#im sorry traumas been hitting hard lately and im this close to going back to regressing again 🥰

[gothghostiie]

cw: age regression

thinking about caregiver Graves who's genuinely just the sweetest. hes an old man at heart and hes always calm and sweet, being more than happy to let you play or colour on the floor of his office while he does paperwork. always glancing over at you and making sure you remember to drink enough.

taking you into this lap and kissing your head, bouncing you on his lap while cooing at you, asking you what you played or what you drew (if you drew something he will put it up in a specific spot - he always has your latest drawing up in that spot and once he takes the old one down he puts them all in a drawer to keep them safe)

and when its bed time he puts you in his lap and reads to you until you doze off, carrying you to bed and tucking you in, making sure you have your stuffies and your paci

[shoutaaizawas]

↳ bakugou katsuki x reader → ❝wait for you❞ part one

summary: bakugou is your best friend, you both dream to become great heroes. when bakugou ends up in a coma most move on but you can’t leave your best friend behind.  word count: 2k+ tags/warnings: romance, angst (with a happy ending eventually),  a/n: im alive! sort of. finally finished one of my many wips in between watching greys anatomy. shoutout to the show for some inspiration for this. those background patient plot lines hurt sometimes.

Bakugou Katsuki was your best friend. That might be hard for a lot of people to believe considering how hostile he could be sometimes. Most would describe him as feisty and unfriendly but there was always something that drew you to him. From the first day at UA, you knew he was going to be your best friend even if he didn’t want to at first.

It didn’t take long for him to start liking you back even if he refused to admit it. It was impossible for him to deny that it was nice to be cared about and it was harder to deny that he cared about you. It was something he never expected, to care about someone so much that when you missed a meal he would be shoving food in front of you, or if you were staying up too late he would force you to go to bed early. Even the smallest things about you concerned him.

The two of you made the perfect pair, you helped each other train and study. When he went through his worse times you were there for him, through the nightmares, through the panic attacks, you helped him when he didn’t want anyone to see him.

Bakugou wasn’t your only friend but your relationship with him meant everything to you. Your friendship with him ran deep. He was your person. He was the first person you thought about every day, he was the first person you told good news to, the first person you went to when you were upset.

Your friendship was everything to you and you always imagined it meant a lot to him as well.

Throughout the school years, it only got deeper. It was finally your last year of high school and you and Bakugou were both on track to become amazing heroes. Both of you had worked so hard to be at the top of your class and it was almost time to go into the real hero world. You had even both secured spots at the top agency you had been eyeing for a long time.

You wondered if you would be partners at your agency? That would be too perfect. Both of you had bright futures ahead of you but one day took that away.

It was a normal day, you and Bakugou were working your intern patrol shift. It was sunny but not too hot and things were reasonably calm. There were a few crimes to keep things interesting but nothing too dangerous. It was a good day.

The two of you were eating lunch, you had gotten your favorite sushi for lunch despite the fact that Bakugou wanted to get ramen. But fair was fair and you had won your game of rock, paper, scissors.

That’s when the chaos broke out. A villain was attacking and you both sprung into action without a second thought. It was going well as it usually did, you worked together flawlessly. A perfect team. That was until Bakugou took a hit neither of you saw coming.

The sight of him tumbling across the pavement made you sick. You quickly subdued the villain before running to Bakugou’s side. He was laying on the ground face down. You turned him over, his face was covered in blood. Your heart sunk at the sight of him, eyes half open and face bruised.

Sirens alerted them to the arrival of the ambulances.

“Katsuki, you’re gonna be okay. Don’t move, help is here.” You said, hand brushing against his face.

“I-” He said, his voice hushed. “Sunshine I-”

Sunshine. The nickname started out condescending, an insult almost but somewhere along the line it became endearing. A pet name almost.

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t strain yourself, please.” You said, grabbing his hand squeezing it tight. “You’re going to be okay.”

Bakugou was put on a stretcher and rushed to an ambulance, you rode with them trying to stay calm as they helped him. You held back asking questions not wanting to interrupt.

Bakugou’s red eyes stayed focused on you as you held his hand while trying to stay out of the way.

“It’s going to be okay, you have to be okay. You’re my best friend.” You said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Katsuki I-”

Bakugou’s eyes slipped closed and it was hard not to tear up in fear. You wanted to tell him how you felt but you hesitated and now he couldn't hear you. Your heart raced in your chest. He would be fine, he always was. He was a fighter and he always pulled through.

Waiting was the worst thing anyone could sit through is the conclusion you came to. Sitting in the hospital’s waiting room staring at the patterned tile you were suffering. The thought of Bakugou in an operating room opened up hurt you to your core. The urge to sob was strong but you refused to. Bakugou would be okay and he would tease you endlessly if he found out that you cried over him.

Bakugou would be fine. You knew he would. He had to be.

Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou showed up, looking more scared than you had ever seen them before. You were familiar with his parents, they had invited you over many times for dinner and they always got along with you.

“What did they say?” Bakugou’s mother asked as she approached you, she grabbed your arms frantically.

“He’s in surgery, they aren’t saying much.” You told her. She let out a sigh sitting down next to you.

Time went by slowly as the three of you waited impatiently. Finally, the doctor appeared.

“Bakugou family?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s us.” Ms. Bakugou stood up along with you and her husband.

“The surgery went well, we were able to fix the trauma and bleeding in his brain. He’s patched up but there was swelling during the surgery.” The doctor said solemnly, his hands held together.

“What does that mean?” Mr. Bakugou questioned.

“The likelihood of him waking up is very low.” He said.

It felt like everything around you was falling apart.

“What do you mean he won’t wake up?” Mrs. Bakugou shouted. “If you fixed everything, what’s wrong with him?”

The doctor began to explain it but everything around you went fuzzy. You couldn’t hear anything, you felt sick. Before you could do anything else you ran outside of the hospital making it to a tree before throwing up.

Bakugou wouldn’t wake up. He was alive but he wasn’t going to wake up. The next year of your life was so clear in your mind, graduating, working beside Bakugou, climbing the ranks, becoming amazing heroes. Together. It was all gone, how were you supposed to go on without him? You couldn't picture your life without him.

You stood in front of his hospital room door still. If you stepped through that door you knew that it was over. The image of Bakugou standing strong next to you ready to face the world would be gone. The reality of what happened would set in and you could never go back.

It was easy to picture him, picture those moments with him. The first time you met him, you were both so young. He was so feisty and unwilling to befriend anyone. The memory of him yelling at everyone around you.

You could remember the day you had gotten through to him, had a heart to heart. His red eyes looked so soft for the first time and you knew that you would do anything to keep his trust in you so he would always feel safe enough to open up to you.

The memory of him in his dorm, scared and breathing quick after a nightmare. You had crawled into bed with him and held him. He protested at first but quickly realized you were more stubborn than him this time. Then he realized how nice it felt to be held by someone who cared about you, who wanted you to feel better. How safe he felt in your arms. The softness of his blond locks was unforgettable.

This morning was so clear, Bakugou in his hero costume laughing at a dumb joke you made. You would never see him stand tall again. You took a deep breath.

Softly you opened the door revealing the hospital bed. The sound of beeps filled the room. Walking up to the bed you took in a shaky breath.

Bakugou laid in the bed hooked up to wires. The side of his hair was shaved, where the surgery was. He was still, the steady rise and fall of his chest was the only sign of life. He looked so peaceful.

You sat in the chair beside the bed, head in your hands, a broken sob coming out of you.

“You have to wake up.” You said looking up at him, taking his hand in yours. “I know you can pull through this, I can’t do this alone. What kind of hero would I be without you?”

There was no reply to your cries.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I let this happen." You cried. "I'm sorry we didn't get what you wanted for lunch. If I could go back, if I could do everything different I would. I wish it was me."

Tears streamed down your face as sobs wracked your body.

"You're my best friend, you're my everything." You cried.

Everything felt empty. Time passed, life moved on. Your friends, your fellow students tried to console you while they grappled with the fact that Bakugou wasn’t around anymore. Your teachers looked at you with sad eyes, knowing that these things came with hero work but you were far too young to be dealing with it.

Graduating, something you had looked forward to for so long tasted like ash in your mouth. Standing there with your classmates taking pictures, everything was numb. All you could see was Bakugou laying in that hospital bed unmoving.

Life moved on but you felt like you stood still. You started working at the agency and you worked hard doing your best. The only thing you could do was be the best hero you could be to prevent people from getting hurt like Bakugou did. Even as you progressed and life moved on you felt like time was frozen.

After every shift you visited him, you would bring your dinner with you and eat in his room. You would tell him about your day. On good days you could convince yourself he could hear you.

Time moved on and less people visited. Your fellow students got busy with their hero careers. His parents visited on the weekends, Aizawa would visit once a month. Sometimes you ran into him. The two of you would sit there in silence.

“Do you visit him a lot?” Aizawa asked.

“Everyday.” You answered. “Almost every single day.”

“Why?” He asked, his gaze not moving from his former student.

“He’s my best friend. I can’t stand the thought of him sitting here alone.” You answered, a tear dripping down your cheek. “If he was awake I know we would see each other every day, it feels wrong to not see him. Even if he is asleep, even if he doesn’t know I’m here. I can't go without him, even if he's just laying here.”

“I understand.” He said.

Aizawa didn’t explain but you knew deep down he understood how you felt.

It took time, you had a lot of time to think when you weren't talking out loud to Bakugou's unconscious body.  It took time but you finally realized something.

You loved Bakugou Katsuki.

Not just the way someone loves their friend, no something deeper than that. Why else would someone spend every day with their unconscious friend? Even as years passed.

Looking back it all made sense, how validating it felt to tell Bakugou about the highs and lows of your life.  How much you focused on the small touches between you and him. How the thought of not spending the rest of your life with him tore you apart.

How had it taken you so long to realize?

Everything about him made you feel alive. His shining qualities, his flaws, his quirks, everything about him made you happy.  You loved him so deeply, how had you never known?

You loved Bakugou Katsuki and it was too late to do anything about it.

Years passed. Your career progressed, you climbed the hero charts and you became the hero you and Bakugou always aimed to be. Even if you had made it to the thing you wanted more than anything else in life it felt empty.

All you wanted was your best friend there with you. You wanted to tell him how you felt. Not just his unconscious body. You felt like a ghost, all of your friends lived their lives but you couldn’t enjoy it. You didn’t go out with them, you spent all your time with Bakugou at his bedside.

Every day you hoped, prayed he would wake up.

Time was an odd thing, getting old felt wrong. You looked older and so did Bakugou even if he laid there unmoving all this time. His hair was longer than it had been but you kept up with it. The nurses let you trim his hair, shave his facial hair when you had the time. It made you feel a little less helpless.

It had been a long day, a bad day. People died, people, you should have saved. You should have been fast enough, you should have been a better hero.

Sitting next to Bakugou you told him about your day.

“I moved, I reached to grab them but I wasn’t fast enough.” You said. “They died because I wasn’t fast enough.”

The tears streamed down your face. You reached forward grabbing his hand.

“You're here in this bed because I wasn’t fast enough, I was a bad partner I should have saved you. I should have taken the hit for you. I wish it was me in this bed, I wish I was dead.” You sobbed, breaths heavy it felt like you were suffocating. You were drowning, you had been since that day.

The sounds of your sobs were loud, your hand limply grasping at his. Your breathing stopped at the movement under your hand.

“Katsuki?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you looked up at him. His eyes fluttered under his eyelids.

part two

taglist:  @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis-but-more-otaku @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bkghatesyou @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @ourladyofseijoh  @x0doodlebug0x @katsushimaa @mooncademia @moon-write @todominica @why-so-red @kvichisaki @curiouslilbeast @izukukozume @susceptible-but-siriusexual  @swankiifiied

[justcourttee]

im not sure if youre taking asks but here goes: platonic jasonette, bc there isnt enough sibling jasonette in the world

We stan sibling Jasonette. It is literally my life as much as Daminette. Hope you like it! @sixtyeightdays

A Brother’s Love

If a year ago you had told Jason Todd that he would be smushed flat against the wall of a small coffee shop in Paris, France spying on his favorite designer’s first date, he would’ve laughed in your face. After all, nobody knew MDC’s secret identity and even if his jerk siblings found out, they wouldn't tell him anyway, just to torture him.

Yet somehow, he found himself in this exact situation, his anger rising with each passing minute that her date was late. He watched as Marinette picked up her phone for the hundredth time to check the time, check her messages, and sigh as she placed it face down once more, defeated. Part of him wanted to storm over to her table, scoop her up in the tightest hug and take her out for two scoops of ice cream from the best creamery in Paris.

But alas, if he even moved an inch, she would spot him and he’d never hear the end of him being an overprotective ass. The sound of her phone ringing caught his attention as he watched her fumble to try and answer.

“Hi! Yes, I’m at the coffee shop. - Have I been waiting long? No, no, not at all.”

Jason rolled his eyes. She was too kind for her own good. It was how she got into the Lila debacle. It was how she let her classmates walk all over her for too many years. It was why she was letting this Adrien kid treat her as a second rate now.

“The Louvre? I mean I guess I can close out here and meet you there.” There was a pause as her head dropped in disappointment.

Jason felt his blood boiling. Not only did this punk leave her waiting here for forty minutes without a signal message or call, but when he does decide to let her know he’s running late, he insists she comes to him? Jason didn’t care how well protected the model was, one way or another he deserved a black eye courtesy of Jason’s right fist.

He waited for Marinette to finish gathering her stuff. She laid a note onto the table, not bothering to ask for change, she never did, and exited the door, her face heavy. Laying a note of his own down, he raced after her, careful to keep a few hundred feet between them.

Jason felt as though he was beginning to break a sweat as he tried to keep up with her pace. As she turned down an alleyway, Jason broke into a sprint, trying not to lose her. As he turned the corner, a hand shot out toward his jacket, slamming him into the wall.

“I thought I told you my first date was off-limits.”

“Hi princess,” his voice was breathless as he tried to keep the pain from seeping in. “Just thought I’d stop in and say hi.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him before letting go, allowing him to readjust his jacket.

“Besides, doesn’t seem like much of a date. I haven’t seen the punk once.”

Her eyes seemed to blaze as they cut into his. Jason raised his hands in defense, but he refused to apologize. They seemed to be locked into a staredown, both standing in the alley, arms crossed, neither budging in their positions.

“He’s not a punk Jason, he just was running late on his photoshoot. They just finished up at the Louvre which is where he invited me to. We’re gonna walk the museum and try to find Andrè’s ice cream afterward.”

Her tone was so matter-of-fact, so confident that he wanted to believe her, but her eyes were broken. They seemed so tired as if she almost expected to be stood up at this point.

“Mari, I’ve been here a year now. This is the twelfth first date you and Adrien have attempted. Every month he gets your hopes up and every month something always comes up last minute. How do you know he really is at the Louvre?”

Her arms dropped as her hands curled into fists. Jason knew he hit a sensitive topic, but he couldn’t watch her break her own heart. Not again.

“He’ll be there. Now leave Jason, this doesn’t concern you.”

She turned on her heel, exiting the alleyway without another word.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jason huffed as he landed on the nearest roof with a view to the courtyard. Following on foot grew too hard as Marinette constantly kept looking back, checking to see if he was still there. Besides, she said it didn’t concern Jason but she said nothing about Red Hood.

He tapped the side of his helmet, enhancing the zoom, silently thanking Barbara a million times over. The courtyard was empty besides Marinette and a blonde boy sitting on a bench, neither looking particularly happy.

“Don’t fail me now helmet.”

Jason hesitantly reached up to tap the newest installment Barbara had insisted on; audio enhancement.

“-it’s just ridiculous Adrien! You can’t sit under her thumb forever!”

The boy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, trying to avoid direct eye contact with Marinette.

“Lila will turn my father on me Marinette, you have to understand. I really do like you and I would love to date you, but it’s a choice between you and freedom.”

For the third time that night, Jason felt his blood pressure rise from this punk kid. Before he realized what he was doing, the rush of air filled his ears as his grapple strained under the weight of him. His landing was rough as he tumbled less than ten feet from the bench, rolling to a stop right in front of the couple.

As he struggled to his feet, his eyes met Marinette’s. They were a mixture of anger and tears, fueling his rage.

“You.” His voice was menacing, all of his anger directed to the blonde sitting in front of him.

“Me?” Adrien seemed to shrink in on himself, his eyes widening as he took in the hero in front of him.

“You are a literal piece of scum. Do you understand what you’re losing here?”

“Hood, don’t-” Marinette tried to reach out, her voice begging, but he simply shrugged her off, grasping Adrien by the neck of his shirt.

“Marinette is an amazing girl. She’s absolutely brilliant, I mean have you seen her grades? They freaking fly off the charts. If you all had a GPA system, she would knock all of you out of the ballpark with no chance of recovery. Marinette is so talented. Her designs have so much potential to run an empire in the future. She already has multiple big-name clients and I know she’ll only expand from there.”

Adrien tried to object, but Jason didn’t give him the chance. His grip tightened as he lifted Adrien from the bench, his tiptoes barely scraping the courtyard stones.

“Marinette is daring, courageous, compassionate, and way too caring for her own good. None of you deserve her. Paris doesn’t deserve her.”

He felt two small hands wrap around his arm, attempting to pull him off of the boy but to no avail.

“Marinette do something! Tell your friend to stand down.”

Adrien struggled under the man’s grasp, his wild eyes begging the girl.

“You little punk, face me yourself. After tonight, you don’t have Marinette to hide behind anymore. If I even see you in a twenty-foot radius of her, you’re dead. Got it, kid?”

He dropped the blonde, watching as he stumbled backward before taking off into a sprint, never looking back.

Jason wanted to chase after him, finish teaching him a lesson, but the sound of soft sniffles from behind him required his immediate attention. His arms automatically pulled her into his chest, the sniffles muffled by his suit.

“Don’t worry Marinette, he’s never gonna hurt you again.”

She didn’t answer him as her sniffles slowly died out, her arms tightening around Jason’s waist.

“C’mon.” He slowly pulled back using his gloved hand to wipe a stray tear from her face. “Let’s go get some ice cream.” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jason accepted his cone from André, attempting to hand the man a tip, but he simply blocked Jason, shaking his hand.

“Anything for Marinette. I could feel her broken heart before she even arrived. A girl like her doesn’t deserve to be so broken.”

Jason sighed in agreement as he returned to the bench she sat on, handing her one of the cones.

“Thanks, Jason. I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier, I just really wanted to believe that Adrien would come through. That our love could outweigh any obstacle this world throws at us.”

“Princess, did I ever tell you the reason I came to Paris in the first place?”

Marinette shook her head as she took a timid bite from her cone.

“My brother’s had a competition with each other to see who could discover the identity of my favorite designer, MDC. It took a couple months, but low and behold, August 16th comes around and my youngest brother handed me a wrapped folder that contained a plane ticket for Paris and your parent’s address. He said it was my birthday gift and it was scheduled to leave in the morning.”

“You came all the way to Paris, from Gotham City, to meet me?”

Jason nodded, taking a bite from his cone as well, throwing an arm over Marinette's shoulders.

“I was never expecting a small child of only seventeen years to be my all-time favorite person in the world. I mean your leather jackets can hold through a lot of trauma, trust me, Roy and I tried.”

Marinette giggled, her face slowly relaxing into one of peace.

“If Adrien can’t see how amazing you are, amazing enough for some guy to fly half-way across the world to meet you, then I’m sorry but I don’t think he really loves you.”

“Did you mean every word you said to Adrien?”

Jason looked over at the smaller girl, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Every last one.”

Marinette nodded, a small ‘cool’ barely audible escaping from her lips. They sat in silence for a few moments before Marinette spoke again.

“I’m over Adrien Agreste. For good this time.”

“Finally.” Jason pumped his fist in the air earning another giggle from her.

As they finished up their cones, Jason helped her to her feet, a sly smile crossing his face.

“You know, you graduate in a couple months. Maybe you can come back to Gotham with me, meet my other family. I’m sure they’ll love you as much as I do.”

“Maybe I can meet that little brother of yours. After all, anyone who can figure out my well-guarded secret sounds like a very intelligent person.”

Jason laughed, his mind tracing back to the image of Damian with a pot stuck on his head after pissing off Dick’s former teammate Raven.

“I don’t know about intelligence, but I would say he’s extremely devoted to the people he cares for.”

Marinette saw the wheels turning in Jason’s head as she tried to form a no before he could blurt out what she thought he was thinking.

“You two would be so great together! Oh God, I sound like circus boy. Anyways, it’s settled. As your honorary brother and full-time wingman, I am setting you up with Damian Wayne.”

Jason dipped down, snatched her phone off the bench, and took off in a sprint.

“Jason! JasoN I DON’T HAVE INTERNATIONAL DATA!”

The streets filled with the sounds of their laughter as both took off into the night, a bright future lying ahead, neither looking back on the events of the night.

After all, ice cream mends most broken hearts, but nothing fixes you quite like a brother’s love.

Permanent Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ash-amg @rebecarojas07

[straighttohellbuddy]

📓 !!

Okay im so excited please know I think about How The Light Gets In's world every day still, and so anyways here is a side story I want to write but there's a lot of set up regarding the reader and eef becoming friends again. For context, they were incredibly close around 2014-2017, but people were getting creepy and invasive and demanding about their friendship (think 2012 toxic side of the Phandom, if that makes sense), and a lot of the reader's relationships were strained at that time because while they had been successful before, they were absolutely blowing up after their first album released and they became far more mainstream. They felt like they were bothering the people they had become closest to, both because they're worried that they're a bother, and because gossip rags and paps would harrass their friends looking for a scoop, and so they ended up just completely cutting off contact without warning one day right before they went on their first tour. the start of HTLGI is about 3 years since they'd been in proper contact with any of the creators they were close to at that time.

DON'T LOOK AT ME on their 2017 ep Hyperfocus was a more general song in response to everything that had been happening in their life around that time, with a focus on how they stop associating with anyone for a while, without outright addressing it, but on their latest album n o s t a l g i a, read at 5am ft. Troye was specifically written at the start of quarantine, when the reader was getting back into YouTube, about their feelings regarding how their friendship with ethan ended, as they spent a lot of this time looking back of their YouTube career, and he was the person they were closest to for a very long time, before they iced everyone out.

OKAY SO THERES MORE OF THE BACKGROUND OF THE WHOLE FIC AND THE READER BUT

Werewolf Ethan & Mark. I'm sorry I don't make the rules. They have golden retriever energy you cannot change my mind. But also because this is the HTLGI you know that supernatural characteristics are able to be activated rather than just triggered by the full moon. What I'm trying to say is since this is set in the year of Unus Annus, they film a video together that's like, you know that show where a person has to try and outwit a professional tracker? Except its the reader being tracked by two werewolves at night in a national park. Reader is wearing some sort of night vision camera on themselves so whenever it cuts to them the audience can't actually see how they're using their powers, if that makes sense.

Also the reader agreed to this knowing it would probably be when they ended up telling Mark and Ethan about them being a demon.

Video is titled Hunting Down An Old Friend

A few Moments that the boys edit out:

The reader using their stupidly sharp prehensile tail to swing from tree branches, though they leave in shots where the reader's tail can't be seen.

Knowing that with the werewolves having advanced hearing, the reader would give themselves away by talking to the camera, they take a few minutes having flown up to a high tree branch, to pull out a notebook and do a little sketch of how Mark and Ethan appear in their Demon True Sight, and holding it up to their camera.

Werewolves being one of the animals who can kind of sense demons without being able to identify them, essentially like dogs can sense natural disasters and are often good judges of character, this can be heightened on command for werewolves. There's about 15 minutes of footage cut out of the boys discussing or mentioning how this place has awful vibes and that they should have done this during the day. It gets worse as they get closer to the reader, who didn't realise that the boys hadn't thought to ever use that particular power around them before.

("I say this with so much love and appreciation for you, dude," Ethan yells, looking up at you from the base of the tree they'd finally found you in, "but I- this is making me anxious I feel like something terrible's gonna happen, and we should probably get out of here and film the rest of the video back at Mark's." And behind him, Mark's nodding, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eyes scanning the trees for whatever was most likely the cause of this terrible impending doom.

Oh. It's you. And they don't know its you.

Now or never, you suppose.

"Can you cut the cameras for a second? You're going to be fine I promise," you called back, and though they obligingly did, they both seemed antsy. You cleared your throat awkwardly, "that... that terrible feeling, that's not the park or anything in it- well I mean, it is, but it's just- it's me."

and later

"Dude your wings smell like rotten eggs."

"To YOU Ethan! And no they don't!"

"If it makes you feel better they smell like burning and rotten eggs."

"It does not."

(for reference, when enhancing their sense of smell werewolves can kind of distinguish various supernatural creatures, or parts of supernatural creatures. Some creatures have an inherent scent, but some, like angels and demons, only have distinct scents when they've activated certain attributesor abilities; demon wings smell like fire and brimstone, which unfortunately means burning and rotten eggs. I like to think angels wings are like the love potion in Harry Potter that smells like the things you love the most. Mark and Ethan usually don't enhance it around each other because they smell like wet dog to the other)

This gets about 2k notes on tumblr. The reader likes it:

Ethan finally finding Y/N at the end of Hunting Down An Old Friend (2020) Colourised.

Other things to note regarding all this:

It takes a while to rebuild their friendship to the point where they're comfortable enough to be on camera together (eef and reader specifically).

However, the Unus Annus video is the first thing they properly do together, and the reader, in an effort to connect more and make up for the past, will join in multiplayer gaming streams if asked.

Impromptu duet in proximity Among Us of Young Volcanoes by Fall Out Boy, which has their respective chats and fandoms losing their minds, except it stops abruptly after the first chorus as they both remember the opening lines of the second verse (make it easy, say I never mattered -- those lyrics hit a little too close to home)

But also the reader convinces him to join him for a proper cover in like, February of 2021, and it's something deeply sappy (I'm thinking Bon Iver by mxmtoon because I think its sweet and fits them well)

Also Ethan being reminded that the reader is kind of a much bigger deal than when they'd been friends before.

designed to hurt (touch me) from their ep Working On It is nominated for a Grammy for Track of the Year, and n o s t a l g i a wins Best Pop Album (because it's my fic and I said so)

FIRST OF ALL designed to hurt (touch me) is a beautifully produced song about Corpse (which people do not know) and the title itself is literally making fun of something he said IMAGINE his reaction to it being Grammy Nominated 😂😂😂 God he'd be proud but lowkey fuming, meanwhile the moment the nominations are announced the reader tweets:

me: here is an album where I processed my entire world view including heartfelt explorations of the trauma of existing and oversharing in the public eye from a young age without the traditional barrier between audience and entertainer

the grammys: that's cute BUT you know the song you wrote to bully your boyfriend and also be horny on main for him before you guys were even dating? THAT deserves its own recognition.

meanwhile Ethan's like..... this is the same person who I filmed a video with playing cards against humanity, and you laughed so hard you almost threw up. I am very proud but deeply confused.

The Hot Meme of Late April 2021 is "2 time Grammy Award Winning Artist Y/N" with a gif, still, or quote from the reader where they're just being an absolute chaos gremlin.

Of course we have "If I bleached my asshole for charity I'd do it tastefully."

2 Time Grammy Award Winning Artist Y/N speaking to their actual boyfriend in the year of our lord 2020: You are being executed for Clown Crimes.

ethan posts a short video to twitter simply of his screen where he's renaming a folder from "Never Before Seen Images of Grammy Award Winning Artist Y/N" simply changing it to 2 time Artist. The reader responds specifically to his tweet with a video of themselves asking Google how to hard reset someone else's computer.

So many screenshots from old videos surface that week.

I miss this world. Sorry this is rambly!!

[binunus]

college bf!mj

a/n AH !!!! THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE ASTRO COMEBACK ???? APRIL 5TH ??? WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE LOVES !! i genuinely...do not know if I will be able to survive this month bc of them. 

(also i tried to get this posted on mj’s birthday but I’m so sorry a lot of shit happened and I had a ~bad mental breakdown~ and it’s just been rough out here but that’s a story for another time if any of you lovely beings wanna know hehe)

→ genre: fluff, smut

→ tw: mentions of cheating (in past relationships)

→ word count: 4.9k ____________________________________

KIM MYUNGJUN !!

A LIVING REINCARNATION OF THE SUN

this is gonna be so cute i just !! love him so much???

has his own apartment, but he honestly stays over all of the boys’ places so much that...he barely sleeps at his apt

major: vocal performance

his voice is literally honey

can probably sing higher than some sopranos in his major

so friendly, everyone who meets him loves him

mj just has a way of attracting people and making people comfortable around him

in short, he is – of course – the moodmaker

can turn anyone’s frown upside down

he’s down?? for like everything

an adventurous spontaneous type

has...probably failed a ged ed class once or twice before...

he’s not stupid okay! he just doesn’t really care about the classes that has no connection to his major

like will he ever apply calculus in singing? probably not

oh but professors can’t hate him, even if he just messes around during class

he’s just so kind and likeable

loves his boys aka astro

will literally do anything to make them smile, even if he’s had a rough day

as long as his boys are happy :’) he’s happy :’)

now how do you meet myungjun??

he’s in an acapella group on campus

he just has to be alright

he was the only freshman that got in during his first year

that shows how good he is :*

a tenor in the highly competitive co-ed group

spoiler alert, he convinces sanha to join, but that’s for college bf!sanha

myungjun is what me and my friends like to call: the solo whore

and it’s not bc he’s greedy for solos, he’s a real team player

his voice just happens to sound the best for most solos your group has??

you’re also in the acapella group

im not giving a voice part bc then that would put you in a binary category

so soprano, alto, tenor, baritone, bass, you pick love

anyway, you and myungjun were chosen to sing a duet for one of your competition pieces

and it was the key emotional piece so you and him had to be on your A games

you and myungjun were friends ofc, you had to be some sort of friends with everyone in your acapella group

but you never really hung out with him outside of rehearsal

well until you got this duet together

and you weren’t worried about it, mj was so fun and nice and an amazing singer, you had no doubt these extra practices with him would be a good time

and you were right! besides singing, you actually got a chance to get to know him and how goofy he really was

you’re pretty sure you always had an ab workout whenever you hung out with him bc of how much he made you laugh

about a month away from competition, you and myungjun were like best buds

literally a chaotic, iconic duo

the chemistry you two had during your duet was spectacular, your voices highlighted and bounced off each other very well

but! your leader had a little critique

“y/n, myungjun, that was great but...can you guys pretend to look...like in love? I get we’re all friends here, but if you can’t convey the emotion of the song in our performance, what’s the point? This goes for everyone, this is a song about how much you love your partner and would give them the world, we need to show that in our eyes and movements, even if you’re just singing ooh and woah for like 10 measures.”

you and myungjun decide to stay after rehearsal and practice the emotions you guess...

your leader had a point, good singing could only go so far

and for the first time, myunjun was a bit...? awkward??

you: alright so how are we gonna pretend to be madly in love with each other

he chuckles and shrugs: honestly I don’t know, look at me like I’m your boyfriend or something??

you: well, I hate my last boyfriend so that probably wouldn’t be a good idea

myungjun offering you a high-five: I hate...well I think I hate...my last partner too so at least we have that

you: how do you think you hate your last partner? are you not dating anyone right now?

he gives you a smile and like you notice it’s forced?? it’s not genuine or bright like the one he usually gives

mj: no I’m not dating anyone...my last relationship sorta traumatized me I guess. 

you: ...how did it traumatize you...? you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to myungjun

mj: ah *awkward laughter* well...I was sorta going through it my senior year of high school, stress from graduating and what to do with my life and all that shit, you know? I dated this person since my freshman year and I guess my mental health got the best of me during that time and they couldn’t handle it. We were planning on staying together throughout college and do long distance but I found out in the summer before starting college that they fucked my high school best friend behind my back...when I confronted them about it, the answer they gave me was that I was too down and preoccupied with my worries to notice about my partner’s needs...pretty fucked up right?

your jaw dropped, your eyes were bulging out at his story

you: myungjun what the fuck??? what college do they go to? I’ll pull up right now and beat their asses, I don’t know scream in their face or something! That’s fucked!

he’s laughing a little: thanks y/n, but it’s alright. You know, maybe I was too caught up in my own problems that I ended up neglecting my partner’s needs...I guess that’s why I’m always just trying to be carefree and fun now.

you: that doesn’t justify the fact that what they did to you was wrong. you should have never gone through that myungjun, it’s not your fault that you were going through it mentally, your partner should have been there to support you and understand your struggles, not cheat on you with your best friend. ugh I’m pissed for you. 

mj: I appreciate it y/n, but yeah love’s sorta a hard subject for me.

you nod in understanding

mj: well! that’s my traumatic breakup story, it’s only fair you share yours

you laugh: you’re right. Well I was dating this guy right when I entered college, met him at the freshman orientation, completely hit it off. I was so in love with him, we dated for about a year. And then last semester he broke up with me out of nowhere, said he wanted to focus on school and himself and that he needed a break from dating. I found out two days later that he started dating one of his suite mates and that on the night he broke up with me, they fucked. So love? also something hard for me.

mj: aww look at us both unable to find or relate to love because of past relationship traumas.

you hit his shoulder laughing: you’re such a headass

mj: I’m kidding! anyway, I’m sorry you went through that too y/n. it sucks and your ex is a dumbass for breaking up with you. Do you still have feelings for him? w-wait, you don’t have to answer that, was that insensitive?

you: you’re fine haha. Um...well...sometimes when I overthink things at night, I do miss him and I wonder what the hell I did wrong for it to end so abruptly because I was honestly really happy with him, but then I wake up in the morning and I hate him again. 

mj: you did nothing wrong y/n...and if you need to call me at 2 am when you’re overthinking and need some badass confidence knocked into you, I will be awake.

you smile and give him a hug: thanks myungjun...you know the same goes for you too?

mj: hm??? what do you mean??

you: you don’t always have to smile around me, especially if you don’t feel like it. Don’t repress your mental health, huh? It’s bad for the soul to bottle it in. I’m not gonna force you to share your darkest fears with me, I’m just saying that if you feel drained and wanna talk about it, I’m here to listen

myungjun pouts a little bit, he’s really touched?? it’s hard for him to share his troubles with others

like as much as he loves astro and is close to them, he doesn’t share his down sides with the boys as often as he should bc he never wants to burden them

myungjun just always thought it was easier to suppress the bad feelings and put on a happy act

but he couldn’t deny the weight lifted off his shoulders after telling you about his breakup

and maybe it was because your energies were on a different level lately, but he found it so?? easy?? to just vent to you after that

until competition, the two of you worked on faking like you were in love (basically imagining that each other was your favorite actor/actress or whatever, something like that)

it was good enough for the group to believe it lol

but what about the judges and audience hmmmmm

anyway, fast forward and it’s competition day!!

myungjun introduces you to his best friends aka the boysss aka astro

they come and support him for his competition ugh we love

you’re like smiling and hyper when you meet them

...has myungjun been rubbing off on you???

you: it’s so nice to meet you all! myungun always talks so highly of you

astro: huh?? you’re lying, myungjun hyung complimenting us???

and then they start messing and friendly bickering with each other and yes they’re teasing mj

you’re laughing bc it’s so cute?? you can see in their eyes and their smiles how much they really care about each other :’)

also astro, probably jin or eunwoo, maybe rocky: we’re sorry if m hyung has driven you to insanity these past few months of rehearsing

you just laugh as myungjun hits them: myungjun’s actually been like my partner in crime lately, so we’re all good :)

*cue the boys exchanging looks with each other*

you perform ah ha ha

alright, you were so used to thinking that myungjun was...idk kim soohyun or something bc mm chef’s kiss his acting...to get into the emotion of the song

but then during the actual performance you saw him as myungjun and like all the hard work and extra practices and late night talks came in full force and you were just...singing to him

and you notice how...handsome?? and charismatic?? myungjun really is...and the little sparkle in his eyes when he’s performing like...wow

and after your set, you’re just like shit, what the fuck was that??

your group doesn’t win though, you place second!

but you and myungjun get awarded best solo/duet of the entire competition

astro: ;)

your acapella group: ;)

the judges: ;)

alright so im a firm believer that if myungjun had feelings for someone, he would straight up tell them like balls to the wall full fucking send

after competition, the routine of school comes back. you occasionally hang out with myungjun outside of rehearsal

by occasionally, I mean once a week hangout with myungjun (and astro bc they started inviting you to their dinners)

and then one night – at midnight – he calls you like out of pocket and his tone is like completely serious

you’re a bit scared?? like: myungjun...is everything okay? did something happen?

mj: y/n...can I ask you something?

you: yeah, of course

mj: do you still think about your ex?

you: o_o um...honestly no, not really...why?

mj: well, if I’m being honest. y/n, I have feelings for you. And i’m not asking you to like me back or give me an answer straight away, but I just wanted to let you know. If you don’t think about your ex anymore, and if you think you’re ready...maybe you can consider thinking of me??

mmmmm kim myungjun you slick flirty dog grrr bark bark

and you know how he can just talk, and talk fast, so you’re still in the middle of processing this and he just goes on like

“sleep on it, y/n. I’ll see you soon for rehearsal, okay? good night”

like you don’t even have a chance to respond to him bc he just hangs up the phone

you think about it, of course you think about it, you’ve been thinking about it ever since competition

having feelings for myungjun has always been in the back of your mind since then

like did you notice that when you hung out with him, your heart would flutter if he said something sweet?? or if you two were a bit too close to each other?? 100%

but you didn’t know if either of you were ready for another relationship so it’s just been put on the back burner

at the next acapella practice, you find that your cheeks just flush whenever myungjun looks your way

the rehearsal went a bit??? weird?? like even your group noticed that there was a bit of a tension between you and myungjun

but of course, he goes up and talks to you after rehearsal ended and he’s like: hey...I’m sorry if my confession made you feel weird, I didn’t mean for that at all. If you want, we can just forget about what I said and stay friends! 

you just facepalm like: myungjun you idiot, I’m acting weird because I like you too. God, you know maybe the boys are right, maybe you need to shut your mouth for a little bit

and he whines like: hey!

but then he realizes what you said and he gives you the brightest smile: you mean it?? you like me back??

and you’re like shyly smiling now: yeah...I do...but do you want to take the next step?? I mean...do you think you’re ready for another relationship??

he gets like serious and he grabs your hand: not gonna lie, I don’t think I’ll ever be fully ready after my last one...but if there’s someone I wanna try it with, it’s you.

:’) kim !!! myung !!! jun !!!

dating myungjun?? the best thing ever

the cutest boy alive honestly

he has so much cute and goofy in him already with just friends and strangers

but with you, it’s increased tenfold

even you start to act cute and goofy after dating him

petnames?? bub and bubby

myungjun is not serious about a lot of things, but he is very serious about his feelings for you and your relationship

y’all take things at your own pace and he !! values !! consent !! even if it’s just like making out

he just doesn’t wanna mess things up with you :’)

the type of boyfriend to sing you to sleep ah !!! his voice is heaven alright

will be extra about pda in front of the guys to make them grossed out

and yes you get embarrassed, but myungjun’s too cute to scold

you get used to a lot of second-hand embarrassment dating him and being friends with the boys

but it’s just so endearing, you can’t even fight it

will swing your arms together when you’re out just walking

screams he’s so cute

you don’t really fight bc communicating with each other is one of the biggest things in your relationship

like if a disagreement or a situation comes up, you two are mature enough to talk it through and work things out bc you both already been knew what it’s like to be in a relationship that didn’t have full transparency

you do jokingly bicker about small things though (like think about how astro fights)

but he always ends fights by scooping you up in a hug and showering your face with kisses

loves kissing your nose

just imagine: you and myungjun cuddling and he just kisses your nose and you scrunch up your face and he just laughs and kisses you all over and you two end up giggling

will do anything to see a smile on your face, it’s the greatest sight to him

alright we been talking too much about how cute myungjun is

he’s also a hot motherfucker alright

the most attractive when he’s singing in your opinion

you know how charismatic he is, you’ve seen it first hand during rehearsal and performances

he’s very good at hiding his horniness, especially in public

but phew when you two are in private and myungjun’s in the mood

you can tell bc his eyes just get hazy and he immediately just starts kissing your neck

a very passionate lover, will prioritize your pleasure over his

sex with myungjun can go from being sweet and sensual, to fun and playful, to hot and exciting

by that...I mean that he is down to try every kink and position you can think of

as long as both of you are okay with it ofc

he’s one of the kinkiest members in astro im convinced

blindfolds? bondage? ice cubes? wax play?

you want it? you got it

he’s not into feet though, i apologize to my foot fetish lovers

his favorite position is actually missionary

myungjun loves being able to watch you and to see how good he’s making you feel

in missionary is when he feels the most connected to you, it’s just a passionate position

and yes he’s very vocal, so you betcha he encourages you to be vocal as well

will try to mess with you in a sense where say you two are hanging out with the guys, he’ll touch you and challenge you to not make a noise

and then he’ll snicker and wink at you if you even let out a peep

he’s a tease !!! like will edge you until you’re on the brink of cumming at least 3 times

myungjun has pretty good stroke game alright

very fluid with his hips, idk he just knows all the right spots to hit

praise...kink...that’s the tweet, need I say more

he’s into hair pulling !! both ways !! 

okay hear me out...myungjun fucking you and pulling your hair until your screaming and then after you both cum, he’s like: you hit a high f earlier bub! I almost wanted to harmonize with you but–

you: myungjun are you serious!

sex with him would always just be a fun time, like he’s hot and grrr it feels so good but there’s always a bit of laughing and joking around in the process

like he will tickle you before he puts his cock in you just to see the switch of you laughing to moaning

alright but shower sex?? he’s into that

and just the acoustics of both of your sounds in the bathroom?? it’s so filthy he loves it – and it’s easy to clean up afterwards

you bet that after any performance with your group, the two of you have sex, even if it’s just a quickie in an empty practice room or whatever

no shame, will kick the boys out or announce “we’re going to fuck bye!” if you or him get too horny in the middle of a hangout

im just gonna throw this out here...you and myungjun...mile high club

(your group competed in an acapella competition and the flight there...it just happened)

all in all, myungjun just wants to make you happy and feel good and smile, even if you two just finished an intense sex session

let’s get into the deep stuff though, you are the only person myungjun is comfortable with to not show a smile all the time

even with the boys, there’s always a small part of him that wants to just push through and be optimistic just so that they won’t worry

but with you, he knows that it’s okay to be sad and to be vulnerable :’)

when myungjun cries bc he’s upset :( fuck you cry too

he loves when you just hug him and stroke his hair when he’s stressed

very showy about your relationship, not bc he’s braggy, but bc he just wants to show the world how happy you make him and that he’s in love <3

the boys are so happy to see their eldest in love :’)

they don’t show it around each other, but they’ve come up to you in private and say sweet things like

“you make myungjun hyung so happy, he always brings joy to everyone but you bring joy to him, thank you”

im !! getting !! sentimental !!

the day you found out myungjun was in love with you was the day you met his parents

‘twas a bit spontaneous

his parents came to see one of your group performances and myungjun’s like holding your hand and leading you somewhere after you get off stage and he’s like “bub! these are my parents!”

you end up getting dinner with his family and yikes you were hella nervous, you were not expecting on meeting his parents right after your performance

not gonna lie, you thought he was leading you to the car for some post-performance sex

but they adored you, his parents could see how much you meant to their son ugh I cry

anyway, the L word

as you’re finishing dinner, myungjun’s all giddy and just like

“I’m so glad you came and watched mom and dad, the timing was perfect too! I wanted to introduce you to y/n for a while now and have you meet the person I love.”

and his parents are just smiling at you and saying how they’re so happy to finally meet you and how you have an amazing voice and to take care of myungjun and you’re !!! just !!! blushing !!!

as soon as you both got in the car after saying goodbye to his parents, he’s just like: hope I didn’t surprise you too much bubby, I didn’t know my parents were coming to watch until like an hour before we went on stage

you just give him a little smile: I was a bit caught off guard, but it’s okay. Your parents are so sweet, I see where you get it from bub.

myungjun: I can tell that they love you already! well of course not as much as I do, but with time I know they’ll come pretty close

and you’re blushing again, it’s the L word: do you mean it myungjun?

myungjun: that my parents love you?? of course–

you: no, bub...that you...love me?

myungjun: yeah...unless you don’t feel the same way–

you: myungjun! no, of course I do! I just wasn’t expecting the first time to hear it was with your parents

you two are laughing, ugh this man

after your giggles subside, he leans over from the driver’s seat and he just cups your cheek and pecks your nose: I love you y/n, thank you for reminding me what love feels like

you: I love you too myungjun

and then you two are just like sharing a sweet kiss in the parking lot of the restaurant before starting the drive back to his place

do you and myungjun make duets together for fun and post it?? yeah probably

you are the luckiest dating myungjun, the living breathing embodiment of serotonin and love

even when you two are older and out of college, he still gives you the same affection and attention and authenticity ugh he’s just amazing

im so sorry this was late but happy belated to our happy virus <3

3-12-21

[yumxkoo]

LOVERS TO ENEMIES

・PAIRING: Momo Yaoyorozu x GN!Reader

・WARNINGS: Abuse, mentions of blood, violence, cursing basically the reader being a dick im sorry

・GENRE: Angst So this is for an event @dailydoseofscenarios is hosting! I had so much fun writing my first angst fic for this blog! Thanks sm for letting me be part of the event Marie! xx

YAOYOROZU SIGHED as you came out the front door when the clock striked 3 AM. You stumbled through your door, half drunk from the bar, as Yaoyorozu went and helped you.  “No it’s fine, Momo, I don’t need your help!” You snapped at her. Momo stood back from you and held back a sob. She knew that you and her were going to fight once again sometime today. But little did she know that it wasn’t going to just a normal fight. During the first few months of the relationship, everything was well. Yaoyorozu was a working pro-hero and you had a job at the local flower shop. Until one day, you got influenced by a customer to come to the bar that just opened near the flower shop.  Now, you were never one to drink, but you came anyways to go see if they had any good drinks that wouldn’t get you too drunk. You didn’t contact your girlfriend, thinking that she would already know that you’re there. But, the customer who influenced you, was found out to be a wanted villain. The pro hero agency of Yaoyorozu petitioned to fire her and the flower shop fired you as well, due to their safety and them assuming you had some kind of ties with villains. “I’m done with this,” Yaoyorozu muttered. You looked up from the wall you were holding on to to regain balance from your drunk state. “You said what?” “I SAID I WAS DONE! WITH YOUR BULLSHIT! WE’RE NOW BOTH UNEMPLOYED BECAUSE YOUR STUPID MIND DIDN’T CARE TO THINK WHO YOU WERE ASSOCIATING YOURSELF WITH!” Yaoyorozu yelled. Suddenly, the fury inside of you spread faster than a wildfire. You held your hand up high, and took out some of your rage on the ravenette, by hitting her across the cheek. “WELL I’M SORRY I DIDN’T KNOW THAT I WAS ASSOCIATING MYSELF WITH A VILLAIN! I’M SORRY THAT I WAS GOING THROUGH A REALLY HARD FINANCIAL SITUATION WITH MY FAMILY!” You responded, in a voice that obviously indicated your rage at her.  You quickly grabbed the glass vase from a nearby side table, and had at attempt to smash it over her head, Yaoyorozu quickly dotched, and created a knife with her quirk. 

“I didn’t want it to come to this, but turns out it did. I was really in love with you, Y/N,” The ravenette said.  You grabbed a nearby beer bottle and smashed it at her head, causing blood to ooze out of her head and for her body to hit the ground.  “Well then, it did come to this, Yaoyorozu,” You glanced at her body on the ground.

3 MONTHS LATER

Yaoyorozu’s heels clacked against the hardwood floor of the courtroom. She held her speech paper close to her chest. She stood up to the stand and looked directly at Y/N.

“Y/N L/N, my first love, my first crush. Has now turned into my enemy. They hurt me, they hit me, they put me through hell, but knowing their situation I stayed. I stayed because I CARED. I CARED for you, but you didn’t feel the same for me. You would come home late from the bar, get drunk, you even STOLE from me and my family,” Yaoyorozu paused as she held back a sob.

“I hope you know, that I regret every single moment with you. I will never treasure our memories together. I will never remember the first day we met. I hope that I never see your face again in my life. You brought me trauma, misery, and you have brought despair to my life. You broke my faith in love. You made me believe, that love isn’t for me anymore. Because you, YOU, my first love, broke my heart into a million shattered pieces. If you ever do find a woman as good as me, then I hope she breaks your heart just as painful as your actions broke mine,” Yaoyorozu finished. The judge took about an estimated 10 minutes to think about the situation, before finally coming to a verdict. “I have decided, and the verdict is that...Y/n L/n will remain within 3,500 feet of Momo Yaoyorozu. Y/n L/n if you fail to keep this much of a distance from Momo Yaoyorozu you will be fined and if you can’t afford the fine, you will be made to do community service. Thank you,” The judge decided.

Yaoyorozu turned her back on Y/n, who was on their knees and sobbing. Attempting to run to their previous girlfriend, until security caught them.

And it was that moment, where Yaoyorozu knew, that they had once been lovers, but now, they’re enemies.

A/N: THIS WAS SO HEARTBREAKING BUT I HAD AN AMAZING TIME WRITING THIS!!!!  I hope you didn’t cry lmao-

[swiss-cheeze]

(French Road, East) Apartment 23 || Spencer Reid

Gender: they/them, none.

Warnings: drug use, drug relapse, talk of drugs/‘shooting up’, talk of alcohol/being drunk, snooping?, mentions of sex but nothing written, agression

Description: weeks pass from the teams abduction, but one member can’t seem to keep his nightmares at bay.

A/N: PART 2 TO FRENCH ROAD, EAST. Read that first to get a better understand but you don’t necessarily have to?

Part 1: https://snitchthewitch.tumblr.com/post/625420152793694208/french-road-east-spencer-reid

———

“I need you to close your eyes Spencer, good, just like that. Can you tell me what happened before you and the team were kidnapped? Where were you?”

“I was with Morgan and Penelope, we went for some drinks to loosen ourselves up after the last case. It's dark, and cold, I'm drunk. Maybe...maybe tipsy?”

“It's okay Spence, you were drunk?”

“I couldn't walk well without help, Penelope was on one side, Morgan is on the other, he’s on his phone. I see your name, and he's texting you, i don't know what it is but its not words,”

“Okay, what's around you? People? Streets?”

“Its dark, so not many people are around, but there's this chilly feeling behind us as we drop Penelope off”

“So Penelope isn't with you two anymore?”

“No, not now, she's gone. Morgan and I are stumbling on the road for a little while but Morgan looks back and he's sobered up, he's walking and he's got his phone out. He's called you, something about someone under six foot,” Spencers breathing increased as his brows furrowed.

“Spencer, you are safe. What's happening now?”

“It's a blur, i-i cant...im calling for you, they’re dark, we’re in a van now-”

“They?”

“Five people, two in the front and the rest with us in the back, the one following us got in when they grabbed us,” he pauses, “they’re not looking and i take out my phone, just as i look up i see a road sign,”

“French Road”

“Yeah, yeah I sent that to you, I messaged it and added east, because we traveled east. One of the men sees my phone, he's slapped it out of my hand as another grabs my hair,” Spencer flinches and you have to stop yourself from grabbing his hand, “they throw Morgan and i somewhere, it's dark and smells, it's a sewer. I hear Rossi shouting, then i black out. The next time I wake up, everyone else is with us and they start questioning us, asking random things.”

“Random things?”

“Like lie detector questions; remember the Adam Jackson case? With D.I.D.?”

“I remember; its questions like random maths, english?”

“Yeah, yeah like that. I think they’re seeing how alive we are, if we are awake. We all are, I take a little to answer my question.”

“What was your question?” he pauses.

“‘What is the molecular formula for hydromorphone hydrochloride’”

“Dilaudid”

“Well, morphine but that's what they wanted me to remember anyway. It took a moment for me to come around, but I answered, correctly; C17H19NO3”

“What did they do?”

“They left, when we all answered our questions they left.”

“When’s the next time they come back?”

“I'm not sure, I just remember waking up and J.J. was being beaten,” Spencers voice shuddered at the mention of J.J. 's name.

“Good, that's good Spence,”

“C-can i open my eyes now?” of course he would ask before doing it, he couldn't see it but you did smile.

“Yeah, yeah you can Spence,” Spencer was quick to take action and opened his eyes, squinting at the white of the hospital walls around him.

“Did you tell them-”

“There is no morphine in your system Spencer,” you started, “there isn't anything else the doctors can do besides wait,” you sighed softly as you took Spencers hand in yours, “because it's a morphine based drug they can't do anything else,” Spencer nodded but you still had a feeling something was wrong, ”Spence?”

“How long has it been?” Spencer looked like he was going to cry.

“Three days,” the sharp intake of Spencers breath gave it away quickly, “the others have gone through the same line of cognitives Spencer, the story holds and it’s something we can use against the people that took you-”

“You mean they’re still not in jail?” Spencer questioned quietly, you sighed softly.

“They have to go through some other things first but i have been told that their sentence will be long, long enough for what they’ve done,”

“Im sorry,” Spencer sniffled, the tears in his eyes fell and hit the gown he was wearing, “i'm so sorry,”

“For what bubba?” it was hard to see the one you love looking and feeling like this, but you both had to stay strong. He shrugged.

“I broke my stre-”

“Don't you dare say that,” by now you had gotten up and were towering over Spencer as he refused to look at you, “you did not break anything, you didn't break a single thing Spencer. Those men, those people- those disgusting people! They did. They broke it. Not you.” you said firmly, Spencer nodded weakly. You pressed your hand to Spencer's cheek and made him look at you, his teary eyes made you weak at the knees as you ducked down and kissed his forehead.

“The fact that you uh,” Spencer sniffed and wiped his eyes, “you found us in under fifteen hours,” he laughed.

“What, you think i wouldn't?” you questioned, the joking lighting the mood.

“No, no, I just,” he paused, and with fake sadness said, “I just thought you'd find us in under ten,” you lightly punched Spencer's arm with mock anger as he laughed.

“That’s so rude Spence! Garcia and I went through a lot!”

“I know i know!” Spencer exclaimed with a smile. Though the team had gone through hell and back they looked in perfect health, unfortunately masking their trauma too easily.

-----

The entire team was given a mandatory four weeks off as well as daily therapy sessions for those weeks with once a week group therapy; the whole team coming in and talking about their week and what they’ve done via their therapist and such. Yourself, Spencer and Garcia had it worse as you and Garcia were the ones trying to find your friends and Spencer O.D.ed for three minutes.

Spencer was 10 minutes late, but you all agreed to start without him.

“I wrote down everything that happened,” you started, “but i still start to panic when i don't see anyone in the mornings,”

“That's normal (Y/n)” the therapist said from her chair, “from what you, and your team, has gone through it is very normal to feel sudden panic when not being able to pinpoint them. The same with your team,” her eyes flitted around to the others, “it is completely normal for you to feel panicked when possibly out at a bar, in a bookstore or anywhere without your friends,” she was about to open her mouth again to speak when the large doors opened harshly and out stepped Spencer, bag in hand and rushing to the only seat (which was next to you) open. He gave a rushed smile and avoided eye contact.

“Traffic,” Spencer mumbled, you two had gotten up at the same time (seeing as you lived together obviously) but Spencer said he wanted to stay back and finish some final paperwork before he came in; this wasn't an unusual thing to happen as it has happened before, so you had left with a kiss and a promise to see him in a few hours.

“Traffic?” the therapist asked.

“Yes traffic, that is what I said,” Spencer countered as he picked at his fingers, the therapist stayed silent for a moment.

“Would you like to share with the group what you have done this week?” she questioned, Spencer thought he subtly rolled his eyes before he finally looked up to his fellow teammates, but you had caught it. And he knew you did.

“I wake up feeling panicked sometimes,” Spencer started with a shrug, “that's about it.”

“Why panicked?” the therapist pressed.

“Because (Y/n) isn't next to me, they get up a little earlier than i do a lot of the time,” he looked at you with such sadness that you couldn't help the sympathetic smile you sent his way.

“Well, maybe you could ask (Y/n) to wake up at the same time,” the therapist pointed at yourself when she said your name. You nodded.

“I don't mind Spence, you can just ask,” you smiled sweetly to Spencer but he broke eye contact before you could even look at him and nodded, a ‘cool’ whispered under his breath as he twiddled his thumbs. Everyone went quiet for a moment.

“Well, I believe that concludes this week's therapy together!” the therapist said too happily as everyone started getting up and putting their chairs away, “please remember to keep going with your practices and remember to come in for your individual sessions!” Everyone gave a thank you and goodbye as the group started walking back to the bullpen; cases had been taken away from the team until a full evaluation and mental health check went over all of the team members. You jogged to keep up with Spencer.

“Wanna go out for lunch later babe?” you questioned, hand going out to hold his. Until it was whipped away quickly by the recipient.

“No, I'm good,” Spencer mumbled as he sped up his steps, causing you to slow your steps down and stopping completely as Spencer turned a corner and was out of sight. He didn't see the tears starting to spill down your cheeks as you felt a hand softly connect with your shoulder, making you jump and turn to face the person.

“We’ve seen it before,” Hotch said in his monotone voice, you nodded as you quickly wiped the tears away.

“Unfortunately i know,” you mumbled through a shaky breath, yourself and Spencer hadn't gotten together for awhile, simply pining after each other for a few years before finally opening up and becoming a couple. You had been his best friend for years before, being friends when you both were in college (him being younger than you but you two still getting into the FBI academy a year after the other), you had been the one person he confided in when the whole Tobias thing happened and was the number one reason (in Spencers words) that helped him get through his addiction.

“You should intervene,” Hotch said. So he knew too. You nodded.

“What if we’re wrong?” you questioned, it was always the ‘what ifs’ that got all of you.

“It’s been three weeks,” Hotch reminded you, “he wouldn't still be like this if he wasn't,” you sighed but nodded in understanding as Hotch pat your shoulder for a second and walked off to the bullpen, leaving you with your shaking breath and slight panic attack.

Spencer was using again.

But you had to find evidence before intervening.

-

Time was short as Spencer excused himself from his desk for the toilet. As he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight you made quick work with the limited time you had and delved into Spencer's bag.

Books, pencils, notepad, stray chess pieces, files and folders.

Damn.

Nothing.

It couldn't be that obvious could it? You sighed softly and took a peek to see if Spencer was coming back, when he didn't suddenly float into the room you turned to his desk and opened the drawers; shuffling through them.

“(Y/n)?” Spencer asked from behind you, you slammed the drawer shut and whirled around to face your boyfriend.

“Spence!” you gave a strained laugh.

“Why are you going through my drawers?” he questioned with a cock of his eyebrow.

“Just tryna find something,” you lied through your teeth, it didn't taste nice, “wow look!” you picked up the closest thing to you, a stapler, “found it!”

“You could've asked instead of going through my drawers,” Spencer mumbled offhandedly as he reached down in front of you and grabbed his bag before walking away.

“Where are you going?” you questioned, your voice carrying out through the whole bullpen, Spencer looked around at the few pairs of eyes looking at him, those few including his teammates before he did a 180 degree turn and went stalking off to the toilets.

If Spencer was using again then he was smart enough not to do it at work, unless you had missed it when shuffling through his bag.

-

Spencer seemed to be in a daze for most of the day as you gave him a chaste kiss, saying goodbye to him and the team as you headed home; your paperwork for the day ended quicker than the others. You made a mission to find plausible evidence of Spencer using again, if he was smart he would leave it at home, if he was smarter he would keep it on him, if he was as smart as his 187 IQ then he wouldn't be using at all. That is if he even is.

You rifled through everything in the house; books, cabinets, drawers, wardrobes, unused boxes, the back of your kitchen cabinets and drawers, turning the house upside down to find that small bottle of nightmares.

But to no avail.

The hours that passed seemed to go so slowly and yet so fast as you cleaned the house of your excursions, made yourself a cup of tea and settled down with a book, of course as soon as you opened it the first page had writing in the margins and title page; it was Spencer's book, the notes made you smile as the pages made you forget the recent nightmares for a few hours. The keys jingling in the lock made you jump from your imagination as Spencer stepped through the threshold and into the room, you gave him a sweet smile that he didn't even notice as he walked away to the bedroom with his bag. He never did that, Spencer always left his bag at the door in case he had to rush in order for him to grab and go.

“I was thinking of ordering in for dinner!” you called through the house, “haven't had some for a few weeks, treat ourselves!”

“Yeah whatever you want doll!” Spencer called back, he was chipier suddenly. You forced yourself to focus on the sounds coming from the bedroom but couldn't decipher exactly what they were when Spencer came back out wearing a cotton shirt and some plaid pants, you cocked an eyebrow.

“You got comfy quickly,” you mentioned, “normally you wait a few hours in case we have to go back.” Spencer shrugged as he walked into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water.

“Can't be bothered,” Spencer tried his hardest to mask the slurping of the water but when it got low enough he couldn't help himself as he downed a second glass.

“Didn't drink much today i see,” you mumbled as you looked back to your book, the empty tea cup almost calling your name for a second time as Spencer came up behind the couch and wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head. You chuckled, completely forgetting about his previous antics from the day, “chippy i see”, you felt Spencer shrug behind you.

“I think i just missed being with you is all,” Spencer mumbled into your hair, “smell good, you shower?” you laughed.

“Last night yeah,” you smiled and looked up at Spencer, the top of your head colliding softly with Spencers, also soft, tummy.

“That's my book?” Spencer observed as his eyes ran over the written graphite in the margins, you looked back down at the book and nodded.

“Mm hmm, didn't realise when i picked it up but i'm enjoying the little annotations,” you smiled softly as Spencer started kissing from the top of your head to your neck, soft pecks turned into nibbles, turned into purple bruises.

“Haven't felt you in so long,” Spencer mumbled into your neck, his hands gliding lower from your shoulders and down your torso.

“Yeah?” you questioned, feeling his fingers trace over your shirt, you knew the answer, and you definitely knew what was going to come out from this.

“Please?” Spencer asked, ah, consent, his number one turn on. The thought almost made you chuckle as you nodded.

“Yes,” you placed the book on the coffee table next to the abandoned empty cup and followed Spencer into the bedroom, his hand soft in yours as he guided you on the short trip.

That night made you forget about the previous days. It was true that you and Spencer hadn't done anything together for awhile, therapy taking up time along with paperwork and just not feeling in the moment of things, but that night was full of bliss; exploring one another again like it was your first time all over again.

It was beautiful. Truely.

For you anyway.

Of course Spencer loved it, every moment of it was beautiful and full of bliss for him as well, but there was a nagging in the back of his head, one that he couldn't shut up, even with your beautiful body in front of him. You were dead to the world, snuggled under the covers, as Spencer crept into your linked bathroom; there was someone else calling his name just as loud as you and Spencer had been calling each other's names a few hours ago.

Except this wasn't someone.

It was something.

And Spencer knew that this something wasn't right, of course he did. He was throwing away so much time, so many days and weeks of being clean, so many years. Unfortunately the nightmares Spencer had been talking about in group therapy where back.

And they were real.

Very, very real.

--------

The following week you worked on the paperwork from previous cases including material profiles on paper evidence until you got called in for your daily therapy session.

“So,” Mike started, “how has today been? Yesterday at group therapy?” you shrugged, thoughts clouded, “something on your mind?” Mike pressed.

“How would you gain evidence if you think someone is using drugs again without raising suspicion of everyone and said person?” you questioned quickly, “asking for a friend,” the end was added as a joke.

“Well, you would intervene,” Mike said. That's what you liked about Mike, he never questioned anything you asked or said, you could say you killed a man and he would ask how you hid the body and help with your alibi.

“How?” you questioned in a strained voice, the thought of Spencer using again was getting to you.

“Take them somewhere they're comfortable, sit them down and simply: ask” Mike said as he jotted down some things in his little notebook.

“If you're writing that I'm paranoid then dont bother,” Mike looked up from the book, “i'm not. I know that they’re using again, but if I don't have plausible evidence then they’ll just…” you shrugged, ''well I don't really know, do i?” Mike took a moment to respond.

“How are you feeling after your team got kidnapped,” it was a daily question, steering you away from the topic.

“Fine.”

“You're not,” Mike observed.

“Yeah well if its that fucking obvious then why arent these sessions helping?” you questioned aggressively, then paused, “i'm sorry.”

“It's quite alright (Y/n), bouts of random and unprecedented anger are normal after traumatic events like that,” Mike explained, “how do you think the others are going?”

“Not well, i can tell. Hotch is refusing to speak, Rossi is faking everything he says and does, Emily, J.J., and Garcia are all a bubbling mess of tears, Derek dissociates a lot more now and Spence…” you paused, Mike noticed this.

“Is the one using”

“That's what we think,” you sniffled softly and pulled a tissue from the nearby box before getting up from the chair you sat on and walking to one of the large windows, “do you think he’s in pain?” you questioned.

“I think they’re all in a great deal of pain,” Mike responded, “but. If you’re asking as a professional opinion I think they need time. If you're asking as a friend, well, i think you should be there for him,” your ear twitched at the change of pronoun for Spencer, saying ‘him’ specifically instead of ‘them’. You nodded.

“What should i do?”

“Ask. If you can't talk to your boyfriend about it then you’re not ready to face it, and the more time that goes past about it is the less time you potentially have to spend with him,” Mike was wise, you knew that, but that sounded too cheesy to be him, so you laughed softly.

“You sound like a wise old owl,” you mentioned as you grabbed your bag.

“I see you’ve been keeping track of the time,” Mike commented; you had 2 minutes left of the session.

“I see you’ve been keeping track of me,” you shot back playfully before leaving the room and going back to your paper profiles, the previous events playing in your mind; the kidnapping, finding the team, the group therapy, that session, Spencer. Of course you could have been wrong about what the other team members could be doing, and of course you lied slightly; Emily wouldn't be crying, she’d mask it like Hotch and pretend everything is okay like Rossi. J.J. would just blubber about her husband and kids. But the others were correct. A chocolate muffin sat on your desk with a note attached to the wrapping;

‘Love,

We need to talk.

Nothing bad, kind of.

Tonight?

Xx

S’

Spencer. You smiled softly, maybe he would come clean, tell you what's been going on in his giant mind like he’s meant to be doing. You held the note close to your chest and gave it a kiss before sitting down and biting into the muffin and continuing your work; you didn't see the pair of eyes watching you, filled with love and guilt that was standing next to the coffee machine, sugar tin almost empty.

-------

Spencer wasn't exactly dreading tonight, oh no, he wasn't looking forward to it of course, but he knew, knows, it's for the best. The rest of the day went by in a little blur; chaste kisses from you, sessions, talking with people, jamming the photocopier, and coffee. The bag wrapped around Spencer's torso felt like five tons against his tiny frame, weighing him down for the most of the day, the only time he couldn't feel that weight was when you were around; talking, kissing Spencer, holding his hand, little comments, slight brushes when rushing past each other. Those moments were the moments that brought up his confidence in preparation for tonight; he can't live without you, but he wouldn't die for you, oh no, he would live for you. Which is slightly ironic in Spencer's mind but it fits, he wouldn't let this nightmare come back for round two without trying his best to kick its ass first, and the only way he knew how to do that was, is, with you by his side.

Spencer felt triumphant as he walked through those glass doors and into the elevator, you had left two hours previously but Spencer didn't mind, it gave you both time to wind down and get ready for this talk. Which is exactly what you both needed. He knew you knew, you knew he knew that you knew, now it's just the point of who would come clean first.

-------

Spencer stood out the front of his apartment.

Apartment 23.

It felt like such a large barrier, a large step, one that’s heavy and is hard to make. But it was also an escape, an escape, and that’s what Spencer had to remember, his home (and yours) is a sanctuary, a safe space for the both of you no matter what the problem is. A big sigh escaped Spencer's lungs as he the floor started swaying beneath him, his breath being held, black and white dots encapsulating his vision.

And then he was through the door.

And it all drifted away as you walked from the kitchen holding two dinner plates.

“Spence!” you exclaimed happily, bringing Spencer from his thoughts, “roast pork for dinner tonight, adn veggies,” you smiled and placed the plates on the table before leaving again. Spencer brought his hands up to put his bag down but thought against it and instead leant it against the table as he sat down, you coming out again with a bottle of spirit water, the bottle fizzing when cracked open.

“Thought you would go for wine tonight” Spencer commented as you filled his glass, “thanks,” you shrugged as you poured your own drink before putting the bottle to the side and sitting down.

“Thought this would be better to go with the meal, clean the palette and everything,” you smiled as Spencer picked up his knife and fork as his mouth also opened to drop a fact.

“In Normandy, locals rely on apple brandy as a digestive called Le Trou Normand, or the Norman break. It’s a shot of Calvados in the middle of the meal which can be served as a sorbet rather than a shot of alcohol,” Spencer rambled slightly with a smile as he ate his dinner. It felt natural, you two never really got to have special dinners like this, instead opting for take out or left overs. The comment was left hanging in the air as both you and Spencer dug into the delicious meat and vegetables, cooked to perfection that both you and Spencer loved. Spencer cut the fat off of his piece of meat and left it on a side dish that you put down earlier; Spencer didn't, doesn't, like fat from meat, ‘it’s too chewy’ he’d always say.

“How have you been since…?” you questioned, voice cutting through the nice silence. Spencer stopped eating for a moment, was this it?

“I’ve been okay,” Spencer said softly as he continued eating after a second, “bored,” he shrugged, “only read five books recently, just can’t seem to focus,” you nodded.

“That’s normal after traumatic events Spencer, you know this,” you cleared your throat and took a mouthful of your drink, “maybe you could read to me after this?” Spencer's foot shuffled closer to his bag, it leaning against the leg of the table.

“If-” Spencer cut himself off, what should he say? ‘If you want?’, then there was no use for the note and it'll go unspoken, ‘we have to talk?’ no, that sounds like there's something bad. Fuckfuckfuck.

“Spence?” your voice brought Spencer out of his railroad of thoughts as you put down your knife and fork having finished your food.

“We need to talk tonight,” Spencer started, “but I want it to be natural, I don't want it to be forced,” you nodded.

“I feel the same,” you said softly, it wasn't hostile, you weren't angry, you were compassionate and understanding, “you finish your food and then you can read to me, yeah?” you questioned, Spencer nodded as he continued eating while you brought your plate into the kitchen to be washed later in the night. You kissed the top of Spencer's head when you passed him on your way to the bookshelf, the silence that followed was calm but there was heat behind it, the air wanted to squeeze into your lungs and bring the words you both oh so wanted to say.

But you held back.

Both of you.

“The Illustrated Man?” you asked as Spencer walked out of the kitchen having put his plate away and taking a mouthful of his drink. He hummed.

“What about Papillon?” Spencer asked as he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he scanned the bookshelf for other books.

“No, reminds me too much of that Ted Bundy film too much,” you sighed out, you almost gave up before a book caught your eye; your hand moving out to grab it before you could even stop yourself as you handed it to Spencer.

“Murder on The Oriant Express huh?” Spencer questioned as he flipped the book over a few times, he nodded, “yeah, i could go with a murder mystery tonight” he smiled, as did you, as the two of you moved to the couch to read.

-

Hours passed of Spencer reading to you, and then the two of you switched for you to read to him. Neither of you said anything, almost forgetting about the elephant in the room.

“Do you think this is profiling?” you questioned as you got to a chapter, “what Poirot does?”

“I would think so,” Spencer said softly, “he deduces certain things to come to a conclusion, using evidence and simple common knowledge and deduction skills like Sherlock; id say he does”

“Do you think that's how i figured it out?” you questioned, Spencer brought his body up from its cuddled position to look at you.

“Figured out what?”

“That you’re using again”

Silence.

“So we’re going to talk about it,” Spencer spoke with such uncertainties you didn't know how to respond for a moment.

“So you are using again,” you spoke in a quiet voice, afraid that if your voice was too loud itll shatter the surrounding places.

“No.” Spencer was quick to disagree, “i mean,” he sighed as he fiddled with his hands, eyes staring at the carpet, refusing to look at you, “i did, for a little” you placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder as the book was discarded on the coffee table, “i stopped taking last week,” Spencer sniffled as he wiped his nose, tears landing in his lap, “i didn't want to, i really didn't, but it just got so hard, hard to cope with everything that has happened previously, every single case, every kid, every adult and father and mother and sister and brother and-”

“Spence breath” you commanded softly, Spencer had started hyperventilating as he spoke, he looked to you, finally, with tear filled eyes as you helped him even out his breathing and wiping away his tears.

“I started a few days after i was cleared from the hospital,” Spencer started again, his voice wavering slightly as he talked, “from there i started again, i don't know how long for,” Spencer looked down at his hands again, “i've lost my sense of time a lot more recently since starting again, so” he shrugged, “I knew how bad it was and could get but I didn't stop myself. Then I found you snooping in my drawers,” Spencer laughed softly at the memory, you doing the same, ''I found you snooping and i saw things in my bag messed about so i knew you had been looking for something, and i knew you knew what i was doing. Of course you did,” Spencer wiped his nose again, “that’s when i gave you that note, because i knew i had to stop, and it's been hard but i have” Spencer looked at you for reassurance.

“You did good Spencer,” you started, “i'm not...im not happy that you went back, you know i'm not,” he nodded, “and i'm not happy that you didn't tell me about you wanting to relapse,” another nod, “but i'm happy that you stopped yourself, and though it's not the perfect thing to be kidnapped again, you helped yourself stop this time,” you played with Spencer's hair as you talked. “I wish you told me,”

“I know”

“And i wish i could have helped,”

“I know”

“But I still love you,” Spencer smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” you sighed into Spencer's hair, “can’t leave you after everything that's happened and what we’ve been through, ‘snot right,” you slurred slightly, Spencer chuckled softly, “also because you’re great in bed,” you joked causing Spencer to laugh as a silence settled over the two of you for a moment.

“I’ll get help,”

“I know you will bub,” you threaded your fingers through Spencer's hair, “and i’ll be there every step of the way, always,” you pulled Spencer close, “is it still in your bag?” he nodded hesitantly. You got up slowly and pulled Spencer along with you as you dug in his bag, your fingers finally coming in contact with a glass bottle, you pulled it out as Spencer’s sharp intake of breath came from behind you.

“There's...here let me,” Spencer lent down to grab the bag, placing it on the nearest surface as he dug through it for a moment before pulling out another small glass bottle as his other hand went in. Spencer handed you the bottle as he pulled out two capped needles and shoved them into your hands as well, he didn't look at the needles or bottles and instead turned around, “I don't want them anymore, I really don't,” you nodded.

“We’ll dispose of these properly,” you said with a smile, Spencer couldn't see it but with your retreating footsteps Spencer finally turned around to see you placing the items into a small plastic bag, “tomorrow,” Spencer nodded as the two of you retreated to the bedroom.

“I um,” Spencer spoke as he started getting dressed for bed, you doing the same, “i just wanted you to know; the other night, when we had…”

“Sex,” you finished for Spencer with a slight laugh, he nodded.

“You fell asleep and...i….”

“I know,” you said softly, your fingers held Spencer's waist softly over the cotton shirt he wore as he stared at you.

“You-?”

“It's okay,” your fingers felt like heaven against Spencer's waist as your thumbs rubbed the spots they sat at, he nodded in understanding. You pressed your lips against Spencers in a soft, reassuring and loving kiss, one that you both needed before climbing into bed and cuddling as close as you could possibly get.

French Road, East taglist: @thelovelyrose || @colorfulsunflowerx || @thatsonezesty13 || @loki-an-idiot || @parkeroffline || @briannareneea985 || @lovebodymindstuff || @dilaudidwinchester || @awkwardnesshabitat

[watchmegetobsessed]

Enchanted - Adam Sackler (pt. 3)

OMG it feels like it took me forever to write this part and im so sorry for that but i’ve been so busy with school and just life in general, i barely get time at the end of the day to even start my computer and do anything. but i finally finished this part and im so excited for the story to continue!! as always, feedback is welcomed!

ps: im so exhausted, i didn’t have time to revise it so it probably has a bunch of mistakes, pls forgive me!

series summary: You are casted as Giselle in the Broadway adaptation of Enchanted with Adam as Robert.

word count: 3.9k

Part 1 - Part 2

masterlist

Chapter title: Princess

First rehearsal on the stage is thrilling for you, because even without an audience, the place has a special energy that hits you right at the moment you walk out. There’s no real set just yet, only a few props to signal where things will be placed once the designers are done.

Today’s walkover is about the date scene with Clyde aka prince Edward and you are excited to put your dancing shoes aside for just a little while, even though you know once this rehearsal is over you’ll have one with Matt and Adam for the ball scene, your absolute favorite. Trevor explains how he envisioned the scene to go, with the moving and changing set to make the audience feel like the two of you are walking through the city.

Working with Clyde has been the easiest so far. He is a genuinely nice and caring person, who obviously tries to put one hundred percent into everything he does, making it a real pleasure to work together with him. He definitely has the looks to play a prince, tall, tanned with a charming smile and luscious curls that bounce with every movement he makes with his head. You keep thinking about how he is basically what you would say to be your type, inside and out and you are actually surprised you haven’t fallen for him the moment his hand touched your waist. You like to think you’ve grown enough to contain your emotions.

“Have you had any costume fitting?” he asks as the two of you stand on the stage, scripts in hands while Trevor is discussing something with his assistant.

“No, but Misha has sent me a few previews. Have you?”

“Yeah, I had one yesterday. Can’t wait to step on stage in tights,” he grins making you chuckle.

“There’s no prince without tights.”

“Definitely,” he nods. “Anyway, your vocals are extremely on point.”

“How do you know?” you ask narrowing your eyes at him. You haven’t had any vocal lessons together, just solo ones.

“Cynthia showed me a recording last time, I was trying to learn the harmonizing and it helped to hear you too.”

“Oh,” you nod. “Well thank you, I’m sure you sing just as well too.”

“I’m trying, but no doubt you’ll be the star,” he smirks and you feel a blush warming your cheeks.

Rehearsing with Clyde feels like when you and Lora used to hang out in high school, just goofing around while trying to get your homework done. It’s productive, because you do what you are supposed to do, but you also keep making each other laugh with the constant joking and messing around.

After rehearsals you decide to check out the canteen for a late lunch together and it’s a suitable choice since your dance rehearsal with Adam starts in an hour so you have to stay around to be there in time.

“You can’t be serious,” you gasp, watching him dip his pickle into mayo.

“It’s a delicacy,” he chuckles before taking a bite and you actually feel yourself shiver.

“Oh my God, you are a psychopath!” you laugh shaking your head at him.

“Nah, I just have a sister who ate some really weird shit when she was pregnant, and I tried some out. This one turned out to be pretty good.”

“My statement still stands. Psycho,” you joke.

When a familiar tall figure appears you spot him right away even from just the corner of your eyes. It doesn’t take long for Adam to spot the two of you since the canteen is not big enough to make it hard for anyone to see who’s really there.

“What a coincidence!” Adam cheerfully greets you standing at the table. Clyde hops to his feet as their palms meet and they do that typical half-hug thing men always do. Then his eyes wander over to you and you let a smile take over your lips.

“Hi Adam, ready to dance?” you ask as he snatches a chair from the table next to yours and he sits down.

“I was born ready! Hope your feet don’t break easily,” he jokes and you just shake your head chuckling.

“It’s not fair you two get the pretty dance while I’ll be in the background in tights,” Clyde sighs, but you know he is just furthering the joke.

“Clyde is not too excited about wearing tights, as you can see,” you explain to Adam who understandingly nods.

“I’m just saying, that out of the three of us,” he says gesturing around the table, “I’m definitely not the right one to wear tights on stage.”

“You’re right, I have nice thighs,” Adam nods and you can’t help but start laughing loudly. Somehow the image of him wearing tights is just so absurd you’d really love to see it.

Clyde sticks around for a little longer, the three of you having a nice conversation, a normal one which is surprising given the fact that Adam is present, but maybe this is the proof that he can be normal sometimes too. Then Clyde needs to leave and once he is out of the canteen Adam turns to you.

“Clyde wants to fuck you,” he simply says and you almost choke on your apple juice.

“Excuse me?” you manage to get out between coughs.

“What? Did you not notice how hard he was trying?”

“He wasn’t trying, he was just being a nice, normal person. You could try it,” you grimace at him. So much for being normal for once.

“Oh come on! I bet he’ll nut tonight thinking about you.”

“Would you stop unloading your dirty fantasies on me? Not everyone is as kinky as you. Most people don’t make a whole film about their relationship filled with all the sexual details.”

“Holy fuck, you watched the whole film!” he gasps happily and you immediately regret opening your mouth. You really should have thought about what you say. “How did you like it?”

“Honestly, I have no idea how you got away with making it, if I was your ex I wouldn’t have let you make it.”

“She saw it.”

“I bet she loved it.”

“She loved it when it happened in real life and I didn’t lie in the film,” he shrugs and the blush is back on your cheeks as you think about everything you saw in that film. The most intimate moments of a quite passionate relationship were revealed right in front of you and if you are being honest, you felt like part of it by the end, no matter how disturbing it was to see Adam in such scenes.

“I’m actually surprised you watched it.”

“Why? You were nonstop bugging me to watch it.”

“Yeah, but I thought you wouldn’t.”

“Well, I did and the trauma can’t be undone now,” you give him a look and checking the time you see that if you don’t leave now you’ll be late and Matt will be furious at the both of you.

You manage to dodge any further questions about the film as the two of you head for rehearsal, though you can tell he is curious about what you really think. It was definitely not a good idea to bring it up right before rehearsal, because now you have to get through 90 minutes pressed up against him, dancing to an incredibly romantic song, staring dreamily into each other’s eyes. Not ideal.

The song is critical. Not because it’s that bad, but because you are a real sucker for the kind of music in movies that could make you cry because they are so perfect for the scene. You’ve seen the movie way too many times and dreamed about dancing with that one person, but you never thought you’d actually dance to this song with someone and that person is now Adam.

It’s all fun and games when you are just learning the basics, not even touching, just standing in a line with Matt in front of the mirror and dancing like you have an imaginary partner. You keep peeking at Adam in the mirror and he is not that bad, in fact, he is doing great so far, you don’t know why he said he is not a good dancer.

“Okay, ready to combine?” Matt claps his hands, wiggling his eyebrows as he takes a step back, giving the two of you space to get close.

You hesitantly turn to Adam who closes the distance with one long step, standing right in front of you. Looking up at him you remember Lora’s comment on his height when it will be like to kiss him and you quickly furrow your eyebrows trying to get rid of the thought.

“What’s the look for?” Adam smirks down at you, tilting his head to the side gently.

“Nothing,” you purse your lips.

Matt helps you find the right position, Adam’s palm feels warm on your back and you suddenly wish your shirt was a bit thicker, covering you better. You feel his defined muscles under your palm on his shoulder and your eyes linger a little longer at the way your hand gets lost in his hold.

You first try it without the music, mostly both of you staring down at your feet to make sure you are doing the steps right and Matt gives you time to adjust, but you can’t keep your head down forever.

“Alright, let’s make a try and this time try to look into each other’s eyes at least half the time,” Matt requests and you bite into your bottom lip, trying to control your nerves. This is just dancing with Adam, the weird guy who made a kinky film about his past relationship, remember? He is weird!

But he is so tall and his eyes are so dreamy and his hands are…

“Okay, five, six, seven, eight!” Matt’s clapping interrupts your thoughts as you start the choreography again.

You have to watch your feet at first so you know you’re heading in the right direction, but a few steps later you force yourself to bring your gaze up and your eyes meet his.

It just hits different. Being so close to him, feeling his touch on your back and palm, you suddenly feel a strong urge to run your fingers through his hair and you almost do it before you tell yourself to behave. There is just something in him that makes your whole mind stop working properly even though you have a pretty strong opinion about him and the kind of man that he is.

For a spare second you even forget to breathe as you are staring into his eyes and there’s a feeling in your guts that you just can’t identify and before you could get further in this sensation Matt’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Amazing, this will look fantastic!”

You force a small smile to your face as you look at the choreographer and he brought you back to reality just in time.

You try to lock this feeling up in the remaining time so you don’t embarrass yourself with something. The last thing you need is to say something that gives away the conflict you are having in you.

“You’re always so fast to leave!”

Adam’s voice stops you when you are already out in the hallways, ready to leave and stay unnoticed, but that last part apparently did not work. Wrapping your hands around the strap of your bag you turn around and see him heading in your way with long steps, his hair flowing with him.

“Why should I be here without getting paid for my time?” you tilt your head with a half-smile and your comment makes him laugh.

“Good point. Do you have to be somewhere?” he asks catching up with you and now you are walking towards the exit side by side.

“Apart from my bed? Not really.”

“Great, then let’s get a beer or something.”

“It’s not a suggestion or an invitation, he states it like you’ve agreed on it weeks ago and you find yourself being quite okay with it.

Settling in a nearby place you order yourself the beer that’s been talked about, but Adam just sticks with iced tea and you give him a puzzled look for his choice.

“You said we are getting a beer.”

“Yeah, for you. I don’t drink.”

“What?”

“I’m a recovered alcoholic, I don’t drink,” he explains and now you have another piece of information about him that you put into your little Adam Sackler file in your head.

“So you are trying to get me drunk?”

“I’m not saying I don’t hope to have you spill something juicy about yourself, but I’m not forcing you to drink either.”

There’s a boyish smile playing on his lips and you roll your eyes at him as the drinks soon land on your table.

You find it amusing how fast he can make you forget about everything you’ve been thinking about when you thought about him, and make you see him just as this funny, carefree person who is sitting right across you at the table. He really is funny and it’s not just the beer that’s telling you this, he has a great sense of humor, he is especially talented in saying the funniest things with the straightest face, just staring at you like he is meaning every single word that leaves his mouth when you both know it’s all just bullshit.

“I’m honestly having a hard time figuring you out,” you sigh leaning back in your chair, fingers fidgeting with your second beer on the table. You’re definitely not drunk, just loose in the best kind of way.

“What’s so hard about it?” he tilts his head, genuinely interested in your answer.

“I don’t know, you are just… It’s like you have these different personalities and I can never know which is the real one.”

“What personalities?” he chuckles at your theory.

“One is this funny, normal guy,” you start gesturing towards him. “Then there is the kinky bastard who spanks girls and then there is this mysterious, serious side that I always see in rehearsals.”

“Kinky bastard?” he chuckles, clearly enjoying the discussion. “You’ll never let go of the spanking, right?”

“It just doesn’t fit into the picture,” you explain.

“That’s because we never had sex and we haven’t spent that much time together outside of rehearsals. I’m working there, of course I’m being serious! That’s just how adults act in serious scenarios. But the rest is just simply me, a mixture of the things you just said.

“So you are just a funny, normal guy with a hint of kinky?”

“Probably more than a hint, but yeah,” he nods smirking.

Spending time outside of rehearsal really helps you see Adam as a whole, the mixture of the sides you’ve experienced from him and you feel like it has brought him closer to you as a person, a colleague and maybe as a friend. You find him an amazing company actually, a great partner to discuss different kind of things. He has a somehow different view of the world than you, but you also agree on many things and this creates the perfect base for an actually interesting and enjoyable conversation.

“Stop!” You gasp laughing as you try to get Adam off a pole on your way home after he decided he is strong enough to hold himself up horizontally on it, but he is just probably getting close to knocking it straight out of the ground.

“They should make these more massive!” he grunts jumping back to the ground.

“You are massive,” you snort as the two of you leave the poor pole and continue walking towards your building.

“I am. In all means,” he smirks at you and you imitate gagging. His dirty comments stopped bothering you, he kept sneaking in something inappropriate into the conversation throughout the night and you just kind of got used to it. This is how he is, a kinky bastard, but at least a funny one.

“You know, we should hang out more often,” he suggests galloping ahead of you and turning to face you he does a funny dance move that makes you laugh.

“Oh yeah? So I should spend my little free time outside of rehearsals with the same person I’m with all day?”

“We are not together all day,” he protest and you just chuckle, knowing well he is right, you just felt like exaggerating. “You didn’t have fun tonight?” he asks as he returns next to you, walking side by side.

“I did.”

“Great. Then we will spend more time together,” he nods and it’s not a suggestion anymore, he is stating it like the most certain fact ever.

You don’t protest.

 Sometimes rehearsals are like one big chaos, especially when everyone is present on the stage, all dancers and actors with the production staff, but there’s no other way to rehears the big dancing scenes.

Today it’s the park scene again, you are wearing another flowy dress Misha gave you, that resembles to the one you’ll be actually wearing, Adam is dressed in dark jeans and a black shirt, nothing extra, and he seems to be enjoying that everyone around him is doing their absolute best while he has to do that one lifting and nothing else, just follow you around the stage.

Clyde is at the back, he has only a little stage time as the prince is looking for Giselle in the park, so beside Adam he is the other person who doesn’t have much to do.

“How do you know he loves you?” you sing with a bright smile and big gestures, grabbing Adam’s wrist as you pull from one place to another, dancers following around, the scene constantly changing around you to make it look like you are on the move. “How do you know he’s yours?”

You catch Adam smirking and you already know he is thinking about something dirty, as per usual. You do the lifting and you feel his hand smacking your ass when he puts you down, no one notices, but you shoot him a glare to which he just smirks again.

“Okay, amazing. Take ten, we’ll see the final part a few more times!” Trevor instructs when the music stops and people starts flowing off the stage.

“Stop touching my butt,” you tell Adam, the two of you walking towards the edge of the stage.

“I can’t, it’s just always in the way,” he holds up two hands innocently and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Hey, do you guys have any plans for tonight?” Clyde walks up with a bright smile as he joins the two of you, fingers fidgeting with the water bottle in his hands.

“I’m babysitting my niece,” Adam answers running a hand through his hair.

“You have a niece?” you turn to him surprised.

“I do,” he simply nods and it doesn’t seem like he is about to share any more details so you turn back to Clyde.

“I’m free.” “Wanna go for a drink maybe or something? I’m so done sitting at home when I’m not here.”

“Sure,” you nod and watch Clyde walk away smiling back at you.

“He is still trying hard to get into your pants,” Adam scoffs and you turn to him with a grimace.

“He is not.”

“Oh he surely is. I’m pretty sure he thinks this is a date or something like that.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Tell that to him, because the dude is keen on fucking you, princess.”

You eventually give up trying to convince Adam about your truth, and you also realize you don’t owe him a word. You know what this really is and that’s all that matters. Adam can think whatever he wants, that still doesn’t make it real.

“So you’re really going out with him, huh?” Adam comes up to you once rehearsal is over. You glance up at him nodding while you’re packing your stuff up.

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m telling you, he thinks this is more than just casual drinking.”

“So then what?” you sigh, confused about why he is so worked up by the thought of you and Clyde having a few drinks. “I’m single, he is a nice guy, maybe I also think of it as more. Is that not an option?”

He genuinely seems surprised by your answer and it tells you he clearly didn’t think of this version. Frowning a bit he tilts his head.

“So that’s your type?”

“Stop using that tone, please,” you sigh zipping your bag and heading to the door, Adam following you right behind.

“Okay, I’m sorry, but still, that’s not how I imagined your type to be.”

“You often think about what my type is?”

“I did a few times, yes.”

“Then stop,” you sigh stopping and looking at him. “It’s not like you have a word in it or something. If you hate the idea of me and Clyde going out so much, just come. He invited you as well.”

“I told you, I’m babysitting my niece. My sister would lose her shit if I cancelled.”

“Then there’s nothing I can do for you. Just stop thinking about it,” you shrug, clearly over it, but Adam is not on the same page.

“Cancel on him.”

“Why would I do that?” you ask with a puzzled chuckle.

“Because…” he is searching eagerly for the right words, his hands anxiously tapping on his thighs. This is a waste of time, you think to yourself.

“See you at the next rehearsal, Adam,” you sigh walking away.

 Clyde is awesome. Clyde is exactly the person you imagined for yourself a little while ago, he is nice, funny and just overall a good person. You enjoy spending time with Clyde and you find him attractive, but…

But something is just off and you can’t tell what it is.

Sitting in a bar with him that evening you can’t stop thinking about that one thing that’s making you not fall for him even though you know you should be. Adam’s words keep repeating in your mind about how he is not what he thought your type would be.

Of course he is my type! You basically tell yourself defiantly, cursing Adam out for planting such thoughts into your mind. Stupid Adam!

By the time you and Clyde part your ways you are pretty sure this wasn’t a date which is a relief, but it still got you thinking why you are so against dating Clyde. On your way home you catch yourself pulling your phone out of your bag to text Adam and tell him you were right when you stop in your way in the middle of the street.

“Are you stupid?” some random guy growls at you who almost bumps into you. Looking up you mumble a short sorry before looking back down at your phone.

Adam was all you thought about all evening, you saw him in everything Clyde said and now he is your first thought and the person you want to talk to. He sneaked his way into all of your thoughts and this is starting to feel concerning.

Adam is not your type. He just can’t be.

Clyde should be.

Not Adam.

Right?

Right?!

-

general/forever taglist for Adam Driver

i do separate taglists for different people, but not for different works of mine! if you ask to be on my Adam taglist, you’ll be tagged in all of my Adam fics!

@superdriver​ @siren-queen03​ @holacherrycola90​ @spencer-is-amazing​ @unusual-kindred-spirits @hailthemightywoecloud @holy-kylo-stars​ @kowalskibro-adamdriverblog​ @hurricanesunset​ @writerandee​ @luxury-0pps​ @prncess91​ @malefoygal​ @zaahidahhh​ @filternotincluded @fire-in-her-veinz​ @emily-strange @ktellmeastory​ @grouchosgirl​ @tapismyforte​ @unusual-driver-paterson​ @beeblisss​ @septicvic97​ @cackleifyou​ @gotiashley​

if you’d like to be taken off or added to the list, please let me know!

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Burn the Ships, Chapter Six

A/N:  Merry Christmas, ya’ll! ^.^

. . . . .

Chapter Six

“Let me get this straight: you’re planning on interrogating a spy right here on the dock?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. Alex is still getting stitched up, and it would waste time to haul him back to the Palace.”

Danny opened his mouth, closed it again, sighed, then said, “You know what? That’s actually not the craziest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Thanks… I think.”

“Do you really expect him to tell you anything, though?”

“If he knows what’s good for him.”

“Just promise me you won’t shoot him. I don’t think the governor would be able to get you out of that one.”

Steve stayed silent as he turned to go back down the dock to where they’d left Agent Branning under the careful supervision of Lou Grover.

“Steven. Do not shoot that man, do you hear me?” Danny started after him. “You know what? I’d better just come with you because I know you, and I wouldn’t put it past you.”

Steve might have smiled if the situation were different. “He’s complicit in the abuse of a child, Danny. So if my gun happens to go off and the bullet happens to shatter his knee cap -- well…”

Danny’s hand came down hard on his shoulder, spinning him around. “Steve, listen to me. I know you’re angry -- you think I’m not? I keep thinking, ‘what if that were Grace?’ and it makes me sick to my stomach, okay? But you can’t help this kid from prison. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I know that, Danny; I’m well aware. But I’m getting answers once and for all, and I will do whatever I need to in order to make that happen.”

Danny sighed again before turning and continuing on his way.

Now a few steps behind his partner, Steve arrived just in time to hear Danny say, “You see this guy behind me? He’s more than a little cranky and definitely hot-headed. So if I were you, I’d just tell him what he wants to know, because there is literally no telling what he might do if you don’t -- and, believe me, I’ve seen him do some crazy things.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?”

“Just stating the facts. So if he ends up shooting you in the knee, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Steve almost smiled as Danny stepped to the side. “What were you doing here in Hawaii?”

“Commander McGarrett, you and I both know I came for a vacation with my ward.”

“Yeah, and you and I both know that’s a load of crap.”

Branning shrugged. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Ten people came down here to kill you and Alex. You can’t expect me to let this go.”

“Wrong place, wrong time. You know how it is,” he replied with a  condescending smirk.

Not even a minute had passed and Steve was already done with this. “Okay. Well, let me tell you what I think, and then we’ll see if you stick with that story, shall we?”

“Allow me to reintroduce myself: I am Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett, former member of SEAL team six. I’ve served in a lot of countries, seen a lot of action. So when there are four former drug dealers dead on my island that all have scorpion tattoos that identify them as former Scorpia assassins, that raises some questions.”

Steve realized then that, although Branning worked for the CIA, he’d probably never been a field agent -- or, at least, was long retired from it.

“How do you know about that? There’s no way you’ve ever had clearance high enough.”

“Yeah, well, when your team is in Afghanistan and accidentally uncovers a cell of them instead of ISIS, you kinda become privy to that information.

“So here’s my theory: Alex was sent undercover to discover if these particular guys were still a threat, and if they were, to eliminate them. How’d I do?”

“That would be child abuse.”

Steve felt his fist crack into the agent’s face before he’d made the conscious decision to swing. He could feel the anger radiating off of Lou and Danny beside him and knew they would have loved to be the ones to do that, too. He couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice as he growled, “The fact that you can say that with a straight face is enough reason for me to want to shoot you right here, right now, and I’d bet my life Lou and Danny would testify that you went down in the shootout.”

Branning spit to the side and turned his head back towards Steve, a bruise already starting to form across his cheekbone.  “It’s not like he was forced into it.”

“And how, pray tell, does that justify this? Does any child choose to be abused?”

Branning smirked. “You can’t prove a word of this, McGarrett, and you know it. Alex chose to work for the company, and he can leave any time he wants.”

“Yeah, I doubt that.”

“No, I mean it. Taking care of that kid is like walking around with sand in your shoes. I didn’t volunteer for this, but he did -- that’s just the job. I’d be more than happy for someone to take him off my hands, but that’s never going to happen because Alex is here because he wants to be.”

Steve knew that was a lie; Alex had told him as much, that he’d never wanted this, but he felt trapped. But, if it was truly the case that Alex was free to leave, then maybe all Steve needed to do was give him a reason.

He glanced back over his shoulder, wondering how Alex was doing. He’d seemed a little squeamish when stitches were mentioned, and Chin was with him, but honestly Steve wished he was the one sitting with the kid right now. Turning back and unclenching his jaw, he said, “Lou, take him to the station and have him booked for child abuse.”

“With pleasure.” Lou stepped over and hauled Branning to his feet by the arm.

Branning chuckled. “It won’t stick.”

“Yeah, probably not, but it will waste a few hours of your precious time.” And be probable enough cause for CPS to temporarily pull Alex’s custody from you.

As Steve watched them walk away, Danny side-stepped closer. “What -- no ‘book ‘im, Danno’?”

“No. It’s Christmas Eve, and if we still wanna have this party, you need to get home.”

“That is a very good point. You still coming?”

“Yeah -- but, hey? Maybe plan for one more.”

He could feel Danny staring at him before he asked, “Alex?”

“Yeah. I - uh, really need to have a talk with him and make a couple of calls, but…”

Danny nodded and clapped him on the shoulder as he started to leave. “Alright. I’ll see you later tonight then.”

I just hope this works.

. . .

“Hey, there he is.” Chin nodded in the direction of the dock.

Alex glanced up but quickly returned his gaze back down to his hands. “You think he’s mad?”

“Probably -- but less at you than you might think. I’m sure he’s more relieved that your arm looked worse than it is.”

“I broke my promise. Again.”

“You did what you thought was best at the time. Steve will understand that.”

The paramedic was just finishing wrapping his arm when Alex saw Steve’s boots stop on the pavement in front of him.

“Hey. Give us a minute?”

Alex watched the medic’s shoes disappear, his heart pounding in his chest. He really didn’t want to have this conversation right now -- or ever, really.

“Danny already took off, so can I hitch a ride with you?”

“Of course,” he heard Chin reply. “Looks like I picked a good day to drive my car instead of the bike, huh? I’ll wait over there; take your time.”

“Thanks.”

As the lieutenant’s boots retreated, Alex lost his last buffer. Silence fell between them, and after a moment, Alex couldn’t stand it any longer, so he blurted out the first and only thing his exhausted brain could come up with.

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt.”

He wasn’t expecting the commander to burst out laughing, and his head snapped up at the sound.

“That’s really what you’re concerned about right now, huh?” McGarrett chuckled. “Kid, that is so low on my list of priorities right now -- it’s not even on the radar.”

Alex watched, not knowing what to do now, as McGarrett took a couple of steps and hoisted himself to sit on the gurney next to him with a tired sigh, all humor suddenly forgotten as he stared out towards the lagoon. Here it comes, he thought, but when McGarrett spoke, it wasn’t what he was expecting at all.

“More than five years ago now, I was sent on a black op into North Korea. I took my best buddy with me, and our goal was to extract a man named Anton Hess. The mission was a success, but I lost my friend in the process. He covered me so I could get Anton out, and if he hadn’t sacrificed himself that day, we’d both be dead right now.

“But as I was transporting Hess back, our convoy got hit, and he ended up dead, too. In retaliation, Anton’s brother, Victor, killed my father. In the span of a day, I lost two of the most important people in my life.

“I came back to Hawaii for my dad’s funeral, and that’s when the late Governor Jameson offered me this job. It started as a way to track down Victor Hess, but it turned into so much more and, as it happened, turned out to be exactly the change that I needed.” He paused, finally turning to face Alex. It was easy to see the sincerity and conviction burning in his eyes.

“I’m not going to pretend to know exactly how you feel, but I understand what it’s like to have the people you love killed and to not be able to do anything to prevent it. I know… I know what it’s like to have your world ripped apart, and how it feels to think nothing is ever going to be okay again, to throw yourself into something -- anything -- just to have a reason to keep going.

“But eventually you have to stop running. You have to let yourself heal. And you can’t do that by just ignoring it and adding more trauma on top of what you already have.

“It’s okay to let yourself heal, and if you can’t get there on your own, it’s okay to ask for help.”

Alex couldn’t stand it any longer. He turned his gaze away, throat tight with emotion, focusing instead on where he was twisting his hands in his lap. After a moment, he choked out, “Lieutenant Kelly told me about how you recruited your team. Detective Williams was struggling to adjust to life here after a messy divorce; Lieutenant Kelly himself was a disgraced cop; Officer Kalakaua wasn’t even out of the academy yet; Captain Grover was forced into early retirement from SWAT. But none of those things mattered to you. You always seem to show up in people’s lives when they need someone the most. Do you think that’s true for me too?”

McGarrett was quiet for a moment before he spoke softly, “I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot to find out, don’t you think? All you have to do is say the word, Alex, and I promise you I’m not gonna leave you alone. I’ll be there every step of the way.”

Alex tried to cut off the sob building in his chest but then decided he didn’t care anymore. He was exhausted and injured; that should give him a free pass to be as emotional as he wanted. As the tears started to fall, he felt a hand settle, heavy and reassuring, between his shoulder blades. Alex let himself have a minute before he pulled himself back together enough to give a shaky nod and a whispered, “please.”

“Consider it done.”

Alex took a shaky, deep breath, swiping a hand over his cheeks. “What -- uhm, what exactly does this mean?” He glanced up at the man.

McGarrett smiled down at him. “It means it’s time to burn some ships of our own.”

. . . . .

Tag List: @diekatimitdemhutohnehut @ghostly-homo @grungeweasel @just-add-butter

[shreyamistry]

otp drabble no. 25 with slona x f!mc (kai) please?

Pairing: Sloane x F!MC (Kai Park)

TItle: Falling Apart 

Prompt: That’s it. That’s it. get it all out, shh..

Summary: Coping with a powerful company trying to murder her friends and herself, Kai can’t seem to keep it together after Keegan threatened everyone she knows and love. Can Sloane help keep her from breaking?

Word Count: 1,500+

A/N: Hope you like it @goliviahyes ! also sorry it’s two fucking years late im the worse lmaooo.

Thanks for reading! I hope you like it!

Kai shakes as she quickly walks up the steps of Nadia’s apartment in San Francisco. The horrors of the day resting heavily on her shoulders, unsure how to bear them. Coping with the feelings and trauma inflicted on her and her friends from Eros managed to reachit’s breaking point. She could already feel the tears stinging her eyes as she forces them closed, her hand resting on the handle of the apartment door, the words hanging heavily in her head.

“Nadia working in her studio with no one else around. What if Kai surprises her with dinner?”

She shutters as tears roll down her cheek, the thought of losing her rock and her cousin, she couldn’t fathom it. Even if Keegan could control herself...there’s no telling what she could do if influenced by Eros, and Kai couldn’t handle knowing what she could do. If Cecile and Rowan made her part Siren, she could kill everyone that matters to Kai.

“Kai!” Damien hops up from the couch as she steps into the house, one glance at him sending her back into the moment with Keegan.

“Damien’s mom would welcome you back… or Lucilla. Walking home from school… welcome a ride…Damien welcoming you home after a mission… one more go would really break him…”

Damien… Her heart hurts thinking about causing any more pain to her best friend. After everything he went through...how could she let anything happen to his mom or sister, especially him again. She brushes the back of her hand against her cheek looking at Damien in front of her, his usual smile replaces with worry.

“Are you-”

Before he can even finish his statement, Kai rushes up the stairs to the left of her, looking over her shoulder once to see Sloane and Hayden enter the room smiles on their face disappearing as quickly as she does up the stairs into her room.

“You step out of your hotel room, only to ‘come back’ a minute later...and Sloane and Hayden doesn’t realize the mistake… Sloane wouldn’t even stand a fighting chance, Kai.”

Kai doesn’t realize she’s sobbing until her head hits the pillow, and the air leaves her lungs. Her chest compressing as she can’t catch her breath, how do you breathe knowing everything in your life could be ripped from you by someone who looks exactly like you. She felt selfish, her breath so gone she can’t think straight when Damien and Hayden have been through so much worse than her. It wasn’t fair to them to be this fallen apart when she hasn’t had to bear the kidnapping and the breakdown, the realization you aren’t human…

Firm pressure on her shoulder makes her jump, turning around to see Sloane sitting beside her. A comforting smile on her lips, as she brushes her fingers against her shoulder as soothingly as she can, her comforting smile strained between worry lines as Kai’s body continues to shake her hand moving to rest on her throat still unable to catch her breath.

“That’s it. That’s it. get it all out, shh..” Sloane whispers leaning down to place a hesitant kiss against Kai’s forehead. “You have to catch your breath, if you go more than 5 minutes you’re going to pass out.” Sloane goes through a few motions hoping to help Kai follow her lead, but Kai still can’t manage to follow their her hand gripping Sloane sudden fear filling her chest.

“I can’t-….brea-thhe...sloane…”

“I know, honey.” She whispers, pressing her palm firmly against Kai’s cheek getting her to look her in the eyes. “You’re going to be okay. When I first started my job at Eros, I had an anxiety attack in the bathroom, I started seeing stars before a co-worker helped me catch my breath. She was a wonderful friend, but she quit a while ago.”

Kai squeezes Sloane’s hand to get her attention, it doesn’t work.

“She took me on an office lunch event, thinking back I think we may have been on a date. Oh no, I was on a date. That explains why she held my hand as we walked back-” She looks mortified for a second, as Kai pinches her hand getting a soft gulp of surprise turning to look at her again.

“So...not...hel...ping.”

Before Sloane can think too hard she leans in and brushes her lips against Kai’s, a trigger in Kai’s chest releases slowly as she melts into Sloane’s warm loving embrace that threatened to encase her for all entirety, not that she would ever be opposed. Her chest fills with relief, Sloane in her arms, her mouth gentle against her own. Sloane’s gentle timid touch never felt so gentle in her entire relationship with the scientist.

Sloane breaks the kiss with a nervous laugh, brushing her hand against her arm. “I’m sorry, Kai. Forgive me, I don’t know what came over me.” Kai laughs, as messy tears flow freely down her cheeks, pulling Sloane’s body close to her own. She clings to her girlfriend as though her life depended on it, and in her heart, she felt as though her heart did depend on it.

“I’m sorry, I feel so selfish. It’s just..my double, Keegan, she said her name is Keegan, showed up in a car after I hoped that fence. I didn’t have time to hesitate or think and Damien wasn’t over the fence yet...and…” She lets out loud sniffle, as Sloane leans down to press her forehead against Kai. “And she said things that got to me.”

“Such as?” Sloane asks politely, moving to place her hands on either of Kai’s cheeks. Her long black hair falling over her hands as she moves her fingers over Kai’s skin. Brushing away the tears with her fingers softly, “It’s okay if you can’t, I know it must be hard to say if you’re feeling so down.”

“She said… that Eros could fool anyone. She threatened Nadia, Damien and his family, Hayden, and..and you.” Her face curls into a sob, holding onto Sloane like life support, her tears falling freely as Sloane can’t think of anything to say, awkwardly stroking her back with one hand the other resting on the back of her head holding her closely. “I can’t live with myself if anything happens to any of you. Especially you, I…” She trails off her hands shaking against Sloane’s firm body.

“And you don’t have.” Sloane whispers in her ear, “We are all here for you. We all carry the burden of Eros on our shoulders, you don’t have to brave it alone. Not when I’m here, I will always have your back… I care very deeply for you. I’ve never felt this way before about anyone.”

“I know it’s hard though, I can’t lose you, Sloane. You’ve been my everything and I’m not ready to lose you, not now… not ever.” Sloane smiles brightly in response to her, kissing the top of her head resting her cheek against her.

Sloane brushes the back of Kai’s head with her hand, smoothing down her hair that got messy because of the mattress, her chin on top of Kai’s head, holding her tightly in her arms, almost tighter than Kai’s grip. “You’ve helped me, remember?”

“I did?” Kai sniffles, her face nuzzling deeper into Sloane’s neck, letting the scent of Sloane’s skin fill her heart and chest with comfort and ease. Her hands gripping so tightly on the black fabric of Sloane’s t-shirt that she was fairly positive she was going to rip a hole into it.

“Of course you did, Kai.” Sloane recalls with a smile. “You keep me strong, you keep me going. I wouldn’t have survived this long without you. When I reach out at night for someone because I’m so scared it’s you I find, when I need someone to hold me and tell me everything will be okay, I find you.”

“You do..” Kai smiles, looking at the tears soaked into Sloane’s blouse, with a little blot of snot on the shirt. “I ruined your blouse.” She curls her fingers around the sleeve of her shirt before dabbing the cloth against the clothes, coming short of cleaning the blouse.

“My mommy taught me that a mixture of bleach and tide will take any stains out of any fabric, there’s a perfect ratio that you need to measure out correctly or it won’t work. It’s very property-based-”

“Sloane.”

“Sorry.” Sloane giggles. “Are you feeling better?”

“So much.” Kai laughs, “I’m sorry about all the theatrics. I know I have no right, I mean Damien was kidnapped...Hayden almost died and had to learn to be a robot, and-”

Sloane hushes her with a finger against her lips, before quickly moving her hand away looking at the floor as she bites on her lower lip thinking over her words. “Others traumas don’t invalidate your own, we all have our breaking points. You’re the reason we’re all still here, you deserved a moment to yourself.”

“Thank you, Sloane.” She whispers softly. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” Two bodies meld into one the feeling of Sloane’s love embracing her.

[vanishcd]

[[ So i’m gonna post this whole thing but I just. NEED to analyze the entire discussion between Morrell and Stiles in Battlefield. Because its such important character stuff besides being INCREDIBLY well-written.

Included are my thoughts on my Stiles and my perspectives on how he thinks, especially when it comes to how ADHD/anxiety makes you perceive things. Likes are appreciated but PLEASE ask to reblog since this feels very personal for me and my muse

Stiles: You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. It's called voluntary apnea. It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding. But then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's - it's actually kind of peaceful. 

So this whole thing starts off with his anxiety. His way of describing things in details with both feelings and facts that makes it incredibly visceral and real. You can feel yourself underwater, you can imagine that moment he’s talking about. The pain and then the relief. (Fear and pain. Big threads in some of his emotional beats. He also FOCUSES in on those details when he’s afraid, classic anxiety symptom.)

Morrell: Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments Stiles: I don't feel sorry for him.  Morrell: Can you feel sorry for the nine - year - old Matt who drowned?  Stiles: Just because a bunch of dumbasses dragged him into a pool when he couldn't swim doesn't really give him the right to go off killing them one by one. 

He has no sympathy for Matt. Not after what he’s done to everyone. Not for what Stiles perceives as a dumb, if awful, fluke and Matt’s personal offense/inability to get over it.

The punishment should fit the crime and his noting of "one by one" points out that Matt has been calculating this. For something ambiguous and one time, if traumatic. It's a conflict with Stiles' sense of what justice is. Matt also attacked him, his friends, Scott, his dad, and Melissa. That alone means Stiles can’t excuse, reason, forgive, or sympathize. But then--

Stiles: And by the way, my dad told me that they found a bunch of pictures of Allison on Matt's computer. And not just of her though. I mean, he photoshopped himself into these pictures. Stuff like them holding hands and kissing. You know, like he had built this whole fake relationship. So yeah, maybe drowning when he was nine years old was what sent him off the rails, but the dude was definitely riding the crazy train. 

here’s the thing. Despite having general/social anxiety and ADHD, Stiles isn't forgiving of mistakes/cruelty because of mental illness. Yes, even though he fully knows his own issues have caused shit. Even knowing it's a POWERFUL motivator. But he has a LOW opinion of someone who uses trauma/illness to lash out purely for revenge. Especially over something that as he said was the result of kids being stupid

Even without this, he would hate Matt simply for being a creepy af stalker, not only CREATING this delusion of him w Allison but ACTING ON IT. Anyone who pulls that shit is LOW. And it was toward one of his closest friends.

He also happens to be deflecting, talking about others instead of himself (which is of course the whole point of a counseling session). He’s not just rambling cause he’s angry/disgusted and has a tendency to. He’s JUSTIFYING himself through it, which means he’s on the defensive and doesn’t want to open up to Morrell.

Morrell: One positive thing came out of this, though. Right? Stiles: Yeah. Yeah, but I still feel like there's something wrong between [him and his dad]. I don't know. It's just like tension when we talk.

The first moment he opens up, maybe because the guilt of STILL not saying anything about the supernatural to his dad is TOO MUCH. It's one of the heaviest burdens he's carried. So even though Stilinski got his position as sheriff back, Stiles still feels like he's to blame.

Interesting thing to note is that the topic of his dad is the one thing he consistently opens up to people to. Showing vulnerability doesn't matter when it's his dads ANYTHING at stake. And he's ok showing that to Morrell both cause it's not focused on moving forward and his own feelings, but because it's actually something that he feels he needs help with. Because their relationship means too much.

The tension could also be alluding to the hallucination he had at Lydias party (despite the fact that he obviously doesn't TELL her about it) I can write a whole essay on that scene but the scene, real or not, clearly weighs on Stiles. And with anxiety, it's easy to fall into the mindset that your fears are real, they just aren't being SPOKEN. Even when you KNOW without a DOUBT that the person doesn't feel that way, it sticks in your mind and messes with your perception. Stiles is aware his perception could be skewed from stress.

Stiles: [Scott’s] got his own problems to deal with though: I don't think he's talked to Allison either. But that might be more her choice, you know. Her mom dying hit her pretty hard. But I guess it brought her and her dad closer. Jackson? Jackson hasn't really been himself lately. Actually the funny thing is, as of right now, Lydia is the one who seems the most normal. 

As Morrell is about to silently observe by asking about him, Stiles is once again deflecting the topic to everyone elses trauma and avoiding talking about how he feels. Just what he’s observed and his judgement about it. And his comments can be perceived as pretty neutral despite how much he cares for 3 of the 4 people who are going through hell with him.

Morrell: And what about you, Stiles? Feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night? Stiles: Why would you ask me that? Ah. Uh, no. I - I never actually play. But hey, since one of my teammates is dead and another one's missing, who knows, right? 

AGAIN he deflects. He knows she's digging for “im feeling anxious” and admittance that HE isn't ok. And not only denies it on reflex but then takes the leading part and uses that for the topic. Again he talks about others and uses dry sarcasm to make himself more comfortable.

Morrell: You mean, Isaac. One of the three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them, have you? Stiles: How come you're not taking any notes on this? Morrell: I do my notes after the session. Stiles: Your memory's that good? 

Deflect; and this time because she doesnt give up, he turns the topic to HER. Most people will let you ramble about others but when you start making observations about THEM, particularly what they’re doing at the moment or their professionalism, they get defensive. Even if its a word or two, it’s enough to give him an “advantage”. 

And it’s, as becomes the ultimate point, him fishing for time.

Morrell: How about we get back to you? Stiles? Stiles: --I'm fine. Yeah, aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible's about to happen.

And there's the moment he finally breaks. He knows she's not gonna let him go, she's directly observing his anxiety. And there's a slight pause before she says his name. For the first time, shes directly giving him permission to speak, instead of asking prying questions. He could deny it. And he does, but in the obvious way that's just a lead in to his feelings.

He's at a point in the conversation and the situation that he doesn't have any other option. And even though his tone is harsh, it's honest. Because he's scared and suddenly realizes they covered everyone, and no one is left to help.

Morrell: It's called hyper - vigilance, the persistent feeling of being under threat. Stiles: But it's not just a feeling, though. It's - it's like it's a panic attack. You know, like I can't even breathe. Morrell: Like you're drowning? Stiles: Yeah. Morrell: So if you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in? Stiles: You do anyway. It's a reflex. Morrell: But if you hold off until that reflex kicks in, you have more time, right? Stiles: Not much time. Morrell: But more time to fight your way to the surface? Stiles: I guess.

He has a way with words. He's been rambling this whole time. But his description of a panic attack is the last vivid bit for several lines. Trying to get across his desperation.

Then he goes to simple answers. "Yeah" and "I guess" because when he feels so lost, he gets quiet.

Stiles is very pragmatic AND emotional. He thinks with both but rationalizes. "It's a reflex" and "not much time" is his logical side kicking in, but in that way it's counterproductive because anxiety. You search for an answer, a relief from your fear, and when it's GIVEN, you don't quite know what to do with it. So you rationalize your own helplessness because you've fallen into that pattern of logical thinking combined with fear. That's what makes an anxious mind spin out.

Morrell: More time to be rescued? Stiles: More time to be in agonizing pain. I mean, did you forget about the part where you feel like your head's exploding? Morrell: If it's about survival, isn't a little agony worth it?  Stiles: But what if it just gets worse? What if it's agony now and then - and it's just hell later on?

Stiles fears pain. And I think it's not the pain specifically, it's the idea of it being the last thing, an extended thing. Emotional or physical (who wouldn’t?) And then he rationalizes with facts again to prove his point. This is the crux of MANY anxieties. That you aren't strong enough to get through, that it won't end, that there's no hope.

Morrell is having none of it. She won't let him give up on HOPE.

Morrell: Then think about something Winston Churchill once said - "If you're going through hell, keep going."

Know why that got through to him? Because it's simple and factual and makes him realize--it's the only thing you CAN do. It's not exactly hope for him but determination. Will to keep going for a little longer

And the truth is, that's all you CAN do in some horrible situations. You feel hopeless, useless. But to quote another favorite tv show "believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing."

Hope, hope for hope, will get you through. It can be more painful than anything in the world, but it's also the ONE THING that lets you get thought when EVERYTHING ELSE has failed.

And as Morrell says, if you can survive, isn't it worth it?

[nihilismdan]

hey 🖤 finished your fic last night. cried my heart and eyes out as it hit pretty hard and close to home. i wasn’t sure to tell you but i saw your last reblog tags so here we are. i lost my childhood friend 4 years ago. it was his first year at the army-living his dream- and it was my 2nd year at uni when it happened. we thought we were all good that year except he came to home unexpectedly for a week bc apparently he was dealing with crippling depression so they send him home for a quick rest +

+ + all of us was so shocked that he was going through this bc he was the strongest at our perky little group. that week that he supposed to get his mind together, never ended in our heads. we spent those few days swimming in the middle of the night and drinking and eating the foods he missed when he was at the mountains. like the old days. then that night happened that i repressed for months to remember the details of it. i made him a coffee, his last one in this fucking meaningless timeline +

+ it was really late and he said goodbye to me and my cousin( one of his best friends too) and he said he was going to straight to home, said that he was so sleepy already, i regret that i let him go that moment. he didn’t go home, we learned in the morning. he wanted to see his friend who is in town, and grab a drink, he didn’t take his car he took his motorcycle. i still hate that he chose the motorcycle. he couldn’t meet his friend, he crashed into a car on his way, no one knows how it happened +

+  i still feel guilty. i’m so angry at myself. at him. we will never know how it happened, maybe he drove into the car because he wanted to die maybe it was all a fucking meaningless accident i will never know and i feel so stupid. i was so blind i couldn’t saw his aching mind. he was in pain and we didn’t notice. we didn’t help him, save him. i never tell these to anyone, never write this down. not even in my language. sorry for this btw i just wanted to pour my heart like your dan in the story

+ (this is the last one) i never get help for my trauma. i think i never healed because of that. i don’t know you, i don’t know if you lost someone, but damn. you have emphaty. you see things and you feel them and you sew them in your stories. that amazes me. i think i’m going to get help. i’m sick of trying to heal my wounds by covering them by myself. that doesn’t help at all. i have to share my pain, my guilt, my anger. i don’t know how i keep up with life. i’m living but is this living?

i’m going to answer under readmore bc it’s long 

(tw // suicide mention)

i’m going to tell you a story about one of my friends i had when i was thirteen, she was beautiful, she wrote amazing poetry, her prose was like pretty fucking amazing given how old we were. we weren’t friends right away, but that was okay, i was pretty determined to be her friend (lol), and eventually it happened naturally, we started to tell things to each other, things were good between us. i think the reason why we were such good friends was because we knew that we could talk to each other about things that was going on in our life, she didn’t have a great family life, and her childhood friend committed suicide, everyone was kind of worried for my friend because they were afraid that she was going to commit suicide too. i tried to be there for her more–but i was only thirteen. (she was a couple years older than me), i didn’t understand what she was truly going through because there are just some things that we don’t know when it comes to the people around us–even the people that we love. it’s not our obligation to feel this way, but we can’t help it. we want to help the people that are in our lives, but depression is an ugly, ugly thing that can be hidden in plain sight. we don’t always see it, and it fucking sucks. my friend committed suicide despite having so much help and loving friends. because she had sooo many friends that loved her. but sometimes that’s just not enough. and i’m so, so sorry that you had to go through that. i think you’re incredibly strong and that guilt feeling??? its awful. because it stays with you and it leaves its mark. i felt incredibly guilty when my friend died, i had to hear that she died online when her mom posted about it. the thing was? i was camping. i didn’t have service (because i was 13 and the cell phone i did have wasn’t even really mine i just used it if i was going somewhere and my parents needed to contact me), i remember my last conversation with her was me telling her that i was going camping and that i’d see her when i got back.

i think the best thing that i can tell you is that, he knew that you loved him, and that you cared for him and always wanted the best for him. regardless of how he died and if it was intentional–i hope you find peace in knowing that he knew that. and it’s okay to feel angry about it. i was angry about it. sometimes i still get angry about it, and i get angry about what happened at my school, i get angry about the other things that have happened in my life, it’s okay to feel angry about it because it fucking sucks. it fucking sucks and it never should have happened. you’re not stupid or blind, you just didn’t know. you can’t put that on yourself. when i would talk to my therapist about my guilt she would always have to remind me, ‘its not your fault. you were not in control of that situation. and even if you were it still wouldn’t be your fault.’ and its hard to tell yourself that it wasn’t your fault. but it wasn’t. 

one of the things that helped me cope was remembering the good stuff. because so often i find myself focusing on the negative and just kind of reopening that old wound because it’s so much easier to live in the guilt and live in the hurt because in a weird way its comfort–its what you know best, but i’ve been (still) trying to remember the good things about a shitty situation. like: she was so good at poetry. she for some reason loved white polo button down shirts, she loved putting on just eyeliner and pink lipstick, she really loved pizza, her favourite kind of skirts were checkered.

and yeah–its superficial stuff about a person, but those things are what make up a person, it was part of who they were, and that’s how i try to remember her. sorry this is so long i guess i just wanted you to know that i get it, and i’m sorry that it happened, and i’m sorry that you’re living with this guilt, and i hope that you find peace with the situation–and above all find peace with yourself soon. you deserve that. thank you for telling me and if you ever want to talk more you can definitely private message me and i’ll answer. i hope you’re doing good.

Edit since i didn’t see your last message: im really glad that you’re getting help. its really hard asking for help and talking about the things that are really difficult but im proud of you. and i hope that everything works out for you. my message above still stands--if you want to talk about it more, im always available. (: have a good night/day wherever you are!

[sunriseskog]

Steel Part 6- Auston Matthews

Part 1 || Part 2 ||Part 3 || Part 4||Part 5

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 2283

Notes: major props to the anon that gave me the idea for where to go with this!! im so so unbelievably sorry that this was so late!! once stuff slows down with school uploads WILL be regular, im sorry :(((

The hotel was nearly 45 minutes away from the airport— which explained the complimentary shuttle— but after not being able to sleep for the entirety of the second leg of the flight, you were absolutely exhausted. Upon entering the van, you roughly shoved your backpack into the empty seat between yourself and Auston. As much as your heart was screaming for you to reach out for him, to feel him again, to touch him again after so long, you vowed to yourself that this would be the closest the two of you would come to each other for the rest of your lives, no matter what it took. You knew that you wouldn’t be strong enough to resist him forever, hell, you were barely strong enough to resist him right now, but that didn’t mean that anyone else had to catch wind of how hard of a time you were having. This was your battle to fight, and you’d save yourself and your heart this time if it was the last thing you did. Before anything could be said, you pulled your headphones out of the side of your bag and pushed them into your ears as you felt the driver slam the trunk closed, having finished loading up your bags. Claire shot you a sad smile through the rearview mirror, shooting you a subtle thumbs up at the sight of your headphones, glad that you were taking preemptive measures to protect yourself from whatever other bullshit the group surrounding you could potentially hit you with. She had seen how hurt you were by Steph’s manipulative tactics, and after that betrayal, coupled with the resurfacing trauma surrounding Auston and everything that had been going on at home before you had left for vacation, neither of you were sure how much more you could take.

The gentle rocking of the car coupled with the music flowing through your earbuds had never failed to lull you to sleep, and this time was no exception. This time, however, instead of waking to the same calming sensations, you were jostled by the rough swerving of the car, which sent you plummeting towards the floor of the van.

Seeing you shut yourself off from him so abruptly had hurt. Seeing the woman that he had been so hopelessly in love with disappear completely had destroyed him, but to see you have to put up physical barriers just to protect yourself from him had somehow intensified that all-consuming and never-ending hatred he had for himself. The hatred he had for what he had done to you. It had punctured him in a part of his heart that he wasn’t even aware was capable of breaking more than it had. He had been sure that he had nothing left to give. No more pain to feel, no more damage to endure… but he had also thought that before he had stepped on the plane. The plane ride had been torturous, and the drive showed no signs of being any different He was still unable to tear his eyes off of the side of your face, desperate to take in as much as you would allow. The image of your face had long since been burned into the back of his brain, every memory clutched desperately in the throws of his consciousness, each moment replaying over and over again every waking moment of every day since you had left, but for some reason he was still incapable of stopping himself from trying desolately to commit every new discrepancy in your appearance to his memory. He noticed the minuscule new scar above your left brow bone and the prominence of your cheekbones. The bags under your eyes were accentuated by how much your face had thinned. She wasn’t eating again, he thought. This was his fault. He felt the voice return to his head before he heard it, telling him how badly he had fucked up, how this was all his fault, how he had done this to you, how he had ruined his own life…how he had ruined you. Auston’s heart was somehow even heavier than it had been after the bathroom incident on the plane. It was pressing so intensely against the back of his lungs that he felt like it was going to burst through his skin any moment now. His throat was thick with guilt and his lungs were clogged with the tears that he was forcing himself to hold back. He saw your eyes begin to slip shut less than ten minutes into the drive, subtly using his elbow to push your bag up against your side in an attempt to prevent you from leaving uncomfortably against the window like he knew you had a habit of doing. His efforts seemed to have more of an effect than he intended, as you slumped over and leaned your head against the top of your bag, mere inches from where his shoulder was pressed against the other side of it. His fingers twitched and he felt an overwhelming physical pull to reach out and touch you, to trace his finger over your cheek, to brush away the hair that had fallen across your face, to prove to himself that you were really in front of him. His internal battle lasted longer than he had realized, looking up as the van began to approach the resort. Upon passing the gates, the van slammed harshly on its brakes, honking at the presumably inebriated residents that had swerved in front of the vehicle. Auston saw you move out of the corner of his eye, instinctively throwing his arm out in front of you, not noticing the fact that his phone had been flung across the floor from the movement. Your eyes shot open as your body fell forward, your hand unconsciously wrapping around the forearm covering your torso to stabilize yourself. In that moment, it felt like every time you had felt his touch, and every moment you had gone without it, hit you full force. Your eyes widened and you were still struggling to breathe as the van pulled under the awning of the entrance to the resort. As desperate as he was to prolong the contact for as long as possible, he knew that that wasn’t what you wanted. He ripped his arm from your grip once he was sure you were okay, pointedly avoiding eye contact as he roughly grabbed his suitcase from the floor and practically threw himself out of the van, not bothering to lean the seat up for Mitch or Steph. You were still in shock from the overwhelming sensation of having his arm around you again, even though it had only been for a few moments. You slowly climbed out of the car, your hands shaking slightly as you tried desperately to recover from the events that had transpired moments before.

As you moved to close the door, you caught sight of Auston’s phone, you assumed it had gone flying after he had caught you but when you looked up to return it to him you noticed that the entire group had disappeared. With how often you had forced yourself not to think about Auston, you had never taken into consideration how he may have been affected by everything that went down. You had assumed that he was thoroughly enjoying his prime years as the NHL's most eligible bachelor, but what you had seen so far on the trip seemed to disprove that entirely. Your attention was diverted by the driver insistently placing the handle of your suitcase into your hand as Claire began to lead you to the reception desk to retrieve your room keys.

It had been almost half an hour before you were able to lie down in bed, retrieving the phone from where you had shoved it into your pocket in your haste to check in. You took a deep breath, hoping to prepare yourself for whatever awaited you once you looked at the phone. You had deleted all of the Leafs’ numbers the moment you left Toronto, so it wasn’t exactly an option to call Mitch or Steph on your phone to inform them of the mishap. You were positive that it was an invasion of his privacy, which only strengthened your hesitation, but it honestly hadn’t been that long since you assumed that there was no need for privacy between the two of you. Besides, you didn’t care anymore. There was nothing that you would see on there that would actually change anything. You and Auston were over. And that wasn’t going to change.

After giving yourself a will-strengthening pep talk, you picked the phone up, the screen illuminating your face at the motion. The first thing that caught your eye was that you were still his background, but that was only the first of many blasts from the past that bombarded you the moment you caught sight of the screen. It was the same picture that had been his background since about a month into your official relationship, a candid picture of your side profile that he had snapped a few moments after you had woken up next to him for the first time. You wondered if the girl he had been seeing was as heartbroken as you were when you saw that photo.

Unable to look at the manifestation of the happiness you and Auston had had together, your eyes moved to the notification at the top of his screen. It looked to be a reminder of sorts, but for the life of you, you couldn’t determine what it was of. The text read “365 days, fuck-up.” Who is he calling a fuck-up? You thought. Is he talking to himself? You felt your eyebrows furrow in confusion as well as frustration at the fact that he would think it was okay to talk to himself that way. You knew how hard he was on himself, and how much weight those words carried, and you knew that there was no way that had improved since you had left. You shook your head, removing yourself from the dangerous path your mind had begun to lead you down. You placed your thumb on the home button, biting your lip as the passcode screen appeared. You were relieved to no longer be assaulted by the memories that accompanied that photo, but now you were at an entirely different obstacle: figuring out his password. His birthday was unsuccessful, as was Ema’s and the day he was drafted to Toronto and your own birthday. You were beginning to lose hope, resigned to just turn it in to the concierge desk and hope for the best, before you remembered the reminder that had occupied his lock screen. 365 days ago, that would be— holy shit.

Shades of black began to enter the corners of your vision before you could fully process what was happening. One year ago. You… you had left Toronto one year ago. It was exactly one year ago. And…and Auston had remembered— no— reminded himself of that day, hurt himself because of that day. You swiped down from the top of the screen, your panic only intensifying as you scrolled through all of the notifications, the screen flooding 364, 363, 362… it seemed to go on forever. Your breathing became more and more rapid and you lost sight of your original intention as you thought about how awful it must have been for him. Living in that house alone, you leaving so suddenly and so completely, him tearing himself apart every time he looked at his phone.

You couldn’t help but feel like it was your fault. The guilt started forcing its way up your throat as your throat began to burn and you began to choke at the bile sitting at the base of your esophagus. You still weren’t seeing clearly, and the weight on your chest was preventing you from getting the air that you needed to push off the panic that was beginning to consume you.

The frantic vibrating of the phone in question was able to push you to the edge of consciousness, temporarily forcing away the intense panic attack that you knew you were going to have to face eventually. The name Mitch Marner flashed across the top of the screen, a goofy picture that you recognized had been taken in your— Auston’s living room covering the seemingly unending countdown that had come to consume your mind.

You took advantage of the lapse in your brain, inhaling deeply to force yourself to calm down enough to actually answer the phone call. Once you had steeled yourself, pushing the remnants of your panic attack back below the surface, you hit Accept and moved the phone up to your ear, preparing yourself for the painful awkward interaction you were about to have to have with Mitch.

“Hello?” The voice on the other side of the line questioned. You were plunged immediately back into the depths of the panic attack that you thought you had freed yourself from moments ago. It wasn’t Mitch. Any memories that had been brought back by seeing him, or being near him, or touching him, or discovering what you had seen on his phone were intensified immediately. The voice that had haunted your worst nightmares and your most longing daydreams for the past year seemed to assault all of your senses. He had only said one word, but you could practically feel yourself being swaddled by the gravel in his voice and the signature crack in his voice. It wasn’t Mitch. It was him. It was Auston.

Notes: this is very bad and im aware of that but im too exahsuted to try to fix it so im sorry lmao

[altaieu]

please refrain from reb/0gging

as im watching the dark skies shift to blues, the sun is rising on a household with one less kitten in it today. i can see no stars out.

amber died yesterday.

we took her home on friday, neck tube in and accompanied by medicine, after a 9 day stay in the hospital. we were going to try our hardest to help her get get better. we’d been making plans the entire time what we’d do with her when she was healthy again; that we’d definitely let them out next more next summer and make certain the garden had no places for pests, that i’d play with them even more than i did now, that we’d get them all health insurance. we bought her the cat bed we’d been lingering over at the store to make sure she had a very comfy spot to recover in. i’d woken up late on friday but i helped my sister with feeding her, giving her medicine. i was prepared to stay up all day saturday to help.

but she hadn’t closed here eyes since she’d come home, and what my sister thought was her sleeping - nictitating membranes half closed, paws twitching like she was dreaming - maybe have been a seizure in retrospect. though she took everything well, at 7 am she was having breathing problems. she was laying sideways on the floor with her little tongue sticking out, eyes half closed. we woke everyone up. we rushed her back to the hospital immediately. we talked about putting her down, and i’m sad we didn’t in retrospect, but we had never lost a cat before and we were so hopeful she could still turn around - twice while she was at the hospital she’d perked up and looked for all intents and purposes that she was recovering. she was such a strong, healthy cat before all this happened, it was hard to think she could just go like that, but as it happened it was just complication after complication that hit her. so we held off to give her the weekend, said if she didn’t look better, we’d be back to sign the papers.

it was not even 5 hours after we’d left her there that we got the call, around 1:30 pm. she’d nosedived suddenly and they tried to resuscitate her to no success - something my sister had said yes to out of reflex, but was going to phone tomorrow to say not to do, to just let her go. we went back and saw her little body. my sister cradled her in her arms, and every time she shifted in her seat amber’s fuzzy ears swayed just a bit and i kept expecting her to shake it off, wake up, blink up at us with those big, warm, adoring eyes she always had. her head was as cold as the wind outside when i pet her and i feel as if the chill hasn’t left my hand.

now my brain keeps playing that still face against those late night/early morning memories of her jumping up on my bed and my desk, smiling at me with that big wide happy mouth, bumping her head against mine and against the curtain until i’d open it and she could look out and she’d wiggle her big fluffy butt right between me and my monitor. her tail would always be straight up as she watched the shifting shadows beyond the glass and she purred like an orchestra. then she’d sit on my lap and make the cutest face at me, and i’d pet her a little, but because she always seemed to do this when i was absorbed in writing or art i’d pat her butt until she got annoyed and leapt off, skittering out of my room and down the stairs with the noise of a horse. i’d always felt a little guilty after that, and last time, in damn november, i’d made the promise to myself that next time she came to visit i’d let her sit on me and cuddle up as long as she wanted. it’s been barely 15 hours and already i miss seeing that fuzzy face pop up from behind my desk, that fluffy butt jogging out of my room. amber, i’m so sorry i booted you away when you were lonely in the mornings and just wanted to give and receive love from me.

there’s so many things i wish we did in retrospect (in retrospect, in retrospect). i wish i had pushed harder for a vet appointment when i first saw her so listless, but i always differ to my sister and she said she had no money for it. i wish we’d gotten all our cats health insurance so it wouldn’t have been as big of a cost as it was, that we wouldn’t have been so hesitant about a vet appointment in the first place. i wish i had convinced my sis to put her down when we were there in the mornning so she could have passed away in the arms of someone she loved surrounded by people she cared about instead of laying her head against the side of a small metal cage because we were too scared to let go of her. i’m so sorry amber, we did you so wrong.

when we were there in the morning a man came in after us, an old old man who looked to be in his eighties or so. he was there about a cremation for his african grey parrot who’d passed away the night before. he had a south african accent, and i heard him talking about how he’d been with the bird for forty seven years, that he’d found it abandoned by someone else. i saw him and an old woman bawling in the parking lot afterwards. looking back i should have taken it as an omen.

when we got back to the house the first time, around 11:30 in the morning, the cats were going crazy. all three were trying to get into my room. i wanted nora to stay out so she could comfort my sister, but maggie stood on my desk for 15 minutes staring with that kitty love face and headbutting me before she fell asleep on the bed by my feet. sassy, meanwhile, was absolutely losing it, running around the house and yelling with her unique, loud “mryow” sounding vocalization, eyes wide. should have taken it as an omen.

its weird to wake up at 3 am today to three cats. a time in the morning when i know amber would’ve come to visit, given her health back. its weird to walk down and not see her stretch her big fuzzy yellow belly into a croissant shape. i miss running around the house with the knotted shoelace and having her run after me at top speed, catching it and then running along with me as its in her mouth. i miss her closing eyes as you brushed her mane. i miss that little orange spot she wore on her head like a jewel.

i don’t think i can do anything downstairs without getting choked up about how she’d lie across my legs as i did anything. i don’t think i can get back to playing spyro or watching xfiles since she was there like that the whole time for those. i don’t think i can pick up arkham knight or aco again since i’d sit out in the middle of the floor for those and she’d come up behind me and bump my back, sit on my blanket, lay across one of my legs as i played.

i worry about my sister who cannot even lie in her bed without remembering amber there, sleeping on a pillow beside her, hugging her with all her legs. that cat got her through an abusive relationship and countless depressive episodes and the inherent trauma of being trans in a world that really doesn’t want you to live.

but like whether she’s in kitty heaven as my parents would prefer to think, or she’s my sister’s little spirit guardian now, or if there’s a kitten born on this day that might cross our paths again and bump our legs and look up, i hope she’s doing good. she deserves that at least, she was the sweetest cat i ever met and she should have got more than we could give her.

i feel bad for the hospital staff too. in her stay there she charmed everyone who crossed her path and they were all rooting so hard for her to pull through. one of the vets had her out in her office walking around for exercise on one of the days she was very perky, seemingly recovering. the one we interacted with yesterday was too kind, waiving the fees for the resuscitation attempts and refunding us the 700 we put down for the next few days of care that wouldn’t come to pass. i mean, we’d already dropped 9k on her and were fully prepared to spend 1k more for that fighting chance of a weekend - and of all the things we regret that is not one of them, even if i know a thousand people who’d call us fucking idiots for it. no cent spent trying to keep her alive was a waste. between all of us, even if we had to go into debt, it was the least we could do. we put aside those hopeful dreams of actually owning a house for her, and all my daydreams of introducing them to the new place.

but that 9k could have been reduced to 4.5k (over the 8 years, putting into it each month) if we’d had health insurance on her. as much as that is, it’s tiny compared to what we just spent and would have given us the reassurance to take her to the vet the moment she got sick instead of worrying about money. please, if you have pets you care about, get them health insurance. here it’s 50 a month but that is nothing compared to the cost of vet bills even for routine checkups which it will cover 90% of, and it will give you the peace of mind that you can go to the vet whenever. the moment a pet starts acting unusual you should take them. even if its nothing, its better safe than sorry. complications can hit so fast and pile up.

i’ll be watching the other cats much more closely after this and - after i have my energy back, hopefully - i’ll follow through on that promise and pay them even more attention and get them even more toys. we’re gping to get them health insurance in january and we’re gonna spent the spring cleaning up the backyard to make it safer for the cats, just in case. when they get into the backyard in the summer, oh, its gonna be real fuckin strange not to see amber’s cute sandy coloured face under the lilac tree by the little pond. i still have photos of her from last summer and remember vividly making myself stupid in the grass to get those upward shots of her.

goodnight little lion. you had all the colours of the desert in you and all the love of the sweetest little earth angel, eager to share it. i wish we could have given you so many more years of care, eight was not enough and eleven is much too young for a kitty to go, but i hope you are warm and basking in sunlight wherever you are.

i could see no stars out until i looked behind the house. there, despite the heavy cloud cover on this overcast day, there is a single star shining brighter than i’ve ever seen before, right above us, right at the door.

[juliivn-blog]

[ bill skarsgård, cismale, he/him, 29 ] BRAIN STEW by GREEN DAY? whenever i hear that song, it reminds me of JULIAN NILSSON. maybe because they’re SELF-RELIANT but also CAVALIER. they’ve been living at mulberry apartments since SEPTEMBER of 2018 in APARTMENT 203 and have 1 ROOMMATE. [ lainie, she/her, 21+, cst ]

hello bitches it me ( lainie ) back at it again !! this time bringing u the anti adrian and pls be wary bc there are a lot of sensitive topics down below ( tws for major drug use, drug addiction, death, grief, shitty parenting, neglect, abandonment?? kind of idk better safe than sorry ) also u can find a tl;dr at the bottom since it’s literally SO LONG

BACKGROUND

so bear with me bc his background info is kind of Long!! his mom and dad are from just outside of st louis, missouri. his mom came from a pretty wealthy family and she was just like tryna be ~rebellious in her young adult years by dating julian’s dad (who came from a super trashy family and had a Bad Boy Rep). when she was 19 and he was 22 she got pregnant ( with julian ) and her fam was like get rid of that baby or ur gone !! but they were “““madly in love””” and she was on her rebellious shit so they literally eloped to the city ( st louis ) and got an apartment together and had julian but never actually got married bc they were too cool ( read: irresponsible ) for that. ofc this ended up being rly miserable bc she was used to living the rich life and now her family had disowned her, and suddenly she was starting to realize this dude she had a kid with was kind of a deadbeat party boy with no interest in having a family, not to mention she started realizing like?? i don’t actually want a kid this is a lot of work?? so like julian’s childhood years were a lot of him having to learn to take care of himself and not having anyone to depend on most of the time. and that’s not to say they didn’t both care abt him on some level bc there were definitely times they paid attention to him and gave him a birthday party or two but for the most part he was on his own

his secret favorite memory is flying a kite with his dad when he was 4 but u would be more likely to win the lottery than get him talking abt that

fast forward 5 years and finally julian’s dad, now in his late 20s and getting antsy, peaces the fuck out to los angeles to live his best party boy life. baby julian is very upset bc even tho his dad doesnt pay a lot of attention to him he like idolizes him. julian’s mom is saltier than EVER about having to take care of a kid but she doesn’t wanna go to LA ( especially for this asshole she doesn’t even like anymore ) and her parents won’t have anything to do with her or her illegitimate child so the NEXT 5 years are a lot of moving around from shitty apartment to shitty apartment and job to job by themselves. his dad would now and then send weird postcards and letters and pictures and stuff from cali so he had like a vague idea of the fact that his dad was living his own life somewhere that looked super wild, and when he was 11 years old he sent a letter back asking if he could come live with him. his dad contacts his mom, there’s a bunch of fighting, but in the end julian did indeed get to go live with his dad in los angeles, mostly bc his mom just didn’t give a fuck anymore and was lowkey like…u know what fine take him i can have my life back

obviously his dad does not know how to be a dad !!! he kind of thought of julian as his little like…..sidekick like he just thought having this 11 year old kid around was hilarious. so julian went to LA and was living with his dad and his dad’s friends in a relatively nice apartment but like it’s always filled with people doing drugs and having sex and it’s just. not child friendly at all. so that’s how julian was introduced to weed at the ripe young age of 11!!! from there on out he was like a big time weed and cigarette smoker, was very early having sex and trying other drugs, and by the time he graduated high school he was already hardcore doing coke

so julian like kind of wanted to go to college bc some part of him did crave normalcy, but he was way too far up his own ass to get his shit together for that !! plus like….he didn’t rly have good role models. so his first year after high school instead of getting on a good path for his future he decided living his best life would include moving into an apartment with his cokehead best friend. it was around that time that julian met his first boyfriend. he was already totally aware he was bi, had slept with boys in high school, but this was the first time he rly fell in love with a guy. he was like……….head! over! heels! for this boy. julian met him at a club and he was like sort of soft and relatively innocent until they started dating and julian got him smoking weed and then snorting coke

this next part is very triggering so please read with caution !! when he was 23, julian tried heroin for the first time. for about 6 months it gradually got really bad, his life started spiraling, and his bf was like….becoming unable to deal with it, especially bc while julian was getting worse his bf was kind of trying to move in the opposite direction and get off the coke and get his life back together. there was a lot of fighting, but his bf kept not actually making the move to end things bc he loved julian and was just like hoping something would turn around. one night, however, in a moment of weakness, he let julian talk him into trying heroin with him. it was kind of an “i promise i’ll get clean if u try it with me this one time” thing. being in and out of consciousness and not really aware of what was going on, he didn’t notice that his bf was overdosing and he ended up dying simply bc the heroin was too much for his body and he stopped breathing. julian didn’t notice until the morning when he woke up, and obviously that was by far the most traumatic thing that’s ever happened to him and left some deep ass emotional scars

so following this, he actually did check himself into rehab. he was there for 3 months, got completely clean, but he only managed to stay that way for two weeks before he was first snorting heroin again and then back to shooting up and selling drugs

it was about 2 yrs later when he was 26 that he met his next bf while he was doing a deal at some seedy bar outside of town. they quickly fell into a completely unanticipated relationship–notably, julian’s first since his boyfriend’s death. in spite of that trauma and feeling guilty even as he did it, he started introducing this boyfriend to drugs. in his mind, it was kind of a thing where he fell in love really fast and really hard out of nowhere and he saw this sad little thing with no place to go and drugs are the only thing he’s ever known himself, so it was very natural to be like “here try this it helps” and also naively convincing himself he’d never let what happened before happen again

so 3 years later they’re living together and completely broke, living mostly off the money julian makes selling drugs and whatever else they can scrape up, when his bf decides he wants to do a road trip across the country. julian’s very impulsive, doesn’t really give a shit about anything in LA anyway, and to top it off has a hard time saying no to him. SO a road trip it is !! they make it all the way across the country before finally using up the last of their money and realizing they don’t have enough to get back

they stopped in north carolina for a while while julian saved up enough cash for them to at least get somewhere they liked better, which is how they wound up in baltimore !!

here their jeep completely broke down and julian sold it so that the money from that plus the money he made selling drugs they could put toward a deposit on an apartment

it’s in their heads to get back to la eventually, but baltimore is kind of their ~scene so julian’s in no hurry. he’s selling drugs again but they use a lot of what he’s supposed to sell so......they’re not going anywhere any time soon anyway ytseugukhej

PERSONALITY

so now that his lengthy as fuck background is over with………julian is an extremely EXTREMELY dry sarcastic person. the guilt over his bf has made him a hell of a lot worse, like his sense of humor is so so much darker than it was before that happened, but he’s honestly just a rly sarcastic person to begin with. he has some softness inside especially for people he rly cares abt, but you will not catch julian being sentimental or taking literally anything seriously unless you’ve managed to seriously worm your way into his heart

he’s not like a GRUMP tho at all he just….doesn’t take things seriously. he’s literally the embodiment of every bart simpson meme

“whatever my dude” is his aesthetic

he’s very careful about his drug dealing, he won’t go around talking about it or anything, he does it all under the radar as much as he can and especially having done it for so long now and having experienced a lot of traumatic crap, he’s pretty good at what he does and he won’t fuck with people he doesn’t trust

even when it’s warm it’s not totally unlikely to see him in long sleeves bc he has really bad track marks all over his arms from shooting up so much, especially in the early days when he was really bad at it

he absolutely will not talk about his past and if anything even close to it comes up in conversation he will skate right over that so qUICK ur head will spin

i think that’s IT FOR NOW if u made it this far i commend ur effort and attention span. im gna list some plots n stuff below ( beyond the song connections ) and hit me uP for some angst bc ya girl is here for the drama as usual

CONNECTION IDEAS

u can find song connections HERE

any and all drug related things !! people who buy from him ( especially weed, he’s a lot more lenient about to whom he sells weed as opposed to other stuff ), people he introduces to drugs, friends he actually does drugs with

he’s very dry and enigmatic but he’s also quite social so seriously give me friends for him. he’s high a LOT but not always and he likes being out doing stuff

definitely somebody or somebodies who don’t trust him and his drug addict bart simpson vibe please please give me people who don’t like him

along that same vein it takes a lot to get julian worked up and in fight mode bc he prefers to just let things roll off his shoulders but it would def be fun to have someone who gets him to that point

also somebody who?? maybe thinks they can “fix” him and genuinely does their best to try and persuade him to change his life and that it’s not too late to turn everything around ( this is basically the song connection medicine by daughter )

if ur muse is randomly from st louis missouri????? hit me up with a past connection from way back in julian’s childhood

also someone he went to high school with in LA if they’re from LA. this person would probably not be surprised at the way julian turned out ystefygdjhs

AND TL;DR BECAUSE THIS IS SO LONG

a drug addict and dealer who learned to take care of himself from an early age because of neglectful parents. got a boyfriend addicted to drugs and lost him to an overdose when he was in his early twenties, went to rehab, relapsed, met another bf years later with whom he decided to road trip across the country and got stuck in baltimore. dry, sarcastic, kind of a douche, epitome of every bart simpson meme, walking tragedy. 

[yeoldontknow]

Ere

Author’s Note: happy christmas @yeol-stole-my-soul <3 i adore you so much and am so thankful i get to call you a soul sister <3 i hope you enjoy this gift as im pretty sure it checks some of your boxes~~ Pairing: Jimin x Reader (oc; female) Summary: After a long night of surgery, you come home to find Jimin waiting for you. You find comfort in him as you remember the night you met. Genre: AU; fluff; angst; drama Rating: PG-13 Warnings: some depictions and descriptions of blood; references to car accidents Word Count: 2,373

When you get home, your hands are shaking. This is not the tremor of anxiousness nor is it the tremor of regret or even anticipation, rather it is the quiver and quake of exhausted precision. All day you have held and nurtured bodies, made cuts into their skin and sewn their organs back together without so much as a furrowed brow. Even now, you can still feel them, the wet softness of life cradled between your fingers, leaving permanent stains on your empathy.

But now, now with the cool metal of the doorknob beneath your palm, you can shed the skin of your surgeon’s gloves and simply be you.

This you is tired, frowning at the ache in your back and the odd way you seem to have become numb to the tension in your toes. Walking feels complicated, heavy and uneven steps carrying you to your door with little thought behind the action. There's a growl in your stomach, the kind that reminds you your last meal was a black coffee and, as you push through your door, you realize through the fog of your mind that tepid drink was more than nine hours ago. You'd guzzled it, running to another operating room, and even when you focus on the memory you cannot remember the taste. Perhaps, you think, it is for the best.

With a heavy sigh, you drop your keys and bag on the counter, lowering your chin to your chest as you gather the strength to walk to your bedroom. Around you, the Christmas fairy lights glow like fireflies, signs and symbols of comfort and safety. He’s left the lights on for you, welcoming you home without welcoming you at all, and your chest clenches with ardor.

Glancing at the clock on the microwave, you frown. 3:00AM. All of you wants to be in your bed, pressed against the warmth of Jimin’s bare skin with his mouth at your shoulder. But the couch is closer, you think, and comfortable enough to be a cloud. The couch requires less motion and movement, less steps and less gathering of the strength you gave to strangers.

Contemplating the merits of the couch, of your legs no longer having to brace for everything and nothing at all, your vision starts to fade and your mind wanders. Focusing on the tree, you hear Jimin’s laugh as you decorated in a rush, ornaments placed haphazardly on branches and tinsel messily wrapped in irregular circles. You’d only had a few hours before your next shift, but Jimin ensured it felt like days, weeks worth of holiday cheer flooding your veins simply because his laugh cascaded over your skin, warm like cinnamon.

The memory quickly gets tainted with scalpel slices and measurements of drugs, sharp needles and cheeks wet with sweat or tears or, sometimes, both. Everything bleeds when cut hard enough, everything lives and dies, and you think briefly on how the smell of pine will soon fade from your house, even your own tree caught in a perpetual state of decay.

Grim, you think. Grim and grim, no room for seasonal happiness if you’re too worn and tired to feel it. Glancing back to the microwave, you sigh. 3:10AM. Definitely late enough for the couch and, you assume, sleeping by the tree will rebuild the sense of merry taken from you daily, continually chiseled away with saline and silver blades.

The warmth of the flannel blanket draped over the sofa lingers in your mind before it is wiped from your focus, strong arms winding around your chest and pulling you against a strong body.

‘Only one hour late,’ Jimin whispers into your ear, lips pressing warm kisses to the shell as he speaks. ‘Must be a new record.’

‘Car accident,’ you hum, settling back into his embrace and feeling your muscles relax. ‘Black ice,’ you continue, and you almost regret saying the words.

They’re heavy things, warped and distorted with personal feelings, tragic feelings, and you can feel Jimin tense against you. He breathes deeply into your neck, processing his thoughts and collecting his composure.

‘Did they make it?’ he murmurs eventually, and you hear the way he delicately gives shapes to the word, kisses them free with kindness.

You hesitate in the luxury of his closeness, and it pulls a frown across his lips in apprehension. Smiling slightly, you press yourself flush against him and nod. ‘Yes. They all did.’

‘I'm glad,’ he murmurs, squeezing you tightly as though he imagines it was you who had been injured. Always he does this, holds you close and remembers the easy way skin tears. Any word of an injury, similar or otherwise, and immediately he is reminded of the way blood sticks. Even well past its removal, you can feel it there, a scar upon your gentleness.

For a while you remain this way, his soft breath cascading through your hair and down your neck, warming you deep into your bones with every exhale. Draping one arm back and around his neck, your fingers tease idly at the individual strands until this motion halts. You're drifting, dozing, comfortable in his touch and in this love, adrift and at peace.

When you wake, you find you are in bed. Beside you, Jimin is not a sleep, merely blinking at you slowly as though he is admiring all your hardest parts - all the hard things that soften when he is near. Jimin wears wonder on his face as though he does not know how to keep his love for you a secret, as though he does not want to. Daily, you wake to find him surprised you are in his bed, and, daily, you too are hit with the overwhelming sensation of luck. In a daze, you blink at him, and let two fingers trace the silken length of his cheek down to his jaw.

‘I'm glad they made it,’ he says again, weaker now than he did before. Gentle, and implying so much more than mere affection for memories. His voice is thick, heavy with meaning, and it makes you press yourself closer to his chest.

‘Me, too,’ you affirm, and even in these few words you know you're matching his reverence.

‘I'm glad you stayed,’ he says, stroking meekly at the real truth of his words.

Glad you healed him. Glad you loved him. Glad you did not run when he needed you most.

‘Me, too.’

You meant. Oh, how you mean it.

THREE YEARS AGO - DECEMBER 20

You aren’t sure when you got used to the rhythm of the ER, when the blur of colour and abrupt movements of hands became singular, discernable actions, but you keep pace easily, unphased by the woeful sobs of people around you. It takes you several minutes to notice him, sitting silently in a corner attempting to make himself small. People less wounded than he scream as though their very limbs have been torn, but he lets the blood drip from his forehead down into his eyes and does not blink it away. Across his skin, it is smeared, either by his hand or someone else’s in the efforts of letting him see, painting his face with handprints and blood prints. Still, he does not move, shellshocked and lost in thought, as though the act of bleeding reminds him he is alive.

Dropping a chart back on the counter, you rush to him, kneel in front of him and watch the way he does not acknowledge you. Inside himself, he is swimming, seeking answers to questions his mind cannot fathom but asks just the same. For a moment, you linger on your knees, immobile and patient, waiting for a flicker of recognition to spark in his eyes.

When it does not come, when he remains frozen as though time has stilled around him, you lean forward and try to ease him back into the world.

‘Hey,’ you try, keeping your voice soft.

At the sound of your words, he becomes present though not altogether alert. He tugs the blanket wrapped around his shoulders tightly around him, and fixes a pleasant smile on his face.

‘Sorry?’ is all he manages, weak and disoriented.

‘Do you know your name?’ you ask, studying his eyes for signs of pupil dilation. ‘Do you know what day it is?’

It takes him several seconds to answer, the silence hanging heavily between you, thick with tension. While he gathers his thoughts, you start counting time, hoping and praying his head injury is not severe, hoping and praying the gash on his cheek is not deep. And as you count time forwards, so too do you count it back, wondering how long he had been sitting on this chair waiting to live or waiting to die, and feeling strongly about neither.

‘Jimin,’ he offers eventually, nodding with a slight wince. ‘Park Jimin. It’s December 22.’

Sighing with relief, you lean back on your heels and reach for his wrist.

‘I’m going to take your pulse now, okay? Jimin?’

Lingering over his arm, you scan his body for other injuries. Externally, he appears fine, though he has sunken in on himself. Already relatively slim, he suddenly looks fragile, withdrawn and surrendering easily to the pale horror that comes with trauma. Something about him, about the small way he caves inward, about the way he looks at you as though you are a tether, a hope, makes you feel protective of him.

And so you smile, reassuringly and hoping that it’s enough to wipe the worry from your features. He needs the warmth, you can tell, craves the knowledge that things will continue even if they will not be fine.

Jimin simply nods, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches the gentle way you ease his arm down towards you. Beneath your fingers his skin is cold, covered in a slick sweat that comes from shock rather than heat, and you find yourself holding tightly to him, irrationally imagining him fading away.

As you watch the hands of your watch move in circles, you feel Jimin’s gaze all over you, pressing and penetrative. Somewhere in his analysis of you, he decides you are the answer he has been seeking, you are the missing piece, and he leans forward abruptly, hoping to get close and hoping to know.

‘Will they live?’ he announces, breaking your concentration.

Your gaze flashes up to his, and you stifle the surprise that builds in your chest at seeing him so wired. His eyes search yours for truth, hard and no longer wandering. He means to pull it from you, means to confront the ugliness of death and hopes that you will greet it at his side.

Still, his questions means he can remember, and means that he is now in the throes of remembrance. It’s a good sign, one that means his short term memory has not been affected, and the thing you need to worry mostly about now is concussion or neck injury.

‘You know you were in an accident?’ you ask slowly, making him answer important questions first.

‘Yes, I…’ he tries, looking beyond you as he struggles to form words. ‘We....they were hit.’

You know the details of the case: drunk driver on black ice, speeding, careening around a corner into two cars and a telephone pole. The scene was bleak, and one car was on fire - you do not know whose. Some lived, some died, and these are the details he does not need to know, not just yet. Not until you have what you need from him first.

Keeping the tone of your voice calm and even, you comfort him by holding his hand. ‘Did you hit them?’

Again, you know he did not, but it’s important he remembers on his own.

‘Yes,’ he says, before furrowing his brow and quicky amending his answer. ‘No. I was hit first, and I went into them.’

Them. The family of five, jovial and happy, or so you like to think. They might have been, and perhaps would have been, and yet.

‘They had children with them.’ Jimin shakes your hand and makes you focus on him, distraught by this statement.

‘It’s not your fault,’ you nod, keeping your voice serene.

‘I know,’ he presses, urgently shaking his head, dissatisfied. ‘But, will they live?’

With a sigh you turn your gaze away from him, glancing at the charts on the desk you abandoned when you saw him. Three dead, three critical. He does not need to know the details, only that some have hope.

‘We don’t know until they come out of surgery,’ you say, turning back to him and keeping your voice detached.

Jimin remains unhappy with your answer, upset that is unclear and erring on the side of etiquette. Promises of non promises, unclear and vague truths, the perpetual management of expectations tasting bitter on both your tongues.

‘Did he live?’ he asks, and this time his voice is hard, demanding. Now, he will not let the question go.

‘No,’ is your cool response. ‘He was dead on the scene.’ You’re unforgiving with the way you the say words, and you do not feel ashamed for your judgement.

Another gurney is rushed through the doors, your eyes following it as it moves briskly down the hall towards OR 7. The pull to move tugs at you, the need to help and useful flooding your veins all at once, but Jimin’s hold on your wrist is stronger.

‘Stay with me,’ he pleads, eyes boring into yours and making you feel flushed.

The blanket on his shoulders has fallen down, nestled now in the crooks of his elbows, but he does not seem to mind. Now, all his hope and faith relies on you.

All of you wishes it was simple, that you could devote your night to him, to watching him heal. But you know that you cannot, that he is not the only deserving soul in the room. And so you sigh, offering a compromise before breaking both your hearts.

‘I’ll stay as long as it takes you get you patched up.’

You did not think you would stay forever.

But he did. Oh, he did.

AN #2: for @writtenwhalien​ xx