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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 7 months ago

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Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fourteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: References to sex, Mentions of sex (not really explicit), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking/Snorting Drugs, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from Soldier Boy's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Previously:

"Y/f/n Y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks, an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

You open the door to look at them. "The rapper?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The rapper? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

��No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo. Who did you think I meant?" You ask.

Present Day

*Soldier Boy POV*

The longer Ben sat in the motel room the more he thought of you. It wasn’t unusual. Ben was always thinking of you, even before he fucked everything up and before you two became supes, Ben rarely thought about anyone else. He hated that he did that, hated that you were always on his mind because he believed that he shouldn’t care about you as much as he did. Because why would you want someone like him? He was a fuck up before and after the serum and you deserved better. You always had deserved better.

When his cage had finally opened your name had been on his lips. He was ready to see you again, tell you how sorry he was, and how much he loved you. He hoped that it was you finally coming to take him away, but it wasn’t.

Y/n said she never wanted to see you again. Of course it wasn’t her.

He sighs and takes a bite of cheeseburger. His first one in 40 years, that the British fuck had gotten him, but it tastes like sandpaper, because he can't focus on anything but you.

"Well we know a few of your old team members are already dead." Butcher breezes pacing in the dingy motel room. "Countess, Gunpowder, Indigo-"

Ben reaches for his knife to grind up the oxy on the table in front of him, hoping that the pills will bring more relief than the whiskey.

It had been three days since he got out of Russia. Two since he visited Legend, when Legend told him that you were dead and Ben threw Legend's red armchair through the window of his apartment.

When Legend said it, Ben couldn't breathe, couldn't grasp that you were really gone. He didn't want to believe it.

You were all he thought the past 40 years, you were the only reason why he wanted to get the fuck out of Russia. He hated himself for what he had done, felt that he deserved the torture, but it was nothing compared to how he had tortured himself over the years.

The last thing he said to you often replayed in his mind and the way you looked when he said it burned against his eyes at night. He hadn't meant to hurt you, he didn't want to hurt you, never did. You were his oldest friend, the only person he knew that could be honest with him, call him out on all his shit, the only person who knew the real him, and the only person he could trust to be the voice of reason when he lost his temper.

And he threw you away like you meant nothing to him, when you were the only person who meant everything, the one person that he actually gave a fuck about.

Ben thought about your last night together often, remembered the dinner in the little restaurant when you wore a dress the color of his suit and looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen you as you danced to the song that always made him think of you. Remembered how he felt when he finally took you to bed, how each time you cried out his name it made him feel proud that it was him making you feel that way, that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you for so long.

Of course, then the memory of the next morning broke in his mind. When he woke up before you and held you closer than he'd held anyone else, slowly stroking your back and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept and allowing himself to feel at peace. He couldn’t stop smiling in that moment because you genuinely wanted him to hold you close to him. When he woke up with you in his arms when you were children he feared that you wouldn’t want him to hold you, so he always pulled away, afraid of the rejection. He felt rejection from his father, but Ben knew that if you ever rejected him he wouldn't recover.

And then I rejected her, like a dumb fuck.

Ben was not a cuddler, he didn't think it was manly, but being there with you the morning after was different, and he believed he could have laid there for eternity listening to the soft beat of your heart where you rested against his chest and watch the gentle rise and fall of your body as you breathed. He had trailed his fingers along your spine as you laid on his chest, happy for the first time in his life.

When you told him that you loved him, he had been stunned. He remembered the soft blush of your cheeks and wide smile as you said it. He had wanted to say it back, to hear you say it once more, and to make love to you again while he said it- because he knew that’s what you had done together. He had fucked a lot of women, but that night with you was different, he cared how you felt, wanted it to be good for you, wanted to be everything you needed.

But the thought of you loving him scared him.

As much as it made him a pussy, Ben understood that it scared him.

You shouldn't love him because he didn't think that he could be what you wanted, that after all these years he couldn't be enough for you, and he believed that he shouldn't care for anyone as much as he did for you, because that meant weakness. That meant that every time you were on a mission together he would have to worry about you more than anything else. And Soldier Boy couldn't be weak.

So he pushed you away and ran to Countess. Ben's jaw tightens.

The psychotic bitch that sold me out.

It had surprised him, how recently she had died. Butcher hadn't taken responsibility for it as he had for Gunpowder, which made Ben curious as to who had done it.

"Are you sure that Indigo is dead?" Ben asks taking another bite of the hamburger, but it still tastes like nothing.

He wondered if that was because you were gone and then wondered if he'd ever be able to taste anything ever again.

"What?" Hughie looks up from his bag of food. "Why would you think that?"

"Countess. Y/n hated her." Ben takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey on the table to try and dissipate some of the sadness he felt when he thought of you being gone. "Who told you that y/n was dead?"

"Her daughter." Hughie answers.

Ben freezes, his muscles tightening as a sickening feeling rises in the pit of his stomach. "She-she had a kid?" The thought made jealousy burn in his chest. Someone else had loved you, someone else had been man enough to say the thing that kept him up at night.

Of course she had a kid. She said she wanted a family. I was just too fucking stupid and couldn't admit that I wanted to give her that, to give her anything she wanted because I fucking love her. Did I really think she was going to wait for me? After everything I did to her? After everything I said?

"Yeah-" Butcher shrugs. "Spitting image of her."

"She looks like her?" The thought of seeing you smile again makes something stir in his chest.

But it wouldn't be y/n. Ben reasons to himself. Because she’s gone.

His hand tightens on the bottle of whiskey and he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand as a wave of sadness comes over him. The memory of you and him at Fairmount Park, when you painted him briefly flashes across his mind and he allows himself to bask in your smile for a few fleeting moments before it’s gone. It makes him feel like he’d taken a knife to the chest at the thought that he’d never see it again and never hear you laugh.

"Yeah. Calls herself the same thing." Butcher continues.

"I want to meet her." Ben states taking one last drag of whiskey from the bottle.

"What?" Hughie chokes on his food.

Ben stands up. "I want to meet her. Where is she?"

"Oi, I don't think that's a good idea. She didn't really seem too keen on seeing you-"

"What do you mean?" Ben spits back, eyes narrowing.

Hughie shifts in his seat uncomfortably and Ben can hear Hughie's heartbeat quicken in fear.

"Don't be a pussy and just tell me." Ben snaps, becoming angry.

"She didn't want to talk too much about her mom. But she did mention how upset her mom was with you." Hughie states.

Ben felt the memories of the past creep up on him again.

Of course she was upset.

He remembered how broken you had looked the night you caught him and Countess. The look on your face forever sealed in his memory. He’d never seen you look so small. Honestly he was surprised that you hadn’t killed Countess that night. If he had walked in on anybody fucking you after the night you shared together, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from killing them.

Because you were his.

He thinks about Howard briefly. Ben had almost killed him before you were supes when he called you his at the dance. It was also difficult to walk away when Howard hurt you.

Ben’s thoughts drift back to Countess. Her body had been burned beyond recognition, but her head was no longer attached. It would have taken an extreme amount of force for someone to do that.

Could she still be alive?

Ben thought about your ability. He was the only one who knew what it really was, that you didn't just come back from the dead, that your body was able to take the power of any supe that killed you. It made you incredibly indestructible, more invulnerable than him, even though he didn't want to admit that. He liked the thought that he was stronger than you because it meant that you needed him to protect you. He liked the thought that you needed him.

The day you both figured it out momentarily dances across his mind, making him tighten his jaw.

He remembered the sound of the gun and how you immediately pushed him out of the way to take the bullet for him, because you didn't know he was bulletproof and your gut reaction was to protect him.

Ben remembered how he held you when you took your last breath, watched the fear and pain in your eyes, mirrored in his own body at the thought of losing you, of trying to exist in a world where you weren't there. It was how he felt now.

Purposeless.

He remembered the broken feeling that rose in his chest when he heard your heart beat for the last time and how he begged internally for you to come back to him, because he didn't want to live if it meant losing you. He remembered gently brushing your hair back from your face as relief swelled in his chest when you came back and he clung to you like you had been gone a millennia. Of course after he had yelled at you for being so stupid, for putting yourself in that situation, tried to act like he didn't care as much as he did, but you'd only yelled back and refused to listen to him.

She was just so damn stubborn all the time.

"I don't care. I want to talk to her." Ben grabs the black leather coat that Butcher brought him and changes into a dark t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Take me to her."

Butcher rolls his eyes. "Well, she did call the other day and say that she had some information for me." Butcher shrugs. "Let's go."

"But-" Hughie interjects.

"Oi Hughie. Calm down."

"She lost her mother. I don't think she wants any reminders of that."

"I promise I'll be gentle, cupcake." Ben rolls his eyes and pushes past Hughie to the door, the thought of seeing you again or just someone who shared your face enough to make him feel something for the first time in forty years.

"Oi, Y/n you in there." Butcher presses the call button on the outside wall of the brick apartment building.

Ben looks up and down the street, noting the people who are walking down the cracked sidewalks. It was weird to be back in New York, to be in a city that he lived in for so long and feel out of place. Hughie had tried to explain some things to him about the new century, but Ben was still confused, and honestly he didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was you and the possibility of you living here.

Not you. He corrected. But maybe. He still didn't quite believe that you were dead, that you could die.

A minute passes and Ben is tired of waiting. He confidently walks up to the glass front door, and pulls with enough of his superstrength to break the lock and open it.

"What are you doing?" Hughie whispers following behind him, but Ben ignores the question strutting straight to the stairwell.

"What floor?"

"8th." Butcher says.

When they finally reach your door Ben pauses. He's not sure if he can look you in the eye, not after all of these years, if it really is you. And if it wasn't then what? What would I say to her daughter?

The thought makes the fear that he refuses to acknowledge grip his chest, the fear that you were dead followed by the feeling of purposelessness that seemed to follow him since he heard the news.

If it is her daughter, maybe she’ll tell me if y/n suffered, if she died thinking that I hated her.

The memory of the fight stirs in his chest as Butcher knocks on the door and waits. But nobody answers.

"Must not be home." Hughie shrugs. "We could call her-" He begins to say, but Butcher deftly picks the lock and the door swings open into the darkness.

As soon as Butcher opens the front door of the apartment and Ben steps through, all he smells is you. It's enough to confirm in his heart that it is you and not your daughter. He felt something in his chest stutter to a halt as he inhales the familiar scent of lavender and lemons. It was everywhere, all around him, flooding his senses.

And for the first time in forty years he felt comfort, at peace. For a moment all thoughts of revenge, rage, and justice fades from his mind and he is left with the memory of you.

Ben immediately is transported back to those quiet moments when he settled into bed next to you after climbing through your window. When you would fall asleep before him and curl against him subconsciously, your hair tickling his cheeks and sending the soft smell over him. The nights when he’d wrap his arm around you as soon as you fell asleep because he was afraid to do it when you were awake, afraid that you would reject him like so many others did. Those nights with you outweighed any other time in his life. He remembered that each time he crawled through your window you smiled up at him, were happy to see him, so different than the home he left behind, where his father wouldn't look at him.

He remembered the nights after you took Compound V, when even after a hard day when he was a dick, you still allowed him into your bed, allowed him to sleep next to you. Those quiet moments in the late hours of the morning when you cuddled into his side and muttered words in your sleep that he couldn’t understand all the while he brushed your hair back from your face stayed with him. As much as he refused to admit to anyone, refused to show any emotion, being there with you, felt more like home than anywhere else.

That's why he asked you to come with him in the first place. He couldn't leave you behind. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he would not pretend to be unselfish, not when it came to you.

He thinks about all the suitors that he scared away before him and you left Philadelphia, all his friends who expressed interest in you only to have him drive them away, and of course the one that wouldn't leave. The one that bought you jewelry and finally asked you to marry him, another reason why Ben convinced you to come with him.

The jealousy was familiar. Ben didn't want to leave you behind, the thought that some other man would possess you or love you made his chest hurt. You were his. No one felt the way about you that he did, never would. No one would know you, care about you or understand you like he did, and no one knew you as long as he did. And although Ben had trouble expressing it, he knew that he loved you, he hated himself for being unable to say it. He couldn’t decide if admitting that he loved you made him a pussy or it was his fear of telling you that made him one.

Ben looks around the apartment, noticing the artwork on the walls, the messy studio table, and smiles. He remembered the way you always had a sketchbook with you, he used to tease you about it, but you would only roll your eyes at him and continue to draw. He loved watching you sketch, watching how focused you were as you created something so effortlessly. He remembered watching you paint with the watercolors he got you, feeling a swell of pride that he was the one who started that love. Ben had been afraid to give them to you, afraid that it was too thoughtful, but then he remembered how widely you smiled, how happy you had been.

The apartment felt like you.

And by now again he knows that it is you and perhaps that's worse, because now he has to face you and he doesn't know how to fix this, any of it.

You weren’t like him or anyone else. You didn’t bend under easy promises and gifts like the other women he had been with over the years. Your ability to read him and understand him meant that you were special. And you were. You were special to him.

He moves forward towards the darkened hallway.

"Hey wait-" He hears Hughie say behind him, but Ben ignores him.

Ben finds your bedroom easily and the smell grows when he opens the door. He takes in the controlled chaos of the room before his eyes fall on the suitcase on the large bed.

Where was she going?

Ben pulls your supe suit out of the bag and smiles at the memory of the day you first tried it on. You never wore anything form fitting, hid your shape under shirts and pants, but the day he saw you in this for the first time made his breath catch in his chest. He knew that you thought you were fat, but Ben never believed that. He loved every curve of your body, loved to trace them with his eyes when you weren’t looking and when you finally let him take you to bed, his hands. Seeing you in the suit for the first time was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he kept it together.

He notices the plane ticket on the edge of the bed, beneath the bag, and he pulls out the printed piece of paper, reading the fine print.

She was going to Russia. She was going to come get me even after I-

The emotion that rises in Ben's chest is unfamiliar. He did not like giving in to emotions the same way others did because he believed that made him weak, a lesson his father had ingrained into his mind. But this time he doesn't attempt to push it down. The plane ticket crumples in his hand as his jaw clenches tight. A part of him was relieved, relieved to know that somewhere deep down you still cared about him, maybe that meant that you would be willing to see him.

But he still didn’t know how to fix this. He'd never been good with words or apologizing or, well, love in general. He’d never loved anyone before you. He frowns at the thought of all the meaningless flings he'd had in the past. There was only one relationship with a woman he'd ever been in, with you, and he'd fucked it all up.

He kneels and reaches under your bed, looking for the box he knows will be there. It's a dark rosewood, one from your bedroom when you were a kid, but now it holds a different value. Ben sits on the end of your bed and opens it.

He had caught you with it a few times, usually when you started drinking or on your birthday, always on your birthday. It's why he never let you stay at home, he made sure you came out with him, because your mind would drift when you were alone and Ben didn't like the dark places it took you.

Ben rarely liked leaving you alone. Whenever he was on movie shoots in another country he would call you just to hear your voice, and even when he went to bed with someone else and they fell asleep he would stay up thinking of you, wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you, and wondering if you could sleep without him because he couldn’t sleep without you. Another reason why he pushed you away, believing that it made him weak.

The photo on top is unfamiliar to him, it's newer, and shows you standing with a young brunette woman outside of a college dorm. He traces the lines of your face with his thumb. He hadn't seen a picture of you in forty years, but you were just as beautiful as he remembered. The one that follows is also unfamiliar, you holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, the baby’s hand wrapped around your index finger, and you looking down at it like it's your whole world.

The look in your eyes does something to him. He remembered when you looked at him like that, the morning when you woke up next to him and whispered those four little words to him that he always wanted to hear while holding his face tenderly between your palms, "I love you Ben."

When things got bad in Russia he would strain to remember the memory, remember the way you looked at him, the way the words sounded falling from your lips. The words that he always wanted to hear you say. The morning that he wished he could change and the disastrous night he wished never happened.

"We shouldn't be here." Hughie says to Butcher in the living room.

"She ain't home. We'll go when he wants to leave." Ben hears Butcher respond.

But Ben knew that he didn't want to leave, wouldn't want to leave. He had spent the past forty years away from you and he didn't want to spend anymore time apart from you, even if that made him a pussy, he didn't care.

"This isn't a good idea. Y/n didn't want him here-" Hughie tries again

"Oi, look at this. She's looking at flights." Butcher states, when he notices the laptop on the counter.

"What?" Hughie asks.

"If it ain't her, how would she know about Russia?" Butcher says back. Ben hears a rustling like Butcher is going through the trashcan “And take a look at this-“

Ben shuts out their conversation and pulls other photos out, finally pulling out strip of paper from a Photo Booth. It was the day he took you to a baseball game, before you were supes. You’d never been to one before and Ben had only been to the one his father took him to, when his dad got drunk and forgot Ben was with him. Ben frowns for a second but then looks back at the collection of photos on the strip. It was a good day. He had bought you a ridiculous hat, and you'd sat next to him looking radiant in the sunlight like you always did sketching him. Ben loved it when you drew him, it made him happy to know that when you looked through the pages of your sketchbook later that you were thinking of him. He often wondered if you thought of him as much as he thought of you. You'd both gotten drunk on cheap beer and when a woman yelled at you for being unladylike you flipped her the bird and said some choice words that made the tips of the woman’s ears turn pink.

Ben loved that about you, that you never seemed to care what others thought of you, especially your friendship with him. Everyone you knew had told you to keep a wide berth from him, but you didn’t listen.

Ben traces your young face in the photo with his fingertip.

Maybe she should have.

He turns back and pulls out a yellowed photo of you and your mother. Ben frowns at the expression on your face. You were never happy when she was around. He hated your mother, not just because she hated him, but he hated what she did to you. He hated that she made you feel ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. Even as teenagers, Ben couldn’t help but notice how pretty your figure was and how you filled out the soft dresses you wore when you went with him on adventures through the city. He never thought you were too fat, if anything he liked your curves. The night you were finally together he worshipped them, wanted you to know that you were beautiful, to understand that he saw your beauty, because he knew that you still thought about what your mother said to you. He hated that she had such a hold on your life even though she had been dead for so long.

He hears a rattle along the bottom of the box and when he picks up the source of the noise he immediately wishes he hadn't. It's a single pearl, and Ben understands what it's from. It's from the necklace he bought you for your birthday, the one that you ripped off your neck when you found him with Countess. He had agonized over whether or not to get it for you, thought that maybe it was too thoughtful or rather was too romantic. But the look on your face when you opened the box made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun.

Ben's teeth clench together as a wave of guilt crashes over him remembering what he yelled at you, remembering what he did to you. He thought that it had been what he needed to do, that he needed to push you away because he didn't want to care about anyone else, at least not the way he cared about you.

He hadn’t thought it would hurt as much to say those things to you, but it had all but ripped his own heart out.

But even before you found them together all Ben felt was guilt. He wasn’t enjoying anything he was doing to Countess, all he wanted was to do those things with you. He thought it was necessary, that by doing those things with her he could somehow clear his head of you, but all it did was make him feel guilty and want you more.

He thinks about the days that followed before his mission in Nicaragua, when he agonized over calling you, over showing up to your apartment, but he couldn't. He couldn't face you. He hadn't been able to sleep those nights before the mission and wanted desperately for you to be there with him. Ben couldn't sleep when you weren’t with him. He hated that he'd finally gotten you and then lost you so quickly.

Ben notices a velvet box, and he sighs when he opens it. It's an engagement ring, the engagement ring that you showed him the night he asked you to come with him.

He briefly wonders if you thought that was his version of a proposal. That you believed, turning your back on your family and coming with him meant more.

I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve-

“It really is a shitty ring.” He mutters. And it was, it was all wrong for you. Ben knew what you liked and he couldn’t believe that this was what that asshole got you.

Why did she keep it? Because she wanted to remember what her life could have been like if I didn’t ask her to come?

Ben remembers when he asked you if he ruined your life, before everything exploded. He imagined that after that night you changed your answer, because how could you look at him, let alone want to be around him after what he did to you?

Ben examines the ring again allowing the memory of the night you showed it to him push its way into his mind. He remembered being scared, of course he’d never admit that, he wasn’t a pussy, but he acutely remembered the moment you showed it to him. The fear of losing you that struck him when he noticed it on your finger, as the weight of what it represented settled on his shoulders. He knew that the asshole who proposed would quickly turn you against him, and this time you’d believe it because you loved that dick or-

Ben reconsidered. She didn’t love him because she came with you. She loved you.

He remembers again what it was like to be with you in bed, when you whispered those words so tenderly to him and is struck with guilt all over again.

You had looked almost sheepish when you showed me the ring, like you were afraid to tell me-

Of course she was afraid to tell you. She wanted you to propose but you didn’t instead you fucking ruined her life and strung her along for 40 fucking years-

He never understood how you did that. Survived all those years with him while he fucked his way through everything that crossed his path. How you continued to stand by him when he was a dick to you and so many others. And yet you never let any other man into your life.

He remembers the night after you got between him and Noir, remembers asking you if you wanted to marry Howard, but you said no. The other things you said struck something within him. When you said you wanted someone to come home to, someone who would love you, a family. He remembers how you looked the night of your birthday in the restaurant, how you watched the couples around your table and smiled. He knew what you were thinking, and he had tried to show you that he could be that for you by taking your hand where it rested on the table even though it went against every instinct he had. He wanted so badly to give you those things, to make you happy. Ben didn’t want you to find that with anyone else. He would have loved to have a family with you, to be with you always the way you were always there for him, or were until he fucked it all up. He remembers asking you to marry him, apart of it had been a joke, just to gauge your reaction, but deep down he was curious. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much when you laughed him off.

Ben sighs. When you spoke about leaving Payback he was worried, worried that it meant you would leave him too and then who would he have? No one. It’s why he spent so many nights in your bed, with you curled up beside him. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He shuts the ring box with a snap and throws it back inside. The memory of the night you spent together is just on the edge begging to be let in. Ben indulged in that memory many times over the years, letting it strengthen him. Remembered every detail. It was the first time that he actually cared what someone else wanted in bed. He remembered how your cheeks blushed when you told him that you’d never had sex before and how you said that you wanted it to be him. He never imagined that you would want him the same way that he’d wanted you all those years.The exact reason why he drowned himself in so many other women, because he thought that’s what he needed to do. Because you deserved someone better than him, you always had.

The thought is immediately followed by what he yelled at you in the bathroom at the premiere, when he turned something that you believed to be special, one of the happiest nights of his life, into a cheap fuck.

He remembered the broken expression on your face. He'd never seen you look so small. Ben always admired how strong you were, but as soon as he said those things to you, he watched you crumble when he broke your heart.

Worse still was when he grabbed you. He fights the shudder, remembering how he grabbed onto your arms. As many times as you’d stood between him and the source of his anger, he’d never laid a hand on you but that night, he was just so damn frustrated. You were looking at him with those big eyes of yours that always saw through him, understood him, and he was frustrated because he wanted to tell you that he loved you that he always had loved you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it because he was a man and damn it a man didn’t show emotions and he was Soldier Boy he didn’t need anyone-

His jaw clenches together so tight that he hears the click of his teeth.

But he did. He knew that all he needed was you.

I’m such a fucking asshole. Y/n doesn’t need me and I don’t deserve her-

Ben raises his head to look at your bedroom door as he hears the front door of your apartment swing open. And he freezes.

Because why would you want to see him? He had ruined your life.

A/N: Alright everybody we made it to the chapter right before the reunion!!! What will happen? Will she forgive him? Who knows?! Even me, honestly. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know. :)

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#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys #jensen ackles #soldier boy fic #billy butcher #the boys amazon #hughie campbell #the boys fanfic #jackles #the boys season 3 #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys s3

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beauspot · 1 year ago

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Good Omens Is a Big Deal

With everything going on I haven’t acknowledged how grateful I am for what Neil (and John) did this season. I always saw Good Omens as a romantic story and everyone involved seemed to be super supportive of that. To actually see a follow through on those themes was wonderful though. To see Aziraphale continue to look at Crowley like he’s the earth, the moon, and the stars. To see Crowley continue to save his angel not because he needs them to, but because they love him.

To see them have their dinners, and give the other access to their prized possessions. To see them dance. They love each other. They are in love with each other and it’s not implied or a throwaway line that can be edited out.

It’s the beating heart at the center of the story.

And they weren’t meant to be. Neil himself will tell you when he and Terry wrote the book Aziraphale and Crowley were meant to be friends and that’s it. Over time their relationship evolved and where a lot of writers would simply ignore that and keep pushing forward Neil pivoted and said “you know what? let’s see where this goes.” The last time I can remember something like this happening was with Hannibal years ago, it’s so rare with queer pairings.

I know everyone was excited about the kiss and it is refreshing to see queer people actually get to kiss, it’s still not something that happens all the time, but that’s not what made them canonically queer to me. If they remained completely asexual and never kissed or showed interest in kissing one another I’d feel the same. While I always felt they were queer what sealed it for me were 3 things:

1. Nina and Maggie, a romantic pairing that parallel our angel and demon break down to Crowley how she and Aziraphale are partners (and it’s clear they don’t mean business partners, does Crowley look like he runs a bookshop?) but they never say what they’re really thinking. They go on to state how that’s all they needed, the obvious implication here being that Nina and Maggie shared their romantic feelings with one another and that Crowley and Aziraphale need to do the same. Upon hearing this Crowley takes that as a sign to confess his feelings.

2. Gabriel and Beelzebub, another pairing that parallels Crowley and Aziraphale who are also clearly in love with one another is something Crowley references while he is confessing his feelings. “If those two lovestruck idiots can go off together, so can we. Because I love you.”

3. Crowley and Aziraphale express plainly to each other that they need the other. Crowley says to Aziraphale he wants to stop pretending they aren’t a team, a group, a them.

Aziraphale says verbatim “We can be together.” and “I need you.” He doesn’t say “We can work together” or “I need you to help me” or some other cop out that a lot of other shows or movies might come up with to continue to bait their fans, while having plausible deniability.

They love each other and it’s not platonic.

To me, the kiss serves as a way to seal the deal for people who only understand queer love when it’s punching them in the face. That’s not to say queer people can’t like the kiss, it’s one of my favorite scenes in the show simply because of how heartbreaking it is, but they were a couple to me long before that. And to add onto that by making every other important pairing in the show queer as well? Nina and Maggie being happy sapphics who don’t die at the end. They’re not together, but the implication is that one day they will be. Two non-binary beings—Gabriel and Beelzebub—falling in love and choosing to be with one another forever. The angels and demons are all genderless and no one misgenders them and no one gives a FUCK.

That means so much to me and I genuinely cannot express how thankful I am that this show and this season were made. The only thing I can say is thank you for standing for something, because not everyone does.

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janeyseymour · 9 months ago

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Love Thy Neighbor- pt 6

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

Summary: Ellie's sick. Cue Melissa to jump in to help.

WC: ~2.7k

Over the past few months, the way that the redhead has made herself present in your life has only gotten stronger. She’s with you in the morning for breakfast, during the drive to and from school, she shows up when you need help with school work, there when you just need some adult time. She’s there for Ellie when she needs help with homework, wants to cuddle but you’re busy, there when she’s excited or sleepy, has had a nightmare and she’s with you on the couch, shows up when her dance class has a parent night… she’s just there. She always is.

But you still don’t want to ruin what you have going on. Life is easy and nice right now with her… if you two decide to date and it falls apart, she’s gone. Or you’re gone. You suppose that if it were all to go up in flames, this is her apartment complex, Abbott is her school, the coworkers that you’ve become friendly with are hers. The only thing that you would get out of a breakup with the redhead is your daughter. And even then, you’re fairly certain at this point that Ellie would be more devastated about not seeing Melissa than she is about the absence of her father. So you haven’t done anything about it yet.

But that’s about to change… not that you know it.

Ellie’s been sniffling a lot lately, but you’ve just contributed it to the fact that the seasons are changing, you have allergies, her father has allergies… so naturally she should have inherited your seasonal allergies. You don’t realize that she’s picked up what seems to be making its way through Barbara’s classroom.

Your daughter is currently putting up the biggest fight of her life. She does not want to go to school, which is so unusual for her. She’s flat out refusing to eat the breakfast that Melissa made, she’s sticking her nose up at every sweater for her to put over her uniform that you try to show her, and she bursts into tears when you tell her that she can’t bring her stuffy to school with her because it isn’t a stuffy day.

“Elizabeth,” you sigh. You’re slowly starting to lose your patience. “Come on. We have to go to school today.”

“Why?! Other kids are not coming in because they’re sick!”

“Because you aren’t sick, baby,” you tell her as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Now please. We have to be out the door in ten minutes, and Momma isn’t ready for school yet.” You suppose you’ll have to do your makeup in the car while your neighbor drives in to the school.

“I don’t feel good though,” she whines.

At that, you soften. You place the back of your hand on her forehead, cheeks, and the back of her neck. She’s a little warm, but it’s nothing to be worried over.

“I’m sorry, lovey,” you sigh. “You just have to make it through today, and then when we get home tonight, we can cuddle.”

As you’re leaving the house, you throw a few tylenol in your bag for Ellie if she needs it throughout the day.

The girl clings to Melissa as soon as she’s back in your apartment, and the redhead does everything she can to try to get Ellie to smile- it doesn’t work. She just lays her head on the woman’s shoulder and sighs heavily.

You’re able to get your daughter into the school, and by then her cheeks are a little flushed. But she did fall asleep during the short car ride over, so you think that the red on her right cheek is from where her seatbelt was.

Ellie stays in Melissa’s lap during the morning news, and when it’s time for her to go with Barbara down to the classroom, the water works start again.

Melissa hands your daughter over to her kindergarten teacher with a shrug. You kiss Ellie’s temple gently, telling her to have a good day, before you and the redhead are making your way down to your wing.

“What’s got pipsqueak so upset today?” your colleague asks quietly.

You bite your lip. “She isn’t feeling well I don’t think.”

She frowns. “Poor thing. Shouldn’t she be home? Or with your parents resting?”

“My parents are galavanting around Europe right now,” you huff. “Or she would be.”

“You could’ve taken off today to keep her home.”

You roll your eyes. “We are so short on subs lately, and I don’t need to have Mr. Johnson as my sub if I can help it.”

“Fair point,” Melissa chuckles. “Last time he was my sub, the kids came in the next day telling me all about the fourth dimension.”

It’s only about 9:30 when your classroom phone rings. It’s Barbara, so you tell your kids to work on the next math problem before answering it.

“Ellie still hasn’t calmed down,” the kindergarten teacher tells you quickly. “I’m not quite sure what else to do. I gave her stickers, I gave her hugs, I told her she could hold one of my stuffed animals…”

“I’m so sorry Barb,” you apologize.

“She should be home, Y/N,” the woman tells you sternly.

You breathe out. “I know… but I don’t have sub plans or a sub, and my parents aren’t around to come pick her up.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe just send her down to the nurse so she can sleep on the cots?” you suggest. “I’ll call down and tell them the situation.”

The veteran teacher agrees and hangs up. You dial the nurse and beg her to let Ellie stay down there for the day while you teach. She begrudgingly agrees after you promise you’ll make her a key lime pie as payment.

Your prep comes faster than you really expect it to, and you line your kids up to take them down to the music room as Melissa is lining her kids up to take her class to gym.

“I can come to your room once I drop them,” the redhead tells you.

“You can, but I won’t be there,” you sigh as you fall into step with her. “I have to head down to the nurse’s office.”

“Ellie still isn’t feeling well?”

The two of you head into the nurse’s office, and the woman behind her desk doesn’t look very pleased with you. Ellie is laying on one of the cots crying.

“Oh, sweetness.” Your heart breaks at her little sniffles. As you pull her into your arms, you immediately feel how hot she is, but she’s trembling as if she’s standing out in the snow without her winter coat on.

“Momma,” she cries. “I’m so chilly!”

You immediately take your sweater off and drape it around her, pulling it tightly to her body. It seems to help, but she’s still cold despite the sweat forming around her brow.

��Kid’s been crying since she got here,” the nurse tells you. “Fever of 101. She should not be here.”

“I know, I know,” you mutter. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll make you a meatloaf as payment for having her down here,” Melissa tells the woman as she too shrugs off her blazer and gives it to your daughter.

“Miss Mel,” your daughter reaches for the redhead immediately.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” the second grade teacher says softly, but doesn’t take your daughter out of your arms. Ellie squirms, and while you try to fight the hurt on your face, it doesn’t quite work. “Stay with your momma, hun.”

“But I want you,” your daughter mumbles as a tear falls down her face. You hand her over.

“I should probably get some work done anyway,” you shrug. You start to head out of the nurse’s office, but the redhead follows.

“I thought we were going to work on your lesson plans,” she says softly, Ellie on her hip.

You shrug. “I can always get some other stuff done.”

The two of you work quietly in your room, Ellie clinging to the redhead and falling asleep rather quickly.

Your preps are over far sooner than desired, but such is life. When you look up from your teacher’s manual, Ellie is fast asleep in Melissa’s lap.

“Shit.”

“She’s fine,” the second grade teacher promises. She stands and starts to make her way down towards the gym.

You chase after her. “Mel, she has to go back to-”

“I can teach with her,” the redhead tells you. “It’ll probably keep my kids in line better than they would be if I wasn’t holding a small, sick child anyway.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you argue back.

She waves you off. “You didn’t, I’m just doing it. And if it becomes too much, she can lay on my carpet with the bean bag and sleep there.”

“You’re going to get-”

“I’ve been teaching for years now,” she laughs. “My immune system is made of steel at this point. Don’t even worry about me. Just go get your kids and teach. We’ll see you at lunch.”

You watch as she makes her way down to the gym, Elizabeth in her arms and snoring softly. You see her press a delicate kiss to the girl’s sweaty hairline before smiling at her gently. The eyes that she’s looking at your daughter with are full of love and no selfishness in the slightest. If you weren’t sure before, you are now. Melissa is worth all of the risks in the world. You turn on your heel to pick up your kids from the music room.

Come lunch time, the redhead still has your daughter on her hip, and your heart swoons at the sight. The badass, mob-like teacher is just so soft and gentle with your little girl. Ellie is awake now, but she keeps her head resting in the crook of Melissa’s neck. As the two of you walk your kids to the lunchroom, Ellie waves at you sleepily.

“No sleeping again yet,” Melissa tuts quietly. “We have to make sure your belly is full and you drink some water before you nap again.”

“Mhmm,” your girl hums out sleepily.

Ellie spends the entirety of your lunch period wrapped up in your sweater and Melissa’s blazer curled up in your lap. You just barely get her to eat, but when Melissa attempts to get her to eat, she does so easily.

The rest of your friend group spends the period quietly, watching as the redhead handles your daughter with such a maternal warmth that they’ve never quite seen from her before. And when Ellie falls back asleep in your hold from your gentle rocking her, they fall silent at the steely gaze Melissa gives them.

Ellie lets out a small whine for the redhead when you stand to pick your kids back up, and Melissa just takes her back into her arms with a wave of the hand.

“Pipsqueak’s been a good human heater for me,” she chuckles before glancing at your daughter. “Isn’t that right?”

The six year old nods into her shoulder before turning her head and blowing you a tired kiss.

“Only a couple more hours, and then you can curl up at home with your momma, okay hun?” she tries to assure the little girl.

“And you?”

“And me, if you want.”

“Yes, please,” Ellie requests softly.

At the end of the day, you make your way outside to help monitor dismissal alongside your neighbor. Ellie is still in her arms and fast asleep. She’s been asleep on the redhead for quite some time if the rather large wet spot on Melissa’s shoulder is any indication.

“My poor little girl,” you sigh as you brush a few hairs away from your daughter’s face. You kiss her head gently.

“She’s been out for a while,” Melissa tells you quietly. “But let me tell you, my kids have never been more well behaved.”

“You’ve been holding her since lunch?!”

“I tried to set her down on the carpet, and she stayed there for about five minutes before coming back over to me and begging me to hold her because she was cold. I just taught from my desk.”

“You could’ve sent her over to me,” you tell your coworker.

She shrugs. “I didn’t mind having the little one with me.”

Ellie stays asleep throughout dismissal and the drive home. When Melissa pulls into the parking garage at your complex, you grab your things and collect your daughter before turning back to walk in with the redhead. She’s still in the driver’s seat though.

“Go in. I have to run to the grocery store if I’m going to make my Nonna’s chicken noodle soup for the two of you.”

“I can make-”

“Trust me when I tell you this stuff will have El healed in no time flat, and you’re going to want it for when you get sick too,” your neighbor tells you. “I’ll be over once I’m back.”

You head in and settle yourself on the couch. Ellie lays on top of you, fast asleep and shivering. You kiss her forehead before reaching for the remote to turn on the television. There’s no way you’re going to get any work done tonight- you have to step up and be the mother for your daughter you always promised you would be.

The little girl only stirs when there’s a gentle knock on your front door, followed by the redhead stepping into your house and heading for the kitchen.

“Miss Mel?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah, baby,” you whisper back. “She’s making you soup so you can feel better.”

“I love Miss Mel,” she sighs quietly as she cuddles back into your hold.

You smile. “I do too.”

The woman brings three bowls of soup into the living room, along with two mugs of hot tea and some juice for Ellie, before settling on the couch next to you. The soup is amazing- not that you expected anything else.

When dinner is over, you give your daughter a bit of cold medicine, hoping she’ll feel better in the morning. She demands cuddles from both you and Melissa, but she’s quick to fall back asleep once she’s situated between the two of you. That leaves you and the redhead to chat about your days and have a bit of adult time. You know that you want to approach the situation at hand- the obvious feelings that she has for you and the feelings that you have for her.

“Why are you doing all this?” you finally ask.

“Doing what?” she raises a brow.

You gesture broadly. “All of this: helping us adjust to a new life, being here for Ellie, helping me get a job and then mentoring me, cooking us dinner… for heaven’s sake, you’re taking care of my child while she’s sick.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she shrugs.

At that, you sigh. “Because I kind of expected to you hate me and stop coming over after I told you that us might never happen.”

“I could never hate you. I’d rather have you as a friend in my life than nothing at all,” she says softly as she places a hand over your own. “Besides,” she chuckles. “It’d be pretty awkward seeing each other at work and when we’re running in and out of the apartment if we stopped talking.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah.”

“And I think Ellie and I are something of kindred spirits,” the redhead says as she looks down at your slumbering daughter. “I couldn’t just leave her high and dry.”

You smile. “She’s a special one.”

“She is.”

“So are you,” you look at her with a soft gaze.

She rolls her eyes playfully. “I ain’t nothin’ special, hun.”

“You are,” you whisper as you squeeze her hand in your own. “So special.”

She rolls those striking green eyes again and turns her attention back to the television.

“Hey.” Melissa looks back to you, and you squeeze her hand again. “Special enough for me to throw caution to the wind and do this.” You press your lips to hers softly.

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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ladykailitha · 2 months ago

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A Love Connection Part 4

Thank you to everyone who reached out to me about the drop in numbers. I appreciate you and will try to be patient as everyone seems to be really going through shit right now. Honestly if I wasn't a SAHM I probably would be one of those people.

In this we have Steve resigning himself to doing the game show, more of the kids, and we get to the actual game show! ka-shonk, I know!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“Meow!” Odie cried at the indignity of being shoved in someone’s face.

Steve carefully wrapped his little feet so Odie would feel more supported. He stritched under his chin and Odie began to purr.

Chrissy inched forward until she was close to Steve. “Steve, he’s adorable. Where did you get him?”

“I found him in a cardboard box out by the dumpsters,” he explained, never taking his eyes off the kitten. “It was starting to snow and I just couldn’t leave him there. He was wet, and cold, and alone.”

Robin’s shoulders sagged. “Of course you can keep him, dingus. I wouldn’t have said no even without the Sword of Damocles in the form of the game show hanging over my head. He’s adorable.”

Chrissy tickled his little toes and then looked up at Steve. “Why Odie? For the name?”

Steve blushed, grateful his head was already down so they couldn’t see his blush. “A couple of reasons I guess. To honor Garfield the goldfish, for one. But also because of the coloring the cream body and brown ears is so much like Odie’s.” Just then Odie twisted and tried to leap out his arms. “And there’s the fact he very likely has only one brain cell,” he deadpanned as quickly caught the kitten before he hurt himself.

Robin snorted. “So I see.”

Steve handed him to Chrissy and he allowed himself to be subjected to her neck scratches.

“So are we forgiven?” Robin asked, shyly. “We really didn’t think anything would have come of it. Though we were really building you up, talking about how you really deserved to find love and how your luck had run to catastrophic with those you dated. We made sure be really sweet about you.”

“I think that’s another reason why they picked you, Steve,” Chrissy said, walking over to sofa to cuddle with the new kitten. “You would be a perfect opener if not season finale. All you have to do is fill out the questionnaire and then they’ll tell you when filming is.”

“You’ll need about a week off,” Robin explained on her way to the kitchen to put the beer in the fridge. “It takes two days to film the first half of the episode and a day each for the dates in the second half. Then a whole day filming the choosing ceremony or whatever the hell they call it. They just want you there two days before for interviews and legal stuff.”

Steve sighed and ripped into the bag of gummy worms. “All right, you fill it in while I dictate.”

Chrissy and Robin cheered. Chrissy opened up her phone with the email and started asking the questions.

“Why would they even need to know my measurements?” Steve huffed about half way through. He had migrated to floor where he was using a gummy worm that had fallen to said floor to tease Odie with.

“Probably for costuming,” Robin said sagely. “They just can’t let you wear anything to their show.”

Steve wrinkled his nose, but allowed them to continue. Once it was all filled out most of the bag of gummy bears were gone and he was a little exhausted by it all.

He buried his head in his hands. “Fuck me. What even is my life right now?”

Chrissy and Robin shared a glance and then slid down to the floor where he had Odie curled up on his lap. They wrapped their arms around him and just held him.

He let himself be comforted by their support.

New Year’s brought new challenges, especially when he learned he would have to get a sub for his class the last week in March. They couldn’t have waited a week so that he would have it off for Spring Break? Which meant he had to tell Mrs. Byers why he needed the week off. Which meant Will found out. Which of course meant the rest of the little buttheads found out about it, too.

“Do you get to decide the questions?” Mike asked, one day while they were hanging out in the AV room, Mr. Jenner finally having been fired and Steve forced to take over for the rest of the school year.

He had come to class after the winter break, drunk off his ass, stoned out of his mind, and completely trashed his classroom. Thankfully the equipment had been locked up and not subjected to his rampage.

Otherwise the school would have had to have him arrested to recoup their lost.

Mike had actually started to warm up to him after it was revealed he was going on some dating show. Steve wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he decided to count it as a blessing and move on.

“Some of them,” Steve confirmed. “The first question of what is your ideal date is standard, and is part of the game show setup, but mostly they want me to be able to answer the questions myself, and if I can’t there’s really no point in having the suitors answer them either.”

“Suitors is a stupid name,” Max huffed from the corner. She was forced to join the AV because it was the only after school program that ran on Fridays and her mom started to have to work late on those days.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Yeah and what would call them?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Contestants or something.”

“Eh, eh!” he said sounding like a buzzer on an old game show. “Boring!”

She cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, whatever, Mr. Catch.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “I’m not sure what the would replace it with consider a lot of the other options are copyrighted due to other similar shows, but yeah. It sounds like I’m a fox and they’re the hounds.”

“What about Hitch?” Lucas suggested. “It plays on the Love Connection theme.”

Steve shook his head. “There’s an old movie called ‘Hitch’ and he’s a matchmaker. So I’m betting they didn’t go that route for that reason. Especially since this show is on its thirteenth fucking season.”

“Mr. Harrington!” Dustin scandalized. “You aren’t supposed to swear at school.”

“It’s after hours and we’re literally outside the school waiting for your parents,” Steve huffed. “Anyone here gonna rat on me?”

He looked around at the bright faces and knew that not a one of them were snitches.

When no one answered, he said, “Here, I’ll tell you what. Each of you come up with a question for me to ask my suitors and bring them by next week.”

All the kids cheered.

After Steve got in his questions from the kids, he sent them into the game show and most of the questions were approved. Some were simple Star Wars or Star Trek, others were fun questions like ��what is your favorite sports team?’ to in depth questions like ‘do you consider yourself to be a good person?’ That last one was from Max. He loved that girl fiercely and only wanted good things for her.

He packed up his things and made sure that Robin would take good care of Odie. He was going to miss the little furball.

He was flown out to LA where the show was filmed. He was shown to a fancy hotel where he would be spending the week. He was told that the suitors were in other hotels are around the city so that they didn’t meet accidentally before the taping.

Steve’s first day was with legal and how much money he would be making for his appearance on the show. It was roughly three thousand dollars to make up for the fact he had to take time off from work. Other than that it was all about them footing bill for all his meals and lodging during his stay.

He wouldn’t get the money until it aired, which he thought was bullshit, but it was whatever.

Robin had been right about the measurements as they gave him a lot of clothes to chose from. Then whatever he picked would be doubled so that he could look the same on both filming days. Then he would have special date night outfits that would be picked based on where they were going for the date.

All in all not a bad gig. Steve definitely preferred teaching though.

Then they did all the pre-show interview stuff the next day. He got to talk about his school and the kids he taught. He got to talk about Robin and Chrissy and his adorable new kitten Odie. That part wasn’t so bad.

Then it was time for the first day of taping.

He got dressed in a cream colored suit with a light blue button up shirt. The shoes and belt were nice leather, too. He briefly wondered if he got to keep the clothes. He couldn’t imagine they needed to keep them.

He wasn’t told anything about the suitors before hand, but they knew a lot about him. Which felt a little creepy if he was honest.

He sat in the ridiculous little booth he would be in so he couldn’t see the contestants. This was because they didn’t want him to judge their answers based on their looks.

The host was Bob Newby. He was one of the best parts of the show, Steve thought. He was sweet and friendly and everything wanted out a dating game style host. He was in a dark grey suit and white shirt with a red tie. A tie he was currently stroking nervously.

Steve smiled at him and Bob blushed.

“I’ve done over a hundred of these things,” Bob admitted, “and I still get nervous.”

“Well that makes me feel better about throwing up breakfast this morning.”

Bob laughed. “So this is how it will go, we will film more than questions required so we can get a good bunch of questions and answers. We will be filming out of order. The rapid fire questions first. Then half of the questions for round one today to round out filming. Then the second half of the round one questions with all of the round three questions.”

“That’s a little weird,” Steve huffed. “But it’s your show, man.”

“Trust me,” Bob said, “this way is easier to film.”

Steve just shrugged.

“You ready?” Bob asked. When Steve nodded, Bob pointed at the camera and counted down from three with his fingers.

“Hey, everyone!” Bob said. “Welcome to a brand new season of ‘Love Connection’ where we help lonely people make that special connection. This season we will be focusing on getting all those fancy letters LGBTQ+ a chance at love. We have your gays, your lesbians, your non-binary folks, your trans people, and one very special ace lady just looking for love.”

The audience politely clapped.

“I’m your host Bob Newby and today we have one very lucky catch. Steve Harrington from Hawkins, IN. He’s a middle school teacher who recently became a cat dad, to the adorable Odie.” A picture of Odie sleeping on Steve’s chest under his chin is shown on the screen behind them. “He coaches basketball and the swim team. And yes he does look hot in a Speedo!” A picture of Steve in a blue Speedo and wearing a white jacket and his whistle.

Steve decided he was going to murder Robin and/or Chrissy for that photo alone. Especially when the crowd goes wild, complete with wolf whistles.

“He enjoys watching sports, swimming, and reading in his spare time,” Bob continued. “He has tried everything to get a partner in this hellscape we call modern life, apps, bars, clubs and not just the ones with a dance floor and sick beats. So he came to us, so let’s see if we can match him to any of our suitors.”

The audience clapped again.

“Suitor number one,” Bob said, “why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself.”

“Hi, I’m Billy,” the first voice said, “I’m a professional surfer with a ton of sponsors. I’m the most decorated surfer both nationally and internationally. I like sex, sex, and more sex. Just kidding. I like other things too. I’m a big car guy and a bit of a foodie, too.”

Steve was grateful that they can’t see him because Bob and he shared an exasperated glance.

“Suitor number two,” Bob said. “Tell us about yourself.”

“Hey, I’m Tommy,” the second voice said, “I’m an investment banker at a prestigious company. I like sports, traveling, and deep sea fishing.”

Steve tilted his head and nodded. Not bad. He wasn’t sure about the whole investment banker thing, but the rest sounded good.

“And last but not least, Suitor number three,” Bob said, “tell us about you.”

“Hello!” the third voice said brightly, and Steve could almost picture a dorky little wave to go with it. “I’m Eddie. I’m a music producer with my own studio. I like heavy metal, all things nerdy, and camping.”

Steve smiled fondly. He sounded a lot like Dustin. He could only hope this didn’t have the ego to match.

“All right, everyone!” Bob said with a winning smile. “Let’s begin the Love Connection!”

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List: CLOSED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #game show au #buckingham #everyone is gay #not billy hargrove friendly #tommy hagan

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Text

On Thin Ice

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

This was requested by anon, but I'm not including the request because I'm going to write at least one more part and I don't want to spoil anything. But thanks so much for requesting, anon my love! I'm really having fun with it :) Also, just a disclaimer that I know next to nothing about figure skating, so while I tried to look most things up, there may be some inaccuracies

summary: when your usual figure skating partner Regulus is injured, you're forced to prepare the most romantic routine you've ever done with Sirius Black. You've known Sirius since you were little and have always found him irritating, but as you spend more and more time together, your feelings towards him start to change

cw: mention of injury (no details), Sirius Black is a relentless flirt

Figure Skater!Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 3.3k words

You want to be kinder to your friend, but you’re a bit angry with him. You’re not great at hiding it, either.

“It’s not like I can fucking help it.” Regulus rolls his eyes, and you do your best to undo the petulant pout of your lips.

“I know,” you sigh. “I know that. I’m sorry, it’s just, seriously? Why can’t Coach give me someone else?”

“You know why.”

You blow out another huffy breath, because you do know, but that doesn’t make you like it any better. Sirius is our best bet, your coach had told you, firm and impassive to your protests. He’s great on the ice, he always scores well, and Reg can teach him the routine while they’re at home. If we used anyone else, we’d lose time while they learned it. You’d sulked, and he’d given you a stern look. So suck it up.

And you’re trying. Kind of. You wouldn’t ordinarily consider yourself an ill-tempered person, but Sirius Black brings out the worst in you. Always has. He’s Regulus’ irritating older brother, always around to pull your pigtails when you were little and make fun of everything you and Reg enjoyed as you got older. And in everything you love about your best friend, Sirius is the opposite. Where Regulus is restrained, Sirius is brash; where Regulus is content with a few close friends, Sirius needs an entire posse around him at all times; where Regulus has a quick, quiet wit, Sirius seems to feel a joke isn’t worth telling if everyone can’t hear it. He’s loud and facetious and insufferable, and now he’s your partner in the most intimate routine you’ve ever done.

“I know,” you groan again, falling back onto Regulus’ bed. “I just wish I could change it. Who do I have to bribe to get you a miracle recovery?”

Regulus scoffs, but he lies down beside you sympathetically. “The doctor said it should be better by next season, but a fractured ankle doesn’t fix itself in a couple weeks.” His voice turns bitter. “Trust me, I asked.”

You wince guiltily. You’re not the only one suffering from Regulus’ incapacity. You’d both been practicing this routine for weeks. It was one of the most challenging and showy either of you have ever done. You were both supposed to have the chance to really shine, showing off your skills with complicated jumps and throws, some of which you’d never attempted before. But now Reg wouldn’t get the chance.

Ironically, it had been a fairly simple routine that had taken him down. One of your go-tos. You’d been performing it together for years, but maybe that sense of security was dangerous too. It’s too easy to land wrong, and one tiny slip had fractured Regulus’ ankle right in the middle of competition, forcing your coach to come help you get him off the ice.

You’d cried more than he had as the on-site medics had inspected it, completely unhelpful but unable to bear seeing your best friend’s features twisted in agony. It turned out that was nothing compared to the look on his face when they’d told him he wouldn’t be able to skate on it for months.

“How does it feel?” you ask, more gently now, and Regulus’ scowl softens in response. “Does it still hurt all of the time?”

“Not really, only when I walk on it. And they said I should be able to do that without much pain soon, just no jumping or anything.”

Your heart aches with sympathy, and you have to resist the urge to reach over and touch his hand, his hair. Regulus has never much liked being touched, which you understand, but it makes him a difficult person to comfort. You resort to your method with the highest success rate: distraction.

“Well, at least the cast is a fun accessory,” you say, forcing levity into your voice. “We could draw on it, it’ll be like having tattoos.”

“Pass,” Reg replies disinterestedly. “Tattoos are more my brother’s aesthetic than mine.”

“Ugh.” You roll your eyes, unable to stopper your irritation at the return of the conversation to Sirius. “Do you think Coach will let me have a new partner if I kneecap him?”

“If you’re going to kneecap someone,” comes a cool voice from the open doorway, “it’s probably best not to ponder your scheme so loudly in their house.”

You raise your head to find Sirius leaning against the door frame, arms crossed insouciantly in front of his chest. He looks at you with the eyes he shares with his brother, but where Regulus’ tend towards cool grayness, Sirius’ always seem to waver between gray and blue, like the sky during a storm. They’re flashing now, amusement mingled with cunning, as you meet them with a glare.

“Maybe I’m just giving you a red herring,” you say smoothly, “so you’ll never see my actual plan coming.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you, shortcake,” Sirius replies, grinning when your face goes hot at the nickname, “but I think I’ll start wearing protective gear just in case. Reg, think you could revoke this one’s key until after the competition?”

Regulus pretends to contemplate this, staring up at the ceiling. “No, she’ll only start coming in through my window again.” You grin at him, and the corner of his mouth twitches in response, remembering all the cuts and bruises you used to have when you were younger from climbing the old tree outside his window, late at night when you were both supposed to be asleep. The first few times you’d tried, rotting branches had broken and fallen from beneath you, but you’d kept at it until you’d plotted a safe course. You’re sure Reg would have snuck downstairs to let you in the front door if you’d asked him, but better you get in trouble than him. “Anyway, it’ll be entertaining to watch.”

“Whatever happened to brotherly loyalty?” Sirius feigns hurt, but gets past it quickly. “Well, I suppose you’ll just have to keep in mind that if I can’t perform, there won’t be a performance. I’ve already learnt half the routine, and I think you might struggle to find someone else skilled enough to catch up in time.” He winks at you, and you scoff, pointedly unaffected. “So I’ll see you at practice on Monday, sunshine,” he gloats, and disappears down the hallway.

You wait until you hear the click of his door to lay back down, passing a hand over your face exhaustedly. “I can’t believe I’m going to have to deal with that all of the time,” you moan.

Regulus chuckles wryly. “Welcome to my world.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“Y/N,” Coach calls frustratedly. “You have to let him throw you, not jump.”

You’ve almost just followed in Regulus’ footsteps for the upteenth time today, which isn’t exactly in line with your plan of getting Sirius injured, but you figure will do in a pinch. The truth is, your focus has been off all day. Switching to a new partner is always hard; you’re used to Regulus, you’ve spent years learning how to skate together, to anticipate the other’s movements, and finding that rhythm with another person takes work. But learning how to skate with Sirius is more challenging than even you had expected.

He’s distracting, for one thing. He keeps smiling at you, making faces when you mess up, and whispering obnoxious little pointers when you’re in the middle of a complicated move. And his own movements are bigger and more elaborate than you’re used to, lacking Regulus’ control. You can see, objectively, how it works for him. It gives his performance that extra bit of artistry that Regulus has often been accused of needing, but it makes him more difficult to anticipate. He’s stronger than Reg, too, so he throws you higher, flings you farther, grips you tighter. It’s a lot to learn, but your coach doesn’t seem very sympathetic to your plight. As far as he’s concerned, you’ve wasted almost an entire day of practice and are undoing weeks of hard work learning the choreography with your repeated mistakes.

You nod at him again, moving to reset, but Sirius slides in front of you.

“Hey,” he says, “I can feel you tensing when I go to throw you. Is something wrong?”

You cross your arms in front of your chest, breath still puffing into the air between you from the exertion of your leap. “No,” you reply shortly. “I’ll fix it.”

And really, you should have been able to fix it a dozen tries ago. You’ve practiced throws with Regulus for years now. You’re supposed to push down on Sirius’ shoulders, use the momentum of your spin to give you a little boost, and let him do the rest. But you can’t seem to manage the last part. Sirius’ hands on your waist had discomposed you from the first try, and you keep finding yourself trying to jump off the ground before he has a chance to lift you. It doesn’t work, you know it’s never going to work, but it’s like some fight-or-flight instinct takes over every time Sirius’ hands get close to you. You suspect it’s because you’re so used to Regulus’ touch aversion; this routine is meant to seem romantic, but between the two of you, it had always felt chaste, more about the mechanics of the movements than the meanings behind them. Sirius loves to be touched, though, probably too much. He teases you about how cold your hand is in his, the tentative way you touch his shoulder when you’re supposed to grip it, how you jolt a little when he rests his hand on the small of your back. You’re on edge every second he’s around you, which by the very nature of the routine, is often.

And so you keep jumping, which causes Sirius’s throw to be stunted when he can’t get a good grip on you, which causes you to fumble your landing. Every. Time.

“You can trust me, you know,” Sirius persists, looking half earnest for once in his life. “I’m not going to launch you too high or anything. Just let me do the work.”

“I’ve got it,” you growl, and Sirius raises his hands in mocking surrender, moving out of your way. You glide back into position, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You don’t need his advice, you’ve been doing just fine without it for years. You’ll get it on your own.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Why is it,” Regulus drawls, coming into your room, “that when you mess up at practice, it’s still my problem to solve?” He sits on the edge of your bed, careful not to disturb the open bottle of nail polish you’re using. “I’m not even your partner right now, but both Coach and Sirius are complaining to me that you can’t sync up with him.”

You keep your eyes on your fingertips, sweeping the brush across your nails in careful, measured strokes. “I’m working on it.”

“What’s the problem?” He sounds more puzzled than frustrated. “Sirius is annoying, but he’s not actually an asshole. He won’t sabotage you.”

“I’m not accusing him of anything,” you say. “I just…I can’t get it right. I don’t know. He’s so different to you, and I can’t figure out how to make it work.”

“Well, you’d better figure it out soon,” Regulus replies, not without sympathy. “There’s only a couple of weeks until comp, and it seems like the both of you will need all the practice you can get together.”

You know he’s right, and that’s exactly what you’re dreading.

☆ ☆ ☆

The next practice goes about the same, the only difference being your coach’s mounting exasperation. Actually, no, there is one other change: Sirius’ movements become smoother, more sure, as he grows increasingly familiar with the choreography.

So basically, he’s getting better while you’re getting worse.

Though you all know there’s no time to waste with the competition coming up, Coach ends practice early in his irritation, letting you go with strict instructions to get your shit together before you meet again tomorrow. You promise him you’ll try, though you’re both coming to know that won’t be enough.

You take your time unlacing your skates, shrugging on your jacket and stopping to buy a hot chocolate from the vendor up front before going out into the brisk autumn air. You’d started this new routine after your first practice with Sirius, stalling so that he’d have a head start and you wouldn’t have to walk home in the same direction, but you take two steps outside before you realize your plan has been foiled.

“Coach will kill you if he catches you with one of those,” you say, and the cherry of Sirius’ cigarette burns orange as he takes a drag, eyes lighting with playful defiance.

He blows the smoke away from you. “You won’t tattle on me though, will you, sunshine?”

“Reg won’t like it either.”

“He knows,” Sirius says, as though Regulus’ opinion is of little concern to him. “You took your time in there. Ready to go?”

You don’t try to keep the suspicion from your face. “You were waiting on me?”

“I figure we could use some extra practice.” He drops his cigarette, stamping it out half smoked. “If you’re not too tired, I mean.” You give him an indignant look, and Sirius grins. “C’mon, it’s too cold out here for those leggings.”

You follow him reluctantly, sipping at your hot chocolate because damn it, he’s right. The wind had been cool when you’d gone into practice, but nightfall has stolen the little bit of warmth the sun provided. You wouldn’t be surprised if you woke tomorrow to find the trees prematurely bare of their leaves.

The Blacks’ house isn’t far, and your eager pace gets you there in a hurry. You’re thinking you’ll go to Regulus’ room as soon as you get inside, ditching Sirius and whatever humiliation he has planned for you, but when you approach the house, every window is dark.

“They’re at my aunt’s for dinner,” Sirius answers your unasked question, unlocking the door. “I begged off because of practice.” He laughs as you follow him inside. “Try not to look so happy about it, shortcake.”

You roll your eyes, starting up the stairs that go to the bedrooms. “When will Reg be home?”

“Late.” Sirius’ voice is close behind you. “You’re welcome to wait for him, of course, but we may as well make use of the time.” On the top step, you whirl, relishing the opportunity to look down on him for once.

“Fine. What are we doing here?”

You don’t know if you’d hoped he’d be intimidated, but Sirius appears as unbothered as always. “Like I said. Practice.” He brushes past you, leading the way into his bedroom. After a moment, you follow grudgingly.

Like everything about Sirius, his room is loud. Almost every inch of wall space is covered in band posters, medals from competitions, pictures of his friends. There are clothes strewn across the bed and shoes scattered about the floor, but if Sirius is even conscious of the mess, he doesn’t mention it.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask.

Sirius turns, and when his eyes meet yours, they’re surprisingly determined. “We need to figure out whatever it is that’s been holding you up,” he says. “We’ve gotta get past it.”

You feel like stomping your foot, but very maturely refrain. You’re about done with the subject of your failures for the day. “I don’t know what it is.”

“I think you do,” Sirius says cooly. “Wanna know how I know?”

“How?”

He grins. “Because you just admitted it.”

“You—I just asked how,” you splutter angrily.

Sirius gives you a knowing look. “Right, so it has nothing to do with you being afraid of me touching you?”

Your face heats. How could he know that? You look at him for a moment, and he looks back at you with that cool, even gaze, like he thinks he’s got you all figured out. As much as you resent him for it, he’s right. You’ve got no shot at a decent score in this competition if you can’t get past your mental block around Sirius. “I’m not afraid.” You roll your eyes, downplaying the admission. “I’m just not used to it, okay? I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but you’re not exactly a carbon copy of my usual partner.”

Sirius grins again, and for the first time you get the sense that he’s laughing with you instead of at you. “I have been made aware of that a few times over our lives, yes. But okay, you’re not used to it. Let’s get you used to it.”

You cross your arms over your chest, not sure where he’s going with this but fairly sure you won’t like it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m going to throw you until you can handle it without flinching. Sound good?”

You look at him like he’s stupid. “The rink is closed, and there’s nowhere for me to land here.”

“Sure there is.” Sirius pats his bed cheerfully. You stay right where you are. Something changes in his expression, and you think you might detect a bit of kindness behind his teasing tone. “C’mon, sweetheart. I don’t know what Reggie’s told you, but I don’t actually bite.”

You huff, but go to stand in front of him. He’s shed his coat, revealing the plain black shirt underneath, and the sleeves grip his biceps. Even in the poor lamplight, you can see his eyes changing colors like schools of fish as they swim. Now blue, now gray.

“Alright.” Sirius sets his hands on your waist, and you tense automatically. “See, that’s the habit we have to break. Relax for me, shortcake.”

His words certainly don’t help, but you do your best, unclenching the muscles in your stomach and legs.

“Perfect,” he says, then launches you into the air. You barely have time to gasp before you’re landing on his bed, springs squealing in protest. “Okay, next time, try to spin or something.”

“I wasn’t ready,” you protest.

Sirius laughs. “I know. Sorry, couldn’t resist. Let’s try to do it like practice this time, yeah? So you go over there,” he motions to the door, “and run towards me. When I throw you, try to spin if you can, but don’t try to stick the landing or anything. Just land on your butt.”

You roll your eyes, moving to the door. “Yeah, I’m in no hurry to break my ankle like Reg, thanks.”

He winks. “Just making sure.” He spreads his feet a bit, bracing himself. “Alright, let’s give it a try.”

It’s easy to remember Sirius is an older brother when he gets all bossy like this, but you comply, gaining as much speed as you can on the way to him before he’s gripping you around the waist, tossing you into the air. You manage a half-turn before your back end hits the bed.

“Better!” Sirius exclaims, beaming at you. “You still seemed a bit tense, but at least you didn’t try to jump by yourself. Again?”

You can’t help a little smile of your own as you nod, pushing up off the bed and repositioning yourself at the door.

☆ ☆ ☆

When Regulus gets home, he finds you sprawled on Sirius’ bed with his brother sitting beside you, both thoroughly worn out.

“Did you fix it?” he asks.

You grin at the ceiling, wondering if it’s your pride or Sirius’ you’re feeling in the air, or both. “I think so.”

“Coach might get the chance to be mad at me instead, tomorrow,” Sirius laments. “My arms are fucking dead. Too many throws and I might drop you on the ice.”

“Don’t break my partner,” Regulus says warningly.

“Yeah,” you second, hauling yourself into a sitting position and going to meet Regulus at the door, “please don’t.”

You can hear Sirius’ eyes rolling as he says, “I won’t. See you at practice tomorrow, shortcake?”

It’s harder than usual to muster up annoyance for the teasing nickname. “See you tomorrow.”

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goldenroutledge · 2 years ago

Text

next to you

pairing ⤜ rafe cameron x reader

word count ⤜ 1.1k

summary ⤜ mornings with your husband, rafe.

warning(s) ⤜ this work contains a MAJOR season three spoiler! but other than that just fluff? might be on the hurt/comfort side just a smidge

a/n ⤜ he looks so BOYFRIEND in this outfit! i’ve been having so much writer’s block i haven’t written in a year at least, but my babygirl mila @msgorillagripcoochie inspired me with this idea <3 this isn’t canon rafe btw literally none of my work is canon compliant

rafe cameron masterlist

Steam fogged the mirrors of the en-suite bathroom, slowly dissipating with the cooler air being let in from the bedroom. White towel hanging around his hips, Rafe sat at the edge of the bed you shared, staring down the vast space of the walk-in closet.

Fidgeting with the ring on his finger, nerves coursed through his body, and it was in times like these that he remembered the days of drinking scotch before 11am. But that was a thing of the past, he reminded himself just as quickly as the thought popped into his mind.

Today he was meeting with an old teacher from his alma mater, who grew to be one of his favorites. Probably his only favorite.

Rafe was never a scholar or anything, something Ward didn’t allow him to forget. He just learned differently, from someone like Sarah who could barely show up to school three times a week and still pass every exam.

It wasn’t until Rafe found himself with a 67% in his social studies class and less than a month left in the semester to turn his grade around that he was forced to attend office hours.

The first day was embarrassing. He felt like an idiot in the first place, seeing as his horrible grades pretty much spoke for themselves. But even more so now that he had to stay longer at school because he was an idiot.

Rafe stayed silent for the most part. Letting the professor do most of the talking, letting him know which assignments and topics he needed to perform well on to end the class with a passing grade.

It wasn’t until that Friday, his professor knocked some sense into him.

« “You know you’ll never learn anything if you don’t ask questions, right?”

Rafe rolled his eyes, tired of sitting prisoner in the chair of his teacher’s office. “What do you want me to ask?”

“Anything.”

“I don’t have questions.” He lied unconvincingly.

“Every time I teach you, Rafe, I can see the gears turning in your head. You’re a smart kid. But I can’t help you excel if you don’t engage. I get it, alright. I felt stupid asking a bunch of questions in front of everyone in school too but I need you to be receptive. Help me help you, Mr. Cameron.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Okay. We can start with assigning you a peer tutor.”

Rafe wanted to laugh. Or cry, he wasn’t sure. The whole thing was just ridiculous to him at this point.

“She’ll be someone you can talk with about the material, ask questions to, someone you can trust to help you get back on track. Are you familiar with Y/n Y/ln?” »

Little did he know, Mr. Murphy would be getting the boot by the school board. Something about budget cuts, as if the kook parents of the island didn’t give enough donations to the school to keep the water fountains at a perfectly cold temperature.

Not because their books were falling apart or because their desks were chipping. Because people are selfish, and the new headmistress of the academy felt like the money could be better spent remodeling her office. It was laughable, really.

Today, that professor was back on the island, and reached out to Rafe to meet with him following the news of Ward’s death. Not that he mentioned that specifically in his email, though it was mostly implied that he’d wanted to check up on Rafe after everything.

And with all the questions he’d probably be asked today during this lunch with his old mentor, all he could ponder over was what he was going to wear. Perhaps it was a method of procrastination, to get his mind off of everything else.

Rafe sighed. “Y/n?”

At hearing his voice echoing through the house, you slid your bookmark in between the pages and followed his voice upstairs into your shared bedroom.

“You called?”

“I need your help.”

Your eyebrows raised involuntarily at the sight before you; no matter how many times you’d seen Rafe almost naked (and actually naked), he never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“Help getting dressed?”

He nods, confirming that you’re always good at reading his mind. “Dress me, please?”

You chuckled, pulling some articles of clothing from the hangers and drawers. It was just lunch, so it wasn’t like he needed anything too business-y. His striped blue and orange shirt had always been one of your favorites, though he seemed to look good in almost anything.

You threw a pair of boxers over to him, keeping your back turned as you still rummaged through the closet. No matter how irresistible he was, there wasn’t any time for funny business this morning.

“There’s no need to be nervous, y’know. Mr. Murphy has always liked you.”

How do you always know what he’s thinking, damnit. “Yeah. I guess.”

He pulled the striped shirt over his head while you found pants for him to wear.

“Just don’t want him to think I’m still the same loser I was back then.”

“You’ve never been a loser, Rafe.”

“Maybe not in your eyes.” His lips stretched into a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He put on the pants you picked for him, sitting back down to look up at you.

“Definitely not in my eyes.”

His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer so his head rested on your stomach. The tips of your fingernails lightly scratched the back of his neck as you embraced.

“Do you remember the science fair? Freshman year?”

Rafe hummed in response. “Ward thought it was stupid. I asked him to come and he didn’t. Said he would be too embarrassed when I lost.”

“And then what happened? You won the whole damn thing.”

“I won the whole damn thing.” He smiled against your skin, repeating your words softly.

“You’ve never been a loser.”

Kneeling down, you placed your hands on his thighs, and gave him a sweet kiss.

“You’ve already accomplished so much.” You affirmed, reminding him of the businesses he had taken over since Ward died. Still, Rafe was unsure if he could rise to the occasion.

You took the ends of his jeans and cuffed them, knowing he’s terrible at doing it himself. They always come out uneven. And conveniently enough, he likes spending these quiet moments together. Neither of you would trade them for anything.

“I married you.” He cooed, taking your left hand in his and letting his thumb glide across the ring on your finger. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

“That it was.” You cheesed, letting him pull you up to straddle him. “Next time you think you’re not accomplished, Rafey…” You peppered soft kisses to his jawline. “Remember that you’ve got me.”

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @missevi @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @rudybarnes @annab-nana @babeyglo @reawritesthings @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneylaneylaney @jjpouggues @pogueslandia @mildkleptomaniac @whcclxr @mrs-cameron @it-was-never-meant-to-be-boys @alanniys @amourology @luversgirl + rafe cameron taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @chrisevansfuturewife @drewstarkeysbitchh @littlementalpolaroids @destourtereaux @kookkyra @iammirrorball

it’s been a while since i’ve posted writing so if anyone wants to be removed from/added to the taglist please don’t hesitate to let me know! 💌

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey #outer banks fic

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samcarpentersgirlfriend · 1 year ago

Note

Angst and Fluff with Sam, Where it’s just sam getting angry at fem!r for going to the frat party, and some guy hitting on fem!r and trying to make r go upstairs with him, and r is too drunk to know what’s going on, but sam saves her at the last minute. and it could have a fluffy ending!

thank you for requesting! finally living up to my username with this one

SO I WANDER THROUGH THESE NIGHTS || SAM CARPENTER X READER 𖤐₊˚.

summary: above <3

word count: 3.8k

warnings: fem!reader, mentions of drinking + eating, mentions/allusions of SA (it doesn’t happen in the story though), violence (probably canon typical)

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

As soon as she walks into the room, the smell of weed, sweat and above all, alcohol, hits Sam all at once. It’s enough to make her want to gag, but she’s not leaving. Not yet.

She pushes through the sea of inebriated students, not even dignifying the way some of them huff or curse in displeasure with an angry response. The only thing she cares about is bringing you and Tara home. And honestly, she’s begrudgingly grown to expect this sort of stupid behaviour from her kid sister, but you? You were better than this. At least, that’s what Sam had hoped, anyway.

She’d asked you to do one thing. To stay away from one place, for one night. And the funny thing is, you’d promised. Sam could count the people she trusted completely on one hand, and you were one of them. So she - what was now proved to be stupidly - believed you when you’d assured her that you and Tara were going to stay in and watch the latest season of whatever show it was that the two of you had bonded over all those months ago. She really should’ve expected this.

Sighing, Sam continues to make her way through the crowd, stopping once a familiar sound reaches her ears.

She’d recognise that laugh anywhere.

Her head whips around, following her line of sight until she sees you with your head thrown back as you down a glass of God- knows what, spurred on by Chad’s cheers and Ethan’s silent smile. There’s an unmistakable glint of triumph in your eyes, and it hits Sam that you don’t even look sorry for lying to her face and going behind her back, and the realisation unmistakably stings. More than she thought it would. But seeing you here, blissfully unaware whilst she was going out of her mind worrying about you, serves only to frustrate her.

“Hey!” Your head snaps up at that, and Sam doesn’t miss the “oh shit” on Chad’s lips. “Having fun here, are we?

“Sam?” You reply, and the woman doesn’t know whether to be insulted or satisfied with your tone of surprise. Like you really didn’t expect her to come after you. Like she would leave you here. “What are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” Sam snarks back angrily. “What happened to a cosy night in watching TV with Tara, huh?”

You have the courtesy to look guilty at that. “That was the plan, I swear. But then Tara made a whole deal about needing to be a normal teenager for once and then she gave me those damn eyes and-“

“And you got all dolled up and came with her? You couldn’t say no to a damn teenager?” Sam recognises her steadily raising voice, and she knows that people are starting to stare. But she can’t bring herself to care. “Where even is Tara? You came here with here and you don’t even know where she is? How fucking reckless-“

“She’s with Mindy, Sam!” You cry out, evidently exasperated. I’ve been checking up on her and she’s fine! She’s having fun! She’s allowed to live her own life - she’s allowed to be by herself! We don’t need to watch her every damn second of the day!”

“What, so know you’re telling me how to look after my sister? Is that what this is?”

You run a hand through your hair. “You know that it’s not. And that’s not even why you’re mad at me! You’re mad because I’m doing something you don’t approve of - like I’m not a grown woman who can do as she pleases!”

“Oh, and what you want is to get drunk at frat parties, is that right? Your idea of fun is hanging out with all of these lowlife sleazebags? Yeah, sounds like a real fucking blast! I can’t believe you-“

“Then leave, Sam! If you’re just here to insult me, just leave me alone and go home!” Your outburst stuns Sam into silence, and has her taking a step back once she realises how the close the two of you have become. Leave me alone. Sam doesn’t think you’ve ever said those words to her during your relationship, not seriously. Not like this. It was always the opposite, you ushering her closer like you were starved without her touch.

Neither of you speak for a minute, your pride getting the both of best of you. Sam feels the racing of her heart in her chest, the sound almost deafening even with the blaring music of the party.

“Fine,” she finally bites out, voice not as steady as she’d like it to be. “You stay here. Get fucking wasted. See if I care.” She can’t read the look on your face, and she doesn’t try to discern it now. “I’m getting Tara and then I’ll be out of your hair. Enjoy the rest of your fucking night.”

She doesn’t look back as she storms away.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

Sam was wrong.

You weren’t drunk - not properly, not yet - but you damn well would be by the end of the night.

“Don’t you think that maybe you’ve had enough?” Ethan suggest sheepishly. “I mean-“

The withering glare you send his way is enough to shut him up whilst you drain the cup’s content. You know that he’s only trying to look out for you, but you’re not in the mood for his niceties right now. Sam going off at you that had completely ruined your mood. You could deal with her accusing you of lying to her. You did promise her that you would stay at home tonight. You can understand how she might feel betrayed - feel hurt - by you doing the utter opposite.

What you couldn’t stand by was her acting like you didn’t have any agency of your own. Like getting dressed up and letting loose at a party was the worst sin imaginable. Granted, it was a shitty party full of people who you didn’t even know, but the drinks were free and the atmosphere was decent enough. And you’re not about to let your lover’s spat with Sam ruin your whole night.

So you dance. You laugh. And most importantly, you drink. And suddenly, it becomes a lot easier to forget about the look on Sam’s face when you practically screamed at her to leave you be. It becomes a hell of lot easier to forget about everything, the sway of your hips becoming almost automatic as you feel the music deep in your veins.

You can’t even remember the amount of shots you’d taken by now. All you know is that a very drunken Chad had swore that he could do more than you, and ha - in his face, he was so wrong. And a lightweight, apparently. A lightweight throwing up in the bathroom, from what Ethan had worriedly told you before promising he’d be right back and to stay right there and please don’t drink anymore whilst I’m gone.

Ha. Jokes on Chad. You could handle your drinks. Mostly, anyways. And double ha, jokes on Ethan too, because you weren’t drunk enough that you couldn’t handle one more. And really, the drink was already in your hand, so it’d be a waste not to. It’s a solid idea.

It’s a horrible idea.

It’s like that final drink sends you over the edge, because barely ten minutes after your last sip, your vision starts to blur and you’re

suddenly staggering backwards until you’re up against the wall. Your hand flies out to the side to look for something - anything - to grab onto, and your squeeze your eyes firmly shut as you try to focus. If your head was hazy before, it was spinning now. God, if Sam could see you now. Disappointed would be an understatement.

You can’t think about Sam. About how horrible it was going to be going home with her mad at you. You find yourself sliding down the wall, sitting down being the safer option for your suddenly vertically challenged self. You need to think, think anything other than oh my God I am so fucking wasted right now. But you can’t. Even the music becomes too loud, too difficult to comprehend, its words passing you by in a blur. You’re not sure how long you sit there like that, head hung low as you sit on the bare floor, but with each passing minute you seem to grow more and more out of it.

You barely register the hand on your shoulder. You don’t look up - can’t look up- your gaze only raising when you feel yourself being hoisted up. And the face you’re greeted with isn’t someone you know. You would recognise Chad or Mindy or Ethan or Anika. Even in this sort of state, you would.. But this guy is different. Tall, bearded, dressed as God knows who from God knows what. You open your mouth to object, but even the action seems too tiring. Still, a faint noise of objection escapes your mouth, and the man simply shakes his head.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he purrs, his breath hot against your ear. “I got you. We’re just gonna have some fun, okay?”

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

Sam shouldn’t have left.

She knows it when she’s storming out the front door with an angry Tara in tow, and she knows it when she’s practically halfway home. But you were both angry, and there was no point in even trying to reason with you when all she could think about was how you’d lied to her.

But she didn’t want to hurt you. Not now. Not ever. She hated herself for making you feel like that, so cornered that you’d completely snapped at her. And she’d deserved it. She doesn’t regret worrying about you and your safety, and she’d always be there to protect you. But you were right. You were an adult, and as much as Sam disliked it, that meant you could go to as many sleazy parties as you liked. You weren’t as fragile as Tara, someone who she could mostly justify watching like a hawk - even though she probably did need to work on that too. You were you. Too perfect, too beautiful you. And Sam had gone and shouted at you like that.

Sam was no stranger to self loathing, but knowing she had potentially fucked it all up with you because she couldn’t let go of the past, couldn’t move past the idea that the world was out to get her, that she pushed away one of the most important people in her life. One of the only people in her life. At this point, loosing you would be like loosing a limb, and probably a hell of a lot more painful. You knew her better than anybody, knew here secrets, knew her story. And you’d accepted and loved her in spite of it. Made her feel like the luckiest woman in the world and help her believe that maybe, just maybe, Sam Carpenter was allowed nice things. And she couldn’t leave things like that.

So she stops in her tracks, grabs Tara by the hand, and practically sprints back to the party, desperate to hold you close and tell you that she’s sorry. For everything. She ignores Tara’s confused yells all the way back to the building, barely even able to focus on them.

It’s getting late now, and people are starting to leave when she enters the room. She briefly wonders if you’re one of them, but even if you didn’t want to talk to her, one of your friends would’ve messaged to say that you were crashing at their place for the night. She glances over to where you were situated before, but doesn’t see you. Or Chad or Ethan, for that matter. Maybe that was a good thing, and that it meant that you were all together. Or maybe they had left and you were all alone, a voice in the back of her head warns. Sam knows that you’re allowed to be independent, but she still doesn’t like the sound of that.

She takes to to calling your name instead, and her cries become ever more frantic when there’s no response. She doubts you’d hear her over the music anyway. With a sigh, she pulls out her phone and fires you a message.

Sam: I came back, and I just want to talk to you.

Sam: I’m so sorry baby. I get if you’re mad, but we need to talk. Please.

She stares at the screen like it holds all of the answers. The answer to where you are. The answers to if you’re okay. If the two of you are going to be okay.

“Oh my God.” Tara breathes out, and Sam feels her pull on her arm. “Sam. Look.”

Her gaze snaps up, and sure enough, in front of her is you. Being practically dragged across the room because you can’t even walk straight, some guy’s arm draped around you like- like he owns you. And it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s planning do with you - to you.

It makes her feel sick. And angrier than she’s ever been before, her ire burning so deep in her chest to where she feels like it’s more a fuel at this point. And she knows, without a doubt, that she’s going to kill this pathetic excuse for a man.

“Hey!” She bellows, causing the sleaze and just about everyone in the room to look up. “What the hell do you think you’re doing with her?”

The thing has the audacity to bark out an ugly laugh at that. “Relax. Just helping her upstairs, aren’t I baby?”

Baby. Like you’re his. Like you’d willingly be anywhere near his filthy touch.

You don’t even answer him. Sam doesn’t think you physically can.

“Tara, grab her.” She says so lowly that her sister probably has to strain to hear her. Tara complies, and Sam steps forward, close enough that she’s practically touching the guy.

“Step the fuck away from her. I’m only gonna warn you once.” The danger in her voice is unmistakable.

“Or what?” What the hell are you-“

Sam doesn’t let him finish. He doesn’t deserve the privilege.

“You piece of shit!” Sam yells as he cries out in pain, her punch connecting swiftly with his jaw with a satisfying crack. “Does it make you feel good?” Kick. You think you can touch my fucking girlfriend like that?” Another punch.

Sam doesn’t stop. Not even when he’s balled up on the floor, his body bloody and bruised. She honestly doesn’t think she ever would stop, not if it wasn’t for Tara crying out.

“Sam!” She yells, her eyes wide. She shakes her head. “You can’t. She needs you.”

She looks over to you, still clinging on to Tara. She’s right. You can’t stay here. She needs to take you home.

Her breathing still heavy, she spares one last look to the sick fuck still on the floor, writhing in pain pathetically.

“You’re fucking lucky.” Sam spits out, standing tall over him. “You deserve to be fucking dead.”

She doesn’t get an answer to that. Doesn’t expect one. Doesn’t care.

The only thing she cares about is you. She drove you to this, she thinks, with all of her shouting and general over-protectiveness. And she doesn’t - can’t - think about what would’ve happened if she hadn’t found you. It makes her feels sick.

Sam makes her way over to your side, blinking back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She can’t break. Not now. She needs to be strong - strong for you. You meet her gaze, your eyes widening ever so slightly.

“Sammy?” You slur.

“Yeah baby.” Sam whispers, slinging an arm around your free shoulder. “I’m here. Come on, we’re going home.”

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

The first thing you realise when you open your eyes is that your head feels as if it about to split open. Groaning, you sit up in bed, and try to remember how the hell you even got here and into your pyjamas. It’s all such a blur, especially after your-

Your argument with Sam. Even just the memory leaves a distinct sinking in your stomach, especially paired with the fact that she’s not in bed with you. God, she’s probably still mad. The two of you didn’t argue much, but God, you hated it when you did. It hurt, not being able to tell her how much you loved her or wrap her up in your arms. It was like loosing a part of yourself.

You can hear the TV on in the living room, and you take that as a sign that either Quinn or Tara is awake. Either that or Sam’s in there, evidently too hung up on yesterday to stand the sight of you. Sighing, you rub your eyes, stupidly hoping that when you open them again, everything will have turned out to be some bad dream.

You’re not so lucky.

Laying back down in defeat, you pull up the blanket and go back to feeling sorry for yourself. You really should get something to deal with the headache, but you simply can’t bring yourself to.

You stay like that for a while, buried under sheets and contemplating your life choices until you hear a thunk on your bedside table. Wearily opening your eyes, you see a plate with a sandwich atop of it, and you move up your line of sight until you see who your personal chef is.

“You’re awake.” Sam says simply, placing a glass of water and a tub of painkillers besides the food. “Hope you’re hungry.”

You sit up once more, wincing when you move too quickly, and take the plate from the table. You murmur your thanks before taking a bite, and the two of you sit there in silence for a while. You know you need to say something, but you just can’t think what.

Luckily, Sam speaks first.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she sighs. “I know I acted out of line yesterday, and I shouldn’t have started that argument like that. I don’t ever want to fight with you, I promise. It’s just-“ Sam pauses as she scrubs a hand down her face. “I’m sorry. Are we okay?”

“Course we’re okay.” You smile. “Always. Besides, it wasn’t just you. I said I wasn’t going to go, and then I went and did it anyway. That wasn’t cool.”

“Hey.” Sam says softly. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to do what you like. It’s one thing letting what happened to me define myself, but I can’t let it ruin this. Ruin us. I don’t want to loose you.”

“You’re not going to,” you assure her. “You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not. You got it?”

Sam laughs softly, and you wish you could bottle it and listen to the beautiful sound forever. “Loud and clear.” She stops for a second, and something darker clouds her features.

“Sam?” You question, instinctively reaching for her hand. She’s quiet for a minute, before she meets your worried gaze and speaks.

“Baby, do you remember what happened last night?” She asks softly, as if you’ll break at the mention of the topic. Frowning, you try to cast your mind back to the previous night’s event, but you only draw a blank.

“Not really. We fought, I had some more drinks. After that, it’s kind of a blur.” That’s the extent of your memories for the night, but judging by Sam’s expression, that’s not where it ends. It makes you uneasy. “Sam, “what did I do?” When you speak, your voice is barely above a whisper.

Sam’s expression softens, although she suddenly looks like she’s about to burst into tears. “You didn’t do anything, baby, I promise,” she says, nearly far too quickly. “It’s just… there was this guy.” She spits out that last part as if it were venom on her tongue. “He got a too close, tried to take advantage. And I’m not telling you this to upset you, because that’s the last thing I want. I just think you deserve to know.”

You can’t respond to that. Not yet. Because you have no idea what to with that information.

“I took care of him.” Sam says suddenly, like it’s imperative that you know. “I wouldn’t have let him hurt you. I swear to you, on my life, I-“

“Sam. I know. I know.” You say, reaching to turn her head so that she can look you in the eyes. You may not remember much, but you don’t doubt Sam when she says she took care of it - hell, if you know your girlfriend, then the asshole is probably just lucky to even resemble a human anymore. That thought should be frightening, but it’s oddly comforting, and leaves a welcome warmth in your stomach. “I believe you. Fuck, you know that I trust you. More than I trust anyone. And the fact you even came back- well, that says a hell of a lot.”

“I was always gonna come back.” Sam admits. “Doesn’t matter how mad I was, I didn’t want to leave things like that between us.”

“I know, baby. Thank y-“

“No. Don’t you dare.” Sam warns. “Don’t thank me for doing the bare minimum. If you finish that sentence, I’m gonna-“

She seems taken aback by your sudden movement, her hand moving to your face instinctively. You hope that the kiss portrays everything you need it to, says everything that you need your girlfriend to know. How much she means to you, and how grateful you are to simply have her in your life. Now you have her, it’s damn near impossible to imagine a life without Sam - your Sam. It sure as hell wouldn’t as feel as good as this, you muse to yourself.

“Love you too.” Sam says when she reluctantly pulls away. She doesn’t try to hide the smile on her face. “More than anything.” And for a moment, Sam just stares at you, a look of pure awe and a stupidly adorable grin on her face. It’s one that has you smiling right back despite yourself. “Now, you gonna eat your damn food or what? It was made with intense care, you know.”

You look over towards your forgotten sandwich, and you can’t deny that you’re hungry. Still, that doesn’t stop you from pouting and looking up at your girlfriend with what you hope are pleading doe eyes. “Fine. But if I eat, can we do the whole kissing thing again?”

“After.” She promises, climbing over you and crawling under the blankets beside you. Her body is warm, and you can feel her pressed against your side, practically radiating pure heat. “Now eat. It’s getting cold.”

“It’s a sandwich, Sam.” you remind her with a grin. “It’s supposed to be cold.”

Sam lightly kicks your foot. “Just shut up and eat it. Do you want that kiss or not?”

You shut up and eat the damn sandwich.

#scream x reader #scream imagine #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x y/n #scream vi #scream 6 #scream x you #fanfic #fanfiction #scream headcanons

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 8 months ago

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Chapter 7: Are We Old Friends Or Old Enemies?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter seven of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: I'm going to rate this 18+ just to be sure. References to Past Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Cursing, Blood, Guts, Graphic Death, (spoilers?), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Present Day

Your motorcycle crunches loudly against the black gravel driveway outside of Crimson Countess' trailer. It looks worse than you imagined, shoved behind Vought-land, and sprouting out of the ground like a fungus. Not an unusual thought given it's ogre-like inhabitant.

You weren't looking forward to seeing her after all these years, because you knew it wasn't going to end well. Deep down you hoped that she had let go of everything that happened in the past, like you had tried, well, until Butcher and Hughie showed up at your apartment. Then again, you're not sure that you've really let go of everything that happened. Sometimes it felt like you just shoved all your feelings into the deepest darkest part of your brain where they’d been festering for the past forty years.

And ever since Butcher and Hughie showed up, those feelings had been clawing their way out like a banished Titan climbing out of Tartarus.

You think again about driving away. If you saw her, there wouldn't be any going back. You couldn't go in there pretending to be your daughter, you had to be you. Which meant the possibility of losing the life you'd constructed in the aftermath that followed your long superhero career.

Was it worth it? Was Ben worth it?

You sigh considering that thought. After the fight it was difficult to answer that question. If the answer was no, you might as well just leave. But the answer was yes. You hated that after everything that happened between Ben and you, the answer was yes.

And that meant you needed to know the truth, needed to see it in her eyes. Which also meant there was only one choice.

You look around the clearing where the trailer sits. It’s in a circle of trees that filter the setting sunlight through their lofty branches, making patterns on the gravel where weeds and patches of grass break through every few feet like an oasis in a desert. Further down the road to the right you see a collection of empty circus carts that rust onto yellowed grass, rising from the earth to tangle in the wooden wheels of the carts.

At least the trees are pretty. You think to yourself trying to focus on the positive. They were, after all, one of your favorite things to paint.

You consider your apartment downtown, the open floor plan and large windows, very different from how she chose to live her life. Your eyes trace the mobile home thinking back about the fungus analogy.

The trailer was covered with peeling white paint stained black and yellow in some areas where sticky mold had begun to fester against the structure. The rickety porch was rotted, so much so that when you walked across it, it creaked loudly beneath your feet and you stepped around several foot-sized holes, where others had fallen through.

She definitely didn't budget her money well. I wonder how much money she got when she was a hero? I know that my salary wasn't amazing. Ben definitely did better than me because of his films.

Then again, you were living off money from your father, and your grandfather's investments in real estate, not to mention your artwork was selling better than it ever had.

Your knock against the flimsy front door of the mobile home, not using your supe strength, but the entire house still shakes.

Probably wouldn't withstand a thunderstorm. Hopefully she's invested in an umbrella.

No one answers and for a moment you hope that she's not here or she's dead, but just like always you’re disappointed.

"Who the fuck is it?" You hear Countess' familiar voice shout from inside.

A swarm of memories flock across your mind at her voice, but you push them aside.

"Your best friend in the whole world." You respond, before you can stop yourself. Sarcasm was an easy fallback. If your mother was here she'd say that it wasn't ladylike.

Really just disappointing her in every century. The thought makes you happy.

"What?" Countess rips open the door so savagely that you wonder how the door didn't come off in her hand. You watch her eyes widen and her face pale as her gaze lands on you.

Well, that's certainly not a normal reaction to seeing me.

"Y/n?" You hear her heartbeat spike in her chest. "You're-" She sputters to look for the right word.

"Alive? Yes." You smile at her. "Well, aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Um-"

A flash of the last time you saw her comes roaring back. The smug look on her face when you caught her and Ben together, the way her face was flushed bright red, sweat dotting her hairline while he- You clear your throat to stop the memory.

You push past her into the small residence, not waiting for her to invite you, and your nose wrinkles as the smell of sweat and her rancid perfume invade your nostrils. It was barely two rooms, the small kitchen/living room was separated from the bedroom with a red beaded curtain that doesn't hide the unmade bed and clothes covered floor.

This was unusual given the fact that she was wearing her supe suit, complete with cape and mask. It was a little tighter in some places than you remember, her reddish hair reeked of cheap dye, her perfume like a cloud of sulfuric acid, and her pointed, cruel face was more wrinkled that the last time you saw her.

"I'd like to say that this is cute," You turn to look back at her from the small kitchen/living room, that was covered in dirty plates and take-out boxes. "But it's kind of a shit hole, isn't it?"

That was fast. So much for trying to be civil. Too much history I guess.

"What are you doing here?" She keeps her voice calm, but the tempo of her heart suggests otherwise.

Your eyes trace the lines of her face, the wrinkles, the subtle graying of her hair that the dye couldn't cover. "Just thought I'd check in. See how things are going. You definitely didn't age well."

"What the fuck do you want?" She snarls this time.

You can't help but smile at her. Something about this whole situation was utterly ridiculous to you.

She said Ben died. Why am I even here? What did she have to gain from his death? The thought swishes around in your brain. But then why was she afraid when she saw me? You think about all the times you spent watching her manipulate the others on Payback and all the other times you were around her, she never showed fear. Why now?

"I'm here because somebody showed up the other day asking me about Ben." You shrug, running one of your hands against the dirty kitchen countertop examining the tip of your finger as if looking for dust. "And it's funny, because as they were asking me questions I realized that you and I never talked about what happened that day. I mean I heard what you said through Stan and Legend, but I never heard it from you. Thought it was time we had a little heart to heart."

Her pulse spikes again, but she covers it with a smirk. "You want to talk about Ben?" Her voice drips with false sweetness. "Well I'll say this, he was a good fuck. But I'm sure you knew that."

Your entire body goes rigid, remembering the night that you found them together, the night after you finally told him you loved him and he pushed you away.

"I mean, after all, he popped your cherry didn't he? Made you a woman." Countess' smirk turns into a rueful smile. "You definitely waited long enough. Ben told me how long you’d been friends. He told me the sex was so boring, that you were so inexperienced, that he wanted a real woman who could actually please him. A woman who wasn’t quite so-." She sniffs, tapping a bright red fingernail against her hip. “Big.”

Her words are like a slap in the face and you feel the cold disapproval of your mother for the first time in eighty years. The anger that surges up underneath your skin flares hot against your cheeks.

Ben wouldn't have said that about me. He- he knew how special that was for me. He said that he wanted it to be special for me.

You remember how happy he looked when you woke up in his arms the next day, before you said the three little words that you couldn't hold in anymore, the ones that you had wanted to say to him since you were eight.

"Poor little y/n. You worshiped the ground he walked on for so long and finally he decided to pity fuck you. It’s so sad. You wasted your life pining for someone who will never love you. And you thought you could just come here and intimidate me? You’re still the same little girl who begged Ben to fuck yo-"

Her body flies forward telekinetically into your outstretched hand, that clamps down around her throat.

"But I do intimidate you." Your eyes shift to purple with your display of power. "Your heart rate hasn't dropped below 120 since I got here. So obviously there's a reason why you're afraid of me." She gasps against your hand, but you don't let go. "Tell me what happened that day." Your voice has slipped into a monotone, tinged with rage. “And I promise that I’ll let you live. In what condition, well, that's up to you.”

"I don't have to tell you anything!" She spits, pushing her hands together and sending you flying backward as the ball of fire hits you just under the right side of your rib cage.

There's a high pitched popping sound, an immeasurable amount of pain, and everything goes black.

It wasn't the first time you'd died. You'd heard of other supes being able to come back from the dead, and of course the others like Ben and Homelander who were almost invulnerable to injury, but your gift was different. Yes you had enhanced senses, speed, and strength, which were the original powers that were displayed after you received the injection of Compound V, but there was more to it than that.

It took you the first two deaths to figure it out, and you could remember both clearly.

The first was a few weeks after you took Compound V, when you and Ben were on his tour overseas promoting the might of the United States. It was supposed to be safe. The shot fired from the crowd was meant for Ben, but you pushed him out of the way. It was before you figured out he was bulletproof. Your gut reaction was to protect him as it always was. He ripped the guy in half for what he did and turned back to you. You remembered how he looked, remembered the fear in his eyes he never allowed to break through the façade he wore as Soldier Boy as he held you across his lap, holding a hand against the wound where blood poured freely from your chest. You remembered gazing up at him for what you thought was the last time and then the darkness that followed, welcoming you like an old friend.

And then thirteen seconds later you woke up, gasping for air, the bullet wound healed leaving only a circular scar behind. You didn’t understand at first, it wasn't until you died the second time that you realized how powerful you could be. The second time was Ben's fault, a scorned lover, a telekinetic, with a bone to pick with him. When you got in her way she'd snapped your neck with her powers. But this time when you woke, it was different, you felt different. You could feel her powers stirring beneath your skin, and it wasn't until you flicked her away from Ben that you understood. When you died a normal way you came back after 13 seconds, but when a supe killed you, you came back in 13 seconds with their powers.

You didn’t know why 13 seconds. In fact it was Ben that told you it was exactly 13 seconds, why he knew that you didn't know. It seemed that for everyone else 13 was an unlucky number, but for you it was the difference between life and death, literally. You also didn’t understand why you kept the powers. Sometimes you wondered if when you were killed by a supe your body analyzed how you died, understood it, and then you came back with that forbidden knowledge like you’d just eaten the fruit off the wrong tree.

Ben was the only one who knew and when anyone asked, you attributed your sudden ability to move things with your mind as something you never used in public. Having that much power scared you. You weren't sure what people or Vought would do if they found out, so you kept it to yourself and so did Ben. Honestly, sometimes you think the reason why he kept it to himself was because he didn’t want anyone to be more powerful than him, but you didn’t care about the abilities. You didn’t think you were a god despite Vought’s constant worship and praise. If anything, you felt closer to hell and in a binding contract with the devil.

Exactly thirteen seconds later, you sit up from the floor completely healed while Countess stands there over you, a horrified look on her face. She'd never seen you die before.

"Did you just try to kill me Countess?" You ask.

She puts her hands together to shoot another fireball, but you make a motion with your hand to that flicks her away. Her body soars backward illuminated in the purple glow that manifests with your telekinesis, into the small hallway that leads to the bathroom on the other side of the mobile home.

"You know," You stand from the ground looking down at your melted motorcycle jacket. "This was my favorite jacket. Had it from the 80's it was vintage. Damn.”

“How-“ She groans stumbling to her feet and leaning on the wall for support.

“We all have our secrets don’t we? And I'd love to hear yours."

Her eyes flash to where the front door is, but you beat her to it, yanking her back towards you by the arm, crushing her right wrist in your hand. Her scream of pain quenches the anger fueling in your chest from the words she snarled at you earlier.

"You're pretty worthless, even with your powers." You sigh. “I was hoping for more of a challenge.”

She cradles her broken wrist to her chest, backing away from you. Fear flashes in her eyes when she realizes that she's made a mistake, but instead of it making you feel powerful, it makes you pause.

Being a hero was difficult. You watched how so many others abused their powers over the years, feigning to be pure and heroic but really succumbing to dark urges when no one was looking. It was also why you hated Herogasm.

You hated it because you knew what happened to the normal people, the ones that thought they would be safe with the heroes they admired so much. You'd watched Ben lose control more than once, knew stories of innocent people that were hurt, not that Countess was innocent. But you never liked to hurt people with your powers. Standing here in this trailer made you guilty and watching her cower away from you made you guilty despite your shared history and her harsh words.

"So I'm just going to ask one more time, what happened to Ben?" You force your voice into a snarl, shaking off the guilt.

Because it was necessary. It wasn't just about you settling something from years ago, it was about Ben.

She deserves this, she isn't a good person.

"Go to hell." She spits at you.

You grab her by the front of her red suit and throw her away into the small kitchen. Countess' body crashes into the lopsided brown cabinets with a solid thwacking sound smashing through the flimsy structures. Blood drips down the side of her face from where she hit the cabinet corner, blending into her reddish hair. She rises from the ground with an angry snarl, clutching a dirty knife in her hand.

"I don't want to get tetanus from that. I can't remember when my last shot was-" You begin to say with a sigh.

She swipes the air in a vicious arc, but you grab her by the wrist, dodging the knife. "You never learn do you?"

The wrist twists to the side in your hand with a loud snapping sound followed by Countess' scream that reverberates in your skull as you break her other arm. "Pretty soon you're gonna be out of limbs, so I'd start talking."

Countess drops to her knees as the pain begins to seep into her body. "Fine. I'll tell you-"

"Then do it."

"He's not dead."

As the world stops spinning a high pitched ringing in your ears takes over, filling the monotonous drone of seconds ticking past. The past forty years no longer matter, the next hundred wouldn’t either, because Ben wasn't dead. As much as you hated him, the thought chilled you to your core, because then where the hell was he?

"Or at least he wasn't when they took him." She mutters, holding her arms to her chest.

"What did you do?" Your voice comes out in a whisper because you can hardly speak let alone comprehend what she's saying. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" You scream, grabbing her by the front of her suit.

"They wanted him." She spits.

"Who did?"

"The Russians. They wanted him and they took him!"

"You sold him out to the Russians?" You roar, hauling her up into the air so close you can smell what she ate for lunch. "Why? Did they pay you?"

"No. We all hated him!" She snarls. "But you were always around." Her mouth twitches into a painful smile. "It was so easy to get him to fuck me. I knew it would drive you away, you'd wanted him for so long and he didn't give a damn about you. And then you weren't there to protect him!" She laughs through the pain that builds in her chest.

I was right. She fucked him to make me angry, to get me to turn my back on him. I wasn't there to help him and they sold him out the first chance they got.

"He always wanted me more than you, knew that I could satisfy him better than you ever could. You really thought that he could love you? Ben doesn’t love anyone!” Her eyes glint with malice. “And you’re still the same pathetic little girl who begged Ben for his co-“

Her head tears from her shoulders in you hands cutting off her next words, the explosion of blood from her carotid artery spraying your face, and soaking into your ruined clothes. The ringing is back, filling the void of silence in the air that followed the tearing of bone and sinew.

You stand there for a minute holding it, not quite comprehending what you've just done. You hadn't lost control in a long time, not since you had the fight with Ben about Countess, or when you threw your sofa through one of the walls in your apartment and then broke every piece of glass, windows included, and had to move when you found out he was dead.

Or not dead. The thought chills you. Payback handed him over to the Russians, where he's been for the past 40 years? Why? Just because he was irrational, angry, and a dick? There's got to be more to it than that. Stan would have never allowed that. Soldier Boy was his golden boy, his meal ticket-

You think about the last forty years of hating Ben, cursing him, trying to forget him, wishing that you'd never loved him. The night you fought washes over you, bringing the anger, frustration, and heartbreak roaring back. The head in your hands smashes into mush as the memories barrage your mind, surging over the dam you built to keep them away.

You and Ben had always watched each other's backs. It was the promise you made to each other before all of this started, on the night he asked you to come with him and leave everything you knew behind. You knew him better than anyone else.

And yes maybe he fucked me once and I told him I loved him and he immediately went out and fucked Countess-

Your heart cracks in your chest with the thought, the heartbreak coming back in a wave of sadness that makes you shudder.

But you couldn't leave him, because you knew he would have never left you. Ben may have said that he didn't care about you, but you knew in your gut that Ben would have torn anyone apart who hurt you. He's always protected you. Even before you became supes together.

You stare back down at the mush coating your hands and the front of your clothes.

Why the fuck is everything so complicated?

When you get back to your apartment you're covered in a thin layer of soot, from blowing up the trailer, and a layer of blood and brain matter from removing and crushing her head. You hoped that by blowing up her home and burning her body with your newfound abilities that it would be enough to cover your tracks, but you were uneasy. The buzz of killing her and the shock of her revelation had worn off, but was now replaced with a numbness when you think about what could have happened to Ben, what could still be happening to him.

The shower does little to ease your mind and sleep evades you, despite the exhaustion that pulls at your limbs for using your powers. Dying usually meant that you needed to replenish that energy, but you couldn't muster the enthusiasm to do that. You just felt listless. The last forty years felt like a lie, felt like a waste, because as you’d been living your life Ben had been trapped in Russia.

So you open your laptop on the counter, wet hair soaking through your sleepshirt, and begin to research flights to Russia leaving within the next few days.

I have no idea where I'm going. I go to Russia and then what? Where in Russia? The Kremlin? Yeah let me just waltz right up to that.

You lean forward with your head in your hands thinking about Butcher. He came here because he wanted to know more about Ben. Maybe he knew where he was. He was the one who mentioned Russia.

You pull the card he left behind on your counter towards you, rubbing your thumb over the number. Legend said he kills supes. So is that what he wanted? To find Ben and kill him? The thought makes a chill travel down your spine, immediately followed by the primal urge to protect Ben. But what had Ben ever done to him?

You look at the number again.

If I call him, he's going to know that I was lying. Not that I'm scared of him.

You finally pick up your phone and dial the number, but it goes to voicemail.

"Hey this is Y/f/n Y/l/n. I just remembered a few things about Soldier Boy and thought you'd like to discuss them. Just give me a call-back whenever you get this."

You hang up the phone and sit there for a minute, eyeing the coffee that sits untouched next to your open laptop.

I killed someone today. The thought should be chilling, but you feel no remorse, no guilt.

Is that because I think she deserved it?

Your mind goes back to what she said about Ben sleeping with you, what he told her about you. The urge to cry rises in your chest with the memory of her words.

You remembered that night. You had been so excited. Ben had taken you out to dinner for your birthday, despite your insistence that you'd celebrated enough of those. The restaurant was quiet, secluded, different than the flashy world the both of you were living in. It had reminded you of before you took the Compound V, when you were still normal. The food was good, there was flirting and hand holding at dinner, and finally a slow dance when he kissed you for the first time.

And when he took you back to your apartment and to bed, it didn’t seem like a quick fuck, it didn't feel like cheap sex. The way he took care of you, held your hand, said your name, looked at you, held you close to him after, and the soft smile on his face that he had only when it was the two of you- it felt special. He made it special for you because he knew how important it was for you.

Tears slip down your cheeks. It would have been one of your favorite memories if you didn't know what followed, what was going to happen the next morning or in the next 24 hours.

"Guess it was just a lie." You mutter to yourself, wiping the back of your hand across your eyes.

The next morning when you woke up in his arms you couldn't help but tell him that you loved him, whisper it to him, more happy than you'd ever been curled against his chest. You remembered the way he looked at you, like you were crazy and then he left for his movie premiere even though we were supposed to go together muttering flimsy excuses as to why he had to leave. And finally the image of him and Countess in the bathroom crashes over you, sending shards of glass back into your heart.

You thought that by now you'd picked them all out.

More tears drip down your cheeks, as your thoughts drift back to Ben and the years that followed that night. You sigh considering what to do.

I wish I could just forget, wish that I could leave him, but I can't.

But that didn’t mean you had to forgive him.

After a night of no sleep, you stand poised over the wooden chest in the back of your closet. Packing for the flight that left in two days was turning into a bigger task than you'd thought.

Your current wardrobe wasn't suited for storm the capital city of Russia and kill everything in your path to find Ben, it was more suited for late night painting and art shows. The amount of paint stained overalls, oversized band t-shirts, sweatpants, and dresses in your closet was astounding and none of which screamed "fear me." You would definitely need to go to the mall to find more things that you could move in, if need be, and find things that hid your identity. All it took was one photo or video linked online and everyone would know that you weren’t dead.

You knew that no one would be willing to talk to you, give up the information willingly, not to mention if you really had to break into the Kremlin it was not going to be a walk in the park.

It wasn't that you were out of shape. You still trained during the week, took self-defense classes, and worked out to prevent yourself from going soft, but fighting Countess was the first time in forty years that you had faced another supe and you weren’t up to speed on the supes that the Russian government employed.

You also didn't like the idea that you were going in blind. There could be any number of men there, any kind of supes, and anything waiting for you.

But the truth was, deep down you didn't care. What the rest of Payback did had ignited something deep inside you. You knew that people were going to die if they stood in front of you, but the urge to protect Ben rose above all else. Because you still loved him, despite everything he said, despite everything he did, he was still Ben after all this time and you couldn't let him go that easily.

You hold up your supe suit in front of you. It was made specifically for you, designed of a breathable material that made movement easy, not to mention the hood and mask did a wonderful job of concealing who you were.

I really don't want to wear this again. You think to yourself, eyeing the smooth material. It wasn't that you hated your suit, it was what it represented. If you wore that again, you'd be Indigo and you'd spent the past forty years trying to put as much distance between you and your superhero career as possible. You would be recognized instantly.

Could I even squeeze into this thing again?

You look at yourself in the floor length mirror on the opposite side of your walk in closet. You looked the same as you always had. Countess’ jeer about you being big makes you flinch again, bringing another cloud of insecurity over your mind.

Maybe that’s why he never slept with me before that night. Maybe that’s why he ran to Countess.

The thought is immediately followed by the image of Missy Callahan at your 16th birthday and how Ben clung to her. Then followed by your mother’s constant attempts to hide your figure. And finally, followed by all the other women you had ever seen Ben with. None of the others had looked like you. You shake off the urge to cry and look back at the suit.

Maybe I can paint over the purple, make it only black? Would that really change it that much?

Suddenly your phone rings, shattering the still silence in your apartment. For a second you hope that it's Butcher returning your call, but when you lift the phone to your ear you realize that it's something much worse.

"Hello?"

"I need you." The familiar voice says.

Shit.

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys series #the boys tv #soldier boy fic #the boys season 3 #the boys s3

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auriidae · 11 months ago

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LIFESTUCK ?!?! (pt 2 here!) (pt 3)

i was sick a couple days ago and spent like 12 hours straight doing nothing but classpecting life series characters and then was like Yeah i have to draw this now. so here's some sillies 👍 (super long classpect ramble under cut because i spent far too long on it not to share hfshjf)

quick note: i really really love @/classpect-navelgazing's theories and used them for a lot of the ideas here. go check their blog out it rules :]

ok you guys flower ranchers (scott tango jimmy) are making me so insane for this au specifically because of this idea i had about doom/life players. doom in true canon is related to inevitability, fate, and knowledge of the specific rules that keep the characters trapped within their story, right. and life is sort of related to healing, physically and mentally, within the confines of the game. so within this au, the aspect of life refers to the rules within the game that the players can see and are aware of (last life’s trading lives system + boogeyman, third life’s soulmate mechanic, secret life’s tasks, etc.). life players have some amount of dominion over these elements (depending on their class, of course). doom on the other hand refers to everything surrounding the games (stuff like admin powers, the world barrier, and whatever happens to the players after they die).

as a mage of doom, scot (his name is so funny to me. like yeah he sure is) has a bunch of intrinsic knowledge about the way the games function on a logistical level. he’s like a guy who read the script a while ago and forgot all the characters’ names but knows the basic plot and how it’s going to end. or who knows all the ins and outs of tech crew and for whom the apparent magic of the show for the audience is lost on, since he knows how it’s being done. the thing is, scot isn't especially able to act on this knowledge during the game. what director wants someone in the audience — or one of the actors — taking all the magic out of the show, spoiling how it works and how it ends? no, it’s best if they keep that knowledge to themselves — and so scot’s narratively unable to affect the stories of those around him, even his close friends who he’d want to help. he’s aware of this, of course, which makes him more than a little depressed, as he can see the futility of it all and can’t even explain to anyone what’s going on and how the game works. (the only story he’s able to affect, of course, is his own. which. depressed doom player + mage martyr complex + guy who Really cares about his friends is not necessarily a good combination.)

the amount of stock i put in the idea of gendered classes is close to zero so tangoe gets to be a maid of life because ohh my goodness. i like the theory (thanks classpect-navelgazing) of life as “the aspect of affluence,” where life players usually enter the game with some kind of material wealth or status that helps their position in some way. i also like the idea that maid players start the game with a surplus of their aspect but often end up feeling as if they’re only seen as a provider of that specific thing as a result of this, and so end up longing for something else instead. this primarily applies to last life tango because that’s the season i’m most familiar with lol, but i thought the way he started out with so many lives there and quickly dwindled as a result of everyone taking from him and only him was Really interesting. mans has all the luck of the game he could need, but only wants friends to actually be able to live with. being a life player also ties into his little gambling games and things (again, dominion over stuff within the overarching game/story, but nothing beyond that).

then we get to jimi (again fantastic name). the basic premise of an heir is that they’re played by their aspect, right and Oh Boy is jimmy played by life in the life series. i don’t personally know much about anything he’s done other than heehoo canary guy but along with the previously stated points it’s So fun to see him as a life player because it allows for some really clearly contrast between the way he interacts with tangoe and scot based on their aspects. i really like the idea of scot being like “you’re a life player jimi. it's in your name. the game is not going to let you die” and jimi like “you really think so? aw thanks man” neither of them knowing that dying as a life player in this game is literally like in the job description. (ok. i kind of feel like i’m letting jimi down by basing his story so far around other people.. but this is just for fun and i can always change it later)

(also i could easily have put tangoe and jimi as doom players too but for the fact that i don’t think they necessarily see through the game as much as scot does (or at all). and so life it is.)

feel free to ask me questions abt them!!! i have so many thoughts about this bro

#looks at you with my big ol eyes... please read about them i spent So Long thinking about them pfff #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #trafficblr #secret life #life series #hs #also disclaimer i haven't read homestuck in over a year and do not have the time currently so sorry-#-if smth is blatantly wrong but this is just for the funsies :P #lifestuck au #aurie's art

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lainiespicewrites · 10 months ago

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Electric Summer

I decided to start something new! I know I said I was going to try to finish Coach Sy first but I just don't have ideas for it. And this would not leave me alone.

Summary: OFC is a camp counselor. She and Sy used to be childhood besties and used to have a summer fling. But when they get older and school ends. She thinks she'll never see him again.

Warnings: none

Let me know what you think. Comments and Reblogs are always welcome

This work is totally my own and I own all my mistakes. Obviously, I don't own Sy.. man I wish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was easily my favorite time of the year. I love the fall and the smell of the leaves and cozy blankets and warm drinks. It was a beautiful time of year. Fall was my favorite season. But this was not that. This was magic. Summer’s always were. Even when the sun went down at 9pm and the sky faded to black there was still an electric energy that burned in the air. The nights weren’t over just because the sun had fallen. In fact that was the time when the best memories were made. Especially here. It’s so cliche, but to me this is the happiest place on earth. Forget Disney world. No, the best times were had slipping away from mom and dad and spending the summer with friends you hadn’t seen all year, jumping in the lake, tipping a canoe, hiking through the woods at night, sneaking off to steal a kiss with your crush behind the cabin, and warming up around the campfire at night.

This camp built me. It holds my dearest memories from my childhood and adolescents. When they messaged me and asked about coming back as a counselor it was an easy answer.

I looked over at my best friend pouting on my bed while I packed my suitcase.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna be gone all summer!” she grumbled. I laughed, shaking my head at her.

“I told you, you could come too! They need more counselors.” I stated, matter of fact. She scrunched up her nose and raised an eyebrow.

“I love kids but I’m not very outdoorsy, no way I’d last all summer! I’m too pale to be in the sun that long.” she retorted

“Fair, we’ve been swimming once this year and you’re already burnt.” I chuckled. I put another towel in my bag and she took it out and threw it on the bed. I sighed.

“It’s not forever V, you can literally come visit me.” I said “I won’t be on my phone much at all but I can give you nightly updates before lights out!” I promised.

“Fine,” she conceded, repacking the towel for me. “But if you meet somebody and start some whirlwind summer love you better tell me immediately! I want all the details! We haven't spent this long apart literally since we became friends!” I laughed

“I doubt it, but if the perfect man somehow manages to show up to sweep me off my feet at summer camp I’ll let you know!” I told her.

“It could happen! Didn’t you have a lil summer boyfriend when you were younger?” She asked. I thought back to my days as a camper. All the friends I’d made, the silly little camp crushes. Then there was him. For 3 straight summers there was him. I tried to resist it at first. He was incredibly charming. A lot of the girls had a crush on him. He was energetic and funny and he had this big smile. That first summer we became fast friends. I tried to ignore him but he wouldn’t leave me alone. If I got up to leave the group he’d get up and ask where I was going. When we had to use the buddy system for a game or a hike. He would claim me before one of my girls could. His friends would get mad at him for it. I never understood it. But camp was only 2 weeks long. I didn’t have enough time to dwell on it.

The next summer. He grew. He had to be at least a foot taller. His hair had grown out into these beautiful wild curls. I think maybe he’d started working out. He mentioned he was playing football in school. So maybe that was why he seemed more toned. He still had that big sweet smile. He’d grown into a gentle giant. It must’ve been fate that once again our cabins were paired together as a group. And because we’d become such good friends he sought me out immediately. Pulling me into a big hug.

“Hey girl!” He beamed, squeezing me tight. “Glad we’re here together again, how have you been?” He asked enthusiastically. I chuckled, my arms still wrapped around his middle as I found my footing again. He’d practically lifted me off the ground.

“It’s good to see you too, Logan.” I smiled. Despite how hard I tried, That summer, I could not deny that I had developed feelings for him. I was too shy to tell him. And I loved being friends with him. I didn’t want to lose that. However even though Logan didn’t seem to notice it was painfully obvious to one of my bunkmates.

“You should tell him you like him!” Tasha said, sneaking up behind me. This particular day the girls in our cabin decided to ditch the boys, who were off playing ultimate frisbee or something, and go on a hike.

“What?” I said quickly. She shook her head.

“Girl, you obviously have the biggest crush on Sy, you should tell him.” she repeated herself. I started to chew on my lip nervously.

“Logan? I… tosh… he’s my best friend. Aside from you of course,” I assured her, “I can’t tell him.” I said. She sighed dramatically.

“Why not? He’s literally so nice, the worst that would happen is he’d say he wants to stay friends.Plus I really think he likes you too!” she said hopefully.

“You can’t know that.” I retorted. She shook her head at me again.

“I’ve heard people talk about it. I was in the bathroom last night and I overheard these girls from cabin F talking, one of the girls said she’s really jealous of you because of the way Logan clings to you,” she argued.

“He does not cling to me,” I said.

“We had to tell him our hike was no boys allowed because he was gonna ditch the boys to come with us!” she cried.

“Maybe he wanted to hike?” I argued. Tasha gave up and just laughed.

“Girl you’re hopeless.” she said, as we continued to walk.

A few days later the boys and girls cabin went on a night hike together. It was a tradition. Something we did every year. We walked through the woods when it got dark and played games as a group. I hated it. It freaked me out. I was not a horror movie fan and this was like an invitation for a demon to jump out and attack you. Needless to say I was scared the whole time. Sy picked up on it immediately. Sticking with me the whole time. Distracting me and making me laugh. And when I got really tense on the walk back he grabbed my hand. When we were back in the clearing by the cabins Tasha looked back at us and noticed our hands smiling to herself. She stopped walking until she was next to me on the other side and whispered in my ear.

“Girl if you don’t tell him I will.” I pouted and gave her a look and she just laughed skipping ahead again to hold the hand of this year's camp boyfriend. Needless to say I still didn’t tell him. I spent the next week and a half doing everything I could to avoid it.

On the last day of camp a few of us were sitting in the grass in the sun soaking up the last few hours together before our parents arrived and we had to say goodbye. We were talking about our favorite things we’d done this summer. What we were gonna miss. Promising to keep in touch.

“Hey Logan, you know you only live like an hour from Lainie?” Tasha said all of a sudden.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, looking over at me with a big smile on his face.

“Mhmm.” she continued, "You guys could totally hang out sometime!” she exclaimed.

“How did you know that?” I asked her suddenly.

“I looked it up,” she shrugged. I rolled my eyes but then looked over at Sy, his long legs stretched out in front of him on the grass, leaning back on his elbows, the sun shining down perfectly warming his face. He looked beautiful. He had a sparkle in his eye when I met his gaze.

“What, you don’t wanna see me?” He pouted. “I think it’d be fun! You get your license in a couple weeks right?” He raised his brows eyes hopeful. I was surprised he remembered. We talked about it at campfire a couple nights ago. He told me he was saving up for his own car so he didn’t have to drive his brothers hand me down anymore. And I said I just couldn’t wait to be able to drive without my mom in the car.

“Yeah,” I said, “I do, and of course I wanna see you Logan,” I blushed.

“That’s perfect,” Tasha spoke again. “You guys could go on a date or something!” she winked.

“Huh?” I choked. Glaring at her. Logan didn’t say anything. Or if he did I was too shocked to hear what he said.

“Girl, don't act like you don’t have the biggest crush on him. We all know it.” I could feel everyone's eyes on me now and my cheeks were burning.

“Is that true?” Logan asked softly. I couldn’t look at him. I chewed at my lip trying to come up with anything to make this go away but I couldn’t .

“I-I …my parents are gonna be here soon! I need to finish packing!” I said and stood up quickly running toward the cabin. That wasn’t true. I packed everything this morning. I was bragging about it to him saying I had the whole rest of the day to enjoy what we had left of camp. He knew I was lying. I heard him call after me but I didn’t stop. Not until I got back to our cabin. The boys weren’t allowed there. I could stay there and hide until It was time to go. And that’s what I did. An hour later our counselor came to find me telling me my parents had arrived to take me home. I didn’t see Logan when I was leaving. I didn’t look for him. I was too embarrassed to find him to say goodbye. So I didn’t. I left without a word. And I felt horrible about it.

Another year came and went. Logan and I never met up after summer. I didn’t text him. I was too afraid. And I’d never given him my number. I was beside myself with nerves about returning to camp that next summer. It was my favorite place on earth. And my worst nightmare all wrapped into one. After the way I’d left things with him last year I was afraid to see him. I thought that maybe I’d get lucky and he wouldn’t be there the same week I was. Or we wouldn’t be in the same group. So at least I could avoid him. Even if it was gonna hurt.

Of course that’s not what happened. Again our cabins were in a group. The first day I avoided making eye contact with him. And I always stuck with the girls. I didn’t want a chance for us to be alone together. Conveniently Tasha couldn’t make it to camp this year. So I was stuck in the mess she’d made without her help. He and I were together for group activities but I didn’t talk much. I kept to myself. That worked for the first day. But it didn’t last long. During the afternoon at camp we didn’t have a lot of scheduled activities. So we could pretty much run around and do whatever we wanted. And since we were the late highschool aged group. We didn’t have to follow the “buddy system,” They encouraged it but I guess if we went missing that was on us. It was just after lunch. Maybe 2pm. There was this little circle of bench swings in the park. It was a great place to gather as a group. A lot of times we would sit and reflect on the day there before the campfire at night. But right now no one was there. I liked to keep a journal while I was at camp. To keep all of the memories. So I sat on one of the swings with one leg folded under me and the other dangling off to push myself on the swing. I didn’t see him coming. I was too busy scribbling down all of my thoughts. I didn’t notice anyone was there until I heard the creak of the chains from the swing directly across from mine. I looked up. Logan was sitting on the swing, his arms stretched over the back of it and rocking back and forth on his heel pushing the swing. I set my pen in my journal, closing it slowly, before I could speak, he said.

“Please don’t run,” His voice sounded deeper somehow even though he spoke softly. I knew he was from the south. He always had a bit of a twang but I’d never noticed that drawl like I did now. When he was pleading with me. I swallowed hard and nodded. “I don’t like this,” He spoke again when I remained silent. “I hate that you’re ignoring me.”

“I’m not…” I started

“You are,” He interrupted, letting out a deep sigh. “Lainie,” he said, my childhood nickname. The one he’d started to call me after we all shared fun facts about ourselves. It was the name all of my mothers family had called me since I was a baby. He’d never actually addressed me by my name from that point on. It was always a joke between us. A little sentiment that he claimed as his. It sounded sad now. As he pulled his eyes from the mulch on the ground to meet my gaze. “You are my best friend. You can talk to me. About anything. Hell, I’m closer with you than I am with any of my friends back home.” He said. “I know that things were kinda awkward when we left last summer but you didn’t even say goodbye.” He paused. I bit my lip, starting to feel emotional.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I was so embarrassed.” I finally admitted to him. “I didn’t mean to leave like that. But everyone was looking at me. And I was scared and I was afraid I was gonna lose you as a friend. But I guess I did that all on my own.” I sighed.

Sy stood up and crossed the space from his swing to mine. He paused waiting to see if I’d make room for him. Naturally I did. He sat next to me. Stretching his arm out behind me on the back of the swing.

“You couldn’t lose me if you tried darlin,” A soft smile formed on his lips. If I didn’t know any better, it almost looked sad. I could tell that he was having an inner battle in himself. “Why were you scared?” He finally asked. I swallowed a lump that was forming in my throat. There was no point in avoiding it now. He had to know that I’ve had a crush on him. Even I know that he isn’t too oblivious to realize that much. I felt my breath hitch when I felt his hand cover my shoulder. A gentle squeeze and a soft storking of his thumb brought my eyes to his.

“Because I didn’t want anything to change, what we’ve got going is good,” I spoke barely above a whisper.

“Why would…” He started. But I cut him off before I lost my nerve.

“Because Tasha was right. I did..do have a big crush on you. But it’s silly, and you’re such a great friend to me Logan, I didn’t want to lose that because of how I was feeling.” I rambled.

“Huh,” He breathed. “You have a crush on me? I never would of guessed.” He smirked. I pouted and smacked his shoulder.

“Sy, I’m serious!” I ran my hand through my hair and turned away from him to nervous to hold eye contact. I heard him chuckle softly before I felt his fingertips gently brush across my jaw turning me back to face him.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he paused regaining his composure. “You really think I didn’t notice?” He raised both brows and had a gentle smile on his lips.

“You knew?” I muttered softly still so embarrassed about the whole situation.

“It’s kinda what I what I was hoping for, I’ve only been flirtin’ with ya for two summers now,” He laughed. It was my turn to be confused. I raised an eyebrow. This only caused him to laugh more.

“You?” I paused trying to wrap my head around what I was trying to say. “Wait so?”

“I’d have loved to have taken you out, If you’d have given me the chance.” He explained. I hung my head resting it my hands and groaned.

“I’m an idiot.” I sighed.

“No,” Sy said, “I should have said something sooner, and Tosh shouldn’t have called you out like that. I’d known for a while but, I really liked the way things were between us. I didn’t see a reason for us to push anything.” He said slowly pulling my hand away from my face and lacing his fingers with mine.

“You really liked me this whole time.” I said finally looking up at him, relaxing a bit when he smiled.

“Since the day I met you.” He admitted. I smiled. And squeezed his hand I sat up moving to sit closer to him. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could one of the counselors was interrupting us.

“Hey guys you know the rules. No purpling, No PDA,” They warned us and stood there until Sy let go of my hand. They nodded at us before walking off to montier the rest of the play ground. Some of the younger age groups were playing in the park. ‘No purpling’ such a stupid metaphor. Girls are red boys are blue if red and blue touch it makes purple. It was so annoying.

“I hate that damn rule.” He grumbled. I giggled softly.

“Yeah, me too.” we both just looked at each other and smiled.

After that moment we spent the rest of that summer by each others side. Camp always seemed like such a short time and this time it seemed like it was slipping away even faster. We never made anything official but we did hold hands when no one was looking and occasionally we would sneak off from the group to have time alone.

One evening after dinner a few of us decided we wanted to take out some canoes on the lake. Of course the two of us took one out on our own. For some reason that night Sy was quiet. He had been a lot of the day. I finally decided to ask him about it. “Are you okay?” I asked after a few minutes of silence had passed while we floated in the middle of the lake.

“Yeah,” He answered quickly “Why?” He wouldn’t meet my eye.

“You’ve just been quiet, is something bothering you? You can talk to me.” I assured him. He sat there for a few seconds without saying anything before letting out a deep breath.

“This is gonna be my last summer at camp.” He said softly. My heart sank. I knew he was about a year older than me. And we could only come back as campers through the year after we graduated high school. But he was about to start his Senior year. He still had one more summer.

“But you haven’t graduated yet. You can still come back next year!” I said hopefully.

“It’s not that,” He bit his lip looking out at the water still refusing to look at me. “I signed up for the military. I’m gonna be in the army. I start basic right after I graduate. And then they’ll send me wherever they need me.” He said finally meeting my eyes.

“Oh,” I nodded. “So, after this summer, we won’t ever see each other again.” I said sadly.

“Hey, no,” he said, grabbing my hand, “We still got a whole year. I could come see you or you could drive to me and we… we could make this…” He trailed off.

“Logan,” my voice cracked as I started to speak. “You and I both know it’s not going to work. You’re going to be so busy with football and your friends and your family. And I will be too.” I felt him squeeze my hand and he nodded, a sad look in his eyes.

“I know, but I just got you, I don’t wanna let go yet.” He said. I felt a tear fall and I wiped it away quickly, not wanting to make him feel any worse.

“Maybe, we were only ever meant to have summer.” I said.

“Yeah,” He whispered. “Guess we better make the most of it.”

We spent every second we could together the rest of camp. Hell he even walked me to the bathroom. It killed me to know this was all we were ever going to be. I’d never met anyone like Logan before. I hated to say that I was in love with him. I mean I was only 16 but. It sure felt like it. We did every activity together, sat together at dinner. And he’d put his arm around me at campfire when the adults weren’t looking. The night before camp was over was the annual night hike. He knew how much I hated it. So while the rest of the group headed off into the woods he grabbed my hand and led us to another trail that led to an open grassy field. The boys usually played frisbee or softball out here.

“Logan,” I whispered. “We’re gonna get in trouble.” I said.

“They’ll never notice we’re gone.” He said. Pulling me into his chest and hugging me tight holding me for a moment. “I just wanna be alone with you.” he mumbled into my hair. He walked us out to the middle of the field and sat down pulling me down with him. “Come here.” He said laying back on the grass and pulling me into his side. I snuggled up to him laying my head on his chest. We laid like that for a while just silent. Looking at the stars above us.

“I don’t wanna leave tomorrow. I don’t want to have to say goodbye.” He said. I felt myself start to tear up but I forced them down.

“Are you scared?” I asked.

“No,” He admitted shaking his head. “My dad was in the service and my grandpa, my older brother. It’s just what we do.” He said.

“I hate this.” I sighed. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore or him.

“Me too darlin.” he said. We laid there in silence again. Until he spoke. “Would it… would it be too selfish to ask you to wait for me?” He asked. I felt tense. I sat up laying my hand on his chest and turned to look at him.

“Logan, you don’t need me to wait for you, you’ll meet some pretty girl in your home town. Some girl you can come back home too when it’s all over. You’ll have long forgotten about me when you come home.”

“I could never forget you Lainie,” He said softly. My breath hitched. His eyes bore deeply into mine. Even with nothing but the moon light and the stars lighting his face I could see he meant it.

“Sy,” I whispered. He caressed my cheek sitting up to close the distance between us. This would be the first time we’d ever kissed. Maybe the last. I could feel his breath against my lips as my eyes fluttered shut.

“There you two are!” The boys councelor called from across the clearing. “What were you thinking you had us all worried!” We’d been caught.

We didn’t kiss that night. We never did. The next day when my parents came to get me. He stood there outside of our cabin holding me tight. Neither of us wanted to let go. But he didn’t kiss me goodbye. We couldn’t do it. I guess it was better not to know what we were missing.

“I’m never gonna stop thinking about ya,” He said. As we finally pulled away.

“Neither will I.” I said

That was 7 years ago. We didn’t see each other after that. I cried and sulked the rest of that summer.

I shook my head bringing me back to the present. My best friend still sitting on my bed looking at me expectantly.

“Hello, Lainie,” she snapped her fingers.

“What? Uh yeah, I guess I did have a summer fling. I mean, we were never official, never kissed or anything. But that was years ago. Who know’s where he is now.” I said.

“Who knows. Fate has this way of bringing people together.” She said. I shook my head.

“You’re such a hopeless romantic.” I laughed.

“And you’re hopeless, would it kill you to belive in fairtales. Or romance.” she argued. I just laughed.

“You know what you’re right. You never know what will happen this summer, camp always has been a magical place.” I said.

A few hours later I was finally on the road. I felt the excitement rise up inside me as I passed the familiar rode signs. I was almost there. I thought my heart was gonna burst when I pulled into the long drive under the main archway. After parking my car I walked up to the main building to meet with the camp director.

“Lainie!” She smiled greeting me with a hug. “I’m so happy you were able to join the team this year!” She beamed.

“I jumped at the opportunity Becca, I wouldn’t miss it!” I said.

“We’re glad to have you, I’ll get you checked in so you can get settled and get your cabin set up and meet your co-coucelor. You’re with one of the boys cabins. You’ll be in cabin E and He and his boys are in A.” She smiled.

“Okay sounds great!” I was buzzing with excitement.

“I’ll let you get to it,” she said “I’m sure you remember where everything is!”

I unpacked my car and carried my bag and suitcase to my cabin. It felt so good to be back. I started to unpack and make up my bunk when I heard a knock on the screen door. I figued it must’ve been my co-concelor coming to meet me. I walked to the door stepping out on to the porch of the Cabin, seeing a man standing there. He was maybe 6,1 his hair was buzzed short. And he had a full beard. He had broad shoulders and a warm smile. His eyes went wide when they landed on me. And the moment I met the I knew why. “Lainie?” He asked. Still with that deep southern drawl.

“Logan?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging my usual suspects, but let me know if you'd like to be added!

This is not the end of this story at all! There is much more to come here I can't wait to get started!!

Link for pt 2

@enchantedbytomandhenry @summersong69 @carrie80reads @identity2212 @caramariehurst @redheadrouge @warriormirkwood @gummydummy19 @deandoesthingstome @shellyshellshell @mary-ann84 @starfirewildheart @foxyjwls007

#captain syverson x ofc #fanfic writing #captain syverson #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #fanfiction #henry cavil x reader #captain syverson smut #august walker #august walker fanfiction

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 1 month ago

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One thing I’ve always been confused about is how akuma actually work. In stormy weather they are treated like a horror movie trope, able to stop an elevator, cause lights to flicker and squeeze thru the doors to get to their victim. Aurora sees it coming and is terrified of it.

There’s a few other episodes where people see the akuma and try to avoid it but nothing on that level. Most of the time it seems like no one notices them and it just quietly possesses any item it touches

Then there are also times where the akuma can be trapped like in Sabrina’s suit case and it can’t get out or possess anything.

It also seems like they can get anywhere they want fairly quickly, but s5 adds them teleporting via the horse for some reason? Like travel time was never an issue before.

How would you treat the akuma in your version?

Also while on the rant, why does everyone know they are called Akuma? In the Paris special it seems they are called Komiko… so wouldn’t Tiki and Plagg assume they were still called that? Why do they have a unique name for the evil version and why are they Japanese words for the Chinese miracle box?

Akumas are whatever the story needs them to be for the current episode. There are very few clear limits or logic to them. The only thing that stays consistent is that the akuma possesses an object, gets released once the object is broken (though what that means can change), and that the ladybug of the day needs to purify the released akuma.

Those basic elements aren't actually bad and, as I've previously mentioned, I'm not too judgmental about how OP the butterfly's power is. Does it raise a lot of question like, "why can't you use this to heal your wife?" Yes! But this is a formula show where every episode has to have a fight, so I'm willing to give them some grace and accept that the butterfly is only OP because that's how the fights stay interesting. In a more serious show, the butterfly would be heavily nerfed.

There are still things that I'm critical of, though! Things canon never should have done, so let's focus on that.

1. Akumatized objects should function like a miraculous. It has to be on you to transform you. You drop it, you detransform. None of this hiding it somewhere BS. Could even lead to cool plots like someone picking up a seemingly innocent item and BAM akuma trap!

2. The butterflies should be magical constructs. None of this needing a real butterfly nonsense. What even is that? What do you do if you don't have a butterfly on you? Can you use any butterfly? I have questions...

3. There should not be a different word for a good akuma as that also raises a lot of question. Just have the power be what it is and let the good/bad element come from how the power is used.

4. Make clear rules around where the butterflies can go, how possession works, and how powers are assigned. I'm okay with the butterflies being able to touch things without possessing them or even being able to be trapped, but when that happens, the butterfly holder should be able to dismiss them and try again. Also, when the akuma goes out of range, it should dissipate. It shouldn't be able to go rouge like we saw in Startrain when Gabriel lost the akuma because it went to London, but Max's mom still got akumatized:

Gabriel: So, that's why I lost touch with my akuma! It's too far out of range. Nathalie: There's another problem. Adrien's class is on the train, and your son is on the passenger list! Gabriel: He's up in space! And there's nothing I can do.

This is so clearly done for plot and not because of logical world building. Of course, the show undoes this in season five where Intuition has Gabriel akumatize a spaceship in an episode that's a direct followup to the events of Startrain re Max's mom, so this is basically inexcusable:

Monarch: How fortunate that an artificial intelligence can suffer so much. (corrupts a butterfly into a Megakuma) Voyage, my Megakuma! (creates a portal, teleporting his Megakuma to space to akumatize A.D.A. in her core) Bugfighter. I am Monarch. The only reason Cosmobug wants to help you is so humans can test you again and again, even if it means losing more pilots.

5. I would personally make the magical construct butterflies invisible because they move so slowly that it does seem like something people should be able to avoid. We even see that happen when the show wants to go there with things like Marinette running away from one. That just raises too many questions about why people aren't always on the lookout for these things. Between that and the akumas getting trapped in other episodes, the fact that anyone gets possessed seems hard to believe.

All of these changes would means that you have to scrap a few story ideas, but that's just how good lore works. It limits you just like gravity limits you. It's how worlds feel real.

Why are they Japanese words for the Chinese miracle box?

Why is the Chinese miracle box guarded by Tibetan monks? Why are the two most powerful miraculous in the box - the only ones we see for most of season one - based on western lore? Why does Kagami wander around in a Japanese school girl outfit even though she lives in France while her mom sticks to highly traditional clothing instead of business suits? It's because these writers seem to think that Asian things are just a cool aesthetic that can be thrown into a story to make it look/feel cool with no real thought of deeper meanings or cultural origin.

As always, I will remind you am not part of these cultures nor have I studied them extensively, so it's always possible that there's something that I missed and canon is somehow fine, but I've yet to see anyone make that argument. In fact, the more I learn, the more I judge canon and feel deeply uncomfortable with the way various Asian cultures have been represented.

#anon ask #ml writing critical #ml writing salt #lore discussion

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 months ago

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Sometimes I feel the shows world is… empty but at the same time has too much

In season 2 they put sentient robots able to feel actual emotions like they are something common enough for a teenager go make them

In the specials they introduce other magic systems like the cousins of the kwamis and then introduce things like Batwoman and super/Wonder Woman

Then in season 3 they introduce FREAKING ALIENS!!! (Bunnix said they exist) I wouldn’t be mad if they elaborated in those subjects

But they don’t, we don’t have meta humans in the rest of the show but season 5 finale, we don’t have magicians and we haven’t seen a flesh and bones alien (I think since I don’t know what Majestia’s whole deal is)

The origins episode and the backstory of the guardians and miraculous imply the existence of other monsters

We see a kraken, a fusion of a Sphinx with Medusa fighting Heracles, a dragon fighting a ladybug holder on medieval glass stain similar to the ones in churches, and then we see some unknown hero fighting a Evangelion like monster on the sea with a Japanese style

But we only have Akumas, Akumas and Akumas, and in special occasions we have Akumas but BIGGER or Akumas but R E D ,Where are those monsters in modern age? Some of the crossovers they had planned with other ZAK shows implied the existence of witches, fairy’s, ghosts and a giant snake monster

The world introduces the supernatural and science fiction but instead of using it we are stuck with miraculous

Why is no character using magic? Why isn’t there sandman or rhino like villains rooming the streets? I Can see post season 4 Gabriel doing what tombstone did in spectacular Spider-Man and turning criminals into super villains to get the miraculous or at least to make negativity higher through all of Paris by introducing super villains who are willingly evil AND have permanent powers

Or why isn’t there a evil wizard searching for the miraculous for power or a ancient evil the kwamis sealed searching to take revenge on Plagg and Tikki? Or just Gabriel using evil magic to summon a hunting hound monster to track the miraculous and the heroes have to find a way to defeat a enemy they can’t defeat by their usual way (their usual way is breaking the evilified object so the enemy just disappears)

They keep introducing weird things and concepts and do nothing with them, is like they tried to be Spider-Man in the “exists on a larger world full with heroes” and then proceeds to ignore all other Spider-Man things like having a rogues gallery and constantly facing magic and sci-fi threats

Heck I might even say he only did this to ride the Shared universe train marvel started but just like DC and the Dark verse, they failed (except for the Monsterverse, the Monsterverse is ETERNAL)

That's the weird thing about this show. It wants to be a simple good vs evil story, but it also wants to flesh out the universe for future spin-offs.

This is why I just can't stand the Miraculous World specials, because they don't do anything with the concepts introduced. The Miraculous scattered across the world, other magical artifacts like the Miraculous, and the goddamn multiverse are only used for what is glorified filler. A lot of these ideas could easily be fleshed out for their own seasons, but the show only wants the conflict to revolve around the heroes and whoever gets the Butterfly Miraculous.

If you want to expand your universe, you need to think about how this development will affect your story as well as your world.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt

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deesseshesca · 5 months ago

Text

Message from your spirit guide

Message from your spirit team

Just a head up …. We love you

Good afternoon, pretty souls, today I’m channeling your spirit guides.

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION

Rules and Disclaimer

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else.

TW: DV, MENTION OF ABUSE

PILE 1

You go ahead and purchase that Cartier bracelet that is not going to destroy your hard work. Make sure you wear it at the baby shower. We know how much you pray for your sister regarding her fertility issue, your niece\nephew is on his/her way. And we are as excited as you. Don’t you dare overthink your body right now. You look amazing. Everyone is telling you so you better believe them. Ok you may not be at your dream weight but babe you must agree that you never looked so good. You better show off ! You told the whole truth and will be rewarded. I know you were scared to say it all because you felt like you messed up somewhere which is ok but that does not mean you deserve it. Yes, you agree to be in a relationship with him. But you did not agree to the mental abuse. You did not agree to the constant yelling, the name calling and disrespect. You did not sign for physical abuse. Whether or not you orgasm or not doesn't matter, if you did not want to do it, then nah. He did IN FACT abuse you. Let’s forget the couple slap here and there and the punches on the wall. People from his family want to drag you but everyone knows you are a good woman and did not deserve anything you were thru. We know it was an extremely stressful moment for you, but now you can sit back and relax. Everyone is congratulating you right now. Even the people on the street can’t wait but to compliment you on your glowing skin and amazing sense of style. But we know that it has been months, even years in the making. You decide to stand up when you had nothing but faith in YOU. The days that you had to stick to your diet. Stop eating your feelings. All the time you had to stick to a budget, so you can have this financial security. The hard work you did in uni so you can get the degree that got you this amazing job. Nothing grew overnight. Success looks so good on you ! The odd thing is you want more . You can see it because of the upgrade in your wallet. You went from fast food, to a five star restaurant. You went from exam week to working in big cooperatives. But yet you want more. There are days where you feel so happy and extremely grateful for what you have but other times you fall into deep depression because you want more from life. People around you don’t get it. ‘’You went from HELL to HEAVEN’’. Not quite. There’s more for you out here. And your soul knows it and calls for it. So let’s do it. Don't let the doubtful people stop you. The success that you have at the moment, you did on your own. With very little support. So, what if you want more ? Go get it ! Stop waiting for validation when you are the standard.

You are all about you right now. Focus on the future that you want for yourself. But people around you are calling selfish. I’m hearing ‘’ Why are you acting brand new ? Why are you so Hollywood all of the sudden ?’’. But you know better than to give those comments your attention.

You may be a lawyer. Or a future one. You may want to start grad school.

Advice from me : You don’t need a tower moment to know when a season is finished. If you want, go get it. That’s it, that’s all.

What it is- Doochii

BIG SALE (CAD$)

General: 22 $

Love : 33 $

Mystery: 41 $

Message me to have the whole run down, ONLY 3 SPOTS (ONE OF EACH)

PILE 2

We heard you… We heard you but are you telling them Always talking in front of the mirror what you are going to tell them. To tell them to fuck off. Tell them they got you fucked up. But nah. You know better. They know better. That’s why they are always coming back because you never switch up. They did. They switch is not just in your head. They are abusing you and anybody with critical thinking can see it from a continent way. I know it may not look like it in 3D but you are actually doing it. Ok you may not have the greatest grade. Ok you may not have the richest boyfriend. Ok your business is not making a milli a year . But let me remind you who the fuck you is. Nobody's surprised when you succeed because you always do. That’s why when you fail or struggle you get way more reaction since they wish upon you. But everyone knows that you are way better than them. They laugh because you don’t have the greatest grade. You are literally in one of the hardest programs. They are making fun of you while they did not even make it to uni. They are making fun of your man for not having extremely abundant funds. Not knowing the way he wakes you up with grateful text all the time, gives the best orgasm, even when he is mad, never raises his voice, always opens the doors for you, will not go to sleep without calling you, will literally throw his whole life away just to see you smile. And he is ACTUALLY studying in a very rewarding and respectful major. Like c’mon. Those girls are out here messing with men for some cash while having a side of beating, cheating and sprinkles of hella disrespect. Literally begging to be heard. While he's literally blowing your phone when he is with his friend because he can’t have enough of you. Your business went from being an idea to making weekly orders. They don’t even have a business. I don’t even think they have an IDEA to bring to life. Except they mean remarks and mean mug face. Since it kills them to see you win all their life, they prefer to wish for your downfall. Instead of asking for advice, lord know you would have given them some. Really girl, they wish they were you. They will accept to change life with you quicker than then their men can last, if God ask them. Why are killing yourself to impress them ? It hurts to see you go the extra mile for people that would rather see you die than to help you. Out here giving your last cent to that one annoying friend that humiliates you in front of everyone. Out here helping your mom knowing them well that she would never nurture you, even if Jesus ask her ? You don’t have nothing to prove to those people, because you are not on the same level as them. So let’s get it together and move on. They are mad at you because you are actually working towards your dream life. They thought you would stay miserable with them forever, but you know better. So YOU did better. If they mad about it let them. They were not there, when you overthink every move, when you were uncertain, when you could not sleep because of anxiety and when you would crash on your bed completely exhausted without real result but your dreams to motivate you to keep going. Do us a favor and act like the queen that you are.

You have a habit of loud outbursts of energy when something excites you. You give me the vibe that look like Jade (aesthetic) but act like Cat from Victorious.

You have been putting yourself out here. The fact that you are surprise by your success get me. People been waiting for you. I feel like you think you don’t deserve it, but all your customers are more than happy. They never had such a good product. I’m hearing this is the best _$ , I spend in my life’’. In school you said you will have a academic comeback and babe YOU DID ! Plus you have a man that is sweeter than anything. Literally goes to the gym, work, study and lives to love you. (Man does he love you)

Rules - Doja Cat

BIG SALE (CAD$)

General: 22 $

Love : 33 $

Mystery: 41 $

Message me to have the whole run down ONLY 3 SPOTS (ONE OF EACH)

PILE 3

We are behind you no matter what. But there's nothing we can do if you don’t act on it. You've been through a hard divorce with a very awful man. Intense narcissistic behavior. He made you believe in all his promises. You don’t have to explain yourself, we saw it coming. We also know that he was a fine con. He was all right at first. Everything a woman could wish for you got it emotionally and materially . People around you saw you guys as the ultimate couple goals. But he was hiding dark intentions. Disrespecting on a daily basis, humiliating a front of his colleague and requesting from you absolute submission and sexual intercourse when he felt like it. When you try to live you fear for your life with good reasons. You are a victim of military men. But you are not a victim of life. He mess you up so much, that your belief system is constant bad self talk. You don’t trust yourself with any decision even regarding that divorce. Knowing damn well he treated you like a piss of shit. How many times did he hold a gun at you ? How many time has he choke you ? How many times has he threatened to kill you, if you ever refuse to listen to him? Good looks and a good d were not good enough and will never be enough to deal with a deranged man. Now, finally divorce, he is going around calling you cheater when you never did. Not that you never wanted too. Sometime you wanted im to feel as fuck as you did. But were too afraid of the repercussions. You literally have medical proof of STD’s he gave you. But God was he slick with it. Never laying hands on you but destroying everything around you. Never telling what to do or not do. Just warning you of how he would react if you did not act like he wanted. Never telling you he was cheating, just told you he needed space or asking for a threesome. Now here you are, years later. You rebuild your life on your own, brick by brick. Boundaries stronger than ever. You thought you over the self sabotage but damn is it biting you right back in front of that new man. The man of your dream. Is this one the real deal ? Or is it a trap ? You can’t take another heartbreak. But he is everything you need. There is a block coming from you. You know you are the problem. He knows you have a blockage that you are terrified to reveal and swear he will wait for you. Is that not something your ex-husband used to say before it all went south ? How can you actually trust your judgment with this one? Imagine if you are stopping him from meeting the real one while he falls for the mess you are in. Please set yourself free. You got your divorce, you went to therapy, you develop strong boundaries but yet you are still bound to the past. You made a mistake, like all humans do. You deserve good things to happen to you. You have a way better judgment now than you did back then. Now, you actually know how to recognize a monster. You know damn well it ain’t him. Go for it, you deserve it. If it is too scary, set the pace, I swear he ain’t going anywhere.

SELF SABOTAGE

I was never there - Weeknd

BIG SALE (CAD$)

General: 22 $

Love : 33 $

Mystery: 41 $

Message me, to have the whole run down. ONLY 3 SPOT (ONE OF EACH)

PILE 4

There’s a lot of things we don’t understand about you. Your love for rap music and obsession with Nicki Minaj. We don't understand that you love to learn everything and anything. We don’t understand half of the things you chat about regarding chemistry, physics or whatever other science took over your heart. But we LOVE YOU SO MUCH. We support you every step of the way ! We can’t not wait for you to have that damn degree in science that makes you cry on school night but brings a sparkle in your eyes the second a person asks you a question about it. Sometimes we push random people around you to ask about the likelihood of a cell in a decade body or something like that so we can hear you speak for hours. It gives you a glow. You aura shine so bright when you are in the lab. Even your teachers are in awe of your dedication. I know you keep reminiscing about the good old times. When having A’s in your fav subject was as easy as closing your eyes. Now you spend hours just to understand one slide in the professor PowerPoint. It is useless to beat yourself up. You are deepening your understanding about one subject at the moment. It is ok if some parts of it are harder to understand than others. I must warn you it will not be easy. You will spend more time in the library than with your friends. You will spend most of your time in the school year stuck in your room away from your loving family. But don’t hurt yourself with guilt. We are not taking your disappearance as any form of disrespect. We are so supportive of you. We never knew such a beautiful bundle of joy and knowledge would ever be born in our lineage. You know, we are a family of lawyers, business man, psychologist and philosoĥer. Your parents may not get half of that you're saying. Your brother may roll his eyes sometimes when you go on about one specific detail that sparks your interest but they are all amazing by the way your brain works. Let me tell you this, you will succeed. You will get it. We will be waiting at the finish line, with flowers and gifts to celebrate the day you will be walking on the podium. As proud as you, because we know how much work you put into every step of the way. The lonely nights, the hard exam and way too big project . Also stop procrastinating and start developing some discipline. You are not here to succeed in your exam but to prepare for your future career. Is time to build some stamina.Don’t worry, I PROMISE YOU: NOTHING BAD IS COMING YOUR WAY. It may get a little gray here and there but we are protecting you from any evil. You can calm your anxiety and enjoy the journey. I won't let ANYONE get in the way of my favorite prodigy. You may not be realizing it but are living in one of your prayers.

I LOVE YOUR SPIRIT FAMILY. GOD ! They are amazed by you. Literally anything you do is an event that needs to be accelerated. Since you first breath they were going coco about you. I had a clear image about your spirit team. I see 3 chair. A lot of wealth around them. One of the chairs is a throne where an older man sits in power. He was the one speaking but everyone else shared that feeling.

So high - Doja Cat

BIG SALE (CAD$)

General: 22 $

Love : 33 $

Mystery: 41 $

Message me to have the whole run down. ONLY 3 SPOTS (ONE OF EACH)

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