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lilyvandersteen · 1 year

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Home Away From Home by @lilyvandersteen

This story was written for the Klaine Prompt Reverse Bang, and is dedicated to @justgleekout, who made art for this prompt, and to my faithful beta @hkvoyage. Thank you so much!

Summary:

Cooper buys a hotel sight unseen and asks Blaine to run it for him over the summer. Only, the hotel is a health and safety hazard and Inspectors Hummel and Abrams are hell-bent on closing it down. Can Blaine spruce the hotel up in time and save Cooper's investment?

Rated M. Warning for the use of a rape drug in the story. No actual rape, though, I assure you.

You can also read this story on AO3.

~~~~~~

Prologue

Thump!

Blaine woke with a start as he fell out of bed.

“Oops!” said his roommate, wincing sympathetically. “Didn’t mean to push you that hard, but you just wouldn’t wake up.”

Blaine groaned and rubbed his sore bottom as he got up, squinting at his alarm clock. “Tina! It’s three o’clock in the morning! Why would you wake me up at this hour?”

“So you could answer your phone. Or silence it. It’s been blaring off and on for at least ten minutes. You’re lucky I haven’t smashed it to bits yet!”

Right on cue, Blaine’s phone went off again. He grabbed it and tapped the Answer button.

“Hey squirt!” Cooper boomed.

“Don’t call me… Coop, why on EARTH are you waking me up in the middle of the night?”

“What? It’s not… Oh, hang on, time difference. Right. Didn’t think of that, squirt, sorry.”

Blaine sighed. “Don’t call me squirt. And okay, I guess you’re filming somewhere at the other side of the world again?”

“Yes, we’re working on that fantasy series for Netflix that I told you about. I’m in Thailand right now. Flying to New Zealand tomorrow. I’m having a total blast.”

“That’s great. Now tell me, what was so important you had to tell me right this minute?”

“Oh! Oh, just you wait, you’re going to LOVE this!”

“Uh-oh,” Blaine mumbled between gritted teeth. “What now?”

Cooper either didn’t hear him, or pretended not to.

“You know how you’re always telling me to stop spending my money on stuff like cars and tech, right?”

Blaine huffed. “And with good reason. You spend an obscene amount on gadgets. And that Bugatti is SO over the top.”

“Exactly!” said Cooper. “Well, now I’ve made a ‘sound investment’, as you call it. Real estate, as you advised.”

Blaine’s heart leapt. “Really? You bought a place in New York? And you’re calling me to ask me if I will move in with you? The answer’s yes!”

Tina put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“Nah… No. Not exactly.”

Blaine’s sense of misgiving tingled.

“I didn’t buy a house. I bought a hotel. It was a steal, I’m telling you. I couldn’t pass it up!”

“A hotel? Where? Why?”

“Well, I won’t be this pretty forever, you know,” Cooper explained. “And then I might not get booked as an actor anymore. So I needed to find a back-up plan for when I stop being in demand. Talked about it with the guys here over lunch, and Sebastian Smythe, who plays my younger brother in the series we’re filming, said he had a hotel he could sell me. I kind of like the thought of offering people a nice vacation, you know. A home away from home. Maybe I could do a one-man show after dinner. Like they do on cruises. Doesn’t that sound amazing?”

“Yes, yes, that’s all very well, but you’re still filming now. So who’s going to run the hotel?”

“Well, that’s where you come in,” Cooper announced cheerfully. “You’re done with your exams, right? And now you’ve got several months off. So you can go check out the hotel for me. See if the staff that’s in place is okay or needs to be replaced.”

“Coop, are you insane?”

“Think of it as a free vacation, squirt. I’m sure the staff will pamper you once they find out you’re the brother of the new owner!”

Blaine shook his head slowly in disbelief. “Have you even SEEN the place before you bought it?”

“On the website, yes. It looks great!”

“Ugh, Coop! So you saw a couple of pretty pictures on a website and shelled out a fortune sight unseen? How can you be sure the place even exists?”

Cooper chuckled. “Well, of course it exists! The previous owner sent me an Excel spreadsheet with the bookings. It’s booked solid for the rest of the year already! Just think what a fortune I’m going to make!”

Blaine tugged at his curls in frustration, repressing an ungodly urge to strangle his brother. “UN-BE-LIEVE-A-BLE. You are unbelievable! Okay, not everyone has a head for business, but I can’t believe you are THIS much of an idiot! Are you sure you’re actually my brother and George Anderson’s son? Our father would have a conniption if he found out about this!”

“I thought you’d be happy I’d followed your advice.”

Blaine could almost hear his brother’s pout.

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair again.

“I know you meant well. But… Buying a place without even visiting it first is not a good idea, and that’s putting it mildly. There could be all sorts of things wrong with it. If you say you didn’t pay much, that’s quite likely, in fact. This ‘investment’ of yours may be just as useless as that Nintendo Wii Supreme you just had to have.”

“Hey! It’s not useless! I’ve used it a lot!” Cooper protested. “And I’m sure it’s all on the up and up. As I said, the pics on the website look fantastic!”

Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose and suppressed another sigh. Talking to Cooper was very much like talking to a toddler, sometimes.

“Coop … Anyone can copy-paste a couple of nice pictures onto a website. That doesn’t prove anything. Did the realtor give you a virtual tour?”

“Uhm… No.”

“Did you pay someone to do a thorough inspection of the property before you bought it?”

“No.”

“Please tell me that the offer you made had a home inspection contingency, at least?”

“Uhm… No idea.”

Blaine’s voice rose an octave. “A title contingency, to make sure no-one else can claim the property?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you even so much as look the hotel up on TripAdvisor to see if it had good reviews?”

“Nope, didn’t think of that.”

“Oh, Coop…” Blaine groaned. “What a mess! You need to go there, stat, and check the property from top to bottom. You actually bought it already, right? It’s not just an offer you can withdraw?”

“It’s mine, yes. I signed a contract. But you know I can’t go check the property right now. I’m heading to New Zealand tomorrow, and I’m needed there for at least six more weeks.”

Blaine let his head down, overwhelmed. “Ugh… I’m not awake enough for this. Coop, send me all the info, and the contract, by e-mail. I’ll look it over and see what our options are.”

“I knew I could count on you, squirt. Thanks a lot. I’ll send you everything. And now I’ll let you sleep. Sorry again for waking you up, and talk to you later!”

Cooper rang off, and Blaine was left staring at the phone in his hands in bewilderment.

Tina cocked her head to the side. “So… Your brother bought a hotel? Just like that?”

Blaine nodded. “Just like that. And then recruited me to sort everything out for him. Oh, this is going to be a disaster!”

“Why are you in such a panic about this, Blainey Days? Surely, your brother wouldn’t let himself be duped?”

Blaine groaned. “Oh, yes, he would!”

He patted Tina on the arm. “But that’s my problem, not yours. You can go back to bed, and I’m sorry my idiot brother woke you up like that. I’ll make you pancakes in the morning to make up for it, okay?”

“Okay. G’night.”

Blaine wearily shuffled back to his bed, and was out like a light.

By six a.m., though, he was awake again, worrying.

After half an hour of tossing and turning, he got up quietly and started up his computer.

Cooper had sent the files, as requested.

The contract did not have a home inspection contingency nor a title contingency, as Blaine had feared.

The hotel wasn’t in a nice touristy location. It was in the middle of nowhere. A place called Lima, Ohio.

Also, the hotel had certainly not been a “steal”. Cooper must have sunk a lot of capital into it.

The photos on the website did look good, yes, but as soon as Blaine checked the reviews about the hotel on TripAdvisor, he knew they had to be fake.

All of the reviews were negative. And it was bad. Worse even than Blaine had feared.

The mildest complaint was one about the lack of free Wi-Fi. It went steadily downhill from there.

Guests complained about the hotel being overbooked. About dirty and stinky rooms. About a faulty outlet that fried their shaver. About bed bugs and cockroaches. About leaking taps that kept them up all night. About wanting a nice hot shower and only getting freezing cold water. About noisy neighbours that kept them up all night because the walls were so flimsy you could hear everything through them. About beds that creaked with every move they made and mattresses so old and thin their back was in knots. About sweltering heat in summer and bone-deep cold in winter, because the air conditioning units didn’t work. About the stale bread and lukewarm coffee they got for breakfast. About seeing mice in the restaurant. About rude staff that would come into their room without even knocking or that were accused of stealing money and a phone charger. About the lack of elevators and ramps for wheelchairs. And a blind person complained about their assistance dog not being let in.

When he’d read all of the scathing reviews, Blaine let out his breath in a big woosh.

Oh, Cooper, what have you done now?

Blaine felt like banging his head on the table in frustration, but refrained, choosing to get started on the pancakes instead.

When Tina emerged from her bedroom and saw how unhappy her roommate looked, she steered him towards a kitchen chair to give him a shoulder massage, saying, “Tell me all about it, Bee.”

So Blaine told her everything.

She whistled low. “I know the place. I grew up in Lima. And that hotel was where I lost my virginity after prom.”

Blaine shuddered. “TMI!”

Tina laughed. “Oh please! That’s something everyone does in high school. Get over yourself!”

Blaine wouldn’t meet her eyes, thinking of the only school dance he’d ever been to and how that had ended.

“Not everyone,” he mumbled.

“Well, anyway,” said Tina, “the place was a dump even then. I’d say sell it again immediately. But who’s going to want it? And even if someone does, they’ll pay a lot less than your brother did, so he’ll lose a lot of money.”

“Yep.”

“Can he afford to lose that much money?”

“Nope.”

Tina clacked her tongue. “Then we’ll have to do what we can to save the situation.”

“We?”

Tina put her hands on her hips. “Yes, well, unlike SOME people, I believe in roommate solidarity. Don’t think I didn’t hear you, telling Cooper you’d move in with him!”

“I meant for you to come with me, of course,” Blaine tried weakly, but Tina wasn’t having it, sending him a fierce glare.

Blaine looked down and swallowed, remembering how happy he’d been for a moment before Cooper had dashed his hopes. “Sorry. I just… I saw myself living in one of those pretty brownstones, and I jumped the gun. Sorry. As it happens, you don’t need to be scared I’ll leave you in the lurch. If I want a brownstone, I’ll have to buy one with my own money one day. Cooper’s proved once again that I shouldn’t count on him. And I was a fool to think I could, even for a split second. He’s an idiot, and all he ever does is make my life difficult. I should know that by now. He’s proved it so many times.”

“Aww, don’t be so hard on him.”

Blaine put a pancake on his plate and drowned it in syrup. Then he started shovelling big bites into his mouth, chewing with vigour and determinedly not looking at Tina.

“Blaine, don’t be like that. He made a mistake. We all do that, don’t we?”

Blaine swallowed a piece of pancake and retorted, “Our mistakes don’t cost millions of dollars. That’s the difference.”

“Well, he’ll make more millions, won’t he? How much does he get for that acting job he’s doing now?”

Blaine shrugged. “Dunno. But it had better be a lot, if we’re to renovate the hotel he bought. Let me first check with Monique if we can get that contract voided, though. I don’t think we’ll be that lucky, but it won’t hurt to check.”

“Who’s Monique?”

“She works for my father,” Blaine clarified. “Has done so for years. She’s like part of the family. I’ve known her since I was very little. Played with her daughter in my father’s office.”

“Hmm, so how could she help you? And why would she?”

“Monique has a soft spot for me,” Blaine smiled, thinking of all the scrapes with his father she’d gotten him out of. “And she knows this stuff like the back of her hand. She does everything that’s to do with real estate for my father. Buying, selling, finding contractors for renovation works, buying furniture for buildings, you name it, she does it.”

Tina cocked her head to the side. “Why didn’t Cooper contact her then, if he wanted to buy a hotel?”

“Coop’s more of a split-second decision kind of guy,” Blaine told her. “Never looks before he leaps. And then he looks to me to solve the problems he’s created. It’s exhausting.”

“You’d think he were the younger brother,” Tina giggled.

“Yep. He’s almost forty, but he still has the impulse control of a four-year-old.”

After breakfast and doing the dishes, Blaine called Monique and explained the situation, sending her all the documents. She confirmed what he thought – there was no backing out of the contract anymore.

Ugh.

“Could you check if the place is Cooper’s outright, please?” Blaine asked. “Seeing as there’s no title contingency, there’s no knowing who else might have a claim on it.”

“I’ll look into it,” Monique said, “but I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

“Oh, and please don’t tell our father about this, Monique, okay?” Blaine implored her. “He’d go ballistic, and even though Coop is a moron, I don’t want him dead.”

Monique laughed and promised not to breathe a word about it to Mr. Anderson. “And if you need any help fixing the place up, you know who to call. Glad to help, whatever you need!”

“Well, the first thing we’re going to need is pest control. So if you know a good pest control firm over there in Ohio?”

Monique hummed and click-clacked on her keyboard for a minute or two. Then she said, “We’ve worked with Orkin, based in Cincinnati, Ohio. Did the job well. I’ll e-mail you their contact information. What else?”

“An HAVC specialist, a handyman and an electrician to fix all sorts of stuff, and a reliable plumber. Oh, and another thing… You buy loads of office furniture and supplies cheap in auctions, right? When companies go bust and their assets are sold to pay the debts?”

“That’s right. Want me to look for hotel stuff for you?”

“Yes, please. Furniture, mattresses, quality linens, you name it, we’re going to need it. Thanks, Monique!”

Monique chuckled. “It’s your brother who should say thank you. The things we do for that boy, right?”

“Right,” Blaine sighed. “Looks like I’m heading to Ohio for the summer. I’ll keep you posted, Monique, and thanks again!”

#klaine fanfiction #klaine prompt reverse bang #justgleekout #enemies to lovers #though enemies is too strong a term #happy reading!

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actingwithportals · 3 years

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Since we’re talking about the deplorable Portal movie again, I’m gonna drop my two cents into why this bothers me particularly, on a personal level, in what a Portal movie might do to the story. (Buckle in, this is a long post.)

(Also, for anyone who doesn’t know the “Portal Movie” has been in production hell for literal years and it feels pretty unlikely it will escape that anytime soon, if the movie does eventually get made at all, so this is a mostly theoretical discussion but one I think is important nonetheless.)

(Also also I’m going under the assumption of a Portal movie following the characters and story we already know from the games as opposed to giving us new characters and plot and just centering it around the concept of Portal. This is also theoretical and isn’t confirmed that that’s how an actual Portal movie would go.)

So, I think the objective biggest concern to have with what could possibly go grossly wrong with a Portal movie is the Hollywood need to whitewash characters of color, aka Chell in this instance. Plus how they might handle her muteness, how they would handle her as a woman protagonist, how they would handle GLaDOS as a woman antagonist, and the overall themes of Portal that ultimately centers around these two women characters who both experienced abuse, either from each other or from Aperture itself. But there are people who are more informed to speak on those issues than I am, so I’m gonna leave that to them and talk about something that I’ve got the experience to discuss instead.

My boy Doug Rattmann. (note: I’m schizophrenic.)

In the event of a Portal movie that follows the main storyline of the game(s), Rattmann isn’t likely to be a character we actually see (outside of potential flashbacks), but his presence would be made known because his presence and influence in Aperture are both very integral to the story and Chell’s ultimate success. It’s very likely he would get brought up, even if just by showing us his murals and referencing who he was in life and the role he played as an Aperture employee, and as the only person to survive GLaDOS’s attack that put the facility into the position Chell wakes to find it in.

And I don’t trust like that. I don’t trust that filmmakers with the motivation of fame and financial gain will take a character like Rattmann - a schizophrenic who throughout most of his relevance to the main story is unmedicated and in the midst of a very severe psychotic episode - and treat him with care and respect and sympathy.

We see how movies treat mentally ill people, especially those of us with “scary” illnesses like schizophrenia. We see how we’re constantly reduced to being “crazy and unhinged and morally dubious because the voices in our heads tell us to hurt people”. We see how we’re used as jokes, as villains, as “pathetic” fodder to get killed off for shallow sympathy and shock value, and you know what? I don’t anticipate Rattmann would get a much more nuanced approach from a JJ Abrams film than... that. It’s hard for me to imagine he would be presented to the audience as anything much more than the “crazy ps*cho” who survived because of his paranoia (because “a broken clock is still right two times a day”) and wrote some funny iconic line on the walls in his madness such as “the cake is a lie”. That’s what I fear we’d get, because I know that’s how most of the world sees us. Because that’s how people see me when they learn I’m schizophrenic.

The Lab Rat comic did something that’s rarely seen in a lot of mainstream media I think. It gave us a schizophrenic protagonist who we as the readers got to see both in a successful career - medicated and well and seemingly having an average life despite where he worked - and in the midst of what was a very frightening psychotic episode, because medication was not available to him and he had no other option but to let things progress to that point. And he was Still a hero. He was Still sympathetic. He was Still treated with respect and as someone we were meant to root for and connect with. His humanity wasn’t taken from him, and in fact it shone through clearly. Because psychotic people are still people even when we’re experiencing psychosis.

And, you know, let alone the fact that the comic didn’t drop him into the trope of becoming a violent or otherwise “evil” person when he was unmedicated. He retained the same morals he had when he was medicated - the paranoia didn’t take that away from him. I like to think that my paranoia doesn’t take that away from me too.

I just.. I don’t feel good at the thought of something so beautifully done, something that we almost never get, being reduced to bad tropes for the sake of suspense and theatrics and a good buck. I mean, it might not happen; I might just be critical and overthinking. But it usually does, and I’m usually not. There’s endless evidence in media to support this pattern, and I think it’s a valid concern to have.

I don’t think people can’t be excited about a Portal movie - I know that I would be over the moon if a Portal movie came out that did the source material justice. But people are going to have concerns due to the fact that many things in these games were done with a lot of nuance and care, and it’s hard to believe something like this could be repeated, especially when copied over to a new medium. I mean, as it was recently pointed out to me even Valve themselves dropped the ball by lightening Chell’s character model between P1 and P2. The source material itself still does have its faults despite its successes, so who’s to say people can’t be worried that a movie would do something equally egregious or worse?

Portal means a lot to me. It has for many years and it will continue to mean a lot to me for a long time to come. The validation I found in Rattmann’s character at the exact moment in my life when I needed it most is not something that just happens any day. So I’m going to be critical, I’m going to be skeptical. I’m happy for people who are excited, but please don’t tell me or others that we shouldn’t be concerned.

I’ve got this one really incredible schizophrenic rep that Portal Lab Rat gave us. I’m allowed to fear that getting taken away.

#portal #portal 2 #doug rattmann #ableism

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thebookreader12345 · 3 years

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Non-Stop Bickering

Pairing: Crockett Marcel x reader

Summary: Being a neurosurgeon, Y/N never thought she'd be spending most of her days in the ED, especially with Dr. Marcel, who she claims she can't stand being around

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: slight swearing, mentions of death

Word Count: 1,468 Words

"Y/N," Dr. Abrams shouted to get my attention. "I just got a page about a neuro consult in the ED."

"Okay. And...?" I trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"So go down there and deal with it," Sam spoke.

"But the page went to you," I counter.

"And as the Head of Neurosurgery, I'm making you do it," Sam retorted.

"I hate you sometimes, Sam," I tell my boss.

Dr. Abrams cracked a small smile. "No you don't. Have fun!" It didn't take me long to make my way down to the ED, and when I arrived, I found Maggie, who was standing at the nurses' station.

"Hey, Maggie," I greet the charge nurse. "I was told someone needed a neuro consult."

"Yes. Dr. Marcel," Maggie called out and waved the doctor over. "Your neuro consult is here."

"I asked for Dr. Abrams," Crockett claimed.

"Yeah, well, he sent me instead," I say. "Lets just get this over with. I don't want to see your face any longer than I have to."

"For your information, many people find me handsome," Crockett shared.

"Uh-huh," I hum as we made our way to the patient's room. "I'm sure they do."

"It's the truth," Crockett insisted.

"Right. What did you need me for?" I ask.

"My patient, Jaimie, she's 17 years old and was just in a huge car crash with her parents. I took her to surgery a few hours ago and she was fine after that, but all of a sudden she crashed and has been on the vent since," Crockett informed me.

"Got it," I mutter as the two of us entered the room. I pulled my pen from my jacket pocket and ran it up the bottom of Jaimie's feet. When that didn't stimulate a reaction, I swapped the pen out for a flashlight and shined the light in the teenagers eyes while also glancing towards the heart monitor standing off to the side.

"Well?" Crockett posed.

"Sorry," I apologize and shove the flashlight back into my pocket. "She's never gonna wake up."

"What? But she was fine earlier," Crockett put in.

"Yeah, but she's shown no reaction to pain or light. I'd talk to the parents as soon as possible to see if they'd like her organs to be donated," I advise.

"I told them that she'd be okay," Crockett murmured. "I promised them that they'd get their little girl back."

"You did what?" I hiss. "Crockett, you of all people should know that you can never promise that someone will make it out okay. Not when you work in the ED."

"She was fine when she came in," Crockett argued. "I just assumed...no. Jaimie can't be gone."

I scoffed. "So you don't believe me? You're the one who called me down here!"

"No, I called Dr. Abrams down here," Crockett corrected me.

"Whatever! Dr. Abrams would've come to the same conclusion I just did," I declare.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna page him down here," Crockett stated.

"Go ahead. But you're wasting your time," I warn him. "She's gone." And with that, I left Jaimie's room to go back up to the neuro wing. I stepped inside the elevator and pushed the button of the floor I wanted to go to before leaning against the back wall and crossing my arms over my chest. Just as the doors started closing, a voice from inside the ED became clear.

"Hold the doors!"

I leapt forwards and slotted my arm between the tiny open space, causing the elevator doors to spring back open. And there, standing before me, was Will Halstead. His cheeks were tinted a light shade of pink, and he seemed to be almost out of breath.

"Thank you," Will breathed out as he entered the elevator. He then pressed another button on the front wall of the elevator which lit up as the doors slid shut, leaving the two of us alone in the small box. As the elevator ascended, it was dead silent accept for the slight dinging that emitted from the speaker signaling that we had passed another floor. "So, I uh, I heard the argument you and Marcel had down in the ED."

"I'd rather not talk about it," I assert as politely as possible. "He asked for my professional opinion, I gave it, and then he questioned my ability to diagnose a patient. That's what happened. End of story."

"I don't think he meant it like that. I think he was just upset about his patient, and he let his emotions get out of control," Will offered. "And you know how he gets when his patients are kids."

For a split second, I felt bad for yelling at Crockett. I remembered that he once had a child who died, a little girl named Harper. And while she had never reached the age that Jaimie had, his fatherly instincts had kicked in. But that all went away at a moments notice when I also remembered that he had insulted my work.

"Yeah? Well you don't see me walking around talking shit about his work," I exclaim as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. "Just drop the issue, Will. I can't stand to be around Crockett, and I don't think I'll ever be able to."

"But Y/n," Will started, only for me to cut him off.

"It's okay. Things will sort themselves out soon enough," I assure him as I stepped out of the elevator. "See ya later, Halstead." I found Sam standing at the nurses' station in the neuro wing typing away on a tablet, and when he heard me approaching, he looked up.

"How was the consult?" Sam quizzed.

"Next time you get a page from the ED that Dr. Marcel needs a consult or whatever the hell else, you're taking it," I grumble and walk right past him.

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

I thought that after telling Sam I didn't want to do neuro consults in the ED for Dr. Marcel anymore, he'd listen and not assign me to do them. So when I got called down to the ED my next shift, I wasn't expecting to be directed Crockett.

"Not again," I mumble quietly as I approached Crockett, who was standing at the nurses' station putting away a tablet. He looked up as I approached, and a small smile graced his lips.

"You just couldn't stay away, could ya?" Crockett questioned.

"Just let me do my consult and I'll be on my way," I mutter. The consult only took a few minutes, and I was glad that I'd be able to leave ED, but just as I started walking away from the nurses' station, Crockett grabbed ahold of my arm.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Crockett seethed. "You didn't talk or even look at me the entire consult."

"Yeah, well, sorry if I don't want to be near the man who insulted my medical abilities," I retort.

"What? Come on. You're still mad about that?" Crockett asked.

"Of course I'm still mad about that! You can't just offend someone's career and expect everything to be okay after that! I mean, that really hu-"

I was cut off as Crockett surged forward, wrapped his arms around my waist, and pulled me towards him before placing his lips over mine. For a second, I was frozen where I stood. I didn't know what to do. But then my body reacted by kissing Crockett back. Crockett and I had always had a strange relationship. One minute we were fighting, the next we were flirting. And now here we were making out in front of the whole ED staff. After a few seconds, Crockett pulled away from me.

"I didn't think you'd kiss back," Crockett spoke.

"I didn't think you'd ever work up the courage to kiss me," I counter. "After all of our non-stop bickering, I thought you'd pick up that I liked you sooner."

"Believe me, I did," Crockett admitted. "I was just hesitant about approaching you because I didn't want our work to get in the way of what we could have."

"Well, I think I'll actually enjoy coming down to the ED now," I say.

Crockett smiled. "I'll look forward to seeing you. It'll probably be more often than we think since Dr. Abrams never comes down when I page."

I laughed softly. "Yeah, he doesn't like people interrupting his work, so he'll only come down if he's got absolutely nothing to do."

"Right, well, I'm off the clock in an hour, and I'm assuming you are too. What would you say if I asked you to grab a beer with me after work?" Crockett implored.

"I'd say I would love too," I reply.

"Great. Then I will see you after shift," Crockett claimed.

___________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @king-crockett

#one chicago #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #chicago med #chicago med x reader #chicago med imagines #chicago med imagine #crockett marcel #crockett marcel x reader #crockett marcel imagine #crockett marcel imagines #x reader #imagine #imagines

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angelguk · 3 years

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what happens in this section is entirely a result of what guys voted please do not! come for my head in my inbox im begging. very sad in general like Angst with a capital A with a sprinkle of despair and pain. listen to mess it up by gracie abrams. roughly 2k.

(titled — out of line)

You thought Lucas would help, the warmth of his body a distraction from your aching heart, but he didn’t. Not the way you needed him to. He was sweet enough, made you giggle endlessly before finding his place between your thighs. But even with his tongue on your clit, your (now usually sober) mind still lingered on Jeongguk, his memory a stain on your soul. It didn’t help when you spotted him with a girl hanging off his arm, her bright eyes stuck on his face, soaking him in like the earth does the sun. You didn’t know her name – Chayoung took the liberty of whispering it to you after your biology lab. She was Hyeri, a sophomore with a delicate laugh and graceful disposition. That vile vindictive black thing that now inhabited your chest swelled, brain already comparing the differences between you and her. Your clumsiness suddenly felt like a curse, even though Jeongguk had countlessly said he loved you for it (or did he say that just to ease your worries?). Insecurities spring forth like weeds and you don’t have the capacity to keep the careful garden of your heart tended.

They take over slowly, your eyes stinging whenever you see them huddled together in the quad. Bitter tears blinked back, your blinkered senses overlooking how Jeongguk’s quiet gaze followed your figure whenever you turned your back to him, even with Yoona yapping at his ears.

Perhaps the despondency that clung to your bones is what led you here, face planted in the musky scent of Namjoon’s sheets, your heart throbbing funny.

“Can you even breathe?” He questions. The timbre of his voice washes over you, familiar and somewhat reassuring. You twist upright to face him, eyes squeezing tight when the bright fluorescent lights in his room assaults your vision.

“I was hoping my heart would give up if I held it in long enough.”

Namjoon stills, brown eyes flitting over you. He coughs like he’s working through various sets of words before he decides what’s most suitable. “And then what? I get framed for murder when they find your body here?”

You laugh, and it hurts. “Maybe. My body is very portable though, did you consider first burying me in the backyard?”

“Rookie mistake,” Namjoon returns. He rises to fetch the mugs of tea sitting idle on a stool he’d dragged from the corner of his room. “The sniffer dogs would fly straight to that location. Also, I’d have to dig a hole big enough to fit your head in.”

“And why would the dogs find me immediately?” You say, shuffling upright, palms ready to receive the tepid heat that will seep through the ceramic the moment the cup settles in your hand.

“Your perfume,” Namjoon says. He hands you the mug, heat fulfilling its chosen purpose, the scent of gentle jasmine wafting to your nose.

You pout then, glancing at him. “My perfume?”

“It’s distinct. Violet, right? Maybe vanilla too?” Namjoon says it easily, sinking beside you, utterly unaware of the ticking in your brain. Your gaze falters then, shifting to his broad shoulder and thick biceps. The ivy shirt he’s got on barely contains all that muscle in, fabric stretched thin.

You take a sip of your tea, and despite the period Namjoon gave it to cool it still scalds your tongue.

“Why do you know what fragrance I wear?” It comes out accusatory, but Namjoon handles it well, laughing low.

“You’ve had the same one since high-school, I think. And I remember you telling me.”

The fingers around your cup squeeze tight, your brain unlocking a moment you’d forgotten in the wake of brighter ones. A quiet afternoon at the back of your high-school, Namjoon towering over you, his nose trailing the hollow of your neck, a stray comment about how you smelled good washing over you. It was followed by a flustered younger version of you deflecting, heart pounding wild when Namjoon drew back to look at you as you rattled off the different sillages that made up your favourite perfume. He’d laughed, low like did just now, before calling you cute and pulling you in for a kiss.

“Oh,” you finally murmur. “I remember now.”

You were actually going to change it after your break-up with him, but then Jeongguk had mentioned how much he’d liked it and the bottle had stayed.

Namjoon hums, his gaze slow as it shifts around the room. It’s a space that screams of him, light wood tones and plants breaking from the pristine white walls. Space carved for nature, a grounding sensation living within these four walls – something that seems to live inside of Namjoon too.

“How are you?” He suddenly asks, turning slowly to measure your features.

You blink hard, only realising then that you’d been staring at his face for a second too long. “F-fine. I’m okay. Just busy, y’know. Finals coming up, planning events; the usual.”

“I know,” Namjoon says with a ginger smile. “But that’s not what I’m asking. How are you? With Jeongguk and everything.”

“Oh.” You can’t answer that, his unexpected brazenness shocking your system. The smile on his lips fades, a solemnness in the brown of his eyes. His next words are earnest, and they settle in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t just come here to chat for no reason. We can talk about Jeongguk, that’s okay.”

“N-no, we don’t need it. We’re over. It’s been two months already. We’re seeing other people and I don’t really want to discuss one of my exes with another one. And maybe I did just come to see you,” you tack on an empty laugh at the end, hoping Namjoon doesn’t read right through you.

But he does. Like a part of you hoped he would.

“I’m your friend, you know. We had something but nothing like what you and Jeongguk have. Two months isn’t going to make a lifetime disappear. It’s okay if you still feel bad.”

That’s what cracks you, a well-aimed hammer knocking your walls right down. You bite your lip hard, fingertips pinching the ceramic in your grasp, and swallow the tears looming in your throat with a choked laugh.

“I’m fine, Namjoon. I feel a little like shit but I’m working on it. And Lucas is a great guy–”

“But he’s not Jeongguk.” The sentence feels heavy as if it carries the weight of many hearts on it. But it’s also a line you were thinking about earlier, even with Lucas pressed against you.

“That’s not what I would say–”

“But it’s what you were thinking,” Namjoon cuts. Maybe there’s a peephole in your head that only Namjoon has access to. “And that’s fine. It sucks for Lucas, though. But you shouldn’t feel bad for thinking that way. Especially when you know how special Jeongguk is to you.”

Special. The word is bright, glimmering like Jeongguk’s eyes do.

“I-I just–it just–I don’t know.” The tears you’d attempted to seal inside burst, slipping down your cheeks quiet. Namjoon pry's the mug from your hand, replaces its warmth with his own, and for a split second things feel bearable.

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs, a calloused palm on your damp cheek, his steadiness clearing away the gloomy skies in your head. But he doesn’t tell you to stop crying, doesn’t whisper that it’ll be okay. He just tugs you closer, rests your splinting head on his wide chest, and soaks up the tears on your face with his shirt. Like the earth does for the pouring heavens.

You eventually hiccup the despair down, finding the words to explain to Namjoon what you were feeling in between the moments where breathing didn’t feel like a race. He takes the news of Jeongguk kissing somebody days after your break-up with wide eyes, his eyebrows drawing together. And then comes the second girl, you don’t even know her name but it still cleaves something out of you. And finally, Hyeri. Her name is a lament.

“And it sucks because he looks happy with her and I still want him to be happy because I still love him. I love him so much it hurts.”

Namjoon cocks his head then, his wide palm sliding down your back. “You think Jeongguk looks happy?”

“Yes?” But it’s a question, your upward gaze on his face imploring.

Namjoon shakes his head instead. You don’t hear it, the following words a deep muffled murmur, “Both of you are idiots.” But you see the twinkle in his eyes and it makes your back straighten.

You want to pester but Namjoon pulls you closer, and you lose yourself in the feeling of him, before a question can register on your tongue. His arms are huge, like sturdy branches defying the blistering gales of your heart. He lets you cry for a little longer, listening intently to the continuing spew of words from your lips, until the storm quiets into a breeze.

“Okay?” Namjoon asks.

You stick your head further into his chest, breathe him in deep. “Okay.”

When he shifts away your skin freezes, but then you realise he’s reaching for a blanket. He swathes it around you fondly, pulling you in for a swift hug before falling out of your reach once more.

“Now, I think we both need a moment to process that.” He’s talking about but you’re not listening, your eyes on his face, gaze gently trailing the curve of his lips. “I also think we need food before we start unpacking the mess you’re in–”

You swallow the sentence with your lips, salt singeing the corners of your mouth. But your movements are not reciprocated, Namjoon’s mouth is still under yours. The soft hand on your neck guiding you away is what pulls you back, right out of that strange dark desperate ocean that held you.

“Y/N–”

“Sorry, shit–shit, I shouldn’t have done that.” But there’s no use now, you can’t take it back. Namjoon is looking at you with those eyes, the ones that feel like pity. His sympathy suddenly makes you feel sick, and you wish the ceiling would give away and shatter your head. “I should go.”

He tries to stop you, firm but gentle with his words and hands. But you’re a wild storm again and nothing can stop you from snatching your butterfly tote bag from the floor of his room and fleeing. The black thing that had been subdued for a moment reemergence with vengeance the second you hit the sidewalks, vision reeling. How could you do that? To Namjoon? To the stable friendship you'd created? But he felt too warm, too caring, too much of everything that you longing for and that Lucas could never give you.

Just a reminder of the swimmer's name as you skidding to a halt, the thump in your chest vicious. Maybe Jeongguk was right. Constantly painting yourself the victim while actively hurting the ones around you. Maybe you should have never let him kiss you again on that rooftop. Maybe you should have never tried to love him.

—

It’s silent in your head when you get back to your apartment. Sieun is home, finally back from her trip to her boyfriend’s parents place, so you’re not surprised to hear the soft hum of laughter filtering through the house. You don’t expect to find Chayoung there though.

They’re huddling in the kitchen, drifting out cheery greetings when you trudge it, only to fall silent when you mumble back a hollow response. A gentle song floating from the radio fills the empty space, three bodies navigating something tense.

“Were you with Lucas?” Sieun eventually pokes. She’s not a big fan of him. She’s not a big fan of the current break-up between you and Jeongguk either. She’s going to hate you for what you’re about to tell her.

“No,” you mumble. There are twenty notifications flashing across your phone screen, all from Namjoon. You feel sick, and you might cry again.

“Well? What’s with the long face?” Chayoung adds.

You take a deep breath, gripping the marble counter tight before twisting around. Better to rip it off all at once right? And there’s no way you could hold this inside of you, not when there is barely any room for your broken heart.

“I kissed Namjoon.”

“WHAT?” Sieun’s jaw slams into the ground and Chayoung freezes beside her, like her joints have suddenly been welded together. They stare at you for long you might have grown a second head during it. And then the questions come, a torrent erupting. You blank for a second, and then the guilt crawls up your spine. It may only be thirteen past five in the afternoon but you definitely need a drink.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #bts x reader #i said this was gonna tomorrow but my brain said tonight so here we are #nobody ask me how we're gonna come back from this #this is ur fault!!#bts angst #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic

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ragingpancake · 3 years

Note

Ancients bless you for writing McShep. ♥️ I would LOVE to read something about John finding out Rodney plays piano o.o ... And maybe Rodney finds out John plays guitar O.O ... And m a y b e they start playing together 🥺🥺🥺 Or really anything involving them and their respective instruments; it can go wherever you want. ♥️

A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay on this! Thank you so very much for sending me this prompt! I hope you enjoy it! There are a lot of things he thinks he’d rather be doing at two am. Sleep, for one thing, because it’s been a long few days and while the bed the SGC had offered him at Cheyenne Mountain wasn’t as comfortable as the child sized bed he’d grown used to in Atlantis, it served the purpose well enough. But it’s not just the Pegasus Galaxy that hates them and so here he is, driving down the familiar streets of Fort Carson on his way back to the rundown bar he’d left most of his people at about four hours earlier. He’s annoyed, but he also understands: the memorial service for Carson had been rough, his loss felt more acutely somehow here on Earth than it had been on Atlantis and so despite the fact that the bartender had to call him to round up his group of misfits and herd them back to the base, he won’t be too hard on them. Pulling into the bar parking lot, he parks the borrowed car and climbs out, and even from here, he can hear the noise coming from inside and there are a lot of things he expects to find, but as he pulls the door open and steps inside, this is… one hundred percent not one of those things. “Sing us a song you're the piano man

Sing us a song tonight

Well we're all in the mood for a melody

And you've got us feelin' alright

Now John at the bar is a friend of mine—" Rodney spots him now and from his place at the piano, he falters, hitting the wrong keys in his haste to stand and wave, grinning broadly. “Hey! My buddy John! John! Hey! Come here!” John can tell, even from the doorway, that Rodney is completely wasted. His cheeks are flushed, eyes glazed, and Evan Lorne behind him isn’t in any better shape. The only one who appears to not be completely obliterated is Ronon, who’s leaning against the bar with an amused look on his face. John nods in his direction and walks over, never pulling his eyes from Rodney as he sinks back down onto the piano bench, resuming his rousingrendition of Piano Man while the left over stragglers in the bar hoot and holler, clearly enjoying the performance. “How long’s it been like this?” He asks Ronon. “Since ‘bout an hour after you left.” “Why didn’t you call me?” John asks and the look he gives the Satedan isn’t the most charitable. Ronon is not phased, merely shrugging one shoulder. “I dunno. Seems like he probably needed it. He’s had a hard time of it.” John can’t argue that. Out of everyone on Atlantis, he thinks Rodney was probably the closest to Carson. For all the ways they bickered and fought, there was a true friendship there, probably one of the most genuine friendships that Rodney’s ever had. Losing Carson was hard. He leans against the bar beside Ronon, arms crossed over his chest as he just watches, letting Rodney finish up and for the first time since the memorial, John really looks at him; he kind of wants to kick his own ass for not seeing it before, the weight of Rodney’s grief and guilt. Shit. “Yeah,” John sighs finally, making his way up to the bar stage before Rodney can be coerced into an encore performance. He supposes Rodney did need this. “Alright, buddy. C’mon. Time to go.” “But, but, but! John—” “Bar’s closing, pal. C’mon.” For a second, John thinks he’s going to have to enlist Ronon’s help in getting Rodney out, but it’s easy enough to manhandle him on his own, leaving Ronon to Lorne. --- The ride back to Cheyenne Mountain is mostly uneventful. Lorne passes out in the back seat, drooling on Ronon’s shoulder, while Rodney rambles incessantly about putting in an official request to bring a piano back to Atlantis, waxing poetic about all of the benefitsof music in regards to mental health. John placates him, promising he’ll make the request for the next Dedalus run and it seems to be good enough for Rodney who gives him a brilliant crooked smile. John hadn’t realized, until this moment, how long it’s actually seen since the last time he saw Rodney smile a real, genuine smile. Even though he knows it won’t last for much longer.

--- By the time they make it back to the mountain, it’s nearing 4am. Once again, Ronon takes Lorne, leaving John with Rodney and it’s easy enough to usher him back to John’s own quarters so he can keep an eye on him. Rodney’s gone quiet now and John imagines that the alcohol is starting to wear off, the feelings that Rodney had been trying so hard to suppress, creeping back in. “This isn’ my room,” Rodney slurs, and John shrugs. “I can take you there if you want. Just figured it’d be easier to keep an eye on you here.” “Oh,” Rodney says and not for the first time that night, John finds himself surprised by the scientist. He’d been gearing up for a fight, truthfully. Instead, Rodney trudges over to the bed and sits down, nearly pitching forward before John grips his shoulder, keeping him from toppling over. “Easy. I got ya.” And something shifts on Rodney’s face then. Here it comes, John thinks. “I should’a had Carson,” he says, voice strangely tight. “Fishing. We were supposed to go fishing. He wouldn’t have been in the city if I hadn’t—” “—Rodney,” John says, voice gentle. “You cannot go down this road, buddy. You know that. What happened to Carson is not your fault. You’re smart enough to know that.” “Maybe,” he says and he lets John guide him back down against the mattress. “But I should have gone. He was, he was a good friend, you know? So are you. Better than I deserve. So much better.” “That’s not true either,” and it’s these moments that the little cracks in Rodney are visible, the self-loathing thickening the air until it’s almost hard to breathe. “You’re a good guy, Rodney. A pain in the ass, sure, but you’re good. That’s why Carson liked you so much. He knew that. Even if you’re always trying to make sure no one actually sees you.” But they do. John does. He always has. “You gotta get some sleep, alright? We’re heading back tomorrow.” “Yeah,” Rodney agrees. “Yeah. ‘m tired. You should, you should sleep too.” “Don’t worry about me, buddy. Just get some sleep, alright? I’ll be here when you wake up.” And that’s all Rodney needs to close his eyes, the alcohol making it easier to drift into much needed sleep, leaving John to his own thoughts. There’s no point in sleeping now, he thinks. They’re due to Gate out in a few hours, so rather than even try, he reaches for the guitar he’d brought back with him, settling back into the chair across from the bed. He plucks the strings slowly, some long forgotten melody filling the quiet of the room as he watches Rodney sleep. They’ve lost a lot of people. Ford. Griffin. Abrams. Gall. Carson. Each of them have left their mark on all of them, carved into their hearts, their minds. John has spent so much time not letting himself feel, but tonight, it hits him all at once and for a moment, he can’t even breathe. They’ve lost. They keep losing and one day, he has no delusions about losing Rodney too, whether out in the field or to someone better than him, someone like Katie Brown. They have a finite amount of time, and it’s never been as clear to him before as it is now. Rodney is going to spend the rest of his life regretting not going on that damn fishing trip; John will regret not ordering Carson to stand down. It adds to the laundry list of all his other regrets, and he doesn’t think he has room for anymore. He knows what he must do. He settles back, strumming again against the strings, eyes never leaving Rodney’s face. Tomorrow, he decides. Tomorrow, when Rodney’s sobered up, when they’re back home on Atlantis, John will tell him. Maybe they can help each other navigate through the hurt, the loss, and for once… for once, they can deal with what they’re feeling together instead of alone. It’s at least worth a try.

#prompt fic #mcshep #pre-mcshep #fandom: sga #stargate atlantis #sga #john sheppard/rodney mckay #john sheppard #rodney mckay

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hufflepuffhollander · 4 years

Text

5 times it didn’t, 1 time it did: tom holland imagine

a/n | this is my first submission for @hollandsrecs 1k bingo event! the prompt was “5 times, 1 time”, a concept you’ll soon understand! I really enjoyed writing this and got really in my Feelings™ listening to Mean it by Gracie Abrams (give it a listen).

summary: Tom keeps missing his chance to make things right with you after rumors spread about an affair with one of his costars.

tom x fem reader | contains angst for days, language, and resolution fluff | word count: 2.2k | enjoy!

“I can’t believe you.”

“What, what can’t you believe?”

“You told me you’d never let the tabloids come in between our relationship.”

“As far as I’m concerned, they haven’t. You’re still sitting here, aren’t you?”

“In our apartment? Seriously?”

“What do you want from me?”

“To call your publicist or your manager or whoever the hell will be able to shut all this shit down.”

“It’s the internet, y/n. You can’t ‘shut it down’. What’s out there is out there.”

“Why are you being so apathetic about this?”

“Why is it such a big deal?”

“Half the country thinks you’re dating your costar and that I’m a desperate sidepiece.”

“You know you’re not.”

“But they don’t.”

“So?”

“Is it so hard to come out and say that it’s not true?”

“People will think what they want regardless of what I say.”

“You know what, fuck this.”

You got off the couch, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“I don’t know why I have to try so hard to convince you to make this relationship a priority.”

Tom sighed heavily, starting to get off the couch and follow you out of the room, but receded and stayed planted. He wanted to say something that would make you turn around and come back, something to figure it out. To tell you that you were a priority, really his first one. But he didn’t know how to say that, and he stayed silent.

He could’ve apologized, and he didn’t. This was the first time you’d ever walked out of an argument without resolving the problem and ending it with a hug and mutual I-love-you’s. It took all of your gathered strength to keep facing forward and walk further and further away from him, instead of running back, folding into his arms and seeking out the comfort that was his body heat. It epically sucked that he had the power to make you both the angriest and happiest you ever knew how to feel.

You and Tom went to sleep that night silently, staying a hundred feet apart in your queen sized bed, backs turned towards each other. You hated feeling the draft between your loose shirt and bare back — he hated not being able to fall asleep inhaling your shampoo with his head against the back of yours. You stayed awake listening to the silence, hoping he’d speak. Hoping he’d say he was sorry, that he’d fix it. But all he did was yawn, or sigh, or stretch out and pull his hand back like it had been burned when he accidentally grazed your arm. You were both miserable, but he still didn’t apologize, second opportunity to fix things passing by as soon as it had come.

The next morning, you woke up later than you meant to and couldn’t avoid Tom waking up next to you, making inevitable eye contact as you’d naturally shuffled closer together in your sleep, like your bodies were ready for a closure your minds weren’t ready to come to.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Your phone buzzed and you made the mistake of checking it. More and more notifications poured in from friends asking if you and Tom were still together, “who this costar bitch thought she was”, seeing how you were handling it. You realized still nothing had been done about it, and the same nasty feelings from the day before resurfaced anew. Tom saw your face drop and rolled onto his back, pretending to be interested in the ceiling.

“Plans today?” he asked.

“Just doing damage control and convincing infinite circles of friends that I’m not suddenly single and in a downward spiral behind closed doors,” you responded, sounding harsher than you meant to.

He put his hands over his face. “If they really were your friends they wouldn’t have to ask,” he said bluntly. Your belly filled with a dull fire.

“Is that really the angle you’re gonna take right now?” you said, trying to ignore the tears preemptively pinpricking the corners of your eyes. Tom realized he had played the asshole card when he turned to see your face painted with hurt, and again, tried to spit out the words that he was sorry. But he didn’t, and his third chance flew out the open window. You shivered at the draft, and Tom went to instinctively wrap his arms around you, but stopped himself when you looked at him puzzled, as he couldn’t handle doing really anything when he saw how gray your eyes looked.

“y/n, I think this has gotten-“

“Save it,” you said, swiftly getting out of bed. You didn’t care to be insulted another time before 9 am, or feel your attachment to the love of your life sever a little more before you’d even brewed your coffee. You threw on the first thing you found, tied your hair up, grabbed your bag and then your keys.

“I’ll see you before the interview later.”

Truthfully, Tom’s talk show interview tonight was hours and hours away, but you wanted to avoid another emotional hit from him as long as possible.

Tom felt his chest sink as he heard the lock click after you. Why couldn’t he just apologize? Was it that hard? Sure, he didn’t agree with you. The tabloids always blew any gossip they could create out of proportion, turning every friendly hug between friends into a lover’s affair. But addressing it to the public only ever just fanned the fire. He didn’t want to give in to the pressure, but could see how it was starting to break you.

You walked into your flat with barely enough time to get ready after a long, tiring day of thinking and overthinking, wanting nothing more than to come home and be with your best friend, to cry to him about your problems and let him kiss and cuddle the pain away. Never before had he actually been the problem, though. That was uncharted territory, and you were afraid to see him tonight and face either inevitable fighting or excruciating silence. You met at the car and got in wordlessly. Only once you’d pulled onto the highway did Tom decide to speak.

“I think we need to talk about what’s been going on, yeah?”

“I guess so.”

“I just want you to understand that my not saying anything publicly doesn’t mean I’m not denying the rumors being spread. Staying silent is taking a stand, in a way.”

“In a way,” you said quietly. You really didn’t want to ruin your makeup before the show and hoped staying soft would keep the emotional floodgates from breaking open.

“I’m trying not to add fuel to the fire, love,” he said, placing a hand on your thigh. You stared down at that hand you loved and didn’t respond.

“I feel like I have no dignity left.”

He exhaled and frowned.

“Do you know what people are saying about me?” you squeaked without meaning to.

“I’ve told you to stop reading all those articles.”

“Right, because that’s the problem.” You rolled your eyes and moved your leg away from under his hand. He awkwardly placed it on the gear shift and didn’t dare to look at you for fear of breaking down himself.

“I just wish you’d stand up for me.”

“I’m doing it in my own way,” he trailed off. But that wasn’t good enough for you.

“And you can’t see that maybe that’s not enough?”

“I-“ He was about to say sorry — you could’ve sworn you hear the first syllable. But a car in front changed lanes and cut him off.

“Fucker.”

After that wise remark, silence. Fourth chance to apologize up in smoke. You looked out the window and said nothing until you pulled up to the studio entrance. You saw lines of flashing bulbs of cameras, news trucks and reporters. Why did everything have to be such a thing? Tom cleared his throat and turned to you.

“y/n, love, go ahead and get out here and I’ll meet you inside.”

You looked back at Tom blankly.

“We’re not going in together?”

“I don’t want to subject us to all the paps out there,” he said, refusing to make eye contact. “If you go alone, my security team can cover you. They can’t cover us both.”

Your whole body felt cold. “Are...are you serious?”

It looked like telling you to face the crowd without him was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. So why was he doing it?

“I’ll meet you inside-“

You cut him off by loudly undoing your seatbelt and putting your heels on, shooting daggers at him the whole time.

“I should’ve stayed home.” You opened the car door and got out.

“y/n, I’m-” You slammed the door shut before you could hear the rest of his words. Five chances he had to make it right, five times he absolutely blew it. You weren’t sure this was something you even wanted anymore. How could you clearly mean so little to him when he was your everything?

“...and give it up for Tom Holland!” the audience cheered wildly at the sight of your boyfriend walking out on stage, shaking the host’s hand and waving with a bright-eyed and cheery smile at the crowd. You’d chosen a smart seat in the back so as to hide from anyone who might recognize you — you were not in the mood to socialize, and frankly, if Tom didn’t currently have the only set of car keys, you would’ve driven yourself home. You could see him scanning the audience until his eyes landed on you, and you stared at him with an expression completely unfeeling, blinking slowly until he turned away.

He continued to woo the host and the crowd with his heartfelt answers and funny anecdotes, but even you were immune to his charm tonight. You felt detached, alone. You wondered how you’d spent so long with this boy who had no respect for you or how you felt.

“So, not to put you on the spot, but-”

“Uh oh,” Tom laughed, the audience along with him.

“No, no, bear with me,” the host chuckled. “I’m sure you’re no stranger to all the rumors going around about this relationship you’ve gotten into with your costar in the new Spiderman movie coming out next year, can you give us any inside scoop on that?”

Tom shuffled in his chair looking uneasy, running a hand through his already messy hair, a telltale sign that he was nervous. You hated how well you knew him.

“I mean, I don’t like to give into all the gossip,” he said, trying to play it off. “But if you want to talk about the movie-”

“We will, we will! But you know what we all really care about...” the host laughed, pushing Tom to keep talking.

“Look, we’ve all grown close on set, like a little family. And I can’t believe I even have to say this, but no, I’m not an item with any one of my costars, or fellow actors, or anyone famous for that matter,” his face started to splotch pink, and you sat up in your seat. What was he doing?

“Well sorry to pry-” the host started, but Tom kept talking, now faster, lips not able to keep up with his brain.

“The amount of stress all the rumors have put on me and the people I care about is insane and unfair, and nobody has taken it harder than my actual girlfriend, who is right there in the audience,” he said, and you cursed him for causing a hundred chairs to squeak as heads swiveled towards you. “It all has her constantly feeling hated and unimportant and questioning our relationship, which I can’t stand, because I love her more than anything, I do, and I hate to see her so upset when there’s just nothing I can do about people gossiping.” You hear scattered “aww”s come from around you.

“I’ve been quiet for too long about it, which I thought was the right thing to do. But I was wrong. She deserves to hear me tell the world that I am with her, and only her, and that’s not changing,” he says, finally taking a breath. Tom looks at you, eyes watery, and sighs, as the audience coos and applauds. He mouths a clear “I’m sorry” that only you see, and you feel that cold draft start to melt, letting yourself give him a small smile in return. He finishes the interview and you meet him backstage at the end.

When he sees you walking towards him, Tom picks up speed and pulls you into a hug immediately, both arms underneath yours, almost picking you up off the ground. You hate to admit it, but it feels so good to be back where you rightfully belong. You lean into his body and hug him back. He kisses your cheek and rests his face against yours. “You know how much I love you, right?”

“I know. You finally apologized.”

“I know.”

“Took you long enough.”

He pulled back and smiled at you, leaning in and kissing you softly. He cupped your face with both of his hands and wiped away a small tear that was harbored between your eyelashes.

“I’ll go on a million more talk shows and do it again if it means you’ll forgive me.”

“That’s a start,” you both giggle and he kisses you again. “Can we go home?”

“Of course, love.”

#hrficbingo1k #hollandsrecs #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland one shots #tom holland x reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland blurbs

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fairlyspnfanfic · 3 years

Text

The Ties that Bind Us

Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail? Hunting had been your life since your were 4 years old. The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do. But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow.

A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests. I’m not going to post the actual requests because...well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one.

Words: 2826

Tags: Angst, Fluff, nightmares, all the fun stuff.

I wrang my hands together nervously. They were all sweat; clammy and cold while simultaneously uncomfortably hot. My breathing was deceptively calm, though every other part of me shook as my anxiety climbed. I closed my eyes, pushing my hands down on the mattress on either side of me and took a deep steadying breath. Talking myself into pushing my body into a standing position, I opened my eyes and left my room, consciously putting one foot in front of the other.

“Guys?” My voice rang out in the echoey halls, shaking and hoarse. I cleared my throat and ran my hands through my hair as I continued making my way into the main room. There they were. Dean, his feet kicked up on the table, a large, brown dusty book sprawled on his lap and a beer firmly clasped in his hand as he focused on the words on the page. Sam, pacing back and forth silently behind him.

It had been weeks since we had found a job. The last actual gig we had been on was pretty small-fry. A pair of ghouls wreaking havoc in a college town that we had taken care of in less than a weekend. The local fraternity parties didn’t even notice, and the drunken sorority girls went on with their lives none the wiser.

But this? This job was going to be huge. If not in scale, then in emotion alone. Not for the boys. They wouldn’t have any clue; I’d make sure of that. The pack had been on the prowl for decades, maybe longer. Long enough to have destroyed my life, killed my family, and upend everything I knew to be true when I was only four years old. And now they were back. I rubbed the sweat from my palms that would have given me away on the back of my jeans, before grabbing the chair opposite from Dean. The wheels moved faster than I expected as it began to roll behind me. I lowered myself quickly into the seat, as if the mishap was entirely intentional, but the smirk at the corner of Dean’s smile let me know my attempt had failed.

I hated the chairs in the map room. The side armrests dug into my hips and I was never quite comfortable in them. But who was I to question generations of decorum? I crossed my legs as eloquently as I could, adjusting so that I was practically sitting on one hip in order to keep the bars from digging into them.

The laptop Sam had out on the table was still booted up. I reached out, grabbing it and quickly pulled up the article that I had found this morning. “Woman’s Body Found Mangled in Historic District.” I spun the screen around, allowing Dean to see. He skimmed through it quickly before sneering. “Doesn’t really scream monster there, Y/N.” I rolled my eyes, returning control of the computer to myself and pulled up three more articles, all within the last two months. “Teen Killed in Apparent Pit Bull Attack,” followed by “Couple Maimed in Forrest Preserve” and “Missing Child Found Had Been Attacked by Unidentified Animal.” I pushed the screen over to Dean again.

“Well, maybe that does merit a look-see.” His tune changed. Whenever there was a lapse between jobs, Dean would get antsy. His temperament changed, he was jumpy, and nothing could make him happier than a new destination and a big bad to gank.

“What’s that?” Sam said as he practically skipped up to the table like an excited puppy.

“Get this,” I began before Dean cut me off.

“Y/N,” he chastised. “That’s Sam’s line.” He winked at me as a smile spread widely across his face. That smile. The one that could bring world peace as far as I was concerned. At the very least, it made my knees weak, breath hitch, and I lost all train of thought.

I quickly pulled myself back together and pushed my daydreaming mind back to the task at hand. Dean pushed the laptop over to Sam, allowing him to read through them quickly. “So, what are we thinking, Werewolves? Hellhounds?”

“Werewolves,” I said definitively. My face was deadpan, and it didn’t seem to go unnoticed. “Look at the descriptions. There’s something they aren’t saying. The bodies were all attacked at night, and each one was during the full moon. Plus, the missing kid? He was 8. That’s not enough time for any demon deal to go down and a Hellhound to get involved. No, it’s a werewolf. No doubt in my mind.” I was all seriousness and they knew it. Sam simply nodded, his eyebrows creased suspiciously, but he didn’t question me.

“Well then,” Dean said, clapping his hands together as he all but jumped to his feet. “Let’s get on the road. It’s a little over seven hours to Missouri. You’ve got fifteen minutes to get ready.” He was like a kid at Christmas as he bounced down the hallway to his room.

“Only guy in the world to get the warm and fuzzies from a bunch of dead bodies,” I laughed, shaking my head, closing the laptop, and uncrossing my legs. I stood up slowly and stretched my arms above my head.

Sam didn’t take his probing eyes off me as he crossed his arms. “Y/N?”

“Yes, Samuel?” I mocked him in response.

“What aren’t you telling us?”

I did my best version of shock and outrage, looking around as if I wasn’t quite sure what he was alluding to. “What?”

“You’ve never been so adamant about a job before. Hell, you’re usually the one trying to talk us out of taking jobs. What gives?” I rolled my eyes as dramatically as I could.

“Nothing. It just seems like a pretty clear gig to me. And if bodies are dropping every month, and more bodies each time?” I shook my head. “Then the next ones are on us.” I locked eyes with the younger Winchester, attempting to convey my point with a look.

His expression still seemed doubtful, but he nodded his head and walked towards his room, patting my shoulder as he passed by me. “Whatever you say, kid.”

Half an hour later, we were all piled into the Impala. Dean driving, Sam riding shotgun, and I lounged across the backseat, scouring the news for any updates. The next full moon wouldn’t be for another week, but I wasn’t willing to allow anything to be missed. Not when I could stop it.

A couple of hours later, my eyes began to droop, and my cell phone slipped from my hand, crashing to the floor between my feet. But my exhaustion won out over my need to secure the phone.

I looked down at my hands. They were sticky and coated with a thick layer of blood. I had no idea if it was mine or someone else’s, but the terror that rose in my chest didn’t care. All around me, the only sounds I could hear were the violent gnashing of teeth, the moist squelching of flesh being torn from bone, and the small, muted whimpers from someone that I had yet to lay my eyes on. I looked around but everything around me was coated in darkness. Only my hands were visible in a dim red light that seemed to come from nowhere. I took a step forward, feeling my foot slip as the wet floor beneath me was coated in that same tacky liquid that was all over my hands. Looking in front of me, I came eye to eye with a single pair of vibrant yellow orbs that seemed to stop me in my tracks. Paralyzed with fear, I froze, unwilling and wholly unable to continue forward. A low grumble began emanating from those same eyes as they moved closer to me. The grumble turned quickly to a growl; vicious and hungry with a deep, bone chilling timbre. Suddenly, the eyes were directly in front of me, inches from my face. So close that I could feel the hot, rank breath on my cheek before a loud, piercing snarl rang in my ear.

My eyes snapped open and the sweat running down my neck sent a chill down my spine. My sharp inhale was the only sound made and I did my best to calm down before making any further noise. My nightmares had always been the same and had always been my own. Nobody had ever found out about them, especially the boys, and I fully intended to keep it that way.

Stretching my arms to my sides as best as I could, I made a dramatic show of waking. “Where are we?” I asked.

Glancing to the front seat I could see Sam slumped against the window, his head tilted back, mouth open, and very much asleep. Dean was still in the driver’s seat, bobbing his head and mouthing along with Steven Tyler as he belted out the lyrics to “Dream On.” His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, giving me that same world-peace smile that only he seemed to know how.

“About 100 miles outside St. Charles. I’ve gotta stop for gas though. You hungry?” I nodded back to him as I rubbed my eyes, clearing out the sandy bit of sleep that had formed in the corners.

“Do you need to change out? I can drive the last of the way.” I offered, knowing he’d never go for it. He never had before.

“I’m good. Got a solid three hours of shut eye last night.” He winked at me in the mirror. Pushing down the butterflies in my stomach and doing my best to suppress the blush that I was sure was creeping to my cheeks, I looked out the window. The sun had just come down, creating an orange sky with just a hint of pink. I took a deep breath and turned back to facing the driver.

Dean pulled off onto an exit ramp and turned into a QT Gas Station. “What are you in the mood for?” he asked me. I shrugged.

“Surprise me.” The glint in his eye and the devilish smile that he gave me in return elicited an exaggerated eye roll from me. “Just go get some road food.” I waved him away. “I’ll pump.” I opened my door as quietly as I could and stepped around to the gas pump. I twisted the gas cap, put my card in the machine, or rather Stacey Abrams’ card, and began filling the tank.

I watched Dean walk up and into the convenience store, his bowed legs taking long strides as he did so. He grabbed the door and held it open, making a big show as he gestured for the woman coming out the door to pass before him. The leggy blonde walked by, tucking her perfectly silky hair behind her perfect ears as her perfectly perky tits bounced their way out of the shop. I watched as Dean’s eyes followed her out, obviously and lustily eyeing her up and down, appreciating the view.

The sharp stab to my chest wasn’t new. The jealousy mixed with disappointment happened pretty frequently after all. But each time felt like ripping off a band aid before the wound had begun to heal.

The gas pump stopped, the telling “clunk” of the machinery drawing my attention back to my task. I tapped the spout on the edge of the tank before fully withdrawing it and hanging it back up on the pump. I ripped the receipt off quickly, shoving it into my back pocket as I walked back around the car and settled into my seat again.

“You know, you could always just tell him.” Sam’s voice rang out, surprising me, from the front seat.

“Shit, Sam.” I said. “I thought you were asleep!”

“I’m serious, Y/N. Tell him.” He had turned around now, staring me dead in the face as if we were locked in a staring contest that I hadn’t agreed to participate in.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said a bit too defensively.

“Right.” He rolled his eyes at me. “You do realize I know every tell you have, right?”

I shook my head at him, chuckling. “Samuel, I think you must still be dreaming.”

“Like that.” He pointed at me. “You’re biting your cheek. You only do that when you’re lying. Next, you’ll be pulling on your ear lobe, just like that.” He accused me as I did just as he said.

“No, I’m not.” He glared at me in response. “Shut up.” I bit at him, jokingly, sticking my tongue out at him as I crossed my arms.

Dean opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Dude,” he said excitedly, holding up a white paper bag. “Taquitos!”

A little over 100 miles later, we were pulling into the local motel. Sam had gone to check us in while Dean and I grabbed the bags from the trunk.

“Peartree Inn?” I said, dejectedly. Dean looked at me, a curious expression on his face. “Just once, it would be so nice to stay at a 5-star hotel. Hell, I’d settle for 4 stars if it meant a comfy bed that didn’t have my back aching in the morning and a hot tub to soak in at night.” I closed my eyes and sighed, dreaming.

“I’ll be sure to get you a hot tub at the next place we stay in. Long as I can join you,” he said, cocking his head towards me with a smile. I rolled my eyes and playfully shoved his shoulder.

“Hey,” Sam said, running up to us both. “So, they only have rooms with two beds max. No roll-away’s or cots. But I got us two rooms. Best I could do.” He handed a card key to each of us. A small sticky note was attached to each. “Dean, we’re in 213. Y/N, you’re in 436.” I nodded my head, handed Sam his bag and headed inside.

The front desk clerk waved at me as I went in and pointed towards the elevators. Thanking her, I walked over and pushed the call button. The doors opened instantly, and I stepped in without waiting for Sam and Dean to catch up. Once I dropped off my bags and went to the bathroom, I planned on heading to their room anyway to go over our plan.

But just after I’d used the restroom and rinsed my face, there was a solid knock at the door. “Gimme a second,” I shouted as I grabbed a hand towel and dried my face off. The peephole on the door was small with a silver dongle covering it up until you swung it to the side. I checked to see who it was before unlatching the deadbolt and opening the door.

“Bad news, Y/N.” Dean said as he walked in, making himself comfortable on my King size bed. He was lounging back, his head resting on a combination of my pillows and his own hand as his legs sprawled out in front of him. “No hot tubs in the whole joint.” I laughed at him, throwing my hand towel into the bathroom.

“So, where’s Sam? I figured we needed to get our plan of attack sorted.”

“Oh,” Dean said, straightening up a bit. “He’s down in our room. We didn’t get the fancy penthouse view you did.” My eyes wandered over to the balcony and the sliding doors that lead out to it. I pointed to it and tilted my head, silently asking if he’d like to join me outside. He all but leapt out of bed and over to the door, yanking it open. The track was rusted and in desperate need of some WD-40, but he was able to grant us egress.

We walked onto the balcony and looked down. The penthouse view as Dean called it wasn’t the greatest. A moderately busy highway for as late at night on a weeknight as it was, and some unkempt trees just barely allowed us to see the airport beyond it. But the fresh air and the sounds of the cars rushing by was a tonic to the anxiety that had been eating at me all day.

I leaned on the railing, my hands clasped together, as I inhaled the fresh air and felt my hair blowing ever so slightly in the wind. I could feel Dean walk up and join me. “Feels pretty nice out here,” he said softly.

I smiled. “Yeah, it does.” I opened my eyes and looked down again, remembering the reason we were here. As peaceful as it felt right now, there were monsters just down the road. The very monsters from my nightmares. And no matter how terrified it left me, I wouldn’t be leaving before I drove a silver bullet through each of their hearts.

To Be Continued......Part Two

Taglist (Tag requests are open):

@vicmc624@waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy @carissime72 @deans-baby-momma @formulafun @woodworthti666 @yetanotherreader @crashlyrose @hobby27 @gabby913 @jxackles @polina-93@supernaturaladdictsblog @fandomoverdose666 @deans-baby-momma @deanwanddamons @tazzi-baby @acertainhero

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jemej3m · 4 years

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Idk if I said this already but Romeo and Juliet au where Nathan makes sure Neil doesn’t marry Andrew and Neil and Andrew are a little smarter than the original Romeo and Juliet

how much smarter, though

Red gown, drawn above his waist. The sleeves fell from the elbow, sweeping the floor with a slit for his forearms. Atop of his fire-lick curls was a golden circlet, glistening in the candlelight.

It was rumoured that Mary Hatford’s son was the most beautiful thing in a world. Unfortunately for Andrew, he wasn’t just Mary Hatford’s son: he was also the heir of Nathan Wesninski.

Though the Wymacks and the Wesninskis had once shared Palmetto peacefully, the tragic murder of David Wymack’s wife, Kayleigh Day, and the kidnapping of his son, had not been forgiven. Equally unforgiven was the suspicious death of Riko Moriyama, allied to the Wesninskis under ancient laws.

And so: they all hated each other.

War is profitable, Aaron always said, when Renee insisted that perhaps they negotiate a ceasefire rather than another duel. Nobody wants peace.

And whilst Andrew knew that to be true, a traitorous corner of his heart wished that, just for one moment, the two families weren’t constantly at each other’s throats. Only then would Andrew allowed to be with him: the Wesninski son.

Most knew him as Nathaniel. As his father’s shadow.

Andrew knew him as Neil. Neil Abram, the flame to Andrew’s shadow. A man loathesome of his father and anguished over his dead mother.

He was, undoubtedly, the most brilliant thing on Andrew’s horizon. Everythnig else paled in comparison.

Even now, with the top-half of his face obscured by a golden mask, he was stunning.

And even though Andrew wore a mask of his own - to be seen on Wesninski grounds as one of Wymack’s proteges would be certain death - Neil gravitated towards him.

“Why,” Neil said, voice low. He was trying not to smile. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

“I’m simply a travelling merchant,” Andrew bowed. “Seller of souls and blades.”

“Would you, by chance, be selling a moment of your time?”

Andrew offered his arm.

It was dangerous to dance with him, when his father was sitting at the banquet table and waiting for Neil to dance with Ichirou Moriyama instead, but Andrew didn’t care. He had a knife up his sleeve and boundless wit: if he was questioned, he’d escape. The only reason that he wasn’t knifing everyone in the room was for Neil’s sake: he’d seen enough bloodshed in his life. Andrew didn’t need to contribute to it.

“Abby has a plan,” Neil whispered. His apothecary was his only ally and confidante. Andrew had received many a correspondence via her aid.

“What is it?”

“You need to trust me.” Neil squeezed Andrew’s hand as he was spun around. “Alright?”

“I hate surprises.”

“I know.”

The tune acquiesced. They stepped back from one another to bow once more.

“Be at Eden’s Chapel at noon on Sunday,” Neil whispered as they brushed shoulders. “No matter what you hear. Okay?”

“Neil,” Andrew tried, but he was gone, swept up in a crowd of gathered velvet and silk.

Wymack had many a protege, most of which he considered his own children. Of course, he did also have Kevin, his genuine son, but in his absence he’d procured the strangest mix of deviants and created a family.

Wymack rescued Andrew and his family from certain peril and poverty. It was the only reason Andrew willingly sat at his large dining table every morning for breakfast: he owed Wymack his life.

It was Sunday morning: they were all dressed finely to attend the service. Andrew would be departing early to meet Neil at Eden’s chapel, a church way up on the hill. He would have too come back and retrieve a horse to make it there in time for Neil’s arrival.

Since the masquerade of Friday evening, Andrew had been bereft of all knowledge about Neil’s plans. He could only hope that it would work, and that they would finally find peace and sanctimony.

Amidst his thoughts, he did not notice his cousin barrel into the room like a rather tenacious tumbleweed. Panting, he gripped the back of Aaron’s chair, eyes lit up with glee.

“The Wesninski heir!” he announced. “He’s dead! That old bastard is childless and his name will die with him!”

Every hair on Andrew’s body stood on end. No. No. They had been so close to freedom. Neil could not be dead. He couldn’t.

“Andrew,” Renee said. Andrew had stood up with a sharp jolt: now the whole table was looking at him, shocked he had such a vicious reaction to Nicky’s news.

“I must leave.”

“But -” Nicky blinked, confusion. “What about mass?”

Andrew grabbed the first horse he could find and hitched himself onto the saddle, galloping Wesninski-bound. The noble family had their long line of sons buried in a mausoleum on the edge of their land, facing over the cliffs. Beneath their rocky faces were raging waves, smashing themselves against the unforgivable stone.

The wind was cold but Andrew was colder: the burial grounds were all but abandoned. He threw the reigns over a thinning branch of an olive tree and stumbled towards the stone monolith.

The door was heavy but desperation was Andrew’s fuel: he shoved it open and shivered as he entered the tomb.

And there, in the centre of marble coffins, laid Neil.

Andrew had never seen his skin so pale. A cloth was pulled up to his shoulders, but his head rested on a pillow of rosemary and satin. His hair was pushed back, eyes closed. Between his brows rested the gold pendant of his circlet, the one that fated him as a Wesninski.

With trembling hands, Andrew reached out for his cheek. He was cold to the touch. His chest neither rose nor fell: his heart was still.

Agony. Andrew was pretty sure that was what he felt: pure, unadulterated agony. His chest ached. He couldn’t breathe. Neil said he’d had a plan. Neil said to trust him, and now he was dead.

“You,” came a cold voice. “You.”

Andrew turned around.

If Neil was beauty, his father was all brutishness. He was sharp and stiff, his face etched with anger and sadism. Andrew felt the pain in his chest rise to his throat.

Nathan Wesninski pointed a finger at him. “You are one of Wymack’s spawn. You sullied - ruined - my son. The one at his window. The one in his ear. You turned him against me.”

“You did that yourself,” Andrew said. “And I will kill you for what you’ve done.”

Nathan drew his sword with a feral roar, but Andrew was faster. Smaller, faster, angrier. It was, retrospectively, an unfair fight: the man was older, with a renowned capacity to inflict pain but none of the finesse.

Andrew feinted and shoved his blade between one rib and another: the man dropped to the floor with a furious wheeze, eyes rolling back into his head.

As he dropped, a new figure stepped into the tomb.

Abby wasn’t much to look at, narrow and cautious. She had her hands held close to her chest, looking at the body of Nathan Wesninski with wide-eyes.

“Andrew,” she whispered.

“He’s dead,” he said, hoarse. “How could you let this happen?”

“He’s not dead,” she stepped closer. “He drank a tonic that makes him appear dead.” In her palm rested a small bottle. “I have the elixir to wake him.”

He snatched it from her grasp and ran to Neil’s side. There were only three droplets: Andrew watched them coat Neil’s lips, grasping onto his hand and praying under his breath. If Renee could see him now, he thought absently, pressing his forehead into Neil’s shoulder.

With a gasp, the man woke up, colour rushing to his cheeks. He choked, coughing and spluttering. Andrew held his shoulders.

“Andrew?” he mumbled, weak-voiced and bleary-eyed. “What are you doing here?”

“You fool,” Andrew snapped. “How did you think I would react when I heard the news that you were dead?”

“But I wasn’t,” he said, petulant. “I told you to trust me!”

“I told you we should have written to him,” Abby chided. “Now your father is dead.”

Neil’s eyes went wide as he looked at his father’s corpse. His head whipped back, gazing up at Andrew. “Did you do that?”

“It was him or myself,” Andrew responded. “I cannot live without you, Abram.”

Neil’s lips were still bitter when he pressed them to the corner of Andrew’s mouth. “And I, you."

it was short because I'm tired lol

#romeo juliet au #renaissance era #can you imagine neil in the red dress from the 1968 romeo and juliet film #just #wow #andreil #aftg #neil josten #andrew minyard #tw: murder but like i dont think anyones going to be mad at that lmao #tw: vague mention of suicide

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emry-stars-art · 11 months

Note

Omg PLEASE tell us more about the hurt/ comfort after Neil gets back from evermore after being kidnapped

Oh you know the fun parts to brainstorm 👀👀 First I needed to draw some of the comfort so here’s a sketch:

Anyway this is aftg we’re talking about, specifically Riko and Nathan, so once again; it’s rather vague but take care reading on (or skip to the next bolded sentence for the comfort 💕)

I honestly still don’t have all the specifics on what might happen at Evermore! One option is just to make it very similar to Neil’s canon Christmas break, because the angles are similar: in canon, they want Neil quiet and obedient to play exy and not act out against his treatment, and in this au the only difference is instead of exy it’s… violence, essentially. But let’s be honest. This is a royal au, we have to add some things, right

So the main tenant is “they want Abram to do what he’s told without argument”. In my mind that includes being forced to watch every bit of Nathan’s work and then having to do it himself. Of course, Abram is still stubborn and still hates doing it more than he hates anything else, so it takes a long time for him to hurt or torture or kill anyone the first time he’s asked. Usually there is heavy coercion and harm before he touches anyone.

But the point isn’t to get Abram used to doing it, because he’s already as used to it as he will ever be. The Moriyamas’ focus is more on breaking down the stubborn streak and strong moral compass. The best way to do that, they figure, is to take away his personhood altogether. So Abram is never referred to as a person, and instead they more or less treat him like some inanimate weapon or like a dog. A very volatile, vicious dog. Kennels and muzzles and commands and all. Some starvation and sleep deprivation when they decide it’s “necessary”. Even long into his recovery Abram can’t hear a word like heel or sit without his muscles twitching to do so.

So it’s a mix of the dehumanization and punishment. Riko has almost free reign once again, though Tetsuji will step in at times when he deems it’s too much. (Though I don’t think he considered waterboarding/near drowning every time Abram is made to bathe or shower “too much”.) Near the end of Abram’s time, a week or so before he’s either rescued, somehow returned, or escapes, Tetsuji revokes Riko’s privileges altogether when Riko causes some heavy head injuries that concuss Abram and make him lose his sight for a while. It’s not permanent, but it’s long enough term that when he gets back to Palmetto, Abram takes a long time away from most people to recover. He doesn’t trust himself not to act before he can think when he can’t see his surroundings.

Back at Palmetto, it might take most of them a while to realize how bad it was. Day is most familiar with how Evermore works, but he was still high up in the chain of command and respect, so he wasn’t necessarily familiar with the underworkings like that. Abram was raised in the environment, he is horrifically good at more or less acting normal. And when he’s fully awake and conscious, he’s very good at keeping things separate - people can still touch him with enough warning, he still holds conversation when he has to. The worst things come to light slowly - the first time he wakes up in a flashback Abram and Day immediately decide it’s best if he doesn’t stay around Andrew. So Andrew kind of has to watch from the outside and it kills him. He watches when Abram refuses to bathe, but if he doesn’t get clean the wounds will get badly infected, so Day kind of has to make him. But Andrew can’t help - because as Day expects, Abram panics and Day ends up with several bruised ribs and nearly broken fingers. Abram won’t wear high collared or tight shirts any more, and one time in helping the Queen care for the castle’s hounds Abram has a panic attack when he’s accidentally left alone for too long. There are little punctures over his cheeks and nose in a circle across his face. He has a hard time eating around others. Abram never tells them what happened to him, but Andrew and Day slowly figure it out anyway.

As they figure it out, everyone does their best to adapt. While Abram’s still recovering his sight, Day announces himself and most of his movements. He talks all the way through finally washing and detangling Abram’s hair (even after the long time he spends on it, they have to cut out the worst mats) when Abram tells him it helps to hear a friendly voice in a language that isn’t the Moriyamas’. Day talks more often and more softly than he probably ever has in his life, because he’s made himself Abram’s main caretaker. Not to say he doesn’t make honest mistakes, because they all do, but he’s quick to change his behavior.

Then, when Abram’s almost fully recovered his sight, Day lets him stay with Andrew once more. Now it’s not as much Abram watching out for the prince - he will do his job well enough, but sometimes he still has to step back and away because of course he does. And Andrew’s approach is very different than Day’s. It isn’t as much his voice as it is his presence, or when he uses his calm but direct authority to tell Abram to go to sleep, I’m going to be right here. After Abram’s panic attack in the kennels, Andrew discovers that if there’s nothing around to pull Abram into a panic attack he won’t generally fall into one again after leaving the stressor, and Abram finds great comfort in some grounding hold on some part of him. Usually the back of his neck or his hands. He won’t let Andrew hold a knee or leg when they’re sat together, but he will put his weight against Andrew’s shoulder for balance. Little things that Andrew figures out by asking or trial and error. When Abram slips, accidentally refers to himself as “it” or “thing” - words he’d never use normally and sometimes even flinches from - Andrew learns to stay within arms reach, sometimes talking through his and Abram’s schedule. If it’s bad enough Abram might play with Andrew’s fingers and hands while he does, like he’s trying to make sure he can still touch someone without hurting them. This afternoon we discuss plans for the upcoming festival with Day, Captain Wymack, Abigail, and Aaron and Katelyn, and after we’ll eat. Join me in the garden? Always official, non-confrontational events. Slowly Andrew gets Abram readjusted to eating at a table and speaking without seeking permission first.

But again. There’s a lot of possibilities and things are always subject to change or be added, so this is kind of my jumping off point! (And is half of this summarized from things I’ve written? Yes. But I want to have something else polished and posted first so 👀 I hope to circle back to this soon) Thank you for the ask!! 🥰

#you guys are enabling me so bad and I appreciate it very much 😂#I’m allowed to do things for fun I’m allowed to do things for fun #and this is so fun lmao #thank you eatinggendermarbles every comment and tag you leave on anything gives me an hp boost for the day #hurt/comfort is my JAM #fan art #my art #my writing #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #nathan wesninski #riko moriyama #royal au #asks #tw scars

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readyourimgaines · 3 years

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The Little Things

Summary: Derek knew fully well that moving in with Spencer was going to bring around some changes. Dr. Spencer Reid was different and Derek loved him for it. There were little quirks that the doctor showed at work and some Derek was still learning. So there must be some at home.

And a special thanks, of course, to @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese for helping me compile this list!

1. Alphabetizing Movies by Title

“Pretty Boy?” Derek was crouched down in front of their TV looking for their movie while Spencer did the dishes. The latter hadn’t seen Happy Gilmore and Derek couldn’t let that stand.

“Yeah?” Spencer called from the kitchen.

“I can’t find it?”

“What?” Spencer stepped away from the sink and went to the living room. Water dripped from his fingertips. “The movies are alphabetical. It’s between Hamlet and Ice Age.” He went to Derek’s side and gestured to the movie. “I was going to order them by director, but Hotch said most people don’t know directors very well. Which is a shame because J.J. Abrams destroyed Star Trek but Guy Riche-”

Derek pressed a kiss to Spencer’s lips with a fond smile. Spencer blinked.

“Sorry,” the doctor blushed.

Derek just chuckled. “You know you’re adorable, right, Pretty Boy?”

“You may have mentioned it a time or two,” Spencer laughed.

“You can tell me all about directors later,” Derek promised. “I know a bit about the mainstream guys, but not a whole lot.”

“All you really need to know is that J.J. Abrams kills anything he touches and Peter Jackson doesn’t get as much attention as he should.”

*****

2. Morning Rituals

One thing that Derek very quickly learned about Spencer was that he

had a specifically timed morning ritual when not on a case. And that if it was broken or disturbed, the whole rest of the day would go down hill like a train on greased tracks.

He woke up at 6:17, was in the shower by 6:25, eating breakfast by 7:00, his bed made by 7:30, and shoes on his feet by 7:32. The last half hour before they left at 8:00 was free game.

The first morning in their new place was the roughest. Spencer went

about his usual morning, but Derek didn’t usually wake up until 7:45 because he took less time to get ready and ate in the car. So when Spencer finished breakfast and went back to their room to make the bed but Derek was still asleep… He paced for the next fifteen minutes and his head nearly went through the ceiling when Derek’s alarm went off.

Spencer almost had a panic attack as he fumbled his way through making their bed and cramming his feet into his shoes. Needless to say, the extra half hour was spent- in vain- trying to calm the doctor down. None of the rest of the day lined up properly and Spencer was on edge and fidgety. Hotch even had to gently remind him to focus a few more times than the usual redirection of infodumps.

That was the first and only time Derek didn’t follow Spencer’s morning routine. He found the same day that Spencer had a much simpler night ritual: Snack (sometimes) at 10:10, teeth brushed by 10:25, in bed by 10:35, reading until (supposed to be) 11:18, and then lights out. This routine was much more flexible and relaxed.

Derek found waking up and going to bed at the same time every day made the former much easier. He also found that Spencer reading to him most nights- no matter the book or topic- was very relaxing. And of course there were nights when Derek read to Spencer.

*****

3. Sugary Coffee

Derek took a sip of coffee from his travel cup and whistled. “Think I got yours, Pretty Boy. There’s enough sugar in this to hype up a six year old’s birthday party.”

Spencer braced himself and took a sip of the coffee in his own cup. He was pleasantly relieved when the bitterly sharp taste expected never came. “I-I put sugar in both of them. I wasn’t thinking,” he said sheepishly.

Derek shrugged. “You know what they say: I’ll try anything once.” He chuckled. “I’ll just brush my teeth for an extra three minutes.”

Spencer scoffed as he got into the passenger seat of Derek’s car. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll like it. You don’t get the caffeine drop when the eight hour half-life is over.”

“Is that why you put so much sugar in coffee?” Derek raised an eyebrow, thinking he already knew the answer.

“And coffee tastes like battery acid. I’d rather drink vinegar than black coffee.” Spencer shuddered.

Derek chuckled but didn’t say anything else as he pulled onto the street.

*****

4. Cuddly Sleeper

Even though Spencer wasn’t huge on PDA like Derek was, he sure was a cuddly guy. The second the door closed, he was a six foot koala. That included in bed- but usually not until after he was asleep.

Some nights, Spencer would fall asleep reading. So Derek would take his book, close it, gently remove Spencer’s glasses, and turn out the lamp. Nine times out of ten, Spencer was curled up against his side before Derek was asleep himself.

At first, Derek found himself wondering why Spencer wasn’t nestled against him before sleep took him. But after a while, it sunk in that the doctor unwound by reading.

The look on Spencer’s face when he curled into Derek’s side always sent the older man over the moon. The absolute peace on the doctor’s face. One night, Derek almost woke Spencer up laughing. Derek rolled over to out the lamp and Spencer had gripped Derek’s arm tighter and whined in his sleep. Derek then had to assure his boyfriend- in soft whispers as to not actually wake him up- that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Spencer never thought to question why his book and glasses were gone when he woke up.

*****

5. Leaves Books Everywhere

Anyone who had a 30 second conversation with Spencer- anyone who glanced at Spencer- could tell the man read more than he did anything else.

Derek picked up the doctor’s satchel once and was moderately surprised the slim man hadn’t dislocated his shoulder with how heavy the bag was. But Spencer didn’t only keep books in his bag. No. They were all over the place.

Their bedroom, the craft room where Derek made floor plans for his renovations, the kitchen, the dining room, the living room. Even both bathrooms and the basement.

When the two first moved in together, Derek debated building an extension onto the living room for a library. He still debated it from time to time (just in case). But as time wore on, Derek grew to appreciate the countless (if seemingly random) books around the house.

Spencer would read when Derek was working on floorplans, so Derek would read when Spencer worked on an academic paper or consult.

“What’re you reading?” Spencer asked one night, finally looking up from his notebook. He was writing an essay on how handwriting analysis could help catch a serial killer and/or rapist.

“I don’t even know,” Derek chortled. “Uh..” he looked at the cover, “it’s Introduction to Law by Joanne Banker and Yvonne Ekern.”

“Oh! Hotch loaned that to me yesterday,” Spencer noted. “I should get that back to him soon.”

Derek just shook his head. “You know, Pretty Boy, I didn’t read this much in college.”

Spencer smiled. “See? Maybe there’s a good side to not spending thousands of dollars on building a library,” he teased.

6. The Nightlight

In the bedroom, in the outlet closest to the door was a nightlight. But not just any night light. This nightlight made the move in the front pocket of Spencer’s satchel.

“So what’s the story behind this platypus, Pretty Boy?” Derek had to ask one night as Spencer turned it on. “Because you’ve had this since before we were dating.”

“My uh- my mom’s went on a sort of field trip with her hospital a couple years ago. It was on one of her good days. She saw this in the aquarium’s gift shop and bought it for me.”

“That’s pretty cute,” Derek encouraged. He knew Spencer didn’t open up about his mom often so Derek tried to learn everything he could about the woman during the rare occurrences.

“We named him,” Spencer laughed. “Alfred Nicholas Brian Reid.” He giggled. “I just… He helps.”

*****

+1. Bleeding/Infected Hangnails

Spencer usually had something to stim or fidget with. A strip of paper, a pen or pencil to twirl, a shirt with a loose thread, something. On the off chance that he didn’t, the doctor somehow decided that his fingers were good enough. If Spencer didn’t have a hangnail, he’d start one.

This was the one and only thing about Doctor Spencer Reid that Derek Morgan hated. He could see the minute flinch when Spencer held a utensil wrong and it pressed on the swollen skin. He heard the soft hiss when Spencer got tomato or orange juice in the broken skin.

What Derek hated even more than that was when the hangnail would get infected. The skin around the nail or turn a greenish-yellow and harden. Which, in turn, gave Spencer another thing to pick at.

“Pretty Boy, you gotta stop,” Derek sighed. He’d gone into a convenience store to get them something other than coffee- but tastier than water- to drink. While inside, he bought a box of Band-Aids and a tube of anti-bacterial cream.

Spencer snapped out of his daze. “What?”

“Picking at your nails.” To prove his point, Derek took Spencer’s hand in his to show him, as well as to stop his current picking. “I know you’re worried about the case, Baby, but we’ll catch the son of a bitch and put his ass behind bars like we always do. You gotta stop destroying your hands.”

“I didn’t realize I was,” he admitted.

“I know,” Derek said softly. He applied the cream and a Band-Aid to each finger that needed it (five in total between both hands). “We just gotta get you a couple of those fidget cubes Garcia has.”

Tag List: @mayonnaiseismycomfortfood

#read your imagines #combefere's journal #criminal minds imagine #moreid imagine #spencer reid imagine #derek morgan imagine #5+1 things #6+1 things #moreid #moreid fluff

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dalekofchaos · 3 years

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How Disney/Lucasfilm failed Finn and John Boyega

A rant about my continued frustration on how Lucasfilm/Disney failed Finn and John Boyega

John Boyega’s Finn was setup as the male lead and co-protagonist of the sequel trilogy. That’s not an opinion, that’s not a headcanon, that’s a literally fact. He was set up to be equal with Rey & Kylo’s foil and we all know why that changed.

John Boyega was cast as the male and co-protagonist of the sequel trilogy by JJ Abrams, who had to fight for John Boyega to be cast against the preferred (White) casting choices.

Originally Finn(Sam in the original treatment) was white

Majority from Okiro’s twitter thread exposing Lucasfilm’s hypocrisy when it comes to representation and black history

JJ Abrams told Finn he was the new star of Star Wars

In The Force Awakens. Finn was a Stormtrooper who defected. After witnessing the death of his friend Slip and seeing the innocents being killed, Finn made the decision to save Poe Dameron and leave The First Order. Finn only wanted to leave The FIrst Order and run away. But after meeting Poe and later Rey, Finn began to care for more than himself. Finn was mentored by Han Solo. For once, he had a father figure and a positive role model as opposed to people like Hux and Phasma. He learned to care for Rey and even love her. After Starkiller Base destroyed the Hosnian System, Finn realized running was pointless and knew he had to fight. Then Kylo Ren took Rey. Finn went to The Resistance using his time on Starkiller Base to shut down the shield generator and plant the explosives on the thermal oscillator. Finn’s main focus was rescuing Rey. After Kylo force pushes Rey into a tree, Finn faces Kylo Ren. Finn learns to overcome his fears of The First Order and faces the symbolic evil that was Kylo Ren. Although Finn does not win, he puts up a good fight and was put in a coma for daring to defy Kylo. Then they bait and switched us with Rey. I’ll let you read my rant on that.

Finn was the co-protagonist of The Force Awakens, this is evident of Finn’s actions saving everyone. Finn is the very reason why the Resistance is even alive. Finn breaks his life-long brainwashing, informs Rey and Han about the importance of BB-8 and helps out in getting BB-8 to the resistance and provides vital information that lead to the destruction of STB and gets nearly killed while helping to achieve this. If it were not for Finn saving Poe, BB-8 would’ve been scrapped for parts and Rey never would’ve left Jakku. The map would either be destroyed or be in the hands of The First Order. Starkiller Base would’ve destroyed D’Qar and Ach-To. He is the reason why Poe is still alive. He is the reason why BB-8 isn’t parts and Rey left Jakku. Because of leaving Jakku, this is the sole reason why Han and Chewie were able to find the Falcon. And he is the reason why The Resistance was able to find out about Starkiller Base’s weakness. he Helps out in sabotaging STB so that Poe, the very pilot he saved in the beginning can deliver the finishing blow to Starkiller Base and destroy it completely.

There are some missed opportunity in TFA, believe me I know as I feel JJ squandered the theme of Stormtroopers rising up against their oppressors and that crack about Finn being a janitor was so tone deaf and unnecessary.

Don’t believe me that Finn was meant to be the co-protagonist of the Sequels? Look at the marketing?

Also. Just look at the hopeful optimism and representation FInn brought to black people.

Then the racist boycotting happened. The boycott was groups of bigots who wanted the ST to be boycotted. What was the response from Lucasfilm? Zero defense of John Boyega, but their actions were transparent when they shrunk Finn on the TFA poster for fucking China’s sake, kept him off the TLJ teaser poster, and small on the official poster

I’ll let what Rian Johnson chose to do with Finn speak for itself. John Boyega has every right to hate what Rian did with his character.

By giving into the boycott and doing their best to erase and sideline John Boyega, Lucasfilm proved they would always cater to mob law if the mob was big enough. Do I have proof of this boycott against John Boyega? Yes, I do.

Also, popular Reylo blogger Jenny Nicholson’s racism against John Boyega

Reminder that Jenny Nicholson blocked a whole fuckton of Black people who even gently criticized her about how she went after John Boyega

Did Lucasfilm after The Force Awakens try to support their Black lead in any way? No. In fact, they began to erase him harder than ever to the point Fans started a hashtag #WhereIsFinn because it was getting so bad. But Bryan Young, a Lucasfilm writer, sure loved to hate on Finn

Lucasfilm was so racist, the very concept of a Black man and a white woman getting together sent them into such a frenzy Lucasfilm had to have it removed from any EU material just to make sure they kept it nice and bigot friendly. Also it’s worth noting that Alan Dean Foster was ordered by Lucasfilm/Disney to scrap any hints of Finnrey romance from the TFA novel as he believed that was the direction of the Sequels’ romance and coincidentally they did next to nothing with and we know it was racially motivated. "I expected to see that developed further in Episode VIII [The Last Jedi]," Foster said. "And zero happened with it. And we all know why zero happened with it — and there's no need to go into it in-depth — but that's, sadly, just the way things are."

It wasn’t JJ Abrams, Lawrence Kasdan or Chris Terrio who were against Finnrey. It was Disney and Lucasfilm and RIan Johnson was more than happy to separate Rey and Finn 99% of the movie(he said and did enough things to prove that he didn’t want the two characters even near each other)

Then John spoke about his frustration with how he was treated

People have tried to twist the narrative or put words in Boyega's mouths, but his GQ interview paints the picture rather clearly. He was sidelined due to his race after The Force Awakens when The Last Jedi came around with a "reordered character hierarchy" Lucasfilm's order btw

It resulted in Rey and Kylo Ren being featured prominently in both TLJ and TROS. It also resulted in Reylo being canon. Lucasfilm killed the Sequel trilogy, cause they couldn’t bare the thought of a black man in the leading role and a interracial relationship.

If you look at TFA, you’ll realize that Finn was built up to becoming a Jedi, Kylo’s foil and Rey’s equal. Because TLJ happened, Finn’s role was reduced to a side character and JJ could not make him as prominent as he originally wanted to. EIther studio interference or TLJ screwed everything up so bad that he had to work on it slowly and just hope that Disney + would have something for Finn.

At the start of the trilogy, we all thought people of color would have a prominent role in the new trilogy, there was a potential for the first interracial relationship in Star Wars and there was a potential for the first LGBT relationship in Star Wars. But no, it’s clear that both TLJ and TROS gave us the impression that only white people can be Jedi and only white people can have epic romances and save the galaxy, people of color can only have secondary roles. And the blink and you miss it kiss? Only white women, not two men of color who clearly love each other.

Finn’s best scenes were deleted.

Finn and the villager. it really shows why Finn chose to leave. Finn’s reasoning for leaving the First Order had nothing to do with being against violence, but a moral confliction of not wanting to hurt defenseless people. This villager wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t trying to hurt him. She was just a woman with her baby. This wasn’t war, this was murder, and Finn refused to be a murderer.

TLJ alternate opening. Opens with Finn waking up. Small change, but it would show that Finn is still a prominent character.

BB-8 shows Finn Rey’s last moment with him. BB-8 tries to cheer Finn up, but to no avail until he shows him a recording of Rey from the end of The Force Awakens - the scene she says goodbye to an unconscious Finn and kisses him on the forehead before leaving to find Luke Skywalker.

Poe gives back his sewn up jacket to Finn. In this deleted scene, Poe fills in the gaps and tries to assuage Finn about his concerns, including Finn's mixed feelings about his relationship with the Resistance. Poe then gives back the jacket that was once his and became Finn's in The Force Awakens, showing Finn that he sewed it up. This scene doesn't necessarily push forward any plot development, but should've remained as great a moment between Finn and Poe. The two characters established a wonderful chemistry and bond in The Force Awakens, and with Finn off on Canto Bight for much of The Last Jedi, fans didn't get to see as much of their relationship as expected. It's nice to see that chemistry and bond again. Finn's question about winning is also interesting in highlighting the constant uphill battle of the Resistance. Even destroying the Starkiller Base, Rey defeating Kylo Ren, and blowing up a Dreadnought can still put the Resistance in the position of fleeing.

The elevator scene between Finn and an old Stormtrooper friend. A Stormtrooper voiced by Tom Hardy recognizes Finn and starts talking to him. Finn starts to draw his gun, thinking the Stormtrooper has recognized him as a traitor, but it turns out the Stormtrooper is just surprised to see that FN-2187 has become an officer. The scene may go on for a bit too long, but ultimately it should've stayed in. The scene in the elevator does a great job playing with the audience's emotions, as they're unsure whether the tension will rise to the breaking point of a fight or evolve into a humorous moment. It also shows Finn using restraint by not killing a fellow Stormtrooper, unlike the other two movies.

Phasma’s alternate and BETTER death scene. WHY WAS THIS CUT????? No seriously, WHY WAS THIS FUCKING CUT????? I will never understand why this was deleted. Finn calls her out about her betrayal of lowering the shields and when this information is revealed, the Stormtroopers near her look suspicious and it looks as if they are going to turn on her. Phasma like the ultimate survivalist she is kills them with no hesitation. Finn cuts her hand off and blasts her into the abyss, giving Phasma a more deserving and better send off. Seriously, this is way better than their actual confrontation. What I really like about this scene is its direct connection to The Force Awakens plot point and that it acknowledges Phasma's survivalist attitude which was introduced into her novel. The Phasma novel and comic portrayed her not as a First Order loyalist, but as a ruthless warrior who did whatever it took to survive. She even went so far as hunting down and doing away with those within the First Order who had knowledge of what she did at the Starkiller Base lest the truth get out. Phasma was always about self-preservation, she wasn't about preserving the First Order, but that never comes across in The Force Awakens or The Last Jedi. It only comes across in this deleted scene where Phasma chooses to end her own Stormtroopers to save herself.

Something else that bothers me. Finn’s treatment in the expanded universe. Have you ever noticed that Poe and Kylo got all the big expanded universe material and Finn is always shoved into the background or not there at all? Even worse, every form of media portrays Finn as Poe's bumbling sidekick, which is even more apparent in TROS. They were more interested in having Poe and Finn being the Abbott and Costello of the ST instead of letting Finn going from Stormtrooper to Jedi and lead a Stormtrooper Rebellion.

In the journey to TROS, Finn is not featured in ANY of the novels or graphic novels for the Journey to TROS. When he was, he was used as Poe’s sidekick and not featured anywhere with Rey. Before the release of the movie, he is not featured whatsoever in any shape or form in marketing. We get to see him in two teasers but he says nothing. His new outfit looks awesome. Finn could’ve been used to rise as a Jedi with Rey and essentially be the Skywalkers that Rise and face Kylo and Palpatine together. If not that, Finn could’ve caused a Stormtrooper Rebellion that burns The First Order from the inside out. Instead of any of that, it Finn was given nothing for this movie. He doesn’t even get to face Kylo Ren, their rivalry as foils was completely dropped. That is sad and heartbreaking.

Seriously, there is no novelizations or comics that expand on Finn’s time in The First Order. Sure, there is Before The Awakening. But consider this. Finn was their best Stormtrooper, so good that Hux considered him Captain material.

There is so much potential with Finn in the Expanded Universe. Apply all the posts I’ve linked and more.

The Poe Dameron comics were not about Poe’s life, they were about his personality, skills, character, and the Resistance. So I ask, why can’t/couldn’t the same have been done with Finn pre TFA? A comic series exploring his character while world building the First Order.

There is so much to tell. You could start with Finn vividly remembering his family and how he was abducted and recruited for the FN Corps.

You could even show the ruthlessness of The First Order by showing initiation for the FN Corps is only granted by forcing the children to kill each other in a Hunger Games/Battle Royale to see who the strongest and who deserves to be welcomed to the First Order. This would be in separate groups of the children who are abducted to determine who gets to be put in the FN Corps. We could see Phasma returning to the room, only to see a young Finn covered in blood and dried up tears. Phasma will only say “Welcome to The First Order, FN-2187.”

Wouldn’t it be interesting to see how Finn, a brainwashed soldier broke free of his mental conditioning, learned the truth of the FO yet still tried to be a good soldier. It could flesh out his relationship with the squad he led, as well as Phasma and Hux.

It could’ve also showcased the brotherhood and friendship Finn had with FN-2199 (“Nines”), FN-2000 (“Zeroes”), and FN-2003 (“Slip”).

The biggest thing it could do is finally show Finn’s skills as a soldier, his brains, while giving so much needed world building First Order. We could also finally show what it’s like as a FO stormtrooper from a sympathetic POV.

Through the avenue of a Finn comic series you could also flesh out Hux, Phasma, Nines, Zeroes, Slip, and even characters like Kylo and Snoke. It doesn’t have to cover spoilers, just make the one note more dimensional while giving Finn so overdue respectful content

It could end with everyone asking Finn “what was the moment you decided to leave” which then we would see the TFA deleted scene of Finn in the village

It could end on Finn saying "I was raised to do one thing, I used to think I’ve got nothing to fight for, but now I have something worth fighting for.“

And afterwards. You could show Finn and Jannah working together to liberating the other Stormtroopers. The first person they rescue? Zeroes, FInn’s last surviving Squad Member and together they awaken and liberate their brothers and sisters and all the while Finn rises up and becomes a Jedi!

For those wondering what about Finn in TROS? I’ll let this video do all the talking

youtube

I’d also like to point out. Finnrey WAS going to happen in TROS. Here’s confirmation by Jedipaxis, the main reddit leaker, who was right about everything before the films release, confirmed that Finn’s “i never told you” line was supposed to have some payoff and it was going to end with finn and rey holding hands. could this pic have been of the alternate ending? then reshoots happened and we got the Reylo kiss

I’m convinced that John Boyega was told by the higher ups to say Finn was meant to say he was “Force Sensitive” no one who is about to die would “always want to tell you” they were force sensitive.

Hell, even in the original Episode IX by Colin Trevorrow. Duel Of Fates. Finn was given the shaft again. For some unknown reason, Rey is paired with Poe, a character who barely interacts with Rey at all. Finn was given another sidequest to do. The only brightside for Finn is he participates in retaking Corruscant and a Stormtrooper Rebellion near the end.

Finn, who was once held in prominence as the co-protagonist alongside Rey. Was erased from how prominent he once was and reduced to a sidecharacter due to China and fanbacklash that there was going to be a black lead in Star Wars. Disney caved in to the racist backlash and caved into China’s racist demands.

Finn deserved to be a main character alongside Rey, while Kylo Ren is their villain. He deserved a good character development, a great arc, an interesting backstory. he had the potential to become one of the most epic star wars characters. TLJ and TROS was an insult for him and he deserved better. nobody will EVER change my mind.

Finn should’ve been a Stormtrooper turned Jedi who embraced the light, while Kylo Ren who was the Skywalker who rejected the light and embraced the dark. Rey should’ve been Luke’s daughter, while Finn is the Jedi who builds himself up from being a Stormtrooper from nowhere to Jedi and together Rey and Finn stop Kylo Ren and bring down The First Order and rebuild The Jedi!

Finn should have been a Stormtrooper turned Jedi. It doesn’t matter that you think it tells a better story for him to not be a Jedi. “Finn being a hero who is not a Jedi is important.” Poe and Rose are great examples of ordinary heroes coming from nowhere. Rey was supposed to be a jedi related to Skywalker or Kenobi legacy while Finn was the perfect “nobody from nowhere” that becomes a Jedi. And honestly, Black kids deserved to see themselves in the Black Jedi and black kids deserved to see themselves as one of the three protagonists of the trilogy.

Finn got no last name No theme Was sidelined in the trilogy Had his scenes cut Mocked by Lucasfilm employees Racially harassed by bigots and media outlets Disney used while staying silent and then Disney has the nerve to say they “stand” with John Boyega during the BLM movement and celebrated Finn during black history month despite squandering him....

Finn deserved better, period!

youtube

#Star Wars #Finn #Finnrey #John Boyega #Anti Lucasfilm #Anti Rian Johnson #Anti Sequel Trilogy

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oyesmendes · 4 years

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i keep on missing you

a/n: so remember when i said there would be a part two to “all i wanted was a happy ending” ? ya its here.... this was largely inspired by Missing You - The Vamps and i miss you, i’m sorry - Gracie Abrams. hope you guys got some tissues ready HAHAHA sorry in advance! @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @lonelyreputation

read part one here

'Cause I'm sat here in my front room with a girl who ain't you / Hopin' and prayin' you're breakin' up with another fool

The sunlight that streams through the small crack between his curtains is what wakes Shawn up. He has his hand draped across a body - or should he say, his girlfriend’s body and he finds himself frowning at the lack of the olive skin he’s grown so used to waking up to. He’s quick to change his facial expression once he sees the body roll around to face him. The girl grins at him, stroking his cheek and pressing a soft kiss on his lips which he struggles to return.

“Morning, sunshine”

“G’morning” He mumbles back. They don’t say much, only sharing a few kisses and cuddle for what felt like too long before they both stumble out of bed into their morning routines.

Shawn is sitting at the dining table, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram like he was reading the morning papers. He likes a couple pictures posted by friends back in Toronto, before he lands on one that makes his breath hitch.

@kiara_hammani: everyday is worth celebrating with you. happy three months, sweet pea!

It was a picture of her - Kiara. His finger hovers above her face, wanting nothing more than to feel her skin against his. She was in that blue sundress they bought on impulse during a trip to Hawaii two years ago, and she was posing at the beach. Wrapped up in the arms of another man. He’s contemplating if he should zoom in or tap on the tagged account of the man, but decides to just stare at it for a couple more seconds instead. It’s only been less than five months since she moved out, how could she have moved on so quickly?

“Shawn? Hey you there, gorgeous?” Shawn blinks his eyes a couple of times to bring him back to reality. He quickly places his phone face down on the table and smiles softly.

“Yeah? Sorry I got a little distracted.”

“That’s alright, would you like coffee or green tea today?” She was holding up a French press in one hand and pack of teabags in the other. She smiles sweetly at him and Shawn feels himself cringe internally. This girl was everything but Kiara. The tone of her voice constantly laced with sweetness, and pale skin covered with fake tan which made her look orange. He thinks back to all the times that Kiara would purposely use a high-pitched voice to mock the waitress or random girl that was trying to get in his pants and they’d have a good laugh about it. He knows she would’ve done the same right now. Shawn looks at the girl standing in front of him and he hides the disappointment that fills his chest when he realises that she’s not here.

“I’ll have the tea, thank you Chris.” She nods and spins around to make him a mug.

Christine was your typical LA girl. Yeah, the ones that have beach blonde hair, holding a hydro flask and wearing cut off denim shorts all year round. How she and Shawn ended up together for the last two months? Ask management. They initially paired him off with another girl but she was way too much of a blonde that Shawn ended up ditching her on their first meet. He put up a strong fight with the team afterwards and they eventually settled on Christine. She was no where near Kiara, but according to Shawn’s publicist - Christine was the cure to his falling reputation.

So they’ve spent every single day together for the last two months, drowning out all the dirty news of their breakup. Shawn didn’t hate it completely, Christine was too nice to him that he forced himself to enjoy every moment. But he does catch himself comparing her to Kiara, and he can’t seem to shake himself out of it. He watches as Christine turns around, two mugs in her hand. At first, he doesn’t notice the pastel pink mug that belonged to Kiara. But as she places it down on the table, he sees the faint lipstick stain on the edge of the mug and he stops her from lifting it up to her lips.

“What’s wrong?” Christine asks when Shawn’s hand lands on top of hers.

“Throw it out.”

“What? Babe, I just made this-“

“I said THROW IT OUT!” She jumps slightly in her seat when Shawn raises his voice and he immediately regrets it. Christine pushes her chair back, letting them scrape the hardwood floor because she knows how much Shawn hates it when she does that. She gets up from her seat and stalks to the front door.

“You can throw it out yourself.”

Nothing happened in the way I wanted / Every corner of this house is haunted

The front door slams and Shawn is left with the same deafening silence from two months ago. His eyes focus on the mug and then roams the house. Every corner was filled with the essence of Kiara. After their heated argument, she moved out the next morning, taking everything that she could without the need to turn back. Naturally, she left a few shared pieces in the house which Shawn never touched, and it was starting to feel haunting. Each object that she had left - the dark blue curtains from Ikea, the cream coloured throw from a boutique in London, and even that chipped porcelain vase she bought from a kid at a yard sale held three years of happy memories. Memories he couldn’t bear to relive or throw away. Shawn would much rather be alone than to share this special place with someone new, but he couldn’t lose Christine now, especially when his career’s on the line. So he forces himself to grab his keys and pull himself out the front door. He’s out on the streets and thankfully, Christine hasn’t made it too far from the apartment building.

“Christine!” She increases her footsteps but before she could make the corner, Shawn grabs a hold of her arm.

“What do you want, Shawn?” He pulls her closer to him and she’s resting her hand on his chest. Her touch felt different. But Shawn settles for it in the moment.

“You, me and the grocery store.” He smirks at her. A small smile erupts on her face and Shawn knows he’s immediately been forgiven. It’s been a vicious cycle that’s got them through the last 8 weeks - Shawn does something stupid, then he makes it up by suggesting Christine’s favourite activity which he would hate, on a normal day. He knows this isn’t the way to love someone, especially someone who only has good intentions for him. But he needs Christine to stay, at least he thinks he does. She makes the silence less deafening, and it stops Shawn’s head from reeling into his horror movie of thoughts. She was his imaginary safety net, somewhere he could fall into for a moment and not think until reality hits him like a truck again.

The store was quiet, and Shawn is thankful for it. He doesn’t need to put on a loving couple front for the cameras or fans that would recognise him from a mile away. He’s pushing the trolley behind Christine, empty focus on the squeaking of the wheels.

“Should we try cashew milk this time? I was watching Claudia’s vlog the other day and she was raving about this brand.” Christine holds up the cartons in front of Shawn’s face. He smiles at her, knowing well that he has to give her some sort of attention or care in order for this relationship not to crumble.

Kiara couldn’t care less about the type of nut milk we had at home. He stops himself before he dives further into that part of his brain.

“Well if Claudia says it’s good, I don’t see why we shouldn’t try it.” Her face immediately lights up when Shawn showed the slightest interest in her rambling. She drops the carton of cashew milk into the trolley and scampers off while he trails behind her. They wander around the fresh produce, and while Christine goes on about which kind of salad she wants to make next week, Shawn hears the distinct laughter and voice.

His eyes dart around the store until they land on a specific couple and he sees her. In all her 5’7” glory, Kiara stood next to the same man that was on her Instagram post, trying to catch her breath from all the laughing the pair had been doing.

“You’re telling me, you microwaved eggs?!” She’s still laughing, shaking her head as she placed the carton of fresh eggs into the trolley in front of her.

“Hey, no shame in that! We were in college and really dumb. Besides, you’re the one that burnt the kettle to a crisp while making tea last week.”

“Well, we’re both to blame for that.” Shawn watches as Kiara gives the man one of those cheeky smiles that she used to give him. He watches as he attacked her sides, tickling and then peppering kisses down her neck as she squeals in excitement. Shawn should look away, he knows he should before he gets caught, but he can’t help himself. Before he knows it he hears Christine next to him,

“Shawn? Did you hear me? What are you- Oh for god’s sake!” The couple turns when they hear Christine raise her voice and Shawn snaps out of his trance. His eyes meet briefly with Kiara’s and her face falls just enough for Shawn to notice. Christine shoves the packet of spinach she has in her hands back on the shelf. She shoots Kiara a death stare before pushing Shawn out of the way and storming out of the grocery store. He doesn’t go after her, instead his hand tightens its grip around the handles of the trolley and he forces himself to breathe. The man with Kiara is rubbing both sides of her arms, a concerned look on his face as he mumbles something to her. She’s shaking her head, giving him a reassuring smile as they continue with their shopping, not taking another look at Shawn.

I still love you, I promise / Nothing happened in the way I wanted

Shawn abandons his cart, the Canadian in him feeling guilty about not placing the stuff back on the shelves. But his mind is running too fast that his legs couldn’t comprehend his own actions. He finds himself squatting outside the store, baseball cap pulled far down on his face. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, sitting out here in the middle of nowhere, waiting for some damned miracle to happen. Something to fix his heart.

“I’ll drive the car up here? That way we don’t have to push the cart back.” Shawn recognises the same voice and he peers up slowly.

“Sure, I’ll wait here.” Kiara.

He waits for a couple moments before he scrambles to his feet and it makes Kiara jump out of her skin.

“Pinché pendejo.” She mutters under her breath. Kiara’s about to push her trolley further away, when she recognises the white and pink Dodgers baseball cap that used to belong to her.

“Shawn?”

He feels like a deer caught in headlights, looking down at her with widened eyes. The look on her face was unreadable as she puts her hands deep into the pockets of her hoodie. He tries to drink in as much of her looks as he can - the change in the way her hair now falls just above her shoulders instead of having it in those long beach waves; how she now has the confidence to be out in public with barely any make up on. The moment of staring doesn’t last too long though, when Shawn hears a voice call out for her.

“Babe, you good?” Kiara and Shawn both seem to be shaken back to reality quickly. She’s pushing her hair out of her face and smiling softly to her boyfriend.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Let’s load her up.”

And I know you said that we're not talking / But I miss you, I'm sorry

“Wait.” Shawn says barely above a whisper. Both of them stop in their tracks and look to him.

“Can I-can I talk to her for a second? I promise you it won’t take long.” Kiara’s boyfriend is already dropping the bags back into the cart, trying to go in front of her to give Shawn a piece of his mind.

“Ryan,” She pulls his arm toward her and he switches his attention to his girl, “I’ll talk to him. I won’t take too long.” Ryan looks at Kiara then back at Shawn and he stalks toward him, chest out, looking like he’s ready for some brawl. Kiara’s holding her breath as she watches him walk, the anxiety in her chest just become worse by the second. Ryan has his pointer finger up, voice low as he stares at Shawn in the eyes, “you hurt her again and I guarantee you, I will ruin you.”

He turns back around, kissing Kiara on the cheek before he loads the groceries into the car.

Shawn smiles awkwardly at her, “well, he seems nice.”

“I’m so sorry, he’s just protective.”

“That’s okay, I understand.” An uncomfortable silence fell between the two of them and Kiara think’s this is probably the worst idea in the entire world. To be standing out on a cold day in LA, next to her ex, with her boyfriend waiting less than 10 feet away. She’s wrapping her arms around herself, bouncing on her feet to keep herself warm. Shawn doesn’t say anything for awhile and Kiara’s growing frustrated by the second.

“Did you want to-“

“So I-“

They start at the same time, and it makes Shawn chuckle. But it makes Kiara sigh and she’s hugging herself tighter. Shawn finally sees the hint of annoyance on her face and his mind scrambles for the right words. (Though, I’m not exactly sure these are the write words, Shawn)

“How are you?” Kiara gives him a look, and she couldn’t believe her ears. After standing out in the freezing cold weather, he just wanted to ask how she was doing?!

“Get to the point, Shawn. I don’t have the time for small talk right now.” He’s fiddling with the loose thread from his sweater, trying to avoid Kiara’s intimidating brown eyes when he speaks.

“I just-I, I just miss you, Ki.” Kiara scoffs, very audibly and she takes a step back to look at him.

“Cariño,” He recognises the same sarcastic tone that her mother uses, “don’t you have a girlfriend you should be with?”

Breaking dishes when you're disappointed / I still love you, I promise

“Yeah I do, she’s standing right in front of me.”

“You did not just-“ Kiara mutters under her breath, shaking her head violently. She looks around her to ensure that there’s no one in earshot, then steps toward him and pokes his chest.

“Shawn Peter, you do not just squat out here wanting to talk to me after you argued with your current girl and then say that you want me back. You do not just walk up to me and say all those things after what you did, how you hurt me and-“

He grabs both her wrists and Kiara stops mid-sentence.

“What are you doing?” She mutters under her breath. Kiara knows that Ryan would be watching them both, and any bigger movement would send him running out of the car to punch Shawn in the face. She looks over her shoulder and she already sees the door of the Range Rover opening slowly.

“I miss you, I really do. I still love you, Ki, I still fucking love you.” He tries to lean in and Kiara finally had enough, pulling her hand out from his grip.

“Fuck Shawn, I’m happy now can’t you see? We’re over, it’s over.” Kiara turns around, her eyes meeting Ryan as he stands next to the car. She musters up a smile for him before she hears Shawn shout from behind her.

“Does he love you like I do?” She stops in her tracks and looks over at him.

“No Shawn, Ryan has done a better job in the last three months than you ever did in the three years I’ve known you.”

With that, Kiara walks away, and Shawn is left with half of his heart and the image of her back burned in his mind.

#shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes x reader #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes angst

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punksarahreese · 4 years

Text

Panic | Reesker |anxious!ava

Content warnings: medical talk (duh), mentions of surgical gore, panic attacks/meltdown, very brief mention of self injury (hitting)

***

Doctor Bekker to the ED, Doctor Ava Bekker to the ED immediately

Ava looked up from the chart she was writing just as the PA system and her pager went of simultaneously. She set the tablet down on the nurse’s station, saying a hasty farewell to the CT floor head nurse, and broke off into a sprint. She made it down the stairs in record time, knowing Connor was in surgery so she would be the only CT fellow prepared to take a trauma.

“Maggie?” She asked breathlessly as she came up to the charge nurse, who looked at her in relief.

“Jason Abrams, 35, came in to the ED with shortness of breath and heart palpitations. Passed out during a family reunion and didn’t wake up until he was in the ambo. Wife’s in there with him and half the reunion is taking up space in my waiting room.”

“Heart attack?” Ava questioned as she slid into the treatment room beside April, pulling on her gloves.

“Doesn’t look like it,” she replied, passing Ava her stethoscope, “Take a listen.”

Dr. Bekker nodded and turned to the patient, “Mr. Abrams? I’m doctor Bekker, I’m going to figure out what’s wrong okay?”

The patient gasped out an acknowledgment, clearly struggling to breathe despite the oxygen cannula. April leaned over to check his stats, humming in annoyance at what she saw, “Stats are falling, down to 90%.”

Ava had been listening to the patient’s heart and lungs and met April’s eye, “I’m hearing a murmur, someone get me a 15 lead EKG and a chest X-ray.”

“Right away, Doctor,” Monique replied, attaching the leads to the patient and setting up the machine. While she did that, Ava turned to the patient again.

“Alright, Jason, so I’m hearing a bit of blood splash back in your heart. We’re going to run some tests to confirm what I’m hearing, do you have any history of heart issues?”

Jason shook his head but was unable to respond, his breathing clearly worsening. His wife spoke up from her worried hovering beside his head, “Heart disease... i-it runs in the family but we’ve had no indication of Jace being at risk.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” Ava nodded and took the EKG reading from Monique, “Right, so we’re going to send you up for an echocardiogram, just to get a look at your heart better.”

“Call radiology, let them know we’re taking him up,” Ava said to Monique, watching as the nurse rushed off to make the call.

“Doctor, what’s wrong with him?” The concern in the wife’s voice was apparent and she was fussing over her husband, who had begun to perspire as his lungs worked overtime.

“I can’t be certain without the echo but I believe what I’m hearing is a defect in your husband’s mitral valve. It is sending blood backwards into the heart and that’s causing less oxygen to get through his body.”

“Oh God, my baby,” Mrs. Abrams cried, “What does that mean?”

“I-I uh, won’t know the full extent until we get the test results back, but... if medication doesn’t fix our issue we may be looking at surgery to fix the valve.”

Ava nodded at April, “Push 10 mg of bisoprolol and page me when you get his scan results, please.”

The blonde ducked out of the room and made her way over to Maggie, who was watching the waiting room with a pained look.

“Well?” She asked, “Are you gonna get the Abrams family reunion out of my ED any time soon?”

“Sounds like mitral regurge to me, Maggie. Might be a while, especially if he needs surgery.”

“Of course,” the nurse sighed, “Alright, let me know.”

“Will do,” with that Ava took off to locate a tablet to add to his chart. She snagged one off the nurses’ station and logged in, charting the course of treatment given. She planned to go back upstairs and meet them in radiology, walking as she noted the enlarged chamber on the EKG. She didn’t even notice she had gotten in the way until she had collided with someone while trying to get on the elevator.

“Woah, will you watch-“ she began to say but stopped herself when she realized who it was, “Oh, sorry, Reese cup.”

Sarah Reese stood in front of her in all her glory, eyebrow raised at the immediate tone change and nickname, “That was a whole 180, Dr. Bekker.”

“Oh hush,” Ava sighed, “You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Only because it was me,” Sarah remarked with a chuckle, “Anyone else and you would have snapped enough to make them cry.”

“You know me that well, do you?”

“Well I’d hope so,” Sarah’s hand had snuck it’s way to her wrist as she responded to the quip, “Busy?”

“Checking my pulse? What’s your diagnosis, Doctor?” Ava teased lightly.

“Hm, heart rate of 100, cheeks flushed and breathing uneven,” Sarah stated factually, “Either you’re nervous or you’ve been running, and you hate running.”

“You caught me,” Ava laughed, “Was in the ED.”

“Ah,” the psych resident nodded and kept hold of the older woman’s wrist, tugging her around the corner to a quieter part of the hallway. She saw Ava was about to protest and held up a hand.

“Shh, humour me, Ava.”

Noting the stern look the other woman gave her, Ava sighed in digression, gesturing for her to go on.

“Is the ED still making you that nervous?”

“I’m just not used to the hustle of it,” Ava sighed, “It’s not a big deal, Reese cup.”

“You sure?”

She nodded, “I’m a CT surgeon, love, I’m not made for the chaos Maggie runs down here.”

Sarah’s cheeks flushed a little at the pet name, though she knew well enough that Ava pulled that card simply to win her over.

“I promise I’m fine,” she continued, a smile playing on her lips at the other woman’s worry.

“You have your earplugs if you need them?”

Ava nodded, patting her scrub pocket. She often got overwhelmed by too much noise at once, a symptom of her newly diagnosed sensory issues, so earplugs helped her stay calm.

“I’ll be okay, Sarah,” Ava promised again, “But I really need to get up to radiology.”

The resident nodded, “Okay, don’t let me keep you.”

Ava saw the little spark of regret in the younger woman’s eyes, knew she felt insecure with her forwardness and was afraid she had pushed her too far. Ava’s anxiety about the emergency department and patient interaction was a sensitive topic, but Reese was too curious for her own good.

“Hey,” Ava grabbed her hand and gave it a light squeeze, “Thank you for caring. Coffee later?”

Sarah smiled a little and nodded, “Yeah.”

“Great,” a mischievous grin and then a quick kiss was pressed to her cheek, “See you, Reese cup.”

“Ava!” The brunette was left standing in the hallway with bright red cheeks, making the other doctor laugh as she went back to the elevator.

The surgeon still had a grin on her face as she made it onto the elevator. She couldn’t help but feel giddy around Sarah, something about her just made the hospital feel 100 times safer. Their relationship started off as merely occupational, speaking when patient cases crossed or in passing around the hospital. They got along fine, of course, but Ava was up in CT way more than in the emergency department, so their paths didn’t cross often. This changed when one day Ava had a bad case, when she lost that instrument inside the patient’s heart.

She had a panic attack, rushed out of the operating room and leaving Connor to close the patient. He had stormed into the locker room, starting to yell at her, but stopped when he saw the state Ava was in. She was clearly shaking, cheeks streaked with tears and makeup. He tried to talk her down but she wouldn’t listen, didn’t want his pity, especially not after he had been a major ass all day.

Eventually Connor gave up, leaving the room with a dramatic sigh. Ava had immediately dropped to the floor when the door closed, slumping against a locker as she sobbed quietly. She didn’t want to act like this, didn’t want to be so dramatic when they saved the patient, but she couldn’t help it. What if they hadn’t saved him? What if they missed the instrument and had closed him up? She had let down Connor and Dr. Latham, but mostly, she let down herself.

Ava hastily wiped away her tears when she heard a knock at the door, cursing her anxiety for making her act like such a baby. She tried to put on a brave face but stayed slumped down, letting her hair hide her for the most part.

“Doctor Bekker?” Sarah had come around the corner, “Doctor Rhodes said you were panicking. Are you okay?”

“J-just like him,” the blonde scoffed, “Goes and tells people about my mistake and calls psych on me? Of course.”

Sarah just sighed, crouching down in front of the older woman, “Are you okay?”

“Oh I’m peachy keen, Doctor Reese,” she replied sarcastically through her tears. It’s not that she wanted to be mean to Sarah, the younger woman didn’t deserve that, but it was her defence mechanism. She hated to show weakness, so she lashed out. It was something she had never been able to grow out of.

“Ava... I’m not here as a psych resident, not if you don’t want me to be. I can be here as a friend, or even as a stranger, I just want to help.”

The CT surgeon had huffed at that, swiping at the stray tears still creeping down her cheeks, “Nothing to help with, Sarah. I’m just ashamed with my work today.”

“Ava... this is classic signs of a panic attack,” even though she said she wasn’t there as a doctor, Sarah couldn’t help the psychoanalysis, “What happened?”

“Lost an instrument in a patient’s heart,” Ava groaned at the sheer stupidity, “Had to reopen him and then just left Connor to clean up my mess. I fucked up.”

“No, Ava, you just made a mistake,” Sarah looked at the door before sitting down on the floor beside the other woman, “Human error happens, please don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“I could have killed him, Sarah,” she hit her leg with a closed fist out of frustration, “I just keep reliving the moment and all the ways it could have gone wrong.”

“The important thing is you saved him.”

Ava laughed bitterly, “Barely. How could I be so careless?”

“What was it?”

“The end of a suction catheter...”

“Ava,” Sarah reached a hand out to cautiously hold hers, saving her whitened knuckles from the angry fist they were in, “That’s so small and they shouldn’t come off that easy, of course you wouldn’t expect to lose something like that inside a patient. It was a mistake and you fixed it, please don’t beat yourself up.”

“I let Dr. Latham down... and Connor was so mad...”

“I know, and I know that’s scary,” Doctor Reese agreed, “But you fixed it and all you can do is monitor your patient and grow from the mistake.”

Ava sighed and looked down at their hands, still tightly clasped together. She didn’t remember twining their fingers together or leaning closer to Sarah, but it felt right at the time. The younger girl was her source of stability in that moment, someone she knew wouldn’t judge her or break her trust. It was that moment that Ava decided she would quite like to be more friendly with the psych resident, as she seemed like someone worth knowing.

The rest was history, really. They got closer, became friends over time. Walks for coffee on breaks and discussing cases over lunch quickly became habitual for them. Reese would stop to talk to Ava as she walked through the CICU, something she had never done before. They just worked, the two seemed to realize, and their bond only got strong. It escalated quickly one night, when they got a little too wine drunk on a well deserved night off. Sarah’s usual apprehension disappeared with every drink, returning Ava’s relentless flirting without hesitation. One drunken kiss and they knew, there was no turning back and to be honest neither of them wanted it any other way.

That had been almost eight months ago and somehow they had kept their relationship under wraps in the hospital. Sarah was the one who helped diagnose Ava’s panic and sensory processing disorders, so it was kind of an issue that they were together. She was going to have to switch to a different psychiatrist if word of their relationship spread, but that would be the least of her problems.

Ava knew it would get out eventually, probably the second Maggie caught wind of it, but she didn’t mind. She knew her feelings for Sarah and was unabashed about her bisexuality at that point. It’s not like they were the first doctors in this hospital to be involved, much less the last. She knew Connor might take it a bit hard, felt bad for stringing him along, but really he deserved it in some twisted way. Maybe it would hurt his ego just enough to crush his God complex; losing Ava to a female psych resident.

Ava was still lost in thought as the elevator doors opened to the radiology floor. She jumped when a medical student brushed past her with a halfhearted apology, tearing from her memories to walk off onto the floor. She found her way to the echo waiting area, finding the radiologist quickly.

“Jason Abrams,” the tech said with a terse tone, “You’re gonna want to see this.”

“Mitral regurge?” Ava guessed before she even saw the scan, knowing she was probably correct in her first diagnosis.

“Correct,” he replied, “Very progressed too. Looking at maybe a few weeks before complete prolapse.”

“Poor man.”

“Meds won’t fix it, then?” The tech guessed.

Ava studied the scan before shaking her head, “No, too far gone. I’m probably going to have to replace the valve ASAP, depending on how his body responds to the beta blockers.”

“Shame,” the man shook his head, “Good luck, Doctor Bekker.”

“Thanks.”

With that Ava motioned a nurse in and asked her to take Mr. Abrams up to the cardiac ICU so she could speak to him and his wife in a more comfortable location. The nurse nodded and disappeared to do just that, leaving Ava to make her way upstairs on her own.

She took out her phone and made a call as she was in the elevator alone.

“This is Doctor Reese.”

“Hey, Reese cup,” Ava smiled at the professional tone her girlfriend had answered the call with. She never looked at her caller ID and always made a habit of a professional answer.

“Oh, hi, Aves.”

“You’re cute when you sound all professional,” Ava teased.

“Oh hush,” she could almost see Sarah rolling her eyes, “What’s up?”

“Might have to push our coffee date back a little,” Ava began apologetically, “I might have to do a valve replacement now now.”

“Okay, no worries,” of course Sarah was immediately understanding, “Good luck with your surgery then.”

“Thank you, you’re a doll.”

“So you tell me,” Sarah laughed, “Your slang is sneaking in again, by the way.”

“Is it?” Ava pretended to be shocked, stepping off the elevator, “Hadn’t noticed.”

“Mhm, makes the accent even cuter.”

“Aw, bokkie~” she made sure to use the Afrikaans pet name that Sarah found embarrassingly adorable, “You flatter me.”

“What does that mean again?” Sarah asked after a moment of hesitation and Ava knew she was probably blushing like mad.

“Little doe,” The blonde supplied, “I’d say it suits you.”

“Cheesy.”

“Always,” Ava shot back, “Okay I’m up in the CICU, I’ll page you later?”

“Of course, Doctor Bekker,” Sarah’s voice changed, though not unfriendly,” I’ll see you then.”

“Charles?” Ava laughed, “Bye, love.”

“Bye, Aves.”

Ava sighed as she rounded to corner to her patient’s room, pocketing her phone, “Here goes nothing.”

***

Forty minutes later Ava was scrubbing in, taking off her rings to wash her hands thoroughly. She was humming quietly to herself, trying to ground her thoughts before surgery.

“A valve replacement?” The door had opened to reveal an annoyed Connor, “You weren’t going to page me?”

“My patient, Connor.”

“I’m the trauma surgeon, Ava!”

“You were busy,” she retorted, “And besides he wasn’t even really a trauma. I can do a valve replacement on my own, thanks.”

“You need an assist.”

“You just saying that to steal my lead surgeon position,” she rolled her eyes, “Learn to share, Connor.”

“I’m scrubbing in,” he grumbled.

“I’m lead surgeon,” Ava shook her head as she brushed past him, “Accept that or get off my case.”

She went into the OR and accepted her gown and gloves from the scrub nurse. As she was tying up her gown, she made eye contact with Jason who looked rather nervous.

She gestured for Marty to start the anesthesia, getting into her position and rolling her shoulders a little. Connor stalked into the room and got his gloves and gown, not acknowledging her placement.

“No temper tantrums in my OR, Connor.”

The surgery started completely as normal. Eventually their argument fizzled out and they fell back into the familiar rhythm of operating together. The two CT fellows may have had their ups and downs but there was no doubt that they worked well together in surgery.

“Mechanical valve?” Connor asked, as they had already removed the damaged mitral valve.

“On back order,” the scrub nurse said, “We don’t have this size right now.”

“Oh for fok’s sake,” Ava muttered, glaring sharply at Connor when he immediately mocked her accent.

“It’s funny, Ava, lighten up.”

“I don’t mock yours, Connor.”

“Size 3 porcine valve then,” Connor changed the subject, not needing to start another fight during the hardest part of the surgery.

“They degenerate in half the amount of time,” Ava groaned, “And blood thinners wouldn’t have been a problem for him.”

Connor didn’t answer and they continued the replacement, not speaking other than to direct each other’s movements or ask for other instruments. They had transplanted the valve just fine and things seemed to work out perfectly. Ava was just about to ask for the proper suture size for the pericardium when the monitor started beeping like crazy.

“Shit,” Connor cursed lowly, “Marty?”

“Afib.”

“Why?” Ava looked desperately at Connor, “What happened?”

Connor was fumbling to figure out the issue amidst the rapid, uneven beating of the patient’s heart. Ava cursed herself when she realized the issue.

“Valve must have thrown a clot.”

“Already? How?”

“I don’t know, Connor!” Ava was too overwhelmed to think straight let alone answer his mindless questions, “Internal paddles!”

They worked to regain proper rhythm, shocking the heart to restart its beating. That didn’t seem to help though, unfortunately the opposite happened. Just as they had gotten the atrial fibrillation under control, another thing went wrong.

“Blood pressure’s dropping,” a nurse called out, making Ava look up at the monitors for clarification.

“Connor.”

“I know,” he replied, trying to figure out what had gone wrong.

“Doctor Bekker,” the anesthesiologist shouted just as the machine went wild again, “He’s in vfib!”

“Jesus,” Ava’s own heart felt like it was about to jump out of her chest, “Starting intracardiac massage.” Ava began internal compressions as she muttered under her breath, “Come on, Jason, you can’t die on all of them.”

Connor was ordering the nurses around to get epinephrine and recharging the paddles. Ava could barely breathe in the moment, questioning how everything went wrong and what had even happened.

“Charging,” Connor was saying, “Clear!”

Ava moved out of the way so Connor could shock the heart, but it didn’t help the rhythm any. Ava ordered another round of epi, restarting internal compressions.

“How long’s he been down?”

“Three minutes.”

“Damn,” Connor sighed, “Charge again.”

The next bout of electricity didn’t help to restart the heart and it was clear that this wouldn’t be resolved so easily. Ava didn’t give up on compressions, still mumbling half to herself and half to the patient. By the time they had reached the ten minute mark with no improvement, Connor had to grab Ava’s wrist to get her attention.

“Ava,” he halted her movements, “Doctor Bekker, he’s been down for too long. I’m sorry.”

“No...”

“You did what you could, Ava,” Connor’s voice was softer than ever as he tried to keep her calm, “It’s time to call it.”

“Connor...” Ava’s voice sounded pained as she glanced at the clock, “... time of death, 13:47.”

The other surgeon noticed how hard Ava was shaking when they left the OR to scrub out. He watched as she washed her hands roughly, her whole body trembling. No matter how many patients they lost, it would still affect Ava like the first every time.

“Ava...”

She just shook her head, not able to make eye contact, sliding her rings back on with a frustrated movement.

“You tried your best,” he tried again, “And we won’t know what happened until an autopsy’s done. Don’t blame yourself.”

“I don’t want your foking pity, Connor.” Ava snapped, accent even thicker as she held back tears, turning on her heels to rush out of the room.

“Damn it,” Connor cursed, pulling out his phone as the door slammed shut behind the panicking woman.

***

Ava had made it to the CT doctor’s lounge before promptly collapsing on the floor. She let out a gasping breath as the panic overtook her, shame flooding her system at this reaction. Why couldn’t she just be a normal doctor and depersonalize from the loss? Instead every dead patient and lost cause had to make her feel like she was the one who was dying.

She shook her hands out aggressively, trying to channel her anxiety and frustration into motion. It didn’t help though and a pained sob ripped its way from her throat. Covering her ears as if to block out the sounds of her own anxiety, Ava was shaking even harder than before. She knew this was a full blown panic attack and she should call Sarah to get her meds, but she could bring herself to breathe much less find her phone.

“What did I do? F-fuck where did I... w-hat went wrong?”

She was hyperventilating at this point, could feel her heart beating rapidly in her own chest. The sensation only made things worse, made her thing about how Jason’s heart was no longer beating because of her. Ava was so wrapped up in her panic that she didn’t hear the door open, she didn’t even notice when someone was calling her name.

“Ava?” A familiar voice was just barely audible as she still had her hands over her ears. She felt someone sit down on the floor in front of her and could just barely make out a mass of curly hair through her tears.

“Ava, honey,” Sarah was trying to gently catch her attention, “Look at me. Ava, you’re okay.”

“S-Sarah?”

“I’m right here, see?” Sarah reached her arm out but didn’t touch her girlfriend, knowing that touch while she was panicking could only make things worse. Sarah frowned as she let out another shaky sob, “Breathe, baby. You’re okay, I promise.”

“No!” Ava suddenly shrieked, clasped her hands even tighter over her ears. Sarah flinched at the outburst and apologized softly.

“I’m... it’s not- not okay.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Sarah agreed, “What’s not okay?”

“He’s dead,” Ava spat, “He’s dead... dead because of m-me.”

Sarah sighed, “Your patient? Oh, Ava, I’m sure you did everything to save him.”

“He- he just...” her sentence was cut off as she whined in frustration, hands coming off her head to smack her legs.

“Hey, hey, Ava,” Sarah said firmly, “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I- I don’t care!”

“I know, but I do,” Sarah reached out a hand gently but didn’t touch her, “Can I hold your hands? I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

Ava looked at her with tear-filled eyes, “Too much.”

“Too much?” Sarah repeated, “What is? The lights or the sound?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Okay,” Sarah stood up to go shut off the lights, sighing when Ava cried even harder when she left. “I’m coming back, baby,” she said as she rushed back over once the room was darkened significantly. She sat back down in front of Ava, who had her face hidden in her forearms and was slouched over painfully.

“Ava,” she tried to get her attention again, “Do you have your earplugs?”

The blonde made some kind of confirming sound, shifting in a way that Sarah saw as an invitation to get them from her pocket. She spoke softly as she did so, making sure not to spook her girlfriend.

“Okay, I have them right here,” she said as she held the orange foam in her hand, “But I wanna talk to you first, then you can have these and we can be as quiet as you need.”

“Don’t want... to talk.”

“You don’t have to, but I would like to talk to you, is that okay? I missed you today.”

Ava didn’t respond, though she did peek through her arms a little bit. A minuscule nod preceded a little sniffle, making Sarah’s heart ache at the pain her girlfriend was in.

“Can you take a deep breath for me, Ava?”

Ava hesitated but eventually a shaky breath left her lungs, her arms slowly coming away from her face. Sarah smiled sadly at her, noting the makeup streaked down her cheeks and her red eyes; this had been a bad panic attack.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” Sarah said gently, hoping to make her feel a bit better with the lighthearted words. Ava squeaked at that, lip still quivering as her anxiety hadn’t completely left yet.

“Breathe,” Sarah reminded her, taking her own deep breath to prompt the surgeon to do the same. This next one was less shaky, though a big sniffle preceded it.

“Good,” Sarah smiled again, “You’re okay, baby.”

“Not... not really.”

“Not now, maybe,” Sarah agreed, “But you’re safe and I’m going to help you.”

“I... I- let him down, S-Sarah.”

“Who?” Sarah prompted, shifting a little bit closer without touching her yet.

“Connor... Latham,” Ava’s eyes welled back up with tears as she spoke the last name, “J-Jason.”

“Oh, Ava. You didn’t let anyone down. You did your very best as a surgeon, okay?”

“H-how do you know that?”

Sarah sighed, “Baby?”

“Y-yeah?”

“C’mere,” the resident opened her arms, an invitation for Ava to find comfort in them. The older woman hesitated, still half in panic mode, but Sarah’s gentle eyes won her over in the end.

Sarah smiled sadly as Ava half crawled the short distance to slump in her arms, her face quickly finding its hiding place in her neck. Sarah just wrapped her arms around her securely, holding her girlfriend’s shaking body in an attempt to slow her heart rate.

“You, Ava Bekker, are an amazing surgeon,” she began softly, “You work so tirelessly, you’re so selfless when it comes to patients. You love your job, Ava, and you’re insanely good at it. How did you let anyone down today?”

“He... he didn’t- didn’t make it.”

“That happens,” Sarah replied, “Unfortunately. He wasn’t your first loss and he won’t be your last. I know you hurt for him and I know it’s a horrible feeling. You did everything you could, though.”

“How do you know that?” Ava repeated, pained eyes meeting Sarah’s.

“Because you’re the most caring and meticulous surgeon I know. I know you and you certainly wouldn’t give up unless it was the only thing to do.”

“I hate this.”

“I know, love,” Sarah’s gentle hand came up to take the elastic out of Ava’s hair, “I’m so sorry.”

Ava leaned into the loving touch as she smoothed down her hair, her breathing finally even. Tears were still steadily falling down her cheeks, falling into the crook of Sarah’s neck and staining her dress shirt.

“I have your pills,” Sarah said softly, “You want one? It might help.”

There was an extended silence before another minuscule nod. Sarah went to pull back, trying to get the bottle out of her coat, but Ava whined and held tightly onto her.

“Hey,” Sarah cooed softly, “Calm down, Aves. I’m not going anywhere. I just wanna get you some Ativan and water, okay? Then we can sit on the couch together and calm down.”

It took some gentle persuasion before Ava untangled herself from Sarah and stood on shaky legs. Her girlfriend smiled at her sadly, taking her trembling hand to lead her to one of the couches in the lounge. She pressed gently on Ava’s shoulders to get her to sit, leading down to drop a kiss to her forehead.

“Just getting some water,” she promised as she made her way to the counter, grabbing a familiar mug of Ava’s off the drying rack. She filled it with cold water from the cooler, taking out the bottle of sedatives and grabbing one for her as well. Sarah turned back to find Ava curled into herself on the couch, face buried in her hands again. Coming over, she crouched in front of the surgeon and nudged her leg. “Here, my love,” her voice was impossibly gentle, “You need to relax.”

Ava frowned but moved her hands, taking the cup and allowing Sarah to place the pill under her tongue. She let the thing melt, wincing at the taste, but knew the sublingual method would get it into her bloodstream faster. She took a sip of water when it was gone, finally realizing how dehydrated she was from crying so long. She finished the mug in under a minute, making Sarah chuckle lowly when she took the cup back.

The brunette set the cup down on the table, sitting beside Ava on the couch. She held out her hand, the earplugs nestled on her palm like a peace offering. Her girlfriend gave her a pained smile and took them back, debating on if she wanted them in or not.

“Sarah?” Ava sighed shakily, “I’m... I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, Aves?”

“Being such a pain,” Ava mumbled, “This was highly dramatic of me.”

Sarah shook her head, a gentle hand coming to rest on Ava’s thigh, “This is my job, babe, I can assure you that this was an entirely nature response to stress. You have two diagnoses that make this 100x times harder and you still manage to be an amazing surgeon; sometimes you’re going to have meltdowns.”

“I still hate it.”

“I know,” Sarah nodded, “But we got through it, right?”

Ava shrugged again and they fell into silence for a moment, Ava letting out a very shaky sigh. Her girlfriend turned to look at her, smiling at what she saw. The Ativan had clearly taken affect, Ava’s eyes were drooping and her breathing had evened out finally. She looked at Sarah wearily, mumbling something under her breath.

“Tired?”

“Mm,” Ava agreed, “Don’t like pills. Wanna... be awake.”

“I know, baby,” Sarah laughed, “But they help, don’t they?”

Another nod, Ava blinked sleepily at her, “Hug?”

The younger woman immediately opened her arms, pulling her close once again. Ava sighed and leaned into her embrace, finally calm for the first time in hours.

“You can nap here, if you want,” Sarah murmured, “No sense moving to a on call room or anything. You don’t need to see patients right now, Doctor Latham would understand.”

“No... stay...”

“Ava,” Sarah chuckled and shimmied until she was laying down on the couch, pulling her girlfriend down with her, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Ava seemed happy with their current position, shifting her weight on top of Sarah and snuggling down comfortably. She handed her earplugs to Sarah, letting her put them in her ears because her hands were still unsteady. With the sound of the room dramatically decreased and her eyes heavy from the sedative, she felt her anxiety ebbing away to exhaustion.

“Get some rest,” she heard Sarah’s muffled words, “You’re safe and you did so well today.” Ava felt soft hands on her back, smoothing down her unruly hair again and rubbing gently at the tense muscles of her upper back. She sighed, finally letting herself relax into her girlfriend’s safe embrace.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to feel things, yeah? You know I’m always here.”

Ava nodded against her chest, “Ja,” the Afrikaans slipping into her vocabulary as she drifted between sleep and wake, “I... love you, Bokkie.”

Sarah’s cheeks flushed and she was very glad that Ava couldn’t see that reaction to tease her about it, “I love you too, Aves.”

***

Connor rubbed at his face tiredly, making his way down the hallway. He knew he must have left his jacket around the CT floor somewhere, just couldn’t remember where. He reached the doctor’s lounge, hoping he would find it thrown across a chair or something so he could go home. He did not expect to find the sight in front of him when he opened the door.

In the darkened room, the minimal sunlight from the windows highlighted the two figures on the couch closest to the door. Ava was fast asleep on top of Sarah Reese, neon orange earplugs peeking out from under her hair and makeup streaked down her cheeks. Sarah had her arms protectively around Ava’s waist and the younger woman was still awake. She was occupying herself by playing with Ava’s soft blonde hair, the gentle gesture evidently tender. Connor was not expecting her to lean down and press a kiss to Ava’s head, a loving action he immediately knew indicated something way beyond friendship.

He must have made a sound, shifted too heavy or something, because Sarah jumped and looked up. He could see her cheeks turn bright red with embarrassment and knew she wasn’t expecting to be caught in such a vulnerable situation with the least vulnerable surgeon in Gaffney.

“Doctor Rhodes...” Sarah’s voice was a barely audible whisper, clearly trying not to wake the exhausted woman in her arms.

Connor hushed her, shaking his head with a small smile. Maybe it was better this way, even if his initial reaction was the wish to curse and fight for Ava like he always did. Seeing her like this, soft and vulnerable in a way even he had scarcely seen, made him know. Ava loved the psych resident, and the feeling was mutual. She clearly found her safety net in Sarah, and who was he to fight that when he knew how much she needed that?

“Thank you,” he whispered, pointing at Ava with a sad look. He grabbed his jacket off the desk chair, waving goodbye to Sarah and taking one last glance at his beloved fellow surgeon in her arms.

Take care of her, Reese

#pls give feedback this is my first med oneshot 😭#tumblr’s paragraph limit hates me #anxious!ava #chicago med #ava bekker #sarah reese #reesker #connor rhodes #chicago med fanfiction #reesker fanfiction #my-writing

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meanminyxrd · 3 years

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punchdrunk but it’s andreil based

hey losers i’m back with another song analysis, as always. i have a playlist for my andreil vibes if you’re curious, here it is. i actually have a lot but this one is for my slightly sad yearning andreil vibes.

anyways, today we are covering punchdrunk by vaines. i really really enjoy this song for them and i hope i can covey it!! let’s go (:

I remember driving your car 'cause I never had one

And if I did I probably would’ve crashed it

And if I died who would’ve cared?

Maybe you would cry sometimes

Maybe you would just be fine

Because I know we weren’t in love

You just wanted to pass the time

(And that was alright)

the first line of this is pretty black and white. neil driving andrew’s car <3333 that’s it that’s the tweet. when he’s saying he’d crash one if he had his own its because he has to destroy a lot and leave stuff behind because of his past. he constantly is working to hide his past from the FBI. furthermore, he thought he was going to die for the majority of the books, and when he died, who was supposed to care? he had no one. it was this ‘me, myself, and i’ mentality because that was what kept him alive. he was constantly in danger, and when he was with andrew that’s why he made him take away the promise; he didn’t want andrew hurt because of his actions. by saying ‘maybe you would cry sometimes, maybe you would be just fine’ shows how he doesn’t think andrew actually cares ab him because 1. neil is an oblivious fuck and 2. andrew is a raging tsundere. andrew is always like ‘i dont like u’ blah blah, explaining the line ‘because i know we weren’t in love you just wanted to pass the time’ but neil was okay w it; ‘and that was alright’

I got it bad and I feel so lonely

Thought I wanted love I just wanted you

Now we’re together but you don’t even know me

But I’m stuck, what am I gonna do?

uhhh, like, poor fuckin neil man. he really had it bad for this man i really dunno how he survived when andrew was in the mental hospital HAHA. but fr he must have been so lonely, never allowing himself to make attachments, and then he makes this really skewed one with some midget maniac and then that same man goes to a hospital. that can’t have been a fun time (and it wasn’t).

‘thought i wanted love i just wanted you’, god, i love this line. remember when he looks at nicky and matt to see if he feels anything different? sees if he feels attracted to them, but he doesnt? he thinks he’s just craving affection after all this time, but no, its andrew he craves, it’s andrew he wants and chooses.

‘now we’re together but you dont even know me’ this motherfucker is living behind this silly ‘neil’ persona for a time when he’s with andrew and andrew only has this red headed man built of half truths. ‘now im stuck, what am i gonna do?’ he can’t run away like he’s used to because now he cares about andrew and he’s promised to stay.

Guess I’ll stick around

Being with you is only making me feel

Like I’m further from you then I’ve ever been

But I’m right there when you call me 'cause I’m so lonely

I don’t wanna bring it to an end

now, neil stays because he promised andrew he would, and andrew makes him feel so different and special and happy. but also while he’s with andrew he feels so far away because he isn’t being himself and andrew keeps denying whatever this,,, scuffed relationship is. but whenever andrew initiates contact, asks him yes or no, tells him to meet him somewhere or do something, neil is THERE in a heartbeat because he’s so caught up with the idea of andrew and he doesn’t want what they have to ever end even tho he’s convinced it will, one day, come to that point.

I remember feeling so young

Nothing's gonna bring me down

And if you jumped I would’ve followed

All the way down to the bottom

Better days are over now

Everything is slowing down

And you still won’t say it’s love

You just wanna pass the time

Fine

being with andrew brings him up, makes him happy, makes him FEEL something. nothing was gonna take him away from that. he would have followed andrew anywhere because he quite literally trusted andrew with his life. but the good days are over, (cut to baltimore) he’s being fucked up by his dad’s men and he thinks he’s gonna die then (cut to post baltimore) andrew does all this shit for him but STILL says he doesnt care ab neil and he just wants to pass the time. and neil is like, fine, what the fuck ever. if this is just a cheap fuck then by god im going to enjoy it while it lasts. and he’s starting to think andrew might feel *something*, but there’s no confirmation that can be seen by our lovely oblivious lil man.

Don’t stop, I know that it’s not what

I want but I need somebody to be mine

Oh god, I can’t tell you what’s up

I’m so deep in punch drunk, dumb love

I don’t ever wanna wake up

he doesnt want to be tied down. trusting someone and staying in one place for a long time? no. no way. that’s not something that neil abram josten does. he does not stay, he does not trust anyone, and by god he does NOT fall in love. but he gets to a point where he needs andrew. all he can think of in the hospital is the foxes and andrew, god, ANDREW, the prick he’s fallen in love with and can’t get out of love with. and he begs andrew to let him stay (post baltimore, hotel scene) because he NEEDS to stay, he NEEDS the foxes but more importantly he NEEDS andrew. but he’ll leave if he has to. he’ll leave if andrew asks him to because he cares more about andrew than he does himself, but he can’t explain any of this to andrew, because he’s never felt this before and he doesnt know what he’s even feeling. he just knows that somewhere along the line he fell head over heels into this situation for andrew and god he doesnt think he’ll ever be ready for it to end.

Got me brainwashed, everything is hazy

Am I killing time? Are you killin' me?

Mind games daily, why do I let you play me?

Do you get high watching me bleed?

(Now I’m bleeding out)

this part, for me, is more so a cut to the first book when andrew is just fuckin manic 24/7 because of his drugs. he drugs neil (brainwashed, hazy) and kidnaps him. neil is so stressed out by this situation that he doesn’t know who is winning in this stupid war he has with this psycho midget (am i killing time? are you killing me?). we all know andrew joseph minyard LOVES to torment neil even when shit is chill so he plays mind games with him constantly, and neil just lets it happen, because that’s who neil *is*. nathaniel wouldn’t stand for this shit, but that’s not the personality he’s portrayed and he isn’t eager to break character; not yet. and andrew always is so damn HAPPY, no matter what, bc of the drugs (again, first book for this verse). so the ‘do you get high watching me bleed?’ is like neil being like, do u really enjoy watching everyone around you hurt?? are you actually happy with all of this?

Running in circles while you hurt me, guess I deserve it

'Cause I just keep on worshiping you again and again

And I’m there when you call me 'cause I’m so– *beep*

I don’t want the misery to end

this part is a little tricky to explain canonically, i guess, but i attribute it once more to andrew denying his feelings. nora never explains it in the books, but i know from experience that this is SUCH a confusing scenario to be in. to have someone acting like they care and speaking differently. and neil must have been so confused (running in circles) but he feels he deserves it because it isnt like he’s trying to leave or anything, and he’s always there when andrew asks because like it or not, he’s attached. even tho this confusion sucks sometimes, and the whole hearted belief he has that andrew really does not care hurts beyond belief inside, he buries those feelings because he isnt ready to let andrew go.

that’s pretty much all of it; can you tell i’m obsessed with andreil?? i just love them so much. they’re so special to me. like, i dont think either of them ever saw a relationship coming; it just happened, and that’s what is so inherently beautiful to me about them. it started with a kiss, a ‘yes or no?’ and escalated from there. neil expected one day andrew was going to get bored of him, just like andrew always said he was. but he never did. he never will.

so yeah!! hope u enjoyed xoxo see y’all soon <3

#aftg #song analysis #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #playlists #songs #music

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