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so-much-for-the-seashells · 5 months ago

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Taming the Supe

✨ Soldier Boy x Fem!Therapist!Reader ✨

Minors do ¡NOT! interact with this post. Thanks.

A/N: Let me be upfront and say that I actually haven’t seen the boys 😭 not my cup of tea as far as shows go. So this perception of SB might be very far off. But like, he’s hot and he keeps showing up on my feed so this is happening >:) and in my defense I did try to do a little bit of research on America’s Ass(hole), so hopefully that shows lol. From what I understand he’s a TERRIBLE person who just so happens to be extremely attractive, so slay. Oh, also, to any therapist reading this: I am so, SO sorry.

Icons by me! Any and all interaction is very much appreciated!

Also- I’m looking for a beta reader/ editor! If you think you’d be interested, dm me!

Content Warnings: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 🌶️honestly that about sums it up. There’s SOME- A LITTLE- plot but it’s more plop if you catch my drift. This is toe-curling, eyes-rolling, name-screaming, tsunami-coming level shit, ya hear?? At least, that’s what I went for. ;)

Just note that SB is… very SB for the better half of it. And he has an INSANE breeding kink.

The ending’s real rushed cause honestly this was mainly written for the spice, but hopefully it’s enjoyable!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taming Soldier Boy was a feat that should have been impossible. In all regards.

He was a jackass- apple didn’t fall far from the tree as far as he and his dad were concerned. It wasn’t necessarily Ben’s fault; you cant help your blood. But because of said aforementioned father, Ben was brought up on misogynist ideals and the ideal that he was simultaneously both a disappointment and the bearer of a massive god-complex. The former applied to when he was around his father, the latter to when he was around literally anyone else.

Not only that, but he was separated from society for forty years, being tortured- sorry, ��experimented on”- by a skeevy Russian organization that his own teammates had pawned him off too. Sure, he had committed massive, unforgivable atrocities, but quite frankly, the other supes on Payback weren’t much better. Maybe not as bad, but certainly not much better.

He re-walked upon the United States at the very young age of one hundred and three, coupled with PTSD, a god complex and more “back in my day” rants than your weird old uncle could ever hope to spew.

And now the thing is: it’s easy to make him look like he blends in. Trim the disheveled forty-year-old beard, give him some boyish bangs, throw him in a tight white shirt and a Giants jersey with grey sweats and all of a sudden you have a normal looking, abnormally attractive dude. Looks maybe thirty seven. Has a smile that has probably actually, literally charmed the pants off of someone.

But to make him act right? That’s the hard part.

That also where you came in.

You were a therapist with a damn good reputation. Shouldn’t have been involved with Supes in the slightest, but you owed Hughie Campbell a favor. Good kid who just so happened to have powers. So be it.

The kid had stumbled into your office a few years before Soldier Boy returned, and you had had multiple sessions before he dropped of the grid. You paid it no mind- you have a lot of clients, and therapy isn’t a good world to get attached to any of them.

But then one day, after one of Homelander’s many destructive “saves” of the city, you found yourself stuck in a burning building. By some miracle Hughie was in the same building, and he teleported you out and onto safer ground. Sure it was awkward being held up bridal style by a young dude who was ass-naked, but stranger things have happened.

Because of the save, you felt that you owed him, and told him as much. He was gracious, not wanting to take advantage of you, and you went back to not hearing anything from him.

That is, until just after the news article about Soldier Boy’s return broke out. It was definitely a headline that had caused you to raise a brow, but from what you knew America’s first supe was not what Vought made him out to be in the eyes of the public. He was an asshole who killed activists, and was most likely very racist. If anything, seeing the headline made you slightly wary for the good of the world. But you let it slide, figuring that if you already existed in a world where psychos like Homelander did you would probably be fine if there was one more.

Well, you were very much wrong.

A few days after the article broke out, Hughie called you. Asked if you would be okay to take you up on that favor. Of course, you said yes- you were only alive because of him. He had showed up to your house, and teleported you to a dinghy motel with no explanation, rendering you both in the same awkward situation as before. Him holding you bridal style, ass naked. If you had a nickel for every time he’s done that… you’d have ten cents, but it’s still oddly specific of it to happen twice.

“Listen,” he had said, setting you down. You had no choice but to do so, given that he was ass naked and it would be really awkward to see that. So you kept your eyes locked on his as he talked. “You know how Soldier Boy is back?”

“Mhm…” you nodded warily, knowing damn well that that was an ominous hook to your situation.

“Uh, he’s insane.”

“Sorry, he’s, like, he is? Presently?”

“Yeah… he’s in there and I think he would really benefit from a little therapy. His mind’s wired like a grandpa who has stories from every war.”

“Fuck, Hugh,” you cursed. He winced, his sweet eyes opened wide. “Sorry. It’s just.. are you kidding me?” Soldier Boy? It would probably take a team of specialists to figure out what’s going on in that head.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you at least try?”

“Only for you.” It was really hard to have resolve with those puppy dog eyes staring at you.

“Thanks, y/n. Really.”

So you had walked in behind him; waiting as he threw on some sweats that were in a plastic bag outside of the motel room door.

You walked in together, only to see the most beautiful man you’d ever seen sitting on the bed, shoes still on.

Look. Everyone has fantasized about Soldier Boy at least once in their lives. The pinnacle of physical perfection, charisma oozing from his pores- it was hard not to. You were no exception- in your younger years there had certainly been more than a few nights where you were fucking yourself to pictures or videos of him, pathetically rutting on your clit and wishing it was his huge, gloved hands instead.

Of course, that was well before the article on the truth about him broke out. After that he had majorly lost his sex appeal.

However, seeing him in person immediately flashed you back to being younger and sexually frustrated, wondering how a man like that even existed. He was even better looking in person, piercing green eyes boring holes into you.

Thankfully it only took one douchey comment to snap you back to reality.

“So prostitutes are still a thing?” he asked, the question directed at Hughie. You immediately balled your hands into fists at your side, ready to tell this old-ass off, before remembering that you were there on professional business.

“No, no, she’s a therapist,” Hughie told him. “Y/n L/n, the best in the business.”

“You brought me a shrink?” he laughed incredulously. “Fuck you, I don’t have shell shock!”

He definitely had shell shock.

You didn’t bother waiting for Hughie to answer. “Listen, Mr. Boy, I’m only here ‘cause I owe this kid a favor. Would it really pain you so much to talk about yourself for an hour?” Your hands were planted on your hips.

“Man, when did women get so feisty?” he asked, that 1950s accent oozing through his words.

“Once they came to their senses,” I say with sass.

“So what? All I have to do is talk to a pretty thing about me?”

“Pretty much,” you conceded, ignoring the “compliment” he payed you.

“Fine.” Great. He agreed. How wonderful.

“I’m going to get some food, I’ll be back in an hour. If you need anything at all, just text me,” Hughie told me. “Thanks again.”

“Sure,” you replied, leaning in by his ear. “I think you’re going to owe me after this.

“Yeah, you’re probably not wrong,” he agrees, patting you on the back before teleporting away to the store. Man, this power thing… never gets any less weird.

“Take a seat,” Soldier Boy patted his lap.

“Hilarious,” you rolled your eyes, sitting on the other bed. Look, if he hadn’t been the jackass you knew him to be you most definitely would’ve sat on his lap. But you knew better. At least in the moment. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“M’name’s Ben, and I’m a soldier. My daddy hated me, so became a superhero. Surprise, surprise, he still hated me. But I’m better, stronger than he ever was. Might go take a piss on his grave while I’m here.”

“Interesting,” you murmur, putting together a mental file. Name: Ben. No last name? Weird. Daddy issues- makes the god complex make sense. Hmm. “Did you ever have a mother in the picture?”

“No. Died when I was a boy.” Added to file.

“Okay, so then why take the serum?” You know why, but you want to see something.

“You deaf? I said it was cause my daddy hated me.”

“You took a untested, potentially dangerous serum just because of your daddy issues?” you ask, matching his rude tone.

“You- you know what? This is boring. How about you and I fuck instead of this, hm?” he asks. Him saying the word fuck turned you on more than it should, but his misogyny was a quick turnoff.

“I think I’m just going to text Hughie,” you said, moving to stand, wholly unimpressed.

“Wait, no- I did it cause I hated feeling weak. Feeling stupid. Thought it would turn me into someone, just turned me into a jackass machine,” he said honestly, his eyes big and sad.

“Okay,” you said simply, sitting back down. That’s much more like it. “So then what led you to murder innocent people?”

If this were a normal session you would have never asked such a thing. Ever. But this was anything but normal.

“What did you just say to me?” And there it was. A glimpse of that Soldier Boy quick temper. You probably shouldn’t have been making him mad, but you didn’t know how else to go about this given that you weren’t in your professional environment.

“You heard me,” you told him with your arms crossed, trying to bite back the fear caused by

“You’re playing with fire,” he warns, fists balled at his sides. “A question like that’s gonna cost ya.”

You roll your eyes, standing my ground. “Why. Did. You. Murder. Them?”

“Because they deserved it,” he yelled, standing up. You do your best not to flinch, but he was an imposing six-and-some feet tall.

“How? Did the Milk family deserve it? Did their son?” you yell, fighting off the fear in your voice.

He stops then, jaw clenching. “I was the good guy. The hero.” His voice breaks, ever so slightly. His green eyes burn holes into yours. You stare right back, just as intensely.

“So, imposter syndrome.”

“No!” he roared, the sound threatening to bring down the roof of the motel room.

“They were good people. Activists. Made a difference in their community.”

“That got what was coming to them.”

“What? A car being thrown at their house?”

“You…” he steps closer. You sit up in the bed, back against the headboard. “You don’t know me.”

I stand up then. Not nearly as tall as him, but in anger. “Yeah, but I know your actions.”

“Then you should think I’m a hero.”

“I don’t.” I say grimly, arms crossed.

“I’m Soldier Boy, for Christ’s sake,” he spat.

“Yeah, and I’m Y/N L/N. Who fucking cares.” Well this went from therapy to argument real fast.

He leans down then, by my ear. It’s all you can do not to back away as his hot breath fans the column of your neck. “Maybe you should.” His voice is gravelly, rough from anger but also from something else…

“Well I won’t.” You said, maintaining your ground.

“Wrong move, sweetheart,” he said, before crashing his lips to yours. You squeaked into the kiss, surprised, but he just took initiate to shove his tongue in your mouth, exploring with great fervor.

And you knew damn well how wrong this was. How unprofessional you had been; how bad it was that his tongue, this tongue of a murderer, was half down your throat. But in the moment you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, because he was just that good of a kisser. Made you forget about the misogyny and his volatility. At least, for the time being.

He pulled away, smirking down at you.

“If we do this, you’re going to talk to me after. Act like you’re an adult,” you told him sternly, as if your underwear wasn’t soaked with arousal from the kiss.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled.

“I fucking mean it,” you reiterated, hands on his pecs.

“And I fucking said fine,” he retorted. “Ben,” he introduced as an after thought.

“Okay, cool. Ben.”

“That’s the name I better hear coming off those pretty lips in a couple minutes here,” his gaze darkened with lust, emerald green eyes darkened to the color of a forest cloaked in the dead of night..

“O-okay.” And there it is, the first time you gave into the stutter derived from your desire. This was dangerous, but once he kissed you again you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

When he pulled away he thumbed at your lower lip, and you immediately react led to his touch, mouth falling open around the digit. “Good girl,” he praised, and you hated the way you felt proud at his words. He pulled off his jersey and under shirt, urging you to do the same until you both stood before each other, topless. He crowded you against the bed until you fell back, calves draped over the edge. He made room for himself between your legs, kissing you furiously, and you let out little breathy sighs as he did so.

“Attagirl,” he breathed when you gasped his name as he bit along your collarbone. He continued his fiery trail, from the juncture of your earlobe and neck to your collar bone and then down your chest, and you knew damn well that you weren’t going to be able to cover up half of the marks he gave you. But you also couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“You-you can come in me,” you mumbled as he kisses the valley between your breasts.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I’ll fill you up real good” he said, eliciting a gasp from you when he bites your nipple.

He continued his path of kisses down your body, and in the bottom of your eye you could already see dark marks on the tops of your breasts, making your head fuzzy.

He stopped at your pants, biting the juncture of your hip and and thigh.

“‘m gonna get you ready for me,” he explained, before ripping off your pants and underwear in one go. This is not a metaphor, he literally tore them of you. You whined in protest, but he dismissed you, saying “I’ll get you new ones.”

And even though you knew he most definitely wouldn’t, his breath on your clit stopped you from caring.

He gave you no warning before diving into your soaked pussy, and you all but screamed his name when he fid, your fingers grasping his hair for dear life. He groaned into your cunt but kept going, spurred on by your actions.

The thing was, you hadn’t expected him to be good at eating pussy. He was from, like, the forties, after all. You thought that most people then probably didn’t bother as no one really cared about women and probably their pleasure back then.

Well, Soldier Boy- Ben- was very different.

He worked at you methodically, licking long stripes before thrusting his tongue in an out of you, testing the waters. He kept eye contact, and you could feel the smugness in his gaze as he watched you come apart.

Eventually he switched so that he was sucking on your clit, which would’ve been enough to bring you over already but then he added one of his long, thick fingers to your pussy. You yelped his name, not ready for the stretch and on the edge.

“Don’t stop,” you urged, whining. “Please don’t stop, Ben.”

And he didn’t, adding a second finger and scissoring within you. If his fingers were already like this, his cock…

But you couldn’t think about that then, nor could you really think about anything at all because he started tracing tight patterns on your bud and added a third finger, stretching you so far that you had no choice but to come. He helped you ride out your high for longer than you thought possible, lapping up all of your release before standing up to full height.

“That good, Sweets?” he smirked, looking down at your fucked out self. You nodded dumbly, and he chuckled. “Thought so.”

Your release covered his facial hair, but he didn’t seem to care much, just wiped a little off with his forearm. He then kicked off his shoes and took off his pants and underwear, and that’s when you saw it.

You were already baffled by him- beyond hot, perfect physique, pussy-eating champion, etc.

But his cock? It was huge. And it was perfect, a word that shouldn’t be able to be used to describe the male genitalia.

“Ben- that’s not going to fit-,” you gasp, sounding like a cheap porno.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, and from his tone you could tell he was going to bottom out no matter what.

Oh, god.

He climbed over you, his large forearms on either side of your head as he rested over you in a plank. He put a pillow under your hips, and you knew you were in for it.

He rubbed his glorious dick over your hole, your clit, and through your folds, covering it in your slick, and you moaned his name.

“Good girl,” he praised, before finally lining up with your entrance. You were already clenching around nothing, but then he started pushing in.

If his fingers were big, his dick… even the tip had you a moaning mess.

“Oh, honey, you’re tighter than a virgin who’s never touched herself,” he groaned as he pushed in, you writhing beneath him. “‘n I just stretched you out, too.” The pillow under your hips let him get impossibly deep, and after an eternity he finally bottomed out, so large that you shouldn’t have been able to take him. But you did, and he hadn’t even done anything yet but you were a whimpering, whiny mess under him.

“I’m gonna move now,” he told you, before pulling almost all the way out and back in, slowly. You were writhing under him, but he was undeterred, and just kept going until you gave him easy access.

“Ben?” you asked, your voice sweet. And you didn’t know what possessed you to add the next part of your question, but you did. “Can you fuck me?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he groaned, before rearing back again and slamming back into you. It was hard and it was rough, and it was exactly what you wanted even if you knew you weren’t gonna be able to sit right for a week.

You literally had a supe cock in you. You’d seen dildos of these, maybe even owned one, but nothing could do the real thing justice as you whined beneath it.

And if you thought it was already enough just taking him like this, once he started talking you were through.

“Yeah, take it,” he smirked, pounding into you at literal superhuman speed. “I’m going to destroy this cunt until we’re both leaking out of it, and then I’m going to keep going,” he promised against your collarbone, biting anywhere he pleased. You whimper against him, pussy clenching around his enormous length as it crashed in and out of your fluttering walls.

“You like that? Wanna be my little slut?” he grinned, rutting on your clit so you couldn’t answer. “You’d be a real good slut. Would just keep you at home all day, naked and always ready for me. Always full of me too,” he mused, his pace somehow getting rougher. Your mouth was dropped in a permanent ‘o’ as you reveled in the way his huge hands are squeezing your hips and pulling you against him, filing you to the base.

“No other boy can do it like me, sweetheart,” he said cockily. “Fill you up so good, make you mewl.” And as it turns out he was most definitively right about that. But then it was too hard to think about what’s right and wrong when-

“Ben- I- ‘m gonna-.”

“Aww baby, what’s the matter? ‘M I fucking you too good? You can’t talk?”

You moaned pathetically, pulling on his fluffy hair.

“I know, I know,” he said with a soft grunt. “Come for me, pretty thing. Come.” And you did. Hard, all consumingly. It hurt so good that you almost blacked out, but he kept going, doing his damnedest to overstimulate you.

“Ain’t done with you yet, sweetheart. Ain’t even close,” he told you, pulling you off of him and sitting, legs swung over the edge of the bed, feet planted on the ground. He grabbed you, letting you straddle his lap before slamming you down on his length. At this angle he could get impossibly deeper, his dick easily reaching your cervix on every thrust. You screamed, holding onto him for dear life with your face buried in his neck.

“Gonna fill you until you’re full, and then some,” he promised, lifting you up and down, flexing that super strength. “Rub on that pretty clit for me, doll,” he asked. You tried, you really did, but you were just so sensitive.

“That’s okay, I’ll do everything for you, you just take it like a good slut,” he cooed, bringing a hand between the two of you and rutting on your clit without abandon. You came again with a wail of his name before he pistoned into you sloppily, finally spilling his own release into you. And it was messy, and you were far too full to keep going, but he doesn’t care, somehow still hard even though he had just painted your walls with his thick, sticky cum.

You were babbling at this point, raking your nails against him as he kept going to town on your cunt.

“It’s just been too long, baby,” he explained, kissing the side of your head. “Got a little too much energy.” Yeah no shit, with the way that you knew that you were not going to be able to walk.

But he just couldn’t seem to shut up. “Y’know, if I had you back in my day we would’ve had ten kids. You would’ve give birth to one and then I’d put another one in you the next month,” he said as he continued his brutal pace. And damn, this man really had a breeding kink. It was not really your thing-kids tend to get in the way of careers, and also, you were infertile- but anything’s hot when it comes out of those plush lips with the 50s accent, so, naturally, you moan in response.

“Would’ve kept you sated all the time too, sweetheart. Any time you were hot and bothered, had an attitude… I’d fuck it out of you,” he murmured, enveloping you in his arms to hold you closer. You didn’t know if it’s the proximity to him, his voice, or the way that he hasn’t really let you come down from any of your highs, but suddenly you were coming again… just in a different way.

“Aww baby, did you just squirt?” he chuckled. You did all you can to further hide your face in his neck as he just kept going, only concious enough to register your embarrassment and fatigue. He pulls you by your hair to look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart, that was so hot.” You smiled, cheeks pink, your somehow still horny self proud of his compliment.

“It’s okay, just give me one more and you’ll be done, alright?”

“O-okay,” you say shakily. You hadn’t even noticed hot much your legs were quivering until then, and he laughed, squeezing them close.

“You’re so cute, y’know that?” he praised, rubbing your clit. Your blush became even more furious before you came again at him tracing patterns into your poor, overstimulated, sensitive bud. He came in you shortly after with a very sexy grunt, and it was just leaking out of you, going all over the tops of his thighs. He held you at the base of his cock though, not ready to pull out.

“You alright, Dollface?” he asked, gingerly moving- somehow while keeping his cock in you- you onto your back. You nodded, sleepiness overtaking you.

“Good girl,” he nuzzled your nose, gifting you the view of all of the pretty freckles on his cheeks looking like gold specs. You whined as he pulls out, and he tutted, plugging you up with his fingers.

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. If you were a supe we’d be going another ten rounds, but I know you’re tired,” he warned, cock still semi-hard.

“Ben,” you gestured towards it, unsure what you were going to say because as much as you wish you had his stamina, you didn’t.

“It’ll be fine, sweets,” he shrugged it off. “Perks of the unbelievable stamina.” He kissed your forehead, before lightly thrusting his fingers in and out of you in attempt to keep the cum in. Pitiful tears leaked out of the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation.

“There, there,” he cooed, kissing them away. “Just don’t want to waste any,” he smirked, before leaving his long, thick fingers where they were inside you, all the way up to the knuckle. Your legs can’t stop shaking, and you try to talk but you can’t.

“Let me get you some water, put your fingers here for me,” he said, waiting until you do so, feeling your sticky release on your hand. You knew damn well that you werenot going to be able to stand.

“Here, sweets,” he returned, still ass naked, holding a glass, taking your fingers out of your cunt and licking them clean. “We taste real good, sugar.” You whimpered, ready to go at it again, abused pussy be damned. Speaking of, the poor cleaning staff… your mixed releases were dripping out of your poor hole, coating the bed and the bottom of your thighs in the stickiness.

“You really are an insatiable little minx,” he chuckled, holding you up so you can take a sip of the water. You obliged, eagerly chugging it down.

“I’m not going to be able to walk,” you muttered, resting your head on his freckled shoulders.

“Looks like you’re going to need to stick around, so I can take care of you,” he squeezed you.

“I’ll tell Hughie to take another hour, tell him that the therapy’s going real well,” you suggested.

“Oh yeah, real well. Definitely a happy ending, if you catch my drift.”

“Multiple happy endings.”

“Atta girl,” he kisses the top of your head.

You sat there in silence for a bit, basking in the afterglow as he rocked you back and fourth gently.

You’d seen so many sides to this man: Misogynistic, quick tempered, sex-god… but sweetness? This was the one that surprised you. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

“Ben?” you broke the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Uh, I could help you, y’know. If you want, anyway. And it wouldn’t even be proper therapy- you know, cause we just- yeah.” your words were shaky but you meant them. There was something about the supe that made you think that maybe, just maybe you could help him.

“I dunno, sweets. I think I’m a little too far gone.”

Vulnerability. That’s progress.

“Could you at least try?”

“I can’t say no to you,” he said. And you’d take him up on that.

••••••••••••A Couple Years Later••••••••••••

Ben Johnson, as he was now known, ended up becoming a normal member of society. After a LOT of work, he’s grown into himself. He cares about people, his ego’s lessened, his temper too. You had helped him through the whole way- gotten him a proper therapist and everything. And now you two were a couple who could just go out and get donuts, and do normal couple things.

“They’re cream-filled!” he beams boyishly, his bangs in his face and his eyes sparkling. He sets the box down in front of you, somehow having already gotten powdered sugar in his beard. He leans in and whispers excitedly, “you know, like you!”

“You’re bad,” you giggle, as if you don’t have him leaking out of you where you sit. You had stopped for a quickie before you made it to the donut shop, it wasn’t your fault that you were so irresistible to each other.

“Not anymore, sweetheart,” he winks with a click of the tongue. Which is true- there’s a certain softness to him these days. His jaw isn’t so set, the crow’s feet by his eyes have deepened. He isn’t so volatile, his tempers dissolved a bit. He’s become more human.

Not to mention that he’s made great progress in apologizing to his victims and making amends to the best of his ability. It may never be enough, but now that he has someone to teach him how to be right and a better understanding of the complexities of the modern world, there’s a chance. And that’s a chance worth taking, to help someone who could’ve been good become good.

Taming Soldier Boy was a feat that should have been impossible, but you had nailed it.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hope you enjoyed this fic! If you have any ideas for headcanons or fics, my ask box is always open! I don’t bite- not unless you want me too 😏 (so. So. Sorry 😭)

Xx!

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy #soldier boy smut

749 notes · View notes

jerzwriter · 8 months ago

Note

Casey and Kaycee, betrayal and break. I'm wondering how different they are!

Hey there! Thanks so much for the asks! From this list.

Oooh - this is challenging for me! Let's see...

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

Both have experienced several, but since their stories are tweaked, here is where they are the same and different.

Casey and Kaycee: They both had family members who didn't want anything to do with them when they learned they were bisexual. As time went on, both women were fine with this (they were not people they wanted in their lives anyway), but initially, it still hurt like hell and was hard to cope with.

They were both betrayed by Landry to an extent. Why do I say to an extent? While I think Landry was a snake—because, in my mind, his intentions were not noble but self-serving—but let's be honest here - what MC did was crazy, and if Landry had acted with noble intentions, I'd think of him differently. But no, the self-important little white man did not act nobly. lol But neither of them really gives Landry much thought after he leaves Edenbrook - but since it's canon - I mention it :)

Casey: Casey felt terribly betrayed by Ethan's idiotic behavior when he left for the Amazon. In my T/C world, Casey had a brief affair with Ethan, and when he left for the Amazon without telling her, letting her learn he had left along with the other residents, she was devastated (and vowed that they were never ever, ever getting back together... sorry. lol) While she kept thing professional with him upon his return, it took a while to forgive him and build a friendship. In time, she understood his reasons but not his bonehead execution.

She was also betrayed by Tobias when he stole Stephanie from Edenbrook. This was the beginning of the end of their relationship 1.0. She confided in him about her "miracle" patient and that she was applying for a research grant; when Tobias poached her, Casey was hurt professionally, but knowing the man she was falling for would do this to her was a severe blow. If not for the chemical attack, I don't think he would have ever gotten a second chance with her.

Kaycee: Kaycee did not have the same level of betrayal with either man. In my E/K HC, he tells her that he was going to the Amazon - and he tells her why. One, he really wants to do the work, and two, he feels they need distance. She's not happy about his choice (at least as far as the second reason goes), but she's not blindsided. She knows the reason why he's leaving and is glad he confided in her. She's not as happy about him ignoring her the entire time he is gone, but that's more bonehead material - not betrayal lol

While Kaycee was pissed off at Tobias for stealing Stephanie, Kaycee didn't have a relationship with Tobias. So she thought he was an ass, but there was no betrayal involved.

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

Casey: She pretty much broke down after the chemical attack. It was a combination of coming so close to death, survivor's guilt, and a lot of past issues she had not dealt with coming to the surface in its wake. She was out of work for about four and a half months dealing with PTSD, and at first, it was quite scary. After coming through that, Casey was determined to do all she could to avoid that happening to her again, but she is aware it could happen and would get the help she needed right away if she did.

The only thing that would break her in the future would be something horrible happening to her daughters. She'd be devastated if something happened to Tobias or her other loved ones, too, but her daughters are a whole different level.

Kaycee: Kaycee also suffered after the attack, but not to the same level that Casey did. She was out of work for about one month until she physically recovered, and then she threw herself back into work. She still had nightmares and had to deal with ongoing anxiety, but it was more controlled.

However, I HC that Kaycee had an extremely difficult time after her mother, Rose, passed away. She's an only child and was very close to both of her parents. When her father died, Rose moved closer to her daughter. When she died suddenly, Kaycee was not prepared, what's worse, she felt guilty for not spotting the health issue that took her life (even though there would have been nothing she could do.)

In both HCs, Rose was very ill from the time Casey/Kaycee was about 4 years old. She nearly lost her life, and this had a big impact on both women - it was the start of their anxiety disorder. When Rose died, it woke up a lot of that childhood trauma in Kaycee, and she fell into a deep depression for some time.

Casey also took her mother's death hard, but I feel like Casey did some of the work she needed to after the chemical attack, whereas Kaycee sidestepped it. Also, Casey had another near-death experience after the birth of her third daughter, and that gave her a very different perspective. She was very sad after her mom's death, which is normal, but it did not descend into the deep depression that Kaycee did.

Thanks so much for the question, dear! 😊

#casey mactavish #kaycee macclennan #oc asks #not nice asks #asks answered

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shamelessrabbithole · 8 months ago

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If everyone can share their hateful opinion about Noel and Layla on the other blogs, I feel like I can share my opinion here.

Layla really can't do shit with out getting shit and I hope so badly that she through out the years was able to avoid seeing so much hate. If she did feel some type of way towards Cam , I would understand . She already gets hate and then he posts a mosher pic? Like way to make it worse, Cam. I would be livid. Personally. Like I am not THAT strong when it comes to being hated by thousands. It would mess with me mentally.

Nobody worries about her mental health.

1st, NOBODY has any proof that she makes Noel's life miserable. Everyone loves talking about that zoom video they were on together and that Noel was annoyed with her and told her to get off of him and that = he's miserable in his marriage.... what? Like HOW do you know he was mad at HER . And even if he was annoyed with her, so is every couple at some point. I know my bf misses me off at times. I'm sure Noel can be annoying to .

2nd, they're mad that she played a part in him booking the role for shameless... really? Like seriously? Shouldn't we be like... grateful? Like wow Layla, THANK YOU for caring for Noel's career.

3rd, Cameron has had so many girlfriend and girls in his life and not just for a short while but he met their families and stuff. And we think NOEL broke his heart and lead him on? He's in a whole relationship for years.

EVEN THEN why is Layla hated for being the reason infidelity didn't happen??? 😭 like what???

(The other blog wouldn't post my shorter version of this ask because it would upset moshers but I'm just trying to empathize with the topics of discussion: Layla and Noel) two people who we are absolutely not entitled to and a photo and a video is not a summary of their current lives and everything that goes on in it.

She does get a lot of shit and I think cyberbullying where the celebrities being targeted can read it (such as on their own pages or the pages of their mutuals) is terrible. I also hope she avoids seeing it and I often wonder how she copes knowing it's out there.

The Zoom call I struggle with for a few different reasons. I won't go into it here because it would require a longer analysis and it's not something I can sum up quickly.

The Shameless audition: I don't want to read the comments made about this on other blogs because frankly, I just don't have it in me to pore through it all. What I'll say on the topic is that he would have missed the audition and the role would have gone to someone else had it not been for that audition tape. If the story he told is true, then yes, she's partially responsible for that win.

Cam and Noel and mosher pics and broken hearts and infidelity—same. It's a deep-dive analysis that would span a lot of years and several points of view. I don't have it in me to drill down into it right now, but I feel nobody in this scenario is currently harboring animosity toward the other. It's all water on the bridge, if ever there was anything to be bitter about in the first place.

Sorry for half-assing this post, but there is a natural exhaustion that happens when you moderate blogs like this. It's no one's fault, and I'm fine letting people vent. But as I said the other day, the verbal gymnastics it takes to construct thoughtful, fair, balanced, and researched answers is a lot. It does eventually wear you down. 🙏

#shameless tea #shamelessrabbithole #ask me stuff #ask me anything #noel and layla

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flimsy-roost · 1 year ago

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Reminiscing with my partner about high school, and we both have a lot of memories of a specific Spanish teacher we both had (she was the only Spanish teacher) who caused us to both stop taking high school Spanish as soon as we possibly could.

I want to clarify up top that this woman was not a bad teacher per se, we both learned Spanish effectively from her. She also wasn't a bad or mean person per se, I think if she was my aunt or a friend's mom I would like her just fine. Instead, she was extremely hit-or-miss with fostering good student-teacher relationships, and she whiffed hard with a lot of us.

She would often take weeks to grade exams and assignments, which isn't the end of the world, but she wasn't nice about it. Her most common refrain, to a classroom of overworked and overtired college prep students, was "sorry I didn't get to those yet, I was too busy having a life." The concept of giving us less gradable work, which could have made both her and our lives easier, did not seem to occur to her. She seemed almost kind of smug about the power imbalance, if that makes any sense.

My partner got to tap out when the classes were still large, lucky me got to advance to her much smaller Spanish 4 class in my Junior year, where things only got sillier.

Day 1, she tells us that she will not be handing out grades in class anymore. Instead, she wanted us to come to her office hours so we could learn how we did and discuss what we could do better next time. For every. single. assignment. I opted to just go the year never knowing how I was doing. I ended up with a B+.

We're doing an oral presentation on a movie of our choice in Spanish. Great! Fun! We need to show movie clips to support our analysis. In this awkward period during the decline of physical media support but before (legal) widespread online media availability, how are we supposed to get those clips? idk kids you figure it out. I got an uncloseable sex bot popup in the middle of my presentation while showing a grainy clip from Anastasia on a sketchy website.

Right before a mid-semester vacation (either thanksgiving or spring break, I can't remember), she assigned us a partner presentation on a topic I don't even remember. Neither me nor my project partner were keen on oral presentations, and were both too busy with our own shit to practice. We did do all the work and research, but made a half-assed written outline for the presentation itself. Presentations were divided across two days (which likely worked in our favor), with a volunteer order (ie, "who wants to go next?"). We both kept delaying and delaying because neither of us wanted to do it. At the end of the second day, she asked if anyone else needed to present. My partner and I make direct eye contact across the room. Neither of us say anything. We're dismissed, go on our merry vacationing way. My partner tells me we got a B+ for a project we never presented or turned in any evidence of. B+ seems to have been kind of her thing. Ted, you're a real one, excellent teamwork, I'd give us an A+ for cooperation.

Senior year I took two science classes so my parents wouldn't make me take Spanish 5, which I probably would have really loved taking from somebody not her.

#samble rambles #truly rambles

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cryptid-killjoy · 1 year ago

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orleans-jester:

A most lovely evening indeed, Thomas would agree, getting to enjoy the pleasures of his husband’s flesh in ways that he hadn’t gotten to in quite some time. Sorry dildo, you were wonderful, but absolutely nothing compared to the real thing. And hearing Flotsam’s huskier voice in his ear while getting absolutely pounded? Over the edge, over the cliff, over the rainbow, over the moon, over everything.

There was a bit of a frenzy the next day to pack everything that they would need. It wasn’t just about the two of them anymore. They could just stop and buy new shit themselves but the babies? Oh, they were dependant upon certain things, their senses higher. They knew which blankets were their blankets by the smells. Which toys were theirs by the smells. And heaven forbid they forget something important at home, they’d never hear the end of the wails. So it was a bit of a ‘Benny Hill music playing in the background’ kind of packing scenerio but they made it work.

But he had it all figured out and it was a miracle. A short notice cottage, right on the ocean, just steps away from the beach. A private section too, without all the hub-bub of tourists. Not that the beaches of Ireland were renowned or anything like that. Ireland, no matter how gorgeous, didn’t have the climate of Miami or California with sun, sun, sun. It actually fit the couple a lot better. They were able to get away from humidity and go to where it was their speed. Cloudy. Do you know why the Emerald Isles are so Green? Because it rains all the fecking time.

“I’m going to go ahead and call dibs on Stark dressing up as Riff Raff, because that would just be too adorable,” He grinned, fully knowing that of course they were going to dress up. They were the Laveaus. They didn’t go to any sort of play half-assed, especially one like this which promoted audience participation. “This all sounds like fun, love. God bless the ship that took down a submarine a hundred years later.”

It also did make him think of the boat trip. Being face to face with Savvy for that first time - that and making little flirty jokes, not having any inkling of what was going to happen. It had already been sneaking up on him. Breathing against his ear at that point. A part of his heart knew what his brain didn’tt, made his mouth start to say things. “I’m always down for a boat,” He admitted, having a grand time on them. Facing his fear after nearly drowning had been one of the best things that he had ever done, and now he loved the water. Adored it. He could see a lot more boat days in their future. “Very smart, I was thinking about that too. A hanger won’t be too difficult to put together.”

No flirty air hostesses on the plane, thank goodness. That drama was the last thing that was needed this time around. Thomas managed to drift off for some decent sleep for the flight, having been busy fuckin and packing and fucking and packing. It was a wonder he could sit down at all. He had to bring the pillow Scout gave him to sit on, sheepishly. His little secret with Flo.

If Cap was a nickname that caught on, he wouldn’t mind that at all. He’d probably look damn good in one of those caps. He’d grow out a well-trimmed beard, make it white, look like a younger Edward Smith himself. But he had to admit, yes, the cottage was perfect. Expensive, especially with these last-minute rates, but absolutely perfect for them. Reject modernity, reject the usual tourist experience. This was the island he was born on, the United Kingdom, and it brought back a sense of nostalgia, despite it not being the same part.

“Nah, we don’t need to see all of them. Just the special ones,” He nodded. Oh, his Flotsam, doing his research on what the haunted castles were. He had expected nothing less, and yet it still was weirdly … adorable. The more macabre side. The dark side. Life wasn’t all roses, but sometimes, with Flotsam, it could be some pretty black ones. He carried in the bags from the car, putting them just inside of the cottage to put away a little later. They just arrived. It was time for exploring, maybe a diaper or change or three, and stretch the legs out after such a journey.

Aye - there was the surprise. He tried to keep it from Flotsam. Tried to read over that part in the description of the property as quickly as possible, keep it his little secret. It seems like it worked out, in the most amazing way possible. That expression right there. That’s why he did this stuff. He’d spend every last dollar that he had to make Flotsam glow like that. He didn’t need to be a firefly in order to make it happen. It was the life and the light in his eyes. A much needed thing after all of the stress that they had gone through recently. He lingered on watching it, hoping that Scout could see it right then too. See that things were going to be alright, at least for a little while.

He was laughing, grinning. He left the stroller behind for a moment, only for a moment, to go and grab Flotsam’s waist and pull him into the water, carrying him in if he had to, his shoes getting wet but that was nothing that couldn’t be fixed by putting them next to the fire inside. He had extra just in case, planning ahead in case of an emergency. He laughed as the cool water played at their ankles, waves coming in, enjoying the moment and the salty breeze that came from it all. “I tried me best to keep it a surprise, it was very hard not to look at the pictures,” He admitted to Flotsam, grinning biting down on his lower lip. “I did good?”

“I’m sure he’ll make a tough guy hunchback for Riff Raff. I’m all about it.” Flotsam had no qualms there. “If you go as Meatloaf... I mean Eddie, I’ll go as Columbia.” And yes, this was all Flo talking, not Valerie.

Flo chuckled at the mention of the submarine. “That does make it pretty special. Like a siren vessel calling out it’s Titantic song to brainless billionaire alpha males.” He nearly snorted trying to say the last couple words.

Flo would look up rather intrigued with Thomas on board so quickly with the boat idea. He knew he liked sailing or he wouldn’t have taken him out that day, but having a ship was a way of life. Flotsam missed it even if it was just their ol’ swamp boats on the river. He imaged himself a real sailor with a ship on the ocean, a real ocean. He never let his dreams go that far before. It was the sort of thing that felt out of reach because he always saw his life deep in the swamps in Nola. Times had changed.

“Just don’t tell Hook right away. He might see it as a challenge.”

Of course he could be pretty black roses. He wasn’t sunshine and daisies. He was orchids and the moon. He was a lightning bolt in the rain. Thomas married the rogue son a hidden bokor cult in the swamps and who’s specialties consist of necromancy, electrocution, weather, cannibalism, and candy of all things, a sweet tooth. Expect dark to be consistent unless he’s lighting up the sky with lightning or maybe his smile.

It was pretty big right now. He didn’t even need a sugar rush to get it. The ocean was enough. Then when he saw Thomas come running towards him he still wasn’t ready for being picked up off the ground. He didn’t think he was really going to do it. Then bloopswoop. Up he went.

Flo started giggling and his lower voice moaned as he went around like he was on an amusement park ride. He squealed higher than expected when he felt water.

“My kicks!” He laughed, but was hardly upset. This was a guy who trudged through the swamps on a daily basis in those boots once upon a time. Valerie’s new uppity life was just exactly that... new. Noise never stopped.

“Yes you done good. You done good.” His voice was up and down jumpy from laughing as Thomas was running him through the water. Flotsam did a quick paternal glance back at the stroller making sure the kiddos were safe and fine before letting himself really go with a big ol’ kiss in the water.

His gangly ankles were planted in the soft sand. He stood his ground to get that done good smile against his mouth when the pull of the water took that ground out from under him. Oh ocean. Oh big strong waves. Even that close to the shore it pulled the sand in the little pockets and swoopboom. Splash! Flotsam felt himself going down and he held onto Thomas making sure if he was going down, Thomas was going down too.

“Yeah, you done good. A good captain always goes down with his ship.” Then Flo tried to push himself up and his hand kept sinking in the sand the way his feet had when he felt something hard. He pulled it up. It was a small scalloped shell. Nothing particularly special as far as shells go, but it was neat to Flo. He held his arm up out of the water like he found a prize. “FIRST SHELL FOUND! I win first Irish beach shell.” As if it was a competition. “How many buckets do you think we’ll go home with?” He asked without a care in the world to how soaked his now salty clothes were.

After a lovely evening with his husband, lovely. Lovely. Flotsam's mind started to realize a part of them was always Valerie and just like parts of Flo remained in Val, Val's manner of speech/thinking was still in Flo. He did. He had a god damn lovely evening with his husband before packing for Ireland. Now he remembered why he missed having a dick though. How lucky was he to experience his handsome husband every way possible?

He woke in a good mood. Even going back to bottle mode didn't feel as intense as it did the first time now that he'd gotten to switch back and forth. There was a safe feeling in knowing all he had to do was take off the necklace if Valerie really needed to. All Flo's little secret fears and true wishes were out of the bag so to say and Thomas and his wolf helped put Flo at ease there too. Halloweening was on the list of to dos. So Flo wasn't freaking out. Everything was going to be okay no matter where in the world they were. He still wanted to get away after all he'd learned of himself in the middle of what else had been stressing him. So he was back to escapism mode with the vacation wanting to get away, but really, it wasn't so heavy anymore. Thomas was still being the fix it guy for him and all it took was a conversation he never wanted to have.

The first thing Flotsam did was start to write a list of things he wanted to do before leaving Ireland. Order mattered not. He found the basics, as far as basics go for him. He isn't the sort to want to tour every damn castle in Ireland or anywhere else in Europe. But, Blarney Castle he'd go for.

"Babe. So fair warning. I'm taking the kids to carry out their first felony. We will accomplish a family heist at the Blarney Castle and steal plants from the Poison Garden. Goals. I have them."

Go to Blarney Castle

Kiss the Blarney stone

Steal plants from the Poison Garden

The Northern Lights

See The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Grand Opera House in Belfast ((because it has to be fate that's playing while they're there))

The National Leprechaun Museum

Titanic Museum

Goals indeed. "Northern lights. Pretty sure there's somewhere in Ireland you can see them. I so wished you were there when I got to go to Alaska. I wished it the whole time we were staring at the sky. Not that I told anyone this back then because I was still in young crush me who refuses to tell anyone I like you in that wayish. But, we can see them in Ireland too. Even better. Your green world. Meant to be. Has to happen."

He was googling things on their way there, in parking lots, in lines, sitting around waiting for flights, all those boring moments he took his moment to play tourist. He spoke as they were on their way to the rental.

"Rocky Horror is playing at the Grand Opera House. Feels like an authentic Irish experience to me." He laughed having a hard time picturing Rocky Horror being done with Irish accents and couldn't help not smiling. "Leprechaun museum for cheesy pictures with the kids and Titanic Museum for morbid pictures of us having fun taking end of ship movie photos at what's essentially a memorial of dead people's things drudged up from bottom of the ocean, Captain. Gotta love capitalism." He said with his own cheesy grin.

He grinned over at him when he called him Captain remembering their date on the boat. He really liked that. "We should buy a boat. Also this is the last trip without Pippin. I'm getting her a damn plane for real. The one I would have ended up getting Chip. I halted on that because of his zombie-thing worried that maybe he shouldn't be flying around after all wings or not. But, Pip's still clear headed. If anything they can fly together and she can take over if he zombies out."

They were building an air strip out in Nola. It's all Feral now. They were probably never going back any how. Time to consider where to keep a private plane elsewhere.

When they finally pulled into the rental and Flotsam got to see where his escape was going to be he smiled. It felt like something Thomas would pick.

"Look at you giving us the real deal experience, Cap. This is so great. Perfect for all of us." He kept picturing him with the sea behind him. Something kept making his mind go back to that date. He remembered how Thomas looked with the blue waves of adventure behind him. But, he really did like the privacy there. With the triplets he liked their own space. He'd accept the maid service for the time being. Flo's one of those people who would rather do something himself than have people near him sometimes. So, it would be no wonder if he ever called them off or put a do not disturb on the property as a whole because fuck people. No maid outfit required for Thomas. It would probably weird Flo out if he did.

"Oh, you know what else I want to do at some point? Go to the rebel poet's pub. James Clarence Mangan. I don't know the name of it. But, I know it's in Ireland. I'll find it if I look it up. But, I heard he haunts a pub in Ireland. I'm going to find out if it's true." Leave it to Flotsam to want to go get autographs of dead celebrities, not live ones. "Maybe Leap Castle, but only because I know it's like one of the hauntedier ones and I would love to see the murder hole, but really. I don't need to see every castle in Ireland, ya feel me?"

Then right as he said ya feel me as he walking through the quaint style cottage of neutral colors he spotted the prize winner of the property. The ocean.

"Oh!"

It was ocean front property. Flotsam started to glow. He didn't need River's inner physical glow to see this beaming straight from the inside out. He stopped yick yacking and his whole face lit up.

"Oh my fucking a-hole. Look at that. Look what you did. We are sitting next to the ocean. Like... on purpose. We can just walk outside and it's... it's right there." He pointed out at it over top of the stroller he'd been pushing. "Right there." He jumped enough to where both feet came off the floor and knees rose waist high. His feet in those heavy kicks stamped back down. "Right there, Thomas. It's right there. Real ocean."

They didn't have to get into a car and drive there first, get the car and go home after, consider the light of day, or night, length of travel back for drying off, cleaning up, anything that beach brings on. It wasn't a lake shore. It wasn't a river's shore like on the old Mississippi. It wasn't a swamp. It was a real life ocean shore.

"Right. There." He kept pointing.

#flotsamxthomas

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vaspider · 3 years ago

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I'm getting married Saturday! Any words of wisdom to impart for someone starting that new chapter (if you're comfortable with it)? Thanks for being a parent figure to so many of us on here. Goodness knows lots of us need someone like that.

In any case, Shana Tovah, and many blessings to you and yours!

💙

First of all, mazel tov! So much joy and happiness to you both. 💓

I had to think about this for a bit. @dadhoc and I have been together for 17 years and married for 12, and we've been with @apocalycious for 2.5 years, so I think we're doing something right. In no particular order:

Know when you need to be Right and when you'd rather be Happy. If your spouse wants to build a house with a Jell-O foundation, keep arguing/discussing/etc. bc you need to be right - it could hurt you both if you don't! If you're arguing over which one of you said what when you clearly had an unfortunate misunderstanding and accidentally hurt each other's feelings... wouldn't you rather be happy than right? Take a deep breath, apologize for your part in the misunderstanding, and figure out how to not have it happen again.

Don't let the sun go down on your anger. Don't go to bed angry with each other or actively arguing. That kind of stuff calcifies.

Figure out how the other person expresses love and says they're sorry, and honor that. Communicate how you need to be loved and apologized to. @dadhoc doesn't always say "I love you" out loud, but they make the leftover challah into French toast on the weekend, and they work really hard on NerdyKeppie stuff. I write poems and make art for people and get silly little presents, like an enamel pin with a red panda or a penguin on it for my boos. If you mention something you might like to do someday offhandedly, or a question you wonder about, Evie will remember that and research it for you! Steve also often doesn't say "I'm sorry" out loud - they will go wash the bedding and clean the bedroom so we can all spend time watching TV and snuggling together when the argument is resolved... but I need to hear "I'm sorry" out loud. So I acknowledge and appreciate the things they did, and they say the words out loud.

Respond to what your partners say, not to your baggage or to what you expect them to say. This becomes more of a Thing the longer you're together: you have so many conversations and talks and arguments that you fall into a comfortable groove with each other. That's great! But. Make sure when they're talking that you're not responding to something your dad said that hurt you 20 years ago, or to your ex who was hypercritical of you, or to who your partner USED to be, 6 years and a bunch of discussions ago.

Celebrate each other's successes, even the little ones. Get ice cream together when you finish a project at work. Take each other out for self-care time. You're together because you're each other's biggest fans, after all, but also...

You don't have to be each other's everything. I'm fact, you shouldn't. Make time for yourself. Spend time with your friends. Cultivate your friends, not just our friends. (Evie is friends with people I can't stand, and I'm happy they get along!) Have your Own Things that you do and are.

Spoil each other just a little. If you won't do it, who will?

Laugh with each other but never at each other. Human beings are ridiculous!

Go to therapy. It's preventative maintenance for your brain.

Find something you enjoy doing together that has a finished product at the end. Build a model, bake a cake. Evie and I really like cooking together. Even cleaning is nice if I'm doing it with my partners.

Don't stop going on dates, even if a date means eating dinner outside instead of in your kitchen.

Speaking of which: try to make Family Dinner a thing. Sit at an actual table presuming you have one, trade off making food, put your phone somewhere else while you're eating, and talk to each other without distraction for at least that long every day. I know I sound like a mom in a Pixar movie, but I'm serious, this works! When I was sick, we stopped having a dining room table really bc of how our house got rearranged, and we didn't eat together at a table for years. Now our Family Dinnertime is sacrosanct. Even if we're all eating leftovers, we eat at the table right around the same time every day. It makes a difference in our ability to connect with each other. Eating together is an important human bonding activity.

You're going to change. So is your spouse. That's not just okay - that's great! Life means growth. I'm not who I was in 2004, thank G-d, and neither is Steve. I'm not who I was in 2019, for that matter. That change and growth is who you're becoming together, so honor and celebrate that. You can't grow old together if you don't grow old, after all.

If you're so inclined generally speaking, never stop looking at your sexy-ass spouse with the same wide-eyed delight you do now. Just... enjoy it when they're getting changed in the room with you. If I ever stop saying "... butt... " dreamily when one of my partners is changing, or informing one that they're missing out on seeing the other's butt, just bury me, I'm dead. Appreciate them out loud. They're cute!

Smooch daily.

Take care of yourself. You can't be a good spouse if you're not eating food food, getting enough sleep, etc.

Even in the shitty parts, which will happen, remind yourself that you've got backup. From now on, you've always got backup, and it's much easier to go through crises with your biggest fan by your side. It'll be a great story on the other side, right? I'll forever tell the one about how when Steve was in the hospital for afib, and the docs had to knock Steve out to shock their heart into behaving, they woke up and started immediately asking "where's my [husbutch]?" They got so insistent about it - still loopy on the anesthesia - that the nurse came to get me. I called from the doorway and Steve calmed down... for 5 seconds, and then their short-term memory cycled, and they started asking for me again. This happened half a dozen times until I asked "do you want me to just ... squeeze in?" bc Steve's insistence was slowing the doctors down, the docs said yes, so I worked my way up to the head of their hospital bed and said "here I am, please calm down so the doctors can work." Steve said, "oh! My [husbutch]. Hello, [husbutch]!" and took my hand and calmed down. It was a TERRIBLE day but I LOVE that story in retrospect.

Smooch lots.

Mazel tov! Love each other. Building a marriage is work, but anything worth building takes effort. It sounds cheesy but it's so true. 💗

#spider talks #marriage #long post #i never did know how to say anything briefly

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swaps55 · 2 years ago

Note

This is for the Director’s Cut ask - I’d love to hear more about the part in Cantata where Shepard saves the underwater city. All the tech stuff and the process stuff AND the b-plots had me in awe, I can’t imagine what it was like to put it all together

Oh BOY the combat diving chapter, otherwise known as Head Full of Angels. I am thrilled you asked about it, because it’s a brilliant example of how amazing fandom is.

Again, I wrote so much more than you could possibly want to know, and I am very sorry.

This chapter was not in the original Cantata outline (so were a few other chapters that might surprise you, but I’ll get to those in another ask), and the entire reason it came about was this:

When I started writing Fall From Your Ladder, which is the first chapter that really talks about the N program, I figured it was time I come up with my version of the N program. What the hell do they put you through for N training? What does each level do to you? How long does it take? What do they learn? Well, as with most headcanons, I started with the codex, and this is what’s there:

Initially, candidates train for more than 20 hours per day, leading small combat teams through hostile terrain with little sleep or food. Trainees who do well are awarded an internal designation of N1 and are invited to return. Subsequent courses--N2 through N6--are often held off-planet and include instruction in zero-G combat, military free-fall (parachuting), jetpack flight, combat diving, combat instruction, linguistics, and frontline trauma care for human and alien biology.

I got to combat diving and went, ‘well that’s cool.’ Shepard can do hero shit underwater! I did some research on spec ops combat dive training, and was further intrigued.

Well, guess what? There is also this neat little planet you can stumble across in Mass Effect 1 called Proteus, which had this description:

Like the hanar homeworld, Proteus has more than 90% oceanic cover. The incredible heat thrown off from Athens raises global humidity to 100%, creates constant cloud cover, and powers colossal typhoons that rage across the surface year-round.

Hot, humid, and storm-wracked, Proteus' rare combination of oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere and carbon-based biosphere nevertheless recommend it for colonization. A pilot program is studying the possibility of colonies below the ocean surface, safe from the worst effects of the weather.

‘Huh,’ I thought. ‘Could I send Sam on a diving mission?’ Turns out, the Proteus codex info states a colony was founded in 2179, which fit my timeline.

Problem is, I don’t know shit about underwater colonies and combat diving in general. And of course, underwater colonies of this nature don’t exist yet, which is good and bad: good because I can make shit up, bad because I have to make shit up that sounds at least a little plausible. So I did enough research to land on ocean thermal energy conversion as a power source for prototype underwater habitats.

That’s when the magic happened.

I popped into one of my regular discord servers and asked if anyone knew anything about ocean thermal energy conversion, and if so, could they help me figure out how to use it to break an underwater colony so Shepard can fix it?

And that’s when personalmoniker raised his amazing hand and said, ‘it is my time to shine.’

This incredible person sat down with me, listened to my half-assed crazy idea, and not only came up with a challenge/solution I could use, but wrote an entire mission brief about it, complete with a sketch so I could visualize it.

I was floored. He even came up with a volus joke that I ended up incorporating into the fic:

“Lieutenant Červenka,” Song speaks up, eyes wide with worry. “That gear housing is near one of the ammonia lines.”

“Fuck. Er, damn. Ma’am.”

“No, fuck is right.”

“Explain,” Anderson demands.

“We use a hybrid-loop OTEC system,” she replies. “It pumps refrigerant between the surface and base stations to make the most of the thermal cycle. The byproduct is fresh water to supply the colony, and it gives us our primary oxygen source, but the refrigerant is bog-standard ammonia. Four lines run through the umbilical between the power plant and Ithaka, two in each direction. Damaging any of those lines is a surefire way to traumatically convert everyone on this station into something only a volus could love.”

Anderson grimaces.

“Can’t have that,” Shepard muses. “Sir, you wouldn’t look good in a volus suit.”

“Has no one ever told you you’re not funny, Shepard?”

“Not to my face.”

So I wrote a fucking combat diving story, because I had a ridiculous idea that a pocket friend was kind enough to help me pull off. Without him, there is no way that chapter gets written. Fandom is incredible.

Side note, this is also the chapter where the human terrorist organization that was originally just a throw away thing for a previous chapter became a plot point, because I needed a Bad Guy and they were convenient. XD

OH! And you wanted to know about the B plot, too!!

You're not gonna believe this, but that was actually harder than the combat diving.

So, I had a very tough question on my hands. Kaidan Alenko has just had his 'oh' moment. He has realized he's falling for his XO.

What does he do about that? How does he react or respond? This isn't the events of ME1 - there is no Saren and no reapers yet. The galaxy is not at stake, so the pressure to put the mission first is a lot less than it is in the trilogy.

HOW DOES KAIDAN HANDLE THIS? I couldn't have him think about transferring, or at least that couldn't be the focal point of the B plot, because I already knew he was going to deal with that question after Sharjila, which was already written. But if he doesn't seriously think about transferring, which felt like a very Kaidan think to do, why not?

Real Life Romance Option handed me the answer: Because he's happy. For the first time in years, Kaidan has found a place he belongs, just like Sam has. Just like the rest of the 'Yang marines have. And that's not something he would willingly give up.

So instead of Kaidan wrestling with how to escape falling for Sam, I instead had him realize that the home they have all accidentally built together is more important, and worth protecting - even if that means putting his feelings in a box. And if he makes that conscious decision to not act on those feelings, it's a lot easier understand how they go so long without acknowledging how they feel. It becomes habit, and that habit starts here.

It ended up dovetailing really nicely into Sam's plot, too. It's the first time we see him outside the 'Yang. Anderson was uniquely qualified to show us how much Sam has changed, because he knew Sam before the 'Yang. I couldn't believe how well the two things ultimately tied together.

#swaps replies #Anonymous #mememe #meme replies #how writing is written #opus!verse #i still can't believe that chapter actually worked

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oliviayamaoka · 4 years ago

Text

The Distraction Continuation (Ghostface / Jed Olsen / Danny Johnson x Reader)

As requested, this is a continuation of the Distraction fic I made. Check out the first fic if you haven’t already. Enjoy! :)

You sighed deeply as you crossed your arms, shutting your eyes in slight annoyance at what was to come. Another trial. You hadn’t been in one for a while but your break was rather short-lived. There were three others that stood by your side. Ace Visconti, David King, and Yui Kimura. You respected them and actually enjoyed their company. Ace was funny, David taught you a couple of things, and Yui was always nice to you, encouraging you.

“Where do you think we’ll go this time?” Yui asked you, nudging your elbow with her own. You instantly lit up. Human interaction was comforting.

“Haven’t been to Hawkins or Glenvale in a bit.” Y/N replied with a slight shrug.

“My bet is the asylum.” Ace interrupted, pointing finger guns with that stupid smirk of his. Yui rolled her eyes, she didn’t seem to like Ace very much. Not since he flirted with her one time, even if it was jokingly.

“We might actually be there if Ace himself says so.” David said as the familiar gust of air surrounded the four of you.

You shut your eyes tightly, getting chills from the cold fog and air. The smell of fire and spring overcame you. Y/N opened their eyes, realizing that Ace’s bet was right. As always. A small laugh escaped your lips, a feeling of enjoyment before all hell could break loose again.

Your gaze averted to the familiar structure of the Crotus Prenn Asylum. A sound played in your head, the screech of the Nurse. You were always curious about her but never got the chance to even talk to her unlike... no, it was one time. You weren’t gonna go around and try talk to killers like you did with him.

You put your palm to your forehead, cringing at the memory. Not in a bad way but maybe you could’ve done something differently. No, not really. Jed was a psychopath, a murderer. He was charming in a fucked up sort of way. You sighed as you walked towards a generator behind the grey brick walls.

There wasn’t any indication that it was the Pig or Freddy, thankfully. You began to work on the generator. Your thoughts turned to the fear of being hooked, stabbed, and hurt. You shuddered at the thought of it, the feeling of the hook would probably never leave you. Death was forever here, unfortunately. Elodie and Felix’s conversation had given you hope, maybe there was a way out of here.

“Shit.” You mumble as you shielded your eyes from the small explosion.

Y/N huffed. You felt slightly disappointed in yourself and began again. Your head perked up as you heard stomping. It wasn’t loud enough to be the Oni or Trapper.

You kept a head on the generator as you noticed a dark figure stomping towards you. You needed a moment to process the situation. It was Ghostface? Oh shit, it was him, you thought. Flashbacks of your last encounter played in your head, he was definitely pissed off and you couldn’t blame it at this point.

“Don’t fucking try it.” He muttered in reference to you breaking into a sprint.

You felt panic wash over you as you quickly observed your surroundings. There weren’t any nearby pallets or vaults, it was a random open area near a hill with a chest and hook. Perfect, just perfect. Ghostface was quicker than usual, he grabbed you by the waist aggressively to tackle you down.

Ghostface held a knife to the back of your head once you hit the ground. You grunted as he put down all his weight onto you and assured that you wouldn’t be able to escape. The ground felt so uncomfortable, especially against your face. There was a few moments of you struggling beneath him to escape but it became no use. You stopped struggling after he pressed the blade against your skin.

“Didn’t bring a toolbox this time, Y/N?” He asked mockingly, pressing his gloved finger over the small slit. You winced at the stinging sensation but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

“You know how to hold a grudge, Jed.” You replied. You were utterly terrified yet you always felt the need to reply to his stupid remarks.

“Indeed I do.” He replied, grabbing you and making you stand up. He held the knife to your back and pressed it slightly.

Ghostface was actually angry. He didn’t seem to mind actually hurting you or pressing the knife into your skin. You gasped at the painful sensation as he looked around, he saw the killer shack. He held a tight grip on your shoulder as he forced you to walk that way.

You instantly knew where he wanted to go. You just hoped the basement wasn’t there. Of course, you had known that this day would eventually come. But, why now? It was such awful timing, especially with the blue mood you had. Once the two of you reached the shack, he shoved you onto the ground aggressively.

“You’re pathetic... talking and talking last time we met. Now, you’re just a shitty excuse for a survivor.” He said to you. You scoffed.

“If it helps, Jed, I’m sorry.” Y/N replied. Your hand reached to the back of your neck where he had cut you. There wasn’t much blood but it still hurt. You stared at your bloodied fingertips as the man got more infuriated.

“You don’t get to call me that. And why the fuck are you apologizing?” He questioned you. His tone was venomous, this terrified you but him killing you was inevitable and well... you wanted to see him, anyways.

“If you didn’t care, you’d have hooked me now. I must’ve really hurt your feelings, huh?” You said, half-jokingly but you were also genuine.

“I don’t care.” He replied to you almost instantly. You knew that was a lie.

“Then why won’t you hook me? You could’ve slashed my back open but instead you pinned me to the ground... weirdo.” You mumbled.

He fell silent for a second. Ghostface was a bit baffled by you. Why weren’t you begging for your life? The version he remembered of you was different, or maybe he killed too many survivors that would beg. Not only that but he planned this out thoroughly. He was practically counting on you to scream and beg for your life. Ghostface had even made an offering for this realm because he researched it extensively, as he did with most of his previous murders.

Despite what he may have thought, Y/N was absolutely terrified. However, there was a strange feeling of attraction to him. Not necessarily a crush just yet but there was also a rivalry in which you felt comfortable talking to him. He felt like a real person. Well, of course he was a real person but you had no trouble making shitty remarks to him.

“I want this to last because you were being a little bitch last time. I’ve been dying to slice you open and make you regret that stupid little stunt you pulled.” He said to you.

You sat up, bringing one knee to your chest casually. There was a feeling of bravery that washed over you like last time. Y/N sighed deeply and looked around the shack. It was a basic shake. No totem, no gen.

“Yeah, sure... then do it.” You said to him.

“You’re not making this any easier.” He replied, more annoyed with you.

“Nothing you do is gonna make me regret what I did. Even if you do kill me and make me suffer, I’m still gonna come back alive. I’ve been puked on, trapped, and even had some weird ass trap put onto my head.” You said, standing up and pointing your finger to his chest.

“But you, Danny, only have a knife. I know the Legion or whatever their names are can use that better than you. You’re just a weirdo with a mask.” Y/N finished.

Ghostface seemed rather stunned, yet offended. Mainly because he couldn’t doubt anything you said. It became known that the Legion studied the human anatomy extensively, more than Danny ever cared to do. His area of expertise was stalking and memorizing a person’s schedule. But still. his ego was always bigger than any logic. The cloaked man grabbed your wrist. He oddly didn’t grab it too tight, he lifted your arm over your head.

“And what does that make you? I’m still better than you to some degree. You’re trapped here because the Entity thinks you deserve it and I get to kill anybody I desire.” He said, the tip of his blade poking your stomach.

“I guess we’re both shitty people.” You shrugged as his grip somewhat loosened. He sighed deeply before throwing you towards the generator.

“I had hoped killing you would be satisfying.” He muttered, bitter that your reaction wasn’t what he imagined. You fixed your shirt slightly and leaned against the generator. A part of slowly began to accept the growing crush you developed on the strange murderer, you didn’t care at this point since you were damned to an eternity of trials.

“It probably would’ve been if you weren’t so easy to talk to.” You said to him as he snapped his head towards you, confused for a moment. Easy to talk to? He scoffed in response.

“Easy? You’re the fucking weirdo here.” He said, with a bit of a defeated tone.

“You’re no ladykiller, Danny, but... I’m charmed. I guess it’s something killers like you do though.” You said to him.

“I don’t charm or seduce people. I watch them.” He corrected you.

“Explains a lot.” You said, looking at your nails. Ghostface was quick to give into his ego and crossed his arms in a very stubborn manner.

“Actually, I did. As Jed Olsen, anyways. People were so trusting of him and neglected to suspect the new guy in town. It made it easy to watch people and I had a lot of excuses to spend hours doing so.” He said to you.

“Jed sounds nice.” Y/N shrugged.

“Well, Jed isn’t real, babe. He’s a shitty facade of what people like in a person. Made it so much easier for myself.” Ghostface said.

“Okay then,.. what did you do? As a career?” You asked him.

“I was a journalist and wrote for the Roseville Gazette. They made me cover my own killings and I did a good job doing so. Nobody could really understand my work though, no matter how much I tried to when I was Jed.” He said, a proud tone in his voice as he spoke. You were weirded out and cautious but you wanted to try and understand him.

“So, is that why you do it? For art?” You asked him as his head perked.

“That’s exactly why! There’s something very beautiful about the redness unique to somebody pouring out of them, even mixing with others. Not only that but just toying around and seeing how loud one can scream. Each scream is so unique and different. And just like art, you can fix your mistakes if it isn’t done right.” He explained, he seemed more relaxed.

“Fix? But wouldn’t they be dead?” You asked him, genuinely confused.

“You have to be an expert craftsman to fix it. A scream is a delicacy, something I choose not to indulge myself in often. Y’know, don’t want anybody hearing what goes on. When I do want to hear the screaming, it’s usually when my target has piqued my interest or mildly annoyed me. It feels rewarding after going through all the effort to memorize their lifestyle.” He said.

“A weird but cool way of looking at it, I suppose.” Y/N said.

You didn’t really care about morality at this point. Such things as the Entity exist, anyways, You weren’t sure what you did to deserve being stranded here. Even if you did have a weird romantic interest in him, so what? Why would the Entity care? Why would any Gods care? And even then, you seemed to have an interest in his hobby. Blood and killing didn’t faze you anymore.

“You think so?” He asked you.

“Depends on the person, I guess. I’d only do it to bad people.” You said.

“But, you’d do what I do?” He asked you.

“Yeah...?” You responded. Danny seemed a bit giddy.

“How would you do it?” Ghostface asked, he seemed way too excited to hear about your non-existent methods of killing.

“I don’t know...” Y/N replied, feeling somewhat flustered by how close he was to you. It was a different type of feeling when he wasn’t trying to stab you.

“If you want, I could show you some pictures and give you tips.” He said.

“And kill who? We’re stuck in this hellhole.” You reminded him.

“What about the other survivors? They can’t all be innocent.” Ghostface said to you. He had some appreciation for you since you listened. It was crazy how much this strange man can switch up.

“No, never. I’m not that crazy.” You said as the loud horn of the exit gates blared. You looked around, really surprised. He seemed just as surprised.

“That long?” He questioned.

“Guess I’m just that good of a distraction.” You said to him as he silently sighed in frustration but didn’t seem to care. A part of him enjoyed your talk.

“Guess you’re gonna be my one kill.” He said, shifting towards you and pushing you against the wall. You were taken aback by his swift movement.

You squirmed against his body, somewhat sliding downwards so kicking was pretty much useless unless you wanted to completely fall. The two of you grunted quietly as he turned you around, shoving your face against the hard wall. It was uncomfortable but he wasn’t being as rough as he usually was. At this point, you were scared of his knife so you tried pulling his hands away from you in the awkward position. Ghostface tightly pinned one of your arms on your back, you winced as he tugged on your hair.

He leaned inwards, poking his head towards your neck and hair. Ghostface took a moment to memorize your scent and what your hair texture might have felt like. For some strange reason, he seemed to want to learn everything about you. It might have been a bad idea for you to have opened him up about his art.

“Get off of me.” You demanded in a stern voice.

“You’re scaring me, Y/N.” He replied sarcastically.

You froze up when he slid his hand under your shirt, his fingertips trailing on your back. It wasn’t the motion itself but rather the feeling of his ungloved hand. You felt yourself go into a rather catatonic state, not in fear but you were quick to wonder why he would take his glove off. A thousand thoughts and scenarios played in your mind. His touch was soft but still managed to leave you with chills.

Ghostface, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself. He made notes of how soft your skin felt, his hand curiously wandered upwards. It wasn’t long before his hand wandered to your more sensitive areas. A gasp escaped your mouth as kept you pinned with his knees, his hands groping you a bit more roughly. Your face heated up when he squeezed you, you didn’t seem to struggle either.

“Fuck...” You whispered.

“If only we had the time.” He mumbled, sticking three of his gloved fingers into your mouth. Your eyes rested as you stared upwards, allowing him to continue touching you.

“I bet you’re getting all excited over this... if only I could capture the look on your face right now. How does it feel? Having somebody like me have their way?” He asked you. You felt aroused yet ashamed to oblige him.

“It feels good...” You managed to say, his fingers still in your mouth.

You felt the bulge in his crotch grow hard but this wasn’t the time or place. As much as he wanted to fuck you then and there, he needed to have some control over himself. He pulled his hands away and slid his glove back on. You let out a sigh of relief but also a whine. You knew just as much as he did that it just wasn’t the right time. You wiped the saliva from your lips and slowly stood up.

He pulled you backwards by your waist. You felt him rub his knife near your crotch, gliding it teasingly. His other hand wrapped around your neck. You heard him chuckle rather darkly. At this point, you seemed more hot and bothered than he was. Ghostface squeezed your neck a little harder, wanting to get one last sound of of you before he let you go. He didn’t care whether or not the Entity would be displeased or not.

“Guess you’ll have to be a whore some other time.” He said, cutting you on the arm slightly. You pulled your arm away quickly.

“Whatever.” You replied, flustered by his comment. Did that just happen?

“Better go before the Entity kills you itself.” He said to you.

“Right, right... see you around, Danny.” You said before quickly walking away and then running towards the exit gates.

His head tilted curiously. Ghostface wasn’t sure if he had feelings or not. He admired you for listening to him and asking some questions though. But, now that he knew you’d do things with him willingly, he had some ideas. A wide smile grew behind his mask as he began to fantasize about the photos he would eventually take.

You would probably come to regret your actions, seeing as his obsession with you would grow. Danny needed to know everything about you and even felt a bit possessive now. It didn’t matter, there was many possibilities within the Fog. Pray that you’ll be ready for your next meeting.

NOTE: Currently writing a full fledged Danny fic with a different plot but have the sequel to the Distraction. Ty for reading!

#dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #ghostface #ghostface x reader #jed olsen #jed olsen x reader #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #dbd fanfic #dbd x reader

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trashcanfanfics · 3 years ago

Note

Hmm, Angel Dust with an S/o noble overlord who managed to break Angel's contract with Val and take him away from him. fluff mixed with a little nsfw :)

I'm gonna be honest, whenever I think about Angel, all I wanna do is get him tf out of Val's reach

Also, only slight nsfw because I'm not confident in my abilities to write a full on scene for that, I'm sorry :(

Angel had come home, covered in bite marks and his own blood again. You watched from the couch with your book in hand as he walked in through the front door. It worried you, that he would come home like this, broken and defeated.

"Welcome home, my love," you spoke softly as you rose up to go greet him, setting the book aside. He mumbled out a half assed greeting in response. As soon as you were close enough, you hugged him tightly. Angel wrapped both sets of arms around you and let out a shaky sigh. It sounded like he was ready to cry.

"Would you like a bath? I'll draw you one." You gently let go before you grabbed his lower left hand to lead him to the huge bathroom centered around a giant clawfooted tub. Refusing to let go of his hand, you turned the knob to start the water and waited for the right temperature before plugging the drain.

Once the tub was full, you stood, facing him and gently helped him take off his clothes. You barely grazed your hand across one of the marks, making him hiss in pain. This made your blood boil. You were sick of this. Angel coming home beaten, marked, and in despair. You won't stand for this anymore. He had begged you not to get involved, said that it'd be worse if you intervened. You helped him into the tub once he was fully undressed.

"Ya not gonna join me?" He asked in a small voice, he was tryng to sound playful but it came out sad, defeated. You smiled weakly and shook your head.

"No, I thought I'd just wash you tonight, if that's alright with you." You liked doing this after he came home like this, offering him a choice. Giving him the freedom to ask for what he wanted. There was a sneaking suspicion you had that said he just wanted to wash off and sleep. The bags under his eyes helped this theory.

"That sounds nice." He sank deeper into the tub as you turned the knob off and helped him clean the blood out of his fur. The gentle motions of running your hands in his soft hair was enough to let his shoulders droop in relaxation. Your mind drifted off while you cleaned him. You kissed his head, healing his wounds, a habit now.

Valentino will no longer hurt your beloved. You would not allow him to do this anymore. These past few weeks you've been researching and studying dealmaking. The processes, terms, and ways to look into loopholes. All you have to do is get your hands on the physical contract to see what you can find. If you couldn't find anything, you'd just set the contract on fire and hit Valentino before running away.

After Angel was fully clean, you grabbed his favorite embroidered towel and helped him out of the bath. Once again grabbing his hand, you lead him to your shared bedroom and helped him into the softest pajamas he owns. He laid down under the silky sheets on the plush mattress and snuggled into it. You changed into your own pajamas before snuggling in with him. Your fingers gently brushed through his hair as softly sang him to sleep. You ran your thumb across the slight purple under his eye, noting how exhausted he looked even in sleep.

~*~

You woke up to the early birdsong of the morning glory in your garden and gently disentangled yourself from Angel's many armsnd made your way over to the edge. There, you stood straight and rounded the bed quietly to place a soft kiss to his forehead. With one last glance, and a whispered "I love you", you turned off the light and left the room, down the hall, out the front door. You're going to pay that bastard a visit.

~*~

Angel woke up feeling better and less sore than he expected. He sat up and looked over to his loving partner's side of the bed only to frown. They weren't there. Getting up, he stretched and decided to look in the kitchen. Maybe they had gotten up already and were making breakfast, though they usually would have the staff take care of it. He didn't know why, they were an amazing cook and it was always a treat when you did make meals.

"S/o? Ya in here, babes?" He opened the door to see the cooks already making breakfast, one handed him a coffee when they passed by to get to some more ingredients, but you weren't there. They looked pretty busy, so he decided to take his cup and search elsewhere.

He checked the dining room, library, living room, their study, parlor, hell, even the garden (saying hi to Nuggets in his own little mansion on the way), but they weren't in any of those places! Where are they? He was getting worried now.

"Uh, excuse me, sire?" Angel looked to the speaker of the voice to see a small demon that reminded him slightly of Niffty. "My liege has left a note for you, sire." The demon handed him a small piece of paper, bowed, and then skittered off. Angel will never get used to the treatment here. He shook his head and focused on the paper.

"My dearest love, I will be out for a short while, but don't fret, I'll be home soon with a surprise and a gift. I love you very much, S/o." He read aloud. "Aren't gifts and surprises the same thing?" He decided to not worry about that and smiled as he imagined when you'd be back.

~*~

You entered your home tired and frazzled, but with a smile beaming with happiness. You had successfully gotten rid of the contract between Valentino and Angel. Now it was time to tell your lover and give him the gifts you bought him.

"My heart? I'm home!" You called into the foyer as you went deeper into the house. You checked the living room and parlor before you were wrapped up in an embrace of four arms.

"Babes! Where were ya? I woke up an' you were gone," he mumbled in your ear. You smiled and pat one of his arms to release you. He let go and you turned to face him, holding out all the gift bags you were carrying.

"S/o, what the fuck happened to you? You're bleeding!" At his exclaimation you look down to actually take yourself in and realize he's right. You were so caught up in finally setting him free and getting him gifts that you didn't notice the small cuts. Laughing, you wave your hand and fix yourself up with your abilities.

"So I was, thank you, lovely. Now, here!" You, once again, offer him the gift bags. He takes them in his lower set of hands and uses the upper set to hold your shoulders.

"We ain't gonna roll past that you were hurt, even if ya can heal them. Who did it?" There was murder in his eyes. Your gaze softened and you laughed softly.

"I was going to wait until you opened the gifts and ask 'what's the occasion?' But you seem so eager," you paused to reach up and hold his face in your hands, "Anthony Messina, you are no longer under contract with the overlord Valentino. You are a free man, my love." The expression on his face was nothing short of shock.

"What? Are you serious?" His eyes fill with tears as he breathes and realizes you're right. Angel wouldn't be able to feel Valentino's chains anymore. He was free. "I can't believe it." He lets out a laugh and the tears fall, ruining his make up. Angel lifts you up and kisses you hard.

"My star," you whispered when you parted. He kissed you again with more passion. Your hands travelled through his soft locks, relishing in the feeling.

"Caro mia." He kissed you again, longer this time. The bags fell from his lower arms which then made their way to your thighs, wrapping them around his waist.

"Shall we take this to the room, sweetling?" You asked when you separated again. Angel nodded vigorously and carried you, all the while kissing you.

In the room, you hear him kick the door closed and then lock the door with one of his arms. You continue to kiss and run your tongue along his bottom lip, asking for entrance, which he happily gives. Hands found their way to the other's clothes, ripping them off in urgency to feel each the naked bodies beneath.

You wiggled your half naked form from his arms and separated the kiss. Before he could complain, you grabbed his lower left hand and yanked him over to the bed, effortlessly throwing him onto it. You crawled on top of him and kissed him lovingly, caressing his face and then down his chest and finally resting on his hips, giving a small squeeze. Parting from his lips, you said a sentence that set his body on fire.

"I'm going to show you what a true claiming feels like."

#hazbin hotel x reader #angel dust x reader #trashcan answers you

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golbrocklovely · 3 years ago

Text

remember me // colby brock (pt 2)

A/N: as i mentioned before in a different post, this took me FOREVER to write. i loved writing this story but something about it just made me drag it out for so long. nonetheless, i love this and i'm excited to see what you all think. please lmk what you thought about this. thank you to everyone that has supported me and sent me kind messages. yall are the best ! hope you enjoy :) also lmk if you want another part...

prompt: she's the only one that remembers colby, or so they both thought.

trigger warning: ANGST, heartbreak, AU mention, friendship problems, cursing, happy-ish ending (but not the end...?), kissing

word count: 5526

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Colby was relieved that the waitress, the only one that remembered him, decided to help. The moment she agreed, Colby gave her his number and left. She texted him not too long after, and he realized for a moment she never said her name. He planned to ask her the next day when they decided to meet up at his place.

It was weird to come back to his apartment, knowing that down the hall his best friend, his brother, lived there and didn't know who he was. Usually when Colby felt lonely, he would walk down the hall to Sam's and hang out for a bit. It was always nice to talk to Sam about anything and everything.

But now... he couldn't do that.

Colby tried to sleep during the night, but barely any rest came from it. He tossed and turned, hoping that when he would wake up, this would all just be some weird-ass nightmare.

When his cell phone rang the next morning at 9:34 A.M., it was an unfamiliar ringtone. As he rubbed his eyes awake, he glanced at the caller, the name 'Waitress' appearing on his screen.

I guess this wasn’t a dream after all.

"Yeah?" Colby groaned, squinting his eyes at the sunlight.

Her voice came through cheery, the tone too loud in Colby’s ears. “Let me up to your apartment. I'm here.”

He cleared his throat. “This early?”

“I figured you would want your normal life back as soon as possible, yeah?” She sassed.

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, give me a second. I'll come down and get you.”

Colby stumbled out of bed, running his fingers through his hair as he threw on a random shirt and jeans, slowly trudging down to the lobby of his apartment. She sat on a couch, tapping her foot against the carpeted floors. Her eyes were staring out the door, almost like she was looking at someone. When she heard Colby’s footsteps, her gaze pulled away from outside.

“Did I wake you?” She frowned, grabbing her bag next to her and standing up.

He shook his head. “You can't really be woken up if you barely slept.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” She lightly bit her lip, following Colby to the elevator.

He shrugged tiredly. “It's okay.”

They both slowly got into the elevator, climbing up to Colby's floor. The loud 'ding' of the elevator broke their silence moments later. They walked to Colby's apartment, and he unlocked his door quickly.

She whistled quietly. “Woah, nice place.”

A half smile spread across Colby’s face. “Thanks.”

“No offense, but how do you pay for this place if you're not a social media person?” She questioned, stepping into the kitchen.

He raised an eyebrow. “That's... a good question. From what my mom told me over the phone yesterday, I worked all throughout high school and college, so maybe it's from that?”

“You only worked at Dairy Queen while you were in high school. You must have gotten a better job in college because there is no way you can afford this place.” She disagreed.

Colby smirked. “How'd you know I worked at Dairy Queen?”

“Well, for starters, my friend told me. And also, I did some research about you. But I'll get to that in a second.” She continued, her voice falling to a serious tone, “So... would you like to hear my theories?”

“Theories?” He puzzled.

“As to why everyone forgot about you.” The waitress explained.

Colby sat down on his barstool, exhaling. “Let's hear it.”

“Okay. For argument sakes, you're gonna have to just go with me on this. Because otherwise, I literally have no way to help you.” She started, already pacing slightly.

He cautioned. “...okay?”

“So last night, I tried to think of a reason why everyone would collectively forget about you. And the only conclusion I could come up with is that you're in an alternative universe.” She hypothesized.

Colby’s eyes widened, bugging out of his head. “A what?”

“An alternative universe. Basically, everything is pretty much the same in your life, except a few minor details,” she revealed. “That’s why you still live in this apartment, but you didn’t get here the same way you did in your other life, your real life.”

“This... it's way too early for this.” He grumbled, astonished.

She sighed, her hands resting on her hips. “The only other option is that this is a very long-winded prank that your friends are still pulling on you. Have you tried talking to any of your other friends besides Sam?”

“No, everyone else’s number is gone in my phone, which I can only assume means they don’t know me either.” Colby retorted. Then he took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “But, this doesn't make sense. How did I end up here if this isn't my life?”

“I’m not sure how you got here, but I think you’re here for a specific reason. I think you’re here to right a wrong that this Colby Brock did. I’m just… not entirely sure what that wrong might be.” She answered, unsure.

He huffed. “Okay… what am I supposed to do then? Stay here and hope we figure that out soon? I don't even know who I am in this universe.”

“And that's where my research comes into play.” She pulled a laptop from her bag quickly, placing it down on the counter and opening it. She scrolled through her browsers until she came across Colby's Facebook, which surprisingly looked active for someone who hadn't been personally on it in years.

I use Facebook? Gross.

“First, I started by seeing if you and Sam were friends on here, but that didn’t amount to much since Sam doesn’t have a Facebook. However, what I found out is that you and Sam did live in the same town, go to the same high school, and played in the same marching band. Sam talked about his early years before he was ‘famous’ in one of the first videos he posted, and I crossed referenced that with your profile and it all matches up.” She informed.

“That's strange,” he mumbled. “What did we do after high school?”

She stated. “You went off to college and majored in Business Management with a minor in Philosophy. You graduated early too.”

Me? Graduating early? I couldn’t even get through math without Sam’s help.

“What did Sam do?” He asked.

The waitress scrolled to another tab, opening it to show a search of Sam. “Well, a very quick Google search shows that he actually went to the same college as you but dropped out once his Vine career started to pick up. Then he went on to Musical.ly when Vine died. He moved out to LA in 2017 and started a YouTube channel after he met Katrina, and slowly met all of his- your, friends that way. He got a bump of followers once he started dating Kat because of her following.”

Colby’s mouth gaped at her words. “That can't be true. He would have never wanted that. I mean, I had to convince him that we should be on social media so that we could spread our message. Plus, he hates those channels that use their relationship for views.”

“Not this version of Sam. Or at least, it doesn't seem like it.” She commented.

He covered his face, groaning into his hands. “What the hell am I here for? What wrong have I done in this universe?”

Her voice low, she replied. “I think it might have to do with Sam.”

“But... he doesn't know me.” He dissented, sitting up.

She nodded. “I thought so too. However, after scrolling through all of your public photos, I found this.”

Colby squinted at the screen, an old photo of him and Sam stared back. They looked super young, probably sophomores in high school. They were both smiling, laughing at something. He vaguely remembered this day.

“So, we did know each other.” He bit his lip softly.

She hummed. “Yeah. And weirdly, it’s the only photo of the two of you on your profile. But it’s not the only strange thing.”

Scrolling to a different tab, she pulled up an old tweet of Sam’s. It read ‘Never thought you would be the one to hurt me. But I guess everyone can be surprising.’

Colby noted the date. “That was back in high school.”

“Yeah, and there’s a bunch like them. He talks about being betrayed and someone hurting him deeply. He never mentions, of course. But his tweets line up with some that you were tweeting at the same time.” She confessed.

The waitress clicked on a different tab and another tweet showed up, one from Colby’s account. He gazed at it, reading the words ‘If you hate me… imagine how I feel about myself.’

Colby’s face dropped. “Wait, what?”

“You don’t tweet that often, but when you do, you talk about righting wrongs and fixing things you fucked up.” She added, “You also hate on yourself a lot.”

He doubted, crossing his arms. “You think they’re connected?”

“I do. I think in this universe you fucked up somehow and hurt Sam. And I think you are here now to fix what the other you did.” She explained.

He ranted. “This is all so fucked! When I saw him yesterday, he acted like he didn’t even know me. How am I supposed to even go about this? What, do I just go down the hall and apologize for something I don’t even remember doing?”

“No. Sam's not in his apartment anyway. I saw him leave while I was waiting for you.” She mentioned nonchalantly.

He grunted. “Great, he could be anywhere in LA right now.”

“I know exactly where he is.” She smirked.

“What? How?” He questioned.

The waitress divulged. “This version of Sam has a favorite restaurant he goes to all the time. A lot of his fans know about it, thus one look through any of his fan accounts and you'll see it. It's called ‘Paradise’.”

“Sounds like a strip club.” Colby deadpanned.

She pouted. “It's not. But he goes there all the time, and I got us a table there last minute.”

“What exactly are we gonna do when we get there?” He crossed his arms.

“I was planning on going up to his table and talking to him, maybe asking him about you, see how he reacts.” She described.

Colby furrowed his brow, confused. “And what about me?”

She slid her laptop into her bag, zipping it up hastily. “Well… I didn’t really think that far ahead. But hopefully, whatever you did is forgivable, and we can just fix it right there.”

He murmured. “That's a lot to hope for.”

“It's better than sitting here and wasting daylight.” She grabbed her stuff and headed for the door. Colby followed suit, grabbing his keys.

He spoke as he locked his door. “What if this doesn’t work?”

She turned back to him. “It will. It has to.”

~~~

Paradise was a themed restaurant, which Colby thought was strange because his Sam never really liked those types of restaurants. The theme was nice, however, tropical and Hawaiian. It felt like something he, Sam, and a few friends would have gone to after a fun, drunk night.

As Colby and the waitress were escorted to their table, they both kept an eye out for Sam, glancing around nervously for the blonde boy.

“I think the worst thing about this universe version of me is how messy my car is,” Colby joked. “It’s like I live out of it.”

She shrugged, smiling. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You should see my real car. My honey wagon is spotless.” He expressed, waving his hand.

“Honey wagon?” She queried.

“Long story,” he chuckled. Then abruptly, he gasped. “Holy shit, I just realized I never got your name.”

She cocked her head. “What? I never told you?”

He blinked. “No.”

She started. “It's-”

“Hi, I'm Tony, I'll be your server for today. Can I get you something to drink to start you guys off?” Tony greeted, cutting her off.

“Yeah, sure. A water for me.” She blurted out.

Colby added. “Coke, please.”

Tony smiled. “Okay, coming right up.”

Once Tony left, the waitress started scoping out for Sam again, her eyes widening once she saw him.

Her body stiffened, turning back to Colby. “He's over there, three tables down to your left.”

Colby gazed over his shoulder at his friend. Sam looked lost in thought, staring at his phone as he ate his food.

“Why is he alone?” He muttered.

“From some of the blogs I read, he likes to go out and eat by himself. Also, apparently, him and Kat are on the rocks.” She admitted.

“They love each other so much, it's kinda gross to be around them sometimes,” He quipped, but shook his head. “So to hear that...”

“I'm gonna head over.” She announced quickly.

Before he could speak, she left the booth. Colby watched her walk over to Sam, listening closely to their conversation as he ducked his head down.

“Hey... sorry to bother you, but are you Sam Golbach?” She asked sweetly.

“Yeah I am. Did you want something?” Sam stared blankly at her.

“Um, yeah?” She almost scoffed at his tone. “I’m a huge fan and I know this might be a weird question, but do you know someone named Colby Brock?”

Sam’s face remained stoic, but his eyes intensified. “No, I've never heard of that name before.”

“Are you sure, because I'm pretty certain that you and him are best friends.” She insisted.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Colby watched nervously as she pulled out her phone and showed Sam the photo. Sam scrunched up his face, his eyes scanning the image. “Yeah, no. Still don’t know who he is. What was his name again?”

“Colby Brock.” She stated.

“...Sorry. I’ve never heard a name like that before.” He mumbled, almost inaudibly. “Sounds stupid anyway.”

She cocked her head. “Wait, what?”

Colby clenched his fist, unable to hear this conversation any longer. He needed to come face-to-face with Sam. He slid out of his seat, walking hastily over to Sam and the waitress. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he gaped at Colby.

“Sam…” Colby started.

Sam growled. “Are you fucking serious, Colby? Did you really have to get one of my fans involved?”

“What?” Colby puzzled.

Sam jumped out of his seat, grabbing Colby’s arm and pulling him out of the restaurant. The waitress followed behind them, confused just as much as Colby. Sam’s feet stopped behind the back door of the building, turning to Colby without warning.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sam barked.

Colby stepped back, surprised by Sam’s anger. “...Uh, I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Sam scoffed. “Why the fuck are you here? After all this time?”

“So, you do remember me.” Colby remarked.

“Yeah, I do. When you showed up at my place yesterday, it took me a minute to realize it was you, since you decided to dress up like a Hot Topic employee, but yeah, I knew it was you. Are you really gonna pretend in front of her that we don’t know each other?” Sam teared his eyes away from Colby’s, staring at the waitress suddenly. “Let me guess, he hasn’t told you the whole story, right?”

“I guess not.” She shrugged uncomfortably.

Sam chuckled darkly. “Of course not. If he told the whole story, he would have to admit he was an asshole, and God knows he’s not gonna do that.”

“What are you talking about?” Colby panted.

“Do you not remember? Well, I’ll give you a refresher. You and I became friends freshman year of high school. You were my best friend and I was yours. I trusted you. I trusted you with a lot of shit that I’ve never told anyone. Senior year of high school, right before we were about to graduate, right as we were starting a social media career, suddenly you don’t want anything to do with me; which would have been bad enough, but then I go and find out you and my girlfriend were hooking up behind my back,” Sam snapped, catching his breath for a moment. “So yeah, I remember you, Colby.”

Colby’s mouth fell open, his breathing speeding up.

None of this sounds like me. I would never hurt Sam like that.

“And now, you have the fucking audacity to show up when everything in my life is going great and I’m succeeding. I have fans, friends, and a girlfriend that all love and care about me, and you’re here trying to what? Stir up drama? Get some clout from me?” He demanded.

“If your friends and girlfriend love you, why are you eating all alone?” The waitress jeered.

Sam glared at her, biting his tongue. “And you made one of my fans hate me. Dope, dude.”

“Sam, look; I’m sorry for what I did. But that was years ago. I’m not who I was back then.” Colby choked out.

“I don’t care. I don’t want you in my life. Do you not understand what you did to me?” Sam persisted.

“I know I was an asshole, and I apologize for ever hurting you like that. But I miss you, and I want to work things out. Let me prove to you that I’m better.” He trembled, getting closer to Sam.

Sam backed up, blocking Colby. “No. No! You don’t get to miss me. You don’t get to miss a relationship you fucked up. It took me years to trust again. Hell, I’m still going through it. You don’t get to decide whether or not you’re in my life. Not anymore.”

“Sam… please.” Colby whimpered.

“Don’t show up at my place again. Don’t talk to my fans about me. Don’t act like you care about me. Because I’m done,” Sam stared into Colby’s eyes before going back into the restaurant. “I don’t care about you. Fuck off forever and leave me alone.”

Sam’s words punched Colby hard, taking the breath out of him instantly. He caught himself against the wall, his legs turning to gelatin under his weight.

He stuttered. “I… gotta leave. I-I have to…”

“Colby, relax. It’s gonna be okay.” She grabbed his hand.

He shook off her embrace. “What? No it’s not! Did you not hear what he said? Why would he want to be friends with a piece of shit like me?!”

“You were eighteen when this all happened. Give yourself a break.” She argued.

“No. I’m fucking terrible. This version of me is terrible. Of course he doesn’t want to be friends with me! I don’t even want to be me.” His voice quivered with anger, his body racing away from her.

She furrowed her brows, trying to keep up with him. “Where are you going?”

“I just need to leave. I can’t be here right now!” He grunted, his pace picking up.

She called after him, but Colby didn’t care. His heart slammed against his chest over and over again. Tears weld up into his eyes, blurring his vision as he began to run. He wanted to keep running until his legs gave out, until he couldn’t remember all the words Sam had said to him.

It dawned to Colby how much worse this universe was.

He wasn’t just stuck in a universe where Sam didn’t know him.

He was stuck in a universe where Sam didn’t want to know him.

In a universe where Sam didn’t love him.

And he had no way of escaping.

Colby must have blacked out while he ran, somehow maintaining to stay upright, because once his thoughts started to subside, and his body basically gave out under him, he noticed he was in a part of LA he had never been before. Some random neighborhood that was unfamiliar.

He shoved his body up against a metal telephone pole, sliding down to the ground. He tried catching his breath, gulping back breaths as he forced down the nausea overwhelming his senses. He wiped his face with his sleeve, feeling more tears rush down his cheeks.

His throat and chest burned with each sharp inhale. He whimpered into his hands, covering his face from the slowly retreating sun.

He slid his phone out of his pocket once he caught his breath, calling the only number he knew.

“Hey honey. What’s up?” His mom’s voice rang back sweetly.

Colby’s voice was monotone, exhausted. “You know who Sam is, don’t you?”

The line went quiet for a moment, all Colby could hear was her light breath.

“You told me not to talk about him. After you two stopped being friends, you said you never wanted to hear his name again.” She exhaled deeply, “I was taken aback when you asked about him yesterday.”

“He’s out here… in LA.” He responded.

She gasped lightly. “Did you run into him?”

He laughed bitterly. “You could say that.”

“Oh, Colby. I’m so sorry.” His mother consoled.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, mama. I just…” Colby trailed off, unable to explain.

“Why don’t you come home this weekend?” She offered. “I miss you, you know.”

“I would love to. But…” His chest heaved as hot tears drifted down his cheeks. “That’s not my home.”

“Nonsense. You will always have a home here.” She assured him, her voice almost trembling.

He wiped a fallen tear, a broken smile coming to his face. “That’s good to know. I love you.”

She hummed. “I love you too, baby. Call me again soon.”

“I will. Bye.” He uttered breathlessly.

The sky was getting darker and darker, and Colby remained against the phone pole. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but suddenly his phone vibrated, a new message from ‘Waitress’ asking where he was. He sent his location, and she arrived twenty minutes later in his car. He stood up, stumbling to his passenger door. His legs were weak from the sprinting he had just done. As he got in, the cool AC blasted the sweat and tears off his face.

They didn’t speak, a quiet radio station playing in the background the only sound. She drove through the hills of LA, eventually hitting a peak. She parked the car as it overlooked LA, the lights looking like stars on the horizon.

She got out a minute later, walking over to the hood and leaning against it. He could see something in her hand but didn’t recognize it. Colby sat in the car by himself, not able to physically move his body from how exhausted he felt. Eventually, he achingly stepped out of the car, sitting next to her on the hood.

“I’m fucked.” Colby breathed.

She started. “I don’t think-”

“Please don’t try to make me feel better. I know you mean well, but I am fucked,” he rebutted, his voice dark. “I’m stuck here, in this universe, where Sam hates me. And as if that weren’t bad enough, I did terrible things, things I know I would never do to him. How the fuck am I supposed to apologize for those mistakes? I wouldn’t take him back if the roles were reversed.”

“Read this.” The waitress stated, handing him a journal.

He glanced down at the leather-bound book, slightly faded from years of writing. He unclicked the lock and opened it, looking down at the pages. It was his, a journal full of writings he had done.

“Where did you get this?” He inquired.

“You were right about your car being messy. But you’d be surprised what you fine if you just look.” She teased.

Colby read over the words, the first entry catching his eye. It was dated a year after him and Sam had graduated high school.

Sam is succeeding without me. I knew he would. He was always so smart when it came to business decisions. He just hit 10k followers on Vine. That’s crazy!

“What the hell is this?” Colby questioned.

She answered quickly. “This whole journal was you keeping up with Sam without him knowing. This version of you always paid attention to what he was doing, even if you guys were no longer friends.”

“I’m obsessed with Sam? That’s great.” He deadpanned.

“You’re not obsessed with Sam. Read this entry.” She skipped a handful of pages, finally stopping on one and showing it to him.

I hate myself everyday for the hurt I caused Sam. I can’t believe what an idiot I was back when I was 18. We could have gone so far together�� but I had to go and fuck it up.

He scowled. “Am I supposed to be sad for myself?”

“Keep reading.” She pushed.

The night I chose to never speak to Sam again, I knew I made the wrong decision. But I had to. Sam was ready to go on and do bigger and better things. I was just gonna hold him back. I was terrified of failing, not only myself, but him. He deserves success. That’s why I had to ignore him. I have never been as smart as him. I would have ruined our chances of doing something great. And I have been proven right by how far he has gone without me.

“You stopped being his friend because you were scared, not because you didn’t care anymore.” She repeated.

He slid off the car, scoffing. “So what if I was scared to fail? Sam didn’t deserve the hurt I caused just because of that. And what about me cheating with his girlfriend?”

She jumped off the car, striding up to Colby. She grabbed the journal from his hand. “You didn’t cheat, look.”

She pointed at the bottom of the page, his eyes following her finger.

“Me and Lexi were never together! I hate her for telling him that. One night, they had a really big fight and she came over to my house to ask what she should do. I told her to break up with him if she really didn’t care anymore. And then she tried to hit on me. I told her off and threatened to tell Sam, but she got to him first. She must have told him her and I were together.” The waitress read aloud.

“Wait, if I never hooked up with his girlfriend, why wouldn’t I tell him that?” Colby hissed.

“I think at that point, you wanted the friendship to be over, and I think this solidified it.” The waitress responded.

“All this time I could have been friends with Sam, but I ruined it because I was scared? What a fucking idiot.” He spat.

“You weren’t an idiot,” She interjected. “You just disliked yourself so much you didn’t think you deserved happiness. At least now you know that this version of you isn’t as terrible as you thought.”

“Even with that being the case, Sam’s never gonna accept my apology. Why should he?” Colby lamented, “I let him down the worst ways. I broke his trust and loyalty.”

She shook her head, stepping towards him. “Give him some time. You might be surprised."

Before Colby could speak, his phone rang. He took his phone out of his pocket and looked at the number. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Did you really mean it when you said you were sorry?” Sam spoke, his tone hesitant, but dry.

His breath hitched at the sound of Sam’s voice. “Of course. I never meant to hurt you, Sam.”

Sam paused for a moment, before breathing out. “I’m giving you one more chance. Tomorrow. Come by my place. You apparently know where I live.”

“Yeah,” Colby laughed awkwardly. “I’ll come by. Thank you… Sam.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ll see you later.” Sam stated, hanging up.

Once the call ended, Colby’s eyes stared down at his phone widely. He almost couldn’t believe that happened.

He inhaled sharply. “Sam just called me. He wants to meet me tomorrow.”

“That’s great.” Her voice just above a whisper.

“He wants to hear me out… he wants to give me another chance.” His face dropped with confusion. “How did he get my number?”

It hit Colby like a brick as he gazed up at the waitress, who bit her lip hiding her smile. “You…?”

“You weren’t the first person I showed the journal to,” she explained. “When you ran off, I was gonna go after you. As I got in your car, I saw this journal sticking out from under your seat. I read through it and… I knew I had to show Sam. I went back in and talked to him for an hour, showing him how much you were actually sorry. How much you had beat yourself up over hurting him. And then I gave him your number. I wasn’t sure if he was gonna call but-”

“Oh my God, you’re amazing!” Colby ran up to her, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around. She gripped his shoulders tightly as they spun, laughing loudly into his ear. As her feet touched the ground, he stared into her eyes, his smile the brightest she had ever seen it. His hands glided up her body to her face, cupping her cheeks quickly. He smashed his lips against hers, his heart pounding as he did. Her hands lowered to his chest, her grasp on his shirt tightened as she felt herself lose her footing and back up into the car.

As they stumbled, he realized what he was doing, pulling away quickly. “Shit… I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have-”

“No, it’s okay,” She giggled. “I’m just… surprised.”

He exhaled, letting his arms fall away from her body. “Me too.”

They leaned against the car, keeping a slight distance from each other. A light blush rested on both their faces; however, it was hard to see with the setting sun, something they were both grateful for.

The waitress sighed, breaking the moment of silence. “I think I know why this happened. Why I was the only one who remembered you…”

He raised an eyebrow, slightly side-eyeing her. “Really?”

“I lied to you when we first met. I wanted to seem a bit cooler than I am, but I don’t think I can hide that anymore.” She began, nervously.

Colby’s face relaxed a little, surprised at her words. “Okay.”

“My friend didn’t introduce me to you guys… I introduced her… to you.” She confessed.

A soft grin came to his face. “I had a feeling.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did! I totally did,” he snickered. “Not every fan knows I worked at Dairy Queen. And… no average fan would have helped me get Sam back the way you did.”

“I think there’s a reason for all of this. I think in your universe, your life… you don’t know me.” Her voice dropped suddenly, making Colby turn to her.

“That’s true, I don’t.” He nodded.

Her eyes met his, a sad glint reflecting in the moonlight. “But I think the reason for that is because… you’re not supposed to.”

“What do you mean?” He replied, his face twisting in confusion.

“I think you and I are only supposed to have met here, in this universe. But not in yours.” She glared up at the sky, “Maybe in some weird way, I’m your guardian or guide or something.”

Colby’s thoughts raced. “So, what you’re saying is-“

“This might be the last time you’ll ever see me. You did what you had to do. You got Sam and you to talk again.” Her voice cracked as she held back tears, “You can go home.”

He grabbed her hands, holding them close to his body. “But… I don’t want to leave if it means I don’t know you.”

A hitched breath fell from her lips, a smile appearing from his words. “If we’re meant to be, we’ll see each other again.”

“That’s not fair.” He shook his head, a deep frown settling on his face.

“I know, but it’s how it has to be.” She whispered.

He rested his forehead against her, breathing deeply. “Can I… get one more kiss?”

She bit her lip softly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They leaned in, his breath fanning across her lips for a split second before he pulled away.

“Wait…” He shuddered. “I never got your name.”

A soft smile came to her lips. “I’ll tell you after.”

His arms wrapped around her, pressing her body into his as their lips collided. He held onto her for dear life, terrified that the moment he pulled away, she would be gone.

He could feel things around him slow down, almost melting away, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the beauty of their kiss making him dizzy. A whirling silence overcame his senses. A burning sensation sliced through his abdomen; his breath ripped from his lungs.

A heavy darkness overtook his vision and for the briefest of moments, he felt absolutely nothing.

Except her lips.

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chkristae · 3 years ago

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The wrongs of miraculous....

I may be absolutely wrong here...but for few weeks I’m toying with an idea of miraculous rewrite? Because I find so many things that are just...not right? Also, I’m not Chinese, so I may get many things wrong, these are just my observations...sorry if I offend someone and feel free to correct me.

Like I wrote before about Chloe and her treatment, that she deserves a better? Do you know how powerful it would be to have a character that will have a real 180 development? For me, I would be in heaven if as a kid there was a character in kids show who shows, that even if you had been mean, you can change? And to show that you shouldn’t care about who your parents are (aka Audrey) and you should be your own person and not just their copy? That you could be more?

Also, I was thinking... is miraculous really correct? Like the miraculous in the show came from China, right? Then why... akuma is a Japanese word, Japanese, for demon? Also according to miraculous wiki, the page about kwamis, there is this: “ The concept of the Kwamis was created by Bandai.[10] A Kwami is a "quantic (small) kami."[11] In Japanese, kami (神) often refers to a god or certain kinds of spirits. “ I don’t know what Bandai is, on the internet it shows me it is a JAPANESE toy maker, but I may have it wrong here, so I apologize. But again, if it’s from Japanese Kami, then again, miraculous are Chinese, right? Or at least he jewels, like Kwamis were there before, but they somehow became connected to the Chinese? (right now, forget about the specials, which confused me as hell). So yeah, this I got wrong, that Kwamis are not Chinese (Yes, I’m confused, sorry). It doesn’t make any sense at all. Like there was an episode in miraculous about Maris relative being a Chinese chef and him getting akumatized because of that people confused Chinese and Japanese food? (I don’t remember much about this episode, as well as of most than half of the other episodes, but about that lately). But I just...Is it supposed to be about Chinese culture? Even Marinette is half-chinese (half-assed to me, but about that later too). So why to use Japanese words for akuma and kwamis?

Now about Mari...I hate her character, I hate her so much, I wish she stopped existing. But I also know that is not fault of her, but of Thomas, who wrote her that way. Like what does she teach young kids? To be a stalker and unhealthy obsessive about your crush? Like what the hell? Like alright, she teached about kindness, but only in the beginning. Also her name, as I wrote above, it seems kinda half- assed to me? Her surname Dupain-Cheng is maybe fine, showing that she is half Chinese, half French (???), so yeah (but it may be wrong, I don’t know any people who are half-chinese and what surname they may prefer). But her name, Marinette? She was born in France, alright. But if this is about Chinese, shouldn’t she have more Chinese name? I know there is this problem with kids from different parts of the world and the problem with pronouncing their name, so they choose better variation (like in my primary school there was this Romanian kid, whose name we couldn’t pronounce, so he had this nickname...). But why does it seem so half-assed by Thomas? Why not name the protagonist with full Chinese name? I would like to give an example, but I know the Chinese names have certain, let’s say rules, and I don’t know much about it, so I don’t want to even try, because I will surely get it wrong. But it seems to me Thomas did almost zero research? (like with the akumas and Kwamis, and now Marinettes name and Chinese representation). Also it would be awesome for LB having more Chinese hero costume, or something… just anything to really show that Miraculous is Chinese and the real connection to Chinese culture…

Now...Alya and Nino. Well, for me I write this AU, where Felix and Chloe got the miraculous (again, wrong, I would love to write it as the main character being Chinese, so I doubt I will post it here, but it’s just for me, to give Chloe some justification). But Alya and Nino...I don’t even know how to put them in my AU? Because all to them is that they are just friends of Marinette and Adrien, nothing else. Like alright, Alya may have a use as the investigator (and instead of trying to find out who LB and Chaton are, she should maybe focus on finding who Hawkmoth is, because revealing their identities is dangerous, as we are constantly reminded by the annoying love square). But Nino? He is just Adriens friend, Alyas boyfriend and yeah, DJ, but that is all that seems to be to him? Just best friend and boyfriend? Does he have a life or anything else? And it makes me angry again, because he is also a representation of different ethnicity, so why not give him better role in the story?

Also other weakness I found out in the story.. too many characters. Just TOO MANY CHARACTERS. Like more than half of them don’t have any use in the story, only to be akumatized? Also I don’t remember more than half of the episodes of miraculous and more than half don’t have even any point? They don’t move the story etc. I don’t know, for example (and I have to look at wikipedia for the episodes to remind myself what episodes are actually there). Okay.... let me see... Oh yeah, frozer. How could I forget about frozer? That is the episode when they get this amazing new powers to skate on ice, to fight this akumatized victim... and what else? Annoying love triangle? (which I hate with my whole heart, Luka and Kagami will also get their own section). I actually forgot it exists? How it moves the story? Well, new powers, Chaton getting angry, but easily forgiving LB? I just... too many character, but no point. I bet there are many episodes you could put out and the story wouldn’t change at all... (or maybe I’m wrong).

Now, Luka and Kagami. First with my favourite boy Luka. My poor boy. Do you want some irony? His miraculous is the snake, right? Power second chance? Second chance... more like second choice to Marrinette right? Like what the hell? He was this amazing character that quickly caught my attention. His easy going personality, blue hair and he plays music! (I’m a simp for characters who are musicians, so sue me). But then, he just became this second guy to Marinette, who doesn’t seem to have a life only to be there when poor Mari needs, nothing else... sigh....

Now Kagami. I hated her. Now I get why. I don’t hate Kagami, but how she was written. She is the only (????) Japanese representation in the show, right? (exclude her mother). But she was shown so...almost stereotypical? Like Japanese people don’t show emotion and are focused only on work...bla, bla. I just want more to her? Like in that one episode (Lies, one of the episodes I remember, because my boy Adrian finally got his spotlight, yeah!) it was shown she loves drawing, but her mother is against it? I need more of that, more of Kagami being a normal person and not this stoic emotionless stereotypical....sigh. But I have to admit, I started loving her how she is driven and goes after what she really wants, true inspiration. But yeah... her character needs rewrite, just make her even more like a living person with actual personality, than this robot how Thomas portrayed her.

Also...Adrian. Trust me, I love Adrian and Chaton, they are the sole reason I stay watching this thing (by watching I mean reading spoilers on tumblr, so I don’t have to suffer anymore during those episodes). He actually seems so...bland? Like it is insulting of how he is now. Just a side character as Adrien, who is abused by his father and stalked by Mari. And as Chaton potrayed as useless and comic relief... what the hell Thomas? You call this feminism? Feminism is about equality, right? Not putting the male gender down, but making female and male equal right? (Or did I get something wrong there? Equal rights and all?). So yeah, my poor Adrian, you deserve so much more.

Next... the female characters of Miraculous. Funny thing, as I write for myself the Chloe and Felix AU, I want to give Felix love interest later in the story, but I just don’t know who? There is this resentment for Mari, so I just scratched her from the story (not right I know it, but I just cannot get over how badly written she is). So I decided to rewrite Marinette and make her more than this obsessive stalker. Also, yeah, in this AU Chloe and Felix don’t end up together, sorry, but I need a story, where the main female and male protagonist don’t end up together...and also for other reason, that I’m still thinking about. So when I was firstly thinking of his LI (later in the story, firstly I want Felix to have some decent character development, before he will have a LI, focus more on him, same with Chloe, first I focus on her to getting out of the web that her mother put her in, that made her this kicking and screaming mean girl, then put out the LI - which is Luka, I think they would make great pair...but that is potential story for another time). But the other female characters? I just... couldn’t think of one who would make a great LI for Felix, because all of them are just, meh? Alright, there is Juleka and Rose (but they are couple, so not touching that, also will be touching this thing too later), Alya... just no, Alex... no... Kagami! Yeah! just give her more personality! Marinette? Maybe, but I hate her guts, so I decided to rewrite Mari... sue me.

Sigh...now...here it is. The LGBTQ+ representation. Is it really there? Is it? I just feel like Thomas checked this from his list and put it in the back, out of sight. There was this whole think about Nat and Mark, and Juleka and Rose, but it seems to me it’s insulting? (As pansexual myself makes me kinda mad...) Like put more of it, then just in the back as they sit next to each other? Also Juleka and Rose may have some moments, but it doesn’t seem that clear? Stop being scared cat miraculous team! Show the kids watching this that love has many shapes and forms! Also I think it would be interesting in the actual show if Nathaniel was best friend with Mari, because they have this passion for art - her design and his comic. Just... it makes sense! Also having a bisexual representation right in the front? Amazing. And maybe making Juleka and Adrien close? Like Juleka plays instrument and Adrien too? I don’t know, I think those too may be a great friends. Oh! Also, mixed group of friends. We always see (recently. only Mari to hang out with the girls, Adrian with the boys. Why not mix the groups? To show that girl doesn’t have to be friends only with girls and boys only with boys....

So yeah.. I hope it makes sense... I may have done something wrong, if I did, feel free to correct me... but... This urge to rewrite miraculous is really strong. But as I wrote in the beginning, I’m not Chinese, so I don’t think it’s right for me to write about something that is inspired by the Chinese and it is connected so close to it (or as it should be, because we are reminded several times, but in the end, even the creator used wrong words - Japanese due to my research). But if I’m wrong, please feel free correct me! Yes, I’m sure I got some things wrong…like kwamis… So feel free to chew me out.

Ps: Sorry for any grammatical mistakes and all other English wrong ...things? English is not my mother language. I can read well (aka fanfictions), but my writing skills need some improvement, so really sorry for any mistakes!

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous luka #miraculous chloe #chloe burgeois #luka couffaine #kagami tsurugi #miraculous kagami #miraculous adrien #adrien agreste #miraculous felix #miraculous marinette

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bokettochild · 3 years ago

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Hey I was wondering if you could write a short fic related to your story ‘the blood between us’, from Warriors PoV when Wild got taken away from him as a child

This is more of a drabble than anything, and I probably will revisit it later, but I thought I would share this little piece now.

Sorry if it isn't angsty enough, I'm running on nerves and spontaneous inspiration right now.

Link cried when he first saw his son.

Bundled up in the carefully washed scarf that Zelda had made for him years ago, his child looked so small and fragile. Sablya had smiled, weak and weary as she offered the child to him, and for half of a moment he almost refused.

Once their child was in his arms, however, there was no removing him from them.

Whisps of golden hair and a brief hint of shimmering cornflower blue eyes reflected a perfect balance of the orange sheen of his mother and the dusty blonde of his father, as well as a the mix between Royal blue and dusky silver.

Their child’s skin was mottled in a way that may have worried the two new parents, had it not been for his mother’s blood providing all the answers they could need.

He was perfect.

Link had clutched the tiny bundle close to his chest, crystal tears running down his face as his wife gently patted his arm, a smile twitching at her dark lips as she listened to the whispered promises of love and protection from her soldier husband. There was no doubt in the mind of the midwife, as the woman packed her bag and made to leave, that these two would make excellent parents.

“Why Zve-Zvee-”

“Zvezda.” Sablya correcting, the word rolling off her tongue with the same lilting of her accent that it always bore. “It mean ‘shining one’, Link.”

“And for Hylia’s sakes, you are not naming your child ‘Link’.” Grandfather had grumbled, shuddering slightly even as a sad smile pulled at his features.

“See?” Dark brows arched regally as his wife looked down at him. “Fate can not steal him if name is from realm beyond the control of goddesses themselves.”

Link had sighed and shaken his head. “I can’t even say it.”

“Then say Zvee,” Sablya chuckled, eyes lingering on the child in her arms. “It mean ‘bright’.”

“And bright he will be,” Grandfather chuckled. “I can already see him messin’ round with those contraptions yer cousin had commissioned.”

“Riding Guardians, play with runes.” Sablya chuckled. “Will master all mysteries.”

“Hey now, don’t settle too heavy of expectations on the babe’s shoulders, he’s not even babbling yet.” Link protested, reaching out for the infant in his wife’s arms only to have the other two laugh at him.

Little Zvezda, or Zvee, as Link eventually agreed to, grew fast and strong. He was a small thing, but there was never any fear for his safety. Not when Link was such a doting father, forever keeping his gaze after the child, even with Linkle’s and his wolf friend from their childhood looking out for him.

True to the family ways, the babe was active, if not a bit quiet, and there were few days when he wasn’t found wandering about, his father trailing behind and the wolf faithfully following at his side. Animals flocked to him and there wasn’t an outing where some bird or beastie wasn’t found coming closer than usual to their small infant.

He was nearly silent, slipping off and out of sight in a moment's notice. Unnaturally fast, Link had complained to Grandfather with a fond sigh, eyes trailing after his son as the boy chased after his wolf companion. He was remarkably clever; Zelda had laughed as she watched chubby fingers held twist a bolt into one of the guardians that her Sheikah researchers was working on.

“Sunshine.” Zelda cooed as she swung about the castle halls with him in her arms.

“Little Shade.” Sablya whispered as he snuck into their room in the middle of the night.

“Wild Child.” link would chuckle as he removed the babe from one or another den or grove that the babe somehow managed to sneak off too.

Zvezda was the light of Link’s life but there was no getting away with keeping his precious son to himself. Even the Guardian’s of Time, on their rare visits to the castle, had become enchanted with him. Cia and Lana would coo and laugh as the cubby toddler would explore and poke about in a manner all his own, their laughter only growing as Link had been forced to break form from the rest of the soldiers in order to chase down his offspring. He would have left Zvee at home with Sablya, only Zelda had insisted that she get to see her nephew.

Link had never been stared at with such disapproval by his commanding officer, but with his son giggling and cooing in his arms, he found that he didn’t really care.

It was the little moments that he loved the most. The moments when Sablya and he would wrap their child in Link’s scarf, for no blanket would suffice, not as far as Zvezda was concerned, which Zelda had carefully enlarged for that very purpose, songs and melodies slipping off of their tongues as they sang him to sleep.

It was moments like when Grandfather would toss Zvee into the air, shrieking giggles filling the house as Sablya watched with worry as their child soared, only to be caught by hands roughened by sea and storms but gentle as could be. Zvee would burry his hands in Grandfather’s beard just as Link had as a child, and it wasn’t uncommon to find the two fast asleep together come the middle of the day, Zvee looking for all the world like a little golden bird curled up in his great-grandfather's beard.

It was moments like when the wolf would come, Zvee hanging out of his mouth like some sort of cub, a tired expression on the canine’s face as he deposited a scraped and bruised Zvee into Link’s lap, where he would be combed and brushed, the twigs pulled from his hair and the scrapes tended as Link would scold him gently. The scoldings were quickly forgotten and the twigs would be back within hours some days, but Link could only smile and settle the child down again, repeating himself as he ran a brush through silky long locks.

Moments like when Sablya had taken their family to her own home and presented their child to her own great-grandfather, pride clear on her face as she had watched the old Hylian hold their son. Zvezda had taken to his great-great-grandfather in a way that he had never done with strangers before, but Link blamed it on the heavy furs that the man wore; Zvee was always a sucker for fluffy things.

These were the moments that he treasured the most. The simple times.

But all good things must come to an end.

A guardian can only stand to sit alone in a palace and watch the world go by for so long. Two girls locked away from the world, save on set occasions, were bound to eventually snap.

Lana had turned her loneliness and sorrow into passion as she did her best by the timeline, but Cia had allowed hers to fester, growing bitter as she watched the rest of the world find love and safety in the arms of others, left herself with no one.

Her jealousy towards the crown and her desperation for a companion that would last through time had driven her to break the vows of the Time Guardians attacking the palace and the princess within.

Link had been called to service that day, a messenger riding past their house with a message to gather at the castle, to defend the princess.

Link kissed his wife and son goodbye, eyes lingering on them for a moment as resolve stirred within. He’d defeated Malladus as a child, a corrupted Time Guardian could hardly be worse. He would be home in no time, his child in his arms and his wife by his side.

Sablya smiled at him with pride. “Kick ass.”

“Ass!” Zvezda echoed, earning his mother a sharp look from her beloved as she chuckled.

A final kiss for the each of them and he was swinging up on Epona’s back and riding out with the rest of the soldiers.

He never would have guessed that while saving a life he would be bestowed with the Triforce. Never could have guessed that in gaining the goddesses favor he would also catch the eye of a bitterly lonely woman.

He was named the Hero Incarnate before the kingdom.

Grandfather had smiled with pride, but his eyes had held a sadness that Link could not understand.

Sablya had kissed his lips, murmuring softly that the hero’s tunic suited her beloved far better than any Hylian soldiers' uniform. Zvezda had promptly pulled off his hat and attempted to put it on.

“You’ll never have to wear that thing,” Link promised that night as he pulled the long green cap from his sleeping child’s fingers. “Not on my watch, Little Zvee.”

“Thank Hylia.” Linkle giggled quietly from the door to the bedroom. “That thing looks terrible.”

He’d thrown the cap at her, making her muffle a screech as she darted out of the way, but he didn’t push further. Pride welled in his heart as he thought of the honor he had been bestowed, and that one day, his son might look to him and see a hero. It was a wonderful thought.

Being a hero was a wonderous thing.

Until it wasn’t.

Until he was waking up to a wind that shouldn’t have been there. Until he was rushing down the halls as Zvezda’s screams echoed into their room.

Sablya and he had barely burst through the door, their nightclothes hanging loose about them as their terrified gazes had turned from the empty bed to the child sliding slowly across the floor, his sleeve locked in the jaws of the golden wolf as it attempted to pull it away from the swirling dark abyss that had appeared on the far wall.

Link had darted forwards, fear pounding in his heart and hands already reaching for his son.

Zvezda’s fingers brushed against his for one heart pounding second.

There was a whooshing of the portal, a final pull fo wind and a final shriek mingling with a frightened bark.

And then there was silence.

Link cried when he first saw his son.

The night that he lost him, all of Hyrule could hear the roars of agony.

#fluffics #but sad #sort of #the blood between us #warriors is wild's dad #linked universe warriors #linked universe wild #linkeduniverse #linked universe #angst #asks #requests are open!#linked universe fic requests

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chit-a-to · 3 years ago

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The thing that gets me is that Sunrise CLEARLY has an idea of what makes a good father (Papayasha my beloved), and yet they CHOSE to make YH Sesshomaru the worst possible father ever, on top of being a groomer!

YH Sess literally does absolutely fucking NOTHING for his daughters, and in fact deliberately puts them in dangerous situations with no regard for their safety or well-being! 99% of the time he's off doing absolutely nothing with that infuriating blank stare when he clearly has had the means and capability for 14 YEARS to help his kids out and be there for them, but he doesn't.

InuYasha physically could not reach his child through no fault of his own for 14 years, and yet the SECOND he had his daughter back, he immediately took on the role of being a supportive, encouraging, loving, and affectionate father. He didn't come up with half-assed excuses for being gone like that whole "Rite of Courage" nonsense, he didn't act like his daughter needed to prove anything to him, and he let his child know right off the bat that she was loved, thought about, and deeply missed.

You almost wouldn't think Sesshomaru was Sunrise and Sumisawa's "favorite character" like he supposedly is with how they make him such a fucking deadbeat dad.

And yet InuYasha, who Sumisawa apparently doesn't like, is literally the best father in this dumpster fire and beats Sesshomaru a thousand times over in that regard.

Makes my almost wonder if they had to get different writers, some who are ACTUALLY PARENTS, to write out InuYasha's interactions w/ Moroha for whatever reason. Maybe Sumisawa couldn't be bothered with InuYasha and his family since he's only concerned with his wonderbread twins and [REDACTED].

literally I was thinking along the same line, too!! Even though the credited writers, directors, and storyboard artists for each episodes where Inuyasha appears are different (you can check it out on wikipedia), but most of it have sumisawa as the writer. That's why it's so confusing because why did you make your supposedly most favorite character to have one of the worst characterization ever?

I know that it probably has something to do with his wanting to build the notion that full-demons act, think, and behave differently than half-demons because they don't have the kindness half-demons inherit from their human parents, and that's why they (full- demons) couldn't act so lovingly and tenderly to their own children. BUT he also directed the 4th movie of Inuyasha where it is shown that all full-demon parents are being so caring towards their children??? And he also worked on the 3rd movie which portrayed toga fighting off takemaru bcs he wanted to kill izayoi and inuyasha. It clearly shows that even sesshomaru's own father, the Great Dog General, strongest daiyokai, didn't leave his baby and spouse and will fight any enemies that got on his way. Why did he contradict his own works then??? 😭😭 Turns out selective memory isn't only possessed by raisins but also by their beloved script writer 🤣

That rite of courage or cowardice? total bullshit. That's some top level lazy as fuck writing. You want to tell me that he wants to trained his children how to be a skilled warrior with high level of survival by letting them to their own devices? With no helping hands?? That's no training, that's how a mf leave his child because he doesn't want them, he didn't plan on having one but his one night stand accidentally got pregnant! That's how it sounds like! maybe all that time he's staring at nothingness for 14 years is him longing for his freedom before he accidentally impregnated rin 👀

I'm sorry sir, Sumisawa, but your whatever plan on the plot of Hanyo no Yashahime? It doesn't work. Might as well do more research how to create a good characterization and a coherent storyline as well as analysis on your target market before you prematurely released an anime.

#ask #anon #anti yashahime #anti sesshomaru

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hxseok-honee · 4 years ago

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atlas heart || part 25

a/n : so sorry it took so long getting this update out !! i had a disgusting amount of work to do and i really was not doing anything else for a few days -- i really hope you like it!! pls lmk what you think about things now that jimin (and we) know everything! its gonna get,,,, i wanna say messy but messys not even enough to cover how messy its gonna get

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Jimin can’t remember the last time he’d closed his eyes for more than a few minutes. Time goes by so fast these days that he’s partially convinced he’s been falling asleep and not realizing it. The hours between class and dinner every day are spent in the library, his headphones shoved into his ears haphazardly while he tunnel visions onto what’s been in the back of his mind since the beginning of the year.

Those spare hours had turned into days and days into weeks -- weekends where he doesn’t even glance at his phone, unaware of the growing concern of his friends. It’s almost May now, the chill of early spring having melted away around him without him realizing. His schoolwork stopped being a priority ages ago, and he knows his grades are really taking the hit for it. He vaguely remembers Namjoon confronting him one night some time ago -- a week? Two weeks ago? -- but he can’t for the life of him recall the contents of that conversation. Something about hating to play the ‘prefect card’, but having no choice. He doesn’t even know if he’s still on the quidditch team. It doesn’t matter -- nothing matters when seeing everything with the perspective he’s got now.

Practically buried in scrolls and books, Jimin could care less about the time and the fact that he’s very obviously breaking curfew right now -- the library’s been empty for hours now, and the light outside the window has well past faded into pitch black darkness. He had to hide from Pince around 10pm, barely managing to catch the click of the librarian’s heels through the music blasting in his headphones to keep him concentrated -- it’s a miracle that she hadn't caught him, really. He’d never be able to focus properly back in his room, not when he’s this close to putting the pieces together.

It’s there, right there, everything scattered in his brain. He knows it’s sitting right in front of him, he can feel himself trying to hyperfocus on anything that can blatantly tell him what he needs to know. Flipping through the pages of a book with one hand and shuffling through scrolls with his other, he glances down at a scrap of paper with his own handwriting, chicken-scratch on a ripped up piece of parchment for him to refer back to every few minutes. There, in black ink, the words ‘vampire’ and ‘veela’ are written and then, later, crossed out. There’s one below it -- ‘maledictus’ -- that remains uncrossed and haunts his every thought.

For the better half of the week, he’d spent his nights scouring the bookshelves for any text he could find on blood malediction -- there isn’t much to show for his efforts. Too rare a condition to have any extensive research done, he could barely manage to put together a few measly scrolls and one book with less than a full chapter on the subject. Sighing heavily, Jimin leans back in his chair, rubbing at his temples while he reconsiders the information for what feels like the hundredth time.

It fits the fact that she has a blood condition… but it’s not right. There’s no mention of a potion or even of regularly experiencing sickness. Y/n is in the Hospital Wing like once a month. There wouldn’t be anything Pomfrey or Hoseok could do to help her if she was a maledictus…

He considers that maybe those things are part of blood malediction and that there just isn’t enough documentation for him to verify it. But there’s something nagging at him, telling him this isn’t right. He thinks back over everything he knows, trying to pull up the major details that could help him finally get some sleep. Ignoring the fact that he very well could doze off, even with his loud ass music, he lets his eyes close so he can think. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he’s sitting up in his seat, eyes wide as he recalls something said to him almost months ago, forgotten amidst everything else on his mind.

“What’s the deal with your roommate, Tae?”

“Who, Stephen?”

“No, not fuckin’ Stephen -- Jungkook!”

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Because Stephen doesn’t look at me like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Yeah… I don’t know what you did to make Jeon Jungkook hate you, but it must have be serious--”

“Just tell me what you know about him, Tae.”

“I mean… nothing crazy, really -- an only child, comes from old money. Probably as old as the Malfoys or the Potters. His family’s the purest of purebloods. And always Gryffindors, just like the Malfoys are always Slytherins. It’s kind of nuts, having a family history like that.”

Jimin stumbles out of his chair, already making his way down the aisles of bookshelves, almost crazed with concentration.

Purest of purebloods -- there’s not a single pureblood family that isn’t documented in a registry… registry… regis-- aha!

Turning down an aisle designated for family registries dating back centuries, he scans the shelves at a lightening speed, finally coming to a halt in front of a tome titled Gryffindor Legacies. Hauling it from the shelf, he doesn’t even bother returning to his table, taking a seat right there on the floor.

Flipping straight to the back to search for the family name, he locates it easily and heads to appropriate page. Searching the family tree down generations, it takes him several pages of flipping through Jungkook’s ancestors’ lives to finally get to his parents. They’re the most recent entry -- new editions of the book are printed with each new generation, the original, handwritten copy belonging to the respective families. It’s an inefficient system for sure, but Jimin’s not exactly complaining when he’s the one benefiting directly.

Scanning the page, from the birth of his mother -- Jeon Eunha -- to her school days, from her marriage to his father all the way to Jungkook’s birth. Jimin expects the next part to follow the same structure of his mother’s story, recounting his childhood, but it diverges from that almost immediately with some extra lines that he almost feels don’t exist in the original copy at the Jeon family residence.

Not long after the birth of their first and only child, they were met with circumstances leading to the adoption and care of another, the recently orphaned infant girl, Y/n Y/l/n. In her days at Hogwarts, young Eunha had become friends with a female Ravenclaw student, who had a noticeably sickly pallor about her at all times. She was to become her closest lifelong friend. The same night in which Y/l/n was to give birth to her first child, she and her husband met an untimely fate in the form of a violent animal attack in the backyard of their own home. The Jeon family were the first to arrive at the premises, deciding immediately to take in the infant child and raise her alongside their own son. Not much else is known about the girl, only that she and the Jeon heir were to become inseparable.

Jimin stares down at the page, unblinking. There’s a lot of information to process, but the things that stand out most to him are the fact that Y/n’s mother was also apparently afflicted with the same illness as Y/n, and --

‘Violent animal attack’? I knew the car accident thing was bullshit, but… did her mom not even die in childbirth? Why would she not tell me… there’s nothing suspicious about an animal atta--

Almost like his brain has started to short-circuit after the long nights and lack of sleep, Jimin’s thoughts are gone instantly, replaced by the mental image of a book sitting not a even a few aisles away, on a table littered with all of the information he’d ever needed in the first place. He’s completely incapable of registering anything around him as he races back to his table, his mind flipping incomprehensibly between the information in front of him and all of the pieces of his memories, details that make too much sense in this moment to match anything but this one conclusion.

Most Muggles, however, will die from the extent of their injuries… all known instances of Muggle attacks have been portrayed in the media as ‘animal attacks’ so as to preserve the secrecy of the wizarding world…

Given the extent of the available research and data, collected almost entirely from male subjects afflicted with lycanthropy, not much is known about the hereditary components related to a female werewolf. Therefore, it is unknown if a pregnant female werewolf's transformations would affect the ability to carry the pregnancy to term…

Without any humans nearby to attack, or other animals to occupy it, the werewolf will attack itself out of frustration…

“My mom died in childbirth and my dad… just a… just a freak accident you know, no one’s fault or anything…”

Because werewolves only pose a danger to humans, companionship with animals whilst transformed has been known to make the experience more bearable as the werewolf has no-one to harm and will be less willing to harm themselves…

“You want to talk about forbidden, Jeon? Let’s talk about your illegal animagus status-”

The way one must imbibe it is very unique among potions, in that a goblet full of wolfsbane potion must be taken each day for a week preceding the full moon…

“…you know how long it takes me to make a full set of vials for you. I barely have enough to make it last 3 days…”

The monthly transformation of a werewolf is extremely painful if untreated and is usually preceded and succeeded by a few days of pallor and ill health…

“He was lowkey carrying her down the stairs… she looked kinda sick actually…”

Throwing scrolls behind him without care as he searches for the one with the final detail, he pulls his phone out when he finds it -- a book listing all of the recorded moon cycles for over a century. Jamming his thumb down on the icon that’ll take him to his search engine and typing with blind panic, he finds himself yanking out his headphones by the cord with one sharp tug when the answer flashes back at it him on the screen, and he realizes that almost all of the pieces are in place.

The quidditch match against Slytherin -- it was the night before a full moon.

“No, no… no, no, no, this can’t be right. This isn’t happening, this can’t be right, she can’t be--” Jimin remembers the text he’d sent to her almost 8 hours ago, sitting unanswered, and he moves without thinking. Slamming his hands down on either side of the moon cycle record, he flips frantically to the cycle for this current month, April of 1978. What he sees there has his heart dropping out of his chest.

“Next week? It’s next week? But that means she’d have to be feeling the effects of it this wee--” He’s cut off by the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches for it almost desperately. It’s Y/n, finally responding to his concerned texts with nothing more than a single line. His blood turns to ice when he reads it.

I’m fine, just feeling under the weather.

When Jimin bursts through the door of Dumbledore’s office just past 3am, the headmaster’s already seated at his desk, evidently waiting for him. He’s donning a light blue robe with a matching sleeping cap perched delicately on his head, suggesting to Jimin that he’d somehow woken up knowing he was soon to greet a guest. All of the panic invading Jimin’s body is masked just slightly by guilt, only now realizing how late it is and how intrusive he must seem in this moment.

“Mister Park, you certainly are out quite a bit past curfew, no?” Jimin stands in the doorway cradling all of the scrolls and books he’d been hoarding the last few weeks -- he can’t very well have left a huge pile of evidence back in the library. It would have taken no time at all for someone to look through it and see there were connections everywhere to lycanthropy, even if he himself had been blind to it for so long.

“... Park? Mister Park?” Jimin jumps, lifting his tired eyes to meet Dumbledore’s concerned ones. The man continues once he’s got Jimin’s attention. “Surely, you must need something from me, or you wouldn’t appear so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Jimin’s aware of the state he’s in -- the dark rings under his eyes, his ruffled clothes and hair, the way he’s holding his books like he needs to protect them with his life. He looks unhinged. He feels unhinged.

Realizing he has absolutely no idea how to approach the subject of a potential werewolf at Hogwarts with the school’s very headmaster, Jimin decides to start by moving toward the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

Maybe I just need to sit down and take a deep breath. That should help--

He doesn’t even make it two steps before one of the many books he’s holding crashes to the floor between them, falling open to the page he’d stuck a pencil in to save his spot. The moon cycle for April of 1978 stares back up at him, and when he flicks his gaze up to peer at Dumbledore, he sees the headmaster’s expression has hardened with caution.

“Professor--”

“Have a seat, Mister Park.” Jimin’s heart lodges in his throat at Dumbledore’s tone, never having heard such a sharp edge to the kind man’s voice. He moves to the chair, setting the obnoxious amount of research haphazardly in his lap. His eyes will only go so far as the top of Dumbledore’s desk, unable to bring himself to meet the man’s eyes.

“Sir, I… need to ask you something.” When he isn’t granted a response, he swallows hard, pushing forward. “If there were to be a student at Hogwarts with a… peculiarity of sorts… how would you go about dealing with that?”

“How would I deal with what, Mister Park?”

“That student.”

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean.” Jimin lifts his eyes then, confused, but he’s met with a deliberately ignorant smile.

“Sir?” Dumbledore’s smile, albeit strained, only widens.

“I think you may be suffering from a lack of sleep, Mister Park. There are no students at Hogwarts with any peculiarities, as you call it.” Jimin stares suspiciously up at him, knowing Dumbledore can tell that Jimin doesn’t for a second believe that claim. Breaking eye contact, he glances down at his lap, trying to figure out how to keep this conversation going. Trying to figure out why he’s even here.

Jimin looks down at himself and the pile of incriminating evidence, cursing his idiocy when he realizes just how bad this situation must look. A student out of bed way past curfew, barging into the headmaster’s office holding weeks of research and making outrageous claims about a potentially dangerous student. And he’s a Ravenclaw no less.

Shit. He probably thought I was some nosy little fucker trying to expose her and get her expelled.

Knowing that he’s risking a lot by being straightforward, he takes a single deep breath and meets Dumbledore’s eyes, his own filled with determination.

“Sir, I know about Y/n Y/l/n, and I know you do, too. I need to know how to take care of her. I need to know how to help her. I need you to tell me what to do because, to be honest with you, I’m freaking out.” The way Dumbledore’s examining him as he speaks tells Jimin that he’s right, but more importantly, it tells Jimin that Dumbledore hadn’t been expecting him to want to help.

“That is a very serious accusation you’re making, Mister Park, especially in this political climate. Very serious.” Jimin doesn’t waver when he responds.

“I know, sir. That’s why you’re the only one I’ve made it to. Because I need your help. Because I know you can help.” Dumbledore narrows his eyes, peering at Jimin over the tops of his half-moon spectacles.

“Have you considered the fact that just you knowing this information at all has placed Miss Y/l/n in more danger than she’s already in?” As soon as the words leave Dumbledore’s mouth, Jimin’s heart is stopping in his chest. All the times that Hoseok and Jungkook had told him to mind his business come rushing back, and he feels himself becoming sick to his stomach. Of course it’s more dangerous for her now that he knows -- he’d been too selfish to even think it through, too nosy for his own good. He had done all this to try to understand her, to try to be a better friend who can help when she needs it, but it’s all bullshit. Everything he thought he had done for her sake had actually been for his. For him and his stupid curiosity.

Lifting his head as a thought comes to mind, Jimin doesn’t even think twice before speaking.

“Can you erase my memories?” The headmaster’s eyebrows fly to his hairline, his expression becoming amused as Jimin continues rambling. “Can’t you obliviate me or something? Wouldn’t that be the best way for me to help her? Wait… but do you have to erase everything I know about her -- will I still know her? Can you make sure I still know her? I really like her! I don’t like Hoseok or Jungkook very much -- they kind of scare me -- but I like her! I don’t want to forget her, but also if me knowing that she’s a werewolf is only going to cause her more trouble, then I really think you should make me forget--” Dumbledore lifts his hand calmly, effectively silencing a frantic Jimin.

“Have you always had such a one-track mind, Mister Park?” Jimin smiles weakly, offering a half-joking response.

“It’s my only redeeming Ravenclaw quality…” Dumbledore chuckles before scratching at his forehead with a heavy sigh.

“Unfortunately -- and I do truly mean that -- I cannot erase a student’s memories. So, you and I will need to continue this difficult conversation.” Jimin considers the man’s words, knowing that it really would be better for everyone if he had his mind wiped clean and hating that he’d unknowingly put Y/n even more in harm’s way. He looks up when Dumbledore sighs again.

“Mister Park, you do understand that you are strictly forbidden from informing anyone else of this situation, yes?” When Jimin nods immediately, opening his mouth to assure the man that he wouldn’t say a word, Dumbledore only shakes his head. “No, Mister Park, I’m not sure you really understand. This situation is infinitely more complicated than you could ever imagine, so it is absolutely imperative that you keep this information to yourself.” Jimin blinks, unsure what’s meant by ‘infinitely more complicated’, but he nods again.

“I’ve put her in enough danger just by being here, Sir -- I’m not breathing a word of this to anyone.” Dumbledore examines him a moment longer, essentially staring into Jimin’s soul to gauge his trustworthiness. Eventually he nods, leaning back in his chair.

“What advice would you like me to give you, Mister Park?” Jimin stays silent, thinking hard about any way that he can make Y/n’s life easier, especially after all the trouble he’s caused up to now. His mind flashes back to the conversation he’d overheard in the library. He opens his mouth slowly, choosing his words with care.

“Sir… how does a student that isn’t even taking Potions know how to brew the wolfsbane potion? Isn’t it nearly impossible?” Jimin sees Dumbledore’s eyes flicker with recognition, and the headmaster responds cautiously.

“…If that student isn’t taking any kind of Potions course at all, they’d need to already be an expert from having dedicated all their studies to the art of potionmaking. They would also need an immense amount of private mentoring, even if they are taking Potions. We do not teach the wolfsbane potion in the curriculum. As I’m sure you can imagine, it wouldn’t fare well in these times…” Jimin squints, putting the pieces together quickly in his mind.

“And where would a student like that find this kind of… private mentoring?” The headmaster hums at Jimin’s question, peering down at him with knowing eyes.

“Well, Mister Park, if you wish to receive mentoring on much… safer forms of potionmaking, I’m sure Professor Slughorn would be happy to help you. However, if you are asking me about Mister Jung Hoseok of Slytherin House, and if you are wondering just how he became capable of caring for Miss Y/l/n at the young age of 13, well… you’re looking at his mentor.”

When Jimin leaves Dumbledore’s office almost an hour later, he feels like his head is going to explode. The nights of sleeplessness seem to also have come rushing back to him at once, and he’s not sure if he’s going to collapse first from the exhaustion or from the weight of everything he knows now. For a moment, he considers that maybe he really should ask someone to erase his memories -- Jungkook or Hoseok, perhaps.

Yeah, I’m sure they’d absolutely love to do me that favor.

Dragging his feet as he trudges down the corridor in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, Jimin stops short at a window when movement down by the Black Lake catches his eye. Almost as if thinking about them has caused them to materialize before him, Jimin watches the silhouette of Jung Hoseok stroll casually down by the shoreline, followed not long after by Jeon Jungkook racing toward him, a body perched precariously on his back. It’s not hard to see that Y/n’s clinging weakly to him as he runs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he keeps his hands hooked under her knees. Jimin can see that she’s got a gown on from the Hospital Wing, and it’s obvious that Jungkook and Hoseok have snuck her out from under Madam Pomfrey’s stern supervision.

They head for the Forbidden Forest, Y/n reaching back for Hoseok when Jungkook passes him. She beckons him forward, and Jimin watches as the three of them disappear together into the trees. He sighs deeply when he can no longer see them, muttering to himself under his breath as he makes his way to his room, overcome with extreme guilt at the entire situation.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, you fucking idiot.”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #park jimin #jimin x reader

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spencerreidsmiles · 3 years ago

Text

Skater Boy Spencer Reid

Written by: spencerreidsmiles

Howdy, howdy! I am very slowly going through my remaining requests. This request was for prompts 38, 41, and 47 on the fluff prompt list here. You’ll see them bolded throughout the story!

Also, a short side note that I have no idea how to skateboard at all! This is solely based off my intensive research (/s) on how to skateboard, so if this isn’t accurate, I’m sorry!

Summary - The reader teaches Spencer how to skateboard.

Content Warnings - blood, minor injury, light teasing

Word Count - 1737

MASTERLIST // WATTPAD VERSION

“Skateboarding? Of all things you could’ve chosen, skateboarding?”

“Oh come on, Spencer, you never know, you might be good at it,” you replied, yanking at his shirt sleeve.

Spencer glanced at you with a slightly withering glare. It was a look you were very familiar with; if there was one thing you enjoyed more than anything else in the world, it was teasing Spencer. It was just so easy to tease him, so why wouldn’t you?

But amidst all the teasing about the skateboarding, there was a part of you that knew Spencer Reid would make an excellent skater boy.

You leaned closer to Spencer, looking up with the biggest puppy eyes you could muster and a big pout.

“Remember when I saved your ass? You owe me, Spencer,” you said, emphasizing each word with a poke to his chest. “You said you would do whatever I wanted.”

Spencer glanced away with a pout. “Fine, whatever you like.”

“Hm, I knew you would say that.” You grinned with satisfaction and squeezed his cheeks. “I’ll see you at the skate park tomorrow! Don’t forget your knee pads!”

Spencer did not, in fact, forget his knee pads. (Not that forgetting things was something Spencer usually did.) And even though you had told him to bring his knee pads, you couldn’t help but laugh when you saw him walk - no, waddle - up in matching purple knee pads, elbow pads, and a helmet. He looked long and gangly and awkward in his gear with his usual converse and for once, a tee shirt and shorts. You hadn’t ever seen him in any of these clothes before but you had to admit, you definitely weren’t disliking it.

“You look really good. Color coordinated too,” you said with a big smile as you knocked the side of his helmet with your knuckles.

“You like it?” Spencer beamed. He did a little spin, the clasps of his helmet twirling around.

“It’s perfect for you. Honest.” You kicked up your spare board, catching the top. “But let’s get down to business. I’m going to make you a skater boy by the end of the day, Spencer Reid. That is a promise.”

You handed the board over to Spencer. It was old and scraped up from years of use and many, many wipeouts. When you’d first bought it years ago, it was red and shiny, but now the red had faded away, leaving only a wooden board with strips of red remaining. The wheels were still functional, if a bit wonky, but perfect for learning on.

For someone who claimed to have absolutely zero athletic ability, Spencer was quite good at skateboarding. Well, to be fair, he hadn’t actually started skateboarding for real yet. You started him off by placing a single foot onto the board with the other still fully intact with the ground, but it was a start. He got a feel for what it felt like to bend his knees and push his weight around to move the board. But now he had to put both feet on the board and actually skateboard.

“Y/N, look! I’m doing it!” Spencer said as he hopped around on one leg while scooting with his other on the board.

You couldn’t help but smile. The childlike glee Spencer was exuding could make anyone smile. He carted himself around the perimeter of the skate park as you trailed behind him, keeping a careful eye on him.

“Alright, Spencer. Well here comes the hard part. Give me your hands, you’re going to put both feet on the board now.”

Instantly, Spencer’s smile was replaced with a worried expression. He put his foot down on the ground and paused in front of you.

“What?” he asked. You brushed aside some of Spencer’s hair that had escaped his helmet, accidentally brushing his cheek as well. Shivers tickled your spine and unfamiliar goosebumps covered your body.

“Hey, I got you. Trust me, okay?” you said.

“Okay.” Spencer nodded and placed his hands in yours.

“Now push off with your right foot, then put it back on the board, and I’ll pull you, got it?” you directed.

With a silent gulp, Spencer did as you said. He bent his knees and pushed off with his right foot before placing it back on his board. You started walking backwards and pulled Spencer forward. Slowly, you started walking back faster and faster until you had started to jog.

“Spencer, you’re doing it! You’re doing it!” you exclaimed.

Without saying another word, you let go of Spencer’s hands. And for a minute, he was actually doing it, actually skating around with both feet firmly planted onto the board and arms spread out like wings. You were so busy admiring him you didn’t even notice that he had begun to lose balance and wobble.

“Y/N! How do I stop!” he shouted, reaching his hands out for you.

“Oh shoot! Hold on!”

You started running back towards him, but you were too late. Spencer had already leaned too far ahead. He started making circles with his hands, flapping around in an attempt to keep his balance. Just as you grabbed his hands, the board kicked out from under him and both of you fell flat onto the asphalt.

You had your eyes closed while you were falling, so when you opened them to find Spencer’s face only a couple inches above yours and his body on top of yours, you nearly screamed. You had never been this close to Spencer in your entire life. Surely if he was this close, he could hear your heart beating out of your chest, no? You were breathless but you weren’t quite sure if it was because you were being squished by Spencer or because of how close you were to him.

Spencer, however, was completely frozen. His hands were placed right beside your head and he was staring, just staring, straight at you. His caramel curls hovered right above your face, blowing gently from the wind.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“I’ll be honest, you are crushing me right now.”

“Oh, sorry!” Spencer rolled off of you, landing on his butt, cross-legged on the ground. You wriggled yourself up and watched as Spencer dusted himself off.

When you finally made eye contact, you couldn’t help but start laughing. You were just replaying the image of Spencer slipping over and over again. It was incredible.

“That was the most ridiculous fall I’ve ever seen, Spencer, my god.”

You leaned back, holding your stomach as you laughed. Just before you fell over completely again, Spencer caught your hand. From that single touch, electricity shot from your fingertips into the rest of your body. The sensation nearly scared you for how good it felt, how alive it made you feel. Touching Spencer felt like you were skating without even getting on a board. You never wanted to let go.

But Spencer did. He pulled back, forehead scrunching as he winced.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. But then you saw it, his poor hands all torn up from the fall. They were rubbed raw with speckles of red dotting his palms. “Oh my gosh, Spencer, your hands!”

“I’m fine,” he said. He looked at his own palms, flexing it, moving it around.

“No, come here, at least let me clean it,” you said as you stood up. “Come on, I have a first aid kit in my bag.”

You led Spencer to a bench with all of your things. As you cleaned his palms, wiping them with antiseptic wipes and bandaging them, you could feel Spencer’s eyes watching you.

After years of working for the FBI, going on case after case for years, Spencer’s hands were rough and calloused. There were scars, too many for you or him to remember where and when they came from now, blending in with the creases of his hands. But still, they were comforting, familiar.

“One more try, okay? I believe in you. No more wipeouts.” You finished bandaging his hands with a gentle pat. Spencer pretended to pout, giving you a half-meaning glare.

“Oh come on, you’re okay. Do you need a kiss to make it better?” you teased.

“What?” Spencer’s face flushed.

“I’m kidding.” You pushed his shoulder lightly all whilst thinking that for the first time (or at least the first time you had truly acknowledged it) you weren’t really joking at all. “Now come on, one more try.”

Spencer was more hesitant this time, but he reached for your hands again. He placed one foot on the board, already beginning to wobble. Come on, Spencer, you can do it, you thought to yourself. He glanced at you as he took a deep breath.

And he did. Spencer soared around the whole park. He was like a natural as he swerved around with outstretched arms. The sound of the wheels sliding against the pavement surrounded you as Spencer removed his back foot from the board and stopped without flying off the board right in front of you.

“You did it, Spencer!” You ran up to Spencer and enveloped him in a massive hug.

Spencer returned your hug, throwing his arms around you tightly. His knee pads knocked against your legs as he pulled you closer to him. He smelt of coffee and baby powder under the sweat and dirt and twinge of blood that lingered in the air. As you stayed there wrapped up in his arms, you wondered if it was possible to stay here forever in the comfort you never knew was so close.

The two of you finally decided to leave when the sun started to beat down on your backs. While Spencer was prepared for almost everything, apparently the two things he hadn’t thought about were guard gloves and sunscreen. Spencer grabbed the board, resting it comfortably under his arm.

As you went to get your bag, Spencer tapped your shoulder and spoke. “So uh, can we do this again next week?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I would love that, Spencer. And who knows, you might be better than me soon.”

Spencer looked down with a growing smile on his face.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” you said, fearlessly grabbing Spencer’s hand.

You walked away with satisfaction, thinking to yourself only one thing; you were right, Spencer Reid did make an excellent skater boy.

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#spencer reid #reid x reader #spencer reid x reader #reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds self insert #spencerreidsmiles

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