch. “I’m tired.”
“Then take a break,” she said. “It’s not a race, Danger. Step back, figure yourself out, work out the kinks. Better to do it now than later, when there’s more chance to give yourself trouble.”
“And if you’re worried about ending up with another Gwendolyn after,” Molly added, “the family can always find you somebody worthwhile.”
“More cha- Fin-” Setting down his glass, Kevin leveled the two of them with a Look. “Can I remind everyone that here I’m a murderer?”
“Was a murderer,” Eva said, “unless there’s been some new development in the past several years, last I heard you’d been behaving.”
“Excepting the theft, smuggling, and black-market work.”
“Those hardly even count though, and I’m pretty sure his heroing cancels them out.”
“True, plus, you did say you were planning on retiring from all that shit?”
“Like I said, I’m tired. I’m not Sid, I’m perfectly willing to mooch off Argit for a while while I get my own shit together into something that won’t have me dead by twenty-five.” His mother and cousin nodded sagely.
“So you’re not gonna be doing any of that shit anymore, or at least not professionally,” Molly said, “you’ve stopped killing people, threw yourself head first into saving lives and shit. You’re being better and helping people.”
“It’s all anyone can ask,” Eva added, “is for you to work to be a better person. And trust me, you’re doing a good job with it. People are placing you nearly up there with Tony and Zak, and they haven’t killed anybody.” Molly kicked gently at Kevin’s leg with a soft smile.
“You can’t just judge yourself on the bad things you’ve done in the past,” she said, “you have to include the good things you’re doing now. There’s some heinous shit back there, yeah, but you’ve been doing amazing things since. So, keep up that forward momentum. Volunteer or something while you’re getting your shit together, I don’t know, but you’re being better, and the way things are going you’re only going to go up from here.” He smiled at her.
“Thanks. Still don’t think I’m all that great, but thanks.”
“Go say that in front of Doc,” Eva said, “he’ll fund your therapy for life.” She squeezed his shoulder. “You’re a good person, the things you regret don’t stop you from being a good person. You deserve to rest and recover, grow and be loved. You wouldn’t say Waylon or I didn’t deserve those things, would you?”
“No…”
“So, there you go. And we’ve both got far worse track records than you. You need to treat yourself at least as well as you’d treat kin.” Teeth scraping over his lip, Kevin nodded slowly and picked his glass back up.
“I can try,” he said. “…I actually might talk to Doc. Love you, but, I really don’t wanna fuck up my future kids.” Eva nodded.
“Good,” she said, reaching to stroke his hair, “please learn from my fuck-ups. The last thing you want is for your growth to come at your baby’s expense, trust me.” Nodding along with the sentiment, Molly leaned over to pat his knee.
“And if you need any help with it, with anything, just say the word,” she said. “A lot of us messed up before, but... We’re here for you now.” Some tension slipped from Kevin’s shoulders as he nodded back, smile getting that little bit wider.
“Thanks.”
#fanfic#kevin: i am my mother's son#eva: oh no honey you are *much* better than i was at your age#eva jones's biggest regret- that the kick in the pants she needed to let go of her pride came at the expense of her son#kevin: i'm not a good person#the entire jones family: ding-dong you are wrong
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You Set My Heart on Fire 01 [M] ft. Namjoon
→ fireman!namjoon and paramedic!y/n au (warning: drunken sex, oral, etc.) → 10k words, part 1 | part 2 | fin. → As a surgeon forced to volunteer as a paramedic in the Seoul Fire Department during an unfortunate probation incident, your one and only goal was to get to work, do your thing, and get the hell home and back to your original high-salary job. But when the SFD’s Chief is the incredibly attractive, cocky, and persistent Kim Namjoon, things start to get heated.
Hi! this is a reupload, and i figured i’d vamp up the title and the header in the meantime! Thank you to the user who managed to save this just in time, after I accidentally deleted it T___T I am forever indebted to you, and I lost your username, so if you see this pls dm me i’d love to write something for as a token of my appreciation!
You roll your eyes, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair as the lawyer continues to lay out the demands.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you huff, glaring at the idiot gangster who’s at the other side of the room. He cringes a bit at your glare, nursing an ice pack against his bruised cheek.
“I swear, he slapped my ass! I was just retaliating!” You cry, frustrated. Your surgery chief huffs angrily at your behavior and you settle back, clenching your fists on top of the table.
The lawyer snarks back, “You also managed to cause damage to the victim’s body in the process. He’s demanding full reparations. Let’s see,” she muses, flipping through the documents spread out on the table between the both of you. “A broken nose, bruised cheekbone, fractured wrist from when he fell, and muscle strains on his lower back, and psychological damage from framing him for sexual harassment and from the physical assault. In total, it would amount the hospital to about $50,000 to cover the hospital costs and the time he would need to talk off from his job, and the continued physical and mental therapy sessions to follow for around 6 months.” She closes the file with a grin. “So, Dr. Y/N, what’s it gonna be?”
“Chief, I can’t believe we’re just losing to him!” You cry, following after Dr. Kim, who’s seething as he storms down the hall outside of the conference room.
He screeches to a halt, turning around with a glare. “Well, what do you wanna do?!” He throws his hands up in defeat, “You want to cause a whole legal issue? You know that there’s really nothing else we can do in this situation! It’s your word against his, and the video cameras only show proof of him passing by you, and then you throwing a big ass punch in his fucking face!” He cries, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temples.
“Look, Dr. Y/N, you did the right thing. The fucker deserved the punch, and you threw a good one. But,” he continues, placing his glasses back on his nose and patting your shoulder, “giving him the money is the best thing we could do for both the hospital and for you. So, just, take this next month off, get the community service done and then come right back. Alright? I’ll even let you head all the interesting cases that come into the operating room.”
He sighs, and walks off, leaving you behind. You roll your eyes and run a hand through your hair, fist clenching on the brochure of community service options for doctors.
The fucker had brought his girlfriend in during your shift at the emergency room, and while she was getting stitches for a cut that she got from a building collapse, in the craze of the emergency room, he was going around touching asses. You’d heard the nurses complaining about it, about how it was just a swipe of the hand that seemed like an accident, but multiple had the same experience from the same seedy-looking jerk.
When it was your turn to go up to the patient and explain that her stitches were done and she was alright to go home, he’d come up next to you and his knuckles grazed the skin of your ass. Sick of everything, you’d pushed him back and socked him straight in the face.
Later, from the cameras though, there was no visible evidence of him touching anyone, and it was your word against the clear security camera shot of you socking him right in his big ass nose. So you open the brochure and plop down at your desk to see what options there were. There were the general ones, where you could serve and clean up at a park or volunteer at a soup kitchen, and then there was a separate page for doctors who probably just wanted to maintain their skills in the field they volunteered in. You pick up the phone.
“What?” Yugyeom asks, “Chief seriously ended up giving you a probation period for community service?” He sighs over the phone, and you roll your eyes too.
“Yeah,” you huff, “which one should I do? I should sign up today, since it might take a bit to get approved and might as well start early so I can go back to work as soon as I get all my hours finished.”
He muses, probably scanning the picture you sent him. “Hm...well look, you can go travel to Africa or Cambodia or something. It’ll be like that one drama with Song Joong Ki in it. Maybe you’ll meet a hot military general. What do you think?”
“Too far,” you complain, taking a red pen and drawing a line through it. “Also, they don’t cover air fare or housing. Maybe something more local.”
“Okay, well then what about teaching kids in elementary and high school about general first aid and health? You can maybe meet a single teacher who’s good with kids. That’s kind of hot.”
“I fucking hate kids, Yug, you know that,” you sneer, rolling your eyes and crossing out that option. “Also, why are you trying to get me laid, you should be worried about your own empty gay love life.”
He huffs, “Well, bitch, if you’re gonna be so picky why’d you call. Just take the second to last one, the medic for the fire department! It’ll be fun, I know a friend who works in the one that’s close by to the hospital, so you can just commute from there and if you guys ever end up coming to the emergency room, you’ll see all of us there too.”
You hum, scanning through the brief description: Medic for the Seoul Fire Department. In-department housing and meals provided during both on-call and working hours. Needs basic EMT and paramedic skills. Must be able to handle emergency situations calmly and communicate with safety officers.
You purse your lips, scoffing a little bit at the emergency part. “Well, if there’s something I can handle, it’s emergency.”
He laughs, “What a downgrade...from a cardio surgeon to a paramedic. Jeez, you better get out of this one quick. Just make sure not to punch anyone during duty, and you’ll be fine.”
“Shut up bitch. Let’s go clubbing tonight. I need to let some of this stress out before I get trapped in there.”
The night was lively and the drinks kept flowing. Jennie and Jackson from Health and Nutrition, Sana from pediatrics, Yugyeom and Seulgi from Cardio, and even the oh-so-popular Jaebom and Jinyoung from general surgery came out.
You were dressed in the hottest dress you could find in Seulgi’s closet, and according to Yugyeom’s apparently “gay and therefore superior opinion,” your outfit and hair and makeup were basically a “straight guy’s ticket to bonertown.”
“Legit, how could you be so gay but also talk like such a frat boy at the same time?” You sneer, taking another shot of vodka.
He sucks on his lemon, and then flashes a smile. “It’s the best combination. I pull.”
He cocks his chin to a direction behind you. “Also seems like I was right, because you’ve been pulling too. That guys been staring ever since we got to the bar.”
You turn, blurry vision settling on a handsome, leather jacket clad guy that’s sitting with two other guys at the table. He’s looking now, eyebrow cocked and lip between his teeth. He’s not usually your type, but you feel it. This, was the guy you were gonna fuck tonight.
You get up, patting Yugyeom on the arm. “Thanks, I’ll take myself home tonight.” He whistles behind you as you try your best to make your way to the guy, but suddenly your drunk ass hobbles on your Forever 21 heels, and you topple to the side. All of a sudden, there’s a strong hand gripping your upper arm and pulling you up, and an arm wrapping around your waist to offer support.
“Oh shit, miss, you alright?” A low voice sounds right next to your ear. You look up, expecting to see the leather jacket guy, but this...this was much better. This guy was dressed in only a black t-shirt tucked into blue jeans. But his simple ensemble didn’t matter. He was tall, way taller than you in your tallest heels, and he smelled so damn good. His hair was slicked up and his skin absolutely golden. He wasn’t biting his lip or doing anything to try and hook up with you, but in seconds, you were sopping wet.
No, this was the guy you were gonna fuck tonight.
“I will be,” you answer him, straightening up and pressing yourself up against him. “when you buy me a drink.”
He seems to understand what you’re getting at. He chuckles a bit, eyebrow quirking and you think it’s the hottest shit you’ve ever seen since waterproof scrubs. He helps you straighten up. “I think you’ve had enough drinks already. Can I get you some water?”
“Yes,” you breathe, but not letting go. “But only if you stay with me until I’m finished.”
He smiles, and keeps his hand on your waist as he guides you the bar and orders a cup of water. You sit on the single empty bar stool, and he stands, and you revel in the fact that even on this tall bar stool, he still stands taller than you.
You sip the water, and he leans an elbow on the bar, inches from you.
“So, what brings you stumbling into this bar?”
“I’m here with some coworkers,” you say, and he leans in closer to hear you over the loud music.
“Won’t they be looking for you?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” You pout, and he laughs, shaking his head.
“Hell no, I’m just worried.”
“Wow, and they say chivalry is dead.” You fire back, and he laughs again.
“You gonna keep laughing at my jokes or are you gonna ask me to come home with you?” You raise your brows as you sip your water, looking at him over the rim. His expression darkens, but the corner of his mouth sexily turns up.
“I might laugh a little more just to tease, I suppose. Helps build up for later.” He leans up, hand on the bar, but steps a bit closer to you this time. If you leaned up a bit, you’d kiss. He chuckles again, and you can feel his breath on your lips.
You roll your eyes, “Shut up and kiss me already.”
He smiles and leans down, other hand cradling your waist as you reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling harshly when he slides his tongue into your mouth as soon as you open up for him.
He’s a good kisser. He knows how to move his lips, knows when to pull back to leave you wanting for more, and does that thing where he stops kissing to just peck wetly at your lips before sinking in for more. Hook, line, and sinker. You’re done. “Let’s get out of here, please,” you whimper against his lips, and he smiles, straightening up.
“As you wish. Oh, also what’s your name?”
“Y/N,” you shout over the music. “What about you?”
“You can call me Joon.” He smirks.
The ride to his apartment is blurry, because all you remember is a lot of giggling and trying not to moan at how his hand is so big around your thigh that you have you physically restrain yourself from jumping him on the highway right there. The tires screech as he parks and you both laugh as you stumble into the elevator, giving the security guards watching the cameras a show when you straight up make out with him in the corner of the elevator, his hand up your dress and your hand up his shirt.
He pushes you against his closed door, dropping his keys and jacket on the ground as he undoes the zipper on your dress. You tug at his shirt, “Off,” you whine, and he smiles, stepping back to whip his shirt off with one hand behind his neck.
“Fuck, that’s hot.” you whimper, and he kisses you breathless. “You’ve been saying that all night. Creative, much?”
“Fuck off, I don’t do hook ups much and I’m just telling the truth,” you say, as he gathers you in his arms and literally picks you up and heads to his bedroom. His hands squeeze your ass as he makes his way over, and you catch a glimpse of a neat, tidy living room. His bedroom is clean too, especially for a bachelor. Navy blue sheets, sleek, black furniture, expensive looking place. He was literally so fucking hot.
He drops you on the bed and immediately drapes over you, his jeans rubbing against your soaked panties. He slides his splayed palms up from your waist up to your breasts, mouth following the motion as he laves his tongue over your nipple, palm gently cupping the weight of your breasts in the grip between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. You preen at the sensation, back arching off the bed. “Pants off,” you pant, squirming underneath the warmth of his hands and mouth.
“So bossy,” he comments, smirking as he leans up on his knees to undo his belt. “I dig that.”
You lay back, taking the time to wiggle out of your soaked panties. You thank the gods you chose to wear your new set of lace undies because the rest of your drawer was basically an ocean of white granny panties. He finally drapes back over you, hand gripping your thigh to open you up as he mouths at your neck.
You retaliate by reaching down and gripping his cock, hand squeezing at his base. You can’t really see it because your face is nestled in his shoulder, but you can feel how hard and big he is. He groans at the sensation, nipping at the sensitive skin behind your ear, sending tingles down your spine and your core clenching around nothing.
He props himself up as he looks down at you and slides a finger between your folds. Your yelp dissolves into a drawn out moan. “Oh my god,” you pant, as he slides the flat of two fingers over your bundle of nerves, “please don’t stop that.” You also work your fist over his cock, mouth blubbering nonsense into his neck. He moves the fingers down into your pussy, sliding in with practically no resistance and slowly drawing them in and out your wetness. You don’t really have much time to be embarrassed by the wetness you can hear, because Joon closes his eyes and bites at the soft skin at the top of your breast.
“Shit,” he grits, and he looks down to see the way your wetness glistens on his fingers, “I don’t think I can wait. Are you good?”
You nod eagerly, and you let go of him as he gives you a hard kiss on the mouth and slides a condom on while still fingering you. Its probably not porn-worthy whatever sounds you’re making, but it seems to do the trick because he kisses you even harder and then flips the both of you over so that you’re sitting in his lap. He cradles your waist and descends on your breasts again, tongue circling your sensitive nubs as you sink down on him inch by inch.
When you bottom out, you clench around him. He’s so long and thick, and it’s been a while since your last hook up. It borders on soreness, but the sensation of him moaning with your nipple in between his lips is enough of a distraction for you to work up the nerve to start moving.
It’s embarrassing how turned on right now you are, but Joon seems to be at the same level of deliriousness because he doesn’t stop touching you. From gripping your thighs, to groping your ass, sliding his hands from your waist up to your ribs, tangling in your hair, gently curling around your neck and tightening slightly, he’s literally everywhere.
“Fuck,” you cry out when one of his hands are around your neck, squeezing lightly. You slow down, grinding instead of bouncing, and the new rhythm puts your clit in that perfect position to get stimulated by his pelvis, and his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you that you find yourself hurtling over the edge much faster than you’d imagined.
He mouths at your cheek and ear, hand still around your neck when you cum, and suddenly he grips your thigh and presses you down against his pillows as he kneels in front of you and begins fucking you hard. The bed knocks against the wall, but you can’t care because the new position has your orgasm prolonged to a point that you’ve never felt before and your mouth just stays open in a mouthless cry against his chest as he tenses and finishes into the condom, mouth panting hoarse compliments into your ear. “Holy shit, your pussy feels so good. So tight, fuck.”
He pulls out and rolls over so he’s not crushing you, and you let out a final breath. “Wow,” you say, chest heaving as he ties the condom and throws it away. He props his head up on an elbow, grinning at you. “That good?” He says cockily, and you turn to lightly punch his chest.
“Don’t get too cocky. It was just one orgasm.”
“But also seems like the best you’ve ever had.” He adds. You roll your eyes and retort, “Well, that’s what you think--,” but your laugh dissolves into a moan again when he reaches over and pulls you underneath him to press a long, wet kiss to your mouth.
“Shut up,” he whispers between kisses, "and kiss me back already.” You smile as he kisses you, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, and scratching lightly at his shoulder blades. He growls, and moves to your neck. You sigh as he draws more open-mouthed kisses down your neck and torso, and again when a big hand splays over your thigh to hook it over his shoulder. He presses a peck against your folds and looks up at you, and you mewl as he draws the flat of his tongue thickly through your pussy all the way up. You’re a goner.
“I’m gonna make sure you never forget my name.”
The walk of shame isn’t so bad when you basically have no time to waste as you gather your things and glance once back at Joon who’s still sleeping before running down to his lobby. You don’t really care for the disapproving looks you get, as you rush to get into your uber, and immediately thank god that this particular driver offers you a tiny complimentary water bottle. You chug it down, and try not to throw up.
You literally hurtle out of the car when he gets to your place, making a mental note to tip him heftily, seeing the way he booked it when you asked him to hurry a little. You step into a hot shower and don’t even have time to pick up the dirty clothes off the floor as you quickly dress in a white shirt and navy skirt and run out of your apartment to the bus stop.
Thankfully, you make it on time to your interview, and even though the captain gives a small disapproving look to your wet hair tips, he gives you a huge, bright smile when you tell him you’re a cardio surgeon “taking a break.” When you told him that you used to work as a paramedic before medical school a few years ago, he basically hired you on the spot, babbling on about how much he loves people with more experience.
“So, miss Y/N, what are your interests, your hobbies?” Hoseok trails like a little puppy after you as you walk down the hall from the Fire Captain’s office to your team’s multipurpose room. You frown at him. “Eh,” you brush him off, “not much.”
He smiles, pushing his hair back from his face and trying to stand up tall, “Well, doctor, I love lifting weights and saving damsels in distress. What are you doing later, say, around 5?” You turn on your heel, and he bumps into you, scuttling backwards at the glare you have on your face.
“Look, honey,” you sneer, stepping towards him with a scowl, “You’re cute, but I’m hungover.” you say, scanning him up and down, “And I’m only here for a month and I swear if I have to spend the entire 30 days having you chase me down like a little pet, then I’m probably going to just jump off a building. Okay? So do me a favor, and stop asking me out.”
He gawks at you, and then recovers. “Wait...you’re only here for a month?”
Rolling your eyes, you resume walking towards the wait room. He wasn’t going to stop. “Yes, I’m here just to serve a short community service sentence.”
He hums, following your footsteps again, grinning. “Okay, fine. I won’t try to ask you out. I’ll just keep replaying the part where you said I’m cute over and over again in my head.” He winks at you lightheartedly.
“Here, let me introduce you to the guys.” He walks a bit faster than you as you approach the room, and creaks the door open and lets you in.
As soon as the door swings open, your eyes grow wide as you take in the sight in front of you. In the room, theres a half naked guy digging through the refrigerator, his firefighter’s outfit hanging around his hips. A pair of muscular large ones are wrestling in the corner, also only decked in sweatpants low on their hips. One lounges on the couch in a pair of glasses and a plain white t-shirt and navy uniform pants and boots, while a similarly dressed shorter one is asleep. A tall one is in the corner playing with a tiny puppy. All six of them swivel their heads towards you when you enter.
You wave awkwardly and take a step back to leave when Hoseok bounds in after you and throws an arm around your shoulder, announcing proudly, “Hey guys, this is the new medic hire! Dr. L/N!”
The one closest to you gives you a smile, taking off his glasses and setting his book aside to reach out a hand. “Hey, I’m Seokjin, captain. Nice to meet you doctor!” He smiles and you make a note of how hot he looks in glasses and how broad his shoulders were.
“You can just call me by my first name, y/n,” you shake his hand, “Likewise.”
Another one that was digging through the fridge approaches you with a piece of gummy candy hanging from his lips. His face is sharp, but he breaks out in a huge smile that lights up his face. “Taehyung! Hi y/n, welcome to Unit 55!”
You shake his hand too, “Thanks. Do you have any firewomen?” You glance around as the pair who were wrestling stop their antics and approach you shyly. The taller one shrugs, his muscles rippling as he does and you make a huge effort not to stare. “No, honestly it’s really hard to find a firewoman these days and they probably don’t like spending time with all guys like us either.”
Taehyung leans over. “That’s Jungkook by the way.”
His partner punches Jungkook’s bicep and turns to you with a show-stopping smile. Oh. The girls would swoon for both of them, you note. They’ll have no problem finding firewomen who want to spend all day with them. “I’m Jimin. And even though this idiot makes us sound like a bunch of goons, it’s just rough being around 7 guys all the time for girls probably. But we’ll do our best to help you get comfortable around here. We’re really fun, I promise!”
You frown, glancing around the room and counting the people you’d met already. Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin. Which left just the one still asleep somehow through all the commotion on the couch. Seeing your eyes trail over him, Seokjin looks at you over the rims of his glasses, pointing at the sleeping figure with his chin. “Oh, yeah. That’s Yoongi. Good thing he’s not awake cause he’s really grouchy, but he’s also a really good driver so we keep him. You should meet him later when he’s done with his nap.”
You laugh a little, and nod. “And the 7th?”
Jungkook throws on a shirt as he talks. “Namjoon, our unit Battalion Chief. He’s not here right now, but you’ll be able to meet him later. He basically runs this whole thing.”
“Oh I see,” you muse, and give a tight-lipped smile. “Well, maybe I’ll start moving my things in soon. Can you show me my room?”
“Bitch,” Yugyeom sneers as he watches open-mouthed as the guys help unload your car at the station. “You didn’t tell me that all your co-workers were single, hot guys that walked around shirtless all the time.” He frowns at you, ignoring your eye roll, and then switching 180 degrees and laughing and smiling when Taehyung walks by with all your heavy trunks in his arms.
“Hahahaha, Y/N, you’re so funny,” he fakes, and then turns to you with a glint in his eye. “Maybe I should’ve punched that idiot in the face too and I would’ve been here instead.” He hisses, gawking at the way Jungkook and Jimin both easily haul your mattress up the steps. Shirtless, by the way. Again.
You sigh. “It’s only for a month. And honestly, you’re such a fake ass little bitch. You were the one trying to find me a man, and now that I’m surrounded by them, you resent me for it?” you huff. “Oh, Jin, those drawers just go in the closet, thank you.”
“No problem Y/N,” Seokjin grins, pushing up his glasses as he walks past you two easily, holding up the chest of drawers that took both you and Yugyeom an entire twenty minutes to shove in the moving truck. You give him a smile in return and turn back to Yug with a snort. “Wipe your drool.” You laugh, and he closes his mouth with a clack.
“I’ll literally visit you, like all the time, Y/N,” he whispers.
“Please don’t.”
“Oh also,” he turns to you inquisitively. “What happened last weekend? Did you end up going home with that hot guy?”
You pull him closer. “Keep your voice down,” you hiss. “Yes. I fucked him.”
He whistles lowly. “He wasn’t that good?”
Sighing, you check to make sure all the other boys aren’t in the vicinity. “No, that’s the problem. He was too good. I can’t stop thinking about it. Haven’t had a proper orgasm since.”
He looks unsurprised. “Well, when’s the last time you got laid. College?”
“Shut up, asshole,” you frown, “It’s only been like...a few months.”
“Okay, so I guess we’re calling last year’s during our we’re-not-interns-anymore-party a ‘couple months’ ago. It was like 13 months ago.” He points out, and you glare at him.
“Fine,” you snap, “okay? It’s been, like a year. But he was really good, no matter how deprived I’ve been.”
Yugyeom still looks unimpressed, so you pull his sleeve down to whisper in his ear. “I had five orgasms that night.”
He straightens up, turning to you with wide eyes, “FIVE ORGASMS?”
You wince as chief walks by with a stern look, and you pinch Yugyeom in the side as you laugh, “Oh hahahaha, Yugyeom, you’re such a hilarious guy. Why would a patient even talk about those kinds of horrible things in the waiting room?!”
That seems to help as the chief’s expression lightens and he smiles as he grabs a cup of coffee and ascends the stairs again. You drop the smile as soon as the chief is out of earshot and punch Yugyeom hard.
“Little bitch,” you hiss, “are you trying to get me fired?”
He rubs the spot that you punched. “Ow, and no. I’m just shocked. Did you even get his number or something?”
You sigh, watching as the boys come back down to retrieve a couple more things. “No,” you say forlornly, “I literally had to run out for my interview. I only know his name, and I’m not even sure if its right.”
Yugyeom sighs, watching Jungkook and Jimin banter as they come back down.
“Well, at least you have guys like them to keep you company. Did you bring your vibrator along?”
You pinch him again.
With the help of the boys, moving in wasn’t a problem. Surprisingly, the bunk rooms aren’t at all what you’d expected. It was less of a college dorm room style, and more of like a communal housing unit. Apparently, the Seoul station had updated their housing recently, so the inside looked like a newly furnished office hotel, basically.
Jimin was nice enough to move into Hoseok’s room so that you could have the corner room all to yourself, with a private bath attached. It was adequately sized, but there was a nice closet and twin size bed attached, which was an upgrade from the dinky communal on-call room bunk beds that the hospital provided for the residents to sleep in.
There wasn’t even much to unpack, besides a few articles of clothing, a desk and computer for you to do some catching up on hospital paperwork, a mattress so you could sleep on without knots in your back, and your toiletries. You had a uniform anyway, and you were pretty low maintenance. The hospital shifts didn’t really give much space or time to pay attention to your fashion sense or your looks, and it wasn’t going to change now, either.
You make your way downstairs after finishing, with the stairs of course. The boys had kept trying to convince you that you won’t die if you try the pole, but honestly you weren’t down to break your ankle, especially when you were expected to help during an emergency situation. The stairs were fine. You were only on the second floor anyway.
The boys are already eating in the large lounge, and you see that the sleepy fireman had woken up and had starting to cook.
“Y/N!” Jungkook calls, scooting his chair over to make room for you at the center of their table. “Here!”
You smile and set down your phone, taking a seat as Taehyung brings you a tray. Its pasta and steak, with a huge side salad and green beans. You gape at the cook who’s still engrossed in tasting and perfecting the sauce for the pasta.
“Yoongi hyung’s a really good cook,” Jimin says, with a mouthful of salad and steak. With that, the man in question appears behind the younger firefighter and hands him a cup of water. “Don’t eat and talk at the same time. It’s disgusting.” He says with a curled lip, and then gives you a nod.
“You’re the new paramedic hire right?” He asks.
You nod, “Hi, yes. I’m Y/N.” He shakes your hand, nods, and turns away. “Not much of a talker, is he?” You say, and the boys chuckle.
“Yeah,” Hoseok says, “Yoongi’s not really an extroverted type. But he’ll warm up to you, just give it time.”
The rest of the day goes by smoothly. You have to sit in your room for a couple hours though, watching boredly through the instructional training online lessons you had to complete before starting your first day. You’re close to dozing off when a soft knock sounds.
“Yes!�� You sit up and turn, and Jungkook appears, smiling sweetly. “Hi, Y/N! What you doin’?”
You stick a thumb at your computer, “Training videos,” you sigh, curling your lip. “Why?”
“Oh, hyungs and I are gonna watch a movie. If you wanna come sit with us in the lounge and do your training or just watch with us, you’re welcome to!”
You pause. “Won’t it be loud? I probably won’t be able to get anything done.”
“I’m pretty sure Seokjin hyung has done basic training before. He can probably give you all the answers to those end-of-lecture quizzes.”
Now there was your incentive to go. You smile, standing up and closing your laptop. “Why didn’t you say that sooner? Let’s go.”
He guides you down to where the lounge is and all the boys chime a nice “hello” or “y/n!” when you appear in the doorway. You can see that a new episode of Game of Thrones is on. You pad over to Seokjin and he smiles when you ask him for the favor, and moves seats to the couch behind so you can sit with him and watch at the same time.
The night goes smoothly, you tapping Seokjin everytime you finish a lesson and him pausing to quickly finish the quizzes, and you joining in with the debates about the show occasionally. Yoongi brings out some snacks, and eventually Jimin brings out a blanket for you, and by the end of the episode, your training is finished and you’re sipping on soda and eating pizza.
It’s nice, you think, a lot nicer than the hospital. You were used to the competitive nature of medicine. It was always competing against the other residents or interns to get a spot that had ridiculously low acceptance rates. There was always no time to relax. This wasn’t bad at all.
But you shake your head. This was temporary. A break. No need to get attached. They’re just being hospitable. You give a tight lipped smile as the episode ends and you take your laptop and blanket with you as you stand. “Thanks, guys, for inviting me. I’m gonna turn in tonight.” you say, slowly shuffling away. “Good night!” Taehyung yells, and the other boys chime in one by one.
You set your stuff down in your room and get ready for bed. Laying in your single bed, with no one else snoring or sleep talking, and with no post-surgery fatigue to get you straight to sleep, it’s hard. You end up staring up at the ceiling of your room, sighing as you try to think of the most boring topics in the world to try and get to sleep.
“Just a few weeks, y/n.” you murmur, turning onto your side.
You’re finally dozing off when suddenly, the intercom you had no idea was located right outside your door bursts to life. “Code 904B Building Fire. Code 904B Building Fire.”
You scramble up, throwing your covers back as you stick your head out into the hallway. The lights are flashing brightly, but you can hear the sounds of the boys in each room getting ready. The first one out into the hallway is Taehyung, and he jogs up to you. “Put on your uniform, y/n,” he pants, “and meet us downstairs as soon as possible. We gotta go, and since it’s a building fire, there might be a few injuries you can help us with.”
“Okay,” you nod, as the rest of the boys begin appearing in the hallway with navy shirts on and their firemen overalls already on. They one by one disappear down the pole and you scramble to get the paramedic bodysuit on. You pull on your boots hastily and then sprint down the stairs, and see the chief addressing everyone.
“Alright, Yoongi and half of you in car 1, and the rest of you in mine. Namjoon is already in his way from his meeting, so he’ll meet us there. Let’s go!” The boys break out into jogs as they hurriedly begin packing the hoses tightly and jumping into the cars. “Chief,” you call out, “Where can I go?”
“Go with Yoongi!” He yells, and drives off, sirens wailing. You jump into the first car and immediately you’re surprised when Yoongi, usually lethargic and slow, slams on the accelerator and your own truck bolts into life. Stumbling into a seat, you ask Hoseok, “So, this is how it always happens?”
He nods solemnly, his usual playful smile gone. “24/7. We gotta stay alert.” You nod. He points to a large, bright orange utility box in the corner of the bus. “That’s your medic kit. You can look through it now if you want, we’ll be getting to the site in a few minutes.”
You nod, perching the box on the seat next to you and digging through it. It was pretty basic, syringes, bottles of lidocaine and epinephrine for stitch jobs, synthetic thread, scalpels, bandaids, alcohol, gauze, and more. You were used to working with the minimum at the emergency room. And seemed like whoever was in charge of this box had kept it neatly and pretty well-stocked. You lock the box when the truck begins to slow, and look out the window to see the commotion.
A large building has caught on fire, and already there are two other trucks unloading at the site, their firefighters already hooking up their hoses onto the fire hydrants and assembling into position to enter the building for any remaining people. The whole area smells like smoke and through it, the glow of the orange fire against the night sky is barely visible.
Immediately as the truck parks, the boys in the vehicle spring to motion. Their uniforms are already on, helmets, gloves, and oxygen tanks and all. One by one they jog out the door of the truck and do the same, unloading the hose from the side of the firetruck and linking it easily to the fire hydrant and getting ready to spray down the building.
You pull your hair back into a ponytail and look around for anyone who might be in need of help. There’s already a few survivors out around the area in the grass, and you run over to a woman laying down.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” You say as you approach her and kneel next to her. Her husband is crying. “Sir! Is she okay? What happened?”
“P-please! We were just picking up our son and then the burning piece of wood fell on her leg. No one has been able to h-help her yet! Our son is still in that building, too!”
You unlocked your box and reassured him, “Okay, sir, I need you to calm down and help me. Someone will go find your son, but we need to help your wife right now. Do you have a phone on you? Can you use the flashlight? I need to see the area.”
He does as you instruct with shaky hands, and you carefully use the scissors in the kit to cut a strip down her pants. The burn is quite bad and covers a lot of surface area, in addition to having a huge laceration down her thigh that needs to be stitched up now, in case of infection or bleeding out. You frown, she must have been in a lot of pain.
“Ma’am, can you understand me? This is going to be a bit painful, but I need to sanitize the area.”
She’s just sobbing at this point, but you can make out some words. “Please,” she sobs, “M-my s-son!”
You lean closer, “Sorry? Your son?”
She sobs and nods, “H-he’s still inside!!” She pushes your hands away from her leg, “I won’t be treated until I find him!”
You sigh, turning around to see if there are any firefighters available. You see one coming out of the building to replace his oxygen tank. You run up to him, unable to see anything but his eyes through the protective gear he was wearing.
“Hey! Hey, this woman I’m trying to treat is refusing treatment until she sees her son, and she claims he’s still inside. Please, if she doesn’t let me treat it right now, she might have to amputate her leg.” He nods, and follows you to the couple.
When they see him approaching, the woman goes hysterical. “Please!” She screams, “He’s still in there, on the second floor. I haven’t seen anyone bring him out!”
“Okay, ma’am, I’m going to go back inside for him. You need to calm down, and let this lady treat your leg, or else it could get worse. You need to stay strong for your son.”
She nods, and turns to you. You spring into action, giving the firefighter a nod as he stands. You frown, his voice sounded so familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint it.
The lady begins wailing as the adrenaline fades and the pain of her injury begins to hit. You have her husband hold her hand as you pour some alcohol on the area and she wails as the open cut is cleaned out.
Quickly, you stitch up the wound and dress the burns so that they’re manageable. She refuses to take the ambulance to the hospital until she sees her son, so you coax her into just sitting on the gurney in the ambulance and wait for her son. You try and calm down the couple as you move onto address a few more people in the vicinity with minor cuts, scrapes, and burns.
Suddenly, you hear a commotion, and you turn to the building that’s now less of a bonfire and more of a quiet smolder, and the firefighter from earlier emerges with something in his arms.
The woman you had treated earlier immediately starts wailing and crying as the firefighter jogs over to you and her and sets a boy down onto a gurney. He’s unconscious, and the firefighter whips off his helmet as he addresses you.
“He’s breathed in quite a bit of smoke, and fell unconscious when I picked him up. He needs pediatric CPR!”
“Namjoon!” Hoseok cries out.
You gawk as you watch him yell instructions at you and the rest of the firefighters you’d met, brows furrowing and eyes widening as you recognize those slanted eyes, thick lips and angled jawline that you’d run your tongue over that one fateful night. It was Joon. He was a firefighter. His name was Namjoon.
“Y/N!” He grabs you by the shoulders, “Focus!”
You immediately spring into action, running towards the boy and checking his pulse. “Do you know how to do compressions on a pediatric patient?” You breathe, and Joon nods, throwing his helmet and his tank aside and opening the buttons on his uniform jacket before he climbs atop the gurney.
As he begins compressions, you deliver some shots on his arm and search his body for any large cuts or burns. You hook him up to an oxygen mask and turn up the machine to high. “Switch!” You call out, and your hands replace Joon’s as you climb atop him and begin compressions.
“One, two, three...” You count out, as other paramedics swarm around you to prepare him to be delivered to the hospital as soon as possible.
The boy stirs, and you stop compressing, and watches as he begins coughing, from deep within, and you help remove his oxygen mask and pull him up to a sitting position as he continues coughing the smoke and ash out of his lungs. A paramedic gives him some water and after the boy finishes coughing, you help him sip some water as he recovers.
The others help usher him onto a gurney and also help his mother and father join the ambulance.
You watch as the blaring sirens fade away and sigh as the remaining firefighters douse the building in water and put out the flames. Your knees are feeling weak, your heart up in your throat, and your breath short.
Feeling a presence standing next to you, you turn and meet eyes with him. You narrow your eyes at him, giving him a once over from his ash-stained angular face to the bulky equipment and uniform lining his body. Probably from the boots he was wearing, he seemed even taller than from the club.
He gives you a cocky grin. “So, you’re a paramedic, huh?”
You roll your eyes, stopping down to collect your materials and all the wrappers of the syringes and needles you had used to treat your patients.
“Not a paramedic, a doctor. On voluntary community service.” You huff.
He stoops down too, setting his helmet aside to help with your tools. “No wonder you’re good with your hands.”
You stop, sitting on your haunches to give him a look. He does the same, matching your cold gaze with a smirk. “I think that’s very unprofessional, Mr. Joon.”
You stand, locking the paramedic box angrily and stomp away.
But he easily catches up to you, having those damned long legs of his, and follows you to your truck. It makes you angrier that he begins unloading his equipment and uniform off into the same truck you came in.
“I think, Y/N, the moment you started making out with me at that club, professionalism was kind of thrown out the window, don’t you think? You disappear that morning without a trace, and then suddenly you appear again at my workplace. Don’t you think I have the right to be a bit confused and curious?”
“Look.” You turn to him. “That was a one-night thing. I told you that I don’t do them often, and it was a mistake and I’m sorry, I won’t do that to you again. So just--” you throw your hands into the air, frustrated that he looked so goddamn good as he took off his thick outer coat and stood in front of you with just a black t-shirt and the pants of his uniform low on his hips. “--just pretend it didn’t happen. Just forget about it.”
You turn to walk away into the truck, but he stops you. “Wait! Wait wait wait, Y/N,” he turns to face you, the smirk wiped away and now brows attractively collecting in a frown, “For the record, I don’t consider that night as a mistake.”
“Huh?” Your eyes widen as you frown up at him.
He doesn’t look away. The playfulness has dropped and he’s completely serious as his voice takes a lower tone.
“Sleeping with you wasn’t a mistake for me. Don’t apologize. I’ve only been able to think about you since then, and I don’t think that you showing up here out of all the other precincts or departments is another mistake, either. I’m sorry if I came on too strong, but I want to be clear with you that my intentions are to get to know you better, and do it the right way.”
“Do what the right way?”
“Date you,” he says simply, like he was talking about the goddamn weather.
Literally, who was this guy? Your mind was completely blank. Like, who just says exactly what they’re thinking? How could he just be so...honest? What’s his game?
You blubber out the first thing that comes to mind. “I don’t date co-workers. Especially here. I’m only scheduled to volunteer for several weeks.”
He seems to gain a bit of confidence. “Y/N, that sounds more like an excuse, than it does a reason.”
You huff, blowing your hair out of the way. “Nonetheless, the answer is no.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Don’t be surprised if I ask you again.”
And he does.
Every. Single. Day.
When you wake up, “Hey, Y/N, will you go on a date with me?”
“No,” you’d say, roll your eyes, and spit out your toothpaste.
When you’re in the library, reading up on the latest studies. He’ll pop his head in and say, “Oh, Y/N, dinner’s ready.”
When you look up and nod, “Thanks. I’ll be right there.”
He’ll nod back, and then say, “Oh by the way, will you go on a date with me?”
You’d learned to just laugh it off or ignore him.
When you’re in the dining commons. You’ll be chatting with Taehyung about something and Namjoon will walk by, hand you a mug of coffee, and walk away without a word. When you lift the coffee up to drink it after Taehyung leaves for something, you find a slip of paper on the saucer.
Will you go on a date with me?
You crumple up the paper while maintaining eye contact and drop it into the steaming cup of coffee. Then, you stand, and pour the mug out into the trash, while he watches with an amused smirk.
The only times he doesn’t ask you out is when you’re on calls.
Over the next few weeks, you notice that Namjoon has three modes: 1) His Chief mode, 2) his off-duty mode, and 3) his flirting-with-you mode. Modes 2 and 3 tended to mix, especially when he was with you.
But whenever that light on the walls of the department begin to ring and flash, indicating an emergency call, Namjoon immediately enters his chief-mode. One time, he was in the middle of taunting you with probable bad-date ideas, the lights began flashing and you had watched as he shook himself out of his off-duty mode, and immediately started barking out orders to the group and you, responding to the dispatch on his walkie-talkie. It had happened in a millisecond.
You were in the lounge with Seokjin and Jimin, watching a movie while Yoongi dozed off in one of the couches. You had slowly begun to easily sink into this lifestyle. You guys were lucky if you got at least a few hours in between calls to relax, and since the most recent call was a small issue with some old lady’s cat up in a tree, Hoseok and Taehyung had volunteered to go on their own. It was a relaxing Thursday afternoon.
Like clockwork, right as you were almost dozing off, the lights began to flash and blare as your walkie-talkies exploded to life and the dispatch officer began reading out the issue.
The boys spring to life, immediately jumping over to the pole and going downstairs to change into their uniforms. You sigh and use the stairs to run down to the garage and get into your uniform, clambering into the truck as Namjoon begins listing out orders. It was a gas leak in a chemical factory, and they wanted the firemen to take care of it. You were only following for protocol.
“It shouldn’t be too complicated. Yoongi, did you contact the engineers to shut off the power?” Namjoon asks.
“Yeah, they turned off all electricity, but they can’t turn off the gas valve. It’s stuck.”
“Okay, that’ll be the first thing to take care of. Jungkook, can you take care of that?”
You watch as the firetrucks pull in and follow the men into the warehouse. It’s completely dark but they all turn on their headlights as they treck through.
Namjoon leads them into the main gas chamber where one of the tanks is steadily leaking a stream of cold, compressed air out of it. Him and Jungkook immediately head over and begin working together to tighten the valve, while Seokjin begins looking for the pipe that leads into the tank.
You watch, boredly as the men do their thing, when suddenly, Jungkook yanks a bit too hard and both him and Namjoon are thrown back.
Jungkook immediately begins yelling out, and you scramble up in horror to see that he’d been thrown back into a piece of metal that was sticking out.
“Oh my god,” you cry out as you rush to his side. “Jungkook, hold on, I got you. Can you turn on your side so I can see the wound better?”
He moves while wincing in pain, but manages to maneuver so that the wound on his back is facing you. Using a flashlight, you make sure that the metal didn’t pierce any vital organs or arteries, and reassure him that it’s okay as you begin cleaning and stitching up the wound. After you’re finished, you look up to see Seokjin run into the room, and let you all know that he’d disassembled the valve and fixed the leak.
You sigh in relief as you cut the final thread and place some gauze over the stitches. Hoseok and Jimin had returned to help, and they throw Jungkook’s arms over their shoulders as they help him walk out of the building. You begin to pack your things, when you see Namjoon lagging behind the rest of the group, clutching his arm.
You catch up to him, “Hey, are you okay?”
He winces, but nods at you to go. “I’m fine. Catch up with the rest of them. I’ll be right behind you.”
You frown as you survey his features. The boys are now out of sight and you and Namjoon are the only ones left inside the chamber. “No, you don’t look very okay. Did you get hurt?”
He finally relents, groaning in pain as you guide him to sit down on some steps and remove his jacket. You gasp as his t-shirt comes off. Jungkook had been impaled when he hit the wall as he was thrown back, but it seemed that Namjoon had been in the direct line of contact when the valve of the pipe had blown off. It had sliced through his uniform and left quite a deep cut in his rib.
“Holy shit, Namjoon, you are not okay. Let me stitch this up right now.”
He shakes his head, “Let’s get out of here, first.”
You push him back. “If you keep moving, this wound is too close to your vital organs and it might cause infection or you might bleed out. Why didn’t you say you were hurt?”
He shakes his head as you begin unpacking your box of materials. For the first time in your few weeks at the department, you see a dark look of shame and regret written over his face. “I was the one who asked Jungkook to help me, if I didn’t, he wouldn’t be hurt.”
You click your tongue at him as you clean the wound, apologizing as he hisses in pain at the contact of alcohol. “You know, you say a lot of stupid shit, but that’s one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard you say to me. Ever.”
He laughs a little at that, wincing as it puts pressure on his side. You glare at him as you examine the wound and begin numbing the surrounding skin. “You’re a great chief, you know that. I’m administering some pretty heavy painkillers. Tell me when you start getting a bit woozy.”
He just silently watches you hover over his torso, squinting as you maneuver the hook needle and stitch him up. “I think that’s the first time you ever complimented me, Y/N.”
You roll your eyes, “Oh, so now your chief mode is off, I guess.”
He furrows his brows. “Chief mode?”
You nod, snipping at the threads as you begin another stitch.
“You have these modes you enter on the job. One of them is when you become this intense, no-nonsense leader, telling us all what to do and what to get done.”
He smiles, “And the other mode?”
“There’s two actually,” you say, still focused on his wound, “There’s one that’s always flirting with me, and there’s a third, where I can see that you really, really care for everyone on this team. That third one is the mode you’re in.”
“Are you maybe getting turned on by that mode, Y/N?” He winks at you, and you laugh, poking him in his side and making him groan out as you finish dressing the clean wound and help him get his uniform jacket back on. “Shut up, now your flirty mode is back on too.”
You’re cleaning up the materials in your box when suddenly, the lights come back on, bright white, and as you and Namjoon are squinting to try and reassess your surroundings, the huge gate to the chamber closes with a hissing noise and a loud clang.
“Shit,” you hear Namjoon cuss, and you scramble up, running over to the door and searching for a handle, a knob, or a button, anything to get it back open. You click your walkie-talkie, waiting for the static to sound to let you know that it’s communicating, but there’s nothing.
“No use,” he winces, zipping up his jacket, “The company probably just turned the electricity on when they saw some of the trucks leaving.”
You watch in horror as the vents surrounding you begin hissing and cold air begins drafting in. “What is this?”
“It’s a containment chamber for flammable chemicals, so I assume that it stays at a cool temperature. It’s fine, some of the boys will probably realize we’re here and be back in no time.” He lays down against the steps.
“Namjoon!” You scramble over, “Do not fall asleep, do you hear me? The temperature dropping is going to make your wound even worse. You need to stay warm, stand up if you can.”
He frowns, curling into himself with a pout. “I’m cold.”
You roll your eyes. It was the painkillers kicking in. He was getting lethargic, and it could kill him. “I know, you big fat baby, but if we don’t start warming up, we might die in here. C’mon, stand up.”
He begins moving around, although you instruct him not to stress his wound, he begins rocking around on his legs to try and make some body heat. You do the same, waving your arms around and trying to generate some heat.
At one point, you lose complete sense of time, and Namjoon wakes up from the initial wave of his painkillers to find the both of you huddled in the corner of the chamber, knees curled into your torsos as you shiver in the cold.
“Y-Y/N,” he breathes, and reality dawns on him as he sees the mist of his breath fan out from his mouth. “Y/N?”
“S-s-so cold,” you chatter, curling into him as he puts his good arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer.
“D-don’t fall asleep,” he breathes, and you don’t respond, the chills rocking your entire shaking body as you curl into him further.
The walkie-talkie screeches for a moment, and Namjoon grabs it, responding back to the static. “H-hello? Anyone! Y/N and I are stuck in the main chamber! Temperature is dropping quickly. Hello?!”
The only response is static as he drops the walkie-talkie to just pull you in closer. “Y/N?”
There’s no response, and when he pulls back to try and look at you, your head lulls in his arms.
“Shit,” he mutters, “Y/N, Y/N!” He shakes you, but you’re completely unconscious in his arms. "Wake up!”
“No no no no no,” he chants, as he begins undressing, his whole body resisting the motions as he shivers in the cold, but he perseveres. He pulls his uniform open, baring his chest, and then proceeds to unbutton your uniform as well, baring a t-shirt underneath. He pulls your limp body close as he removes the t-shirt and then completely drapes himself over you, pressing your bare chests together as he pulls you tight against him, skin to skin.
He pulls the uniform tighter around your back so that you don’t lose any more body heat, when he finally hears yelling and pounding on the other side of the huge gate. He hugs you closer to himself before everything goes black, too.
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S4 Ep 39: Pharaoh Can Fly (Selectively)
Guys, they’re back
Best storyboarder is back, and the visual difference between last episode and this episode is like when your art teacher picks up your charcoal and just fixes everything wrong with your gesture drawings. It’s like...I mean look at this:
I just really love and appreciate how illustrative this storyboarder is. And I say just storyboarder because this had about the same budget as the last episode--there wasn’t that much actual animation as per usual. But, all of the scenes were drawn so well, like panels out of a good manga. They just...they always nail it when they’re at the helm and I don’t know why they’re on Yugioh, but bless this storyboarder.
Plot wise, everyone got pulled into the dragon by gooey tentacles that came out of it’s stomach, don’t think about it.
Meanwhile, all of the minibosses could communicate with them and beg for help, yes, even the same miniboss who may have dressed up like Pegasus and catfished Seto Kaiba.
(keep reading under the cut)
The whole process of getting absorbed into the Orichalcos demon was a whole lot of symbolism and it was...kinda gross. Also kinda sketch. Also, for Kaiba it is a neat little nod to S1 when he had a vision that his brother was absorbed into a dragon mass.
I don’t think that the makers of the show remember S1, but either they just really like goopy dragons, or it’s a coincidence or I dunno, on purpose? Probably a coincidence.
And like I made this joke and realized...what if they actually meant to make that parallel though? This is the America crossover season, and they have referenced America’s love of trickster rabbits before with Pegasus but do they know about Br’er rabbit in Japan? Do they know? It’s a pretty Americana Deep-cut, and I have no idea how common this folktale is outside of the states.
I see anime busting out absorbing goopy masses all the time so I’m gonna assume that there might be a Japanese folklore I don’t know about which uses a similar structure (although I’m also assuming it has an extremely different history and association ((which I won’t be going into because I don’t feel like putting a trigger warning on this recap)).)
And looking at Wikipedia, there’s people that think the original reference to moist, absorbing creatures could have even come from as far as India. Which is...fascinating to how it also developed in Africa, and then the Cherokee also made the same story independently and then it fused together here in the States to make it what was eventually made into a Disney movie that will never be released again--this is just a really old ass story, all in all, possibly like over a thousand years old.
And a FASCINATING google deep dive I won’t go into for obvious reasons but knock yourself out.
Also, lets get distracted for a sec and see how well this storyboarder drew a fitted jacket at that angle. Dear Lord, did they get reference for that or did their brain just already know that those folds would be there? You can even tell that Pharaoh has just a little bit of padding at his shoulders. Ugh. Guys this storyboarder is so freakin good at these little fitted jackets.
So, once Yugi and his friends are absorbed into the mass, where they should have died...and maybe some of them did, but I don’t know if I should add that to the Death Count because like...they could have held their breath in the amount of time they were stuck in there...maybe...Anyway, they are saved by being tossed into the figurative briar patch--by the souls all hanging out in the Leviathan’s stomach--which again makes me wonder...did they pull a folklore on us? Again, I have no idea.
Like a lot of the people in this dragon have been thorns in their side this entire season, they’ve all tried to kill them at one point--all the minibosses, Mai, Pegasus--but now they have decided to team up with Pharaoh (along with the rest of the human race) and offer whatever they can to free them from the grip of the gross dragon mass.
And like, the ending of the folk tale is that the thorny ass briar patch is also where the rabbit lives usually. It hurts everyone else, but the rabbit--the rabbit can deal with it. And likewise, Pharaoh is freakin dead. He’s at home here. He’s surrounded by spirit power, his friends and their friendship power, this is like his zone, and now he’s crazy powerful for it and will be for the rest of the episode.
And like Yami is a very trickster God (especially Season Zero Yami) so like...it does make sense that he would mirror a folk tale based on trickster Gods, even if it is by complete accident.
So Pharaoh imagines everyone’s tears as individual drops in a glass or something--it’s not a literal glass or anything--it’s just there because the only thing actually happening on screen was his hand hanging out of this dragon’s weird puss skin.
And he’s now a fully charged Sonic the Hedgehog and no longer needs Kaiba or Joey at all. Just gonna grab his God card demons and take charge of everything else from here on out.
By first exploding his buddies right the hell out of this lizard and across hundreds of feet of open ocean.
Joey decides to remind Kaiba that he lost the Battle City tournament.
Seto’s roast was actually in the show, PS. He is not super excited to be reminded that Yugi owns every card that he spent 2 seasons failing to get.
And then Pharaoh did something really, really...
...just really really wild.
OH OK.
YEAH JUST TAKE OFF.
GO AHEAD THERE’S NO REASON THIS WOULD BOTHER ME.
I mean he IS super powered right now but like...
Like...WTF?
4 SEASONS. 4 SEASONS I thought this guy was glued to Yugi like Peter Pan’s Shadow and apparently--he can bounce.
Can Pharaoh do this every time Yugi asks Tea out on a date and tries to instead make the ghost in his head do all the work now? Can Pharaoh just be like “NOPE” and then phase out of the house, leaving Yugi to actually do the hard stuff?
It really adds a level of complexity to their relationship if Yugi can get a room.
(If not a room for romance, but at the very least a room to poop in.)
OR has he been able to allow Yugi to wicked poop in peace this whole time, but the show just never felt like telling us because they felt like it wasn’t important (although it is crazy important)?
Either way I am just...floored at this character development.
Yami just let Yugi out of his sight for like...I want to say 8 full minutes. Just incredible amount of trust on Yami’s part. Incredible. Knowing Yugi’s track record, he should have died in those 8 minutes but...he was being babysat by both Kaiba and Joey.
So Yami summons the Gods and they shoot lasers--you kinda expect this sort of thing.
And this is...probably...the real reason why Dartz didn’t bother trying to attack Pharaoh 5,000 years ago.
I can still think it’s because of Bakura but like...this is probably the real reason. It felt pretty chump to just shoot a laser at the bastard. Pharaoh just had to be reminded that this is a thing he can just do. If he felt like it.
Which he never feels like doing, because he’s too busy watching Yugi’s every move, and getting distracted by High School shenanigans.
After this happens, the giant snake falls to the ocean, splitting into just sooooooo many ghosts.
Over 7.8 billion ghosts, if we’re to assume that this is most of the population on Earth.
(thinking the weird-o in the hat is probably a Duel Monsters card? The duel monsters were throwing themselves into the Leviathan at one point so this is probably like a dark magician boy or something...I just don’t get very attached to the monster cards so it was like...whatever. The cards die like constantly so who cares?)
It is a pretty set dressing. Like Christmas lights but...dead people.
We also find out that the lost family of our minibosses Alister and Raphael, have indeed spent the last many years inside the Leviathan stomach, which is pretty tragic. We get a bitter sweet conclusion to Alister and Raphael’s story--although it’s not a full on ending for either character. Their life still hella sucks, they are in therapy for basically forever.
Where is Gurimo?
I don’t know what sort of job or life these two are qualified to have now, but youknow...Marik’s boat probably has jobs available.
Hold up. Can we talk about the windows?
I know absolutely none of you care about this, but I do, not to be picky or condescending to an overworked art team, but because I just want to know what they were trying to aim for.
There’s an iron stained glass style windowpane thing going on and that’s what’s really getting me. Like...I know these guys were technologically advanced, but why did you use this WW2 background? What happened to Ancient Greece that you were doing before?
Like doing a super past with future tech is so cool to me--I love that sort of concept art. That’s going into like Black Panther stuff where you’re referencing the earliest stuff in Africa and then blending it with stuff beyond our science. But Atlantis is a real big shrug and a “listen we ran out of time and had to press print,” and it’s such a shame. It feels less cohesive than even when this show does Egypt.
And yo this show and how it draws ancient Egypt--I feel like I’ve already talked about that. I have a feeling I’m going to talk a lot more about it next season. I’ll get to it when we get to it. I’m hoping that they have more time and budget to actually DO Egypt for once. (I say knowing they won’t)
Like it’s one of those things where this isn’t a history show, like at all, and it’s very much a fantasy. I’m not going to be like those sewing people on youtube that get annoyed because their TV show doesn’t have handsewn stitching in their Victorian bodices they rented from the costume department from an LA discount warehouse. Because, yo, it’s TV, and I can stretch my own imagination because it’s acting. (although I confess, I watch every single one of those videos).
But...the potential, y’all...the potential.
Anyway, Dartz isn’t dead. He was just taking his toot sweet time getting down the steps of his Gazebo.
This is where things get very anime. I get this problem a lot with anime, I really do--and maybe it’s just me. But like...sometimes it feels like anime changes the rules during the boss fight.
That happens a lot, right? Where suddenly the final boss reveals something that like...should have been addressed way earlier? And he’s alive but you don’t get why?
Anyway, Pharaoh reacts by getting maybe way too attached to his newfound independence.
Which like...I can understand Tea forgetting that Yugi is one people that is two people all the time, but the writers as well?
And what’s kind of great about this scene is that Dartz does see Yugi as two people here. He doesn’t look at Yugi, he looks at both. When Pharaoh is like “Leave me, Yugi!” Dartz heard all of that.
Just kind of a neat thing that we finally have a dude that can just...see Pharaoh for what he is, but it probably won’t matter because there’s like only one more episode left of this season.
Anyway, Pharaoh and Dartz have a chat about where evil comes from...and like...it’s some Yugioh lore, all right.
So before the show decides to give us the Genesis on Yugioh and reveal where the evil of the Orichalcos comes from, or if all evil was created by Orichalcos itself (which is IMPLYING stuff about Orichalcos) the snake shuts him the hell up.
As it should. Leave that Pandora’s box freakin closed. That’s going into extended universe of Star Wars books territory (RIP.)
As an aside--pretty sure that Yugi is standing outside that tornado. Maybe it was just the editing of the episode but like...
Yo I’m pretty sure Yugi is just standing there. For the first time, it’s not his nuts getting roasted. Wow. Tables have turned so much since he was dead.
Anyway, here’s the link for new people so you can read these in order
https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono
There’s only one left! We can do it! We can finish this season in 2020! And actually get back to recapping Full Metal Alchemist! ~~Woooo~~
Oh man that movie better still be on Netflix or I’ll have to buy it lolol.
#Yugioh#ygo#Yu-Gi-Oh#Yami Yugi#Yugi Muto#Seto Kaiba#Joey Wheeler#Dartz#Alister#Raphael#Valon#Mai Valentine#My favorite storyboarder#who deserves to be listed as a character in the show#ep 39#S4#recap#photo recap#episode recap
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Being Simon
Chapter 1: The Past
Chapter 1/2 (All chapters)
Rating: T
Genre: Fluff/Angst
Word Count: 8493
Summary: Simon's type of therapy is...unusual to say the least. He has the incredible chance to go back in time to fix what he regrets. However, things get more complicated when Simon meets someone very interesting in the past.
Read on AO3
AN: Ahahahaha I did it!!! I finished a fic! That's a big achievement for me nowadays tbh. This has taken forever because stupid fucking health, but I did it! Of course I'm not 100% good with it but I'm still proud. Being Erica is one of my fave shows ever and is severely underrated imo. Then I saw this post and was like "oh damn that would be great for snowbaz." Now like three-four months late, here we are! Big thank you to @carryonmylovelies as always. She has been a big support for me through this writing slump. I couldn't be more grateful for her <3
World basics: time travel therapy is a thing, no further explanation given, and going back in time to fix past regrets teaches patients how to live better in the present. Patients take over their past selves' bodies for a bit. Patients can return from the past either suddenly or by stepping through doors. So just imagine Simon doing that. Saying much more is spoilers.
I’m gonna post chapter 1 today, then chapter 2 sometime within the next week. Hopefully y'all like it!
———————————————
You know that guy who’s got it all? A perfect job, a perfect partner, wonderful family, a life that people are secretly jealous of? You know that guy, everyone knows that guy. Unfortunately, I am not that guy.
My name is Simon Snow, and I’m a fuck up. But I’m getting better.
“Mr. Snow, Mr. Snow!” Cassidy shouts, waving her hand, “I know the answer!”
“Cass,” I say, “what did we say about inside voices?”
She pouts and crosses her arms. “Keep the volume down for all those around.”
“Exactly. Now, try again.” Cassidy raises her arm with no added sound effects. I point my chalk at her. “Cassidy, what’s the answer?”
She puts her hand down, grinning wide. “It’s 42.”
I hold my hand out to her. “Nice job, Cassy, right on the money.”
She gives me a big high five. The feeling of accomplishment surges through me. God, I love this job. My old customer service work made me feel dead inside. Day in, day out, same old fucking garbage from garbage customers. It was just never something I wanted to do. Now I get to see a little girl smile, and I helped her smile. Yeah, little self centred, but I’ll take it.
“Patrick,” I say, “can you tell me how we can find 8 times 4?”
Patrick nods and starts rattling off the technique he’s come up with. It’s a bit odd and round about but all his. That’s what I love about kids, the strange and unique things their little minds come up with. It’s why I wanted to be a teacher in the first place, before I lost my way.
The bell rings and everyone's on their feet immediately. “Alright everyone,” I shout over the clamour, “make sure to finish chapter three for tonight. And get your worksheets done! We’re going to go over them with a fine toothed comb. Have a good weekend, kids.”
“Bye, Mr. Snow,” they all parrot back. I wave them off, then start on my laptop. Being a teacher means having a lot of paperwork. (Or Google Doc work, I guess.) Everything is in mismatched folders and I have to scour them for my lesson plan draft. Unfortunately, I’m still not great at organization, but I’m working on it. I’m working on a lot in my life.
My phone rings. I look up from my screen, and notice there’s no sunlight from the windows. Holy shit, how long have I been sitting here? I quickly grab my phone. “Hello?”
“Simon!” Todd shouts. “Where the fuck are you?”
“Oh, uh, hi Todd.” Fuck, what did I do this time? “I-I’m still at work...”
He scoffs. “Of course you are. Shit, Simon, I’ve been sitting at Casper’s for an hour!”
My heart drops. I look down at my watch. It’s 6:34. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, love, I just totally lost track of time-”
“Yeah, I guessed that. I should expect that of you now.”
Well, that stings. A lot. I’ve felt like a screw up my whole life, so much so even my parents didn’t want me. Like they had some prophetic vision that their kid would be a no good moron. Therapy has started to rid me of those thoughts, but they still creep up every once in a while. Like now.
“I’m sorry, darling, I’m really sorry. We can go to my place, have take away-”
“No, Simon,” he sighs. “I just...I picked the day, the time, and the restaurant. All you had to do was bloody show up, and you couldn’t even do that. I mean...do you even care, Simon?”
A horrible, familiar pain goes through my heart. I can still hear Agatha’s voice all these years later. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. My thoughts get all muddled up, mixing up old fears and trauma with today.
“I do care, Todd, I really do. I just- I didn’t- I was- We can-”
“Please stop..” He sighs again. I can almost see him rubbing his pretty black eyebrows together. “Don’t stress stutter, it’s alright. Enjoy your work and takeaway.”
“Uh, could we reschedule?”
“No, we can’t.”
I gulp. I hate that I know what’s coming. “Are...are you too busy?”
“No, I’m just...I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, Simon. Hope you do well. I mean that.”
I slump in my chair. “Okay. You too. Bye, Todd.”
“Goodbye, Simon.”
He hangs up, but I keep the phone by my ear. My body feels too heavy to move and get out of this fucking chair. Once again, I screwed up my relationship. And the fact that it’s too familiar is even worse. This is what, the third partner I’ve lost in the last year? An abysmal track record. Before that I had been alone since uni, yeah, but I think it was better than feeling like this.
Slowly, I pack up all my stuff. Everything is quiet, like the world is in mourning for my latest lost relationship. Self centered as fuck but a nice thought. I sling my book bag over my shoulder and walk towards the door. It’s not even a shock when I don’t enter the foyer, but step through and end up in Dr. Margaret’s stony yet brightly lit office instead, complete with torches and pristine furniture. It’s like some medieval version of an IKEA showroom. Dr. Margaret is sitting in her chair with a book in hand, obviously waiting for me. Just another day with a super powered therapist who has her office in a pocket dimension outside of our reality. (That’s my theory anyway).
I speed walk forward and flop down face first on her white couch. “Hi to you too, Simon,” she says. I groan into the cushions. “Good day, huh?” I groan louder. “Tell me what happened or get off my couch.”
I move my face to the side, glaring at Dr. Margaret. She just keeps looking at me blankly from her large leather chair. Dr. Margaret has little time for my whining, something I usually appreciate. “Todd broke up with me.”
“You poor baby.”
I narrow my eyes even more. “Aren’t therapists supposed to be all sympathetic and shit?”
She scoffs. “Sympathetic when you’re not being pathetic.”
“My boyfriend just broke up with me, I’m allowed to be a bit pathetic.” I rub my very strained forehead. “I always get dumped.”
“Mhm.” Dr. Margaret picks up the notepad, the one I filled with my regrets the first day we met. It’s embarrassingly long, but a lot are crossed off too. “Tell me about ‘breakup with Agatha.’”
I groan, head falling back against the couch. “God, that’s one I’ve been waiting for.”
“Stop groaning and tell me.”
“Okay, okay, gimme a sec.” I sit up and put my elbows on my knees, rubbing my temple. Headache is coming. Though I’ve started to actually pay attention to my health and take care of myself now (thanks to Dr. Margaret), the headaches still happen sometimes. Especially when I think about this.
“It was 2003,” I sigh. “Agatha and I had been together for six years. Just before third year finals, Agatha broke up with me. I got really pissed at her. Turned into a huge screaming match. She said I didn’t care, and I called her an arsehole that never loved me.” I run a hand through my hair. Old stress habit. “I’ll never forget the look on her face. She was so unbelievably hurt. I knew it was wrong the moment after I said it, but I was too angry and proud to apologize. Agatha walked out. And that was the last time I ever saw her.” The words piece my heart like a knife. I feel like I'm about to shatter into pieces “We avoided each other all through finals. Right after graduation, Agatha moved to California for her masters. She wouldn’t take my calls, then she changed her number. So I gave up. Haven’t talked to her in twelve years. No idea where she is now and what she’s doing.”
Dr. Margaret nods thoughtfully, placing the notebook down. “What would you do differently? Try to fix things? Stay together?”
I shake my head vigorously. “No, god no. We weren’t good as a couple. But Agatha was one of my closest friends way before she was my girlfriend. I just, I want the breakup to not be so awful. That way we can stay friends. I want to keep her in my life. If I wasn’t such an arse, she would be.”
“Sounds reasonable. Let’s see if you can do it.”
A familiar chill hits me. At first it was terrifying but now I expect it. “Alright.”
Dr. Margaret nods, and the world spins.
———————————————
“You’re not hearing me, Simon!” Agatha screams. “I’m trying to tell you that it’s over!”
I stumble, blinking at Agatha and trying to focus on what’s around me. Dirty walls, Lady Gaga posters, a shitty desk I picked up off the curb. Yeah, this is definitely my uni apartment. And this is definitely Agatha screaming at me, trying to break things off and I’ve just been yelling. She’s so mad but I can’t help but smile. God, I’ve missed her.
“What are you smiling about?! Are you listening to me?!” She groans and shakes her head. “We’re done, Si. I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye.”
She turns around to leave and my pulse skyrockets. No no, not again. “Ags, wait! I-I am listening. Please, don’t leave!”
Agatha freezes, hand on the knob. She glares at me over her shoulder. “What?”
“I-I’m sorry for yelling, that was awful. Can we just sit down and talk this out? Please?”
She looks me over, probably trying to figure out if I’m being sincere. I know I am, but as far as she's concerned I was screaming my bloody lungs out a minute ago. Must be weird for her. Thankfully, she lets go of the knob. “Fine.”
I sigh in utter relief. I sit down on my shitty mattress (pretty sure I got this off the curb too) and Agatha follows. She’s tense, arms crossed. I fiddle with my fingers. The nail beds are all chewed up, hangnails surrounded by dark dried blood. Glad I broke that habit, but right now I sort of wish I still did it. It made me feel better.
“Are you going to say something?” Agatha asks, voice biting.
“Yeah, yeah, just, uh...” I rub the back of my neck. Words are getting fucked up again.
“You’re not going to change my mind, Simon. We’re through.”
“I know, Ags, I know. I don’t want us to stay together.”
Her eyebrows furrow. It’s really cute. I miss when she did that. “You don’t?”
“No, no, we’re not good as a couple. We don’t work well.”
“Oh.” Her arms fall into her lap. “Okay. Yeah, I think the same.”
“Awesome.” I turn towards her with a big grin. “But, uh, could we still be friends though? You’ve always been one of my best friends, Agatha. I-I don’t want to lose you after this.”
Agatha rubs her lips together, But slowly, she nods. “Okay, yeah.”
A huge weight lifts off my shoulders. I grin so wide it hurts. “That’s great! That’s so great. I-I just, I don’t want to lose you just cause our relationship didn’t work out.”
She looks even more confused, and I’m not sure why. “What do you mean ‘didn’t work out?’”
“Well, I-I mean, y’know, we just don’t work as a couple. We haven’t been happy for awhile because things have kind of...fizzled out, right?”
Suddenly, that infuriated expression comes back. She groans and stands up. “I can’t believe you, Si! You really haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said, have you?!”
I stand up too. “No, no, I have! You want to break up, and I get why, we’re not happy together. We’re not a good couple-”
“Because of you!” she screams. I stumble back slightly from the force of her words. “You fucked up!”
A horrible, upset, disgusted feeling takes over my whole body. Like my very soul is sicking up. I step towards her, reaching out. “Ags, I don’t know what you mean. H-How did I ruin things? Tell me what I did wrong!”
She shakes her head and backs away. “I’ve told you a hundred times, Si. If you don’t know by now, I don’t think you ever will.”
Agatha starts to stomp away. I chase after her. “Agatha! Ags, please, don’t-”
She slams the door so hard all my knick knacks rattle. I’m left in silence, except for the thoughts rattling around in my head. Fuck, what did I say? What did I do? I can’t think of anything I’ve done horrible enough to warrant such a response from Agatha. I pull at my hair and gnaw at my nail beds. I mean, this me already does it, so where’s the harm? Fuck, I don’t know what I did. I can’t remember!
Penny. I gotta go find Penny. She always has the answers. She’ll remember why I fucked up. I rush out the door and swing my way down the shitty stairs, careful to avoid the usual vomit puddles. I’m speed walking across the lawn towards Pen’s TA building when I spot familiar frizzy white hair.
“That was fast,” Dr. Margaret says, looking down at her book with a Starbucks drink in hand. She’s dressed in a horribly ugly orange tank top and boho skirt. Perfect for 2003. She needs to blend in with the time period, or at least that’s what she says. I think she just likes to dress up. “Saw her storm out. Looked really mad.”
“What the fuck was the point of this?!” I yell. I’m so angry, I can’t help it. My temper is something I need to work on but I really don’t care right now. “I still cocked things up with Agatha, so she still hates me, and all I’ve learned is that I apparently did something horrible that I don’t even remember because it’s been twelve bloody years!”
She takes a long drink from her large Starbucks cup. “Hm. Quite difficult. What’re you going to do?”
“Find Penny, I guess, She’ll know, right?”
Dr. Margaret shrugs. “Don’t know. You have a phone. Call her.”
Oh, right, phones are a thing. I dig around in my cargo shorts (god, I can’t believe, I used to wear these things) and pull out my old Nokia slide phone. I sneer at the thing. It was my first and shittiest cell phone. I thought I was so cool because my mobile slid out. I was such a prat.
I go to my contacts, and Penny is one of five. That makes me a little sad. I always liked people, but I was always bad at making real friends. I’ve gotten better now but past me barely had anyone. I click her number, and she picks up after two rings.
“Hey, Simon, what’s up?” she asks.
“Um, not much,” I respond automatically. Dr. Margaret glares at me. Right, I don’t need to push down my problems and pretend everything is okay. Penny’s my friend, she’ll want to help. “Actually, there’s a lot. Aggie and I just broke up.”
“Oh Si, I’m so sorry. How’re you feeling?”
“Not too bad. I guess it was inevitable. I’m more confused than anything. Ags said I ruined it by doing something, but I’m not sure what I did. Do you have any idea what she meant?”
“Uh...I really don’t know. She hasn’t told me anything. She doesn’t usually tell me things anyway.”
I sigh and rub my face. “Yeah, true. I’ll figure it out. Thanks, Pen.”
“Welcome, Simon. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” I hang up and shove my phone back in my massive pocket. Dr. Margaret is back to reading. “Well, that was no help.”
“Too bad. Maybe going to the source would be better.”
I frown in utter confusion. “You want me to go talk to Agatha again?”
“She knows what’s wrong. You don’t. Ask her.”
I put my hands on my hips. “You’re never this direct. What’s going on?”
She flicks her eyes to me, smiling slyly. “Don’t trust me, Simon?”
“No! I just know you always have something else going on. Nothing in therapy is ever easy or simple.”
“Know that. Taught you that.” She snaps the book closed. “Do what you think is best, Simon. Then live with choices.”
She stands up, book tucked into her hippie purse, and walks down the lawn. I huff, blowing a piece of stray hair out of my face. “You know I hate when you say that! It’s just pointing out the obvious! That’s lazy therapy!”
Dr. Margaret, the woman who has changed my life in so many ways, makes the “whatever” W sign at me. I chuckle and shake my head. Okay, well, this is probably some weird test (again), but Dr. Margaret has a point. Best to be direct. Maybe Agatha will have cooled down by the time I get there. I should do something nice. Bring her flowers, yeah, that’s a good idea. I look down at my cargo shorts, baggy Eminem shirt, and filthy knock off converse. Definitely need to change too.
I rush back to my apartment. It’s dingy and gross, but there’s a weird nostalgia to it. I should’ve put up more posters. (Why can’t that be a regret? That would be so much easier.) My dresser is bursting at the seams as usual. I throw my t-shirts around looking for something passable, but everything is dirty, tacky, smells like weed, or all of the above.
“Christ, how did I live like this?” I grumble, as if I wasn’t pretty much still living like this a year ago. (Minus the weed. Kicked that after uni, thankfully.)
Eventually I find a plain brown shirt and a pair of jeans with only one tomato sauce stain. Alright, I’m passable now at least. That’ll get Agatha’s attention just because it’s so out of character for who I am in this time. I open the old pickle jar where I keep all my change and scrounge together about 20 quid. Should be enough for flowers, especially before the 2008 crash. The exchange rate is the only thing I miss about the past, honestly.
“Alright,” I mutter to myself, slinging my bookbag over my shoulder, “decent clothes, okay hair, pocket change, bag to hold flowers. Let’s do this.”
I walk out my front door feeling confident, hopefully not too much. Can’t get a big head. Need to focus on Agatha.
“Simon, mate.” I turn around to see Rhys wheeling out of his flat. “What’s up? Heard a lot of shouting earlier, you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m cool, man. Agatha and I broke up and things got messy.”
He inhales sharply between his teeth. “Yikes. Sorry to hear that. Can’t believe she dumped you for that snotty prep.”
I stand ramrod straight, then spin around on my heels to face him properly. “What snotty prep?”
“Oh you didn’t know?”
“Didn’t know what?!”
Rhys raises his hands in surrender. “Whoa, take it easy, man.”
Shit. Reel in your temper, Simon, don’t explode. “Sorry, sorry, mate. Just, what are you talking about with this prep?”
“Yeah, this preppy pretty boy Agatha sits next to in our romantic literature and creative writing classes. They’ve always got their heads together. I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t my business, but then you said you two broke up, so...”
“So you thought she told me, got it.” I rub my temples. Headache is coming back. “Do you know who he is?”
Rhys scratches the side of his head. “Yeah, think so. Tall, dark-ish skin, grey eyes, posh accent, even more posh clothes. Name starts with a T. Terrence, Terry, Tyler-” He snaps his fingers and points at me. “Ty! That’s it!”
My face scrunches up. “Ty? Ty what?”
“Dunno. Just Ty, I guess. Like Madonna. Dude thinks he’s better than fucking everyone just because he’s rich or something.”
My blood boils to a fever pitch. So Agatha broke up with me for someone prettier and richer. She said it was my fault because she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Mission failed, because I am fucking gutted.
“Thanks for telling me, mate,” I say, holding out my fist to him. He bumps his own against mine. “Really appreciate it.”
“Sure thing, mate. Come have a beer with us to commiserate?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, but you may have to remind me later. Brain like sieve.”
“Gotchu. See ya.”
“See ya.”
Rhys rolls down the hall towards Gareth’s. Right, it’s their weekly beer and footie night. I would hang out with them sometimes. I miss that. I should call them when I’m back in 2015. Right now though, I have a mission.
———————————————
Finding Ty will be pretty easy. I know when Agatha and Rhys’ creative writing class is, which is in a couple of minutes. (Rhys skipped a lot of class. Luckily he was a genius so he graduated at the top of our year. And Agatha never went to class when she was upset, so I know I won’t see her.) I run over to the building I know it’s in, a massive hall made from dingy grey stone and filled with caffeine addicted twenty somethings. Then I sit by a tree, waiting to see someone like Rhys described. Oh and when I find him I’ll- Well, I’ll do something. Not sure yet but it’ll be something!
Droves of zombified uni students pass me by. None of them look posh and preppy enough to be like this Ty dude. He sounds like such a twat. What the fuck does Agatha see in him? (Or did see in him, I guess. Time travel is weird.) Maybe Agatha is still with him. Maybe they went to California together. She talked about me going with her for a bit, but I was scared to leave England. I don’t regret staying, but I do regret the crushed look on her face.
The guy passes by me. He looks ridiculous, wearing oxfords, black slacks, and a goddamn tweed jacket with leather patches on the sleeves. It’s the preppiest posh shit I’ve ever seen. I can see his hands, curled around his textbook, and his slicked back hair. Dark-ish skin and ear length black hair. I’m on my feet in an instant.
“Hey!” I shout. He doesn’t move. “Hey, Ty! I’m talking to you!”
He finally turns around, and my heart stops for a second. Holy shit. This guy is beautiful. Like, super model on the cover of a high end fashion magazine gorgeous. He’s got cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and his eyes aren’t just grey, they’re green and blue mixed together. Like deep ocean water. And right now they’re staring at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind.
“Yes?” he says. His voice is smooth, strong, really pretty. “You called my name?”
I shake off my small gay panic (technically pansexual panic) and my anger returns. I glare hard at him. “Yeah, I did. My name is Simon Snow, Agatha’s boyfriend.”
His confusion quickly switches to stone faced boredom. “Oh you’re the boyfriend. Well, the ex-boyfriend now, according to the text Agatha sent me.” He tilts his head to the side, ocean eyes scanning me over. “I thought you’d be taller.”
My body feels like it’s on fire. This guy may be hot but he’s a total prick. How could Agatha dump me for him?! “Who do you think you are, huh? Flirting with someone’s girlfriend? That’s fucking low, you pathetic shit!”
He scoffs, putting on hand on his hip. “Very well spoken. If you’re done with your little alpha male display, I have a class to get to.”
Ty turns away. I’m ready to explode. I haven’t felt this angry in years but this guy is getting so under my skin. I grab his shoulder and force him to look at me.
“You don’t get to walk away, dick!” I roar. “Do you think you’re better than me?! Well you’re not!”
“I’m not the one shouting at a random stranger on the quad.”
“I’m shouting because you stole my girlfriend!”
“I didn’t steal her, you sexist shit,” he hisses. “She’s my friend. Are you the kind of arse to not allow his girlfriend to have friends?”
“No! And I’m not sexist! I just don’t like someone flirting with the girl I was with when I was with her, especially when you’re all...posh and shit!”
Ty scoffs again and leans forward. “Well, at least I don’t wear dirty jeans out in public. I have more self respect than that.”
My entire body explodes in a way it hasn’t in ages. My vision goes completely fucking red. I shove Ty, hard. Way harder than I mean to. He stumbles backwards, dropping his books on the grass. He looks at me in utter shock.
“What the fuck?!” Ty shouts. He then shoves my shoulders, and I stumble five steps back. Holy shit, he’s strong.
“Fuck you!” I shout back. I charge forward with all my might. Ty blocks me but that doesn’t stop me. I claw and push and pull at him, no clue what I’m doing at all. I’m just so angry and pushing it all at him. He pushes back just as hard. Neither of us will give an inch. We scrabble like a pair of cats. I can’t think, I just feel. I'm so angry and sad and worthless because...because....
Because I’m losing my friend again. And I don’t know what to do.
My hits get weaker and weaker. All the energy dribbles out like a melting ice cream in July. As I slow down, Ty stops pushing back. My arms fall down at my sides. His hands rest awkwardly on my shoulders.
“Uh,” he says, “are you alright?”
“No,” I choke out. Tears fill my eyes and cloud my vision. “No, I’m not.”
I break down, crying with heavy, ugly sobs. Everything is just collapsing in and around me. I really am losing Agatha all over again. It hurts even more this time. I’ve never fallen apart this badly on a regret. But everything from the past and present, losing all my partners in the past year then Agatha again, is just hitting me in one terrible mental blow.
“Oh shit,” he says. “Um...” I feel his hand move off my shoulder and slowly pat my head. “There, there?”
I snort like one of the kids I teach. I pull back, wiping the still flowing tears under my eye. “Seriously? That’s the best you can do?”
Though it’s a bit hard to tell, I think Ty’s face flushes. He crosses his arms defiantly. “Well, what the fuck are you supposed to do when a stranger attacks you then breaks down crying?”
I shrug. “Dunno, really. This is new for me too.”
Ty rubs the back of his neck, shuffling his polished oxfords in the dirt. I’m still sniffling like a child. “You want to go somewhere private? Where no one can see you?”
My eyes catch a couple of people glancing and outright staring at us. Or just at me. I nod vigorously. “Yeah, that would be good.”
Ty collects up the books I knocked out of his hands. He jerks his head to the side, and I follow behind him. Tears are still streaming down my face. They won’t stop no matter how hard I try. Ty leads us through a secluded area, past large trees and bushes, until we reach a completely hidden, beautiful ravine. Holy shit. Was this always here? I went to this uni for three years and I have no memory of this place. Either I’m super oblivious or getting old. (Probably both.)
We go past a couple more bushes until we come upon a ramshackle rainbow coloured bench against some trees. It looks handmade by some stoned out art major. The mess of cigarette and joint butts on the ground only reinforces that theory. Ty sits on one end of the bench. I take the other, but we’re still pretty close. It’s not very big. We sit in silence for a bit, save for my continued sniffling. Something bumps my arm. I look down to see Ty’s long fingered hand holding out a cigarette pack.
“Want one?” he asks.
“Smoking is bad for you,” I say automatically.
“Like you’re one to talk. You reek of marijuana”
“Fuck, really?” I sniff my shirt collar and get a whiff of weed. I groan, letting my head fall back against the tree. “Dammit. Thought this one was clean.”
“Unfortunately not.” He shakes the box. “You want one or no?”
I sigh and pluck a stick out of the box. Ty takes one as well, then pulls out a pristine silver Zippo lighter. He lights us both with one flame. I watch the paper crinkle and shrivel away into ash. I’m a bit nervous. Technically, I haven’t smoked anything in over a decade. Hopefully I can depend on past me’s muscle memory.
Ty takes a long, deep draft and breathes out a long puff of smoke. I try to mimic him. My lungs burn with the heat of twin suns. I wheeze out, thumping my chest. Ty throws his head back laughing, hair touching his neck.
“You must be a shitty stoner,” he chuckles.
“Yeah,” I cough, “never been great at inhaling.”
“Bring it into your mouth, then your lungs. Don’t do it all once.”
I nod, even though I kind of knew that. Just been awhile. I smoked a few joints but I preferred my old bong. But I try again, doing what Ty said. This time I only cough a little instead of wheezing like the world’s most pathetic dragon.
“There you go,” Ty drawls. He’s definitely mocking me a little.
“Fuck off.”
“Christ, what bug crawled up your arse?”
I glare at him, and his face is completely unaffected. “The bug that Agatha broke up with me for you.”
He scoffs, flicking cigarette ash on the ground. “Your ex- girlfriend did not break up with you to be with me. We’re only friends. I’d never date her.”
“That’s mean, Agatha is amazing.”
Ty rolls his eyes dramatically. “It has nothing to do with Agatha. She’s wonderful. I just don’t like women.”
My eyes grow wider than saucer plates “You’re gay?”
He cocks an eyebrow. How did he get so good at that? Does he practice in the mirror? “You have a problem with that, Snow?”
“No, no, of course not. Just didn’t realise...”
“It’s not like I’m hiding it.” He gestures to his perfectly pressed button down, spotless navy slacks, and polished Oxfords. Okay, he has a point, most straight men don’t take such meticulous care of their clothes. 2003 closeted me had the excuse of being heteronormative as fuck, but 2015 pansexual me needs to work on his gaydar.
“I, uh, didn’t want to assume...” Usually a safe answer in my experience.
“How noble.” Ty takes a long drag. I still hate cigarettes, but the way his lips fit around the smoke plume is kind of attractive. “Agatha knows I’m gay. I told her after she almost kissed me.”
“What?!” I throw down the cigarette and shoot to my feet. The fire in my gut is back, along with the sense of utter worthlessness. I fucked up so badly, made Agatha so miserable, that she nearly kissed a gay bloke. I feel so awful and confused and I don’t know what I'm supposed to do, I’m just mad.
He rolls his eyes, again. “Sit down, alpha male, I said ‘almost.’ I’m not even sure she realised what she was doing, we were both completely pissed. She leaned forward slightly and I blurted out that I was gay. Then she promptly burst into tears.”
My heart feels like someone has reached inside and twisted every vein. My arms relax at my sides. “She...she was crying?”
“Yes, quite heavily.” He taps the cig with one long, graceful finger. (Does he play piano? He should.) “She said she was sorry, then blubbered for an hour about how conflicted she felt about wanting to break up with you.”
The impact of those words send me back down onto the bench. My whole body feels heavier than lead. “She felt conflicted?”
“Of course she did.”
“I-I thought this was easy for her. That our relationship was already going downhill, then I did something so bad she decided to end it. And then I thought it was because she found you, someone better than me.”
Ty scoffs. “My god, she was right, you are completely oblivious.”
I scowl at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said. You’re so blind to what you’ve been doing.”
“What’ve I been doing?!”
“You’ve been a terrible boyfriend!” he yells. “You’re forgetful, you miss things, you don’t pay attention to Agatha, and most of all you take her for granted!” He sighs, rolling the half finished cig between his fingers. “Ags says you don’t mean to do it, you’re just oblivious, but she’s still hurt. There isn’t one bad thing you did, Snow. You’ve been hurting her for awhile.”
Every word is slap to the face. My body literally aches with all the guilt I feel. Ty is right. I was an awful, awful boyfriend. Every missed date, every burnt meal, every stupid thing I’ve ever said, they all rush into me. Fucking hell. How could I have not seen it? I always had reasons, and they were always small things. But I guess a lot of small things pile up.
“Fuck,” I choke out. Tears make little wet spots on the dirt floor. I don’t know when I started crying again. God, I’m a mess.
“Please don’t cry,” Ty says, sounding almost sympathetic. “I only have so many cigarettes.”
That makes a laugh surprisingly fly out of my mouth. Yet I’m still picking at my nails, flicking away bits of my cuticle like I want to get rid of my pain. I’m nervously babbling before I even realise it. “My brain’s always filled with...stuff. Keeping my scholarship, keeping my job, working towards my future. E-Everything’s always been about my future, what I’ll do eventually, even with Agatha. She was supposed to be my happy ending after all the shit I’ve been through.”
“She’s a person,” he mutters, “not your goal.”
“I know that!” I rub away more tears. “Well, I’m learning. I dunno. I-I had a shitty childhood, okay? So I’m always waiting for things to get better. And I thought if I did well at school and found a nice girl, things would just fall into place. Turns out shit is more complicated than that.”
I laugh to try to break the tension, but Ty stays silent. I cautiously flick my eyes over to him. He’s still holding his cigarette. It’s burnt down to the filter. His face is stone again, yet I can see the slight tremor in his fingers. It’s miniscule but it’s there. I don’t think he’s okay, but I barely know this guy, I’m scared to ask.
“I don’t know how to fix things with Agatha,” I sigh. “I’m bad at talking, bad at relationships, sometimes bad at friendships. It’s not like I want her back. I...I just want her in life. She’s amazing. I don’t- I can’t lose her again.”
“Again?” he says. My face goes bright red and my breath hitches. Fuck. Stupid time travel, screwing things up.
“Y-Yeah, we’ve had fights before, stopped talking for a while. I know this feeling, I hate it. I want her to be in my life and be happy and I don’t know how to do that!”
“Tell her that.”
I face him, blinking in confusion. “What?”
Ty sighs and flicks the butt onto the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his utterly perfect oxford. “Tell her that. Say you’re scared and clueless but you want to still be friends, so you want to figure out how to do that. Be honest. What else are you going to do?”
My mouth flaps up and down. Fuck. It’s so damn obvious yet it never came to mind. I thought I needed something big and smart so Agatha would understand. But... “All I need to do is be honest with her.”
“Exactly.”
I smile for the first time since I got here. “Wow, can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”
“You do seem to be a bit thick.” His slight smirk and teasing lilt save me from getting angry. I scoff and shake my head.
“Yeah, well, you seem like a bit of a prick.” He scoffs too, but he’s still smiling.
We sit there in silence for a little. All I can hear is birds chirping and students in the distance. I feel calm. So calm I don’t want to get up for a while. I just want to catch my breath. Ty slowly tilts his head back over the bench.
“I haven’t sat down in awhile,” he says quietly, almost as if to himself, but too loud for me not to hear. “I’m always at class or studying. I don’t sit down and just...sit.”
“Well you haven’t really been only sitting,” I chuckle. “You’ve been helping me.”
“Would it be sad that this has actually been the most relaxing time I’ve had in months?”
“Uh, yeah, and a bit concerning.”
Ty laughs a little louder this time. His smile seems a bit more genuine, but his pretty eyes are a bit sad. It may just be his face. It looks like it’s designed for pouting. “I’m a political science and English double major getting ready for law school. My whole life is stress.”
I chuckle sadly. “Sounds like a nightmare.”
“It is. A nightmare I chose...” He spins the cigarette pack between two fingers. I know he’s just fiddling but it looks so damn cool when he does it.
“Doesn’t seem like you’re happy about that choice.”
His eyes shift over to me without moving his head. “Since when do you know anything about my feelings?”
I shrug, crossing my arms. “I usually know what sadness looks like.”
Ty sighs. He rubs his temple slowly with his elegant ring finger. (What is with my finger fetish today?) “Ever since I was little, it was expected that I follow in the family tradition. Get perfect grades, go to a good university, go to an even better law school, become a lawyer, then finally take over the family practice. It’s what my mother did. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Doesn’t matter what I want,” he scoffs.
I tilt my head towards him, but not too close to scare him away. “Well, if you could do what you want, what would you do?”
“I told you, it doesn’t mat-”
“Then pretend it does matter. What would you do for the rest of your life?”
Ty sinks further into the bench. It makes his stupid tweed jacket bunch up slightly, and he almost looks like a normal young adult. “Honestly, I just want to read books forever.”
I giggle quietly, and Ty glares at me with a now obvious flush in his cheeks. “Fuck off,” he snarls.
“I’m not laughing at you!” He doesn’t look convinced. “It’s just, when I first saw you, I never expected you to be a total bookworm. You seem too posh for that.” Ty snorts, keeping his arms crossed. He won’t meet my eyes. I lean closer, and he doesn’t back away. “Reading books forever sounds hellish to me, but it sounds like heaven for you. It’s a great idea. Why not do it?”
Ty’s glare somehow gets even more intense. His eyes are just slivers of beautiful grey. “Because I’m a responsible person, unlike you.”
The words hit me right in the gut. I scowl deeply at him. “That is beyond not okay. You don’t know me, you don’t know my life. So you don’t get to spew shit like that just because you’re pissed off. Got it?”
Honestly, I’m surprised how clear and articulate I’m being. A year with Dr. Margaret has made it a lot easier for me to stand up for myself in a meaningful way, not just with growls and punching. But still, it’s hard, and I did this so easily. I’ve really made progress.
Ty scowls back, but I don’t back down. I’ve always been good at standing my ground, thankfully. Slowly, Ty’s face falls and gets less angry. In fact, he looks a bit regretful. We slowly move apart again. He takes a few deep breaths before he finally speaks again.
“You’re right,” he says, “I’m sorry.”
“Good, apology accepted.” I lean my cheek onto my fist. “Seems both of us are having trouble with our futures.”
“Mine is secure.”
“But not happy.”
He rubs his lips together, like he’s chewing his words. “That doesn’t matter.”
“Why not? Why not do what you want instead?”
“Because I’ve already applied to law school!”
“Okay.” I put my back to the bench again, staring up at the sky through the trees. “Well, I’m nearly done with my maths and am about to start my teaching degrees. Then I've got a private school job lined up, but who knows? Maybe I’ll hate the job and quit and work at shitty customer service jobs for years until I decide to get my shit together and find an actually good teaching gig at a school I like.”
Ty’s dark brows furrow together. “That is extremely specific.”
I shrug, hoping my smirk doesn't say too much. “I don’t know, just a possibility.”
“Alright,” he snorts. “My life will be fine, it won’t go off the rails.”
He looks so sure and resolute. I don’t think I’m going to change his mind, and I don’t think it’s my job to. I can’t save everyone, something Dr. Margaret taught me. Plus I just met this guy. No matter how pretty he is, I don’t know him. (Wish I did.) Hopefully he can figure out his own shit.
“Okay. Your life, you can figure it all out.” I put my hands behind my head, leaning back, staring at the sky.
“Your life is going to be fine,” Ty says. “Agatha says that despite what you think, you’re smart. And I’m partial to agree. You have trouble with relationships, but who doesn’t? You’ve still got a good head on your shoulders. You’ll figure everything out too.”
I can feel my face turns bright red, and from the smirk on Ty’s face he can see it. I rub the back of my neck, trying to use my arm to hide my blush. “Y’know, I get why Agatha liked you. You’re weirdly nice and, well, really hot.”
Now it’s Ty’s turn to have his eyes go wide. He looks very cute. “Wow, you’re pretty forward for a straight guy.”
“Whoever said I was straight?” I smirk at him with one eyebrow raised. I hope I look confident and sexy and not just fucking weird.
“Oh.” His voice is almost a squeak. “I’m sorry I assumed.”
“S’alright, common mistake.” I look down at my stupid Nokia. “Wow, you’re beyond late for your class.”
Ty scoffs. “And who’s fault is that?”
“Okay, yeah, guilty as charged. You should probably get to it though. Need good grades for law school and all.”
“Yes, good point.” He stands up, and I follow, hands in my pockets. I both hate and love that Ty is a little taller than me. “But...it was nice to talk to you, Snow.”
“Feeling’s mutual, Ty. So, uh, see you around.”
I grin brightly, then turn around before I say something really stupid. I usually do in front of pretty people. Plus I need to see Agatha. That’s why I’m here, back in 2003. I’m not supposed to be chasing after a pretty guy who went to my uni ages ago. Even if he is like, really pretty.
“Simon.” His voice makes me stop in my tracks and turn back.
“Yeah?”
Ty steps forward and holds out a scrap of lined paper. “Since you’re newly single, and now I know you’re not straight, give me a call sometime? If you’re up to it, that is.”
My brain completely short circuits. Blows a fuse. Maybe every fuse. I just stare at Ty with my mouth hanging open for a bit too long. Ty starts to look genuinely concerned. But thankfully the synapses start firing again and I shake it off.
“Um, y-yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I would like that.” I take the paper. “Uh, thank you.”
“You’re most welcome. I hope to see you around as well.”
I watch as he walks away, and I’m mesmerised by the way his hips swing. Fuck, he is so hot. And he likes me. I honestly have no clue why but I’m not going to question it. I have to make sure to call him before I go back to 2020. But right now I have to find Agatha, so I carefully put the paper in the smallest pocket of my bag, then dash off towards Aggie’s dorm.
———————————————
I knock on the door softly, and there’s no answer at first. “Aggie?” I say. “I came here to say I’m sorry. I won’t yell, I promise.”
Still silence at first. I nearly leave, but then the sound of soft footsteps comes from under the door. The doorknob slowly turns and my pulse increases every second. Agatha is wearing her purple Watford lacrosse sweater, a pair of my trackies that I left behind last week, and blonde hair piled up in a bun. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are red. My stomach drops at the sight.
“What are you sorry for?” she asks, voice low and flat. She sounds more tired than angry. For some reason that hurts even more.
I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for how I treated you, Ags. Our relationship didn’t fall apart for no reason. I didn’t pay attention to what you wanted and took you for granted. I was a terrible boyfriend. And I’m really, really sorry.” I start nervously pulling at my hair. “I-I’m not saying we should get back together. We weren’t happy, and you deserve someone who will put you first. But I still want to be your friend. You’re one of my first and best friends. I’m not sure how to do that, considering I was such an shit boyfriend, but can we figure it out? Together?”
Agatha rubs her lips together, taking slow deep breaths. Her fingers tap against the door one by one. I don’t know if I’m going to throw up or run or both. All are possible. But then Agatha nods slowly.
“Okay,” she sighs.
“Okay?”
“Let’s try to be friends again. I don’t want to lose you either.”
I grin ear to ear. “Okay, awesome, that’s great. I’m so glad you want to as well. I do love you, Ags, and I’m sorry I hurt you so much.”
“Apology accepted, Si, so you don’t need to do it anymore. Let’s just move forward, alright?”
“Alright, yeah, I’d like that.” I rub my neck and nervously gnaw at my lip. “Um, could I hug you? As a friend?”
She smiles softly. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her smile. Not just because I’m from the future, but I can’t remember the last time she smiled back when we were together. I hope I can make her smile more now.
“Yeah,” she says, “that would be nice.”
We both step forward and throw our arms around each other. I haven’t hugged Agatha in a long time either. Sure, we snogged and had sex, (though not very often honestly), but this is so much better. There’s no pressure or nerves. It feels normal. The most normal I’ve ever felt with her.
As we slowly part, we’re still smiling. “You,” Agatha pokes my chest, “need to study for your exam on Monday.”
I chuckle and nod, being silently thankful I’m not doing that exam again. Once was more than enough. “Yeah, I know. This felt more important though. You’re more important.”
She blinks in confusion. I can’t blame her. Past me was always too focused on my work so that I could reach the happy ending I always wanted. Future me is figuring out that there is no happy ending. There’s just life, and I have to make it what I want, not just wait for happiness to fall into my lap. I haven’t got it down pat but I’m getting there. That’s more than good enough.
“Well, I’m definitely glad to hear that,” Agatha says. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll go get brunch, okay?”
I nod enthusiastically. “Sounds great.” The voice in the back of my head reminds me about the small fact of time travel, and that when I go back to 2015, past me is only going to remember bits and pieces of this day. “But, uh, studying may fry my brain. So could you maybe call instead? And I’ll call next time?”
Agatha sighs with exasperation, but she’s still smiling. “Alright, that’s a valid excuse.” She presses a small kiss to my cheek. It’s completely platonic, and it feels great. “See you later, Simon.”
“Yeah, definitely.” I hug her tight one more time before I go. She gives me a kind wave before closing her door. I’m grinning like a mad man as I walk down the hell. I did it, I saved my friendship with Agatha. I’m so damn happy. Plus I met Ty.
Oh right. I reach into my bookbag, feeling around for my notebook. My hand curls over the rings of the spine as I push open the stairwell door. And I instantly fall face first onto the dirty public school floor.
“Mr, Snow!” Ms. Petty, the nicest janitor in the entire school, possibly in the whole world, rushes to me. “Are you alright?”
“Uh, yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’m fine. Just clumsy.”
“Here, let me help.”
I take her hand and she hoists me to my feet. I still feel a bit dizzy, a small side effect of time travel I know all too well now. Ms. Petty keeps a hand on my back until I regain my bearings. “Alright, I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be alright.”
“Okay, dearie.” She pats my shoulder. “Go get some rest, get your mind off work.”
“Right, yeah, work...”
Ebb gives me one last comforting pat and goes back to sweeping the hallway floor. I wave at her as I leave, hoping she doesn’t see the distress in my face.
Fuck.
———————————————
AN: Chapter 2 will be posted within the next week, i.e whenever I'm well enough to edit it lol. See you all next time!
#carry on#snowbaz#simon snow#baz pitch#carry on fanfiction#being erica au#time travel#time travel therapy#fluff#angst#first meeting#mysnowbazfic
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The Only Constant
Summary: Peter has had the names May Reilly and Anthony Stark printed on his wrists for as long as he can remember.
(It’s time for a platonic soulmate AU!)
Read on AO3
One name on your left wrist, one name on your right. One person whose life you’d change forever, and one who would change yours.
There’s no finite calculation to be done. In some cases, people don’t even know which is which, even after meeting both of their names. Ultimately, the life-changing relationship is mutually beneficial. Love flows from all directions.
The relationship formed between the names is unlikely to be romantic in nature. It happens from time to time, but the most likely relationship is familial, whether by blood or by choice. Children will change their parents’ lives, best friends will save each other from the brink of despair, even an odd grandparent or cousin has the ability to show up on someone’s wrist. The only unifying factor is the experiences shared with the person are positive. You can get in a paralyzing car wreck, but the person’s name on your wrist won’t be the one behind the other wheel. It’ll be the one who drove you to physical therapy, held you while you cried, and helped you recover.
There’s a chance there won’t be a mutual match between two people. It mostly happens with celebrities, philanthropists, or just general kind souls. People who leave a lot of positive impact on the world around them but only have one wrist to show whose life they impacted the most. If you have the name of say, a superhero, on your wrist, it’s likely that they’ll save your life at some point. It can be disappointing to know one of the supposed two most impactful relationships in your life will be simplified to a minute-long encounter at best, but hey. C’est la vie. Maybe you’ll be the lucky one who ends up on one of their wrists.
---
Peter gets his names in the middle of his first birthday party. He is sitting on his high chair smashing a piece of cake and giggling with the rest of the table when it happens.
For just a moment, there’s a sharp little zing on his wrists as if someone scraped them with a live wire. The feeling is so different from the smooth frosting and crumbly cake that he starts to cry. It only takes a few seconds of fat crocodile tears rolling down his cheeks before his mother lifts him out of the chair and brings him out of the dining room and into the kitchen.
“Oh, Petey. Let’s clean you up, huh?” she coos as she sets him on the counter by the sink and wets a sponge. He starts to calm down once he’s away from the crowd and focuses on admiring the change of scenery.
Mary hums to herself as she washes the smeared blue frosting off of his face. She smiles and gives him a kiss on the cheek once it’s clean.
“Are you having fun at your party, Petey-pie? You’re quite the celebrity today,” she says as she starts to wipe off his hands. The cake guts are spread all the way up to his forearms. “You’re really hitting it off with those gals from work, I’ll have to keep an eye on you or they’ll snatch you up after the party!”
Peter giggles as she talks, more because of her tone of voice than anything else. She makes quick work of the rest of the mess on his hands.
“That’s strange, there’s still…” Her voice trails off as she wipes a finger along a black smudge on his wrist. She pauses and grabs his other wrist, where another smudge is mirrored.
“Hey, Richard!” she calls into the kitchen, hoping she doesn’t sound too suspicious, “Can you bring me a magnifying glass from the study?”
Richard responds with a quick, “Sure thing, hon!” and then she turns her attention back to Peter.
“Petey, this is so exciting! Your names came in today!” Peter babbles and gives her a big toothy smile. She can’t help but smile back as she picks him up and tucks his head under her chin. That’s how Richard finds them when he comes into the room with a magnifying glass.
“What’d you need this for, did you—” he cuts himself off when he sees her looking at him with misty eyes and holding Peter close to her heart. He looks down at the magnifying glass he brought and then back to her. “No, there’s no way they came in today. Mary?”
He keeps switching between looking at Peter and her with awe in his eyes. Mary just nods and passes Peter to him. He sets the magnifying glass on the counter and grabs Peter with both hands, lifting him above his head.
“Look at you, little man! We’re so proud of you! I was four when mine came in. How old were you, Mare?”
She smiles softly. “I was six.”
“She was six! You’re so smart, Peter. What a guy. You’ve always been ahead of the curve.”
Mary wipes her eyes and chuckles at her husband. “Richard, it’s not like he chose to get them this early.”
“I know, I know. But wow. One year old and he already has his names. Pretty soon he’s not gonna need us anymore.” He looks back at Peter. “Is that right, Pete? You’re just gonna grow up and get your own house tomorrow, huh?” Peter squeals and laughs as Richard keeps talking. Mary laughs at them.
“Well,” she says, grabbing the magnifying glass from where Richard set it down, “don’t you want to know who they are?”
Richards nods and puts Peter back on the counter in front of his mom. She carefully grabs his left wrist and looks at it through the magnifying glass. It only takes a moment for the name to come into focus.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” she says through a laugh as Richard looks at her expectantly.
“What? Who is it?” He tries to grab the magnifying glass from her to see for himself.
“It says Anthony Stark.” She can’t help but laugh when Richard’s wide-eyed face snaps to hers.
“Are you telling me our little boy is going to work for Stark Industries?” he hisses incredulously. He looks towards Peter and whispers, “I take back what I said earlier. You are such a traitor, little man. What happened to following our footsteps at Oscorp?” Peter just smiles and babbles something incoherent, which weakens the blow of Richard’s words.
“No, no,” Mary says between laughs, “I’ve actually read about this in a magazine. A lot of people have his name, no one knows why. Maybe he’ll stop making weapons and start doing something good. Who knows? Maybe he’ll save little Peter’s life someday.”
Richard chuckles. “Yeah, over my dead body.”
Mary smiles and hits his arm softly. “Oh, stop. You’re just jealous. Don’t you want to know who his other name is?”
“Yeah, of course. But Mary, Tony Stark. Tony Stark!”
“Keep going and his other name’s going to be Justin Hammers,” Mary says with a smirk. Richard groans but leans into her as she looks at Peter’s other wrist.
“May Reilly,” she states. “Why does that sound so familiar?”
Richard opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted by someone coming into the room.
“Hey, you guys have been in here a while so I came to see if you needed help with anything—” Ben stops himself when he sees Richard and Mary huddled over Peter with a magnifying glass. “No! At one year old? I always thought I was special for being two and a half!”
Mary nods. “We’ll make an announcement after everyone’s done eating. We were just checking his names.” She gives Richard a look to make sure he won’t tell Ben about Tony Stark being on their son’s wrist. He clears his throat and looks over to Ben.
“Hey, Ben, what’s your girl’s last name? We’re trying to get a jumpstart on Christmas cards this year.”
“If I don’t marry her by then, it’ll be Reilly.” He watches as Richard and Mary share a meaningful look. “You’re kidding!”
“You can’t tell her!” Richard says as Ben starts to pace around the kitchen.
“I can’t even remember if I’ve told her about Pete yet!” He walks over to the counter where Peter is still sitting and chiming in with a babble every once in a while. He points to Peter. “I won’t tell her about this. Yet. But we’re gonna have a Parker Christmas at my place this year, and we’ll tell her then.”
Mary and Richard nod in tandem. “That sounds like a plan, Ben.”
“Alright,” Ben says, “Now, I’m gonna give my favorite nephew a hug.”
---
Peter Parker is one year old when he gets his names.
He’s one year old when he meets one of them.
He’s eight years old when he meets the other.
(Well, meet is a vague word.)
---
Peter doesn’t know where his uncle is. He’s trying hard to be brave but, to be honest, he’s a little scared.
They came to the Stark Expo together, but he got lost when everyone started running around halfway through the presentation. Peter had begged Ben to let them stay because Iron Man had just shown up when everyone had to leave.
Everyone’s running past him, but none of the faces he sees belong to his uncle. He readjusts the Iron Man helmet on his head, hoping maybe it’s blocking Ben from his vision. It was the second part of his Christmas present last year, the first being the Expo tickets themselves. He opens his mouth to call out for his uncle, but freezes when he sees a huge drone in front of him. Oh. That must be why people were running.
He’s okay, he can do this. He raises the hand that has the gauntlet towards the drone. They handed them out at the doors when he got here, so they must work like Iron Man’s gauntlets.
Something shoots the drone, but it came from over his shoulder rather than from his palm.
“Nice work, kid,” a robotic voice says from behind him. He turns around just in time to see Iron Man fly away.
As if that broke a spell, he can suddenly hear Ben’s voice. “Peter? Peter!”
“Ben!” Peter only has to look for a few seconds before seeing his uncle. He rushes over and gives him a hug.
“Hey, Petey. Where’d you go? I was worried sick,” Ben says as he takes the helmet off of Peter and puts a hand on his cheek.
“Oh, Ben, it was so cool! A drone was about to shoot me—”
Ben tilts Peter’s chin up so they can make eye contact. “A drone was about to shoot you?”
“Yeah, but Iron Man saved me! He flew in and was all like, ‘kapew,’ and then he said I did a good job!”
Ben ruffles his hair and chuckles, despite the stressful tone that still paints their surroundings. “Well, now we know why his name’s on your wrist, bud.”
Peter’s doe eyes flash with curiosity. “Why?”
“If someone’s name is on your wrist, that means you change their life or they change yours.” Ben scans their surroundings to make sure they can safely continue to talk. “He just saved your life, which is about the most changing it can take.”
“Am I on your wrist?”
“No, buddy. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you to bits. It just means that I didn’t just save you from being shot by a drone.” His voice is still unbelieving. If it weren’t for the fact he just saw the presentation on the stage revolt, he wouldn’t have believed Peter at all.
Peter ponders Ben’s words for a moment. “...Am I on Tony Stark’s wrist?”
“It’s hard to say, Pete. Superheroes save a lot of people and he’s only got two wrists. But if I were him, I’d want you to be there.”
That seems to placate Peter for the time being. He looks at the Iron Man helmet that Ben’s still carrying in his hand and then back up to him.
“I love you, even if you’re not on my wrist.”
Ben’s heart swells in his chest. “Aw, buddy. I love you too. Now c’mon, May’s waiting for us in the car. Let’s not tell her that you almost got shot by a drone, or she’ll freak out. And if she freaks out, we all freak out.”
Ben grabs his hand and they walk to the parking lot together, leaving the debris of the convention center behind them.
---
“Okay. Elephant in the room. Tony Stark’s on your wrist and now you spend practically every weekend at the compound with him and Spider-Man. What’s going on, Peter?”
May looks at Peter from across the table. They’re eating at some new fusion restaurant Ned recommended, but Peter hasn’t decided if he likes it or not. He was picking at the food on his plate but looks up when May speaks. He rubs the back of his neck before answering, hoping May isn’t disappointed.
“Well… He doesn’t know he’s on my wrist.”
She leans back and puts a hand on her chest. “Peter! Really?”
“It’s not like we’re a match!” Peter’s voice raises an octave as he tries to think of an excuse. “He probably has one of the Avengers’ name on his wrist for all I know.”
“Oh, Peter…” May leans back towards him and puts a hand over his. “You should tell him. Even if he doesn’t have your name, he’d be flattered.”
Peter snorts. “Sure, he’d be flattered by a random kid thinking he’s their match. May, he probably has a thousand people tell him that every day!”
“But none of them were you.” May’s face is somehow both pitying and sympathetic.
“I guess…” His eyes slide to the side as he struggles to put his thoughts into words. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up. He saved my life when I was eight, how do we know that’s not it?”
May laughs. “Peter, I love you, but you’re so stupid.”
“Oh.” He doesn’t want to get offended, he really doesn’t.
“It’s obvious he cares about you and he clearly changed your life. I don’t think he offers a free super-suit to everyone whose life he saves.”
Peter nods. That’s true enough, he supposes. But there’s still something bothering him. They eat a few bites in silence as he thinks.
“But,” he starts, keeping his voice level and thanking his therapist mentally for helping him speak truthfully, “if he’s on my wrist for changing my life, that means I changed yours, and I just don’t see how I did anything to you besides be a burden.”
“Peter.” May clutches his hand. “You gave me a son.”
Peter gives an awkward laugh, unsure of how to respond. “What?”
“Ben and I tried to have kids.” May’s voice is gentle, like a stream flowing over pebbles. “It had been over two years when we found out I can’t have kids of my own.”
“May, I’m so sorry.” And he is.
“You don’t have to be sorry, Peter. You were the best thing that happened to me. I’m so proud of you.” She adjusts her glasses, dabbing at her eyes surreptitiously. “Never say you’re a burden. I love every moment of taking care of you.”
Peter coughs, pretending he just choked on a piece of noodle instead of having an emotional talk with his aunt. “I love you, May.”
“Love you too, Peter.” She turns her attention back to the food in front of her. “But you are being stupid. Just tell Tony.”
Peter chuckles. “Yeah, alright.”
---
Peter kicks his legs while he sits at the edge of a rooftop and messes with the fabric of his mask in his hands. There was now another 25 or so criminals going to jail, thanks to Spider-Man. Mr. Stark had told him to wait until him and Rhodey could fly over to help, but the gang was already starting to pack up and leave the warehouse. They would have been long gone by the time backup arrived; he had to fight them alone. He just webbed them all up and called the police. He did fine. He wasn’t even hurt. But it would only be a matter of time before— yep.
He hears the rough clank of the Iron Man suit landing behind him. He refuses to look over, focusing his eyes on the building across the street. The sun had set a while ago and the rooms that have their lights on create a crossword-like pattern of lights.
The sound of metal sliding as the suit opens is all the warning Peter has before hearing Tony’s voice. “What did I tell you about waiting for backup?”
“I did fine without it,” Peter says, keeping his voice as steady as he can.
“That’s not the point.” Evidently Tony didn’t care if his voice was level or not. “You were supposed to listen to me.”
Peter finally stands up from the edge of the rooftop and faces Tony. “If I waited any longer, they would have gotten away!”
“If they get away, they get away. We have people who can handle that,” Tony says dismissively.
“I did handle it.” Peter punctuates his words by pressing the spider insignia on his chest. “It’s not like I’m on the Avengers, I don’t have to listen to you. I trusted my instincts and I took them down.”
“Right, you’re not on the Avengers,” Tony snaps with a cold voice. “If you keep acting out like this, it’s going to stay that way.”
“What? Why?” There’s a short moment where Peter’s anger dissipates and leaves behind his fear before it returns.
“Why? Because you need to learn how to listen to orders! I’ve been around the block a few times.” He motions to the Iron Man suit behind him. “I know what I’m doing.”
“And you never made any mistakes?”
“Nope, never. Not a single one,” he says with a hard stare.
Peter shakes his head and looks away. “Unbelievable.”
“Unbelievable? You wanna know unbelievable?” The strength behind Tony’s voice forces Peter to snap his head back to look at him. “Unbelievable is giving a kid a multi-million dollar suit and letting him swing around to his heart’s content, and yet he still doesn’t listen when you tell him no.”
Peter stings as if he was just slapped in the face, but he grits his teeth and refuses to look away. “Look. I don’t want to be your ‘helpless orphan’ good publicity stunt, okay? If you don’t want me around, just say so.”
“That’s not what’s happening here, Peter,” Tony cautions. While he isn’t yelling like before, there’s still threads of anger tying his words together.
“Isn’t it? Whatever, I get it. What I did was wrong.” Peter rubs a hand over his face as he takes in a breath. “But God, Mr. Stark! Can’t you see where I’m coming from? You’re just always so— You treat me like a kid all the time! As if one wrong look from a bad guy and I’ll explode.”
“Of course I see where you’re coming from! It’s the same road I went down in 2012, and I’ll spare you the details.” He lowers his voice until it sounds like a dull roar. “Nothing good can come from acting like this.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not like you, okay? I’m not Iron Man 2.0, now with dog-like obedience to authority. I’m my own person. I can handle myself. I did handle myself.”
“This time. What about the next time? And the next? And the one after that?” He steps toward Peter with each sentence until they’re almost a foot apart. Peter’s face starts to crumble, but he keeps pressing on. “Because congrats, Spider-Man. This was the best-case scenario. How often does that happen? I’ll give you a hint— it’s not a lot.”
Peter makes some weird growl-like noise in the back of his throat. He breaks eye contact with Tony and steps away so it’s unclear if he’s talking to him or to some higher power. “I hate this! Am I allowed to hate this? You know, you’re supposed to change my life, Mr. Stark. But all you’re doing is keeping me from saving people.”
Tony freezes, all of his anger forgotten for the moment. “I’m on your wrist?”
“Yeah, you’re on my wrist. Who else would be there?” Peter looks at him, the small, needy part of him desperately trying to gauge a reaction, but Tony’s face is blank. “God, I just… God. I’ve gotta go before May starts to worry. Feel free to leave me an angry voicemail. I’ll delete it when I get home.”
“Peter—” But he’s already gone.
---
Someone should have warned Peter that Spider-Manning while angry was dangerous. They should make PSAs about it. Maybe get Captain America to star in them. He’d flip the chair around and sit on it backwards to be cool and relatable. Then he’d be all, “So… You fought with your kinda-soulmate kinda-father figure and then you got stabbed in the middle of angrily swinging back home because you have to save every New Yorker you see,” and then go into some story about he once fought with someone close to him and ended up getting stabbed, but because of his level head and can-do attitude, he came out on top. All the people on the school board would clap. It’d be inspirational.
Peter laughs at the mental image and then cringes as he curls around his stomach. Ouch. Stab wounds suck. He’d much prefer detention right about now. Maybe then MJ would draw him and he could pretend to not like it before putting it up on the corkboard in his locker. Or he could make a collage with it and do a cute homecoming proposal. Like, “Hey, MJ. You’re the best artist I know. Want to draw a future together?” and she’d say, “Wow, Peter. You’re so charming. Of course. By the way, I don’t think you asking me out is perpetuating the heteronormative idea of the man being the one to take charge in a relationship. And I also think you’re capable of overcoming your personal racial and sexual privilege in a very graceful way,” and then they’d ride off into the sunset together on the bus ride home.
Yikes, trying to move was a mistake. God, this sucks. Why did he become a superhero again? Oh, right, dead uncle. Can’t let Ben down now. With… great something something comes something. Jeez, why couldn’t he process the death of his loved ones in a way that doesn’t require him to get stabbed on a regular basis?
He hears a clang from the opening of the alley. With great loud noises comes a great trip to the hospital? Hopefully? Yeah, that was probably it.
Someone’s removing his mask and touching his face. Oh, shit. He has a secret identity, he can’t let people just take off his mask. He bats the hands away.
“Pete, it’s just me. Good guy.” Oh. Well, that’s cool, then. He relaxes as the hands move his face around a bit more. “Okay, we’re taking a little trip to the compound. I’ll text your aunt.”
“Sorry, Tony…” God, is that him? He sounds like shit. Maybe he does need to go to the compound. He barely notices his mask being put on again.
“Save the apologies for when you’re not delirious, kid. Get ready for some vertigo.”
Why is that voice so familiar? He called it Tony… He doesn’t think he knows any Tonys, but who knows? He just got stabbed, so. He has an excuse this time. Not like the time where he met Ned’s older sister and then forgot her name by the time the conversation was over and he stuttered for almost a minute before saying, “See you later, girl!” God, that was awkward.
Woah, the world is tilting. He might throw up. No, nevermind. Okay, okay, this is fine. He’s just being carried. He can pretend that it’s just Ben carrying him to his room after he pretended to be asleep in the back of the car.
Oh, shit. Except Ben never started to fly. He’s done with being stabbed. What happened to letting a guy bleed out in an alleyway in peace? His eyelids droop as his vision starts to get gray around the edges.
“Fuck, kid. Stay with me. Don’t pass out.”
Whoops, too late.
---
For Peter, it just seems like he blinked somewhere in an alley and then opened his eyes again the next morning inside of the medical wing of the Avengers compound.
(He doesn’t get to experience the joy of carrying a passed out 16-year-old for fifty miles and waking up the resident doctor so she can start an emergency surgery. And then finally getting a chance to sit down, just to remember to call the kid’s aunt who is, quite frankly, a level of scary-hot and/or hot-scary that the world isn’t ready for.)
The early morning’s sunlight filters through the window. Peter doesn’t feel too groggy, which is a good sign. The worse he feels, the longer the lecture from May and Tony. He can still see straight and he doesn’t feel like throwing up, so there’s that.
He looks over to see Tony sleeping at the side of his bed. The image of Tony prompts him to remember their unresolved argument from the night prior. He’s wearing the same clothes, albeit a little more rumpled. The only difference is the addition of one of his seemingly endless pairs of tinted glasses.
He groans at remembering how much he sounded like some half-rate angsty Disney television-movie teen. Maybe they were hiring. But he doesn’t have much time to think about his future acting career before Tony starts to wake up.
Once he’s awake, they make eye contact for a few seconds before Peter speaks. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.”
“Kid, you’re okay.” He sounds tired. At least, more so than usual. “We’re good. I should be the one apologizing. I have been a little… overprotective.”
“No, you were fine.” This is always Peter’s least favorite part. Apologizing in the hospital is too weird. It makes him feel guilty, like he got hurt just to manipulate Tony’s feelings. “I was just making a big deal out of nothing.”
“Well, how about we just call it even,” Tony says with a short sniff.
“Oh.” That was easy. “Okay.”
There’s a few beats of silence before Tony takes off his glasses, giving no barrier for their eye contact. “Kid… Why didn’t you tell me I’m on your wrist?”
“I’m really sorry, it’s just that…” He takes a breath. “It’s not like I’m on yours, right? I didn’t want to make things awkward. But they are anyways. Sorry.”
“We gotta work on the apologizing, first of all.” Peter chews on the inside of his cheek nervously as Tony speaks. “Second of all—”
Tony breaks eye contact with Peter and starts rolling up his sleeves. He takes off the watch and bracelet he always wears, and— oh.
There, on the inside of Tony Stark’s right wrist, is his name. Peter Parker, written in sharp black script. He can’t look away for a couple of seconds.
Once he forces his eyes to look at something else, he sees James Rhodes in black text that contrasts against the pale skin of Tony’s other wrist. Something in the back of his mind tells him he should say something, it’s been an awkward length of silence.
“Wow…” He feels like the world has shifted in its axis. ”I can’t believe Rhodey’s name is actually James. Do people call him that?”
Tony rolls his eyes and replaces his accessories. “The Daily Bugle is right, you are a menace,” he says lightly before sobering and looking at Peter meaningfully. “But you get it, right? I know… I know I inherited a lot of my dad’s inability to talk about emotions. But, this is okay, yeah?”
“I mean, that’s not even a question to me. Of course, it’s okay.” Peter’s eyes slide to the side as he thinks about how to put his thoughts into words. “You saved my life, you know that, right?”
“When, last night?”
Peter ignores that. “No, I mean before I was a superhero. Stark Expo, 2010? Little kid vs. Hammer Drone?”
There’s a moment before recognition lights up Tony’s eyes. “You’re shitting me.” Peter can only blush lightly and shrug while Tony’s brain reboots. “Jesus, kid. Your little self-sacrificing issue goes way back.”
“Yeah. I figured that was it, you know?” Peter’s eyes drop to the hospital gown he’s wearing. ”I didn’t want to get my expectations up. You save like, a million people’s lives a day—”
“Rounding down,” Tony adds helpfully.
Peter laughs. “Yeah, rounding down. You’ve only got two wrists, you know?”
Tony looks at him in silence for a few moments. “Would you believe me if I thought the same about you?”
He looks up to Tony. “Me having two wrists?”
“Don’t quit your day job.” Tony waves off Peter’s small grin. “No, I figured you had your uncle’s name on your wrist. I just gave you a suit, he gave you your whole life-motto.”
“He did. Before I met you, actually met you, I was angry about that. I thought…” There’s a pause as Peter gets lost in his thoughts for a moment. “You know, he’s the one who jump-started my whole superhero career. He practically raised me. Who would I be without him?”
Tony looks into Peter’s expectant eyes for a few seconds. The silence slowly starts to turn awkward before he says something. “Am I supposed to answer? I thought it was rhetorical.”
“No, it was, sorry. I’m just thinking.” Tony gives him another few moments of silence as Peter’s eyes drift to his own wrists. ”No one knows how the names are chosen. Maybe our lives are reduced to numbers. I’m sure you’ve directly saved my life way more than Ben. He wasn’t a superhero, he just looked after a snot-nosed asthmatic.”
Tony laughs at the image of pre-bite Peter. The noise surprises Peter, as if he forgot Tony was in the room with him.
Peter’s eyes move to Tony’s. “But I like to think it’s more than that, right? Maybe it means something. Ben impacted my life, but it was his death that really changed it. It’d be depressing to have a reminder of his death on me all the time. But if he was still alive, I wouldn’t have anything to fight for. I’d be a hero’s journey without the call to adventure.”
They sit in silence for a few moments after that. Tony tries to think of something intelligent to say, but just comes up with, “Show me your wrists, kid.”
Peter hesitates for a minute before stretching his bare wrists out towards him. Tony gently grabs his hands in reverence. He looks at them in silence for a bit. Peter is content to just let him.
“How do we know who’s who?”
Peter looks up to see Tony looking at his face now, instead of his wrists. “What do you mean?”
“How do you know you changed May’s life and I changed yours?”
He laughs nervously. “I mean, it’s obvious, right?”
“I don’t think so. Let’s say it was the opposite. Rhodey changed my life, but who knows? I’m helping him relearn to walk. I was his best friend in college. Yeah, he was the first real friend I had, but as long as we’re talking hypotheticals. Maybe I changed his.”
“Mr. Stark—”
Tony just holds up his hand. “Hey, the adult’s talking. You changed my life too, kid. In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t many original Avengers around nowadays. You’re helping me through that just by showing up. You’re giving me hope for the new generation of superkids, as terrifying of a thought as that is.”
“What about May, then?”
Tony looks to Peter’s right wrist, where May’s name resides. “Then if you’re changing my life, then May changed yours. She’s raising you, kid. And maybe she’ll become a superhero too. You never know.”
There’s another few beats of silence before Peter says, “I guess we don’t.”
“Sorry?” Tony shakes his head as if coming out of a daydream.
“No, what you said earlier- you asked how we know.” Tony nods for him to continue. ”I don’t think we do. Maybe everyone else who has your name just is part of how being a superhero changed you.”
Guilt passes over Tony like a cloud. “They kind of got the short end of the stick.”
“Yeah, maybe. The only way we’d know is if there’s someone who has a very clear name, and then we just process-of-elimination our way back to ourselves.”
Tony leans back into the hospital chair. “Unlikely.”
“I still think you changed my life.”
“Agree to disagree, kid.”
They sit in silence, letting their final words float in the air. Peter starts to laugh to himself and it only takes a few seconds for Tony to join in.
“This is so stupid, right? I’m Tony Stark’s match!” Peter flops back on his hospital bed. ”This is one of the coolest days of my life. Ned is gonna flip his shit.”
“Not stupid, but yeah. You might need to learn CPR before you tell him.”
Peter hums in response. When he speaks again, his voice is a little more fragile. “You’re not disappointed that your match is a 16-year-old from Queens?”
Tony snorts. “Are you disappointed that yours is a 35-year-old from Manhattan?”
“Oh, no way you’re 35. You’re like, almost 50 at least.”
��Ouch, no sugar coating from the peanut gallery.”
While he understands that Tony joking means he’s not upset, sometimes it doesn’t hurt to be sure. So he asks again. “But you’re not, right?”
“Kid, do you know how many people have Peter Parker written on their wrist?”
Peter shakes his head. “No.”
Tony scoots his chair closer to Peter’s hospital bed. “Well, neither do I. But it’s got to be at least double the amount that has mine. You’re only going to be 16 for so long. But you’ll never stop being you. You’ve got morals pure enough to make Cap cry, but with the heroics of all of the Avengers put together, which would… Probably also make Cap cry. The guy cries a lot, they won’t teach you that in school.”
Peter laughs but gives Tony a look that urges him to continue. He puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder and squeezes lightly.
“What I’m trying to say is that you’re something special, kid. One in a billion, except there aren’t six other Peters crawling around somewhere. I’m not disappointed at all. The opposite, really. I’m incredibly proud of you.”
Peter blinks in surprise. “Oh. That’s nice.”
“Yeah, it is.” Tony removes his hand and leans back into this chair. “I should say it more often.”
Peter smirks. “No, I think it’s like, a cool hardened old guy being taught the wonders of the world from his young handsome sidekick type thing.”
Tony throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, I will be having words with your aunt.”
“She’d probably just give you shit for not encouraging me enough.”
“Yeah, you know her better than me,” he says lightly. Tony can still feel a lack of closure in the conversation. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “I am proud of you, Peter. Even when I’m yelling at you. That’ll never change.”
Peter hums and leans into his pillow. “Okay, I take it back. I could get used to this.”
“Alright, sidekick, you should get some more sleep. It’s still too early for spiders to be awake.”
As if on cue, Peter yawns. “I thought they were nocturnal?”
“Not the kind that bit you.”
“You’re just jealous I can walk on walls,” Peter mumbles, his head more pressed into the pillow than looking at Tony at this point.
“Would have been a great party trick at MIT.”
Peter’s voice is hardly decipherable. “It will be.”
The room is blissfully quiet as Peter starts to drift back under. The last thing he notices before falling fully asleep is the ghost of fingers pushing the hair out of his face and the sound of a soft, “Love you, Pete.”
He tries to mumble something in return, but the message doesn’t quite reach his mouth. Oh well, he’s not going anywhere.
Tag List: @ironfamjam @addi-is-amazing @mysterio-is-a-little-bitch
#hey i can still write!#rip my homework that im ignoring#let me know if you want to be added to my tag list :)#art writes#spiderman#spider-man#irondad#iron dad#iron man#mcu#marvel#iron dad and spider son#irondad and spiderson
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An Upstead timeline
Because I was thinking about how far Jay Halstead & Hailey Upton have come, and I just wanted to be nostalgic for a moment. Enjoy my ramblings! (:
The beginnings: season 4
Ah, yes. Hailey’s debut. I loved 4x21 “Fagin” for that reason. Also, Jay’s first impression of her seemed to be like “dang this girl is sassy...but I’m not complaining” haha.
Also we can’t forget the sass Hailey displayed in the survelliance van. 😂 Legendary. And Jay kept up w/it too. We love a sarcastic duo - even before they were partnered up!
Anyway, the next episode was when Hailey officially joined Intelligence. A moment of awkward silence for the two of them trying to shuffle around each other when Voight gave Hailey Jay’s desk because she was now partners w/Erin. Oops. Too funny.
Then of course, the season 4 finale saw Hailey be invited out to Molly’s with Jay, Adam, Kevin, & Will. She had the memorable “I’m Greek, we see tragedy in everything” line, along with that first of many looks she’d give to Jay after a conversation - longing & wistful. 😔
The new divide: season 5
Season 5 saw Hailey and Jay become partners & already they were there for each other when Jay had a tough case. While we didn’t see it air in the actual episode, there was a deleted scene from 5x01 that showed Hailey telling Jay that she’s “got his back.”
As the season progressed, we saw them continue to be there for each other as a source of support. Remember in “Fallen” when Jay kept checking up on Hailey’s “relationship” with fellow officer Sean McGrady?
“Is this really about the case?”
“See ya tomorrow.”
“Ooookay.” — yeah okay Jay we see u.
The next few episodes were Jay’s big arc in s5 where he dealt with being undercover while dealing with PTSD. Hailey was “neutral” at first, because she didn’t know Jay well enough to know how this would affect him, though she’d see it soon enough when he pointed a gun in her face at the end of 5x07. Even after that incident, she still called him to check on him. Now that’s a quality partner.
Another telling moment for their partnership was when Hailey went to bat for Jay with Camila. She knew if she talked he’d be in big trouble, so she had to do something to help him. She still made sure to remind Camila that she would “bury her” if she didn’t keep her mouth shut about Jay. Damn, remind me not to get on Hailey’s bad side. 😯
She even convinced Jay to go to therapy — how amazing is that? She helped him get help.
There were a few lighter, fluffier moments for their partnership as the season progressed, which you can see below —
And then came my favorite episode for them - Ghosts.
Hailey got tangled up with Booth who got her old partner killed. Jay, being her new partner, was concerned about how close Hailey was getting...not only to the case, but to Booth, as Booth was bordering on obsessed w/her.
He bailed her out, but then then two argued at Hailey’s UC apartment (hello, married couple moment haha) - But despite that, he still helped her go on w/the undercover plan.
Cue Jay going under as Ryan, a dealer that Hailey (as Kelly) knew. Things got even more awkward for the trio when Booth asked “Ryan” how many times he screwed “Kelly.” Yikesarama.
Towards the end of the episode, Booth got handsy with Hailey, which put Jay in an awkward position. He tried to keep his cool, but then the deal was blown. Hailey being the badass that she is fought off Booth, but it was Jay who brought her back down to reality to keep her from doing something stupid (even though let’s be honest, Booth deserved a few more kicks in the head).
The kicker of the episode came when Jay went to check on Hailey, and the two would start what would turn out to be “their thing” aka - drinks and long conversations about their cases & the feelings surrounding them. Hailey opened up about Booth and Garrett, and Jay listened. He was there for her, and that’s when they really started to form something special. Something that was more than just a typical partnership.
The rest of the season would only build on that momentum, bringing out little pieces of Jay and Hailey’s pasts, as well as how they dealt with things amongst the team. Jay lent Hailey a supportive hand (literally) when Al died in the season 5 finale, & in a deleted scene, the two offered comfort to each other at the vigil Intelligence held.
Care & being there: season 6
Jay and Hailey’s partnership grew even more so during s6. Their first major moments came in the crossover episode, when Jay was shot. Hailey was distraught, but it was more than that. She thought he was dead, & she thought she’d lost him forever. Her emotions were running high and she pushed down all those feelings that had come bubbling up to the surface. But they were there.
(Unfortunately she compensated by sleeping with Ruzek, thus beginning Upzek. Ugh. Anyway).
Even though she started a fling-turned-semi-relationship with Adam, Hailey & Jay still leaned on each other.
When Hailey dealt with a tough case, Jay was there for her. He made sure she was okay. Heck, even Adam noticed & told her, they should talk you know, “partner to partner.”
The following episode saw Hailey help Jay when his judgement was colored by his war past. She then reminded him of the famous “thing that works between them” and offered to buy him a beer to chat. He accepted.
When Jay found out about said romance, he was taken aback and you could tell by the look on his face that he was hurt...but honestly, maybe a little jealous. I think this solidified his feelings for Hailey, even if she didn’t wanna admit her own to herself yet.
“We’re good. And we’re always gonna be good.” -Jay to Hailey
6x12 has them do another heart to heart conversation, only for it to be interrupted by Ruzek, who called Hailey. Jay told her she should go, and even though she said okay, you could tell she didn’t really mean it. Just like Jay didn’t really want her to go. But these two have gotten good at hiding their feelings by now.
*forgot to add 6x14 when Hailey was kidnapped (along w/Kim). You could see the look of complete distress on Jay’s face when he & Kevin raced out to the truck, just missing it. Then when Adam told him they “should’ve been all over them” Jay went on the defensive, telling Adam “he didn’t know what went down” because he wasn’t there. Ruzek, Ruzek, Ruzek...as if Halstead wasn’t beating himself up enough! Even though later in the ep, Adam and Antonio were the ones to find Hailey & Kim, you saw Jay later ask if she was okay; and you saw the camera pan to both of their expressions when Voight gave the “work things at work” talk. Jay felt bad knowing he didn’t do his job at protecting his partner; Hailey was starting to debate her relationship with Ruzek on the job.*
6x15 offered us the iconic scene of “if I was gonna follow someone blind, I’d follow you” which we now know is essentially Hailey-speak for “I love you.” Because she told Jay that she’s trusted him from the day she met him. How freaking adorable is that?
Fast forward to the s6 finale & you’ve got a whole lot more feels between these two. From Jay’s line of “I’m going where you go” meaning he to would follow Hailey; to his protecting her FIRST without regard for his own life (actually literally using himself as a human shield!); and then of course, their heartbreaking conversation in the break room.
“We’ve only been partners a couple years...you’ll forget about me just fine.”
“Hailey... [no].”
aka - Hailey was scared of losing him again & not knowing if they’d be partners again, so she bit down on her feelings and brushed it off. Jay did the same, although he looked as if he was going to spill any second of that scene. You know what I mean.
You could see the looks in their eyes — they were saying everything without actually saying a word.
This episode was when the both of them seemed to accept their feelings of each other to themselves — as in, they admitted it to themselves, even if they weren’t ready to share them with each other. 💙
Deeper feelings: season 7
And now we’re onto s7, where even in the premiere, you could see how in sync Jay and Hailey were. The two worked together to help their boss, and they relied on each other more than ever to get the job done. Hailey supported Jay, even if she didn’t always agree with him.
Later on in the season, we saw him do the same thing. Although, when Voight split them up in 7x03, they weren’t happy about it. Jay showed his emotions with a look, while Hailey vocalized hers to Voight. Hailey = 😠 there.
In the crossover, we saw a concerned Jay over Hailey being quarantined, but also a concerned Hailey when Jay was taken hostage by Seldon. She even went all Sniper to save him! Go Hailey go!
They continued to work alongside each other, mainly in surveillance (apparently those two have a thing for vans 😉) to help the unit solve cases.
Jay had another tough case in 7x06, and Hailey noticed how much it affected him, even if she didn’t say it right away. Jay would do the same for her in the next episode when her CI was shot, with looks and a concerned voice like she had done with him.
And now we’re at 7x09, aka the fall finale from hell because Jay’s life is in the balance.
And Hailey Upton is livid over it. She was so desperate to get Jay back safely that she pushed the limits to find him. And just when she FINALLY did, he was ripped away from her yet again. Heartbreakingly tragic for these two...almost like a Romeo & Juliet vibe. 💔
Here’s hoping Jay will be okay in 7x10 when Chicago PD comes back in January, because Hailey really can’t lose the man she loves. I think this made her realize just how much she cares. And he cares so much for her.
Upstead ship captain Jesse Lee Soffer said it best: if you were to ask Jay or Hailey, “do you love him/her?” They’d say yes. As for what kind of love that is, they aren’t 100% sure yet...
because they haven’t even admitted their feelings to each other yet. But anyone can see that they are there. Pure and genuine feelings. Love. Respect. Admiration. 🖤
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i keep putting off talking about my Many Feelings About Dead Pets and i know it’s not helpful but thinking about it makes me so sad.
i miss snoopy so much. i miss genevieve and i know i’m never going to see her again and i couldn’t be there to make sure things went as smoothly as they could when she was dying. i know she was laying there suffering and she was probably hanging in there so hard because she thought i might come back. because we belonged together.
that’s something i can never give her, now. that’s something she never got to have. this is just how her life went and it will be how her life and death went, forever.
i can’t describe how angry i am at my dad. he’s a coward. i can’t stand it. i can’t stand that there’s nothing i can do about it and there’s nothing i can do for eve. she didn’t deserve that.
there’s nothing that feels pathetic quite like starting to cry while you’re trying to eat food. or crying while you’re doing homework. i keep feeling like i’m going to throw up. i’m so upset. nothing is really making it better. it just keeps coming in tidal waves.
i know if i talked to people i might feel a little better but i don’t really want to spend energy interacting with people. there’s lots of people i LIKE talking to... but when i say “ok, well we’re feeling bad, so let’s pull up a friend’s chat window and say hi” my brain screams “NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
and then when someone blessedly comes up to ME to say hi my brain screams “NO!!!!!!!!!!!! I DON’T WANT *THAT* PERSON” no matter who it is.
even close friends!
i haven’t even said anything about what’s going on with me on facebook... and i’m usually the first to complain publicly about my life. i guess, when usually i want to be around people, lately i just feel like i want to be left alone. even though i still want to be around people. it’s not a good combination.
how am i supposed to “feel” all of this? how do you “process” “an emotion”? my psychiatrist said i should do some kind of, like, memorial for my pets. but even thinking about it makes me start crying a lot. doesn’t matter if i’m cooking, or biking to campus, or even just laying in bed. thinking about writing a letter to snoopy? boom, instant tears. what would i even say? “i love you and i’m sorry”? do i need to write that down?
i feel so embarrassed about earnest expressions of, like, affection. most emotions in general but ESPECIALLY genuinely caring about something and saying something about it makes me feel super guilty if i see it again later. doesn’t matter what it is. if i tell a friend “i love you” i get antsy about it later. i can announce to the world “i love my puppy” and i’ll mean it, but if i try to say something, like, specific about eve? if i try to convey in words the exact extent to which i care?
god forbid i try to say something POETIC about it. or use some kind of metaphor or arrangement of words that might not mean anything grammatically, but emotionally resonates with me.
and then talking on twitter or here about how much i’ve been crying doesn’t feel good either. it kind of half feels like a joke. i joke that i cry when i see a dog on tv. how could i not joke about every time i do it regardless of context. i have to make it not matter. if it matters it’s bad... i don’t want people to worry about me... i feel pathetic... i’m just acting pathetic for attention... etc etc.
i decided against it, but yesterday i was gonna make some kind of comment about the emotions the characters experience in my comic and the ones i’m experiencing right now. like, “good thing i wrote out how they all deal with grief ahead of time!! because i totally nailed it.” or, “haha wow i wrote a whole story about how it’s bad to pretend you’re not feeling your emotions and then i immediately proceed to do everything possible to avoid my emotions!”
i’m a real winner.
i drew for a while today... i got 2/3 of a page done, which is a good solid pace for one day. i had to stop because i started feeling really restless and irritable about it. like, i wanted to keep going, but i also very much Did Not Want to keep going. it’s like that with the little written bit i’ve been working on, too... i want to write it, i want to tell my story and i want to express myself with some art, but i also just. i don’t want to do anything at all. i just want to throw up and cry a lot.
but i’ve got things to do... and i don’t like crying or throwing up. they feel bad. and life will keep going on without me if i don’t try to keep up. not that it matters. it’s not like they can double fail me out of the grad program. i haven’t been keeping up with my grading, which is like the one thing that is an actual obligation to people outside of myself. homework is making me miserable.
my psychiatrist recommended i spend more days doing absolutely nothing except things that make me happy, just to try to rest, but...
nothing is making me very happy. i don’t want to do anything. i have to spend a huge amount of energy just to get my game console turned on. the weather’s been kind of grubby so i haven’t wanted to go for a bike ride, let alone spent energy trying to convince myself to do it. it took me a lot of psyching myself up just to watch some youtube videos i had in my bookmarks. absolutely miserable.
vanessa got me to go to the medieval fair with her last weekend, but outside of that no one’s really approached me about keeping me busy. i feel kind of abandoned and isolated. even though i don’t even really want to talk to anyone. ian grabbed chipotle with me on friday night. that was nice. but it was also my idea and i had to get myself to club and then sit down for the whole three hours. i also read out chapter 3 of my comic, and THAT took a huge investment of my energy...
at least people liked it.
ruby from the discord channel has been leaving a lot of very nice and thoughtful comments on the art that i post there, and on one of the side comics i drew. owl has also been sending me long and very nice messages most days... there are people there. i just... still feel really bad.
so it comes back around to “i should probably do something to officially ‘grieve’ for my friends” but i guess i don’t feel ready. i don’t know what to say. i don’t know what there is TO say. thinking about it, thinking about starting or even just the concept makes me cry. then i want to avoid it. maybe it’s too soon... but i know it won’t be healthy if it is “too soon” forever. i should probably do something at some point.
i guess i can trust myself to get around to it whenever i feel ready. i am a person of action. i feel comfortable saying that about myself. so if i’m not doing it, it’s probably because i’m not ready. right...? i do things when i’m ready to do them... even if i don’t really want to.
i wonder if that’s true or if i use it to justify putting things off. maybe it’s a little of both. maybe it’s another stick i just use to beat myself over the head even though i’m doing a fine job.
haha. “people like my comic and really relate to blue? better beat myself up because WHAT IF I STOP DOING IT GOOD ENOUGH?” “i get the things on my to-do list done when i can, and can trust myself to get my chores / grieving done when i have the energy for it? WHAT IF I HAD THE ENERGY FOR IT ALL ALONG AND I’M JUST LAZY? LAZY!! SO LAZY!!!”
“but if you just tried harder...”
it always comes back to that, doesn’t it. if i just... ţ̻̭͉͐̑̍ͅr͈̫͇͚̦͇̥ͮͧ͊̇i̠͚̹̖͓̣̽͂e̩̲̯̩d̦͎͉̭̺̮ͤ̆̍ͮ͆͗ͅ ͛̆̓̓͂ͩͪ̀ ́͑ͭh̢͔̮̼͎̾̂̓͛̈͆̇ ̛͕̦̖̩̿a̺̹͓̳̮̹͠ ̼͓͕̝̘͎͙ͦ̐ŕ̉ͤ҉̣̬͉̼ͅ ̧̺̮ͦ͂̅ͮd̕ ̣̩̠͔ͯ̉ͣͩ̆̓e̝͛͌ͥ ̺͚̲̺̰̥̈ͫrͪ̓ͩ҉̼̭̟͕ͅ.............
if i tried harder... what? my dog wouldn’t be dead? my cat? i would still be in my phd program? i would have a job? i would be finished with chapter 4, which i wanted to be done with by the end of last year??
could i even try harder? i feel like i’m going at 100%. can i try harder? i don’t know how. i don’t know how to do anything different from what i’m doing (other than, like, not doing things, or being an asshole. i can do those things... i can also not do them, and i am currently trying very hard to not do them).
i know that my trying isn’t good enough. i guess that’s the source of my uncertainty and my guilt. it’s not good enough. how do i make it good enough? will it ever be good enough? maybe not... where does that leave me?
i’ve been thinking about something from group therapy for the last entire week. one person said they were jealous of their peers. i asked what that meant for them. they said it mostly felt like being really frustrated with themself.
i said... i said something like “oh i feel like that all the time but i don’t call it jealousy.” and... that’s true.
i’m so afraid of doing something bad or feeling a Bad Emotion that i’ve been trying so hard to reframe all the thoughts and emotions. but... the word fits. i feel jealous of all the successful people. i don’t like admitting that, it doesn’t make me feel very good at all, but it feels true.
i’m jealous of all the people who get more followers than me more quickly, even though i feel like i’m doing everything that they do. i’m jealous of my classmates who can pass tests even though i’m the one helping them with homework (yeah i know it goes both ways but IT GOES BOTH WAYS, I AM THE ONE HELPING SOMETIMES, I AM THE ONE WHO UNDERSTANDS, SOME OF THE TIME, AND YET THEY ARE IN THE PROGRAM AND I AM NOT).
i don’t like this about myself. i don’t like these things. i don’t like feeling like this. i know that’s just how it is and i gotta deal with it. but i don’t know how to change how i feel about it. i’m not even jealous of the skill or anything. i know how good i am at physics, at art, at telling stories... i’m jealous of the attention i guess. knowing that about myself is makin me miserable.
miserable on top of snoopy. on top of eve. on top of how my group therapists broke The Rules. on top of the school obligations. on top of losing the whole reason i moved out here, to get an education... on top of my brother sinking deeper into his abhorrent political and moral identity. on top of my dad being a coward, on top of mom jumping down my throat to get a new cat and get a job and get all these things done and just try harder. on top of hating eating food because it makes me so sick half the time. on top of not getting any sleep, not enough sleep for so long. on top of every one of the hundreds of minor inconveniences and annoying things that pop up every single day. on top of feeling lonely and isolated and unable to keep myself, like, socially stimulated i guess. i’m tired and restless and exhausted and agitated and i never get any rest.
i feel like, no matter how hard i work to be a good person, no matter how much time i spend plugging up all the holes in the dam with my fingers and “fake it til you make it” and “you are what you practice” i’m still going to just be bad and worthless. i’ll mess up at some point and everyone will realize how much i suck and then they’ll all leave. it only takes one slip up.
i know tumblr’s whole “callout culture” thing gets to me. i don’t even... do any of the major “talking points” that come up with that sort of thing. but i know how easy it is to just make it up or take something i said out of context. i’ve been physically beaten up over it before, taking my words out of context... it’s not just tumblr that stresses me out even though i know tumblr specifically is SUPER not helpful. i know how dangerous it is to be queer-ish and female. participating in a fandom again feels like i’m throwing myself out into a spotlight. or maybe a microscope light. i know attention is bad. but i want attention. but i know it’s bad. but i want people to see what i made. but i know it’s bad...............
i miss my kitty. i loved her so much. i can’t get over that at the end she was trying to comfort me. i miss diogi. i miss brushing her and all those little moments where she seemed truly happy under the anxiety. i miss genevieve. i loved her more than anything. and i could show her that, i know she knew that, but i couldn’t show her forever like i wanted to. i wanted to be with her forever. i know that’s not how it works, but deep down it’s what i wanted...
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Bi!dark!henry broken heart
So........ the bear king is unchanged because that had no bearing (sorry) on the main plot
Broken heart:
So like hook Henry’s in the vault and the darkness fully overcomes him and he sees the darkest moments of his bloodline and I do mean everything:
Hook giving baelfire to pan
Cora manipulating snow into betraying Regina
Pinocchio convincing Neal to abandon Emma
Emma giving him up
Rumple losing baelfire
Rumple jefferson and doctor Frankenstein scamming Regina
His ordeal in the dream realm
He sees himself dying after eating the apple turnover
What snowing did to maleficent
He sees Snow White holding charmings lifeless body with the queen standing over her victorious as their world collapses around them
He sees what Regina did to graham and what Zelena did to Robin every single bit of it.
And the vision that hurts the most.
He sees exactly how rumplestiltskin came back after killing Pan
And of course all this breaks him a million times over.
Then he materialises out of the vault and just sits waiting
Hallucination!rumple: well done dearie you did it. you let the darkness win
Henry (utterly broken): did they uh did they read do all that or was it lying to me
Rumple: of the darkness never lies it shows you exactly what you need to be who you are
Henry: WHO I am is with Hansel WHAT I am is this thing
Rumple: oh you are so much more than just the dark one dearie you are also the author. You know this has never happened before. God and the devil in the same body. With that kind of power one can do anything one puts ones mind to. Say for instance doing what your mother never managed to
Henry (scoffs): what’s s that huh? Actually follow through and kill Snow White. That’s a bit derivative isn’t it?
Rumple: eeeeeeh no I like the way our mind works but no. I’m thinking of the one thing our life is missing. A certain corpse like hole that only you can fill
Henry: I’m listening
Cue the opening sequence
Storybrooke
Regina storms into into the mayors office demanding to know where zelena is
Henry (with his feet up on the desk): always with the demands what happened to my house where’s my sister how’d you get like this. It all very repetitive and quite frankly a waste of my time and yours. Now bye bye you need to get ready for the big reunion
Regina: what reunion?
Henry: oh that’s for Hansel and I to know and for you the saviour my grandparents Roland and your boyfriend to be very happy about. Speaking of how’s the little bundle of joy.
Regina says the baby would be better off with her mother.
Henry: I know and she is. She’s with her father and her mother. You’re her mother. I’ve written up the paper work your are now legally the mother of Robin Hoods daughter. Oh don’t look so glum chum. You’ll be brilliant. After all look how I turned out
Regina does look. She looks at her son with one brown and one neon green eye She sees his maroon leather jacket. The green gold leather scales covering his skin. The only saving grace she can see is his one moral anchor in Hansel (or so she thinks)
Regina (voice breaking): she isn’t my daughter. And you I don’t know what the hell you are but you are not my son
Henry: you want to know something mother? I am getting so sick of you and the others pointless moralising crap. Remember what you said to Emma all those years ago? The parent is the one on paper recognised by law and that’s you and Robin so have fun raising your daughter and for the lover of Isaac heller avoid the ravines you had with me you know the therapy the gaslighting the memory erasure. (Regina looks shocked) oh yes I haven’t let that go I forgiven but I haven’t forgotten now go before I end up with only one mother and I really wouldn’t like that
Regina half runs out of there
Hansel: why can’t they see were doing this for them. We’re giving Emma everything she wants and needs but won’t admit to herself that she does want and need it.
Henry: pitfalls of the adults Nicky. They just can’t accept that sometimes the child knows what’s needed but they’ll see they will all see by tomorrow morning
Camelot
Hansel finds Henry at the vault they hug
Hansel: wow you look good
Henry: given the circumstances you mean
Hansel: what circumstances?
Henry (half laughs): gee thanks
Hansel (he too laughs): you know w what I mean. You don’t look any different to me you never have
Henry is immensely pleased to hear that
Hansel: so uh how do you wanna play this. I’ve locked them in the diner but they’ll get out soon
Henry: I think we just need to walk. There’s something I need to tell you
Storybrooke
In the vault Henry pours petrol on to Arthur and a pint of rum on hook to wake them up
Henry: wake up you shiftless asses it’s time to plays
Hook asks why the rum.
Henry: I thought it would be a nice leaving gift as you depart this life and enter a new one filled with eternal torture (to Arthur) now you might be wandering about the petrol well fire cleanses everything in the end and you I think are most in need of purging unless of course you apologise to Hansel and I
Arthur spits in his face and tells him he’d rather die then apologise to a monster like Henry
Henry (smiling): wrong answer (to Hansel) I love it when they give the wrong answer
Camelot
Hansel: so you want to bring back your dad yeah? But I thought the apprentice said it couldn’t be done. Baelfire died in the land without magic so its impossible without a massive amount of power
Ohh dark curse
Henry: dark curse
Hansel looks nervous
Henry (realising what the dark curse means): oh no no no don’t worry for this particular one we’ll need Merlin
Storybrooke
Henry’s tied Hook the the mast of the Jolly Roger and is in the middle of covering the ship in petrol and rum
Henry: now any last words before I light this powder keg and you go up like the drunken firecracker you are.
Hook says Henry doesn’t have to do this
Henry: oh you’re right you’re right I don’t HAVE to do this I WANT to because you see I really don’t like you encroaching on my family. In a roundabout way I guess I should thank you for abandoning my father to pan cause if that happened I wouldn’t be here. Oh wow ooooh I never thought of that before. If all of you hadn’t done what you did we wouldn’t be hear now zoso dark curse pan ingrid Isaac (cackles) ohoho (sighs) you all did this and I will make sure you specifically pay the price.
Rumple turns up offering his life for hook but Henry still isn’t having any of it
Henry: wife’s not letting you into the homestead huh? You don’t need her join Hansel and I. Join us and let the pirate die and we can have everything we ever wanted. But if you fight me you’ll die with him. Why do you want to die for him anyway? Milah left you for him he’s baelfires stepfather you should want him dead like he’s wanted you dead for over 300 years. Yet you offer up your life instead. You must be truly desperate with out magic and with a gimpy leg. Tell you what. Sword fight you me one on one grandfather vs grandson former dark one vs current Mano e Mano. If you win I’ll let the pirate go you both go free. If I win the pirate dies and you work for us. And I think we both know that the second option is most likely cause A) captain Rogers taught me to sword fight and B) I can’t die.
So. Ya feeling lucky punk. (Smiles) well do ya?
So they fight and it reaches a stalemate but Henry’s pleasantly surprised at how good a fight rumple puts up especially given his leg and the fact Henry was fighting with Excalibur. (We all saw what it can do)
Henry: interesting your willingness to die isn’t as true as you may want to think. Cause if you really wanted to give your life for his you’d be dead at my feet.
Tell you what. I’ll offer you a deal cause that’s what you’d do. You don’t have to work for us but you can stay by our sides as we get our plan working. When it come to fruition you’re free to go.
Rumple asks about Hook
Henry: oh him (sighs) well since neither you or I won I guess he’s free to go (to hook) but remember our deal stay away from my mothers
Grandfather come with me
Camelot
They’ve made the potion for the dark curse
Hansel: hoo wow hope it works H
Henry: don’t worry Nicky it will
Rumple: well dearie do you know what you need now
Henry: of course the heart of the one I love most
Rumple: precisely. Now let’s kill the boy
Henry: you kill Hansel and my family will be stuck here forever because i will have killed myself to join him. (To Hansel) you heard that right. I’m not leaving you. ever. Unless you want me to.
Hansel asks if there’s an alternative they can use.
Rumple: you know there is one in fact. (He fades to nimue) bring merlin here so we can finish the job
Henry: gladly
Once they have merlin here Henry takes the sorcerers heart and crushes it into the potion. Then he brings the others there unconscious along with a hidden Arthur. Straps baby Neal and Roland to one of the booths and erases their memories of the last six weeks. He asks Hansel if he wants his memory taken as well
Hansel: thank you for offering but no. I want to help in any way I can. And this what we’ve accomplished is brilliant.
Henry straps him to the same booth as his uncle and Roland and has to put him to sleep so the others don’t get suspicious
Henry then realises he still has his dark one robes on and that will not do. So he changes them to the demonic greaser look he has in the present.
Henry: I always did like the saviours sense of style but that colour was far too bright
Storybrooke
Henry: hello mother
Before Emma has time to scream he spirits her way to the river bank where he slices the palm of her hand with Excalibur and does the same to rumple and let’s the mixed blood of the saviour and the previous dark one fall into the water
Then the ferry appears and nimue greets them
Henry: welcomed to storybrooke my lady nimue uh grandfather you’re gonna have to kiss her hand I’m monogamous and your wife left you. Mother I’m surprised at you. Show some respect to our guest. I may be A dark one but nimue is THE dark one the original you might say
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Coldwave au idea: Lens life is better (dad is dead, mom stayed, etc) micks life worse. Their 1st meeting isnt big event for Len now but Mick is obsessed. Stalks him for right moment to have Len forever. Nabs Len. Makes Len his. Dark happy ending
I am so sorry, anon. I promise I will write you something nice and dark at some point. But I tried three times and every time I tried, it got fluffier and fluffier and fluffier until you have what you see below.
ao3 link (i.e. Harley Quinn fic 2)
———————————————————————————–
Lewis Snart is a corrupt cop with a sideline in Family work.
He’s also an incompetent thief, relying on suggestions from his nine year old son to fix his plans, but he refuses to admit such a thing. And so it is, when Len unexpectedly falls sick with a flu that robs him of his voice, he shrugs and does without.
He fails.
The Families have no patience for failure.
Lewis Snart is gunned down in his own house, before the horrified eyes of his son and his infant daughter.
Len’s foster home - both his and Lisa’s, a kind-hearted couple who fell for her golden curls and couldn’t bring themselves to tear her away from her sobbing elder brother - makes him get so much therapy.
That’s probably what makes him decide to become a shrink, really.
And that, in turn, is what leads to -
Well.
Everything else.
“- and that’s why I need your help,” Len concludes.
The woman in front of him looks utterly bewildered. Len’s not sure why; he thought he’d been perfectly clear.
“Should I start again?” he offers.
“Please do, mister,” she says, raising a hand up and pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, wait a sec. I gotta few preliminary questions, stating off with how’d you find out where me and Ivy were hanging out, anyways?”
“Really good fertilizer has a higher toxicity rate than normal soil,” Len explains. “I got the last two geological surveys, which Gotham gets with startling regularity; this was the only place that changed. Next question?”
“So that’s how Bats keeps finding us,” she mutters crossly. “Damnit, Ivy.”
“Maybe if you suggested she start a few new gardens each time instead of focusing on just one?”
“She doesn’t want to leave her ‘babies’ alone for that long. Second question: what in hell made you think that finding me ta ask for help was a good idea?”
Len blinks at her. “Why not? I have a problem and I need assistance from a colleague, and - as I said - you have the most expertise in -”
“I’m Harley Quinn, sweetie,” she interrupts. “I’m a supervillain.”
“What, and you stopped having your PhD as a result?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve had my license revoked,” she says helplessly.
“Don’t mean you got a lobotomy and forgot it all.”
“Fair enough,” Harley says, clearly giving up on convincing him. “So, yeah, start again, I wasn’t listening on account of thinking you was nuts. What’s your issue again? And why am I the best person to help you?”
“Okay,” Len says. He wouldn’t be as good a shrink as he is if he wasn’t patient and willing to go over things multiple times. “I’m a licensed psychiatrist specializing in severe disorders among the criminal population -”
“Same as I was,” Harley agrees.
“Yeah, and also like you, I specialize in self-identified supervillains.”
“Tell me you didn’t get a job at Arkham!” she exclaims, horrified.
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Len assures her. “I work in Central City.”
“I guess that’s better…”
“Debatable. At least Gotham has an asylum, even if it is Arkham. We just have Iron Heights regular wing and Iron Heights supervillain wing. Not ideal for therapy, even once they’re out.”
“Out?”
“Iron Heights is something of a revolving door,” Len says. “Again, much like Arkham, but more urgent in the exit strategies. Honestly, in my view, it’s all for the best that they get out; most of my patients are definitely not being helped by confinement in a frankly abusive situation by people who don’t understand their particular needs -”
“No kidding,” Harley replies enthusiastically. “Even Arkham doesn’t care, it’s more about tryin’ ta keep ‘em from society than it is about actually taking care of ‘em and trying to make 'em better -”
“Exactly,” Len exclaims, nodding. He knew she’d understand. “The interaction of the superhero culture with the particular neuroses of these individuals results in -”
“- an entirely new pathology, necessitating by definition a different form of treatment -”
“This is why I came to you,” Len says, pleased.
Harley paused, flushing a little. “Well, I guess I do still take somethin’ of an interest. So you treat supervillains?”
“I actually have a rather unorthodox approach,” Len says. “Central City supervillains are often using their supervillainy to work through deep-seated issues - one is dealing with the loss of a younger brother he built much of his identity around, another is a clinical narcissist, yet another is a diagnosed pyromaniac with anxiety issues…”
“Yeah? You getting anywhere with 'em?”
“Actually, yes. In contrast to the traditional approach, which emphasizes care in a clinical setting - one that many of them reject rather, uh, forcefully due to various traumas in their pasts - I’ve taken an alternative approach of working on their issues in their own setting.”
Harley pauses mid-nod. “I know that’s a pretty common technique for patients in regular treatment, mixing with them in their own environments and whatnot,” she says cautiously. “But for these guys - ain’t their own setting supervillainy?”
“It is,” Len says steadily.
Harley holds out a little longer, but he doesn’t elaborate.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” she says. “How’re you treatin’ 'em?”
“They’ve created identities as supervillains, and they want to be recognized as supervillains,” Len explains. “It’s important to them. They form entire coping rituals around it. So I meet with them on their own level, acknowledging and respecting them as supervillains.”
“Won’t that require, uh, you being a super, too?”
Len shrugs. “I explained my approach to the Flash - he’s our local cape - and he’s real reasonable about it. We staged a few fights, couple of thefts -”
“Wait. You’re a supervillain?!”
“Technically I’m just engaging in a police-approved therapeutic roleplay with -”
“What’s your name? Have I heard of ya? Tell me I’ve heard of you!”
“I mean, it’s possible -”
“Alias, now! I’m tired of being the only shrink supervillain.”
“Captain Cold.”
“Holy crap, I have heard of ya! You’re the - oh, man, the Rogues! The Rogues are your patients?”
Len nods.
“How?!”
“I 'rescued’ them from prison. Technically, I’m acting as a guarantee for their parole officers -”
“And ya keep 'em from killing anyone.”
“Exactly. And I work with 'em in the meantime. I’ve made a lot of progress - Pied Piper is actually transitioning to working with the heroes on a regular basis, he’s actually dating a cop now and he’s dealing with his internalized self-hatred in a much healthier way -”
“Nice,” Harley says, offering her hand for a high-five. “That’s much better; if Ivy or Ozzie asks what I was doing, I can just say supervillain meet-up.”
Len frowns. “Are they restricting your access to non-supervillain acquaintances?”
“No, no, nothing like that! We’re just dealing with a small infestation of Owls - don’t worry about it; you don’t want to get involved in Gotham’s shit. No one does. Anyway. Tell me about the problem.”
“It’s not really - he’s not - it’s not a problem, really.”
Harley’s eyebrows go up pointedly and she leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.
“Mick Rory,” Len confesses. “Heatwave, our pyromaniac - diagnosed, as I mentioned, and working with a traditional shrink as well as with me. He’s working real hard on getting better, but it’s tough – it’s a long-standing issue. He’s had the pyromania and anxiety since childhood, and then his parents died in a fire and he got blamed, and then things went downhill from there, so you can imagine the rest.”
Harley nods. “Sounds knotty,” she agrees.
“He’s making plenty of progress, though,” Len assures her.
“So what’s the problem?”
“He’s – well. He’s developed something of a crush on me,” Len admits.
“Ooooh boy.”
“No, it’s - it’s not like that. It’s cute. He tries to stalk me sometimes.”
“Stalking ain’t cute, buddy. Trust me.”
“No, no, nothing like that. It’s, like, he hides behind lampposts. He pretends to be reading a newspaper, like that hides his face at all. Stuff like that, it’s absurd. And if I ever tell him not to follow me, he doesn’t.”
“So you haven’t asked him to knock it off generally?”
Len hesitates.
“Yep, that’s what I thought,” she says. “So lemme stop you right where you are: no. Don’t do it. Falling for a patient isn’t just ethically wrong, it’s - well. It’s a bad idea. Trust me.”
“That’s why I came to you, actually,” Len says. “You being the ultimate expert in HQS and all.”
“HQS?”
Len coughs.
“…tell me that don’t stand for Harley Quinn Syndrome.”
“If you don’t want me to tell you, I won’t. Won’t change it, though.”
“Oh jeez. I can’t believe it. You know, when I wished on my twenty-first birthday candle to go down in the history books, I ought’ve been more specific.”
Len shrugs sympathetically.
“So what do you need advice in? How not to fall for your patient?”
“That,” Len says grimly, “or else I’m gonna need to give you a referral so that he won’t be my patient anymore.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Harley says. “You’ve got it bad.”
“Harls?” Mick says into his phone. “You got a minute?”
“For you, sweetie, definitely,” she says. There’s the ripping sound of duct tape and the yelling in the background turns into muffled shouting. “What’s up?”
“I don’t wanna bug you if you’re doing something else…”
“Nah, no business or nothing. Spa day with the Sirens, fucking up some bad guys, but the girls have got it covered. Talk to me, baby. You sound upset.”
“I think I’ve done it again,” Mick says sadly.
“Gonna have to be more specific, sparky. Lit a serious fire? Went mano-a-mano with the Flash? Decided to blow up a building?”
“I kidnapped Len and moved him into my basement so we could be together forever.”
“Mick!”
“I left the door open, though,” Mick says earnestly. “I didn’t want him feeling confined or nothing.”
Harley face-palms. Mick can hear it. “Well, that’s something,” she says. “You know he loves you, right?”
“I know he thinks he does…”
“That’s just your anxiety talkin’. He’s dating you because he wants to be with you. S’why he referred you ta me. Tell me, did you at least leave him the key, too?”
“What key?”
“…didn’t you lock him up?”
“No! You know how Len feels about being stuck and unable to get out of places.”
“So you kidnapped him, took him to your basement, and…left him there with the door open and not tied up?”
“I made him dinner, too?”
“…you know what? I’m gonna call this progress. Now, I need you to go sit down and write about what your day was like so we can try to identify what led you to this decision…”
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wow I can’t even remember the last time I logged onto Tumblr. This place used to be my life, I even had to reset my password to log back on here. i’m amazed that I still have followers. looking at things I used to blog about is so bittersweet, I legitimately feel the things I felt back in the days. shit was really changed since then. been broken over and over and having to grow bigger and bigger. I decided every few years I'll make a post, a lil update of my life so I can continue to self reflect on the shit I wanna change. considering I know absolutely none of my followers, this is the perf place for me to just unload a bunch sack load of shit. covid was crazy this year, survived that shit and realize all those years smoking have really fucked my lungs up. today I got another call from Dahni, who I still consider as my best friend forever. one day when we both got our shit together and both thinking straight again, I know we’ll be able to be friends like we used to. I never pick up to phone numbers I don’t know but every fuckin time I randomly choose to pick up to a rando number - it’s Dahni. this is the 5th time she has called me from a mental hospital. it’s crazy, never thought my life would have be me working in a mental hospital and her coming in and out of one. after all these years, you’ve probs haven’t seen her in 3 years - but she has never ever forgot your phone number, even when she has completely lost her mind. she literally doesn't make sense when she talks. at the beginning, you sometimes understood the shit she said and understood what she meant and felt because you were that fuckin close to losing your whole damn mind before you decided to get sober. still so proud of you choosing to be sober, even after probation, even after drug tests. Dahni still remembers your literal exact address. she said she’s been sending you letters for the past 2-3 years but you haven’t seen shit, especially because you moved to Milwaukee this year. you texted daddy but he said he ain’t seen shit, probs lying, he would hide this shit from you. he always hated her but he doesn’t understand that it was actually you who got her into drugs in the first place. I pray all the time Dahni has completely lost herself or she’ll be able to return to herself again, I miss having my best friend around. after the call, you looked at oldddd ass pics like 2015 shit, yall were the craziest - up and just went to alberqueque, breaking into hotels and creating body slides out of tables and chairs in the ballroom, tripping at the trail of lights and deciding to just walk towards the Austin skyline, there were so many pics I don’t even know where we’re at. I miss that life with you dude, not giving two shits about anything and doing whatever we could to just live life. you were the one person I connect with in such a weird way. anyway 2020 was the year I had to finally grow up, and I can’t be more proud. the reason I got sober was because I was drugged then gang raped in 2016, but I have finally accepted that it happened and I am finally moving past it. your ptsd and anxiety was debilitating. months of therapy with no progress, Janet your psychologist thought the best option was drugs to calm you down but you refused, mommy had to move down to San Antonio with you, you got daddy to install security cameras around the house, you went to 3 different police stations and 2 different apple stores because you thought you were being tracked, a panic attack literally every fuckin day, you got your first gun - but damn shit has changed. I think when you got rogue, that was the start of your life changing around. you used to walk her literally only on your street but now you can walk her for hours anywhere. you got control of your own life again. texas sunshines helped you tremendously, you met a few life long friends - even though you made some besties but ended up losing them - either way, they helped you return back to your old self, the free spirit and careless golden wild beautiful soul you had. exposure therapy - that shit works. going to 6th every weekend, even a couple times a weekend helped you a lot. you had only a couple freak outs where you let your anxiety take over you but there was progress. you have grown so much the past 4 years, it’s honestly mind blowing because you used to be at rock bottom. you legit lost your mind at one point, legit rock bottom, even hearing voices and seeing shit, Janet said drug induced psychosis - but your resiliency and strong heart and soul helped you, with the help of god of course. you were in such a dark place but getting through that helped you be where you are now. but none of this could've happened without the help of your parents - they taught you the definition of unconditional love. maybe that’s why Dahni is still battling this love and hate relationship with drugs - she doesn’t have this support system like you. your parents never gave up on you dude, like how am I ever gonna repay them, because if it wasn’t for them - I'd literally be dead long ago. you still have only told a few of your close friends. Dahni and Mikayla a year after it happened. kiara, erin, and Gracie 3 years after it happened. maybe that’s all that ever has to know. this shit don’t define your life anymore girl. it sucked but you have let that shit take enough of your life. no more living in the past. you live and you learn. stop thinking of ways how you’ll somehow find these fuckers and make them pay, they’ll get what’s coming to them. I used to pray everyday these fuckers got killed and died a horrible and painful death but you’re letting them win every time you waste a second thinking about them. just be thankful you got out of that shit alive. you have this deep rooted reputation of a party girl. but never forget, daddy defended you when yall had guests over once - “yes she parties a lot, but she also studies hard too.” you’re legit a UT grad, you got into grad school - which you are killing. you’ve never been a straight A student but now you are in grad school whaaat. but you know if you studied this much and this hard during UT - you would’ve had a higher gpa, but no regrets. ever!! my time at UT was truly a blessing - it was the best time and worst time ever. that was boot camp training you to be resilient. you used to think you were being punished for having to move to Milwaukee for grad school but that was the biggest blessing in disguise. Jim howard was right, even if I did get accepted into UT’s msn program - I shouldn’t go or stay anywhere near Austin, I have too many distractions here, I would’ve failed out immediately - I need to start thinking like a healthcare provider, people’s literal lives will be in your hands. you can’t kill no one dude, losing your license will actually be the end of yo life and all this school and bullshit would’ve been for nothing. Milwaukee was rough at the beginning but you’ve grown to fall in love and appreciate its true beauty. you needed a break from Austin, it’ll always be your endgame and it aint going anywhere. you got to start over, start fresh, grow up, it was exactly what you needed. Milwaukee was the place where you defeated your ptsd, your annoying anxiety - I mean yeah sometimes you do psych yourself out but you have made the craziest progress, even Janet is so surprised and proud of you! you fuckin live alone and do a damn good job of it. but it wouldn’t have happened without Lola. rogue saved you 4 years ago and now Lola has saved you. they are both fuckin wild and misbehaving, but I am sooooo thankful I have them in my life. god put the most perfect dogs into my life, they helped you be where you’re at today. you even made a fuckin solo trip with just you and Lola from Milwaukee to Austin, stayed in Memphis with just yall 2 and literally no panic attacks. never thought that would have ever been possible. lol having your gun around definitely helps. this year you realized that you used to be fat, how come no one told you omg. but that doesn’t matter because you have finally reached the weight you had on your vision board that you made in high school - 105. you got home from grad school and literally every single fuckin person in your life has said you lost so much weight - girl you didn’t even know it, you don’t got a scale in Milwaukee. but looking at past pics, holy shit girl you lost weight. you still got some to go but good job dude - don’t ever let yourself get that bad again. your new goal is to be 100, then you can stop stressing. lol you’ve been trying to lose weight literally since high school, and all it took was grad school and being depressed AFFFFFFFFF to lose 20 fuckin pounds! with the help of addy too. yeah you were depressed, started in the 2nd semester of grad school and was at its worse at in the 3rd semester. but you yourself, and Lola of course, pulled yourself out of that. you walked to the beach, appreciate the scenery, focus on the sound waves - learn to love life again. you’ve changed so much dude, I feel like you’ve finally lost all of your old self now. quarantining for covid made you finally truly clean your room and rearrange it. took the biggest cleanse of your life, and damn it was a struggle because you the biggest hoarder out here. you found your old pieces, crazy how you still got them, you found old pills, even weed - proud of you for throwing everything away finally, and real quick. because you did think about smoking some and pop a pill or two - what’s the worst thing that can happen right. bitch you know what can happen, normal people can do that but you have forever fucked your mind up, like physically and biologically fucked up your brain. the way drugs works on your brain and Dahni’s brain only has a dark side to it - drug induced psychosis - every time, no matter what or when or how long it’s been, you have forever fucked that up. yall dropped the ball on that shit, yall did it too much, esp the mind altering shit and will never be able to enjoy drugs again - but that’s okay. you don’t need that shit. okay for guys, fuckin listen to me here girl. we ain’t going into zayne or Terren - yo first 2 boyfriends was just dipping yo feet in the waters for dating. you already know what you learned from them. you know what you want and don’t you ever fuckin settle.”life is a mess when you settle for less.” I loved Arin, and I'll always love him. your dumbass almost married him but why, knowing he does not meet half yo standards. from Arin, you learned you want someone that treats you like a princess like he did, he always showed you off, he put you on a pedestal, you were legit his everything - you want someone that does that, where you are their everything. but you don’t want someone who gets angry like that, who lets problems get bigger and bigger til they explode - shit needs to be fixed immediately, if your their everything - shouldn’t they do everything in their power to make sure it stays like that. from josh, you learned you want someone who you can be your goofy self and have fun and literally laugh all the damn time with you - it was such a fun time with josh, yall really did have this amazing connection. he truly loved you and honestly truly loved you. I loved josh, and I'll always love him too. he was the first relationship you had after getting raped, and he showed you how to trust men again. these 2 dudes lacked goals and had different visions for the future from you. you’re such a goal oriented and family oriented person - they were not. you worked hard to get to where you are today, and continue to drop the guys and the people who will get in the way of your goals. friends too - if they ain’t with you, drop em. in the end, it’s your family who will always be there for you. lol you truly treat guys like shit dude and everyone knows it, you don’t even feel bad about it, maybe it’s from being raped, maybe it’s from that ginormous wall you’ve built, or maybe you’re just that afraid of getting hurt, but that’s okay, you can keep doing that, it’ll get rid of the weak ones - what you can’t do is treat the good ones like shit, like tai. you never expected to find a dude so different, but maybe that’s what you need. he’s the exact opposite of the typical guys you usually go for - a fuckin gamer, not 6 feet, lol even asian. you didn’t date tai but yall definitely had something for 6 months. he has never done drugs and doesn’t want to even try drugs - I didn’t know that was maybe something I needed in a guy. from tai, you learned that you do want someone who went to college, grad school is even better, super caring about you. at one point you did think he was going to be the one - he speaks Vietnamese, he’s in pharmacy school, he can game with your brother. he may seem perfect but you learned a lot of shit you don’t want in someone. you’re not on social media a lot anymore, other than snapchat. you even had insta deleted for months - then when school ended for winter break, it took you awhile to download insta again, but when you did, you made one post and never got on it again. tai is super in the social media world, and you don’t want that. you’re starting to be someone who really lives in the moment, the shit happening right in front of you matters to you more, you don’t want someone super into the social media world. he doesn’t treat you like you’re a priority to him, he actually makes it clear that he actually doesn’t give two shits about you - so why you allowing yourself putting any efforts into that. the second he’s upset, he’ll drag that shit out and won’t try to fix shit at all - you need someone who will fix shit right then and there so yall don’t go to sleep at night angry, you need someone who will fight and continue fighting for you no matter what. he doesn’t apologize for shit and when he does, there is always an excuse - you need someone who owns up to shit and apologizes sincerely. you deserve someone who truly cares about you and is committed to you, they need to do anything in their power to keep you and show you love you and not give up on you. you did not get gang raped to settle down for someone who doesn’t make you feel loved. you did not graduate from UT and get into grad school for someone who causes you mental stress and make you unhappy. you did not grow into this strong, independent, brilliant ass woman to date someone who makes you question your worth. you deserve someone who continuously challenges you to be your best self and make you feel beautiful. cami said you deserve someone who spoils you, and she is damn fuckin right. you have come so far, getting sober, getting into grad school, someone needs to feel lucky as fuck they have you. but what’s the common denominator between all these dudes - quit pushing guys away, quit purposely ruining shit because you’re scared of shit, quit getting pissed because they don’t react the way you wanted, quit overthinking shit because you’re usually fuckin wrong. just don’t settle for less but allow yourself to get close. your trust issues ain't going anywhere, but learn to put your guard down a tad bit, let yourself get hurt - it’ll only make you into a stronger bitch than you already are. nothing will ever hurt you nearly as much when you got raped. if you got through that, you can literally get through anything. a lot has happened in the last 4 years, but you know what you need to focus on. continue working on your best self. keep thriving and surviving. maybe we’ll self reflect and reorient again when grad school is over in a couple years and you’re back in Austin. just be happy <3 do your best and fuck the rest
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reaction post typed while watching SPN 13x03 “Patience”
(an episode in which everyone tries their hand at parenting, and only Sam and Jody succeed imo)
05:45pm
i would’ve been here earlier but the power was out
right now we’re running the generator so we have water and can cook dinner, but it may go out again at some point
I’M SO EXCITED CAS IS BACK CAS IS BACK LET’S DO THIS
patience is literally my middle name (but in arabic - “Subburah”) hghfghh
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05:46
first shot in the recap is STABBITTY STAB i’m upset
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05:47
ew wraiths and their creepy freeze-dried tentacle fingers
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05:48
the fact jack is a parallel to both sam and cas, and yet dean wants to kill him, makes me feel emotions
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05:50
OH NO
I HOPE SHE LIVES
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05:50
THIS IS sTRESSING ME OUT SO MUCH
I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW MUCH I HATE SEEING WOMEN IN DISTRESS
kudos to this actress then i guess
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05:53
MISSOURI MISSOURI I’D KNOW THAT VOICE ANYWHERE OH MY GOD JADHSHDFSHDF
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
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05:54
laughing at the sign in the background
“it’s back!”
YES SHE IS
(how dare you refer to her as an “it”, background sign)
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05:55
kelly: “you have an angel watching over you”
I CRY
I CRY INSIDE SO MUCH
‘CAUSE LIKE............. MARY SAID IT TO DEAN
AND NOW CAS IS GONE
AND AAAAAH
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05:57
dean is such a mess oh no
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05:57
wait is this even the episode where cas is back? or is that next week
hnhgnhh i wish i knew
just seems like this is a pretty solid episode by itself and cas would seriously distract from all these ladies
(although..........both would be good. both would be perfect)
(give me an episode that can do both)
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06:00
i wanna hug jody so bad. she just looks so pleasant
i mean i did hug kim rhodes several times but OH MY GOD WHAT A GOOD HUG
she wouldn’t let go!!! she just kept hugging even though i kept flinching because i’m not good with physical contact and i wasn’t sure how long i was allowed to hug aND SHE LET ME HUG AND SNIFFLE ON HER SHOULDER BECAUSE I WAS PANICKING
IN CONCLUSION: DEAN NEEDS A JODY HUG
actually ?? in terms of hugs i’ve had in my life, kim rhodes ranks right up there with my sister and mother. like, third best hug i've ever had. which is saying something
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06:03
dean: “i’m not sure which one to hug first”
I FEEL YA
;a; i’m so delighted i love this
look at all these cute mom friends dean has
(although someone on my dash was vehemently suggesting jody is too hot to be the boys’ mother figure. while i agree, SHE CAN BE A HOT MOM FRIEND IT’S FINE <3)
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06:05
look at this light fixture lookin’ like a uterus
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06:07
are we ever gonna see more telekinestic!sam ?
i wrote a fic that i never finished, maybe one day
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06:08
JAMES NOO
i don’t get why people don’t believe in psychics. like.........people have so many abilities, why does belief stop when it can’t be explained by science yet? james must’ve grown up with missouri doing all her magic and seen that it’s true?? and yet?? hm
(edit: i had an inkling that wasn’t the reason, and it wasn’t)
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06:11
missouri: “you save my family, you hear me, dean winchester?”
on the one hand, cool
but on the other hand, PLEASE DON’T PUT THAT EXPECTATION ON HIM HE’S FRAGILE AND IF HE FAILS IT’S MORE PAIN FOREVER
“and thank you”
that softens it a bit but barely
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06:13
jack: “i can’t do this, and you keep staring at me, waiting”
I FEEL FOR DEAN AND JACK SO BADLY
parental expectation is SO MUCH
i have tears in my eyes
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“you stay here, try to relax”
sam is a good bean
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06:14
power’s out again?? my sister just came home from the dog walk and turned the generator off for some reason??
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06:17
i refuse to believe that missouri dies
robert berens is better than that. or at least i hope there wasn’t a season-long plot arc that includes no missouri
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06:18
she’s not dead
nope nope nope nope nope
nope nope
nope
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06:19
i love these girls already
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06:21
nope nope nope nope nope nope
WHY IS SHE DEAD NOOOO NO
NO NONONI
WHY BRING HER BACK TO KILL HER YOU MONSTERS
WHO DECIDED THIS
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU
look it’s not just that i liked the character, missouri was a) a person of colour and b) a woman who survived and NOW SHE’S DEAD
I THOUGHT THE WRITERS WOULD’VE LEARNED THAT’S NOT A GOOD WAY TO FURTHER A STORY BY NOW
WHERE’S HER CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT
WHY WAS SHE JUST “REPLACED” BY A YOUNGER HOTTER GRANDDAUGHTER
I WANT BADASS MONSTER-FIGHTING OLD LADIES ON MY SCREEN ;n;
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06:27
YEEEEE KICK HIM
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06:29
it’s weird how much i relate to patience
bookworm named patience with lowkey psychic abilities and no interest in dating
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06:31
SAM READING PARENTING BOOKS
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06:34
sam is such a fast learner, he figured out his parenting technique ain’t working and he backed off
sam is the parent we all need(ed)
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06:36
sam: “dean...cas... my family helped me through that”
cas is included in this and mary isn’t
interesting
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06:40
missouri: “no matter what happens, no matter where i go, i will always look out for you, you hear??”
;A;
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06:42
i like this music as james is going through his box
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06:48
AW MAN NOT JAMES TOO
I WAS SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS EPISODE BUT THIS IS SO DISAPPOINTING
why can’t there be a nice happy psychic black family who hunt monsters and live to the end of the episode
why can’t we have that
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06:49
JODY
NO
WHAT THE FUCK
WHAT THE FUCK
WHAT THE FUCK
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06:50
THIs has gotta be a psychic vision right
patience is having a vision and she sees what’s going to happen so she can prevent it
that’s the only thing i choose to believe
fuck this, this isn’t real
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06:52
dean’s down
yeah this ain’t real
i can relax
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06:53
dean picks up a rope and i’m like DEAN IS WONDER WOMAN ALSO
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06:55
and patience is psychic in the way missouri wasn’t, she can pull the future out of thin air
personally i have the psychic dreams but never see the events coming when they happen for real, i only know afterwards that i knew it was going to happen. kinda useless really
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06:57
so much about parenting in this episode
jody and sam are the best parents, objectively
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06:59
dean is a such a shitty emotionally abusive parent tbh
cas, get a divorce and take the kid somewhere safe already
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07:01
dean [angry shouting]: “it got him dead. now you may be able to forget about that, but i can’t”
;~;
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07:02
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
CAS
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07:03
SO...... CAS IS IN THE UPSIDE DOWN
BASICALLY
(if you haven’t seen ‘stranger things’ already you need to)
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07:03
YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE CAS IS BACK, SORT OF
YEEEEEEEEEEEE JACK AND HIS EMOTIONALLY CHARGED POWERS
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07:04
well it’s over
and i’m............unsure what i feel about this
this story was okay. i feel like it could’ve been stronger. i appreciate that we never had to suffer through watching missouri die, but i feel like she could’ve gone out fighting rather than just accepting her fate. (i liked the sass she gave the wraith though)
my face is kind of sneering in distaste of its own volition so i guess i didn’t enjoy this very much?
but feelings aside....
actually no, everything is emotions, i have no rational input
i’d give this 8/10 i suppose. patience’s friend was great, i liked her fun energy, and i hope she’s in the spin-off show (there’s a spin-off happening, right?? with patience??). jody was great too, always is. sam was great. dean was a SHITTY HUMAN BEING but i guess he’s just completely messed up by losing cas & co.
god i hope they go to therapy sometimes. there needs to be hunter therapists. that would be a great job to get in this world. very needed, paid in protection or magic beans
i feel so much for jack and patience. being the kids in this story... oh man. “gifted”/overachieving kids and parental pressure is something i relate to more than i want to. i needed a jody or a sam in my life and i never did, i had to become my own jody-sam hybrid to be able to forgive myself for failing (due to chronic illness and a shitty doctor who dismissed me instead of diagnosing me, yet somehow it still felt like my fault??)
(and i still do have to forgive myself. every time i see other people succeed in my particular fields of interest i get so ... not jealous exactly, but upset that i haven’t been able to achieve that. but i gotta remember i am literally doing the best i possibly can, just to get a fic out once a month.
and trying harder isn’t the best option when it comes at the cost of basic things like leaving my room, petting a cat without worrying i’m wasting time, looking at the sky for 5 minutes as the sun sets, or talking to friends.
even once my parents eased up, i became my own source of pressure to succeed. and i need to be more like sam sometimes. tell myself to take a break. eat some food. and try to move the pencil with my brain later.)
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but actually... on that note, one of the things that i desperately want to achieve is financial independence from the government system, and i can only achieve that through asking people to support me on patreon. if you read my fics, or enjoy my spn reviews, or love ANYTHING i make, and want to keep me supported and encouraged even when i desperately need a break, you can ease my pressure slightly, right here <3
my next goal is only $40 away, it would be the best thing ever if that goal was met before, say, the next episode of spn airs ?
(the worst thing is when i try my best, and self-promote to thousands of people, only to have nobody say or do anything in response... that hurts way more than achieving nada hurts. again, i gotta forgive myself. i can only do as much as i can do, and asking for help is a big part of that)
if you’re reading this with good thoughts in mind for me, i love you. like misha quoted in his snaphat once, sometimes love is just waiting while unable to do anything. that’s me, every day. and you, if you can’t help me. i appreciate you anyway (and i know i’m still loved.) <3
(wow i thought this was a tv show review. welp)
(also here’s a rebloggable list of my Destiel fics if you want something to read)
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Coercion - Epilogue
@coveofmemories @reiding-and-writing @myxomatosis-s @skeletoresinthebasement @passionate-hedgehog @camigt1999 @eideticenticement @ultrarebelheart @remember-me-forever-silent-angel @mishamgos @matthewgublers @tinyplanet-explorers
P.S. Thank you so much for reading everyone! This fic has been my baby. I think it’s probably been my best so far and I am sad to leave my reader and this fic behind, but I feel it’s run it’s course, and I want to reel you in with something else. I hope you’ve enjoyed as much as I have. Thanks again. :) <3
----
In the months following the BAU’s capture of Bentley Ashton and the killing of famed pimp and drug dealer, Rocco Mitchell, you’d made a host of life changes.
“Baby, we’re gonna be late,” you called into your bedroom.
Nearly a month after catching and killing Rocco, Spencer had asked you to move in with him. “We’ve been through so much,” he’d said. “And I know we still have a way to go, but I want to be by your side while we get there.” Immediately, you’d said yes, feeling more grateful than you ever thought possible for the man at your side.
Spencer stumbled out of your bedroom, shirt half buttoned and still hanging out of his pants. Your alarm had fucked up, leaving you both less than a half hour to get ready to get to work on time. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he laughed, giving you a kiss before running into the kitchen to gulp down a glass of orange juice. “Damn alarm.”
You giggled under your breath, grabbing his hand as you both ran down the stairs to head to work. After a whole lot of reflecting, daily therapy, and conversations with your boyfriend and teammates, you made a choice you never thought you’d make. As you were working toward your goal of joining the BAU, you never imagined you’d want to do anything – and you didn’t, at least not totally. You wanted more. You wanted to advocate. After all you’d been through, it seemed the best way to help others and heal yourself.
Twenty years after fighting your way up to work with the Bureau day-in and day-out, you downgraded your status to consulting team member, so that you could lend your services whenever you weren’t traveling across the country to speak out – telling your story and advocating for others in your position.
In addition to speaking on behalf of the Department of Justice’s Child Exploitation section, you traveled all over, speaking to downtrodden young women who were still in, or just recently out of the lifestyle that plagued you for that one dark year. Today was a Bureau day, which you were thankful for after your speech for the Rape, Abuse and Incent National Network.
According to your therapist, speaking at conferences and centers would be extremely painful at first, but you seemed to be healing through divulging your story. Eventually, it would become less painful to talk about, but for now, each time you recounted your story, you felt emotionally and physically exhausted afterwards.
On your way into work, you got a call. Now that you were a known advocate, you got calls constantly to come speak on behalf of a given organization. “Hello,” you said, motioning for Spencer to turn towards the coffee shop. You’d be a couple minutes late, but you in desperate need. “This is Y/N Y/L/N. Can I ask who I’m talking to?”
“Hello, Ms. Y/L/N, this is Sarah M. Buel, director emerita of the National Center on Domestic and Sexual Violence.”
“Hello, Ms. Buel. How can I help you?” Spencer stepped out of the car, mouthing your normal order and you nodded your head. Through all of this, Spencer had been nothing short of spectacular. Although your advocacy had you away from home frequently, you did your best to make sure you scheduled speeches for when he was away with the Bureau. Even though it was hard, this new schedule of speaking at conferences and working with the Bureau was exactly what you felt you should be doing. For the first time in your life, you truly felt at peace with who you were and what you were doing.
Ms. Buel started off by telling you a bit about the organization, all of which you already knew. When you first started considering your current path, you looked up a plethora of different organizations, including the National Center on Domestic and Sexual Violence. “If you are able,” she continued, her voice soft and calming, “We would love if you could speak at a conference we have coming up in a couple of weeks.”
While Spencer was grabbing your coffee, and apparently a chocolate-covered rainbow-sprinkle donut for himself, you ironed out the details with Ms. Buel, agreeing to speak at one of their annual conferences in three weeks time. “Thank you, Ms. Buel. I look forward to meeting all of you.”
“Another conference?” Spencer asked, his voice laden with pride as he handed you your coffee.
Softly, you smiled at him, leaning over to kiss him before taking a sip of your coffee. “Yea. This time for the National Center on Domestic and Sexual Violence.”
On the way into work, you sat in silence, pondering how you would start off your speech this time. The words tended to change, but the message was always the same – circumstances don’t define you, how you react to them does. But you were ripped out of your thoughts as soon as you got to work. Spencer parked the car and walked over to your side, pulling it open and extending his hand. When you were on the street, you never imagined having a man show you any respect, no less have one that treated you like a princess – you would be forever grateful.
He pulled you up flush against him and kissed your forehead, saying nothing for a moment. “I know I’ve been saying it a lot lately,” he said, his pink lips forming a smile as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, “But I’m really proud of you.”
As the tears welled up in your eyes, you wondered if there would ever come a time when you wouldn’t cry hearing that. “You have said it lately. This morning in fact. But I’ll never get tired of hearing you say it. I never thought anyone could ever be proud of me again after what I’d gone through, but because of the team and you, mostly you, I do actually believe it - in my bones, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for it.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said, taking your hand. “I love you.”
You wiped the tears from your eyes and tangled your fingers in his as you went up the elevator. There was no case yet; it was just a regular work day, but after everything, you were thankful for a boring day every now and then.
Nearly nine months earlier, when you’d first gotten into this mess, you never imagined you’d be where you were now. You and JJ had started going to dinner once a week to try and rebuild your friendship, and Will had even started to come along. The only thing he wasn’t comfortable with yet was leaving the boys alone with you, which although hurt, you understood. One day, he would see that loved those kids and this team with all your heart; you could never hurt them.
Morgan had made both you and Penelope Hank’s godmothers. Hotch wished you luck and sent you off with a smile every time you left for a conference. Rossi, who never took a day off for anything, took off along with Spencer to accompany you to your first ever speech, greeting you with open arms afterwards as you sobbed. And Emily and Garcia would be coming to one soon.
Spencer gave you a kiss and headed to his desk, leaving you to get lost in your thoughts for a moment. You had a mountain of paperwork to get started on, but your impending speech brought on a wave of ideas, so instead, you pulled out a pen and started to write.
I was convinced. My life was over. With parents gone, no source of income, no self-esteem, and one friend, I had nothing left. Every night was fraught with fear, wondering if that particular client would kill me, give me an STD that would kill me down the road. Every night was fraught with pain – bones were broken, legs shaking in agony from the assault I endured. Every night was fraught with thoughts of ending it all. And then one night, a friend was murdered in front of eyes, because she offered to take a client for me. That night I attempted to talk my own life, escape it all, see my parents and friend again, but for some reason I woke up. I still don’t understand why I did. But when I did, I took it as a sign that I was meant to do something, so I stood up and I ran as hard as I could, leaving my past behind and becoming someone new.
For 20 years, I worked to become a member of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. I begged on street corners, I obtained two jobs, paid my way through school with the help of a few grants for which I applied, and eventually earned my dream job. Then again, my life was turned upside down and when someone came out of the shadows with knowledge of my past. I won’t go into the dirty details of that particular case, but it ended well. The man who blackmailed me is now in prison and my former pimp, Rocco Mitchell, is dead, never to hurt another young woman like myself.
What I mean to say by telling my story is this. If you’ve lost hope, I’ve been you. If you feel like you can no longer go on, I understand. But there is hope, you are not alone, and you don’t have to suffer by yourself.
A common question I get asked is how my past affects my life now. ‘Do you still feel tainted by your past? Does the self-doubt come creeping back? Do you feel deserving of all you’ve achieved? Do you feel that your past dictates everything you are now?’ And after months of daily therapy, conversations with people who I’ve come to love and who love me, and many, many years of asking myself these same questions, I can give you some answers. Do I feel tainted by my past? Sometimes yes. Sometimes I feel that I got where I am because of my past rather than in spite of it, but then I remember my boss would never hire someone out of pity. If he hired me, it was because I earned it. Does the self-doubt come creeping back? Every damn day, and I’m pretty sure it always will. Back then, I’d allow it to overtake me, because I didn’t believe that I had anything or anyone else, but now, I give myself a few moments of pity, and then ask my boyfriend to remind me how far I’ve come. Do I feel deserving of all I’ve achieved? The answer there is yes. I have worked, begged, and scraped for what I have, but I earned it – and I’m proud. And finally, do I feel that my past dictates who I am now? No. I don’t make decisions because of my past. I make them based on who I am now. I may have a past, but my past does not define me, and it doesn’t need to define you either.
The National Center on Domestic and Sexual Abuse is here for you, in any capacity you may need. Remember, you do not have to suffer anymore. I am with you. My name is Kayla Connors. My name is Sierra Cheverie. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I am my past, present and future. I am not alone and I have not let my past define who I am. You don’t have to either.
Thank you.
As you set your pen down, you looked around at the smiling faces of your colleagues, feeling like you fit in somewhere for the first time in 20 years. Nothing was perfect. But you never expected perfect. All you ever wanted was a group of people to call your own and a path carved just by you and for you.
And now you had it.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#dontshootmespence#coercion
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