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dhwty-writes · 3 years

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The Terribly Sad and Tragic Affair that Is the Fake Funeral of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss

Apparently, I am not only drawing for the Critical Role fandom, but writing for it, too. After months of nearly no progress I just vomited out 3k words this Tuesday and it only went downhill from there.

This fic is based on this post by @anne-o-nyme, I really hope I managed to capture the energy of it.

Have fun!

Summary: There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience.

After the sudden "death" of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss, it is his brother Verin's job to empty out his towers. The Mighty Nein show up to help (and maybe steal a few things).

OR: Verin is grieving, Essek just wants his stuff back, and the Mighty Nein are the Mighty Nein.

Warnings: I didn't tag this with MCD, because Essek is technically alive and kicking. Since Verin doesn't know that though, and this fic is written from his POV, this is dealing with grief and includes depictions of depressive thoughts as well as anxiety attacks. For more explicit warnings, please mind the tags on AO3. Take care of yourselves, and let me know if I forgot anything.

Read on AO3

There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience. "Listen," he said with what little calm he had left, "I know that by returning one of our beacons you became heroes of the Dynasty and were placed under Es— My bro— his stewardship. But this here—" he gestured vaguely at the interior of Essek's towers that had always been too cold, too empty, but not like now, never like now— "This is a very difficult situation for me, so if you could please leave, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Yes, yes, it's very sad that Essek died," the blue tiefling said—Jester, her name was Jester; she had given him that already as she had offered him her condolences with a hug—and Verin could barely contain his anger. After the funeral he had quite enough of lying dignitaries, nobles, and heroes currying favours with him. That had always been Essek's thing, he would know what to do, how to make them regret even daring to speak up; Verin had never been any good at it.

"But we're his friends!" He grit his teeth at Jester's blatant falsehood. Perhaps his anger showed on his face, since the tiefling faltered. "And, uh— Fjord?"

"It's true," the half-orc with too-smooth words and too-smooth voice lied, too. "We spent quite some time with your, er— your brother here. Made some good memories. We thought we might take this as our chance to say goodbye, too."

"We are here to help as well. We wouldn't want to infringe upon your grief, though," the tall firbolg added. "So, if you'd prefer us to return at a later point, we'd be happy to."

Verin was still trying to process everything—from these strangers showing up unannounced to their overwhelming presence to the fact that his brother was dead—while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the halfling who looked like she might have sticky fingers. So, he latched onto the word that stood out the most to him: "Help?"

"Right," Fjord said, looking slightly embarrassed, "we probably should have led with that..."

"We should have called ahead, too," the scary-looking human in blue—they didn't even wear white for the funeral—added. "We always forget to call ahead."

"But Beau, how should we have called ahead?" Jester complained. "We didn't know Verin yet."

"Well, Essek—" the human was interrupted by the even scarier-looking woman next to her stepping on her foot unsubtly. She at least had the decency to act embarrassed. "Right. Sorry 'bout that."

Awkward silence fell across the room, the Mighty Nein looking anywhere but him. It took him a few moments to realise they were waiting for him to speak up. "Help how?" Verin could have kicked himself. By the Light, he could do better than that. He had to do better than that.

A beat of silence followed, then everyone seemed to talk at once. Verin wanted to weep. How was he supposed to deal with this? How had his brother dealt with this? 'He probably hasn't,' he thought. 'They're probably all liars, probably—'

Someone cleared their throat and all eyes turned to the other human who hadn't said anything so far and who looked properly miserable. Immediately, the Mighty Nein fell silent. "Word has reached us that Den Thelyss ordered these premises to be vacated as early as possible," he said quietly with an accent Verin has been taught that belonged to the enemy. "And while some of us may not look like much, I can assure you, we are quite capable."

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "I supposed such menial tasks are beneath the heroes of the dynasty. There are servants—"

"Well, sure," the halfling with the probably sticky fingers interrupted, "but we know him. Knew him, I mean; sorry, force of habit."

"Besides, there's a lot of stuff," the lavender tiefling, who Verin was pretty sure was a known pirate, piped up. "Looks like you could use the help."

"If you want to, of course," the sad Empire human added.

Verin only wanted to scream, to give room to the torrent of thoughts raging in his head. 'My brother just died. My brother just died and he wasn't consecuted, so he's gone for good. He's gone for good and I didn't even know him; I didn't even know about these supposed friends he had because he didn't allow me near him in decades. I was a horrible brother and so was he, but I can't even be mad at him because he's dead.

'And now these liars show up and talk about friendship and knowing him, but those are all lies, horrible ones, because Essek had no friends. Essek was cold and cruel and lonely and do you even know how horrible that is? Dying alone with no-one who mourns you, just the favours you still owe them? Do you? I don't even know, and I'm his brother.'

Were he a weaker man, a less disciplined one, he might have said so. But he was Taskhand Verin of Den Thelyss and he had learned discipline before he had learned to talk. So, he said: "Your help would be greatly appreciated, thank you. I'll have the servants bring up some tea. There are, uh—" He straightened his back, summoning the composure that was befitting a Taskhand, even one with a dead brother. "There are boxes up there, they've been brought to the rooms already. Anything of value will be sold; the rest will be given to charity. The things— Well, if you find anything that might have sentimental value, something in his handwriting, perhaps, I think I should like to keep that, please."

The firbolg nodded sagely. "Of course. We will be careful with our selection."

With that, Verin turned around and— froze. Where was he even supposed to start? The towers had always seemed to huge for just Essek and he knew that there were very few personal belongings in them. Still, they would have to be scoured clean within the fortnight.

A large hand on his shoulder made him jump, although he'd never admit it. "Sometimes, when a task seems too large, you should start with the smallest part," the firbolg said. "If I were you, I'd start with the smallest room."

"Thank you, that, uh— that seems like good advice," Verin replied, still a bit startled and confused. "I, er— I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Caduceus Clay. I live in a graveyard, so I'm used to this," Clay said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Verin furrowed his brows slightly. A graveyard? It seemed highly unlikely to him that one of the heroes of the Dynasty would live in a graveyard of all places. Perhaps they were not only liars, but impostors too? But they had the symbols of the Bright Queen, so there wasn't much that he could say.

"Right," he mumbled. "I believe the smallest room would be the closet. Although it might be tied with the bathroom..." He trailed off again. He had never seen Essek's bedroom in his towers. Judging by how many times he had even seen the inside of the building; he could count himself lucky if he even found the way there.

"Why don't we split up?" Clay suggested. "One group takes the closet, one the bathroom and one the bedroom. We'd get done sooner that way."

"That is a great idea, Caduceus," Jester said excitedly. "I'll take the bathroom; I promised— er, I'm curious if I can find more of that hair oil, I got for Fjord that one time!"

"Ohhh, are you saying this is... an investigation?!" the halfling joined in.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Veth!"

"Seems like a case for Wildemount's best detectives!"

"Bye, Verin!" Jester called and he blinked and they were gone. Fjord joined them as well, muttering something about having to supervise them.

The purple pirate-tiefling shrugged, heading off in the same direction. "Well, I wouldn't mind rifling through some drawers. I'll have a look at that bedroom."

"Yeah, I don't need to see Essek's underwear, so I'll pass on the closet," Beau added tactfully—Verin was getting the sneaking suspicion that manners were not really her strong suit. She linked hands with the large woman at her side, pulling her along. "Come on, Yash."

"I'll go handle the tea," Clay said. "Don't worry about it." He vanished in the direction of the kitchen, his steps accompanied by the constant tap tap tap of his staff.

When Verin looked around, he realised that only the sad Empire human was left with him in the hallway. "If you wouldn't mind," he said, pointedly avoiding eye-contact, "I would love to have a look at the closet. I always, ah— appreciated your brother's sense of fashion."

Verin blinked at him a few times, then shrugged. "Sure." He began heading up the stairs.

"My condolences," the human continued. "I realise I didn't speak up earlier, but— I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he said, letting the same numb feeling wash over him again that he had embraced since the news of Essek's death had reached him.

"I know that we seem like a bunch of, ah— forgive my language, but assholes, but we're really here to help. I will tell the others to tone it down a bit."

"Thank you," he repeated.

"If you'd prefer that we start in, ah— less personal rooms, we can do that also."

"If I'm perfectly honest, I don't even know what I should be doing there."

"Neither am I." The human laughed nervously. "I have dealt with grief before, but I've never had the, ah— how do you call it? Hang on." He pulled out a copper wire and whispered: "Beau, how do you say zweifelhafte Ehre in Common? You can reply to this message." A moment later he straightened. "Right. I never had the dubious honour of emptying out a deceased person's house before."

"Neither did I," Verin admitted. 'Usually, the deceased person comes back,' he didn't say. Instead, he opted for: "You're, er— What's the word in Common? You're weird? I'm sorry if that's insulting, I just— waele xanalressen [stupid languages]."

"I don't understand your words, but I think I understand the sentiment." The man grimaced. "And I've heard that one before. I hope we're not too much of a... too much."

"It's alright," he lied and opened the door to Essek's bedroom.

It wasn't alright; Verin wanted to weep again.

The door to the bathroom stood ajar, as did several drawers and cabinets, although he couldn't glance inside. Considering that he heard glass shatter and a quiet "oops" followed by a hushed "Jester!" he was rather glad about that. Besides, what he saw was already quite enough to handle. Beau was currently rifling through Essek's nightstand, the tall woman tossing unread books on the bed carelessly, while the lavender tiefling seemed to make his way through his brother's collections of make-up and jewellery alike.

They froze when they spotted him and the sad human in the door. "Heeey, Verin," Beau drawled.

"These were all still closed, I swear," the lavender tiefling said immediately, gesturing at the jars in front of them.

Verin just sighed in defeat. "I don't wear any make-up, I don't care; you can have it. Put the jewellery in the box to be sold; the books are for charity if he hasn't read them. Just leave the earrings in front of the mirror, please. Those were his favourites."

Without another glance at them, Verin headed straight to Essek's closet, desperate to get some quiet. He took a few moments to collect himself, before closing the door and leaning his head against it with a heavy thunk.

He stayed like that for a minute or maybe two until he heard someone clear their throat. "I have been debating for the past fifty-five seconds, if I should just Dimension Door out," the sad human said and Verin very nearly jumped out of his skin, "but that would be loud and I didn't want to startle you. Not that I didn't startle you like this but—"

"Vithin shu," Verin cursed.

"Vithin shu ke," the sad human agreed, his accent in Undercommon even heavier than normally.

For a moment, they both stared at each other, equally startled by the course of events. Then, the human looked away again. "I, ah— have started learning Undercommon before, um— well, before." Verin tried very hard to focus on the way the human was scratching at his forearms; that way he had something else to focus on besides his nearing breakdown.

"This is a bit embarrassing, but, ah— I believe I forgot to introduce myself," the human continued. "I'm Caleb Widogast. Essek and I were... friends, yes, and ah— colleagues, of some sort. It's... complicated."

He scratched at his arms again before turning towards the shelves and pulling out a stack of tunics. He unfolded one, looked at it, then carefully folded it again, cast a cantrip to smooth out the wrinkles, and put it in the charity box. Then he repeated the procedure with the next. And the next. And the next.

Verin frowned, thinking for a moment about his words. There was something about them that seemed painfully familiar, although he couldn't quite remember. Then: "The transmutation specialist."

Widogast looked up in surprise. "Yes."

"Essek told me of you," Verin admitted.

The last time they had seen each other had been here, in these towers, just a few months ago. He had found his brother in his office, pouring over notes for a new spell, alive and healthy as ever. As always, he had entered without knocking. As always, he had pretended to read the notes. Not as always, he had noticed something wrong. "Whose handwriting is that?" he had asked.

"What?" Essek had snapped, his head whipping up. Then, however, his expression had softened. "Oh. A friend's. A colleague, of sorts. He's helping me out, a bit."

"With the spell?" Verin had asked incredulously.

"Yes. He's a transmutation specialist; you know that's not my forte. Now give it back, will you?"

"A colleague, huh?" He had grinned and held the paper out of Essek's reach. "Are you sure that's all?"

Perhaps Essek had been sick after all, for the strangest thing had happened: instead of using his floating cantrip to snatch the notes back, he had gotten a dreamy, far-off look in his eyes. He had even smiled with an expression Verin might have called dopey, if it weren't his brother they were talking about. After a few moments, he had snapped out of it, sighed, and said: "It's complicated."

"Did he?" Widogast asked tentatively. "Did he, ah— did he say anything else about me?"

Verin pinned him down with a glare, sizing him up. In hindsight, he should have noticed the thick spellbook at his hip earlier; judging by his slim frame alone, he should have known the man was a wizard. He supposed Widogast was handsome enough, although his brother had never cared much for that, with his copper hair and his striking blue eyes. Blue eyes around which crows' feet were gathering, as he noticed to his dismay. 'He's human,' Verin reminded himself. He might have a few decades left, maybe, whereas Essek had centuries ahead of him. The thought why his brother might condemn himself to more loneliness crossed his mind, though it hardly mattered. His brother had been the first to die, after all.

"Verin?" Widogast inquired quietly.

"I'm sorry," he answered with a thick voice. "I got lost in my thoughts there. He, uhh— he said that he trusted you." That didn't even begin to cover it, but these Mighty Nein had been lying to him since the moment they got here, so what was a little lie by omission? Besides, there were some memories that he wanted to keep just to himself.

"Essek," he had teased, still waving the sheet of paper out his reach. "Come on! Aren't we brothers?"

Essek had crossed his arms and pouted. He hadn't done that since they were both little. "Unfortunately. You are a menace. And a child."

"If you tell me about him, I'll give it back. Is he handsome? Is he a drow? Where's he from? How did you meet? When will I meet him? Can I promise to kill him if he hurts you?"

"Verin!" Essek had groaned and hid his face in his hands.

"What do you do when you meet? I bet you stay up all night, talking about 'arcane research' or something."

"We do, in fact. Are you done now?"

"Oh, is that what young people call it these days?" He had cackled at his own joke.

"Evidently not," Essek had muttered. "Might I remind you that you're younger than me?"

"Might I remind you that you're a buzzkill?" Verin had shot back and placed the note down. He had gotten bored of his own game.

Essek had taken the sheet of paper almost reverently and thanked him. "I would have hated it to rewrite that page." He had smoothed it down, stored it safely away in a folder, silent for a long time. Then, he had said: "Caleb."

"Excuse me?"

"That's his name," Essek had said. "Caleb Widogast."

Verin had frowned. "Hey, Essek?"

"Hm?"

"You must trust him a lot, to share a spell with him."

His brother had taken a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Verin hadn't expected him to answer, yet he'd said: "I do, actually. It's not the first spell we've created together and I would be honoured to create a thousand more with him. I'd trust him with my life, my death, and beyond. I think—" He'd huffed. "I think I trust him almost as much as I trust you."

Verin watched Widogast as he was looking through his brother's tunics, placing most of them in the charity box, and he wondered. Wondered if the trust Essek had obviously put in Widogast had been misplaced. Wondered if it had extended to his friends, as well. Wondered if ultimately trust had been his downfall, as he'd always feared.

Then again, if Essek had trusted him... perhaps that trust had been mutual. Perhaps they had been friends. Perhaps there was another person mourning his brother after all.

"Do I have something on my face?" Verin had given up on counting how many times Widogast had now startled him out of his thoughts.

"No, no I—," Verin stammered. "I'm sorry."

He tilted his head to the side. "For staring?"

"No, er— For your loss." Liar or no liar, it only seemed appropriate.

"Oh." Widogast turned back to the tunics. Verin probably should get started, too, shouldn't he? "Thank you. Though I'd wager your loss weighs heavier than mine."

"Probably," he agreed and turned to the task at hand. At this point, Widogast had moved on from the simple tunics to Essek's court regalia. After a short moment of consideration, Verin decided to look through the pants; he also had no interest in sorting through his dead brother's underwear.

Out of the corner of his eye he kept watching the wizard, pulling out one cloak after the other. At a few he wrinkled his nose, at others he just stared before putting them with the tunics. After a while one made him pause; an elaborate, beautiful robe in deep purple. "This is what he was wearing when we first met him," he said.

'He hated that one,' Verin thought. Not that he could say that out loud. Instead, he cocked his head and asked: "Are you sure? He has a lot of those. Had, I mean. Had a lot of those."

"Yeah, I'm sure." He tapped his temple with a faint smile. "I have a good memory."

"As does Essek," he snapped, suddenly feeling very defensive about his brother's capabilities. "I suppose most wizards do."

Infuriatingly, Widogast only nodded. "Indeed. Or they're not very good ones."

Silently, Verin turned back to the trousers. The sooner he got done, the sooner he got these people out of his brother's towers, the better. He didn't know for how long they worked in silence, Verin reminiscing about the times he had seen Essek wear the clothes and wondering about those he didn't know. Eventually, he folded the last of them and forced himself to return to the present. "I think we're done here," he announced. "Do you have a preference for a next room?"

"Perhaps the library?" Widogast offered a tentative smile. "I think I might be of more use there than folding clothes."

"More use than I will be, surely."

"I take it the wizardry doesn't run in the family, then?"

Verin only scoffed and opened the door to the bedroom again.

He immediately spotted Beau leafing through one of the books Essek had never read, while the tiefling was chatting amiably with the aasimar while braiding her hair. He also noted the boxes neatly stacked in the middle of the room. Besides that, he noticed with a heavy heart, the room looked much the same. If anything, it looked less orderly and empty than before. Except for—

"Where are Essek's earrings?" Verin demanded to know.

"What earrings?" the lavender tiefling replied with a too-wide grin the same moment Beau said: "Dude, there's tons of them, why don't—"

"No," he said decisively. "Essek's favourite earrings; they're always up here. I told you about them. Where are they?" His hands curled into fists, his neatly manicured fingernails pressing almost painfully into his skin.

"Perhaps you should look in one of the boxes," the aasimar woman suggested "I'm sure they're—"

"You're lying," Verin interrupted her, barely containing his anger. "Why are you lying? If they're in one of the boxes, then only because you put them there. So: where are they?"

Widogast only now stepped out of the closet, wearing an amber necklace he hadn't noticed before. "Verin—" he said tentatively, but he'd had enough.

"Shut up!" He startled himself with how loud his voice was. But he was beyond caring. "I know they're not in there, because the only ones to put them in there would have been you. So, either you're lying about having them put in there, or you're lying about stealing them, I don't care. Just— please. Please give them back."

The four of them passed a guilty glance. "We can't," Beau replied finally.

"The fuck you can't," Verin spat. "Give them back!"

"Verin, love, we would really love to," the tiefling added, "but we can't."

"I don't understand; is it precious things you want? Here, have some!" He strode over to the boxes and ripped the first open, tossing the lid towards the bathroom door Jester was peeking out of. He reached in to grab a necklace—an ugly one, he had always thought, with a stylised beacon—and threw it in their direction.

Beau caught it. Of course.

"Have a whole box, actually, if you like them so damn much." He reached inside and pulled out a jewellery box, tears prickling in his eyes. He threw one of those, too, just for good measure. It gave him some satisfaction that Widogast had to dodge it. "Just give me back the bloody earrings that my brother wore at my fucking consecution!" He was properly crying now and could only imagine the mess he looked like, but he had reached his limit. And, in his opinion, he was allowed to with all that was going on.

At least they looked a little bit guilty. "Fuck man, we didn't know," Beau mumbled.

"It's just one pair, Beau," Jester called over from the bathroom. "I'm sure it will be alright."

"Yes, there's no need for this to escalate," Fjord agreed and strode over to them, his hands raised innocently.

"I don't even know you people," Verin muttered, looking at the people crowding into his brother's bedroom. "Why did I even let you inside?"

"Do you want the earrings back?" the aasimar woman asked, reaching into a bag at her hip. Had she been carrying a greatsword for the whole time? Verin suddenly noticed how overpowered he was, were he to face all of them. "You can have them back if you want. Here, you can have them back."

"For a moment," Widogast added, slowly drawing closer to him and taking the earrings from the aasimar. He held them out on his flat hand, almost like he had seen soldiers offer treats to horses. His whole demeanour reminded him of someone trying to calm a spooked animal. For some reason, that seemed hilarious to him and he couldn't help the hysterical giggle that escaped his throat.

"Verin, I need you to calm down," he continued. "I know that's easier said than done, but you need your head."

"I think we should all calm down," Clay said from the doorway. And despite being surprised again, he did. It didn't make any sense, but few things these days did.

"Did it work?" the halfling asked. Verin wasn't really sure what she was talking about.

"It did," Clay confirmed.

"Gut," Widogast said and pressed the earrings that had seemed so important a moment ago into Verin's hands. "I think we should maybe go somewhere else, ja? Will you come with me?"

Inadvisable as it might be, if Essek had trusted that man, he should, too. And out of all of the Nein, he seemed to be the most normal one. The one he could see Essek with most. So, he nodded.

"I'll get us back to the kitchen, quickly." Caleb held out his hand and Verin closed his eyes, steeling himself. 'I hate Dimension Door,' was the last thing that crossed his mind before the teleportation spell ripped him away, together with: 'We haven't been to the kitchen, yet.'

Evidently, there went something wrong with the spell. Verin didn't know much about magic, but he knew Dimension Door couldn't transport more than two people. So, when he heard Beau groan and say "Fuck, dude, warn us next time," he knew that something wasn't right.

"You knew about the plan, Beauregard," Widogast replied.

"It doesn't matter," Fjord decided. "Caduceus, do you think you could make tea again? I think the Calm Emotions is about to wear off."

Cautiously, Verin opened one eye, then the other. They were, in fact, standing in a kitchen, as far as he could tell. All of the Mighty Nein were surrounding him. The furniture seemed to have been made for people taller than them; Essek probably would need to float in order to avoid awkwardly climbing onto the chair. The firbolg, however, who was fussing with a teapot, seemed to fit right in. All in all, the interior was very rustic. And very much not in Essek's towers, not that he had ever seen that room, of course.

The panic hit him once more. Verin whirled around to the wizard, instinctively grasping for his sword. "Where the fuck—" he faltered, finding his hip bare. Of course, he hadn't brought it for the funeral. Instead, he opted for just grasping Widogast by the lapels and lifting him up a bit. It was supposed to be menacing, which surely would be more effective, were humans not so annoyingly tall. "Where the fuck are we?!" he spat out.

A lot of things seemed to happen at once—he heard a "Fuck, man, what-" from Beau, a "Well, Mister Thelyss" from the pirate, several hands trying to tug him away from the weak wizard—but he didn't pay them any mind. He just shook Widogast, who looked entirely too calm for his liking, and demanded: "Answer me!"

"Leave him," was all Widogast said. "He has every right to be angry."

Indeed, the people grasping at him retreated, still on guard and surrounding him. There was a creak outside the door and Verin desperately wished for his sword once more. Then, a voice cut through the tense silence that had descended over the kitchen: "Caleb, is that you? You're back early."

"Yeah, there were some complications. Best come and look yourself, Schatz."

There was a sigh that was entirely too familiar for Verin's liking. Then, the door opened with a creak and in walked a dead man. "Complications," Essek Thelyss said with a fond smile. "I was just a Sending away, what did you come here fo— oh."

The person wearing his brother's face stopped in their tracks as they saw him. A couple of complicated emotions passed over his face—confusion, surprise, regret, guilt. If he hadn't known before, Verin was certain now that they were impostors, all of them. His brother would never tolerate such a display of weakness. Still, the impostor said: "Hello, brother."

Verin whipped his head back around to the wizard in his grasp. "What the fuck are you playing at?" he hissed.

"I- what- Verin!" the Essek-impostor sputtered. "What are you doing; put him down!"

"I would appreciate that, yes," Widogast added.

"Not before you don't tell me what's going on."

"Going on?" The impostor sneered and shook his head in a perfect imitation of his brother. "Nothing is going on, Verin."

"You died," he accused him.

"Evidently not," Essek scoffed.

Verin narrowed his eyes, looking from the man claiming to be his brother over the other too calm wizard to the rest of the Nein, seemingly perfectly happy to let this play out. "Prove it," he demanded. "Tell me something only my brother would know."

"You've become paranoid," he noted and Verin couldn't decide if it sounded proud or disappointed. "Alright. When you and I were in our early thirties, you once got in trouble for scaling the outside of mother's mansion. Rightfully, I should have gotten in trouble, too, but I was hiding on the attic. And the reason you never told anyone, is because then you'd have had to explain that I, the wizard, had somehow outpaced you, the fighter, in a climbing competition."

Verin wrinkled his nose at that. "Well, my brother cheated."

"I did not cheat, thank you very much!" He huffed indignantly and crossed his arms. "You didn't say 'no magic' before we started."

He stared at Essek for a few moments. "It's you," he whispered.

"Obviously."

Verin dropped the wizard on the ground and looked over at his brother; really looked. The man looked nothing like the one he had known for most of his life. His hair was longer than it had ever been since he'd cut it off and his bare feet were touching the ground. His clothes were casual, a simple tunic and trousers. After this day, Verin knew for a fact that not even Essek's trancing clothes were that informal, and yet his brother looked more comfortable in them in another's house than he had in decades. On top of that, he kept glancing over to Widogast. And smiling. Essek was smiling.

No, this man looked nothing like the one Verin had known for nearly a century. But he looked a lot like his brother.

"You're alive," he said stupidly.

"Yes, of course I am," Essek said, as if Verin hadn't just attended his funeral.

It felt only right to tell him so: "Why are you alive? I was at your funeral."

"That's a long story," he sighed and floated onto one of the chairs that were slightly too tall for him. He accepted a cup of tea from Clay with thanks and turned back to Verin. "Why are you here?"

"Well, that's a pretty long story, too," Jester spoke up. "He kind of started freaking out about your earrings, I think? And he was crying and looking pretty awful and everything, right Caleb?"

"I, ah— didn't think he'd believe us if we told him about you," Caleb said. "So, we had agreed beforehand to bring him here, in case of an emergency."

"He thought we were lying," Clay added.

"I suppose it is my story to tell," Essek said. "Earrings, Verin?"

"They're your favourite," Verin said stupidly and held them out to him.

His face grew soft. "Oh," he said as he took them gingerly, "I didn't know that you kne—"

Before he could overthink and do something stupid like stop himself, he surged forward and enveloped his brother in a tight hug. After a moment Essek closed his arms around him, too.

It seemed so unreal, to be able to hold him after mourning him for what felt like years. All the worries, all the grief and anger that had crushed him in the past few weeks and for what? For the bastard to still be alive after all. It wasn't fair. Why had he had to go through all of that? And why did he feel the pressing urge to start crying again? He should be happy, shouldn't he, that his brother wasn't dead. So why did it make him feel so awful?

"I think this is our cue to leave," Fjord said. Verin felt his brother nod and heard the Mighty Nein shuffle out of the kitchen, the door closing behind them with a creak.

Only then, Essek spoke up. "Verin," he asked quietly, "are you crying?"

"Shut up," he mumbled through the thick fog of tears and snot, definitely not crying. "I hate you, Essek. Do you know what I went through?"

"Meeting the Mighty Nein? Yes, I can imagine."

"They're horrible," he complained. "They're loud and they're rude and they had absolutely no respect for any of your belongings! I thought I was going mad."

"They are. They also are my friends, you know."

"How?" he asked agonised.

"I know they don't look like it, but they are surprisingly capable. And I am sure that you've noticed most of them to be annoyingly charming. But I think their absolute worst traits are their infinite stubbornness and perseverance. They quite literally did not leave me alone until they had befriended me."

Verin glanced up at him questioningly. "And were half in love with the wizard?" he guessed.

Essek scowled darkly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Perhaps."

He snorted and disentangled himself from their embrace. Very calmly he said: "You're a liar."

Essek looked genuinely startled at that. "What?"

"You said, you trusted me more than him. Why then, did he know and I didn't?"

"It's... complicated," he said.

"You wizards say that a lot."

"Verin." Essek closed his eyes. "I trust you. Implicitly. And I care about you. Which is why I chose not to burden you with the knowledge of my misdeeds. I didn't— I didn't want to put you in an impossible situation to choose between me and our queen."

He laughed nervously. "What on earth are you talking about? I mean, you didn't commit treason or anything."

Essek didn't answer, avoiding eye-contact instead.

"Right?"

Still, Essek kept stubbornly quiet.

"Oh," Verin breathed. He took a moment trying to reconcile what he knew about his brother with the fact that he was apparently a traitor. It all fit together ridiculously easy. "The beacons."

Essek looked up at him in shock and he knew he had hit the mark. "What?"

"You stole the beacons." Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. Essek had been studying them at the time, one of the only people with frequent access to them. He had always been fascinated by them, yet his theories had been rejected for their heretic nature. As Shadowhand, he had also regular contact with counterparts from the Empire, albeit not officially. Then, a few years after Essek’s research had been denied, they had vanished. How had he never seen this before?

"Oh Essek...," he said softly.

"No, please— I don’t—Please don’t—” He seemed to deflate, curling in on himself. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you, I—”

"I don't care,” Verin interrupted his frantic ramblings.

"What?" Essek looked up at him, looking just as shocked as Verin felt.

“I don’t care,” he repeated, realising that it was true the moment the words left his mouth. For how could he care about something as trivial as treason when Essek was sitting right in front of him, alive and well. "You're my brother, I don't care. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a year. Maybe in ten. Right now, I only care that you're alive."

“I—What—I don’t—” Essek stuttered, lifting and then lowering his hands a few times. “I don’t know how— If I can—Fuck.”

There was a joke on the tip of his tongue, but even he knew that this wasn’t the right time for it. Essek was obviously trying to tell him something and it took him a minute to decipher that strange behaviour. “Are you asking for a hug?” he hazarded a guess.

An agonised expression passed over his face and for a moment Verin thought there were tears gathering in his brother’s eyes. Surely not. “I don’t know if I may. I don’t mean to overstep—”

Without further ado, Verin stepped forward and gathered a yelping Essek up and squeezed him tightly. “Of course you may!” he assured him, awkwardly patting his shaking shoulders. “I love you, Essek. I am very glad that you’re alive.”

“I’m very glad to see you, too,” Essek answered and squeezed him a little tighter.

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ravenadottir · 3 years

Note

do you have any hcs on what type of drunk the islanders are?

cannot, for the life of me, find my old answer on this.

but it’s a good thing, ‘cause it was probably too short, and i do have some thoughts and scenarios on this one! this is gonna become a whole book :/ i might also include their favorites, or what i think it’s their favorites.

bobby.

he doesn’t know how to stay still when the alcohol goes in! bobby is the type to be dancing, singing along, singing with no music, pumping other people to join him whenever he’s feeling joyful! even when he’s in a certain mood that isn’t celebratory, he’d still be finding a way to not bum everybody out with his problems. he’s just the kind of guy to try and forget his problems while having a glass in hand! “mate!” he points to gary, noah, rahim, henrik. “i - love - you! no, seriously!” he takes a seat on their lap, hugging them as he continues. “i - love you, mate! you’re the best a man can ask! i - love - you!” colorful cocktails like “sex on the beach” and daiquiris. bobbyfish is only fun to him if he’s the one making it.

carl.

forever the quiet drunk, in a corner, reminiscing on every bad decision he’s ever made. nothing makes carl pensive and regretful like alcohol. he always refuses to drink in public because “i’m the worst drunk you can have at your party.” he doesn’t interact or talk before the sixth drink, and when he does, prepare yourself for a battle of two carl’s. “bummer” x “i want to rage, but the pain of being alive is too much for me right now”. definitely wants to be designated driver at all times. prefers to drink alone, at home, when everything is going wrong. bitter drinks like the “negroni” or “manhattan”.

chelsea.

the - life - of - the - party! always! chelsea never lets her outside problems get in the way of a good time and it shows! she’s here to party, to dance, to let everyone know how fun and good friends they are. you’ll never see this girl on the corner. it’s middle of the dancefloor or no dice in her case. she also gets extra flirty with everyone else, without any intentions of hooking up with anyone. “you are looking like the whole damn roast dinner in that dress, babes!” GIN!! and everything you can make with it.

gary.

pirate drunk. do you hear me? pirate drunk. draping his arm on his mates’, or girl’s, shoulder and singing along to whatever in on the background. slow speech and often stuttering his loving and caring words. “buz ya know whet may? i... focken luv ya! i zoo! because... en her mee ou-t. you, may, a - thu - bessss!” it’s love and confusing speeches all around, followed by raising his pint to pay for another round, again. gary drunk is also the type to tell you secrets you definitely didn’t need to know. picture the things he could tell you about from when he was a teenager, before he started working out, and no, i don’t mean painful and deep stuff. i mean the weird phases of discovery. he’s absolutely graphic when talking about those and i’m not here for it, garebear. beer! beer! cheeky v is for the start, then he stays on the beer for good.

henrik.

the happiest pup you’ll ever see at a bar. henrik is extra affectionate after a few shots, and incredibly in touch with his emotions, them being positive or not. one thing i often picture him doing is just going for the kill if he needed some courage for it. whether is a girl or a boy, he’s gonna walk towards them, offer them a drink and let them know how he feels. it’s all about the positive and the horniness. if there’s a possibility of a “bathroom in the club” even better! he doesn’t waste time on talking and if he’s really into you, he’ll let you know. other than that, he’s on the booth, watching the others dance, putting his hair on a bun, because when he decides it’s time for some moves on the dancefloor, no one can hold him back. he’ll grind, twerk, take off his shirt, pull people to dance with, you name it! sweet cocktails like the ones involving wine. anything that has red wine in it, it’s probably his favorite.

hope.

gracefully having her drink in peace, trying her best to keep her composure at all times. i do reckon she’s the kind of person that when drinks has the confusing thoughts and doesn’t get her whole sentences out, but in her head she’s not aware that’s happening. not that she drinks a lot, i don’t think she does that on a night out, or party in a friend’s house, but i can definitely see her being confused when someone laughs of the way she’s speaking, because they can’t understand it. “hope, you’re drunk...” “naah, i’m foine, i only had like...” keeps trying to do the math but can’t, resulting in teasing about how much she had that night. flavored vodka cocktails with a spite of vanilla beans in them.

ibrahim.

i like how shy and closed off he is but just how much he enjoys himself while drunk. he doesn’t necessarily change as much while in that state. he knows he doesn’t need much to have a good time and it shows when he gets to that “carry me home” self. ibrahim’s favorite thing is to dance with his partner and his friends. he lets the spotlight to whoever wants to grab it, but you can be damn sure, out of nowhere, you’ll see him attempting another worm, or his usual twerking. he’s not doing for the show, he’s doing because he can’t stop laughing after and honestly? i love it! he keeps his voice to a lower tone and often gets a little dizzy while getting up. it’s part of the reason noah and bobby tease him, but he doesn’t mind and laughs along. definitely the ones that contain citric fruits, like oranges or limes, lemons and grapefruit. i often picture him drinking a “paloma”. also, drinks that have some pepper might be on his list.

kassam.

this is probably the only time you’ll see kassam smiling for no reason. usually he reserves those for special occasions, such as really goos jokes, some snarky comment about someone who he hates or when you try to make him laugh, failing miserably. but drunk kassam has an easy smile and entertained facade you would think to be fake. do not be mistaken, he’s not. he just can’t control himself while under the influence of alcohol, and i think the part he enjoys the most is to see you having fun while trying to convince him to hit the floor to dance. “you know... that’s not gonna happen. because if it does, i’m gonna humiliate you with my...” he does a snake with his arms “... moves.” he gets funnier and looser, wanting to make you smile at all costs, even if that means he does and says ridiculous things like the worm arms. energy drinks+whiskey combos. he just likes that flavor and it hits the spot pretty fast.

lottie.

there’s only two lottie’s when she gets the alcohol going: depressive/pensive or goddess of dancing. no in between. lottie will forever be a wild card and that’s part of the reason why people invite her in the first place. she’ll be questioning life and her existence when bummed out, or dance and get every chin dropping when she’s being herself. drunk lottie might pull you in a bathroom stall and go to town on you. it’s confidence and “let’s skip this one, i have something to show you.” winks discreetly. plus, she’s always that kind of girl that pulls off the “bobbing/swaying side to side” move, even thought it’s the most boring in the book. she looks good and she knows it. as for talking/confessing, forget it. she’s not one to open up while drunk. lottie is probably the least selective when it comes to choosing alcohol. colorful, sweet, spicy, bitter, you name it.

lucas.

it’s always time for confident lucas to show up, and his drunk persona wouldn’t be different. the thing he loves the most is definitely showing his moves by taking your hand and making the two of you the center of attention. something he can’t hold back is his horniness. that’s something he had in common with lottie and henrik. but instead of a bathroom stall it might be the car you came in, or a nearby hotel. he’s not exactly the type to just at it on any corner, and even drunk, he has some fear of germs. also, he might be extra flashy when dancing, on the brink of looking like that’s his stage and he’s the star. i’m sure people agree, given he’ll probably dance with more than one person at the same time, giving the audience some threesome ideas. that’s the whole point: too look hot while making everyone else wish they were his dancing partners. think of grinding on the floor, grabbing thighs and dipping a girl. or a boy, if you ask me. combos of whiskey and energy drinks.

marisol.

drunk marisol, to me, it’s the funniest. she’ll become extra analytical of the social interactions happening at the bar/club/party. every conversation will get fully analyzed before she can take the next sip. of course there’s lots more to her drunk persona, but that’s how it starts. i believe it takes her four drinks to start dancing, five to make her take her glasses off and throw them somewhere, and six to make her dance on a table. i don’t believe she has much time to drink and have fun, so that makes her much less resistant to alcohol. three drinks are enough to make her stop being marisol and become “marisol, the life of the party”. it can get ugly once she gets more drinks in her, and you can expect dinosaur noises from the other side of the bathroom stall. that’s why she avoids that feared seventh drink and gets lots of water between shots. “espanhola” and colorful cocktails.

noah.

he’s probaly the least active on a night out, but the most surprising if he feels like it. usually he stays put, having his drink in place, watching everyone dancing and goofing around with each other. not participating it’s his default, he would rather watch everyone else’s personas coming out. “come on, book boy! you’re not gonna stay in your seat all night!” “nah, i’m good. for now.” he’ll hold his twerking self in until he has the urge of taking the dancefloor. very talkative while drunk, often discussing things he’d recently discovered and can’t wait another second to share them. of course he might get them wrong, given he can take lots of alcohol but no notice when his speech becomes gibberish. definitely enjoys lemon-y drinks with vodka and other “clear” alcohol types.

priya.

oh my god, don’t shoot the messenger, but priya is the type to do some crazy stuff while drunk and blame the booze on the next day. being fully conscious and aware of her actions but saying “oh my god, i can’t believe i did that, i’m so sorry.” for whatever it is. usually she’s fun and loose when there’s alcohol involved, and by loose i mean wanting to dance her ass off. this might be the time she challenges people to lip sync battles or dances, which to most is funny, but she gets very competitive about them, to the point of betting on things like the bar tab. definitely enjoys the white wine and its variations, and often experiments with flavored vodka, like peach and vanilla.

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.1

this arid world has turned my deep heart dry

This is the first chapter in my new ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Chapter Summary: follows S5E1 and Spencer's depression and disordered thinking is introduced.

TW: depression, disordered thinking, loneliness, the events of s5e1 (guns and knives)

Word Count: 3.4k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

SPENCER

"She simply said this arid world has turned her deep heart dry, there was just one way she knew of to finally feel like she was free, and it was 1400 feet beneath the cold and stormy sea." — Erin Hanson

Spencer’s entire body feels heavy as he drags himself into work, and it’s not exactly a good sign when he can’t even find the energy to press the button for the right floor; he just stares pitifully at the array of numbers as if the elevator will read his mind and resolve the issue for him. Eventually, he brings himself to move his finger the short distance, cold metal colliding with cold flesh, and the doors shudder close, catapulting him up several storeys towards his fate.

Some might call the emotions Spencer’s experience typical burnout, far too common in the FBI and even more so in units that deal directly with horrific crime on the regular, but he knows it’s more than that. His entire life is operating in a minor key, he’s functioning entirely on auto-pilot, and chunks of his day are a blur, almost impossible to recall. He knows he’s depressed. Knowing such a fact, however, does little to cure the actual problem. He has no idea what to do with information like this except bottle it up and shove it as far down as possible while pretending as much as possible that absolutely everything is fine.

Emily and Derek are laughing about something as he approaches their group of desks. Only weeks ago he would’ve been crushed when they don’t so much as look over to say hello, but now he’s glad to not have to fake a smile, invent a story to tell about his weekend, pretend he’s not currently being held together with slowly peeling sellotape.

Instead, he focuses on feeling grateful that no one’s commented on him arriving a whole hour later than he used to as he unpacks his messenger bag. It’s not like it’s his fault he can’t pull his exhausted body out of bed in the morning, but since he’d rather not disclose such sorry information and finding an excuse is way too much effort, spending the morning in solitude seems the only option.

He doesn’t really understand how he’s gone from being a genuinely happy person, thick as thieves with everybody on the team, to this. It’s almost as though somebody’s cut the rope tying him to the others and now he’s drifting away, sinking without everyone else’s buoyancy to keep him afloat. He can see them all still tied together, barely seeming to notice their drowning team member, clearly not missing his presence.

This misery over his inevitable isolation, though, is his own fault: he can’t believe he let himself forget his place. He’s useful, good to keep around for his intelligence, his reading speed, his problem-solving skills, but it doesn’t go beyond that. Spencer is not friendship material. And he certainly isn’t relationship material.

The day starts off slow, everyone burying themselves in their paperwork, but Spencer finishes it far too quickly for it to really serve as much of a distraction. Depressingly, it’s still miles slower than he’s used to. Since his pile of consults seems too exhausting to even look at, he decides another coffee is very much in order.

“Hey, Spence,” JJ says happily as soon as he pushes his way into the breakroom. She’s leaning casually against the counter as she drinks her coffee, reading through what looks like case notes at the same time.

“Hi,” he says, trying for a smile but he knows there’s no way he could possibly match her relaxed grin. Instead of trying to converse, he just heads straight for the coffee machine, fixing his eyes on the steady stream of coffee pouring into his mug already piled high with sugar.

“You alright?” JJ asks, sounding a little suspicious. Not concerned, Spencer notes, just suspicious.

“Hmm?” He looks up and catches her eye before deciding he should probably answer verbally. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting a bit off the past few weeks.”

Spencer sighs. Maybe this is an opportunity to actually communicate his feelings. He doubts JJ will be able to help but really he’d just like a bit of comfort: he’s in so much pain that a hug would feel really nice right now. And besides Penelope, she’s probably the team member he’s most comfortable with. If he’s going to share with anybody, it should be JJ.

“I’ve been having a bit of a hard time, I guess,” he admits, looking up as his left-hand fidgets on the hot ceramic side of his coffee mug. He resents how vulnerable his voice sounds, he’s giving far too much of himself over to hands he’s not sure he can trust, but there’s nothing he can do about that now.

“Really?” JJ sounds surprised. Spencer recognises the tone as that of anyone who has a certain perspective on him realising that he also has feelings alongside his intelligence, and it hurts. “I’m sorry, Spence.”

Spencer just presses his lips into a thin line and nods awkwardly in thanks.

“I mean… at least you’re not going through what Hotch is,” she offers, completely unhelpfully. “He’s still trying to cope with his divorce and isn’t seeing Jack as much as he used to. Derek was almost killed by the Reaper just a few months ago, Emily only recently lost a childhood friend — I mean, the whole team has been through a lot. Keep your chin up.”

She smiles at him, patting him on the shoulder, before leaving the break room and heading back to her office, leaving Spencer standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. He wants to shout that he was literally poisoned with anthrax only a month ago, if they’re tallying bad things happening as a method of tracking who has the right to be miserable. The others might be going through a lot, that’s true, but it doesn’t lessen any of the pain thudding in his chest and stirring in his stomach.

As he walks back to his desk, he realises he’s learned one thing: opening up = not a good idea.

As completely fucking miserable as he might be, there’s exactly one person in this world who doesn’t deserve to be burdened with any of it, so he carefully tucks it away in his pockets and plasters on the mask he’d perfected so many years ago. It might be a little rusty, after all, it’s been little used in recent years, but it works just as well as it used to do when he pushes the door open to Penelope’s office.

“I bring blueberry muffins,” he says as cheerfully as he can muster, and something inside him does warm as Penelope’s face lights up, squealing a little as she reaches her arms out eagerly, making grabby hands at the paper bag he’s holding.

“Oh, you have no idea how much I love you,” she moans, keen to rip the bag open as he pulls up a chair next to hers.

“I think I do,” Spencer chuckles, and it’s one of the only genuine reactions he’s given in months, “mostly because you tell me every day.”

“Mm, that’s right,” she concedes through a mouthful of warm muffin, pointing a finger at his chest. “I love you even more than I love coding.”

“That’s a lot,” Spencer says, trying for serious but he can’t stop a fond smile slipping across his face.

Penelope swallows her rather large bite of blueberry muffin and passes him his one. “It is,” she says. “How are you, anyway? You look tired, poor baby.”

Spencer looks down for a moment, schooling his expression for a second before he forces himself to look back up at her. “Yeah, I didn’t… didn’t sleep well last night, I guess.” He tries for a reassuring smile but he knows it’s more of a grimace.

Penelope’s face immediately morphs into one of grave concern. Spencer knows that that’s just the way she is, melodrama and fierce protectiveness is virtually her brand at this point, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t any less agonising to see, or the anxiety of being found out any less paralysing. He decides not to give her any room to actually address it.

“I’ll be fine, Penelope, don’t worry,” he says, turning away to brush some muffin crumbs off the desk and into his hand, purely so he doesn’t have to attempt another pathetic smile. “A good night’s sleep tonight will fix me right up.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, still looking far too worried for Spencer’s liking.

“Of course, Pen.” He feels sick at lying to her, but he has no idea how to broach any of the tumultuous emotions raging inside of him, especially after JJ shut him down so brutally. “It’s only a bad nights’ sleep.”

He’s saved from her inevitable continued line of questioning by Emily poking her head round the door and asking for Spencer’s opinion on a consult.

While getting out of bed in the morning might be an almost impossible task at the moment, the idea of getting into it at night seems rather depressing, really. That’s probably the reason he’s still at the office, despite the time nearing 8 o’clock and exhaustion settling into every muscle fibre of his being. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s just a little more time in close proximity to one Aaron Hotchner.

Of course, he’d had to accept the fact that he was maybe, just a little bit in love with his boss a long time ago. He just refuses to admit that he’s this embarrassing about it. Perhaps staying late to spend more time with someone you like this much wouldn’t be so weird if there was a reasonable chance of conversation — if he ever even saw him — but there isn’t even that: Spencer sits and works quietly at his desk, Aaron sits and works quietly in his office.

Today, though, today his lingering finally pays off.

Aaron is on his way back from the photocopier when he stops by Spencer’s desk. He doesn’t see him coming, though, is the thing: he has no time to try and make himself look even a smidge less miserable or to school his surprised yet utterly lovesick expression.

“Won’t you want to be heading off soon, Reid?” he asks, clearly curious as to why Spencer remains at his desk when there’s no real work to be doing, but he cleverly paints it in a light-hearted tone. Even though Spencer is completely aware of what Aaron’s doing, he doesn’t feel attacked or under pressure.

“Oh,” Spencer says unintelligently, stammering a little as he scrambles desperately at a somewhat coherent reply, “yes, yeah, I’ll get going soon.” He doesn’t want to lie when he doesn’t have to, so he doesn’t try and offer an explanation for his staying late, and he knows Aaron won’t push. He manages an almost entirely genuine smile, though, which must count for something, even if it’s only because he’s hopelessly in love with the man leaning casually against his desk.

“Right then,” Aaron says, offering a small smile in response, letting his hard exterior drop in the nearly empty office, and even though it’s nothing special, not really, Spencer carefully files it away as his heart pitter-patters against his ribcage and his stomach pools with warmth. “See you tomorrow, Reid.”

Spencer just nods in response and gathers his things, placing them carefully in his messenger bag and shrugging his jacket on before walking out of the building. When he glances back, just as he pulls the glass door open, Aaron is watching him carefully. He doesn’t turn away but instead offers a small wave, which Spencer returns bashfully, blushing scarlet in the elevator and on the walk out of the HQ and during the whole trek down the street and sat on the metro train and on the final stretch home. He fumbles with his keys and curses himself for being so goddamn pathetic.

He doesn’t consider it for long, though, because he’s utterly exhausted and his tired bones collapse on the sofa, and who is he to try and get them to move again? Sleep is a mercy.

🌧

The case is gruelling and stressful enough without the endless and constant worry about where on earth Aaron is. He never turns his phone off and Spencer can’t think of a time he’s worked a case without him, not properly; he’s always the first one at the office, the first one on the plane, the first to jump out of bed towards the chance to make a real difference in the world. It’s so out of character for him and it’s utterly distressing.

Nevertheless, he focuses all his attention on the job; on protecting Jeffrey and Tom Barton, on bringing justice to the perpetrator when they inevitably find them. He offers lame and desperate excuses for Aaron not being there, all the while knowing full well that none of them are likely. Something is wrong and he’s powerless to help.

Emily tells him why. He sort of forgets how to breathe.

Getting shot in the leg while simultaneously petrified for the livelihood of the person you’re in love with is inconvenient at best when trying to talk down an unsub and protect a victim and eventually fatal at worst, but somehow he half-manages and Tom escapes unscathed, though he isn’t quite as lucky with the unsub.

That’s what matters, really, isn’t it? That others are safe, even if it means he’s in danger? After all, Tom Barton has lives to save and a son to raise, a wide social circle, and a loving family. What does Spencer have? No, it’s much better that he’s the one hurt than anyone else.

Of course, once the adrenaline of the situation starts to wear off and medics arrive on scene, he realises quite how badly he’s hurt. Already feeling woozy, energy seems to seep out of him as roaring, raging agony takes its place. It’s the first time he’s ever been shot and it’s worse than he could have imagined: no amount of studying literature and anecdotal evidence could prepare him for the feeling of a small metal ball tearing through the flesh and muscle and tendons — though, hopefully, and judging by the amount of blood he’s lost, no arteries or large blood vessels — of his thigh.

His team arrives, minus Emily and minus Hotch, and they’re concerned, of course they are. That is, until he presents them with someone they see as much more important, someone whose life is worth something, someone they care about deeply being hurt. And they leave.

He doesn’t get a chance to tell the medics that he doesn’t want narcotics, so the ride to the hospital is a blur of morphine and voices talking to him, though he can’t quite piece together what they’re saying. He wonders vaguely where everybody is, whether Hotch is alright, whether he’s about to die, but no real emotion is attached to any of these thoughts, they just… are.

He’s rushed into surgery almost immediately after he arrives at the hospital, and the next thing he’s aware of is a dull, ever-present, agonising ache in his upper thigh and exhaustion settled into his bones like his body is pain’s home, fatigue’s resting place. The last time he’d blinked himself awake in a hospital bed, blinding pain burning in one part of his body or another, Derek had been sat by his bed, eating jello.

There’s nobody by his bed this time.

A PCA pump is resting by his right hand but he doesn’t touch it. Clearly, nobody from his team has informed the hospital staff of his previous addiction; he doesn’t even know if they’re at the hospital; if they know what’s going on. The morphine he’s already had is going to be hard enough to deal with, he can feel the future cravings itching beneath his skin already, scarred-over track marks simmering away.

It’s over twenty-five minutes of lying helplessly on a hospital bed in a cool, impersonal room, feeling a certain kind of emptiness sitting in his stomach, before a nurse comes by. She looks pleased enough to see him awake, but he doesn’t care about her satisfaction, he cares about his team, about Penelope, about Aaron, and he’s too exhausted to do anything about it.

“Good, you’re awake,” she says cheerily and for once, he doesn’t try and conceal his despondency. It’s oddly freeing. “I’ll get the doctor to come and explain the situation.”

She bumbles out of the room, clearly not fazed by Spencer’s expression, so he resumes staring at the wall, allowing his thoughts to wander, still not managing to attach much emotion to them other than a miserable sort of emptiness.

The doctor is nice enough, making sure he understands his injury and the procedures he’s had done, as well as the recovery ahead of him, but he just can’t bring himself to care. It’s as though this is the last straw; this is the proof, the evidence to win the case he’s been fighting in the court of his mind. His team doesn't care. His life is worthless. He will always, always be alone.

JJ stops by briefly. This feels like it should be a consolation, but it isn’t. He learns of what’s happened to Aaron, what his family is going through, and suddenly he feels selfish: how dare he demand and crave attention when Aaron is far more hurt and injured than he is? When he’s far more important and far more deserving of the team’s attention? Self-loathing creeps up his throat and settles into grey cotton wool that won’t melt in his mouth.

Spencer doesn’t know how to react to the incredibly overwhelming events of the day, and JJ doesn’t seem to have time for this. “Right, Spencer,” she says, visibly impatient with his emotional floundering, his lack of verbal response, “I need to go. We need to sort this out for Hotch. We owe it to him.”

She leaves, and all Spencer can think is how much more worthless not being able to work on his case makes him. If he can’t even work to save the man he loves; if he can’t strive effortlessly to protect him and make him happy, then what is he doing here? Aaron will be furious when he finds out Spencer laid in bed lazily instead of diving headfirst into the case.

No. That’s not true. He’ll be sickeningly nice about it, while on the inside suppressing his disappointment, and Spencer will feel even more guilty, he’ll be even more irate with himself, and life will seem just a little bit bleaker.

He’s discharged a few days later, and nobody has visited, barring JJ’s fleeting, impatient stop by. He goes home in a taxi and struggles up the stairs on his crutches, almost glad he didn’t have many personal items at the hospital. Then again, that was because he was completely isolated. And if he did have people to bring him things in the hospital, then he’d probably have someone to help him up the stairs too.

It’s a moot point, really. He dives straight for the non-narcotic painkillers he’d been prescribed as soon as he sits down on his dusty couch in his messy apartment, desperate to relieve at least some of the agony throbbing in his leg still. Clearly, the universe decided he wasn’t in enough pain already; that the unrequited love and the growing depression and the recurring stomach cramps and clenches in his chest weren’t quite sufficient.

He knows the team is working flat out on the Foyet case. But even Penelope, who probably works the hardest of all of them, has had time to send him an encouraging text message promising to pop round as soon as she can. Other than that, his phone is dry and his heart slowly freezing over.

Truthfully, he’s not sure how much more of this he can stand. He’s feeling the same way he did as a child: isolated, othered, hurt, and utterly, utterly alone. When he’d joined the BAU and was welcomed immediately into the arms of a family, he promised himself he’d never feel like that again. He would never, ever allow himself to sink so low; not when he was surrounded by so many people who proved day in day out how much they loved him. Surely, feeling like this would simply be impossible.

For once, Doctor Spencer Reid is proved wrong. And it burns, festers, and screams like nothing else.

Chapter Two

taglist:@criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

(I'm tagging my usual hotchreid taglist but let me know if you would not like to be tagged in this fic OR if you'd only like to be tagged once it's complete! Either fill in the taglist form again or DM me.)

#hotchreid #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #hurt spencer reid #spencer reid whump #aaron hotchner/spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #spencer reid/aaron hotchner #hotch x reid #spencer reid x aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #my writing #RCT #RCT 1

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tinisprout · 3 years

Text

No Doubt in Us

Chapter Eight - Healing Day *written chapter below*

Fiance!Haknyeon x Fem!reader

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Synopsis: Life is great, you have your dream job, you finally got your first big break, and you are now engaged to the love of your life. Happier than you’ve ever been, you live life one day at a time. Then one day a terrible accident happens leaving you in a coma. Where you finally awake, everything is not as you remember. Amnesia takes away 3 years of your memory, forgetting your beloved Fiance. Faced with a reality that seems unreal, as your mind is stuck in a past with uncomfortable memories, your future with him is uncertain.

a/n: Sorry for the late chapter I've been very busy

Send me an ask if you want to be put on the taglist for this series

Taglist:@my-summer-night @deputyjuyeon @juhaktheoneforme @sunqnew

Word Count: 1.7K

Chanhee was pushed through your front door by Kevin, followed by Jacob closing the door behind them. You stood in the center of the living room awkwardly as your friends got closer to you. Kevin and Jacob giving friendly greetings while you smile back at them in acknowledgment. You and Chanhee just eyed each other not sure where or how to start. Haknyeon waved Kevin and Jacob over and that was their cue to get out of there.

“Healing day! You two had something you wanted to say to each other, so we’ll give you some space,” Kevin says as he slaps Chanhee on his back and hurries to a Haknyeon winking at you in passing. Jacob taps the same place Kevin hit and nods at you as he passes. The three boys exit the house into the backyard. The inside is still visible which was perfect for Kevin to make sure nothing escalated into something worse. Now that they were outside they gave each other proper greetings, it had been a while since Kevin talked with Haknyeon face to face.

They caught up with Haknyeon, Jacob thought he seemed to be doing a lot better emotionally than he was before. They would see each other almost daily for dance class last week and Haknyeon always looked like his mind was somewhere else. Haknyeon was never good at hiding his emotions, although he always tried to seem energetic for the class, he was different. Jacob regretted not asking him about it, he thought it was something to do with you, he could only imagine how complicated things were at home, but he thought you guys would work something out. He didn’t expect that you weren’t seeing each other, he wondered if he asked about it, would the problem have been solved earlier.

Jacob asked Haknyeon if the two of you were good now. “Ah, I never said anything to anyone did I?”

“Yeah, we didn’t get an update after that. Spill the beans, bro.” Kevin dramatically states while quickly glancing through the glass door at you and Chanhee, checking body language.

“Sorry, the past couple of days have been a lot, but it’s good I think.”

“You think?” Jacob questions.

“Well I’m still technically her Fiance, but I’ve been demoted to the boyfriend title… uh wait we probably aren’t there yet, maybe just friend right now. But we are trying to date again.”

“You should be more hopeful, she mentioned something yesterday about you, but she didn’t tell me what happened. I’m going to get the truth from one of you.”

“Oh, nothing really happened, we just fell asleep,” Kevin squints his eyes at Haknyeon. “On the couch together…”

“Uh-huh, and why would that warrant any kind of reaction from y/n?” Haknyeon sighs, pulling out his phone from his pocket. Kevin and Jacob look at each other with a curious look. Haknyeon shows them the image that your father sent him yesterday. The two examined the picture of their friends essentially snuggling together on the couch with wide eyes.

“Wow,” was all Jacob could say.

“Putting the moves on her already. And who took that picture?” Kevin jokes and Haknyeon protests.

“I wasn’t trying to “put the moves on her”, we fell asleep and I guess that just happened. Her dad took the picture though, he sent it to me last night.” Kevin laughs at his answer while Haknyeon puts his phone away.

“And was that it?” Haknyeon stays silent, making the answer obvious.

“There’s more?!” Jacob exclaims, surprised by the fast progress between the two.

“Well, maybe I don’t really remember.” That was a lie. “I was half asleep when it happened. You should ask y/n instead.” Haknyeon nervously laughs trying to feign ignorance, but inside his head, he asks you for forgiveness.

“I’m in for a treat today,” Kevin says with a devilish smile, once again looking back to you and Chanhee, now hugging it out. He looks to Haknyeon, “Do you ever get jealous of Chanhee and y/n’s relationship?” Tilting his head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Haknyeon and Jacob turned to look at them, a smile plays on Haknyeon’s face when he sees that it’s going well.

“No, they’re just friends, more like siblings. There is nothing I should be jealous about. It’s different now though, I don’t have the privilege to love her in the way I did before. There are times I wish I could just hold her, but I shouldn’t, I can’t, not while she is still trying to figure everything out.” He had a miserable smile on his face looking at you.

“Okay, I didn’t ask that so you could make me sad.” Kevin and Jacob look at their friend with concern. “We gotta take you out some time soon, you’re too depressing, man.”

“Sorry? I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Don’t be sorry. I think things will change soon, she is bound to fall in love with you again.” Jacob says with conviction.

“You’re the third person to say that, maybe I should start believing that.” Jacob and Kevin both wrap their arms around Haknyeon giving him some reassurance and he thanks his friends. All of them jumped at the sound of the glass door opening.

“Am I interrupting something?” Chanhee says looking at the trio embracing and they laugh. You pop your head out from behind Chanhee, looking at your friends and Haknyeon laughing together. You didn’t realize it yet, but seeing him get along with your friends made him look a lot better in your eyes, you give him a little more of your trust.

“Glad to see everyone getting along,” you say, flashing a smile to them. “You guys can come back in.” Everyone walks back to the living room and Kevin asks everyone a question.

“Who’s hungry?” Everyone replies positively. “Perfect, then Haknyeon it’s your time to shine. Please go get some food.” Kevin then whispers in Haknyeon’s ear, that playfully evil smile on his face again, “I need to get the truth from someone.”

Haknyeon nods, knowing the interrogation to come. Their strange interaction had you and Chanhee curious about what was going on, while Jacob pretended like nothing was out of the ordinary. Kevin hands Haknyeon his keys any Haknyeon goes to get his wallet, saying goodbyes to everyone on his way out the door. Soon after he walks out the door, you get a text from, Haknyeon, saying, “I’m sorry.” You don’t understand his message but before you can text him back Kevin shouts.

“Interrogation time, Baby!” You and Chanhee are confused at Kevin’s sudden outburst. “Hope you didn’t think I forgot what you said last night. Spill the beans!” realizing what Kevin wanted to do, you faked ignorance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Cause Haknyeon says you would remember what happened.” You understood why Haknyeon apologized and you look at Chanhee and Jacob for help. Chanhee lifts his hand signaling that he wasn’t going to do anything. Jacob looked away, truth be told he wanted to know what happened too.

“Ugh, fine.” Everyone sits around the coffee table. You quickly explain the event in as little detail as possible and all the boys are shocked by your actions.

“Okay…,” Kevin holds back his smile through his clasped hands. “So how are you feeling about all that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did your heart pound?”

“Did you find yourself hoping more happened after the fact?” Jacob added.

“Have your feelings changed at all?” Chanhee chipped in.

“Well...,” you hesitate with your answer. “Did my heart pound because I was excited or anxious? I don’t know. Did I want something more to happen? No, it’s too soon for that stuff. I think I feel comfortable around him for the most part.

“There are times where he slips up, but he really is prioritizing my comfort. He is funny and silly that’s a bonus…. Final verdict, he’s kinda cute.” The big reaction you were expecting didn’t come, the room was drowned in silence.

“I feel like I’ve traveled back in time.” Kevin wipes an imaginary tear away.

“Am I missing something?”

“You said something very similar back then.” You look to Jacob in surprise at his answer.

“But that was her opinion after their first date. Things seem to be moving along well.” Chanhee says with a smirk on his face. You are unsure how to process this information.

“I- can we move on? I don’t know what to think right now.” You ruffle your own hair letting out a sigh.

“Alright, we’ll stop,” Kevin reassures. “But it’s time for some fun! Bring that switch out, we’re playing Mario Kart. You light up at the idea, that had been one of the things Chanhee briefly mentioned back when he showed you around the house. You never played it cause all the games were designed to be multiplayer and you figured it wouldn’t be that fun playing by yourself.

Playing was fun despite coming in last most of the time. You weren’t the one to be bad at games, that spot was reserved for Chanhee. There was no other explanation for how abysmal you were doing except, this must be part of the stuff you forgot. You had no recollection of having this game system or game, so this experience was new to you. The quartet continued to play happily.

Kevin’s phone buzzed while they were picking a different track. It’s a message from Haknyeon, saying he has the food and asking if he can come in. Kevin gives him the affirmative and one minute later he opens the door, carrying two bags of food. The game paused and everyone welcomes him back. You all decided to take a little break from playing to eat.

Everyone crowds around the coffee table conversing while eating, to your relief nothing seemed out of place, even with Haknyeon there. You were too scared to tell your friends about your fear of drifting from them because of your amnesia. You felt like as a person you had regressed, everything you heard about how you were before the accident seemed like you had everything figured out while right now you were unsure about everything. Three years of personality development were completely gone, you wondered were you even the same person. Right now though, you felt like your worries were silly, with your friends enjoying yourselves together, you were content.

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hd-wireless · 4 years

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🎶 H/D WIRELESS FEST - ANONYMOUS MASTERLIST 🎶

Welcome to our H/D Wireless Anon Set List Masterlist!

With this we want to say THANK YOU to all the creators, readers, and lovers of H/D Wireless! We're overwhelmed by your creativity and support for everyone! We had a mind blowing year with:

33 Days, 50 Fics, 8 Artworks, 6 Art and fic combos 64 WORKS IN TOTAL!

AND 740,337 WORDS! CAN YOU BELIEEEEVE?

Which makes this the largest H/D Wireless Fest EVER! We are just blown away by all the musically inspired creations people have made this year.

Take this week to catch up on the creations, listen to the playlists, and just generally dance around your living room to your hearts content!

🎙️ Check out the Playlists:

Youtube

Spotify

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 Stuck on the Bridge Between Us (G)

🎵 Song prompt: Talk Me Down by Troye Sivan

🎵 Summary: finding the courage within themselves to be vulnerable, so they can stop hurting the other and start loving each other as they so deeply want and need to

📻 So Let's Dance, Take a Chance, Understand Me (T)

🎵 Song prompt: T.Rex, Get It On

🎵 Summary: The War is over and everything has changed.

After a few of years of travelling around the world, Harry decided to move to Muggle London, looking for peace and a place where the scar on his forehead doesn’t have a meaning. His new flat is in a perfectly normal neighbourhood close to the centre, quiet during the day but full of students at night. He really likes the small bar down the road, a place that serves cheap, awful drinks and plays good old classics. It’s always crammed with people talking, laughing or dancing along with the riff of electric guitars. From the first time he crossed the threshold, Harry thought it was perfect, the right mix of noise and warmth to be alone without feeling alone. Just what he needed. He couldn’t imagine that someone else was there for the very same reason, looking for a place where the Dark Mark was only a tattoo. Blame it on the alcohol, on the music or whatever you want, but when Harry’s eyes landed on Draco’s slim figure, swaying on the dancefloor, something warm and inexplicable possessed him.

📻 The Pass (T)

🎵 Song prompt: Prompt 98: The Pass, by Rush

🎵 Summary: Draco, lost in darkness, seeks a guiding light.

📻 If you knew… (T)

🎵 Song prompt: Young Folks from Peter Bjorn and John

🎵 Summary: The war had left scars on all of them. Some were obvious. Some only if they looked closely. But the worst ones were those they couldn't see. Those that were hidden inside.

📻 an ode to the boy i love (G)

🎵 Song prompt: Animal - Troye Sivan

🎵 Summary: an evocation of vulnerability, trust and tenderness

📻 Home Sweet Home (G)

🎵Song prompt: Radioactive - Imagine Dragons

🎵 Summary: In the middle of a Zombie apocalypse Harry made it his main goal to find a safe home for Draco and himself.

📻 Turn back time (T)

🎵 Song prompt: If I Could Turn Back Time - Cher

🎵 Summary: Draco's had a rough few years, if that's what you call falling in with a bad lot, attempted murder and a close brush with death. Now facing the weight of his misdeeds, Draco tries to pinpoint when it all went wrong.

📻 Time to Get Out (T)

🎵 Song prompt: My House - PVRIS

🎵 Summary: A few years post-war, Pansy convinces Draco to go on a night out at a muggle club. They run into some familiar faces.

🎶 H/D Wireless Art and Fic 🎶

📻 A Different Kind of Meaning (E, 17k)

🎵 Song prompt: Outnumbered - Dermot Kennedy

🎵 Summary: The ceiling doesn't hold any answers, but there are cobwebs scattered across the corners with shadows tangled in their threads. The rug against his back is rough and scratchy, threadbare and devoid of colours other than various shades of brown. Harry takes it all in, absorbs the dingy and depressed state of his home. There's a pointed moment of decision, a note about to be played, a silence about to end, and then he rolls to his feet and sets to cleaning.

It's the first constructive thing he's done in years.

📻 Keep Holding On (M, 33k)

🎵 Song prompt: Welshly Arms - Sanctuary

🎵 Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Draco both fall into their own battles with their mental states. Draco is sent to Azkaban, and Harry turns to drinking, hoping to forget.

Months later, Harry visits St Mungo’s new ward on request of a friend, only to find Draco in a deep vegetative state.

Not willing to give him up, Harry stays by his side, while simultaneously dealing with the Ministry's newest grand idea to make everything worse.

Making new alleys, and losing old ones on the way, would hopefully be worth it in the end.

📻 Fic : Modern Love (E, 61k)

📻 Art : Our Love Song (G)

🎵 Song prompt: Modern Love by David Bowie

🎵 Fic summary: Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

And it really doesn’t seem fair that Draco Malfoy is back in Harry’s life, all of a sudden, and even though he’s wandless, and living with Muggles, and making his mother cry with his lifestyle choices, he’s happy. So what's he doing right, that Harry isn’t?

Because things don’t really change, do they? And if Harry can’t be happy, he’ll settle for a good night’s sleep, some posh antiques, and the opportunity to find out what Malfoy has been up to for all these years.

And that’s what starts it all.

🎵 Art summary: Harry and Draco enjoying a Sunday morning bus ride in London.

📻 For the Thousandth Time (T, 14k)

🎵 Song Prompt: Lucky by Aurora

🎵 Summary: When Draco's wand refuses to work after the war, he turns to Harry for help.

📻 Fic : Returning Tides (E, 24.5k)

📻 Art : Love Will Tear Us Apart (G)

🎵 Song prompt: Love Will Tear Us Apart by Joy Division

🎵 Fic summary: Is my timing that flawed? Our respect run so dry? Yet there's still this appeal That we've kept through our lives

🎵 Art summary: Art piece to accompany the fic ‘Returning Tides’, based on the song claim, 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' by Joy Division ***** Harry's brooding while straddling a motorbike. Need I say more?

📻 That Sweet Sweet Craving (E, 33.2k)

🎵 Song prompt: Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons

🎵 Summary: Harry is miserable living a lie because he thinks being a gay role model is wrong. Fake dates raising money for a charity that ends up putting him in a situation he had never expected. Draco Malfoy appears back in his life by some odd chance trying to flip his world upside down and he isn't sure it's a good thing. Malfoy always worked that way to him. Mental health issues, sex, escaping, and that sweet sweet craving of happiness.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 Follow the Water (T, 38.2k)

🎵 Song prompt: “Follow the Water” by Calexico/Iron & Wine

🎵 Summary: Harry Potter’s life is fine. Maybe a little dull and predictable, but he shouldn’t complain about that, right? When he unexpectedly finds himself at Luna’s house one afternoon, Harry gets invited to join the secret wonderland that she’s creating with a surprising group of friends. Maybe a summer outdoors is just what a former hero needs to bring some zest back into his life.

📻 Life goes not backward (T, 8.8k)

🎵 Song prompt: Daughter by Loudon Wainwright

🎵 Summary: Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different.

A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

Leaving one life behind isn’t always a sacrifice, and sometimes the greatest good comes from embracing the people you love.

📻 The Way We Used To Love (E, 5.3k)

🎵 Song prompt: 'Used to Love' by Martin Garrix & Dean Lewis

🎵 Summary: Is there hope when what is not enough for the one happens to be too much for the other?

📻 but if you close your eyes (T, 3.3k)

🎵 Song prompt: Pompeii by Bastille

🎵 Summary: The New Magic Order is trying to take over Wizarding Britain. They're not the Death Eaters, but they're not any better either.

The lines of alliance have shifted, but Harry is still on the front lines working tirelessly to stop them.

📻 Haunt the corner of my eye (T, 23k)

🎵 Song prompt: Echoes of You - Marianas Trench

🎵 Summary: Harry’s life is very much on track. After a successful career as an Auror, he’s set to become the youngest ever Minister for Magic. But strange things are starting to happen at Grimmauld Place. Items he doesn’t recognise are appearing left and right, and somehow he never feels quite alone. There’s only one thing Harry knows for sure: it has something to do with Draco Malfoy.

📻 Lookalike (M, 1.4k)

🎵 Song prompt: 'Lookalike' by Conan Gray

🎵 Summary: When you look in his eyes, Do you think of mine? And when you look at that smile, Do I cross your mind? I know in your head You see me instead 'Cause he looks a lot like I did back then Baby, don't lie, He's just a lookalike... ©

📻 Now that the spring is in the air (T, 5.7k)

🎵 Song prompt: Seasons in the Sun by Westlife

🎵 Summary: A surprise attack in Diagon Alley leaves Draco struggling to make peace with the fact that he won't live long enough to experience his own wedding.

📻 Seven Days to Monday (M, 11.7k)

🎵 Song prompt: Say Something - A Great Big World

🎵 Summary: There are seven days before Harry has to meet Draco for the final signing of their divorce papers. It's been months and the surprise at finding nothing but more cold sheets and an empty pillow next to him still catches Harry unaware. He doesn't know where they go from here. Whether it's possible to go anywhere after everything that's happened between them.

📻 Blond Brew (E, 30.4k)

🎵 Song prompt: “Blondes” by Waterparks

🎵 Summary: A blond roast with soy milk makes Draco's morning, but a pair of green eyes makes his week.

📻 A Series of Nonsensical Events (T, 12.8k)

🎵 Song prompt: My Gospel by Charlie Puth

🎵 Summary: Malfoy is up to something. When Harry and the other Aurors are called into a Gringotts break-in and find him the culprit, Harry’s at a total loss. But things only get weirder from then on.

📻 Ignore the Truth (E, 2.6k)

🎵 Song prompt: Dangerously - Charlie Puth

🎵 Summary: "Longtime on-again-off-again lovers Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were caught in a compromising position in one the Ministry's lifts yesterday evening. While fans of the couple are optimistic, there's still doubt as to whether or not this particular reconciliation will last. When asked directly about the nature of his relationship with Draco Malfoy, the Boy Who Lived had simply this to say, 'Fuck right off, we're busy.'"

- The Daily Prophet, "Love Is In The Air," 28th Oct. 2005.

📻 Your Daddy Knows (You're A Flame) (E, 27.8k)

🎵 Song prompt: Babyfather by Sade (2010)

🎵 Summary: It's just over a week until Draco's twenty-fifth birthday party and Harry Potter is a busy wizard. Amongst all the excitements of fatherhood, work and friends, Harry realises something special about his husband Draco. He is pregnant with their second, much wanted baby.

There's only one problem: Draco is entirely oblivious to the fact and seems determined to remain so.

📻 Don't search me in here (E, 6.7k)

🎵 Song prompt: Gone - Charlie XCX & Christine and the Queens

🎵 Summary: Draco spotted him in a corner, crowded by Ministry employees. He looked like an animal, trapped in a cage. He had a strained smile on his , and his eyes were looking everywhere else than on the people in front of him.

Draco can’t quite help himself, watching Potter from afar. Just out of curiosity, of course. He’s happy with his life, nothing is missing, and if he’s lonely it’s entirely by choice.

📻 I Can Be Your Lighthouse (T, 4k)

🎵 Song prompt: The Lighthouse by The Used

🎵 Summary: When Harry gets called to investigate reports of Dark magic, the last thing he expects to find is an almost unconscious Draco Malfoy. After multiple instances, he resolves to find out what's going on.

📻 Drop Everything Now (T, 21k)

🎵 Song prompt: Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift

🎵 Summary: After accidentally bonding himself to Malfoy, Harry finds himself in an utterly precarious situation…

📻 No one fucks with us (T, 3.3k)

🎵 Song prompt: NFWMB by Hozier

🎵 Summary: Draco Malfoy wonders for how long has Harry Potter been a terrifying force of nature. Harry Potter thinks Draco Malfoy has been a badass MF all along. If the world has to end so they can have some peace and quiet, be it. They'll set it on fire.

📻 Will You Stay with Me? (M, 10.2k)

🎵 Song prompt: ‘Run’ - Daughter

🎵 Summary: Ten months ago, Draco had found none other than Harry Potter blindly drunk and bleeding outside a Muggle pub. He'd brought him home and hasn't left his side ever since. He looked after him, took care of him when yet another nightmare plagued him.

Harry is sure that Draco will leave him at some point, and he can’t let it happen. He can’t have another person leaving his life unexpectedly. So, Harry forces him to leave — after they spend one last night together.

📻 until the sun has changed the colour of my hair (T, 4.9k)

🎵 Song prompt: Jag saknar dig mindre och mindre - Melissa Horn

🎵 Summary: Draco's life has been one big mess ever since Potter broke up with him. He doesn't want to see his friends, he's too ashamed to see his parents, and his apartment is one giant mess. He's constantly prepared for disaster, and spends his time either alone in Muggle parks or in his apartment. But one day... One beautiful day... He will forget Harry, surely.

📻 Love Found (E, 7.5k)

🎵 Song Prompt: I Found, by Amber Run

🎵 Summary: During Harry’s sixth year, Draco Malfoy joins the Order as a double-agent and continues with his task to get the Death Eaters into the castle as assigned by Voldemort. Draco succeeds with his mission the evening Harry returns from the caves with Dumbledore. The boys reunite on the Astronomy Tower and, with the Death Eater’s arrival, are forced to engage in a fight, driving Harry to come to terms with his feelings about true friendship and romantic love.

📻 On the Third Day He Took Me to the River (M, 14.4k)

🎵 Song prompt: 'Where the Wild Roses Grow - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds ft. Kylie Minogue'

🎵 Summary: This is a story of two lonely young men falling in love.

This is a story about dreams and duty, about witches that give purpose to the one and doom the other.

You think you know how the story goes, but this is a different story, and it doesn't end well.

📻 (When They Only Hear You Whisper) I'll Be Loud For You (T, 2.8k)

🎵 Song prompt: There for You - Martin Garrix/Troye Sivan

🎵 Summary: Potter must have been having nightmares again. He was restless in his bed across the room. Moonlight shone through his open bed curtains and highlighted the contours of his body, the grimace on his face blatant. His thick blanket was kicked down, one leg still covered by his twisted sheet, the musk of his sweat pungent in their small dorm. Low grunts accounted for the majority of the noise he made, but it was peppered by the occasional groan or unclear shout of words. However, ‘No,’ was always clear. Draco hated it.

📻 The Interview (T, 17.3k)

🎵 Song prompt: Just Say Yes - Snow Patrol

🎵 Summary: One interview had Draco realizing how naïve he was for thinking he deserved Harry.

📻 As Fascinating As a Slap Bracelet (T, 13.2k)

🎵 Song prompt: Have It All - Jason Mraz

🎵 Summary: Who would have thought that a wacky little Muggle toy would lead to an unlikely friendship between Harry and Draco? Not Harry, certainly.

Who would have thought that this friendship would bloom into something more? Well, Ron, for one.

📻 If Sex Is the Drug, Then What Is the Cost (E, 3.8k)

🎵 Song prompt: I Almost Told You That I Loved You - Papa Roach

🎵 Summary: For quite some time, Harry has been seeing Malfoy. Well... Actually, he's hired Malfoy, to keep him company, in his bedroom. It's only sex — honestly — and since Malfoy is the best, he's the only person Harry wants. That's all it is, right?

📻 I Grow Fonder Every Day (M, 21.6k)

🎵 Song prompt: One and Only by Adele

🎵 Summary: Draco still doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse, sharing a flat in Muggle London with Harry Potter.

It’s all Draco’s ever wanted — more than he’d ever wished for. And if it entails suppressing his inconvenient feelings for the man, so what? He’s perfectly happy with his life as it is, perfectly content with just having Potter close and enjoying his company.

That is, until one Friday evening at the beginning of April when the end starts.

📻 How Can I Live Without you? (G, 2.2k)

🎵 Song prompt: "So Far Away", by Avenged Sevenfold

🎵 Summary: After Draco's death, Harry wonders how can he live without the one he loves when he's so far away.

📻 Following the Arrow to Your Heart (E, 10.9k)

🎵 Song prompt: Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran

🎵 Summary: After the war, Draco is recruited into the Department of Love (aka Cupid's Arrow). His job is to bring together witches and wizards whose magical signatures are only compatible with each others' (essentially soulmates). As they all learned during training, Cupids are chosen because they do not have soulmates.

Six years later, Draco's convinced himself that he's perfectly fine with not having a soulmate. But his latest client turns out to be Harry Potter, and he's forced to reconsider in light of his old feelings.

📻 cos I only need your name to call the reasons why I fought (T, 6.6k)

🎵 Song prompt: War, by Poets of the Fall

🎵 Summary: Ron and Hermione leave the Horcrux hunt, leaving a hurt Harry behind.

But at least Draco is still there with him.

📻 Madness (M, 10k)

🎵 Song prompt: House of Fun by Madness

🎵 Summary: A desperate search for contraception all around Diagon Alley.

📻 Between Myth and Man (E, 16.2k)

🎵 Song prompt: Why'd you only call me when you're high? - Arctic Monkeys

🎵 Summary: Draco, lost and a little broken, navigates post-war reality convinced that people like him should not be allowed to make their own choices. To solve the problem of his self-sabotaging tendencies, he starts taking a few drops of Veritaserum every morning.

A story about the complexity of choices, repressed desires that come to the surface when we least expect them, and the utter hopelessness of truths built on a foundation of lies.

📻 stay awhile (stay here with me) (T, 3.1k)

🎵 Song prompt: I like me better - Lauv

🎵 Summary: "Then when?" Harry tries again. He's not sure if he really wants to see the photo or if he just wants to keep talking to Malfoy. This Malfoy, who is so different from what he was expecting. In his Muggle jeans and smartly pressed sweater, with an air of vulnerability around him that Harry isn't used to seeing, Malfoy looks approachable in a way he never has before.

Harry stops his fidgeting as Malfoy looks up to meet his eyes. Through the hum of the crowded pub, he has to strain a little to hear him. "Maybe," Malfoy starts, hesitating a little but never breaking eye contact, "one day?"

📻 All it needs is messing it up and stars (G, 5.9k)

🎵 Song prompt: Tongue Tied by Faber Drive

🎵 Summary: After the war all the Malfoy's came off with light sentences. Now during 8th year Draco is finally free to be himself and date his crush; Harry Potter. Or at least so he thought..

A letter from his father rips that happiness away.

But maybe in the end it will take just a bit of messing up and some stars to get that happiness back.

📻 I'm gonna let it happen (E, 12.3k)

🎵 Song prompt: Florence + The Machine - Shake it out

🎵 Summary: And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat 'Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me Looking for heaven, for the devil in me Well what the hell I'm gonna let it happen to me

📻 I feel it in my bones (M, 6.3k)

🎵 Song prompt: Radioactive - Imagine Dragons

🎵 Summary: Harry’s heartbeat is loud in his ears as his heart pounds in his chest. His lungs burn as he pants for air. His legs are screaming in protests as he continues to push them to their limit, forcing himself to run ever faster.

📻 Born in the U.S.A. (M, 9k)

🎵 Song prompt: I'm on Fire by Bruce Springsteen

🎵 Summary: “You need to come home, Draco.” “What? Why? What’s wrong?” “Nothing’s wrong, I just have an opportunity for you, and you need to come home to take it.” When Draco's mother insists he comes home, he drags his feet and convinces his friends to take a road trip.

📻 just tell me when it's alright (E, 23k)

🎵 Song prompt: Teeth, Lady Gaga

🎵 Summary: Harry’s been fighting tooth and nail for any bit of normalcy he can get his hands on. He’s sick of feeling like something’s wrong with him, tired of feeling different. He thinks he’s finally gotten to the root of it, and has settled into a routine that makes him happy. Naturally, that’s when Draco Malfoy walks back into his life and upends it once again. Has Harry bitten off more than he can chew with his former rival?

📻 The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth (T, 19.4k)

🎵 Song prompt: Cupid - Amy Winehouse

�� Summary: Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship.

(An unnamed ginger bastard can be heard yelling from afar: “This is actually a detailed guide on how not to court someone!”)

But who cares about the opinions of redheads? Literally no one.

📻 What Will We Do With a Drunken Harry? (E, 4.9k)

🎵 Song prompt: "Drunken Sailor" by The Irish Rovers

🎵 Summary: A victorious Quidditch match, a claimed Quidditch Cup, and a wild House party can mean only one thing. Will the aftermath lead to one excruciating hangover in the morning, or will it perhaps lead to something more?

📻 Though Your World Is Changing, I Will Be The Same (E, 15.9k)

🎵 Song prompt: Slave To Love by Bryan Ferry

🎵 Summary: “I shower after work,” Harry had told him once when Draco had asked what cologne had such longevity as to be effective after a full day of gruelling Auror work.

“For me?” Draco had asked. Teased, just a little. There had been a smile lingering on the edges of his consciousness, threatening to traipse onto his mouth.

“For Ginny,” Harry had said, voice flat. “She hates it when I come back sweaty and crackling with other people’s hexes. Did you know magic has a smell? I didn’t until she told me.” – It's all fun and games, till somebody falls in love. Given his luck, it's obviously Draco who has to go and do it.

📻 I Can't Help Falling in Love with You (NR, 4.8k)

🎵 Song prompt: I can't help falling in love with you - Elvis Presley

🎵 Summary: Harry stood up and set his hand out to Draco. “Dance?” “I didn’t know you danced, Potter.” “Hm, I’ve danced a lot in my time," Harry replied smugly. “How do I know you won’t step on my feet?” “You don’t, but I think the risk will be worth it.”

📻 Searching For a Place to Hide (T, 12.5k)

🎵 Song prompt: Love Will Keep Us Alive - The Eagles

🎵 Summary: After the war, there were threats against the Malfoys. Needing them kept safe until the trials are over, the Ministry puts them in protective custody but a murder attempt proves there’s a Ministry leak. Desperate, the Ministry decides a safe house is best, but who to trust to keep it secret and keep them safe? Narcissa calls in a life debt, the Minster calls in a favour and Harry Potter wonders why his life continues to hate him.

Along the way, the Malfoys learn how to be a family again, Harry learns that some things are not how he thought and maybe never were, and the touch-starved boys discover that they may be each other's forever answer.

📻 Isolated Thunderstorms and Scattered Showers (T, 21.3k)

🎵 Song prompt: Iris - the GooGoo Dolls

🎵 Summary: Post-war, Harry needs space. Everything is too much all at once, and time and time again, he finds himself pulling the invisibility cloak over his head, just for a bit of peace.

Returning for eighth year is hard, especially when you're considered a war hero, and your name is Harry James Potter. It's just that things go a little wonky when Harry starts following Malfoy, and finds that he can't (or doesn't want to) stop.

📻 Kiss It Better (E, 1.5k)

🎵 Song prompt: Kiss It Better by Rihanna

🎵 Summary: When Harry's injured, Draco knows there's no place he'd rather be than by his side.

📻 (shut up and) dance with me (T, 7.9k)

🎵 Song prompt: Shut Up and Dance - Walk the Moon

🎵 Summary: Four dances Harry and Draco share.

📻 In Love with the Ferret (E, 21.9k)

🎵 Song prompt: I'm Yours by Jason Mraz

🎵 Summary: Harry has never been the most observant bloke. Sometimes to the point of him not realising his feelings for a particular pointy, pale git. And it's not his fault if literally everyone else knows about said feelings except for Harry and the git in question. So it's really not his fault, when faced with the scope of his feelings, he suddenly has a hard time talking to one Draco Malfoy. Or looking him in the eye. Or not being a total weirdo around him.

There's nothing to do but take the advice of his friends and try to woo Draco over dinners with friends, Ministry cases, and an unfortunately named Italian restaurant.

Harry just can't stop the flutter in his chest when he sees Draco smile.

📻 Dance with me? (M, 8.2k)

🎵 Song prompt: I Wanna Dance With Somebody - Whitney Houston

🎵 Summary: Draco had given up on love, until one day sitting outside the usual gaudy cafe he frequented 'people watching' he spotted Harry Potter lurking, a suspicious Draco investigates and a series of events ensue.

📻 The Cupid Incident (E, 12.6k)

🎵 Song prompt: Can' Get You out of My Head - Kylie Minogue

🎵 Summary: Draco gets into the way of a potions attack and can't get Potter out of his head.

📻 Carouse (E, 19.9k)

🎵 Song prompt: Dead by Madison Beer

🎵 Summary: Carouse (verb): To drink plentiful amounts of alcohol and enjoy oneself with others in a noisy, lively way.

Harry finds himself using alcohol in increasingly dangerous ways to cope with the stresses of life. When he is put on leave from work to sort out his issue, he instead falls head first into a lively club scene where he can drink and fuck his worries away. That is, until a certain blond from his past reappears and throws off his entire routine.

Again, thank you to everyone who’s been involved this year, and there’s still time to get out on the dancefloor before the final reveals (although of course the dancefloor will always be open in your heart and in processor of your chose electronic device)

#hd wireless 2020 #hd wireless anonymous masterpost #hd wireless masterpost

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poormeowmeowcollector · 3 years

Text

The perfect Christmas Tree

Relationship: Loki/short!reader

Summary: You want to make the Christmas season something more livid within the tower, but you can't find a good tree. Until Loki offers his help.

Notes: part of the 'Tis The Season Challenge of @the-emo-asgardian and a twisted form of 10. Finding the perfect Christmas tree. But, in my defense, it didn't say who is the perfect Christmas tree ans it's 3am.

Read On AO3

You always loved Christmas. It is the time of the year when your family is a little less annoying and you are a bit more tolerant of listening to "All I Want For Christmas Is You” (as long as it's the My Chemical Romance version) and the food is just a huge plus.

The Avengers don't have the best memories around Christmas—maybe with the exception of Sam, Steve and Bucky—and you can't blame them. Hell, Thor, Loki and Wanda aren't even Christians, but Thor enjoys the food and Loki just goes around saying that this is a celebration stolen from pagans and then capitalism stole it from Christians. And he does celebrate Yule but you caught him at 4am raiding the cookies Wanda had baked for Hanukkah.

And, since Christmas is the happiest season for winter, you decided to make the perfect Christmas celebration the tower has ever seen. And you are so close to it. There are cookies and movies and songs and decorations and Wanda and Thor helped you include Hanukkah and Yule to the party—since Loki, the actual witch, is too busy with seasonal depression to help—but something is missing.

And that something is the damned tree.

You tried to find the best tree but it was pointless. Both Thor and Loki are extremely sensitive to earthly plants, so an actual tree is out of the list, and all the fake ones look too fake. And you want something special for the tree, but you don't know what.

So, you are now just sitting in the living room, staring at the empty corner with the decorations from the three religions beside you and trying to think of what to do.

"Still thinking about that tree, huh?" Loki's voice interrupts the silence. You hide a flinch and turn to face him with a smile. He smiles back, walking closer and leaving the hot cup of chocolate on the table.

"That obvious…" You sigh. He has seen better days, that's sure. The dark circles from the attack have returned, making his pale green eyes glow, his hair looks like a mess and he's in some dark green Æsir pyjamas. But he's still pretty.

Or your crush is still going strong.

"Why don't you just give up. This thing won't work and you know it," He asks and you frown, staring at him as you search for an answer.

He turns away to take a sip of his chocolate, and your eyes are still on him. On his hair. They look like they used to during the attack, like a sinister Christmas tree.

He sees you smiling like you just lost your mind as your brain clicks everything together.

"Stand up," You demand, and he gives you the raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Please, stand up, I have an idea!" You repeat. He still doesn't get it but obeys.

"Great. Now go to that corner," You instruct as you smile. Loki gives you a look but does what you say. And you grab the green garland and tangle his body with it, careful not to tie his hands.

"What are you doing?" He asks, way too clearly than needed. He always does that when he's angry.

"You'll be the Christmas tree!" You smile. And he glares at you, not believing what you say.

"Forget it," He snaps and tries to walk away but you put a hand on his chest.

"Please, it'll be fun. For me, please…" You beg, deploying the puppy eyes. For the last months on the team, Loki had suggested a lot of crazy things and you will not make him take your turn to madness. He sighs and closes his eyes.

"I will regret it but… fine," He hums, walking back to his place as you pass the red garland around him.

"You will look so pretty!" You exhale, grinning like a sunbeam.

"I haven't slept for a week, haven't showered in three days and I'm running lower on will to live than your laptop on battery. How will I be pretty?" He disagrees, and you suppress a frown. You always hate it when he doesn't feel good, he doesn't deserve it.

"Don't you trust me?" You ask, blinking at him. He sighs, again.

"I do, dear…" He tries to make a small smile, but he looks like he doesn't remember how.

"Then, trust me when I say that you will look perfect," You respond, making his smile widen.

He stands still as you tangle him with the lights. You are too focused on not risking him getting electrocuted to speak and he stays silent as well. But when you are done with this, he says one word "cocoa,". You nod and grab the cup from the table, standing in your tiptoes as you place it on his lips and let him sip—he can't move his hands without ruining something.

"Thank you, dear," He smiles and allows you to place the cup back before you can start placing the balls and decorations you made with Thor and Wanda, or tangle the little ropes with the garlands and lights in order to sit there.

And then, you hang two pieces in his ears, glad to find out that they sit perfectly and that Loki doesn't give you the murder glare.

"But why are you so eager to make this thing?" He asks, watching as you try to tangle a homemade star of David on his shoulder.

"Because this is a season when we can just have something together and be less miserable," You respond without a second thought. Loki makes a low sound from the back of his throat.

"Why have you decided to hate it so much?" You ask, staring at him.

"It doesn't feel right," He mutters, almost ashamed of his answer. You tilt your head, asking for elaboration. "It's all about family and being with people you love and all those things and… I haven't lived it… It's like it's mocking me, you know," He looks away, the shame getting stronger. It was about Asgard, like always…

You cup his hand, he was inhumanly cold as always, searching for his eyes. "That's why I'm making this thing. You're not the only one with bad or no memories about this season, and you deserve some happy memories…" You speak softly, hoping you don't make things worse.

He turns back to you, his eyes glowing with tears he tries to hold and a slight smile on his lips. He mouths a thank you, not having the voice to speak it up. And you reply with a smile, squeezing his hand before you release it, a small whine echoing.

"I just have to place the star and you're ready," You announce, digging into the bag for the golden star. You laugh as you take it out and stand on your tiptoes to reach Loki's head.

"Do you want me to duck?" He asks, seeing your struggle. To be fair, you are not exactly gifted with inches and he is the third tallest avenger, after Thor and Steve.

"No, I'm fine. I just gotta…" You sigh between your teeth, trying to reach him.

A green light appears beneath you and lifts you up several inches, reversing the high deference. "Thank you, sweetie," You smile. He tries to hide a blush.

Damn, he looks so cute from up here!

You place the star and balance it on his head, secretly thanking him for his good posture. You lower yourself to have eye contact. "Now you look like a pretty Christmas tree," You smile and kiss the tip of his nose.

His magical platform vanishes, and two glowing hands that tickle when they touch you bring you closer to him. At first, he just brushes his forehead to yours. But then, you pull him to a kiss.

He tastes so nice, like snow and mint and chocolate. And you can smell the aftershave in his face, feel the small grin before he kisses back, the magic hands holding you softer, closer.

"Alright, what's going on?" Tony asks, or yells, from the door. The magic hands vanish and you stare at him.

"I'm kissing our Christmas tree," You blink, as if this isn't the weirdest thing you ever said.

"I love it too…" You hum, bringing him close to a hug.

"Ok, you're high. Loki, let's suppose you are the one with a decent state of mind. Why are you covered in Christmas decoration?" Tony sighs. You can see Loki grinning, his cheeks flushed.

"Oh, I'm the Christmas tree," He answers, again, as if this isn't on his top ten of weirdest things he ever said. Tony groans.

"Why did I wake up today?" He asks himself, rubbing his eye bridge.

"And, can you call the others? We're about to light him up, people should watch." You ask, smiling at Tony. He sighs and nods, speaking to JARVIS as he settles on the sofa.

"Cocoa, my love?" Loki asks. You nod and grab the cup, bringing it to his lips and letting him take a long sip. When he's over, you place it back and steal a small kiss, tasting the chocolate again.

"You really know how to make a hot cocoa," You smile at him. He bites his lip and tries to hide his blushing.

And then, people start arriving. And they all stare at Loki like he's naked. Some ask what is happening and you inform them with a smile. When everyone is settled down, you plug in the lights and walk back to admire your work.

Loki grins and raises his hands like he's asking for a hug, watching as people start smiling at the sheer ridiculousness of the view. And he doesn't give a care.

Sam takes his phone out and snaps a shot, grinning. Everyone but Steve, Bucky and Thor mimic him, snickering echoing.

"You won't post something, right?" He asks, hiding his worry. Loki has been trying to fix his public image since he became an Avenger, and this is certainly not what he means by this.

"I promise nothing," Sam smiles.

Loki tries to walk to where Sam is, but the sound of plugs getting pulled and decorations breaking stops him.

"Don't post. It's private. We'll pick up the mess," You snap. Sam nods and leaves, everyone following his steps until you are alone with Loki again.

"Come on, lets get those things off you," You mutter and untie the decorations before you get the garlands and lights off him. As you put them back to the bag, he kneels down and makes all the pieces of broken balls and hammers disappear.

"You know…" Loki trails off, now sitting on the clean ground. You already know what he's about to say.

"This was ridiculous and embarrassing, I know. I'm sorry," You don't get the courage to stare at him. But he does let his hand cup yours, bringing you down to him.

"It was fun. You know, I love it when you let me be goofy and have fun… Not a lot of people did in the past," He smiles, brushing his cold fingers against your hand.

~~~

"You get used to it, actually," Loki hums, staring at the tree.

Well, the "tree" is a hologram of Loki yesterday, his hands raised and a self proud smile on his face.

You hum, shifting to get more comfortable in his shoulder. He smiles and turns to you.

"Well, you make a good tree," You shrug. He traces his fingers on your cheek, giving you another sweet kiss.

#marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #loki/reader #loki marvel #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #marvel crack #marvel fluff #fluff and crack #christmas special #christmas fanfiction #sinister Christmas tree #y'all are in blame for this #what is happening?

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savnofilter · 3 years

Text

TW: MENTIONS OF DISCOURSE, GR//MING, P/D/PHILIA, ASS//LT, C//NSENT, D//RK CONTENT.

- this isnt under a read more because i want people to read this, but please read past this/tread carefully if you cannot handle such topics. this is not meant to be interacted with.

I'm not sure how to really go about this. I've been overthinking if I should address this and bring up some stuff while I've been gone, so sorry the absence. I deleted the tumblr app a few days ago and I downloaded it again today so i could post this. I really don't like making posts like this because it cuts the vibe that I've been trying to portray that everything is okay and it makes me feel really disconnected to you guys. I am sorry for the abrupt absence and cutting off any source of communication between us. I knew if I left any form of direct line of talk to me that I would receive hate and I just mentally decided that I cant sit through being harassed right now.

Have you guys ever paid attention to the same people who always have a statement to say or is always in discourse? It's very telling how everyone can post about me, but I shouldnt dare post about them. I'm tired of not being able to post about what I want without people vague posting about me, bringing me up every time they start another discourse with another writer or directly talking about me. My days on here are starting to feel the same. Its good then it goes bad. Good goes bad and bad goes good. It's not even tiring, annoying, or angering -- its repetitive. When I'm not saying anything people create fake stories about me, and when i speak about it im the one starting discourse. Don't get me wrong, I'm nowhere near perfect and I have made my own mistakes. But why the fuck am I always being told to be the mature one, why am I the one who should've done better, why do you people expect so much from me. It's the fact people are always quick to say, "no one cares about you, youre fishing for attention" when they're the ones who vague and interact with me while ive been minding my business for months now. Hm. The fact people have me proudly blocked but still harass me anyways shows a lot about themselves than it does for me. How its such an issue that im a minor until it comes to demonizing, tearing down my character, gaslighting, lying and bullying. I'm a literal example of how their friend group manipulates their followers and exiles people from fandoms for not kissing their ass. except now its in your face.

Consider this my last post about this discourse. I'm not going to waste my time on people who fail to digest other peoples thoughts and opinions time and time again because theyre weak narcissists. If I so choose to decide to shit post my opinions or argue with someone, none of you should be aggravated or moved by it because youre not even supposed to be on my page. If its not something serious i will not be wasting energy that i can be using to build on myself as a growing person than on miserable old ladies that have to use fanfiction to have excitement in their pity, depressing and lackluster lives. If people so do choose to create stories or vague about me, I do not care. So I ask respectfully to people who do lurk on my page to not attempt to message, post or vague about me please. This includes sending anons to yourself to make shit happen.

Past that, something got me thinking. My (older) friend had showed me screenshots of adult writers (no one i have spoken to) that were very excited to write underaged reader with adult characters. There are other instances where writers (that you have probably read from) on here openly made reader underage while aging characters up as adults/with adults. There are many more but there's really no point in listing them nor do I really care. But least to say, the same people who are gung-ho over these pedophilic themes/stories are the same people who support predatory people.

I've been thinking about whether or not i should continue writing for the students anymore. Granted, I still think they're attractive because one snap of the fingers cant stop that. I had been teetering on this thought for awhile because of how borderline pedophilic the people are here towards my age group. I enjoy writing but not to the point of willingly being in a straight line of sight where people who are well over 16 are harassing me and lurking on my page, especially to other minors solely because they are my friends. Backtracking to the statement before, I honestly dont know if I will either stop writing or just for the students as a whole. It shows that clearly some people are using their attraction to teens with the excuse that the characters are fake. The rapid normalization on dark problematic "kinks" is disgusting and vile, and the fact that its discourse now to shame said interests is appalling. Concluding that combined with my experiences here, i feel unsafe.

***(TRIGGER WARNING)*** I dont talk about my personal life on here that much cause I dont see the need too nor do i think its anyone's business. Paired with the fact that the people i have trusted personal information with have used it against me, I will be preventing myself from opening that door. Besides that for now, I have sparsely shared I've been assaulted before. This is my first time really opening up about this and i kind of find it necessary now. Coming from someone who has been a victim of assault and CP by people my age and well over, writing nsfw has been the only way where I could feel comfortable with sex in general. I won't get into details because mentioning this is triggering already and can make people uncomfortable. It feels like anywhere I go, I'm constantly putting myself in a position to be abused. The same people who told me I didn't have to worry about my age and be judged for it, exposed the minimum comfort of keeping myself private online to demonize, judge and hurt me. People call me "extra" for being distraught about my face and age being posted because they think im trying to be sneaky which isn't the case. Its the principle that they KNEW I wasnt ready to share said things, and coming from someone who is inherently a private and closed person, she knew damn well what she was doing when posting screenshots of me on Tumblr. There is no excuse for it. The same writers who write dub/non-con can BARELY understand basic consent and its fucking terrifying. This site was the only other place I could cope without being criticized. To see people who some i was close to proudly lie on my name, (adults) say that i sent them pornographic content without their consent is so very hurtful. To watch people supposedly be victims and then use their own trauma to invalidate my own was so fucking humiliating, disgusting and nerve wracking. Although I knew I made the terrible decision to interact with stories, I have never initiated any NSFW discussion with anyone in DMs unless they did it with me first and a few times -- and trust me raise your hand I'll show you the proof. I was sure that everyone I talked to regularly knew that I was a minor, and to my general consensus, people were under the impression I was 15/16 (which I was and am).***

Whether it be victim blaming from the grooming discourse, I've been met with racism, harassment towards my friends, people wanting me to harm myself and be assaulted. I fear what will happen when i will turn 18, if the harassment will escalate and what not. A big part of me is that I'm still here anyways because it pisses people off and I don't care when I receive hate. I can take it but I don't want it. A good conscious of me knows that I should be doing what's best for me but at the end I'm still attached to my ego-self with the added fact that I sincerely enjoy interacting with my followers and posting stories.

I just don't know how the options look. I'll probably be updating my blog rules as of right now. I've been writing more sfw lately because of this and it'd be nice if you guys supported those until I properly decide. I still have plenty of requests of a bunch of characters (mostly Bakugo and Dabi) and original stuff (all sfw & nsfw) that I really wanna share with you guys. But I just ask that what I do modify that you will respect it like you would to any other writer on here.

Stay safe, keep your mask on, and thank you.

#discourse #tw discourse #tw: discourse #sav talks

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catharticdevice · 3 years

Text

maybe life is not for everyone

I’ve been meaning to translate these jumbled mess of thoughts into coherent sentences. Just to see them from a distance. I don’t know why I think it matters—it really doesn’t. But here we are.

Come on in, everyone. Welcome to my version of a ✨spiraling free fall ✨

I’m okay, by the way—I think? If we share some commonality in terms of how we define okay, it really is not that serious. My suicidal thoughts have all been passive and my brain hasn’t lost its chemical capacity to perform my role as a functioning adult. In all honesty, I’m a bit wary of using the word depression; it’s such a blanket term that’s too intimately linked with the clinical branch of depression. The more nuanced lower end of the spectrum gets slided onto the back burner, because it’s not pressing—which is a perfectly sound logic. Given that none of my symptoms directly point to major/clinical depression, I’m more inclined to stay away from it altogether. My episodes are never debilitating to the extent that I ignore hygiene or fail to keep my job. So it feels stupid to be open about my minor inconveniences. I’d much rather invalidate my own mental struggle before someone can say to my face “You’re just faking it for attention—”

You know how people sometimes say “I haven’t been feeling myself lately,” More often than not, it indicates a varying degree of emotional disturbances—be it gloomy, anxious, in despair, discontent, bitter, or what have you. You recognize what your normal behavior looks like and you get a sense when it deviates off the course. In contrast, I can’t really tell if my low-spirited nature is just a part of a temporary mental distress or is it actually me. It has been my default state for as long as I can remember that it successfully assimilated into my personality traits. So much so that if I were to say “I haven’t been feeling like myself lately,” it would mean a good thing.

I learned to make peace with the way life works; how to navigate through the challenges while keeping my head above water. The secret is to give up all your hopes and be okay with not thriving. Life is not actually that bad when you feel apathetic. I’ve fully embraced my apathy and made it my home—very comfy here, 10/10 would recommend. Because who the fuck got time to do some thriving? Also, why must we thrive as humans? Why is that a necessity? Who decided that? Why can’t we just survive? How is it not enough to survive?

Not quite sure what else there even is to life that makes me willingly choose it every single day. But surviving has to be enough for now. I am not putting any more effort into this bullshit.

Anyway, that’s the baseline. That’s what my good day looks like. Lukewarm, with a hint of melancholy. Now, on to the good stuff—

Every time something drives me over the edge, my go-to coping mechanism has always been limited to safe non-lethal strategies, which include social withdrawal (textbook self-sabotaging behavior) and restrictive food intake (an effort to regain some sense of control apparently). It wasn’t until recently that my brain got a bit more creative and incorporated suicidal ideation into the mix. Whenever I only have my thoughts to keep me company, it’s incredibly easy to spiral into a self-destructive existential conundrum. Although the problematic eating behavior has now also progressed into a more frequent pattern. Anxiety is no longer needed to spur the action. I just need a win sometimes. And running on two cups of coffee and nothing else all day is the most instantaneous way to earn a sense of accomplishment. (PSA: I don’t recommend it though. It’s ok for me and me only, it really is not good for you, kids.)

I wonder, why has nobody told you that as you get older, cutting your life short is becoming a more and more interesting option? It really feels like I’ve maxed out on my lifetime serotonin quota—it’s all spent. I’m done. At this point I’m not even living anymore; I’m just wasting everybody’s time. The thought of having to endure 20-30 more years of this fucking non-consensual existence is such a nightmare. (Actually, with the rapidly accelerating climate change and billionaires continuing to play gods, 30 years is probably too generous.)

When it comes to the subject of suicide, some people’s prevention approach is to say stuff like “...think about how that makes your loved ones feel,” or “There’s so many things you’re going to miss out on,” First of all, let’s think about how I feel, ok. This is about me—focus up! Secondly, I don’t know where you got your biology lesson from, but you actually don’t have to worry about missing anything if you don’t wake up tomorrow. Because when you’re flatlined, your neurons stop firing. Ergo you can’t think, you can’t feel—so you wouldn’t have any function left to miss anything. Win-win.

I’ve been told countless times that it’s temporary; that there will come a time when I won’t feel this way anymore. But man...when you’re swimming across any large, deep body of water and then around mid way you’re slowly feeling your energy level is plummeting below zero, we all know how that’s gonna end. There’s no way you would ever be able to make it to the shore. Even if it’s only a few feet ahead of you. There’s nothing you can do except to let the water take you in.

I’ve been enjoying looking into how body donation works lately. Interesting hobby—quite niche if I do say so myself. Unfortunately Science Care does not currently operate where I live. Also, in Mass you have to sign a consent paper that’s called Instrument of Anatomical Gift. But there has to be two witnesses. Urgh...! Ideally, I’d like my heart to stop beating at the exact place where they would actually store the bodies before they’re being used. Dying in my apartment room doesn’t really appeal to me. I don’t want to create a hassle where somebody has to schlep my body around. Can you imagine being dead and still be a burden to someone? Also, where do people buy body bags? I wonder if they do like a prime 2-day delivery. In the event of a demise-causing-amount-of blood spurting out of my person, I wouldn’t want to leave a mess for someone to clean up—that would be rude. It should be much cleaner and easier to manage if everything is contained within a cadaver bag.

...

Ok, you know what, never mind—too many things to be mindful of. Fuck. I can’t believe being too polite is the only thing keeping me from actually executing any plans. Nope. Let’s be honest, you’re just a wimp, Sash. One day, maybe.

Again, let me reiterate: I am A-OK. I assure you, you’ll still see me being miserable and think about dying tomorrow and the day after. But other than that, everything’s fine.

Peace out, homies.

#suicide tw #ed tw

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imagine-the-fanfics · 3 years

Text

Honesty -- Part 2

Characters: Goro Majima x Reader X Daigo Dojima

Warnings: Abuse (verbal), cheating, softcore (brief), toxic relationship traits

Inspiration: Prompt – “I stay awake constantly. I’m always awake. Always. I’m scared that if I fall asleep, I’ll see your face, and I can’t do it. I just can’t.”; “i hate u, i love u (feat. Olivia o’Brien)” by gnash; “Invincible” by Crossfade; “Everything Stays (feat. Olivia Olson)” by Adventure Time

A/n: I don’t know what to add. I feel like I’m not having a lot to add to fics lately.

Months had passed since you saw Majima last. His existence haunted yours; every so often he would randomly pop into your mind, memories the two of you shared playing back like a movie. It was at its worst when you dreamt about him, only to wake up next to Daigo.

The relationship was toxic, that was undeniable. There was nothing good that came from it, and it was better that it die and be left behind.

The love was consuming, that, too, was undeniable. You had never loved anyone as fiercely as you loved him, and you fully believed you would never feel that deep of a love for anyone else.

When your relationship with Daigo went public, your life changed. Majima was forced back into your life, and it was painful. Every time you saw him was a stab to your gut. He always had this blank look in his eyes, the fire that had drawn you in was barely an ember now. He was still the Mad Dog, but the mask slipped more than it stuck these days. You’d heard that he was seen around town spending his money on women and whiskey; rarely spending more than a handful of nights with each of them, and those nights were never in succession.

A year passed since your break up with Majima, and your engagement was formally announced.

Your engagement party was the worst of those moments. Daigo had picked your dress, just like how he picked everything in your life now. Once you agreed to marry him, he had started being more controlling. If you went anywhere, you went with guards. If you wanted to go shopping for clothes, Daigo had final say over what you bought. If you went out to eat, he ordered for you. You knew walking into this that you would likely end up in a loveless marriage, but you hadn’t expected to end up feeling like property and absolutely fucking miserable.

So there you stood, in a black halter dress with a cut out window creating a pseudo sweetheart neckline. The halter straps emerged from the side of your dress, connecting where your collarbones met, leaving you and your cleavage very exposed. You overheard someone joke about how your breasts looked ready to jump out and join the party, but Daigo paid it no mind. The bodice was so tight you had a hard time breathing, but skirt was a floor-length A-line with a slit in the side starting at your hip. Diamonds decorated your neck, your wrists, your ears, your feet— the wealth of your fiancé displayed on you like an intricate mannequin.

You stood next to your fiancé, smiling and thanking people as they gave the two of you wishes of congratulations. Some of them had gifts, but they were directed to a table where they could be placed. So many people came and went that the endless parade blurred into one single stream. So many new faces to memorize, even more returning faces you scrambled to remember. There were easily a thousand people here, if not more. You were here to greet all of them.

The Majima’s depression was written in his blank stare, the bags under his eyes, the smell of whiskey on his breath. He’d watched you from afar, greeting everyone while at Daigo’s side and it made him sick. He slammed the rest of his whiskey before getting in line.

Your heart broke when Majima came to offer his congratulations. He was clearly well on his way to being drunk, and he looked like he was completely dead inside. Still, you kept the façade of a happy bride-to-be, smiling and thanking him. You could feel Daigo’s eyes on you, watching for any hint of an emotional connection to Majima, and you were more than happy to deny it. Still, you couldn’t help but watch as Majima left.

After the greeting was dinner. You and Majima couldn’t help but make eye contact, and each time it became harder and harder to keep the façade together. You managed to choke down the food you’d been served with a smile on your face. Once dinner was finished, you asked Daigo for permission to step outside. He waved you away and you stepped out onto the balcony, looking at the bustling street below.

You hadn’t expected to see Majima already standing there, leaning against the railing with a cigarette in his fingers. You watched him take a drag, and you kept watching him after. There was so much inside you that you wanted to say, that you had to say. Instead, you turned to go inside. The peace of mind you had come here to find was nonexistent.

“You don’t have to leave,” Majima said before you could take another step. You turned your head and torso to look at him. “Not on my account at least. You’re Dojima’s woman now, you don’t have to worry about me trying anything.” The fake accent you had loved was gone.

You looked inside for a moment and then towards the railing of the balcony, continuing your path to the railing. You leaned against it next to Majima.

“Mind sharing?” You asked, looking at his cigarette.

“Since when do you smoke?” Majima asked with a raised eyebrow but a tone of concern. Still, he obliged, handing you a cigarette, letting you put it to your lips before lighting it. He watched you and frowned. “You used to get on my ass about my smoking. Sayin’ I was going to die of cancer. Now you’re smoking?”

“Reminds me of you,” you admitted absentmindedly. When you realized what you said you coughed. You saw Majima staring at you with a slack jaw. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Don’t want your fiancé to hear, after all,” Majima said with disgust.

“Tell me about it,” you grumbled. “I can’t even pick out my damn clothes anymore.”

“I was wondering about that dress,” Majima said, looking at you. “Doesn’t seem like you at all.”

“Because it’s not, but Daigo wanted to show off his trophy, I guess.” You took a drag from your cigarette, exhaling out just a slice of your frustration. “I don’t hate him, but I’m getting there. I resent him. Looking at him makes me sick. And fucking him? I—” You looked at Majima and saw the pained grimace on his face as he returned his gaze to the street below. “Sorry.”

Silence settled over you as the two of you stood there in silence.

“I stay awake constantly,” Majima admitted. “I’m always awake. Always. I’m scared that if I fall asleep, I’ll see your face, and I can’t do it. I just can’t, Y/n.” He took a drag, a tear rolling down his cheek as he regained his composure. “Watching my boss dangle you in front of me like a toy I can’t have pisses me off. You’re not a toy. I know I treated you like shit, but you’re a human being; you’re not a doll to dress up and show off to your friends.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you said nothing. Another drag, another exhale. Silence settles in again. The two of you listen in to the traffic below.

“You haunt me,” you admitted quietly. “It comes in waves. Sometimes it’s just a spec of a memory; sometimes it’s all-consuming.” You flicked your ash and let it fall from the balcony to the world below. “I’ll dream of you and wake up next to Daigo and… It’s devastating. I see you everywhere, in everything. Daigo put on a movie with zombies and I couldn’t help but wonder if you’d like this one. I see a couple fighting on the street and I get nostalgic. Nostalgic, can you fucking believe that?” Another drag. “You can’t sleep, but I can’t seem to exist.”

More silence. You finished your cigarette, putting it out on the railing and flicking it out onto the street below before leaving Majima on the balcony to be alone with his thoughts.

It wasn’t long after that that the dancing started. Majima stared at you as you danced with Daigo and others, watching you with a mix of devastation, love, and anger. He didn’t say anything – he wasn’t dumb enough to do that – but he sipped his whiskey. The whiskey didn’t dull the edge of the pain he was feeling. The whiskey did nothing but make those emotions stronger. Seeing him broke your heart one piece at a time, and when it was completely shattered into dust you excused yourself, leaving the rented ballroom and sobbed in the hall. Thank God that you could afford the best setting spray for your makeup.

Seconds after you started crying Majima was taking your hand and leading you to an elevator. “No one can see you cry or the façade is off and Dojima is made a fool.” Thankfully, it didn’t appear anyone had seen you leave. When you were on the elevator, he hit the button for his room’s floor. The door closed and the elevator started to rise. “I’m taking you to my room. You can cry in peace there, but if you take too long people are going to question where you are.”

You watched him, but he just stared at the buttons. Your crying stopped, he looked at you, and the next thing you knew he had against the wall of the elevator, his lips on yours. You put one hand on his chest, the other resting on his neck as the two kissed like it was oxygen after the two of you had nearly drowned in the sorrow of the other’s absence. You didn’t care when he slid your skirt to the side, one hand against the flesh of your hip, the other tangled up in your hair as he slid a leg between your legs. It gave you something to rub against, and you rocked your hips on his thigh, the sweet friction making you

The elevator was still going. You had no idea how long you had left in this moment, but you didn’t care. This was much needed bliss. Toxic as the two of you were for each other, the love you shared for each other would never die, no matter how desperate the two of you were to leave it in the past.

The elevator dinged; the door opened up. Majima immediately backed off at the sound, running a gloved finger against his bottom lip. Your skirt fell to its intended place and you were left panting. He took your hand in his and led you to his room, taking his hand back as he flipped his wallet open, removing his keycard to open the door. The whole process was second, but it felt like eternity.

#Yakuza #Goro Majima #Majima #Goro Majima x reader #Majima x reader #Daigo #Daigo Dojima #daigo x reader #daigo dogma x reader

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Wishing I was her

(not my gif but look how cute it is)(requested by anonymous)

(D- The reader has had a crush on Nick for a long time and realizes just how much she likes him after he gets together with Lindsay)

- It all started in middle school when you first laid eyes on Nick Andopolis. Back then he was less perfect, all gangly limbs and dorky smiles, but it was only a matter of time before you fell for him. And though your friends would tease you endlessly for it, you were never able to completely shake your attraction. Not even when he made friends with Daniel Desario, not even when he became a freak, not even when he dated Heidi Henderson and now not even as he dated Lindsay Weir.

- You felt utterly pathetic being so hung up on a guy who probably barely even knew you existed. You weren’t a freak, you weren’t even close to him, you were just y/n y/l/n the girl who was in his English class.

- What made it even more frustrating was that you could have gotten close to him just as easily as Lindsay had; maybe even easier. You’d been friends with Kim in the early years of middle school. How hard would it have been to ask her to hang out again?

- But you weren’t jealous, it was strange. You didn’t resent Lindsay or Nicky or anyone; you just felt like you missed an opportunity, one you’d never have again because him and Lindsay were perfect together. He was seriously in love and she, well you didn’t know Lindsay all too well but she seemed like a sweet girl.

- All you wanted to do was get rid of your feelings once and for all. To end what was going to destroy your chances of finding real love where you could.

- That’s why you were where you were now, standing at Kim Kelly’s locker, waiting for her to show up to get her books. She looked mildly amused seeing you there, looking completely out of place and awkward. She slowly sauntered up to you and you gave her a small smile, telling her that you’d been doing some reminiscing and was wondering if she’d want to hang out sometime.

- Perhaps it was because hanging out with you would make her look good to her mother or because a sliver of her actually wanted to be your friend again but she smirked, winked and said “You want to roll with the cool kids, huh? Alright, let’s get out of here.”

- Maybe it was a bitch move going through Kelly to fix your issues but you weren’t going to just dump her when you got the closure you felt you needed. You would still be her friend, would probably be all their friends if they actually accepted you, you just needed an easy way to get in.

- Your plan had been to become friends with Nick, crush that stupid crush you had on him by actually hanging out around him. You hoped that your feelings would just fade because you would finally know what he was actually like. He would no longer be some mysterious dream guy you could fantasize about. He would be a real person to you and one you might not like as much as you thought you did.

- And so, for the past week and a half you had been a certified member of the freaks. You’d been avoided by some of your classmates and insulted by others but you knew that that was just the way things were going to be from now on. You really didn’t mind.

- You were sort of surprised to find that you really liked hanging out with the freaks. They were a nice change from everyone you had ever been friends with and oddly enough you seemed to just fit right in. It seemed that you particularly got along with Nick when he wasn’t hanging around Lindsay and being stoned out of his mind.

- But during your time of hanging out with him you really started to figure things out and come to terms with your feelings.

- You’d hung out with him, was able to see and hear about every stupid or disgusting thing he had ever done and yet... nothing changed. You still liked him and you realized that you were even worse off than before because now you knew for certain that you didn’t just have a crush on him. You were absolutely in love.

- He was no longer a mystery to you but you liked the real him even more than the version of him you had come up with. He really was your perfect guy in so many ways and you had probably lost any chance you might have had with him by not acting sooner.

- Everytime you saw them together you longed to be her. Sometimes it physically hurt to look at them. But then the unexpected happened.

- Nick broke up with Lindsay and everything went to shit. He was depressed and completely hung up on her yet she didn’t seem all that hurt. It was as though the roles were reversed, as though she wasn’t the one who had supposedly been dumped.

- Then you learned the truth as to why they called it quits and your heart broke for him. Could he get more amazing? At this point you weren’t sure.

- But it hurt seeing him like that because you knew what it felt like to be in love with someone who really didn’t love you back. It hurt even more because you would have killed to have him yet he couldn’t even see what a great guy he was or how obviously in love with him you had been from the start.

- Maybe you’d never had a chance with him but you would rather die then sit around and watch him mope. Yearning for a girl that just wasn’t into him as much as he hoped.

- You wanted to support him, you really did, but hell it bothered you. More often than not you were the one to hang out with him because you felt an obligation to that no one else in the group really did. Perhaps they were used to it but you weren’t so you wanted to help him as much as you could. You felt like you owed it to him in some weird unexplainable way; to help him when no one else helped you, even though his situation was admittedly worse than yours.

- So here you were, sitting in his basement watching him listen to music and lay on the couch like a corpse, limp and depressed looking. You couldn’t stand it. You shuffled across the couch so that you were sitting closer to him or rather to his head that was buried in a pillow.

“Nick?” he groaned in response, the low sound muffled by the pillow. “Come on Nick, get up. You can’t suffocate yourself in a pillow all day.”

- He pushed himself around so that he was laying on his back. The front of his hair stuck up and around in wild direction, you had to fight back the urge to reach out and fix it. Instead you patted his shoulder.

“Nick, you’re the greatest guy I’ve ever met. You’re funny, handsome, talented; any girl would be lucky to have you. And if Lindsay can’t see how amazing you are then maybe she just wasn’t right for you.”

“But she was the only girl whose ever understood me.” He replied.

“Well don’t I understand you?” You asked shyly, almost hopefully.

“I mean yeah but... you know what I mean. She was the only girl who understood me and loved me and wanted to be with me.” he said miserably.

“Well I’ve got news for you buddy.” You muttered almost under your breath as you looked at your hands, the floor, the walls; anywhere except for him.

- The couch squeaked and all of a sudden he was sitting up, his eyes locked on the side of your head. You could feel his gaze on you and it made you want to disappear. He’d obviously heard you.

“What do you mean?” He asked. You wondered if you could make up an excuse and escape.

“What do you want me to say Nick? That I love you? That I have loved you for a while now? Look I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear this right now, not from me at least so... so I think I should just go.” You sighed.

- You stood up and quickly gathered your things, heading up the basement steps as he sat silently on the couch. You weren’t sure what you thought was going to happen but deep down you think you knew this was how it was going to end.

- You had managed to make it outside and a little ways down the street when you heard his door open and him emerge from behind it. He called after you but you didn’t stop, you just kept going, too embarrassed to face him and the rejection you knew he was bringing. Your mind was already searching for all the ways that you could fake your way out of going to school tomorrow

- In an instant you were being pulled back and into a hard chest, his arms wrapped around you and kept you close to him. You felt more than a little awkward as he held onto you for a long moment before he finally pulled back.

“I’m sorry, I... I didn’t realize that you liked me like that and well I... I’m not sure what to say but I’m uh, I’m happy, I’m really happy. I like it.” He laughed that awkward, unsure laugh of his and you couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Listen, I know you still like Lindsay and that’s alright. I’m not going to try to rush you into something just because I want it. If you want to do this then we can do it slowly, take things one step at a time. But first I think you need some time to be on your own and think everything through. As soon as you know what you want then I’ll be here alright? Just please tell me if you don’t want anything to do with me, I’d rather know then continue to hold out for no reason.” You said sincerely, giving him a small smile as he nodded at you.

- He agreed and the two of you said goodbye to each other. When you got home it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders, just letting him know how you felt had eased away so much of the stress that you had been carrying.

- It was a few days later that Nick had asked to talk to you. You were a little worried but the shy smile on his face kept you hopeful. Soon enough you were standing with him outside of his house, watching him lean against his car and search for the right words to say.

“I did some thinking like you told me. Good advice by the way, it really helped,” He laughed, his cheeks twinged a light pink. “But um, I’ve realized a few things about myself and about you and I just have to get them off my chest. Well I’ve realized that I don’t really miss Lindsay anymore and I don’t think she ever really missed me as much as I used to hope she did. And during that time? When I was thinking? I also realized that we were like really good together, you know? And that I don’t think I’d be whole without you like, like Zeppelin without Bonham. So Y/n....”

- You held you breath as he struggled to find the words. Your heart stopped beating and you wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms.

“I love you and I want to be with you and I’m hoping that you’ll still take me.” He finished.

- You grabbed his hands to make him look at you, your heart going back to normal and starting to beat quicker than before after hearing his final words. His gaze met yours and he shook his head with a smile, pulling you into him and wrapping his arms around you. You knew the pleasant feeling of being able to get something like that off your chest and you could see that pleasure written all over his face.

“So do you want to go out sometime?” He asked jokingly yet you could still hear the twinge of uncertainty in his voice.

“I’d love to.” you assured and his arms tightened around you.

#nick andopolis #nick andopolis imagine #nick andopolis headcanons #nick andopolis headcanon #freaks and geeks #freaks and geeks imagine #freaks and geeks headcanons #freaks and geeks headcanon #90s tv show #90s tv shows #90s tv show imagine #90s tv series #90s imagine #90s tv headcanons #90s tv show headcanons

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himbowelsh · 4 years

Note

You can totally ignore this if you want but I could I request some sad headcanons about the guys. Like how they deal with ptsd or insecurities or traumatic childhood incidents.

Richard Winters

dick isn’t emotionally open in general. he keeps things in. that’s how he was raised, how he’s grown up, and the only way he really knows how to cope with things. talking about his feelings... is uncomfortable.

that said, he processes them well. dick doesn’t let negative emotions fester. he finds releases for them, either through doing things he enjoys or spending time around his loved ones. he’s not the sort of person to linger on things.

will definitely overwork himself when his mind is in a troubled place. being productive helps him so much. focusing on things he can control, things that need to get done... sure, he’s going to bed at 3am, but it’s not because he’s upset, it’s because he was working.

doesn’t... like being alone when things are on his mind. it’s too easy to get sucked in, for those loud thoughts to drown everything else out. being around other people... not sharing, but just not being alone... it helps.

Lewis Nixon

*summon the folger’s theme song* the best part of waking up... is an obscene amount of high-shelf liquor in your cup!!

hey, it’s nine o’clock... in the morning.

literally. nix is of the opinion that if you can’t drink the bad thoughts away, then they’re not worth thinking at all. the thing is, his brain summons them anyways, because brains are awful like that.

he’s got a lot of trauma!! so much trauma!! his childhood was miserable, his family’s the worst, he feels like a disappointment and has no desire to try to prove himself to parents whose love was questionable from the day he was born...

lots of insecurities too. can you tell?

he won’t talk about any of it unless he’s really, really drunk, with someone he counts among his closest friends. then sometimes the negativity just rushes out. he can’t help it, and it gets ugly.

otherwise, he broods, he holds it all in, and he drinks. would he benefit from therapy? yes, absolutely, but alcoholism tastes so much better.

Carwood Lipton

this is a healthy man right here

he copes with things. lip has interests, outlets he can channel his frustrations into, and the ability to rationalize things internally and get them off his chest. most things don’t weigh on him for long, because he’s got those sweet coping skills.

this isn’t even angsty. he doesn’t have a lot of emotional angst. he works through things, mostly by processing them on his own --- but if something’s really weighing on him, lip will turn to his most trusted person (his mother gives great advice) for an outlet.

Ron Speirs

heh heh. ohhhh boy.

he’s... he’s speirs, okay. he’s not gonna open up and talk about what’s bothering him, because that’s his business, and no one else needs to know.

ron... gets impulsive. reckless. places less regard on his own life. he’ll do obscenely risky things because he’s kind of an adrenaline junkie; that burst of danger actually helps him cope with what’s bothering him. at least, it gives him a good reason to keep going.

he retreats into himself when it comes to anything emotional. broods a little, but if anyone asks what’s on his mind, he won’t say a word.

“well, we’re all on a steady march towards death anyways, does anything really matter? no. i’m already dead so nothing has any consequences. yeet.”

jesus christ, get this man some therapy.

Harry Welsh

talks it out. literally, he’s just... gonna share things. he’ll literally just do that.

harry sometimes can be an oversharer, but he never really learned to put a filter on his emotions. it helps that he’s sort of the “water off a duck’s back” type of person; he doesn’t take a lot of things personally, so when he does need to rant about something, it’s usually big. he turns to his loved ones, because he trusts them, and usually they can help.

but it is kind of weird for guys like nixon and winters, whose life mottos are “i’ll keep all of my emotions right here and then someday i’ll die”, to hear harry be like “I’M UPSET TODAY AND HERE’S WHY”. like... he really doesn’t care who knows what’s going on in his soul, huh? he’s really able to open up like that.

(harry is the most emotionally healthy man here, good for him)

Buck Compton

it’s called impostor syndrome, and buck has it.

he’s a confident guy, but under the surface, has insecurity in spades --- he feels like he has a lot to live up to, and doesn’t believe he’s doing everything well enough. he’s supposed to be exceptional, and that’s a heavy burden to bear. there’ll be a part of him that’s always going to feel like he’s not good enough.

like... he seriously doesn’t know quite where to begin when processing negative emotions, because he feels like he should be able to deal with them himself. his first instinct isn’t to talk it out, or seek out positive outlets; he keeps it all inside because he feels he can handle it.

don’t get me wrong, buck handles things well --- he’s resilient. but every so often, the emotions just get so overwhelming, and boil up like a toxic spill inside of him; it can get overwhelming.

Eugene Roe

conceal don’t feel buddy

look, gene... never acquired coping skills growing up. it wasn’t anyone’s first priority, and he had too many sisters monopolizing his mother’s time. as a kid, gene had genuine anger issues, and would get into trouble often, because he just... didn’t know how to deal with what he was feeling.

his grandmother was the one who stepped in and taught him how to pray. that’s the closest thing gene has to comfort; he is quietly devout, and turns to god in his darkest moments when desperate for some guidance. if he can’t talk to anyone else about what he’s feeling --- and he usually prefers not to --- he can speak freely to god.

but god can’t help him shoulder his burdens. genuinely, gene just needs to learn to open up and share. keeping everything bottled up... is not good for him.

George Luz

laugh the pain away, until you no longer can.

people assume george luz processes his emotions in a healthy way. these people are incorrect. his “fake it til you make it approach” isn’t the worst, but 9/10 therapists would not recommend. (the 10th is luz, doing his best impression of a therapist.)

he laughs things off. it’s easier than to do that than to let people in. george hates burdening others with his feelings. he’s got a natural talent for keeping peoples’ spirits up, so bringing them down with him is... a frightening idea. it feels like failure.

for the most part, george is good at keeping things in and processing them internally. if something’s really bothering him, people close can tell --- he hardly smiles, and his jokes aren’t as funny as they are dark --- but he’s usually able to recover without any help. he’s good at dealing with things on his own.

he tries not to drink too much, because if he gets really really drunk, he loses his grip. then it can all come spilling out, in a big messy wave of feelings, and he’d prefer to avoid that at all costs.

oh gosh, there’s this amazing fic that actually centers around babe and roe dealing with their problems, but there’s this one scene with luz, and it breaks me

Joe Toye

in a word? not well.

joe dealing with things... is not a pretty picture. he prefers to not deal with things, to be honest, because it’s easier to pretend all the emotional shit doesn’t exist and just push it down until he can’t feel it anymore. sometimes it even works.

truth is, joe has a lot of insecurities, and really struggles to deal with them. they plague him]... and while he can channel some of it into anger (there’s a reason my modern!toye takes up kickboxing) a lot of it just gets sent straight to depression central.

it’s not something he talks about easily, either. he wasn’t raised in an environment that encouraged men talking about their feelings; joe comes from a tough irish family where everyone, especially the men, are supposed to keep a stern face and power through. he’s only able to opens up to a few trusted people (malarkey, maybe guarnere, maybe luz). when the emotions reach a boiling point... they don’t have anywhere to go. they feel like they’re going to consume him.

he’s contemplated some dark things before, and it’s not something he’s proud of.

Bill Guarnere

what the hell is this man even made of???

bill takes all his negative emotions and converts them into fuel. every tear his body forces him to shed adds an extra year to his life.

he’s incredibly resilient, and can power through pretty much anything. losing his leg didn’t take him out for long; sure, it was a blow, but he bounced back from it as strong as ever. losing his brother was agonizing (worse than the leg, honestly) and it made bill furious --- but that fury kept him going, and kept him alive. he reacts to grief by turning it into anger, and once that anger dulls it’s just raw energy keeping him moving.

bill copes by being around people. honestly --- just put him in a room with his best friends and his problems gradually fade out. it’s not like he bares his soul to them; he just needs to be around friends, enjoying life. their presence helps him work through things better than any therapist.

(peak extrovert energy omg)

Babe Heffron

just like bill, babe also recovers by being around his favorite people.

he draws energy from them; it’s like he’s low on cash, so he asks his buddies for a few dollars, but in this case it’s emotional stability. babe just copes better around other people.

left alone with his own thoughts... things can get messy.

this man doesn’t do well with being alone in general --- he feels isolated, almost forgotten, and will seek out the nearest person just to chase those dark feelings away. when babe’s struggling with something, he also struggles with how to deal with it. the emotions are like a pot bubbling over inside of him, and he’s fighting to make sense of them all. he can’t do that alone.

he has to express himself to someone. ideally someone he trusts, but it might just end up being whoever’s available, or whoever’s nearby. his dark emotions are very potent, and very painful; it takes a while for him to be free of them completely, but having someone else help make sense of them (or just offer reassurance) helps.

he’s a crier. he’s not proud of it, but when babe’s really at his brink, he cries. it’s an ugly sight.

Shifty Powers

just freaking... goes off into the wilderness.

no, literally. shifty needs some quiet time. when he’s struggling, he’ll take his gun, take his car, and vanish for a while. (that sounds... worse than it is. shifty’s not the kind of person to consider hurting himself.) he just disappears into the woods.

the longest he’s ever been gone was two whole days... but he always returns with a clear head, willing to talk things out.

Joe Liebgott

he just... straight up doesn’t, man. he doesn’t deal with shit. he pushes it aside, forces it back --- it’s not exactly repression, because the Bad Stuff is always there on the outskirts of his mind at all times, lieb just actively chooses not to deal with it.

(he’ll pick any fight except the ones in his own head.)

you’ve got to understand, he’s had his share of trauma. he didn’t have an easy go of it before the war, and definitely not during. liebgott collects emotional baggage like baseball cards, and at this point he’s got a full set.

if he can run from the emotions, he will. this leads him to self-isolate, cutting himself off from the people who might be able to help; he doesn’t want to share all the negative emotions, because he doesn’t know how. at his worst, he also tends to lash out, and... other people don’t have to deal with that, okay?

joe will put off dealing with things for as long as possible, and never truly deal with them at all.

David Kenyon Webster

writing is literally his therapy. putting his emotions down on paper helps. formulating them into words is like a release, and having them laid out in front of him, where he can analyze it all lets him look at the problem objectively. webster writes just to get things out... sometimes because he can’t bear to hold it all inside any longer.

he also loves sailing, partly because of how freeing it is to be out on the open water. he’s completely in control of his boat, and can go anywhere, anywhere in the world --- if he wanted, he could leave everything behind. the notion is tantalizing.

webster really isn’t open about his negative feelings with others. when it’s something personal... it takes a lot for him to open up, and he’d have to trust that person implicitly. a part of him feels that baring his emotions is just an invitation to be mocked, so he’s hesitant.

at least he processes them. he’s not tormented by things, because he’s got his releases --- writing, and sailing. if the mind is a prison, they set him free.

Donald Malarkey

catch malarkey right there in that kickboxing class with joe toye

look. don feels things deeply, and takes things personally. he can’t help it. he doesn’t let go of things; if he’s been hurt badly, it’s an open wound on his soul forever, and it never heals.

he’s never a wreck. like, he’s perfectly able to function, and has a unique ability to power through even in the darkest moments... but those shadows are always there, and they weigh on him. they smother him. he can never really escape.

tends to avoid the topics which hurt him; when they come up, he can get testy --- or worse, teary!! --- and that’s not something he wants to burden anyone else with. his greatest hurts are very private things to him, and he doesn’t want the people he cares about affected by them.

Skip Muck

skip channels his bad feelings into energy, and that energy needs to find its way out.

he’ll play guitar and sing along really aggressively. he’ll deep-clean the entire house. he’ll run just to feel the burn in his lungs, the ache in his limbs, until he’s too worn out to feel anything but exhaustion.

honestly, he gets a little manic when something’s bothering him. he needs to chill.

skip is... more willing than most to talk things out, so long as he has someone he trusts. it’s not too hard for him to open up, he just needs to be able to open up to the right people. his sister is a frequent confidant, as are malarkey and penkala. skip doesn’t like many people seeing the darker side of him, but being able to talk about his feelings helps immensely.

Ralph Spina

genuinely... doesn’t have any baggage.

no childhood trauma. no agonizing breakup story or betrayals. no emotional damage whatsoever. and when something is bothering him, his instinct is to just talk it out, and then it’s done. this man sleeps like a baby.

it’s freaky.

#eat up that sweet sweet emotional trauma #band of brothers #headcanons #tw depression #tw self-harm

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justkending · 4 years

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Some Snow Would Be Nice. (Drabble)

I entered into @cevansgirl 1500 followers writing challenge! Congrats by the way girl;) You deserve it! So go give her a follow if you don’t already!!! I loved writing this, and I hope you all enjoy!!! Let me know what you think my lovelies! Xoxox

My prompt was: “Some snow would be nice”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2000+

The Avengers had been stuck in the tower for the past few days due to low crime and just slow activity with their job. I guess that should be a good thing, but as people whose jobs and lives revolve around it, it can become a little irritable when they had nothing to do.

“Ugggg!” Y/N let out a groan flopping on the couch dramatically and throwing her legs over Steve’s.

Nat, Bucky, and Sam all on the couch as well, doing their own things. Sam and Bucky were watching some show that Sam said ‘The old man needs to learn,’ and Nat on her laptop doing top secret stuff most likely.

“What are you complaining about now Y/N?” Nat chuckled as Steve brought his hand that wasn’t holding the book he was reading onto her calf squeezing it tightly.

“It’s been four days since we got out of here. I’m soooooo booorrreeeddd…” she dragged out throwing her head back into the nearby throw pillow with another grunt.

“Sweetheart, you can go out. It’s not like we’re confined here,” Steve chuckled looking over at her with a grin before turning back to the book.

“Yeah, but nothing interesting is happening out there,” she complained.

“Would you rather there be someone wreaking havoc on the world so we had something to do? Cause that’s just plain evil,” Sam said with a pointed look.

“That’s just plain evil,” she mocked him with a face getting a laugh out everyone else. “No I don’t want chaos to ensue just so I can be less bored, bird-man.” She rolled her eyes sitting up. “I just want something out of the ordinary to do.”

“Example?” Steve asked turning to her.

She moved up placing an elbow on his shoulder and resting her head in her hand as she looked at him.

“I don’t know. Got something to suggest?” she wiggled her eyebrows at him, and immediately he began blushing trying to hide it by sticking his nose back in his book.

“Don’t tease him Y/N/N. You know he doesn’t know how to react when you flirt with him in front of us,” Bucky laughed.

“What about a movie marathon?” Nat suggested.

“Boring. We’ve had one every night,” she groaned, now moving to where her head was resting on Steve’s shoulder. She interlaced her arm with his and cuddled into his side, and he let out a chuckle before adjusting to let her in more.

“Ok, well, we can go shopping,” Nat added again not looking away from the screen of her laptop. “Maybe Wanda would want to go too.”

“I don’t have anything I need to shop for.”

“No clothes or anything?”

“I wear workout clothes or jeans and t-shirts all the time. I’m set,” Y/N sighed.

“What do you want to do doll?” Steve asked leaning and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head before she looked up at him.

“I don’t know… Something that we never get to do,” she said with puppy dog eyes.

“I feel like we’ve done quite a few things in our life sweetheart. You’re going to have to be more specific,” he laughed.

“Ugh, it’s the weather. I blame the weather for this miserable day,” she said tightening her grip on him and folding back into him. “It’s all cold and icky, and it’s almost Christmas but no snow? What kind of New York Christmas is it without snow?” she yelled slightly.

“Some snow would be nice,” Bucky said looking out the massive windows behind them seeing that it was indeed a cold and depressing kind of day outside.

“Right?” Y/N said looking up and shooting him a finger agreeing with him.

“If you want Y/N, you and I can cook something up for dinner tonight? I know baking usually helps calm your nerves,” Bucky said standing and stretching. “I can make chili to make it less of a miserable kinda day,” he walked over lending a hand to her.

She looked up at the invitation and turned to Steve as if silently asking a question, but he didn’t know why.

“That’s sound like a good way to distract you from this ‘boring’ day,” Steve said, mocking the way she said boring earlier and nodding his head to Bucky with a smile.

Y/N turned back to Bucky seeing him send her a smile that she normally wouldn’t turn down, but she was restless and just needed to get the energy out of her bones.

“Nah. Maybe later,” she said with almost a sadden tone now. One everyone picked up on. “I’m going to go run a couple miles. Get the energy out of me.” She sighed before looking at Steve who furrowed his forehead in confusion. She never said no to cooking with Bucky. That’s how they had practically become best friends. Bickering over who could cook better, and how the other always used the wrong recipe.

“You sure sweetheart? I mean I can find something else to do if you-” Steve said putting the book to the side and running a hand through her hair.

“No, it’s fine. You guys keep enjoying yourselves. You read your book,” she smiled easing his worry a little. “I really just think the weather is messing with my head. Working it out should help some.”

He nodded and leaned to give her a gentle kiss before she stood up taking Bucky’s hand that he re-extended to her.

“I’m finally offering to bake with you, and you’re turning me down?” Bucky said putting a hand over his chest in fake hurt while still holding her other one. “I thought I would finally have given you something to make you happy.”

“I’m happy you dork. Just a little stir crazy,” she chuckled shoving him playfully. “I’m going outside to run the miles. Maybe that’ll clear my head,” she said turning to the hallway to change. “But I do expect Chili in a bowl when I get back!” she pointed at him as she walked backwards.

“Whatever Doll…” he rolled his eyes before grinning at her. Their own playful friendly banter.

____

Y/N went and ran her miles and came back a little less irritable. The rest of the crew including Steve, Bucky, Sam, Nat, Wanda, Tony, Rhodey, and Vision sat down laughing and eating dinner. Y/N a little more quiet than usual, but still present nonetheless. The only person close enough to her to pick up the little tells though was Steve. He had always been able to read her like a book.

So when they mentioned another movie night, and she declined saying she was going to turn in early, he said he would join her.

But she didn’t want to keep him from his friends, so she convinced him to stay no matter how hard he argued saying he was tired. But vice versa, she could read him just as much as he could her. She knew he was only doing it because he was worried, but she reassured him that she was indeed just tired and ready for bed.

Finally he relented, but he didn’t tell her that he would only stay for one movie at most just to say he stayed before making his way back to their shared room.

But halfway through the movie Bucky elbowed him pulling him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t been paying any mind to the movie, but instead was thinking of ways to cheer Y/N up and get her out of her funk she was clearly in.

“What?” Steve said shaking his head and turning to Bucky.

“Look,” The brunette said nodding behind him at the windows.

When Steve turned he noticed little white specks in the air. Looking closer they slowly started to get bigger and bigger. Forming more of a what a small cotton ball would look like.

Steve turned to Bucky who had knowing eyes.

“Go. Everyone was just counting down the minutes for you to run to your room,” he laughed quietly not to disrupt the movie and patting his friends back.

Steve didn’t hesitate, and practically sprinted down the hall and to the elevator. The crew behind him hooping and hollering showing what Bucky said was right.

When he got into the room, he peaked in seeing that she had already fallen asleep. It wasn’t that late, but she had said she was tired today. Not much excitement in a day does that to a person.

He closed the door quietly behind him, and carefully walked to her side of the bed sitting on the edge. She had an extra blanket wrapped around her top half, and the giant comforter was covering her bottom. She flipped facing Steve at the shift in the bed and let out a mumble.

Steve always like watching her sleep. He got to do it a lot since he’s sleep schedule and timing was very different from hers. You know… Only having to sleep four hours compared to her eight hours.

It was as if all the worries in the world completely faded as soon as she slipped into unconsciousness. Something he was glad happened considering their line of work.

He moved a stray piece of hair from her forehead and let his finger fall down her cheek causing a slight tickle to wake her.

She mumbled again before lazily opening her eyes.

“Hey sweetheart,” he whispered smiling at her sloth like state.

“Hey,” she said sleep clear in her voice. She cleared it slightly before talking again. “Is something wrong? Do I need to-” Worry and urgency. A reflex when your job is saving the world.

“No, no. Everything's perfect. I just wanted to show you something,” he said moving the blanket a little as she struggled to sit up and rub her eyes.

“What?” she said pulling her hair behind her and out of her face.

“Come on. Grab that blanket and put on your shoes,” he instructed, standing and grabbing another blanket just in case.

She did as asked, and Steve moved her over to the balcony that they had in their little suite.

“What’s going on Steve?” she began still trying to wake up her eyes, but when Steve opened the door to the view, they shot open finally. “Is it-?” she let out a soft laugh. “It’s snowing,” she giggled.

Steve loved that giggle. It always made his heart flutter in his chest. Even after 3 years of being together, she still had the same effects on him from when they first met and he developed a crush on her.

“It’s like you asked and the God’s answered,” Steve said wrapping his arms behind her and around her waist before tucking his chin on her shoulder looking at the view with her.

“Does Thor have a brother that controls the weather too that I didn’t know about?” she joked, making him laugh and her whole body vibrate with it.

“You’re a dork,” he said in-between the laughs.

“Yeah. Your dork,” she retorted as she turned in his arms now shifting her gaze to him.

“Good thing too. I don’t know what I would do without someone as goofy as you in my life,” he said leaning and nudging his nose with hers.

“Yeah, and I don’t know what I would do without someone as cheesy as you,” she laughed returning the gesture.

She turned back to their original spot, and the two just watched as the snow began to lay a blanket over the grass. No other color than white taking up the ground. It was snowing harder and heavier now than it had been from the living room, and boy was it a beautiful sight.

“Think we can have a snowball fight tomorrow?” she spoke up after minutes of comfortable silence.

“I’m in,” he smiled.

“Think we can convince the rest of the team?” she added.

“I think you’re going to have to promise Bucky a baking session if we do.”

“I think I can handle that. Who doesn’t love some fresh cinnamon rolls after a day in the snow?”

“I won’t complain,” he chuckled. He waited another few minutes before asking. “Ready to go back to bed?”

“Just a few more minutes. I just want to savor this moment. You, the snow, contentment,” she said taking a deep breath and falling back into his chest. He leaned down pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Fine by me doll. Fine by me.”

Marvel Tags:

@girlintheshire @thejourneyneverendsx @zlixlle @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @zeilenkrieg @lizzymacy555 @iheartsebastianstan @srrymydood @sebastianstanfavpita

Steve Rogers/ Chris Evans Tags:

@lil-lex1 @capsiclesdoll @snow30285 @ce-vans @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @starstrucknature @katurrade @sp2900 @badassbeckettswan @cevanswhores @patzammit @cheeseburgersstuff

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravic @traceyaudette @kakakatey @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @snffbeebee @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @naomi02hook @xostephanie @schwankyblock @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022@jjlevin @rainbowkisses31

#marvel #marvel one shot #marvel drabble #Steve Rogers #steve #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america #Captain America x reader Series #justkending writing #justkending #drabble #mcu #mcu drabble

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blainebigbang · 4 years

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Blaine Big Bang 2020: Posting Schedule

It’s finally here!

Tomorrow kicks off the Blaine Big Bang 2020!

Every other day, throughout the month of February, Blaine fans will be greeted with a new 25K+ fic of Blainey goodness from our 16 amazing authors and artists! Congrats to our participants!

Please see below the cut for the complete schedule:

February 1st - take my picture now (shake it 'til you see it) Author: Civillove Artist: Kanversrph Blaine likes to call this part of his life as being 'the flavor of the month'. While he enjoys being a successful model, he feels like the industry keeps taking little pieces of him. When he meets Sebastian, a nature photographer, he feels like he might get those pieces back.

February 3rd - Nothing Can Keep Us Apart Author: TeddysHoney Artist: Riverance Blaine is a Prince whose father was killed by King Burt's army. Blaine lives with his mother near King Burt's castle. One day, Prince Kurt sees him drawing water, and Kurt sneaks into the village to meet Blaine. They see one another in secret for a while. A war begins, however, and Blaine must go and fight. Kurt looks for him every day, waiting for him to return. He has no idea that Blaine has been captured by the enemy or that he's waiting for his brother to help him escape certain death. Once the war is over, Burt decides it is time for Kurt to find a mate. No one is good enough in Kurt's eyes, however. After realizing that Blaine may not be coming home and a pleasant evening spent in the arms of another man, Kurt sneaks off into the woods to cry, convinced he'll have to marry someone else and that Blaine is dead. Blaine surprises him in the forest, and, having convinces an indebted priest to marry them, the two are wed. Instead of returning to the castle, however, they decide to fend for themselves in the lawless forests surrounding the kingdoms. February 5th - Ships That Pass In The Night Author: Delightful_Fear Artist: JudeAraya Blaine has a great life, with people packing into his piano bar six nights a week as they sail to some of the most beautiful places in the world. He’s not lacking for beautiful men to share his bed either. Why would meeting the aloof counter-tenor in a touring Broadway group change anything?

February 7th - Life in Repair Author: Room108 Artist: SeblaineAddict In the wake of his most recent break-up with Kurt, Blaine returns home to Lima to lick his wounds and reclaim some measure of happiness. An unexpected opportunity to travel to Thailand with former friend (and sometimes nemesis) Sebastian Smythe, proves to be just the salve he needs. As their bond strengthens through the ups and downs of life on the road, Sebastian and Blaine revisit their lingering spark from high school and must decide whether it’s worth re-igniting or if it will be snuffed out for good.

February 9th - Bicycle Patrol Unit Author: Carmelcoffeeaddict Artist: Lallagoglee When NYPD bicycle cop, Blaine Anderson, begins to fall for Kurt Hummel - the gorgeous man that he first notices jogging through the park during Blaine's patrol - it causes a rift between him and his patrol partner, Sebastian Smythe.

February 11th - The Silver-Scaled Mark Author: Jayhawkwrites Artist: Michaelscribbles Blaine is a half-elf living in a town of full-blooded elves. He doesn’t fit in and is bullied almost daily for his heritage. One day Blaine finds solace in the library and later finds a book that talks about the magic in his world. He is drawn to it and wants to learn all he can. After Blaine has consumed all of the books in his town, he goes off to college to become a wizard so that he can help protect those that are not able to adequately defend themselves. Once he has graduated, he finds that he and several companions are part of a prophecy that will help unite the races in his world. February 13th - Out of the Blue Author: Lilyvandersteen Artist: Redheadgleek Kurt organises a fake wedding for Brittana to get presents from random billionaires. Cooper is one of those invited, and he shows up with his brother in tow. Sparks fly, but not of the good kind. Enemies to lovers, anyone? With a slight Pride and Prejudice vibe?

February 15th - Let It Be Me Author: Darriness Artist: Usurix It's been three years since Blaine fell in love with Kurt but between college, jobs, social lives, and parenting his twelve-year-old sister, can Blaine manage it all?

February 17th - Wouldn't Change A Thing Author: Slaydiest Artist: Datshitrandom One the eve of his junior year at Dalton, Blaine’s dad kicks him out of the house, dumping him at the bus stop, cutting him off, and leaving him homeless. This is the story of how he survives, meets Kurt, and ultimately triumphs. February 19th - Here You Come Again Author: Kaianieves Artist: Kanversrph It's senior for Blaine, and just when things should be falling into place, he finds them falling apart. He's got a crush- hopefully nothing more than that- on his best friend, and a dance that he would rather do anything other than plan. Blaine's conflicted- should he sit out, be miserable and hope that this year passes by in a blur? Or should he embrace it, enjoy it and maybe even shoot his shot? February 21st - A Very Seblaine Christmas Author: MrsTotten Artist: SeblaineAddict Blaine loves his family and friends, he really does. But after a bad break up they just won’t leave him alone it doesn’t matter that everything else is going great, everyone is fixated on whether he is finally dating again. None of this is helped by his ex fiancé proposing to his new boyfriend at top of the rock and now all anyone can focus on is blaine love life or lack thereof. And now he’s heading home for the holidays. A whole week of crazy family, new directioners and so he tells a tiny white lie, that his new boyfriend his joining him for Christmas. Whilst waiting on a delayed flight and trying to figure out how to break the truth to everyone he bumps into the last person he expected to see, the flirty, charming green eyed ex warbler who was always able to find a way under his skin. Over a whiskey and a catch up an idea forms and Sebastian agrees to be his fake date for the holidays. But as Sebastian finds himself engulfed in the warm, happy madness of Blaine’s family and friends and warbler reunions, Blaine starts to see a new side to his old friends and as ex boyfriends, meddling friends and well meaning family start to get involved. This fake relationship could end up being the most real thing these crazy boys have.

February 23rd - broken glass sparkling Author: Merengs Artist: Purpleyin A year abroad. A chance to get away, put on hold all the issues he still needs to resolve and maybe find the bits of himself he thinks he’s lost. So Blaine takes it. February 25th - It's Not Easy (Being Stuck With Me Tonight) Author: Xhorizen Artist: Thegreatgothamrewatch Blaine had the perfect life – He was married to the man of his dreams, they lived with their best friend in the greatest city in the world, and he had everything he had ever dreamed of. Never mind the crippling depression and anxiety he dealt with each day he failed to book a job, and the lack of happiness he had in his marriage. One night, everything gets turned upside down and everything Blaine thought he knew was gone. How will he manage to pick up the pieces and try to make sense of his life again? February 27th - Is There a Twelve Step Just For You? Author: Thenameisbritney Artist: Datshitrandom "He was still the same short, nerdy Blaine Anderson he’d always been. An easy target for school bullies everywhere. Kurt was the popular co-captain of the Cheerio’s, looking down on his kingdom like a fair but firm ruler. No one was on his level, certainly not a peasant like Blaine." Or Blaine tries to tell Kurt that he has a crush on him but accidentally ends up asking for a makeover instead. Oh, dear. February 29th - The Dalton Military Academy Warblers Author: Julia3132 Artist: CinnamonT Blaine Anderson is 2nd son of richest man in the world Winston Anderson. A devastating injury brought him back to Ohio where he disappeared into the family's massive estate. Society doesn't see him again until 2 years later, when after the death of Winston, he shows up at Dalton Military Academy, a place he is totally unsuited for. Sebastian Smythe is Captain of Dalton’s elite 1st Squadron and everything Blaine wants to be…dashing, debonair, comfortable in his own skin. A real James Bond. What Blaine doesn’t know is Sebastian is actually a member of the secret organization and Blaine is his mission...Find out the truth behind Blaine's arrival at Dalton and determine whether or not it has anything to do with his father's unexpected death. March 2nd - Love, Blaine Author: Gleefuldarrencrissfan Artist: Klainiac Blaine Anderson is a typical teenager. Except he’s not because he’s hiding a huge secret. He’s gay. But after reading a confession on the informal Dalton blog, he discovers that he’s not the only closeted boy at Dalton. After a moment of courage, he emails him and ultimately starts up a friendship that will change life as he knows it. Loosely based on the movie Love, Simon.

#Blaine Big Bang 2020 #BBB 2020 #BBB 2020 Posting Schedule #Blaine Anderson #glee fic

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