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boldlyvoid · 3 years

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Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x MINDHUNTER AU

Spencer Reid x Margaret Carr (OC)

Part 1: Ed Kemper.

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: graphic details of a real rape and murder case, like every trigger in the book, applies to this fic so read with caution (if you watch either show you're used to it, however), it's all real and did actually happen and I don't support any of it. strangers to lovers, mutual pining, flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr's daughter, her bio father is Jason Gideon

word count: 3.9K

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't having fun teaching.

He started with guest speaking, moving to special seminars a few times a year. But he wanted something more, settling for a 7-week criminal justice elective of his choosing.

Intro to Criminal Minds: why they did it. Giving Spencer an excuse to share the most intimate facts about serial offenders in a setting where no one could tell him to shut up.

14 students total signed up for the two-hour Seminar, taking place every Thursday at 11 am from September until Halloween. Over the 7 weeks, he would explain the fascinating insights of the most successful killers in the United States. Only asking that his students write about a prolific crime they find interesting by the end of term, for their full grade.

All he wanted was to read about obscure killers from around the world, from the perspective of aspiring profilers.

The first Thursday, he came prepared with his coffee a half hour before the class. He wanted to write the main points on the whiteboard in advance, nice and neatly.

To his surprise, a student was already there waiting for him. "Oh, hello,” he smiled softly.

She was sitting with a book in her hands, she pushed her glasses up her nose to look at him as he walked in. She was older than his typical student, around 35. Probably finishing up a degree or adding something to what she already had.

"Hi," she smiled at him. “Sorry, I’m early, I was visiting my mom at Quantico earlier.” She explained. "I'm not a teacher's pet or anything. Promise, I’m not even a student.”

It made him laugh slightly, correcting him like she read his mind. "It's okay, I'm Doctor Reid," he introduced himself softly.

“Margaret Carr, Peggy is also fine.”

"Pleasure to meet you," he said quickly before focusing his attention on the whiteboard.

He could feel her eyes on him the whole time he wrote, not wanting to turn around and catch her. "That's so interesting," he heard her mumble under her breath.

"Hmm?" He turned around.

"It's just that, everyday occurrences that never phase the regular person somehow cause psychopaths to kill," she read the board back to him.

"I was reading a study a while back about how psycho killers medulla oblongata is approximately 19% smaller than the average human’s. Based on the way they're nurtured as children affects if they grow up to kill. The ones that don't often end up in law enforcement and other positions of power where their psychopathic tendencies can come to play."

He was taken aback for a moment. He had never experienced a student who was like him before. Someone who just pulled facts into conversations like it was nothing.

"I read that as well," he smiled. "It is fascinating. The smallest amount of bullying and abuse from a mother or disappearance of a father figure can set them off."

"Or, on the other hand, there are people like Ted Bundy," she added. "He was well-loved and taken care of, but it went to his head. His god complex and affinity for lying led him to be incredibly charismatic and enabled his killing."

"You're very educated on this already; are you just interested in hearing me speak today?" He asked, not wanting her to leave, finding it interesting that she was there.

"Oh," she blushed. "I was going to talk to you more about it after the seminar actually."

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you,” he felt a little giddy at the prospect.

"Thanks," she laughed. "Seriously though, I'm a big fan of your teaching style, I saw a few of your classes when my dad was teaching at the academy in 2005. It's a lot easier to remember facts if the lecturer genuinely loves what they're talking about."

"You're going to like this Seminar then. It’s basically just a way for me to get paid while unloading all the random facts I have,” he warned her with a smile.

"I know." She smiled back at him.

The rest of his students filed in slowly. By 11 am, 14 faces were staring back at him.

"Hello," he waved awkwardly. "I'm dr. Spencer Reid. For the last 12 years, I've worked with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. Catching serial offenders across the country."

He took a deep breath, letting the nerves find their way out of him. "I've been asked time and time again who my favourite serial killer is, which is a peculiar way to phrase the question. It feels morally wrong to have a favourite in the way people do with baseball players.

"I am, however, fascinated with several serial offenders' reasoning and explanation for why they did what they did. Every single killer is different, but it all comes back to 1 thing. Do you know what that is?"

They all shook their heads. “What is your relationship with your parents like?" He asked.

Everyone in the room reacted; some students sighed, some rolled their eyes as they recalled their parents and childhoods to memory.

"When a person decides to kill, it's often never in the moment. It's in childhood. The majority of serial offender's stories start the same; their mother didn't love them, their father left. Someone at home abused them or put them down repeatedly."

"Thus, causing a hatred so primal to bubble. No matter how hard they try and fight it, the bubble always bursts. They go from fantasizing to killing in retaliation for their abuse, taking the anger out in stages."

He referred to the board. "Every killer has a stressor and a trigger—something that causes the urge to bubble and the event that causes the bubble to rupture.”

"Edmund Kemper is a fascinating example of this. He grew up with a family for the first few years of his life before his father fully abandoned them. His mother handled the situation by turning her anger onto her son; it was his fault his father left, he looked just like him, Ed was just another useless man who would never amount to anything," he emphasized the words. Hoping the class sees the effects words have on children.

"He started by cutting up dolls, stealing his sister's barbies and cutting their heads off. In his mind, he was getting out his anger and hatred for how his mother saw him. She hated men, causing him to mature with a warped idea of what women are truly like."

"His attraction to killing worsened his mother's hatred; she could tell something was wrong with him, that he didn't react to everyday situations the way he should. By the time he was ten, she was locking him in the basement for days on end, telling him he was a monster and her biggest regret."

"The change in her rage amplified his own. He hated hearing her speak. He hated the way she walked around, thinking she was better than him. That just because she was a mother and a working woman, she deserved respect and submissive’s. All he could see was a woman with a big head who needed to be humbled. This is the moment when the psychotic side of his brain blended his hatred of his mother with how good it felt to kill."

"Is that why he, you know?" Peggy cut in, running her finger along her neck as she pretended to cut her head off.

He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile, nodding. "His signature, as it's called, was decapitation. But more specifically necrophiling the severed head of his victims."

The whole class let out a disgusted noise, Peggy and Spencer making eye contact while they shrugged, it wasn't news to them.

"At age ten, he moved from barbies to cats and dogs, never leaving them around for his mother to see. While he hated her, he was also absolutely terrified of her. Breading a special type of killer. When you think of school shooters or preferential predators, what do they have in common?" He asked.

He pointed at a student in the back. "They have a specific type of victim they’re after?"

"Exactly. Most serial offenders want to go after the cause of their pain or attraction. However, Ed wasn't able to kill the source of his rage for a long time. His mother mentally abused him so intensely that he believed she was in control of him and that her opinion of him mattered. He saw her as his God, he loved her, but he also knew that he disappointed her.

"He ran away soon after to find his father. Travelling to California, only to be told he was unwanted there as well. It wasn't just his mother that his father was escaping; it was the fundamental aspect of family that he didn't want. Ed defiantly didn't want to go back to his mother after that, so he moved in with his paternal grandparents."

He kept catching the looks on Peggy's face. She knew the story already, waiting patiently to hear the words he chose to make the horrific acts seem a little more conversational.

"His grandmother was exactly like his mother. If I had to guess, his father most likely had a distaste for his own mother and thus divorced Ed's mom. Only he never grew up to be a killer, just an absent father—his absence doing to Ed what never happened to him."

"Ed killed his grandparents when he was 15. Telling the police and his therapists that they had beaten him constantly, they refused to feed him and called him names. He said he snapped from the trauma; it was self-defence."

Peggy laughed to herself, making him smile softly. "Sending him to a mental hospital instead of a juvenile facility was the worst thing they could've done for him," Spencer added.

"Why?" A student asked.

"Ed is a psychopath." He reminded them. "He doesn't feel empathy the way we do. You can admit that you feel bad for him, yes? If you understand why he killed people, it doesn't make you sick, like him, it makes you human. You see a hurt person hurting others; Ed Kemper sees himself as a new sort of God, choosing who dies, how and when."

"He was brilliant, having the exact IQ as I do," just a humblebrag, "the staff trusted him. He looked like an innocent boy, smart enough to take matters into his own hands for the betterment of his life. They gave him computer privileges, they let him work the front desk and file patient information. Giving him all the resources to learn about who he was inside and how to get away with it perfectly."

"Damn," another kid added. "When did he get out?"

"At 21.” He answered the student quickly. “Ed was interviewed by my mentor Jason Gideon, in the 70s. Where he explained that being locked up during his sexual prime, as well as the access to information, is what truly set him off more than his mother.

"He moved back in with her and his sister when he came out of the institution, immediately returning to the constant ridicule. He went from being told all the time that he was a smart and charming young man, capable of rehabilitation to a useless, no-good son, who would have been better off collecting in a condom or running down her leg."

The whole class laughed, shocked at his repetition of Ed's mother's words.

"He got his licence when he was released. And remember, this was prime time for hitchhiking in California; everyone and their mother walked the roads with a thumb in the air. It was the birth of free love and recreational marijuana usage. It was also the best hunting ground for a learning serial killer."

"He was able to pick women up, but like I said, missing his sexual prime while in an institution made him almost impotent. He didn't know how to speak to women; he had to create a fantasy in his mind every time, one that involved killing, before he could look at a woman."

"How did he get them in his car then?" A voice asked from the back.

"He was 6'9, 300lbs; he looked like a big teddy bear. And his mother was the local college administrative assistant, so the whole town knew him anyway. If Ed offered to give them a ride, it wouldn't be that bad, right?" Peggy turned around to face the class as she explained for Spencer, who just shook his head.

"He only wanted to rape the victims, originally," Spencer added. "But he couldn't. There was no release of the tension. The bubble that had been growing inside him was at its breaking point; he needed to just do it. Get it over with and move on."

"He killed 6 women in succession after that. Gaining the name "The Co-Ed Killer," well before anyone even suspected Ed Kemper," Spencer took a sip of coffee, feeling his throat start to dry as they reached the insane part.

"He was overly friendly with the cops; he wanted to get his record expunged and join the force.” Spencer finally continued. “Being told, "don't worry about your record, worry about your weight.""

"Most killers enjoy wearing a uniform for the power and talking to the police about their cases, in the hopes of gauging how smart they really are—taking pride in the fact that they are getting away with it for so long."

"He watched all the cop shows, and he read all the books. He knew that in order to get away with it, he had to do it where no one could trace it back to him. He knew he had to keep his cool and avoid looking obsessed with the case, but just curious enough to gain insight into how they thought he was doing it. It went on for years, and they had absolutely zero leads, finding headless bodies every few months before they finally received a call." He left them hanging, walking over to his sheet of paper and pretending to read it while they anticipated the catch.

"Ed always knew that he wanted to kill his mother. He just never knew when,” Spencer teased the story along. Noticing as the students fidgeted in their seats as they wondered what happened next.

“In his interview with Gideon, Ed said that he knew she would die 7 days before he killed her. He walked into her room that night to find her reading, with the audacity to ask if he wanted to come in and chat all night. Teasing him for the way he rambled to her. It was the last time she ever did that."

"It's hard to imagine his signature with the fact his second last victim was his mother," Peggy added, cringing at the thought.

"Wait," another student interjected. "Who was his last kill then if he only really wanted to kill her?"

"Remember how I said he lacked empathy?" Spencer asked. "He loved his mother in the same way a prisoner can end up loving their captor."

Peggy nods at the comparison, looking like she's never thought of it that way before, then smiling at him.

"You grow a bond through the trauma and when the only thing you've ever known is violence and hate, you don't know what to do when that's gone, it's hard to cope."

"He said he killed his mother so that she never had to know what he did. She'd never have to sit at his court hearings or be able to tell the media that she always knew he was a killer."

"His last kill was his mother's best friend," He finally answered the question.

"He didn't want his mother to be even more disappointed in him, but he also didn't want his mother's best friend to find her like that and be upset. So the obvious answer to him was to kill her too."

"What the fuck?" He heard a couple of kids say under their breath.

"Yeah," he agreed with an almost chuckle. "This is what I mean by their answers are fascinating. It makes so much sense to them; clearly, if I kill my mother, her friend will be upset, so the best answer would be to put her out of her misery as well. He sees them as objects, like a matching set. One would lose value without the other."

Everyone was silent then. The students took in all the information they had just received, staring up at him with a look of disgust mixed with wonder.

"Any questions?"

Peggy raised her hand for a change; he pointed towards her in approval. "You missed the part where he specifically took the heads from the three women before his mother and brought them back home with him. He buried them in the yard outside her bedroom window, making sure they were always looking up to her."

Spencer was amazed that she knew the details. "Yes, I guess I did."

"I always found that part particularly interesting in this case," Peggy added. "Her opinion mattered so much to him. He knew how much she loved her co-ed's and how they looked up to her so much. They'd be exactly like her. He felt trapped in a town of women who were exactly like his nightmare, and his response was to make them physically look up to her for the rest of her life."

"Exactly." Spencer smiled. "understanding how he sees the situation and how the events played out in his mind is the key in figuring out who he is."

"If you were on the case in '72 when the first victims were discovered, how would you have handled it, Dr. Reid?" A male student in the back asked in the silence between answers, taking his shot before Peggy and Spencer went any further in their discussion.

“That's a hard thing to answer, connecting evidence back then was a lot harder than it is today, if it wasn’t for men like Ed there wouldn’t really be this many answers,” Spencer said honestly.

Another student put her hand up, “what’s the worst thing he did in your opinion?”

That racked his brain, there was a handful of horrific things he did that were particularly horrific, “probably his mother's entire murder.”

“What did he do?”

Before Spencer could answer he saw Peggy open her mouth and start explaining. “He not only cut off her head and fucked her neck, but he also took her vocal cords out and shoved them down the garbage disposal. And before he called the cops, he cleaned everything up and made her look presentable because he said his mother wouldn’t want guests to see the mess.”

The class all cringed, sinking into their seats with disgust. But that didn’t stop Peggy from explaining it all further.

“He used to go to a bar all the cops went to and he would talk about his case. They would always one-up themselves and say they were close which gave him this false idea that they were on his tail and they’d find his mother soon. But when they didn’t, he called it in from a payphone and said he’d come over and explain it all. And boy did he ever, the cops said he wouldn’t shut up. And then when they put him in the cop car finally, a woman walked past him and he threw up.”

Spencer watched her with awe, the way she could call information to memory like that was beautiful. He listened to her like he’s never heard a fact before, she was so intriguing.

“Thank you for the detail,” he teased her lightly. “Sometimes I get so caught up that the really gross parts get swept aside.”

The class smiled at him, he had gained their trust and attention within only 1 hour of class.

“I know you said you don’t have a favourite,” another student asked from the back. “I agree it’s weird, but who is the one you gravitate towards the most?”

“I’ve met hundreds of serial killers, I’ve read about thousands,” he explained. “I think Ed Kemper is the one I gravitate the most around because he was so willing and open to explaining why he is the way he is. Going as far as to say that the only way they could keep women safe is to give him a lobotomy. He didn’t believe there was any correcting to be done, only removal of the evil within him.”

He heard slight mumbles as everyone took in what he said. “Does anyone here have a killer or a case that interested them in learning more, or just introduced you to the chase of justice?”

Peggy put her hand up, “I personally think BTK is the scariest, most tactical, and just downright evil man to ever exist. He scares me to no end but he’s so interesting to learn about.”

“Ahh,” Spencer agreed. “Too bad you won't be here for week 3. But with that I think I’ll end the class, next week we’ll be discussing the difference between Ted Bundy and Richard Speck.” He nodded lightly, watching the majority of them close their books and had on out.

“I really enjoyed the class,” she said softly. Holding her purse in one hand, a collection of files in the other.

Spencer turned to look at her then, smiling right back. “It was a pleasure to teach alongside you.”

“What do you mean?” She teased, “it’s not like my mom and dad were the ones who did all the interviews."

“Carr,” he repeats her last name. The gears turning in his mind as he brings all the information forth.

“Your mother is Wendy Carr, she was recruited after the BTK case with Bill Tench, she’s who was behind that study you mentioned.”

“I know,” she smiled.

“Who’s your father?”

“Guess,” she looked at him with an unimpressed look on her face, pushing her glasses up slightly.

“You’re kidding? Gideon never said he had a daughter let alone a,” he stops himself before he can embarrass himself any further.

She smiled at the implication of his words, “but he’s told me all about you Dr. Reid, that’s why I'm here.”

“You need help with a case and I’m the only agent in Virginia currently,” he pressed his lips together awkwardly. Knowing it was too good to be true that she would have any interest in him in the slightest.

“No actually, I have a case I’ve been working on privately and I need some help. I asked my dad but he said you’d be able to help me the best. I agree,” she corrected him softly. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a big fan of yours. When I would sit in and watch his lectures, before he knew I was his kid, you would always step in at the best parts, adding the smallest details to the story that the average person would forget. It’s magnificent.”

He laughed slightly, tugging at his collar as she complimented him. “Thank you, you’re quite magnificent as well,” he replied with a blush and a smile

She didn’t look like Gideon, probably because she smiled so much. Like sunshine on legs, she beamed, all but blinding him with her smile as she stared at him, “do you want to get lunch and go over this case with me?”

“I’d love to.”

taglist: (message me if you want to be added or removed)

@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #intro to cm #mindhunter #wendy carr #peggy carr

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truerescreatuconfessions · 3 years

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Ave exitium

So, last night I started horrendously crying because it finally hit me with what I lost and since this is a "safe" space to confess things maybe I would feel better if I just got everything out.

Res wasn't just a bunch of pixels to me. It was a home. It was another identity, a support unit, and my creative outlet.

A home.

I had first gotten into Res when I was possibly around 12-13. My home life was extremely chaotic with my parents working on getting a divorce so I found comfort in Res, and I ended up meeting some really cool people that were the reason why I stayed after I turned 20+ years old (I am 26 now). Res was where I could exist without the bullying endured at school and the abuse my dad would put me through. Eventually, coming home and logging on into Res and talking to my friends was what I looked forward to. It was just, my own little virtual corner.

An identity.

In real life I had to be me, but on Res I could be anyone. Granted, my identity changed a lot and when I was younger I lied about things because my home life absolutely sucked and lying about things made myself feel better (I was 12, give me a break) but eventually I just settled on "Shini." And I came to like Shini. At work, I had to be Ashley (a name I hate) but on there I was Shini. And I became someone. I'd have a terrible day and come into the Shoutbox just to see my close friends respond with "Shini <3" and just seeing that was enough to make me smile. My friends loved, spoiled and supported me so much. There are people on there that loved me to death, and I felt the same for them. Just having my friends accept and aknowledge me as who I chose to be when I wasn't getting that in my real life made me feel..kinda happy. Kinda like I belonged somewhere. And for someone that has struggled with mental health all their life things felt good for once.

A support unit.

Trying to be an artist is one of the biggest hurdles I've ever faced, and all my life my father had spent every day telling me I wasn't one, but the support, the people that I found out loved seeing my artwork, and the compliments I would get when I would excitedly post a new piece in the Shoutbox, that was so great. It made me smile so much. And I loved drawing for people. Thank you to everyone that has commissioned me. I hope you really like your artwork. I'm glad I got so much attention but now I'm sad you guys can't see me grow. I had several pieces I was really excited to show off but oh well, guess that's done now.

A creative outlet.

I'm pretty sure I've stated multiple times that Res was how I got rid of stress and exercised my creativity. My names. My sweet children. The reason why it was like pulling teeth to get me to sale a name was because they all were given a character. I loved them all so much, but now they're gone. And I had some very well loved designs that many artists on Res have drawn [Michael the Dark Souls inspired Omni, Martyr the arrow impaled Liyure that cries gold, Saw my Iluvu modeled after the puppet]. I put so much though into my characters and even sunk close to $800+ in real money for art of them. They weren't just trophies, they were expressions of my creativity. What sucks even more is that I was working on a huge painting of Martyr and Saga for their profiles and now it's just painful to even look at them.

Because they're gone.

My support unit is gone. My friends are gone. My childhood is gone. All of my characters are gone. All of their art is gone. I never got any warning of anything so it's not like I had time to save all of the art I bought.

And this whole thing, this massive, uncalled for clusterfuck that shows a lack of leadership and care for your loyal members, has made me feel so terrible. Like Hell, I also feel abused and gaslighted. And even worse I don't appreciate the jokes being made about my mental health when it is a legitimate serious issue I struggle with (talk to any of my friends on Discord, some days I can't even get out of bed due to my depression). And I don't appreciate being called a toxic person. If anything, this situation has drawn the toxicity out of me because, frankly, I am pissed and I am hurt. We're not getting our accounts back when they shouldn't have been taken in the first place and we're also untrustworthy? It's fairly clear that you do not care about your users. You hired someone that wants to joke about alcoholism and mental health as development.

I don't want anything to do with Res. I contemplated coming back but if I did Dan would just snag my kids when my account was cleared. And that's cool, but let me just say: they are not for you and I hope if you grab one that you are told they are not for you. My kids and their characters will always be mine and I hope you know that. You're insatiably greedy, but I hope that just this once, the guilt eats you alive. I hope you are tormented.

This will be my last post here. I wish my friends the best of luck. If you manage to get one of my kids please treat them well. If you were close to me on site you have my permission to message me on my account for my Discord to keep in touch. I love all of you guys and I hope that maybe, just maybe, in the future Res becomes a safe place. My only regret is that I was banned before I could come back on Res full time because I was going to apply for Staff because I actually give a shit about the site and its userbase.

Be kind to others. Respect yourselves and nature.

- Shini/Ash 💞

#submission #Rescon #Rescreatuconfessions #TrueRescreatuConfessions #Shini #shinigami #dan

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talesofpanem · 5 years

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The Interview

Author: @xerxia31

Rating: T for potty language, adult situations, mentions of substance abuse and minor character death.

Summary: This has all the makings of the most uncomfortable job interview of all time.

Author’s note: This is for the prompt ‘work’, but I just couldn’t get it done on time. Thank goodness for make-up week!

————

It feels like entering another world, driving through the grounds of the west campus. Everything is wide open, lush, green, alive, a huge contrast to the dirty and crowded city where I’ve been living for the past two years.

There are young people everywhere on the expansive lawns, throwing frisbees or leaning against trees with books or binders in hand, and not a cellphone to be seen. It’s like a utopian fantasy world, on the surface.

But I know better.

I pull up to the building where my appointment will be. Grey stone, old, but not yet old enough to be considered classic. Its architectural failings have been compensated for by brightly-painted window trim and shutters, and climbing vines clinging to the stones, bursting with purple flowers. Elegant, but only if you don’t look too closely. For all of its window dressing, it’s an institution.

I’d been instructed to wait in the lobby, arranged as a waiting room of sorts. It’s little more than a dozen chairs ringing the area, facing the double set of interior doors, faded industrial carpet underfoot. I settle into one, the sun-hardened vinyl squeaks in protest. The walls are covered with inspirational posters, pictures of sunsets and mountaintops with words of wisdom in bold print underneath. Motivation. Persistence. Achievement.

“Mr. Mellark?”

I jump to my feet as a young woman with glossy black ringlets enters the room where I’ve been cooling my heels for twenty minutes. She smiles at me. “They’re ready for you now.”

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I wipe my hands on my suit pants before picking up my portfolio. I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous about anything. Young Peeta Mellark was an outgoing, gregarious fellow. But I haven’t been that guy in a very long time.

The doors close behind me, electronic locks snapping ominously.

The young woman, Rue, she tells me her name is, leads me along a dim corridor, the floors polished to gleaming, reflecting scattered pools of light. “We only use emergency lighting in the offices on the weekends,” she confides. “Budget…” I nod. The schools where I worked while finishing my master’s degrees had all struggled with budgets too. Education is not a career that is steeped in money.

But working with children is what I’ve chosen. And this job, at this particular school, is the one I want more than anything.

Art therapist at the Panem Institute.

The Panem Institute is the preeminent residential facility for kids in trouble, kids struggling with substance abuse issues or mental health disorders. And unlike most centres of its kind, lack of funds is not a barrier to admission.

I can’t help wondering how different my life might have turned out if I’d had access to a place like this when I was a teen. Would I be established now, with a life I could be proud of? A wife, maybe even a family of my own?

Instead, I’m thirty, with a shiny new double MA in social work and art therapy, and precious little in the way of resumé experience. That the institute is even meeting with me is almost miraculous. Apart from student placements and volunteer work, I have almost nothing to show for my life.

But I want this job so badly I can almost taste it. This job, this place– this is why I’ve worked so hard the past six years, for the chance to make up for my own failings.

My childhood wasn’t fantastic, but it was typical by most measures. The youngest of three children, I was born upstate, in a quintessential white-washed all-American small town where everyone knew everyone else. My parents didn’t get along, but they stuck it out for the sake of us boys, which is retrospect was probably far, far worse for us than if they’d simply split.

Instead, beaten down by a life she hated and a town she couldn’t escape, my mother was cold, and often rough with us. Rye, Brann and I learned young to hide from her temper. She, in turn, hid in a bottle.

My dad, though, was my hero, mine and my brothers’ too. He coached our little league teams, came to every one of our wrestling matches, filled our lives with cookies and hugs. Shielded us from mother’s ever-increasing drunken and violent episodes.

Then midway through my senior year of high school, the unthinkable happened. My father, my kind, generous father, was murdered. Shot by some punk barely older than I was, killed for nothing more than the two hundred dollars in the cash register of the small family bakery my father owned.

I was devastated.

There was no one left to moderate my mother’s behaviour with my father gone and my brothers away at school. Down to one final obligation, freedom in sight, she made it her sole purpose in life to be rid of me as well. Or maybe she was just drowning in grief and alcoholism and wasn’t even aware of how she was acting, a theory my brother broached at the time. Whatever the reason, life at home deteriorated. Badly.

And like my mother, I sought refuge in a bottle. Or many, many bottles.

I’d already been offered a college wrestling scholarship based on my earlier performances. A good thing since I showed up at the state wrestling championship - my last ever high school wrestling meet and the first one where my father wasn’t a spectator - hungover as hell, or maybe still a little drunk, and ended up placing second.

College was supposed to be my escape, but by the time I got to State that September, I was far more interested in getting bombed than in studying or practicing.

Over the course of a year, I destroyed every dream I’d ever had, every hope, every plan, every relationship. I alienated every friend, every mentor, even, eventually, my own brothers.

And I hadn’t even cared.

Twelve years later, I’ve clawed my way back, one sober day at a time, through more ups and downs than I can even remember. Fought to become a man my father would have been proud of. But I didn’t do it alone. Therapists and counsellors helped me heal, and in doing so showed me how satisfying it could be to guide someone back from the brink, to help set them on the right path.

And that’s why I’m here now, standing sweaty-palmed but hopeful at the door of a boardroom. Interviewing for a job where I could change the lives of troubled young people like I once was.

My escort, Rue, pulls the door open and gestures for me to enter. The room is small and much brighter than the hallway, with a pair of large windows and pale wood reflecting the warm afternoon light. It takes me a moment to adjust to the brightness, to focus on the group of people waiting for me.

Then the bottom drops out of my stomach, and out of my world.

I never got blackout drunk. Consequently, I remember every stupid decision I made, every assholish word I said. And the recipient of one of the tirades I regret most is sitting across the table, her ebony hair pulled back in an elegant chignon.

Katniss Everdeen.

She and I went to school together, from kindergarten all the way through until I ruined my life. I had the worst crush on her back then. But until after we graduated from high school, she didn’t even know I was alive.

Imagine my shock when, a few months into my ill-fated college career, I ran into her at a party on campus. I’d had no idea she went to the same school. But I was well into a bottle of Bombay that night, and what should have been the start of an epic relationship, or at least a chance for me to talk to the girl I’d lusted after always, turned into a nightmare.

I was already slipping then, already on academic probation, already suspended from the wrestling team and constantly in trouble with my coaches. I was weeks away from losing everything - my scholarship, my sport, my friends. And every encounter with my professors, with my academic advisor, with the counsellor the athletic department had insisted on, every single one had impressed on me that I wasn’t good enough, though I am, in retrospect, certain that’s not what any of them had meant. But I’d had so much anger in my system then, so much loathing.

And Katniss, beautiful, seemingly unattainable Katniss, for some reason seeing her there triggered the deepest well of self pity to open in my chest. She was, in that moment, the embodiment of everything I’d been told I could never have. My gut clenches and my heart hurts as I remember the vitriol I’d spewed at her that night, the accusations about her character and motivations, every one of them utterly untrue. I’d called her stuck-up, selfish, a bitch, among so many other words. Katniss, beautiful, stoic Katniss hadn’t reacted at all, apart from a widening of her eyes and maybe a slight trembling of her lower lip. When I’d run out of filth to throw her way, she’d simply blinked and said softly, “This isn’t you, Peeta.” Then she’d walked away.

I have heard those words in my head a thousand times since that night.

It had taken another three years of couch-surfing and homelessness, of lying and begging and stealing to feed my addiction, before I finally hit rock-bottom. In an alley in the Capitol, with a bunch of other low-life scum just like me, I’d listened as they made plans to rob a convenience store a few blocks away. So desperate was I for the few bucks it would have garnered me that I was ready to go along with them… until I saw the gun.

The idea of robbing a little mom-and-pop convenience store at gunpoint was my come to Jesus moment. I was hunched in filth, hungry and so desperate for a drink that I was steps away from becoming the man who had killed my father.

The road back from that point wasn’t straight, and it wasn’t easy. I’d like to say that I never had another drink after that, but it’d be a lie. But I’ve been sober now for seven years and forty-four days, a purple medallion in my pocket reminds me every day how far I’ve come.

As does Katniss’s voice in my head, reminding me when I feel weak, when the cravings hit hard, that I’m not that person.

But she doesn’t know that. Looking across the table, she must be seeing the asshole who treated everyone, and especially her, like dirt.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Mellark,” an older, balding man says, smiling. I recognize his voice, Plutarch Heavensbee, the institute’s director, with whom I’ve spoken on the phone several times before today. I hesitate though, steeling myself to meet Katniss’s eyes. If she looks uncomfortable I’ll leave. It wouldn’t be fair to her if I stayed. As disappointing as it’ll be to walk away from this opportunity that I want so damned badly, I have only myself to blame.

I catch her gaze, silver pools in the sunlight, expecting her to be glaring at me. She’s not though, her expression is carefully neutral. But as if she sees the question in my glance, she nods.

Plutarch introduces the others in turn; Reza Seder, head of counselling services, Dr. Lavinia DeSantis, head of medical services, Alma Coin, head of security. “And of course you know Ms. Everdeen,” Plutarch says, his smile widening, and I can feel my eyebrows crawling up to my hairline. She knew I was coming, told the others that she knew me, and yet I’m still here. They’re still going to interview me.

“Hello, Peeta,” she says, in that smoky smooth bourbon voice that has acted as my conscience for years. And, okay, has narrated my fantasies too, if I’m being honest.

“I’ve already disclosed to the board that we grew up together,” she continues, “and they’re okay with my presence. But of course I’ll leave if it makes you uncomfortable having me here.” Her words and delivery are coolly professional, but beneath them I hear a faint note of pleading. She wants to be here, I just know it. And though I’m likely signing the death warrant on this job, I find myself asking her to stay.

This has all the makings of the most uncomfortable job interview of all time. But if I’ve learned anything from my primary therapist, Dr. Aurelius, it’s that I can’t run from my past. And if I’ve learned anything from AA, it’s that I can’t ignore my shortcomings.

Each member questions me, softballs to start - my education, my job experiences, my plans. I pull out my portfolio, walk them through the educational and therapeutic programs I’ve developed, outline what worked during my previous placements, what innovations I’d like to employ. They seem impressed, and I start to relax.

“You didn’t go to college right after high school, Mr. Mellark?” Alma Coin asks, her strange, pale eyes cold and judgemental. I stiffen; this is where previous interviews have gone off the rails. I’d never outright lie about my addiction, but I’m not keen to bring it up either. Even seven years sober, people are reluctant to entrust an alcoholic to watch over children.

“That’s correct,” I tell her. “I didn’t start my undergrad until I was twenty-four.”

“Why is that?” I could tell her that I couldn’t afford it until then, that’s true, or about my father’s death throwing a spanner in my plans, also true.

Katniss is looking at me, grey eyes wide and guileless. She nods again, and it feels like encouragement. I know what I have to say.

“I’m an alcoholic,” I tell them, bracing for their reactions. But nobody flinches. “I’ve been sober for seven years. But I started drinking in high school, and I lost a lot of years to the disease.” Across from me, a hint of a smile graces Katniss’s pouty peach lips. I take it as my cue to keep going. “That’s why I went into social work, and why I want to work here so much. To help kids like me. To maybe save some of them from the mistakes I made.”

There are nods around the table, no one looks particularly surprised. I don’t know whether Katniss has told them, or if it came up in my background check.

“And you’re not concerned that working with addicted children might trigger you to revisit your own demons? Your CV is completely lacking in experience with troubled youth.” It’s true, my field placements were all in middle schools, my experience as an art therapist mostly with kids with ADHD or autism spectrum disorders. The kids here by and large have much more complex issues, abuse and addiction and mental illness all compounded, often violent and criminal backgrounds too.

“I’ve spent years in therapy learning to cope with my triggers,” I tell Coin.

“That’s not the same as real-world experience,” Seder interjects. “These kids, the things they tell you, the things they’ve seen. It’s gutting.”

“I realize that,” I tell her, affecting the most professional tone I’m capable of despite the cavern that’s opened in my stomach, the knowledge that I’m nowhere near qualified enough in their eyes. “I completed a research project on intergenerational addiction in college and interviewed hundreds of young addicts.”

“That’s really not the same as interacting with them day to day,” Seder says, and it’s not cruel, but it feels dismissive.

“I also observed troubled youth in counselling during my practicum while I was in graduate school.” They know this, it’s in my resumé, along with letters of reference from the clinician supervisors. But Seder is shaking her head and Coin looks unimpressed and I can feel the opportunity slipping away.

“Peeta has volunteered as a mentor at the Children’s Hospital’s substance abuse treatment program for more than three years,” Katniss interjects, and every hair on my body stands on end. Because while that’s true, it’s also something that’s not in my resumé, something I’ve avoided self-reporting because it’s common knowledge that the program volunteers are all addicts in recovery themselves.

I have no idea how she knows that.

My gaze snaps to Katniss. Her expression remains carefully neutral, but there is the barest hint of a smile in her silver eyes.

“That’s an excellent program,” Dr. De Santis says, looking up from her notes for the first time. “They’re incredibly selective about who they choose to work with their clients.”

“They are,” I agree. The screening had been brutal, but it had been necessary, so many of those kids have lead lives that make mine look like a walk in the park and many are not shy about sharing all of the horrific details. “They can’t risk having the volunteers drop out or relapse. The kids need the stability of knowing that they can’t scare away their mentors. So many of them have had everyone else in their lives give up on them.” I swallow hard; it’s the reason I volunteer there. I’ve seen myself in so many of their faces, kids who use alcohol and drugs to escape the pain, kids who lash out and push away the people around them before those people can abandon them. Like I’d done to my teachers and coaches, my friends and my brothers.

Like I’d done to Katniss, all of those years ago.

“How do you find your personal experiences impact your work with those children?” Katniss asks, a gently leading question, and one for which I am so grateful.

“I can empathise with them in ways that their doctors and case workers often can’t,” I say, mostly tamping down the waver in my voice. Four sets of eyes watch me intently. “It’s the whole basis for the program, giving these kids not only guidance, but hope for their future. If I can succeed after all of my mistakes, after all I’ve done, then they can too.”

“And you intend on continuing to volunteer there?” Coin asks.

“I do.” I’ve already checked with the hospital about whether this job would constitute a conflict of interest, they assured me it would not.

Across the table, each of the interviewers smiles, even Coin, though her smile looks a little less genuine. But I only have eyes for Katniss. Because her smile feels like forgiveness. And though this is my dream job, I feel like even if I don’t get it I’ve accomplished something monumental here. I’ve shown Katniss that she was right, that nasty boy who hurt her, who made her feel small and alone, that person wasn’t me.

Plutarch claps his hands. “Excellent, my boy,” he says. “Now let’s talk salary.”

“I… what?”

“For the position.” At my expression, he laughs. “The interview is really just a formality,” he says, mirth twinkling in his eyes. “The job is yours if you want it.” He pushes a couple of papers across the table. A contract. “I know it’s a little less in salary than you’d make in private practice, but we offer a comprehensive benefits package. Take a couple of days to look it over and let us know.”

I don’t need a couple of days. I don’t need a couple of minutes. “I want the job,” I tell him firmly.

“Well then,” Plutarch booms with evident pleasure. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Mellark.” He reaches across to shake my hand firmly, and I can’t help my goofy grin. I got the job!

Plutarch informs me that their admin will get in touch with me over the next few days to file the tax and legal paperwork they need, and then I’ll begin at the start of the new term, some four weeks away. And I nod in all the right places, but my mind is spinning so fast I’m almost dizzy with it.

I shake each of their hands in turn, lingering just a bit longer to squeeze Katniss’s hand tightly. I thank each of them, but my gratitude to her means more. I think she can tell.

“Could you see Mr. Mellark out?” Plutarch asks Katniss, and she agrees, though she doesn’t meet my eyes.

I follow her silently down the corridor, towards the exit, the delicate tapping of her heels on linoleum almost drowned out by the pounding of my pulse in my ears. Katniss was a cute kid, tiny and scrappy, and she had morphed into a fierce and self-possessed young woman by the time we’d graduated high school. But now, at thirty, she’s an absolute bombshell. Still lean, but with delicate curves that her pencil skirt and blouse highlight perfectly. She walks with confidence, back straight, head held high. She’s more intimidating than ever.

At the electronic doors, she pauses, hand poised just above the lever that would release the locks. Then she sighs, and glances back at me over her shoulder. “Would you like to have a cup of tea with me? Catch up?” I’m nearly rendered speechless; not only is Katniss Everdeen willing to work with me, she’s willing to talk with me too.

“I’d like that,” I rasp, the first words I’ve spoken directly to her in twelve long years.

She leads me back into the building and up a set of stairs. Another corridor stretches in front of us, windowless doors set close together. “Our offices,” she says. Partway down the hall, she stops and pulls a set of keys from her pocket. A small brass plate on the door reads Katniss Everdeen, Lead Addictions Therapist.

Her office is small, and appears to be set up for both paperwork and individual counselling sessions with a tiny desk tucked back into the corner but comfortable looking couches dominating the space. She confirms my guess. “I see the lower risk kids here,” she says. “It feels less institutional that way.”

I can only stare, stunned, as she unlocks a cabinet and withdraws a tea kettle. I knew Katniss’s title here from Plutarch’s introduction of course. But until now, it hadn’t really sunk in, what she does. She’s an addictions counsellor. How utterly incredible that she went into the very field that eventually inspired my own career path.

“Sit, please,” she says over her shoulder. I slip off my blazer, draping it over the arm of the couch, then sink into plush microfibre. The ceramic clink of teacups and spoons and the sultry sway of her perfect posterior as she putters, preparing tea and humming just faintly are almost hypnotic. For all of the times I’d thought about Katniss Everdeen, I never imagined I’d ever actually see her again, and good lord she’s so much hotter than even my edgiest fantasies. “Black, right?” she says, snapping me out of my lurid thoughts.

“Uh, yeah,” I say after a moment’s pause where I try to pull myself together and remember that she’s making tea, so that we can talk. So that I can apologize to her. As glorious as her ass is, I have no business looking at her that way. I lost any possible chance I might have had a dozen years ago.

But she knows how I take my tea. The last time I saw her, gin was the only thing I was drinking.

She sets a red mug in front of me, on the low table between the couches. But she herself sits beside me, instead of across from me, which surprises me. Though maybe it shouldn’t, since she’s a therapist. Knowing how to set someone at ease is part of her training. It’s backfiring in my case though, since her closeness feels intimate. I catch a hint of her scent, something fresh and green but with a little bit of spice, like a campfire in the woods. So perfectly Katniss. “How have you been?” she says, sipping from her own mug.

“Better,” I tell her, because she’s not asking to make small talk. In addition to knowing everything I confessed in the interview, she was there when my world fell apart, she saw first hand how shitty I was.

“I’m glad,” she says softly, and she smiles, and it’s so beautiful and sweet it nearly breaks my heart.

“I am so sorry,” I tell her, but the words are completely inadequate. How do you tell someone that they are not only your biggest regret, but also your biggest inspiration? “For how I treated you when I was drinking. You didn’t deserve any of that, and I have regretted it every day.”

“I know,” she says.

“And what you did for me today,” I continue before my nerve runs out. “I can’t begin to thank you. You not only gave me this chance when you could have told any of them I wasn’t worth considering, but you actively helped me in the interview.”

“You earned the job, Peeta. Plutarch was already convinced before you even walked in the door.”

“The others weren’t.”

She laughs. “I knew Lavinia would love you. And Alma, well, she doesn’t really like anyone, but I have a feeling you’ll win her over eventually.”

“What about you?” I can’t help asking. She’s treating me so kindly, but she can’t possibly have forgiven me. I know she hasn’t forgotten.

“I believe in second chances.” Her smile is softer, a little pained. “I knew you’d find your way back.”

“I was such a dick.”

“You were,” she agrees. “But I knew that wasn’t you.”

“You said that back then too,” I tell her, my tea forgotten. “I, uhm.” My neck feels hot and I rub it distractedly. “I hear you saying that, when I’m having a difficult day. It’s helped me so much over the years. You’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know.” It’s embarrassing as hell to admit that. But she deserves the truth.

She snorts, and it’s a sound so at odds with her elegant presentation and with the seriousness of our conversation. My gaze snaps up to her face, she looks amused and abashed.

“You’re the reason I went into psychology,” she says, and my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “I was a biology major first year. But seeing how everyone failed you after your dad died, and how easy it was for you to fall…” she trails off. “And then when you came back to school to try again, sober and working so hard, I knew I’d made the right choice.”

“You were there?”

She nods. “Just for a semester. I was finishing my masters. I saw you a couple of times on campus, but you never noticed me.”

Honestly, that’s probably for the best. That early in my recovery I was still so fragile, just getting through classes took every bit of effort I had, and I spent so many hours with my sponsor and therapist back then I had no time for anyone else. “I wish I’d known,” I tell her. “But I had my head pretty far up my own ass.”

“You didn’t though.” She looks away, towards the tiny, narrow window on the exterior wall, barred, like all of the windows I’ve seen in this building. “I watched you. I’ve kept track of you over the years, when I could. Even then you were already working so hard to make amends.”

I was. And I can tell by that specific word that she knows why. One of the steps in AA is making amends for the shitty things we’ve done, at least where doing so won’t cause any further damage. In those early years, I’d concentrated mostly on my brothers, and earning their trust again. But I also spent time speaking with professors and coaches who I had alienated. It would have been far easier to start over at a different college, and likely would have been less triggering. But it’d have been a coward’s way.

“I never got a chance before now to apologize to you,” I whisper. She’d kept track of me, but I hadn’t made the same effort. Before the booze, Katniss Everdeen was that perfect, unattainable fantasy woman I put on a pedestal and never approached. And after, I locked her away, so terribly ashamed by my actions that I never sought her out, even though she would have been easy to find. I was terrified by how she might look at me.

But she’s clearly a much bigger person than I could ever be.

“I think the time wouldn’t have been right before now,” she says. “For either of us.”

We lapse into silence, Katniss still staring out the window, me fiddling with the mug I’ve picked up again. “Can I ask you something?” she says, and there’s something in her tone that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Of course.”

“That night… why me?” She’s trying to keep her voice even, I can tell, but the slight waver slays me.

“You were there, and I was a drunken asshole,” I rasp, but she shakes her head, glancing at me.

“It was more than that. The things you said…” she looks away, but not before I see the shine in her eyes. Not before I see the hurt I had been expecting all along. The knowledge that even all of these years later, my words continue to bother her is gut-wrenching. I feel like the biggest piece of shit.

“It was all bullshit, Katniss, the ramblings of an absolute lowlife shit of a human.”

“There’s always truth, even in ramblings,” she says softly. “It certainly wasn’t the first time I’d been called those things. But we’d never even spoken before then. I didn’t know you even knew my name.”

“I knew you, Katniss. I’d always been watching you.” She turns back to me eyebrows raised, confusion in every line of her beautiful face. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, and I don’t want to make excuses for my absolutely inexcusable behaviour. But she deserves the whole truth. I drop my gaze to my lap. “The truth is, I had a huge crush on you, nearly the whole way through high school.”

She makes a little choking sound, and I can’t bear to look at her. I know I’m doing unfathomable damage to our potential working relationship, confessing like this. I’ll decline Plutarch’s offer, if being here will hurt her. But I can’t let her think that any of the awful things I said had even a speck of truth to them. I can’t let her take any blame.

“In senior year,” I continue, “I had finally convinced myself that I was going to talk to you, to ask you to the Valentine’s dance. But then…” I trail off. My father had died at the end of January, and everything else in my life had fallen away, sucked into the black pit of grief.

A soft, cool hand lands on my forearm, and I glance up. Far from looking disgusted, as I was expecting, Katniss is looking at me with compassion, even through her confusion. “When I saw you that night,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out. “I had already screwed up everything else in my life. I was just so angry at the world, but mostly at myself. I was drowning in regret and self-loathing. And you were there, and you were every bit as beautiful as you had always been. And you just represented everything I wanted so badly and had fucked up. My father was gone, my sport was gone, and the girl of my dreams was completely out of my league. And I lost it, lashed out at you instead of at the person who really deserved it. Me.”

“You didn’t deserve it either,” she whispers, and her eyes shine silver under a film of moisture.

I place my hand over hers where it still rests on my arm, and she doesn’t pull away. “I’m truly sorry, Katniss. Hurting you is the biggest regret of my life.”

“I accept your apology.” I squeeze her hand in gratitude, and a sad half smile ticks at her lips.

“I won’t take the offer,” I murmur, and her brow furrows again. “This is your career, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, being here.”

She shakes her head. “You won’t,” she says. “I’ve been watching you for so long, cheering for you from the sidelines. I feel like I know you. And I know you won’t ever repeat that mistake.”

“I won’t,” I swear. “I’ll always be an alcoholic, and there will always be a risk that I’ll relapse. But I’ve learned so much in therapy, about communication and managing my emotions. About coping. I have better mechanisms now, and a really great support group behind me.” It had taken a long time to make things right with my brothers, but they are my staunchest supporters now. And my sponsor, Haymitch, is a crusty old bastard, but he’d rip out someone’s throat before letting me down.

“Then stay,” she says. “I’d like to start again, if it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. Build up that friendship we should have had.” She looks down at our hands. At some point, she’d flipped her palm and I’d entwined my fingers with hers.

“Always,” I whisper in awe, and she smiles, that beautiful, elusive smile that I know will be the stuff of all of my future fantasies. And maybe, just maybe, the stuff of my future reality too.

#talesofpanem #tales of panem #makeup week #work #xerxia31 #submission #week 10

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oscar-piastri · 5 years

Text

secrets & lies | part 2 [peter parker x reader]

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: secrets have been revealed, how are you gonna deal with it?

words: +2k

notes: this is a part two that has been requested by an anon

You’ve blinked a few times, but no matter how hard you tried, it was still Peter’s face in front of you. And what was even worse, is that you swore you saw his heart broke just by looking at his eyes.

“How could you?!” He asked, insisting on every word. You could feel that he felt betrayed and disappointed.

“Yeah well this is why I never told you about it!” You tried to defend yourself.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Peter’s voice was breaking and hearing it just made your heart break.

“You’re looking at me like I’m the worst human being” you explained, lowering your voice, completely feeling ashamed of everything.

“Because you are a criminal!” Peter yelled at the top of his lungs and it hit you like you’ve just hit a wall.

“You know, I should be mad too. You lied to me!” You argued but you knew that you were wrong. But you were still pretty upset and shocked to find out that your boyfriend was Spider-Man, aka your enemy.

“Yeah? Because telling you would just compromise everything!” He continued yelling, and you mentally prayed for him to lower his voice, or the whole neighborhood would find out about what they’ve been trying to hide.

“Why, you don’t trust me? Afraid I’ll let everyone know who is the great Spider-Man?” You asked, offended that he wasn’t ready to trust you

“No! Because it could make your life in danger, and I don’t want that because I care about you!” He shouted those words and somehow all the hate you had for Spider-Man vanished in one second.

“Peter…” you muttered but your boyfriend was quick to cut you off.

“The cops are gonna be here any second. You should go now” he coldly told you, taking the webs off of your feet

“What?” you asked, clearly confused by his action

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I were to send my girlfriend to jail?” he tried to joke, but you knew he was completely disappointed in you, and no humour would hide that. You didn’t answer and didn’t move, you just kept looking at his face and felt remorse in your mind. “I’ll meet you at your house” he explained, but you stayed put “Go! Now!” he ordered and you nodded, before running through the trees.

You went back home the same way you left; you used your room’s window. As soon as you land a foot there, you felt like your strength gave up on you and you collapsed on the ground. It was the news that Peter was Spider-Man that blew your mind and stole your energy.

It was all crazy and insane. Your whole relationship was filled with lies and the worst part is that your boyfriend’s secret identity was the person you hated the most. Peter was your lover and enemy at the same time.

You stripped off from your dark clothes to change into some comfy clothes, you knew you’d need some for the discussion with Peter that was going to happen. Now all you had to do was wait.

The minutes felt like hours, and you kept wondering when would Peter be here. Maybe he got some trouble with the cops? Maybe they didn’t believe whatever he said to them? Your phone lighten up showing a text, you hurry to unlock it, thinking it was a text from Peter but it was just MJ asking if you’d come tonight. You nervously laughed at the situation, realising how you messed things up. You made the choice of going against the law, being a small criminal and now everything was turning bad and you were now scared to lose everything: your boyfriend and friends.

You texted her right away saying that you couldn’t come. You had only press “send” when someone knocked on your door.

“C-Come in” you replied, putting your phone down.

The door opened and you found Peter. “Your parents let me in” He mumbled before closing the door behind him.

He wasn’t wearing his suit, but just his casual jeans, plaid shirt and a hoodie. Looking at him like that made it hard to believe that he was Spider-Man. In your head, you imagined that he was saying something similar about you.

“Didn’t recognize you without your super suit” you joked faking a laugh. You were just trying to calm the atmosphere, but you saw that Peter wasn’t smiling and you knew you should stay quiet.

“This isn’t funny, Y/N” Peter raised his voice, making you jump a little. You didn’t say anything but you knew where this was going.

“Peter, just.. Sit down, and we can talk” you pleaded, not wanting to fight. You were scared to lose him, yes but you also didn’t want to fight with Peter because you knew you were the one who fucked up and did the wrong thing.

“I had my powers from a bite, I used those powers to fight and protect everyone, whether it’s alien attacks or small crimes committed by kids. My mentor Iron Man is inspiring me, to become the best version of myself and make the right choices. I am protecting everyone, I didn’t expect to arrest my girlfriend because she was going against the law” he started to ramble on, ignoring your invitation to sit. You knew he was too angry to sit.

“I know you’re mad, angry, disappointed…. And you should be” you declared. “I know I’m a criminal, I know that I don’t hurt people physically but mentally, which could be even worse. I know it’s bad… But someone I just… Love the feeling? I loved the thrill and risk of getting caught, I loved to fight Spider-Man, it just gave me a feeling I’ve never felt anywhere else” you were telling your side of the story, and even thought Peter’s blood was boiling, he decided to sit on the bed, right next to you and listen to you.

“It’s just hard for me… Y/N, I just… I love you, you’re my girlfriend but I just… Can’t understand your choices” he confessed, looking at his hands.

“I know… I know. Honestly, I can’t even tell you why I started. Probably because I don’t really remember the reason. But I can assure you that lying to everyone was hard, lying to you was even worse and I can swear that the last few days made me want to stop it. I wanted it to be my last robbery but you caught me. I just wanted to stop everything, forget about everything and keep living a normal teenager’s life” You said, completely honest. You mentally hoped for Peter to believe you, and you were scared he wouldn’t. You reached for his hands but he shyly pulled away his hands and you felt like a knife in your heart.

“Sorry… Didn’t mean to do that” Peter apologized for his action, but you shook your head to show him that you completely understand his reaction. The two of you stated silent after that, for a couple of minutes, just staring at the wall in front of you.

You finally took a breath “Thank you” you said, making Peter turn his face to you so quickly that you thought he’d hurt himself. “For not giving me that lecture about me fucking things up, being the worst, betraying you and my family, the speech about how they’d react and stuff like that.” you continued, still looking at the wall. Some pictures of Peter and you were on that wall, and you just couldn’t keep your eyes off of them, because everything was perfect back then.

“Because I know you already feel bad about it, I’m aware that you know what I’m feeling right now. I don’t want to make you feel worse” he acknowledged. “I believe you, when you said that you wanted to stop. I do. But right now, I still can’t forgive what you did in the past” he continued and you felt the knife in your heart going deeper. You couldn’t hate Peter for saying that, because as you both know, you deserve what is happening and if the role were switched, you would say the same thing.

“I kept everything, all the jewelry I stole, even some money. Didn’t had the heart to get rid of them. We-You could… Give them back? That’s my way of showing you that I regret what I did and that I’ll stop, as of now” You said, getting up. You walked to your closet and you took out some bags that you threw at Peter’s feet. “It’s all here.”

Peter opened one of the bag and look at what was inside. You didn’t lie, there was jewelry, some other valuable items. “I can drop them off at a police station and explain that I found them in your secret lair” he proposed and you slightly chuckled when he mentioned a lair.

“Yeah, my villain lair aka teenage bedroom” you said and that made Peter smile a little.

“I’m gonna need all the gadgets you used on me, the tools you used to break in, well, everything related to the robberies. That way, I’ll know that you will stop for sure.” He listed and you nodded right away. You really wanted to put that behind you, because you realised that you could never live with the feeling of disappointing everyone. You went back on your bed, next to Peter.

“So, what happens now?” you asked even though you were dead scared of his answers.

“I won’t turn you in, don’t worry” he replied right away, trying to reassure you.

“No, I know, you said it before… I meant, what happens between us?” you asked again, your voice starting to break at every word.

Peter was silent for a few seconds and the silence was killing you.

“We should take a break” he blurred out, and you regretted asking that question. Well, to be honest, you were expecting that, but hearing it for real was still heartbreaking. “It’s a break, it doesn’t have to be permanent. But I just need some time, at first to fix everything and also, to see if you’re going to go back to being a thief again” he explained.

“You don’t trust me?” you asked, your voice barely audible

“It’s not that!” He said, taking your hands in his. “I just think you need to be alone with yourself, so you could put your entire attention on getting better, and resist the need to rob houses. If you need help, I’ll be here, as your friend”

“I love you, my feelings haven’t changed, and I’m sure we’ll find each other soon, but we need to make sure that our lies and secret activities are over or safe for the other” You knew which activity was the one to end, and which one was ‘dangerous’.

“I love you too. And even know it breaks my heart, I agree.” you finally declared.

You shared one last kiss, and you realised both of you were crying. You felt the love you have for each other in that kiss, and you knew it wasn’t the end of your story.

And you were right, it might have taken a few weeks but Peter aka Spider-Man took care of everything, gave back every items to the families. On your side, you decided to join a club after school, to keep your nights busy and to avoid you from falling back into the wrong side of the law. You and Peter were back together, still in love, but now telling the truth and not keeping anything from each other. Peter was kind and smart, and he knew giving you a second chance was the right choice, and you swore to yourself that you’ll never mess things up again, because you couldn’t bear seeing him disappointed in yourself.

“Alright babe, I’ve got to go. Some lunatic is robbing a bank” he said, laughing and you just gently smacked his shoulder while sticking your tongue out. He smiled before he kissed you.

“Okay, be safe” you said as he put on his mask. “And never forget that I’m the best thief you’ll ever encounter” you joked, as he used his webs to fly around.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #peter parker imagine #tom holland #tom holland x reader #w*#*

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

Text

Dear Soulmate pt. 20 (AU)

20: ...and things change...

Dear Soulmate - Series Masterlist (Soulmate AU)

I have never expected my relationship with Ethan would play out this way. I had dreamed of it being all fluff with no angst, yet it ended up being entirely opposite.

We've had many ups and downs, things normal relationships wouldn't survive. I never thought me getting into an accident would be what marks our end.

As long as I remained in the hospital, things between us blossomed and I had a hard time separating from him, as did he. We are bound by a force no human can comprehend, but humans always destroy what they don't understand.

Every day, both Ethan and Grayson refused to leave for more than an hour tops. They basically moved into the hospital and no matter how many times they were told to leave, they found a way around it.

It was incredibly helpful for my healing process, but even they couldn't make the dreams disappear.

My doctors called in a psychiatrist a month into my recovery process, getting an official confirmation of acute stress reaction my body had endured which left a significant change on my mental state. While it didn't quite bother me to the extent of personally asking for help, the team and twins decided both Grayson and I should see a therapist and start treatment.

I slept a lot easier after that, so in a way it did help. It helped both of us, but I wish Ethan asked for help too.

He didn't show how it affected him, losing me and almost losing Gray, at least not until we left the hospital almost two months later.

"You take the bed and I'll sleep on the couch." Ethan proclaimed, but that's not what I wanted. I wanted him with me.

"Why are you sleeping on the couch when the bed is big enough for both of us?" I purse my lips as he picks me up and sets me into a wheelchair. He pauses, crouching down. Resting a hand on my left knee, Ethan smiles softly despite my furrowed brows.

"You're not all healed up and I'd rather not cause anymore damage. I kick in my sleep." Ethan makes up an excuse and although it seems reasonable, I know there's more to it. Call it soulmate intuition, whatever you want, but there's something he's not willing to share with me.

"You didn't kick either time we shared a bed." I challenge, gnawing on the inside of my bottom lip and await his reaction. But he lacks any. Ethan's face is void of emotion, replaced by a mask of stoic acceptance, almost impenetrable to my piercing gaze.

"You just didn't feel it. Love, I'm doing what's best for you. Trust me." He quickly pecks my forehead and moves around the chair to push forward and over the ramp Grayson built for me.

With a sigh, I settle into the chair and look around silently. I'm still struggling to adjust to my new situation. I hate having to call for help and bother people no matter how many times they say it's not troubling them. Not being able to make your own food, barely going to the bathroom alone...it takes a toll on a person. Feeling helpless, like dead weight, it eats you. It's like I'm corroding on the inside, the damage spreading and I can't stop it if I tried.

Ethan cocks the wheels and carries me to bed, helping me nestle in the middle with three pillows behind me for support. I still had some pain, mostly discomfort.

Ethan secured the blanket and pulled out a laptop for me to chat with my parents.

After almost a month, my parents made it into the US and they only just left at my insistence. They had a life back home, one that I didn't want them to neglect. Ethan and Grayson, they are my life and my future. I knew there was a lot of work ahead if I wanted function of my legs again, I just never thought I'd be heavily relying on myself during that time.

Ethan had started spending all his time away from me and outside the house while Grayson dotted on me. He became a substitute Ethan, one who was relentless and quite honestly overprotective.

I don't know what he did in his time away. Aside from his snaps that oddly matched one of their friends; female friends, I had no idea where he went or why. He dodged my questions, giving believable answers - to all who listened, but not me. I knew his inability to keep eye contact meant he's spewing lies. I felt his heart speed up every time and slight panic grab onto him. I just don't know why he's lying to me.

Ethan and I would eat breakfast and dinner together, he'd ask if I need anything he can help with and then he'd leave.

It hurt at first, but the longer it went on, the angrier I got.

"Just another step." My physical therapist cheers, while sweat rolls down my forehead and into my eyes. My hands are shaking violently as my feet barely hold me up. The function in my leg is slowly returning, but every step feels like moving a mountain...if that mountain was perched on my legs and kept crushing them. I have never felt the pain like this, a burning and an inner rage that pushes me forward. I hiss in pain continuously, my eyes barely opening from the sweat washing over me.

"YEAH! You're doing it!" Grayson claps, making me open my eyes and look ahead. Focusing all my remaining energy, I force my leg that feels more like a severed limb to take that extra step, that one last obstacle for me to say I can walk.

Sort of.

Well, not really, but I'm working on it.

I take a deep breath, lifting my foot and swinging it forward with great difficulty and so slowly at first I was sure I'll fall on my ass.

But I don't.

I manage to take that step and get to the very end where a very giddy Grayson awaits with arms open wide for me to fall into. And I do.

I don't think twice before stumbling forward into his embrace, allowing him to wrap his arm around me and twirl us exactly once before sitting me down on a bench.

It was my first great success, a breakthrough in this physical therapy I've been doing for a month now.

The first big thing and I wanted to share it with him, my soulmate. But he's not here. He's never here when we have these sessions.

I wipe my forehead with a towel, leaning into Grayson instinctively.

"You're a tiger. A fucking lion." Grayson rubs my back and I let out a breathy chuckle.

"What's up?" Ethan walks in, his eyes focusing on Grayson and I. A spring of jealousy bubbles inside him, fueling my own resentment toward him.

"This rockstar just walked for the first time!" Grayson exclaims and I blush, feeling like it wasn't such an accomplishment, but it is. A ghost of regret rushes inside me, one that belongs to my soulmate who looks crestfallen as it is.

"She can start doing the same in the pool." My therapist adds, packing the last of his things before high fiving me and saying goodbye.

"It was just a few very slow steps. You didn't miss much." I tell him, but he bites his lower lip.

"That's not a small thing, Y/N. I...I need a nap." Ethan's clearly dejected, but I can't exactly run after him and provide comfort.

He can do that for me, but he keeps failing me and I'm honestly tired of it.

"GET BACK HERE!" I shout after him, scaring Grayson into a flinch and a tiny gasp, but Ethan doesn't return.

Enraged, I push myself to my feet too quickly, my vision soon being blurred with dancing lights as my legs fail me.

Again, I forgot just how frail I am.

"Y/N?!" Grayson screams, barely catching me before my head hit the floor or possibly some of the equipment I've been using to recover.

I blink my eyes open, hearing a stampede of feet around me. I blink fast, the harsh light hurting my eyes. Once my eyes focus, I expect to see Grayson, but it's Ethan who is holding me so tightly instead.

His arms surround me, encasing me in a protective shell made entirely of his body and his face is inches away from mine. My right hand moves up his biceps, clutching to him and his eyes close shut with the touch. It's the most intimate thing we've done in a long while, just holding each other.

"You're here." I say meekly, signaling him to open his eyes.

"Of course." His tone is almost offended, like I should assume he'd be there for me.

But he wasn't, was he?

"I can't remember the last time you held me this way." I whisper quietly, running my right hand across his shoulder, to his neck. Gently brushing his skin with my fingertips, I press forward to his jaw and to his lips, tracing that work of art slowly, taking it all in for memory. I haven't been kissed in so long, ever since the accident.

"I'm sure that's not true." Ethan's defensive tone makes me scoff and he slowly puts me down and I realize we're back in his room, on his bed.

"What?!" His tone changes, taking on darker colors and I narrow my eyes at him.

"You barely even look at me anymore, let alone touch me. You're never around anymore and I'm telling you now Ethan, if this whole thing is you repenting for what you did then stop. I forgive you and absolve you of all guilt! If you don't love me, just say it, don't treat me like I'm stupid!" My voice keeps breaking, cracking just as my patience has.

Ethan's taken aback by my outburst, his lips parted and the bottom one quivers.

"I love you. I've always loved you." Ethan hands his head low, sitting beside me on the bed and I frown as he takes my hand in his reluctantly, so delicately I had to focus on the touch to feel it properly.

"So what's the problem?" I ask quietly, hoping he'll finally confide in me.

He opens his mouth, preparing to speak and then his lips press together, stopping his words from forming and diffusing the situation.

"Did you meet someone else? Emma? I'm not blind, you know?" The bitter taste of her name and the question I'm forced to ask make me scowl, but I'm prepared to hear the truth. I need it.

"It's not about Emma, it's you!" Ethan shouts at me and my breath hitches in my throat.

"I'm scared...to breathe around you. I...I'm scared to touch you, to love you because you died, Y/N!" He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his free hand.

"You died and you were in a coma and I felt that pain! You came to me as a mirage, a ghost, I don't know what anymore, but I had you and yet, I didn't have you. God, I still feel your pain. I was literally on the other side of the door today and every damn day, feeling how every step you make feels like walking on nails or fire! I feel your disappointment, your frustration, your fears and I'm terrified for you. I'm scared...all the time!" Ethan's crumbling before me, his mask long forgotten as his own personal hell is unleashed and I finally understand his reasons to distance himself.

But it doesn't make it right. Him abandoning me now when things changed and not everything is so peachy, that's when we're supposed to prosper and grow together, but all we've done is fall apart at the seams, each on our own.

"I know it's difficult for you to have a cripple as a soulmate, but I'm trying to change that. I'm trying to find myself again...us again and you're off running from me to a girl you find as a distraction? Someone easier to spend time with?" I'm hurt, he can tell. My nose scrunched up, eyes narrowed and words that pack powerful punches - I'm more than hurt. I'm devastated.

"But I won't apologize for it. I've been HERE. Waiting for YOU. Scared you're with someone else, AGAIN. So tell me you didn't repeat the same mistake and I'll believe you." I emphasize, my voice shaking as I fear what his response may be. I fear this might be our end because there's no coming back from this. If he cheated, I would leave.

"I didn't...I'm just exhausted of feeling like the bad guy. Every time I look at you or listen to your sobs behind closed doors, I shatter inside. Feeling your pain is a punishment greater than anything I've ever felt and I just don't know if I can shake the guilt I feel." Ethan sighs, his own resolve slowly scattering as I pick apart his armor.

I give his hand a firm squeeze, tears prick at my eyes. I open my arms for him, letting him collapse on my chest and curve into my body as if a small child in need of human contact and a calming touch.

I'm not sure who is crying more or if either of our pain can trump the other. After all, we share it all, the good and the bad, the worst.

His sobs are getting louder, his hands each grabbing onto a hip to hold as his face buries into my chest deeper, as if to hide the tears that soak my shirt. It's as if he's trying to spare me his pain, forgetting I feel it all too.

I rub my hands across his back, hoping to alleviate the pain. But he doesn't stop crying until he's passed out, sprawled over me. He's heavy, warm and I'm barely breathing under him, but I'd never move. I can't make myself move for this is the most emotion I've gotten out of him. It's the most time we've spent so closely wrapped around one another.

But I know once he wakes we need a calm conversation about his feelings. As much as I love him and want to help, he needs to talk to a professional just as I have.

We've dealt with my PTSD, but completely forgot he too was affected. Ethan had gone through a traumatic experience of losing a loved one and feeling that loss more profoundly than any human in this world.

So, while he slept, I decided to look for someone to help, but just him as an individual but all of us, including Grayson. Not just a therapist, but someone who understands soulmates and the sacred bond between them.

And I think I found someone.

Tags: @heeydolan @accalialionheart @castiel-savvy18@notanotherdolantwinsblog @peacedolantwins @mutuallynotmutual @xalayx @fallinginlove-16 @heyits-claire

#ethan dolan #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan soulmate au #dolan twins #ethan dolan fanfic #ethan dolan fic #ethan dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan fluff #grayson dolan #soulmate #soulmate au

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darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 5 years

Text

Enter the Kitsune - Chapter 1

It took some time but I am finally able to put a main story chapter to this tale for you all.

Warnings: Strong language

Masterlist

—

Chapter 1

“Well, now little one. Are you going to enlighten me as to how this occurred or would you rather, I take you to the dungeons and question you there?” Something in his tone snapped me back to the present like I was waking from a dream. Noticing how my own clothing had suffered from the fall I pulled the fabric tighter again. Seriously this thing is a nightmare even if it looks pretty.

“I would tell you that you don’t scare me. But aside from that being a fairly obvious lie I’m also certain you would see it as a challenge.” My mouth seemed to still have the ability to move and formulate words even if my legs felt as if they had been rooted to the spot. My retort made my rescuer in front of me chuckle with a large grin on his face. I had been right about you. You enjoy a game more when you provoke a reaction.

“And with your clearly enviable ability to make such quick suppositions you would be completely right my dear.” He had finished adjusting his clothing and took a step closer to me. Not once did his eyes leave mine. “I was impressed earlier. Usually, it is me who invokes such a passionate response from our resident altruist, but even I have yet to get a display that quickly.”

“Well, I’m terribly sorry for stealing your chance to be the first. It was not as if I was planning to have two swords pointed at me in one day.” My bad habit returned to me. Sarcasm dripped from every word that fell from my mouth a poor mask to the fact that I was probably moments away from some sort of breakdown. I had no idea if it was emotional, physical or some kind of mental assault that would plague me first but I was doing my best to keep it together. I would have been happy to go my entire life without something like that happening to me. Guess fate decided to not give me that option.

“Two?” Mitsuhide quirked his brow at my outburst. Shit. He is defiantly good at gathering information. I guess its something to do with whatever he does around here. It would kind of be a waste if he did something that didn’t use a skill like that. Oh, well no point in hiding it. Not like wasting energy trying too is going to help me right now.

“After I returned to my room Masamune paid a visit.” I shuffled my feet attempting to free up my legs from what felt like a vice-like grip from where the under kimono had apparently decided it wanted to be a boa constrictor. Mitsuhide was watching me in amusement clearly aware of what I was struggling with but mercifully said nothing.

“My my we have been a busy little girl.” The unhidden amusement in his voice was both embarrassing and insulting in equal parts.

“The only thing I have been busy doing is trying to avoid all of you.” I couldn’t hold back my anger as I snapped. But as I managed to put a voice to my own frustration, I could feel something give way inside me at the same time. “I just wanted to go home. How is that so hard to understand?”

I wasn’t begging or pleading. All I wished was for someone to listen. From the moment I landed back in time, it felt like all that had happened was a lot of people were talking at me rather than with me and listening to anything I was saying. Mitsuhide’s face would have been a perfectly crafted expressionless mask had it not been for a brief moment where he gave me a wide-eyed stare.

“Then why don’t you?” Mitsuhide moved a little closer, his voice was low and even as he schooled his expression back to normal. That teasing grin was the only thing not to return to his face. Everything about him seemed different for some reason. He’s listening to me?

“I can’t.”

“If you are talking about Nobunaga and his ideas whilst he is extremely single-minded in his actions, he would not see you never return to your village for the rest of your life. He could arrange for a visit you could see your family and—” He placed a hand on my shoulder but I didn’t feel any bad intentions from the action. In fact, he had a soft expression on his face I had not seen before and a faint smile ghosting his lips. Is this empathy or pity?

“No, I can’t. Even if I asked, I can’t go back.” I cut him off, desperate to stop him from going further. Mitsuhide’s words were designed to alleviate my anxiety. I knew that and yet all they were doing was reminding me of things I had left behind. I brushed his hand from my shoulder and balled my fist up at my side. I will not cry over this. I can’t.

“You are aware my dear that you are sounding more and more suspicious by the second? You appear out of nowhere and save one of the most powerful men in the country and are gifted a life of comfort by his side. You are sneaking out of the castle at this hour and you have just admitted you cannot return to your home.” Mitsuhide was not smiling anymore. He was flatly outlining the facts of the situation; curiosity was evident in his eyes as he moved even closer to me. It was a little similar to how you would approach a wild animal you didn’t wish to startle.

“Yes, I am aware it all sounds highly suspect. I didn’t say I couldn’t understand how everyone felt but it doesn’t change the facts. Tomorrow I have no idea how many more times I will be staring down the wrong end of a sword. Or what I’m going to have to listen to by way of one of Hideyoshi’s lectures... You know what? You might as well drag me to that dungeon of yours Mitsuhide. I think I’d probably be safer in there than in this castle.” My words left me as I became resigned to the idea that I was not getting away from anything easily. I was tired, both mentally and physically. I didn’t ask to be a time traveller all I had ever wanted to do was work for a magazine in the creative design department and maybe get to be an editor one day. Playing historical Princesses in castles was not on my bucket list of things to do before I died.

“Oh, Princess you would be a very rare and beautiful flower among those dark and damp cells but I assure you, you would not find it nearly as comfortable as your room in the castle.” Now he was closer Mitsuhide could see she was close to her limit. It was never any fun to tease someone when they reached that point and he found himself curiously drawn towards her. The Girl who appeared from nowhere. Who spoke with unbridled passion and had a fast enough wit to catch most of the men off guard during a heated discussion. Who is she?

“I would seriously like to argue that one. Could you not call me that? I’m not a Princess. I never even wished to be one as a child either.” I sighed.

“It is your title my dear.” The most irritating part of that reply was the fact that the man saying it made it sound as if it was unimportant.

“Oh? And I suppose you really enjoy being called Lord and Master?” I scoffed and instantly regretted it as I saw the grin spread over Mitsuhide’s face. Fantastic work Aerion. Why not provoke the guy? That rounds off the night nicely.

“Are you trying to lure me, child?” His breath was on my nape and it was serving to prove exactly how close he could be to me without me even noticing he had moved. He’s dangerous.

“If I was then we’d both be having a lot more fun. And I’m not a child I’m a fully-grown woman.” I removed myself from his close proximity and put a little space back between us.

“Yes, my dear even in the waning light of the night sky I am aware of that. It still begs the question as to what you were doing? Clearly, the reason was linked to the display of swordsmanship. But to do something so reckless and apparently have no destination in mind should your grand escape been successful? Where did you think you were going?” Mitsuhide mused aloud as he looked up at the castle wall, the remnants of the homemade rope hanging tattered in the breeze against the stonework.

“Out.”

“That isn’t an answer.” Mitsuhide said as he suppressed a small voice in his head telling him he was sounding like Hideyoshi. Worrying over a slip of a girl and acting parental too boot.

“It is it just isn’t a very detailed one.” I shrugged. I couldn’t exactly tell him what I was trying to do. I had already suffered the fact that two men didn’t believe my story with a third that seemed to think it was believable after threatening my life. I really did not want to experiment and find out what delights this man would come up with to test to see if I was lying or not.

“Well then my dear as it is apparent you have a rather incomplete plan; I will escort you back to your room for the night.” Mitsuhide took my backpack from my shoulders, giving it a curious look before returning his eyes to me.

“You are going to take me back in? And they say chivalry is dead…” I scoffed attempting to hide the fact that I really wanted to have my bag back. Something of a memory flitted through my mind of an incident in school where some boys were playing keep away with a girl’s pencil case. I had a fairly good idea that Mitsuhide would delight in a game like that.

“Don’t misinterpret my dear. It is not appropriate for a lady to be wandering around alone at night in these troubling times. I would also hate to see how you faired should Hideyoshi in his current state find you alone in the corridors of the castle. You are the chosen Princess of Nobunaga Oda a man I have pledged my service too. If anything should happen to you…” He was speaking as if he were trying to talk to a troublesome child. I bristled at his tone rather than the content of the conversation.

“You are only doing this to make sure I am where I am supposed to be?”

“Naturally.” Mitsuhide started walking ahead of me. He was close enough that should I have decided to run he could have easily caught me if he wished too. “Or perhaps you are trying to hint at something?” He asked as he gave me a side-eyed glance over his shoulder.

“I am not and you know it.” I was following along behind as he knew I would. Honestly, this being subservient to everyone around me was a complete drain on my already depleted energy sources.

“If you protest too strongly my dear it is just as good as admitting your true feelings.” Mitsuhide stopped at my door holding it open for me as I entered. Slipping past him I nearly tripped on my kimono. There was no doubt they were pretty but in all honesty, they just reminded me a very difficult to move in long dress. I hate dresses.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are a huge tease?” I flopped my whole body down into the soft bedding that was still where it had been earlier. Mitsuhide deftly untied what was left of the rope and removed some blankets from it to throw over me.

“It might have been mentioned.”

---

Sliding the door closed quietly behind him as he left the Princesses room Mitsuhide found himself alone once more. He absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder as his body remembered the sudden impact from catching the girl falling from above. A wry smile crept over his face as he remembered the curious Princess.

He had arrived at Kyoto following information received that Nobunaga’s life was in danger, only to find the temple turned to crumbling cinders and his lord standing in a tent looking perfectly fine. At first, he had thought the small female sitting in the tent had been a survivor from the incident and had just been kept near his lord as a distraction so he paid her very little attention. It had never crossed his mind that she of all people would have been the one to apparently save Nobunaga’s life.

The closer he looked at her the more unusual she seemed. Her hair was white similar to his own but the ends of it seemed to be stained in different shades. Do you put ink in your hair to get it to do that? Her clothing was normal but he did notice when she shifted in her seat and the hem of her kimono moved that she had some strange looking boots on her feet.

His eyes flitted around and spotted something else in the tent that was out of place by her side. It was obviously a bag of some sort but it had metal sewed onto the fabric and two straps. Do you use that to attach it to a horse perhaps? There was no doubt the girl was an enigma to him and the more he looked at her the more questions he seemed to have.

Aerion had bolted out of the camp like someone had set a fire under her. Without care for her own safety, she disappeared into the darkness. They had tried to call out to her but she didn’t even so much as look back at them. Mitsuhide chuckled at the sight. Nobunaga had temporarily lost that self-righteous indignation of his. Hideyoshi who had just spent that last few minutes suspiciously and aggressively interrogating the poor girl was now looking worried. She really is rather entertaining.

Mitsunari had returned to inform us that Masamune had arrived. When he discovered that the girl had run off into the night he also looked just as concerned as Hideyoshi. In a typical display of delegatory leadership, Nobunaga announced we were returning to Azuchi and sent Masamune and Hideyoshi off to retrieve the mysterious Aerion.

From the little snippets of information, he could glean from Mitsunari on the way home he discovered that she had indeed saved Nobunaga. She appeared to him to be ill from the smoke as she was rambling about not being from here and her clothes were also apparently strange even for one of the Nanban. With nothing solid to go on and the only chance he had to get a clearer idea on the facts running away into the forest, he had dropped the topic.

Part of him was hopeful that she had escaped. When it was time for a formal introduction he offered to go and bring her to the hall. She was quiet as she dragged her feet along the hardwood. In an effort to distract her and amuse himself he took her hand… and kissed it. Why had he done that? He was aware of his nature to tease but he hadn’t exactly intended to take it that far. And in the meeting when she had defied Nobunaga invoking the wrath of Hideyoshi. There was a light in her eyes that was like looking into a campfire. It sparked, cracked and danced. She was fast in her responses and seemed to show very little of the fear that she clearly would have felt. There was no doubt this Princess was different.

“I’m sorry to have kept you, my Lord.” A familiar voice drew him back to the present.

“Kyubei. I trust you have information for me?” Mitsuhide turned to the man standing in the shadow of the corridor. Kyubei was his most trusted man and loyal vassal. He had been walking around wasting some time in the castle’s corridors while he waited on his man’s return when the Princess dropped out of the sky. I wonder what news he has found about the incident at Honno–ji.

“Yes, Lord Mitsuhide.”

“Good.” Mitsuhide nodded. He was still a little distracted by the woman he had saved. From what he knew she was in a no-win situation. If she couldn’t return home then she could stay in the castle but by staying in the castle she was also marking herself a prime target.

It was certainly not going to be easy for her. Whilst thinking this his mind attached to a lingering thought that she had looked uncomfortable in her kimono. She was struggling to move freely which was only going to add to her dour mood in the long run. If she was a simple village girl before all this happened then perhaps it was the quality of the kimono that was the issue. Still, she didn’t strike me as the type that took easily to standard convention.

“Is something the matter my lord?” Kyubei enquired noticing Mitsuhide had fallen silent.

“I shall be returning to my manor. Bring the report there but before that, I have an errand for you.”

---

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everyday-effing-therapy · 4 years

Text

01/01/2020

Good evening!

New year, new me? Certainly not. But I am definitely here to tell you something.

Everything will be okay. We hear it so rarely. And yet it’s the most basic of things that we need and that actually do happen. Cause everything passes and that includes all of the bad things.

My New Year’s Eve was fine, I am really glad I went. V’s mom drove us, but they were a bit late, so I waited with V’s grandmother and she is such a sweet human being. I honestly had so much fun talking to her.

The party itself was very nice as well, although some people were really late and then left early. I had fun myself, though.

I got so many compliments on my hair, which was a nice surprise and then also on my dress and makeup. I felt really nice and happy, definitely didn’t get as drunk as last year and had some meaningful conversations.

After midnight, we watched the fireworks, drank champagne, wished each other a happy new year and then Black kissed Marigold.

So I guess they’re official now, as this morning they were cuddling and smiling and well, of course it hurts.

I have a broken heart but it is not shattered.

And it’s a hell of a relief.

First things first, I actually like Marigold. Like, this year she is actually likable and I enjoy it, cause I didn’t feel okay disliking her.

Second of all, they seem to belong together. And yes, maybe in one of the alternate universes we belonged together, but I don’t have the right to say that we had to be together in this universe.

There were amazing moments between us and it’s quite funny how he waltzed into my life and turned it upside down.

Then he left, but not really, cause he still is there, smiles at me and we laugh and maybe I misunderstood it all, cause maybe it was always friendly and then I caught feelings.

Maybe we stood a chance, maybe we never did and maybe we do in the future or maybe we don’t.

I don’t want to say that it doesn’t matter, but in some way, it really doesn’t.

There is no use thinking about the past and regretting the decisions made. I made them honestly with myself and with my beliefs and I am proud of that, even if that brought me pain.

I am a woman with hands of silk and heart of steel and I need to remain one if I want to stay true to myself, to make a change. Life for us is not easy and will not be, as my father stated, but he is right, cause change is hard, improvement is hard, requires work, time, patience and great dedication.

I want to change the world and I want to be happy, so I’ll live with the hopes that I will achieve both in the future.

And it might be hard, the everyday pain, but it’s not suffering, not until I let it be, cause there are darker things than boys who stop dancing with you to your song or who kiss other girls on midnight.

I do wish Black and Marigold happiness. I felt sad although calm when I watched them today, not mad and heartbroken like when I saw Gold dating a girl a year ago.

As Harry Styles said in his song: “We’ll be alright”.

Silver is also himself, making decisions on his own and I cannot change it or alter it to my own liking. I wish him all the best too. Maybe we’ll meet in the future again. Maybe there will be another life for us. Another universe.

The morning passed alright, we sat together, drank tea and talked and it was a nice break, feeling myself and bittersweet, but it’s good, cause without sweetness there is no bitterness and without bitter there would be no sweet.

Then, V’s dad came for us and we went home. He drove me to my house, which was very nice of him.

When I came home I tried to sleep, I talked to my parents, listened to music and cried. Falling asleep might be tricky for some time now, as I used to fall asleep to my imagination of Black and now there is no Black, he is somebody else, new, maybe more realistic for his new girlfriend.

And it’s okay even if it doesn't always feel that way yet.

It was a good night, with good things happening, with beautiful stars and fireworks, with my tears and the pain in my chest, but it was real.

It was a real experience, down-to-earth, me watching the fireworks and tears streaming down my cheeks cause they kissed in front of me, really passionately, but I took it and I will take it all, cause one day it will be okay.

One day it will be like when I watched Black and Lily together and I was honestly just happy for them, with no deeper meaning, with no envy.

It will be okay and I will keep on repeating it, cause I need to hear it and I am sure that some of you do too. There is a hellish social stigma around it, around saying that everything’s going to be fine, because people feel like it’s lying.

Except it’s not, it’s basic, yes, but sometimes there are no better words, sometimes it’s the most meaningful thing of all.

I want to cherish the memory of him turning my life upside down, cause it was new and rough, it was eye-opening and life-changing and I feel like I’ve never had a crush like that. He made me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of. The first half of the year seemed more realistic for me, though, like I did a lot of things and I remember the time passing and the events which filled my life. The second part of the year passed with nothing much happening, but me staying mostly in my head.

It was unhealthy and toxic, so I hope that will change. I want to cherish life, that’s why I made a little new year’s resolution. Every day I am saving a picture and writing a little note of what made that day worthy and interesting. I hope I will manage and at the end of the year I will watch a little compilation of everything that happened. And feel like I wasn’t as detached from the world as I was this year.

When I was driving with V’s dad today, I looked out of the window today. It was gloomy and overcast and I thought that I feel the same way.

And then I realized. Winter is about everything being dark and short, but it’s also about having to rest. We put so many things on our schedules in winter where in reality, biology wants us to rest and prepare for the next year. Everything dies, so it can grow back, bigger and stronger when it gets warm again.

We have to wilt now, so as to bloom later.

And I promise you, we all will.

As for relaxation techniques, I did watch ASMR today, listened to music, watched Bob Ross - it always makes me feel a lot better and I think I will start the January yoga challenge today.

Give yourself time to rest mentally, so you can bloom later.

I wish you all the best in 2020 and forever after.

And to all my people with hands of silk, don’t worry that people will hurt you, cause yes, they will, but you were gifted with granite fingernails, so as to open somebody’s soul and look into it. Your weakness is your greatest weapon.

And to all my people with hearts of steel, you don’t want to get hurt, but you will, because love hurts, but living without it hurts more. Let yourself open up, take down the walls rather than build them up. Your weakness is your greatest weapon.

Your weaknesses are beautiful. We are like flowers, beautiful and weak, but relentless and ever-growing. Let yourself wilt and bloom. Let yourself live. Let yourself feel.

That’s what makes us human.

Take care,

#01/01 #night post #22:01 #diary #journal #journal entry #c posts #c has found herself #blooming #wilting #life #everything will be alright

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one-trigger-lullaby · 6 years

Text

Dying in Their Arms Featuring Dads of Marmora

Kolivan remembers the first day Keith spent on the Blades' ship. He remembers feeling uncertain, allowing this hairless Galra on board, especially after learning that this hairless Garla was a kit; a mere babe, fighting a war he had no business being a part of.

He remembers.

Remembering had never hurt as much as it did now, clutching at his hairless kit, his kit's precious life force bleeding into his fur.

He remembers the first time he'd ever had a one-on-one conversation with Keith. Wishes he'd savored it more.

"Is Keith a common name on Earth?" Kolivan inquired, studying Keith with an uncomfortable intensity.

"I guess?" Keith replied uncertainly. "I've never met anyone else named Keith, but a lot of TV characters were named it, so it probably wasn't uncommon."

Kolivan's wide, bat-like ears flickered as his puffy brows furrowed. "TV? What is that? What are its characters?"

Keith scrunched up his nose, rubbing the back of his head mindlessly with a gloved hand. "It's like a...box with blue light that plays pictures for people to watch."

"Such as a hologram?" Kolivan asked, intrigued by this 'TV' thing.

"Not...not really," Keith sighed, straightening as he started gesturing with his hands. "It's usually about this big, bigger if you're wealthy or bad with budgeting, and it's plugged into a source of electricity, usually a power outlet, and you buy something called cable or internet to make it play pictures."

"You pay currency for this thing?" Kolivan asked, "What do humans need to see so badly that they're willing to pay for it?"

Keith shrugged, "I don't know--movies? Documentaries? Some TVs have options to buy things on them, now. Humans use them for all sorts of things, but, essentially, a TV is just a vessel for some other program to take control of for it to be of use."

"That's...odd," Kolivan admitted, looking almost annoyed. "Can you contact other galaxies with them?"

Keith let out a surprised snort of laughter. "What? No. Humans don't even know there are things in other galaxies to communicate with yet,"

Then, Kolivan got a strange, far-away look before walking away.

He didn't understand.

Kolivan shakily strokes Keith's cheek, his thumb smearing blood across the pale surface. Keith blinks up, his eyes hazed over. "...Kolivan?"

"Yes, kit," Kolivan says, unusually soft, "I'm here."

Keith smiles, lopsided in the way Thace always says is so cute. "Am I..." Keith takes a minute to collect more air, Kolivan waits patiently, they have all the time in the world. "...am I going to be...okay?"

Kolivan leans down, pressing his forehead to his kit's, "Of course, I promised I would never let you come to harm, didn't I?"

Keith brings a weak hand up to clasp at Kolivan's, "You did," he slurs.

Yes, he remembers making that promise, remembers it like it was yesterday.

Galra liked to sleep in packs, curled up in one another's warmth with lazy, grooming tongues and swishing tails. This was a great comfort to all Galra, half-breed or otherwise, which is why Ulaz felt compelled to speak up about his worry for Keith's mental state, being away from his pack for so long in addition to never actually having a proper pack that could truly cater to Keith's Galran needs.

"A kit shouldn't go as long as he has without a pack," Ulaz said.

Kolivan rumbled in agreement, his every instinct telling him how wrong it was for a kit to be alone as often as Keith was. To be lonely as often as Kolivan could tell Keith was.

"We should offer him temporary placement," Thace proposed, leaning back into the mountain of pillows they had piled on the bed.

"That wouldn't be a bad idea," Ulaz said, looking to Kolivan and Antok for agreement.

"I want my blades to be in their best forms at all times, physically and mentally, if this will help him do better, I'll allow it," Kolivan said, a purr starting up in his chest as Ulaz rubbed his face against his in thanks.

"I'll go retrieve him," Ulaz said, standing.

"Wouldn't the kit be asleep as of now?" Antok said, gesturing to the late time displayed on the wall.

Ulaz frowned. "He will sleep better here," he reasoned, walking out of the room.

They'd allowed Keith to stay near the Captain's quarters as they did most Galra under adult age despite him being half-human and, technically, an adult as he still had the instinct of a Galra kit, instincts that would do well not to be ignored.

Ulaz took his time, strolling past the rooms of all the kits, generally accompanied by their parents or packs, and making sure they all slept soundly as he carried on to Keith's quarters. That was when he heard the first noises of distress floating through the hallway. He walked a little faster, his ears pricking and swiveling as they tried to find the source of the distress call clearly given by a Galra kit.

He stopped in front of Keith's room, leaning in. The sound was definitely coming from inside. He brought a knuckle up to knock at the door, "Keith?"

There was no response, so Ulaz opened the door without the kit's say-so, hoping it wouldn't anger the little one.

Ulaz peered into the room, his eyes glowing yellow as the darkness cleared and Ulaz saw a squirming bundle lying under the covers on the bed. Ulaz approached quietly, gently resting his hand on the arm of the half-Galra kit who was keening in a high, acutely distressed pitch.

"Hush, kit," Ulaz whispered, gently wrapping his arms around the boy and his blanket, clutched tightly in small, clawless fingertips, and lifting as gently as possible. There was no way humans were supposed to weigh this little, Ulaz could think of a few blasters that outweighed this kit.

He walked Keith through the corridors, gently rocking the distressed kit and humming a Galran lullaby in low tones, hoping it would soothe Keith as it had so many other Galra young. The noises of distress didn't cease, but they did quiet enough that Ulaz wasn't worried about another Galra hearing the noise and coming to investigate.

Kolivan, Thace, and Antok were still up when Ulaz reentered and it was as if a switch had flipped the second Keith's whine reached their ears.

Thace was the first to stand, a trill working its way into the air, calming all in the room. Still, the signs of distress did not stop.

"What is wrong with him?" Antok asked, gently, almost cautiously, pushing the boy's hair out of his face with the clawed tip of a finger. The strand was soaked in sweat.

"Do all humans sweat this profusely?" Kolivan asked, giving in to his instincts and pressing close to his pack until they were all surrounding the sleeping kit in a tight circle.

"When they're in this much distress," Ulaz said, a whine climbing his throat as the kit seemed to be impossible to ease.

Thace noticed Ulaz's discomfort, "Let's put him in the nest, maybe that will soothe him."

They did so, all four of them shuffling around until Keith was the center of a furry cuddling session. Ulaz and Thace pressed close to the small kit while Kolivan curled around them, his back facing the door, while Anrok did the same on the other side, Antok's tail curling around Thace's hip.

Soon, Keith stopped making noises in his sleep and all but Kolivan laid resting. He felt something horribly parental bubble up in his chest when he looked at Keith, silently watching the now calm rise and fall of his chest. "No harm will come to this kit, I swear it," Kolivan swore to himself before quietly lying his head own and shutting his eyes.

Keith's eyes had gone wide.

Kolivan never knew that humans had this much blood within them. They are so tiny, his kit is so tiny but he holds so much blood. So much life.

"I can't," Keith takes a moment to swallow and Kolivan wishes he had some water. "feel my legs."

Kolivan nuzzles his kit, treacherous heat building behind his eyes. "It's okay, kit, it's okay."

"Kolivan?" Kolivan lifts his head up to meet his precious kit's eyes. "Where are we?"

"Have you forgotten?" Kolivan asks, wishing it wasn't the case.

But Keith, the honest thing, nods. Despite the pain tearing at his heart, Kolivan says, "Don't worry yourself over it, it holds no importance, now."

His words seem to shock Keith almost as much as they do him. "I thought...I thought the mission was everything."

It is. It always has been. That's always been their rule, their way, but...their way had never been more painful than it was now as Kolivan holds his dying kit, something he wishes on no one, not even his greatest enemy.

Kolivan never thought he would ever regret a mission being successful, but, in Zarkon's name, he would do anything to not be sitting here right now, anything to have his full-of-life kit standing on his own two feet, bothering Antok like he always did.

Who will braid Antok's tail now?

"Braiding? What is that?" Thace asked. It sounded painful.

"It's a...ritual? I guess? Something ones with long hair tend to do to either style or put up their hair so it isn't in the way?" Keith explained,

"If it's in the way, why don't you just cut it off?" Antok asked in a low grumble, sitting cross-legged between Keith's legs.

"On Earth, hair is kind of important. It's seen as something essential to one's overall beauty. Hold still." Thace watched as Keith pulled on the elastic around his wrist with a loud snap that Thace recoiled from.

Antok sat still, letting Keith braid what little hair he had on his head. Thace ended up leaning forward, enraptured as Antok's thin hair twisted into something elegant.

"This is what Kolivan wears," Thace realized, "I always wanted to learn."

Keith undid his braiding and scooted over, patting the space next to him and letting Thace sit. "I'll show you. After you can do this, I can show you all of the other ways humans braid hair."

They sat there for longer than they could count, Antok sitting patiently as his pack braided and mussed with his hair.

"Hey, Antok?" Keith was leaning forward as Thace tried to twist Antok's strands into a braid, his tongue caught between his lips.

"Yes, kit?" Antok responded.

"How much fur does your tail have?" Keith asked, gesturing to the tail still hidden within Antok's uniform.

Antok frowned, perplexed. "Why?" His tail thumped on the ground and Keith gave a toothy grin.

"Trust me, Antok."

Kolivan and Ulaz walked in hours later to quite the scene.

Antok was on his stomach, his legs raised to support Keith's back where he sat on the back of Antok's thighs, twisting bows into the fur of his tail. Thace sat near Antok's head, concentrated on his own project of twirling the sparse hair on Antok's head into a messy braid.

Ulaz huffed, amused, "Have you become the children's plaything, Antok?"

Thace didn't respond, too wrapped up in his project, but Keith glared.

Keith dropped Antok's tail, seemingly done with braiding it and set his sights on Kolivan. "Hey, Kolivan, can I fishtail your hair?"

Kolivan didn't understand what a fishtail was, but the kit looked so eager, he gave in.

Even under his uniform, Antok had fresh braids on his tail nearly every day, sometimes with a head braid to match, courtesy of Thace. It became a ritual, one they all held dear.

There was blood pushing up past Keith's lips, so pale yet so red, and the sound of gurgling made Kolivan tip his kit to the side on his lap, doing his best not to jostle him though he knows he wouldn't feel it, Keith is too far gone.

"Kolivan?" Keith's voice is barely a scarce whisper.

"Yes, my beloved kit?" Kolivan says just a softly, gently threading his hands through Keith's hair.

"Where is Thace?" Keith asks, his spit is mixing with his blood and it drips down his chin, staining both his and Kolivan's uniforms in a red Kolivan knows will never wash out.

"He'll be here, kit," Kolivan promises, knowing Thace, Ulaz, and Antok are doing their best to be here.

But they don't know what they're walking into. They don't know they'll come only to have the most precious child any of them had ever known's blood staining their knees where they would surely kneel over the still body of their kit's corpse. They would not make it in time to say goodbye; Of that much, he is sure.

Kolivan's ears already rang with the cries he knows will hear as his throat begs to open with its own.

Keith's lip trembles, just barely. "Tell him I love him. Antok, too. And-and Ulaz and the paladins...I never told them enough." He lets out a self-deprecating chuckle that pushed more blood down his chin.

"It will be done, my kit, save your strength," Kolivan says, trying not to get choked up, trying to stay strong.

"I love you, Kolivan, I...don't think I said that enough to you, either," Keith says breathily. "I love all of you...so much."

Kolivan knows. How could he forget such precious words that had come from his first and only kit? He remembers the first time Keith told him so clearly, he can still feel the warmth he felt then.

Keith had been with them for over a year and Kolivan had finally admitted that he wasn't just any kit, but his kit. His pack's kit.

The half-Galra had grown on all of them quickly, almost like a foreign, blood-sucking fungus that purred when its back was rubbed.

Despite the new fondness Kolivan held for the kit, Keith was still a blade. A little one, but a blade nonetheless. He had duties just like every other member, but Thace and Antok didn't seem to grasp that, they wanted the tiny one with them at all times, going as far as watching Keith's sparring and growling at those who so much as nicked Keith with a blade.

Kolivan understood, he wanted to tear their heads from their bodies for injuring his kit, but his kit was strong, nothing could bring his kit down.

Nothing short of back rubs, that is.

"Enough," Kolivan hissed, dragging Thace by his collar, "I have had enough with you two interfering with Keith's training."

"We aren't interfering!" Thace insisted, digging his heels into the ground.

"That soldier was being too rough with our kit," Antok growled, speed walking to stop Kolivan from tugging on his ear so hard.

Kolivan released both of them then spun on his heal, his face hard as stone. "He himself is a soldier, or have you forgotten?"

"He's our kit," Antok growled.

"He belongs to the Blade before he belongs to us," Kolivan hissed, his hackles rising. He didn't like it any more than they did, but that was why the boy was there in the first place. To assist and work and train, not be coddled twenty-four-seven. "By human standards, he is fully-grown."

"Not by ours," Thace muttered bitterly.

"No," Kolivan agreed, his voice softening, "not by ours. By our standards, he shouldn't even be able to topple out of his crib yet, much less be stricken by a familiar blade. However, he was and is a paladin of Voltron. He is our kit, and as our kit, he is deserving of the respect and trust he has earned. Until serious damage is being done, we need to let him be thrown around while sparring with the older Galra and not rush to his aid every time he so much as whines."

Thace visibly swallowed, his ears flattening at the thought of not coming to his kit's distress call. Kolivan rested a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not saying you ignore him completely, that would anger me, but, often times, Keith doesn't even realize he's making calls for his pack. He's constantly at war with being an adult by his standards and a kit by ours, let's not make it harder on him."

Antok's fists clenched but he nodded. "Understood. It is our duty to ensure our kit grow and matures properly. Both sides of him."

"Thank you, Antok. You're both free to watch Keith train if he permits you to do so, I won't deprive you of that, at least," Kolivan said, watching Thace perk up.

"We should go do that, then," Thace said, grabbing Antok's arm and pulling him towards the training grounds. Kolivan huffed with a fond smile.

Mere hours later, when Kolivan was sitting in his office, there was a knock on his door. "Announce yourself," he called.

"It's Keith," Keith said.

Kolivan's ears pricked in surprise. He had never had Keith visit him in his office before. He then felt concern overtake him, had something happened? Was he wrong to tell Antok and Thace not to interfere?

No, they would've been the first to come crying.

"Come in," Kolivan permitted, setting down his pen.

Keith came in, a small smile on his lips. At a cursory glance, he looked fine. "What ails you?"

Keith huffed a laugh, "Does something have to be wrong for me to visit you?"

Kolivan frowned in confusion, "Usually, yes."

Keith paused, his lips turning down briefly. He hummed, "I guess... I don't visit as much as I should. Sorry."

Kolivan waved off his concerns. The kit used his arm as a personal stuffed toy at night, not Ulaz's, so there were no hard feelings about not getting to see him much during the day. "It's not worth worrying about, kit, what can I do for you?"

Keith came to stand at the front of his chest, smiling softly at Kolivan in a way that made him want to melt. "I just wanted to say thank you."

"For what?" Kolivan asked.

Keith came around the table and curled his arms around Kolivan's neck in a hug, squeezing tightly. "For believing in me. For make Antok and Thace give their momma bear thing a break."

Kolivan wrapped his arms around his precious bundle of life, resting his furred cheek on his shoulder. "You deserve it and more, my kit."

Keith pulled away and gave Kolivan a grin, brimming with life and joy and love, "I love you a lot, Kolivan. I love all of you so much. I... I never thought I'd ever have a family but I'm glad that the universe made me wait so long."

A rare smile pulled at Kolivans lips, "Why, because you like making yourself suffer?"

Keith shook his head, bumping his nose with Kolivan's in a customary show of affection, "Because it saved the best for last."

Not even the warmth from that memory could keep the cold from seeping into Kolivan's fingers as Keith's body, once so bright, went still and lifeless, his fingers dropping from Kolivan's large hand, still on his precious kit's head.

"No..." Kolivan breathes. Sounds build in the back of his throat as everything within him tells him to awaken his kit, his kit is too cold and his skin is too pale. For the first time in decades, tears drip from Kolivan's eyes and onto the chilling skin of his dead kit.

Dead.

Never has Kolivan felt such despair, such ache, such horror, such...sadness.

Oh, the sadness echoes within him as he clutches Keith, pressing his face close to his kit in hopes of catching on to the last bits of his scent before they are washed away with the ruining scent of blood and death.

He hears footsteps entering the room. Then, a gasp and an anguished cry. There are sobs that echo around him, but Kolivan is too numb to partake in this physical show of sadness.

He just wants to be wherever his kit is.

That's all he wants, so why does the universe insist on ripping it away from him?

The others gather around Keith's still corpse and then they're grasping at it and pressing their hands to his throat, making high, keening noises to try and rouse him from his endless slumber, try to smell what used to be so organically Keith below the death and despair. Feel his warmth one last time.

It's useless, Kolivan knows.

They're too late; Their kit is dead and he will never be warm again no matter how hard they tried.

His cheeks will never flush, his fangs will never grow in, his eyes...they will never open.

He will remain cold.

@badthingshappenbingo

#Dads of Marmora #badthingshappenbingo #dying in their arms #Keith Kogane #Kolivan #Ulaz #Thace #Antok #Braids #writing #ao3 #voltron #vld #the blades of marmora #Keith is a blade #Keith is Galra

171 notes · View notes

until-theend-oftheline · 6 years

Text

When They Had Nothing - Part 5: Times Are Changing

Pairing: Stucky (Eventually)

Warnings: Steve’s health issues, War in Europe, Fighting, Violence, Suppressed feelings, Pining.

Word Count: 4300ish

A/N: This is my new Stucky series. It starts with the boys as kids in Brooklyn and follows CAFA but from Bucky’s POV rather than Steve’s. I am sooo excited about this series which I have been working on for about 6 months as it’s written for @cabigbang

Art Inspired by WTHN by: @ischa-posts - thank you so much for taking the time to create art for my series!

Betaed by: @blacktithe7 @emilyevanston and @ifyougetkilled-walk-it-off - Thank you so much for all your help!

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

MASTERLIST - CABIGBANG MASTERLIST + AO3 LINK

December 24th, 1941

Steve was quiet as Bucky when they walked out of the enlistment office side by side. Bucky wasn’t sure what to say to him. He knew Steve wasn’t just angry. He was upset. He felt as if he wasn’t good enough, because of something beyond his control. The same way he had felt his entire life, but Bucky had somehow managed to lessen that feeling just by being his friend. He knew that, but right now Bucky didn’t know what to say or do.

He was relieved as hell they had rejected Steve. He knew they most likely would, but his fear that they might take him had overridden the logic. Which also meant he wasn’t completely prepared to deal with either of their mental states at the moment.

“Steve…” Bucky began, but the man next to him just shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it. As big as Steve’s heart was, he had always been shit at talking about his own emotions. Bucky knew that, and he wasn’t going to push him on the matter. Not right now at least.

“Have you told your parents?” Steve changed the subject, and Bucky sighed.

“Yeah… I told them last night. I’m gonna tell them it’s final tomorrow morning when we go over there,” Bucky answered, emphasizing the 'we'. He was leaving no room for argument on that one. There was no way he was leaving Steve alone on Christmas morning, no matter if he felt like going or not. Steve must have sensed that because he didn’t argue. He just carried on with the conversation. Bucky knew it was most likely to distract his own mind, so he went with it.

“George must have been proud?” Steve asked, but regret flashed across his eyes when he looked over at Bucky.

“If he was he didn’t show it. He’s probably holding out for some rank or something,” Bucky muttered. “Mom and Becca were freaking out though. I think they knew there was a chance I would be drafted, but I don’t think they expected…”

“They’ll be fine.” Steve reached out, giving Bucky’s arm a small squeeze, and his mind instantly calmed. Steve’s touch had that effect on him. Everything bad got pushed aside, and there was just the two of them. “I’ll look in on them if you want me too.”

Bucky smiled, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders. He was amazed at how his friend always managed to find some way to do good even when he was at his lowest.

“I’d love that, Stevie. Thanks,” Bucky tugged him closer against his side as they crossed the street heading back to their place to celebrate Christmas Eve together. Maybe for the last time, depending on the state of the world next year.

Bucky was scared. He knew he was doing the right thing and he didn’t for a second regret his decision. He was doing what had to be done. People were murdered for nothing more than how they looked and what they believed in. As much as Bucky wanted to stay with Steve and his family, this was something he needed to do. He couldn’t look himself in the eyes if he didn’t, so he pushed his fear down and focused on tonight and Steve.

June 14th, 1943

Bucky had headed straight for his and Steve’s apartment when he got off on leave. It was his last night in the States, and he wanted to spend it with his best friend.

Training had taken up a lot of his time. He thrived in the army. He was pretty damn good with a rifle, and he knew how to handle himself in a fight. He knew what was expected of him, and he lived up to it and more, which is how had managed to reach the rank of sergeant in less than two years. When he had told his dad, he had seen something that resembled pride for the first time in years. That had angered Bucky though, and he had promised himself right then and there that when he had kids one day he would never make them feel as if they weren’t good enough. He would never make them feel as if they needed to risk their lives for their sacrifice to matter.

Which was part of the reason he was here. He would go to tell his mom and sister goodbye before he left in the morning, but tonight he needed to be with Steve. It was his last night home, and there was no one else he’d rather spend it with.

Steve wasn’t home. Bucky knew his shift had ended a few hours ago, so there was only one place he could be. A movie theatre down the street where Steve had started spending more and more time. Bucky wasn’t around much anymore, and Steve needed something that could distract him from the numerous times he had tried to enlist under different names and area codes.

Bucky had been furious with him the first time he had tried tricking the system. He hated that Steve thought he had to do this and that he wasn’t good enough the way that he was. Bucky just wanted Steve to be Steve. He didn’t need him to go off and get himself killed or get locked up for trying. Bucky wanted Steve to think of himself first for once and not to get in a fight standing up for some asshole or dame that was just going to laugh at him anyway. Steve always saw the good in other people whereas Bucky tended to see the world the way it really was. There was always going to be another asshole and another fight. It didn’t mean that Bucky wouldn’t stand up for what was right every time, but it did mean that he thought Steve shouldn’t. When it meant fighting guys twice Steve’s size Bucky could deal with it. He didn’t like it, but Bucky had come to terms with the fact there was no stopping him. Asthmatic and sickly Steve in the smoky rough trenches of a war zone was another matter. His fears weren’t about Steve not being good enough, they were simply about Bucky wanting him to be safe.

Off course, Steve was Steve, and he was never going to be completely safe. Bucky sighed with the realization as he heard the sounds of a fight coming from the back alley. If Steve was here and there was a fight going on, that was were Bucky would find him. He just hoped he would find him before a trip to the hospital would be needed this time.

Bucky knew that Steve was a lot tougher than he looked, still, his heartbeat picked up as he saw the guy land a punch, knocking Steve to the ground. He rushed towards the guy who was undoubtedly going to kick the much smaller Steve while he was laying on the ground.

“Hey! Pick on someone your own size.”

Bucky grabbed a hold of his arm, dragging him backward, effectively placing himself between Steve and his bully like so many times before. Being Steve’s shield had become second nature to him. Bucky easily ducked out of the way when the guy was dumb enough to take a swing at him. He threw a punch he knew was going to make the guy feel his jaw rattle for a few hours, effectively getting his point across. Still, he couldn’t keep himself from placing a solid kick to the guy's ass as he scurried off. Bucky might not know what had happened to get Steve to pick a fight with him, but he knew without a doubt he deserved the kick and so much more.

Bucky turned back to Steve when the guy disappeared out into the street. He was relieved to see him standing, but he also knew Steve didn’t need pity right now.

“Sometimes I think you like getting punched,” Bucky snarked, before noticing the paper lying between them.

“I had him on the ropes,” Steve replied, wiping the blood from his face, standing up straight, nursing his head.

“How many times is this?” Bucky sighed. Part of him wanted to kick Steve’s ass for keeping this up. He knew it wouldn’t do any good, so he kept up the show, messing with him for it.

“Oh, so you are from Params now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlisting forms, right?” Bucky tried to throw in a little sense before keeping up his show, “and seriously? Jersey?”

Steve had been too busy trying to shake off the hits he had taken to look straight at Bucky until that moment. A rush of emotions flashed across Steve’s face when he saw the uniform, and Bucky’s heart broke. He had been so busy worrying about Steve he hadn’t thought that Steve might feel the same about him. Bucky had gotten in his fair share of fights in the past, but usually because Steve picked them, and he most certainly hadn’t run willingly into a gunfight before.

“Did you get your orders?” The concern in Steve’s voice was evident, even if he would never say anything. Bucky knew Steve wished they were doing this together, but more than that, it was war. Bucky was going to war, and Steve was scared to lose his best friend.

Bucky took a deep breath. Fear, pride, and regret mixed together in his mind as he stood up a little straighter, introducing himself for the first time since he had gotten his orders.

“The 107th. Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.” Bucky watched Steve nod slowly, coming to terms with the fact they might go a very long time before seeing each other again.

“I should be going,” Steve looked up at Bucky as if he was feeling ashamed he wasn’t shipping out with Bucky. Like he was somehow failing him, but nothing could be further from the truth. Bucky didn’t know what to do, so he smiled, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him close against his side.

“Come on, man,” he tried to sound chipper as he led him out of the alley. “It’s my last night.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose as he detected the stench of garbage coming from Steve, and he let go of him with a slight roll of the eyes. Off course of all the places he’d pick a fight it’d be somewhere he’d end up in a garbage can.

“We’ve got to get you cleaned up,” Bucky decided. Steve sulked but followed Bucky out of the alley.

“Why? Where’re we going?” Steve asked, causing Bucky to smile a little, handing him the paper he had picked up as he was getting off the train before coming to see Steve.

“To the future,” he answered, smirking at Steve when he shook his head at him. Bucky loved stuff like this, and it was a dream of his to get a job working for Stark when he got back home. Steve knew this, and even if he didn’t share his excitement for technology, he wasn’t going to argue with Bucky on this. It was his last night after all.

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure why he had gotten the idea to bring the women along. One of them, Connie, was a girl he had been seeing while he was on leave. All the time he had off he had been split between her, Steve, and his family. Tonight, she was bringing a friend and Bucky was hoping she would take a liking to Steve. It was his last Hail Mary to find someone that Steve could care about and that would care enough about Steve to make him see he didn’t need the war. He was important just being where he was, being who he was.

It was a little more than that though. Even if Bucky would never admit it to anyone, receiving the orders scared him. It was happening. He was actually going to war, and just for tonight, he hoped to forget that fact for a little while. He needed to forget, in a way, Steve couldn’t help him. Even if a part of Bucky wanted nothing more than to let him. It was a line neither of them had come close to crossing, and as much as Bucky wanted too, he doubted they ever would. So he brought the girls along. Though he hadn’t told Steve that until the two of them arrived at the expo.

Steve had been moping for the past couple of hours before getting to the expo. Bucky had been doing his best to cheer him up, talking about Stark Industries and what he hoped they were going to see. He knew it wasn’t Steve’s biggest interest but usually, Bucky’s enthusiasm was infectious. Not tonight though.

Bucky stuffed his hands into his pockets as they walked up to the Stark Expo, talking to Steve about all the reasons he should be happy he was staying home.

“You’re about to become the last eligible man in New York,” he reasoned. “You know there are three and a half million women here.”

“Hell, I’d settle for just one.”

Bucky could hear the slight smile in his friend's voice as he spotted the women at the entrance. He put on a big smile, waving at them as he answered Steve.

“Good thing I took care of that,” he answered, feeling Steve’s eyes glare holes in the side of his face, but he didn’t look over. He knew Steve hated when he set him up, but more than that he was afraid to look over and see the disappointment on his best friend’s face that it wasn’t just going to be the two of them tonight.

“Hi, Bucky,” one of the women answered seconds before Steve practically groaned at him.

“What did you tell them about me?” Steve asked, and Bucky knew it was safe to look over, only to see the slight annoyance remaining on his face.

“Only the good stuff,” Bucky teased before they reached the women. Bucky quickly introduced them to Steve as Connie and Bonnie and Bucky took Connie’s hand. She had been in a few of his classes before he enlisted. He knew she would love this place, and he also knew she was an amazing girl. She could be a temporary distraction though he wouldn’t mind writing her if she allowed him to be his distraction while he was gone. Maybe he could even see her when the war was over. Someone he could come home to and start a life with. He sent Steve a wink before heading inside with her, hoping he and the blonde would hit it off. Someday some woman was bound to see what Bucky saw, and he hoped it would be tonight, even if part of him just wished the world was different.

He grinned as the excitement filled Connie’s face as the voices sounded from the stage, and he let her practically drag him after her towards the stage. He loved that about her. He loved how easily excited she got about things and how she always wanted him to involve him in it.

He hoped that even if this wasn’t normally Steve’s sort of thing he would still have fun or at least hang in there until it was time to go dancing. Maybe today was the day Steve would join in the fun instead of sitting in the corner watching the world around him. Bucky wished he would loosen up a little, even if just for one night. Even if it were for no other reason than his own peace of mind that Steve would be alright without him.

Bucky’s face broke into a huge smile as he saw the stage. Howard Stark was a genius. Getting to go to an expo like this was like a dream come true. Another dream Bucky one day hoped would come true was working behind the scenes of it. He loved science and progress. It amazing him what people much brighter than himself were able to come up with.

He had said that to Steve once and gotten chewed out for it. As the thought of that night entered his mind, his smile grew even brighter. In Steve’s mind, there was nothing Bucky couldn’t do and talking himself down was just not acceptable around his best friend. Bucky had been annoying about it in the moment, but he still loved Steve for his reaction. It helped him see himself in a different way than he usually did. Making Steve proud had somewhere along the way become more important to him than earning his own father’s approval.

However, as Stark started talking about flying automobiles, Bucky’s full attention went to the stage. He felt like a kid on Christmas Eve waiting for the sun to rise as Stark kept talking. He almost forgot to breathe when the car lifted off the stage hovering off the ground for a minute before crashing back down.

“I did say in a few years, didn’t I?” Stark joked, and Bucky huffed a laugh, looking back at Steve, wanting to share this moment with him on instinct. For a moment, he managed to forget that he would be far away from New York by this time tomorrow. He managed to forget his worries and fears right up until he looked back not long after as the show came to an end.

“Steve, what do you say we treat these girls to…” He stopped when Steve was nowhere to be found, and his heart clenched. He might have brought the girls along, but he wanted Steve with him tonight. He looked around to see the enlistment office across the show area. He knew on instinct it was where he was going to find Steve, so he excused himself from the girls with the promise to go dancing soon and went looking for his friend.

Bucky sighed in relief when he saw Steve standing outside the office still. He couldn’t help but smile a little when he saw him standing on the short platform that allowed visitors to see themselves in a uniform. He actually would love to to see Steve in one of those. He just rather not see him running guns blazing into a war, giving his reckless courage a chance to get him killed.

“Come on,” Bucky gave Steve a playful push on the shoulder to gain his attention. “You’re kinda missing the point of a double date. I told the girls we’re taking them dancing.” Bucky talked fast, hoping his stream of words would somehow talk Steve out of what he already knew he was going to do. At the very least for tonight. Bucky wasn’t sure he was quite ready to say goodbye to Steve yet. Not when he still could get a few hours with him before he had no choice but to leave him behind.

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you,” Steve obviously lied, it made Bucky hurt. Steve had never been a good liar, but he had also never lied so blatantly to Bucky before. He hated it. He hated it so much, the anger slipped into his voice when he spoke.

“You’re really gonna do this again,” Bucky glared at Steve, who didn’t budge.

“Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck,” he answered, not really looking at Bucky. He knew Steve didn’t want a fight, and honestly neither did he. His anger and fear just got the best of him. So he snapped.

“As who? Steve from Ohio? They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you,” Bucky knew those words were going to hurt Steve. He had never hidden how bad of an idea he thought it was for Steve to try and enlist, but he had also never put it nearly as blunt before.

Steve tried to hide how hurt he was, not looking up at Bucky as he tried to explain himself. “Look, I know you don’t think I can do this…”

“This isn’t a back alley, Steve. It’s a war,” Bucky interrupted. He wasn’t trying to hurt Steve. Hell, he never wanted to do that, but he’d rather his words hurt him than a bullet in a foreign European country took Steve’s life.

“I know it’s war.” Steve sounded calmer than ever while Bucky was starting to raise his voice a little, desperate for Steve to see all that Bucky wanted, all he had ever wanted, was to keep Steve safe.

“Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs,” Bucky hissed at him. Safe jobs were what he wanted to say. Jobs that wouldn’t get Steve killed and would ensure he was there for Bucky to come home too when this damn war was won.

“What do you want me to do? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?” Steve gave back, the annoyance starting to become clearer in his voice.

“Yes! Why not?” Bucky answered, knowing how ridiculous he sounded to someone like Steve. Being someone who always did the right thing and stood up to bullies. This was who Steve had always been and Bucky knew it. The thought of losing him just scared him. This wasn’t a guy trying to steal his lunch money. This was thousands of guys with guns, happy to kill the little guy that couldn’t defend himself just because he wore the wrong colors.

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory,” Steve objected, much to Bucky’s growing frustration.

“I don’t…” Bucky started but stopped when Steve raised his voice. He rarely did, so Bucky knew the battle was lost. Hell, he knew that before he started, but fear hadn’t let him admit that until now.

“Bucky. Bucky come on! There are men laying down their lives. I’ve got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.” Steve was good at giving speeches like that. He was good at making people listen and see his side of things, but Bucky knew this wasn’t all it was about. He knew and understood Steve a lot better than his friend gave him credit for.

“Right,” Bucky answered glaring at him. “‘Cause you got nothing to prove.” The tension was thick between the two men, and Bucky fought the urge to shake Steve and tell him all he wanted was for him to stay safe. All he wanted was for both of them to have lives to live when this war was over. He didn’t though, and the tension was broken by Connie yelling at him from across the road.

“Hi, Sarge! Are we going dancing?” she called, and Bucky turned around putting on his happy face.

“Yes, we are.” He held out his hands to the side, giving her a slight smile before returning his attention to Steve. The stubborn look on his best friend’s face made him see he had lost this one. He just hoped the enlistment officers wouldn’t ever get desperate enough to actually take him.

Bucky sighed, shaking his head, not looking directly at Steve anymore. It hurt too much to say goodbye like this. He shouldn’t have fought him. Their last words shouldn’t have been spoken in anger.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky tried to lighten his tone as he backed up, but gave Steve a look to tell him he was serious. He wanted Steve to know that no matter what was said between him, he would always love him, and he would always have his back.

“How can I?” The playfulness in Steve’s voice made Bucky stop from turning around. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Bucky held back his emotions. Not sure if it was tears or laughter, but he stalked back towards Steve.

“You’re a punk,” he said fondly, the same relief he saw on Steve’s face mirrored on his own as he hugged him, smiling at Steve’s response.

Even if it were for no other reason than his own peace of mind that Steve would be alright without him.

“Jerk.”

Bucky couldn’t hold Steve like he wanted too. They were standing in the middle of the street, but at the very least he got to say goodbye properly even if the night was too short lived for his liking. He hated having to say goodbye at all, but he was happy Steve wasn’t coming with him.

“Careful,” Steve said giving Bucky’s hand a small squeeze before he could back away. All Bucky could do was smile. If he spoke now he was sure his voice was going to fail him. Which was also why the only response he had to Steve calling out after him, “don’t win the war till I get there,” was a salute.

Bucky turned around, blinking hard to chase the tears away and forced a smile on his face before he reached the girls, wrapping his arm around Connie’s waist as he did.

“Come on, girls. They are playing our song,” he playfully flirted, while every fiber of his being was screaming at him to go back to Steve and convince him to come back home with him, to convince him that one more secret between them might not be so bad, but he didn’t. He danced with the girls, and he went home with Connie. She helped him forget, and when the morning sun rose, he kissed her goodbye with the promise he was going to write her.

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When They Had Nothing

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takaraphoenix · 6 years

Note

“And for the first time that he could remember, he felt fucking safe” Jagnus Ps: I love your fics

Magnus heaved a deep sigh as he slowly sat down on his favorite armchair, using his magic to summon a very strong cocktail. He had earned it, after the night he had had.

“It’s not even noon.”

At first, Magnus startled. He hadn’t lived with someone in so long, he wasn’t used to this anymore. Constantly having someone around his loft. Opening his eyes again, Magnus turned to look at his roommate. His eyes darkened in appreciation as he saw that Jace was only wearing low-riding sweat-pants, hair slick with sweat and messy as Jace had brushed it out of his face.

“I could just open a portal and go to wherever it is evening by now, but quite frankly, I am exhausted”, countered Magnus unimpressed, glaring at him. “And if you plan on lecturing me on my alcohol consume, you will come to regret it, little Shadowhunter.”

“Lecturing?”, huffed Jace and flopped down next to Magnus. “Hand me a glass too.”

Raising one curious eyebrow, Magnus summoned a glass of whiskey for Jace, handing it to the blonde. “Well then, that is far less sad than drinking alone. What are we drinking to?”

“I’m drinking to my little brother telling me to my face I’m not actually his brother. Because the woman I’ve been thinking of as a mother has spent the past weeks implementing that thought in his mind”, snarled Jace with a self-reprimanding smile, lifting his glass. “What about you?”

“I’m drinking to one of your sisters getting my son addicted to her blood”, drawled Magnus.

Jace raised both his eyebrows at that and stared blankly, while Magnus clanked their glasses together. “W—What did you just…”

Magnus shrugged and tilted his head. “It’s most likely not my place to tell you, then again your dear parabatai threw a fuss that I didn’t notice it sooner and didn’t tell him sooner, so I suppose you deserve to know it too. Apparently, dear Isabelle has developed an addiction to yin fen and she started getting Raphael hooked. My boy… I haven’t seen him this broken in a long time.”

Somehow, Jace felt even more hollow at that. Alec knew? And neither Alec nor Izzy had told him? Considering how shitty he had been feeling since Max’s runing party at the Institute… This only made him feel even less like he was a part of the family. Maryse’s half-assed apology hadn’t really helped either. A personal crisis should not make you abandon your family. If they actually were your family. But Alec had told Jace what Maryse had said to him while Jace had been held captive on the Morning Star. He had told Jace after the runing party.

“Robert cheated on Maryse”, stated Jace, eyes unfocused as he took a slow drink.

“Somehow, I can’t find it in myself to be surprised”, drawled Magnus sarcastically. “The woman has been nothing but cold and frigid every time I met her. And from what Isabelle has told me about her childhood and the emotional neglect…”

Jace huffed at that, a bitter expression on his face. It was not comparable to what Michael – Valentine – had put Jace through during his childhood, but he knew that Maryse’s way or treating Isabelle had crippled Isabelle emotionally. Half the time, Jace was pretty sure that it was at fault for the strings of one-night-stands, the lack of friends, the… inability to form genuine human bonds. Though Isabelle and Magnus, they had grown close ever since the warlock had first offered them their help. Both Isabelle and Alec had befriended the warlock. Jace, he wasn’t quite so sure. From day one, he had the feeling that Magnus didn’t really like him. Then again, on day one, it looked like Magnus would persuade Alec – just to in the end give up on it when he noticed just how deep in the closet Alec really was. By now, Alec had come out, taking things at his own pace.

“Guess Alec blaming you for not telling him puts a damper on whatever you have?”, asked Jace.

“We don’t have anything”, huffed Magnus amused. “Your parabatai is delectable and very impressive, but I’m too old to chase after someone in the closet. Me trying to forcibly push him out of the closet and forcing him to go public with something he, only weeks ago, hadn’t even been able to say aloud. No… I truly am too old for that cat and mouse game.”

Jace hummed in acknowledgment at that, emptying his drink. He made an appreciative sound when his glass filled up again, blue magic floating between the glass and Magnus’ hand.

“Handy”, grinned Jace pleased. “So, you and Raphael…? I didn’t realize you were that close.”

“I took him in when he was a fledgling vampire”, sighed Magnus, emptying his own drink. “He is… the closest I have to a son. The closest I’ll ever have to a son. Seeing him like this…”

“How… How is he?”, asked Jace slowly, frowning.

Sighing again, Magnus shook his head. “Not very good. And that Isabelle continues trying to come back for more, tempting him… it’s not helping…”

Jace slumped down on the couch, emptying his second drink. A welcomed silence fell between them as they continued drinking. It was nice. Companionable. And it definitely felt less pathetic than Magnus’ usual daytime drinking all on his own.

/break\

The next time they drank together before noon, neither of them spoke. Not even when Jace sat down next to Magnus. Magnus just immediately summoned a hard drink for him. They didn’t even attempt to banter about reasons for day-drinking. Jace had just tried to sacrifice himself to save the Downworld, just for it to backfire. Innocent Downworlders – warlocks, vampires, werewolves and Seelies alike. They had died and Magnus knew Jace blamed himself. A part of Magnus wanted to encourage the blonde, tell him that it was not his fault. After all, Magnus had been there when Jace had made the decision. The decision that his own life was worth giving for the Downworld. If there was anyone who knew that Jace’s intentions had been pure and selfless. Maybe a bit – lot – suicidal. But Magnus knew that Jace had never meant for anyone to be hurt.

A part of Magnus wanted to tell Jace all of this. The bigger part of Magnus was just so tired of losing his own people to Valentine’s vile genocidal attempts. The warlocks at his old place. The warlocks on the Morning Star. Now the warlocks in the Institute. Magnus was just bone-tired. Grief-struck and tired. He emptied another drink, filling Jace’s glass up too.

/break\

Magnus startled when someone refilled his glass. He looked up bleary-eyed to see his roommate sitting down next to him after taking a swig from the bottle. Blinking slowly, Magnus took a drink.

“Got another bottle?”, asked Jace as he finished this one.

Huffing, Magnus summoned another bottle, as well as a glass for Jace. Today had been hard on them both. Having been hijacked by Valentine of all people. Being tortured. The memories… Memories he had been suppressing for centuries now. His hand shook as he took another slow, deep drink. The day hadn’t exactly been rosy for Jace either though. Having been captured by Valentine, hurt by his father once again. Magnus was the one who had found Jace, beaten, knocked out in the bedroom. The warlock still remembered the state – physical and mental – Jace had been in when he had first moved in, after the Morning Star. Reaching out, Magnus cupped Jace’s face, hand glowing blue as he used his magic to heal the injuries Valentine had caused.

“The physical part can be healed”, sighed Magnus lowly.

“True”, grunted Jace, downing another glass of whiskey. “…How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine, sweetheart”, drawled Magnus.

“Yeah, I’m not buying that shit”, snorted Jace, both eyebrows raised. “I’ve been playing this game for years, Bane. Lying that you’re fine when you’re trying to suppress memories.”

“You’re better than expected”, hummed Magnus, cocking one eyebrow.

“Like I said, I’ve been playing that game for years”, huffed Jace. “I know what it looks like when you’re haunted by flashbacks of the past. That far-off, empty stare you had on when I walked in.”

“I’m impressed”, admitted Magnus, running his fingers along the glass.

“You don’t have to talk about it”, whispered Jace with a shrug. “Just… if you want to, I’ll listen. I know a thing or two about being held captive and tortured, you know.”

Magnus smiled thinly and shook his head. It wasn’t even the torture itself, it were the memories of how his parents had died. But then again, if there was one thing Jace knew about too, it was watching your parent die. That was the moment it hit him how much the two had in common.

Magnus’ eyes darkened as he looked at Jace, watching the way Jace swallowed his drink and ran his fingers through his hair, making the golden hair fall down around his face. He was gorgeous. Leaning over toward Jace, Magnus reached a hand out to rest on Jace’s thigh.

“You know, I don’t want to talk about it, but there is… something else you could do.”

“Are you… coming onto me, Bane?”, asked Jace surprised, one eyebrow raised.

“Depends on your reaction”, hummed Magnus, slowly slipping his his hand down Jace’s thigh.

The next moment, Jace surged forward, grabbing Magnus by the collar and pulling him into a slightly bruising kiss. Magnus smirked as his teeth nicked Jace’s lips. Wrapping an arm around Jace’s waist, he pulled the blonde closer and closer, until Jace was literally sitting on his lap. When they parted, the blonde was panting and looking at Magnus from half-lid eyes, pupils blown and lips swollen. Oh, this was a very good look on the Shadowhunter. Smirking, Magnus allowed his hand to slip from Jace’s waist to cup the blonde’s ass, making him gasp in surprise.

“Interesting”, whispered Magnus curiously, eyes dark as he squeezed again and made Jace mewl.

“Shut up”, growled the Shadowhunter, cheeks red in embarrassment.

“How about… you make me shut up, in the bedroom?”, suggested Magnus, voice like velvet.

Jace shuddered and arched into Magnus’ touch. The warlock reached out to grab Jace by the thighs, right below the swell of his ass, hoisting him up. A gasp escaped Jace as he was manhandled around like that, lifted up and carried like he weighed nothing. Magnus smirked wickedly, knowing exactly what he was doing to Jace. Once in the bedroom, Magnus essentially threw Jace onto the bed, making the blonde gasp. Reaching out, Jace pulled Magnus down with him, into a deep kiss. Both started tugging on each other’s clothes rather harshly, a couple buttons coming off when unbuttoning Magnus’ shirt proved to be too complicated.

“Impatient much, little Shadowhunter?”, growled Magnus amused.

“It’s been a while”, countered Jace irritated, kicking off his pants.

Magnus hummed amused and reached down to cup the blonde’s cock, palming it a couple of times, making Jace groan in pleasure. Though then Jace grabbed Magnus by the shoulders and pushed him down. It was a gentle push, but it told Magnus exactly where the blonde wanted him.

“What? You said I should shut you up in the bedroom. This is a suggestion on how to shut you up”, smirked Jace with a wink, spreading his legs in invitation.

Chuckling, Magnus obeyed and opened up wide, engulfing Jace’s cock with his mouth. Jace moaned in a drawn-out way and bucked up. Humming around the cock in his mouth, Magnus pinned Jace by the waist and started sucking him off. After a while, with Jace’s melodic moaning accompanying him, Magnus used magic to coat his fingers in lube and slowly breached Jace’s puckered entrance. Jace gasped in a strangled way as one of Magnus’ fingers slipped in.

“Fu—uck, Bane w… what are d… o—oh…”, moaned Jace, eyes closed in bliss.

Magnus smirked around Jace’s cock as he added a second finger, digging for Jace’s prostate and rubbing it teasingly while sucking the blonde off. Slowly, Jace seemed to melt beneath him, mewling and whining, fingers clawed into the sheets. It was actually rather endearing.

“Ma—ag…”, drawled Jace out as he orgasmed.

Magnus swallowed most of the cum, licking his lips as he scissored Jace throughout his orgasm. The blonde was boneless as he sprawled out on the bed, sweat glistering on his sun-kissed skin. Kissing the inside of Jace’s thigh, Magnus started nibbling it, leaving a hickey. When he pulled his fingers out of Jace, he started kissing up Jace’s six-pack, wrapping his lips around one of Jace’s nipples. Jace was looking at him with hooded eyes, looking sated.

“Spread your legs some more, blondie”, prompted Magnus, slapping Jace’s flank once.

Raising his eyebrows, Jace slowly spread his legs in invitation, wrapping them around Magnus’ waist and pulling him closer. With magic, Magnus lubed his cock up before slowly slipping it into the loosened hole. Still Jace was so tight. Magnus closed his eyes and groaned as more and more of his cock found its way into that tight, hot hole. Jace’s fingers dug into Magnus’ shoulders, scratching him as he was desperately trying to pull Magnus closer and deeper into himself.

“Fu—uck, how are you so thick?”, asked Jace with gritted teeth.

Laughing, Magnus pushed deeper into Jace. “You’re rather endearing, little Shadowhunter.”

“Shut up, Bane”, growled Jace, biting Magnus’ neck.

Magnus gasped at that, picking up the speed and fucking Jace harder. The blonde beneath him made the hottest sounds every time Magnus hit his prostate. Closing his eyes, Magnus buried his face in Jace’s neck as he came deep inside the blonde. Both were panting and trying to catch their breaths. After a few moments, Magnus rolled off Jace, wrapping one arm around Jace’s shoulders.

“This was… exactly what I needed”, sighed Jace contently, eyes closed.

“Agreed”, hummed Magnus with a pleased and sated look, closing his eyes.

/break\

Occasions to drink before evening seemed to keep piling up and while Magnus was getting the disappointed looks and lectures from Catarina, Raphael and Luke, he could always count on Jace needing a drink just as much as he did. When Valentine escaped, Magnus and Jace got so drunk, they just passed out on the couch together. Every day seemed to call for at least a quick drink. Often, they’d end up in Magnus’ bedroom. Drinking and fucking meant they’d just be too exhausted to think of all the pain, everything that had happened in the past months.

The weird thing was when they started opening up to each other. When Jace had found out he was actually a Herondale, when he found out about his mother’s suicide, Magnus found it in himself to tell Jace about his own mother’s suicide. Hearing about Jace’s childhood of abuse at Valentine’s hand made Magnus feel just a little understood about his time with Asmodeus. It wasn’t the same, but it was somehow closer than Magnus had ever been able to feel with someone.

“I just… Being the High Warlock, it’s… all I was for too long now”, sighed Magnus, gently running his fingers along Jace’s arm as the blonde was curled against him. “It was what defined me for so long. I don’t know what to do. Yes, I have my clients still, but… Lorenzo! He comes in here, taking my position. If it were Catarina, or someone else who has been a part of this community for decades, but Lorenzo just… comes in here, taking everything from me.”

“You’ll get it back”, hummed Jace distracted, nuzzling into Magnus’ neck.

“Really?”, drawled Magnus, playing with Jace’s hair. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Yeah”, shrugged Jace, tilting his head some. “You’re Magnus Bane. This dude’s got nothing on you. Everyone in the community loves you. And sure, siding with the Seelie Queen was the singularly dumbest thing you have ever done, but your intention was to protect your people, so… not really sure why they would punish you for it? You’re benched. But you’ll get back out there. Look at me. I was treated like the local leper after the reveal that I’m a Morgenstern. But I bounced back and now I’m vice-head for the Institute, supporting Alec. If I can do that, damned if you can’t.”

A faint, soft smile found its way onto Magnus’ face at that and he leaned down to kiss Jace gently. “Thank you, sweetheart. I suppose… you’re right. I’ve pushed through worse.” Pausing for a moment, Magnus looked more closely at the blonde, noting the bags beneath his eyes. “How are you doing, little angel? You… haven’t been sleeping a lot lately.”

There was a long stretch of silence in which the naked blonde just buried himself deeper in Magnus’ side. Magnus had learned over the past months that it was best to just give Jace time to open up on his own account. Jace nuzzled into Magnus’ neck, Magnus playing with his hair.

“I think… I’m losing my mind”, whispered Jace, voice barely a breath. “Izzy and Clary are convinced that the Jonathan I’m seeing isn’t real. Alec… he talked to Imogen and I… talked to Luke and… My mother’s suicide wasn’t just one incident. She’s… been ill. And… I might have… inherited it from her. I know they’re all worried about me and they mean well, but… I… What if I go to the Silent Brothers and they can’t help me and I… I will be removed from field work. I… would be nothing if I can’t be a Shadowhunter, Mag…”

“Says the boy who just told me I’d bounce back from not being High Warlock anymore?”, teased Magnus, both eyebrows raised. “Even if you won’t be allowed to go out anymore as a Shadowhunter, you will find something else. You’ll be fine. And the far greater chance is that they will be able to help you, sweetheart.”

“Urgh. Is that what I sound like when I’m trying to encourage you?”, huffed Jace.

Magnus chuckled and shook his head. “Listen. There is a Silent Brother I’d like you to meet. I trust him. He’ll be able to help you. I know he will. Please give it a try, Jace.”

Jace frowned at that. It was untypical for Magnus to call him by his name. Most of the time, Magnus just used a vast variety of nicknames for him. Jace? That meant he was serious. And the edge in his eyes also showed just how serious the warlock was.

“But…”, drawled Jace unsure, laying back down on Magnus’ chest.

“I know”, sighed Magnus, carding his fingers through Jace’s hair. “I know.”

Sighing, Jace closed his eyes and cuddled more up to the warlock. Those were his favorite moments, being curled together after sex. Over the past weeks, their dynamic had changed. They had started out as just roommates. Jace and his Samaritan who had offered him a roof over the head.

But then… they became friends. They had started day-drinking together. At first, just drinking. No talking. Then, slowly, they started to share. To talk. To bond. Now, Jace would actually consider them friends. Magnus might know as much about him as Alec at this point.

Somewhere along the way, the sex had started. On a day when both just needed to forget. Needed a distraction. And it continued happening. Usually when the need to be distracted won out, but sometimes also just out of boredom – and then even just out of horniness. And ‘even’, because Jace used to pick up strangers at the Hunter’s Moon for a one-night-stand. Now, he just walked over to the next room to ask Magnus for a hook-up. Even sober.

The part after sex started to become a problem though. At first, it had just been the part where both passed out from exhaustion and alcohol, waking up in the morning and just parting for the day. By now, they would cuddle up, talk softly about their feelings. Confiding in each other. It was their greatest bonding moment. Most of the time sober too. It had started to change things.

Jace’s feelings had started to change. The appreciation and friendship he had started to feel for Magnus, somehow it had become more than that. Seeing Magnus talk to the kittens made Jace’s heart flutter, Jace had started cooking, in particular Magnus’ favorite meals, he’d seek Magnus out for attention whenever he needed to not be alone. He had started considering Magnus his.

/break\

Magnus had no idea what was going on. He had introduced Jace to Jem Carstairs, had seen him off before Jace went to the Silent Brothers. Then Jem had contacted him again, had requested Magnus’ help – because Jace was possessed. Of course he had helped, rallying up other warlocks willing to help. That was, Alec had put in a word with Lorenzo there, about how the warlocks kind of owed them one for siding with the Seelie Queen and that Alec had kept the Clave from hunting down the individual warlocks who had done so, putting enough pressure on to make Lorenzo cave and ‘show his good will for a healthy and helpful relationship with the Institute’. It worked out for everyone.

But… now it was two months later and Jace, freed from his possession and also having been healed and counseled by Jem, was released from the City of Bones. And yet, he hadn’t come home. No, instead, Magnus had to find out from Alec that Jace had just… moved back to the Institute.

For a couple of days, Magnus just left it at that. It was Jace’s decision and if the blonde decided to be coward enough not to even tell Magnus in person, then Magnus did not need this. Only when Catarina told him that she was not going to listen to him complaining about his boyfriend dumping him any more and that if Magnus did not go and talk to Jace himself, then she would or so help her god. Firstly, he had to correct her about the ‘boyfriend’ part. Then, he had to promise to go and talk to the blonde. Boyfriend or not, Magnus was hurt by Jace just cutting him out like that.

They had been friends. Magnus hadn’t felt this close to someone in a very long time. And if he was being perfectly honest, he had been thinking about how it could be more. Being friends with Jace was good. The sex was also good. And Magnus had come to wonder what maybe going on dates with Jace might be like. Especially after Jace had left for the Silent City, because Magnus had started to realize that he was truly missing the blonde. That the loft suddenly felt too empty and too quiet. Having Jace with him – drinking with him, talking with him, fucking with him, eating with him – it felt so good. It felt good and for the first time in a long, long time, he had someone right there to confide in, someone to trust and hold, to make him feel warm and not alone.

If Jace wanted to call their little friends with benefits deal off, fine. But if Jace thought he could get away with calling their friendship off like that, then he had another thing coming.

/break\

Jace was exhausted from a long mission by the time he returned to his room. It was a nice room. A bell-tower. Large, moody, aesthetically pleasing. Empty, cold and nothing like home. Nothing like the loft. He missed coming home. He missed coming home to his warlock.

“Mag, I’m home”, sighed Jace to himself, with a small sarcastic smile on his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ve been waiting for over an hour now.”

Jace yelped in surprise, staring startled at the warlock, who was sprawled out on Jace’s bed like an over-sized cat claiming his territory. The fact that his eyes were unglamoured helped with that impression. All Jace could do was stare at Magnus, wondering what was going on.

“You know”, started Magnus and heaved a sigh, the look on his face less than impressed. “If you wanted to call it quits on our little… mutually beneficial agreement, you could have just said so.”

“I didn’t… That’s not…”, started Jace with a frustrated frown. “Just go, Mag.”

“No”, hummed Magnus, shaking his head a little. “Not without an explanation.”

Gritting his teeth, Jace sat down next to Magnus. “I… I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you. I like our friendship. I don’t wanna mess it up. But I also don’t know how to… go back to how things were without messing it up. So I just… put seeing you off until I’d find a solution.”

“But you haven’t yet”, concluded Magnus, inspecting his nails. “So, what exactly is the problem that you can’t find a solution to, little Shadowhunter?”

“…The possession”, whispered Jace, not looking at Magnus. “Lilith’s grip on me. Jem was amazed that it hadn’t taken a full hold over me. That I had been able to break it on my own.”

“It’s your special angelic blood that enabled you to, wasn’t it?”, asked Magnus confused.

“No”, muttered Jace, shaking his head. “Lilith used those she had possessed to kill… those they loved. And it wasn’t… It was the strength of my love that gave me the ability to break the possession. Shadowhunters only love once in their life. Fiercely, with their all.”

“Okay…”, nodded Magnus slowly, having a feeling where this was going.

“I can’t be in love with you”, stated Jace as he looked up at Magnus, eyes wide and vulnerable, frightened. “You’re… the first friend I made outside my siblings. And what we had worked. I can’t ruin that by being in love with you and getting my heart broken by you. I can’t-”

“And here I thought”, started Magnus lowly, voice deep like velvet. “Your self-esteem would have had you walk right up to me with a cocky grin, telling me you made reservations for a first date.”

“I’m not…”, started Jace with a glare. “You’re… different. You’re not some one-night-stand. Your opinion matters to me. Your feelings matter to me. I… I’m sorry I hurt them by ignoring you, I just… didn’t know what to say to you. Because I’m not… not ready to be 'let down gently’. Or, well, not so gently now considering I was being a dick, huh?”

“You were”, confirmed Magnus, one eyebrow cocked as he reached out to cup Jace’s cheek. “And you can make it up to me by planning the perfect first date for us, mh?”

“Don’t make fun of me, Bane”, warned Jace with a glare.

“I’m not making fun of you, angel”, assured Magnus as he leaned down and very slowly kissed Jace. “I like you. A lot. I care about you, not just as a friend. I like what we had, but… it could be more than what it is. I want more, Jace. I want you. I want to go on a date with you.”

“Really?”, asked Jace in awe, leaning after Magnus as Magnus leaned away.

Magnus smiled at the gesture, curling his fingers around Jace’s neck and pulling him into a second kiss. “Don’t ever do that again. Don’t shut me out when you don’t know how to deal with your feelings. You and I… The reason we work is because we came to trust each other and talk about the feelings we don’t know how to talk about with anyone else. Okay?”

Nodding slowly, Jace crawled closer to Magnus so he could curl against the warlock. Smiling softly, Magnus wrapped his arms around the blonde, pulling him so close that the Shadowhunter was essentially sitting on his lap, leaning against Magnus’ chest.

“I love you”, mumbled Jace, nose pressed against Magnus’ collarbone. “I love you. I am… in love with you. You did this. You just… with all of your… you… I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart”, smiled Magnus amused, kissing the top of Jace’s head.

Hearing that made Jace’s heart flutter. “I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have avoided you. I’m sorry.”

Closing his eyes, Jace buried his face in Magnus’ chest. The warlock was warm and comfortable and… And for the first time that he could remember, he felt fucking safe.

~*~ The End ~*~

Read this here on FFNet & here on AO3!

#jagnus #jace herondale #magnus bane #shadowhunters #fanficiton #Naughty List #bottom jace #top magnus #phoe's tumblr drabbles #otp: keep it in your pants

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captain-kingliamsqueen · 6 years

Text

I Can’t Let Myself Be Hurt Again

Part 3 of Life Before Him

This part was so difficult to write, I basically cried the whole time!

READ WITH CAUTION!!! THIS PART HAS SOME STRONG ANGST AND MENTIONS SELF HARM AND SUICIDE!!

Self-harm is a very serious issue caused by many different factors, most people find it hard to talk about, I just want to say that if anyone ever needs help…please ask…please, please ask! Whether it be a stranger or someone you know! Help is there for you, there are lots of different ways you can receive help, call centres, friends and family, strangers.

I’m always just a message away if anyone needs an ear to listen or a shoulder to lean on!

Don’t listen to what anyone else tells you...YOU MATTER...YOU ARE LOVED!

CATCH UP!

Part 1

Part 2

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Summary: Riley's makes a decision that effects both her and the people around her?

Word Count: 2088

Tagged : @starstruckzonkoperatorbat @drakelover78 @queencatherynerhys @devineinterventions2 @jayjay879 @pens-girl-87 @kawairinrin @hopefulmoonobject @flyawayblue56 @gardeningourmet @blackcatkita @syltti78 @decisso @theroyalweisme @hhiggs @mfackenthal @bruteforcebears

ASK IF YOU WANT TAGGED! SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE! (USED THE TAGS FROM MY “ALWAYS” SERIES LET ME KNOW IF ANYONE WANTS UNTAGGED!!!)

Liam was down in his study which was just two doors down from his and Riley's apartment in the palace. He was startled when he heard a scream then something smashing. He quickly stood from his desk rushing out of the room and down the corridor. He made his way into the apartment and along to their bedroom…He tried to twist the handle but the door wouldn’t budge.

“Riley?!” he called banging his fists on the door. As soon as Bastian heard the noise he came running down the hall

“your Majesty! Is everything alright?!” he panicked

“don’t worry Bastian…I’ve got it” Liam sighed

“of course,” he nodded understandingly then headed back the way he came. Liam turned back to the door and started banging on it again.

“Riley!” he shouted, “Riley please open the door!”

“why” she cried “why would they do that!? W-why would they leave me like that!?” she sobbed

“Riley…sweetheart” he said just loud enough for her to hear “I know…I don’t know mentally what you’re going through but if you let me in, we can talk, let me help you riley”

“no…wh-why would anyone want to help me…I’m worthless…my own parents didn’t even want me…why would anyone else” she blubbered, he felt his heart breaking a little, hearing how she spoke about herself

“hey…you are worth so much more than you give yourself credit for Riley, your friends love you, I love you, we all love you so much”

“stop! Stop saying that!! You’re all just going to do the same as they did…you’re going to get m-my hopes up…then you’re going to l-leave me…b-but I c-can’t let m-myself…b-be hurt again…I-I’m so sorry L-Liam” she started to hyperventilate.

“Riley!!!” Liam shouted panicking when he heard her moving, all her could hear was her crying and throwing things around…he banged his fists on the door, then he heard a scattering on the floor as if she had dropped beads or something of that size then the tap started running.

“Riley!!! RILEY!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!”

“I-I love you Liam” she cried as she moved from their bathroom to the bedroom.

“Riley move away from the door I’m coming in!!”

“y-you can t-try but…you’ll be too late” Liam stood back, lifting his leg and forcing his foot into the door with all of his might. The door flew open, banging against the chest of draws just beside it. When he got the door open he ran straight for Riley who was balled up next to the bed with her back to him, he fell to his knees pulling her into his hold with his arms wrapped around her and her back against his chest her hands covered her face. Her hands were bleeding from her nails digging into her palms so much when she was clenching her fists. Liam sat holding her as tight as he could when he looked up he got a straight line of sight to the bathroom…thats when he panicked…painkillers…all over the floor.

“Riley? how many did you take?”

“enough t-to take the p-pain away” she cried “how could they leave me?” he held her back to his chest. Riley started to become hazy…not responding as fast as she normally would

“Riley…Riley talk to me!!! How many did you take?” the tears started to fall from Liam's eyes…overwhelmed with everything happening before him. “BASTIAN!! BASTIAN! GET THE PHYSICIAN!!” Liam shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Riley sweetheart, I love you so much, I need you to stay awake for me honey…” he whispered then she closed her eyes and stopped responding.

“BASTIAN!!”

Just a few minutes later Bastian entered with the physician on his tail, the two instantly fell to their knees beside the couple.

“what happened?” the physician asked as he lay Riley down on the floor

“I think she took pain killers…a lot of them…I-I don’t know how many…she wouldn’t tell me!”

“alright, we have to get her to the medical room now!” Bastian listed Riley enabling Liam to stand then they all rushed down to the medical room in the palace. Bastian placed Riley on the bed, where the doctor instantly connected a drip to her, to flood out any pills she had taken, he started taking blood tests and all sorts.

just a few minutes later the doctor had finished what he was doing

“is she going to be alright?” Liam panicked

“I believe we got her help in time your Majesty…the painkillers didn’t have time to dissolve in her stomach yet meaning they haven’t reached her bloodstream…I have administered Naloxone which will stop the pills from dissolving and making their way into her bloodstream”

“when will she wake?”

“that’s entirely up to her, I would guess a few hours at least”

“okay…I have something I have to do…you call me…the second anything changes…no buts no ifs you call me no matter what!” he demanded

“of course,” the physician nodded

“Bastian…find her parents!” Bastian nodded then took his leave. Liam sat down in the seat next to the bed, he took her hand in his.

“I’ll just be along the hall if you need me” the physician stated then he left the room.

“Riley…” Liam sniffled as his tears ran down his face. “don’t you dare scare me like that again! I’ve never been so scared in my life…you are loved…you are so loved…and I’m going to spend the rest of my life…showing you how much I love you” he whispered before lifting her hand and kissing the back of it.

It was about forty-five minutes later that Bastian returned, he gently knocked on the door then entered.

“your Majesty…I found them…” Liam sat up straight, standing from his seat.

“have them taken to the safe house...”

“but y-”

“Bastian, I don’t care…get one of security to take them to the safe house. Get the car ready because you’re taking me there” Bastian looked at the king suspiciously then nodded

“of course, your majesty”

Liam followed Bastian from the room after kissing Riley's head, the two men headed outside to the car. Liam climbed into the passenger seat whilst Bastian climbed behind the wheel. They headed off towards the safehouse where they waited for about an hour for Riley's parents to turn up.

Once the car pulled up outside, Liam watched from the window as the couple climbed from the car then security brought them inside, locking the door behind him.

“where’s riley”

“what…no hi…no hey you must be our future son in law?” Liam asserted

“I’m sorry…what’s your name?”

“Liam…King Liam!”

“well it’s nice to meet you Liam…now where is Riley?”

“lovely…just lovely, where’s Riley? Let me tell you where Riley…your daughter…your flesh and blood is…she’s lying in a hospital…with a drip hanging out her flushing out the painkillers…she tried to overdose on! how dare you! HOW FUCKIN DARE YOU…COME INTO MY COUNTRY…OUR COUNTRY…OUR HOME! AND MAKE HER FEEL LIKE THAT…MAKE HER FEEL LIKE SHE ISNT WORTH SHIT! WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO MAKE ANYONE! …NEVERMIND YOUR OWN DAUGHTER FEEL LIKE THEY ARENT WORTH ANYTHING! NO ONE GAVE YOU THAT RIGHT! SHES YOUR DAUGHTER…AND YOU THREW HER TO THE WIND…IF YOU KNEW RILEY…YOU WOULD KNOW THAT SHE IS THE MOST AMAZING HUMAN BEING! SHE DESERVES THE WORLD, AND IM GOING TO MAKE SURE SHE GETS IT! DO YOU KNOW HOW DISGUSTING OF A PERSON THAT MAKES YOU TWO OF YOU…YOU HURT SOMEONE SO BAD…THEY TRIED TO HURT THEMSELVES…YOU ARE LUCKY WE GOT TO HER BEFORE ANY DAMAGE COULD BE DONE TO HER INSIDES! SHE COULD HAVE DIED! IF I HADNT HEARD HER CRYING…SHE MIGHT HAVE TAKEN MORE THAN SHE ALREADY DID…DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT IM SAYING? …DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE REPURCUTIONS OF YOUR ACTIONS…IT DOESN’T MATTER IF YOU DIDN’T SET OUT TO HURT HER THAT WAY…BUT YOU DID! IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO HER BECAUSE OF IT…HER BLOOD WOULD BE ON YOUR HANDS! …YOUR ACTIONS CAUSED HER A LOT OF PAIN…PAIN THAT SHE COULDN’T HANDLE!! YOU ARE DISGUSTING PEOPLE TO EVEN THINK THAT LEAVING YOUR DAUGHTER LIKE THAT WAS ANYWHERE NEAR ACCEPTABLE! SHE NEEDED YOU AND YOU WERENT THERE…YOU BETTER HOPE FOR YOUR OWN SAKE THAT SHE COMES OUT OF THIS ALRIGHT…BECAUSE IF ANYTHING ELSE HAPPENS TO HER…I WILL HUNT THE BOTH OF YOU DOWN…AND YOU’LL REGRET THE DAY YOU LEFT HER…THE DAY YOU CAME BACK AND EVERY FUCKIN DAY INBETWEEN!”

“who are you, to talk to us like that!”

“WHO AM I!? I AM THE FUCKIN KING…I AM YOUR DAUGHTERS FUTURE HUSBAND! YOU ARE IN MY COUNTRY…ON MY LAND! I WILL TALK YOU WHAT EVER WAY I DAMN PLEASE! WHAT ARE YOUR NAMES?”

“Lillian and Stewart Robertson”

“WELL MR AND MRS ROBERTSON! YOU ARE HERE BY EXCILED FROM STEPPING FOOT IN CORDONIA AGAIN…NOT UNTIL RILEY ALLOWS IT! IF SHE ONE DAY WANTS TO TALK WITH YOU THEN ON HER ORDERS, YOU MAY BE ALLOWED BACK BUT UNTIL THEN…YOU WILL PACK YOUR BAGS…AND YOU WILL BE ESCORTED TO THE AIRPORT WHERE YOU WILL BE PLACED ON A PLANE NEVER TO RETURN AGAIN!” Liam raged “Joseph” he addressed the guard that brought them to the safe house “take them back to their hotel…have them pack their things then get them to the airport…they have an hour to get their shit and get out!” Liam commanded. The guard nodded then escorted the couple out and into the car, Liam and Bastian watched as they drove away.

“Liam…are you alright?” Bastian asked as Liam's friend

“I will be, could you take me back to the palace please” he whispered trying to steady his breathing. The two headed back to the palace, after a 30 minute journey they arrived home. Liam climbed out of the car with Bastian on his tail, heading straight for the medical room. when he stepped into the room, he seen that Riley hadn’t woken yet. He stepped out of the room, calling for one of the maids.

“yes, your Majesty?” she bowed

“I need you to do something for me discreetly”

“anything” she assured

“I need you to go to my bedroom, in the apartment, and clean up, the en suite bathroom aswell…I know no one is permitted to go into the apartment other than myself and riley of course but there was an issue, some things got broken, now when I say discreet…I mean not a word is to be spoke…you are the only person permitted to enter the apartment, and anything seen In there must not be told to a soul, am I clear?”

“of course, not a word” the woman assured

“there is a photo on the floor, the frame was broken, please have it placed in a new one, and put on Riley's bedside table along with a bouquet of pink blooms, white lilies, pale pink gerberas and purple September flowers, those are her favourites”

“I will make sure everything is back to the way it was, if you need anything else, you know where ill be” she smiled sympathetically then headed off towards the apartment. Liam heard a noise coming from the medical room, he rushed in to see Riley waking up. He ran to her side taking her hand in his.

“hey sweetie” he whispered as he pulled the chair closer to the bed, he sat down never letting go on her hand.

“Liam” She croaked

“you scared the life out of me...I thought I was going to lose you…I thought…”

“I’m sorry” she whispered

“no! don’t you dare apologise…Riley, what matters is that the doctor said you’re going to be alright, that’s all that matters, I love you so much…I need you to know that, you are everything to me, you make me happier than…anything I’ve ever known and if I can have a part in making you happy again…that’s all I wanna do…for the rest of my life” he sniffled not bothering to wipe his eyes.

“I love you Liam…I’m sorry I scared you…I-I just…it hurts so much, all I could think about was stopping the pain”

“I know sweetie, I know…but I’m here for you, I will always be here for you I am not going anywhere, I will help you through this, I don’t care what I have to do, I’ll do it, we’ll do it…together.” He gently wiped her tears from her cheeks before pecking her lips. “just promise me… promise me that when you feel hurt and pain you will come and talk to me, I am here for you, I need you to know that no matter what, you come before everything…you are my priority. Let me try and help you through it. you may not realise it right now riley, but you are surrounded by people who love you dearly”

“I promise” she whispered

If you like it...Reblog it!

#trr #trr choices #trr fanfic #trr liam #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #playchoices #play choices fanfiction #playchoices fandom #playchoices fanfic #choices #choices app #king liam x mc #liam rys #liam x riley #liam x mc

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meltdownss · 2 years

Text

I feel like my blood has thinned out and is being replaced with clay, the feeling of it making the meat under my skin sluggish and thick. My heart is fatigued, bleached out vessels trying to feed my muddied blood life. I could scratch my scalp off if I could, just to release a sigh of pressure that has been building underneath it. Perhaps synapses has drained down to my fingers, because electricity is tingling underneath the thin skin.

Why am I feeling like this when other people have it worse? I have a roof above me and food within my reach.

I feel so wretched right now that I can’t explain and put it into words. Is this a lack of outlet for my energy? Or is this still an after effect of the elections depressions. Are my traumas being triggered again.

I notice I feel like this every time my paths cross past triggers, like people from the guild. I really have to get out of this city to recover from this mental state.

It’s like my mind is so cluttered and I can’t even get started on how to deal with the things lying around. Emotions and problems are merging together. Maybe i’m overly stimulated.

Everywhere I turn to, there seems to be a problem. Something that’s beyond my capacity.

For some reason, I’ve been thinking more about Kenn lately. Did he feel lonely on his last days? Did he have any regrets? Did he feel like he still have a lot to do before passing?

I feel like I’m stuck in where I am, and everyone else is doing great with their lives. Going through significant progress, and I’m here crying and being overwhelmed.

I don’t want to burden Michael with this, because I know he has a lot to think about. Work and graduate school.

Why does the universe take the lives of people who so desperately wants to live, and stubbornly refuses to take back an unwanted life, like mine? Sick sick joke. I wish I could just give my life to a baby that is so wanted for by their parents, or to the person who could’ve invented the cure for cancer. Fucking waste of resources to have someone insignificant like me to keep on living.

My chest feels so heavy, its like im barely breathing. Nothing makes sense.

#depressing shit

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a-bau-tiful-mind · 7 years

Text

Survivor (BAU X Reader)

Hi BAU-ties! I’m back from the dead with a request fill! This is an angsty team fic requested by anon who wanted “an imagine where you've been kidnapped when you were a kid and now you're an agent on the fbi and the bau has a similar case with yours so Rossi(the one who helped with your case back then)calls you to help out?but the rest of the bau doesn't know that you have been abducted and they realize it when you show them similar scars as the victim's on the wrists” Unbeta’d! I hope you all enjoy it!

Warnings: This fic does include some heavy topics such as kidnapping young girls, hostage, death, and more. I tried my best to keep it close to an episode of CM! - xoxo, k

“Good morning, Agent Y/L/N,” your supervisor, Agent Harriman greeted as you walked in, handing you a case file. “You have a call from David Rossi at the BAU waiting on your desk.”

“Alright, thank you, sir! Has he been waiting long?” You asked, hoping Dave wasn’t.

“No, we touched base for a bit and he insisted that he needed to speak with you right away. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” He informed you, heading back to his door.

You scurried over to your desk and picked up the line and warmly answered, “Hey Dave!”

“Y/N,” Rossi began, his tone uncharacteristically somber, “I needed to talk to you, did Harriman hand you the case file I sent?”

“He did.” You responded, nervous and caught off guard. “What’s going on?”

“The BAU-” he paused, “I mean, I need to ask something of you, something I have no right to ask of you but we have no real leads.”

The anxiety you felt turned into full blown nausea as you opened the file, knowing the subject of the contents from the first picture. Current photos of a girl who was mutilated and killed, her wrists scarred just like the ones under your blazer cuffs. You took a shaky breath, “This can’t be right. David, it’s been over twenty years.”

“The BAU thinks the unsub from your case is back. We never did catch him, the case went cold. It’s something I think about constantly, one of my biggest regrets.” Rossi’s voice now full of empathy and traces of guilt. “Again, I have no right to bring this to you, but I wholeheartedly believe that you could get this creep.”

You swallowed the bile building up in your throat and wiped a tear you didn’t even realize fell, “Does the team know my connection to this case?”

“Emily and I left out your records when we brought up the files from 1993. I assumed you’d tell the rest if and when you’re ready.”

“Keep it that way. I’ll be there in in an hour.” You said, numbing yourself enough to handle this.

“Thank you, Y/N. Words can’t say how appreciative I am.”

You headed over to Agent Harriman’s office and let him know you’d be joining the BAU for this case, you grabbed your bag and headed back out the doors you just walked through. Taking a deep breath at the wheel of your car, you started the ignition and headed to Quantico.

Walking into the bullpen, Rossi immediately met you at the doors, pulling you into a warm embrace. The tears came back to your eyes instantly, but you blinked them back and tried your best to push your memories and emotions to the back of your mind where you’ve learned to hide them for decades.

“Right this way,” David said bringing you to the briefing room. “Team I’d like to introduce you to Agent Y/N Y/L/N, she works over at headquarters and will be helping us with this case. Agent Y/N, I’d like to introduce you to agents Walker and Alvez, you remember Prentiss, Reid, Garcia, Lewis, and Jareau.”

“Y/N, thank you so much for joining us.” Emily got up to shake your hand, unable to hide the sympathy in her voice. A tone you didn’t want the rest of the team to adopt. You told yourself you’re here to catch this freak, you’re no longer a victim. The only way this will work is if you distance yourself from the case.

“Happy to help,” you lied, “Alright, Garcia, bring me up to speed?” You threw yourself into work mode, turning off any emotion you could detect other than focus.

“Righty-o,” Penelope began grabbing her remote, “Last Friday a body was identified as that of Jessica McKinnon, an 8 year old girl from Richmond, she was found in an alley with ligature scars on her wrists in Norfolk. She was reported missing two weeks prior after she’d been abducted on the way to her friend’s house. The necklace Jessica was wearing that day was left on the McKinnon’s doorstep three days after she was taken.” The screen projected photos of the Missing Persons bulletin and a children’s necklace with a half heart pendant.

“Geez,” JJ sighed, grimacing at the images.

1993

“Mommy! I’m going to Rachel’s, okay?” You yelled, tying your pink and white sneakers.

“Home before dark, sweetheart! Be safe. I love you,” she called from the laundry room at the back.

“Love you, too!” You shut the door and headed towards the end of the walkway. You shut the front gate behind you and made your way to your best friend’s house a few streets down.

Ten houses away, a pickup truck pulled up next to you, a young man spoke out, “Hey there! Where you heading?”

You ducked your head down, knowing better than to talk to a stranger. You sped up until the truck quickly turned into an empty driveway, cutting off your walkway. You turned around and began to run back home, crying as you heard running footsteps coming up behind you. The last thing you felt was a hit to your head before everything went black.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. You’ve been out for a couple of days,” the man said as you opened your eyes, causing you to immediately scream for help and cry when you realized it wasn’t just a nightmare. “Sh-sh-sh, don’t cry,” he tried to soothe you, brushing your hair back from your face. You willed yourself to run when you realized your wrists were roped to the wall. “What will make you feel better?”

“I want to go home,” you cried. Your head was pounding, “Please, mister.”

“I can’t do that. You know what I want?” He said calmly, smiling at you from his swivel chair and desk.

You sniffed, hoping you could give him what he wanted and go back home, “What?”

“I just want to be your best friend, Y/N,” he said holding up the butterfly friendship necklace you had that matched Rachel’s.

Walker leaned forward, looking down at his files, “So he’s clearly taunting the parents. It’s got to be personal.”

“But wait there’s more!” Penelope said, clicking her remote causing scans of old evidence to pop up on the screens, “In the early 90’s, this same thing happened to a small string of young girls in Virginia. All taken near their home, all with the same ligature marks. Sadly, only one making it out alive.” You couldn’t help but tense at knowing you were the one girl.

“So is this a copycat?” Luke thought out loud, “That doesn’t seem likely because this isn’t a well-known case.”

“Well, we never did catch the guy.” Rossi explained, “The girl was resourceful, and incredibly smart. She got away, but when we raided his holding place he was long gone and the case went cold.”

“It’s been almost 25 years, do you really think he’d come back after so long?” Spencer reasoned.

“The profile back then had him at early 20’s, mentally unstable, with undiagnosed developmental issues. That’s the best we have to go on as of right now.” Emily said, grabbing the remote and directing our attention to a new Missing Persons. “Miranda Rivard, a 10 year old in Scottsville was reported missing yesterday and this was delivered to her parents’ mailbox today.” She held up an evidence bag containing a sparkly friendship necklace. “The only this is that the Rivards have never seen this necklace before.”

You immediately shot a look at Rossi, knowing he purposefully left out that there was a little girl out there with the unsub. You cleared your throat, refocusing yourself on the task at hand, “So the unsub is clearly using the necklaces and bracelets as a signature. The fact that he bought this necklace shows how important it is for him. It symbolizes his idea friendship.”

You looked around the table and saw the team nodding to themselves and flipping through the evidence both new and old, the only one looking back at you was Spencer who was looking at you with an unreadable face.

“JJ and Walker head over to the McKinnon’s to speak with the parents, Alvez and Tara wait here, the Rivards will be here shortly, Garcia I need you to research this necklace and see what stores in the area sell it, get us security footage if you can, Reid, Rossi, and Y/N head over to the coroner’s and examine Jessica’s body. I want more details on the ligature marks. I’ll be trying to get in touch with the survivor.” You knew Prentiss was lying, and you were thanking every deity that she was good at it.

You headed out to the car and made your way to the Coroner’s, when you got there you made eye contact with Rossi, silently asking him to lag behind. Once Spencer’s long legs brought him out of earshot you turned to Dave, “Why didn’t you tell me he had someone?”

“I didn’t want you to take on too much at once,” He reasoned, his tone heavy.

“You just didn’t want me to say no,” you shot back, bitterly.

“Would you have said no?”

You paused, thinking it over. What happened to you was something that changed you forever, it’s brought a lot of pain but you couldn’t deny that it was the reason you were standing there as a federal agent today.

You avoided his gaze and resigned, “Let’s just go, Reid’s waiting.” Walking into the examination room was always heavy, no matter how many times you’ve had to do it, the personal ties to this case made it all that much harder.

“Everything okay?” Spencer said, barely above a whisper while Rossi was busy with the M.E. who was revealing Jessica’s body.

You forced yourself to not visibly snap out of your state, “Yeah. It just never gets any easier does it?”

“No, it doesn’t. Can’t imagine when it ever would,” Spencer reassured you, putting gloves on to get a closer examination.

He turned to address the rest of us in the room, “It looks like the unsub used a nylon rope to bind the girl's’ wrists. From the extent of the ligature marks it looks like Jessica didn’t try and struggle too much.”

1993

“How’d you know my name?” You spoke up after hours of silent tears. It was no use. You were stuck here.

“We are friends. Friends have to know each other’s names or they aren’t that good of a friend, now aren’t they?” Your abductor said. Something was strange about him. He was a grown up, but he didn’t talk like one.

“I don’t know your name.” You tried your best to not sound scared of him. Maybe if you were nice he’d untie you.

“Call me Peter. Like Peter Pan! That’s one of your favorites right? I should call you Tink. Like Peter and Tinkerbell.”

How did he know that? How did this man know so much about you? This man wanted to be friends, so maybe if you pretended you were his friend you could go home. You imagined you were talking to Rachel, “It is my favorite! Can we watch it?”

“Yeah! But not right now. We have all the time in the world. We have forever. Best friends forever.” Peter said, looking at you to confirm.

You know mommy said it wasn’t good to lie, but making Peter mad probably wasn’t the best idea. You forced a smile to your face and nodded, “Best friends forever.”

“Let’s get you something to eat,” Peter said leaving the room.

Eventually waiting for Peter to untie you became uneventful, you fell back asleep. You were awoken by a burning, scratching sensation on your wrist, “Ow! What are you doing?”

Peter was scratching your skin over and over with a letter opener in what looked like a number 8 in your scarlet blood. “You said we’re best friends forever!” “Why are you hurting me then, Peter?” Your eyes stung with tears.

“It’s what grown ups do when they’re friends forever! They can’t wear the necklaces so they mark it on them so they can see it all the time. Do you know what this picture means?”

“The number 8?” You said, exasperated.

“No, silly Tink! It’s this weird little thing that means forever! Like for how long we’ll be friends!” He was still going over your already broken skin, causing you to hiss.

You put gloves on yourself, taking Jessica’s limp wrist in your hand. Two weeks was a long time to be with Peter. No other girl besides you lasted as long. Sure enough almost identical to yours was a messy, hand carved infinity symbol, “Hey Reid, take a look at this.”

“A number 8? Is that another signature? I don’t remember reading about the other victims having a laceration like that.”

“It’s an infinity sign.” You clarified, grabbing your cell phone and dialing Prentiss knowing you couldn’t ask Garcia without giving yourself away, “Hey Emily, can you check the files of the victims in the 90’s and see if any had an infinity laceration on their wrist and tell me how long it was between abduction and when their bodies were found?”

“Okay, the reports say that only you and a girl named Nancy Sinclair have a record of that laceration. Do you know what that means?” Emily asked, hoping it was a step in the right direction.

“I think so. We’ll be back soon.” You hung up and Reid was staring at you with his head cocked in uncharacteristic confusion.

“So,” Rossi said, coming back into the room with the report, “The COD matches the profile. Jessica died because her neck was snapped, most likely due to harsh shaking.”

“Any sign of malnutrition?” Spencer asked, taking the clipboard from Dave and skimming through it. “I don’t see any signs of that,” You added, knowing full well the unsub kept you fed and hydrated.

“Let’s head back over to the BAU and see what the others found.” Dave said, handing you your coat.

Back at the bullpen, you and the rest of the team congregated into the briefing room. Rossi took the floor, “Our unsub is a white male in his mid 40’s with an untreated developmental disorder. He has a fixation with friendship and seems to want to actually be friends with the girls he takes. None of the victims had any sign of sexual assault.”

“Something Y/N noticed at the M.E.’s was that there was a lacerated inifnity symbol on Jessica McKinnon’s wrist. Something that hasn’t been seen on previous girls.” Reid added, speaking up for you.

“So he’s evolving?” Walker spitballed.

“He’s all about forever right? The necklaces, the twisted carving tattoo?” Tara spoke up, “It’s his way of seeing that he and his victim are best friends. The necklaces aren’t a strong enough symbol, he wants permanent.”

You nodded in agreement, unable to help tugging at your coat sleeves.

“Garcia,” Emily asked, “Anything from the jewelry store?”

“I did manage to get this clip from the security cameras at an accessory store in the Simon Mall in Norfolk.” She began, typing on her laptop and bringing up the footage. You held your breath as you saw Peter on the screen, browsing the necklaces. “Here he grabs a necklace and if I pull up this clip,” she clicked on to the register camera, “it matches the one our unsub sent to the Rivards.”

“Rossi and Y/L/N, head over to Norfolk and see what you can find out. I’ll have the rest of the team go over the interviews with the McKinnons and Rivards.”

“Got it, Em.” You nodded, grabbing your bag and walking out a little too fast. You went for the driver’s side of the SUV.

“Y/N,” Dave said calmly, “I think I should drive.” He stuck his hands out for the keys that were in your white knuckled palm.

“Whatever, let’s just get this son of a bitch.” You forfeited, walking over to the passenger’s side.

“Look, Y/N, I just want to tell you how grateful I am that you said yes to helping us. I know this isn’t easy for you.”

“It’s not, but if I can stop this from happening to another little girl, then I have to. You know, it’s crazy, I sort of want to help him, too. Growing up, I understand now that what Peter’s doing is due to some string of problems in his life that he never got addressed. Finding him will get him help he needs too.” You admitted, as crazy as you felt for sympathizing with your kidnapper.

“You’ve come a long way from that little third grader I met all those years ago.” Rossi said with pride evident in his voice. “But even then, you were so strong and resourceful. It killed me not being able to catch the guy that made you feel so vulnerable.”

“Dave,” you started, shifting your focus onto Dave, “You did more than enough. There’s a reason you weren’t able to find him back then, but you did what you could. Keeping in touch with you is what made me strong again, made me feel safe. You know you’re the reason I’m with the Bureau today.”

“I’ll always wish I could’ve done more.” He said with a smile, pulling into the lot of the large mall.

You two headed into the mall, bee-lining for the accessory store. It was empty despite the two employees stocking hairbows. “Excuse us,” you started, catching their attention. You and Rossi flashed your badges to the young girls, “We’re with the FBI and we had a couple questions for you about a customer that came in a couple days ago.”

After conversing with the employees and management you got into their cashiering system, you were lucky to learn that Peter purchased the necklace with a credit card under the name of Jolene Hathaway.

Back in the car, you called Penelope with the information. You heard her typing away, “Got it. Jolene Hathaway married to Edgar Hathaway, two kids Brooke and Peter Hathaway, and oh,” Penelope stopped suddenly.

“What is it?” You pressed.

“Three weeks ago Jolene died of complications from pneumonia, and that’s not all. In 1993 Brooke committed suicide, her brother was the one to find her. Current address is sent to your phones and the team will meet you there!” Penelope said at a mile a minute. “Ready to finally end this?” Rossi asked, turning on the lights and sirens.

You sped over to the Hathaway house in Norfolk, seeing the other SUVs pull up minutes later. You put on your bulletproof vest and head towards the door with the team. Stephen, Tara, and Emily go towards the back as the rest of you knock on the door. Rossi yelled out, “Edgar Hathaway, FBI!”

You waited a moment and hear the lock click, and elderly man answers, “What is this about?”

“Is your son Peter home?” You asked, urgency in your voice.

Edgar lifted his hand to adjust his hearing aid, “His room is in the basement. What happened? Why do you need Peter?”

“Sir, please come with me,” JJ said, bringing him out to tell him what his son had been doing.

“Don’t hurt him! Whatever he did, he doesn’t know better!” Edgar shouted as we made our way to the basement, guns at the ready.

Luke kicked down the locked door to the basement, “Peter Hathaway, FBI!” Miranda was tied to a workbench, gagged with an oil-dirtied rag. She noticed us come in and started thrashing and shouting. Peter stood in front of her, guarding her with his arms out.

“NO! You can’t take her! She’s my friend. Everybody needs a friend,” Peter started sobbing.

“Peter,” Rossi began gently, “If she’s your friend, you shouldn’t hurt her.” He took a step towards them and Peter grabbed a large butcher knife that was resting on the workbench.

“Don’t! Don’t don’t DON’T! ALL MY FRIENDS LEAVE ME AND YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS ONE. FIND YOUR OWN.” Peter pointed the knife at Rossi.

Suddenly, you got an idea. You put your gun down and Spencer shot you a look. You gave him a confident nod and stepped out from behind Luke. You kept your hands raised to show you didn’t have a gun and inched towards Rossi. “Hey, Peter. Do you remember me?”

A dawning of realization came over Peter’s face and he dropped the knife in awe, “Tink? Is that you?”

“It is!” You said, forcing excitement in your voice as if you were talking to a toddler.

“You came back! Where’d you go? You left!” Peter rambled, Rossi used the distraction to free Miranda and Reid took her upstairs.

“We still have to watch Peter Pan together! I’ve been waiting all this time!” You said to Peter’s beaming face.

“Can we do it now?” He asked.

“Yep! And guess what?”

“What? What?” He said, shaking with excitement.

“I got a movie theater for us! With candy and popcorn and soda! And it’s only for us! Best friends only!” You lied, reaching your hand out for his. “Come on, there’s a fancy car waiting for us!” “Really? Let’s go!” Peter was bouncing with excitement. You weren’t scared of him anymore, you felt for him. He had severe developmental disabilities and has been through some stressful losses. You led him outside to the police SUV and opened the door for him, letting him get the help he needed.

Back at the bullpen Emily gave you all your files to wrap up the case. You sat across from Stephen, pulling a chair up to his desk.

“So, Y/N, you were the one girl from that case all along?” Luke asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes, I’m sorry for not telling you guys. I just thought it would be better to approach this as an outsider, not a victim.” You explained.

“Y/N, you are the farthest thing from a victim,” Rossi said, coming out of his office, “You’re a survivor.”

#criminal minds angst #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds drabble #request #david rossi fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #david rossi #tara lewis #emily prentiss #jj jareau #stephen walker #luke alvez #Penelope Garcia #a-bau-tiful-mind

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coalitiongirl · 7 years

Note

ive been watching your scenes to rewatch and ive been crying at literally all of them. out of curoisity, what are your favourite ouat scenes? either sq or general? also side note, i love your latest fic, such an interesting premise. i get so scared every time someone says an order and emmas forced to comply, that scene with the trolls had me on edge. and the fact that cora must suspect something about emma now - im so scared but excited ahah :D have a nice day :)

OH I super dropped the ball on those omg, i have so many others!! but i haven’t been able to rewatch in a long time, it hard 😩

of course i LOVE almost every swan queen scene!! it’s hard for me to pick favorites because nearly every one pings something else inside me omfg. I don’t think there’s a single sq scene I couldn’t write an essay about WHOOPS. so lemme try to answer this with just some of my favorite non-sq scenes 😅

Emma in True North: hoo boy, this is probably in my scenes to rewatch but that scene on the road, MAN. there’s so much careful buildup with emma’s abandonment issues and how much she sees herself in nick and ava. and they have a chance she never does and dammit, she fights for them!! she fights for two kids just like her and they get their moment and jmo turns that realization into agony with sheer artistry in emma’s FACE in their final moment. god.

Regina in We Are Both: this was the episode that sold me on Regina! tbh i’d marathoned s1 as soon as they announced mulan was going to be in s2 so i hadn’t been focusing much on thinking before that?? and then suddenly there’s Regina, in all her rich and layered stories, and i fell hARD. the whole narrative of the episode- Regina resisting parental abuse until she becomes what she’s always feared to be free!! and that translating into her saying ‘no, this isn’t going to continue to the next generation. even if i lose the only thing that matters to me.’ do u ever stan!!! I DONT KNOW HOW TO LOVE VERY WELL. END ME.

Emma in Firebird: listen. never follow ur idols to ur next fandom or you’ll suddenly realize they actually hate women and then get ‘’’muted’’’ for ‘’’yelling at her too much’’’ but jane espenson did a GOOD with the flashbacks in this one (present day still literal and figurative hell tho!!). The concept of Emma’s jacket as armor isn’t an original one, but the execution was honestly stellar. Emma forging this connection with an older hardened woman who can’t let go of the past either!! emma destroyed and remade into the lady we met on her twenty-eighth birthday. GOD. SHE FINDS HER DAUGHTER. and i gotta say, the vulnerable-tearful-young thing jmo was doing w emma in s5 didn’t work for me in terms of what present day was trying to convey, but it’s a perfect fit for that flashback, i WEPT.

Regina in Quite A Common Fairy: Lana OWNS the cave scene with Tink, god. The depth and breadth of emoTION. The episode and the narrative itself builds it up from episode one! because this regina on the road to redemption but finally giving us a glimpse into the emotional and mental state she was in as the young queen- she has all this rage and she’s SUSTAINED by it, it’s her only real truth and constant and she’s terrified of what might happen if she lets it go for even an instant and chooses hope instead. (Lana’s voice when Regina says she’s afraid that without rage she might just ‘—float away’ is something that has stayed with me for a long, long time.) REGINA PULLING OUT HER HEART TO MAKE A POINT. far from the last time she will, but how affecting!! god!!

Emma and Snow in S1: There are a few moments i’m thinking of (and i’m literally writing this on the treadmill so pls forgive the lack of episode names) and all of them are so stellar, god. The moment when Snow finds Emma living out of her car early on. Snow and Emma sitting at the table at the loft holding hands. Emma lying down next to a crying Snow. Snow yelling at Emma for being so selfish when she tries running off with Henry?? EMMA SHOWING UP AT MARY MARGARET’S DOOR SEARCHING FOR A ~PERSON~ AND MARY MARGARET SILENTLY LETTING HER IN. Snow and Emma work best in S1 in the silences and the fights, where they’re allowed to just care and be family, and I treasure each of those moments as much as they do.

Regina and Zelena in the Kansas: There’s a lot of effort put into this dynamic right near what seemed like the end, playing with how exactly Zelena perceives her happy ending to go- and then Regina strikes it all down by being different, by changing, by being someone Zelena hadn’t believed either of them capable of. And then Regina goes to Zelena’s cell and offers her!! sisterhood!! my god. i instantly fell in love with the dynamic in that moment and i’m forever pressed that the ‘it’s nice to have family in town’ line was cut. because you can tell that regina craves family and craves unmaking this second monster of her mother’s and zelena was going to TAKE that second chance and hey! this seems the perfect time to go off-message and

Belle in Family Business and Heroes and Villains: imma be honest, i like belle just fine in the early seasons but i have zero interest in rumbelle, which means a lot of fast-forwarding through her scenes. But these two scenes were ENCHANTING. Mirror Belle preying on Belle with the truth that she’s afraid to face! Emilie does such a fantastic job conveying so much cruelty in that scene, I was gaping and enthralled and hoping shattered sight was going to work exactly like that (and tbh props to ginny for doing a hella creepy snow at the start of Shattered Sight). And that town line scene!!! What a stunning, evocative scene. Belle reclaiming agency and taking action in such a 100% cold-blooded but necessary way!! that’s my ravenclaw babe!!!

Mulan and Aurora: I was young, and I Believed, and I Believed for a very long time. I am appalled at my naïveté too, don’t worry.

Regina in Enter the Dragon: LOOK it’s not about the leather but it’s a lil about the leather!!! I really appreciate both Regina in the past and present in this one and also how gay it is, and I’m most charmed by lil evil pep talking nugget Regina who just wants you to be the very best villain you can be! It’s such an artful melding of the exuberance of young!Regina and the delight in chaos of eq!Regina and i, for one, am a fan.

Emma (and Henry) in The Stranger/An Apple Red as Blood: my gOD. Okay I think one of the first times I cried while watching this show was in Emma’s desperate, hysterical denial to August about the curse. She’s so clearly hit rock bottom and she’s TERRIFIED of believing and it’s breaking her. SHE DIDNT ASK TO BE RESPONSIBLE FOR EVERYONES HAPPINESS. SHE DOESNT WANT IT. THAT IS CRAP!!!! i love her!! i love emma swan!!! i do!!!!! and then moving into the end of the next episode when she tells henry she’s leaving and just!! ‘henry! life isn’t a story!’ man this show had some incredible early work. sigh. emma kneeling in front of henry begging him to listen! my god.

Regina in the Cricket Game: so i’m leaving out all my fave sq moments which severely limits the number of regina and emma scenes i can talk about here but the flashbacks in this one SURE ARE SOMETHING. regina has hit rock bottom in this set and you feel it in every moment, in her REGRET THAT I HAVE NOT CAUSED MORE PAIN and frickin stABBING snow and that dark scene with the candle oh god. this is a regina who doesn’t think about looking back anymore but who doesn’t think about looking forward, either, and she’s terrifying. it reminds me a lot of the scene later this season in Welcome to Storybrooke where she takes out snow’s heart and ‘see? i can have everything’ but there are tears sliding down her face. regina in enraged despair is something to behold!!

Henry (and Emma and Regina) in Operation Mongoose: Henry doesn’t often get lengthy times to shine that aren’t about other characters, but he was literally a YA hero in the author’s universe! man! what a kid! and his scenes with bandit Regina are some of my all-time favorites, as is that heartstopping moment when he reaches the top of that tower and flings the door open and Emma KNOWS him. reader, i wept. i wept hard. talk about your earned moments!!!

Emma as Dark Swan: posture! clothing! positioning! voice work! dark swan was a revelation i’m still rightfully bitter about, because she was EVERYTHING in those early episodes. the way she caressed snow’s face in first episode of 5a. the faux-innocent with the calculating eyes on the ship with whats-his-name. every interaction with henry where she was trying to be a PERSON. the way she moved! the way she felt more reptilian than human! i wanted to know everything about her!! (then i did and quit the show lol) honestly some of jmo’s best acting to date, i’m forever in awe.

That Still Small Voice: look, this is an episode about a cricket and it remains one of my favorite quality ouat episodes. Archie sells it best as an adult influenced by his past without quite knowing it, and Archie and Henry make for a really engaging dynamic in here. There is nothing about Archie’s professional behavior that doesn’t make me want to scream but this remains a very, very good episode.

Emma in Sympathy for the De Vil/Lily: okay this is cheating a little because so much of this is also Regina but!! Emma individually shines in this narrative and throughout 4b. From the moment she finds out about what her parents had done, you can watch it slowly draining a part of her?? yes her eyes got redder but there was also this kind of apathy about EVERYTHING. And tbh the Cruella episode is pretty awesome on its own (I love the slow revelation that Cru is the villain, what a stellar execution of a fave trope) but WHEN EMMA KILLS HER. In the exact moment that Cruella says ‘heroes don’t kill’. that’s what pushes emma over the edge!! and then emma ready to kill again the next episode because she feels like she’s sliding into an abyss, i couldn’t BREATHE. emma is incredible when the narrative lets her be angry, and i wanted So Much More. Speaking of which, Emma getting angrier and angrier and almost losing it in The Snow Queen was more of that anger!! i am HUNGRY for it.

Regina and Snow in The Evil Queen: This episode is messy af but damn did my heart skip a beat when a hooded hero saves Regina and tears off her hood and it’s SNOW. This episode does so much of what makes Snow/Regina so fascinating and frustrating, both in the present and the past. Their interactions in the woods moved me! changed me! and Regina had already crossed the point of no return but oh man, oh man, the way they’d almost gotten somewhere for a minute there.

Regina and Henry in Save Henry: A classic, a work of art, and I’ve said so much about it in the past that I’m exhausted just thinking about expressing it all again now. But what a STORY of an evil queen who falls in love with a little boy. What a narrative!! The promo pictures from this episode came out when I was sitting in the hospital for a checkup while I was expecting my daughter, and I was tearing up and the nurses thought it was about the ultrasound. I’M NOT PROUD. This is a love story!!! And it culminates again in A Curious Thing, by the way, which put another ten years on my life, an Epic !

Emma and Henry in New York City Serenade: boy was this a journey, but I was absolutely spellbound omg. This was a love song to a fantasy but it’s a fantasy that never unmakes Emma– she’s afraid of commitment and happiness and everything permanent in her life that isn’t Henry, but she’s still going to take that leap despite herself. It’s a wonderful character study that captures Emma’s essence in a new world, with a new past.

Snow in The Miller’s Daughter: Snow is at her best when the show isn’t painting her with rose-colored glasses and we get to see her darker side, and I don’t think she ever gets quite as dark in the first three seasons as she is when she’s standing there, smiling earnestly at Regina as she tells her that the key to Cora loving Regina is in the poisoned heart she holds. My god. It’s so incredibly cold-blooded and vile, and it’s absolutely the kind of manipulative pragmatism that suits Snow best. I am enthralled and horrified.

Neal and Emma and Henry and Gold in Manhattan: This is one of those really cool scenes where even though I don’t particularly care for half the characters within it, everyone acted the hell out of it and it’s so GOOD. There’s so much tension and you’re holding your breath through the squabbling, and then Henry shows up and you KNOW. You know what’s going to happen and you’re terrified for Emma and it’s so visceral, right up until the instant when Neal demands Henry’s age and Henry shouts ELEVEN and my god, my god. What a reveal. What a scene.

There are more!! so many scenes and moments i’ve loved over the years. Emma and young!Lily! Snowing in Snow Falls! Anna of Arendale!! Snow and Emma in Lost Girl!! Ruby in Red Handed! The David/Emma dragon fight in A Land Without Magic! Regina tearing out that heart in The Doctor and meeting Daniel again?? Regina and her father in hell. all of Hat Trick. i think twenty is a good place to stop, but hoo boy, when this show was good, it was GOOD. alas.

#ouat #Anonymous

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saboddicted · 6 years

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Some thoughts on V’s route on Mystic Messenger (SPOILERS!)

So, heyyyyy... I haven’t used tumblr properly in a very long while. In fact I barely post here, all I do is casually reblog and like stuff. However, today was the day I finished V’s route in MysMes and I have a lot to say about it.

Ever since it came out that I was very excited to play it because V is my second favorite character alongside Jumin and after Seven. I couldn’t play it right away because work is a bitch and schedules are a bitch and MysMes requires some attention at specific hours so I waited until I was on vacation. When people began to head towards the juicy parts of the story I started to see so much hatred towards V that I was scared to play it but I was curious to know what the fuss was about. AND BOY WHAT A RIDE IT WAS. I took several screenshots to help me prove my points. Apologies if the order is all over the place, Tumblr isn’t the best for text + photo posts. Also yeah, sorry about my on-screen name of the game showing up.

First of all I want to begin by saying that I now see Rika with other eyes but I haven’t changed my opinion on V. To be fair, I never doubted that he truly cares about everyone. He might have hid a lot of shit but I sincerely doubt that his love and care towards the RFA was a charade. And that includes Rika.

Let us not forget that from the beggining that V seemed to feel regret for what happened to Rika as he knew she wasn’t dead and had instead formed the Mint Eye cult. This, honestly, was something that was obvious since the very first time I played this game.

Listen, I’m not here trying to full on defend V because I completely understand that he did shit wrong - very wrong - but please hear me out until the end. I’m making this as unbiased as possible.

I’d also like to point out that one of the very few people that ACTUALLY had some fair judgement in all of this was Jumin. He knows V better than anyone else in the RFA and besides he’s not really one to take sides unless it is appropriate.

He really didn’t.

Now, that’s not to say I agree with V’s method. Much like Rika, he also had the right intentions with the wrong method. I don’t agree that hiding secrets will make anything better but in V’s mind that was his way of helping the RFA so that they wouldn’t get hurt. I understand his POV. We as humans sometimes perceive that what seems right for us may not be right or harmless to others. V just wouldn’t say anything no matter what and instead was willing to sacrifice himself to save everyone - including poor MC who was tricked into thinking she was playing a game and talking to AIs like a dumbass - and that that sacrifice would sufice and put an end to everything.

Now, I can totally understand his reasoning. Again, his intentions were good. Still, that doesn't change the fact that he continued to lie about Rika's whereabouts - that she wasn't dead - and what she had truly become. Not to mention Saeran. We all know from Seven's route that Saeran (or Ray) is his twin brother. This was honestly the only thing that bothered me to the end. Once more he wanted to protect Seven from the truth and never - ever - told him that his brother was in a deplorable mental state and that he was, in fact, the hacker he was fighting the whole time and who's now - supposedly - dead. I'm holding on to the hope that he escaped, to be honest. If there is no body, there is no death!! That's what I've learned from One Piece.

I want to talk about Saeran/Ray for a bit now. He was the main reason why I despised Rika so much. To this day I still can't agree with her actions but I'll talk more about her after.

I'd like to take a trip to the past when Saeran first met V and Rika. Seven entrusted his precious twin brother to them and as far as I remember it was Rika who gave Saeran the hacking book. The Secret Ends also showed us what he suffered while he was in the Mint Eye and how his mind was bent and twisted into hate towards V but most importantly towards his own brother. The brother Saeran always admired and loved so much. As a result from all the drugs and elixirs, Saeran's mind was absolutely shattered. It broke my heart everytime I chatted with him and everytime he called. It was absolutely devastating.

Someone please hug this boy.

Ah, of course... How could I confuse the two...

Okay, I said this would be unbiased and I'm standing to that. The Mint Eye is awful and what Rika did to Saeran is unforgiving but V also did wrong by standing there and watching all of this happen all out of fear of hurting others and not being trusted anymore. Of course that lying and hiding stuff is what ultimately makes someone not trust other people but it was like he couldn't think of anything else. Fear had absolutely blinded him.

I know Seven would be very hurt if he found out but I'm also aware that he has the right to know. He SHOULD know. He should know what was going on with his brother and yet neither V nor Rika have told him a thing. V was an accomplice and that can be just as bad. Whether he was afraid or not he should've been the one stepping forward.

But know let's talk a bit about Rika. I changed my mind a lot about her on some things but the one thing that still bothers me is... how can people defend what she did? Don't try to give me the "she's mentally ill" bullshit because we all know that just because you suffer from depression and other sorts of complicated mental disorders that doesn't mean you'll go around creating a freaking religious cult that uses bizarre methods of "salvation" to make people "happy". Rika most likely suffers from a multiple personality disorder - it seemed very clear from her chats.

No, thanks.

With this I agree to some degree.

Listen. I understand. I'm not disregarding mental issues as I am very well aware that the struggle is hard. I'm not putting Rika down for that. In fact, throughout my whole playthrough I tried to be as comprehensive as I could without letting myself get fooled by her words. She needs help but she doesn't want it. She doesn't accept it. She thinks "our" method is wrong and hers is right. You can argue that they will also drug you at the hospital but I think it's slightly different from, um... torture.

I don't doubt that at some point she loved V as well as I don't doubt that V loved Rika back. And I don't wanna say I told you so, but... I told you so. I've always seen their relationship as toxic and obsessive from BOTH sides. V thought that the way he loved her was right because he did everything she wanted, because he was her sun (seriously, I can't hear the word taeyang anymore), because he has unconditional love and he would still love her even if she hurt him (V, really?). Rika however seemed to me like she was too scared, thinking she wasn't worthy of love. She wanted to test his love and as sickening as it is I know she was terrified. Her whole life Rika had been rejected. Her biological parents, her foster parents... She was just a little girl and no one showed her the slightest bit of love (not including Yoosung, of course). That was until V showed up with his "ideal love like the sun". To me it seems like Rika became addicted to it, to that love, to that attention... at the same time that she had a hard time believing that he loved her. Do you see my point here? Both were trying to prove something to each other and through each other. I can see why Cheritz stated point blank that the core of their relationship wasn't love. Still, I don't doubt at all that they cared about each other. But this kind of behavior... isn’t justifiable.

I hate the yandere face she does ;_;

However, I’d also like to point out something Vanderwood said.

Because, at the end of the day, V didn’t do anything to stop her and that was his biggest mistake.

Listen... Again, I understand that Rika was hurt and life has been nothing but absolute shit for her. I feel for her. But tell me. Is this right? Morals will always vary from person to person but let's put it simply: even if your ex-lover that left you because you denied medical and professional help and you felt hurt, like that person had never loved your "dark side", would you really go out of your way to make them a cripple and wish pain and agony upon them? Well then, Darth Vader - despite being mentally ill or not that would make you a bad person. You can't excuse EVERY ACTION on mental health. It'll only perpetuate the idea that mentally ill people should be disregarded as insane or evil. Rika suffers from severe depression and possible MPD but none of that justifies her actions - towards V, towards Saeran, towards the whole RFA, even towards herself. As much as I feel sorry for Rika nothing EVER justifies what she did. You might like and defend Rika but don't defend her wrongdoings. I understand. I adore V but I also can't defend everything he did. I'm not part of the "V did nothing wrong" group. No, he did a lot wrong. But you know what? Regret and admitting that you've fucked up are important steps towards change.

But Rika wasn’t ready to accept change.

Of course all of this was Rika's downfall as she couldn't accept that her ex-lover was moving on from her. Let's look at things objectively: their relationship was hurting both of them so why carry on? Why continue to be hurt and feel like garbage when you're 100% sure that it will never work out? I will say this again but their relationship was mostly toxic and obsessive and it wouldn't be fair for neither of them to continue living a lie. That being said, I also felt extremely sad for Rika. One of the last chats was absolutely heart-wrenching.

I can’t bring myself to hate Rika anymore but I do despise what she did. I think it’s no use hating on them and it makes me very sad that people genuinely wanted for V to die. How inhumane can you be? This might be a game but wishing upon anyone’s death is a bit much. Sure, I was pissy too when I played Secret End 1 and wanted Rika to go in V’s place but we need to open our eyes and try to understand. V has been punished enough. Rika has been punished enough. They messed up but they’ve already suffered the aftermath. Letting go of the past and get help is important.

Rika didn’t allow anyone to take her “devil” because she was “the darkness” thinking people should love and accept her darkness. While it is true that for you to know happiness you also need some sadness in your life, this was never a matter of not accepting as she was. She was afraid that people wouldn’t love her if she showed how broken she is and misunderstood everyone’s intentions. I’m glad Jumin and Yoosung worked it out and took her away so she can be treated. I don’t think she is completely bad but she’s done wrong. A lot. It was time for her to accept the help instead of blaming herself over and over again. It was just sad to watch.

Thank you, hero Yoosung

As for MC and V’s relationship I think it was well thought out. V wouldn’t be able to immediately love someone again but he began to change with her presence and her words. You might complain about MC having come to wreak havoc but considering everything that went down it was perfectly normal for V to feel attached to someone that genuinely cared for him and wasn’t there to test his love by hurting him (he almost went blind, he was drugged, stabbed... seriously, it’s a bit much). Aside from his mother (and Jumin in some form) V has never felt that warmth. The same could be said about Rika and that was perhaps why she felt like she could get closer to MC, thinking she could actually understand her. It’s complicated, really. Things like this do happen in real life and it’s no one’s fault, to be honest. Sometimes you fall out of love and find it within someone else. You might feel horrible at first but it’s your happiness that’s at stake.

I was glad that V only confessed to MC after coming back, two years later. It didn’t feel like his emotions were rushed and he had enough time to clear his head and start anew. Both V and Rika needed a new start, away from each other, and not make the same mistakes again. They were both in a bad place, mentally. It was as hard for V as it was for Rika. But toxic and abusive relationships.... are just a big no in my book.

TL;DR: I’m still hoping for V to eventually speak up about Saeran (and I hope he isn’t dead) because that is still bothering me. Nonetheless, I can’t bring myself to hate him. I wish people could give him the benefit of the doubt just as much as they give it to Rika. Please understand that he also suffered. He fucked up. Oh, he fucked up BIG TIME. Vanderwood told him he was just as bad as Rika and it is true. He covered up for her. Still, he has been punished enough. So has Rika. Both deserve a new chance at life and love. If it didn’t work out with each other than it’ll maybe work out with other people. Perhaps the writting could’ve been better and less repetitive but he isn’t a bad guy. And all things considered, Rika isn’t either.

And that is it, folks. I think there are screenshots I didn’t use because Tumblr is weird and places them out of order. Not to mention this post is already long enough. Probably no one is gonna read this but if you do, please keep your hateful opinions to yourself. I’d rather read some constructive criticism instead of “I HATE V!!! HE SHOULD DIE!!”. Please gtfo my blog if you’re thinking about commenting something like that. I won’t even accept such words about Rika.

Thanks for your time.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mm #mymes #v #jihyun #kim #kim jihyun #another story #v's route #rika

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