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softpascalito · 9 months ago

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Beyond Saving - Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Javier is on office duty when he learns that someone close to you has passed, causing both of you to spiral.

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader, Javier Peña & Reader WC: 1300 Tags/Warnings: can be read as romantic or platonic, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Suicide, Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Breakdown, Crying, Soft Javier Peña, Protective Javier Peña, Author urgently needs therapy, Trauma, she/her pronouns for reader Read on AO3

notes: please take the tags seriously. this is not a happy fic in any way. make sure your mental health is stable enough to read about the mentioned topics. more detailed warnings are on ao3 if someone needs them.

For my love.

Leave me, like you do (like you do). If you need me Wanna see me Better hurry 'Cause I'm leaving soon.

-‘listen before i go’ by billie eilish

It’s not one of those days that he thinks will be difficult. He doesn’t expect anything bad to happen. It’s not supposed to. But it does.

Javier never sees it coming.

He is seated at his wooden desk in the embassy, ready for a day loaded with frequent trips to the coffee machine and lots of paperwork. It’s his turn to file away reports. Reports that usually aren’t interesting to him, that aren’t relevant to his case. The numbers of the dead that are written down on the reports of the Colombian police stay numbers in his head. They don’t turn into the people they represent.

Until they do.

His coffee mug hits the floor a few moments after he reads the name. The brown liquid runs over the tiles, pooling in the crevices between them, as he reads the name again. And again.

Javi’s eyes fly to the cause of death.

Investigation pending. Suspected suicide.

He doesn’t even grab his jacket as he stands up abruptly, the shards of the mug that held his coffee moments ago crunching under his feet. For all he knows, they could be piercing his skin and he wouldn't notice. His body acts of its own accord.

It's Steve who approaches him and it's Steve who realizes in an instant that something must be very wrong.

“What is it?” The voice next to him is gentle but still stern enough to get through, “Javi?”

“I have to go.”

He is surprised at how solid his voice sounds compared to the feeling in his stomach, the one that makes him sway slightly on his feet, the impact of the world seemingly having stopped turning.

“Can you drive?”

At that, Javi clears his throat and nods, his brown eyes now flying up to meet the blue ones in front of him, “I'll be okay. I- I'll let you know.”

Steve's voice is low as he nods, “Okay.” As Javi turns to leave, the other man gently reaches for his hand, placing the car keys in them, “You'll need those.”

“Right,” is all he can choke out in return. He doesn't catch the way Steve watches him leave with a concerned look on his face or the sigh that leaves his lips as he reads the paper that is still on the desk next to him.

Javi functions on autopilot. He's not sure how he makes it to her apartment, how he remembers which pedal is for what, how he knows how to get his body to move out of the car and up the stairs.

The keys are already in his hand as he reaches the door but he doesn’t remember taking them out of his pocket.

The apartment is dark.

For a split second, he considers if she has left, if she has gone to see someone, the parents, maybe.

Then he hears a noise that sounds like a whimper, one that is so loaded with pain that it causes him to rush forward in an instant.

She is on the floor in the kitchen, back pressed tightly against the cupboard, knees drawn up to her chest, the entire form below Javi shaking with each small sob that reaches his ears.

Javi drops to his knees rough and uncoordinated, ignoring the pain that shoots through them and his back as he steadies himself and leans forward to cradle her in his arms, one hand sneaking beneath her knees as the other wraps around her back.

He immediately feels the reaction to his touch, as the sobs get worse and his heart breaks the way his coffee mug had earlier, with one quick motion, shattering into a million pieces that will be stepped on and discarded by someone who doesn't care for them.

“Estás bien. Estás bien, querida,” he mutters under his breath, repeating the phrase over and over, a phrase that he doesn't believe. There's no way she is even close to okay.

“I'll get you to the couch, okay?” Javi whispers as he gently scoops her up into his arms, taking the few steps over to the living room, focusing hard on his feet to make sure he won’t trip.

“Hold on to me,” he commands softly, making sure to take it slow as he lowers them both onto the leather sofa, his arms not once breaking their touch. He doesn't let up, trying to absorb the sobs and the trembling as much as he can. He wishes he could absorb the pain too.

“Estoy aquí. No te dejaré,” (I’m here. I won’t leave you,) Javi whispers, bringing one hand up to brush the hair away from her face, leaning back enough to look at her. He's met with messy hair and behind it with bloodshot eyes and a mixture of snot and tears, with pain and grief so evidently written on her face that he himself winces slightly.

Her voice shakes when she finally speaks, the first words she has spoken since the call. They feel wrong in her throat, like throwing up food that was already past its expiration date. They feel even worse when they reach the air of the room, floating between the two of them.

“How did you know?”

Javis eyes soften a little more at that. He doesn't even want to think about the fact that he only knew by chance, that it had been his shift to read the reports, that he wouldn't have had any way of knowing without it.

“Saw it at work,” he replies, honestly, keeping voice soft and his eyes carefully trained on her expression.

“So you know how…” She whispers and Javi nods quickly, not wanting her to say it out loud. Not wanting to hear it said out loud.

It makes it feel too real.

“Do you know how?” He asks back, using his left hand to reach for a blanket and gently placing it around her shoulders, making sure it doesn't slide off.

“I don't know- I don’t know details. Just that-” A shuddering breath leaves her throat, “that it wasn't an accident.”

There is a fear in her eyes, one that Javi has never seen in her before. One he has seen in very few people. And he has seen enough bad and evil to last him several lifetimes.

Even in the dim light, he can clearly recognize it for a terror that is beyond comprehension, one that he will never be able to put into words.

“It wasn't an accident, was it?” She whispers again, her voice breaking and Javis grip around her tightens a little as he shakes his head.

“No.”

He suddenly feels like he's going to cry, even though he's not sure why. It still feels like the world stopped turning and like he’s stumbling against gravity, against a movement he was so used to until a moment ago. Like a faucet that’s been dripping for ages and finally runs dry or a screen that shuts itself off, fading to black. Like the movement of something inside his chest, inside of her chest, not only a movement that he doesn’t think he can live without but one that he actually cannot live without.

“No, it wasn't an accident,” he repeats, his hand still caressing her skin.

“I'm so sorry, cariño.”

Her face is buried in his chest again as she cries, hot tears leaving her eyes and finding refuge in his shirt. A blue one, the one that she complimented this morning while kissing him goodbye. Waving to him as he headed out the door, a smile on her face. A carelessness that is not only gone now but that seems beyond reach, that seems to be waiting for its funeral the same way the body in a morgue is, a few streets over. Cold and alone and above all, beyond saving.

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partyinthemysterymachine · 11 months ago

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hello, everyone. this will be my first and only time i will be publicly addressing this. i am not answering questions about this, and for the first time ever, i am also disallowing anons.

first of all, i want to say that i've chosen to address this now out of my own volition. because i do not find it fair at all that i have felt that i could NOT address it at any point in order to maintain peace and harmony during, and in the wake of the event.

however, i feel that due to the nature of what happened, and the absolute damage that it has done to my mental health, that i must, in order to further my own recovery from it all, and as so no longer feel bullied into silence.

there will be no names mentioned. this is not a vaguepost. this is my formal statement for my own peace of mind and progressing on my path towards recovery.

if you know, you know; and if you don't, you don't.

so.

let's talk.

throughout this past year i have been the target of a smear campaign concerning GOOMT. it actually began late 2022, but escalated long into 2023.

what entailed was nothing short of bad faith reading and interpretation from someone whose skill in character analysis was something i'd admired. in fact, i had agreed many a time with how they'd interpreted characters and the world of Silent Hill. although my interaction with said person had historically been minimal, it had been civil, and i strived to be respectful of them.

i am unfortunately unsure of what caused this, or why it happened at all; and i do not think they know either. what i do know is that many upon many lies were told about what i write, and that it turned needlessly personal on many occasions. people were turned against me for one reason another, and i'm saddened to have seen this happen.

i stayed quiet during it all. i did what many people facing ruthless targeted harassment do, and pretended i didn't know in hopes of minimizing damage, and in hopes of responsible parties losing interest; but this did not happen. i was sent bad faith anons, i was subject to lies, and saw hypocrisy.

and i understood who they were and why they were here. they were looking for "gotcha's!" that didn't exist, digging for reasons to further vilify me.

worse, the bullying was praised. it was encouraged, and it was near-constant. a whole tag was created. the intent was to hurt and isolate me, and it did. it did hurt me, and it did make me feel isolated, and i withdrew quite a bit.

but i did not stop writing. it took longer for me to post, but i did not stop writing.

and moreover?

i REFUSE to stop writing.

i write a fanfic for a fandom i love. i am as how you see me and how i present myself. i'm enthusiastic and encouraging to others because that is genuinely how i feel. i LOVE to see others create. i LOVE to see the vast amount of interpretations, and silliness, and new OCs and pairings and OC/canon pairings, and i LOVE to see others thrive.

and i am in competition with exactly no one.

i did nothing wrong. i KNOW i did nothing wrong. i also know that those involved know that i did nothing wrong, and i did nothing to deserve the treatment i received, no matter how they try to justify it to themselves.

the behavior i faced, and how others reacted with encouragement and cheer is becoming too common and too normalized.

and it needs to stop.

i've been in therapy for the better part of my life. although i've been without a therapist since i've moved, i've finally found one to not only continue my lifelong recovery in other matters, but to help myself recover from what i faced this year.

i am extremely hurt. i know that this was the goal, and it has succeeded. if hearing this fills those involved with pride and glee, then something is wrong, because that should not elicit that reaction. i am extremely, deeply disappointed in those involved for this, and all the hypocrisy, and all the contradictions, and all the willful bad faith asks sent and posts made.

and i have done nothing wrong.

i do not hate anyone. i do not hate who started this, or even who engaged with them; and i never did.

it is okay if someone doesn't like what or how i write. in fact, i have made multiple posts about how i view my attitude towards my writing. one of the points i have made is that i encourage people who do not like what i write, to NOT read it.

there is a very old saying on fandom internet: Don't Like? Don't Read. now, this should be obvious, but the practice of hate-reading is an extremely unhealthy behavior that has, again, become unfortunately normalized in the recent handful of years.

unlearn hate-reading. you do not read to read anything you do not like. it, in many cases, can actually constitute as self-harm. and if you choose to do this, it is not the author's fault.

it is yours. and you need to take responsibility for your own actions.

there are people here who were needlessly cruel to me and who i feel do not feel a lick of remorse for what they've done. i hope some day that they can reflect with a clearer head and understand, and take some responsibility for their actions.

and i genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, with full raw sincerity, hope that they do get to heal; that they do learn and grow; that they UNlearn these toxic behaviors; are able to move away from people who exhibit them; find the courage and strength to stand up for themselves and/or others, to end the cycle; and that they understand that i do not hate them, and that i wish them full success in their future health and endeavors.

that said, i hope all involved will never forget the harm they have done. i hope they cringe. i hope it keeps them up at night, and i dearly hope they actually regret their actions, or at some point come to regret it.

i do not hate any one of them, and i won't. i never will.

and never will anyone involved ever be forgiven for it either.

most of all - and on a much lighter note - i want to say thank you to those who supported me during this time. your patience and reassurance has been a saving grace that words unfortunately cannot do justice. you are precious to me, and i love you all, and i hope that i can be just as strong and supportive to you in your times of need.

thank you too to all my readers, my followers, and my friends. i'm sorry to have been largely absent this past year, but this was the reason why. next year it will be better, not just for me, but for all of us. i promise. i love you all.

i also love me, my art, my writing as a whole, and myself. i am a tough cookie. i may have cried a lot, i may have gotten frustrated and angry, but i am human. i'm allowed to feel this way, and i will feel this way for a while as i heal, yet i refuse to be bitter; and i refuse to stop loving what i do.

because i love GOOMT. i love developing GOOMT, i love drawing for GOOMT, and i love writing GOOMT. i always will love GOOMT, no matter how many years more it takes for me to write it. so thank you to all who have read and enjoyed GOOMT, and have matched my enthusiasm for it and its future. i am so, SO blessed to have you here, and i am SO excited to spin my story.

and i am so, SO glad to be alive to be able to share my piece of this silly foggy world with you.

cheers, mates. i look forward to a new year, better health for me and all, and to what beautiful things we can create and share together.

i love you - and i promise that we will be okay.

for we are alive, and with wounds that WILL heal.

#ches writes

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thelonesomequeen · 9 months ago

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What I don’t understand is why are they so mad & upset.

Everyone knew it was coming, the red carpet walk.

So instead of acknowledging it with “looks guys we knew this was going to happen. It’s all part of the contract. Don’t get worked up about it. It will end soon” like must sane people would.

Its attack, attack, make up bs about him taking his ring off, been high, analyse of the videos/pictures and seeing what they want to to see in them. Anything to justify in their minds it’s all fake.

But once again you have to ask - if this disturbs you or gets you so worked up why in gods name are you still on SM every day, every hour talking about a couple you hate so much.

You should see the nasty asks we just flat up deleted instead of subjecting all of our followers (and lurkers—hi!) to. It’s some seriously concerning stuff. And I just don’t understand it either. Once Ilaria tagged Chris we all knew something was coming. There was preparation and there’s still massive levels of outrage rolling off of people. It’s just not healthy. I don’t understand why people who are this angry, bothered, upset, etc. continue to stick around in a fandom they no longer enjoy. It’s ok to move on and focus on something that brings you joy. Take it from my personal experience, there is no use wallowing in constant negativity like that. It only degrades your own mental health. If something bothers you and it’s in your control to leave behind (like following Chris and Alba’s every move) then let it go and move on to things you like. Live a life you enjoy. The only person who is in the way of your own happiness in this specific situation is you. 🦎

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cure-icy-writes · 2 years ago

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I posted 1,735 times in 2022

That's 885 more posts than 2021!

164 posts created (9%)

1,571 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@dino--draws

@ofstormsandfire

@milstev

@kayuripax

@stormcloudsandshadows

I tagged 1,064 of my posts in 2022

Only 39% of my posts had no tags

#disability - 78 posts

#adulting tag - 29 posts

#pokemon - 25 posts

#ask game - 19 posts

#re: prev tags - 18 posts

#bryelle chihiro - 17 posts

#fall into flying - 15 posts

#pokemon legends arceus - 12 posts

#personal - 11 posts

#answered asks - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#trying again one more time except this time the kids on the online playground sit crosslegged in front of you and listen with rapt attention

My Top Posts in 2022:

pokemon in mental health

gonna dump some worldbuilding headcanons on tumblr bc sharing is caring

“Therapy pokemon“ is a vague term and the one most commonly used, but can refer to either personal support pokemon, or therapeutic assistance pokemon. Personal support pokemon are pokemon who assist their trainer exclusively, and require a bit of paperwork as well as confirmation from a healthcare professional, but this is pretty easy to set up. Often, these pokemon assist with anxiety disorders, poor balance, executive dysfunction, time blindness, and other assorted conditions. They tend to be smaller in size, and are permitted in situations where pokemon are normally restricted unless it becomes a safety concern.

Personal support pokemon don’t require a clear diagnosis so much as confirmation of symptoms. If someone experiences chronic pain and isn’t sure why, they can still get permission for assistance. These pokemon often wear vests to signify that they’re working, but not always. In general, asking to pet or touch these pokemon is looked down upon unless you’re close to the trainer, although introducing yourself to the pokemon and offering a hand to sniff is a common courtesy.

Therapeutic Assistance Pokemon, on the other hand, require quite a bit of training. These pokemon must get their official certifications, and are trained for tasks such as:

how to help a human through a panic attack

how to signal for help

how to communicate to emergency responders through a specific code the state of the human

how to de-escalate violent situations

how to guide a human who is dissociating to a safe place

Therapeutic Assistance Pokemon are very common in mental healthcare facilities, the foster system, large companies in certain sections of HR, hospitals, and schools during finals week/after any kind of tragedy affecting the student population such as a death. They're also deployed in the wake of natural disasters.

common therapeutic assistance pokemon might include:

lillipup. lil dog, very easy to train, friendly, sensitive to changes in environment

riolu, although they're more often deployed in more high intensity situations. almost all of them carry an everstone

sylveon, since according to the pokedex they can use their ribbons to help calm people down

vulpix/fennekin, fluffy and warm.

alomomola-- more common in hospital settings, and tend to work in shifts because pokemon have emotional needs as well. honestly, highly empathetic pokemon are more prone to burnout than others. same goes for the chansey line and audino

eevee. always in demand for trainers, not all of these little guys are cut out for battling, and breeding/raising programs for eevee tend to sort the young by career paths of battler/non-battler depending on the preferences that the pokemon has shown.

Therapeutic assistance pokemon must have a handler, often with a ratio of multiple pokemon to a single handler.

213 notes - Posted February 14, 2022

things i’ve learned about hyperacusis, because the medical system is frankly SHIT

And frankly, I’d rather my experience help someone else who needs it. This isn’t universal or exhaustive, just something that I wanted to share. Anyone can reblog or add on, but don’t clown.

Hyperacusis is a neurological disorder characterized by extreme sensitivity to sound, and it’s a fucking bitch to deal with. I’ve had it for two years, and only recently got a diagnosis. In my case, I’m fairly certain it was caused by a combination of existing ADHD/sensory issues and the slowly building stress of high school, which is an entirely different can of worms that I still occasionally have vague nightmares about.

It’s hard to cope with, and largely not understood by the public.

You’re going to get some judgement from older folks about being “antisocial” for wearing headphones and avoiding crowds, especially if you’re younger. This is the equivalent of a squirrel encouraging a fish to be more outgoing when the fish is literally struggling to breathe and taking refuge in its bowl of water.

Earplugs will be your best friend. Don’t listen to audiologists who tell you that it’s the worst thing you can ever do to your hearing; the medical system is largely unsympathetic to your actual needs. Get them in bulk, and use them as needed. Silence is bad for your ears, yes, but damaging them with noise is even worse. Earplugs combined with over-the-ear headphones playing music is a good compromise.

Seriously. Stock the fuck up on these lil bitches. Put ‘em in an altoids tin and never leave the house without some. And don’t forget to use clean ones; these are disposable for a reason. If you store them in a dirty place, you’ll end up with an ear infection.

You may need accommodations, but that doesn’t make you any lesser of a person. Start looking around cripplepunk* spaces for confidence. Own your disability. You deserve to live just as much as anyone else, and you deserve to be happy. Accessibility may not be universal, but it sure isn’t optional either. You are worth more than what you can contribute to society.

If possible, an audiologist can help you get custom made earplugs to filter out sound equally. These let you reduce volume at all frequencies, as opposed to the foam earplugs which muffle sound.

Earplugs designed for musicians and autistic folks are also good options; ideally, you want to have something of a variety of hearing protection. Too much or too little will only make things worse. Find what works for you and allows you to function and heal. Active noise cancelling is also an option.

Lifestyle changes won’t fix the problem and you should be skeptical of anyone who says they will, but they’re also not something to be overlooked. Sound dampening panels can be expensive, but keeping soft things in your room can improve the sound absorption. For me, having a rather large fabric stash is an excellent solution, but plushies and hanging quilts are also reasonable. Reducing stress can help, too-- start setting some healthy and reasonable boundaries. Force yourself to view your distress as rational and justified, rather than something to push through.

Tinnitus Retraining Therapy is the main method used in treating hyperacusis, but this...can vary. In my experience, audiologists are unsympathetic shitheads about this, and can veer into victim blaming, so take it with a grain of salt and keep your own limitations in mind. It works on a similar principle as exposure therapy, rewiring the brain in order to break down the association between “noise = bad” and helping you become accustomed to normal levels of auditory processing. Never force yourself to do this if it causes you distress; take it at your own pace. Forcing yourself will only strengthen the associations created, and make things worse for you. Imagine your brain as a scared cat in a new house; give it space, then introduce new stimuli as needed. Tinnitus retraining therapy is not punishment. You don’t need to punish yourself for having this disorder, even if you think that’ll make it go away faster.

You deserve patience and love.

*cripplepunk, sometimes censored as c-punk, is a movement similar to disabled pride that centers the needs and lives of disabled folks over the convenience of the abled population. Not everyone is comfortable with reclaiming the word “cripple” and it should be used with discretion. Be wary of physical/mental separatism in disability.

Anyways, I think that’s all for now! I may add on more later, but I hope this helps.

267 notes - Posted April 6, 2022

Tired of the submas angst?

After some consideration, I’d like to propose an event dedicated to content of the twins being autistic and happy. Much of the information is subject to change, and help spreading the word and organizing the event would be greatly appreciated. With that being said, here’s a basic outline to serve as an interest check. Feedback and reblogs would be greatly appreciated!

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1bL-cK_3-ycAdoxTt8VVx2fmGc2WmMfO6CQsbaUSwaeA/edit?usp=sharing

318 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

See the full post

501 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i love writing the pokemon world as just. socialist utopia where pokemon training is sort of like pet ownership, battling is good enrichment, and the government is pretty nonviolent. free healthcare and minimal police, because people just take care of each other

and also every couple years, a feral ten year old will team up with a god and take down some terrorists. this is just a thing that happens and everyone has come to accept it as normal. ten year olds have no fear and no filter, and a strong sense of justice

919 notes - Posted July 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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doved-icelebrity · 8 months ago

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I often wander around exclusively to strength-train my perception, picking up on street art / bumper stickers / interesting examples of lives lived. This week’s exercise spoke to my soul in this way. I find the power of a passing image to be often unspoken, only finding those that seek it out specifically or come across it on accident. As an artist, I am well aware and in awe of the ways in which beautiful images and thought-provoking words can revolutionize one’s state of mind, alter the course of a day, and perhaps even inspire a newfound passion. Consistently, I find myself so grateful to live in a city that is so rich with life in these ways. Every walk to the train can lead to a discovery of something unexpected, profound, and hidden in plain sight. I believe that what you seek is seeking you, and when you search for beauty, you can find it almost everywhere.

Aside from all things lovely, street art is so often multidimensional- speaking volumes, making impacts, diverting attention towards what must be said. Art and culture should be made as widely accessible as possible, and everyone should have access to expression and enjoyment within these realms. This method of artistic expression brings art and commentary into the everyday world, where it belongs and is constantly being reborn. When the goal is to spread a message and raise awareness, the practice of breaking down the gates preventing a piece from being seen by absolutely everyone possible is both brilliant and crucial. Being surrounded by vibrant displays of care makes for a neighborhood that feels truly cared for.

The images of street art I have included express messages of everyday motivation, encouragement, and support, with touches of humor. I am struck by the concept of an artist spending time / energy / art supplies to spread a selfless message. In a world run by advertisements and promotion, this act of anonymous art feels contrary.

I have been a fan of these “PMS” tags for a few years now. I see it as a proud display of feminism and Queer sexuality. I am not sure who or what is behind this initiative, but I have seen a variety of pink “PMS” paintings across Brooklyn. The idea of something a fact of life for so much of the population that is usually shamed and silenced being highlighted in hot pink makes me laugh. I am sure it can be a bit jarring to some, though I believe this would be the point. It seems like an iteration of the classic “girl power” with a gay twist. I find the implied conflation of menstruation with womanhood to be a flaw in this artwork’s message, but I can appreciate the overall artistic intention. I would love to see a trans-inclusive take on this, as many individuals get their period and many individuals don’t, and gender is unrelated. In spite of this, I can also understand that an artist’s personal goal is not always a wide reach of relatability. This brings up the point that art being put into the world widely and freely opens it up to a more expansive sphere of criticism and varied reactions. Constructive criticism is a critical part of the artist’s journey.

It reminds me of the movements taken on by a modern period care companies (I think of a popular brand that seeks to do good around this issue called August specifically) with the goal to destigmatize menstruation. The fact of the matter is that menstruation affects a significant portion of the world and everyone that requires access to period care products deserves them, without shame, guilt, or tax. Like any health concern, treatment and awareness is essential and should never be looked down upon. Though it is done in a cheeky way, I do believe that Premenstrual Syndrome is a serious mental and physical health concern that is not as widely understood, acknowledged, or treated as it should be. The shame around menstruation prevents people suffering from symptoms to seek help. If in some world, someone sees these paintings, googles the acronym, and learns about PMS in a sincere way, then it is a success. If someone sees this while suffering from period related bodily pain and mental anguish and chuckles, then it is a success. Art can be so many things, why not make some of it about PMS.

Without traditional guidelines and rules to adhere to, the subversive nature of the content created is limitless. An artist’s freedom of expression results in the creation of a discourse that need not fit into any sort of specific box. This makes for unparalleled levels of radical honesty and authentic engagement. Giving voice to artists that otherwise may not have the access to express themselves in this way is inspiring to all artists following a path of change making, empowerment, and expression. The world is our canvas during this lifetime, making the city in which one resides being a studio/gallery/feast of inspiration being a very natural progression. Breaking free from the borders in which art historically is sheltered behind makes for a complete disruption in the art world and an opportunity for an audience to expand beyond tradition and engage in an equally unique way. The accessibility of street art makes the overall influence on public culture vast and powerful. Seeing inspirational messages surround you seeps into your psyche, causing this inspiration to be a part of your every day path.

This method of inspiration, activism, and expressions of emotion is a blessed transformation of our daily lives. A way to make important messages known, revolutionize public spaces, spread joy, and call attention to the community and culture.

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all-mimsy · 1 year ago

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#I think sometimes about the (lack of a) dynamic between these two characters#They're probably the two people Hamlet is closest to#He loves them both (yes he *does* love Ophelia even though he is undeniably shitty to her)#They both love him#It's not quite textually a love triangle#but knowing about Shakespeare's real-life queerness makes me more inclined to read the homoerotic subtext in his work as deliberate#Because we never see them on stage together we never see them directly compete#But we also never see them connect. Collaborate.#Commiserate about the maddening madman they love and the hardships they must witness being inflicted upon him.#Or their own troubles--the dutiful daughter always ordered about. The untitled scholar perhaps looked down upon#Think of it like this: Both Horatio and Ophelia try‚ in their ways‚ to save Hamlet#And they both fail#Could the two of them working together have altered the path of fate?

okay but the brilliance in these tags. the tragedy of hamlet and how everyone around him treats his mental health as a problem to be managed if it's not a character flaw to be gotten over, making plots behind his back and contriving situations to test him rather than have a conversation with him. but the problem isn't that people around him are concerned and trying to help him, it's that they're not doing it with the coordinated care and sensitivity and grace that ophelia and horatio could've given him, and shown each other so they don't lose their own minds trying to save their beloved madman.

i will note that there's an exception to them never sharing a scene together, though! it depends on the production and the version of the script. sometimes these lines are given to a nameless gentleman or gentlewoman, sometimes they're given to horatio:

She is importunate, indeed distract: Her mood will needs be pitied. […] She speaks much of her father, says she hears There’s tricks i’ th’ world, and hems, and beats her heart, Spurns enviously at straws, speaks things in doubt That carry but half sense. Her speech is nothing, Yet the unshaped use of it doth move The hearers to collection. They aim at it, And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts, Which, as her winks and nods and gestures yield them, Indeed would make one think there might be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. ‘Twere good she were spoken with, for she may strew Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds.

after this convinces gertrude, horatio exits and re-enters with ophelia. sometimes just the last two lines are given to horatio. i've heard it said that this kind of politicking is out-of-character for modest scholar horatio, but i don't think that's true -- i think horatio is aware of what he needs to say to get ophelia an audience. and i think it says a lot that the scene they share together is one where horatio is advocating for ophelia and showing care for her.

(there's also a wordless scene in the 2010 campbell scott production of hamlet that lives in my head rent free. when hamlet is being interrogated and is covered in polonius's blood, cracking jokes about how the body will stay 'til you come, ophelia enters and sees him and stares at him in disbelief. horatio sees her and, ever-reliable, ever-comforting, goes to her. hamlet sees them both and it sobers him, all his jokes are gone.

it says so much.)

Horatio and Ophelia are never confirmed as being in a scene together, and do not share so much as a single line of dialogue.

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luveline · 3 years ago

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a special friend, part two [Fred Weasley, George Weasley x reader]

tags: reader-insert, platonic relationships, friendship, can be read as romantic for either or both, hurt/comfort, mental health issues, implied/referenced self-harm, dissociation, quiet reader, shy reader, sad reader

relationships: fred weasley x reader, george weasley x reader

wordcount: 3.2k

read part one here

The common room was always so clean. The house-elves must work themselves half to death with effort, as you never saw a hair or speck of dust where there ought not to be one. The small refreshment table filled and refilled through every new day and the fireplace was always roaring on cold winter nights. It was especially cold that evening, and so the members of Gryffindor house benefited from a crackling fire and hot chocolate coming out of the ears.

You basked in the warmth of the flame, sitting cross-legged before it. A cup of hot chocolate cooled in between your hands, which were both laden with bandaids and germolene. Fred and George’s orders, of course. You were not to scratch, bite or mess in any detrimental way with your hands, arms or skin. If you did, you were to report to them for immediate bandaging.

At first, they’d simply been spelling each wound away. This had an opposite effect, as the freshly healed skin was perfect for picking whenever your mood turned - which was often. You found yourself blinded and basked in the light of being cared for by others, and although you may have preferred complete autonomy over your own body, you couldn’t say you minded the attentiveness of the twins. They’d made it their personal mission to prevent any self-harm, accidental or purposeful. You weren’t sure you even knew the difference half the time.

A quiet had settled over the room. It seemed as though each red and gold student was content to breathe in the smell of chestnut and pine in peaceful, companionable silence. You found yourself smiling kindly at each person who looked your way. You couldn’t imagine having done that before you had become acquainted with the twins.

Acquainted was a word you used to protect yourself. Friendly was too confident, too firm. You sometimes dreamt of horror stories where you, confident and comfortable, admitted how much you cared for them. In these dreams, they laughed in your face. Poked fun at your hope.

Of course, Fred and George weren’t cruel. If they felt that way, they certainly wouldn’t rub it in your face or make you feel embarrassed about it. But some shame never went away, and you carried it like an ever-burning torch.

Despite the pleasant warmth of the room, chills racked your spine at the thought. You pushed it from your head, attempting to think of anything else. You traced a pattern through the braided strands of the rug you were lazing upon, first the flames of a bonfire towering ten feet tall, then a mirror of the powdered sugar landscape outside.

Two warm bodies settled in the carpet on either side of you. A long arm wrapped around your shoulders confidently. The floral scent of your perfume mingled with the strong scent of burning caramel and something woody, the signature fragrance of the Weasley twins.

George moved first, plonking a stuffed toy into your lap. He positioned the neck carefully so that the teddy bear was sat as comfortable as you were.

“For you,” said Fred.

“An early Christmas gift,” George added.

The bear was spotted unusually like some sort of hybrid creature. You wondered where they could possibly have acquired such an artefact.

“We saw him and thought of you,” they said together.

That was rich. And maybe correct. After all, it was a weird looking plushie and you weren’t exactly renowned for your normality. You didn’t say much, simply handing off your cold drink to George without so much as a sideways glance and brought the bear to your face. You grazed your nose against its brown stomach and inhaled, breathing in its clean scent.

Both twins were used to the general quietness that came with your presence and didn’t pressure any response. You knew you should’ve said thank you, or even smiled gratefully, but you just couldn’t make your mouth move the way you wanted. You placed your hand on each brothers leg and applied the barest amount of pressure, hoping it showed gratitude.

“Well, I’m starving.”

“I’m so glad you said so, my brother.”

“Yes, I’m craving something savory, Gred.”

“Something juicy, Forge.”

“Such as?”

You looked between them like a muggle attending a tennis match, back and forth and back and forth. They ran circles around you for their own enjoyment, you assumed, but maybe also to make you feel more included.

“Y/N, fancy a trek to the kitchens?”

Before you could say no, or yes, or make up your mind and decide what it was you wanted to do, your stomach growled. Fred grinned wickedly.

They ushered you out of the portrait hole and down the stairs without preamble, flanking your sides like bodyguards. You didn’t mind, taking time to smile at the castle ghosts and portraits as you went.

The twins shot each other looks when they thought you couldn’t see. One said, how do you think she is? Another said, I think she’s however you think she is. Both said, she seems okay today.

It would feel a little patronizing if it weren’t so foreign - to have people care about your well-being so deeply they made changes to their day to see you and went out of their way to make you feel good; you’d find it condescending if it wasn’t so delightful.

That is to say, you felt conflicted. Happy that somebody cared, ashamed that they also felt concerned. They worried over everything these days, what you ate and what classes you had and oh, ghostie, do you need help with that? Y/N, sweetheart, let me carry that for you, lest your arms grow too tired.

It was… nice. It was nice, even if it was painful. Sometimes, it reminded you why you didn’t allow yourself the pleasure of friendship in the first place.

You hummed to yourself. Making sound had become a little easier. You weren’t inclined to say a whole lot, but allowing yourself to be louder, to take up space, had come easier the longer you spent with them. Neither Fred nor George minded if you huffed after too many stairs or if you clicked gobstones together at the foot of their beds.

The song was one of those cheesy Christmas numbers you’d heard on the radio. It was warm and comforting, bringing tears to your eyes if you thought about it too much. George slipped into song with you easily, humming much more loudly and obnoxiously. Fred just grinned to himself, keeping dutiful watch of the corridors.

You bubbled like a shaken can of coke by the time you arrived at the painting that enclosed the kitchen doorway, feeling too happy for your own good. Despite feeling very hungry, not a lick of fatigue or unhappiness tinged your mood, though the fuzzy numbness of every day threatened your well-being if you stopped to think too long.

The door swung open obediently after your half-hearted tickle insisted upon by the boys.

“What do you feel like, Y/N, sweet or savoury? There’s bound to be something you’ll fancy,” George said.

You held in a grimace. There were lots of things you wanted to try, the kitchens smelled like so many amazing things. The cloying smells of jam and treacle and custard, the hearty scents of gravy and roast dinner. It was too bad, then, that most everything you ate tasted stale. For years, your tastebuds had been slacking. During your worst days, food held no taste at all, resulting in your decreased appetite.

A tingling began in your fingers. You didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, how to convey that you didn’t really feel up to anything at all. You knew they would protest as they always did when you didn’t eat.

“Bread,” you managed. Bread was a safe choice. Dense enough to feel filling, easy to keep down, and bland to begin with.

Both boys were frowning but trying not to at your choice.

George moved forward, catching the attention of a harrowed looking house elf. They conversed with familiarity and soon you were being beckoned to a table that was relatively clear. Within minutes you were surrounded by bread, crusty rolls and sliced sourdough.

George casually nudged a bowl of tomato soup in your direction.

The surface shined with grease. It even had a swirl of cream and a sprig of basil afloat.

He looked at you, eyes pleading.

“You too,” you said.

This appeased him. The boys sat across from you with their own bowls, eating in the horrific way that teenage boys do. By the time they’d finished, you’d managed half of your own meal and two slices of bread. The nausea you experienced from just existing was starting to build, accompanied by the disappointment of your bland meal. You’d hoped an improved mood would help your appetite, but you still felt unsatisfied.

The boys grabbed a passing plate of tarts and ice cream.

Your good mood was wearing thin. You bit down on the tip of your thumb and stared at the grain of the table.

You bit down harder.

“Hey. Hey! Don’t do that,” Fred said, reaching forward as if to grab your hand. You pushed it under the table.

George pushed the plate of confectionary closer to you. “Chew on one of these instead, hm?”

You took it all back - this was patronising. Lovely and thoughtful and very, excruciatingly patronising.

You didn’t want to say no, or push it away, or eat anything else or even laugh it off. You wanted to do nothing. You lay your head down on the table, closing your eyes. You caught a murmur or two between them, though you couldn’t make out the words with your ear pressed so hard against the wood and the other covered by your falling hair. The table was smooth and cool under your skin.

A chair scraped against the floor. Footsteps. A broad hand against your back.

“You’re like a steam train running out of coal sometimes.”

You knew he was hoping for a response, a joke, a sign you’d been cheered up.

Through slow blinks, you could make out his face. Endlessly amused and a little sad, framed by the candlelight. He was beautiful, you thought absently. They were both beautiful.

“You okay?” he said quietly.

“Mm,”

“Mm? Is mm a yes or a no?”

“Mm,”

“Alright,” he said, rubbing a soothing path up between your shoulder blades and down again. It would’ve been dizzying if you could think straight, it made the numbness a little woozy. You preened beneath his touch like a pleased cat, feeling the unhappiness melt just a little.

It was crazy how affection could make you feel better, even if it didn’t always solve the problem.

Embarrassed, you mumbled, “you’re going to kill me.”

Fred smiled. “How so?”

“You’re fattening me up like a lamb to slaughter.”

He didn’t quite laugh, huffing through his nose. He really was very handsome up close. His hair was curling at just below his ears, a lush auburn colour that complemented his pale, freckle adorned skin. His eyes were a heart-melting brown so that his pupils were lost. The look he gave you was searing like he knew exactly what you were thinking about him. Your ears were tinged with heat, cheeks filling with colour.

He retracted his hand.

“Wrap some of those up, Georgie. Ghostie needs her bed.”

“It shall be done, brother mine!”

You smiled despite yourself.

For your birthday, the twins had gifted you a simple necklace. The chain was silver, reaching to just below your collar bone. It had no charm or jewel. It was perfect.

It helped you sometimes when you felt out of it to run it between two fingers or tug it gently from left to right, feeling the chain links rolling behind your neck.

You’d tried that, among every other coping mechanism drilled into your head by George and Fred over the past few weeks. You drew circles were you wanted to scratch, put plasters over fingertips you wanted to pick at. You took big breaths and did the stretches George insisted on. You even tried getting a full night’s sleep - nothing worked.

It filled you with guilt. You felt as though you were letting them both down by struggling.

You stared out the window of the dormitory at the sky, moonlight spilling onto your skin and staining your clothes a gauzy silver. You’d read once that sometimes when the planets were in rotation, you could see them as though they were as close as the moon.

This didn’t seem right to you. How could Mars seem so close? It was an optical illusion. The planets revolved around the sun, but humans had once thought they revolved around Earth instead.

It must’ve been a very strange experience to realise you weren’t as important as you thought. The Earth was just the Earth, spinning and wobbling its path through space.

You shook your head, feeling lost. It was ridiculous to project your feelings on the solar system. But still, you couldn’t help but feel like, despite its inhabitants and its systems, the Earth was so lonely.

Your necklace began to grow cold until it was almost like ice against your skin. One of the twins, or maybe both, had charmed it to change temperature. Cold usually meant, ‘Ghostie, you awake?’

You cringed against the sensation. Why couldn’t they booty call you like normal young men, throwing stones at your window with a boom box? Or, for merlin’s sake, an owl?

You grumbled to yourself, throwing the fleece blanket from your body. You were hardly dressed for company in knickers and a tank top, so you threw on a grey zip-up jacket and a pair of pyjama shorts that were hardly any better than the knickers. Luckily the jacket hung past the shorts. You wanted to care that you were dressed scantily, really, but the boys wouldn’t care and you didn’t have it in you to find something else.

You trekked down the stairs, your trainer socks slippery against the well-worn wood. Fred stretched languidly in front of the fireplace, a pack of exploding snap cards and a mountain of chocolate frogs beside him whilst George was sitting much more straight-backed on the sofa.

“I’m cold,” you said, announcing your arrival. The redheads turned to look at you over their shoulders. Fred rolled his eyes at you and flicked his wand. The necklace slowly heated until it was pleasantly warm against your collarbones.

You clambered over the back of the sofa with little grace, folding your knees underneath you and leaning heavily against George’s arm. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“If I were a lesser man, I’d ask where your bottoms were, Y/L/N,” said Fred, shuffling the cards dexterously.

You raised your jacket wordlessly, exposing your bottoms.

“Wouldn’t you know, they were there the whole time.”

“You assumed the same as me, George.”

George didn’t reply, though his expression said he was similarly embarrassed.

“And do you always let girls you presume to be half-naked climb all over you?” you asked.

“So talkative,” George chastened.

“Don’t change the subject! I’m interested in the answer,” said Fred.

“Oh shove off! You insufferable tyrants.”

Ah, so he knows how it feels now, you thought. You looked up into his face, the line of his jaw.

You looked down at your legs, feeling fatigued. Smooth stretches of skin and fine hair interrupted only by thin white lines. The low light made them almost impossible to see. They shined like silver when you moved, caught by the light of a nearby candle. They felt a lifetime away now when a young you had used pins and quills and little carving knives to punish yourself for bad behaviour.

You traced a slightly thicker one with a pointed fingernail. You pushed it nastily into the scar, but it didn’t hurt.

You sighed.

Fred and George were half arguing about something you didn’t catch, Fred through a mouthful of chocolate.

It was hard, always being miserable. People often criticized the moody for ruining the mood, but it wasn’t as if you could choose how to be. You wanted to wake each day and be happy and entertaining and absurdly good-natured, like the twins. It was an abject cruelty, then, that every day you woke up and felt the immeasurable dread of continuing on another day. Not even magic could help you with that.

You rejected Fred’s offer to play, happy to sit and watch the boys play. You let yourself slide into the space George had vacated, curling into a tight ball. Your stomach hurt.

Godric, there was always something fucking wrong with you.

You were frustrated. The boys could tell. Their game of snap was stretched thin, and you knew it was your fault. You wrinkled your nose at the smell of singed hair, restless. You squirmed against the warm leather under your skin, feeling sticky and out of sorts.

You closed your eyes against the aching and slept.

You woke up crying.

Fred shifted in his sleep. He was leaning against your legs, his hair and face smushed into the leather beneath you. George was facedown in the carpet. You pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle any sound.

The clock on the wall read 4 minutes past 4 o’clock in the morning. You’d only managed an hour and a half of sleep.

You couldn’t remember what you’d been dreaming. Maybe somewhere familiar. Faces you recognized. It didn’t matter, only the feeling of being crushed by the air. You reached out without thinking, grabbing Fred’s shoulder.

He roused gracelessly, blinking through squinted eyes at you. A hard sob rocked you to the core, the feeling of breathlessness sinking deep into your chest.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”

You couldn’t answer. You grasped for his arm, begging him to do something, to save you. You felt as though you were going to run out of air.

“Hey, you’re alright. You’re okay. Let’s breathe, should we? Breathe with me.” He grabbed the hand you’d pushed over your mouth and brought it to his chest. You could feel him take a huge inhale and you tried your best to replicate it.

“Good! That’s good. You’re doing so well.” Another big breath, a long exhale.

“You feel that? The leather under you.” He grabbed your free hand and put it on the seat. “Feels weird, huh? Dimples and wrinkles.” He dragged your hand over the texture repeatedly.

A big breath.

Eventually, your breathing returned. The crying stayed.

“Don’t cry, ghost.”

You frowned. It was odd to be looking down at Fred instead of up. He pressed your hand tighter to his chest.

“Bad dream?”

“Don’t remember,” you whispered.

“It was just a dream. You’re okay. I promise.”

George snored. Fred rolled his eyes. You laughed through the tears, blinking the last of them away.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll be here.”

You knew he was telling the truth.

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vidalinav · 3 years ago

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@imasconfusedasyouare 1) your writing is amazing and I love your blog! 2)For the prompts: Nesta is having a bad day with her mental health and during dinner or something the IC make certain comments about how she’s behaving that makes Cassian go into possessive-mate mode and snaps at them… pretty please 🥺

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1) Thank you!

2) I took a bit of liberty with this prompt. The gist of it is the same, but I couldn’t have Cassian outright tell the IC off when I feel he is wrong himself. So I made a fic where Nesta has a bad mental health day, they do see the others and they do say things, and Cassian is selfish but ultimately they get through it because love is not.

So… here goes nothing.

Cassian knows Nesta doesn’t feel good. Maybe he knows her well enough by now to sense her tells or some intrinsic part of his soul sings to him of concern. That when she huddles in their bed, grasping the pillow instead of his chest, she reaches for something he can’t offer her and he knows.

Even so, he lays a palm on her forehead searching for heat and when she shrugs him off, he doesn’t let the feeling make a home in his lungs. He will not yell or chastise or run away with stupid words.

Nesta doesn’t feel good.

Be patient, the voice in his head tells him. Be slow.

Nesta eats less that morning, eats slower, and she stares into space as if she’s asking it questions. He rambles on and she doesn’t listen. She’s waiting for the space to answer, he tells himself.

They go to training. Cassian thinks maybe the routine will keep her grounded, will remind her that she’s capable. That she’s carried more weight than a sword. He asks her if she’s ready and Nesta merely lifts her hands. Fists hit but they don’t hurt. Fists hit but they don’t rage. Fists hit and Cassian thinks something must be terribly wrong. Fists hit and Cassian only wants to hold her close.

He asks Gwyn and Emerie if they notice something off, and they shrug as if they know but don’t want to tell him. Perhaps they know and they just can’t explain. Cassian doesn’t think he could understand if they did.

You can understand, that little voice speaks. You just have to wait.

So Cassian waits. Cassian sits. Cassian listens, and Nesta walks around the house, trailing room to empty room. Nesta doesn’t even turn on the symphonia. He keeps waiting for music, but the egg shaped disk stays closed and Nesta shuts her eyes. Maybe she hears music that he doesn’t.

You offered her time, the voice reminds him. A lifetime of time. What is a few hours? A few days?

But Cassian doesn’t want to wait. Cassian doesn’t want Nesta to feel anything like this–where she looks out the window with that blank expression and she keeps to herself and she sneaks up so quietly she might as well be ghost. Cassian doesn’t want a ghost for a mate.

He can’t wait any longer. Cassian has to do something now, before time slips between his fingers and the floor drops from right under their feet. So, he moves. He makes plans.

Nesta doesn’t argue when he drags her to the city. Nesta doesn’t argue when they go to the streets thrumming with sound. Fill her with noise and laughter, he thinks. Fill her with something I can’t.

But the voice in his head only chastises him. You need to wait.

Cassian can’t wait. Cassian is running out of time.

So he takes her to the only place that will make a difference.

He knows they’re having dinner, and he knows they’ll be together and perhaps they can fill her with the life he can’t.

He takes her to his family. To her family.

But they’re not really her family are they?

Feyre is and so she’s happily surprised to see them, but when she tries to give Nesta a hug, she lays as still as a statue. Feyre notices. Cassian notices. Rhysand notices. Still, they go the dining room where the rest are waiting. Waiting less patiently than him.

That’s when he hears that voice.

Are they really her family?

Cassian wants to think yes, but they laugh with each other and Nesta gets handed a plate. Nesta spoons little handfuls of green beans and mash potatoes and Mor laughs at an inside joke that Cassian knows well and Amren wants to discuss a meeting that Nesta doesn’t attend. Nesta doesn’t know anything about any of the topics they want to discuss. Nesta sits in a tower on a normal Tuesday and gazes wistfully out the window, and sitting here at the table reminds him of that stare.

It reminds him of that stare years ago. On a snowy night in December.

“You’re quiet,” Feyre says after a while. Nesta doesn’t even notice she’s being talked to until Cassian elbows her lightly.

“I’m always quiet,” she says at last, looking to her plate. Cassian watches as a noodle forms a question mark and all he can think about it why, why, why.

“You’re not usually so…”

She looks up at her sister with that blank expression, blinking slow.

“Are you okay?” Feyre asks, concern in her voice.

Nesta doesn’t even think as she says, “I’m fine.”

But he can already see it. The distasteful looks that they hide with a snort. That awkward, you are ruining something look. That you didn’t bring enough smiles for this house. And Cassian knows that they will go home tonight, and something will have gone backwards. That they’ll remember what Nesta’s done, but the Nesta they see will be the first Nesta they think about, and their memory will not be filled with heroic deeds like nighttime fairytales. It won’t even be of a courageous young female who only yearns for her sister to live. They will see this Nesta.

This perfectly good Nesta.

This perfectly, acceptable Nesta. Quiet somber songs or not.

Cassian feels himself moving before he realizes what he’s doing. He can feel himself reaching for her and Nesta looks up as if his movement surprises her. It surprises him, too, but it’s the right choice he knows.

“Let’s go home,” he breathes.

Cassian tries not to let the guilt sink in his chest at her look of relief. The way she sets the fork down as if it’s a great, heavy sword. Cassian won’t let it pierce his heart. His heart is her, and Nesta is going to be okay tomorrow.

But today…

Today, she will watch the sky and listen to nothing and pace back and forth and she’ll feel that restlessness settle in her chest until it settles down quietly. He will protect her ability to grieve. For whatever she grieves. That layer of herself she peels off like paper.

“You’re going home already?” Mor asks, a look of astonishment on her face.

“Nesta doesn’t feel good,” he says. Some part of him wants to say that it was a mistake bringing her here, but he can’t do that. That only makes Cassian a hypocrite and he’s already selfish. He knows who they are. They’re not Nesta’s family…

And this is his fault, not theirs. Not only because it’s the last place Nesta wants to be, but because if he has a hard time understanding her, they don’t even have a chance and Cassian won’t let them make Nesta feel ashamed.

Cassian doesn’t want to make Nesta feel ashamed.

All day he has. When they go to the market, when they walk through the city, when they stop by restaurants and booths and people. When they go to this house and eat with his family, he wants to shame the bad day out of her.

Nothing about Nesta is shameful.

Nothing about Nesta can make him feel ashamed.

“Home?” He repeats and Nesta grabs his outstretched hand. She says a goodbye to Feyre who raises her hand with a small tainted, tilt of her lip. They’re there for a mere thirty minutes before they’re gone.

And when they get home, she goes to the library. Nesta huddles up on the sofa with her favorite book, and sometimes she stares out the window in between pages.

Cassian sets a blanket on her shoulders, careful not to touch her unless she asks. He wants to hold her, but it isn’t about what he wants. So he covers her in I’m here cotton, keeps her warm in I love you wool. He will set his I’m thinking of you tea beside her table, and he will wait and wait and wait. Wait until the night grows dim and he does.

And at some point in the night, he falls asleep on the large chair across from her. At some point in the night he feels her climb in, her body huddled close. Nesta takes the blanket with her and she covers them both. He only needs her, Cassian thinks. He only wants her, but the blanket lays on top of them like a shield. It’ll protect them both in its embrace.

Nesta tucks her head in his neck, he can feel her cold nose on his skin, and she burrows into him, her hands rummaging beneath his shirt. The touch sings as much as it burns, but he falls asleep to the sweet smell of lavender and the soft sound of her breathing.

It’s the most wonderful music he’s ever heard.

In the morning, Cassian wakes up to the symphonia playing and Nesta’s smile is the sun.

Fin

Tagged: @my-fan-side, @sophilightwood, @nestaarcher0n, @duskandstarlight, @soitsgorgeous, @ekaterinakostrova @swankii-art-teacher, @lordof-bloodshed, @arinbelle, @thewhelk, @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell, @lovelynesta, @sirendeepity, @champanheandluxxury, @ladynestaarcheron, @moodymelanist, @teagoddess99, @spoilersteph, @drielecarla, @angelicvoice19, @bo0kmaster69, @generalnesta

Don’t know where these fics keep coming from, but doubt it will last so I’m enjoying the ride.

#nessian #nessian fanfic #cassian #nesta archeron #vidalinav writes

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volturiwolf · 4 years ago

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Unorthodox - An Embry Call x vampire!fem!Reader Story - Part 3

A/N: I thought the second part was big, but this is bigger.

A/N 2: I'M SUPER HAPPY BECAUSE STEFANIA AND GREECE ARE ON THE EUROVISION 2021 FINAL !!

A/N 3: Again, (Y/N) likes expensive things.

A/N 4: This part is a bit cheeky, and it makes my heart melt thinking about Embry.

A/N 5: Enjoy

No of Words: 6300+

Through the parts, mentions of: Abusive relationship, Attacks, Hunt, Illusions, Loneliness, Mental health, Murder, Sex / Sex language / Sexual activities, Suicide, Swear language, Wild imagination

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Part 1 / Part 2

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"Unorthodox" Tag List (reply if you want to be added or removed): @eunoia-kth @eugeniapet @aquanova99 @foggyturtleknightangel @avecletempsy @girlgirlgirlnormal @hshehdyhd @musicandpenguins @letskidnapsenpai @foreveror-never @kpopgirlbtssvt @adaydreamaway08

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Embry’s POV

Hunting was a first-time and unique experience for me. As shifters, we didn’t need to hunt like regular wolves did; we ate normal, human food. We mostly ate the food Emily would prepare for the whole pack, and, thank God, her food was just as amazing as she was herself.

Honestly, we had to give her more credit than she accepted. She had to cook huge food portions to satisfy our insatiable wolf appetite, and she spent too much in her kitchen cooking for us every single day. She was like our wolf mom - if we could consider Sam as our wolf dad, making sure we were fed, healthy, and unharmed every day.

(Y/N) was running beside me, led by her vampire instinct to hunt. She was truly beautiful - she exuded so much power and confidence in whatever she did. I couldn’t help myself from turning to look at her every minute or so, watching the wind passing through her (y/h/l) hair, her eyes glistening in a deep gold color, her lips slightly parted. Every now and then, we would pass by a ray of sunshine, and her skin would glow like the most beautiful diamond I have ever come upon.

I didn’t know if it was the imprinting, but watching her doing her “vampire stuff” did not repel me at all; on the contrary, I felt closer and more drawn to her. She felt comfortable enough to open up to me, though I knew I had many more things to learn about her, and I was willing to wait for her to tell me anything she wanted.

I didn’t realize that transforming into a vampire could be as stressful as it was phasing into a wolf. I never had to think about it, because they are supposed to be our enemies, not people to sympathize with. In the end, I realized that we weren’t so different - just like us, most of the vampires we’ve come across, did not choose this lifestyle. In their case, though, it was someone else who decided for them; someone else who took away their choice in living a normal life.

I knew that, under normal circumstances, I would have never met or come across (Y/N) - and if I did, I would probably keep my distance from her. But I also knew that I was grateful that the pack made this “unofficial” agreement with the Cullens, and I could meet her, and be together maybe? Things were going fast here, and I didn’t exactly know if we were dating or just casual friends because of the imprinting. I didn’t want to believe she felt no connection to me, but I also would not receive the vulnerability she showed before as a sign she was into me. I would wait for her to decide, to tell me what she wanted for us. Whatever she chose, I’d accept it, as long as she was happy and alive.

She slowed down a little, looking directly at me. “At this point, we have to take in our surroundings, to take in every sound and smell around us. It is important to distinguish between an animal and a person, and control ourselves, to avoid anything bad happening.” She started explaining the process of hunting, and I could only nod at her for now, to assure her I understood what she was telling me.

She stood still for a few minutes, closing her eyes and breathing in every smell around us. “It’s a bit easier for me to “read” the environment around me. I create an illusion up to a certain distance, and if anything or anyone falls in the illusion, I can basically “see” them and understand their nature, what they’re thinking, what they’re feeling. That’s why it became a bit easier for me to abstain from human blood in the years after I decided to follow the vegetarian diet. I already kept my distance from humans, so I could avoid them easier.”

She suddenly opened her eyes and ran forward. I ran after her, trying to be close to her but also keep my distance. She stopped on top of a boulder, eyeing a mountain lion a few feet below us. She turned to me and nodded towards the lion, motioning me to stay quiet, before stroking my cheek lightly. I shivered under her touch and when she let go, I craved more.

In a swift move, she launched towards the lion, growling. The lion growled back at her, and I couldn’t help but growl at it as well. (Y/N) let out an animalistic growl as she fought to immobilize the lion, before sinking her teeth into its neck. Normally, the sighting would make my stomach turn, but, again, nothing was normal in our lives.

I watched closely as she sank her teeth in the lion’s neck once more, gulping the blood in the process. When she finally lifted her head, there was only a small strip of blood falling out of the left side of her mouth - her whole appearance still perfect, despite the fight. She looked at me, sweeping the blood with her pointer finger and licking it slowly. I don’t know why I was turned on by the sighting, but I was. Quite turned on.

She smiled cheekily at me, starting to giggle. And then, as if she was air, she suddenly disappeared in front of my eyes. She didn’t run away; she literally disappeared. I slightly freaked out, but then, I felt a small kiss under my ear, and I knew it was (Y/N). The sneaky little bastard “blinded” my vision, and was playing games with my head.

“Sorry. I was just messing with you.” She grinned, and snuggled in my side, wrapping her hands around my face. The smell of blood was still prominent in her breath, but I couldn’t care less. It felt as if she was reciprocating my feelings for her, and I couldn’t be happier.

“Are you okay? Shall we continue? I’m still pretty hungry.” She questioned me, her words barely coming out of her mouth, whispering so as not to ruin our happy little moment. I nodded, and she rubbed her face into my fur, before letting me go and running forward.

A couple of hours and many deer later, we were on our way back to (Y/N)’s place. She invited me over to spend some time together. She lived about 1 mile away from the Cullens; she told me that she appreciated them as much as she appreciated her own privacy and space, and they understood her need to spend time on her own.

She waited a few minutes for me to change back to my human form, giving me the space and privacy I needed. Though I had no issue changing in front of her, I thought it would still be too early for that. After shifting back to human and getting dressed, I came out of the woods.

She waited for me in front of her house. Her house was pretty big, a mix of dark wood and glass, making it extravagant but also warm and welcoming. Her very expensive car that I noticed in the clearing we "trained" a few days ago was parked in her driveway, along with a white silver Cadillac Escalade Hybrid.

She saw my wide eyes and overall shocked expression and laughed. “That is..my “more casual” car, you know, to drive around.” I gulped and nodded, as she motioned me to come into her house.

Matching its exterior, the interior also exuded a mix of luxury and warmth. There was a big bronze chandelier in the foyer, but it was nothing compared to the ones further into the house. At first glance, there was a huge living room, decorated with brown fabrics and furniture of different hues, enhancing the warmth. The kitchen was pretty big, especially considering there lived a vampire who didn’t need to cook. The counters, the cabinets, and the drawers were made out of white marble, in complete contrast to the living room. A wide wooden staircase led to the upper floor. My jaw was probably on the floor by now.

“I really like buying expensive things and such.” (Y/N) grinned at me, watching me turn around the place and take everything in.

“You must be pretty hungry, huh?” She looked at me, serious now, and my stomach growled in response. She smiled widely. “I have quite a few pizzas in the freezer if you don’t mind. I usually wouldn’t buy anything, but I thought that someone, or even you, would come over, so I went out yesterday and bought a few things. Would you be okay with that?” She looked unsure, waiting for my response.

I didn’t realize I hadn't said anything for a few minutes, until (Y/N) came in front of me. “Embry?” My name came so pure out of her mouth. “Are you okay? Are you feeling okay?” Her voice sounded concerned, as she examined my face for any signs that would “betray” a lack of wellbeing or something.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it. I just didn’t expect that you would go out of your way to make sure I ate if I ever came here.” I was indeed shocked, I didn’t lie.

“No, of course I would. I didn’t expect you to come over, but I just hoped you would.” She smiled, lowering her eyes to the floor.

I came closer to her and stroked her cheek lightly. She gasped slightly, but I felt her melt on my hand. My heart was beating so fast, pounding so loudly, full of love and nerves. I didn’t think about it twice before I leaned in and pecked her lips lightly.

I heard her gasping at my action, and I pulled away, worried that I scared her away. That wasn’t the case though, as she grabbed my neck carefully, afraid of her own strength, pulling me back to her and kissing me with more passion this time. The fireworks and stars I saw and the fire that was burning deep inside me were definitely not a part of any illusion. It was a reality - the reality we were currently living and experiencing together.

I captured her face between my hands and she swirled her hands around my shoulders and neck, keeping me close. She cooled down my nerves, and I set her body aflame. Even after we pulled away, we stayed close, foreheads touching, eyes closed, just feeling each other and relaxing under each other’s touch. (Y/N) was the first to speak.

“How about you go take a hot shower, and I’ll prepare the pizzas?”

She stroked my hair while looking me deep in the eyes and I just wished this moment would last forever. I was absolutely delighted and felt blessed to have met my imprint and mate for life. I couldn’t even remember what life was like before her, and I couldn’t even bear the thought that I would have never met if she wasn’t bitten and transformed into a vampire, over 100 years before me. I didn’t mean I was grateful for the vampire who bit her, or vampires in general, but I was grateful I had her.

“Okay.” The words barely came out of my mouth, before I kissed her once again.

“Let me help you.” She took my hand and guided me upstairs. She showed me the bathroom and brought me freshly-washed, fluffy towels, clear underwear, long jeans, a woolen t-shirt, socks, and slippers. I looked at her curiously.

“I bought a few things if you ever wanted to crash here.” She confessed, a kind of guilt on her face. I smiled widely and kissed her once again.

“Thank you, love.” She relaxed and smiled.

“Okay, now, go shower. Relax, have fun with the jet streams.” She winked before running downstairs. I chuckled at myself, and hopped in the shower, turning the jet streams on, and relaxing further into my thoughts.

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About half an hour later, I jumped off the shower, clean and relaxed. I quickly dried off and got dressed. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. I would have never thought of being this happy in my life.

I didn’t have the best childhood. I never met my father; I never knew who my father even was, but I definitely knew he was a Quileute by now. My mom, however, was a Makah, an outsider of the Quileute tribe, so she didn’t know about the shape-shifters.

There were a lot of one-sided fights with her when I came home after a long night patrolling. She thought I was going through a rebellious stage, and I just let her believe that. Even Sam offered to tell her the truth about the Quileutes, but I refused. I couldn’t have her getting in trouble or hurt; it would be better if she didn’t know. I sighed deeply and slowly walked downstairs to meet with (Y/N).

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(Y/N)’s POV

I didn’t mean to watch Embry’s head, but I couldn’t help it. All these images suddenly started flooding my mind; his mother yelling at him for being out of the house at odd hours, but him never yelling back at her, never revealing the real reason for his absence. He was thinking about all the times he asked his mother about his father, but she refused to say anything more and dismissed Embry’s inquiries.

Embry’s head was heavy with these dark thoughts, tangled and disorganized, reminding me of my own. His thoughts were all over the place; small images and scenes here and there like little flashes of memories.

I heard him coming down the stairs and tried to forget about everything for his own sake. In a minute, he entered the kitchen. He looked so beautiful, even a plain pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt. He was mesmerizing, his face calm, a small grin lighting up my world, and, if I hadn’t seen his thoughts, I would think that his head produced only happy thoughts.

Anyone who saw Embry, saw a quiet, reserved, but seemingly happy young man, not what I had just seen for myself. I decided not to talk about it; if he ever felt comfortable talking about it, he would, and I would wait for him, no pressure.

“Like what you see?” Embry grinned seductively. Cheeky bastard.

“I do, actually.” I leaned forward, over the counter standing in the middle of the kitchen, pressing my breasts against the surface. It only lasted for a few seconds, before I sat back straight, but it was enough for Embry to gulp down and his cheeks to turn red under his already tan skin, his eyes wide in shock. Two can play the game, babe.

“Well, come on, the pizzas are ready.” I acted as if nothing happened, and continued acting normal, taking the pizzas out of the oven before handing a plate to Embry from the nearby cabinet. He was standing close to me, watching my every move with a look of questioning.

“Are you okay? You seem as if something is bugging you.” I didn’t see a single image in his mind that could give me any clue as to why he looked concerned.

“I just have a question. It is a weird one, and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t feel comfortable. I suppose that’s personal, but I was just wondering.” I nodded at him to continue. “How did you come up with all this money? Like, I guess the Cullens are rich, Dr. Cullen is a doctor and they probably come from old wealth or something, but how did you afford to buy all these things?” He motioned around the house.

I sighed. “I actually waited for you to ask this question, eventually. First of all, I should let you know that most of Cullens’ money - if not 90-95% of it - comes from trading stock, bonds, foreign exchange, investments; Alice’s visions have helped A LOT. And, everything is legal. Nobody says that visions count as fraud; inside info does, but visions don’t. So..that’s their story. Mine is complicated. It is on the verge of being illegal but not really.”

“What do you mean “illegal”? What, like, you sell drugs or something?” He laughed but then, upon seeing my blank face he stopped. “YOU SELL DRUGS?” He plopped down on a chair.

“Yes, and no. I sell..candy, sugary sweets, gummy bears, anything really that is considered candy. But, I present them as “drugs” to people who I know are interested in buying drugs. I sell them the candy, which is regular candy, sugary and sweet, something a kid would eat. And then, I just stand nearby or a few kilometers away - it depends - and cause them to see illusions, so they actually think they are on drugs. The more they pay for a “drug”, the more intense illusions I create. Most of my regular clients are CEOs, CFOs, businessmen, investors, you name it. Usually, they will organize a party and “book” me in advance to provide them with “drugs”. I always make sure they pay half price in advance and half price when I arrive with the stuff so that I don’t get fooled.”

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught? Isn’t it dangerous for these people?”

“Embry, I never, ever, present my true self to them. Again, I create an illusion of myself when I collaborate with them. And I am never the same person more than once; they actually think there is a whole network behind it. And, I always make sure they are safe and don’t take things too far. That’s why they “book” me. I’m like a designated babysitter for the “junkies”. I take all necessary precautions so that they have fun, don’t harass others, and don’t do things that will get them killed. It’s an extra paid service.”

“And that pays a lot, huh?”

“Everything you see around, and many more, have been purchased with this money. Though, I recently had Alice manage my money and invest them wherever she thinks it’d be profitable for me. You know, so I don’t risk getting caught, and actually start making money in a completely legal way. Though, I have to admit, I liked the small doses of danger, and the money was REALLY good.”

Embry looked skeptical. “Normally I would say that this still seemed illegal and it would be better for you to stop. But,..” He stood up from his chair and came closer to me. “...I also know that you must know what you’re doing by now, and you’re not doing anything that is more illegal than what your clients are doing. So, I think you should choose for yourself, see the pros and the cons, and see what would be better for you.” He wrapped his hands around me and held me against his hot chest.

“If I’m being honest, I have enough money by now to last me a lifetime - a human’s lifetime, maybe two or three. And..I think it is time to go legal. I think Alice’s idea was the right one. It will also give me a chance to be closer to her and the rest of the family - though I told her I didn’t want to take advantage of her gift, she assured me that I wouldn’t.” I sighed. There was a lot of pressure in my head, but Embry’s presence and touch actually managed to keep me calmer than usual.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

“I guess it’s time to go deeper, so shoot away.”

“When you said it was easier to stay away from humans when feeding, did you ever actually kill people?”

“Well, I do have pretty good control over my thirst now. I still had to go through the newborn phase though, for a year or two. I killed many people, I couldn’t contain myself, until my gift started developing more, and I could see my ugly, scary side in their head. When I told you I can see what people are thinking..? I basically can see the images and illusions in someone's head - kind of like what Edward does, but he can actually read someone’s very thoughts at a specific moment. I can only see the images. So, I could see that I wasn’t who I wanted to be. I didn’t realize it at first. But I didn't want to be like the vampire who attacked me. I didn’t want to be that kind of monster. I know I am a monster, but I didn’t want to live at the expense of other humans. My life being taken away from me did not excuse me from taking other lives.”

Embry was speechless. He only had to squeeze me harder for me to understand that he was trying to sympathize with me. It couldn’t be easier for him when he first phased, and every other moment from that point on couldn’t be any easier. I had to leave my family behind for their own good. He has to live with who he is; he has to keep the secret from his own mother to protect her while going through her critical and vigilant gaze. She was certainly concerned for her son, but knowing about the shifters would most likely put her in great danger, and Embry could not risk that.

We have long forgotten the pizzas, but I reminded myself that the wolf had to eat, so I forced myself out of his arms. Embry looked upset as if I rejected him. “You MUST eat. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

He nodded and grabbed a few slices, devouring them in under a minute, taking a few more on his plate. I looked amused at him; I never saw anyone eat so much so fast. Within ten minutes, he finished all five pizzas I had baked. He looked proud of himself, a wide smile spread across his face.

“You sure have an appetite!” I laughed at him.

“I could say the same about you.” He grinned back, reminding me of the fact that I did actually kill one mountain lion and about a dozen deer.

“Touché.” I laughed and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me up in the air. I wrapped my legs around his waist and we just stayed there, foreheads against each other, eyes studying the other’s soul. He kissed me lightly and I could only feel happiness, my undead heart bursting with love, forgetting about everything and everyone.

Suddenly, my phone rang. We both sighed deeply. “Moment ruined.” I said disappointed, climbing out of Embry’s grip, and unwillingly picking up my phone. It was Alice.

“Alice? What happened?” I was worried. Alice did not just call without any reason.

“(Y/N). The newborns. They are coming earlier than we thought.” Alice was panicking by now.

“What do you mean “earlier”? How much earlier?”

“They may be arriving early in the morning, sometime after the sun has risen.”

“Are you sure? That’s like...” I checked the kitchen clock, it was already 11 pm by now. “...in less than 9 hours!”

“I’m positive. Edward and Bella just left. They will be camping in the mountains, where they had agreed. Jacob will probably be on his way there. The wolves will be getting ready by now. I called Sam. They will be staying away from the reservation tonight, just in case. Is Embry with you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Okay, good. It will be better if he stayed with you for tonight. The further he is from the reservation right now, the better. The wolves don’t want to risk the safety of their families right now. Only Brady and Collin will stay behind, to make sure everyone back in the reservation is safe.”

“I understand. Thanks for calling, Alice. I’ll see you in the morning. Bye.” I hung up the phone and I turned to look at a shocked Embry, his jaw clenching. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah.” He sighed deeply. “We’ll manage, (Y/N). Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter if it’s 9, 10, 12, or 15 hours. We’ll be good.”

I nodded. “Yeah.” I paused. “I hope so. Can..Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, whatever you need.”

“Can you communicate with the pack? You can use my phone. Tell them to come here. I have plenty of rooms for them to sleep in.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Are you sure? I mean, that’s kind of you, but, won’t the smell annoy you?”

“The smell will be fine. What matters now is that they are safe. They can’t stay in the woods. They need a good night’s sleep. Please, talk to them.”

“Okay.” Embry took my phone, dialing a number, and waiting for a reply. Finally, somebody picked up, and Embry was talking almost frantically to the other person. About 5 minutes later, he ended the call and gave me my phone back. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Good. I’ll go get things ready.” I pecked Embry’s lips and ran to turn the heater higher on and get pillows, bedsheets, covers, and blankets for the rooms. I also laid some hair, body, face, and feet towels, in case they wanted to have a bath or a shower.

Apart from my own, the house had four additional rooms that I used as guest rooms. When I bought the house, my thought was that the Cullens may be visiting someday and would like to stay over, so each pair could have their own room. Now, they will accommodate the wolf pack and I was just as happy as if it was family coming over. Well, technically, they were family - they were Embry’s family, so that would likely make me family too? I just hoped they saw me like family.

I finished getting everything ready, spraying some spray freshener around each room and through the corridors, to cover up my own scent. I said I wouldn’t mind their scent, which I wouldn’t, but I didn’t know how my own scent would make them feel, especially when it is spread all over the house. I just wanted them to sleep well, and rest; for tomorrow would be a tough day for all of us. I smelled and heard them quicker than I saw them, and I ran downstairs to stand next to Embry. He took my hand in his own, and we walked towards the door.

Opening the large entrance door, we were greeted by six tired and upset shifters - Sam, Jared, Paul, Quil, Leah, and Seth; though Quil and Seth were a bit happier to be there, compared to the others.

“Hey!” I greeted them, extending my hand to Sam, the Alpha of the pack. He looked at my hand, looked at Embry who nodded, and then, he shook my hand.

“Thank you for having us in your house. I hope we are not intruding.” He was careful with his words, his face serious and stern.

“Of course you are not! Please, do come in.” I motioned them to come further into the house, and they took small steps coming in. I smiled encouragingly. “I have prepared your rooms. Please, follow me.” I walked up the stairs, turning to the left corridor, them following behind.

“Unfortunately, some of you will have to share between you.” I informed them as we were walking through the corridor. “This room is for Sam. As the Alpha, he will be sleeping on his own.” Sam laughed at the others and thanked me. I continued to the next room.

“This room is for Jared and Paul.” Jared and Paul looked at each other and shrugged. “Don’t worry. All the beds are quite big, in case you have restless sleep, or just don’t want to be close to each other.” They barely hold their laughs. I had to admit, they were quite amusing.

“Next, this room is for Quil and Seth.” They turned to each other, and high-fived, smiling widely and howling.

I took them further into the corridor, to the biggest guestroom. “And, this last room is for Leah, to have some privacy away for the guys. I know what it feels like being the only girl surrounded by guys, and honestly, I couldn’t handle being surrounded by boys with extremely high hormones.” I turned to Leah, and I saw her smiling at me, mouthing a “Thank you”. I smiled back at her, I felt for her more than anyone.

“Also, as you may notice later, I have also laid some towels on your beds in case you wanted to have a shower, a bath, or use the jacuzzi.”

“THERE’S A JACUZZI?!” Jared, Quil, and Seth practically screamed. Sam turned to stare at them like how a disappointed parent would stare at his 5-year-olds who were causing trouble. Leah rolled her eyes, disappointed but also kind of expecting that. Paul and Embry couldn’t stop laughing. I tried to keep a straight face, stifling my laugh.

“Yeah, every room has a bathroom, equipped with a toilet, a sink, a shower, a bathtub, and a separate jacuzzi. You are also welcome to go anywhere around the house if you can’t really sleep, or if you feel like it. I don’t have anything prepared if you are hungry, but you may bake and eat anything from the freezer. If you need anything else, feel free to knock on my door or call me on my phone. It is written on the phone catalog, near the phone, on your bedside tables. And my room is across the hall, at the end of the corridor. I will leave you to it now. Have a good night's sleep.” I smiled, and they all said their goodnights, walking towards their rooms.

I took Embry’s hand in mine and led him to my own room. I opened the door, walking into the room. “You will be sleeping here tonight. Hope you don’t mind.” Embry was grinning, a wide smile spread across his face, radiating true happiness. He held me in his arms, squeezing me, his wide smile never leaving his face.

“I wouldn’t mind sleeping on a cement floor if it meant that I slept with you in my arms.”

“I could say the same. If I could sleep at all.” I laughed and he joined me. “Shhh, the others will hear us. I don’t want them to feel uncomfortable or weirded out.”

“They won’t, believe me. I think that you are the first vampire to warm up to them. Pun intended.” He laughed.

I lightly shoved him back, afraid to put too much force on him. “It’s time to sleep, mister. You have a long day ahead of you.”

“Only if you lay in my arms while I sleep.” He lightly swayed me around, as if we were dancing, and walked me towards the bed. He lied down, me sitting on his lap, each of my legs on each side. It was a very intimate moment but I knew that he had to rest well.

“We’ll have plenty of time for that. You now need to rest. Please.” I stroked his head, my fingers running through his thick hair, which shined even under the dim light that came through the windows, from the full moon in the sky. He sighed and I climbed out of his lap and sat on the bed. He took my hand and kissed it, making my insides melt and my eyes slightly stink with venom.

“You promise you will stay with me forever?” He looked me deep in the eyes, a mix of worry and seriousness in his voice. I looked startled but confident in my answer.

“I promise. You are the most important person in my life now. I won’t leave you, ever. But you have to promise you will stay alive tomorrow. For me, for your mom, for the pack, for the tribe.” There was a pause. Nothing was certain for tomorrow; no one knew what would happen, but we could only hope.

“I promise. I won’t leave you like that.” He shot me a small smile and he leaned in to kiss me lightly on the lips. I kissed him back, thinking that it may be our last kiss, but not wanting this thought to come true.

He slowly laid back on the bed, pulling me in his arms, and kissing me on my forehead. We laid there for a few minutes before his breaths started becoming more steady and heavy, indicating that he finally fell asleep. I looked at the beautiful man in front of me. I wished everything was different; that we met under different conditions; that we were free and careless.

“I promise you, when all this ends, I will take you anywhere, show you everything.” I whispered, kissing him on his cheek, him smiling in his sleep.

We talked for what felt like hours; Embry was telling me stories about the pack, their imprints, the shifting, and everything in between. I lifted a dome-like illusion around the house and the surrounding area, in case anyone came too close to us, and I closed my eyes, listening to Embry’s steady heartbeat, as he took deep breaths. This was the happiest I had ever been in my almost 153 years of life. I sank further into Embry’s arms and wished I could stay there forever.

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I didn’t realize how much time had passed until I opened my eyes. I was still in Embry’s arms, and thankfully, he was still asleep and really warm. He was breathing deeply and steadily, his lips slightly parted. I smiled at the sight; he looked so peaceful and pure, I couldn’t imagine him killing vampires. He seemed too good for me, for the world.

However, I couldn’t calm down, too nervous about what was going to happen today. I slipped away from Embry’s embrace, trying not to wake him up. I slowly stood up from the bed and looked at the clock on my bedside table. 3:45 am. Less than 4 hours away from the newborns’ arrival.

I grabbed my phone and ran quietly towards my bedroom door, opening it, and slipping away, trying to go undetected by the wolves who slept across the corridor. I ran down the stairs and out of the house. I fixed my brain on a decision I made on the spot, hoping both Alice and Edward would pick up on my actions.

I was worried we would not be able to realize the exact location of the newborns at all times, so I went out to make sure we had the upper hand in terms of time. That’s what I kept telling myself - the actual reason why I did this was actually more selfish. I wanted to know how many of them we’ll be dealing with; how many I would have to mess up with, mentally or physically. How many vampires I would have to fight off to keep Embry safe.

Alice saw the newborns coming out of the sea in her vision, so that was my lead. I assumed they would travel through the Quilcene Bay, which was right in the middle, between Seattle and our fighting location. The 70 miles that separated my house from the bay were nothing for me. I was mostly motivated by anger and protectiveness towards Embry - I had to know and warn the others.

I reached close to the bay and went up to a higher point, so I could watch everything around me better. I looked at my phone. 4:15 am. That was faster than I expected. I decided I would just sit here and wait. The clearing where the Cullens and the wolves chose for the fight to take place was about 35 miles away, which was still far away from Forks, and close enough to the mountains where Bella, Edward, and Jacob would be staying for the night.

My phone rang unexpectedly. I saw the caller ID. Alice.

“Hey, Alice. What’s going on?” I answered casually.

“(Y/N)! Where are you? Why did you leave your home?”

“Hey! Don’t worry. The wolves are safe.”

“You know I’m not worried about the wolves! Why are you after the newborns?”

“I just want to make sure we have the numbers. I need to make sure, Alice.”

Alice didn’t say anything for a while. “Okay. Just be careful, okay?”

“Okay. I will call you later. Just make sure the wolves are ready. I will break down the illusion when you are near. I’ll probably meet you at the clearing.”

“Okay. Bye, (Y/N).”

“Bye, Alice.” I ended the call and just waited, and waited.

It was almost 5 am, when I saw movement in the water. I leaned closer, trying to be careful to stay out of their way while watching them closely. I knew I would probably be the only one they wouldn’t be able to see, “blinding” their vision if they came close to me.

From Alice’s vision, I remembered about 15 or 20 newborns, but I guessed the number changed during this time. I was now staring at about 30 or 40 newborns, way more than what we expected. It was as if whoever created - I assumed the redhead everyone was talking about - did not just want to take down the Cullens, but the whole town of Forks.

They were walking rather than running, which I thought was odd for newborns, as most of us tend to run all the time at that stage of life. With this speed, they would probably arrive at the clearing in 2 and a half to 3 hours, just like Alice predicted. Hopefully, they would not come across any humans who would, inevitably, become their meal.

I ran away, towards the mountains and the clearing. I would warn the others when I went there, knowing they would have enough time to get prepared.

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the-sour-patch-crew · 4 months ago

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Note: Language and tone in my response are used out of exasperation and not as an aggressive attack.

TLDR: Endogenic plurality is an umbrella term for people who share commonality in that their plurality exist not because of trauma. Trans-IDs are a specific ideology and mindset. These may have some overlap in that they consist of people who can create headmates, but they are not the same to the point you can swap terms out without complications. A square is a rectangle, but a rectangle is not a square.

As of right now, with how I see it, you are either a singlet, plural, or a mix (because I'm aware it's not always a simple distinction). I am unaware of a term for those who want to be plural or are in the middle of working towards plurality by creating headmates. Tulpamancy is all I can think of, and I'm pretty sure there isn't a need for someone to claim they feel they should be plural or that they are transitioning within that practice. It's just... being a tulpamancer, no matter your stage in it. If there is another term outside of "transitioning," I'd love to hear it. I personally find it icky. It doesn't feel like it's fits well, and that there must be a better term to use.

Also, there are many natural ways that people become plural outside of CDDs and trauma. Endogenic systems are not always consciously made, and not everyone asked to be plural. It was a result of things outside of their control or realization of what was happening.

Endogenic is an umbrella term for MANY types of plural experiences outside of CDDs. So, trans-plural is part of that umbrella. But not everyone who is endogenic is trans-plural. Just like not everyone who is endogenic is a tulpamancer or gateway system. It's the same thing as how all squares are rectangles, but rectangles are not squares.

Also, while I am very uncomfortable with the term trans-plural, I can accept it for the use of describing how someone wants to be plural and is working towards it. I do think there has to be a better term, though. I'd really like there to be a different term to distance itself from trans-identities.

I DO NOT identify as trans plural for two reasons. One, my plurality was not intentional. I never felt like I should be plural. It happened all on its own without me even knowing what systems were.

Two, it is because I am VERY concerned for the other trans-ID labels that I have seen in the tags. Trans-CDDs, where people feel the need to seek out trauma so they can transition to being plural. Hm. I wonder why they feel the need to SEEK HARM TO THEMSELVES just to be plural. I wonder where that dangerous idea was pushed to the point that this unhealthy, dangerous mental state was pushed onto a young and impressionable mind. Or people who are already plural and identify as trans-DID because they MUST have and deserve trauma, just to deserve their plurality. Yes, I am looking at you anti-endos. You fucked up.

Like Jesus fucking Christ. I am not fully knowledgeable about trans-IDs. I will admit this. But I have seen enough of it to adamantly refuse association with it. Some are cringe, some are harmless, others are ableist as fuck, and some are DANGEROUS.

I firmly believe there is a better way to describe wanting to be plural and becoming it outside of trans-IDs and I'd like to see discussions about it. I also believe that many people who are using these are projecting and masking other mental health concerns that need to be addressed. Like, why does someone feel they deserve to be abused? Why seek that out? That isn't endogenic plurality. That isn't even DID. That is a result of some kind of trauma that needs to be addressed before someone gets hurt or worse.

If you believe the only way to be plural or a system is through a CDD then you will never care for the unique distinctions amongst endos and plurality. You will only ever see them as another trans-ID. Which is misinformation to an insulting degree.

You don't like the taste of soap. I don't like the taste of ignorance.

Endos need to realize that if transplurals were to "transition" into being a system it'd make them "endogenic".

How are you against TransID's if you're endo you're literally TransID yourself??

#syscourse #🦊 kit post

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maplecornia · 3 years ago

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chapter 35

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬��𝔫𝔱: 3.04K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

"For your information, I am very against this."

"I thought you were looking forward to starting your training."

You glare at Namjoon when he makes the snide comment, and he has to struggle to keep his smile hidden at the reaction. Pouting in your chair, the stylist has to press her hand on your back to remind you to sit straight. At your reluctance, Namjoon's smile only grows and you struggle to ignore the rise of adoration in your chest.

Rolling your eyes you turn to your reflection in the mirror.

You're nearly unrecognizable.

With heavy lashes brushing against your cheek each time you blink, contour thinning your face, dark eyeliner helping your eyes pop out against the blush on your cheeks, you find it had to remember the way you looked before. Were your eyes always this bright? Did you always have this curl to your lashes? Were your cheeks this rosy, did you have that red hue to your lips? Did they always look so full and appealing?

Swallowing hard, you wonder if you're ready for this.

When Jin told you you'd be modeling today you thought he was joking. But BangPD wouldn't joke about something like this and when you got the call from him it only secured your fears. Biting your bottom lip, you fidget once more in your chair, the stylist sighing behind you.

Sheepishly, you go still, choosing instead to wrap your hands tightly around the arms of the chair. The stylist resumes their work silently, no doubt unaware of the insecurities rising in your chest. Namjoon is different, however, and noticing the way you've suddenly gone silent he glances towards you in worry.

"Is she ready?" Jin's voice breaks through the busybody chaos of the dressing room as he enters, the stylist performing the finishing touches to your hair.

Still holding forms of animosity towards him, you roll your eyes adeptly ignoring him. If he notices he doesn't show it, just angles past your retreating stylist and places his hands on the back of your chair trying to catch your eye. You raise your brow his way, refusing to return his smile. Noting the growing tension, Namjoon clears his throat, heading over to you as well and helping you out of the chair.

"I should hope so, doesn't she look ready?" He murmurs a bit nervously, and nudges you, clearly screaming at you to make nice with Jin and let bygones be bygones. You roll your eyes at the not-so-subtle signs and force a somewhat convincing smile towards the veteran. Jin nods in satisfaction before leading the three of you to the door, bowing respectfully to the rest of the staff.

Jin shivers in anticipation as he heads down the corridor. "Kind of nervewracking huh?"

Glaring him out of the corner of your eye, you scoff.

"Wasn't this your idea?"

Unfazed, Jin leans down peering into your eyes.

"Was it?"

Biting the inside of your cheek, you flick his forehead with your thumb and forefinger and he reels back, groaning in pain. You can't help but smile in satisfaction, but when you turn to Namjoon, his disapproving stare is enough to make the smile fade away.

"He started it." You mutter under your breath as you enter the shooting area.

Multiple set pieces and lights, bustling people hurrying from one set to another, sounds of photos being taken, bright flashes, and shouts from one side of the room to another. Models in flashy apparel, makeup artists, and stylists are ready to touch up anyone who needs it.

As you come face to face with the sight, you have to refrain from cursing underneath your breath.

"Ah Yen, good you're ready." At the voice, you blink out of your reverie only to find Sejin standing before the three of you. "Thank you for doing this again."

The head of BTS' management team, you've only met the man once before. He looks the same as he did then. Tall and intimidating, burly but with kind eyes. Graying black hair and signature glasses rest on his nose, a soft smile always playing on his lips. He puts you at ease, gives you a sense of familiarity and comfort.

"Of course, sir." You bow your head respectfully towards him, ignoring the incredulous look Jin makes beside you.

"Favoritism." He murmurs under his breath, and you wonder silently if Sejin will notice you elbowing him hard in his gut.

"They won't show your face that much, so all you have to do is stand there and look pretty for the camera. Simple enough, right?" Sejin explains, either pretending to be or completely oblivious to the exchange you and Jin just had. You nod as he turns away, picking up a call from his phone.

"Yeah..." You shakily look down at your hands, praying for them to stop shaking. "Simple."

Namjoon glances your way and reaches for your hand, prepared to offer you some words of encouragement, but another voice breaks through the chaos and he flinches away as soon as your head snaps up once more.

"Let's get going everyone!"

A man stands amidst the bustling crowd, with a clipboard in his hands and an earpiece secured in his ear. A couple of people are constantly trailing after him, asking questions and then darting away to carry out another set of tasks. He wears extravagant yet down-to-earth clothing, something that lets you know he's important but still a part of the background.

"Who's..." you start to say, but Namjoon, following your gaze, already answering your question as he folds his arms.

"That's the director for the shoot." He sighs, almost in exhaustion. Jin nods at his explanation getting the same worn-out look on his face at the sight of the man.

"He's just a little...eccentric." He adds to Namjoon's assumption, and you can't help but snort. Luckily, Jin doesn't seem to notice.

"That's rich coming from you." You mutter under your breath, holding your hand over your mouth to conceal your small giggles of laughter. Namjoon nudges you again to remind you to be respectful, but even he can't keep the smile off his face at the comparison.

"You must be Yen!"

At the shout from across the studio, you flinch as you turn to see the director just a few feet away from you. He takes your hand in his and shakes it excitably, and you have to resist the urge to remind him of personal space.

"My name is Deokhwa, thank you for filling in today."

You smile weakly at his enthusiasm, trying to read his excitement and understand why it's necessary.

"It's no problem."

Almost as soon as he was by your side, he turns on his heel and heads the other way once more calling out instructions to the staff members scuttling around.

"Can we get Taehyung and Jungkook into hair and makeup, please?! This should have been done ages ago!" With wide eyes, you watch him leave, your hand still outstretched where he had shaken it moments ago.

"Is he always like this?"

"Sometimes it's worse," Jin whispers in your ear, and you can't help it, you laugh, any hostility held against him now gone. There wasn't any reason for you to be mad at him, but it's just startling.

Aren't you supposed to be prepared for things like this? But standing here, you couldn't feel more out of place.

"Suga and Jimin, get into costume! Someone touch up Yoongi's hair please, he fell asleep...again."

Swallowing hard, you consider turning on your heel and running out of there. You wonder what they'd do if you just gave everything up now. You'd be okay, right? You've dealt with letting down people before. This wouldn't be anything different.

Then you remember.

The only person you'd be hurting would be yourself.

Clenching your jaw tight, you root your feet to the ground, refusing to let yourself get intimidated. Yes, you're not fully prepared, but you can do this. You have to do this.

"Hoseok!" Deokhwa calls for Jhope who's dawdling around near Suga. He turns at the sound of his name, Yoongi opening an eye, half-delirious and half annoyed. "Are you ready?"

"Yes sir!" He nods, a little too excited. Suga winces from his place beside Jhope, and pulls a pillow off the couch he was sleeping on.

"Then you and Yen can go first, alright?" Deokhwa decides, crossing something off of his clipboard. Jhope nods, saluting the director with a wide smile.

"Roger that!" He shouts once more, unbeknownst of Yoongi winding up behind him, and smacking the pillow straight into his back. Jhope shrieks, startled before turning to Suga and delving into a slight argument.

Namjoon, shaking his head at the encounter, almost forgets that you're right beside him. It's only when you take a deep breath to steady your nerves does he remember, turning to you. Biting his bottom lip, he considers reaching out to console you but pulls away hesitantly. Instead, he clears his throat, gathering your attention.

"Don't worry so much." He murmurs, glancing your way and sending you a slightly awkward but reassuring smile. "You can do this."

You return the smile, finding his concern to be comforting before turning to Deokhwa and heading over there to meet Jhope.

Maybe he's right, maybe you can do this.

Or maybe you're in over your head.

Standing in the middle of the set, you find yourself freezing, unable to move at the sight of so many eyes on you, so many cameras pointed your way. Ready to capture your every move, your every expression, your every misstep. You can't move, afraid that you'll screw everything up. Everything is so perfect, everything is set where it's supposed to be, what if you'll break it when you touch it? Anxiety growing larger and larger within your gut you try your hardest not to break down.

Why did they think you were ready for this? You don't even know what to do, much less how to do it even if you could figure out how to move again. Deokhwa tries his hardest to give you directions, but it's lost within the noise in your head. Static grows, mixing in with the bright lights and eyes staring at you, waiting to devour you and pick you apart as though you were a doll meant for their enjoyment.

When his hand wraps around your arm, sending warmth throughout your shaking body, you find yourself completely helpless. He pulls you to his side, his hands strong and sure behind you, making sure that you won't fall on his watch. You look to him, wondering if he can see how vulnerable you are at the moment, wondering if he knows that you aren't as strong as you pretend to be.

Jhope only smiles, brushing your hair off of your forehead and giving you a soft kiss in their place. You blink, shocked at the sudden show of affection, and equally as shocked when the camera flashes, taking a shot of the encounter.

Flinching, you turn to the camera, and the director, who's grinning from ear to ear. "That was great! Keep it up you two! And Yen, it's okay to be nervous at first, don't worry you'll get the hang of it."

Sheepishly, you nod, any fear or anxiety you had before quickly fading away in an instant. As the shooting commences, you turn to Jhope who has since let go of you and let out a soft sigh of relief.

"Thank you."

Hoseok glances at you from the corner of his eye, chuckling to himself as he takes your hands and leads you over to another section of the set. Dubiously still posing for the cameramen of the shoot. You notice, and can't help but smile. He really is kind.

"For what?"

At his question, you give him a look, but the innocent smile on his face only grows wider. It's a smile that tells you he knows exactly what he did, but he won't admit to it. You roll your eyes at the notion, finding it so like him, and yet so infuriating.

Instead, he picks up a bouquet and hands it to you. "There's nothing to thank me for, it's only right to help out someone new on set."

You take the flowers delicately into your hands, finding them to be an exquisite array of daffodils and sunflowers, a few peonies dotted here and there. You raise the flowers to your face, inhaling the sweet scent. As you do, Jhope smiles affectionately, multiple flashes from the camera capturing every second. However, the two of you are too distracted to care.

"Do you know what these flowers mean?" He asks you, and you look up at him, shaking your head silently. He chuckles at the curious spark in your eye and takes one of the daffodil petals into his hands, stepping closer to you.

"Daffodil's represent rebirth and new beginnings." He explains. "The first bloom after winter fades."

New beginnings. You wonder if there's any left for you to find.

"The sunflower is simple. A sign of happiness and good fortune. Peonies are difficult, however."

"How so?" You ask him, and he smiles, lifting a one from the bouquet.

"They mean something different all over the world. In Greece, they are known to represent bashfulness. In Japan, they're associated with bravery and honor." Looking up at you through his long eyelashes, he brushes his finger across your cheek as he tucks the flower behind your ear. "Generally though, they can be known to represent prosperity and love."

At the mention of the word, both of you look at the other. There's something in his eyes, something that reminds you of the way Jungkook has looked at you before. The same electrifying look that Taehyung has sent your way. The same connection you shared with the masked man.

He only pulls away from your touch long enough to set the flowers aside, then his hands reach for yours and they soon intertwine together.

Maybe it's the strange feeling of the set or the weird way the flowers have resonated with you, but you can feel your heartbeat increasing with every step he takes towards you. He presses his forehead against yours, and you find yourself avoiding his eyes, your cheeks flushing a bright red. Swallowing hard, you look up to find his eyes hooded, all traces of his once comforting smile now gone and replaced with something more sentimental.

"What?" you whisper.

"What do you mean?" This time, he doesn't smile innocently, instead, his warm hands tighten around yours, creating a cocoon around the two of you. You take a shaky breath, trying to refuse the loud pounding of your heart in your ears.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

He offers you no answer, only takes a step closer, your bodies now able to feel the other's warmth. A comforting feeling, one that lets you know that you still breathe and feel the same if not a bit different from the other. He presses his thumb against your cheek, rubbing it softly over your skin in a delicate motion. With wide eyes, you look up at him, wondering what is there that has entranced him so.

"Did you know you have a freckle here?"

Before you can move or even respond, Deokhwa's voice cuts through the cocoon, and the both of you are brought back to the harsh reality you had once escaped from in the arms of the other.

"Alright! That's a wrap, good job you two. Hoseok you can now get changed for your solo shots, and Namjoon get ready you'll be next."

When Jhope pulls away, you find yourself frozen, and confused.

Was that...was that all an act?

Watching him bow slightly to the director and cameramen, but still stay a considerable distance away from you, you can't help but feel a bit slighted. It all felt so real. Could he really have been faking it--?

And so what if he had?

Blushing profusely, you place your hands on your cheeks cursing and begging the rosy hue to erase itself from your skin.

Honestly, Yen, what were you expecting? He doesn't even know you that well, certainly not as well as Namjoon or Tae...

And why are you bringing those two into this?!

Inwardly, you groan. Having all of these idols around you 24/7 isn't doing any favors for your heart. Biting your bottom lip, you feel the darkness growing inside of you once more as you remember your promise.

Not now Yen.

Not yet.

Chuckling nervously, you turn to Jhope.

"You're good at this."

Hoseok looks towards you, once more feigning innocence. You almost want to strangle that puppy dog look from his eyes. It's as though he refuses to show you a real side to him. It's maddening, you can't seem to figure him out.

"What do you mean?" he asks, and you force a smile, beneath your grimace. Taking a deep breath, you pull the peony from your ear, smiling softly.

"You know...faking." You say the word before you realize how insulting it could be interpreted. At Hoseok's slight eyebrow raise, you grimace noting that he took it exactly that way. You stammer, scrambling for the right way to make up for your wrong usage of words. "I mean, you're a good actor! I almost believed that was real."

Jhope looks as though he wants to say something in response, but before he can, Deokhwa call from beyond the set, near a couple of stylists touching up Namjoon's makeup before he heads up.

"Come on you two! Come take a look at the monitor."

You nod, silently thanking God for giving you a weird and eccentric director. You don't notice the odd way Hoseok is looking at you, nor do you realize that he's taken a step closer to you. Placing his hand on your shoulder, you jump a bit, turning to him, but his lips are already by your ear, his breath hot and dancing on your skin.

You try your hardest not to shiver as he whispers his next words, the sound reverberating in your eardrums.

"I wasn't faking anything."

𝔞/𝔫: i feel like we have hardly any Jhope moments so here you go! i hope this is a nice one, even if it's kind of short ;-;

chapter 36 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

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leviiattacks · 4 years ago

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Two Faced | Chapter Ten

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it’s all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared, for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au ??? (at this point idek) angst, fluff, slice of life etc ?? word count :: 4k author note :: haha.... wowww it's been long since i last updated. honestly my physical and mental health have just been horrible... that's about it, i lost a lot of motivation but if you're still reading i am very thankful and i will try to deliver the story well. i tried my best but writing whilst sick is very tiresome :-) tags :: @patience-is-here , @chwlogy , @a--nonymousse , @imkumichan

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Keeping yourself cooped up within Levi's estate and never daring to step a foot outside should have been what you had done. Blackmailing him to keep you confined within the walls of your bedroom would be much better compared to the problem you have to resolve now. Perhaps if you had done so you wouldn't have collided face first into this muddle.

Jean fiddles with the ends of his button up, he doesn't take the chance to glance up at any of his superiors. He's either much too embarrassed or has nothing noteworthy to start off with.

Erwin chooses to call the shots seeing as neither you or the Viscount by your side wish to begin.

"You both understand why we're here. Correct me if I'm wrong?" The Commander looks between you, Jean and your unfortunate excuse of a husband. Suddenly it looks as if the gears and cogs in Jean's brain move without warning.

Offering a demure nod you expect for him to follow in your footsteps and do the same only he stands there looking between you and Levi.

"Wait...The two of you are? A couple?" Stunned isn't the word, Jean's completely flabbergasted.

"If you figured that out this late, I do not understand why Erwin sees you remotely fit for my team." Levi's beyond insulted at the fact he's only just understood the situation.

Jean, now more intimidated than ever before straightens his back and coughs clumsily, "Sorry." He murmurs chestnut eyes making contact with the hardwood floors.

The Commander's laced hands sit atop his desk, elegant fingers moving similar to honey on a spoon. He sighs not out of fatigue but pride. Whatever plan he's come up with has to be decent at the very least, his body language is telling you that much.

"We have a number of possibilities we can choose from. We owe that pleasure to Mr Kirstein here." Erwin offers him an almost cynical smile, you can't help but gulp thinking about how this is essentially your fault. With all the constant training sessions and team building tasks it makes sense for Jean to have completely forgot about your unspoken rule. Solely blaming him is incorrect.

Raising your arm above your head to intervene you make it known that you're aware of Levi shooting you a look of warning by returning it. It's best he knows you don't care for anyone's opinion let alone his.

"Permission to speak Commander?"

Your request is agreed to immediately with the wave of Erwin's hand.

"It's my fault for not reminding Jean. I'll take the blame, I hadn't even told him the full story concerning me and Levi."

Levi doesn't enjoy your defense in the slightest. "I don't expect my wife to fling herself at other men and allow for them to snoop around gathering the details of our personal lives."

Scoffing you shield yourself with your arms over your chest.

"Oh dear husband. If you want to get personal do tell me where my family is?" It's an inside joke only Levi will be able to understand.

"If you call those people family your standards are disgustingly low."

"Maybe that explains why I settled for you."

Again, other's opinions are not at the forefront of your priority list. Regardless it's quite enjoyable pushing Levi further into a corner with that sentence. You see the internal struggle play out within him. Jaw clenched, hands balled together. He doesn't have an appropriate response

Jean bursts out unable to hold it in any longer, chest trembling with every quake of laughter that ripples through him you have to shove him with your elbow. For a Viscount his etiquette sure is nonexistent.

"My word, the two of you sound like..."

Levi stares at him most probably expecting something along the lines of "An old married couple."

But, no. It's nothing anyone in the room expects. That includes you.

"It's as if you're unhappy with each other..."

Not a noise is made after that. Jean isn't mistaken, your heart is miserable. You've never had many relationships to begin with, whether it be familial, romantic or platonic and for someone such as your husband to treat you the way he does - it feels futile having to navigate around the complexities. Even if he isn't really your husband it's disappointing to reflect on your marriage so suddenly.

Feeling your face droop a little you bite your bottom lip with your teeth. Hearing the truth from someone you barely expect to hear it from has an effect on you.

You're so caught up analyzing everything it takes you a minute to even register Levi grumbling and lunging forward pilfering the collar of Jean's shirt.

"Every day you prove to be more and more pathetic than I expect." Levi turns to look at you after that. His stare bores into you but he doesn't come off threatening, you assume his last remark is directed solely at Jean.

When he turns back only glaring at Jean now with even more tenacity than before. He's ready to snap but Erwin has clearly had enough of the unwanted altercation in his office.

"Enough. The both of you. This is most bothersome." At the Commander's orders Levi is silenced although it takes all of his resolve to do so.

Finally bothering you take a good look at Jean. He's calm in an incredibly out of character way.

Is this not the man who trembled in his boots the first time he and Levi came into contact? It's almost as if he seems pleased with himself for drawing out such a reaction from his Captain.

Erwin shuffles through stacks of paperwork on his desk. The man needs an assistant at this point. You doubt you could find anything in that haphazard pile. Edges of crumpled paper poke out uncomfortably and Erwin becomes increasingly annoyed when he can't locate what it is he's looking for.

Just as you're about to ask if he requires any assistance it seems he's found what he's been looking for, that's if his eyes are any indication of the relief he feels.

"This." He holds up the paper, all eyes in the room are trained on it. "Under normal circumstances would not have to become an option."

"But these aren't normal circumstances?" Jean's thoughtless question is irksome when the answer is so obviously staring him down in the face.

Nonetheless Erwin nods incapable of losing his cool over something so minor.

"Sign to confirm to my proposition."

The document he places onto the desk isn't what you imagine, you can practically feel the dread climb up your throat once you're done scanning it. Jean's full name placed right next to yours in bold lettering has your stomach lurching. You don't have to read the rest to understand the new circumstances you've landed into.

To make matters worse Erwin places two rings down right in front of the both of you.

A pot of boiling hot water is what you've been thrown in.

Are you supposed to be some sort of replacement for potatoes? What's Jean in this scenario? Carrots?

"It is troublesome to have the two of you put on an act to be involved with one another but I see it as our safest option." Erwin notices your parted lips and slacked jaw. "You need not worry this isn't a marriage contract, you're simply acting."

There's no path out of this pot, you and Jean will simply have to deal with the prospect of being boiled alive.

Ah, you forgot to mention who would act as the hot water but you're sure the suspect is obvious.

Even right now Levi's fury radiates off of him, it's unclear if he was given the details of the Commander's plan beforehand but if his furrowed brow and pursed lips are indicators of the truth he must have had no idea.

Your suspicions are confirmed to be correct once Levi reaches forward plucking the paper away, it just so happens he's snatched it away the very moment Jean leans in to get a closer look at it.

"I was never informed of this."

Erwin gives him a guarded smile. "Do you have any jurisdiction over what I think is best?" Is his freezing reply.

"Yes. When it concerns my wife and another man - Correction. I meant boy."

Jean's taken aback by the subtle jab and shamefacedly shoves his hands into his pockets.

You watch the scene go down with a perplexed look the entire time. Levi's frustration seems to be legitimate yet he has no logical reason for it to ever be present in the first place. Unless he has a plan which outperforms the one you've just been given he's doing this all for nothing.

"I assure you your wife is in safe hands so long as you stop interfering."

Levi's about to bark back until he catches your confusion. He's become aware of your tilted head and telling expression and only then does he silence himself permanently not before sighing deeply, muttering an expletive under his breath.

"I’ll sign it.” That seems to be Jean’s indirect way of asking what your choice will be.

“I... will too.” Is your hesitant reply.

Levi only becomes avoidant after that. Half way through Erwin explaining how you and Jean have to look believable Levi just ups and leaves without a word. Perhaps you've hurt his pride but for what he's done to you it's a small price to pay and so you do nothing to make amends. He has no reason to feel uncomfortable, you aren't really his wife, you're essentially strangers. Does he even know your favourite colour? Your favourite food? Your favourite pastime?

You doubt he does.

Jean and you are rather successful with your act. It feels pleasant having him brush your hair out of your face occasionally or lovingly place a hand on your forehead to check if you've come down with a fever. He laces his fingers with yours when others are around and when they aren't he lets the act go. It's satisfying having a cooperative partner.

Naturally Jean is still a tease, even now he makes the odd suggestive comment or two in passing but you can't say you hate it. In fact it excites you to think of a response that borders the edge of teasing and simple fun between friends.

The increasing openness between the two of you is enough for the cadets to deduce that he's most probably the noble man you wed in secrecy.

It's only been a few days since yours and Jean's newfound behaviour, thankfully you haven't been flooded with questions just yet. The higher ups sit nearby during breakfast, lunch and dinner keeping watch over the cadets. It leaves you able to eat and drink without having to handle the constant inquiring of your comrades.

However, you aren't as lucky today. A meeting's taking place and after yours and Jean's convincing act Erwin deems it safe enough to leave you unattended for a short while.

Of course it doesn't go according to plan because when you're involved when does anything ever go according to plan?

The cadets are flocked around your table at dinner as soon as they notice they've been left to their own devices. The opportunity to sit down without everyone invading your space is barely provided to you. Krista is sat to your right leaning into you rather animatedly, Annie has made herself at home sat across you which in itself is completely out of character and slightly unnerving, Annie never and you repeat never concerns herself with you.

"Why did you and Jean hide it?" Armin hovers over your shoulder as per usual. He can't be blamed for naturally being inquisitive and it does give you the opportunity to lay out the foundations of your plan. Now's your time to muster up one of your rehearsed responses.

"It would interfere with work." You respond immediately wanting to appear natural. Pondering on an answer for too long would raise suspicions.

Armin makes a sound of approval and shuffles into the seat next to Krista, that is until Ymir can be overheard telling him to move if he knows what's best for him.

"I have a question." Says a voice across the table, you don't have to look at the blonde parallel to you to know it's her.

For once Annie’s initiated a conversation with you, she’s not particularly great at keeping her intentions discreet. Maybe she doesn’t care if you can tell what she’s up to? But if that’s the case her plan isn’t all that foolproof, there's no way you're to let any details slip away.

Sharply inhaling waiting for what it is she has to say you find that her sentence never comes. Instead she shakes her head and murmurs a "Never mind.". You don't even have the time to ask her to stick around, she's already rose from her seat taking her unfinished plate of food with her, you let her go assuming she feels unwell.

"So how'd you two meet? Jean already told me earlier but I'd like to hear your side." Reiner's taken Annie's empty seat and his gaze is unwavering. The trap they've set up is a clever one. Surveying the hall for Bertholdt you know he has to be observing too. The two never operate alone.

You suddenly hate Reiner. For whatever reason he and his trio are endlessly obsessed with you, they've caught onto something that's for sure but you don't know what it is and now they've completely ensnared you with a backhanded trick. There's no way out of this, you have no idea what it is Jean said to Reiner, the chances of you providing the exact same answer are slim to none.

"My memory is really fuzzy, I don't think Jean gave off much of a first impression so I've forgot." Your horrible excuse doesn't fly by, everyone simultaneously narrows their eyes in disbelief. What you've said isn't convincing at all.

Husband and Wife yet you've forgot how the two of you met?

Fidgeting with the ring adorning your finger the cool metal isn't doing a great job at alleviating the pressure of the situation.

"Jean said the two of you hit it off almost instantly. Who's being dishonest?"

Reiner's either lying to catch you out or he's saying the God honest truth and right now all you can do is hope and pray for a miracle to sweep you off your feet. Mikasa and Jean still aren't within view. At this point you're hoping for Levi to save you, it doesn't matter how so long as you escape unscathed.

"Hey, I think we're just making her anxious with all the questions." Armin is quick to side with you, deep down you know he only does so due to the respect he holds for his Commander. You thank the Heaven's for Erwin's admirable smile and commendable leadership, it seems to be the only reason Armin believes you and Jean.

"Or she's lying." Reiner's resting his head in one of his palms, he's still boring holes right into your frame.

Your eye twitches, this is all unnecessary and uncalled for, whatever it is Reiner wants out of you it better be worthwhile.

He still eggs you on. "You walked out of the Captain's quarters. I saw you."

Standing up and leaning forward you plant your feet to the ground as firmly as you can you.

"And if she did what's it to you?"

Fighting the urge to sigh in relief you've never been happier to hear Jean's voice but something's off. His breathing sounds heavy - like he fought his way to get inside. Turning only then do you notice Mikasa standing by him. She looks equally as exhausted. There's been some sort of a struggle.

"You think it was funny getting Annie to guard the door?" He heaves and runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

"And you think hiding secrets from the rest of us is any better?" Reiner's adamant there's information that the both of you are hiding, he's not wrong but that doesn't change that he's challenging you unprovoked without a reasonable motive.

"We're hiding nothing." Unlike you Jean is sure of his words, he's confident speaking up and he seems to be able to pull off the role of a protective husband perfectly.

“I came out of the Captain’s quarters because he had access to hot water. He said I could use his shower. That’s all it was.”

Reiner quirks an eyebrow upwards and is pleased with your answer. God you’ve said something incriminating haven’t you? It's not incriminating per se but it's without doubt malleable and easy to twist.

“Jean, you were okay with your wife doing that at the dead of night?” Reiner's still leading the interrogation.

“I was the one who suggested it.”

“I don’t believe you’re a couple." If it were Reiner who said that you wouldn't care much, after all it's pretty clear he never believed it but to your displeasure it isn't him who's spoken. Ymir's lopsided grin is all knowing and you're beginning to lose your footing in this argument any second now if any more people start to side against you.

If Ymir disagrees that almost certainly means Krista has her qualms about you too, you've observed beforehand that Ymir tends to speak for Krista on occasion. This happens to be one of those times.

Krista timidly raises her hand and Ymir gives her an approving nod encouraging her to speak.

"I don't like the conflict going on but it is suspicious..."

"Why have I only ever seen you two hold hands?" She asks.

Ymir slings her arm over Krista's shoulder affectionately. "Yeah, I tell Krista I'll marry her every day of the week."

Mikasa mumbles something unintelligible, Ymir gives her a look of warning but Mikasa doesn't seem to care. Instead she repeats what she has to say loud and clear.

"Stick to only speaking when Krista is involved."

Krista holds Ymir by her arm so she doesn't get up, she knows how she gets when she's been provoked. Even if Krista has her suspicions it isn't worth Ymir gaining a permanent penalty point on her record.

Thankfully Armin cuts in. "There's no solid evidence to show they're lying and even if they are the Commander's most probably told them to. Don't you think there's a reason? Leave it be if that's the case. I trust him with our lives."

"We have a right to know." Annie's returned and insists to keep this back and forth going.

Just as you're about to fire back Jean takes a hold of your waist, you look down and seeing his large hands planted securely around your frame has your stomach bubbling with anticipation.

"What are you— "

And then he kisses you, he doesn't ask and instinctively your arms move to whack his chest but you stop yourself in time. You realize it's for the sake of your plan not falling through and so you gently place your hands on his shoulders attempting to ground yourself. It becomes increasingly difficult when you sink deeper into the kiss than you'd like to admit. Blood rushes to the tips of your ears and the thumping of your heartbeat makes it difficult to articulate any thoughts, all you really know is that you like this, whatever this is.

Jean's hands don't feel like they were made to rest against your back, they feel slightly out of place as if he's a key and you're an unmatched lock. In spite of that the circles he comfortingly rubs into the sides of your waist are appreciated, you almost forget you're in a room full of people until you're flooded by cold air.

You've been dragged off of Jean and something in the pit of your stomach has you wishing Levi isn't responsible for the interruption.

To your relief it's just Hange, they're glowing in mischief, the grin on their face shows they aren't mad. They might even find this entertaining.

"Well I be damned... maybe they weren't bluffing?" Connie's been persuaded by the looks of it and Krista's busy whispering to Ymir, you hear the faint sound of the word "Romantic" escape her lips, she's equally as convinced as Connie.

Hange smacks your back light-heartedly and looks to the door for a second. "We leave ya' both for a while and you decide to give everyone a show?"

Erwin's stood by the doorway with a humorous smile playing at his lips, Levi however is anything but amused, he glares at you with murderous eyes, he looks like he's ready to end your life then and there but you know he won't dare do so and for a second you feel braver than you ever have before. Without much thought you grab onto Jean's forearm.

"Me and my husband will get going now!" You allow your gaze to loiter when you get to Reiner. He grunts an apology and you're oh so tempted to ask him to repeat himself but you'd rather not instigate anything.

With that said and done you and Jean leave after giving the performance of your lives.

Slowly but gradually the sky outside becomes dark.

The will to sleep left your body long ago. It's by pure luck that you even manage to catch three hours of rest. Training is the only available distraction and dying out in battle isn't favourable by any means, your boredom may as well be used resourcefully - Strapping yourself up in your ODM gear is the best option.

A quarter way through your warm up you can sense a presence behind you, the leaves rustle and the wind feels noticeably quieter. You'd bother to turn around to see who's intruded but Levi's snuck close enough for you to be able to smell his perfume from where you're stood.

"Feel disrespected? Embarrassed even?" You jab at him knowing it'll rile him up, you don't face him not wanting to give him the pleasure of seeing your face.

"Watch your mouth." he warns sharply.

Rolling your eyes you go about your business, it stays that way for a few minutes. All the while Levi stares at you darting from tree to tree, his scrutinizing gaze scalding you repeatedly.

"Y/N!" He yells at the top of his lungs.

For some unknown reason you automatically stop and lower yourself to the ground

"I have something to tell you." Comes his tense follow up. A finger of his latches onto one of the leather straps on your back.

You can't believe he's still denying the undeniable.

"You can wait till tomorrow. I'll be going to bed."

Levi doesn't seem to care for your cold response and proceeds with no warning.

"I'm jealous." His voice shakes. The grip he has on your harness doesn't let up. With your back turned to him you're still somehow able to detect the very obvious crack of pain.

Levi, jealous?

Gritting your teeth together you feel deceived.

How much longer will you have to tolerate Levi's push and pull?

“May I ask, what he is to you, my love?”

Your breathing grows heavy, tensing up you're completely shocked by the term of endearment that falls from his lips. You haven't heard it for so long, Levi sounds eerily different.

You hate to admit it but a flicker of foolish hope lights in your chest.

"Levi why would you ask— "

"Why don't you call me Lev anymore?" He whispers sounding strangled. You can't take it anymore and hesitantly look his way.

His eyes are filled with tears "I'm sorry my love, I don't know what went wrong." you falter for a second not knowing what to think.

At that moment the flicker becomes a flame.

The man who stands right before you is meant to be dead, never to be seen again. By all accounts this should be impossible, but Lev has always been a fighter.

Bitterness stings your heart, the wounds you've collected are still fresh but despite your body's protests you don't flinch when he gently takes a hold of your wrist, bringing it closer to his mouth.

"Lev...? Is that really you...?" You ask desperately.

The warm kiss he presses against your pulse point provides you with the answer you've been longing for.

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extasiswings · 4 years ago

Text

How we feeling clowns? Wrecked? Anyway, here, have an episode tag for both the crossover and Buck Begins. Also on ao3.

Eddie’s driving nearly on autopilot, the roads familiar as they get closer and closer to El Paso. Part of him almost wishes he hadn’t taken the driving shift to get them to his childhood home, even if it made the most sense—he can feel the tension in his jaw and shoulders creeping in, curling tighter with every mile they come closer, and his fingers itch for his phone, for the commiserating sympathies of his sisters who understand what he’s likely to walk into much more than Buck or Hen.

Technically they could have skipped the detour. Eddie hadn’t even planned on telling his parents he was coming to Texas at all—it was Christopher who let it slip, and then Eddie had been immediately put on the spot and he hadn’t been able to come up with a good way out of stopping by after his weak deflection that it wasn’t a social trip was met with well, you have to stop and eat somewhere, don’t you.

Sophia told him to lie and say the department said no. But she’s always been much better at lying to their parents outright than he is. Adriana shrugged and said if he didn’t want to go he didn’t need to give them a reason and should just say he wouldn’t be coming. But then, that’s her tactic as well and always has been—putting her foot down to establish hard boundaries, forging her own path and bucking all expectations. Eddie’s always fallen somewhere in the middle, which he supposes is fitting—struggling to set boundaries, often getting there only when pushed, wanting approval but lacking Sophia’s talent for gentle manipulation that usually leads people to think that whatever she wants was their idea.

So. Here he sits. Driving to El Paso.

“Eddie?”

He blinks and clears his throat as he registers Buck’s voice, the edge of concern that says it’s not the first time Buck has called his name.

“Yeah?”

“I was going to ask if you could pass back the aux cord,” Buck says. “But now I think I should ask if you’re okay.”

Eddie glances over his shoulder—Hen is in the back of the truck, head pillowed against the window, dozing with her eyes closed. He swallows.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen my parents is all,” he replies. “And usually when they call it’s to talk to Christopher so...it might be uncomfortable.”

Buck’s voice drops. “Have you talked to them since the thing? Other than about this I guess.”

The Thing, also known as the huge fight they got into when Eddie decided that if he was going to keep working he couldn’t live at home for awhile and they tried to once again insist that he take Chris back to live with them. Like some terrible combination of the arguments they had before he moved to LA and after Shannon’s funeral, only even worse because Eddie had been raw enough over the decision to move in with Buck and let his abuela take care of Chris for awhile and really didn’t need to hear anyone tell him that choice made him a bad parent—

Sophia had been spitting mad when he told her and while he doesn’t know what she said in her own subsequent call to their parents, he knows that the next time they called him, the subject didn’t come up again. Which, he supposes is as close to an apology as he’s ever likely to get.

He probably could have used that as an excuse to not visit. But then, that’s not really how they are. Don’t apologize, pretend you don’t hold grudges, act like everything is fine, and repress until it feels like it is—the Diaz family way.

Eddie sighs as he focuses on the road.

“Not really,” he replies. “They’ve called Christopher every few weeks, but we’ve only talked directly...three times maybe since then? Things seem to go south more quickly when we’re in person though so I guess I’m…”

“Bracing for impact,” Buck fills in quietly. “I get that.”

“Yeah?”

Buck shrugs. “I don’t talk about my parents,” he points out. “Don’t talk to them either if I can avoid it because they always have a way of managing to just—anyway. The last time I even called was after everything with Maddie and Doug. Haven’t seen them since...since before I started with the 118 at least. So. Yeah. I get it.”

He hesitates, then adds, “You know I have your back, right? You’re my best friend and you’re an amazing father. I’m not going to let anybody get away with talking badly about you in front of me, even if they are your parents.”

Eddie glances back and manages a faint smile, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he admits. “Even if you did try to steal a fire truck in the middle of the night without me.”

Buck laughs and shoves at his shoulder. “At least it wasn’t this truck. Besides—you caught up before I did it anyway.”

“Yeah, my Buck’s about to do something dangerous senses were tingling, couldn’t let that slide,” Eddie teases.

“Just give me the damn aux cord,” Buck shoots back, but he’s grinning.

And as they pass the next exit, Eddie feels like maybe things won’t be quite so bad.

***

Buck hates Eddie’s parents.

It’s not the most charitable thing to think about someone you’ve only just officially met—he saw them at the ceremony when Eddie passed his probationary period, but he’d been on pretty strong painkillers at the time and Maddie had shuffled him back home as soon as possible—but he really does.

He hates the tense, anxious set of Eddie’s shoulders, hates the way his smile looks forced—it triggers the same fierce, protective instinct that rears its head whenever he gets between his parents and Maddie, and, well, he did promise, so—

He really doesn’t feel bad for interrupting the very first digs about how seeing Christopher over video isn’t the same as in person, but it’s nice to have the option and technology really is wonderful, Zoom calls must have been a great improvement from your army days, right son with—

“You know, it is wonderful isn’t it? Did Eddie tell you how amazing Christopher is handling hybrid learning? It’s really so great how his teachers have adapted, I can’t imagine he would have kept up so well anywhere else.”

Buck smiles brightly as Eddie’s mother’s lips thin. Hen coughs and takes a long sip of lemonade. Eddie blinks in surprise from across the table and clears his throat, grasping at the lifeline.

“Yeah, top of his class,” Eddie says.

“He even has a reading group once a week with some of the other kids in his class that Eddie started to help them stay social. I know a lot of the other parents appreciate it,” Buck adds, and Eddie rubs at the back of his neck.

“We definitely do,” Hen says, glancing at Eddie’s father as she clarifies, “I have a son Christopher’s age. They used to play together all the time before all of this.”

“His therapist said kids are resilient, but I wanted to at least try and give him something normal,” Eddie replies, and his mother’s brows raise.

“Christopher is in therapy?” There’s a note in her tone that makes Eddie tense and Buck’s hackles raise.

“I took him to see someone for a few sessions after Shannon died, mom,” Eddie says evenly. After the tsunami, Buck fills in for himself. “It didn’t seem like a bad idea to go back again to make sure he’s okay during a time that’s pretty unprecedented for just about everyone.”

“Really, I think more parents should send their kids to therapy,” Buck interjects. “If it’s a feasible option, I can’t see that it’s anything other than great parenting to make sure your kid has the best tools they can to take care of their mental health.”

God knows if he’d gone to therapy a hell of a lot sooner, he might not be struggling through sessions with Dr. Copeland now that he’s nearly thirty, but that’s not really the point.

“Well, some people feel those sorts of things are best taken care of within the family,” Eddie’s mother replies.

“With all due respect, sometimes the family’s way of handling problems just makes things worse,” Buck replies, his smile dropping briefly before he forces it back again.

“This lemonade really is delicious, Mrs. Diaz,” Hen jumps in as Eddie pushes his chair back and starts collecting empty plates. “I would love to get the recipe before we leave. If you don’t mind.”

Startled, the older woman blinks. “Oh. Yes, of course. I’ll write it down for you.”

Buck pushes back his own chair as Hen continues redirecting the conversation and follows Eddie into the kitchen where he finds his best friend gripping the edge of the sink.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

Eddie looks over his shoulder and exhales heavily. “Hey.”

“Sorry if I overstepped.”

“You didn’t,” Eddie assures. “I’m just...exhausted. And ready to get back on the road and home to my kid.”

He hesitates, then adds, “you know, my sisters would be impressed. I haven’t seen someone manage our parents like that since they left. I—thank you.”

“I meant what I said in the truck, Eddie,” Buck replies. “You’re an amazing father and a great man and—it’s not right that anyone should pretend any different. So. I won’t let them.”

Eddie glances at the hallway. “Guess we have to go back eventually. I didn’t quite think this escape plan through.”

“Once more unto the breach?” Buck offers. The smile he gives Eddie is far different from the fake one he’s had up since they arrived, and when Eddie returns it, a spark returning to his eyes, it makes Buck’s stomach flip and his pulse race.

He tries not to think too hard about that. They still have a long drive ahead of them—plenty of time to save it for later.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

***

When they get home, Eddie barely manages to shower and plug in his phone to charge before falling into bed and immediately going to sleep. When he wakes up, he finally checks his messages and sees several missed calls and texts from his sisters.

So? Sophia asks. How was it?

<em>You were right</em>, Eddie taps out, and then waits. His phone rings a few seconds later.

“I’ll save the I told you so in favor of asking if I should get Adriana on the line for an emergency Diaz sibling parental grievance vent session or if I’ll suffice,” Sophia greets.

“It’s not that serious,” Eddie replies. “I’m okay—a little annoyed still, but...I’m okay.”

He’s not quite sure what compels him to add, “Buck was there. He, uh, he told them off about it a little actually. Politely, but that kind of polite...you know the one.”

“The one that’s basically go fuck yourself with a smile and/or plausible deniability?” Sophia fills in, and Eddie laughs.

“Yeah, that.” He rubs at the back of his neck and leans back in his chair. “It was—he kept pointing out things about what a great dad I am.”

There’s something about the feeling in his gut that he can’t name. Something he wants to poke at, to explore, but that also makes him wary. Like a yellow caution light—it’s not a do not enter but it’s not risk free either—and he’s not sure whether it’s a risk he can take yet.

Sophia is quiet for a moment. Then she says, “You are a great dad, Eddie. In spite of them. I’m glad you have other people in your life who recognize that too. You deserve that. You deserve to trust that you’re good at things, even if mom and dad say you aren’t. You deserve to be happy, so...”

The silence that follows feels weighty.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Is Buck—?” Sophia cuts herself off. “—nevermind. Hey, the twins are calling, so I’ll call back again later, okay? Love you.”

Is Buck what? Eddie wants to ask. But he swallows it back.

“Love you, too,” he says instead. “Talk to you later.”

As he hangs up and tosses his phone aside, his mind wanders back to that feeling. Right up to the edge of warning lights and caution tape. And Eddie wonders for a moment if he should—

There’s a knock at his door.

“Dad? You awake?”

“Yeah, buddy,” he calls back. “Be right there.”

Later. He can think about it later.

***

Eddie figures it out at the worst possible time—in the middle of a five-alarm fire when Buck’s trapped inside and he doesn’t know if—

What do you do when you realize you might be in love with your best friend and they could die?

“We have to go back in there,” he says, before he can think of any reason why he shouldn’t. “We can’t just leave him, we have to—”

“You’re right,” Bobby interrupts, and the other captain makes a noise of frustration.

“Captain Nash—”

“You’re right,” Bobby repeats, holding Eddie’s gaze. “We’re going to get him back.”

Maybe it’s stupid, four trained firefighters diving back into an active blaze in an unstable building with unclear direction, but Eddie can’t regret it when he sees the desperation on Buck’s face. The relief. The impending breakdown.

After, he’s assigned to take care of the victim and Buck’s carted off to the hospital to get checked, and Eddie thinks maybe that’s better. It gives him time, at least. Time to figure out what to say, what to do, whether he should say or do anything at all. Part of him doesn’t know. The rest is screaming I love him, I love him, I love him, wants to get his hands on Buck to verify for himself that he’s fine. That he’s alive. That he’s going to stay that way.

But when he gets back to the station, Buck’s parents are there, sitting at the table, and Eddie just—

He thinks about the look on Buck’s face earlier in the shift when he spilled everything, when he explained how he was apparently born just for parts and how he used to throw himself into bad situations because it was the only way to get their attention.

He could ignore them. But he doesn’t.

“He saved my son, you know,” Eddie says, gripping the top of the staircase as the Buckleys look up. And it’s probably somewhat insane to keep talking because he knows they don’t even know who he is, but he can’t help it because he just needs them to understand— “Buck. He wasn’t even working at the time, he was on medical leave and didn’t know if he would ever be able to be a firefighter again. But he saved my son in the middle of a tsunami—my then eight-year-old son, and god knows I can’t imagine losing him, I think that would be the worst thing I could possibly go through, and I’m not sure I would survive it, but I didn’t have to because Buck saved him. And probably twenty other people as well. That’s just the kind of person he is. The kind who saves people.”

They don’t say a word, so he keeps going. “He could have died today. Because he didn’t want to leave anyone behind. Because he is a good man, even if he doesn’t ever feel like he’s good enough. And he hasn’t said a lot about you, but he’s said enough for me to know that while he’s gotten the latter impression from you, he learned the former himself. He built his life here himself. So...I don’t know why you’re here, if you want to explain yourselves or just want him to forgive you because you feel guilty, but I just wanted you to know that. That he’s a good man. The best man that I know. And if you’re proud of him for that, he deserves to hear it. That’s all.”

Eddie walks away then, heart beating too fast, blood rushing in his ears.

The best man that I know. And I’m in love with him.

That wasn’t for their ears though.

It thrums in his veins, the words caught in his throat as he showers, changes, waits for Buck to return to the station. And when he does, Eddie almost—

But something stops him.

“You have visitors,” he says instead. And leaves Buck to it.

Buck finds him in the locker room after.

“So, my parents said they heard stories about me while they were waiting,” he says. “When I asked them who from, they said they didn’t know, but that I saved their son in a tsunami—and trust me, that got a hell of a lot of questions.”

Eddie is grateful for the open locker, the excuse to hide his face as he pulls out his street clothes.

“Yeah, well—just because they’re not going to appreciate you doesn’t mean that nobody else does.”

“Eddie.”

Eddie pulls back and takes a breath before looking over at Buck. There’s a look in Buck’s eyes like he’s trying to piece Eddie together like a puzzle, to work out all the things he hasn’t said. And Eddie suddenly feels exposed, far more than he had when Buck was sitting in his childhood dining room staring down his own parents.

“You’re a good man,” Eddie says quietly. “They should hear that. And...someone should be willing to defend it.”

Buck’s quiet for a moment.

“I have to go see Maddie,” he says finally. “But maybe I could come by later? And we could...talk?”

“You don’t have to ask, Buck,” Eddie replies. “You know I—” I always want you. “—you’re always welcome.”

Buck watches him in silence for another long moment, then nods. “Okay. Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

It’s hours before there’s a knock on the door. Hours in which Eddie burns dinner and then orders takeout because he’s too busy thinking, hours that he spends trapped in his own head, thinking through all the worst case scenarios, through every what if of how things could go wrong.

But also how they could go right.

And by the time he opens the door, he’s almost ready to just let the words trip off his tongue, but before he can, Buck says—

“Please don’t tell me I’m wrong about this.”

—and kisses him.

Eddie freezes, but before Buck can pull back, he slides a hand around the back of Buck’s neck and kisses him back with everything in him—every bit of thank god you’re alive and I was so afraid and I can’t lose you that he can muster. By the time Buck pulls away, they’re both breathless.

“I’m in love with you,” Buck admits. “I’ve been—”

“Me too,” Eddie replies. “I thought—I thought you were—”

Buck kisses him again.

“I can’t believe you told off my parents.”

“Well, you told off mine, so—”

Eddie pulls Buck through the door.

“Chris is in his room,” he says quietly. “But...you should stay for dinner. And…”

You should stay. Just stay.

Buck does.

#chapel writes #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie fic #911 fic #911 spoilers #(just in case)

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