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unbridgeabledistances · 4 years ago

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hi y’all<3 here’s a new section of the gallavich as seen from alternate POVs fic, this time featuring lip!!!! (i wanted to wait til after the ✨lickey drama✨ in the new ep before posting, but then i decided against it bc i didn’t want to re-write this lol)

i started to have way too many feelings while writing this so it’s a little lengthy and contemplative, but rest assured it features some domestic fluff/ian and mickey being disgustingly in love- i hope u enjoy<3

Lip shuffled into the kitchen of the Gallagher house, opening the fridge door and reaching past the clanging beer bottles to grab a metal soda can on the way back of the shelf, hearing a faint fizz escape as he popped the tab. It was late, the moonlight streaming in across the kitchen through the worn curtains and pooling on the kitchen floor— after Tami had crashed in their bed at the apartment after a long day at work and Freddie was sleeping soundly in his crib, Lip had come by the Gallagher house, without really knowing why. He just needed to clear his head, to get some distance from Tami and all her relentless nagging about moving and apartment hunting and his colossally obvious fuck-up with the bikes— he just needed some space, some less stifling air to breathe outside of their half-packed apartment crammed with boxes lining the walls.

It was funny; no matter how much energy Lip had poured into he and Tami’s first apartment, into painting the walls and agonizing over their kitchen backsplash like it was his first-born son, whenever Lip thought about home, whenever he felt that pit of uneasiness growing in his stomach and he just needed a place where he could lie back on a couch and loosen the knots in his shoulders and breathe in familiar air that would fill him up, instead of the too-clean smell of Tami’s flowery potpourri that she’d placed on the expensive coffee table in their living room— Lip always found his feet leading him across the slabs of sidewalk and past the chain link fences towards the Gallagher house, no matter the time of night. He had only been in the house for a few minutes before he felt the tight-knit something in his chest begin to unfurl— he didn’t even want to start to think about what was lodged there. This had been a crazy fucking couple of months, and he wasn’t going to start getting sappy about selling the house now, not when they were so close. He’d dug a hole too deep this time, and he needed the money. He couldn’t fuck up again— not with Freddie to take care of. No matter what it cost him.

So that’s how Lip ended up sitting at the Gallagher kitchen table at 2 a.m. on a Thursday night, sipping at an overly-sugary pop that was no substitute for what he really wanted to be drinking right now—he could imagine how it would warm the insides of his stomach, how it would cushion whatever weird fucking ache was in his chest right now. But— no. Fuck no. He wasn’t going to do that now. Everything about selling the house, about moving on, was about getting his shit straight— about leaving the bad parts of this sagging roof and these stained floorboards behind him.

Lip slouched in the wooden kitchen chair, scrolling on his phone and finally letting out a breath he didn’t really know he had been holding in all day, when he heard a creaking of footsteps padding at the top of the stairs— too heavy to be Liam or Debbie, too careful and unfumbling to be Frank dragging himself through the house. Lip flickered a glance up from where he was sitting and met Ian’s eyes as he turned the corner of the stairs, his skin looking translucent and overly pale in the moonlight like the ginger motherfucker he was.

Ian nodded his head towards Lip in acknowledgement, like he wasn’t surprised in the slightest that his older brother with a whole ass family and apartment of his own was decidedly squatting in the kitchen of his childhood home, drinking a pathetic-looking can of Dr. Pepper. Ian slid open the fridge door, grabbing a beer and swiftly popping the cap off by knocking the bottle on the side of the counter—and then in an instant it became one of those quiet, familiar nights when it was just Lip and Ian in the kitchen, sometimes letting easy conversations flow between them, but other times, just like this— just sinking into each other’s presence in the silence. Ian’s shadow mingling with the moonlight on the kitchen floor immediately snapped the atmosphere from lonely and self-pitying and stale to something lighter, something familiar—like the worn, buttery leather of a baseball glove that fits just right.

Instantly Lip was brought back to so many nights before this, of he and Ian orbiting each other in the kitchen at night— when they were kids and would creep down the stairs and eat fistfuls of junk food that Fiona had forbidden, or steal warm sips of the open beers Frank had left on the counter. This was where they’d processed Monica’s return, late at night while they passed a cigarette between them and Ian hadn’t tried to hide the tears that were freely rolling down his freckled cheeks, back when they were both just confused kids who clung to each other— this was where they’d processed Frank’s alcoholic meltdowns, too many to count, and all the love and loss and confusion that had passed between these walls, all the collateral damage of living in this fucking neighborhood. And Lip felt a sudden pang in his gut, sharp and present, when he realized that it might be one of the last nights that he and Ian got to spend in the kitchen like this.

Lip immediately shoved the thought down with all his might, a hydraulic press squeezing out any sentimentality. He had to do this— for Freddie, for Tami. He had to man up and move on, even if it meant physically wounding the crumbling walls to ease the pain of the parallel jagged wounds somewhere deep in his chest, or screaming and shouting until veins popped in his neck, so loud that he knew he was radiating his pain outwards like a fucking atomic bomb.

But tonight, Lip had no more fight left to give. He just wanted to let these four walls hold him one last time, without even realizing that was what he had needed until this moment. Ian slid a chair out from the kitchen table and sat beside him, leaning back and dragging out a slow, sleepy breath.

Lip cleared his throat, softly. “Where’s Mick?”

“Passed out upstairs.” Ian scrubbed a hand over his face. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Lip raised his eyebrow, almost involuntarily, and Ian immediately jutted his chin up in a half-nod, an affirmation, as he leaned back even farther and took the first sip of his beer. No, he wasn’t manic and yes, he was fine. After all the years that had passed since Ian was still figuring this shit out, Lip sometimes forgot that checking in on him wasn’t really his job, not anymore.

Lip took another sip from his soda can, a movement to fill the easy silence. “How was your guys’ night?”

Ian shrugged non-committally, his shoulders still slumped back in the chair, his lips puckered around the mouth of the bottle as he stared off into the distance at the peeling kitchen wallpaper. “Eh. It was fine. I dragged Mickey out to try and make more gay friends. Ended up being a mistake.”

Lip held back a laugh, taking a sip from his own drink to mask his smirk. He had ample auditory evidence that Mickey was plenty as gay as Ian, but it was still hard to imagine Mickey leaning into all of this shit— Ian used to wear golden underwear and frequent gay clubs and go to social justice brunches, but none of that really seemed like it was Mickey’s scene.

“Oh yeah? Mickey not the easiest person to befriend?” Lip said it with his eyebrows raised, like the joke was obvious.

Ian looked up at him, like he’d been snapped out of a sleepy train of thought, staring earnestly like Lip’s jab had flown right over his head. “Actually, it was kind of my fault. I was the one who made us leave this dinner party thing we got invited to. They were all talking shit about the Southside, about how they hated their families, and I couldn’t really… connect with them, I guess.”

Lip pondered that, taking a breath and stretching his arms above his head. God, he was sore— he hadn’t even been fucking working, aside from hauling those bikes from place to place to avoid the cops, but all the pent up stress and tension was starting to linger in his bones.

“Yeah, it was the same for me. In college, or whatever. Joaquin was the only person I really talked to, because he got all the shit I was always going through.”

Ian nodded contemplatively—but he was staring off into space again, almost like he was half asleep. Lip took another sip of his soda. He could bring up the house shit again right now—it was all that they’d been talking about for the past few weeks—but for some reason it felt too raw, too intense to bring up right now, like it would cut through this peaceful moment, this island in the vast sea of uncertainty Lip knew he was bringing down on all of their heads. So in this moment, he opted for smoother waters.

“Why’d you guys go looking for new friends, anyways?”

Ian finally broke out of whatever drowsy, pensive trance he’d been in, his lips sloping into a smile. “Mickey kept giving me shit for always doing what you do, after breakfast today. I figured… I don’t know, I just got all pissy and tried to prove him wrong.”

Lip felt the corner of his mouth tick upward at that. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

Ian grinned, and held out his beer bottle, stretching his arm across the table. Lip tapped it with his soda can with a light “Cheers,” then took the final sip. He crushed the can to a disk on the table, pressing it down firmly with the heel of his palm and watching the sides compress. Ian’s eyes were cast downward at the table, watching his movements.

“How’s stuff with you and Tami going, all the packing and shit?”

Lip turned the flattened can on its side, contemplatively spinning it like a top on the table and fidgeting with it between his fingers.

“Honestly? I’m fucking exhausted.”

He could hear the breathiness as he said it, how deflated his own voice sounded. And Lip knew could make himself say more— he knew if anyone would get it, Ian would.

“It’s just… fuck, man.”

He looked up and Ian was staring directly at him now, his expression unguarded— listening. Listening like he always did in these moments. Lip let out a low chuckle, trying to shield his own vulnerability.

“How’d we get so fucking old? How is this… it, y’know? Finally leaving the fucking nest, or whatever.”

Ian smiled, placing his beer on the table. “I think you already left the nest when you had a baby and moved into an apartment with your girlfriend.”

Lip shrugged, fiddling with the crushed can again between his fingertips. “Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

“And you are the one making us do this, for the record.”

If Ian’s tone wasn’t as playful or as tentative as it was, Lip would have worried that he was upset— but judging by Ian’s still-comfortable slouch and his steady expression, Lip knew he was fine— he was weathering the storm, just like Lip was.

Ian leaned forward.

“Hey. Mickey was giving me shit—but it is true. You’re my best friend, even though you can be a fucking asshole sometimes.” Ian’s lips curved into a crooked smile. “Nothing’s gonna change that.”

Ian’s eyes flickered around the kitchen as he spoke, and Lip heard everything that was unsaid. Even though you’re kicking us out of the house. Even though you’re changing everything. Even though there isn’t a focal point to our lives anymore.

You’re my best friend.

And Lip felt that pang in his gut again, sharp like a dagger.

He’d said it before, and he’d had no problem saying it over and over again in Mickey’s absence, up until the months before the wedding— Ian did always go a little bit “loco” when Mickey was around.

Which, fuck him, I guess, for caring about his little brother with an undiagnosed mental illness who was off living in the Milkovich House of Horrors slash meth lab with Mickey fucking Milkovich, the bully with greasy hair who Lip wrote papers for in high school and who now was a literal, actual, godforsaken pimp. Lip had seen a teenage Ian bruised and drunk and curled into himself crying over Mickey too many times to ever think that this shit was a good idea— and years later, when Ian almost threw away everything, almost threw away stability and sanity and his fucking family to follow Mickey Milkovich across the Mexican border, Lip knew he had to say something, even though it was an unspoken rule that he and Ian didn’t really critique each other’s love lives since the Mandy-and-Karen fiascos of years past.

So he’d said it, that day in the kitchen, after Ian had returned on a Greyhound bus and they were still processing the dull pain of Monica’s loss— and Ian had taken the feedback with a closed-lip smile, like his head was somewhere else, as he picked at the corner of the beer bottle label with his thumb.

And then less than a year later Mickey was released anyways, and ended up standing in a tank top and boxers in the middle of the Gallagher living room, when the house was crawling with strangers and Freddie was barely two weeks old— and Lip had taken in a sharp breath, a bundle of hesitant nerves sprouting for whatever the fuck this situation was going to become; but not one that he could really give attention to, with all the other bullshit that was pulling at his focus, like the desperate screeching of his newborn kid and the mascara running down Tami’s face.

Later that night, when he’d had a spare moment to breathe and Tami was finally calmed down and sleeping in their cramped bedroom, he’d run into Ian in the moonlit hallway as he was stumbling his way out of the bathroom, drowsily rubbing his eyes with his hair sticking up. And Lip had stopped him with a whisper, placing a hand to tap Ian’s shoulder as Ian blinked the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey. So uh… I see Mickey’s out.”

He’d seen the defenses immediately raise in Ian’s eyes, like he knew what Lip was going to say next.

“Yeah.” Ian had said it soft, quietly, like he was afraid of someone waking.

You sure that’s a good idea? Lip could feel the words itching on the tip of his tongue, and he was aching to say them again, all these years later— and yes, maybe his head was so wrapped up in his own shit that he didn’t really have the authority to be doling out relationship advice to his little brother right now, but so much of this reminded him of things that had happened in the past, of Mickey Milkovich crashing on Ian’s bedroom floor until he inevitably couldn’t anymore, until the pressure cooker of his presence mingled with Ian’s inevitably exploded— or at least that was how Lip saw it. There were too many wounds, and they were bound to leave scars— Lip was honestly surprised as fuck that the Gallagher house was Mickey’s first stop out of prison, after everything that had gone down between the two of them.

But, for Ian’s sake, Lip tried to reign it in—despite the fact that they’d just been commiserating about “being in love with crazy people” as they crouched on the living room stairs the night before as Ian sipped on a beer, sputtering out a “fuck no” when Lip asked if he was going to marry Mickey (which was an equally as batshit question as if Lip was going to marry Tami). Despite all of this— now that Mickey was back, Lip could see that this was something Ian wanted, that this was something Ian was treading carefully into, one more time. He was definitely stronger now; even Lip could see that.

“He gonna be hanging around here a while?”

Ian had given a gentle, sleepy smile. “Yeah. Think so.”

And Lip had just reached out, and clapped Ian’s sleep-warmed body on the shoulder. “Sounds good, man.”

Ian had walked the remaining length of the hallway, opening the bedroom door— and in the shadows, Lip could see that Mickey was curled on the old, concave mattress of Ian’s single bed that he’d slept on since they were kids— and Ian had lifted the thin blanket and pressed up next to him, the mattress sinking beneath their collective weight, settling in and pressing a kiss to the top of a snoring Mickey’s head without a second thought. Huh.

That was the beginning of Lip starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, this time with Mickey would be different— and it was. As Mickey started to become a daily fixture in the Gallagher house, constantly pinned to Ian’s side, Lip had noticed how something solid had shifted—they weren’t reckless kids anymore, for starters. He hadn’t really seen Mick and Ian physically together since Ian was catapulting off the deep end, in the weeks after Ian had gotten dragged away by the P.I.s and Mickey had gotten locked up for some crazy fucking stunt trying to murder Sammy. Things were too intense then, too technicolor—for some reason, Lip thought Mickey being back meant that they’d return to being that way.

But now here was this guy, placing a gentle hand on Ian’s chest and saying “Woah, wait a minute” to protect Ian from the batshit P.O. that had just barged through the door—and Lip couldn’t help but realize that was something that he would have done to protect Ian, in a universe where Mickey was still behind bars.

After then, Lip just kept seeing it— the ways that Mickey showed up for Ian. Not even in the ways that he used to, like forcing Ian to take his meds back when everything was uncertain and Ian was slipping through their fingers like sand in a sieve; but in a more solid, adult way, in a way that made Ian buzz whenever he was around him, in a way that made Ian happier and lighter. And maybe it was just the sex—part of it had to be the fucking sex, considering how loud they always were— but Lip realized, after a couple of weeks of Mickey’s presence in the house before their whole eventual engagement fiasco, that Mickey was Ian’s friend, in addition to all the other things he was. After all the years of uncertainty, they’d finally grown the fuck up— Mickey was someone who brought out the best in Ian, and it was like Ian had been waiting for this moment, for Mickey by his side, before he could fully and totally bloom.

And it was weird how emotional that made Lip— after seeing Ian as a hollow shell in a jumpsuit pushing garbage cans around a college campus, or pretending to be someone he wasn’t who wore patterned button-up shirts and threw around fucking useless five-dollar words that Lip didn’t understand like “gender identity” and “intersectionality”— Ian had finally made it, beyond being the bruised, scrawny kid getting sexually abused by a creepy 30 year old man in the back room of a mini-mart, or getting high off his ass every night and starving himself to fit into a golden thong, or wearing a baggy janitor suit with dark circles under his eyes and pallid skin. Ian had done that shit on his own, and made himself into something in Mickey’s absence, sure— but so much of him being the full, happy person he was in this moment was because of Mickey, and Lip could see that now.

Ian was himself— he wasn’t a shadow anymore.

And that was why Lip had said he thought he should marry Mickey, in the end— because there was no doubt in his mind that Mickey Milkovich wasn’t going anywhere, not anytime soon.

Lip could still see it now, in the way that Ian was lounging comfortably in the living room, like he had his whole life— but now Mickey was resting just as comfortably beside him. It was a few weeks after that night in the kitchen, and Lip had just pitched the FOR SALE sign in the Gallagher front yard— now everyone was huddled in the living room, for what they now knew was one of their last lingering nights in this space. Liam was sitting next to Lip, pressed into his side, seeking the comfort that Lip knew he needed through all of these massive fucking changes— Franny was playing on the floor and Debbie was sitting beside her, and across the room Ian and Mickey were pressed side-by-side on the fraying loveseat, scrolling through the lease document for their new apartment on the battered laptop. They were murmuring things to each other that Lip couldn’t really make out— but Mickey was pressed against Ian, slouching into him slightly, and Ian’s eyes were light. In his flicker of a glance towards them, Lip noticed that Mickey was playing with Ian’s hand, swiping a finger over his wedding ring, as Ian scrolled through the paperwork and started to read all the contract information out loud— and Lip smiled to himself as he tried to tune out all the sappy bullshit that was going on in that corner of the room.

Ian was going to be just fine.

Hour later Lip strode out the door to the front porch, a cigarette he’d bummed off of Ian wrapped in his fist— he didn’t smoke anymore, especially not under the same roof as Tami, but there was something about the gravity of this night, of the flimsy red and white sign rooted in the front yard, that made Lip’s fingertips itch for a cigarette and made his brain buzz with the want of nicotine to dull the sharp edges of everything he was feeling—for smoke to float in front of his face while he sat on the front steps just one more time.

He perched on the front steps as the sun was just starting to set, the fish-scale shadows of the chain link fence encroaching further and further into the yard as he flicked at his lighter.

He heard a light cough from somewhere in front of him— and saw that Mickey was outside too, blowing smoke out of his mouth and leaning against the fence in the front yard facing the house. Lip nodded at him in acknowledgement, then took the first drag. Fuck, he’d needed this.

“You gonna miss this place?”

Mickey said it into the open air, like he isn’t really talking to Lip— his eyes were off in the distance, staring at the paint-chipped front façade of the house. Which was fucking bullshit—why would Mickey be staring absentmindedly, almost fucking wistfully, at the Gallagher house?

It’s not like he and Mickey didn’t talk— they definitely did, pragmatically flinging banter across the kitchen to each other at breakfast when coordinating rides for Liam or grocery list items when Debbie was off at work, existing in the same space every morning— and Mickey helped him haul literal tons of iron when he’d helped him steal the bikes, had haggled over his cut. But never like this—never with any weight, never in a way that was this casual, or this familial, about fucking feelings.

Part of that was probably because it was hard as fuck to worm your way into the Gallagher family—as wide open as their door always seemed to be, with people filtering in and out and crashing on hallway floors or the lumpy couch, this house only continued to function because of its nucleus— because of Lip and Ian and Carl and Debbie and Fiona and Liam and yes, even Frank. Everyone else was a passerby, an impermanent blip crossing through the way station; Jimmy-Steve, Sean, Carl’s slew of girls, Mandy and Karen.

Monica.

None of them were Gallaghers— none of them considered this place to be home, or got all the privileges that came with that. The Gallaghers, the real Gallaghers, had seen every one of these people come and go— and something slippery suddenly crept into Lip’s realization that despite all the odds, despite all of his doubts about him—Mickey had chosen to stay close to these four walls just as much as Lip had.

“Mickey’s family.” Ian had said it over a mouthful of bacon at breakfast a few weeks ago, and Lip had immediately shot him down; but maybe there was some truth to what Ian had said, some truth to the oddly unfailing consistency to Mickey’s ten years. Which meant that maybe…

Maybe it was time to make a fucking peace offering, or whatever.

Lip hummed in acknowledgement to Mickey’s question, pulling himself out of his train of thought.

“Hey. Mick.”

Mickey looked up at where Lip was leaning on the porch, his brows furrowing like he was bracing himself for a confrontation. “Yeah?”

“My head’s been too far up my ass the past couple of months to say it, but, uh. I’m glad you’re family, y’know?”

He’d been passively thinking it for months— but he’d never said it to Mickey, never this directly. He hoped Mickey got it, without brushing it off or shooting him down with some snarky fucking comment like he always did. Lip meant it— he was glad, he was grateful, he was ready to let Mickey Milkovich keep being a part of his fucked up familial life. And he hoped that Mickey saw that.

Mickey just rolled his eyes, taking another drag of his cigarette—but he didn’t say anything in reply, not for a moment. And then:

“You’re as sappy as your fucking brother, Phillip.”

#i’ve said it once and ill say it again nothing makes me more emo than ian and mickey sharing ian’s old bed #also sorry this was kinda ANGSTY what can i say #lip is Too Much #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #gallavich fanfiction #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #lip gallagher #ian and mickey #ian x mickey #ixm

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 4 years ago

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being honest i dont get jm using a award to say he misses tannie... we don’t know 90% of their lives but they are very close to the point of still sleeping together sometimes. and going deep if they were really a couple jm woudnt miss taes dog right? and even as friends he could visit it. unless its because of their schedule right... this kind of comment sometimes confuses me and haters will use it as “they arent close” lol. i just wanted to know your pov.

Judging by Admin 2's reaction, as well as some others in our asks, I have a feeling I was the only one with a more realistic expectation, or lack of expectations, as I waited for the BTS profiles to be posted. Based on last year's, I knew expecting something grand out of Tae, and especially Jimin, would just be me setting myself up for failure, which is what I think happened here.

But, let's discuss it.

I spent a solid couple of hours making an excel table last night that contains everything every member said about every member (sourcing 3 translators for maximum insight) to see if really what Jimin chose for Tae is so "bad" that suddenly people are sending us asks like this one, and another one I'll add later down the line. And the conclusion I've come to is that...what he gave to Tae, as well as Hobi and Seokjin, as awards are the only ones that have any actual emotional/personal connection to them.

With Namjoon and JK Jimin basically states the obvious--Namjoon is tall and JK has gained muscle mass, meaning nothing new or with a proper emotional connection was stated; to Yoongi he made the same request many other members have made, so a work connection, nothing inherently personal.

Now, compared to that--Seokjin teases him/them, which isn't new info, so Jimin asked him to stop or do it less, a valid request which I'm sure he also voiced to Seokjin outside of this FESTA profile and also shows a degree of personal connection; Hobi gets requested to not walk away after asking Jimin a question, which again shows a personal connection and that it's a reoccurring thing; and lastly Tae with Tannie.

Something I've noticed is that some ARMY, who are used to our western celebrities and draw conclusions about idols based on those parameters, forget that BTS are busy, like whatever you consider busy, take that and multiply it by ten. During his vlive with Hobi and Yoongi back in April, Tae said that they are much busier and their lives far more hectic than any of us realize. Taking that into account, and the fact that one of the members (I think it might have been Seokjin) mentioned they work at least ten hours a day for 360 days a year with practice, MV and CF filming, photoshoots, interviews, recording and working on music, meetings, and many other things we have no idea about, do you really think Yeontan lives with Tae full time? A dog needs to get walked and fed but if Tae is out of the house every day for at least ten hours, what would happen to Tannie? He'd just sit around at home alone all day which just isn't fair, so I'm sure Tannie lives with Tae's parents much the same way Micky lives with Hobi's parents and/or his sister, JKs dog lives with his family, Holly lives with Yoongi’s brother, Moni with Namjoon's, and years ago Seokjin had to give his sugar gliders to his parents because he was too busy to take care of them.

Based on that of that, I'm not sure how often Tae get's to see Tannie. Probably not all that often, to be honest. So, if Tannie's owner doesn't get to see him often, I'd assume Jimin gets to see him even less (if we work on the assumption that Tannie lives with Tae's parents and thus Tae could only really see him when visiting them or when they visit him, that means Jimin wouldn't be able to see Tannie just like that either, since that would be like intruding on family time, right?). And we know Jimin loves Tannie, so him using that award to say he misses him and is asking about him shows care and an emotional connection to Tannie. Do I think Jimin also asks Tae privately about Tannie? Absolutely. And still, while Jimin didn't give Tae the, I don't know, "hot body Award" like Yoongi did with Namjoon or the "person I love most in the world award" (which we should know by now would never happen, and if you expected something of that intensity level, than I'm sorry but you've set yourself up for disappointment from the start), he still drew a personal and emotional connection between himself and Tae, as well as the pet Tae loves dearly.

More below the cut:

Jimin could’ve asked about the other pets of the members, but he didn’t, he only ever really talked about Tannie, and here he does it again, so doesn’t that show that he has a bond with him, a closer one than the other members since they don’t/didn’t ask about him (except for Hobi that one time on weverse)?

Speaking of Hobi, am I the only one who finds it interesting and cute that he only drew little hearts for Jimin and Tae when writing down their awards?

Also, we have to remember that these profiles are for us, fan content (remember when Jimin asked Tae last year to post more pictures of Tannie on weverse because ARMY miss seeing him, so what if this is drawing a connection/parallel to that?), and not meant as the members “confessing” something to each other that they otherwise wouldn’t or don’t have the chance to do so. It’s not meant to be all that serious and instead just be fun and nice for us to read, show us a bit of their dynamic and that’s it, no world shattering revelations to be found, from any of them. Or do you really think Yoongi doesn’t like Jimin just because he told Jimin he’s trying too hard to be funny? It’s just part of their dynamic. Or that none of the members have anything else to say to JK besides commenting on his body/appearance? As for vmin, I’d like to remind us of this moment from their Friends subunit interview for FESTA 2020:

Whatever Jimin and Tae want to say to each other, they don’t need FESTA to do it, or us to be there as witnesses. Like Tae didn’t already say enough by telling us that 95z is love. Or Jimin by writing Friends.

From anon: because of you I came back da Namjin. I am a senior army and 2 years ago I left Namjin because I thought they broke up. You made me three Vmin but after what JK wrote about Jimin and after Jm himself about his chances I think that vmin are not together or Jimin withdrew. I think Jk would not dare to write about Jm that he has cute fingers etc if vmin were a relationship. it goes too far and confuses Jk too much. I don't want to say that J / k*ok is real because it certainly isn't !!!!

Now this is where I just sit and sigh heavily because it’s exactly what I expected and I will admit it irks me to no end. Let’s establish a little timeline:

Based on the FESTA Mission! BTS 4 Cuts Teaser that was posted earlier we can deduce that at least part of FESTA was already being prepared back in the first half of March, since on March 12th Jimin, Namjoon and Seokjin had their salad making vlive. Let’s suppose that everything FESTA related was prepared and written out by the members around that time as well. Sometime later BTS filmed YOU QUIZ followed by LET’S BTS and BTSxGame Caterers and everything else we’ve seen after that.

Or going a little further back to sometime in November 2020 while they were preparing for MMA 2020 and the Black Swan performance. We got the practice video today and if you pay attention to Jimin and Tae even there you notice that while Tae is waiting for his turn in the choreography, Jimin runs past him after his part is done (0:55) and they pat each other or do a “high five” or something along those lines as a way to cheer each other on. A very “we’re broken up” or “I will break up with him soon” thing to do, right? Or in min-January when Tae posted seven pictures out of which three were of just Jimin after an ARMY on weverse asked if anyone had any nice pictures they could use as wallpaper for their phone. Between all that I’m having a hard time honestly finding any moment where either of them seemed sad or “cold” toward the other the way you would be and feel if the person you love pulled away from you or broke up with you.

If you are still unconvinced and still think that is what Jimin tried to communicate to us, would Tae really have gone on national TV and said he likes Jimin the most? And would Jimin have agreed that he likes him a lot as well? Or looking at the making video of their Kloud Beer CF that was posted today as well, would Jimin really be looking and interacting with Tae this way if he decided to end things between them?

Also, going back a little, your mention of Jimin reflecting upon opportunities/chances now that it’s a new year. My question is based on what you made the judgment that this comment has to be about vmin and not about something entirely different in Jimin’s life, or maybe something connected to BTS as a whole? Just because of him asking Tae about Tannie? Jimin, as well as Tae and the other members, have entire lives outside of just their bonds with each other, entire careers, passion projects, families, friend groups, and that little bit of time they have to themselves, so immediately thinking Jimin’s comment must be related to his relationship/bond with Tae basically makes it seem like Jimin’s life is a romcom or a TV show in which the only thing that matters is if the main character will date or remain in a relationship with character B or not, but life isn’t like that.

Personally it reminded me of something Tae said during their Bring the Soul documentary about how BTS had the opportunities to go higher faster but they decided against them. Perhaps Jimin’s comment was about something like this as well, especially since we know Jimin is a very private person and very selective of the personal things he shares with us and the ones he doesn’t.

For the FESTA profile JK decided to give Jimin the “Cute Award” with the explanation that his “Face, height, fingers are cute” which, honestly, is just saying something that a) is true and b) has been said in millions of ways by every member across the last couple of years. I don’t see what the issue here is? During one of the episodes of BTSxGame Caterers Seokjin said that Jimin is very cute and that he has a small, beautiful face, so really he even added the word beautiful in there, which JK did not, so what really is the issue here? The fact its JK, right, that’s where the issue lies, to which I ask why? On this blog we’ve already established that there is (in our opinion and based on everything we’ve seen and heard) no romantic connection between JK and Jimin (nor Tae), not now and not in the past either, so why is him saying that Jimin is cute (which he is known for even by people outside of ARMY, or like James Cordon calling him his cute baby mochi) is an issue but Seokjin or any other member is not? Either we use the same measurements for everyone or we don’t compare or make such assumptions about any of them.

What I find curious, because this does make it seem like you, anon, are someone influenced by J*k*ok shippers and their opinions, see an issue in JK saying that about Jimin, and how that’s “proof” that Jimin and Tae can’t possibly be together, and yet you took no issue to Namjoon basically saying he wants to give Tae an award because he is so handsome he is above every list or Yoongi comparing him to Michelangelo's David, both of these being much more superlative and grand complements/awards than JK saying Jimin’s face, height and fingers are cute.

It’s funny how things that Jimin and Tae have said about and to each other that make their bond very clear (I want to live with my lovely Taehyungie forever or here is my love for you while handing Tae a bunch of red heart balloons or 95z is love, a statement I’m sure he wouldn’t post if that sentiment weren’t mutual) are all questioned or ignored, but something as basically trivial as a comment about Jimin being cute is turned into a major issue. The mental gymnastics is fascinating.

Lastly, going back to the first anon and their mention of how haters will use Jimin’s Award for Tae as “proof” that they “aren’t close anymore”--why do we care? Like Namjoon said in the Mic Drop lyrics Haters gon’ hate. They will say a lot of things about a lot of things and even make things up if they feel like it to push their agenda, so really, regardless of what Jimin would’ve said, or not said, they would’ve found a way to twist it and make it fit their narrative. Besides, what haters think has no actual effect or bearing on what Tae and Jimin have with each other, and neither does what other shippers claim. Haters and other shippers don’t control the narrative, BTS do, and everything Jimin and Tae have shown us in 2021, as well as the last eight years, shows me that their bond has only ever grown stronger and closer and more beautiful and awe inspiring, even while haters claimed they stopped being friends years ago, so why should you or I care what they think?

Like Yoongi once said in one of his vlives about how haters can write all they want, he won’t read it while they will get sued.

#Taehyung #Jimin #vmin #FESTA 2021 #BTS FESTA 2021 #answered ask #answered ask by admin 1

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percabethfeelsfandom · 4 years ago

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Headcanons: Percy and Annabeth as Tik Tokers Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

I never mentioned what Percy and Annabeth’s users would be. Annabethchase1207 + perSEAus

- Annabeth would have a really basic username because she made the account ironically hence why it’s just her name and birthday

- Percy definitely would make a joke out of his user so that’s my take on it

Back in Cali, Annabeth’s friends are literally about to riot because they aren’t there live to witness percabeth happening

(They’re all avid tik tok users and they’ve started a house/tik tok group called Olympus because Piper did a series where she turned all her friends into different greek gods/goddeses )

Leo makes tik toks about making little inventions/DIYs that are actually useful but his viral video/series was him making his own Iron Man suit, he also does random rants and skits that are half in English half in Spanish because he’s so exasperated at the stupidity of people (Piper turned him into Hephaestus)

Jason doesn’t post as frequently on tik tok but he’s made a handful of his sporting highlights and trick shots he’s done over the years as a prodigy sports kid. Prior to piper’s request he also has done Pov’s with her. His viral tik tok is of him with a staff and doing cool transitions with it as he spins It (imagine him spinning it normally and he’s wearing normal training clothes and then the next spin, he’s in like a suit and the lights go all low and shit and his eyes glow blue) (Piper turns him into Zeus, but she also turns him into Apollo at one point so he can match Thalia)

Thalia owns punk/goth lesbian tik tok. She’s a pioneer in the LGBTQ+ tik tok community. Going on rants shutting down men who have the audacity. She cosplays as well, and her history in archery means people are always asking her to cosplay as Katniss. She’s always changing her hair colour like every month, but right now It’s a dark blue that looks almost black. as annabeth’s best friend she is also a frequent in annabeth’s tik toks, but only to provide sarcastic commentary. You can also find her lurking on Percy’s comment section providing feedback on his skateboarding tricks (you bet that these two have been DMing back and forth) (piper turns her into Artemis) (Thalia’s girlfriend Reyna is also a frequent appearance in her tik toks, and you can see just how easily Thalia melts in front of the camera when Reyna’s there, it’s so sweet it could give you a toothache)

Last not not least miss Piper Mclean, daughter of the ever famous Tristan mclean, but manages to make a name for herself by being so amazingly talented as a stylist, makeup artist, and editor. She’s worked with so many famous youtubers and photographers. She makes her tik tok as a place for her to just shut her brain off but it becomes a super easy comfort escape where she can trial some new makeup looks, and new fashion pieces, and POVs (shoutout to @ myangels.percabeth on insta for commenting this on my instagram) while also showing people how to thrift in LA and do fun photoshoots at home, a queen of self care, and body positivity (she transforms herself into Aphrodite but makes it this huge collaboration with tons of different artists on the app so with each makeup transition it’s a different person because aphrodite can look like anyone…like it starts with piper putting on foundation she turns her head and it’s someone else putting on blush etc. and finishes off with piper again and winking at the camera in full greek goddess glam)

(piper also transforms Annabeth into Athena and Percy comments on it with 👁👄👁)

When Annabeth and Percy re-emerge from the library and make it back to the hotel she’s staying at they finally check their phones and see that they’ve gone viral (again)

They decide not to address the rumours because, it’s not the internets business’ to know (AS IT SHOULD BE)

They spend that week almost completely absent from social media because they want to have something that is just completely theirs. (But there are two posts worth noting, one on annabeth’s infrequently used instagram of someone’s (Percy’s) silhouette and the New York skyline the night before she leaves and a picture of Percy’s pinky wrapped around someones (annabeths) pinky on his stories that is deleted after an hour (but not before the entire internet finds it and it becomes the new standard of what people want in their relationship) (I can already see the tweets #goals finD mE a MaN tHAt hoLDS mY piNKY)

Eventually Annabeth has to go back to cali and percy stays in NY

They exchange their goodbyes between short kisses, promises to FaceTime each other soon and promises of building something permanent

They begin a secret (not so secret) relationship long distance

They continue duetting each other’s videos and mentioning each other offhandedly in their tik toks

Percy starts a YouTube channel and his first video is a proper vlog of his and annabeth’s adventures together

(It’s a sweet 1 month anniversary gift to her but only they know that)

Annabeth starts to post less and less on her tik tok because of school (at least that’s what she tells her followers but really she’s losing touch with her love of the internet because of how intrusive it is and also she’s trying to heal her relationship with her family so that’s taking all her energy. She leaves the Olympus house but keeps in touch with them (obviously, she grew up with them so that’s a no brainer)

Once she’s posting less, people begin to (finally) lose interest in percabeth so that they can live their life. Percy keeps posting his usual videos but he’s starting to get caught up with YouTube, and starts getting some amazing brand deals and he uses it all to help get his family a house that is their own, (“Surprising my amazing mom with her dream house”)

On Annabeth’s birthday the next year percy surprises her at cali and the rumours about them start up as she appears more in his socials and vice versa

One thing leads to another and they accidentally out their relationship when annabeth’s phone is in the background of Percy’s (“surprising my best friend in California”) video and there’s a picture of percy kissing her cheek in a coupley way as her wallpaper

They take it in stride rather than denying (because why would they) and say yeah we’ve been dating lol, we’ve been dating for a while now

And on some internet awards show they win couple of the year

Because that’s what percabeth deserves

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jawritter · 5 years ago

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You and Me...

Chapter 23 FINAL CHAPTER

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non con, male!rape, injury, violence, discription of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self harm, panick attackes, implied female non con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chatper Warnings*** Memory of flashback, panic attack, breif discription of panic attack. the feels, all the feels, some fluff in there too, the worst part of this chapter is the flashback, and maybe some language, I don’t want to give to much away lol.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 3k

A/N: As always all mistakes are mine!, Please do not copy my work!! Feedback is gold! I hope you enjoy this one! (flashback is in italics). The is the final chapter, and man this was a journey for me, I hope you all enjoyed reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Summery: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter you course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getthing through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

Taking the last leg of your journey in one day, the two of you pulled into Seattle somewhere around 7pm, three days after the two of you had left Austin.

The night you had spent in Salt Lake City together had stretched into the early morning hours. You'd never felt so close to someone. So in love with someone.

You couldn't believe that soon enough you'd be Mrs. Ackles. It didn't seem real.

You watch through the windshield as your soon to be husband checked into the Shafer Baillie Mansion Bed and Breakfast. A beautiful bed and breakfast in Seattle, Washington. He'd planned this whole trip down to the last tinny little detail. Stopping at little stops along the way. All the time just spent getting to know each other. Getting closer than you'd ever been with each other.

He paid the young lady at the front desk area that they had set up for check-ins. Then came walking out of the building. He'd enjoyed himself these last three days. You could tell. He just seemed to be over the moon since you’d left Salt Lake City, but watching him walk out to the car tonight, you could tell he was tired.

"Everything okay babe?" you asked, opened your car door for you, and grabbed your bags from the trunk.

"Yeah, I'm just tired." he said, walking by you and pecking you on the cheek before you both head inside.

He did look tired, but you couldn't help but worry that the reason he was acting this way was because you were so close to Vancouver.

So close to doing what he feared doing the most.

He loved shooting Supernatural. Often he said he felt lost when it was over, like a part of him was missing. Still there were new fears for him as he made this journey. Things and triggers that he didn't have to fight before.

Getting into the room, and getting your thing settled. He turned and flopped himself down on the bed. Groaning a little when he was finally laying flat. Stretching his arms over his head. You sit down next to him and start rubbing his chest through his thin T-Shirt.

"You sure you okay babe?" you asked him, laying down next to him. Cuddling into his shoulder, and rubbing your hand over his chest.

"Yeah I'm okay, I just got a lot of memories that I'm fighting right now." he said, smiling at you a little. "I haven't been this close to Canada since I locked the door to my apartment, and headed back to Austin the day after we shot the last scene on Supernatural."

You wrapped your arms around him tighter, letting him relax into you.

"It was a part of my life that I thought was close. That I'd left behind me. Not that I'm not grateful, and glad for another opportunity to do this, I guess I'm just afraid of the outcome. I don't want the show to wash out like some of the other comeback shows have. I've invested too much time into this to watch it fail." He said, rolling over to his side so that he could play with your hair.

“You guys are going to be just fine, you don’t have anything to worry about.” you tell him, watching as his eyes became heavy while you carded your hand through his hair.

“Let’s just order some take out tonight, I’m exhausted.” he mumbled as his eyes closed, and his breathing became heavier.

You leaned down, and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Okay baby.”

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The next morning the two of you found yourself pulling into the parking lot of the Supernatural set. This is where he was going to be leaving the car that you two had driven up here to be auctioned off for charity.

Cliff had left a black SUV here for the two of you to use while you were here.

You only had to be in Canada a few days to look for, and sign some paperwork on an apartment that Jensen was looking into getting. His old apartment. So it shouldn’t be a problem.

"So, I take it we're flying home then?" You asked him as you both got into the SUV.

"Oh yeah. I don't think I'm that spunkie to make another three day drive back to Austin." Jensen said with a laugh before closing the door he looked around. There seemed to be no one else here.

Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel a moment, Jensen then got out of the car, and looked around while leaning on the door.

"What are you doing?" you asked him, opening your door, and watching him closely as he walked up to the gate. Pulling out the key card that Clif had given him to open the security gate again.

"Come on I wanna show you some things, from what they tell me, all the old sets are still standing." he said, eyes bright with mischief.

"Well wait for me!" you yell at him as you run after him into the set.

The two of you walked through different sets that were still standing. Even after all this time. Even though it had only been about a year and a half it was still a little creepy to you. It looked old and abandoned. Which didn’t help the creepy factor at all.

Jensen walked around with your hand in his, telling you different stories and memories from his time spent on the show.

"Our trailers used to be parked over there. That's where the makeup and wardrobe trailer was. That's where they usually had the food tent. That Wearhouse over there is where they kept the Impala's. Those I know they took when the show ended. There's no need to look there.” He said, walking around like he knew exactly where he was going. Just like it had all just shut down today. A far off look in his eyes as memories flooded their way though his mind.

Finally coming to a big mettle building he stopped, pulled out his keys again.

"This should be it." He said, trying different keys. You stood there in silence as he worked. A little nervous about what awaited you on the other side of the door. Finally you heard the lock click as he opened it for the first time in over a year.

The mettle door scraped the ground loudly as it opened with a loud creaking sound that seemed to echo throughout the entire lot. Turning on the light on the phone he looked in.

"Yep, this is it." He said, walking into a dark room only lit by his phone. There was red wallpaper, a fireplace, a desk, and an attached kitchen. Different things you couldn't see in the dark that he seemed to be able to make out easily.

"Jensen where is this supposed to be?" you asked him as he came back over to where you were standing.

"Bobby's old house. The living room and the kitchen. Man I spent a lot of time here." he said, looking around almost like he was going to cry. Reaching over standing in the middle of the mostly dark room Jensen reached his arms around your waist, and pulled you as close to him as he could.

"Thank you for coming to do this with me." he whispered into your ear as he held you. "I needed this. I needed to remember what it was like to be here. What it was like to do this again. I needed to remind myself how much I missed it." He said.

Turning you brought your lips up to meet his.

"I told you almost a year ago, no matter what happens. It's you and me remember?" you asked him. He kissed you passionately.

"Yeah.. You and me." he said, before leading you out of the building. Locking doors on his way as he made his way out to the car that was waiting for the two of you.

It'd been a long year. A lot of hardships, and recovery from things that should have never happened. This time you felt like the winds of change were blowing in the favor of the two of you. This was the beginning of something good. It had to be. You'd both been through too much to have something go south again. You were both do for some good karma.

Somethings people were just meant to do. Playing Dean Winchester, you felt, was just that for Jensen. It was what he was always meant to do from the very beginning.

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**Time jump seven years later**

Jensen's POV:

The stage lights were shining horribly bright in Dallas as Jensen and Jared tried to see the person standing off to the right side of the stage. It felt like they were miles away from the individual that was waiting to ask them a question.

"Hi!" Jared said. "I think there may be a person over here?"

The crowd chucked for a moment.

"What's your question?" Jensen said with a chuckle.

This never gets old. He could do it over and over again, it will always be his favorite thing to do. Getting to interact with his fans. Even though it could get a little stressful and tiresome at times, it was worth every hour of sleep missed.

"Hi! My question is for Jensen! You guys stopped filming the last season of Supernatural in its 20th season. These conventions are still going even though the new seasons have stopped. Did you guys see that coming, or was it something that came as a surprise to you?" she said.

She seemed older, and more confident than the fans that normally came to the microphone to ask them a question.

"No, we didn't see it coming. We thought well, the show is over, and the conventions will stop, but people just kept asking us to come, even offering to host these things in new cities. It's still growing even though we've finally put Sam and Dean to rest. This show is STILL impacting people's lives, and we couldn't be more blessed to have you guys. Without all of you these things wouldn't be happening, and wouldn't still be possible. So thank you." he said into the mic.

The crowd cheered as usual. More questions went through the mics. After all these years people were still coming up with good questions, which was impressive. When the show was over they were able to kind of give their own opinions so that put a new spin on things every year.

"Hi" Jared said, the girl that was standing on his side of the stage.

"Hi..." she fumbled nervously with her shirt. "My question is for Jensen," she stuttered into the mic.

"What is up with you getting all the questions today?!" Jared retorted into the mic. Jensen just smiled, and winked at the crowd.

"My home town dude, what did you expect."

A soft laugh went through the crowd.

"What's your question?" they said together, causing a laugh to erupt through the crowd again.

"Over the years you have become a large advocate for people who are recovering from violent tramas... You know... similar to what you went through.... How did you get to the place you could talk about that... and do it so in a way that it doesn't trigger you anymore?" she asked, looking at her feet more than she looked at him.

He knew immediately that she'd been through a similar thing. Her body language screamed it for her.

After all these years he'd learned the tale signs.

The way she avoided eye contact with anyone. The way she shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, fidgeting, unable to stand still. Keeping an odd distance from all the other people that were standing around her.

He couldn't help the memories that flooded through his mind. All the milestones that he and y/n had made with each other's help. All the years that he had to struggle. Even though the attack was years behind him. The triggers that sometimes still came out of nowhere. The nightmares that haunted him for years before finally going away. For him though, his therapy had become helping other people that had gone through similar things.

One of the worst panic attacks he'd ever had was the first time Dean had to be tied to a chair by a monster they were hunting.

---------------------------------------------

"Babe, if you can't do this it's okay. Just tell the writers, and I'm sure they can work around it." y/n said, wrapping her arms around his shaking frame. He'd been up two days dreading this scene. He knew it would happen eventually. He knew he'd have to face this.

"No, I'm doing this. I'm tired of people treating me like I'm fragile and shit. I can do this. I just got to balls up and do it." he said, working himself up like a football player before a difficult play.

"Jensen, it's time." The props girl said, coming over to the side of the set where the two of you were standing.

Jensen walked over to the chair. He wondered for a moment if this is what people felt like walking up to the electric chair. Sitting down they started to put the ropes around his wrist. Immediately the flash backs started, but he fought against them. He was already starting to sweat. Pushing painful memories down he tried not to dwell on what felt so real going on in your mind.

Y/n was kneeling down in front of him, her hand on his knee.

"Please baby, don't do this. I can tell you're struggling already. Don't do this." you begged him. Jensen was determined though. He was going to get past this, he had too.

"No. No, I can do it." he said through gritted teeth.

The director yelled for everyone to clear the set. Y/n Leaned down, and kissed his cheek before turning to walk away. As soon as she left the shaking started to get worse, that tightening feeling in his chest becoming almost unbearable.

They yelled for quiet on the set. It was getting hard to breathe and the room around him seemed to be spinning, everything sounded distant in an uncomfortable way, and Jensen could have sworn his tongue was glued to the roof of his extremely dry mouth. J

ensen looked over to y/n and Jared who were standing on the other side of the directors chair. Watching with worried faces.

That's never happened with a panic attack before.

Normally he knew when they were starting, and was able to take control of them by now. Even though he knew this was nothing but a panic attack. It was threatening to overtake him quickly.

"Action!"

The monster who was supposed to be a werewolf walked over to him sensually, her long nails dragged across the table as Dean struggled with his restraints. She was going through her lines. Salturing over she ran her finger nails down Dean's chest, just like the script instructed her to do. His body jerked hard in response. It was getting hard to stay in the present. To stay focused.

She picked up the knife laying on the table next to him.

"I should gut you right here. Leave you scattered all over the room for your precious Sammy to find when he finally gets here. After what you did to my sister." She sneers in his face, and puts the knife up to his throat.

The room went black.

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That was the worst flashback/ panic attack he'd ever had. It was so bad it triggered a seizure. It took weeks to recover from that one. He wasn't allowed to be tied to any more chairs.

Jensen felt Jared slap you on the shoulder and bring you back to the present. He was smiling at him reassuringly. Jensen looked over to the side of the stage that the family and friends usually sat at. You were sitting there smiling at him.

"It took me a long time to get to the point I could do this. I still have bad days. I still get triggers. Sometimes without warning. I had to learn the hard way that what happened to me does define me. I'm not a victim unless I chose to be. My biggest therapy was learning how to share what happened to me with others. To help others get through some of the same things that I went through. I'm not fully recovered even though it's been years. I take things one day at a time. I decided that Instead of letting what happened to me control my whole life. I was going to take control, and use it to help others. Now I've spoken everywhere from hospitals, to church youth groups and camps."

Jensen took a deep breath, and looked over at the poor girl standing there hanging on his every word.

"It's been hard. It's never been easy. I'll always have the scars from what was done to me. Even though you can't physically see any. Every day is a blessing to me. I'm thankful for every person that I can touch. If it helps someone else, it makes the struggle worth it. My best piece of advice I can give you is this. It's okay to have bad days, it's okay to feel like shit, it's okay to have days that you can't even look at yourself in the mirror, I know I have. It's all part of the process. Get support. Someone you trust that can help you, I know if I didn't have y/n...I wouldn't be here today. I probably would have succumbed to depression, and you guys would be leaving flowers at my grave site today."

The crowd cheered in response. The girl thanked him and walked back to her seat. He made a mental note to go have her brought back stage so that he could talk to her in private.

"Okay guys I'm getting the signal. We got time to take one more question." Jared said.

Jensen pointed at the girl that was standing off on the other side of the light. "Yes, what's your question."

Your POV:

You sat there watching your husband answer questions, and joke with his friend. It was down to the last question. It was a light question about taking selfies with Misha on the boat. Thank God.

Sure he'd gotten to where questions about what happened to him didn't bother him in the least, but you knew after a while it could be taxing on anyone to have to answer question after question on that subject matter, and you would be glad when this con was over, so that you could go home to Austin for a little while with your husband.

Finally everything was over and Jensen weaved his way over to you. Not bothering even trying to go backstage.

He walked up to you wrapping you in a hug.

"You did great babe." You tell him, and he smiled that smile that damn near knocks you off your feet every time.

"Are you okay? No sign that the baby is coming is there?" he asks, putting his hand on your swollen stomach.

"No. Still safe and sound in there." you tell him, pulling him in to kiss you before he's ushered away from you to the next photo opp.

You were so proud of that man.

You couldn't believe how far he's come since you met him. He was everything you ever wanted and more. You couldn't wait until your baby was born. Part of you hoped that the little boy looked just like his daddy.

Sure a baby at Jensen's age wasn't something that was planned, but life had plans you guys didn't know about, but welcomed when you found out you were going to have a baby. Deciding you would be surprised, and wait to find out the gender, much to the annoyance of Gen, and everyone else that was part of the SPN family.

Life finally was looking up for you guys. Even though Jensen had some bad days. He gets better and better every day.

Just like you had promised him in the beginning you were with him every step of the way.

The picture from your wedding that sat proudly on your mantel in your home had a wood burned carving in it that said. "You and Me."

A constant reminder that no matter what you faced. You'd get through it together.

"You and me. No matter what." you whisper, as your husband walked toward the young girl that was struggling with her question. Stopping the whole progress to the photo op room just because he wanted to talk to her.

He may not be perfect, but to you he was perfect in every way.

Life had changed a lot since you met Jensen all those years ago in that small studio in Austin, Texas.

Even though there were challenges you both had to face, and lessons that you had to learn most normal couples hopefully would never encounter. It didn't destroy you.

It made you stronger.

Yes, there are monsters out there. They walk among us every day. They hurt people, and they do things to people that are down right inhuman and cruel.

Yes, bad things happen to people that don't deserve it.

Living in fear is NOT an option.

Watching Jensen overcome what happened to him was one of the hardest things you ever had to do, hell it changed you both.

Spiritual, mentally, and physically, neither of you would ever be the same.

Now you watched him take what was done to hurt him, to tear him down completely, and build up others. Strangers. People that he owed nothing, but instead let LOVE win.

There's no other person you'd rather spend the rest of your life with, scars and all.

No matter what life throws your way, no matter what may happen tomorrow. You would get through it together.. Just like you always promised.

You and me.

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imsofthelp · 5 years ago

Text

Eijirou Kirishima x f!reader

Category: angst

Warnings: suicide (nothing graphic) slight cursing, mentions of sex under the cut

Word count: 2,881

Summary: Kirishima's journey of learning how to live without you and the fault he feels for your decision.

A.n: This is told from Kirishima's POV, the character Daichi is completly random and has nothing to do with bnha lol. Things have been... Kinda bad lately, so I guess it's my way of ranting. Hope ya'll like it!

✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*

There’s a few Astilbes in a tall vase on my bedside table. There’s this sweet smell coming from them, but it’s masked by the scent of a strong vanilla cologne.

It’s cold in the room because I can’t make myself get up to close the window, which lets ice cold air from the darkness to leak in.

I’m talking with her on the phone while wrapping the phone charger around my finger, untangling then twirling it again. My fingers remembered it as a routine during the hour we spent talking.

Even if her words are joyful, even if she’s talking about how’s school been and how she spent today studying at this super cute coffee shop with her friends, her voice feels heavy. Heavy with something she doesn’t want to show me. Something that she tries to hide under her stuttering laugh and stories.

But I’m not stupid. I can hear hints of pain stabbing her in the “It was fun” like sharp knives, and her “My new classmates are awesome!” covered by a mask of longing.

I want to help her, but my throat is dry and my tongue feels like it’s tied. I am held back by my own insecurities and doubts - I don’t want her to think that I’m an idiot or that I’m not minding my own bussiness.

“Eijirou? You still there?” she asks, oddly calm.

I wake up from my little trance. It seems like I got lost in the halls of my mind again. I feel a bit guilty. Did she tell me something important?

“Sorry, I got carried away for a second,”

There’s silence on her end of the line. A sigh soon rolls off the silence. I screwed up again.

“No, it’s okay. Nothing important.”

I hold my breath. What did she say? The smartest thing to do right now is just ask her-

“I will go now. Thanks for the convo, though,”

My teeth catch my bottom lip and I bite it. Idiot. I’m a fucking idiot.

There’s silence staying on the phone with me for a while until a quiet beep announces the call ending.

I couldn’t really sleep that night.

Somewhere near midnight, the line between sleep and search for comfort within the spots of the celling, in the stripes of the wallpaper or the folds of the blanket, blurs.

I don’t know when did I fall asleep but I think I saw angels, or maybe, just soft rays of sun, flooding into the room through curtainless windows.

I’m thinking about her. I’m thinking about how’s her day going and if she got any new opportunities to join a big agency.

Calendar on the wall shows that today is 11th of April, 2022.

✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*

Time as a pro-hero flies fast. Now I have a lot of problems, or maybe, just more than I had when I was at school. I don’t bother to remember the names or faces of people. Don’t want to.

Bakugou says that I’ve changed and that others are really worried, but I just bury myself in more work.

I can’t tell when a patrol starts and ends or the voices of villains and other heroes. It all blurs into one mess that lays on my shoulders like a dark cloud.

I come back home with an empty head and a full work shedule.

While I try to watch TV, not minding the buzzing on the other side of window and in my head, the bouquet of pink Camellias in the vase seem to stare at me.

I try not to mind themuntil a delicate petal falls on my arm. I don’t know how to keep flowers. Maybe I should stop buying them - they seem to not like my place.

I try to change the water, hoping that this would fix everything, and then I go back to mindessly watching tv.

I wait. Laying in my bed, a soft blanket wrapped around me as I desperately search for any warmth. I wait. Tick Tock.

Then there’s only one minute left of waiting and that minute soons ends as my phone rings, throwing me out of my endless thoughts.

“Hey!”

“Hello! How are you? How was hero work today?”

Her voice sounds different today. A lot brighter, like she has a smile on her face as she’s talking and I feel myself smiling too.

“It’s good, it’s good... Hero work is hard, as always. I’ve got a nasty case, dealing with some shitty drug dealers. It’d be better if you told me about your day.”

She stays quiet for a moment. It feels as if she’s holding her breath and, for a moment, I hold mine too. As if we’re underwater in our own safe bubble, where no one else can reach us.

“Everything’s very good. Great, even,” she finally answers and our bubble bursts.

“How did that audition go?”

“Uhm, I didn’t go.”

I frown, not even knowing what to say. She wouldn’t shut up about that audition, how the hero that ran it shared her opinions and ideals, how that place was just a dream, how-

“Why?” I trap all of my thoughts in that simple word.

“Just thought it wasn’t worth it,”

I wrap my finger around the phone charger and unwrap it again.

“Why?” I repeat my question again, dumbfounded.

“Dunno, maybe that place wasn’t that fit for me after all.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

After that silence follows. Then we talk some more about work, but it seems that conversation just doesn’t flow freely tonight. I drag it out like bubblegum that’s not meant to stretch this far.

“I’m coming back for a few days soon.”

I almost jump up. Don’t know if it’s from excitment or from shock. I haven’t seen her for a year.

“Wait, really?” I ask, finding it hard to believe.

“Yeah, and I have a huge favor to ask.”

“Anything.”

“Could I crash at your place while I’m here?”

My heart jumps with excitment. She’s more than welcome to stay. My heart aches just at the thought about an opportunity to see her.

I suddenly remember that she’s still waiting for my answer.

“Yeah sure! Just give me a message when you have the date set.”

She sighs with relief,

“You’re the best, Eijirou.”

The way she says my name makes a blush creep up my checks,

“Don’t mention it.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Just like that, the call ends and I’m left with pleasant silence. Tonight I don’t feel lonely.

The calendar shows 11th of April, 2023.

✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*

It’s a few weeks of waiting until she grants her promise. She stands at my door, more beautiful than ever and for a second, I doubt if that’s just a vision, but after she flashes one of her sunshine smiles I instantly know that she’s real. She’s there and she’s real.

I pull her into a tight embrace, burying my face in her hair. Words cannot describe how much I missed her.

I give her a bunch of red Chrysanthemums and I instantly knew it was worth getting to the flower shop so early in the morning - her smile lights up the room brighter than the sun ever could.

“I missed you, Eijirou,” the name rolls off her plump lips so softly. It gives me the feeling that if I do as much as breathe, I’ll shatter the moment.

We talk all day, watch some TV and then talk some more. The stars shine so bright tonight that we don’t even need lamps. It seems as if they’re enjoying our moment too.

She tells me countless stories and I want to hear each one of them over and over again, her voice makes me feel drunk off my mind.

She talks about struggling with living in a foreign country, about missing me and other friends, about everything that bothers her and I’m here to listen. Soon, I tell her all my secrets and we’re sitting in front of each other pulling away all of our lies.

I don’t know what events lead up to our next step. Truly, it’s all a blur and the only significant thing I can point out is the flowers, gently sitting in the tall glass vase.

We get rid of our clothes, the same way we got rid of our secrets just minutes ago. There’s nothing separating us now and we can and get drunk off each other’s bodies.

Making love with her is tender and sweet, with lots of praises and sweet nothings, she manages to whisper out.

I pause for a second, taking a moment to truly look at her and memorise every inch of her body. From the way her hair is draped on my pillow and her face is so calm, to the way her legs, wrapped around my waist try to pull me as close as possible.

We spend the night naked, flush against each other, finally free of everything. If only for a moment.

The calendar shows 14th of May, 2023.

✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*

When my phone rings again, I’m putting a bunch of yellow Zinnias into the vase. The flowers that I had before them have already wilted so I threw them away.

I sigh, expecting another call from her brother, who suddenly became worried about her like two weeks ago, or maybe someone from the former Bakusquad.

When I see her name on my phone I pick it up faster than I never knew I could.

“Eijirou...”

I haven’t heard her voice in so long, it almost feels surreal. I want her to repeat my name, slowly, so that could remember every syllable she says and repeat it on my mind forever.

“Is everything okay? I was so worried!”

Her voice cracks. I hear a quiet sniffle that she tries to hide.

“No, actually... No... I don’t like it there, I want to go home.”

All the other emotion in my body are conquered by pain. It’s so good to hear her, but it hurts so much to hear her voice is filled with sorrow I wished she would never experience. I want her to come back. I don’t care how selfish it is.

“I can’t... You know I can’t,”

I blink. I want to tell her, but my tongue feels heavy and all my words begin to slur.

I wake up with a jump. My shirt is flushed against my back and my whole body is covered in goosebumps. I snake my arms around myself, desperately seeking any kind of warmth.

My phone is turned off and the calendar shows 11th of April, 2024.

✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*

I put red and white striped Carnations in a vase. Flowers from before are dead, as always.

Work goes by the same as always and while I’m sitting down trying to finish tomorrow’s plans, I wait for a call.

Time goes by, but it doesn’t ring. Tick tock. She always calls at the same time.

She used to call at the same time, my mind corrects. I push that thought into the deepest part of my brain, never to be found again.

Tick tock. That’s how another hour goes by, filled with walking from one end of the room to the other and checking my phone again and again.

I don’t get a call.

The other three weeks are tense. The bags under my eyes are filled with darkness from staring at the windows during long, sleepless nights, searching for answers from the dark and dim stars. Answers that none of them want to give to me.

When I get a call, my clock shows that it’s almost 4am.

“Y/N?” I ask, my voice colored by hopeful hues. Droplets of sleep still hang on my lips.

“No, dude it’s Daichi.”

I grit my teeth. I’m not mad at him. I’m not mad at him for calling me, I’m not mad at him...

I’m mad because he’s not Y/N.

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask something about Y/N,”

“Eh?”

And what about her? For me to tell him what Y/N thought of him? To tell him that he was a bad brother? To tell him that his sister left because his family sucks?

“You’re her best friend.”

“Was.”

“What?”

“Was her best friend.”

“Yeah...”

“And?”

“And you.. Well you... Well she probably told you...”

“She didn’t,”

My answer is cold and what would put an end to this conversation.

“She... didn’t?”

He obviously doesn’t know when it’s time to end a conversation.

“Daichi, are you drunk?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Why are you calling me at 4am?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Maybe it’s the only aspect he and his sister share - that small little doubt, showing that they’re never sure of what to say.

“Because I don’t u-understand,” he hiccups.

“What?”

Then his voice breaks, like a ship that’s slowly claimed by the waves to be sunken forever.

“Eijirou... Eijirou... I don’t understand why she left... Eijirou, was it really bad for her? Was it that bad that she couldn’t tell anyone?”

I bite my bottom lip until I feel a hot droplet of blood running down my chin. What do I say to him? That she was trying to tell them? That they didn’t listen? That none of us did?

“It’s not your fault, Daichi. Go to sleep,”

“But...”

“We’ll talk again tomorrow if you want to. Now go to sleep.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Yeah.”

I end the call and fall back to my bed. My bed is incredibly cold and unwelcoming. I slump my way towards the kitchen and sit there until the first droplets of liquid gold begin to pour inside.

Calendar shows 11th of April, 2025.

✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*

I put Cyclamens in the vase. It’s the day we meet again. I don’t know what to hope for and while I’m going, my insecurities and fears follow close, only to disappear as soon as i see her.

She looks like a goddess. Her hair like rays of sunshine that found their place in the waves of locks on her head, her skin seems to shine, like it’s been kissed by stars and her smile only compliments her beauty.

Nothing’s changed but when I come closer, I notice that her eyes are different. All the happiness and joy is drained and now they’re empty. No, not empty... Just filled with something I can’t quite identify.

“It’s you...” I manage to whisper and before I start feeling like an idiot, she laughs with that wonderful laugh wrapping me with the feeling of safety, telling me that everything’s okay.

“It’s me.” she confirms and puts her forehead against mine. We drown in the silence, away from everything.

“I often wonder why you did that.”

She pulls away and her hands find their place on the back of my neck, as if we’re dancing, “I did it for myself.”

I sigh, “I don’t understand it. I don't understand it, Y/N,”

My hands dance on her waist, not finding their place.

“I wasn’t happy, Eijirou. I wasn’t happy there.”

I sigh again and pull her against my body. She smells like vanilla and clean laundry,

“Could I’ve made you happy?” I quietly ask and she raises her glance. Her empty eyes that pulled me in so strongly.

“No, it’s not your fault, Eijirou,” she answers and wipes away my tears that I didn’t even know were falling, “I did it for myself, I did it so I could be happy. Eijirou, I feel good now.”

I look up to the bright blue sky. There’s only one cloud there.

I take in a stuttering breath.

“Wasn’t there anything I could do?” Tears now flow freely as I try to not look at her. Somewhere deep inside I know this isn’t real and I’m afraid that she’ll disappear if I look at her for too long.

She takes my face into her hands, softly stroking it with one hand. Her glance is soft and for a moment, I see the Y/N I used to know before.

“All you can do right now is forgive me,” she whispers and I pet her silky hair, “And forgive yourself, Eijirou. You can’t carry the guilt of other people’s choices. You can’t live with a fault that isn’t your’s.”

That’s the last time I hear her voice.

When I wake up, I see her face right before my eyes but it’s not a ghost who drags a trail of unanswered questions after itself. No, it’s now a person I once loved so much. A person that I couldn’t hate for leaving me in pieces of my former self.

There’s a bunch of yellow Daffodils and Forget-Me-Not’s in my hands. Forget-Me-Not’s for a promise, that she’ll always be dear to me and Daffodils - the second promise, that I will finally start everything over again.

I leave the flowers on her grave, which I finally visited after two years.

It’s time to forgive her. It’s time to forgive myself.

I come back home and check the calendar for the last time. My new beginning is on 11th of April, 2026. Two years after her death.

“The sun will rise, and we will try again,” she used to say. With those words, I breathe in and peel the calendar page off.

✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*

As always, thanks @velvet-kissesss for editing!

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