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creatingnikki · 4 years ago

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What 2020 has taught me

1. Those things that seem like content for sci fi or pure fiction are actually things that can happen. To the entire world. Like a pandemic. And to you. Like a seizure.

2. Everyone is sad. Everyone is struggling. In different ways and in different measures. Makes no one special. But you still get to feel sad for yourself and be compassionate towards others. But it's also okay to draw boundaries because you're everyone too. Remember, not special? You're sad and trying to deal with it too.

3. Every job you have will not add value to your life. It will not teach you new things or give you people you'll want to stay in touch with. Sometimes some jobs will only be a season of your life. Even if the season lasts for over a year. It's okay.

4. You know how you thought picking a college and picking a major and picking your first job and picking a specific industry were all the career decisions you had to make? Yeah, no. It's never a one time thing. You could have a job as a marketing strategist for two years and then want nothing to do with it. And then you'll have to make another decision and work towards it. So I'd like to call it moves. It's like chess. You always have to make a move. And it always has to be strategic, yes. But the truth is in your 20s it probably won't. Even if you try. And as long as you're trying, you'll be fine.

5. You may have different sorts of friends like the one you only talk to about kdrama with or the one you met when you went book shopping alone and the friendship is all about books really. That's normal. But irrespective of why and how you became friends with them, if you consider them a friend then there has to be this basic sense of care, respect and empathy for each other. I don't care what people want to say. If you're faced with the worst trauma of your life, the least your friends can do is check up on you regularly. On text. And if they don't even do that then guess what? They aren't friends. They are acquaintances. Social media and quick promises make everyone seem like your friend. But they are not. They are just nice people who will be nice to you for specific periods and then wander away like you are a speck of dust floating in their journey.

6. You speak a lot and write and you express yourself and you’re emotionally mature but oh my god. You still hold in so much. You’ve known that at a subconscious level and over the last year people - experts - have told you that. You have also realized that you make your pain and sadness about pettier things because dealing with them, admitting about them, sharing that with your friends, is easier. You do that so that you don’t have to deal with the real stuff. Because it’s so damn painful. And you don’t know how to do it. Yet. Acknowledging is the first step anyway right? I know you’re confused about how exactly to let go of all this pain and sadness and feel lighter, and you know that talking to people really isn’t the solution, but I also know you’re smart enough to figure it out.

7. Talking about being smart...you know you’re different than others. Better. Special. Smarter. None of these are the right words. And you never voiced this out until this year because you knew it would make you come across as narcissistic. Some would say it’s because you’re an INFJ. But my mother once said that this may be the first time we are consciously living life but our souls are old and so our instinct and the things we know but can’t explain are because this isn’t the first time for our souls. The connections we feel with certain people, the reason we are so different from our siblings who grew up in the exact same environment with the exact same opportunities, our sense of right and wrong...it’s all because our souls learn and grow with each time and that’s why we are who we are. I think that’s probably how I can explain what I have always felt. That I am living in a different universe than everybody but I have to pretend to be in this one and dumb my emotions and thoughts down. Maybe that’s because my soul has lived through thousands of years while most around me are living their 100th life. Or maybe I’m just narcissistic, who knows?

8. You shift between talking in first person and second person but that’s because that’s how you think in your head and talk to yourself and live your life. You ask yourself things and you accuse yourself of things and you apologize to yourself and you comfort yourself. I think that seeps into your writing and the changing of the voices.

9. You always genuinely thought that you’d not be afraid of dying. And then what happened this October proved you shockingly wrong. I know it’s not so much being afraid of dying but the unbearable pain of knowing what that would mean to your family. So you have to be more prudent and less reckless with your life and the choices you make.

10. Regret is not something that plagued you but this year the realisation and pain of giving away your favourite books from your own personal collection to people you care about as a show of affection and them turning out to be ass holes or losers has hit you so hard. So, yes. No more of that shit. I really fucking want my copy of The Perks Of Being A Wallflower back. UGH. With the childhood picture of me inside it!

11. Sleeping at 5 am in the morning stops being fun or romanticised when you realise just how much harm it does to your body and mind. Literally every single disease and disorder can be traced back to a shitty fucking sleep schedule. It’s not just the hours you sleep but also the quality of sleep and the time you sleep at. So yes sleeping for 8 hours is healthy but not if that 8 hours is from 5 am to 12 pm. ‘Not a morning person’ is just another construct of capitalism and you don’t realise how many industries profit from having you believe that and staying up late or all night. Entertainment. Food. Alcohol. Pharma. Biologically and naturally you are a bloody morning person. And you don’t need 3 cups of coffee to begin your day or your phone notifications to get you to open your eyes and brain to wake up.

12. Sometimes you really have to stop taking people so seriously. I know the idea of treating people as casual friends or entertainment makes you want to fight that concept but you know what? Some people like Pineapple are ever only going to be good for that. No matter how much they ‘grow and change’. So keep them in the background for whenever you want some entertainment or drama. But please don’t clear up your busy schedule to meet them or send them gifts on their birthday.

13. If you don’t have the fruit juice or green juice within half an hour of making it then you are losing out on its most optimum health benefits. Or when you remove the white stringy stuff from oranges. That’s where all the actual nutrients are.

14. I am privileged and so are most of the people I interact with. The global pandemic has been hell for a lot of people around the world. Health wise. Financially. Losing people they care about. But I was blessed enough to be safe at home and have a job that I could smoothly do from home and not have a pay cut or 4-hour long Zoom meetings. So honestly when my friends tell me 2020 has been bad I have to stop and ask them why? Yes, the crippling uncertainty and anxiety is not something that can be undermined. But most people I know had very great positive life-changing milestones this year like moving away to another country for college or taking their first solo trip or getting married. So I have to ask them. Because I am not going to agree that everybody’s 2020 and pandemic narrative is the same.

15. Money gets spent really quickly. When I left my job earlier this year because of personal issues, I thought I had enough savings to last me a year. Full disclosure - I mean to last my personal expenses because I live with my parents. But it didn’t even last me 3 months. And so to use money wisely and buy things that provide utility than instant gratification is something to follow. Also buying one pair of really expensive but quality shoes is better than buying 5 pairs of affordable but low quality shoes that will have a very short life and force you to buy more. I know that higher price doesn’t always mean better quality but sometimes it does. And as an adult now I want to do the whole quality > quantity thing even with things and not just people.

16. Everyone in their 20s went through a crisis of what they should do with their lives and their careers and it’s not unique to the 21st century and the challenges of today. Whether it was Vincent Van Gogh in the 19th century or Sylvia Plath in the 20th, every single person, as brilliant as them went through the torture of making these decisions and living with their consequences. You may think I picked wrong examples for they both killed themselves but you know what? They were the people who really want to live more than anyone. They knew what life meant. And maybe if mental health help was more accessible back then their lives would be longer and more peaceful.

17. Telling people everything is overrated. You don’t have to talk about every single thing that’s on your mind or that’s going on in your life. The good and the bad and the mediocre. You have to be mindful about how much of yourself you’re giving away.

18. Re-watch Suits when people at work feel intimidating because the confidence + negotiation tactics that they show can actually work irl cos at the end of the day no matter in what position you’re dealing with people who have emotions and fears and insecurities and desires. You understand how to leverage that nobody can get the better of you.

19. You belong to yourself. No matter how much you love someone or how much they have done for you or how much you owe them - you belong to yourself. You can’t live your life for someone else. Everyone belongs to themselves first. No relationship, no promise, no circumstance should make you feel like you have to give up your life and make it all about them. If and when the time comes to die for them, go ahead. Take a bullet. Donate that kidney. Write them in your will. But live your life for yourself. And let them live theirs.

20. Twenty three was a challenging year. When it started you claimed the age 23 sounds boring and insignificant. Guess it proved you wrong. It hurt so much now. But that only means you’ll look back on it later and see how it added so much wisdom and resilience to your being. It doesn’t mean that it makes all the bad things that happened to you okay. Or that you should be grateful to them. Fuck no. It means that you should be kinder to yourself because at the end of the day, your mind and body find it in themselves to deal with whatever is thrown their way. They have your back. It’s time you learn to sit straight.

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bitchassbucky · 4 years ago

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Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, gaslighting and manipulation, abduction, injuries were mentioned, stalking, dark!bucky x dark!reader, emotionally/mentally unstable!reader, dismemberment (not gore-y but still), three very special character mentions, shady corporate stuff, career sabotage?, food mention, sedation/drugging, f-words.

A/N: oh my god, this is the final chapter of CTRL. to all who read from the start, thank y'all so fucking much - from the bottom of my big-ass heart, thank you so much for coming along with this journey. this is my first FINISHED series, oh my god. to @babyboibucky (CTRL's number one fan), @sarge-barnes-sir, and @borikenlove thank you so much for indulging my inner degenerate GHJSDFG and for screaming (affectionately) at me when i first let y'all read the finished draft.

BUT THIS IS NOT THE END (just yet), i will be uploading TWO epilogues very soon: the explicit version and the not-so-explicit version. stay tuned!

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

epilogue:

.eps (explicit)

.eps (cut)

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Your demeanor, character, even tone, changed.

Calculated, cold, unnerving.

But you sat there like a housewife in front of her husband, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Acting all dandy like there isn’t a man strapped onto the chair four feet away from you.

“C’mon, darling, eat! I made your favorite,” your eyes twinkled as Bucky helplessly tugged on his restraints, “oh, sorry, you’re tied up.”

Hm, sick in the head, bad for the heart.

“What do you want?” Oh, wow, even talking hurts for him. His throat is all dried up, he tasted something bitter under his tongue.

You chuckled, moving half a meatball around your mostly empty plate, “for you to stop treating me like I’m stupid.” You spear the meat with your fork, swirling it in the sauce, “I know you’ve been… checking in on me, Bucky.”

Oh, fuck.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was-- I mean, look at you--” He’s making it worse. You’re mad. You’re angry because he was being a good friend.

He only did that because you were lonely and he’s right: you are lonely.

So lonely that you’re willing to kidnap a grown man to keep you company, “I’m so sad for you.”

“You’re aware you’re the one’s been tied up, right?” You’re curt as you should be, scooting over near Bucky to feed him.

“I can’t eat that—” If he wasn’t sitting down and tied, Bucky would’ve vaulted over you and called the neighbors, she’s fucking crazy!

You giggled, rolling your eyes as if he had the freedom to make a choice right now, “if you’re thinking of screaming… More than half of my neighbors are felons or on parole, I doubt that they’ll call 911.”

Jutting forward the fork, you let the prongs gently touch Bucky’s lips, “now, eat! We have so much to talk about.”

“No. I don’t-- I’m not hungry.” He shakes his head, the fork hitting his chin and clanking down the floor.

“Just eat the fucking food, Steve!”

Bucky flinched at your sudden outburst. The words—the name—seeping in a moment later. Steve? Who the hell is Steve? Was he your husband? Boyfriend? His head throbbed again, his mouth filling with saliva like he’s about to throw up.

You kneel down, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe the meat and the sauce from the floor.

“This better not stain.”

—

He promised thrice.

Once over pasta and meatballs, once over dessert, and once when you were clearing the table.

You relented, of course. Half because you love him and half because it’s getting annoying.

“As long as you don’t leave me, okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

Bucky’s still seating on the dinner chair, slightly slumped without the ropes holding him up, “look, I’m really sorry about the anesthetic, I went overboard with it.” You look over to him—at least he’s regaining his fingers and arms again.

“It’s okay, babe, I wouldn’t trust me either.” If he could stand up, he’d go over and hug you. Helping with the dishes, peppering you with sweet kisses.

A genuine laugh slips out of your lips, “ugh, still… I’m really sorry.”

The last of the plates were neatly stacked, cups and cutleries were placed gently on a drying rack. It was getting late, you could tell.

“I’m not mad, by the way.” You muse, prompting Bucky to lean forward, listening to you.

“What do you mean?” He takes your hand into his, ever so gently.

“You did that,” you squeeze his hand back, gazing into his soulful eyes, “because you love me.”

Did you know that some people could read microexpressions well? Bucky went through a whole lot of them before answering, “of course, I do.”

Contemplating whether you call him out on it or not, you hum, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, “it’s okay, you’ll learn how to love me.”

He has to. He has no other choice.

Bucky clears his throat, “have you seen my phone?” His tone was hopeful, upbeat, maybe he can reach out to someone, anyone, before you can do any more damage.

“Yeah, ‘s on the couch.”

He tried to move, he really did. Bucky’s fairly strong, he can bench an easy 140 on a good day. But even the beefiest motherfuckers have no match for Propofol.

“Don’t worry about your friends, they’re not worried about you, Buck.” The coolness of your tone sends Bucky into a panic—again. “D’you wanna check your messages though? There’s a lot of ‘em.”

Grabbing his phone, you asked Siri to read him his latest notifications.

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

From Joaquin: Where are you, man?

From John W.: Do you have copies?

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

Urgent: Gross Misconduct

From Joaquin: Bucky, what the fuck?

From Samuel Wilson: Pick up the phone, Barnes. You’re fired.

17 missed calls from an unknown number

From John W.: I knew you were a freak but holy shit, dude!

72 text messages from an unknown number

Bucky never really liked horror movies. It made him jumpy and anxious. Too paranoid, even. But now? Now he’s sure that people have never experienced sheer fright before.

His toes cramped inside his boots, his feet were cold, sweating. The little hairs on his legs stood up, goosebumps littering the entirety of his body. If he held his breath, he’s sure he could hear his heart hammering out of his chest. The blood rushes past his ears and onto the base of his skull—he’s gonna be sick.

“What,” he gulped back the saliva pooling in his mouth, “what did you do?”

You’re irritatingly calm, “well, I mean… We’re already together, what do you need those for, right?”

Putting a warm hand over his forehead, you cooed, “poor thing, you look sick.”

—

Bucky thinks it’s well past midnight when the anesthetic wore off.

His limbs were heavy, he had to lean on the wall every couple of steps to regain his balance. Helpless. He’s helpless and you both know it. As if it’s a bear trap, Bucky carefully took his phone from the coffee table.

Why would you leave it unattended?

The screen lights up as soon as he picked up, his lock screen littered with ‘fuck yous’, ‘sicko’, and his personal favorite, ‘motherfucker.’

Ignoring the glaring messages, he went straight for the emergency dialler and—you took out his SIM card, snapping it into two neat pieces, placing it beside the phone.

Bitch.

The golden surface of the card was scratched too, he can’t do anything, use it as a toothpick, maybe? His phone was just as good as a paperweight.

He looks out of the window, limping towards it. Even if he could climb over, it would take him forever to get onto the street. Your neighbors would probably think that he’s just on a bad trip.

“It’s bolted shut. Perks of living alone as a single female.” Your voice made him flinch back, like a kid whose hand was halfway down the cookie jar.

Bucky plays it off with a cough, he can’t be weak now, “no, babe, I was checking out a noise. You ready for bed?”

You smiled softly, taking his hand and draping his arm on your shoulders as you prop him against you, “almost, big guy. Gotta get you settled in bed first. Are you tired?”

Nodding, Bucky kisses your temple, “yeah.” He just needs to play with your sick little games until he regains his strength.

Where would he go? His reputation and his job are besmirched, his apartment is probably crawling with forensics too.

“You fell down and banged your head earlier. Nasty cut on your head too. I told you to not tire yourself much.”

You hit and drugged me but I digress, “Yes, darling. ‘M sorry.”

“You scared me, Buck. I thought you were dead.” Are these tears forming in your eyes?

“I’m not leaving you, not by any chance. I promise.”

He promises a fourth time.

—

Your bedroom was bigger than he thought. But of course, he only saw your desk and your bed through the webcam.

Save from the Ted Bundy-esque corkboard you have in front of your workspace, he feels weirdly at home. You tucked him in, reminding him to wake up every two hours for the painkillers.

“You’re not going to bed?” He muses from behind you, all cocooned in your blankets.

“Just need to take this phone call real quick, babe.” Your back was turned from him as you work on your company laptop. He noticed that the webcam is covered with white tape.

The sound of an incoming call filled the room before you quickly answer it, your voice turning hoarse and raspy as if you’ve been crying.

Hi, Mr. Wilson. I’m so sorry for the late call. Do I- do I need to come in tomorrow? I just... I don’t feel comfortable facing everyone—I used all my home hours this week and—

Miss L/N, I’m glad you reached out to me. Is it okay if I record this call for security purposes? It’s just for you, me, and the HR department.

You turned to Bucky, your face is stone-cold but your voice belonged to someone so utterly helpless.

No, you don’t have to call into work tomorrow… Or any other day.

A dainty gasp and a fucking sob comes out of your mouth, your eyes were telling a different story.

Am I fired?

God, no. Please, Miss L/N, don’t worry about that. We want you with us through this entire debacle. We want you to take some time off—paid. We’ll also grant you… a grievance package.

You could almost hear what he would say next.

As long as you don’t talk to any members of the press or any journalists until our friends in the PR department can clean this up.

A triumphant smile creeps on your bare features, putting a finger in front of your lips, you mimic a ‘shh’ gesture to Bucky.

You round up another mirthless sob as the CEO drones on about the bureaucracy of this whole thing.

He was really nice to me, you know? He took me out on dinners and lunches. He even brought me to his place and I– nothing happened but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I’m really sorry, Miss L/N. I thought he was…

A good guy? I really thought so too.

Please stay offline for a bit, just for the weekend, alright? Someone from the HR department will be in touch with you for the process. We don’t wanna be a hassle more than what Barnes is. On our behalf, please accept our deepest apologies.

Jesus, this guy had the PR department cook up an apology letter.

Thank you—thank you so much, Mr. Wilson. I’ll keep in touch.

You burst out in laughter a second after the call ended. Hearty laughter, the one where you can feel your belly tightening.

“Did you hear how good I was, baby? Oh my god, we had them fooled.”

We? Fuck your ‘we.’

You slide over the covers, propping up yourself with your elbow as you turn to face Bucky, “don’t worry, you don’t need them anymore. You have me, yeah? We have each other.”

—

Out of the most bizarre things that happened to him last week, finding dismembered fingers in the fridge was the least of his concerns.

“Honey!” Bucky calls out, holding the ziplock bag with a pair of tongs.

You bound down the stairs, your laptop in hand as you squint, “what am I looking at?”

Bucky hesitated, maybe he’s going insane too, “fingers. Dismembered fingers—are these yours?”

Setting down the laptop onto the table, you peck him on the cheek, smiling as if him holding a baggie with human remains is just your Sunday normal, “god, I hope not. I need my hands to do things.”

As soon as you look back at him, you dropped the facade: “those are Steve’s. Well, used to be.”

Bucky’s afraid to ask the question where’s the rest of him?

“You know the term pinky promise, right? Well, it has a dark origin.”

Just as fast as a bustling train, Bucky rakes his brain for all the times he promised you something. Hoping that he won’t end up with a stump for a hand.

One vividly bright memory is seared into his brain though, the days blurred together with sharp edges and mismatched colors: we love how we were taught to love.

So, who taught you how to love like this?

#bitchassbucky writes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader smut #dark!bucky x reader fluff #dark!bucky x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader angst #dark!bucky barnes x reader fluff

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years ago

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I Carry Your Heart With Me (Part One)

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Summary: Spencer and the reader are reunited for the first time in fifteen years.

A/N: Very excited to get the ball rolling on this one. I hope you all enjoy it! Message me if you would like to be added to the taglist.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 4.5k

“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” Damien mutters from the passenger seat, his icy blue eyes wide with fright. He pulls his gaze away just long enough to point at a lone cow grazing to the left of the road. “Look! That cow is just like… standing there. No fence around him or anything. What’s stopping him from stampeding into us the second we get out of this car?”

Damien sounds so genuinely horrified that you almost feel bad for laughing. Almost.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Dee. Besides, that cow didn’t even look up when we drove past. We’re not even on its radar.”

“Oh, yeah? Ever heard of a little thing called mad cow disease?” Damien persists, in typical dramatic flair. You roll your eyes at him and he curses underneath his breath. “You know, when I agreed to go with you to this wedding, I pictured something more akin to a five-star resort with a minibar and a heated pool. Not rogue livestock and shitty cellphone reception.”

“You didn’t agree to anything – you practically begged me to take you with me.”

Damien waves his hand, dismissive, his eyes still roaming over the pasture. “Because I wanted an excuse to take a week off work. This is not the controlled environment I expected.”

“If you don’t quit complaining, I won’t hesitate to push you out of the car and leave you here with the cow,” you retort. In your periphery you’re able to make out Damien raising his middle finger to you. Rude.

You chuckle and fix your attention back on the dirt road. You’re driving almost painfully slowly, because the very idea of having to pay extra for damages to this already astronomically expensive rental car makes you feel nauseated. Despite your efforts, the car is covered entirely in dust. Its once pristine, white paint job has transformed into a muddy color.

There goes my deposit.

You shake your head at the thought. You had more pressing matters to concern yourself with; i.e., the fact that you were approximately five minutes away from coming face to face with the one person you swore you’d never speak to again. Two months seemed like ample time to prepare yourself in theory, but now that it is no longer some far-off thing, you know that your attempts at preparing yourself were in vain. With each day you crossed off the calendar leading to your departure date, your anxiety grew and grew until you worried your poor heart would give out under the stress. Getting onto the plane bound for Montana felt like the proverbial nail in the coffin, and a hefty dose of Dramamine was the only thing that kept you from spiraling as the plane ascended into the air. You slept through the entirety of the trip and, much to Damien’s chagrin, there is a sizeable puddle of drool on his left shoulder to prove it.

The lengthy nap helped. The tight band constricting your chest had loosened, and you pulled out onto the highway feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. You had Damien by your side and five vacation days to enjoy. Your best friend was getting married to the love of her life, and you were hellbent on standing by her side through it all. Spencer Reid can kiss your ass, as far as you are concerned. No way is he going to ruin this for you.

You are still very much clinging your take-no-shit mentality when you breach a hill and the ranch comes into view, effectively expelling every single positive thought from your head. Aforementioned anxiety reappears in full-force and you stomp down on the breaks.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can do this,” you squeak out, casting a look at Damien, whose eyes are trained on the sprawling expanse of the house ahead of you. “We can still turn around – no, we should turn around. There is no version of this that won’t end in me getting embarrassingly drunk and crying in front of everyone. I’m turning around.”

Damien’s hand on yours, strong and steady, is the only thing that keeps you from whipping the car around and retreating with your tail between your legs. His fingers pry your white knuckled grip off of the wheel slowly, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles across your skin. Its sweet and so overwhelmingly gentle that you’re a bit stunned. You glance at him in a silent question, as if to ask who are you, and what have you done with my friend?

He gets the message loud and clear, because of course he does. Damien fixes you with a smile, grip tightening on your hand.

“I’ve seen you hold your own against some of the biggest names in journalism on an almost daily basis – looking damn sexy while you do it, might I add,” Damien chuckles, and you can’t help but give a weak laugh of your own. Damien’s smile grows at this, and he continues, “If you can handle your business against those conniving pricks, I’ve no doubt that you can tough it out for this. You’re not the type of woman that lets some guy dictate what she does or doesn’t do. And you sure as hell aren’t the type of woman that would let some guy rob her of the opportunity to stand by her best friend on the most important day of her life. As the person who probably knows you better than anyone else on the planet, my opinion of you is pretty rock-solid, if I do say so myself. So, unless I’ve completely overestimated the extent of your badassery, I suggest you rethink that plan. What do you say?”

You avert your eyes and swallow against the lump in your throat.

“Spencer’s not just some guy. For a long time, I was convinced that he was the guy,” you whisper. The car is silent, save for the quiet crooning voice of George Michael flowing through the speakers. Damien squeezes your hand, prompting you to continue. You blink up at him with wet lashes, lips pulled into a sad smile. “Have you ever been in love?”

Damien shakes his head and rubs his thumb along the top of your hand. “I can’t say that I have, babe. Haven’t been that lucky.”

You let out a shaky breath and bring your other hand up to wipe at your eyes.

“Maybe you’re better off. I’ve only been in love once,” you gesture to your pitiful appearance and choke out a wet laugh. “Look where that got me. He fucking crushed me, and fifteen years later I’m still broken up about it. It’s pathetic.”

Damien frowns and shifts in his seat so that he’s fully facing you.

“I don’t want to hear you say that self-deprecating shit again. You were hurt by someone you gave your heart to, and I can only imagine how devastating that must feel. Being upset about seeing him again does not make you pathetic. The fact that you’re here, about to spend a week with the guy just so you can be there for Cassidy, is pretty damn admirable as far as I’m concerned.” Damien ends his monologue by pulling you into a tight hug, and you couldn’t be more thankful that he’d come with you. Not only was he a secret sweetheart, he also gave the very best hugs.

By the time he releases you, the tension in your chest has eased significantly. You nod once, and Damien’s rewards you with a smile.

“I am pretty cool, aren’t I?”

Damien snorts rather unattractively and rolls his eyes.

“I take back everything. You suck, and I don’t know why I bother with you, you narcissist.”

Now that the mood has lifted significantly, you reluctantly press your foot against the gas pedal.

“Too late. No takesies backsies,” you singsong. “You think I’m sexy and badass, and I’m never going to let you forget it.”

Damien mutters something undoubtably snarky underneath his breath, but it’s drowned out by the sound of gravel crunching underneath the tires. That, and the sound of your blood roaring in your ears as you inch further down the driveway.

The house, a beautiful log cabin with stone accents along the underside, is massive. Standing at two stories tall with a large wraparound porch and more than a dozen large windows, it’s a far cry from the modest little cabin in the mountains that Cassidy had made it out to be. Even Damien is slack jawed at the sight of it, sitting pretty against a back drop of rolling mountains, and you can’t help but feel a little smug.

“Still want to complain about that five-star resort?”

Damien shakes his head dazedly, “I retract my earlier complaint.”

All too soon, you roll to a stop and put the car in park. Several other cars are parked haphazardly in the grass around you, and that annoying voice inside your head wonders which one belongs to Spencer. It’s not that you care – you totally don’t – it’s just that you are kind of hoping that he hasn’t arrived yet. A few hours to acclimate to the environment before having to deal with him would be nice.

“You’ve got this, babe,” Damien murmurs. “And I’ll be with you the whole time, just in case you need a reminder.”

You flash Damien a nervous smile.

“You’re a really good friend, Dee. I’m really glad that you’re here,” you say, before narrowing your eyes at him. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

Damien snorts and pushes open the door.

“Get your sassy ass out of the car. I’m ready to mingle.”

As soon as you set foot on the porch, the front door flies open and a flash of curly red hair precedes a collision that nearly sends you flying back into the railing. Ecstatic squeals rip through the otherwise serene evening air and two boney arms envelop you into a tight hug.

“I cannot believe you’re actually here,” Cassidy laughs as she squeezes you tight. Her enthusiasm has you joining in, the two of you laughing happily and pulling back to examine one another. Cassidy places a sloppy kiss to both of your cheeks before throwing an arm over your shoulder. “I fully expected you to just blow off the whole thing, if I’m being honest.”

You cast at Damien, who’s watching on with an amused grin on his face.

“Believe me, she tried.”

Cassidy turns her attention to Damien and extends her free hand.

“I take it you’re the infamous Damien that I’ve been trading emails with?”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, “Wait, what? The two of you have been emailing?”

Damien accepts Cassidy’s hand and gives it a firm shake, all while smiling smugly.

“Yep. Me and Ms. Cassidy go way back.”

“I mean, that’s cool, I guess, but why?”

Cassidy and Damien share a look, both of them shrugging.

“Mainly to talk about you,” Cassidy admits, not even bothering to look apologetic. When you frown up at her she waves her hand dismissively at you. “All good things, I promise. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Cassidy punctuates her words with a patronizing pat on your shoulder.

“I knew letting you two meet was a bad idea,” you grumble.

Cassidy simply drops her arms from its place on your shoulder in favor of tugging on your hand.

“Come on, sour puss. I want you to meet my husband. He’s a real sweetie – you’re gonna love him.”

A flash of white-hot panic shoots down your spine and you dig your heels into the floor.

“Wait,” you squeak out, eyes wide. “Is… Is he here yet?”

Cassidy’s eyes shine mischievously, briefly flitting up to Damien before returning to you.

“He is. And you’ll be happy to know that pictures do not do the Good Doctor any justice.”

Salt, meet wound.

“Don’t know why you’re telling me that,” you mutter.

“Denial is not just a river in Egypt, my friend,” Cassidy singsongs as she begins tugging you forward. For someone so tiny, she makes easy work of forcing you through the threshold.

The foyer is just as impressive as you expect it to be – beautiful cedar walls and a grand staircase that leads to the second floor. If you weren’t horribly on edge at the current moment, you would definitely comment on the fact that the foyer alone is probably larger than your entire apartment, but you’re too busy scanning the immediate area for tall skinny white guys with stupidly curly brown hair to comment on the grandiosity.

Cassidy leads the two of you to double doors to the right, and just as she’s about to push them open, the shrill ring of your cellphone offers you an out.

You slip your hand from Cassidy’s grip and give her a faux apologetic look.

“I should probably take this – it might be work.”

Damien narrows his eyes at you. “I thought you left your work phone at home.”

You ignore him and begin taking a few steps backwards, “Is there somewhere private I can go?”

An indiscernible look flashes across Cassidy’s face and then her lips pull up into a sugary sweet smile. “Follow the hallway to the very end. Leads to the back porch,” she says. “No need to rush. Take all the time you need!”

Okay, weird, you think to yourself, but the idea of putting off the inevitable for a few extra moments is too tempting to pass up, so you continue your retreat. You make it to the back door in record time and let out a relieved breath as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hi, mom.”

“Hi, baby. I was just calling to make sure the two of you got there safely.”

You push open the back door and the breathtaking view of the ranch prompts you to take pause; sprawling fields and rolling hills as far as the eye can see, grazing livestock congregating near a lazy stream at the far end of the property, and several horses running across the expanse of the left field. It was wonderfully serene and vastly different from the bustling rat-race that was New York.

You smile to yourself when a loud moo rips through the otherwise quiet ranch. I could get used to this.

“Yeah, we made it,” you murmur into the receiver. “You would love this place, Mom. It’s probably the prettiest place I’ve ever been. I’ll send you a picture when I hang up.”

“How’s Cassidy? Still a little spit-fire, I assume?”

You lean against the railing and let out a snort, “Oh, absolutely. Don’t think that’ll ever change.”

“I’d hope not,” your mother hums. “How does Damien like the ranch?”

“He’s not exactly a fan of the livestock,” you chuckle. “Damien’s never even seen a real cow before. City boy through and through, that one.”

You and your mother share a laugh that dissolves into a comfortable silence. Comfortable, until the telltale clearing of your mother’s throat warns you of the impending inquisition.

“So,” your mother begins. “Are you going to tell me how it went, or are you going to leave an old woman wondering? “

You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “Fortunately, I have yet to run into him. I may or may not be hiding out on the back porch as we speak in an attempt to avoid just that.”

“Y/N,” your mother chastises. “Prolonging the inevitable isn’t going to make this any easier.”

“I know, I know. I’ll go in there soon. It’s just a lot, you know? I needed to take a breather, first.” Just until my hands stop shaking. Or until Cassidy comes hunting for me. Whichever comes first.

“I know, baby,” your mother coos. “I’m proud of you for trying. Just don’t drag things out, okay? You’ll only make yourself sick with nerves.” Unfortunately, that ship has sailed. The rolling in your stomach can attest to that.

You laugh a humorless laugh, “I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”

A tiny movement at the very corner of your vision and a loud creak makes you whip your head around, and what you see has your heart falling to your ass.

Spencer Reid, looking absolutely stunning in a pair of khaki dress pants and a white cable-knit sweater, sits in a porch swing with wide eyes and a book clutched tightly in his hands. Soft, caramel-colored curls frame his face and a five o’clock shadow runs the length of his jaw, adding a bit of grown-up flare to his otherwise boyish features.

He looks every bit as beautiful as he did on the day he broke your heart.

Spencer knows that he should have spoken up as soon as you walked onto the porch. It was immediately obvious that you hadn’t seen him, and he swears he’s one second away from clearing his throat and launching into the introduction he’d been planning for the last sixty days. But the words die on his tongue as he drinks in the sight of you.

You’re so close to him for the first time in years and it’s more than a little bit dizzying. And yeah, he’s used his very limited knowledge of how the internet works to Google you on more than one occasion, but the version of you leaning against the porch railing is a far cry from the pixelized one. A light breeze rolling through the air lifts your hair away from your face, and Spencer’s breath catches in his throat as he surveys every perfect inch, from the curl of your lashes to the smattering of freckles on your nose. He indulges himself, eyes settling on your cherry red lips, fascinated by the way they move as you talk on the phone. Spencer is intimately familiar with those lips – can recall the way they felt pressed against his own. The years spent apart have done nothing to dull the memories. He’s not entirely sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

It amazes him how you’ve somehow managed to change a lot, but also not at all. You stand before him as an oxymoron personified, and it’s a lot for Spencer’s poor heart to take in. Your hair is a bit lighter than he remembers, as well as a little longer, but it still looks just as soft and he can recall with startling clarity how it felt when he used to run his fingers through it. You have a few more laugh lines than you did, as well as a scar on your left elbow that hadn’t been there before, but everything else about you is so painfully familiar that Spencer could almost pretend that no time had passed – that he still knows your body as well as he once did.

Spencer knows this isn’t true. Every seven years, the body resets; old cells destroyed and replaced with new ones. You’ve both spent enough time apart that your bodies have reset twice over. You’re as much of a stranger to him as he is to you.

Spencer positively abhors the thought.

The sound of your laughter pulls him from the depths of his mind, and while the laugh isn’t warm or inviting in the slightest, he relishes it. What was once one of his favorite sounds has existed in his head as only a memory for far too long. Hearing it in person is jarring in the best of ways.

The euphoria he feels dies a horrible death when you speak again.

“I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”

Fucking ouch.

Spencer cringes hard, too hard, because the porch swing screeches out an angry creak and you whip around and holy shit, have your eyes always been that entrancing?

He watches as your entire body goes rigid, tensed as if you’re about to bolt. You blink hard, eyebrows drawn together to form an adorably bewildered expression as you assess him. Spencer hopes he doesn’t look too disheveled. He hadn’t even thought to freshen up after his trip, an oversight that he’s regretting terribly as your eyes flit over him.

Spencer isn’t sure why, but he stands up. Maybe it has something to do with feeling vulnerable. Maybe he just wants to close the distance. The two steps he takes towards you support the latter. He’s thankful that you don’t move away, but the blank expression on your face worries him.

The two of you stand five feet apart, but you feel worlds away. Spencer refrains from speaking for as long as he can stand, which is only about thirty seconds.

“Hi.”

Your lips part, and Spencer holds his breath.

“Hi.”

More silence. Spencer gulps.

“It’s good to see you,” he says, cautious. The last thing he wants to do is fuck up within the first five minutes. Unfortunately, his brain and his mouth seem to have some sort of disconnect, and Spencer continues against his better judgment. “It’s been a while.”

It’s been a while? That’s seriously the best I can come up with?

Spencer contemplates drowning himself in the nearby stream.

“It certainly has.”

“Five-thousand, five-hundred and seventeen days.” And roughly thirty-six and a half hours, but who’s counting?

Muted noises flow out of your phone speaker and you pull your eyes away from Spencer. He’s both relieved and devastated.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. I just ran into someone. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

Spencer agonizes over the fact that he’s been reduced to someone while you and your mother exchange goodbyes. You’re smiling when you look up at him again, but Spencer’s seen what a genuine smile of yours looks like, and this isn’t it.

“I didn’t see you sitting there. My apologies.” Your formality makes the situation all the more excruciating.

Spencer lets out a nervous laugh, “I suppose avoiding me is out of the question now, huh?”

It’s hard to tell who’s more horrified by the words that tumble from his mouth, you or Spencer. A fierce flush spreads across your cheeks. It’s the first crack in your otherwise calm and collected exterior thus far and Spencer relishes in it. Maybe you’re not as unaffected by him as you seem.

“I… I’m sorry you had to hear that,” you stammer, blinking up at him with guilty eyes. “That wasn’t very kind of me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can’t say that I’m undeserving of your anger,” Spencer whispers so quietly that he worries you don’t hear him over the gentle flow of the stream. The hardness that returns to your eyes lets him know that you heard every word.

You clear your throat, signaling your unwillingness to discuss that particularly painful topic. “You’re still partial to Cummings, I see.” You gesture to the book clutched tightly against his chest.

Now, it’s Spencer’s turn to blush. The book in his hands, tattered and worn from years of use, is incriminating. The two of you both know what lies just beneath the binding. The fact that Spencer has it with him now makes him think that he might as well be wearing a t-shirt that reads, I’M STILL NOT OVER YOU.

Spencer raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Old habits die hard, I guess.” His eyes scour your face for a sign of anything that might clue him in to you feeling the same way. A flicker of something dances across your face, but it’s gone so quickly that he can’t be sure if he imagined it. He forces a nervous smile. “If I remember correctly, he was your favorite.” It’s a shitty attempt at a joke.

You exhale a shaky breath and to his absolute horror, your lower lip begins to wobble. He wishes he could reach up and pluck his words from where they hang heavy in the air.

“Not anymore,” you murmur, and fuck if that doesn’t absolutely wreck him.

Spencer shouldn’t ask, but he can’t help himself. “Oh. Why not?”

He holds his breath, anxiously anticipating your next words. You seem to be battling with yourself, mouth opening and closing several times. Spencer is content to wait as long as it takes for you to answer, but the universe is much more impatient than he.

The door leading onto the porch swings open and out walks an honest to God Abercrombie and Fitch model. Or at least, a man who meets the qualifications and then some. Long, flowing blonde hair and a crisp white dress shirt makes Spencer’s unruly brown mop and dumpy sweater look pitiful in comparison. Spencer frowns.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been out here for like ten minutes,” the man chastises as he closes the distance between you and him. Spencer watches him wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you to him like someone might watch a car wreck happen; with equal parts horror and morbid curiosity. “You can’t hide out forever.”

All traces of rigidity leave your body and you melt into the man’s side. It happens in such a way that screams familiarity, as if the pet name hadn’t already driven that point home. The awful, gut-wrenching realization slams home and Spencer has to fight to keep his knees from buckling.

“Uh, sorry,” you mumble, before nodding your head in Spencer’s direction. “Damien, this is Spencer Reid.”

The man’s – Damien’s - eyes go almost comically wide as they settle on Spencer’s dejected frame, before schooling into a cool indifference. He offers him a polite smile that’s a little tight around the edges, but doesn’t outstretch his hand.

“Ah, Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Spencer swallows hard to keep himself from barking out a crazed laugh. He’s heard of me! That’s certainly something, considering the fact that no one thought it necessary to tell Spencer that you have a –

Spencer’s eyes dart down to your left hand. Thankfully, mercifully, your ring finger is bare.

“Uh, y-yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” The words burn as they roll off his tongue.

Damien nods at him before turning back to you. There’s an unmistakable fondness in the way he looks at you as he speaks. “Cassidy wants everyone back inside. They’re about to serve dinner.”

You smile up at him, not even casting a parting glance at Spencer before Damien leads you back inside. Spencer stands there long after the door closes behind the two of you.

The book feels heavy in his hands.

taglist: @is-this-even-important @evelyncade @usuck @m0rce1ddd @bauhousewife @whxt-to-write @spencerwaltergubler @lovesicksofi @idgafayiowf @shadyladyperfection @mercy-burning @sapphic-prentiss @itsmytimetoodream @m0rce1ddd @bauhousewife @whxt-to-write @spencerwaltergubler @enchantedcruelsummer @no-honey-no @inkstainedwritergirl @tnoh13 @xxconfettiitsaparade @calm-and-doctor @muffin-cup @fortheloveofcriminalminds @arcticrory @holl2712@themanwiththreephds @blameitonthenight21 @stellabelle @me-a-hopeless-romantic @musicxlover97 @anightflower @andiebeaword @annesauriol @haylaansmi

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #fanfiction #icyhwm #my writing #spencer #reid

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parrishh · 3 years ago

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about to write the world's longest post (a review? maybe?) because i don't know anyone else who has read mister impossible yet and if i do not write my thoughts down SOMEWHERE i will either combust or eat my own foot, probably (spoilers, obviously)

genuinely brokenhearted (and cried a lot) over ronan in this book. part of what i loved so much about cdth was the sense that ronan had at least made some progress in regards to his mental health, self-love, etc. and now we're seeing him in such a dark place again that it hurts to read. it was sad enough believing, for almost the entire book, that he was blindly idolizing bryde for this reason (declan's "ronan is a follower" speech in the cafe with carmen actually killed me), and i thought maggie was just going for the whole "unhappy people are more susceptible to cults" thing. but to find out that he MADE bryde? that he felt so alone and so hopeless that he dreamt THAT? this read like some sort of super-villain origin story. i know ronan believes he's doing the right thing, saving dreamers and dreams and all that, but at the core of it all he's really doing it because bryde told him to, and bryde only exists because ronan subconsciously hates his life so much he'll do whatever it takes to make himself a new one. that just makes me incredibly sad

uhhhhhhhh bad day for pynch stans. we didn't technically get the dreaded break up, but it feels like we did anyway. even the sweet moments (e.g. ronan's memory of adam's gloves) are immediately followed up by something sad (e.g. the memory not being enough to keep ronan from sticking with bryde) (also, fletcher tells the moderators that they're broken up, so does that mean adam told all his college friends he's single?) there are several moments in which ronan makes it very clear that he will (and does) prioritize what he's doing with bryde over his relationship with adam (hanging up on him at the end? what the fuck) and like, i'm definitely not saying his boyfriend should be the #1 most important thing in his life because that's not healthy, either, but the dude is clearly very unhappy & insecure in the relationship. i still think (hope?) that they'll get a happy ending because ronan definitely cares about adam deeply (not wanting bryde to say the word tamquam, keeping adam out of his dreamspace so he doesn't lose harvard, etc.) but things are looking pretty grim right now :/

adam loves ronan so much it makes me crazy. he could easily say "fuck this" after ronan doesn't speak to him for weeks, especially knowing that ronan's capable of reaching out because he still talks to declan and especially after being blocked from ronan's dreamspace, too. i would be pissed if i heard from my bf for the first time in weeks and found out he only called because he needed a place where he & the guy he ditched me for could crash. but adam still spends the free time i'm sure he doesn't actually have keeping tabs on ronan and reaching out to declan and pretty much doing everything in his power to help. and oh my god even after ronan hangs up on him we still see him scrying to try to get to him and i need to move on now before i scream (but first, declan lynch = #1 pynch stan??? the number of times he mentions adam when thinking about the things he wants ronan to keep safe, help me)

speaking of adam, i had to put the book down and take a lap after his first appearance. i cannot believe this boy is charging harvard kids for fake tarot readings and making hella cash off of it. KING. genuinely some fantastic adam content in this. i love that he talks to the gray man. i love that we are reminded that he's literally brilliant. but also, he makes me sad, too. when declan mentions how ronan is the ONE person who adam opens up to and how all of his harvard groupies are just "ducklings"........honey, i love you, please, please, please make some real friends

hennessy's pov also breaks my heart. it's maybe even worse to read than ronan's because she's fully aware of how unhappy she is and the bluntness of it slaps you across the face. the memory of her mom's painting was genuinely chilling (the lace pattern on the floor - was that how the Lace started? am i understanding that correctly?) and the fact that it was so dreadful she accidentally made a sweetmetal....poor hennessy :( also, the things she said to jordan, right after she made half a dozen real ass people crash their cars and didn't even bat an eye about it....yikes. i'm glad she teamed up with carmen and liliana, though. i love my team of wlw girlies (also really interesting that carmen/liliana believe the Lace is something out of hennessy's control while ronan/bryde believe it's something she can get rid of if she just tries hard enough. what the fuck is the Lace, it's driving me nuts)

CARLIANA KISS CARLIANA KISS CARLIANA KISS

jordan's pov!!!!!!! delicious, finally some good fucking food!!!!!!! i'm happy that she's starting to see herself as her own person, independent of hennessy, and the whole forgery/original work metaphor was really cool (her first original work being a portrait of declan 🥺🥺🥺) i loooooove her relationship with matthew and how she speaks to him and that they're able to connect with each other because they're both dreams. i love that she's able to make him feel more human

JORDECLAN KISS JORDECLAN KISS JORDECLAN KISS (but i'm even more hung up on declan just casually talking about MARRIAGE, oh my GOD)

declan my beloved....my sweet......absolutely obsessed with him saying "screw politics, i'm leaning into my crime side" and OBSESSED with him being happy for once. i know the other shoe did drop and now things are all messed up again but it was so nice to see him so content, at least for a little while. he needed a break (also was laughing my ass off at all of ronan's dream creatures just climbing onto his bed in the morning and his screaming and how matthew was so used to it he BRUSHED HIS TEETH before going to help. iconic)

matthew's pov was also really upsetting but 🥺him deciding he's tired of just being treated like a pet and that he deserves to have a future so he goes to sign himself up to finish high school 🥺

quick note but the whole sweetmetal thing is really interesting as a concept. loooooved the way maggie incorporated the gardner museum heist into the story

THE ENDING???? WHY THE FUCK IS JORDAN AWAKE. WHY THE FUCK IS RONAN STILL ASLEEP. WAS ADAM STILL IN THE MIDDLE OF SCRYING WHEN THE LEY LINE DISAPPEARED, AND, IF SO, WHAT DOES THAT MEAN FOR HIM. WHY ARE LITERALLY ALL THE MODERATORS DREAMS. WHAT IS HAPPENING

#this is a literal essay god help me #actual word vomit #this book is going to haunt me for the next year and a half i don't know what to do #mister impossible #mi spoilers #mister impossible spoilers #wrambles #tdt

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zankivich · 4 years ago

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An Unexpected Romance: Chris Evans x Black! Female Reader Part 1

a/n: *sticks head out* omg hi. It’s been a while. A long while. Somehow I am back writing for another white man, a different one this time. We can only hope he does not disappoint as drastically as the last one does. I genuinely have no idea if this is good? I think it’s kinda cute, and I’ve been feeling very traumatized in regards to blackness lately so I really needed some black and brown women having a good time and being happy. We deserve that tbh. There could obvi be another part to this. Let me know if anyone even cares enough for that lol. Okay bye now.

Part 2 Part 3

There’s an unspoken rule amongst you and your friends. Like a secret code, if you will. If a man hits on you at the bar and you’re not interested, and friends always know when you’re not interested, swarm and diffuse the situation. But? If a man hits on you at the bar and you are interested? Then that is a different story entirely.

It was a Thursday night out with the girls. You were at your favorite bar. It was quiet and quaint but still modern enough to attract a younger crowd. Sometimes there’s nothing better than getting dressed up and sipping on drinks with your girls. No dancing or club hopping or excessive uber rides. Just one bar, shit talk, and a lot of bacardi.

You were all sat directly at the bar in high standing chairs, Your back was turned to the entrance as you listened intently to your friend Tanya complain about her latest Hinge hook up.

“Can you believe I took my fine ass self all the way over to that nigga’s house in satin shorts? Satin! And he had a pizza box on his bedside table and the second he laid me down my back hit a bong. Make it make sense Jesus.”

Tanya was a beautiful Black woman. She was taller than all of you at six feet, and she strutted every step. Her skin was deep espresso and she was almost always rocking a vibrant colored wig that matched a vibrant colored outfit. Tonight’s color was lavender.

“I don’t know how many times we have to tell ya ass to stay away from them white boys.” You snorted, sticking your tongue out in search of your straw.

Your friends, Tanya, Raya, and Jesse all did a collective eye roll in your direction that did not go unnoticed.

“Yes ladies?” You asked with a straightened spine and arched brow.

Jesse was one of them girls you would have hated in high school. Skinny waist, slim thick thighs, and skin so clear that her Puertio Rican skin was only left to dazzle and shine. She had long, tight curls that hung all the way down to her belly button, and she always kept them gelled down and tied back. She, like all of your friends, did not hold back when it came to the group. You were honest, thick as thieves, and frankly a little brutal.

“You don’t even count. Your refusal to go near a white man is excessive and weird.” She cackled. “You're just as bad as Tanya, just on the other end of the spectrum sis.”

“Excuse me? Now Tanya dates boys...I date men. You see the difference? And if I am gone lie in some ivory sheets there’s gonna have to be some extra special attention being paid to me. And trust, there always is.”

You stuck your tongue out lewdly and laughed sending the whole table into a fit of giggles. You all clinked your glasses together and revelled in the atmosphere of melanin, acceptance, and tomfoolery. What a group.

“You tellin’ me that if a fine ass man walked in here right now and checked every box: his own money, his own car, intelligent, funny, etcetera, and he just happened to be of the vanilla variety you wouldn’t bite?” Raya asked.

Raya was the thickest of the group, voluptuous in every sense of the word and also the only one happily married. She just put up with y’all honestly.

You rolled your eyes through with the conversation already.

“I’m saying...he’d have to be pretty fucking special and pretty fucking dedicated. Men are a headache as it is. I don’t need the added layer of some man pulling at my weave like I’m Lilly Ane from his hometown, or asking me to do race play in the bedroom. Now I’m going to the bathroom and when I come back I’d like for us to talk about literally anything else? Okay? Okay.”

You slid out of your seat and headed for the bathroom with the grace and power of a woman in her thirties who had managed the insecurities of her younger self and had decided to only live her life revelling in her own excellence.

If Tayna was the darkest of the group you weren't at all far behind. If she was expresso, you were simply an americano with a dash of cream. And you rocked it with a full head of curls that ranged from nappy to bursting with life and moisture depending on both the day and temperature. It was all set upon the shoulders of a woman with curves and hips and chest. It was your body and you loved it endlessly, a matter quite evident in the way you walked.

That night you were wearing a coral pink jumpsuit with a long, flowy kimono and heels to match. Your kimono billowed behind you and made you feel fierce, even on the walk to the bathroom, which is perhaps why you weren’t paying that much attention. One second you’re strutting in the heels that you only wore when there wouldn’t be too much standing, and the next you’re slipping on some liquid that must have been spilt on the floor. Your whole life flashed before your eyes. The wind flew out of your lungs. This was the end…

And then you were caught by the waist. Not caught, more like gripped. Firmly. And perhaps not the waist so much as the hips. You expected to be lying straight on the floor staring up at the ceiling, and instead you were staring at a chest. A firm chest. No not firm. Chiseled might be a better description. So chiseled that your hands began to wander amongst the suit clad flesh before your mind had caught up with you. Heafer.

“Oh my god. Thank you so much. I’m so sorry I can’t believe I--”

You peered up into deep blue eyes and let’s not forget that your fingers were still wandering along that chest. Had a chest ever been so broad? No. Not unless you count Captain America apparently.

“Please, I always like to pull a rescue mission before dinner. Makes me feel like I earned my meal.” He grinned down at you.

Chris Evans. What are even the statistical chances? You wouldn’t know, you were too busy drooling.

His hands were still on your hips. Yours still on his chest. And now you were just plain staring at him. Good look.

A waiter with a towel to clean up the mess broke up the moment by clearing their throat and alerting the two of you that you were way too close to one another still.

“Oh--Oh.” You mumbled idiotically. “You’re…”

He nodded. “Chris. And you are?”

“I’m...I’m…”

The waiter snickered under their breath and you realized just how much you were ruining this moment. You straightened your spine and tried to act like you had some sort of sense.

“I’m y/n. Thank you again for the save. I was actually just on my way to the bathroom so I’ll uh let you get back to your night and try not to fall on you again.” You smiled.

“Yea, we definitely wouldn’t want that would we?” He asked.

But the way his face was looking told you maybe he might not mind it after all. Sheesh.

“Okay well uh you have a nice night, Chris.”

You tapped at his hands on your hips and he quickly stumbled back with an apology. It was the first time he looked even the slightest bit flustered in your interaction with him. You found that you liked it.

“You have a nice night too, y/n.”

You smiled at him one final time before walking to the bathroom as you had intended. But he didn't leave your mind the entire time you were there. And not just because it was Chris Evans, it didn’t feel fair to call it star struck. That was too simple, too miniscule. Instead it was the way his hands had felt on your hips. You had the tendency to lean away from men, didn’t feel comfortable with them when you didn't know who they were. And yet there you had stood, completely at ease in his hold. You couldn’t explain it even to yourself. He had just felt right.

“Of course he felt right, he’s practically a figment of your imagination.” You mumbled to yourself at the sinks.

That was it. He didn’t even count. The only time you ever saw him was on your netflix account, so surely your perception was warped. The reality was that Chris Evans was just another white man who looked good in a sweater. The end.

That’s what you convinced yourself as you walked back to your friend, but not without taking extra precautions against the floor. By the time you arrived back at your table you had done the mental gymnastics needed to completely eliminate him from your system. Good girl.

“Now, I trust you all found something better to talk about while I was away.” You grinned as you slid back into the table.

All of your friends were snickering behind their hands and they wasted no time at all laughing at you.

“Oh did we!” Jesse laughed. “You see we had just moved on to a new topic when a little someone got a drink delivered to the table.”

Your eyes widened as Jesse pushed a glass of what looked like processo closer your way. She then pointed over by the bar leading the entire table to turn that way. Seated by his seat with his arms leaning against the bar, shoulders even broader against the wood, was none other than Chris Evans himself. As if on a Hollywood cue he turned to look at you with a smile that was both innocent and filthy at the same time. He lifted a drink of his own in the air and tilted it in your direction in silent cheers. If you had been ten shades lighter you’da blushed like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous.

“Now...What was that you were saying about white boys sis?” Tanya asked.

You groaned to yourself softly and plopped your head down in your hands in embarrassment. This was only to notice that your sparkling glass of prosecco was perched upon a napkin with his phone number written upon it. Home boy was slick and he was bold. A man confident enough to come put himself out there, and respectful enough to do it in a way that wasn’t disruptive or rude to your friends nor yourself. It was the sort of thing that made you take notice for sure, which explained why your girlfriends were looking at you like cats that had just discovered the canary.

“What? What?! What?” You gasped at the table, clearly annoyed.

Jesse grinned. “What’chu mean ‘what’, mija! You gone get your mans or what?”

They all giggled and looked clearly in his direction, only embarrassing you further.

“Stop it!” You hissed. “He is not ‘my mans’ by any stretch of the imagination. He probably just feels bad for me slipping. I fell and he caught me. Clearly he’s a gentleman, which is nice but that don’t mean nothin.”

“Girl please! This man done sent you prosecco and a phone number. That’s like a rich modern version of a love letter. You better go talk to that man.” Raya snorted.

Women who hype up other women are the world’s greatest treasure. You loved your friends with everything in you, and you valued all of their intellects greatly. However, this was not a regular-degular man. This was literally a superhero. You had confidence for days, but this was simply a different stratosphere. You were just about to silence your friends again when a ghost must have descended because everyone else began to gasp.

“Girl he movin’. Captain America is comin in for the landing.” Raya stage-whispered.

“Oooo you know what? Suddenly I have to pee.” Tanya mumbled.

“Oh me too!” Jesse nodded.

And just like that….your table was empty. The audacity!

“Wow. I sure can clear a room huh?” He chuckled, stepping up beside you. “I hope I don’t offend too much.”

You sighed turning to face him head on.

“You certainly do not offend. In fact, I think my friends are around some corner cackling like the witches they are. They just wanted to give you space to shoot your shot.”

He smiled with a raised eyebrow. “My shot, huh? I better not fuck it up them.”

You shrugged, eyes raking gently over him. Beyond the obvious attraction, it was important for you to search for any warning signs. His body language was good. He had one hand draped over the back of your chair, but he stood two steps back from the table so that he wasn’t over-crowding your space. He seemed to be aware of himself physically, an important marker in your estimation. He was playful enough, but also clearly interested if he’d decided to come up to the table after all that. This did not bode well for you at all. The man was kinda nice.

“I just wanted to see if you were enjoying your drink is all.”

Your fingers flitted with the glass before pulling it to your lips for a sip. The way his eyes seemed to follow the motion had a heat pooling in your gut.

“I do enjoy a good prosecco.” You nodded. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure. I didn’t want to be too forward but uh--I think you’re stunning and I was wondering if I could take you out sometime.” He murmured.

Your legs were crossed in your seat, and you bobbed your leg a little, anxiety coursing through you.

“Were you afraid the number on the napkin was too subtle?”

He chuckled softly, eyes falling to the ground in an almost...embarrassed fashion? Lord, please.

“Sorry, I tend to second guess myself. I never know how people are gonna take me with my line of work. I didn’t want you to think I was trying to set up a one night stand or something. Wanted to show you I’m genuinely interested.”

Well that was unnervingly wholesome. Where they get this man from?

You let a small grin form across your mouth, a metaphorical step forward closer to his very inviting energy.

“Well, I do like the sound of stunning.”

“Yea? I think I could say some other stuff you’d like too if you give me a chance. What do you say?”

He licked the edge of his lip and it really was so miniscule but it had your thighs tightening in a way that was unholy. Rude.

You couldn’t say yes just off principle. Ten minutes ago you had just shamed all your friends for their white proclivities and the first one that walks off the street and bats his eyelashes at you causes you to cave? The hypocrisy! But...he was fine. Like capital “F” fine. Fwine with a “w”, fine. And it’s not like he was going to take you home to pizza boxes and lost bongs and then hit you up for gas money later. He was more set in his life than you were. Him being rich wasn’t even for you to utilize; it just felt good to know that he was accomplished and secure for himself. Again you dated men...not boys. And yet still you found yourself in such a conundrum.

“You look hesitant.” He noted, eyes locking onto yours.

You nodded. “I am...Excuse my bluntness but I had just gotten done explaining to my friends that dating white men often comes with more hassle than good. It can be difficult to connect cross-culturally. And quite frankly y’all are usually racist and/or fetishists. I’m not looking to upset your mama, nor am I looking to play slave master in the bedroom.”

Honestly the little speech was usually enough to send weaker men running. You say the r-word to a white man when you’re a black woman and he either calls you the n-word or gets upset and walks away. That had been your experience thus far. Not always, but enough to set precedence. The fact that he bothered to stay at the table further already separates himself from the pack.

“I can understand where you’re coming from.” He nodded, and a crease formed subtly between his eyebrows. “Not that I could ever really understand, just that I understand your hesitancy towards me. And I understand that it’s more complicated for you than it is for me. I really wish it wasn’t that way, but obviously that isn’t exactly something you and I can fix together in this very moment.”

You steadied for yourself for his next words, sure that he was about to leave you with, “have a nice life, I’ve got a spandex fitting in the morning.” There was a feeling in your tummy that felt out of place. You noted absently that it was a flutter of disappointment. And then he kept speaking.

“I don’t want to change your opinions on all white guys. I’d be willing to wager that most of us suck, and you probably should definitely steer clear.”

This caused you to snicker a little bit, a smile coming back to your face. He practically beamed in response, teeth coming together in a megawatt smile.

“However, I’d truly hate to never see that smile again.” He groaned and layed a firm hand against his own chest. “I don’t wanna change your mind about all of us...but maybe I can change your mind about me. I don’t want to feshitize you, I don’t want some weird power play between us. I don’t wanna do anything that would hurt you or make you uncomfortable. I just wanna take a really beautiful woman out if I could, if you’ll have me? Please? And if not, I take no as my answer and I walk away a little wounded, and you’ll still be here, stunning as always.”

Ooof. Boy was good. Real good.

You twisted your lips together and eyed him another time as if you were seeing each other for the very first time. Seemingly good guy. Persistent, not demanding. Willing to have conversations about race? Biceps the size of your head. Damn it was like the devil had crafted him especially for you.

“You know I think my friends have been spying long enough. I should probably meet up with them.” You mumbled.

You reached for the check in front of you adding your tip to your total and squaring out your tab. The way his eyes raked over you did not go unnoticed, unfelt. With the check closed and on the table you reached for one of the cocktail napkins on the table, pen still in hand, and wrote a note of your own. Sliding from your seat, you reached for the prosecco and downed the fizzy beverage before pressing the napkin to his chest with your nail. There was confusion, and perhaps a bit of hurt, in his baby blue eyes. This was gonna be some real trouble for you.

His palm came to rest over yours, trapping your fingers against his chest. There was a warmth there that seemed to leave your fingertips tingling. Definitely trouble.

“You have a nice night Chris.” You grinned.

His hand fell away from yours at the slightest movement on your part. He stood there, seemingly shell shocked, as you reached for your purse and his cocktail napkin. You almost thought he was going to let you get away as you went to step around him, only for his palm to grab gently at your hip.

“Good night y/n.” He whispered and reached to kiss chastly at your cheek.

The warmth of him was more intoxicating up close. He radiated heat like he radiated pheromones. And the smell of him was absolutely ridiculous as well. Was that gucci? Dior maybe?

It was a miracle you made it around the corner.

As to be expected, your awful ass group of friends were all standing by the hostess booth peaking around at you like a couple of dumbasses. They were lucky you loved em. You had an exit to execute though, and for that at least, they were useful.

You resumed your power walk, matched with clicking heels and a teasing pop of your hips, towards them.

“Is he watching?” You asked quietly.

They all nodded in various levels of incredulousness.

“Good. Let’s go.”

And then you walked your ass out that bar only to collapse the first second you cleared the doors. Your girls descended the way only women do, like fucking superheros of their own, and helped you float back to the car.

“Girl if you don’t start spilling A-S-A-P I swear fo’ God!” Raya gasped hands shaking on the steering wheel.

“What happened what happened what happened?!” Jesse screeched.

Your head nestled against the headrest of the car, your breathing having gone unsteady by the little game you’d just played.

“I think I just told him he can take my black ass on a date.�� You mumbled in shock.

The tension in the car hit an all time high as everyone went silent...And then they all bursted out laughing as if you’d mentioned the funniest joke in the damn world.

“I KNEW IT BITCH!” Tayna screamed. “OOOOOOO BITCH I KNEW IT!”

“She finna be down with the swirl tonight, y’all!” Raya cackled.

“In the category of white boys y/n will fuck with, this one has a networth of millions and the highest grossing movie of all time.” Jesse spoke in her best game host voice.

“I’ll take Captain America for six hundred, Alex!” Tayna snickered.

And they all continued to laugh.

“I gotta get some new friends.”

TBC?

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fandom #chris evans fluff #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x black ofc #chris evans x black woman #chris evans one shot #chris evans blurb #chris evans and reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans writing #chris evans story #chris evans series #alex writes again #maybe

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makeste · 4 years ago

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I'd love to read some Naruto analysis by you!

lol I might not be the best person to ask about this, tbh. Naruto happens to be one of the series I mentioned last week where I eventually stopped reading because of things related to the timeskip. it basically got to the point where I realized I was forcing myself to keep reading it, and that everything I had originally loved about it was basically gone. it had all of the problems I mentioned about timeskips -- characters splitting up (AND characters staying together, but us missing out on their development); fights becoming boring; the series becoming way darker and killing off more than a few characters for shock value; and the clumsiest attempt at a romance plot I can recall reading in a manga. I stopped reading it sometime around chapter 400 or so, which would have been around 2009 I believe. the series ultimately went on for another 300 chapters and didn’t end until late 2014, and I have little to no idea what went down in those chapters, and no real interest in ever going back to finish it. I’m not saying it was objectively bad, because I can hardly judge what I haven’t even read. but it just stopped having any type of appeal to me.

regarding Naruto and Sasuke’s relationship, the best way I can describe it (and be warned this is gonna get kind of long lol) for someone who’s unfamiliar with Naruto but knows BnHA, is that it’s basically Bakugou and Deku’s relationship, if both of them were orphaned at a young age, and in Bakugou’s case he was specifically orphaned by his evil older brother who murdered their entire family in front of him. and so Bakugou basically grew up being all “the FUCK is up with that, I am going to KILL THAT DUDE,” and so he went to ninja school to learn how to be a badass so that he could avenge his family. and meanwhile Deku went to ninja school because he was lonely and wanted to be Ninja President when he grew up so that people would finally want to be his friend. and so they both learned to become ninjas, and then they graduated at the ripe old age of Twelve and started ninja internships under ninja!Aizawa’s tutelage along with a badass girl ninja whom ninja!Deku had a massive crush on even though she herself was not-so-secretly crushing on ninja!Bakugou.

and even though ninja!Bakugou and ninja!Deku didn’t get along at first, they started doing all of the usual Rival Things like competing with each other over who is better at running up trees sideways, and their relationship gradually got a little bit better. and then ninja!Bakugou all of a sudden saved ninja!Deku’s life OUT OF NOWHERE (like this boy really had his own “my body just moved on its own” moment all of 27 chapters into the series) and nearly died, and ninja!Deku went into rage mode because of it, and so that was awesome. and so it basically went on like this, with both of them continuing to do rival things like egging each other on to become stronger and talking about how much they want to fight each other and stuff. all that good shit.

anyways though, but where it started to go south was when ninja!Bakugou, much like actual!Bakugou, eventually caught the attention of one of the villain characters who started being all “HEY KID, JOIN ME AND I’LL HELP YOU BECOME STRONG ENOUGH TO KILL YOUR BROTHER.” and at first of course ninja!Bakugou was all “wtf, no”, which, good. BUT THEN it all really started to go to shit when ninja!Bakugou’s Evil Brother came back to town because he wanted to kidnap ninja!Deku, but ninja!Bakugou found out about it and was all “OH HELL NO” and went and found his bro to try to kill him. but seeing as ninja!Bakugou’s brother was one of the strongest characters in the series, and ninja!Bakugou was LITERALLY A CHILD, to make a long story short the Evil Brother basically kicked his ass and was all “nyah nyah nyah what’s up with that you’re still so weak” and subjected him to a little hypno torture session for good measure.

and so basically, ninja!Bakugou spiraled into a mental funk and eventually was all “I GUESS I’D BETTER GO FIND THAT VILLAIN FELLOW AFTER ALL” and RAN AWAY TO GO BECOME EVIL. and ninja!Deku found out about it and went after him and they had a HUGE DRAMATIC FIGHT, but ultimately ninja!Deku lost, and ninja!Bakugou knocked him out and spent some time staring at him sadly and longingly in the rain before shuffling off. and basically after that is when the timeskip happens, and ninja!Deku and ninja!Bakugou spend three years training and then at that point ninja!Bakugou’s character starts to go completely off the rails and he’s out here genuinely trying to kill all of his old friends for Reasons, and at that point I was basically done with him and it was a whole big “YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BRING BALANCE TO THE PLOT, NOT LEAVE IT IN DARKNESS” thing, and I eventually just quit out of annoyance lol. smdh.

anyway so yeah. and after that I don’t really know too much about what happens. they basically have a whole Star-Crossed Enemies thing going on where ninja!Deku keeps trying to turn ninja!Bakugou back to the good side, even after he literally declares war on their entire country and kills a bunch of people lmao. and it’s supposed to be inspiring I guess, because he never gives up on his friend no matter what. and I think eventually it does turn out all right, or at least bittersweet, from what I’ve gleaned.

but I’m not gonna lie, for me everything I loved about the series was in that pre-timeskip relationship that the two of them had. and honestly, BnHA is such a fix-it in so many ways that I sometimes wonder if Horikoshi (who also grew up on Naruto, millennial that he is) didn’t feel the same way about it. like, there are almost specific things about it that he goes out of his way to “fix.”

first and foremost, unlike Sasuke, Kacchan point-blank refuses to join up with the villains who try to recruit him. still one of my favorite parts of the series honestly. this one specific plot is so reminiscent of where it all started to go wrong in Naruto, and Horikoshi subverts the shit out of it. there’s all this buildup to it, and everyone is all “oh shit is Bakugou really going to turn evil??”, and then when the moment finally happens, Bakugou doesn’t consider their offer for a second. there is no doubt in his mind. he’s a hero, end of story. there’s so much conviction in him, so much determination. god I just love it so much.

Naruto and Sasuke also have their version of a Therapy Fight, pre-timeskip, in which Sasuke challenges Naruto to a fight because he needs to prove to himself that he’s not weak. Sasuke is clearly hurting during this battle (this is just after his encounter with his Evil Brother, and I mean the fight literally takes place on the rooftop of the hospital he was recuperating in), but unlike Deku, Naruto never takes any notice of this. and unlike Bakugou, Sasuke keeps his feelings all bottled up inside him, and so basically they both just get swept up in the Rivalry and wind up nearly killing each other. and again just like in BnHA, Naruto and Sasuke’s fight also gets interrupted by one of their teachers; but unlike All Might, Naruto and Sasuke’s teacher doesn’t give them any sage mentor advice or make sure that the two of them are in a good headspace afterwards. and as a result Sasuke leaves that same fucking night to go join up with the villains. basically it’s almost the exact same Shounen Rival Throwdown, but with completely opposite outcomes. it’s almost uncanny.

and last but not least, unlike Kishimoto, who gives Sasuke his “sacrificing himself to save his rival” moment barely half a year into the series and then basically never refers to it again, Horikoshi spends almost 300 chapters building up to Bakugou’s own version of that moment, so that when it finally happens, it feels earned. not to say that I don’t like the Sasuke moment in chapter 27 of Naruto, because twenty years down the line and it’s still honestly one of my favorite scenes. but I do think Horikoshi’s version of it was ultimately much more satisfying. when Sasuke saves Naruto’s life, you get the sense that he was conflicted as to why he did it. but when Bakugou makes the sacrifice play for Deku’s sake, he knows exactly why he’s doing it, because he’s spent the last 285 chapters going through all of that character development and realizing that Deku is important to him, and realizing that he wants to atone for how he treated him. and so to me that moment is all the more meaningful because of it. definitely a highlight of the series.

anyway, so I’m not sure any of that actually counts as analysis lol, but there you go. fwiw, pre-timeskip Naruto (pre-Shippuuden I should say, although the manga never really made a distinction like the anime did) was and is still one of my all time favorite series. but to my mind BnHA is an improvement on it in almost every way, and with the BakuDeku relationship in particular it’s almost wish fulfillment lol. finally I get to see this childhood-friends-turned-rivals relationship play out the way I always wished it had. that’s basically what I mean when I say it feels like therapy lol. anyways it’s good stuff.

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sarcastically-defensive17 · 4 years ago

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ahhh 25 and 12 or 6 with calum hood please!!

I AM SO SO SO SORRH RHAT THIS TOOK SO LONG I HAD A SUPER LONG HIATUS FOR PERSONAL REASONS AND I HOPE YOURE STILL INTERESTED AND NOT MAD AT MEEE 🥺LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING YOU ABSOLUTE ANGEL LOVIEEE

Help me - C. Hood

6: “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

12: “N-no, it’s alright, come here.”

25: “Please talk to me about it.”

GIF is not mine

TW: DEPICTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE/ ABUSE BY A PARENT. MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND WOUNDS, GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF FAMILIAL VIOLENCE, SELF-LOATHING THEMES AND PHYSICAL INJURY.

If this content can potentially trigger you, please do not read. Your mental and physical health is important, so please, take care of yourself. My inbox is always open.

Original story by sarcastically-defensive17

Please do not copy, reproduce or repost without credit or in a manner than removes my username, and/or ownership from the work. Stealing isn’t cool, peeps.

<><><><><>

Not much was known about Y/N. In the entire school, she was the enigma. She had her friends, she was average in her classes, but still, her personal life was kept out of the general knowledge of the student body. Even the teachers knew little about the girl.

Her parents would come to every interview, every ceremony. She would go on trips, she would join in on the fun. She even attended the two week camp they held last semester, and it was the happiest that anybody had seen her.

Calum often watched the girl. He could see how her smile would drop when nobody was looking, how she would constantly flinch whenever anybody would raise a hand or wave an arm around her. He observed her more often than not, as stalkerish as that made him sound.

He was friends with the girl. They shared English and Math and some of the same friends. He enjoyed speaking to her, he loved to see her smile - genuinely smile.

He couldn’t deny the growing feelings he had for her. She was intelligent and kind, her smile could knock the breath out of him, and had done so many times. He seemed to lose all train of thought around her and the feeling was addictive. He had no idea if she felt the same, but he felt his own emotions grow tenfold every time she placed her hand on his arm, or offered her assistance when he was unsure about something, or simply when she laughed at a horrible joke that slipped from his lips.

She was angelic and he couldn’t put his finger on why such a beautiful person could look so skittish at a sudden movement.

He had his suspicions but he knew better than to pry.

However, his mind couldn’t be set at ease when they were placed into a group together. Their due date for their English project was impending, and as his mother was working from home, he chose not to offer his residence for the pair to gather.

“So, your house?” He was waiting by her car at the end of the day, unnoticed by Y/N as she rushed to her vehicle in the same manner she always did. She hadn’t expected him to be there, so when his voice travelled to her ears she couldn’t help but flinch and shy away. He frowned softly at her, “you okay?”

She blinked, tilting her head to look at him. “Excuse me?” Her keys were clasped tightly in her hands and her gaze kept flicking between her door and Calum.

He chose not to focus on the tension she held in her body. “The project?” He reminded her. “It’s due in two weeks and if we keep showing up with nothing done, Stone will be on our asses until we graduate.” He snorted, the sound bringing a small smile to Y/N’s face.

“I, um, I don’t think my house is a good idea,” her voice was soft - fragile. “Wouldn’t it be easier to do it during study? I can’t be out too late.”

“All of my study’s are designated to soccer practice, sorry,” he pursed his lips, pushing off of her car. “I would offer my place but I think my mum would genuinely murder me. She’s working from home and my sister is in the process of taking over all available space in the house with her loser friends.”

Y/N seemed to think over it for a minute. She knew that it would be a bad idea to have Cal come over, but she had no choice. She sighed, nails working carefully to pick at the skin around her cuticles - a bad habit she had adopted.

“Alright,” she nodded. “Hop in, just, there are rules you need to follow, okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” he smirked, pulling the drivers side door open for her when the lock mechanism clicked open.

Her heart pounded in her chest the whole way home. The mere sight of the two story residence made her feel queasy on a regular day, but the upbeat boy sitting beside her made the thought of being at home much worse. She put the car in park, turning to Calum.

Her eyes rarely met his, he noticed.

“Um, you can’t be here after 5. My parents get home around then and they don’t really like visitors.” She pulled her keys from the ignition, clamping her eyes shut for a brief moment. Sure, Calum was her friend - he was a great guy, and Y/N genuinely enjoyed his presence - but she couldn’t shake the feeling that having him at her house would end horribly. “No shoes inside, we need to stay in the dining room and please, if you use the bathroom, put the toilet seat down.”

She didn’t invite people over for a reason, but she dropped the desire to have friends over when her home began to break more. Y/N could barely remember a time when she fell asleep to anything but the sound of expletives, breaking glass or pure aggression.

Instead of questioning the barrage of instruction as she would expect, Calum simply fixed her with a warm smile, “Your wish is my command.”

She had long wished for her parents to go their separate ways strictly to save her from the fear that enveloped her the minute she stepped foot inside, however, she knew it fruitful because she couldn’t go anywhere but with one of them, and even when apart, they were harmful.

Calum followed her rigid form into the house, kicking his shoes off and placing them on the designated racking as instructed. The house was in pristine condition. It was as if there were no life in the environment unless a human was present - it felt cold.

The house was so different from his own. His mother had made sure to hang photos of both him and his sister, pictures from family outings, vacations. His father bought his mother flowers regularly and they always sat on the kitchen counter. His sister even had her own little belongings in the family areas as did he. Y/N’s house had nothing. There was not even a picture of her with her parents. The house was near void of any sort of familial comfort that it made him feel uncomfortable.

He followed her into the dining room, waiting for instruction. The atmosphere put him incredibly on edge and he could feel that there were many rules to be followed to perfection in the house.

Y/N pulled her bag open, placing her books on the table before stashing the bag into a designated nook in the entry way. The table caught his eye. Only two chairs. Both her parents lived with her, but there were only two chairs.

She returned, taking a seat at the small round table. Her eyes darted nervously to a clock mounted on the wall before softening and focusing on Calum’s standing form.

“Take a seat?” She offered. “We have just over an hour and a half until my parents get home.”

He nodded, slumping down in the seat and retrieving his own items for their project.

The time flew by quickly, it seemed. Calum’s presence was warm and he shone like a beacon in the barren home. She could barely take her eyes off of him for fear that he too would burn out like all who have entered before him.

If she could, she would have captured the moment in its entirety, preserving it for the lypophrenic moments that visit her almost nightly.

She was in the process of laughing at a joke that slipped from Calum’s lips when her eyes absentmindedly crossed over to the wall clock.

It was 3 minutes past 5.

Calum needed to leave. Fast.

She was on her feet, face paleing and her hands working to slam the books in front of her closed. She needed Calum gone and she needed to be in her room before either of them got home.

Calum raised an eyebrow at her, following her movements with caution. “What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“You need to go,” she was breathless despite the meager activity. It wasn’t the actions that made her breath escape, it was fear. She knew what would happen if either of her parents arrived home. She knew what would happen if they saw she was in the dining room, or if she had company. Nevermind if that company was a male.

“Oh, sorry,” he smiled softly, helping her clean. “The time sorta slipped away from us. It’s only a few past 5, I’m sure your parents will understand-“

He was cut off as she shoved his books against his chest, “they can’t know that you were ever here.” She felt horrible for rushing him out; almost as horrible as she felt for her lack of hospitality, but she needed him to go. She couldn’t bear the consequences.

She handed him his shoes, opening the front door and pushing him out. His expression was full of confusion and for an instance she thought she saw hurt flash in his whiskey coloured eyes but her state of anxiety was growing and she couldn’t bring herself to react.

“Sorry about going overtime. I’ll see you-“ the door slammed in his face, footsteps hurrying away from the wooden barrier almost exactly after, “- tomorrow?” He finished dejectedly, slipping his shoes on and starting down the path to his house.

He lived in close proximity to Y/N, but the walk did little to quell the hurt in his chest.

Y/N rushed around as soon as the door was closed. She needed to clean everything up in the dining room before one of them got home, but her efforts were fruitless.

A few minutes after she rudely shoved Calum away, she heard an engine die in the front yard. The door opened carefully and closed very soon after. The sound of heels on the floorboards alerted her to the fact that her mother was home. She was in perfect view, still trying to clean away any evidence that she inhabited the dining room.

“What the hell have you done to my house?” Her mother hissed, the sound of keys being thrown onto the hall table bouncing off of the walls, setting the hairs on the back of Y/N’s neck on edge.

Y/N felt her shoulders flinch, acting on their own accord. “I’m sorry, mum. I just felt like studying down here today-“

Her mother was next to her within seconds, cold eyes scanning over every item in the room. “This is a pig sty!” She growled, despite the only objects out of the ordinary being y/N’s textbook, a single pen and a bottle of water. “I go to work, busting my ass to pay for things you need and this is the thanks I get?”

The laughter that fell from the older woman gave Y/N goosebumps. Both of her parents were vindictive and nasty, but her mother was the worse of the two. Quick with her hands, nastier with her words. She has once thrown a plate at Y/N because she dared to ask to add salt to her dinner.

Her father, on the other hand, was a drunk who would prefer to scream insults at his daughter and wife for anything. Despite this, y/n had less fear of the patriarch.

Y/N stayed quiet, too frightened to say anything or to even move to finish cleaning. Her mother didn’t like that and wound her hand in Y/N’s hair, gazing down at her with malice as she yanked her head back violently.

“You ungrateful little brat!” She growled. “You were the worst thing to happen to me, yet I still feed you, and clothe you and keep you here while you sick the life from me like the parasite you are, and this is how you repay me?”

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes as she struggled against her mother’s hand, “Mum, mum please,” she pleaded. “You’re hurting me.”

“You hurt me every day that you’re still here, it’s the least I can do to repay the favour.”

Y/N grabbed her mother’s hand, attempting to pry it away from her hair, but in the process, her nail scratched her mother’s hand.

Y/N didn’t realise until she was knocked to the ground after a force connected with her cheek. Her head connected with the floor boards, blood quickly spilling from her brow and her lip and cheek throbbing.

“Don’t you ever touch me again, you little bitch!” Her mother screamed in her face, cradling her barely wounded hand like she would a baby.

Y/N struggled on the floor, slowly trying to climb to her feet despite the ache spreading through the left side of her face. She shuffled back, hoping to get closer to the hall so she could get up to her room. Her mother had other plans.

The sound of the cupboard door opening was evident and Y/N barely pushed her disheveled hair from her eyes to see a glass hurtling towards her, connecting with the wall next to her.

The sound was near ear-piercing, a few glasses catching her arms and shredding the skin in various places. Crash after crash - she finally ran out of glasses, starting to move to the next cupboard.

Y/N took the opportunity to get to her feet and run. Her feet carried her to the door, and she was thankful that she always kept we car keys on her person for fear of moments like this.

Her mother called out expletives behind her, but she didn’t bother to turn, instead allowing her body to act on its own volition, climbing into her car and pulling out of the drive as fast as she could.

Her vision was blurring, tears staining the clarity of her sight. Her hands were shaking so ferociously that she could feel the muscles in her shoulders twitching. Her mind was anywhere but the road, but it felt like she moved between destinations so fast, barely paying mind to the road in front of her until she pulled up at a park in the next suburb.

Her fingers worked on the screen of her phone, acting of their own volition until a voice was sounding through the speaker into Y/N’s ear.

“Y/N?” The voice asked, confused, anxious even.

“I’m at the park, on Macquarie Street. I need help.”

To anybody outside, Y/N would have been a terrifying sight. Blood pouring down her face, starting at her brow, a bruise forming quickly on her left cheek, a slight swell misshaping her lip and cuts all over her arm with their own trails of blood.

For Calum, his heart near stopped when he saw her sat on a park bench with her knees pulled to her chest. The sight was a beat more than terrifying. There were no more tears in her eyes, but her cheeks were wet with recent drops. She was staring out into the green landscape as if she no longer inhabited her body. The sun was starting to set behind her.

It took all of his willpower not to rush towards her, simply so he didn’t spook her. She was as rigid as a scared animal, any sudden sounds causing her to flinch.

“Y/N?” He tried softly, stepping cautiously. Her bleary eyes shifted towards him slowly, looking down at his feet before settling into his eyes. Her face shifted into a small smile as she locked onto the warm brown. “What happened?”

With his words, the semblance of a smile dropped. She frowned deeply, a dimple forming softly on her chin before a sob ripped through her chest. Her breathing heaved her body, rocking aggressively as she poured the emotion onto her knees once again. He walked to her faster, resting a hand on her knee and the other on her head.

“Y/N?” She shook his hands off, flinching away from his touch. “Y/N, baby? What happened? Please talk to me about it.”

She gasped, knees unfurling from her near iron grip. She knew the feeling well, it being her third panic attack since she left her home - not her home - the place she used to live. She couldn’t go back there.

Calum knew the signs. He had helped Michael through many attacks before and he acted beyond thought as he sunk to his knees before her, kneeling between her opened legs. His fingers moved to the side of her face gently, as to not cause her any more fear.

The tears had halted again, but she could barely catch her breath. He pulled her head down into his chest, thankful that with his added height against the small park bench, it was not so much of an awkward angle for the frightened girl.

It took all of 2 minutes for her breathing to balance. It was a trick he learned long ago - sometimes physical contact could help Michael with his attacks, and it had proven to be helpful to Y/N.

The silence that followed was pregnant as she rested her head against him. Her fingers had clasped so tightly in his hoodie that he could barely move until she loosened her grip. Slowly, she began to peel her body away from him.

“I- I’m sorry. There’s blood everywhere. I’ll let you go,” she sniffed, her voice airy as she tried to relax her muscles.

“N-no, Y/N,” he stood slowly, choosing to sit next to her instead of on the ground in front of her. “It’s alright, come here. Only if you want to.” He held his arm out, allowing her to make her decision. Slowly, and cautiously, she moved towards him, seeking the comfort of his soft hoodie and his warmth. She let out a shaky breath as she settled in to him. He shushed her softly, moving his arm to loop around her back slowly. “It’s alright, you’re safe, darling. I won’t let you go.”

She mumbled a soft “thank you,” wrapping her arms around his waist delicately. Her forehead nestled into his collarbone, allowing the lower portion of her face to be angled so she could resume her breath maintenance.

“Who did this to you, daring?” His voice was soft, his eyes anywhere but the girl below him. The mere sight of her eliciting a burning rage within his chest. Y/N was so pure, so happy. So kind. The thought that anybody would dare to hurt her - to him, it was blasphemy. “What happened after I left?”

“It was my mum,” her words were incredibly faint, yet Calum’s attentive ears heard every syllable. He tightened his arm around her slightly. “It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.”

He moved his hands to her shoulders, pulling her off of his chest so that he could survey her face. His fingers were calloused from the strings of his bass, but he made sure to keep his touch featherlight as he ran his finger along her wounded cheek.

It was no, that he finally realized the small scars decorating her eyebrow, her jawline, and even her neck.

“She hurts you?” The thought was unbearable, how could a mother hurt their child in such a way. Y/N was in bad shape, and to know that it was somebody who should love and protect her that did so - he was shaking from fury. “What about your father? Does he-“

“Dads always too drunk to care. He spends his time sucking down beers and verbally abusing us rather than paying attention to the constant crap I get from my mum,” her scoff was full of malice. On the outside, Y/F/N had it all but in reality, her world was a steaming dumpster fire and she spent her time yearning for love. “My parents never wanted me and they have made it obvious. This,” she gestured to her face with a sliced up arm, wincing slightly at the shift of her flesh. “Is because I had stuff in the dining room. Mother prefers I keep my life confined to my bedroom where she can pretend I don’t exist.”

Guilt washed over Calum’s face, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have pushed to go to your house.”

“It’s fine, Cal. There was bound to be an issue tonight anyways, it’s just our routine,” she sent him a small smile, eyes full of apology and sadness. “Thank you, for coming to my rescue.”

He let his thumb run across her cheekbone, relishing in the feeling of her skin underneath his palm. “Whenever you call, I’ll be there for you Y/N.” There was nothing in his actions to suggest anything but sincerity, specifically in the way his eyes lingered on hers for a second longer than normal. “You can’t go back there, darling.”

Her head hung slightly. She had nowhere to go but there. Of all of her friends, not one of them would take her in and her closest family was out of state. She had no options.

“That’s the only place I have,” she smiled at him, a miserable smile, but a reassuring one. “I’ll be okay.”

“Come to my house,” he offered, eyebrows raising slightly, a pleading pout on his lips.

“Cal, I can’t impose-“

“You’re never imposing, Y/N.” His brows furrowed. “I’ll always keep you safe, I promise.”

A sigh left her chest, her breathing smoothing and functioning correctly on its own accord, before she nodded. Fighting against Calum was a losing battle, but she wasn’t entirely against the idea. There was something drawing her in to him. Something that she couldn’t identify. Whether it be the damsel-in-distress complex that she had adopted that night, or the butterflies that erupted in her belly when he held her close, she wanted to go with him. She wanted to be safe in his arms.

So she nodded, smiling small up at him, her fingers reaching up to hold his own that were still resting on her scarred face.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, a delicate gesture full of comfort and with an inkling of the love that she so desired. “I’ll always protect you, darling.”

Tag list: @starshonerose @mantlereid @killerqueenishere @snookiebrookie @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3 @another-lonely-heart

#calum hood #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #5sos #michael clifford #5 seconds of summer #calum hood x reader #requested #caz writes stuff #I’m #so #sorry #this #took #long #thank you so much for the patience #I’m sorry I’m so shit

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sweethq · 4 years ago

Text

❝Stress and sleep deprivation have become the new normal to you, and has caused you to make a mistake that draws a wall between you and boyfriend Miya Osamu.❞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* requested by: @avylee *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

𑁍 Pairing: Miya Osamu x reader

»»—Trigger warning(s): hospitalization, light swearing—-««

➶ Genre: angst with a happy ending

✎ Word count: 2.87k

-ˏˋ A/N: I really hope this turned out okay?? I wanted to get this out before the weekend since I’m not going to have stable wifi, so I hope it’s not too bad! ˊˎ-

The past few weeks have been some of the most physically, emotionally, and mentally draining weeks you have ever experienced. After long days at school and tending to the boys at volleyball practice, you want nothing more than to go home, take a shower, and hop in bed. On most days, the order of events doesn’t quite happen that way. After volleyball practice you head to the convenience store located a block away from your house, picking up three hour shifts each weekday in order to save money for your future that is approaching all too soon. By the time you arrive at home, you are far too drained to put any effort into completing homework that has been assigned throughout the week, subjecting you to save it for the weekend. Your schedule is as busy as it gets, some, including you, wonder how you still manage to also have time for a relationship.

Although you don’t get to see him as often as you’d like, Osamu is the one thing that keeps you going. The thought of being able to see him every day at volleyball practice never fails to bring a smile to your face, sometimes forgetting about all of the things in your life that have been bringing you stress. Becoming the manager of the Inarizaki volleyball club was the best decision you ever made. Not only did it allow you to meet Osamu, but also all of the other boys you’ve come to love and adore. They’re your family, and getting to see them every day is the only thing that you look forward to.

You clock out of work with a sigh of relief, thankful that the week is finally coming to an end. As you walk home you purposely take a wrong turn, deciding to stop by Osamu’s so you could see him. You had to skip volleyball practice today; one of your coworkers called in sick and they desperately needed someone to cover. As much as you didn’t want to work for longer than you already had to, you felt like you couldn’t leave them stranded. You don’t want to go a day without seeing your boyfriend, desperately needing to be in his arms just to keep your sanity. Your eyelids start to feel heavy on the walk to his place, but you force yourself to keep them open as you’re only a minute away.

As you approach the door you give it an eager knock, closing your eyes while waiting for Osamu to answer. The pain and uncomfort starts to ease the longer you stare at the back of your eyelids. Your tiredness is quickly engulfing you, your body unconsciously starting to sway as you begin to fall into a deep sleep. As you are on the brink of sleep, your body rocks backwards making you lose your balance. Before you could fall, you feel Osamu’s strong arm wrap around your waist and pull you into his chest.

You’re not even fazed, unaware of how close you were almost passing out right in front of his door. You just felt happy to be back in his embrace, something that has always brought you comfort. You loop your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face into the crook of it, eyes still glued shut. As you breathe in his scent, you can’t help but notice he smells like sandalwood instead of his usual mint. You don’t mind though, intrigued by the sudden change. You pull away from him slightly, peppering a couple of small kisses along the side of his neck.

“I missed you today,” you speak in a small voice, tiredness laced through your words.

You pull him into a deeper hug, now resting your chin on his shoulder. Your eyes open for the first time since you got there and are met with the gaze of Osamu standing in the doorway a few feet away. A smile creeps onto your face, never getting tired of the sight of him. A small sigh leaves your lips as you squeeze him into the hug a little tighter. Then it hits you.

Osamu is standing in front of you. He is not in your arms. He is not the one you are hugging.

Horror flashes in your eyes. You slowly turn your head to the side, eyes landing on brown roots that fade into golden locks.

Oh no.

You loosen your hold and take a couple of steps back. Atsumu is staring at you with wide eyes, not daring to move a muscle.

You glance behind him, eyes falling on your boyfriend whose demeanor holds so many different emotions. He turns away from the two of you and walks further into the house, entering his bedroom before slamming the door.

“Shit,” you mutter quietly while pushing past Atsumu, making your way to Osamu’s bedroom door which is now tightly shut and locked. You give the door a couple of gentle knocks, silently hoping that your actions didn’t cause too much of a problem. It was silent on the other side of the door, no indication that he was going to walk over and unlock it.

“Babe, please let me in,” you start, hands growing sweaty, “it’s all just a misunderstanding.” Silence.

“Osamu, don’t be like this. It was an accident. Let’s just forget it happened and move on, yeah?” The worry and anxiousness keeps building inside the longer he stays silent. Suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching the door before it swings open. You start to smile but it’s immediately wiped away when you see the anger presented on Osamu’s face.

“‘Don’t be like this’? Do you think I’m overreacting because I just saw you hug and kiss my brother?”

“I didn’t kiss him on the lips, it was just… on his neck.” You soon realized that your words are not helping you, but in fact making it worse. “Babe, I’m sorry. It was an accident, I swear! I just have so much going on and I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep and-”

“I really don’t want to hear your excuses,” Osamu stated, cutting you off mid-sentence.

“I’m not making excuses, I’m trying to give you an explanation.”

“Yeah, well I have a lot going on too, Y/N. I don’t get that much sleep either but you don’t see me going around and kissing other people because I mistook them for you,” he started, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Do you know how hard it is for me? I’ve lived my entire life standing in Atsumu’s shadow. Everything he did, he always did it better. He was always the one to get recognition for everything. I worked my ass off in both my academics and volleyball just to try and prove to, not only other people, but also myself that I am just as deserving as he is. The only thing that I have that Atsumu doesn’t is you. And now I’m not so sure that’s the case anymore.”

You could feel your heart shatter from his words. Not only was he sharing something that made him feel the most vulnerable, but he was starting to doubt if you still wanted to be with him. You take a step closer to him and reach to caress his face, slowly rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone.

“What are you talking about? Of course you have me, you’ve always had me. What you saw out there was a complete accident. I was just so tired that I didn’t even realize it wasn’t you. I’m really sorry, I promise it’ll never happen again.”

He stares deeply into your eyes, he can tell that your words are genuine, but something stops him from forgiving you.

He puts his hand over yours and removes it from his face.

“I just need some space. I think you should go,” he says while releasing his grip from your own. As he was closing the door he mumbled, “Text me when you get home so I know you’re safe,” before shutting the door and locking it once more.

You stare at the door before squatting down, holding your face in your hands. Please don’t tell me I just messed up the one good thing I have in my life.

The walk home felt long, and the rest of the night felt even longer. You had been eager to start the weekend, but now you couldn’t wait for it to be over. You have too much time alone, too much time with just you and your thoughts. You couldn’t even bother to do the homework that you had saved over the week. All you could think about was your fight with Osamu and how he hasn’t even tried to reach out to you since then.

The amount of sleep you got over your two days off was miniscule, even less than you got throughout the week. The nights were filled with mindless thinking and many many tears. You spent so much time thinking about Osamu that you didn’t even remember to eat your usual three meals a day.

The weekend came and went without a word spoken between the two of you. You’re now dreading going to volleyball practice, somewhere that always brought you so much joy. You don’t know how to face him, worried he’s just as upset as he was before.

You stand outside the gym doors, contemplating what you next move would be. Should I try and talk to him? Should I continue to give him space? Should I pretend like nothing happened? Ideas kept flowing through your head, none of them jumping out at you as the correct choice. You decide that it’s best to go in there and assess the environment first. Hopefully that will give you a little insight on what to do.

You grab the two carriers that held the boys’ full water bottles, barely managing to carry all the weight in your small hands. You start you way up the few stairs that lead to the gym, each step taking more and more energy out of you. You reach the last step with a sigh of relief, walking through the open doors and into the view of your boyfriend and the rest of the boys.

“Hey Y/N!” Aran smiles, everyone’s eyes turning towards you. The rest of the team greets you as you enter, with the exception of Osamu.

As you are about to greet them back, you start to feel uncontrollably dizzy. White stars begin to scatter your view as your vision begins to blur. You start to stumble over your feet, eventually tripping and collapsing onto the wood floor, landing almost fully on your shoulder. You hear sets of footsteps running towards you, but you can’t tell where they’re coming from. You see blurry figures hovering over you, one of them reaching out to hold your face in his palms. You can’t visually make out who he is, but you know it’s Osamu. They’re shouting at you, but all you hear is quiet mumbling that sounds like it's coming from the other side of the room. You try to muster the strength to say something, but your eyes flutter shut before you get the chance.

The next time you open your eyes you’re greeted with a heavy pain in your left shoulder and a light that is far too bright. You come to the conclusion that you’re in a hospital, but the events that led up to it are a little blurry.

You feel a warmth in your hand. You glance over to see Osamu sitting in a chair beside your bed, his hand in yours and the other being used to rest his head on, his elbow pressing into his knee for support. A mixture of guilt and comfort engulfed your emotions at the sight. You felt terrible that he was in this situation because of you; you wish he would’ve slept at home in his bed instead of in a sitting position in the most uncomfortable chair. Regardless, you couldn’t help but feel happy knowing that he stayed by your side throughout the night so you weren’t alone.

You reach out to him with your spare hand, brushing the gray strands of hair out of his face. Osamu wakes from his slumber at the feel of your finger grazing against his forehead, the tiredness in his eyes not dissipating. Once he sees that you’re awake, all the tiredness that he felt was suddenly gone. He hurriedly stands and takes a seat on the side of your hospital bed, making sure not to sit on you.

“Hey, baby. How you feeling?” You can sense the concern in his tone, his thumb mindlessly rubbing against the back of your hand.

“My shoulder hurts,” you reply with a small chuckle, “but other than that, I feel fine. I just want to go home and sleep in my own bed. This bed sucks ass.” Osamu laughs along with you, glad that you seem to be feeling a lot better than you were before.

“I’ll go get the doctor and see if we can leave.”

The process to leave the hospital took unnecessarily long. They kept handing you papers to sign and telling you to make sure you drink enough water and to not skip meals; two things you definitely didn’t do throughout the past few days. You’re just glad it’s over and that you’re on your way home with the person you care for the most.

When you and Osamu enter your house, he heads straight for the kitchen knowing that you’re probably in need for some food. He opens the fridge to see what he’s working with and notices that you have all of the ingredients to make your favorite dish. He quickly gets to work, hoping that the prep and cooking time wouldn’t take too long.

“Samu, you don’t have to make me anything. I know you must be tired from staying in the hospital overnight with me.”

“No, I want to. It's the least I can do since you were in that state because of me…” You frown when you hear those words escape his lips, not wanting him to feel guilty. You stand up from your seated position at the dining table and make your way towards him. You snake your arms around his waist and hold him against you, the side of your face pressing against his muscular back.

“Don’t say that, it’s not your fault. I was already going through a lot with school and work and volleyball that I just forgot to take care of myself. Please don’t blame yourself.”

Osamu turns to face you, your arms still tightly locked around his waist. He holds your face in both of his hands and looks at you with nothing but love and passion in his eyes, scanning all of your features. After being together for so long, he’s learned to memorize every part of your face: the way your eyes crinkle slightly when you smile, how your nose moves when you speak, how you slightly pout your lips when you’re frustrated. He retains all of these little quirks that you have, all the things that make him fall more and more in love with you. All he can think about is how incredibly happy he is that he has you, and relieved that his little episode didn’t break the two of you apart.

He pulls your head into his chest, one of his arms holding your upper back while the other is holding the nape of your neck.

“I’m sorry about our fight the other day. I know what you did wasn’t intentional, I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up about it. I’ll try harder so we never fight like that again, I really hate to see you sad, especially if it’s because of me.” He slightly pulls away from the hug so he can press a small kiss on your temple before bringing you back into the hug. “I love you, Y/N. No matter what problems we face, I’ll always love you.” He can feel your smile grow against his chest.

“Samu, that was so romantic. Since when did you get all soft?” You chuckle, pulling away from him. Your smile widens at the sight of your boyfriend in front of you. A pink hue dusts his cheeks and the tips of his ears, his flustered expression enough to make your stomach do flips.

“Whatever… Go sit down over there, you’re distracting me.” He replies while releasing his grip on you, turning back around to face the ingredients on the counter. As he tries to get back to preparing the food, he can still feel your presence behind him. He turns his head to face you, “I said to go sit-”

You grab his face with both hands and bring his lips to meet yours, cutting him off mid-sentence. You can feel him smile into the kiss which makes you return the gesture. The both of you pull away at the same time, placing a couple of more pecks onto his lips before resting your foreheads together.

“I love you too, Samu. I will until the day I die.”

───

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#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu social media #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu writers #miya osamu #osamu x reader

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rainydayhogwartsimagines · 4 years ago

Text

The hufflepuff request part two

Warning: violence, swearing, bodily harm

Draco was now slightly concerned that he did something wrong.

You were never this jumpy around him.

"What is going on with Y/n?" He asked after you left.

"Who knows." Fred said.

"women are very confusing." George said.

"You were rejected again weren't you?" Ginny asked.

"WHAT AM I DOING WRONG HERE GINNY!?" George whined.

You watched Fred and George try to put their names in that cup, not realizing Draco was behind you until you heard a "Hi" in your ear

You jumped but smiled.

"hi." You replied with a intense blush on your face.

That's when Fred and George were promptly launched back and you laughed

"Told you two it wouldn't work." You laughed.

Draco smiled and you laughed harder as Madame Pomfrey dragged them away.

Draco was now spending a lot of time with you between classes, holding your books and walking you to each one

His attention was focused on you

Then came the amortentia potion.

You both were partners, following each step carefully.

Snape walked around asking each person what they smelled.

"And you. What do you smell miss Y/n?" Snape asked.

You sniffed it and your heart pounded.

"Uhm... i-I..." You paused and Draco rose a brow.

"I smell mint s-sir... Mint and earl grey tea." You answered making Draco almost fall out of his seat.

"Mister Malfoy, what do you smell?" Snape asked.

"...Books... And Chamomile... With rain." He answered looking at you.

"Very good. Both of you are dismissed." Snape said.

You immediately booked it and Draco went after you.

"Y/n!" He called.

You sped up your pace.

"Y/n slow down!" He said.

You didn't.

He finally caught up though and grabbed your wrist.

"Draco--" "I like you Y/n. A lot. And I know this is REALLY in advance but I would love to take you to the Yule ball, if you'll let me." He said.

"And... If... If you want I'd also really like to be your boyfriend--" you cut him off with a kiss and he literally dropped everything just to pull you closer.

You melted in his arms.

So obviously you dated.

Cedric was happy for you

So was the group because now you weren't a walking disaster.

You were there when the names popped out of the cup.

All of you were sitting at the Gryffindor's table and you watched

He didn't really start paying attention until Harry's name popped out.

"Wait... What!?" You asked looking at Harry.

"did you find a way to sneak your name in!?" Draco asked him.

"What-- No! I have no idea what's going on!" Harry said.

Ron got upset because he thought Harry was lying

But you could tell by the look on Harry's face that Harry genuinely had NO idea what was going on.

You had this gut feeling that something was wrong though.

You helped Harry train though, after researching how brutal this competition could be.

You were all very anxious watching Harry with the Dragon

And it certainly worried the fuck out of Draco when you had to participate in Cedric's lake trial

He didn't even realize that you were a part of it until Cedric came back up with you.

Then you realized Gabrielle was still down there.

All you said was "Well.... Fuck it." Before jumping back in.

You came back up with Gabrielle right before Harry came up with Ron.

Fleur was so fucking grateful.

Then came the dance practice

"Draco, I know I agreed to go but seriously I can't dance." You whined.

"I am going to teach you, come on." He laughed.

He pulled you close you sighed. "Okay but when I step on you don't say I did not warn your ass."

You stepped on his feet a lot. But he was patient. And he just wanted you close to him to be honest.

You two were smiling the whole time.

Then the Yule ball actually happened.

You walked out and Draco almost fell over.

"Hi." You said.

"Y/n... You're beautiful." He said with a smile.

"T-Thanks." You said with a blush.

You and him were literally smiling the entire night

He kept whispering compliments in your ear when you danced and just held you so close.

You had no idea how bad this was about to become.

The final trial was approaching and something in your gut was telling you that something was wrong.

"Harry something is wrong, I can feel it." You told him right before he was gearing up to go into this maze.

"I'll be careful--" "Harry. Don't go." You begged.

He almost didn't. But he was stubborn and did.

You were anxious the whole time and Draco kept trying to tell you that it was going to be fine

Then Harry returned.

And you saw it.

"No.... Please no."

Draco didn't understand at first and then he saw Cedric.

His immediate reaction was just to hug you and face you away from it because he knew that Cedric was your friend.

"Harry... We-- we need to check on Harry." You mumbled into his chest.

Draco asked Fred and George to make sure you were okay before he ran down there.

Harry was sobbing and Draco hugged his friend while trying to stay strong.

"H-He didn't-- he didn't want me to--to leave him." Harry sobbed.

"He's-- He's back Draco.." Harry said.

"Who?" Albus asked.

"Voldemort."

Immediately after hearing that you sent a letter to your parents telling you to get the fuck out of Dodge.

They didn't understand why you were so adamant about it, but damn it they did.

Draco ended up moving out of his parents' home.

It was very abrupt but it still happened.

Molly immediately was like "Here. Your home is now here."

And he accepted.

The summer was dedicated towards planning your next few moves.

You all were exhausted and one night Draco couldn't sleep.

You woke up, going downstairs to find Molly talking to Draco.

"Hello dear, join us won't you?" Molly said.

You sat with Draco and held his hand and he gave you a small smile.

"Is something wrong?" You asked.

"Tell her dear." She said to Draco.

"Father has disowned me..." He said.

"What!?" You asked.

"He took his side-- the wrong side. And when I outright refused he disowned me." Draco said.

"Draco... Sweetheart I'm so sorry." You said.

"I'm fine... I have everything I need right here." He said to you.

"That and you've got a family." Ginny said making you all turn.

"I came down here for water. It feels like hell upstairs." Ginny said.

She walked over and hugged Draco.

"We may not have been friends Draco. But your my brother. And if that asshole comes near you again I'm going to kill him." Ginny said.

"Ginny!" Molly gasped.

"What? I'm being honest." She shrugged making you snort.

The school year ended up being shit thanks to a bitch named Umbridge.

She REALLY didn't like you.

You didn't understand why but she literally went out of her way to make your life a living hell.

So when you found Fred and George with a bunch of fireworks....

You gave them the matches.

And they unleashed hell.

You were smiling the whole time.

So was Draco

But when Umbridge was pissed she took it out on you

And the trio (and Draco) was not having this.

They finally had enough and finally she was gone

Dragged off by centaurs

Hallefuckinglujah

You ended up working close with the order

Tonks was so fucking happy to have her little sister back

And Remus was happy to see her happy

No surprise you straight up told him "Look, you like tonks, tonks likes you go for it dude."

You FINALLY apologized for punching Sirius

He said it was hilarious actually and even said "I think James turned in his grave laughing."

Draco spent all of his time with you

And as you were planning he realized he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

Then something happened that involved you having to literally go on a rescue mission to the ministry

It was intense.

You saved Arthur from Nagini

You thought you saw Lucius but you weren't sure until you were face to face with him.

He kept blaming you.

Over and over during this battle he kept saying that you were the reason why Draco was gone

And when he actually hit you Draco was PISSED

Draco basically LAUNCHED his father away from you and you coughed.

"Holy shit." You gaped.

"Are you okay!?" Draco asked.

"He flew like fifty fucking feet!" You gaped.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you!?"

"How did you even--"

"Y/n! Are you okay!?" Draco asked.

"I'm fine--" "AVADA KADAVRA!"

You turned to see Sirius stumble back.

You and Draco sprinted to Harry, holding him back as he screamed.

When you all returned to base Harry couldn't form words

Draco stayed close to Harry though, making sure that if anything seemed too much he'd be able to calm Harry down

Honestly it warmed your heart to see Draco care about Harry like a brother.

Things got intense though when Dumbledore died.

Like you all felt like you were walking on some VERY thin ice and it was bound to crack at any moment.

Then you helped the team with bellatrix's vault.

And it fucking sucked.

You all ended up in the equivalent to a dungeon.

"Darling." You said.

"hmm?" Draco asked.

"Why the fuck do your parents have a prison in their home?" You asked.

"I have no idea." He said.

"....Oh god this isn't a kink is it?" You realized making anyone who was sitting bolt up.

Lucius of course dragged your ass out.

Because he was angry.

And he let Bellatrix have free reign over whatever she wanted to do

She held you down and carved into you

You were screaming bloody murder and Draco was having a mental breakdown having to hear you.

When they finally busted out, Draco got you out of there immediately.

You didn't speak for a while.

You couldn't-- what the fuck do you say after that?

Dobby died, making this even harder.

Way harder.

You sat on a rock by the lake, staring into the water.

Draco sat next to you and you sank into his arms.

"Don't leave me." Was the first words you said after the incident.

He never left your side.

When the battle of hogwarts started you did everything to make sure Draco was safe.

He did the same for you.

Draco saved Fred and you noticed Tonks running.

"Guys, something's wrong with Tonks!" You said.

You all booked it and winded up saving Remus and Tonks life from a hoard of death eaters

Draco kept you close at all times and didn't dare to let you out of his sight.

You killed Bellatrix yourself.

"DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING TOUCH MY MUM OR MY SISTER AGAIN YOU BITCH!" you screamed before she just... Died.

Draco was ready to fight but damn, you had that battle wrapped up quick

The battle just stopped at one point.

It seemed like you lost.

Harry was dead.

Draco and you both were wrecked

This was utterly fucking terrifying.

Was this it? Like actually? You lost just like that?!

Then you noticed movement.

And Harry rolled out of Hagrid's arms

Draco grabbed you and ran because he knew that you all were in the dead center and that was asking for something bad to happen.

Then... You won

Harry actually did it.

It was over.

You cried to be honest.

Like finally! This whole fucking thing was over.

You literally collapsed onto the nearest bed and slept for hours.

When you woke up, of course there was a celebration

Draco took that time to propose to you too.

Tonks was so happy for you she was almost crying

You FINALLY met Teddy

You and Harry were the Godparents btw.

A few years later you became a professor at hogwarts

Draco became a healer (In my head, he always ends up a healer, change my mind)

Your poor kid had to deal with famous parents

Because everyone is always talking about the "badass professor" and the "hot healer"

Which makes your daughter sink down in her chair and want to scream.

You went over to the Weasleys every holiday

During the summer you helped out with Fred and George's shop

Tonks and you have dinner every weekend

The team always gets together for a big dinner during the start of school and the end of it.

You loved these people

Even the crazy girl with the pink hair.

#draco fuckingmalfoy #draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco x y/n

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ma-lark-ey · 4 years ago

Text

I'm making this post the disclose my current opinions on the Dndads discourse and how frivolous its become.

I would like to preface with one thing;

This post contains content of grooming and manipulation, as this has been the main discussion in this fandom and the issues. I am speaking from my own personal experience, as a former victim of grooming who only recently escaped my abuser. I will not say their name, those who I feel comfortable knowing further information on this already know.

this is my trauma, and I am speaking from my experiences. This is one of the hardest possible topics I could touch on, and I beg anyone who still cares to listen, whether I change your mind or not. Listen.

I've wrestled with my support of this podcast for eleven weeks now. Maybe longer. Since before the discourse became a major thing. I've wrestled with this since episode 34 was released, and I need you understand that.

I need you to understand that I believe the hosts have done what they can to fix these issues. And I genuinely do not see what people still want from them. I will address each topic one at a time, and if I touch on things lesser than others, please understand that this discourse triggers a trauma that I underwent less than a year ago. a trauma I am still processing.

1. Grant, and his over sexualization.

The jokes revolving Grant and his sexual orientation or exploration were sometimes in very poor taste, I am not that blind. I will not defend them or say they weren't as bad as they are. But here'd what people have to think about when we talk about this; Those jokes are already in the episode. They cannot be removed, and the best the hosts can do about that is avoid that humor in the future. Humans are not perfect, and humor is ever growing part of a person, its always a tossup of if a joke will land or not. These did not, and they have not made these jokes since they got called on it.

On the Discord claims about them discussing his porn history, I can say nothing on that. I've seen no sources or proof that that happened. I won't make any opinions or comments on that until I've seen concrete proof that these conversations happened.

2. The Unsafe Discord.

They're Discord is no longer unsafe. Blanket statement, no discussion open. Here's the thing and here's where I'm going into my personal experience; Discords minor precautions arent up to par either. The DnDads hosts have made their 18+ channels, they've made the Discord clear to not be a totally kid friendly place and has tried to separate adults and minors. But they genuinely can only do so much. Minors can easily bypass these guidelines, and that is where we get to the whole grooming argument.

As a grooming victim, this is not the slippery slope people make it out to be. And adult fans,,this is where I'm telling you to sit down and shut up for a minute. Listen, for just a moment. I know I'm "just a kid" but, I've lived the possible outcomes you've thrown out. I lived that experience, and I lived. I survived, and the way you talk about it is so invalidating to me its absolutely disgusting.

I'm prefacing this with this may sound ineloquent, and not as "pleasant" as I usually like to sound. Because with this I expect people to listen. Its not in the public ass Discord server where you should watch out for the child. Its if you see an 18+ individual actively DMing that person, and this minor speaking about this person as if they're a major part of their life.

I need you to understand that I was genuinely wary of one of our own community members when I first began speaking with them, because of this trauma. I wary of ALL of our community members. I didn't share my other socials with people in this community unless I knew their content first. There have been multiple times I've stopped myself from messaging who I will call "My Annus" because of this trauma I've endured.

And I'm sorry, but Waterdeep genuinely has no precautions set in place to separate adults and minors that the DnDads Patreon does not. You cannot act like saints and villainize them, when they adjusted and became you. Then either both of you are saints or both of you are demons.

Children interacting with adults is always a bit set back at first. But I've been groomed. Twice. And you people act like its obvious, like it can happen so easily. And it does, it happens easily. First its them texting you so much you feel overwhelmed, then its them becoming someone you rely on. Someone who makes you pity them.

And its not gonna be people who are SIGNIFCANTLY older. (i.e, I feel much less worry interacting with 30 year olds than I do 18-22 year olds.) Because the adult people that feel 'more understandable' to be friends with cause their just barely adults? they tend to pry harder. They can get away with it. Thats just fact. The people who say "Oh I'm eighteen, but I just turned eighteen" I'm always the wariest of. Not because I'm convinced they're bad people or whatever, but because both times; my abuser was one of those people. This was two different people as well.

And thats what the adults of this fandom won't address. That its not the slope they've made it out to be. Because then they have to retract statements they made, and a lot of people, minors and adults, just don't have the humility to do that.

The only advice I can give to people in the server, who are worried for the minors. These are the only signs I can give you, and this is from my experience or the experience of other survivors I've spoken to, and I'm by no means saying this is concrete.

Abusers tend to be /just/ enough of an adult to be considered on, but not so old that it'll be considered weird for them to befriend a minor. The age gaps I see most often are 14/19 or in that kind of range. They'll go for the lonelier or newer folks, the ones who haven't built their group in the community and are just entering. The ones looking for their place in the hierarchy. If you want to help protect us, you watch like a mother bear when a new minor joins.

A lot of us don't realize its happening until its too late, and by the time we realize the situation we've fallen into its too late for us to get ourselves out. The majority of us have weak wills and a fear of conflict.

3. What the Hosts have done in response.

I honestly, genuinely think the hosts have done a lot of steps in the right direction. And in recent episodes? man, they've tagged their shit better than the McElroys, and no I'm not reaching there.

Honestly, they kind of did before to, on topics they knew were really rough for some people.

When they warned for the Willy Stapler stuff, I was grateful. They warned me I may be triggered by Ron and Willy's dynamic before I was forced with it. The McElroys had a scene with grooming in Grad, and I wasn't warned. I couldn't mentally prepare myself and I had a minor reaction to it. And thats not at all to shit on the McElroys, anyone who knows me know I love that family more than anything. That they saved me. Thats just a statement I need you all to understand.

The Hosts aren't "ignoring us" they're listening to us. They genuinely are. They saw we wanted content warnings, and they gave us some of the best content warnings I've seen. They've content warned episodes I didnt see reason for content warnings.

4. The Transcripts.

Look, this is beating a dead horse at this point. I, personally, have debated beginning to transcribe episode. I know they said they will, and I trust their word. But thats all we can really do, right?

I've transcribed things myself before, guys, and thats hard. and it takes time. and knowing them, they'll want to get all the current episodes up at once, and thats gonna take a hot minute to get down. And we can go into "Well why didnt they transcribe from the beginning?" and well, that's because transcribing just wasn't a thing until recently? Like again, going back to MBMBAM and McElroys, they don't even have all of TAZ transcribed last I checked (I believe their transcriptions go from Grad-Stolen Century, and anything before Stolen Century doesn't have one yet. I may be wrong on that.)

I will not speak on the other grievances and issues people have brought up in the show. The topics I covered are the only ones I feel comfortable speaking on on a public platform, where my words can sway opinions.

There is no TL;DR, because as I said in the beginning; if you can't read this, you aren't listening well enough nor willing to actually discuss the issues you have. You're looking for something to be mad about. Period, end of discussion.

I don't say that to act like I'm some authority on this, or some higher being above all of you for "being forgiving." Because, frankly I don't forgive them. I will continue to support them for making steps in the right direction, and upping their game. But, I won't forgive them for their jokes or the brief lack of precaution in the server. But, I will move on and I will support them. Because, as a victim of the problems people brought up in those situations, the steps the took are the best ones they could have. And I am grateful for that.

If other survivors read this and disagree, you're perfectly valid in that. We all went something, and it effects each of us differently. My heart goes out to you, as well, I know how isolating and genuinely terrifying those experiences and situations can be.

To those who aren't survivors and have read this; I beg you to think about this.

I am open to discussion further on this, but to an extent. There are some opinions I hold in this message that I will flat out tell you to not debate me on, not because of anything other than what I said in this post was hard enough to me to say.

Thank you for your time. EDIT: I implore anyone reading to the read the notes on this post, more information and discussion can be found and all of it is just as important.

#dndads #dndads discourse #discourse #dungeons and daddies

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superman86to99 · 4 years ago

Photo

Superman #84 (December 1993)

Superman takes a short Paris vacation! Like, one day short. What's the worst that could happen?

Oh, man.

So, for the past few issues, we've been hearing about children being abducted in Metropolis. Now we see that they're being kept inside a giant toy house by some creepy bald man in Quasimodo clothes who seems to be obsessed with toys -- a "Man of Toys," if you will. Side note: no wonder the children haven't been found... all the articles about them are just gibberish! (See clip below.)

The kidnapper thinks that these kids' parents don't deserve them, and that they're much better off here, in an underground hideout with a man who threatens to starve them if they don't play with him. (And I do mean literally play, with action figures and stuff.) Meanwhile, as these children cry for help, Superman is having the time of his life. While helping move a stranded ship with some huge-ass chains, Superman spots a sunken galleon with a treasure chest inside and fantasizes about keeping the booty...

...before turning it over to the authorities anyway, the big boy scout. Then, he wakes up Lois at 6 AM and tells her they should go to Paris right now, which usually means your significant other is having a mental breakdown, but in this case they can actually do it. And so, after deciding that he deserves to use his powers for fun every once in a while, Superman and Lois drop everything and fly to France with super-speed for the rest of the day/issue.

Anyway: back to the child abduction! Cat Grant and her son Adam attend a Halloween party at Adam's school, but there's a disturbed weirdo in a hideous costume lurking among the crowd. Yes, I'm talking about Jimmy Olsen in his Turtle Boy suit.

Shortly after that, a guy in a dinosaur costume (see, all the creeps are dressed as reptiles) lures Adam out of the party with the promise of "superb video games." What child could resist that? Of course, that turns out to be the kidnapper and Adam ends up in his hideout along with the rest of the missing children and, worst of all, not a single "Lextendo" console.

The kidnapper gets angry at Adam when he refers to the toys at the hideout as "old-fashioned junk" (he was REALLY looking forward to those video games), and even angrier when Adam tries to free the other kids. Adam is brave and puts up a good fight, but...

And those were Adam Morgan's final words. "Uh-oh."

Next, we have a pretty harrowing scene of Detective Turpin letting Cat know Adam’s body was found, and Jimmy and Perry White taking her to the morgue to identify the body (most people probably wouldn't bring their former boss to something like that, but Perry sadly knows more than most about losing a kid). As for Lois and Clark, they were gone so long that the Daily Planet had time to print a headline about the murders. The issue ends when the lovebirds walk into the office smiling like two people who just spent the night fooling around in Paris... only to feel like jackasses when they find out what happened.

To be continued!

Character-Watch:

And that's it for little Adam Morgan who, unlike the also tragically diseased Jerry White, didn't even get any post-death appearances. Adam went from a little kid scared of Superman, to a huge brat, to a character who was approaching likeability as of last week. That's why I hate it when DC kills off young characters like Adam or Liam Harper: in long-form storytelling, children represent potential. Look at how much Wally West or Dick Grayson evolved over the years compared to their mentors! Sure, there's a huge probability that Adam would have ended up disappearing from comics for 25 years anyway, but who knows, maybe we'd now know him as Teen Gangbuster or something. GangbusTEEN.

This issue also represents a turning point for the kidnapper, who is never named or seen clearly in the story itself but I don't think I'm shocking anyone by spoiling the fact that he's Toyman (it's in the cover, for one thing). In his last two appearances before this storyline, Toyman helped Superman save some kids from Sleez and looked genuinely sad to learn about Superman's death, so this is a pretty dramatic change for the character. We'll find out why he went from big softy to child killer in Superman #85 (but don't get your hopes up).

Plotline-Watch:

The most disturbing part of the issue, all things considered, is still the part where Toyman climbs into a giant crib and hugs a huge stuffed bunny. Look at serial killer Tommy Pickles here:

Don Sparrow says: “Even with the upgrade, Toyman is still just a man in a suit, a common complaint about Superman’s rogues gallery.” Funny you should say that, because I JUST shared an old Wizard interview in our Twitter in which Dan Jurgens talks about how Doomsday came out of his frustration with the fact that most Superman villains are dudes in suits (plus other interesting tidbits from the era, like how it was actually Roger Stern’s idea to bring back Hank Henshaw, so check out that link!).

Don again: “The entire Superman storyline of this issue feels like filler. Diving for buried treasure and soaring off to Paris -- it all feels like wasted time next to the Adam storyline.” I have a theory that the entire ship sequence is there as an excuse to put Superman in those big chains and make that Spawn joke (which I didn’t get until now, since I’ve always read this issue in Spanish).

Superman says that pulling that big ship was "a little easier than expected" -- that's either another hint that there's something going on with Superman's powers since he came back, or a subtle dig at the state of American ship manufacturing.

Another adorable "window tap" scene for the books, and this is the sexiest one so far. Is it me or has Jurgens started copying more than just Teri Hatcher's hairdo from Lois & Clark? (For anyone who thinks Lois has gotten implants, I refer you to this clip.)

While in Paris, Lois asks Clark if he's ever wondered what would happen if his rocket had landed in other countries. Don: “Clark’s conversation with Lois sounds like a bunch of concepts for Elseworlds stories. We eventually would see a Russian Superman, and a British Superman, but not yet the French Superman. (Hire us, DC!)” Yep, got my French Superman pitch ready, Jim Lee. Or just let us do Russian Superman again, since Red Son wasn’t even the first time you published that idea.

Don once more: “Another thing that makes no sense about the ‘new’ Toyman is his resentment of technological toys—when in previous appearances he himself had deadly high-tech toys to vex Superman over the years.” I especially resent his hatred of video game consoles. Incidentally, I wonder what types of games are available for Adam’s beloved Lextendo. Star Lex 64? Mega Man Lex? Sonic the Hedgehog 3 & Knuckles & Lex?

No one is more upset at Lois and Clark for going AWOL than Whit. NO ONE. He's so furious that his usually grey mustache turned black.

Patreon-Watch:

As always, shout out to our patrons, Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Samuel Doran, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush and Raphael Fischer! Last month’s exclusive Patreon article was about the recently unearthed sequel to Superman 64 for the PlayStation, featuring Metallo, Parasite, and Lois looking even hotter than in this issue:

Hot damn. Find out more at https://www.patreon.com/superman86to99!

And believe it or not, Don Sparrow has even more to say about this issue. Read his section after the jump:

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

I should start off my section with a big caveat: I flat out hate this issue. There were several weird decisions made in the post-Death-and-Return era (most of them along the same lines of making the Superman titles more grim-and-gritty), and this story was one of the worst of them. My theory is that, despite the praise and record-breaking sales of the Death and Return storyline, the Superman creative team felt pressure to have more extreme storylines, perhaps in response to the wildly successful Image books coming out at the time. Between this story, and the upcoming “Spilled Blood” storyline, the Super books take a hard—but temporary--turn into more violent and upsetting storytelling—even though these stories are by the same writers as the previous few years. While death has always been a part of comics, and Superman comics was no exception, there is a jarring glibness and unfeeling toward the way violence is handled in these pages that is quite different from the stories that preceded it. It’s made all the more jarring by the fact that well-established personalities suddenly veer wildly out of character, Toyman chief among them.

We start with the cover, and while it is technically well-drawn (by the familiar team of Jurgens and Breeding) it’s also a very upsetting visual. I think they should have gone with the pieta type pose with Adam and Superman, OR the scary badass bowie-knife Toyman (who apparently has a Cheshire cat smile now) but not both. But the cover is a good hint at the tonal dissonance of the comic within.

We open with a splash of the now-extreme 90s looking Toyman, with his serial killer shaved head and spooky cloak, ignoring the pleas of hungry kids he has locked up in a tiny jail cell for days at a time (if that sentence doesn’t ring alarm bells for how wrong this is for a Superman story, I don’t know what will). For much of the issue Toyman’s eyes are obscured by glare on his lenses, further de-humanizing a character who was once one of Superman’s more empathetic bad guys.

We cut to Superman tugboating a huge tanker with giant chains and it’s a cool visual (one repeated in the Batman V Superman film). It feels especially out of place to focus on, given how upsetting this issue is otherwise, but throughout the whole comic, Lois is drawn smoking hot, especially on the two page spread on pages 9-10.

The scenes depicting the actual murder, while still wildly out of place in a Superman comic, are well done, and give a real sense of darkness and menace, which I suppose is the intent. Perhaps my least favourite visual is the Big Bird stuffie, silently bearing witness to what’s about to occur.

The edges of the panels on get more slashy and off-kilter (to me, looking very much like the layouts more typically seen in Image comics of the day) and I suppose I appreciate the restraint of how little Dan Jurgens shows of the death of a child, showing only a bloody slash on a black background. This is still a pretty baroque image for a Superman comic, but certainly less violent than it could be, given what is happening.

Cat Grant’s silent horror is well staged, and powerful in its way. Lastly, Clark Kent bending in sorrow and regret is a powerful image.

While this issue is handled marginally better, and more maturely than other comics on the shelf at this time, I still believe it is one of the biggest mistakes of the era. Giving a long-established character an unceremonious death for shock value is gross on its own, but making it a child definitely crosses a line for me. Making it worse is that, while the Toyman is a criminal and a killer, he has shown in past issues (a similar kidnapping storyline involving Sleez) that he genuinely cares for the well-being of children. So for a long-time reader, this also felt like a betrayal of a long-established, fully developed character. Adding to the ugliness of this is that Adam dies heroically, trying to free the children who have been caged, unfed, for days, but even in that regard, he fails. The headline at the end of the issue confirms all the children are dead. Adam’s death did not buy the other kids enough time to get away. It was all for nothing. Had Adam died, but the other children lived, maybe this issue wouldn’t leave quite as bad a taste. [Max: It’s weird because it’s all told in a way where it’s told in a way where it would make sense, narratively and within the story universe, that the other kids survived, but then it’s almost casually revealed that nope, they died too. A scene of one of the kids relaying Adam’s heroism to Cat in a future issue would have gone a long way.]

Superman doesn’t come off well in these pages, either. It’s honestly the type of story they should just stay away from, because the more you think about all the calamity that is going on around the clock, the less defensible the whole Clark Kent persona becomes. Superman carving out time to romance his fiancée directly led to the preventable deaths of innocent children—how do you come back from that?

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I’m always looking for hints that perhaps Jimmy or Perry know Superman’s secret identity deep down, and Jimmy’s anger at Lois and Clark on their return to the Daily Planet offices would seem to give that theory some credence, as he’s as angry at them as if he knew Clark really were Superman. Either that, or he’s ticked that it fell to him, and none of them to escort Cat into the morgue. [Max: Has this issue finally converted you to the “Jimmy is terrible” side now, Don?]

I don’t think I’m the only one who disliked the new Toyman—SPOILERS BE HERE: years later, in Action Comics #865, Geoff Johns retconned this whole story, reverting Schott into the criminal who over-relates to kids, rather than the child-killer of this story. Apparently the infantile Schott, who speaks to “Mother” a la Norman Bates, is a robot so lifelike it fools even Superman, and the “Mother” he’s constantly replying to was the real Winslow Schott trying to recall the malfunctioning robot. [Max: That’s one Geoff Johns retcon I really didn’t mind, even if it felt kind of derivative of his similar “all the Brainiacs are robots made by the real Brainiac” reveal.]

#superman #dan jurgens #josef rubinstein #toyman #cat grant #adam morgan #dan turpin #whit #gangbusteen #super luthor fighter ii turbo championship edition

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