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embrassemoi · 3 years

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No Body, No Crime ✁ 1

AU - Y/N L/N is a second-year law student attending Stanford and studying under Professor Aaron Hotchner. Along with his associate attorneys, Ms. L/N is alongside some of the most ambitious and cutthroat law students in the nation. However, her life gets flipped upside down as she’s thrust into a life of murder, sex and lies.

Main Pairing: Spencer Reid x [F]Reader

Content — Mature themes, blood, major and minor character death, violence, angst, triggering themes, bad coping mechanisms, drugs, mental health shit, alcoholism, lots of smut, language, fluff, mystery, thriller, mentions of cheating, canonical typical themes , dark academia vibes, explicit content - read with caution

DISCLAIMER: This story will contain MATURE content. It will include themes such as smut, violence, etc (see content). If you are not 18+ and unable to handle such themes, respectfully, please exit this story. It is not my intention to make readers uncomfortable or trigger them in any way. If you continue to read the story despite the multiple warnings, I am not responsible for any triggers that may pop up.

Also, based off this blurb!

I am also not a law student, so there is bound to be misinformation!

【 ao3 | Masterlist | Playlist 】

CHAPTER 1: Death and All His Friends

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Blood, she thinks, you never really know how much blood is in a person. Logically, she did know; she had to learn how many pints there were in the human body from med school and the mass amount of profile study cases. From looking at crime scenes, reading textbooks, medical journals and fake charts; blood has never bothered her, if anything, she got used to seeing and being around it.

There are roughly about ten gallons of blood in the average adult, but typically, losing more than forty percent will result in death. That was about two thousand millilitres.

But, you never realize just how much blood a person can hold, not until a human is slaughtered like an animal, eyes glossed over, body turned cold and stiff — splayed out in front of you. It seems like a lot more than what was described.

There’s a saying, bleed like a pig. Well, she understood what it meant now.

God, she sounded like Spencer.

“What are we going to do with the body?”

“Let’s leave it. We need to go back and clean!”

“No, let’s bury it.”

A chuckle of utter disbelief forces its way out of Derek’s mouth in a rush. It’s both strained and ragged and sounds as if he’s about to burst into tears, but the shock and anger seem to immerse deep in his bones and control his actions. His head shakes subconsciously, “You’re — you’re fucking joking, right? It’s the middle of winter! Tell me how the fuck we’re going to bury a body when the soil’s hard?!”

There’s a collective panicked sigh that goes through the group as the implications finally start to settle in.

“Be any louder!” Emily half-shouts. She paces back and forth, the freshly fallen snow crunches under her shoes as they leave footprints in their wake. Her hands make extravagant hand movements, almost in an attempt to speak with her actions. But, the only thing that has Y/N somewhat grounded is the rusty blood on Emily’s hands. The stark contrast of her pale skin against the deep red does nothing but make bile rush to her throat.

“The body is what gets us caught!” JJ cuts in through her half-sobs.

“The one time it snows in California! Since when do we get snow?!”

Sticky, cold, dry, flakey blood. It brings too much attention to the blood painting her body in a cruel, evil painting. Y/N lifts a shaky hand as she turns to observe the way the pads of her fingers were stained red. Underneath her fingernails, she can see the blood caking, dried underneath and can feel the heavy liquid travelling up her sleeve.

Her fingers pressed together before a hand shoots up, trying to pick off the blood in a hasty attempt.

Everything was uncomfortable — too uncomfortable and it was sticky and disgusting and there was too much happening. Her brain was overstimulated and all she wanted to do was yell or cry or strip herself clean from these heavy clothes, hiding the blood drenching her underneath. A hand went to claw at the fabric — she needed to breathe — she needed air and it was too tight and —

The falling snow had finally come to a stop, the ground becomes muddy, wet snow being tracked all around but aside from that, it’s dry out. Panic is slow seep within her body, only just registering the dull, prickling ache that travels up the side of her right arm. Not to mention the pounding in her skull felt like someone had taken a power tool, drilling a burl hole into the side of her head in hopes of creating a make-shift lobotomy. On instinct, her hand reaches up to her temples, massaging small circles in hopes to find relief.

But then she catches sight of her hand again from her peripheral vision, or rather, it’s as if she can feel it laminating her skin. Blood.

Now there must be smeared streaks of dried blood coating her face. Fuck, now she really feels like throwing up.

A soft wail can be heard in the background somewhere, but it sounds distant and underwater. She thinks it’s JJ. Her high-pitched cries are loud and she thinks that’s Derek’s voice yelling at her and god… it only amplifies her headache.

She needed an aspirin, Advil — maybe Spencer had some.

Her mind wanders back to the group. Emily… Emily — she’s — Y/N doesn’t know where Emily went actually. She could have sworn she was by the trees…

She continued to pick at her skin absentmindedly, and now she couldn’t tell where her blood started and the one that was sprayed onto her ended.

And Spencer, he’s pacing and hadn’t muttered a word since they left Hotch’s house. His body language is closed off, his hand rubbing up and down his arms in either a self-soothing method or because it’s cold out. She assumes it’s the former.

The one time — the one fucking time the asshole is supposed to be smart, his IQ magically drops below zero.

Everyone is arguing and they all hear the faint cheers, laughter, early fireworks and music blaring in the background. The sound of the bonfire crackles in the distance and all she can do is drown it out. She was supposed to be having fun. She should’ve been visiting home, or maybe studying of fucking Spencer, not wearing shoes twice her size, gloves to cover up her fingerprints; not trying to come up with an alibi and there definitely shouldn’t be someone else’s blood clinging to her. She should’ve been anywhere but here. It’s too much.

Lightheaded, Y/N stumbles backwards, supporting herself against a nearby tree. The shadows and black coat camouflaged her, engulfing her into the night and she feels an odd sense of comfort by it. But, it does anything but calms her down as her chest begins to rise rapidly up and down.

Oh god, oh shit, shit, shit! They’re all fucked — she’s fucked. Her DNA is all over the crime scene. The crime scene is on her and probably under the body’s fingernails. There was no way she was getting out of this. It wasn’t even her fault and look where she is.

She should’ve listened to her Grandparents; don’t go to law school, it’ll turn her into something she’s not. Y/N smiles twistedly thinking about it, they were right.

You can’t get away with murder.

Shit, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

“We need to stop wasting time,” Emily announces, appearing remarkably calm.

“W-we should call the police,” Y/N mumbles in a shaky voice. Her voice hitches and she sucks in a cry.

All of their heads, besides Spencer’s, whip over to her; she’s on the verge of breaking — possibly even running off and going straight to the local police station. Her phone suddenly feels heavy in her pocket.

“What we’re not going to do is that! Do you want to spend the rest of your life in jail?!” Derek exclaims. His mouth goes to open again before he suddenly halts, looking over to Spencer and shouting. “Ayo, kid-fucking-genius, could you, I don’t know — think?!”

The yelling makes her shrink in on herself. Yes, call the police, turn yourself in. Obstruction of justice; tampering with evidence, manslaughter, attempting to hide a body, invasion of privacy, possible perjury — all this leads to incarceration and more time. Maybe she could even get a deal, say that she was in shock, dealing with PTSD. Immunity! Maybe she could strike herself and Spencer an immunity deal.

God — they killed her. They murdered someone.

Immense guilt bubbles its way through her before she turns to gag on air. Her hands clutches her stomach as she heaves, distantly hearing the arguing background.

“— about Hotch?”

“What about him? He’s going to put us in jail himself. If we’re lucky, he’ll kill us so we can skip a life sentence!”

JJ cries louder. God was she fucking annoying.

“He doesn’t give two shits about her —” “Could everyone just stop for a fucking moment,” a new, irritated voice cuts in. It sounds like it’s been pushed through gritted teeth, muddled by straining and holding back tears. It’s Spencer.

His eyes shut, the palm of his hands pressed harshly on them before rubbing them hard. But, they travel up to his forehead and through his hair, pulling down so hard that Y/N would be surprised if he didn’t already lose a chunk. But within a swift motion, he crouches to the ground in a fetal-like position; the balls of his feet roll back and forth, making his entire body bounce in small rhythms.

He’s having a panic attack, judging by the way his breathing cuts in and out in large volumes, hyperventilation bound to happen soon.

The entire group stays silent before Derek has enough. He walks up to Spencer, a hand clutching his jacket which forces him to stare straight into his eyes.

“Don’t treat him like that,” Emily tries to cut in.

“If you don’t give us something good within the next few seconds, you better pray to god —”

With newfound determination, Spencer meets his eyes with a fiery look, his chest puffed out a bit and his voice is even.

“We burn it.”

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Friday, August 29th, 2003

Palo Alto, California. Apartment 7

Four months before

A clanging sound reverberates throughout the empty hallway for the third time within the last five minutes. Her keys.

An annoyed sigh involuntarily leaves her lips as she struggles to lift the stacks of heavy boxes in her arms. Her attention was drawn to a bulletin board near her door. A missing person’s photo was plastered, marked with an eye-catching red border. Printed underneath a photo of a man in bold letters: George Floyet, twenty-five-year-old student at Palo Alto University. Last seen on July 30th, 2003.

When Y/N L/N was fourteen, she vaguely remembered people asking her where she saw herself in the next ten years. Now standing outside her newly rented apartment, sweating as she juggled a stack of large boxes without tripping — well, she certainly hadn’t thought this.

Life had many ups and downs, as cliche as that sounded. She hadn’t expected to graduate university with an English and Human Physiology degree, nor had she expected into medical school before ultimately deciding to take the LSATs, pursuing a career in law.

Truly, had Y/N used one word to describe her career ambitions at the moment, she’d say she’s pretty fucked and clueless. Although, she’d liked to consider herself fairly motivated, resilient, perhaps even strong-willed and quick on her feet. Scratch that, if anything, the one thing she did pride herself on was her ability to compose herself quickly and the want to overcome fear. It was a motto, of sorts, which she’d been sticking close to: going with the flow.

If anything, those were the attributes that built the foundation of what anyone needed to become a successful lawyer. Yes, that made her situation sound a lot less… pathetic.

But certainly, standing in the middle of a corridor in a shitty apartment with walls too thin to save money on rent, she’d consider herself pretty pathetic.

Oh, the joys of moving.

Just as she felt one of the boxes tipping, the sound of shuffling fills the hallway. A pair of large pale hands come out of nowhere, swiftly catching the stacked cardboard boxes with ease.

When she looked up, she hadn’t quite caught a look at the man in front of her as he bent down to pick up her keys. But when he finally stood straight, eyes locking, she took note of his features

He was tall, much taller than herself and dressed in black slacks and a light lilac dress shirt which was pushed up by the sleeves. He was young, probably the same age as her or younger. He was wide-eyed, almost doe-like and wore a nervous yet seemingly gentle expression.

“Hello,” said the stranger. His hair was rumpled as if he’d just woken up as darken eyebags accentuated his face. His face was sharp, features dark — but in a soft sharp way that made the shape of his nose and lips the most noticeable. Pink lips, a tired look, pretty face.

This stranger was friendly and very attractive. That was her first impression of him.

“Hi,” she replied, a bit breathless from the weight of juggling the boxes. But still, she smiled and her head tilted to the side slightly.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were my new neighbour, I hope you don’t mind me helping, you looked like you needed it,” he says nervously, his extra free hand goes back to rub the back of his neck.

Y/N’s eyes shoot over to the door at the end of the hallway, conveniently next to hers: apartment 8. He must've heard the banging against the doors and walls, and suddenly, she felt guilty. She must’ve woken him up.

“Haha, yeah! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud.”

“No! It’s fine.”

Now, both stand there a bit awkwardly before she coughs, which has him nodding and fumbling with her keys in his hand, “Er — I have a couple of minutes before I leave for work, do you still need help?”

“Right, yes!”

Y/N hands him over her other box, her hand taking the keys back as she clicks open her door. The smell of cleaning products filled her nose along with the smell of old books. It’s spacious, considering what she’s paying for it. It’s a flat, aside from the bathroom and kitchen and there’s a small balcony that’s connected with another set of railings outside. The view of green trees and flowers could be seen and suddenly, Y/N considers herself lucky when she’s realized the place she’s snagged.

The man trails behind her, setting the boxes down on the kitchen counter before dusting off any non-existent lint off his pants. His eyes quickly scan the area, in an analytical fashion.

He clears his throat, “Well, it was nice meeting you.”

She nods too, walking back up to her door to lead him out. “Likewise, neighbour.”

This time, a real smile crosses his face before looking down sheepishly, a small tint covering his cheeks. “Please, I’m Doctor Reid — but please, call me Spencer.”

“Doctor?” Her face lights up with curiosity. This man looks as young as her, younger — and she’s only twenty-four.

“Oh, I don’t practice medicine,” he quickly adds. His hands go to fiddle with each other, “I have three PhDs and an IQ of 187,” he explains. However, it’s not in a blatantly rude manner — like he’s trying to flaunt it. If anything, he looks embarrassed. His head drops to look down at his shoes, trying to make himself appear smaller, seeming uncomfortable. But like she said, Y/N likes to believe she’s quick on her feet.

“Well then, Doctor,” she teases, which has him going a deeper shade of pink, “I’m Y/N L/N, I have no PhDs, I used to practice medicine and I have an IQ of — probably a hundred or less.

At this, Spencer visibly relaxes as a deep chuckle makes its way out. He nods again, making his way out the door and does a small wave before disappearing back into his apartment. Y/N leaves her door open, but her back is faced towards it as she hears his door click back open and she feels the vibrations of his door closing before the tapping of his feet becomes more and more distant.

There are a dozen other boxes she ends up hauling in, but she’s noticed that Spencer must have somehow carried a few of the boxes to the top of the stairs rather than just leaving them in the lobby.

As she wipes down the surfaces, music blasting through her earbuds before unboxing her new bed frame, a smirk crosses her face; cheap rent, enrolled at one of the top law schools in the country, has enough money saved for the next few months and a cute, tall, polite and a fucking doctor that just so happens to be her neighbour — damn, Y/N doesn’t mind this at all.

【 Next Chapter 】

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white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen · 3 years

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Cross the Ocean

A/N: Requested by @starry--skies. Sidenote: this may be a good story for a sequel sometime.

Summary: Neal once told you he would cross the ocean to be with you, but when you know he’s in danger, you’ll cross the ocean yourself to save him.

Word Count: 2,955

How could an apartment feel so cold and empty when the same number of people dwelled in its walls? You supposed it had been long enough that all the signs of him had faded. Spare clothes, returned to June, because there was no one else to return them to; the extra toothbrush trashed because no one was using it, anyway, and why have it take up more space? The linens could only go unwashed for so long, the last flowers he had offered died months ago, and his necklace was sitting in your jewelry box, unseen, because it hurt too much to wear it.

The same number of people lived in it, true. But Neal hadn’t needed to live there to leave his mark, and now that mark was gone, jumped on a plane without a goodbye, just like him.

~~~ Cross the Ocean ~~~

“Don’t go,” you said, unprompted, staring across the room to the dark shadows covering the wall.

You could feel his movement as Neal picked up his head. “Where would I go?” He asked, confused, sleepiness adorably muddling his voice.

You shrugged halfheartedly, already regretting having said it out loud. He felt your shoulders under his arm and tightened his warm hold on you, tugging you closer to the heat of his chest.

“Just don’t go,” you said again, hugging yourself comfortingly.

The idea that the man beside you could leave – had a history of leaving – without a trace left you feeling cold already. You were a cautious person, but loving someone the way you suspected you were growing to love Neal made you want to let down your guard. It was scary, like taking off the Kevlar vest to assuage someone with a gun; you were reasonably certain that you were safe, but you were also making yourself vulnerable to massive injury.

Neal moved his hand slowly, probably just so you would know that he hadn’t fallen asleep. He didn’t answer right away. The silence and the stroking of your arm sent mixed messages and you had just about settled on reading it as pity, and almost curled up tighter and moved away. Did he think you were clingy? Did he think it was pitiful that you expected him to stay with you? Maybe you had misread everything.

His hand stopped moving and he moved again, just enough to press his lips to your forehead. “Y/N,” he said, softly, his voice clearer. Thinking on it had woken him up more. “I don’t plan to go anywhere. Definitely not anywhere you can’t follow.”

Whew. There was a softness and delicateness to the way he talked to you, but it sure didn’t sound like pity or exasperation. More like… empathy, and maybe apology, for your evident insecurity and any role that his past played in it.

“I guess I just – I keep thinking one day I’ll wake up and you’ll be an ocean away.” Without me, you wanted to add, but figured it was implied. And unnecessary, probably, since he had done it to Kate before, or close enough. He had likely learned the kind of damage that did to a relationship.

Neal resumed his gentle stroking of your arm. “Oceans aren’t a big deal. We’ve got cruises and airplanes now,” he reassured with a playful bit of teasing. More seriously, but very simply and matter-of-factly, he continued, “And if someday we wake up an ocean apart, I’d cross the ocean.”

~~~ Cross the Ocean ~~~

It was easy to be bitter and easy to resent. In the beginning, you had been insecure, nervous that he would leave overnight when an opportunity arose. How could you not? Neal tried to leave forever without so much as a goodbye to anyone, only stopped by a bomb and a lost love. It had irked you then, and it scared you when your rapport deepened. He had fake documents ready to go, an agreed-upon rendezvous point with Mozzie planned for any given time. Neal worked hard to assure you he loved you. You weren’t sure he ever managed to convince you there was no chance of his leaving, but you at least had confidence that he would say goodbye, give you a chance to have closure.

No such luck. Part of you knew it wasn’t out of lack of desire, but rather lack of opportunity. The other part wanted it to shut up. Love him as you did, you knew Neal’s situation was a product of his own choices. He made his bed, and he should have lied in it, but for the family he had found in the city who loved him too much to let him rot in the pocket of a man who’d use him as a tool and throw him back in prison the second he stopped being useful – or, worse, leave him to die when it became too much trouble.

Whenever you embraced the anger, because the sorrow was too overwhelming, you resented Neal for all his stupid choices. Keeping the painting, pulling those stunts on the aerial tramway, and baiting Kramer for months with constant near-misses that could’ve been avoided if he had just stopped breaking the law. It was such a simple solution. And you were angry. The last six months of your relationship had been rocky, because the anger wasn’t new, it wasn’t just because he had gone away. It was because he kept compromising himself, and his coworkers and friends by extension, and yourself by association.

Holding onto anger was never your forte when it came to Neal, though. Sooner or later, usually within a couple of days, you would see or hear or do something that would remind you of the man, and you’d be hit with a wall of all the good memories, all the things he did that made you feel pride and adoration and contentment. Then came the longing and loss, and finally, the blame. The blame that you had just failed to pin on Neal himself, so you embraced the bitterness instead.

Peter had one job and instead, he turned Neal loose. Gave him the green light to run. At least if Neal had gone with Kramer, there was the chance of a happy ending. There was a reasonable chance that, with the WCCD at his back, Kramer wouldn’t be able to keep Neal past the two years left on his original sentence, and when it was over he could have come home. Peter had ruined any chance of that, his silent gesture telling Neal that there was no alternative and that he had the approval of his family here. Most importantly, that nod was a goodbye, and acceptance, and an “I love you, so I’m letting you be free”. You’d never begrudged Neal his close relationship with Peter but you felt cheated that, on top of ruining any slight chance of your partner returning to you, he got to say goodbye while you were left blindsided and heartbroken.

The first time you resorted to bitterness to cope, it lasted several weeks. You avoided Peter and dodged his team. They were worried, and El reached out, but you politely assured her you were fine and just didn’t want to see any of them. She respected your wishes and must have told her husband because he, Diana, and Clinton all stopped trying to find you. Neal’s friends were like salt in your wounds, even the ones who hadn’t told him to go. It was too deep and too fresh to handle the reminders. Hell, you could still barely handle your own apartment. You really didn’t know how deeply in love you were until Neal was gone.

It took longer, but the bitterness and betrayal ran its course and became exhausting, as well. Finally, you cycled back into sadness and mourning, which took so much out of you but demanded so little. Roses made you cry because you thought of the roses Neal would give you. So did your favorite dress, which was only your favorite because it was his favorite, too. Tiny things that you could expect to encounter at least once every few days would make you feel hopeless. You were grieving, as if he had died. Knowing he was alive and well didn’t soothe the pain because the permanence of his decision to flee the authorities put him so out of your reach, he might as well have died.

Every run through the stages hurt a little bit less, wound up a little bit shorter. You were healing, you knew, but the ache in your heart persisted. Learning to function again, learning to be prosperous and content without him, was an option, no matter how impossible it seemed on some days. On those days, you weren’t sure you even wanted to. Neal had earned such a place in your life and in your heart, and even when the things he did made you see red, you still knew in both heart and mind that he loved you and was yours. Some little piece of you wanted to still be his, so that you could keep that connection, that last thing you had of him.

That little piece was such an asshole.

~~~ Cross the Ocean ~~~

A deep delve into your professional life helped keep you occupied so you didn’t think too hard. It wasn’t the healthiest way of processing a breakup, no matter how messy or devastating said breakup was. Still, it was better to be productive and helpful than to let yourself continue spiraling and cycling through destructive emotions and patterns. The summer passed agonizingly slowly but when you looked back, it was like the blink of an eye. Suddenly it had been a whole season since you had last seen Neal. The romantic side of you wanted to say that it hurt just as much as it had before, but… it didn’t.

You felt awful thinking it, and then awful for feeling awful for having a life after him. Neal was gone. He had no choice about leaving New York, but he did have a choice about how, and he chose the route that left no possibility of a reunion. Why the hell should you wait around for him, wishing you kept hurting for a man who clearly was more interested in his freedom than in recovering what you had together?

Going home the day you had that thought, you looked at the button for the 21st floor and for the first time in a long time, you actually thought about just poking your head in and seeing how Neal’s other friends were doing, and then you realized the anger was running out. You didn’t have the energy or the will to keep deliberately resenting Neal or Peter.

~~~ Cross the Ocean ~~~

By August, you could look back on everything and understand the decisions that were made. You didn’t agree with them, but you understood the desperation fueling them and the fear that Neal must have felt. The moment Neal’s handler, whoever that was, tied his hands and threw him aside, the man was as good as dead, just in a matter of time. Kramer wasn’t above that. If he were free – even just by flight – Neal could protect himself. You could forgive him for leaving, but you weren’t sure he was forgiven for leaving without even a phone call to you as he booked it to the airport.

Later that month, though, your personal grievances didn’t seem to matter all that much. A man approached you while you were at work. You thought he was the man you’d asked to come answer some questions, but no – you were the one being questioned. He was cynical, evasive, and exacting, and clearly after information on Neal.

As soon as he left, you went to the twenty-first floor and beelined for Peter’s office, ignoring the tentative, sympathetic greetings from familiar faces. Peter glanced up when you entered and then did a shocked double-take. It was the first time you had voluntarily approached him in months, after all.

Peter stood up so quickly his chair legs scraped loudly on the floor. “Y/N,” he said right away, but then obviously had no idea where he was trying to go, unable to figure out what to say. You could see the sympathy and sorrow on his face. Not only did you lose your partner, and Peter had lost his friend, but the other agent had encouraged your partner to leave. He knew from your avoidance that you blamed him, at least partially.

With a wave of your hand, you dismissed it. Nothing Peter could say would fix the situation. You knew what he had done was in Neal’s best interests, weighing his wellbeing over your feelings. Where Neal wasn’t forgiven, Peter was, finally, and the avoidance that remained was just about trying to distance yourself from reminders of your blue-eyed artist.

“Someone just came asking questions about Neal,” you said, crossing your arms and peering across the office at Peter. “Agent Collins. He said he’s just tying up loose ends, but he’s not, is he?”

Peter’s openmouthed surprise turned into a grim purse of his lips. He shook his head, looking frustrated, and gestured for you to close the door. You did, and leaned back against it. “He’s the bureau’s version of a bounty hunter,” the agent confided, putting his fists down on his desk and leaning onto it. “Neal was almost commutated, then slipped out under their noses. It makes them look bad. They want to get him back.”

You didn’t miss that Peter was using pronouns that excluded himself, but didn’t comment. It was no surprise – he’d made his stance clear when he encouraged Neal to go. “Why now?” You demanded. “It’s been months, surely the trail’s cold.”

“Best guess?” Peter hazarded, sighing deeply. “They’ve spent this time trying to find him other ways. Now they’re realizing that Neal’s better than they thought and all they want to do is make an example out of him.”

Oh, hell no. “Like they haven’t already?” You asked snidely. Peter tilted his head aside, not explicitly agreeing but getting his point across all the same.

The bureau had your trust – for the most part. When it came to their treatment of Neal, your eyes had been opened to how even organizations seeking justice could be completely unjust in their treatment of people who lacked recourse. Neal was frequently put in life-threatening situations with no training and no choice in the matter except to be put back in prison. Enough people knew Neal was working with the FBI for Sing Sing to be a life-threatening situation, in and of itself. Neal was nothing but a tool to them because he lacked the normal resources of walking away or pursuing litigation.

You looked aside, glowering at the drab office wall. “It gets worse,” Peter wearily told you. “Collins is looking for a win. And at this point, a dead fugitive is just as good of an example as an incarcerated one.”

“Not happening,” you refused furiously. “What the hell happened to proportionality?” Neal may have pissed some people off, Robin Hood-ing from the one percent, but he was never violent. Sending a bounty hunter after him with permission to kill was wildly inappropriate and inhumane.

“I’m afraid proportionality isn’t the first thing on the mind,” Peter warned as you stalked further into his office, toward his desk.

“We have to warn him,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to Peter. Neal was “run at any time” paranoid, not “stay away from windows” paranoid.

“Yes,” Peter nodded, “But we can’t. We don’t know where he is. There is no way of telling him.” The agent wasn’t giving up or resigning himself to being useless. As much as there was disappointment and worry in his face, there was also stubbornness.

“So we find him,” you quietly suggested. “No one knows him better than we do.”

“Y/N.” Peter dropped his voice to match your volume and spoke with a soft, concerned tone. “You have to understand, finding Neal and not turning him in, much less tipping him off about Collins, is outside the law.”

“The law is apparently saying it’s okay to murder a man who has, at worst, taken money that isn’t his.” You fervently stated. That wasn’t your first concern, Neal was, but you needed Peter to know that you weren’t just in this because you were in love with the man in question. There was a principle at stake, and a moral obligation. “The equivalent of chopping off a pickpocket’s hand, coming from the government that supposedly despises cruelty and injustice. I won’t support that, and I sure as hell won’t stand by and let it be done to someone I love.”

While you had been talking, Peter had slowly started to smile. It was the smile he used to always give to Neal when he was proud, when your boyfriend would remind him that Neal was a kind person with a good, loving soul. Having it directed at you reminded you far too much of the smile Neal always gave back and your chest tightened – not just at the memory, but at the decision which meant you were bound to see it again.

“I knew you were going to say that,” Peter admitted with a small, relieved grin, like the shared challenge and conspiracy were washing all the sourness and distance under the bridge. You really thought that maybe it was. His confidence in you and his commitment to your boyfriend reassured you that you weren’t losing your mind and you weren’t alone, no matter how lonely you’d been feeling. “I just need you to understand what you’re putting at stake.”

“Wherever he is, when we find him, I’m coming. No matter what.”

#lawmen and conmen #white collar #white collar x reader #reader insert #neal caffrey #neal caffrey x reader #fanfic #oneshot #cross the ocean #requested #angst #sad #breakup #tw: abandonment #grief

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parentsnevertoldus · 3 years

Text

PMDD AND AUTISM: SENSORY OVERLOAD BY LAURA MULLEN

From SeeHerThrive

October 01, 2018

I’m Laura, a 34 year old, neurodiverse mother of two beautiful neurodiverse girls and wife to a wonderful neurodiverse man. I have struggled with PMDD, Post-partum Depression and Psychosis, and Menstrual Psychosis in my life. I’m passionate about learning and advocating for others who are suffering menstrual related disorders and advocating for the autistic/neurodiverse population. I talk openly about my own experiences through out my life, including my suicide attempts due to my menstrual related disorders.

I have two passions in life, which both relate to myself and my kids: autism and menstrual mood disorders.

I’ve been part of the Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder scene longer than I have been part of the autism scene, but both felt like home immediately. We talk about finding our tribes, our homes, with people who immediately understand us without questioning what we are going through, without invalidating our thoughts and feelings. Imagine my surprise when upon finding my autism crowd that many struggled with PMDD or other menstrual/hormone related disorders too. See, in the neurotypical world, PMDD is little known and talked about. However, in my autism support group, it’s not uncommon to see it in discussions.

I’m not formally diagnosed autistic. I self-identify and after a few years of research (which started because of my daughter’s diagnosis) quickly became a special interest of my own when I started to relate so much myself.

Women and AFAB individuals often experience autism differently than male/AMAB counterparts. We are often discounted or ignored because we are more social, and we tend to mask our struggles.

Women as a whole are expected to mask their struggles in life, neurodiverse or not.

Classic theories of emotion posit that awareness of one's internal bodily states (interoception) is a key component of emotional experience (Jamil Zaki, 2012).There is talk in some autistic groups I participate in of PMDD or hormonal mood disorders being more prevalent in those that are autistic. This leads me to believe that this sensitivity to hormone fluctuation may be part of the interoceptive sense. When a person has a sensory disorder, we think most commonly of touch, auditory, taste, sight, and smells. Sometimes vestibular and proprioceptive sense is included.

What is rarely discussed in sensory disorders is interoception sensory issues/processing and just how it can affect a person and what it can actually mean for mental/emotional health when its processing is disordered. Yes, for a sensory avoidant person such as myself who shies away from bright light because it hurts or loud noisy areas because those too are painful and overwhelming, my interoception sense is also avoidant and extra sensitive to overwhelm.

But what is interoceptive sense and why in the world would there be a connection to PMDD?

For a long, medical definition of interoception you can read more here. For a simpler definition I am borrowing a passage from www.inspiredtreehouse.com:

Interoception refers to our perception of what is going on inside our bodies and is responsible for feelings of hunger, thirst, sickness, pain, having to go to the bathroom, tiredness, temperature, itch, and other internal sensations. What’s even more interesting about interoception is that it goes deeper than physical sensations because – as with all of our sensory systems – when our brains receive these internal signals, we interpret, attend to, and analyze them. So interoception is also associated with our sense of well-being, mood, and emotional regulation. (Heffron, 2017)

We know that the interoception sense is often part of a sensory processing disorder. We also know that under stress or overwhelm that our interoception is affected, often greatly. Think of our heart rate increasing during a panic attack or irritable bowel issues due to anxiety. And these also affect our emotions, maybe our heart rate is faster than normal, so we become anxious, creating a more rapid heart rate.

”Influential theories suggest emotional feeling states arise from physiological changes from within the body.” (Hugo D Critchley, 2017). Now, we know that PMDD has a physiological response system. The rise and fall of hormones within the body triggers a physical response from several systems in our body, not just ovaries and uterus, but deep within our gut, adrenergic systems, our cardiovascular system, and our brain.

Compare the response of a sudden surge of progesterone in the late luteal phase to that of an individual with sensory processing disorder being overwhelmed by a sudden shove into a noisy gymnasium, with bright lights, many bodies, smells and a cacophony of sounds. Said individual would likely go into either shutdown or meltdown mode, as they were unprepared for such an assault on their system and may even have difficulty regulating their emotions; in fact their temper may become frayed quickly, they may find themselves having a panic attacks, anxiety may overwhelm them, their body may start producing pain signals to the overloaded senses, they may even collapse under the weight of it all.

A person without the sensory issue may find this environment exhilarating. I would certainly be huddled in a corner until I felt that I could safely slip away unnoticed. Or, I would start to snap at those around me because of a desperate need to get away.

During the monthly cycle, my sensory system would be overwhelmed by the rise and fall of hormones and I felt completely out of control, emotionally.

Because I was out of control. My sensory processing could not keep up with both the physical and emotional toll of what my body was going through. I see so many sad stories of young girls starting menses and the emotional outbursts and meltdowns make absolute sense if you think of hormones as overwhelming a sensory system that just cannot handle it. Any homeostasis change in our environment is difficult to cope with, especially drastic hormone fluctuations during the menstrual cycle.

It’s not that there is anything abnormal about the menstrual cycle itself, but rather how our body processes the sensations and systems that cause a rise and fall outside of the comfort zone.

I believe that this can explain why women are affected by PMDD and how it all works. We found out in the last couple of years that there is a genetic link to PMDD. We also know that it is a sensitivity to hormone fluctuations, not the hormones themselves. Putting two and two together is what led me to this thought process, that it is part of the sensory systems and a processing disorder that causes a severe response, or meltdown, to our hormonal cycle. Obviously, not every woman who experiences PMDD or PME or other menstrual related disorders is autistic or has a sensory processing disorder; however, many are highly sensitive, both physically and emotionally.

Sources

Heffron, C. (2017, February 27). What is Interoception. Retrieved from The Inspired Treehouse: https://theinspiredtreehouse.com/what-is-interoception/

Hugo D Critchley, S. N. (2017, October). Interoception and emotion. Retrieved from Science Direct: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2352250X17300106

Jamil Zaki, J. I. (2012, 05 12). Overlapping activity in anterior insula during interoception and emotional experience. Retrieved from Science Direct: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1053811912005009

#autism #mental health #periods #queeriods #menstrual cycle #menstruation #sex education #neurodivergent #neurodiverse #neurodiversity #sex ed #queer sex ed #anatomy #physiology #women #nb #trans #gender #queer sex education

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sirrwritesalots · 3 years

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Resurrection ~ Sherlock Holmes (angsty)

Pairing: (BBC) Sherlock x Y/N Warnings: Some cursing, angsty, anger Word Count: 2074 Summary: You have known Sherlock and John for years, but when he comes back from the dead, will you accept him so easily? A/N: This is out of my element, I usually write romance and stuff, but I’m trying out the depressing/Sherlock type of mystery and crime out a bit, though there isn’t much of that crime stuff happening lol hope you enjoy!

The reconnection between John and Sherlock was eventful, to say the least, but in comparison to the reunion between Sherlock and Y/N still did not go as he had originally planned or hoped for.

In the years he had been away - or as everyone thought: supposedly ‘dead’ - you had taken up residence at a cottage in Dorset your family had owned for a long time. You took the death of your close friend, and someone whom you loved very dearly, in the romantic sense as well as the platonic sense, rather difficult, so as a means of coping you spent some time away for yourself from the busy capital of the UK. You needed to reconnect with yourself and handle your grief, come to terms with what had happened in order to move on, and in doing so you found the lowland hills of South Wessex comforting and appealing as you creating your new life there. You’d become accustomed to your routine, to the - what some would call - mundaneness of it all, though your blood seemed to itch for some action every now and again, which you appeased by composing or writing, possibly taking up a new hobby, anything of the sort.

So one day when there was a knock on your door, you simply expected it to be your neighbor down the road asking to borrow a cup of sugar or asking for a small favor. It came as somewhat of a surprise when you opened the front door and came face-to-face with none other than your old friend John Watson and his girlfriend Mary, who you met only a handful of times but really liked. She was good for him, you thought, after everything he had been though.

You welcomed them with a smile, “John! I didn’t know you were coming around! Mary, it’s lovely to see you again!” You were about to kiss both of her cheeks after letting the two inside when a third person appeared where they were standing a second ago.

“I didn’t know your family owned a cottage outside of London,” said the familiar deep baratome voice.

You could have sworn your heart stopped in that moment. Body completely froze with a hand closed around the door handle like a vice, a white-knuckle grip so tight the edges of the lock were almost piercing your skin. Although you always hoped you would be wrong in the back of your mind, you thought you’d never see him again. A wave of emotions crashed over you in a matter of seconds: shock, relief, joy. But the last of them all, white hot rage, washed through you like it never had before. Without saying a single word, you slammed the door in his face and turned to make your way into the kitchen.

You vaguely heard John and Mary’s mumbled comments. “Well, it could have been worse,” you imagined John shrugging to his girlfriend as he weighed some of the possible outcomes in his head. “She could have punched him in the face like I did.”

“John,” Mary said wearily, “Y/n’s not happy, and I wouldn’t expect her to be. What, with us just showing up out of the blue with him.”

“Give her some time... she’ll come around,” John attempted to give you the benefit of the doubt.

In the kitchen, your hands were splayed across the countertop to steady yourself as you felt like you were quite literally spinning from the thoughts running around in your head and your eyes slid out of focus. How was this even possible? Did John know this whole time? No, he couldn’t have. He was genuinely grief stricken, just like you had been. Mycroft must have known, that cheeky bastard knew practically everything. Why couldn’t he tell you, though? Of all people, why didn’t he let you and John in on his not-so-little secret for all these years? Your mind was running a thousand miles a minute attempting to answer all these rising questions on your own, wondering how you could have missed this simple fact: Sherlock was not dead.

After no reaction or response for me for a long time - you were unaware of how much time had passed - John entered the kitchen, calling your name. “How long have you known?” was the only thing you said, eyes now fixated on one particular spot on the counter so as to control your emotions in the moment.

“Only a few days. He wanted to tell you in person, not over the phone.”

You scoffed, shaking your head and relaxing your tense muscles for the first time since you slammed the front door shut. “That’s a shock.” Usually Sherlock preferred technological means of communication to human interaction, typically choosing to send a quick text over speaking on the phone or bothering to get off his ass and into a cab.

“Nothing about this is normal,” stated John. He was right; it wasn’t an everyday occurrence that a friend comes back to life, or rather fakes his own death. John tried to reason with you, “If you could just hear him out.”

“Is that what you did? Immediately wait and listen to what he had to say.”

“Well, um, no. It took a bit. I may have hit him once or twice. We relocated a few times.” You gave John a look that screamed the words ‘exactly’ without having to vocalize your point. “What I was trying to say is, that its Sherlock, Y/N. And we’ve been a mess since he left, no matter what we’ve done to be happy in that time.” Your mind immediately went to Mary and the cottage you were standing in; yours and John’s means of coping.

“Yeah, John, that’s my point; he left! Without a word. He went along with Moriarty and let us go on believing he offed himself. How can you forgive him so easily?” Your blood was beginning to boil again.

“So, what are you planning on doing? Leave him outside in the rain until he learns his lesson?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, your chin lifting a fraction in affirmation. “Yes.” At the very least, you believed Sherlock deserved that, after all he put the two of your through, to sit soggy and cold for the next hour.

John relented and dropped his arms at his sides, realizing it was useless to argue with you as your stubbornness had clearly not disappeared in your time apart, and made his way back to Mary in the sitting room. You made the three of you some cups of tea, bringing the tray with you and setting it onto the table. Noticing the fire was lit, which must have been Mary’s doing while you were having your little tiff with John in the kitchen earlier, you smiled softly at her. She and John took residence on the couch while you sat in the chair closest to the fire, leaving a single chair adjacent to you unoccupied as the room warmed up.

You could hear Sherlock’s shoes tapping the porch as he paced back and forth in a meek effort to stay warm in the rain. A part of you - the one that reached out to Sherlock, that was glad to have him back despite everything - wanted to let him in, hand him a cup of tea, wrap a blanket around his shoulders, and talk as though no time had passed. But the other part that inhabited a majority of your consciousness was annoyed at his patience. He wasn’t complaining about the weather or temperature on the other side of the door. In fact, he was more quiet than you remember him ever being, aside from then he was sleeping or preoccupied in his Mind Palace. After his eventful encounter with John, he must have come to the understanding that he wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms and it would take a bit of an adjustment for everybody to acclimate him into their lives again.

After sitting in silence for thirty or so minutes, John abruptly stood to his feet, causing Mary to quickly look at him on alert. Luckily her cup was empty, or else he would be responsible for the stain on your rug. “For Christ’s sake! This is enough, Y/N! You’re acting like a damn child,” John said as he walked to the front door. “I’ve let you have your moment, now I am going to let Sherlock in and you are going to have it out. Right here, right now. Not later when its dark and he’s caught hypothermia.”

Against your protests, John opened the door and nodded at his friend to come inside your home. Sherlock stepped through the threshold after shaking his hair outside, lifting his head to meet my gaze as John locked the door behind him.

It felt like a hole had been rammed through your chest again, the power of it almost knocking you back into the chair you were seated in. You took a deep, unsteady breath and clenched your fists to hide your shaking hands. Part of it was anger, but most of it was fear, anxiety. You tried to control your breathing, deep inhale followed by a deep exhale, like you had practiced when you began having panic attacks after his death.

“Please, let me explain,” Sherlock pleaded with a soft look in his eyes you’d never seen before as he gingerly took a step forward.

“I don’t want to hear from you. I don’t want to see you. I don’t even want to speak to you.” It took everything in you not to burst into tears, out of anger or frustration or sadness you didn’t know which, as you took a step back to maintain the distance between the two of you.

“Y/n, l-”

“No! Fuck! You were gone. You were dead, Sherlock! And you didn’t so much as tell me or John!” Your voice began to crack as it raised in volume. “Dead! Do you even understand that? We grieved your loss. We have borne that pain for two years now, and you think that I’m suddenly going to forgive that and let you back into my life just because you’re standing here in front of me now? That’s extremely arrogant and selfish, even for you.”

Sherlock chose his words wisely as he spoke, “Yes, I do understand.”

“No, see, I don’t think you do. Because you are incapable of feeling human emotions; you’ve said so yourself, right? They are pesky little beggars that get in the way of more important things in life, yeah?” You raised your eyebrows in expectation, waiting for him to confirm your statement to be true, since he had expressed his distaste for allowing emotions to rule him and his life many times before, and yet he remained silent. “You couldn’t possibly understand, because you thrive on suspense and mystery. On having the upper hand of knowing what others don’t, having the power to withhold information and telling others what you want them to know and when you want them to know it. You like being the know-it-all genius. What would you be without it?”

The question was rhetorical, but he answered nonetheless, “Nothing.” Your eyes widened at his response, shaken by his omission. “You’re right, I’d be nothing without my knowledge. I’m not Sherlock Holmes without my deductive skills, if I couldn’t easily figure out what others cannot. But I’m also not me without John Watson. Without you.”

His vulnerability disarmed you, and your shoulders sagged a fraction as your demeanor began to involuntarily soften up to him despite your set mind. You were taken aback by his calm and collected expression, as if admitting what he has was somewhat of a regular occupancy for him. It wasn’t, though, and you knew that it took a lot of effort for him to speak that truth aloud. You were torn between the anger of what he had done and missing him after all this time. Your heart yearned for him, and now he was standing before you - flesh and blood, alive - begging in his own reserved way for you to take him back. You knew you couldn’t forgive him on the spot, not yet anyway. But you did know that, despite all the pain he had caused you in his absence, you could accept him into your life once again.

#sherlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock imagine #sherlock x y/n #sherlock is not dead

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autumn-foxfire · 3 years

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Oh my god shes at it again, ramblin again

The other post mentioned about how toga feels like lov is the only place where she can be herself n that kinda tickled the switch for me cuz thats what a lot of people mention when they talk about how hawks should have joined lov. 'They would have accepted him as his real self.' The problem there of course being that hawkd real self, his very core is someone who wants to help people while lov accepts only those who work for their core goal aks destroying everything and building a better world specifically for themselves. So no, lov wouldnt accept Hawks for who he truely is and I dont really think they ever make a deal about accepting people for who they are at all.

We saw that before joining lov toga had a relativly normal life, she fit in at school, she was liked. The problem was that all of that was a result of her being forced to supress her urges instead of being taught a safe and healthy way to deal with them. Society really failed toga and its so sad to see because she does have an ability to be happy in regular life if only the people around her accepted her urges as something that needs a safe outlet and not something that needs to be supressed. Supression is such a clumsy coping mechanisam because eventually it will all boil to surface.

Im not sure where i was going with this but toga is still young. Shes a teen girl surrounded by grown men showing her where her path in life would lead. You are a monster we are monsters you will end up like us. Its really hard to look at yourself and compere yourself to other people and see that those most like you turn into monsters and to not be a monster it seems to be a requierment to completly supress a part of yourself. Toga very much might not see any other path for her and being with the league is just drilling that in. Its them vs us, we can never be ourselves in this word, we are miserable and you are like us so you'll grow up misreable to, better start crackin at it now.

I just, hm. Toga seems the most likely pick for redemption rn i fuckin teared up reading that post. She can still turn back, she can make her amends and bounce back and be a good person again. Uraraka, Tsu n Deku dont have to help her but i bet they would if they saw her doing her best to do better and to apologize for her crimes. They are kind people.

Also this is unlikely but i want her to meet shinsou. I feel like her having a friend with a 'villanous' quirk who is trying to be a hero and getting support for it would help her a lot to like, make her feel like she can do it, give her someone to compare herself to who is doing good so she has a reason to belive she can be good n happy too. I just think it would help a lot, cuz while ura tsu n deku are good kids n would help her if she made the first step they do all have pretty 'heroic' quirks so it might be hard for toga to relate to them on that level, like oh but they are p much genticaly predisposed to be heroes their quirks are 'good' and mine is 'bad' so i am bad. Idk we didnt see any hint that would support this happening but i do want it.

Toga is a normal girl, if you think about it. She’s capable of making friends and living the life of a typical teenager her own age, she desires friends and bonds and thinks highly of the bonds she has (as we saw with Twice and through the concern she’s expressed for other members of the league). However she just never learned how to handle her urges and now she has to choose living as herself, or hiding who she is forever (and she found it much easier to be herself even if she lost what she had beforehand).

The League was an illusion of what she thought she wanted, in the sense that they accepted her for how she is and didn’t ask her to hide herself. In fact, we even see her embrace that during her fight in the MLA arc and how she says clearly she wants to live as herself. However this current arc has shown us that Toga is finally facing the reality that living in such a way will end up having consequences and (at least from what I gather) she appears to be scared of that because she views her lust for blood as something she can’t control.

She was so scared that instead of seaking reassurance from the people she’s closest too, she saught out Uraraka instead. She knew the league would just tell her what she wanted to hear so she needed to hear it an answer from someone who she respects and who won’t lie to her. And she didn’t like the answer she recieved because it confirmed her fears, she’s going to be punished for who she is.

She’s between a rock and a hard place and she’s either going to double down and reject society and thus any potential help in the future (becoming just like Twice in that sense), or she could potentially get a redemption.

It would be cool for her to be able to be redeemed because it would be a tragic call back to Twice and his situation. When Twice was her age, he got a criminal record and continued to spiral. Having Toga, a person Twice really cared about, actually recieve the help he didn’t would be nice to see (and also show us that society does learn from it’s mistakes).

However it does depend on whether Toga even wants the heroes help after what they did (even if it was justified). She says herself on her rampage that she was tired and her reaction to the Uraraka’s answer was interesting (she didn’t get angry like I initially expected her too, she got upset instead). It would be nice for someone to reach out and tell Toga she’s not a monster just because she has urges, she just can’t hurt others to satisfy them.

Meeting people in a similar boat to her would be very interesting to see. Connecting with people with “villainous” quirks such as herself and seeing how they’ve turned those quirks into something heroic instead... Hmmm, even if it doesn’t happen in canon, it would be something I’d like to see people explore in fanon T-T

#bnha #bnha toga himiko #toga himiko #bnha manga spoilers #thanks for the ask!!#thegaygyrus

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

You and Me...

Chapter 11

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

***Chapter Warnings*** Talk of nightmares/night terrors, light description of injury, language, I think that’s pretty much it for this chapter.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jared x Reader

Word Count: 1777

A/N: Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. This is something I actually did and witness, and I realize this one might be hard to read because it is a little heavy.

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

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

It had been roughly two weeks since Jensen was released from the hospital.

Physically he's doing a lot better.

He gets around pretty good now, normally even. It would be hard for anyone on the street to see that there was ever anything wrong with him when he walked by you. He'd become pretty self-sufficient pretty quickly. The bruises had mostly faded, only leaving the worst ones still a sickening yellow color. Most of the scratches and lacerations on his body had healed or were almost healed. Most of his strength returned to him.

On the outside, he looked fine, but it wasn’t the outside that had become the problem. As much as he tried to hide it. Even though the physical aspect of his attack had almost faded completely, it was the battle of the mind that was beginning now.

When you looked into his eyes something was still dead in there.

You learned pretty quickly that Jensen had a pretty passive-aggressive way of dealing with things. It was just what he hid behind, and you knew that, but still, it didn't lessen your concern for him.

You noticed him drinking more, and you were afraid that would become a very unhealthy coping mechanism.

The nightmares had gotten worse.

To be honest you would have characterized them as night terrors. Except they didn't just happen at night. You had learned just from watching him that these “flashbacks” could be triggered by a sound, or a smell, or even something someone says.

It wasn't something he could control.

He had started to go to his own house during the day some, but at night he always ended up right back with you. You were secretly glad. You didn't like the thought of his nightmares starting, and him beginning there all alone. Most of the time when he had one he’d either wake up violently ill or hysterical, there was no in-between.

He had taken his kids to the local zoo with Jared the other day on one of his visitation days with his kids. Because of his usual nightly problems he thought it was best that they didn't stay the night with him. Not something you really want you kids to see.

He had been back to the studio, using it you think as a distraction. That's not uncommon though, people use music all the time as an escape from reality.

The only good thing that had happened really over the past two weeks was that you had gotten a contract writing for a local publishing company reviewing transcripts, and technically you could work full time from home now. You did tell Steve and Jensen that you would finish Jensen's project through before you left. You were there when he started it, and you wanted to see the finished product.

This morning started much like all other mornings since Jensen had moved in with you.

You were sitting in the living room drinking your coffee. It was still very, very early. It was the weekend, so neither yourself nor Jensen had to work today. Still, your body is used to waking up so early, it had developed its own alarm clock. Therefore you were up at 5 am regardless of what you did or how late you went to bed.

Jensen was still sleeping soundly in the room the two of you now awkwardly, kinda shared. You were honestly afraid to touch him. Afraid it would trigger one of his flashbacks. So you slept as far away from him as you could in your king-sized bed, usually putting a pillow between the two of you so that you wouldn't accidentally roll over to him in the middle of the night.

It wasn't that you didn't want to be close to him. You wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped around you as you slept, but you were pretty sure that he was not capable of doing that. He had told you in the hospital that there were some things that he wouldn't be able to do. Physical contact was one of them.

Not thinking about what you were doing a day after he moved in with you, you walked up behind him when he was standing at the sink and put your hand on his shoulder, throwing him into a violent flashback, that took almost an hour for him to come back from. That’s when you learned touching him probably wasn’t the best idea.

Sometimes he would reach over and grab your hand when the nightmares were really bad, he would let you sit next to him and run your fingers through his hair until he went back to sleep, other than that though that was it.

You were sitting lost in thought, the house pretty much dark, only the light from above the stove lightly lit the room. When your phone lit up next to you. It was Jared.

"Hello?" you say quietly careful not to wake up Jensen.

"Y/N? I didn't wake you did I?" he asked.

"No, I've been up," you tell, him running your hand down your face. Wondering why in the hell he was calling this early.

"Okay listen they caught Jensen's attackers. There were four of them... Plus Jennifer,"

That last part struck you hard.

"Jennifer? Really? Are they sure?" you asked, shock radiating through your body.

"Yeah. She was there through all of it according to her confession. Apparently, she gets her kicks off watching Jensen being raped and tortured, claiming that he owed her that much after what he did to her, when, come to find out the whole thing was a set up from the beginning. She thought she’d go on a date with him, get him drunk, maybe fuck him, get some side cash, and leave, but apparently, things didn't go the way she planned, and she got her family involved to “pay him back” for what the did to her." Jared Said through gritted teeth.

Your stomach churned. You didn't like talking about what they did to Jensen. Your heart just couldn't handle it. Especially seeing the reproductions that he was still dealing with from the whole ordeal.

"Did they all confess?" you asked, hoping and praying Jensen wasn't going to have to testify in front of a room full of strangers plus his attackers.

"Yeah, they all confessed. From what I understand there was so much evidence from the pictures that the hospital had taken, plus the doctor's reports, and DNA evidence that they really had no choice but to confess," he said, sounding just as sick about all of this as you were.

"He's not gonna have to testify will he?" you asked, holding your breath.

"No, not unless he just wants to confront them. Which I doubt he does. These perverts are going to jail for a very long time. The amount of evidence against them is overwhelming, and the police believe this isn't the first time they’ve done this to someone," Jared said.

It made you sick to think about there being monsters like this out there in the real world. People like Jennifer, who you’d never expect to be involved in something like this.

“Thanks for letting me know Jared, now I just have to figure out how to tell Jensen.”

“You can do it Y/N, he trusts you,” Jared said.

With that, the two of you got off the phone. Jensen would be waking up soon as you wanted to have this breakfast ready like you did every morning. You didn't know how you were going to tell him that they had caught his attackers. You hated even bringing up his situation with him. He would get so distant and quiet.

Not fifteen minutes later you heard the bedroom door open and Jensen made his way over to the small bar and sat down. You knew he had because you heard the chair slide across the tile. Your back was to him plating up his breakfast. When you turned around what you saw nearly made you drop the plate.

He was sitting there, pale, and crying silently; looking at his hands that were shaking on the bar. You sat the plate down and carefully walked over to him, surprisingly he reached for you. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him tightly to you. The two of you sat like that for the longest time before he finally spoke.

"I'm not well," was all he said, so quiet that you barely even heard him.

"What hurts? Are you sick?" you asked. Immediately thinking it had something to do with his physical injuries.

"No, not that," he said, then pointed at his head. "I'm not well."

That made your heart sink. This was the first time he’d admitted that he was struggling, even though you knew that he was, and honestly it scared you.

Had he gotten worse?

You had been trying to figure out a good time to bring up seeing a therapist, now seemed like a good time as any.

"Maybe we should make that appointment with that therapist that your doctor suggested to you," you suggested gently, afraid he would get angry.

"Will you come with me?" was all his said, no more fight in him at all.

"Yeah, I'll be there the whole time. Remember what I said in the hospital. We're gonna get through this. You and Me."

Jensen nodded his head and buried his face in your neck, wet tears streaking down his face, and onto your skin made your heart feel like it just wanted to stop beating.

You knew that suggesting a therapist may sound harsh to some people, but there was no manual on how to deal with something like it. No material to read to figure out a normal healing process, especially for man, and there was no way to know that you were doing this right or wrong,

All you could do was make small steps together, in hopes that you were both stumbling in the right direction in getting him better, and right now you had to go with what logically could help him, and maybe someone who was trained to deal with this sort of trauma.

Even though you knew this was probably going to be one of the hardest things Jensen ever had to do, he couldn’t keep all this bottled up, he needed a safe space, and a trained professional to help him.

Squeezing him as tight to you as you could you tried your best to ground him in this mess that he was going through, you promised you’d be right there with him, and you were going to keep that promise, no matter what you’d do it together.

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

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #dark!fic #hurt!jensen #jensen x reader #jensen x you #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn #dean winchester #fanfcition #dark fanficiton #jawritter #you and me

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grandtheftstarship · 4 years

Text

Quietly (Spock x Wife!Reader) [Request!!]

“Hi! I’m a huge fan of Star Trek as well, and it’s funny that I’m close to your age! I’ll be sixteen very soon. I was wondering if perhaps you would write a Spock x Wife! Reader fic where Spock’s wife is generally very nervous and quiet, but very sweet, and she deals with a lot of Anxiety and Insomnia? And perhaps he tries to comfort her and aid her in sleep and being calmer? It would really be great bc I deal with both of those on the daily :) thx, LY! Live Long and Prosper, friend! ❤️ ~R”

Hiiii R!! This is so crazy because we are basically the same person omg. I’ve been meaning to write something like this for the longest time and then you requested!!! Stay strong sister!! Live Long and Prosper :D

p.s fun fact i wrote this entire thing and then ended up hating it so i rewrote it and now its so much better i really hope you like it

Warnings: a little angst, anxiety, basically 90% just fluff, short but sweet Word Count: 1571

request something!!

masterlist

You felt a warm hand on your shoulder, gently coaxing you awake. No, it couldn’t be morning already, could it? You had only just dipped your toes in the intoxicating pool that was sleep; how could it be over so soon?

Your eyes peeked open and you were met with a lovely image of your husband leaning over you, the slightest smile on his lips.

“Good morning,” Spock pressed a small kiss on your cheek before settling himself back down, head resting in the crook of your neck. You reached up to run your slender fingers through his soft hair, bliss soaring through your veins. Despite your lack of sleep, you would be happy to wake up like this any day.

But, alas, it was all over so soon. Your fantasy of waking up on Earth to the sun shining through your bedroom window curled up next to Spock felt so close, yet so far. Space was your passion, but Spock was your home. You knew which one felt more important.

Spock sat up and rolled out of the bed, stretching.

“Did you sleep?” He had learned that it wasn’t a question of if you slept ‘well’ anymore. He still asked every morning, but he always knew the answer.

You frowned, shaking your head. Spock pulled his Starfleet shirt over his head before bending over the bed to kiss you quickly.

“I’m certain the doctor could prescribe some melatonin or a similar medical remedy to ease your situation.” And, every morning, he tried to offer help for your condition. It was endearing, truly, but you wished he would just quit mentioning it altogether.

“Thank you, but you know I don’t react well with medication,” you replied, yawning and dragging yourself up. You pulled off your sleep shirt and tugged your red dress over your head as you walked to the bathroom, giving Spock a kiss on the cheek as you strode past him.

“Are you prepared for the away mission tomorrow?” he called from the bedroom.

Shit. Your heart dropped with such force your knees felt weak. Shit shit shit!! Your mind immediately went into overdrive and suddenly you were spiraling down a rabbit hole of different scenarios - all ending with either your death, Spock’s death, or just death in general. What if you got attacked? What if you killed everyone else in a shuttle crash and you had to live with the guilt for the rest of your life? There were so many things that could go wrong; one misstep, one miscalculation -you shook your head violently, snapping yourself out of it. You gripped the counter tightly and started taking deep breaths. It's fine. You were going to be just fine. Yeah... fine. It’s nothing. You were only going to be operating a shuttlecraft with twelve people aboard for the first time, three of which were your best friends. Fine. Just fine.

You had barely noticed your hairbrush slip from your other hand until the clatter shook you from your thoughts. Spock rushed in without missing a beat, placing a comforting hand on your back. Using his other hand, he brushed stray hairs from your eyes and lifted your chin up so he could meet your gaze. This wasn’t the first time he was there to ease you back down to reality.

“Hey, Hey. You are going to be okay,” he cooed softly, rubbing circles on your back. You shut your eyes and took a long, deep breath.

“I will be with you for the duration of the mission,” he reassured you. “I promise you, I will not leave your side.”

You felt relieved, but a lingering sense of unease remained. You threw your arms around your husband before pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Thank you,” you beamed up at him. “Really, you don’t need to do this.”

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do to help you, [y/n],” the smallest of smiles danced on his lips. He gave you a quick kiss on your forehead before exiting the bathroom, letting you finish getting ready. You bent down, picking up the hairbrush, frowning at the cracked handle. You would have to put that on the list of things to grab at the next starbase.

As you brushed your hair anyway, you thought hard about your schedule for the day, planning out things to do to avoid dwelling on the events tomorrow would hold too much. It worked, A little.

As you were putting the finishing touches on your morning routine, Spock poked his head in.

“Are you ready to leave?”

“Yep.” You sighed heavily, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from your uniform. Before you could stop yourself, you turned away from the mirror and headed for the door, grabbing Spock’s hand and pulling him into the hallway.

ᓚᘏᗢ

After you and Spock ate breakfast, you went down to engineering for your job assignment. Unfortunately, Scotty didn’t have much for you to do, so you did ensign-level jobs for him to pass the time. Anything to quell the storm that was your anxiety.

You had tried so many times to find remedies for your condition; work, sleep, staying as busy as possible. Hell, Spock had quickly become a coping mechanism for you and was more successful than any of your other less-desirable options. Unfortunately, since he was a real person and an officer, he couldn’t be there for you all the time as you worked on opposing ends of the ship. This typically ended up with you spiraling and having to pull yourself out on your own.

Out of your four options, work was probably the least effective. There was too much time to think; too much time for your demons to sink their claws into your brain. And, since the one person who was able to fully calm you down was unreachable, escape was sometimes impossible.

Scotty had given you the small job of making sure the heating and cooling pipes on the starboard side of engineering and since the job was oh-so-simple, there was way too much time for your mind to wander. You tried so hard, you really did, to think about anything else, but the looming mission continued to push itself to the forefront of your mind. It wasn’t long before it would take over you once again.

ᓚᘏᗢ

You didn’t know how long you had been lying awake. The minutes ticked by like days, seconds passed like hours. Spock was curled around you tightly, trying to make you feel safe enough to sleep and it had worked for a little while, but fear had wound itself into a tight knot in your stomach. You had never been assigned to an away mission before and you were absolutely terrified out of your mind. Horror stories of officers going missing, getting mauled or eaten by monstrous aliens, dying painful, horrific deaths in any way you could imagine plagued your thoughts. You remembered back to the instructional class about manning a shuttle, the sole reason you were going on the mission, and your stomach lurched at the thought of the graphic photos they had shown of shuttle crashes during the safety portion of the course. Panic started building in your chest, your legs began to shake and you knew what was coming. You tried not to wake Spock, but a sob you had tried to contain wrenched its way out of your mouth as some sort of strangled gasp and your husband was instantly awake and leaning over you. You heard him speaking to you, but the only sounds you were able to make were choked cries and before you knew it you were in the midst of a full-on breakdown. Panic set your body on fire, lightning-fast images of possible outcomes to the mission flashed across your eyes, tears streaming down your face as you bawled into Spock’s bare chest.

“I can’t!” you sobbed over and over. “I can't!”

Spock had never held you so tightly, grasping across your back with one hand, the other tangled in your hair, clutching you into his chest. He rocked you softly as you started calming down, humming soft tunes in your ear as your wails turned to sniffles. Despite your trouble sleeping, mere minutes after you had stopped crying you had fallen asleep.

Spock didn’t let go of you for the rest of the night. He leaned back down on the bed, curling back around you and holding you close. He contemplated canceling the away mission until you were more up for it, but he decided it would probably be best to discuss it with you in the morning.

He eventually drifted off, only to wake a mere two hours later to the sound of your alarms. He quickly shut them off, not wanting to wake you since you had finally gotten the sleep you so desperately needed. Without moving too much as to wake you, Spock reached for his padd and canceled the mission anyway, as well as excusing himself and you from duty for the day. You needed your rest, especially after a night like the one you had just experienced and he knew he needed to be there for you.

He set the padd back down on the bedside table before climbing back under the covers and wrapping his arms around you. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for you. He loved you, after all.

#star trek #star trek fanfic #Star Trek Fanfiction #star trek aos #star trek x reader #star trek x reader fanfiction #star trek x fem!reader #spock #spock fanfic #spock fanfiction #spock x reader #Spock X female reader #spock aos #spock aos x reader

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lxvesickreality · 4 years

Text

mistakes 3/4

Request: same request from first one

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: angst, heavy swearing, again angst because this is nothing but angst except for the tiniest bit of fluff near the end

Word Count: 2777

Add on: i have been inactive lately due to lack of inspiration so hopefully i can regain it with the tips given to me by @queenofthehairharrington << go check out those imagines! also, the inspiration that has been hitting a bit recently hasn’t included the requests so i may take a break from them and come back to the later. thanks for all the support and 200 followers<3

gif is NOT mine, full credit to owners

8 hours, 17 minutes, 47 seconds

That’s how long the team had left to find his missing wife. With the video sent out just a few hours ago, it’d felt like an eternity to Steve. His wife was gone, somewhere with a death threat stuck on her back and there was no clue leading the way to her location. He couldn’t stop picturing the look on Y/N’s face when her eyes finally made their way to the camera. She was terrified, absolutely frightened and there was no nope shining in her e/c eyes that he loved so much. It was the first thing he fell in love with which sounds incredibly cheesy but the moment he looked into them, he saw the curiosity that was up in flames. He told her before, “Curiosity killed the cat,” but she laughed at him and said, “But satisfaction brought it back,”. In the beginning for them, it was full of honesty, loyalty, passion, and her curiosity, of course. Then it turned to hell all because of him and his stupid mistakes.

“We’re going to find her, Steve. Don’t give up,” Steve was sat outside on the grass looking out into the lake by his home, watching the ducks being fed by Sam and the others out in the middle of the lake. It was beautiful at dawn with the sun rising from just over at the other end of the lake. He knew by sitting here he was just losing time but he had to take a breather.

Finally, his blue eyes that had a hint of green reached up to stare at his best friend, sadness pooling in his eyes, “How do you know that, Bucky? We’ve got 8 hours. We’ve already lost so much time.” his voice cracked, new tears setting in.

“Because I just know. C’mon, get up,” his best friend repeatedly shook his head, refusing to get up from his spot. He wasn’t ready to head back inside to face the team who still gave them expressions of disappointment. He would do that to himself as well, he cheated and he deserved everything he got from them. He didn’t treat his woman right. 1940′s Steve would be severely displeased with the modern Steve. He promised his wife he wouldn’t hurt her, he’d protect her at all costs even if it meant the cost was his life and he downright failed 100%. If they get her, he doubted she will want to be with him especially with his luck nowadays.

“I made a huge mistake, Buck, a fucking huge one,” Bucky wasn’t used to Steve using this vulgar language and he usually was the one to tell everyone to stop but his friend was hurt and broken. Steve had stopped a few inches from where Bucky was and he faced his best friend, the tears falling down bit by bit that held the intense sadness forming in his heart. He really has given up, Bucky thought. “I don’t even think she’ll come back to me after all of this, back to our home we just finished building a few months ago. Bucky, why am I such a big idiot? I don’t know what was running through my mind. I mean I fought against Sharon the first few times she did it but the last time...I caved.”

“Steve,” Bucky laid a hand reassuringly on his shoulder. “you wanna know what Y/N told Tony and Natasha? She said it’d take time but with that given time, she’ll learn to forgive you. She loves you, she married you, Steve. She’ll come around and we will find her. Natasha thinks she has a lead so come on. Dry up those big, fat tears and go talk to her. One step closer.”

“So we know where she is?” Steve questioned as him and Bucky arrive to the conference room the team was in minus Sam and Wanda.

Natasha shook her head,”Not exactly, but I have an idea. Tony, bring up the video and pause it when he shows the timer.” Tony nodded and almost immediately had the video up at the right spot. “See those designs on the door handle? They’re made specially in Alaska and only Alaska. We’ve got it narrowed down to very few cities but even then, we still have to find the exact place.”

“I know where that is at.” Wanda reveals. Steve felt a rush of relief slither its way down his body and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, we got you, Y/N.

“Lets go then, what are we waiting for?”

“There isn’t an entrance, Steve. They somehow zap themselves in and out of the building and it’s underground.”

Steve felt the walls crumble around him and the small sliver of hope he was just given was ripped away just as quick it was given to him. Reality seemed so far away from him all of a sudden, Bucky’s voice was like an echo and Steve’s heart felt like it was going to burst out if it got any faster. There was no more hope. They were at 7 hours already and she was all the way in Alaska plus Bruce would most likely have to build something to get inside of this building which could take days. He may not even have the equipment for it. It was over, he’d lost his wife for good and in just a few hours, he will be a widow. She was going to dead.

Steve forced his way through the part of the team behind him, running out of the conference room with the heaviest heart that hung as low as the moon and it was turned to blue, color of the sadness and devastation he felt. It was over. She was gone. He could vaguely hear his best friend behind him, yelling and begging for him to stop what he was doing but honestly, Steve didn’t even know what he was doing. He couldn’t stop running or that was until Pepper made an appearance and Steve tripped. With the loud bang of him hitting his head off the wall echoing, it went dark for him and he was pulled into a dream.

Today was the day. The wedding day. Steve had waited 3 years to marry this woman and he couldn’t be happier to do so. He met her on the day of the battle against Loki and he’d saved her from getting killed when she ran out into the road to help him. Steve took one glance at her e/c eyes that sparkled as the sun beamed down on the both of them and he knew he was going to marry this brave woman who tried to save someone she didn’t know. Fury must’ve thought something similar and decided to have her join S.H.I.E.L.D. after witnessing the fight she did.

To say Steve was nervous was an understatement, he was anxious and tense as he wanted the wedding to go well without an interference of work. Fury promised there was no upcoming missions nor was there nobody trying to take over the world. The wedding day was spontaneous, they’d had the whole wedding details planned out before picking a day because of the line of work they both had so when there was an available day for everyone, Steve set it all up where the love of his life chose. A fall wedding, in the woods where they found a clearing close to their favorite place; the waterfall where the first ‘i love you’ was exchanged, the first kiss, and their first intimate time.

The ceremony was beautiful, she was beautiful. The dress was snug and tight at her breasts and torso until it got to her waist where it flowed nicely to the ground and the trail was a few feet long covered in a white lace design. The back was open where he could feel her soft skin when he dipped her to kiss her dark shade of pink stained lips but his favorite part was the little tiara she wore to keep the train in place that was layered with sapphire stones. She was his queen and he was her king now.

“I love you, Steven Grant Rogers.”

“I love you too, Y/N M/N Rogers.”

5 hours, 54 minutes, 27 seconds

“Bruce, I think he’s waking up! Steve? Rogers?” Steve’s eyes fluttered open shining his bright blue eyes that held the hint of green in them but was already beginning to hold tears in. His head throbbed in pain as the memory of him hitting his head came rushing back quickly.

“Hey, bud, you had all of us worried there for a moment.” Bucky said, coming into view from behind Natasha.

Blinking rapidly, he shot up from the plain white bed, “How long was I out for? How much time do we have left?”

“Steve, that’s not important right now. The rest of the team is working on it and you need to rest. You have a minor concussion that needs to be nursed a like a raging hangover.”

“How long, Bucky?”

“5 hours and 48 minutes.” said his best friend sulking in defeat. “But you need to relax, Steve.”

“Relax? RELAX? Bucky, my fucking wife is out there probably beaten to a fucking bloody ass pulp and barely hanging on. I am not going to lay down and ‘nurse’ a fucking minor concussion that will not affect my help in this. My wife will come out alive, Bucky. Now, help me go help Bruce. We have to find a way into there.”

“We already found a way.”

Steve’s eyes shot to his best friend but the appearance of guilt that had a mix of satisfaction stopped the hope that was trying to worm its way to his heart. He’d done something stupid. “What did you do, Buck?”

“I told H.Y.D.R.A. I’d come back if they gave us Y/N. They said they’d do it as long as you don’t fight back.”

“YOU WHAT?”

The two boys continued to fight and bicker about Bucky’s well being, both of them oblivious to Natasha and Tony running in there yelling something at them they weren’t able to comprehend. Steve was beyond furious, no word can describe the anger he had. Giving himself to H.Y.D.R.A? Was he stupid? That was a stupid question to ask because clearly he was.

“You lost all hope to find your wife, Steve. We all did!”

Steve nostrils flared with anger, “And you think I don’t know that? I’ve already lost her. How am I supposed to cope with the loss of you too?” Bucky let his eyes focus on the floor instead of looking into his best friends eyes. He was incredibly angry with him but he didn’t care. His wife mattered a lot to everyone and he wasn’t going to stand by and act like he couldn’t do anything to help it. H.Y.D.R.A. has wanted him from the beginning, he can endure a few more years with them if it meant Steve got his happiness back. “I can’t believe you did this, Buck,”

“I’d do anything for my best friend, Steve. Even if it meant enduring just a little bit more pain.”

“They’re here,” Natasha announced, catching the boys’ attention and Steve’s facial expression went blank. Nobody could tell what he was thinking or feeling, it just seemed like he was empty with no feelings at all and they didn’t know what was worse. Not knowing what he was going to do or knowing what he was going to do. He had a plan, Natasha could see that and so could everyone else as they stepped out of the compound with hard glares towards H.Y.D.R.A. who arrived not 5 minutes earlier.

The team stood in front of the many men they brought, heavy hearts with the information of Bucky being traded off with Y/N. They knew Y/N would beat all of them if she found out Bucky was doing this and she’ll find out soon enough. Will it be before he’s taken away or after? That was a popular question.

“So,” a leader stepped forward with a proud smirk on his face. “The Winter Soldier has finally stepped forward, he’s not a coward. That’s nice to know.”

“Never was one, just didn’t want to be around you. You tortured me-”

“Yet, you want to come back in exchange for your best friends girl. How brave and heroic. Well, Mr. Barnes, things have changed. We don’t want you. You’ve been too compromised. It’s been too long.”

The dreaded feeling sunk deep into Steve’s skin, soaking in every ounce of hope he had once again. Hope just wasn’t for him anymore. His wife was his hope and she isn’t here. His heart clenched and he willed himself to not cry, not to show weakness towards them because they would kill her as a game to go against him. Instead, he clenched his hands into fists and let the hope be taken over by anger. He was done.

“I’m done. I’m so fucking done with you men toying with others. That’s my wife you have and if you don’t give her back, I will wipe out every fucking person in every H.Y.D.R.A. base. So help me god, I will tear everyone limb from limb!” Steve let himself threaten these men not caring about the language he has continued to use the last few days. The leader didn’t have to say it, he was terrified of the former soldier and the way he looked at him made his blood run cold. Steve was serious. “Have her come home.”

The leader turned his torso to look at another man, nodding his head in confirmation of something and spun back around. He couldn’t show fear in front of his men but he didn’t want to lose everything. “We want you to come join us in exchange for-”

“Done. I’ll do it. Just bring her fucking home.”

“Steve!” there was many protests against his decision, none of them wanting to lose Steve Rogers.

“Bring her out, boys.”

Then there she was.

Bruised and beaten up. Clear broken bones in several places and cuts that were still profusely bleeding but the girl’s corner of her lips lifted up in a relieved smile upon seeing her husband. Steve didn’t hesitate to run towards her, past the men of H.Y.D.R.A. and through the line of cars and helicopter they brought Y/N on to get to his wife. Immediately, his arms wrapped around her in an embrace and the tears suddenly started to flow down but Steve didn’t care, his girl was here and alive. Bruised and beaten up, she still was the most beautiful woman in his entire life. He whispered in her ear ‘I love you’ over and over until she said it back with the same amount of love in her voice. He pulled back only to catch her lips in his.

“Okay, lovebirds, we need to get going. Rogers, let’s go. Say your goodbye and let’s go.”

“What?” her voice was hoarse and scratchy, full of confusion. “Steve, what’re they talking about?”

“Bucky is going to look after you, Y/N. Just for a little while and I’ll be home before you know it. You just gotta hang in there, baby. Okay?”

She shook her head, putting aside the massive headache that pounded through the temples of her head, “No, no, no, Steven, please. Please don’t leave me.”

“I don’t have a choice, baby. I’ll be back soon. I love you so much.” a few men came up behind Steve, taking his hands off of his wife’s body and handcuffing them behind his back. “I love you, Y/N Rogers. So fucking much.”

She screamed, she screamed at them to let him go and they didn’t listen. They continued to the car that was a few feet away from them, dragging the love of her life in front of them away from her. She let herself fall to her knees, ignoring the pain in the one that was broken and screamed for him to come back.

With the door closing behind him, she whispered one final thing, no more voice to scream and she wished he heard, “I forgive you,”

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t know until he came back years later down the road when they let him go.

#steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america imagines #captain america x reader #captain america #marvel #marvel imagine

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writersdaydream · 4 years

Text

Humilated Heartbreak

Just something I wrote while feeling a little down (trigger warning I guess? Nothing graphic just mentions of depression) Also my favourite video game and character ><

Masterlist

Word count: 1.5k

Its common knowledge that when a heart breaks, it can feel like the worst thing in the world. Your mind twists and manipulates things, making you feel even worse – if that could be possible. A majority of humans experience a heartbreak while in school, whether it be from a significant other, disconnecting from a friend, or the death of a loved one.

All things that can make the human heart break.

What they aren’t told, is how to deal with it. There are countless articles online on the grieving process, how to get over an ex, or how to get revenge – if you’re petty enough. Its all clickbait, its all word of mouth from others.

Everybody has a different grieving process. Some more severe than others, some longer than others. This isn’t my first heartbreak; my life story can tell you that. But one thing to note is; it doesn’t get any easier than the first time.

The first time I ever felt my heartbreak was when my older sister was killed. She was at her grade 12 graduation, having the time of her life, just starting the newest chapter of her life. She was responsible, she was the one to organize the ride home afterword. Her death may have been an accident, but it was the hands of a drunk driver. A drunk driver who was at the same graduation she was.

The second time my heart broke was when my parents separated. The grief over losing their first born was weighing heavy on their shoulders. They couldn’t cope together, it was tearing them apart, and ultimately, they decided to divorce. My father fell into a deep depression, barely functioning, hardly going to work, staying up all night. So, my mother won primary custody of me. She wasn’t doing much better however, she threw herself into her work, I barely saw her as is, leaving me to my own devices.

This is the third time I can count that my heart has broke. I didn’t know how to cope with my sisters death. I have had grandparents pass away due to complications or old age, but I’ve never had someone so close to me be gone. It was weird, I didn’t see her everyday. I couldn’t say I loved her everyday, it was hard. My entire routine was thrown off, my life was shaken up. I started going out more, hanging out later with my friends, anything to keep my mind busy and off of the loss of my older sister. That’s when I met Jai.

He seemed to be my night in shining armor. He took me under his wing, he would check up on me, made sure I was doing my homework, making sure I wasn’t slipping. I thought things would be better with him. I felt myself growing out of the shell I had built. He was everything I could have ever wanted, he was there for me, he never asked for anything in return; he seemed genuinely kind.

Until he didn’t.

I had learned from social media that he had been cheating on me. The girl hadn’t made her account private and I had been tagged in the comments. After being happy for what felt like so long, it all crumbled. The boy I thought I knew, was someone completely different.

This is when I started skipping school. I was humiliated, Jai had completely played me, making me look like an idiot. I didn’t know how long his second relationship was going on for, but it was enough for me to grow back into the shy quiet girl I used to be. The first week at school after our ‘scandal’ I was getting sympathetic looks, everyone was pitying me. It was slightly nice to know they thought he was the jerk, but I couldn’t take it. It wasn’t prominent, but it was enough attention for me to want to curl back into my skin.

I couldn’t go to school knowing he was there, the wounds too fresh to face them head on, the sympathy I was receiving was too much for me to be comfortable. I attended less and less, and with mom working all the time, nobody knew.

Or at least I thought.

It was probably day 3 this week of not bothering to show up at all when the doorbell rang at 11am. I tried ignoring it, figuring it was a door to door salesman or something like that, but the rings became more persistent, I just couldn’t find the energy to go see who it was.

“Y/N! I know you’re in there!”

The voice scared me, not just because I knew exactly who it was, but because of how close they were. The door was locked, but that’s not where it came from. He was under my window. I debated going over and closing it, but that would be the confirmation he needed that I was indeed home.

“Y/N/N, you know I’m not afraid to climb in the window” he said. But again, I just started at the open window. A few seconds pass, until I see his boot on the window ledge, and all of a sudden one of my best friends was in my bedroom. He looked around for a second until his eyes fell on my figure in the bed.

“Hi?” He said quietly, taking note of the solemn look on my face. I just stared back at him, a little irritated that he ‘broke’ into my room, and still exhausted from the lack of sleep I got last night. “Y/N, you know me, c’mon I’m not leaving until you say something.” He said taking a seat next to me on the bed. “Sean” I said, turning away from him.

The Diaz boy sighed and laid next to me. “You gotta say more than that Y/N/N” he said using my nickname again. But once again, I was silent. “Alright fine, I’ll speak. I know why you’re skipping, I get it ok? But you can’t do this to yourself. This isn’t my best friend, I understand what happened and trust me it sucks, but everyone thinks he’s an asshole, that girl? She dumped him, and basically no one is talking to him at school” Sean explained.

I sighed and turned over to him, taking his hand in mine and holding it close to my chest. “I’m humiliated Sean. I mean, he cheated on me for who knows how long. I mean cool, he ruined his reputation, but how is that supposed to make me feel better?” I said. “He broke my heart, he played me like a fool, and I just went along with it” I whispered. “Okay shut up, the only reason you went along with it is because you didn’t know. You were the one being wronged, and its happened before and it’ll happen again. Some people are just so shitty in the world, you can’t let shit like this get you down. You didn’t do that when your sister died, so why are you doing it when a dickhead cheats on you.”

Sean held truth in his words, I knew he was completely right and was telling me what I needed to hear, but right now I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted to let the world swallow me up and start over in a new town.

“Are you not talking because you know I’m right?” He asked leaning his head on mine. “I will hit you” I say, pulling his hand closer to me. Sean just chuckled at my answer, feeling satisfied I was actually talking.

We just laid there semi-cuddling as he let me wallow in my own embarrassment. “Where’s Lyla?” I asked noting she wasn’t with him. “If her mom knew she was skipping she would be grounded for the rest of high school” Sean answered. I chuckled with him, acknowledging once again he was right. “I know it sucks Y/N/N, but are you up to going to school with me?” I let out a loud breath, “not today.” I answered him. “I mean, it’s already 1:30, I don’t think theres a point in going anymore. But tomorrow, Lyla and I will come and pick you up, and we’ll get on the bus and go to school okay? We’ll protect you from everyone” he teased.

This time, I finally hit him. “Hey! What the hell?” “You make me sound like a fucking damsel in distress! I can take care of myself Diaz!” I tell him.

The next day, my friends kept their promise. At 8am sharp, they came to my house, we waited for the bus, and I shared the seat with Sean. I could feel people looking at me, either shocked that I actually went to school that day, or they were still pitying me. What ever the case, Sean would squeeze my hand, and Lyla would confront whoever dared glance my way for a second too long.

They don’t tell you how to handle heartbreak, its something you need to heal from on your own. People tend to fill the void with whatever they find best, and in my case, all I needed was my two best friends.

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harrywritingsbyme · 5 years

Text

Behind The Cover

A/N: SUPER FLUFFY AND CUTE...even shed a tear‼️

Harry had told you about his Rolling Stone cover a while ago now. When they finally released the cover online, you remembered his article and you got excited to read it. Especially when you read the headline for the article, ‘Sex, psychedelics, and the secrets of stardom’. You decided to wait and read it when everyone else got to read it. You wanted to relish in the anticipation that came along with it. When the article finally came out, you sat down with your computer and began reading. When you got to the part about the ‘shrooms’, and what happened to his tongue afterwards, you chuckled. You remembered vividly what happened that day. You were at lunch with your mother when he called, the most opportune time to call about a mushroom induced injury. When you picked up, all you could hear was a mumbled “my tongue” from harry before someone else picked up to tell you that he had bit his tongue off, lets just say that when you found out why, all you could do was shake your head and ask if he would be okay. You weren’t opposed to harry doing them, you knew he had good sense and good people around him to keep him from hurting himself. It’s not like he used them for the whole album. Plus, he had you, your family, and his family to keep him straight. Hell, when you both were in the mood on occasion, you got high together. Not to mention the sex that came afterwards.

As you continued to read, relationships were the next topic of discussion. Harry went on to talk about his relationship with you and his previous relationship. Before you the two of you started dating, the both of you had been in relationships that had come to an end. You both met through mutual friends and your friendship blossomed into being boyfriend and girlfriend for about 3 years before you became his fiancé, and a year later his wife. He thanked his lucky stars everyday for you and you did the same. Your situation when it came to your last relationship was not the greatest, so you broke it off. You weren’t feeling the best about the breakup, you took it pretty hard. The same could be said for harry, he had gone through a breakup too and he was going through the motions of it all as well. Thats when you met each other. Mutual friends had introduced you one night at a birthday party, and you’d been inseparable ever since. When you read what he said in the interview, you thought about all the late nights talking on the phone and talking to each other about life and ‘life post breakup’, when you guys decided to be dramatic. You both had reached a point where you were ready to get back out there and were ready to move on and be with other people, and your relationship shifted. You looked at each other not only through the lens of being best friends, but also being in a potential relationship with each other. You had all of the things he was searching for in someone he’d want to share the rest of his life with, and you felt the same way about him, he was the perfect guy for you. Now, it wasn’t a complete cakewalk. Everything wasn’t rainbows and sunshine, you both had to fight for your relationship, and work together to be happy with each other.

The part of the article about relationships wasn’t long. You chuckled when you read about the slippers. You remembered harry coming home from the studio that day and talking about it. “He was wearing her gifted slippers.” He said with an offended tone and all you could do is laugh. “Its okay though, you got me way better slippers.” You remember him saying to you before pulling you into a sweet kiss. When he said that the album was about “…having sex, and feeling sad.”, you thought back to the conversation you both had before the article even came out. You were talking over dinner about the album and what his inspo was for his new music. He wanted to talk you beforehand, because he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable listening to his music. He knows you wouldn’t be uncomfortable, and he knows that you’re one of his biggest fans and supporters when it comes to his music. But he just wanted to talk to you about it before anyone else because he valued your opinion on his new music and he wanted to see how you felt with the direction he was going in.

“You know you’re always going to be my number one muse love…” he says, shooting you a wink and a smile before continuing; “ ...and I still have so much to say when it comes to you and us and how much you mean to me. I mean a few one direction songs and some songs from my first album aren’t nearly enough to do you any justice. But this time, I want to tap into the heartbreak of it all. Not only when it comes to our struggles, but also when it comes to you know, past relationships. I mean, I want to put it out there. I know we’ve talked about it and you were going through something similar too at the time. I just want to write about it, I’ve never really talked about it much outside of you and close friends. Plus, when I met you, I kind of went forward and never looked back and that was and is the best thing I ever did. Moving forward and being with you, even when we were just friends, helped me get over those emotions and realize what I was looking for in a partner. I realized that you were the one for me and I learned things about myself through you. And I’m so thankful to have you in my life. And I think that once I write about it and release all of those feelings I had, it’ll be the final send off so to speak. You know what I mean?” He says and searches your face for any response. A small smile comes across your face and you extend your hand across the table and you rest it on top of his. “I get it. We go through things in life and we all handle them differently. Your coping mechanism is writing and putting your feelings into a song. And thats great.” you say to him, easing his nerves a bit. You notice he’s still a bit anxious. So you make your way around the table and you sit in his lap and you cup his face “I love you so much. And the fact that you have the courage to be vulnerable makes me love you even more” you whisper before kissing his lips. You pulled away to see a tear run down his cheek. You quickly wipe his face before pulling him closer “I just love you more than you could even imagine, more than I could even imagine.” He whispered in response before kissing your lips. The two of you just sat there; together. Both of you content with the silence between the two of you. “I haven’t written that much about sex either” he whispered in your ear, breaking the silence. You pulled back and and you looked at him with a puzzled look while a smirk just spread across his face. “Have you even listened to your last album” you ask with a laugh. Flashbacks of hearing only angel for the first time were popping into your head. By the end of that night you proved true to the lyrics in the song. “Let me just say that sex with you... is the best sex I’ve ever had” he whispers before pulling you into a passionate kiss.

“I do have to say though, going through that breakup allowed for me to meet the love of my life. When I met y/n, it was like a breath of fresh air. I mean, I never fully believed in soulmates, and when I met y/n, even though it’s very cliche, I firmly believed and still believe that she is my soulmate. We became best friends and the rest is history honestly. The classic best friends turn lovers story. It’s honestly better living it than reading it, especially when it’s with the right person.” This had to be your favorite quote from the entire article.

For the rest of the article all you could do is smile. By the time you finished reading, you had tear stains down your cheeks and a big smile on your face. You were beaming. You were busting at the seams with love and adoration for the man you were so lucky to call your husband. Right when you closed your computer, the front door opened. You quickly rose to your feet when he put the grocery bags down and all you could do was hug him. “I love you so much” is all you could say as you rested your head between his neck and shoulder. “ I take it you read the article” he chuckles as he rubs your back and pulls you closer. “It was beautiful” you mumble into his neck. “Not as beautiful as you” he whispers. “You’re so cheesy” you say and pull away to look at him. “You love it though” he mumbles against your lips. “I really do” you smile against his lips and you share a sweet kiss that neither of you wanted to end. “I don’t want to hear the album early.” You whisper as you pull away. He looked at you with a confused look. “I like being surprised” you say with a smile on your face. “Well surprised you shall be, but I can guarantee you that you’ll love it.” And he was absolutely right.

Masterlist

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tangerinegod · 4 years

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Hello! I am sorry to bother you but I am a senior getting ready for college this year. I am in the US and I wanted to major in the same thing you did, do you have any possible tips for me? I still haven't even looked for colleges that would be best for animation majors so I figured if you were up to giving out any tips/saying any basic ideas if you wanted to/if you had the time to then maybe I'll have a better idea! I apologise for if I sound weird! I'm tried to word it correctly but I can't 😿

hi!! i’m totally down to share my experiences! someone else also had some questions so i’m going to put them all together in this post haha, hopefully this helps! it’ll get pretty long so apologies ahead of time but art school is a lot to think about so i wanna be as helpful as i can around it, its a lot of time and money. I’m gonna put it all under a read more cus it is really really long!

i wanna start off with the fact that I had the privilege of attending school in a financially stable environment, my parents were/are really supportive so w merit scholarship i only came out with around 20-30k in debt and i also had housing support my entire time in school. they were ok with me focusing on academics so i didn’t hold a retail job unless i was out of school like summer/winter break. Ofc though i regularly take commissions/do merch/cons to try and pay for all bills that arent rent cus i did want to be financially independent where it was possible. I also did try and work during the semester but everytime i did my body would deff start to breakdown from the fact that i didnt wanna compromise schoolwork with jobs.. so just read ahead know this experience is from a student who was able to attend focusing only on school work for most of the time!

the biggest thing is knowing art school is not required to become a professional in either freelancing or industry! there are a huuuge amount of online tools and classes these days that provide the exact same education and for cheaper too. i think it depends on what experience you prefer/can handle/want but it’s definitely possible to make art/animation art your living without higher education. the thing that college will for sure give you though is the ability to meet deadlines, work even when you dont want to, and connections with peers+teachers. i think the connections part is invaluable because you’re basically coming out with a network of people you already know and who know you!

also its good to know if you want to attend/can handle art school! it’s a lot of time and energy and students get burned out really fast. the best piece of advice i got before going was ‘if you draw every single day, even if its for only like 5-10 minutes or a doodle for a whole year you should be fine’ consistency is super key because you’re attending school to draw, and you’ll have to create work for stuff you aren’t excited for at some point or another. burnout is extremely real and the only reason i didn’t experience it was probably because i got super into drawing naruto fanart again inbetween sophomore and junior year! it helped give me something to draw seperated from school which is the only thing i was drawing for since i had entered rip. a heads up id also consider myself a workaholic so i fit in ok with the ‘art school’ environment but it is suuper unhealthy. if you are fantastic at managing your schedule then it’s definitely possible to take care of yourself! freshman year i got 8 hours a sleep a night and only pulled all nighters for some second semester finals at the end. sophomore year + up though i ended up prioritizing hw over sleep and like for sure, definitely shortened my life span. there’s another q down below where i’ll go more into detail but ya, be careful w ur work balance!

another tip especially for animation is knowing for a fact what type of animation you’re looking to go into, and what the school is offering. I didn’t think i’d get into art school at the time so i only applied to two places + decided if i didnt get into either id attend community to get credits out of the way while building portfolio. honestly? i did not do a lot of research LOL but like i did end up having the chance to tour and stuff! just know that each school will have a very different curriculum. The main differences are schools that prioritize 3D (cg animation, cg modeling, ect) and 2D/traditional (hand drawn, ‘oldschool’, digital or traditional based) this is a huge difference so make sure you do research for it! in most cases a 2D/traditional program will also offer 3D since it’s at the forefront of the industry animation wise rn. My school taught 2D but like hand drawn on physical paper 2D, frame by frame. while it was a good experience it’s super outdated because digital tools make it way faster + easier! i’d recommend looking for a program that is digital 2D over traditional 2D.

if after your senior year covid is still affecting campuses in the US to keep them shut down i’d recommend attending a community college to get credits and then transferring into school. one of the negatives is paying money for gened classes when ur not there for them; if you can get them out of the way sooner and cheaper there is absolutely no negative + you could graduate earlier or use the extra time for better work or to work a job!

these are all the general tips i think i’d give on like a broad basis of attending or not to think about? let me know if u have more q’s! someone asked q’s im answering below that go more into personal experiences + work culture so heres those:

- how many hours a week do u spend studying, in class, otherwise making art? like how much of ur life does it consume?

I was basically working on art.... 24/7! since i wasnt working a job at the same time i crammed as many credits as possible into my schedule so on avg i did 18 credit semesters (around 6 classes) art classes go for 6 hours and non art go for 3, so i’d spent around 30-35 hours in class a week! hw wise it varied on the class but combined it would be around 35-50 hours a week... im guessing? on average studio classes would have 8-10 hours of hw, maybe 5 for a light week, and gened classes 5 hours w them all combined. or this was probably how things were before junior year? junior+senior year i had thesis + everything else ontop.. i’d spend around 30-40 hours on thesis a week with other classes ontop of that bc my film was super long cus im a dummy!

- is it hard going to art school n realising that altho u were probably quite talented… so is everyone else? Like. all of a sudden. ur not special and everyone seems as good as u, you know? More generally, how do u deal with comparison?

kinda?? i think instead of the idea of like you vs others it feels more of like a competition at first to be the best. this varies hugely on school culture though; my animation year was really friendly with each other and get along extremely well, so my answer to this is v different than some others who attended different schools. i think that the idea of ‘comparison’ only lasts a portion of the first year because at some point you realize that it’s not a who’s better as much as its a ‘these are my coworkers’ type thing? like healthy competition 100% because we’re all working to improve but i think most of us learned pretty early on that viewing each other as peers going into the same workforce helped a lot. also at some point everyone develops their own style/starts to develop their artistic preferences so there isn’t a way to compare whos 'better’ anymore? i dont think there ever is tbh because style is appealing based off of an individuals preferences. If anything realizing everyone else is also amazing makes you wanna work harder ig? or thats how i felt! it’s inspiring to be surrounded by so many people who create such amazing work.

- is there a lot of workaholic culture? all nighter culture?

100000% there can be a workaholic and all nighter culture. i know people who avoided it and thats honestly fantastic because i fall super easily into that pit. sometimes i’ll pull all nighters on a personal project just because i really want to finish it... i am definitely considered a workaholic all the way through and its not healthy rip... i’d estimate at the worst i was pulling 2-3 all nighters a week and only 4-5 hours of sleep on the nights i didn’t? that was only for one year tho, after that i was like yeah ok this is really bad for my health in the long run LOL so i tried to cut it down to one all nighter a week and around 5-6 hours of sleep the rest of the week! by senior year my decision to cram in full semesters paid off and i was able to consistently get around 7 hours of sleep a night + no all nighters minus finals since my schedule was lighter despite thesis 😭 while there is that culture i don’t think people view it as like a badge of honor or something to be proud of anymore which is good, we mostly view it as a flaw of the art school system and something that needs to be fixed!!

- are you glad u did it? how did u know it was what u wanted?

i am glad i did it! i’m definitely in a limbo right now of if it was worth both my time, money, and my parents money rip but i think with what i got out of it i definitely wouldn’t be as far skill wise or knowledge wise when it comes to the art industry. i would say it was only worth it for be because i had so much support going in though so i was able to focus so much on improving. if i had only been able to put in part of the effort and not make full use of the resources provided i would honestly have a different answer..

i knew it was what i wanted when i realized i really couldn’t see myself pursuing a different profession happily! despite all the bumps and stuff im fully in love with drawing still and feel honored that it’s a field that can provide a living. my second profession choice was to go into culinary school? and third option i think going was into music cus i was also a band kid hehe.

- how do u cope with ur hobby becoming ur job? how do u deal with art going from something u do for fun to something u do on command constantly?

i think seperating work art from personal art is important! in my case im doubling naruto into being personal work so i have something to fall back onto that isn’t work related. its been a hyperfixation for 12+ years? so drawing it at this point is just like personal art imo. some people have hobbies outside of art and only draw for their job! i think after attending classes for so long the idea of hobby turning into job feels extremely natural? also i enjoy doing it so thats a huge plus!

sorry this is SO long but i hope i answered your guys’ questions! if you have more just lmk!

#anon #ask #long post #im so so sorry this is like long as shit #ill literally tell you guys everything though art school should not feel like a mystery esp if ur planning to go into it!#Anonymous

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daesungfmd · 3 years

Text

playlist 1.

seven songs describing different stages of daesung’s life so far.

lights, up we go / 2008 ― 2012.

here, in a familiar place. we got our heads down and we pretend it’s ‘cause the night is dark and running out of space for us to run around, but it’s a dead end and money’s tight. it’s been a long time of this ― something has got to give. everyone here is ready to go, it’s been a hard year with nothing to show. from down this road, it’s only on we go. everyone here is ready to go, it’s been a hard year and i only know from down this low, it’s only up we go.

2008 is the earliest year of daesung’s life that he vividly remembers. before 2008, his life definitely had downsides, but he didn’t have much that he could rightfully complain about; at the end of even the hardest day, things were still… good. but 2008 brought more hardships than daesung was equipped to handle & saw his relationship with his mother deteriorating. they were both struggling, but instead of coming together to support each other, they frequently lashed out and simply made things worse. in the three years that followed, daesung became better at supporting his mother, but he rarely felt supported in return ― internally bitter with the idea that he was having to act as a parent, but in reality, she was so caught up in keeping their family afloat that she often fell short on the emotional side. they were also beginning to struggle financially (which only got worse and worse over the months, with his mom falling far enough behind that it didn’t seem like she’d ever catch up), which added a feeling of helplessness to the loneliness that daesung was (poorly) dealing with. generally a bad time all around, but they both continued to pretend that they weren’t struggling so no one around them would pity them, even though they definitely could’ve used some assistance. this was around the time that daesung became extremely ambitious (surprisingly). set high goals in his personal life, his school life & for his future career because……. life can not suck like this forever!!! it’s gotta be up from here, right?

john the ghost, red house / 2008 — present.

if you’re not everything, you’re nothing ‘til you try to be. nobody needs saving, just a little bit of empathy. you can’t save the ones you love, but who would really want to? who would really want to?

i touched on daesung’s relationship with his mom in the explanation for the previous track, but it goes a lot deeper than a few sentences could ever explain. before 2008, she was outwardly happy and very, very loving — after 2008, she hardly seemed like the same woman. she and daesung endured the same pain, but neither of them coped healthily. neither got counseling, either, so they often took their sadness and pain out on each other in the form of harsh words and accusations. more often than not, they were fighting. the only time they got along was when they were in daesung’s mom’s salon, and even then, they still argued quite a lot, just with softer voices. after the first year, they started to build back the relationship they’d had prior to 2008, but it was a slow process and often involved daesung taking blame for things that (usually) weren’t his fault & having to calm his mom down when she got too angry or sad. things never did fully go back to how they once were and even now, twelve years later, daesung’s still bitter over how things turned out. how he so often had to take on responsibility that he was too young to deserve and how she failed to emotionally support him like he supported her. he realizes that having to provide financial support took almost all of her energy, but still — it doesn’t change the fact that he felt like he was lacking parental love at that time and even feels like he’s still lacking it now. if you get them alone, a fight is almost always sure to occur, even if it’s a passive one that only ends with secretly hurt feelings rather than outwardly hurt ones. they both acknowledge the other’s suffering, but they’re both too clumsy and ashamed to apologize for the past twelve years or even give reminders that they love each other. most of their meetings are confined to her salon; a semi-public place where they can be semi-vulnerable without necessarily viewing it as a bad thing. they spend a lot of time together there, but rarely have conversations of substance and, as a result, they’ve both begun to feel a lot like strangers rather than family.

jimmy eat world, 555 / 2012 — 2014.

i keep my focus on the simple things, trying to find some peace along the way. i wish i knew how long i’m supposed to wait. holding on, but just barely. got the feeling i’ve been talking to a dead, dead line. there’s always a reason to let it change. is there anyone there listening while you cry, cry, cry? there’s always a reason for the pain. i’m doing the things that i’m told every day, every day, every day. then why does it feel like i’m moving in place?

training, in daesung’s opinion, simply sucked. he went into training completely blind, considering he didn’t even fully realize what he was auditioning for — just that it may or may not lead to him being a musician. the competitiveness was what hit him the hardest. he’s not a particularly competitive person, so he was more interested in making friends and having a good time (😔), but he didn’t encounter a whole lot of people who were as nonchalant as he was. he struggled to adjust to the trainee life and harsh criticism from trainers/supervisors hit him hard, being some of the first real criticism he’d ever received. he spent his two years as a trainee feeling really lonely, but he didn’t have anyone outside of the company that he could reasonably turn to — his lack of time meant that most of his friendships had vanished and he cut off all contact with his mom during this time, as well, so he couldn’t turn to her. he tried very hard to stay focused and optimistic, but his strength was wavering. especially because he frequently got scolded for doing things that he didn’t even realize he wasn’t supposed to do. felt like he was getting pushed around by life & the people around him, even though half of that was undoubtedly just self-pity amplified by his loneliness.

blackbear, i feel bad / 2014 — 2016.

you’re so good at making me feel bad, at making me feel terrible about myself, good. you’re so good at making others hurt with only just your words, with only just your words and i feel bad. i don’t feel good.

daesung has a heart made of glass & his tendency to take things personal was a whole lot stronger when he was seventeen. sure, he was supposed to be the ~funny guy~, but constantly being the subject of jokes took a huge toll on his mental health in the beginning. he felt like no one acknowledged the fact that he’s an actual human being with actual feelings and, consequentially, felt like he wasn’t good for much aside from evoking laughter, even at his own expense. it didn’t help that inpulses hadn’t gotten the chance to know him on a more substantial level yet, so they, too, chose to make him into a joke. most comments or interactions at fansigns were ~playful teasing~ but enough ~playful teasing~ loses its humor, as he learned firsthand. eventually, he mastered the art of either initiating the jokes about himself so that they didn’t catch him off guard or swiftly changing the subject to something equally funny but not confidence-crushing. by 2016, he’d matured enough that he realized that’s just variety, baby! sometimes you gotta suck it up and get made fun of a little. learned to laugh at himself & fire back — nowadays, it’s virtually impossible to hurt his feelings with a joke and fans know him well enough to know that he’s more than just a jester.

glass animals, dreamland / 2015 — present.

you’ve had too much of the digital love, you want everything live, you want things you can touch. make it feel like a movie you saw in your youth, make it feel like that song that just unopened you.

less than a year after debuting, daesung had already become bored of idol life. of course, it’s not like the industry itself is boring — it’s an eventful life with seemingly never-ending work hours, but all in all, it lacks the enthusiasm, color and realism that daesung has always, always craved. as a child and teenager, he already knew how big the world was beyond his own day to day life. half the reason he wanted to be a rockstar wasn’t because of his passion for rock music itself, but because of how rock ‘n’ roll is portrayed in the media. you can think whatever you want, but to daesung, their lively and borderline reckless lives appealed to him like nothing else ever had. to live like that — throwing caution to the wind, living for yourself and having fun was something he couldn’t fathom, but he wanted to experience it so bad. skip a few years in the future and he is a musician, but not the kind he wants to be. and nowhere near as free as he’d dreamt of being. his first complaint was backtracks on music shows; thoughts of how rock musicians would be called posers if they dared to perform without… well, actually performing. his second complaint was how strict the rules were. he learned to accept that there are extreme differences between idols and “real musicians” (as daesung himself would put it), but he still isn’t happy about it. you could say that he feels like his life is lacking something and possibly always will be lacking that something, but he tries to live as freely as he can while still avoiding ~controversies~.

grayscale, diamond / 2016 ― 2018.

i know it took some time, but i got my footing right. feeling, i’m feeling so good tonight. can’t stop me from dancing, can’t keep me from blooming. welcome to my, welcome to my — this world is my diamond.

as a public figure, it took some time before daesung was able to earn widespread approval. it’s not like he’s ever done anything controversial, it’s just that the rumors of him bring arrogant from next: origin story stuck around for a hot minute & his loud, impossible to ignore persona after debuting rubbed some folks the wrong way. by 2016, he’d managed to escape the negative opinions almost entirely and was able to ignore any lingering hate comments with ease. although he’s always had a happy and energetic demeanor publicly, any long-term fans could confirm in a heartbeat that he was the happiest from 2016 to 2018. during these two years, daesung felt like he was conquering the world — in retrospect, maybe this is really just the time when fame had him feeling the most invincible. but by 2019, there were other things factoring into his overall outlook, including his strong desire to break into acting versus gold star’s refusal to let him do so. he’s still pretty happy and grateful for where he’s at in life, but the elevated sense of self was left in 2018.

waterparks, lowkey as hell / 2016 ― present.

if you need me now, i’ll be there somehow. i’ll pick you up, we can ride. i’ll fly away like i bought my own airline, i’ll take you with me, we can ride. i’m highkey and lowkey as hell your diva, just wanna see ya. i’m highkey and lowkey as hell your sweetheart, don’t wanna be apart.

as a result from reading far too many hate comments about himself from next: origin story and promoting with songs that really, really embarrassed daesung, it took him a hot minute to fully adjust to idol life. he wasn’t sure what people thought of him (and as much as he tries to come off like he doesn’t care what people think, he definitely does), so he tried to shrink his presence as much as he possibly could. if for no other reason, then to at least get rid of the general public’s idea that he was arrogant. but by 2016, impulse had started making music that only slightly embarrassed daesung & he became more comfortable with the amount of attention that was on him. moreover, he become more comfortable with the love that his fans so readily gave him. he wanted to give them just as much of himself, even though the expected distance between idols and their fans made it hard to do so. since 2016, he’s been walking along a thin line more often than not, trying to get as close to his fans as he possibly can without ~breaking the illusion~ as his managers have so elegantly put it, even though daesung will argue that he’s not a magic trick and there shouldn’t be an illusion to begin with. he loves inpulses very, very dearly and constantly dishes out reminders in any way he can. he wants to be his best self for them ― not because that’s part of his job, but because he genuinely cares about who they are beyond a view count and nameless comments. their love and support is what keeps his spirits up and he wants to give them the same strength, no matter what. (aka daesung will never understand why he has to play a character instead of jus bein able to ACTUALLY be there for his fans)

#𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆. playlist.#2000+ words of pure nonsense tbh #i honestly don't rec reading this BUT #the songs are fire so i do rec listening to those

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btxtreads · 4 years

Text

ANOTHER TAG ASHJHJASD

extra long tag game (aka a tmi that no one particularly cares for)

tagged by @txthearteu

tagging @markhyucknorenminchenji @qtsoobin @beomberry @txtdiaries and other people who wanna do it idk

ONE

tell me the first song that made you stan your current fave group and why did your faves attract you so much?

of course, none other than king943 hSJADJSAJHAS. He’s a little secret I’ll let you all in on: the first person I actually noticed in TXT was,,,,,,, Kang Taehyun hSDHJAHJSDAHSA but he wasn’t my bias. I just thought he was cute (also amused me bc my BTS bias was Taehyung and I found a guy named Taehyun cute), but I didn’t stan them then. I started stanning when I saw ONE DREAM.TXT where they talked to BTS and found them really cute and endearing. Looking into them, they were wild, and chaotic and so fun and also i got rEAAAALLY attached to Soobin. So here I am. There u go, my stanning story.

TWO

rule: answer the ten questions and write your own!

what’s your unrealistic goal for life?

becoming a famous actress or singer hJSHADJSA

if you had known that we would be in a global pandemic, what’s one thing that you would’ve done before things shut down (if they have for you)?

Went to a theme park. I miss going to theme parks 🥺

what’s an unconventional thing that you carry around with you when you go out?

hmmm most of the time i just go out with just my phone and money unless I need to bring a bag due to safety concerns/more items needed. So I’d say nothing unconventional.

favourite type of plushies and why?

God do I seem boring hsahsajjsa but i wasn’t too big on plushies. I had a gigantic teddy bear named Justin when I was a kid (it’s a bear with shades that my brother gave me) and I used to buy plushies whenever I’m in disneyland, it’s all in my sister’s reading lounge. The only plushie in my room now is a Mollang doll wearing like a blue shirt/dress, it’s my favorite rn It’s squishyyyy

favourite song right now?

right now, it’s Work It by Sabrina Carpenter.

something that you’ve always wanted to learn?

Dancing (i literally suck. i have no idea how. no joke), Vocal Lessons (had some lessons briefly for like a year but i stopped and want to take some again), music production, acting, hosting

tell a funny story about yourself (or just something that you’ve witnessed)

ok okok so one time in our class groupchat we were talking about class elections for officers. There were muse votes and some people were saying they want me to be the muse but i didnt want to bc i was busy with work. Then they started saying that they want me to be the muse and this guy that i rejected be the escort. while this is happening, i was simping hard for soobin in another chat. anyways, i got everything mixed up and accidentally sent the soobin simp stuff to the class chat and everyone thought i was simping for the classmate i rejected i was so asHAMED.

headphones or speakers? why?

speakers! idk i just like blastic the music loud.

craving any food right now? what are you craving?

anything with cheese

which music streaming platform do you prefer? why?

spotify since its free for me askjjksad someone pays for my subscription lmaooo

😌✌️

questions from cj to me:

android or apple? why?

APPLE because im loyal 😌 and i guess im just used to it so its easier to use for me + all my gadgets at home are mac

words of affirmation or physical affection? why?

I think there should be a good balance of both. The words will have the ability to give you this sense of comfort and satisfaction and you know just overall a peace of mind when you hear the right words??? and physical affection bc sometimes it’s just better to get a hug or a kiss isntead of talking yk? actions speak louder than words sometimes

bean bag or rocking chair? why?

Honestly, this would depend. If I’m reading a book and feeling very vintage with a hot cup of coffee, definitely a rocking chair. If I’m watching TV and basically just chilling I’d go for Bean Bag. I like maintaining the atmosphere.

do you view a half-filled glass as half-full or half-empty or an in-between? why? (go as deep as you can)

I view it as in-between, because there’s always room for improvement. There’s always things to change, and consider, and make better. There’s no such thing as perfect.

If someone were to grant your wish right now, what would it be and why?

Please stop corona right now and let everyone go back to their daily lives and please let me attend a TXT concert bls im begging on my kNEES

if someone were to give you anything you want right now, what would it be and why? (something that can be held)

Give me Soobin I just want to give him a hug. this is valid i can hold him

favorite season and why

Winter! Even if I’ve never experienced snow or winter before, the whole idea of snow is just really fun and endearing to me. One of my bucketlists is to see snow in real life. I think it has to do with the fact that I’ve always been this person to prefer the cold over heat.

what made you enter tumblr?

I’ve always been here! Just not in kpop tumblr. I’ve since deleted my old accounts and shame but i came back to write. It’s always been so stress-relieving to me, to write without any expectations on my back because I’m thinking about grades or a competition. Also Soobin simping is a daily thing and I gotta release it somewhere man

are you happy with where you are in life right now? why or why not?

Yes. I may not be the richest or the prettiest, or smartest or whatever, but I have a good family that loves me. I have good friends that support me and I have TXT and BTS to help me cope when things get overwhelming. I have a job that gives me a little bit of income (it’s not too common for college students here to get jobs like in the US, most of them just focus on acads) and all the means to continue my education amidst the pandemic. So really, I’m grateful for where I am now.

to see the boys in real life but for it to happen only once in your lifetime, or to meet the boys via online fan meeting as many times as you can in your lifetime? why?

Why do you have to do me dirty cj,,,,, prolly online. I may not get to hug them or anything but I get to talk to them still. As may times as I want to. And as a girl whose sanity literally just depends on Soobin giggles rn it’ll be very therapeutic to me to see them and talk to them as much as I could, even just through a screen.

QUESTIONS FROM ME TO YOU:

Cinema or Netflix? Why?

Fire or Rain? Why?

What’s the worst experience you’ve had as a KPOP stan?

How do you handle stress?

Favorite Disney Princess and why?

Which fictional character do you say you relate the most to?

How did you get into KPOP?

What kind of merch you got 👀

Would you date a KPOP idol? What would you do if you do date one? (doesnt have to be your bias, just wanna see what y’all would do)

Would you rather be with someone you love but doesn’t love you back or be with someone that loves yu but you don’t love them back? (Or, as the Filipinos would say, Mahal ko o Mahal Ako)

THREE

rule: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people.

AIR ༉⋆͙̈

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see the dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE ༉⋆͙̈

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER ༉⋆͙̈

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love simply lit dinners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH ༉⋆͙̈

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love this chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER ༉⋆͙̈

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

FOUR

PERSONAL

name: -

nickname: rina

birthday: -

zodiac: gemini

nationality: filipino

languages: english, filipino

gender: female

sexuality: straight

height: 5′2 like 2 years ago, i probably grew like an inch or two

BLOG STUFF

inspiration for muse: --

meaning behind my url: bts and txt fanfics to read hasjhsahj

blog established: ,,,,, i cant remember askjjksdjkdsa but the blog is only a few months old!

followers: 384!!! love yall

FAVORITES

favourite animals: b u n n y y y y y

favourite books: CAMP HALF BLOOD SERIES BY RICK RIORDAN IM ZEUS’ DAUGHTER YALL

favourite colour: black, blue, purple

favourite fictional characters: Percy Jackson, Jaron from Ascendance Trilogy, Chimmy!!! hihi

favourite flower: white roses

favourite scent: coffee

favourite season: winter

RANDOM

average hours of sleep: 3-5 or 8-10.

cats or dogs: dogs because cats scare me

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: coffee!!! especially if it’s iced and sweet

current time: 12:21 AM

dream trip: California. Look I have the visa, pls miss rona. just leave so cali can just let me IN

dream job: actress or singer

hobbies: writing, reading, watching crackvids

hogwarts house: gryffindor

last movie watched: Work It (bc it has sabrina carpenter ahshsahsa i have low standards when we talk about Sabrina)

last song listened to: Helpless - Hamilton OBC

no. of blankets you sleep with: 1

random fact(s): if given the chance again, I would go on a date in high school. Also try to exert more effort in my appearance back then i looked like an honest to god M E S S (tbh i still do but now i have eyebrow liner on) hsajhsajhh

FIVE

10 things I can’t stop listening to (at the moment)

Run Away - TXT

Work It - Sabrina Carpenter

Euphoria - BTS

Song Cry - Yeonjun

Helpless - Hamilton OBC

Satisfied - Hamilton OBC

Journey to the past - Anastasia OBC

Lost in the Woods - Frozen OST

Perfect Song - Sabrina Carpenter

Friends - BTS

#tags #tagging #tagged yet again #sadjkjksdajad #what a mess #im so basic wtf

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