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mphountitled · 7 months

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𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙮 𝙂𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨

Jung Woo-Young x fem!reader

Being forced by his label to learn English fucking sucks but his tutor makes it just a little more bearable

Warnings: Wooyoung as his own warning, Language, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Idol x English!Teacher, Sapiosexual!Wooyoung, Slight!Jealousy, Academia Talk, Humor, Teasing, Smut (+18), heavy make out sesh, Slight Pervy!Wooyoung, Whimpering!Wooyoung, Dirty Talk, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Dry Humping, Grinding, Brattiness, Self Degradation, Neediness, Slight Dub/CON, Dom/Sub undertones

Ft. Wooyoung and his canonical degradation kink

"What you need to understand is that Shakespeare used a significant amount of his time cautioning his audience against the perils of this mortal coil." Despite your vexation warming the pits of your stomach, you're thankful that your voice does not relay how utterly irritated you actually are. Your back is straight, giving nothing away of your exhaustion as you point to your copy of a Literature textbook.

"So, maybe I should've initially explained that the biggest theme of this sonnet is grief," you explain, drearily, letting your fingers knot into your curls as you soldier on through the text.

You could almost hear your coworkers discrediting you right now. How could one manage to hit the holy grail in getting chosen to tutor a bunch of stars and utterly fail at it in the process? Your PhD is mourning her sorrows.

"That is bad tutoring on my part, I apologise, Mr Jung, Sir," it is virtually impossible to bend into a full on bow in your current position on the chair adjacent to his bed so you settle for a quick nod of the head while skilfully avoiding eye contact.

"That's okay," Wooyoung lazily waves a hand in front of his face, "I just nearly threw up from hearing you call me 'Mr Jung'. Girl, I cried during Frozen 1 and 2... I am not the one you should be calling Mr Jung."

His ears visibly perk up just a little higher at the sound of your unprofessional, slightly airy chuckle. It has him practically scrounging for the need to hear you laugh like that again, to see your head be thrown back in a careless guffaw that only he is able to see.

But the moment ends as quickly as it began and you're visibly punishing yourself for your unprofessionalism by assuming your stoic academic role demeanour more.

"I think Mr Jung might be a little bit more professional." You finally look up at the boy sitting lazily against the headboard of his impressive king sized bed. Out of all the members you taught, you had only ever been permitted to see the inside of Wooyoung's bedroom - under the guise that he simply cannot function by being forced to sit on uncomfortable dining room chairs.

You sit opposite the bed, on a chair, to maintain some semblance of your dwindling professionalism,

"Mr Jung is so boring though!" He exclaims, throwing his head backwards and letting it sink into his mountain of fluffy pillows, "Wooyoung is completely fine! Or perhaps Baby. Or even Sexiest Man You've Ever Had The Pleasure Of Seeing," his lips curl into a smirk, "Your choice."

The text book is long forgotten amongst the dispersed sheets as Wooyoung glances up at you from his perch against his pillows. Of all the members, Wooyoung is also especially difficult to work with, not in any academic capacity, just in the sense that his advances are endless. And whether he actually means it - whether that twinkle in his eye accompanied by that cheeky grin was really real, or just endless teasing due to his innate flirtatious design. You might never really know.

"I can't in good conscious refer to you by that last option." You reply with a light shrug before crossing your legs in front of you, "I've met Choi San, and I'm not in the business of lying to you,"

"Oh! That's how we're gonna play now!? You're just gonna bring up another man in my presence? I thought the relationship we had was something special?"

"I'm an underpaid, mediocre teacher," You forget yourself and snort through a chuckle, "I have no time to forge special relationships."

He is stunned and slightly turned on by your cool commitment to the banter, not expecting you to hit back with such a quick jest.

As Wooyoung watches you from behind the few loose strands framing his face, his long hair loose, he realises he enjoys associating you with that forbidden word, even if it is just in his head.

Relationship.

"I'm not really into that negative self-talk." He says, watching you intently, "You're a good teacher."

"You're just saying that," You swat at the air in front of you, before burying your chin into your chest - that shy streak of yours rearing its head. He noticed that every sliver of a compliment led you to the involuntary need to disappear and Wooyoung wanted to correct that as best as he could.

"I say some stuff sometimes to make people feel better, yes," you finally look up at him from your scattered notes. His eyes are characteristically bright and his glistening lips are pulled into a small smile, "But this is not one of those times," He forces out, fighting against a familiar warmth pooling in the depths of his stomach.

"Right," you clear your throat, before assuming the role of tutor once again, "So… Sonnet 71 -"

In your periphery, Wooyoung raises his hand. Without looking up from your notes you reply, 'I know what you're gonna ask, Wooyoung but no, unfortunately you cannot refer to it as 'Sonnet 71'. Not many people care nowadays but the ones that do, want you to refer to the poem by its full title: 'No Longer Mourn For Me When I Am Dead.'" there's a bravado that graces your tone as you settle into your tutelage. It allows you to assume an almost elevated role as your eyes scan the text while simultaneously stringing a web of tantalising words together.

Wooyoung tries to focus on exactly what it is you're actually saying, he really does, but soon, you're stifling a quiet yawn before stretching your left arm over your head. He does not believe you intended for your breasts to push up from the low dip of your v neck, but that's exactly what happens and that pool of lava that has been welling in his stomach slowly rushes to his cock. Needless to say, Wooyoung slyly grabs the textbook onto his lap.

"So Shakespeare's great caution is that of grief. It's okay to mourn your loved ones but not to mourn them in routine, because that then can become a second death, equally as detrimental. Are you listening, Wooyoung?" his head snaps up from your chest, to the sound of the light scolding in your voice and he can instantly conclude that he is hard. He's not sure why, but your tone has his resolve weakening, and his head spiralling further into a fog.

"Please tell me, you're listening, Wooyoung. This is very important," He nods slowly with his shoulders hunched, and his eyebrows curved into crescents. He did not trust himself to speak, not when your words had him imagining you scolding him petulantly while he plowed into you from behind. Screaming at him to stop being so bad while he forced his hard cock deeper and deeper. He can vividly imagine your tight walls gripping his cock like a fucking vice while his fingers squeezed your nipples until they ached.

"Look, Wooyoung, I've been trying to be nice but it's been 3 hours and we're still on the first sonnet," he stopped his head from nodding profusely at the degradation that wants to seep into your tone while he watches you with darkened eyes. His fingers curl slowly into the ends of the open book on his lap, as he pushes his textbook into his lap. "We've done this long enough, Wooyoung," you continue with your ample chest beginning to rise and fall and the first signs of your bra strap, peeling from underneath your top. "You should know this, Wooyoung"

"Fuck," He involuntary groans, while he moves his textbook slightly, enough to create friction but not nearly enough to achieve the friction he actually desires. Before he gets completely ahead of himself, he stills his movements, opting to distract himself by speaking, instead.

"O-okay but if this is a poem about grief, why the hell am I seeing him talk about summer."

"Summer?"

Wooyoung nods, humming. "This man is talking about summer," he says, pointing to the book on his lap.

"Wooyoung…" You instinctively get up from your perch on your chair, advancing on him. Wooyoung visibly swallows as you plop yourself next to him, shoulder to shoulder as you peer over into the book on his lap. While your eyes frantically scan the printed ink, Wooyoung watches you from the side, trying to pen your face to memory, especially from having you so close.

"Wooyoung, this isn't the right poem!"

He watches you with slightly hooded eyes, completely unaware to anything outside of the tone of your voice

"It isn't?" He shakes his head, agreeing instantly with your scolding but not really hearing what you're saying. His words are slurred and his tone is distracted.

"Oh my gosh- you've completely missed the entire poem."

"I have?"

"Jesus, you haven't been listening to me, have you-"

He's already shaking his head as he leans in, muttering a quiet, "I haven't," as the tips of his fingers find the underside of your chin and drags you towards him. Dazed.

You're utterly dazed as soon as your lips connect with his. Somehow, the entire concept of space and time and everything in between seems utterly useless, the words on the page seem frivolous and everything outside of this moment feels like it shouldn't have the right to exist. He is kissing you and soon you are kissing him back, filling the boy with an unprecedented sense of elation at having his attraction to you validated. He is so elated in fact, he pushes off his text book and, without breaking the kiss, manoeuvres you onto his lap instead.

You're gasping into his mouth as soon as you feel his bulge connect with your core, "I know, I know, I'm sorry," He murmurs drunkenly into your kiss, taking the time to push his tongue into your mouth and brush up desperately against yours. The tone of his voice steals all composure, and soon you're pushing against him, rushed and hurried, like a raging fire before the embers set. You and Wooyoung are absolutely unstoppable as his hands travel up and down the sides of your body, hungrily searching for any sliver of skin, needing to feel your body heat searing into him.

The very moment your hands slither into his thick, grown-out hair, he is utterly done for, bucking into your hips until his bulge was brushing hungrily against your core. A torrid moan espaces your throat when Wooyoung dips into the crook of your neck, nuzzling into the softness of your skin and the comfort of your perfume while hands travel down your hips, urging you to move in tandem with him.

"So good," He mumbles against your skin, "You feel so good, baby." But your mind is flooded with a tempest of conflicting feelings and emotions as you pull lightly on his strands and follow along with his movements.

"Wooyoung…" you're panting breathlessly, suddenly painfully aware of how much your body responded to him.

"God, I love it when you say my name," He slurs as he continues to push up into you, finally settling into a needy but effective flow of movements.

Your panties are utterly soaked underneath your silk maxi skirt as the boy below you splays wet, lascivious kisses along your collar bones. Once he sees you're moving in tandem with how he needs you to, he releases one hand on your hip to paw desperately at your breasts.

"You've been-" your head is spinning as you try to formulate your sentence, "You've been sitting here with a hard on, my entire lesson?" Your words only spur his movements as Wooyoung clamps down around your torso, pushing you further down against his cock. "Fuck!" He screeches almost involuntarily at the delicious friction created by the heightened speed.

"So bad…" He murmurs drunkenly, as he begins to push up against your clit in a dangerous display of desperation, "I.. b-been so bad- m'sorry," Your head is thrown back into a moan stuck deep in your throat as you listen to the boy's needy whines, "m'so sorry, you're just so pretty," your hops move faster against his, not quite sure if this is a dream and too freaking terrified to find out as you hunt down the remnants of your oncoming orgasm.

"Wooyoung- you're gonna m-make me-"

Your hips are utterly restless against his, as you begin to grind down with immense passion. Wooyoung's head is spinning with the inevitability of making you cum. All he wants to do is make you happy. Think of how proud you'd be if he made you cum without even touching you really. You'd be so freaking happy you might just let him slide his cock inside your wet, slippery folds...

"O-Oh God, fuck- I'm cumming!" His hips rut erratically against yours, pushing agaisnt your clit until you're sent hurtling into your own orgasm. You're both moaning, whimpering messes as you grind against each other, Wooyoung clutching against your torso, with his head buried in your chest as your fingers pull mindlessly at his hair. He is in utter heaven, surrounded by the softness of your curves, with his head against the roundness of your chest. There is nothing better than this. Everything else is secondary.

"Fuck, I hate Shakespeare's but I'll read a 1000 of his poems if it means I get to do that again," he is the first to speak amongst your ragged, loud breathing.

"Wooyoung?"

"Hm?"

"Shakespeare only wrote 154 poems,"

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fandomfuntimem · 6 days

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More dp x dc and/or just dp stuff i would like to see more of.

(This time just stuff i think would be fun)

Danny gets more animalistic and ghostly in ghost form over time:

I've always loved the joke "from the day we are born we are slowly dying" and since this guy is half dead, he slowly looks more like a ghost when in his ghost form.

As for the animalistic thing. I dont mean legit growling or purring. I mean him having painted ears that move around and pin back when mad. Maybe a tail (tails are fun for expressing emotions). Pupils that dilate and slit. Stuff like that. He just gets more funky with time.

Constantine and Danny actually get along:

They're both tired, magical, and have seen some shit. If they are both adults when meeting they can be drinking buddies or something idk.

If Constantine met Danny as a teen tho i imagine he wouldn't look down on Danny or get too annoyed with him. He would treat him as an equal. He recognises and magic users are different, and Danny has been dealing with the magical bullshit all alone. This kid deserves some respect damn it! Infact it would be funny if the JL interacted with them at the same time and realized they were actually both really similer. Similer facial expressions and exhausted attitudes.

Danny is just stupidly calm in the face of horrific things:

I tried to find that meme with the "well that just happened" thing but couldnt find it.

But yeah. Mans is used to it.

Danny is more conflicted about where he belongs:

Too alive to be dead, too dead to be alive. Poor guy is practicly the town punching bag and ghosts always target him for what he is. He feels like he never belongs. It should be expressed more often. Like maybe he feels free and happy as Phantom, but he also knows that as Danny he's who his family and friends love and care about. Make him conflicted.

In a dp x dc context. I feel like at first you think he would fit in amoungst the heros. But he's too young to interract with the adult heros, but too experienced and powerful to interact with the younger heros. He struggles to fit in and he has to work through that. That also circles back to the Constantine point. I dont know much about the magic users in dc, but i can image theres a very large veriety of them all ranging in species and age. So maybe he belongs most with them, cuz to them he's just another acultist.

THERE NEEDS TO BE MORE FLUFF!:

STOP THE TORTURE, STOP THE HURT, LET THERE JUST BE FAMILIAL FLUFF!!!!!! LET THERE BE HEALING!!!! PROCESSING GRIEF AND EMOTIONS!!!!!!!!! LET THEM BE HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#dp x dc #danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc comics #funtime speaketh #i wanted to do another one #i just like it #hopefully the last

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ceilidho · 8 months

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Ok if this doesn't sound like an idea you'd be interested in then disregard, i don't want to bother you 🙂 BuT! It's been itching the back of my brain since forced throuple au and creepy-apartment!ghost has compounded it so:

Forced throuple but a sort of android verse with some body snatching horror thrown in for flavor. Reader's husband (Soapy boy) dies suddenly and in their grief a lot of stuff has gone into disrepair, so they mail order an android to help around the house and with crippling loneliness. The company sends Ghost, a refurbished security model now named Simon, and he ends up being pretty helpful despite the silent brooding. Hell, sometimes that even helps as scary dog privilege so you let it slide (big mistake dumby, that android is falling for you in the process of taking care of you ohhh no-).

But maybe Ghosts old security features make him super observant (obsessive) paired with his new "fix it" code make him come to the conclusion that, actually, reader could still use her husband and mail orders a Soap-bot-3000 without letting them know :O. Watch the horror unfold as Reader wakes up one morning to her VERY NOT dead husband in bed and both Ghost and Soap acting like nothing is wrong :)))), maybe some "Simon reverts fo Ghost" too as the story progresses

this is from awhile ago (apologies, anon) and so wickedly weird and cool :)))

androids that are so realistic and bodies so malleable that they almost feel lifelike, like they're flesh and blood. you never wanted to actually give in and purchase one because you have personal qualms with the idea of something so human-looking being programmable and subservient to you; it's just always felt wrong and borderline cruel, and johnny used to concur with you when you spoke about it. that was then though. years and months and weeks before the accident.

now it's midday on a tuesday and you can't even get out of bed. there are two weeks of dishes in the sink and the lawn is overgrown and the feral cats haven't stopped by in days because you haven't had the strength to get up and feed them. your voicemail's been full for days. your sister stopped by and insisted when she saw the state of your house. "at least for a few weeks," she pleaded with you. you can always return it when you're back on your feet. she's already ordered you one from 141 Labs before she's even out the door, making you promise to give it a shot.

when you open the box, you worry that you might've ordered the wrong model. the size of the android they sent you feels out of place, like he's meant for private military companies or as a bodyguard for celebrities. not depressed accountants who can't get out of bed because their husband died two weeks ago. but it's your name on the receipt, your address. so when his blue eyes flare neon when he's first activated and all six feet and four inches of him sit up in the crate (that had to be wheeled in by two delivery men, you recall with a small amount of horror), you wait patiently to introduce yourself.

maybe this one was sent to you because of the defect. he wears a mask because the only layer of skin on his face starts from the bottom of his face down. at first you roll the mask up only to shudder at the exposed wiring and metal where cheekbones should be. you roll it back down.

he comes with a name. Ghost. that's his model, you surmise from the lengthy instruction booklet you're provided. the whole situation feels weird at first; his presence in your house always catches you off guard, even though, you suppose, it's his house now too. you jump whenever you walk into a room and he's just there, silent, so large that you nearly always think Threat first before you recognize him. maybe it's not fully your fault. he makes no effort to signal his presence, moving silently from room to room when he helps carry out the garbage or swifter the living room. sometimes you catch him staring at the photos of you and johnny that still line the top of the fireplace.

you try to be equitable, insisting that he take the guest room as his own. Ghost won't hear of it, following you into your room when night falls; ominous. you have to lock yourself in the en suite to change, heart beating away because you know he's standing just outside the door, like a cat waiting to be let in. shaking hands drag your clothes down. you stare blankly at the door while you shower, fingers twitching when you pass a washcloth over your nipples.

you think there's something wrong with you. you're sick or something. you're sick or something worse because your husband died two weeks ago and the thing in your house isn't even a human and still your stomach clenches when you think of him waiting for you in your room, knowing that you're naked behind the door. it's taboo; it's not something that's done, at least not something that's spoken about. people don't sleep with their androids. recent widows especially should not be thinking about fucking their androids.

two weeks go by. you can't even think about johnny without wincing these days.

"he was your husband."

you look up. Ghost says it like a fact, not a question. you're in the living room sorting through insurance papers while Ghost vacuums under the sofa (he lifts the corner up with just a single hand; you swallow, throat already dry). neon blue eyes zip across your face when you look over at him. you wonder sometimes what he sees there, etched into the plains of your face.

"yeah." your smile is tight, pained. "johnny."

he looks back down to the framed photo in his hand, studying it. you wish you could ask him what he's thinking about, but you worry that would be just another privacy stripped. you can't ask more of him.

"what happened to him?" he finally asks, looking up again.

you feel it catch in your throat. "he, um - he." it doesn't come out. your nose stings before you can even try to get more out. you grimace, shrug instead. you try to smile again, but it's warped, unpleasant to form much less look at. don't ask, it says, whatever you do, please, please don't ask.

"you miss him?"

you blink at him, misty eyed. "ye - of course."

his eyes are so, so blue when he stares across the room at you. it's unnerving to look at; terrifying to find yourself under his scrutinizing gaze. what do androids even think about?

"I understand." he puts the photo back on the bookshelf and walks out of the room.

sometimes you catch him watching you too intensely; rare moments when he doesn't seem entirely mechanical. you wonder if one day you'll roll the mask up and there'll be skin there suddenly, a real flesh and blood person. it feels entirely possible some days. he moves too fluidly, has his own quirks and intricacies that seem newer each day.

you don't try it. the minuscule amount of professional space between the two of you is an absolute. you worry sometimes what you'll let happen if you ever let that distance collapse. already he sleeps motionlessly in the chair beside your bed, refusing his own room. he powers down with his eyes still open, the blue flickering away to a dark grey. it's only mildly reassuring.

when you open your eyes in the middle of the night though, he stares back at you, eyes dark and sightless.

you worry sometimes that you might have made a mistake, letting your sister talk you in to this.

it's the arm tucked around your waist when you're doing the shopping, freezing for a second before the hand on your hip squeezes and he pulls you towards the fruit and veg. it's the menacing stare from over your shoulder when a man approaches you in the checkout lane, offering his condolences (an old colleague of your husband's, he says) and an invitation to dinner. you open your mouth only for Ghost to answer for you.

"No." it thrums out of him, a different modulation. you stare helplessly as the man's face goes white and he makes an excuse to leave, offering you another lame apology.

it's the hand that tugs you out of the store by the back of your shirt, Ghost's voice rumbling like he doesn't know you can hear him. saying something about how you don't need another man in your house. that you had johnny and now you have him.

#i didnt get to the soap part bc this became long...sorry #ceil writing #cod simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod mw2

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pokegalla · 3 months

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Requested/Traded by @veiled-rebel

FINALLY✨

I’ve been dying to write for this guy✨

Lucifer pinning for a skittish and wary S/O

* Ok getting his attention in general is a surprise for ANYONE. Even HIM. Honestly for the first half of him liking you is him in heavy denial, thinking he’s finally lost his mind, and making rubber ducks through his five stages of grief. Until finally yes, he realizes the feelings are real the moment he leaves his office to see you again. Oh crap-

* I mean of course he’s gonna try talking to you! He wants to know more about you! Though his first greeting wasn’t too great. He tries to be suave by leaning against a table, winking and saying “Hey bitch✨” but that made you scatter away with a bow of your head to say hello. Shit. Was it something he said?

* He tries to gather a bit more information after that and realizes that you’re ALWAYS that skittish. Had him worried there, he thought he scared you off- oh. Oh never mind. He also heard you were wary of HIM too. But then he realized why. He’s the king of hell. Shit any sinner would be scared shitless if he personally sought them out! Dammit he didn’t even think of that!

* So at wits end….he actually goes to his daughter Charlie to help him out. Man she was EXCITED to help. She and Vaggie personally helped him in what to say then introduced him to you so it would be a little less scary for you. The king himself was still nervous and messed up a few times but he decided to be honest and admit that he’s genuinely interested in you with a soft smile and a rose in his hand. Thaaat had thorns and it cut your finger- you were wanting to leave but Lucifer stopped you and took your hand. That is when you personally saw a rare side of him: A gentle and caring side as he healed your hand.

* You were….speechless really. I mean you never expected such a soft look upon the king of hell’s face! So once he healed your hand, you shyly wrote on a piece and handed it to him before scattering off. Lucifer was disappointed….until he realized you gave him your number.

* You could hear his cheering from hallways away. Such a goofy lil guy. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea….

Mini story time!!!

“Ok. You fucking GOT this. You won them over. You can send them a text. Just be cool….,” He was pacing around his room before finally sitting down to message you.

Oh dammit….! What should he send…? Hi bitch obviously didn’t work to well. Maybe something different? He looked around and spotted something he made earlier. YES! That would be a fun conversation starter! So he took a picture and sent it to you!

You yawn as you go to lay down and notice a message. You gulp and nervously check your messages, “Ok. Calm down….it’s probably nothing bad- ……what the?” He sent you a picture of a…..rubber duck? And it was designed kinda like you! You took a moment to process it. “….that is so fucking adorable-“ So you sent him a heart emoji and said you loved it.

He practically JUMPED to check up on your message before combing through his hair nervously, “They….Like it? THEY LIKE IT! FUCK YEAH!!! OH SHIT-“ He fell back from his chair but happily chuckles as he was too happy to care. Charlie secretly checked in on you two and saw you both smiling.

Shes just glad you two are happy ❤️

#funny #cute #lucifer morningstar #Hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #fluffy headcanons #request answered #got me simping low key damn-#brief mention of Charlie #brief mention of vaggie #reader is gender neutral

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amuseoffyre · 6 months

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Well, mythical creature. Anything to say for yourself? Fuuuuuuuuuck yooooooou.

Bear with me because this may get rambly, but I find it fascinating that Izzy chooses to pick a fight with the figurehead on the ship. Given the history of figureheads as both identifying markers on a vessel and talismans to keep their crews' safe, I got thinking about the fact that for Izzy, Blackbeard is a figurehead.

Literally and figuratively, Blackbeard's identity looms large. Ed said it himself: he doesn't even need to be on the ship. People recognise the flag and the vessel and that's enough.

When the crew 'kill' Ed, Izzy is the one to keep his body on the ship. Which means that Izzy is the one to cover his head, leaving only his body visible. Only then, after Ed turns out to be alive again, Izzy goes and hides with the figurehead and - significantly - picks a fight with it.

Did Ed ever tell Izzy "I'm the kraken" (ie. a mythical creature)? Who knows. But even if he didn't tell him, Izzy said way back in 1x04, "I was honoured to work for the legendary Blackbeard". Blackbeard who is a legend and a ghost and a mad demon pyrate. A mythical creature, if you will.

For Izzy, he really seems to be redirecting all the rage he didn't/couldn't direct at Ed towards the unicorn. The subtext in the first scene between him and Stede at the bow is... uh. Quite telling.

Stede: He's seen better days, hasn't he? Izzy: At least he's still got both legs. Stede: Yes! Oh, he can't hear you. He's got no head. You've got a head, though, which you should look after.

Given that "losing your head" was another euphemism for insanity and Ed said himself "they think I'm a bit crazy" and Izzy described him as "going mad", Izzy really does seem to be projecting everything on to the figurehead who lost its head.

And then, in a drunken rage, he hacks the legs off the unicorn, dragging them along and throwing them down in front of the crew, declaring "There! It's done! Maybe next time he'll think twice about doing his fucking job".

We know that this is a triggering sentence for him. We saw it in episode 1 when he tries to bring the crew to order, and the memory of hearing it from Blackbeard - knowing he's expendable and not as valued or trusted or safe as he believed himself to be - led to him having his breakdown in front of the crew.

For him to bring this back up again, this open wound that led to the meeting with Blackbeard that then led to the confrontation and the shooting that cost him his leg, all ties in together with the unicorn.

Initially, I didn't twig why he was doing it beyond grief and misery and being drunk off his tits, but then in episode 5, it clicked. Specifically because of this exchange:

Izzy: Flipping the tables on Blackbeard didn't quite numb the pain? Lucius: Maybe we try what he did to you next. Izzy: What who did to me? Lucius: Blackbeard. Because he... chopped off your leg.

Which is what Izzy was doing in episode 4: trying what Blackbeard did to him by hacking the legs of the unicorn. Only it didn't help... until it did when the crew took a piece of the damage he had done and made something new from it to support him. (Hello, I am rolling around in the symbolism 🥰)

What I also find especially compelling is that he recognises that Lucius is trying to process his trauma the same way as he did: by doing unto others what was done unto him. Only Lucius does it by pushing actual Blackbeard overboard while Izzy takes his frustrations out on a myffic wooden pony.

#ofmd s2 #ofmd #ofmd meta #izzy hands

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inbarfink · 8 months

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Among the various readings and interpretations of What the Hell is Up With the Ending to the DHMIS Web Show - one of the more interesting ones (from my perspective, at leas) has always been that it’s all a metaphor for repeating patterns of trauma and/or abuse.

As in, most of the narrative of the DHMIS Webshow has been some sort of surrealist metaphor for Roy being an overcontrolling and manipulative parental figure for his son and his friends

And then the ending shows them finally escaping his influence -

Only that without a frame of reference for just how screwed-up their upbringing really was and without any healthy way to process their various traumas, they end up being in danger of just replicating his abuse on their own. Either on each other or maybe on the color-swapped characters who can, like, represent their own children or something.

And so the vague ending of the Webshow is an open question, yes, the trio might’ve gotten physically away from Roy’s influence - but are they free from it mentally?

Or are they doomed to snap back into their old familiar world?

And the interesting thing about this is that like… that could be what the Web Show is about on a metaphorical level. But in the TV Show, with its greater emphasis on interpersonal conflicts and the characters - the idea of our main trio unknowingly replicating the abuse they live under is not just something we can hypothetically ruminate on. It’s something we can actually see, something we can actually feel.

Like, the first thing that made me think of Yellow and Red’s interactions with Stain Edwards.

This is basically the closest the Three of Them can get to being parental figures within the confines of the Format. He starts out as such a sweet and curious child-like being, his title for himself is literally ‘the Forever Boy’. And, well…

Red and Yellow are just so uncomfortable with his curiosity and thirst for adventure that they basically immediately try and stomp it right out. And that’s like a whole big thing about DHMIS, isn’t it? The way that children’s edutainment and the education system actually curbs children's curiosity and desire for learning so they can better memorize easily-digestible simplified concepts and Respect Their Authority Figures.

You know, it’s the whole thing with…

And that’s kinda how Red acts with Stain? He’s a lot less violent and more subdued about it - but he also discourages the little guy from asking questions and wanting to explore the world.

And he is trying to push him into fitting more into the Format. And, like, managing his life like the Trio’s own life is managed by the Format. First more generally into what being part of the DHMIS main trio is supposed to mean (‘just sit here and something will happen’) and then eventually literally turning him into something he didn’t want to be.

And from our more familiar perspective, it’s clear that Red Guy really just genuinely thinks at this point that sitting passively and Waiting to Be Taught At is how things are Supposed to Be and can’t really imagine things going any other way. He is honestly just trying to get Stain to understand how their life is supposed to work. (Well until it starts becoming about making a new Duck)

And it’s also clear to us how much Red Guy is motivated by just unaddressed grief about Duck and wanting to avoid conflict with Yellow Guy, who's a lot more explictly lashing out at Stain in his grief

"What's the matter with him?" "Nothing. Just don't look at him." "What? Where can I look? I can't look at him, can't look over there..." "No, if, if you want to look at stuff, just tell me and I-I'll make a list. Of where you should or should not look..." "Seems like a weird system..." "Yeah, well, you seem like a weird little...thing with...and you don't even... the other guy at least had his own clothes"

But looking at it from Stain’s perspective, taking aside our understanding of Red’s character and motivation. This is just an authority figure giving him a nonsense set of rules and then lashing out at him when he questions it. Never giving a deeper explanation than ‘this is how it’s supposed to be’ and basically punishing his curiosity.

Kinda like, well, how the Teachers tend to interact with the trio.

And then there’s Yellow Guy who’s just totally lashing out at Stain through the whole thing, because, again, he can’t process the grief of losing Duck. Because his environment did not give him the tools to properly process that trauma and he has no healthy frame of reference to grief and that’s kinda...

Yeah, that’s just what I was talking about. Stain’s subplot in ‘Death’ is just Yellow and Red having not interrogated their abusive environment and not really dealing with their trauma and thus repeating the patterns of the Teachers on their new child-like figure.

Which then culminates with either Duck killing Stain in the name of preserving the status-quo of the format (“there’s only supposed to be three of us”) or with Stain having internalized so much of what Yellow and Red (but mainly Red) taught him about what he’s supposed to be that he was willing to kill in the name of the Format - and then slotted in perfectly in the unadventurous, unquestioning role of Duck.

And this lil narrative is especially interesting if you believe any variance of the David Theory. Because Yellow and Red were mainly motivated in their mistreatment of Stain by their Grief about a ‘dead’ family member. Which could mirror Lesley's trapping and mistreatment of the trio and her own motivations.

But I think this idea of mirroring and repeating patterns of abuse are reflected in more than just this one episode. It’s also reflected in the way Red and Duck tend to mistreat Yellow.

Because while Yellow doesn’t slot as neatly into the Child position like Stain did- his simplistic naïveté does mean he often plays a Child-like role in our favorite Forced Family dynamic. And the way that Duck and Red can often condescend to him can… very well mirror the condescending way the teachers address all three of them.

Especially when you also consider the similar manner both the Teachers and Red + Duck react to Yellow being fully charged in ‘Electricity’. They are all so nervous about Yellow breaking away from his supposed ‘role’ as the Stupid One.

And they especially all seem so very insecure about the idea that Yellow might be smarter than they are.

And that’s, you know, also an aspect of children’s education that tends to actually harm children and their curiosity. This desire for ‘respect’ towards authority figures and this egotistical need for teachers and parents to always be smarter than their kids - causing them to subtly or bluntly punish children for just being clever or inquisitive.

It’s, you know “I’m the adult, you are the child. I am supposed to be the Smart and Knowledgeable one and you are the one who must be taught. And you need to play your role!”

Again, that seems to be the whole thing in ‘Time’.

Here it’s a lot more subtle and less openly hostile, but Yellow can tell that just like that Insurance Teacher, Red and Duck’s egos have also been hurt by the fact that they might not be smarter than Yellow Guy anymore. And he considers going back to the role he’s ‘supposed to be’, even though being fully-charged seems to feel better for him (‘this doesn’t feel wrong’), just for them.

That’s almost literally a child giving up on a pursuit of knowledge just to placate his parental figures.

And then, you know, his refusal to do so and his assertion of his own ability to make decisions for himself (his own maturity, "they're not in charge of us anymore" "Maybe they never were") is directly what leads to him ascending and disassembling not just the trio’s dynamic but the very structure of the Format.

And I think, it’s not just that Red and Duck’s treatment of Yellow mirrors the way the teachers treat the Three of Them - it might be a result of it as well. With how condescending the teachers are towards them in general, bullying Yellow is their way to assert some sort of maturity and intelligence for themselves. It's super-fucked up, but this is how they internalized expressing what ‘intelligence’ is supposed to look like. And they have no frame of reference for a way of feeling smart or in control that doesn’t involve shutting someone else down. Because that's what literally every authority figure does for them all the time.

Now, do I think that means that our trio is doomed to mirror those patterns? That they will always inevitability repeat the horrors they go through on each other and others? Well, just like with every ‘cycle of abuse’, it can always be broken. But it will take some actual understanding and self-awareness and personal healing from the trio.

And without this, they’re not just trapped within the Horrors physically, but also spiritually as well. Without it, no matter if they do manage to run away, on some level, their journey will always end up back at home....

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alovesongtheywrote · 6 months

Note

WHYYYYYYYYYY

♥ Summary: I'M SO SORRY. in this chapter of nightmare academia, spencer gets what he deserves and then some. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: the reader is VERY mean to spencer- i mean, he definitely deserves some of it but oh my god, the reader is almost homicidal. mentions of maeve, a side character's shitty ex is following them, sadness, anger, angst

♥ A/N: i just want to point out, i think the reader was in the right with their argument in the last chapter. anyway, fun fact- some of the Fun Names the reader calls reid are references to the tin can bros production, "the solve it squad." neat :D

♥ Word Count: 3812, a few dozen of which came from @mxcheese

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

Spencer felt like absolute shit- and he should have. He’d been a massive fucking dick to you and for what? He'd taken the objectively wrong side in that argument, and for what? To protect himself from future grief? To protect himself from the guilt of moving on from Maeve? He’d succeeded. He’d driven you away. Maybe that was for the best, but god did it not feel worth it.

He’d hurt you. He’d done it on purpose. He’d gone for your insecurities, for the things he knew would hurt you the most. He tore at your weak spots like a feral dog, and he regretted it the moment the words left his mouth.

He watched you drive away. He watched as your car got smaller and smaller until he couldn’t see it anymore. Then, he buried his face in his hands and tried not to scream. He stood out there in the cold on the side of the street until Morgan came to get him.

Morgan didn’t ask what had happened. He already knew Reid had done something stupid.

“My advice, kid?” Morgan said as he dropped Reid off later that evening, “Call them. Apologize to them. Solve whatever issues you have, because someone like that doesn’t come around every day.”

Spencer sighed, “Look, I know you want me to sleep with them, or whatever, but that isn't going to happen. It was never going to happen.”

“This isn’t about sleeping with them. This is about being a good person. I’ll see you around, kid.”

Like that, Morgan was gone, and Reid was alone. He didn’t call you. He didn’t apologize. He just curled up in his bed and let himself decompose. He told himself he was giving you space. He was letting you process things. Really, he was letting his own guilt swallow him. He was drowning in bedsheets and sorrow, and he didn’t care about coming up for air.

When he went into work on Monday, you were nowhere to be found. This was normal. You didn’t hold any classes on Mondays. Still, you had left things behind for him before- missing mugs, cans of creamed spinach, locks on all his cabinet doors. That Monday, there was nothing. There were no traces of you left behind. You were haunting him.

He stopped by your office. Obviously, you weren’t there. The door was locked tight. Reid still found himself trying to open it, trying to get into the small room that held so many parts of you inside of it. You were haunting it. You were haunting him.

When he returned to his own office, he knocked his copy of Pride and Prejudice off the shelf. He’d annotated it, reading it along with the articles you’d written on the topic. He loved the way your mind worked. He loved a lot of things about you. And what had he done? He’d hurt you. On purpose. And now, you were fucking haunting him.

And by the time his final class rolled around, Reid had resolved to do something about it.

You, on the other hand, were doing pretty good. True, you had sobbed your eyes out as you’d pulled away from the bar. The second Reid was out of sight, you had actually pulled over, deciding it wasn’t safe enough for you to drive in your emotionally volatile state.

You didn’t want to be upset about it. You weren’t upset about what you had said. You were right. Kate Callahan had made some majorly fucked up jokes. You had every goddamned right to be mad about that.

You also had every right to be pissed at what Reid said to you. He had been so incredibly cruel, hitting you where he knew it would hurt most. He’d called out your deepest insecurities. He’d called you stupid, told you you were right to be insecure, and insulted your academic work in the span of five minutes. You had every reason to hit the motherfucker with your car.

So why were you crying?

Once you’d calmed yourself down enough to drive again, you headed straight to the nearest convenience store. You had wine at home, and you weren’t going back to your apartment until you had enough ice cream on hand to kill a man.

Maybe that’s what you would do. Fuck pranks, you would just murder Reid by way of ice cream. You weren’t sure how you would do that, but you wanted to.

You spent the rest of your night the way most people in your situation would- getting wine drunk, consuming ice cream, and watching terrible movies until you fell asleep. Honestly, it wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening. By the end of it, you felt significantly less shitty- you still felt stupid. You would probably always feel stupid now that someone had looked at your deepest insecurities and confirmed them. You felt better, though. That was all you could ask for.

The next morning, you took some aspirin and threw yourself into your volunteer work- GEDs baby, GEDs all around. While you wouldn’t teach in person until Monday, the weekend gave you ample time to answer emails from students, look over papers, and provide support to your students.

Really, the job wasn’t too difficult. You always got strange looks when you told people that you tutored former inmates out of the community center. Honestly, it wasn’t that big a deal. You just helped people learn in ways that actually worked for them. Some people were visual learners, some were auditory learners. Some preferred to analyze James Baldwin over Jane Austin, and others learned better when you described the plot of Pride and Prejudice as if it were a personal drama. People really took to it when you called Darcy a pretty boy asshole with a secret heart of gold.

By the end of your time with them, most of your students were ready to get their GEDs. Those who weren’t came back to you for more help. In other words, you were a good fucking teacher, even if you couldn’t see it.

When Monday finally rolled around, you were ready to go. You spent the day helping people achieve their full potential, watching people find new understandings of both themselves and their work. You were happy. You were content. And Reid hadn’t called.

You tried your best not to care. He was a former Fed who thought he was in the right. You shouldn’t care about him. Still, it was a difficult task to pretend you weren’t a tiny bit hurt that he hadn’t reached out to talk to you.

And it was a task that became much easier when two of your former students popped in that evening, massive grins plastered across their faces.

“Hey, Dr. (L/N), guess who got GED-ed!!”

The community center was an older building, still suffering from the pink coat of paint the government had smothered it with in the 90s. Since then, an update to the plumbing had been the only other remodelling the place had seen.

Spencer thought it was incredibly fitting that you spent your time off there. Of course you spent your time off in a run-down community center helping people learn things. You were awfully passionate about that.

He stood outside the building, in the parking lot, leaning against his car. The sun had just slipped beyond the horizon, leaving the sky a dark blue before true darkness set in. The lights from the building before him danced off the wet pavement.

Honestly, Spencer felt a little bit like a creep, watching people come and go. He was trying to build up the courage to go and face you. He would need it. He knew there was no chance that you would see his face and instantly forgive him. Honestly, it was more likely that you would throw something at him, and he would take it, because he fucked up and that’s what he deserved.

Spencer steeled himself, finally taking a step towards the community center when he felt something. Someone was watching him. He knew that feeling- the distorted tingling sensation of eyes on him. He looked around. The voyeur had to be around somewhere.

He was right. A few parking spots away, in a new-looking white car with a small dent near the passenger’s side door, a man sat staring at him. Reid locked eyes with the guy, staring at him until finally, the man in the car turned the key in the ignition. He didn’t break eye contact until he absolutely had to.

Spencer was thoroughly unsettled.

Oh well. He had a job to do, and that job was apologizing to you. (Besides, if this boy was capable of listening to his instincts, he wouldn’t have been kidnapped that one time. He also wouldn’t have broken your heart. Reid gets too much credit for being smart, I’m not gonna lie.)

He crossed the parking lot in a few strides and pushed open the doors. The woman at the front desk had a smile on her face, and when he asked for you, she pointed him in your direction without question.

The lights in the hallway were fluorescent. He wondered if you hated them. He wondered if you brought lamps to whatever room you worked in. It would sound crazy if it was anyone else, but you had sent a typewriter to his classes until he let his students use laptops. You absolutely could take a lamp to your classes. With you, Spencer didn’t know what to expect.

The door to your classroom was open. He could see you smiling, a plastic cup in your hand. You were talking to someone. Your smile met your eyes.

“Seriously, this is fucking amazing and I’m so proud of you both. You should be proud of yourselves!”

Someone laughed, a woman, “Look at us. Official accomplishments on official paper. The last time I had one of those, I was getting out of prison.”

“The last time you had what, an accomplishment?” Another voice- a man’s voice- asked.

“No. An official paper with my name on it. Y’know, I’m pretty sure some of those prison dudes thought my name was fake. Every time they had to read my full name, they would say it out loud- what’s so weird about Missy Marie?”

“Literally nothing. Your name is excellent. Don’t take it personally, prison guards are just like that. I have beef with most of the guards I’ve met, I’ll be honest,” you gestured with your cup.

“I can’t imagine why,” the man replied. Spencer could hear the guy’s smile in his voice. He could see the smile on yours as you playfully smacked someone in the room.

“It’s because they suck! It’s fine, though. One day, they’ll have to call you Dr. Missy Marie. Then they’ll be sorry.”

“Doc, do you know how much I’d have to pay to become a doctor? I’m not interested in worrying about student loans for the rest of my life.”

“Fair enough- you could do it, though. You’re a hard worker, you’re smart, and you have a brain for analysis. And hey, most places have scholarships, awards, bursaries- I have a list of them if you ever want to look into it.”

The woman paused. When she spoke again, her voice was a little quieter, but still confident, “I’ll think about it.”

A smile split across your face, blinding and bright, “Excellent.”

You were clearly at a high point- enjoying your night with your students, your friends. Realization struck Spencer like lighting. He never should have come here. He should leave you alone- you were doing fine. You didn’t need his apology right now. You didn’t need the foul memory of what he’d said to you disrupting your evening.

He took a step back- and of course, you heard him, looked up, and scowled. Your smile dropped from your face so fast, Spencer almost wondered if he had imagined it.

“(L/N), is everything okay?” the man asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, Frank. It’s just that fucking Fed.”

“Shit, the Feds are here!?”

“No, no, just that professor I told you about.”

“Ah. That professor.”

You rolled your eyes and stood, placing your cup on the desk behind you and heading towards the door- towards Spencer.

“I’ll be right back. Sit tight, guys.”

You shut the door behind you. Then, you turned to face Spencer.

He didn’t know what to say. You had never looked at him like this before- with such contempt. Sure, you didn’t like him. You didn’t like him for most of the time you’d known him. But you’d never looked at him like he was a waste of space, a waste of your time.

“Just where do you get off?” you asked, voice low and heavy with rage, “You couldn’t wait until I came back to work to insult me? You just had to come to my other job? Well, go for it asshole. I’m here. Do your worst.”

Spencer remained silent, his lips parted slightly as he stared at you. There was something broken in his expression, and even though he didn’t intend to do it, the motherfucker was hitting you with puppy-dog eyes.

You wanted to smack those eyes right out of his fucking skull. You were a little worried, during your ice cream and alcohol binge, that you would cry again upon seeing Reid’s face. You were worried that you would see his pretty boy face and fold like something that folds easily. You were terrified that you would just forgive him even though he didn’t deserve to be forgiven.

Clearly, that didn’t happen.

“I- I’m sorry,” he stuttered out. You were unmoved. Fucker couldn’t even apologize to you without tripping over his words.

“Fuck your sorry. Get the fuck out of my classroom.”

“We’re not-” Reid cut himself off, “Look, I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I want you to know that I was wrong. I made a mistake, and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that- any of it, and you were right.”

You glared at him for a second. He was correct about a few things- he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. He was in the wrong, you were right, and you didn’t deserve anything he said to you that night.

You still wanted to smack him.

So you did.

You smacked his arm with the sleeve of your sweater. Then you smacked him with the other sleeve of your sweater. He didn’t even raise a hand to defend himself, it was kinda pathetic.

“Fuck you,” you said with a smack, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, go die.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he whispered, keeping his voice so quiet that only you could hear him- and he had the AUDACITY to sound somewhat affectionate. He was staring down with a look, one that would have told you he cared if you didn’t know better. But you did. You knew better, and Reid didn’t care about you. Fucker.

“No. No, Reid, what’s fair is me saying you’re a sad little fuck who went right for my deepest insecurities without a second thought like a damn child. What’s fair is me calling you out for using your psychoanalytical bullshit to keep others away. Like you’re scared of getting close to people. What do you think is gonna happen, Reid? Do you think people will stay, even if you treat them like garbage?”

He parted his lips to answer, but you didn’t give him a fraction of a chance.

“What’s fair is me informing you that they won’t. When you treat people like garbage, they leave, and then you die alone, and what’s fair is me asking you to go die in a ditch so I never have to see your stupid fucking face again.”

That motherfucker looked so hurt and so guilty and you kind of wondered if you took it too far at the end there. You carried on as if you weren’t wondering that, as if you didn’t feel bad about the kicked-puppy expression on his face.

“What’s fair is me telling you any of that shit. But I won’t. Because even though I’m just a stupid academic, I’m still a better person than you.”

You half expected him to fight you on it. You expected him to protest, or correct your grammar, or do something stupid. He didn’t. He just nodded in understanding, like he agreed with you. He looked at the floor, presumably in shame, and he said nothing.

You stood there, in that hallway illuminated by those terrible fucking fluorescents. The buzz of those goddamned lights filled the air, mixing with the sound of your breathing. You wondered if Reid could hear your heartbeat from where he stood. You decided you didn’t care.

The silence grew to be too much. Your throat was full of unspoken insults. Your skin cackled with the electricity of everything you wanted to say- with everything you wanted to do.

“Do you have anything else to say to me?”

Reid flinched at the sound of your voice. He wouldn’t look you in the eye, not that you tried to make him. He started to respond when Sheryl, the community center receptionist, came rushing down the hall.

“Dr. (L/N)- I think that white car is back.”

Immediately your expression shifted from one of anger to one of fear. You were worried, and if you were worried, then Reid was worried.

“Fuck-” you took a step towards the woman from the front desk, “Is it him?”

“I didn’t see the plate number.”

You sucked in a breath through your teeth.

“Is it a newer model? Dent in the passenger side door?” Spencer asked. When Sheryl nodded, Spencer repeated the entire plate number.

You looked at him with a mixture of confusion and contempt, but you didn’t waste any time on him.

“Shit,” you growled, turning quickly to open the door, “Missy, do you have anyone to walk you back to your car?”

“We took the bus-”

“Cool. You aren’t taking the bus home, I’ll give you a ride. I’ll give you both rides.”

“What’s going on, doc?”

You sighed, hands flexing and curling to fists at your sides, “Jason’s outside.”

“Shit.”

“What’s going on?” Reid asked, his brows furrowed as his voice filled with concern, “Do you need help?”

“It’s none of your business, Reid.”

The door opened behind you, and Reid finally got a look at the people you’d been talking to. The woman, Missy, was on the skinny side with light brown skin and long black hair. The man behind her, Frank, was big and bulky- in other words, he had muscles for days. His dark hair had been cropped short, but he was clearly working on growing it out. Both Missy and Frank looked at Reid with a mix of curiosity and disappointment.

“That’s him, doc?”

You looked between Missy and Reid quickly- when you spoke, your words came even faster, “Yeah. That’s him, that’s the shit-licking asshole Fed.”

Sheryl covered her mouth with her hand, muffling her gasp at your apparent audacity.

“Sorry,” you apologized, though the apology was clearly addressed to Sheryl and not to Reid, “That’s the fucking Fed.”

Reid shook off the insult. Missy and Frank both frowned. The former leaned towards you, whispering in your ear (though Reid could still hear her.)

“That’s not what you said last week.”

You rolled your eyes and gestured at the hallway, towards the exit, “Come on, guys. Let’s go.”

“(Y/N), if someone on the property is a threat to you-”

You turned on him, eyes flashing as your lips curled into a sneer, “If you tell me to call the fucking cops, I swear to god.”

Reid paused, trying to pretend he wasn’t about to suggest that exact thing, “I- I was going to ask if I could walk you out.”

Frank looked unimpressed, unsure if Reid could actually do anything against a threat. Missy seemed more sure of his skills. You wanted Reid to fuck off.

“I have a taser.”

Missy leaned forward towards you. She nudged your arm and whispered, “Hey, safety in numbers.” Again, her voice was loud enough for Reid to hear.

You sighed, shutting your eyes and groaning out a, “Fine. He can come.”

Missy smiled at Reid, and he gave her one of those awkward closed-lip grins in return. You were not charmed by this, but Missy was- at least a little bit.

You headed down the hallway, not stopping to wait for the others until you got to the front door. When you looked out into the parking lot, you couldn’t see Jason’s car. That didn’t mean he wasn’t waiting out there.

You nodded at Sheryl as she returned to the front desk before looking back at the group. Missy had tucked herself between Reid and Frank- and you couldn’t blame her, honestly. Her asshole ex was out there, and Frank was buff as hell, and Reid was, at the very least, tall. You couldn’t stand Reid right now, but you knew, at the very least, that he would try to keep Missy safe.

The trip to your car was uneventful. Missy and Frank slid into the back seat. You and Reid were left standing outside the vehicle, exposed and in the open.

You didn’t look at each other. As you reached for the door handle, Reid stopped you, opening his stupid mouth again.

“I’m sorry.”

You kept your eyes on the car, “I know.”

“I was wrong.”

“I know.”

He paused. Silence fell. You coughed.

“Can I have my mugs back?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Okay.”

Missy pushed open her car door. She said nothing, but she did give you a pointed look. You visibly sighed, slumping over the driver’s side door until your chin could rest on the roof.

“Fine,” you hissed, “Come to my office if you want them back. End of the day. Don’t come a minute sooner or I’ll stab you to death with mug shards.”

“Understood.”

“Good.”

You pulled over your car door. He told you to drive safely. You wanted to drive over him. You didn’t. You drove out of the parking lot and down the street in silence.

Behind you, Frank let out a long, slow whistle.

“So,” Missy tapped her fingers against the window, “Your attitude towards him changed.”

“Did it? I didn’t notice.”

“It did, doc,” Frank picked up where Missy left off, “Last week you liked him.”

“I did not like him. I despised him.”

“No, you despise him now. Last week you were trying to get his attention.”

“I was not!” your cheeks caught fire, “If I wanted his attention I would have it.”

“Doc,” Missy laughed, “You do have his attention.”

And she wasn’t wrong. You certainly had the attention of one Spencer Reid.

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #nightmare academia

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thetriumphantpanda · 11 months

Text

Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter Four)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Widow F!Reader

Word Count / 4K

Warnings / Descriptions of grief and depression, a therapy session, some Ellie/Reader fluff but nothing else - let me know if I've missed anything!

Authors Note / You know when I said this would be slow burn? I really meant it. I really hope you guys aren't getting bored but I promise things are going to heat up from Chapter 5 onwards 👀 Thank you once again for all your love on this series - I say it every time but it's really close to my heart and to know you guys are enjoying it really does mean the world! If you like this then please considering reblogging, leaving comments or popping into my ask box with some love! I love y'all!

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

You never thought you’d be the kind of person who needed a therapist. Even when your parents had passed in quick succession before the outbreak you’d managed to carry on with the distraction of normal life, processing your grief quickly, distracting yourself with finishing school and applying for college. Even now, when you thought back to them, it was with fond memories. Nowhere near the level of grief you had now after losing Mark.

Maybe it was the change in the world or the fact that Mark had been a part of your life longer than your parents had? You didn’t really know. Maria had suggested that trying to unpack your feelings with a therapist would be beneficial for you, someone neutral who could help you back to the person you’d been before he’d died. It had been six months since you first sat in this chair, the same feeling of anxiety you had then was apparent now, as Belinda poured you a glass of water and situated a box of tissues on the table, you took one, knowing you’d need it like you always did.

“So, how are you?” She asks, settling down in the chair opposite you with her notepad resting on her crossed knee.

“I’m okay.” You say simply.

This is a rehearsed response. You always say it. Because if you needed a therapist, were you ever okay?

Belinda nods like she always did, “I wanted to start today by revisiting what we spoke about last time,” Her voice is high and sweet and she’s at least twenty years older than you, “Remember we spoke about doing something to push yourself out of your comfort zone?” She asks, and you nod, “Did you do anything since our last session to work on that?”

You take a deep breath; how much should you tell her?

“I have, yeah.”

“That’s good,” She praises, a genuine smile on her mouth, “Can you tell me about it?”

“I went to The Tipsy Bison last week.” Is all you offer her.

“With Tommy and Maria?”

You nod, “And his brother and the little girl he’s got.”

She quirks her eyebrow a little, if you hadn’t been paying close attention to her face you would have missed it, “And would you say Tommy’s brother is a friend?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, I guess so, he came around a few weeks ago and fixed my porch step and he’s helping to build the table and chairs that Mark was going to do before he got sick.”

“Do you talk to him about Mark?”

“We’ve spoken a little about him, he actually lost his own daughter on outbreak day, so I guess I feel like he understands what I’m going through.”

She nods, “Let’s go back a bit and talk about going to the bar,” She writes something down on her notepad, you never really know what it is she’s writing, “Was it as bad as you had expected?”

You look down at your hands, scrunched tissue in one hand as your nails pick at the skin of your cuticles, “I was nervous about going, and I think I stood outside the door waiting to go in for too long, my mind was thinking of what would happen, like I would open the door and everyone would stop and go silent and just look at me, but no-one really noticed, but when we sat down to have a drink, someone said something and it kinda ruined everything.”

“What did they say?” She pushes.

You sigh, “That I’d made a miraculous recovery all of a sudden.”

“And how did that make you feel?” Ah. The classic therapy question.

You take a moment to formulate your answer in your mind, “I was angry,” You reply, “But not at the person who said it, I was angry at myself because it was true.”

“But is it true?” Belinda pushes, “From my perspective, of course we’ve made steps since you first began coming to see me, but I don’t think either of us think you’re fully recovered, do we?”

You shake your head to agree with her, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that sure, what was said wasn’t really true, but it’s the things they didn’t say which made me think they are,” Belinda is looking at you to continue explaining, “In the back of my mind I thought, well of course I’m recovered if I’m sat in a bar with a smile on my face, and if I can do this then why can’t I go back to work? Why can’t I start contributing to the community again? That’s what I think they’re saying in their heads about me.”

“But you don’t know that do you?” She asks, “This is something I’ve noticed about you, that you project your own feelings onto other people, even though you have no idea what else they’re really thinking.”

You nod because she’s not wrong, of course she’s not, “How do I stop?” You almost beg her.

She shrugs a little, “You’ve got to stop caring about what other people think,” She says it like it’s the simplest thing to do, “Of course not the people who really matter to you, Maria, Tommy, his brother, their opinions matter, but those people who you see in passing, what they think doesn’t matter because they don’t really know you.”

She looks briefly to her watch, “We don’t have much time left, but I’m proud of you, and if you think you’re ready to go back to work then challenge yourself, maybe ask Maria for a couple of hours a week, just to ease yourself back in, and we can talk about it a bit more next week?” You nod in agreement, “And it’s good to hear you’re making new friends too, I think Tommy’s brother might be someone to keep around if it makes you comfortable, friend’s with shared experiences can be helpful in recovery.”

You nod in understanding and spend a few minutes agreeing on what day and time you’ll meet next week before she’s ushering you out of her office in time for her next patient. As you stand in front of her office, a thought spring to your mind. This is the first time you’ve left having not cried. The tissue is still dry in your hand, a small victory that you can hand yourself on your journey to healing.

Just ten minutes later you are stood outside Maria’s house, knocking on the door. You can hear shuffling behind the door before she pulls it open, a look of shock written on her face that it’s you.

“Is everything okay?” She asks.

“As fine as it normally is,” You respond, “I was just coming back from Belinda’s and I wanted to ask you something.”

“You want to come inside?” She asks, “I’ve just made coffee.”

You gladly accept and before long you’re both sat on the couch, sipping coffee, “I think I’d like to go back to work.” You say simply before you get the opportunity to chicken out.

She almost chokes on the coffee she’d just taken a drink of, “Are you sure?”

“Definitely not full time,” You’re quick to add, “I just want to start with a few hours and see if I’m okay.”

“Where’s this come from?” You let out a sigh, “I’m fed up Maria,” You speak honestly, “Fed up of people thinking I’m useless, fed up of spending every day in the same four walls,” And then you add, “And I’m fed up of thinking that Mark would hate what I’ve become over him.”

She pauses for a moment, “Let me speak to Kate and see if we can sort something out from next week,” She smiles, “I’m sure she’ll be grateful to have you back, she always complains that Charlotte still doesn’t understand the library system,” She puts on a poor imitation of Kate’s accent, “Jane Austen next to Philippa Gregory.”

You both laugh and you think it’s truly the first time you’ve properly laughed in what feels like forever. You spend a little more time with her, finishing your coffee before leaving her to it and as you walk down the street towards your own home, you can’t deny that you feel a little lighter than normal.

It’s Monday afternoon, one of two afternoon’s you’ve agreed to step back into the library to help. Kate had suggested it because it was the afternoon that the teacher’s brought the kids down to choose a book to take home. It would be busy enough to distract you and meant you wouldn’t spend your time sat thinking.

You’d already helped two classes this afternoon, the last class we’re due in a few minutes, so Kate and you were enjoying a moment to sit and recuperate over a cup of tea. Well. Tea was stretching it – it was Kate’s usual concoction of boiled water and water flavourings she could get her hands on. Today it was lemon slices and honey, but it was warm and soothing so you wouldn’t complain.

“I’m really happy to see you.” She speaks honestly, grasping at your arm to give it a squeeze, “I know this can’t have been easy, but I’ve hope we’ve not scared you off.”

You offer a small smile, “I’ve actually enjoyed it, I guess my therapist was right when she said finding distractions would be helpful.”

Kate is about to speak again when the library door swings open and the older children start filing in, their teacher doing his best to corral them into the middle of the room. It’s just as you remember, he tells them they’ve got fifteen minutes to browse and choose and book and once they have, they need to come to the front desk to check it out.

You notice Ellie is part of the group, she’s hanging back, shuffling from foot-to-foot, but once her teacher lets them go, she’s just as excited as everyone else, picking up books and reading the covers. She’s one of the first to bring her choice over to the desk. You smile as you take it from her.

“Artemis Fowl?” You grin, “Great choice, it’s really good.” You write her name in the checking-out book and then the title of the book, before writing the date three weeks from now that she needs to bring it back on the inside cover of the book.

“I didn’t know you worked here.” She comments, taking the book back from you.

“I’m only here for two afternoons, trying to ease myself back into things, but yeah, before everything happened with Mark, this was my full-time job.”

“I bet you’ve read everything here, right?”

“Not quite,” You smirk, “But pretty much, if you ever want to know what else is good to read, you know where to come.”

She smiles and says thank you and just before she turns to leave, “Say, you don’t think you could ask Joel to pop by sometime and finish up the table for me, could you?”

She smirks, “Only if I can come so you can teach me how to make pie?”

You hold out your hand and she takes it to shake, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

It isn’t until Sunday that Joel and Ellie turn up at your front door. Summer really is in full swing now and it’s warm. You’ve been padding about in the garden trying to clear up, tank top now slightly sticking to your back from the thin sheen of sweat you’ve worked up and you think it’s possible the skin on your legs will be burnt when you finish up for the day.

Joel heads straight for the back porch with his toolbox in hand, Ellie lingers at the kitchen table.

“Do you want coffee?” You ask, tilting your head around the open back door.

He shakes his head, “Water would be nice though.”

You head back to the kitchen and pour three glasses of water from the jug in your fridge, adding lemon slices to give it a little flavour. Joel thanks you when you had him the glass and you smile at him before heading back to the kitchen to focus on Ellie.

“Alright, you ready?” You ask and she nods with enthusiasm, “I tried to get apples at the market, but they were all out, so I’m afraid it’s cherries today.”

You bring out a bowl of cherries from the fridge and put them out the counter, “The first thing we need to do is wash them and take the stones out, it’s a bit fiddly but it’s fun, I promise.”

You rummage around in your cutlery drawer for the pair of chopsticks you know are hidden somewhere. You can almost imagine the family living in this house before the world went to shit, sitting at their table, eating Chinese food with them. God, what you wouldn’t give for fried rice right now. You had one of the sticks to Ellie once she’s washed her hands and rinsed the fruit.

“So, you take a cherry and pull the stem off,” You do it to show her, “And then you eat the first one to make sure the fruit is okay,” You smile as you pop the cherry into your mouth, watching as she does the same, “You think they’re good?”

She’s smiling at you, “They’re fucking great!”

You spit the stone into your palm and put your hand near her face for her to do the same before you discard the stones in the trash bin next to you, “Okay, now we know they’re good, what you need to do is take the smaller end of the chopstick, and can you see where you pulled the stem out from?” You point to the spot on her fruit, “You just push the end through it and hopefully….” You draw out as you push your stick into the cherry between your fingers, the stone pops out through the bottom, “That will happen!”

You watch as Ellie copies your movements, the stone popping out through the bottom of the cherry, “Does it matter that the fruit broke?” She asks, placing her destoned cherry in the bowl with your own.

“Not at all, we’ve got to break them to eat them, right?”

Joel is working studiously just outside the kitchen window and when you reach the last cherry in the bowl, you take it in hand, opening the window, “Hey Joel?” You call, he looks up from his work and you dangle the cherry out into the open space, he smiles as he takes it, popping it into his mouth before mirroring what you’d done, spitting the pip into his hand and slinging it over the side of your fence.

It strikes you in this moment that being with Joel and Ellie is effortless. Although they both know what happened and a little about how you’ve delt with it, they don’t seem to judge you, neither of them look at you with sorry written in their eyes, they don’t press you to talk about things you don’t want to and they both seem genuinely interested in what you have to say, or in Ellie’s case, teach them.

You take Ellie through the rest of the steps of preparing the fruit, drizzling them in a little honey in place of sugar, teaching her how to make the pastry, which involves more flour ending up on both of you that it does in the recipe. You let her pour the fruit into the pastry and decide which kind of top she wants on it. She’s a girl after your own heart and opts for lattice.

Once it’s in the oven baking, Ellie sits on your couch with her book whilst you tidy up. You refill her glass of water before heading out to do the same to Joel’s. He’s almost finished with the table, just a few more planks of wood to hammer into the top and he’ll be done.

“Thanks,” He says simply when you fill his glass, he takes it and drinks deeply, brushing his forehead for sweat, you stand with him for a while, “Ellie says she saw you at the library earlier this week, is that where you work?” He’s making polite conversation and you smile.

“I worked there before everything happened,” You explain, “I was speaking to my therapist a few weeks ago who said she thought it would be a positive step for me, so I’m just doing two afternoons a week to ease me back in,” You refill his glass when he’s finished with it, “Baby steps and all that.”

“S’good,” He nods, “You seem a bit happier today.”

“I think it’s more to do with her,” You speak honestly, motioning your head inside to where Ellie is, “She’s a great kid Joel.”

“She is,” He agrees, “I’m glad she’s finally gettin’ the chance to be a kid for a while.”

He’s finishing up with the last few bits of wood for the table, “You wanna stay for a slice of pie?” You ask, “It shouldn’t be long coming out of the oven.”

“If it’s anythin’ like the last one then I don’t think I can say no,” He smirks, “Let me finish up here and I’ll come in.”

“Oh no, stay out here, we need to make sure your handiwork is sturdy enough.” You give him a little wink just to play with him, before wondering whether that was too much. He doesn’t suggest it was, just beams his lovely smile at you.

You turn on your heel and head back into the kitchen. You kneel in front of the oven, and you can see through the door that the fruit is bubbling through the lattice top and the pastry itself is looking lovely and golden.

“Hey, Ellie, you wanna take your pie out of the oven?” You ask, she’s folding the corner of the page she’s reading and is by your side in record time.

You hand her the oven gloves, another souvenir from whoever lived here before, it’s white, or would have been before they’d been used to death and had a pretty floral pattern on it. Not what you’d have chosen if you’d been filling your new home, but you always tried to remind yourself that beggars couldn’t be choosers in this world.

“Careful when you open the door, it’ll be really hot.” Ellie shoots you a playful look that tells you she isn’t that dumb.

She pulls open the door and steps back to let the steam flow out before she’s wrapping the oven gloves around the pie and putting on the stove top to cool, “As the expert,” You speak, “I have to say that looks and smells fantastic.”

You peer out of the window; Joel is just shutting his toolbox and you watch him takes his hands a brush the tabletop of any dust and debris left over from him building it. He then takes the chairs he’d made and sets them around the table. You turn your head when he starts moving to come inside.

“Kiddo, that looks great,” He praises Ellie, looking over her shoulder at her creation, “Let me wash my hands and we can dig in.”

You busy yourself with grabbing some plates and forks, handing them to Ellie to take outside, whilst you take the oven gloves and take the pie outside, setting it down on the table. You stand back and look at what Joel’s made. In the old world, this would have cost you a pretty penny and you can’t help but realise how talented he is. There’s nothing to suggest that you hadn’t been down to the best furniture store and paid thousands of dollars for it.

“I brought a knife.” Comes Joel’s voice from behind you, he’s brandishing your biggest kitchen knife and you think that in any other circumstance you’d be threatened by him, but there’s something about the goofy grin on his face that you know means that he would never hurt you.

He gives the knife to Ellie and sits down in one of the chairs, you follow suit, taking time to warn her to be careful if she needs to touch the pie tin because it’s likely to still be hot. You catch Joel smiling at you and you know it’s because he’s her dad – whether by blood or not, you can tell that he cares deeply for her and he’s thankful, in some small way that you are too.

Ellie cuts into the pie and struggles to get it out of the tin, the pastry below breaks and the fruit spills onto the plate that she only just manages to catch the slice on.

“I’ll take that one,” You smile, holding out your hand for the plate, “Got to break it to eat it, right?” You echo your words from inside the kitchen earlier on.

Once everyone has a slice on their plate and has left it to cool for long enough, you’re all digging in and you have to admit it’s just as good as the one you made yourself.

“Maybe I should sign you up for kitchen duty,” Joel jokes as he spears another bite with his fork, “You can start earning your keep, kiddo.”

Ellie looks disgusted at the very notion of being put to work and you all laugh together. It’s in this moment that you think to Mark. Would this have been your life if you’d been blessed with children? When you’d arrived in Jackson it had been a serious conversation. You were safe. People had been having children for months. They had a real midwife for God’s sake. The lack of children hadn’t been through lack of trying either. You remember lazy Sunday mornings wrapped up in bed together, hands raking over naked bodies, moans and praises spilled from mouths. You’d just never been blessed. You’d never talked about who might have been the problem, it didn’t matter anyway, if it couldn’t be with Mark then it wasn’t meant to be.

And perhaps now you’re thankful. If Mark had still died, there would have been someone else to care for during your grief. A constant reminder, in the flesh, of who he was, who he’d been. You hated to think of not being able to look at your own child because they reminded you too much of your dead husband. No. Better to be alone in your grief than add that kind of complication.

Once the slices were finished on everyone’s plate and you’d packaged two extra slices for Joel and Ellie to take home, you’re standing on your porch. Ellie is already making her way down the street, but Joel is hanging back.

“I really don’t know how to say thank you,” You admit, “You’ve been a real lifeline since you came here so just… thank you.”

He smiles at you, secretly wishing he could reach his hands out to touch you. He can’t remember the last time he genuinely wanted to touch someone like he wanted to touch you. He didn’t even think he had that with Tess. Sure, she’d been a comfort and he cared for her, but it had never been love. Just a means to an end, a way to ease each other’s pain for a moment. Then he caught himself. This wasn’t love either. Sure, you’d spent time together and all he really wanted to in any moment he saw you was kiss away the furrow of your brow, but he couldn’t love you. Not yet.

“I just like helpin’ out,” He offers, quickly looking down the street to find Ellie talking to someone from school, “I like knowing it makes things easier for you, that’s all the thanks I need.”

“Well, consider Ellie and you guests of honor when I can finally host that dinner on your handiwork.”

He winks at you, and you think you can feel a slight flush across your cheeks, but you think if it is appearing across your skin, you can pass it off as the hear, “Consider it done, sweet pea, I’ll see you around.”

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herzgeist-writes · 5 months

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Hi emi, if the slot isn't taken already , I would love to read about a star gazing date with law.

Where we just talk about everything and nothing. And just share our secrets. A blushing law would be a lovely gift ☺️.

Thx for your writing.

Pairing: Law x gn!reader | Word count: 2.2k | Warnings: Light angst

Synopsis: It's brightness leads him home, his heart yearning to return to the north blue, albeit with grief and sorrow - missing the long lost loved ones. A man of his stature remembers the loneliness he endured. The past bears it's weight, crushing the Surgeon of Death's shoulders, yet you lighten the burden - for you offer him your hand, to be his new home.

A/N: . . AAA is all I can say. Stargazing is a classic! Just wholesome and fluffy. Thank you Anon for requesting this trope, I dearly hope you like it!

Dividers by cafekitsune ~

The stars expand over the dark blue above, enlightening the horizon in the faintest. Not all too far away from the coast, you hear the waves crashing upon the shore.

Salt and algae scents waft your way, mixing up with the soft odors of dew across the meadow. Comfortably lying on the lush green ground, you take a deep breath and close your eyes. It's been a long, straining day - and now you're finally able to turn off the worries and troubles lurking in your mind.

Besides your thoughts calming, your heart is on opposite terms, racing to the fact that you're awaiting a certain man, who should arrive any minute now.

Shifting nervously on the spot, your attempt to find your composure again, turns out to be for naught - coming to notice light footsteps heading your way, which elicits a skip of a beat in your chest.

"At least you could have told me where exactly we'd carry out this silly gesture.", the voice low and agitated, calls out to you and you straighten yourself instantaneously by the familiar tone of none other than the Surgeon of Death.

"Law! Took you long enough." - "Didn't I just tell yo- . . just terrific.", raising a brow at the sighing in aggravation man, it's impossible for you to contain a cheeky giggle. How you love to tease your Captain.

He takes a seat next to you and sets aside his nodachi, his gaze lifting to the skies. He is close, the warmth almost beaming over your whole being. It isn't easy for you to simply shuffle over to Law, wanting to nudge against his arm and lean your head onto his shoulder.

The gentle sounds of crickets coming from the grass and the ocean's tides lull you into a relaxed and content state, yet not to the fullest, for the man on your side is making things rather difficult to cope.

Thus you ask in shyness: "How did the discussion go with the Strawhats?" - "Nothing but a pain in the rear, if only he wouldn't be so reckless and negligent." Law's sound takes a exclusively sour note, indicating you not to tread any further regarding that topic, hence you try and change the subject.

"I heard there's a shop with rarities in the neighboring town. Maybe there's an addition to your coin collection available. We should visit it tomorrow!", is what you hint your Captain, slowly but surely scooting nearer to reduce the, though short, distance. Which were cold and stern just a moment ago, now are mellowed and calmed grey eyes, even only the mildest way noticable.

Law inhales deeply and pushes the air back through his lips in a forceful manner. It is then where you see his tension roll off of him, a small amused huff escaping in the process: "That actually sounds . . delightful." He looks at you from the side for a split second, before returning to look at the ocean of stars again.

The tranquil of this instant pauses as you out your inner child - chiming a rhyme in an almost melodic sense: "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight."

When was the last time Law was so baffled, that he couldn't even remark one's doings with a sassy comment? Perhaps ages ago, until you came along on a fine evening like this, deciding to act all adolescent out of the blue. It's a highly regarded achievement, catching the Surgeon of Death off guard, thus he mumbles: "Never do this ever again." - "What? Didn't you wish upon a star as a kid before?"

Silence. Only grey torn open eyes bore questions into your soul - oh dear. "Wait, don't tell me you don't know what that is?" Still, no answer. With care, you advance into his overly mature mind, giving it a nudge towards infant experience.

"Concentrate on any star in the sky and repeat after me!" - "That's ridiculous.", the Captain doesn't stand a chance against your strong, or rather good will, and after uncountable times of you begging for him to join, he gives in.

Together, you harmonize the rhyme and see to the otherworldly scene above, uncountable stars appearing each minute. "See? Wasn't so hard was it?", you laugh, earning a click of Law's tongue in response.

Driven to see your Captain at least a tad bit happier than now, you take upon a quest of pure risque. You might get kicked out of the crew, but it's totally worth it, is what you think to yourself. So you indulge him with your childhood's secret: "Hey, let me tell you something. When I was little, I used to steal from the merchant stands ALOT."

"Explains your rogue behaviour to this day . .", Law simply huffs in nonchalant, opting you to theatrically gasp and play all appalled and shocked. Even he cannot hold in a small chuckle by the sight of your exaggerated acting, shaking his head.

However, it makes you wonder - what was that supernova like, when he was a boy? Climbing trees, exploring the homeland or play fights with friends? To your knowledge, at least so you heard, as a young one he used to be a talented and eager kid, striving to become a doctor like his father.

He lives up to his own expectations, in your opinion that is. Law's perception, understanding and implementation is ineffable. The devil fruit powers he possesses, granting him abilites to analyse and treat with ease, are his strongest suit - making him one of a kind.

"I bet you were a little rascal just like me!", you banter teasingly, a smirk planting over your lips, awaitingly bouncing on your behind, obviously curious about his reply. Not as intent as you, the doctor sighs: "You could call it that. Kids at school were scared of me. Ask me another question, but I merely dissected frogs and other smaller creatures to study anatomy and-"

Interrupted by your outburst, your laughter entices him to snort along with you, yet furrows his brows in confusion. "What's so funny?" - "I can only imagine what it looked like, you merely holding a dead animal in your hands, presenting it to your screeching in terror friends.", though the pictures in your head seem innocent, they do bear a sad aspect.

Given his reaction, he didn't have many, or even any friends, did he? You only dare to ponder.

Serene atmosphere cradles the both of you, the horizon growing darker and darker by the second. After a while, you decide to break the awkward silence once more, now sitting this close, your arm grazes his: "Did you ever feel . . lonely?" You never waver from the glowing lights, entranced by the tranquil nature and influence.

"Lonely?", uncertain of your sudden approach, Law turns to face you, attentive to meet your gaze. As you finally do, he averts: "I have a crew to attend to, how can I feel lonesome?" - "You're a bad liar, Captain."

Appalled, he gapes at you, his frown about to form into an upturned 'U'. "Are you questioning your superior?" - "It's common sense, almost everyone felt lonely at least once in their lives.", your quick retort takes Law aback, leaving him rather speechless for a moment. So he lies down, crossed arms serving as a cushion on the back of his head to ease the posture.

"Then if you're so sure, what are you asking me for?" - "To show empathy and understanding.", his snappy backtalk gets outranked by an honest answer, a wholesome one to say the least. This he didn't expect, by all means, such pitty isn't in his book, but who is he to deny your kindness - though with difficulty.

He surrenders and gives you a long lasting stare, following your every move as you lay down next to him: "Maybe I was lonely at times. If it weren't for Bepo, Shachi and Penguin . . I couldn't even tell where I would be today."

His deepest thoughts are laid bare, evoking something vulnerable in him. "If you dare share the details of tonight's conversation, I'll see your body parts stuck beside the Tang.", Law's threat incites you, for you end up being quite flustered and scared simultaneously. To your abashment you flail your hands: "N-No don't worry, those lips are sealed."

Those lips - sealed? Why, there is a way to fulfil just that. Either cut them off and throw them into the deepest and darkest pits of the sea or . . put his own on y-

'What am I thinking?' rushes through the Captain's mind, surprised by his own ambiguity. Quick to rid these nefarious ideas, Law enquires back: "Were you feeling . . alone too? At some point of your life?"

"Yes. Many times. Until you asked me to join your crew . . ", you reminisce in your past, images appearing of your former self you now declare as 'dead' - you are not the person you used to be. On the contrary, to this day you are what you deem confident and powerful. All thanks to the Heart pirates, thanks to him.

A deft and low 'oh' rumbles out of Law, as if apologising for not finding you sooner. Humming contently, you assure him, blowing away any upcoming doubts or regrets: "I am glad you took me in. All these years together with you guys, up to no good - solving mysteries, fighting tough battles - it's a thrilling life, which I am honored to take part in.", you turn your head and face him, the gras rustling from the movement, adding, "Thank you for being my safe space . ."

The Surgeon of Death falls silent, haltingly letting his grey orbs hover over to you. It's to his uncertainty, insecurity that he isn't able to utter the words that pile up in his short circuiting brain.

And then there you are. You smile - warmly and with a spark in your eyes that leaves your Captain breathless. Be that as it may, he is strong enough to supress the redness threatening to overcome his cheeks.

Clearing his throat, he catches your attention by pointing at the dark blue, adorned with white specks, in hopes to avoid any further profound subjects. "Will you look at that. See that star formation looking like a pan? That's the big dipper.", he wise-cracks, his finger following the invisible lines and connecting the dots.

"Right above is the little dipper. You should see a bright shining star on it's tail." - "That's the north star, yes?", he continues in a whisper and confirms your query with a little 'correct'. The night's ambience fills your ears, for other creatures like frogs chime in to the musical interlude of late hours. Even an owl hoots it's opinions into the near by woods.

Staring at the brightest of stars, you adjust to the gentle frequences: "Aren't you from the north blue, Captain?" Simultaneously you stare at eachother, him replying your curiosity in swift: "Indeed. It's my-" he stops mid-sentence, reconsidering wether to speak his mind or keep it from you, yet he goes with the initial, "-home."

There is that aura of sorrow and loss looming over the man laying beside you, telling you he suffered and endured things you dare not even think of. Might explain his restless researches for history and endless nights of insomnia consuming every fibre of his being.

You see how his arm, which pointed at the sky, lowers to the ground again, visibly tense. Restricted by your own inner suspense, slightly jittery fingers drift towards his hand.

"(Y/n)-ya, what are you doing?", although not keen on your unannounced touch, your pinkies interlace - Law recognises a familiar sensation of his heart picking up the pace to upbeat.

Well, what are you doing? You're not certain yourself, but it surely feels . . nice. His skin is tender, oddly enough - given the fact his inked hands are in constant straining use and appear rough and calloused.

Still fixated on the north star, you utter: "You know, home isn't a place, it's a person. So," your small finger grips tighter around your Captain's and you shift nearer to him "we have eachother."

You are close. So much so he can feel your breath fanning against his neck. Law grits his teeth in annoyance, however the faint of a blush begins to spread all over his face. Unfortunately, that display is barely visible to you, but you can detect his unease through his nervous shuffles and huffs.

"How much I hate when you're doing that . .", he growls, heaving himself onto his side to look at you properly and . .

. . braids his adorned digits among yours, holding your hand tight "but promise me we'll never be lonely again and find home in one another."

Emotions about to catch onto your lashes, your lips curl slightly, mumbling in reassurance: "I promise. Let the north star be your reminder, that you'll never be alone."

With half lidded eyes, face mellow and hand caressing your wrist, Law dearly hopes for your words to be true.

This night, a man with a heart of a broken boy, wished upon a star, wishing to never lose home, never lose his loved ones.

#one piece #one piece law #trafalgar one piece #fanfiction #fanfic fluff #law x y/n #x reader #law x gn!reader #gender neutral y/n #light angst #fluff

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myloveismineallmine · 3 months

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Sydcarmy & Beauty and The Beast

So, The Bear is a story with many themes and messages in it. The process of creating a story a lot times is just frankenstein-ing other stories and elements you like plus your owned lived experience.

I don't really remember how I started thinking about it, I do remember it was like 3am so that definitely has something to do with it, but I started thinking about Beauty and The Beast. And then I started comparing certain elements of it with The Bear. And then I started reading the Wikipedia page for Beauty and The Beast. And then I looked at the clock and it was like 4am so I was like okay, I should sleep now actually.

I did notice a lot of interesting similarities between the two, so I wanted to compare some of them in this post here. I think it's a really interesting lens to look at the story of The Bear from.

Chapter 1: The Beast

So, while it would be cool to do some kind of role reversal with the two romantic leads, this story does not do that, and the obvious parallel for Carmy is The Beast.

Rundown of The Beast's character traits, via wikipedia:

"In the original tale, the Beast is seen to be kind-hearted for the most part, and gentleman-like, with only an occasional tendency to be hot-tempered. Disney's interpretation of the Beast made him more constantly angry and depressed, due to the shame from his unkind actions which led to his transformation, and particularly his struggle of reconciling his hideous appearance with his inner humanity which made him feel hopeless about breaking the curse. Supervising animator Glen Keane describes The Beast as "a twenty-one-year-old guy who's insecure, wants to be loved, wants to love, but has this ugly exterior and has to overcome this." Upon his reform under his love interest Belle, his personality changes to refined and more even-tempered, while naive about the world at the same time."

Obviously this isn't to shame JAW's appearance, he's a pretty attractive dude, I'm looking more at the personality traits here.

The Disney version of him is way more unhinged and animal-like, which I'm not sure perfectly fits Carmy, but I feel like the insecurity, anger and depression is pretty accurate.

I don't think the "beast" element is entirely irrelevant, however. Let's think about what the namesake of the show is: The Bear. In reference, or course, to the main family having the last name Berzatto. They do also refer to each other as "Bear."

It's Cousin Michelle who makes the connection between the Berzattos and literal bears:

When she mentions this quote someone had said to her.

Stevie likens the Berzattos to bears later on in this episode:

It's pretty clear that the Berzattos = bears. Aggressive, but also kind and emphatic.

I also want to talk about the very first scene of The Bear:

Carmy is letting the bear out of it's cage, walking slowly towards it. He says "I know" to the bear, trying to calm it, or maybe trying to empathize with it. The bear growls and attacks him, and he wakes up from the nightmare.

It's clear that the caged bear represents something in Carmy. His rage, his stress, his grief. And he can't control it, it escapes and it consumes him.

Backstory of The Beast, extremely paraphrased:

Disney version: A prince is spoiled, cold-hearted and extremely selfish. He's transformed into a hideous beast as punishment, and told he won't transform back unless he earns the love a beautiful young woman.

Fairytale version: The prince's father died before he was born, and his bio mother leaves him in the care of an evil fairy godmother. Things get weird and incesty, this was the 1700s ig, the godmother tries to seduce the prince when he's an adult. He rejects her and she curses him to become a beast and says the curse won't be broken until he receives a maiden's act of true love. There's then a lot of really irrelevant fairy-lore and other stuff that I don't really want or need to get into.

I feel like evil mother figure one might be more accurate? Especially because Donna's one of the people who gave him so much trauma that he still carries with him? Generational trauma and addiction is "a curse" in a way.

Chapter 2: The Beauty

So it's very clearly Sydney.

Beauty in the OG fairytale doesn't have a super interesting personality outside of "pretty, caring and kind." so I think we'll look more at the Disney version here:

"While the studio wanted Beauty and the Beast to resemble an old-fashioned film, the writers envisioned Belle as "a woman that was ahead of her time"."

"... the screenwriter conceived Belle as a headstrong feminist to avoid creating another "insipid" Disney princess."

"Beauty and the Beast's story department was predominantly male. Woolverton often argued with the more traditional story artists over Belle's role and personality, but continued to be supported by Katzenberg and lyricist Howard Ashman, the latter of whom also lobbied for "a thinker and a reader" who "wasn't a victim"."

So, Belle was basically a strong and independent woman for Disney at the time. I wanna hone in more on these character traits they mention specifically.

Sydney is very intelligent, even an overthinker at times. She literally shows up to, like, week 2 of work with a full book written on how the business can be improved.

We know she's a reader. Not only from the coach K book, she also mentions lending Marcus books at some point.

I also think Sydney fits the "not a victim" criteria. Sydney is shown pretty consistently to stand up for herself and fight back in situations.

On Beauty's backstory:

In every version of The Beauty and The Beast, Beauty's a daughter to a widower (much like Sydney is.) Beauty has many siblings, most notably her evil older sisters. They are omitted from the Disney version, and Belle is an only child.

In the Disney version, Belle is well known for her beauty, but looked down upon for not conforming to more traditional feminine roles.

Being a headstrong woman of color in the very white and male dominated world of fine dining, I can see how she fits this.

Her father has doubts about her career as a chef, she has had bad experience with chefs in leadership positions before, and the crew of The Beef really looks down on her at the beginning of the series.

Chapter 3: Beauty and The Beast

So now let's talk about the actual relationship of the Beauty and The Beast.

Belle/Beauty is lured into The Beast's castle because her father is being held captive inside. And interestingly....

Sydney references her father as the reason for why she applies for The Beef.

In the fairytale, The Beast is immediately smitten with Beauty and asks her to marry him every day. That would be a very obvious HR violation in The Bear, so I think it might be better to look at the Disney version of this story.

So in the Disney version, The Beast is more annoyed that Belle and her father showed up at all, but he does know she's a pretty woman and allows the release of her father so she will be his prisoner instead.

Their relationship is pretty bad at first, like you'd expect a captor and prisoner relationship to be, but he does allow her a nice lavish room. He orders her to have dinner with him, and she refuses to leave her room to protest against him.

Carmy and Sydney were friendly at first meeting, but after The Stock Incident, their cracks really start to show. It's when Sydney really stands her ground and argues back at him. This is not the end of the arguments and tension between them.

Belle and the Beast end up getting in a fight when Belle snoops around his room. He yells at her more loudly this time, and Belle flees the castle on horseback. She gets attacked by a pack of wolves and The Beast saves her. She takes him back to the castle and nurses his wounds.

This to me matches with the final fight Sydney and Carmy have in season 1. Carmy displays the worst of his anger, and it causes Sydney to want to wipe her hands with him completely. She grabs her stuff and leaves, telling him she's quitting.

She comes back when he apologizes to her, and they have a real bonding moment when they decide to open a restaurant together.

The Beast and Belle start to have a better relationship after The Beast heals. They become more friendly, The Beast more docile, and they're both really happy for the first time in the film. There's a scene where The Beast shows Belle the castle library and tells her it's hers.

I think the equivalent would be seeing Carmy and Sydney plan the menu together. In those scenes they seem less like co-workers and more like friends. You can also tell it's one of the few things they get actual real enjoyment doing.

I think the main parallel I see for this relationship is how Carmy and Sydney improve each other. Like with Belle and The Beast, you can actually see Carmy learn how to better handle conflict and communicate more efficiently when he's placed with Sydney.

He's more vulnerable. He apologizes more. He's able to better control his temper.

There's two very concrete examples of Sydney being able to help stabilize his emotions, actually.

Sydney is quite literally "taming the beast" in Carmy. Cognitive behavioral therapy would also achieve that, but Carmy is too much of a workaholic to attend a session, so Sydney will have to do for now. They didn't have CBT in 1700s France, either, unfortunately.

I will also say that this isn't a 90 minute Disney movie, so the slow-burn will be slow-buring for awhile until we get to the actual conclusion of the fairytale.

Chapter 4: Gaston

so I have two characters in mind for this role: Richie and Marcus. But def more heavy on Richie than Marcus.

Gaston is a villain made exclusively for the Disney movie. Here's some description for him:

"In direct contrast to his adversary the Beast, Gaston is depicted as physically handsome with an unattractive personality, both physically and emotionally embodying hypermasculinity. "

"Gaston has been generally positively received by film critics, as his lack of "magic power or political influence" means that his villainy tends to resonate with audiences who often identify someone similar to him in real life, although critics regard him as a less memorable villain than some of the studio's previous efforts."

"The Huffington Post described early drafts of Gaston as "a weaselly, sort of wimpy character." In fact, Gaston was originally intended to resemble more of an annoying than antagonistic character,"

So I think Richie kind of fits the "hypermasculinity" thing, in terms of some of his mindset and sexist behaviors.

Richie, for at least the first season, really looks down on fine dining as a concept. He makes fun of Carmy and Syd for their background in it and makes snide comments about it whenever possible.

Gaston also looks down on Belle for liking books, and encourages her to live a more "simple" life with him instead.

Here's a really interesting parallel I found with these two:

Making fun of the main character's book and then throwing it away? In the intro of the story? Very interesting.....

As far as the similarity with Marcus: it begins and ends with Marcus and Gaston both having unrequited feelings for the main female protagonist.

Other than that, Richie is way more Gaston coded in the grand scheme of things. Just not as evil. I feel like he gives first-draft Gaston with being "More annoying than antagonistic."

Chapter 5: What about Claire?

I see Claire fitting into this as almost like a faux-Belle. The love interest that's supposed to "fix" the main protagonist, but something doesn't work.

Again, there's two scenes I wanna look at specifically to showcase this:

This reaction shot of Carmy. This is the last shot of the sex scene, and there are some other previous shots of the sex scene overlaying this at times. But I've been wanting to do a deep dive into it for awhile-- why have this shot? What's the purpose of it?

I think that this shot clearly tells us that Carmy is either pensive and/or dissatisfied with what has happened. Laying with his eyes open and just staring at the wall, deep in thought, possibly regretful. This isn't the expression a man who's just had sex with a pretty woman usually has. This is one of many clues that this relationship isn't something that he really wants or enjoys.

Aaaand, the panic attack scene again. If Claire was his "true love", she would be able to quell his anxiety and panic, if this whole "beauty and the beast" story arc I'm putting together is to be believed.

Claire is the perfect girl. She's pretty, smart, talented. His family loves her. She loves him. But she does nothing to fix his problems. Because it's not true love.

Carmy not being happy at the thought of Claire vs Carmy cracking a smile because he looks at containers of radichio + fennel, ingredients Sydney cooked him once.

It is ABUNDANTLY clear that his feelings for Syd help his mental state in ways his feelings for Claire do not. Because what he feels for Sydney is closer to true love.

Conclusion:

Am I saying Christopher Storer took the plot beats and characters 1 for 1 from Beauty and The Beast? No, obviously not. Am I saying that maybe he sat down one day and this movie was on and he was like "hey maybe i can do something with this"? Possibly!

This is just speculation at the end of the day, but I really loved looking at all the possible connections between these two things. Tell me your thoughts on all of this: cool interpretation or am I just talking out of my ass?

#thank u for reading all of this if u did because holy shit #this is a long one #the bear meta #sydcarmy #anti claire bear

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hard-core-super-star · 6 months

Note

May I please request something for Kate Bishop x reader? Even a part two for your latest Kate fic almost.

Reader hangs up her suit and stops being SpiderWoman after losing May, and both Kate and Yelena can see her starting to spirl. (Maybe Yelena helps her with the anger and grief of losing May.)

i'm all skeleton and melody [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x parker!reader; (platonic) yelena belova x parker! reader

summary: kate calls for backup when she realizes how underprepared she is to help you deal with your grief over losing may.

warnings: mentions of character death [mainly may but there's a quick natasha mention, i'm sorry]; heavy mentions of grief + references to depression; smaller serving of angst with a huge side of hurt/comfort and yelena being supportive in her own way; kate being a golden retriever gf who doesn't know how to stay

wordcount: 1.6k

a/n: can i just say good grief is one of my favorite fics i've written so a request for a part two was a wonderful surprise? i've gotten attached to a lot of my mini-universes but this one is special to me. yelena has a bigger role in this part because i said so :) also, the gif above was my inspiration for one of the scenes and i think it shows lmao. anywho, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

People always talk about the five stages of grief but what they fail to mention is that grief is a never-ending cycle.

Sometimes you can reach anger and go right back to denial. Or reach acceptance and fall into depression again. Reaching the end just means you’re ready to fall back to the beginning and start fresh once more.

People make it out to be a process, and in many ways, it is, but it’s not an easy one to deal with. Even when you have loving and supportive people by your side.

Sometimes, having those people around can actually make it worse.

Which is how you wound up where you are right now, locked up in your and Kate’s shared bedroom, refusing to get out of bed or even open the door to your kind-eyed girlfriend.

Your guilt about shutting the archer out, literally and emotionally, is overshadowed by the pain that grips your chest every time you breathe. Pain that nothing can take away, not even Kate Bishop.

The truth is, you started slipping the second May died. You tried to hide it, and you honestly succeeded, until it became painfully obvious that you were ignoring the Spidey suit hanging in the back of your closet.

Any time Kate or Yelena asked, you mumbled something about how you were taking a break. It was more than understandable…until said “break” turned into you not eating, not sleeping, and shutting both of them out of your mind and heart.

Yelena handled it the way she handles most things, by silently watching until she found all the signs that told her you really weren’t doing well. Kate, on the other hand, did not handle it as well or as casually as her blonde best friend.

It would have been annoying if you didn’t love her as much as you do. She meant well, there will never be a doubt in your mind about your girlfriend and her clumsy yet good intentions. Her sad looks were more than you could handle, though, and her whispers of encouragement only served to remind you of what you lost.

So, when it became painfully obvious she couldn't help you on her own, she did the only thing she could think of. She called Yelena and begged her to talk you down from the metaphorical ledge you’re on. The one that told you you didn’t deserve to be Spiderwoman anymore, not when you were responsible for the death of the only family you had left.

“y/n!” Your self-deprecating spiral comes to a stop the second you hear Kate’s voice again. “I know you can hear me. Please, babe, just let me in.”

You can hear the tears that cling to her eyes even through the door that separates you. It should be a reminder of how much your girlfriend loves you but in reality, it only furthers the disdain you hold for yourself right now.

The warmth of the blanket you’re hiding under is no replacement for Kate’s strong embrace but you can’t find the strength to get out of bed. It’s not like you’re happy about it but you can’t do much to lift the heavy weight of grief that holds you down.

At least not on your own.

You can barely make out the sound of the archer’s voice but you don’t understand the word she says. Much less who she’s saying them to.

“I just want to help,” she says for the fifth time, earning herself yet another one of Yelena’s eye rolls.

“Yes, I know, you have said that a million times already.”

“I just don’t understand why I can’t go in there with you. She’s my girlfriend.”

“y/n isn’t in a good mental place, Kate Bishop. You will only get hurt.”

“Isn’t that exactly why I should be there? I’m supposed to be the one taking care of her when she’s not doing okay.”

“Put the puppy eyes away, you’re staying outside.”

“Fine…But-”

“No.”

The hushed sound of voices turns into the tell-tale sound of the doorknob being messed with. You assume Kate is attempting to pick the lock again so you merely sigh and turn onto your back, staring at the ceiling and trying to erase May’s face from your mind.

You feel a familiar exhaustion starting to creep in when the bedroom door slams open.

“I thought you said you were going to pick the lock!”

“Do not be a baby about it, Kate Bishop, you’re rich.”

“It was a nice door.”

The ghost of a smile appears on your face at Kate’s complaint but the reaction is more subconscious than anything. It’s almost like your body reacts instantly to your girlfriend even while your mind is struggling to stay afloat.

“Stay.” You miss the glare Yelena throws Kate’s way but the sound of footsteps approaching manages to register in your mind.

Your first instinct is to hide despite how ridiculous of an idea it is. You reach for your blanket and throw it over your face to cover your tired eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

Yelena sighs but makes no attempt to force you to face her. She may act like a jerk sometimes but she cares a lot about you and Kate…mainly you but the archer doesn’t need to know that her playful insults aren’t always completely playful.

“y/n,” the blonde says softly as she sits down next to you. “I do not want to be the one to tell you this but your girlfriend is losing her marbles over you.”

“Yelena!”

The Russian mumbles some curse words you don’t fully understand before continuing. “How do you live with her? She is more annoying than her dog.”

“Don’t bring Lucky into this,” you murmur, deciding only to speak up to protect the loyal dog’s honor.

“I would say I’m sorry but I am not. It’s nice to see you’re still alive.”

You don’t remove your (literal) safety blanket but you feel Yelena’s hand find your own over the fabric. A moment passes before you stick your hand out and allow the blonde to intertwine her fingers with yours.

It’s a wordless action and yet it brings tears to your eyes. You’re not sure how or why but you don’t dare fight against the emotions that gather in your grief-stricken body. “I wish I wasn’t.”

“You don’t mean that,” she replies, no traces of her usual sarcasm in her tone. “You’re just upset.”

The word doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel. It’s like your mind is painfully aware of how alive you are while your body is more than happy decomposing within the four walls of your bedroom.

“Try devastated.”

Yelena either doesn’t understand what you mean or she happily accepts the replacement. “Okay, you’re just devastated. Staying inside isn’t going to bring her back, you know?”

“You’re one to talk,” you mutter despite how harsh your words truly are.

Fortunately, the Russian might be the only person you know who is able to take that harshness in stride. “You’re right, I did awful things when I learned what happened to Natasha. But I didn’t do it for her. I did it for myself. Because I thought it was the only way to cope.”

You take the words for what they are, a reminder that you’re not alone. That you’re not the only person to almost succumb to the powerful anger hidden within the sadness and regret. What happened to May is miles away from what happened to Natasha, though, and somehow the comparison only makes things worse.

“It’s my fault she’s dead.” All the tears you had been holding back finally fall, forcing you to accept the reality you’ve been trying to escape from all these days. “I got my mom killed.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know that-”

“Of course, I know that.” You use your free hand to pull the blanket down and finally face Yelena’s affectionate gaze. “Who else is to blame if it’s not me?”

“Try the homicidal maniac with a glider.”

Yelena groans and the familiarity of the scene helps to ease some of your pain. “What happened to staying outside, Kate Bishop?”

“y/n needs me.”

The words are simple in nature and they’re nothing you haven’t heard before but the reaction they bring out of you isn’t one you’re used to.

Thankfully, Kate crosses the space between you without you having to say anything.

Yelena tries to move away but you tighten your grip on her hand before she can get too far. She rolls her eyes at you but accepts the silent request, choosing to remain seated by your side while Kate literally climbs on top of you.

“You guys are strange.”

You’re too focused on the relief of having your girlfriend’s body back on top of you to argue back.

The archer lazily wraps an arm around your middle while her head rests on top of your shoulder so she’s able to glare at her best friend. They only last a few seconds before they start arguing about something so you close your eyes and let the sound of their voices drown out the memories that threaten to come back.

“Hey.” Kate’s voice is a mere whisper against your tear-stained cheeks. “I love you.”

You don’t have to open your eyes to be able to see the sincerity she exudues with every breath she takes and every look she gives you.

“I love you too.”

It’s not nearly enough to get rid of all your pain but it’s enough to remind you what you’re fighting for every day. You’re fighting for the ones you love. Even the ones you’ve lost.

And maybe fighting won't bring them back but you don't need to. Being with the ones you have left is more than enough for you.

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sillyrabbit81 · 1 year

Text

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part Sixteen

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Sixteen Summary: Marshall opens up about his past.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 3.1k

Warnings:

Series Warnings: Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Sixteen Warnings: slight angst, discussion of murder and violence against women, smut, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of body fluids, I think thats it

Authors Note: Thanks as always to my lovely BBFs (Best Beta's forever) @henryobsessed and @nashibirne .

So... Been a while... I am really nervous about posting because it has been so long! But I put my big girl pants on and I'm just going to do it. This chapter had to be split in half, which was a small reason for why this took so long to put out, the other part is that I think some of it is a bit dry... Exposition is hard!!!! The next part isn't quite finished but this point was a natural stopping point so I figure, post this and then maybe I won't be so in my head about the next bit.

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Fifteen Part Seventeen

Lori

I woke up with a start.

My heart was beating as fast as a mouse’s and I was sucking in huge gulps of air that failed to fill the hollow in my chest. I was shaking, every muscle and sinew quivering with a chilling thrum, yet I was frozen. I willed myself to move but my glaciated neurons refused to fire, iced over, hardened, ready to snap.

From behind me, a heavy arm moved on my waist and a hand pressed against my belly as soft whiskers and gentle lips caressed and the back of my neck. Relief warmed my blood in a balmy rush, my body thawing in a heady and welcomed surge.

Marshall. It was only Marshall.

“Alright?” he asked, his voice low and rough from sleep.

I hummed, not quite ready to speak. I looked at the clock on the nightstand. Small and generic, its garish neon green digital numerals reminded me that my room wasn’t actually my room and my briefly mollified anxiety inched its way back into my tightening chest.

I’d barely slept, little more than dozed. I wondered if I should get up and shower, but I didn’t want to disturb Marshall. So I laid there and listened to his breathing return to its regular cadence while I tried to recall and hold onto my dream. I might as well have tried to catch a cloud, the memories were wispy vapours, too vague and insubstantial to retain, leaving behind echoing stains of dread and emptiness.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what I had dreamed of. The strange and rapid life changes over the past couple of weeks made it possible for me to push aside the grief from the loss of my parents and focus on other things like my anger at Nate, the shocking revelations about Jake, and the developing situation with the Brothers. I may have made a conscious decision not to dwell and process my emotions, but my subconscious was obviously not on board.

I focussed on the rhythm of Marshall’s breathing, the soft reverberation in his throat on each inhale and the sturdy snugness of his arms while I pushed down the lingering feelings, stuffing them like clothes into a laundry basket, deep into the recesses of my mind. Even as I crammed them away, I knew I’d have to deal with my emotions at some point. I told myself I would, just not today, or tomorrow. Maybe in a month or two. Or three. When I was home again, or alone, or when things were back to normal.

Eventually, the residual fear from my lost dream ebbed and slowly faded while a myriad of new ones took its place.

Had last night been another mistake on the long list of mistakes I had made. Was Marshall another Jake? Was Sy for that matter?

Sy.

Now that Marshall and I had crossed the Rubicon, would Sy still feel the same way about me when he returned and faced the reality of what he had agreed to? Or, had the existence of the pact forced him to adhere to it out of a sense of bravado and loyalty to the Brotherhood? Had I just turned myself into another groupie, a woman destined for a lifetime of disrespect, deception and disillusion, stupidly thinking that an outlaw, an outsider, a biker, could change for them?

I waited for the gut feeling that I had fucked up by sleeping with Marshall to arrive, but it never came. Of course there were no guarantees in any relationship, but everything that had happened with Marshall had felt sincere and genuine.

“I can hear you thinking,” Marshall grumbled. His breath was warm against my ear and his gentle accent made me shiver as a heated rush rippled across my skin, soothing and comforting me.

“I thought you were asleep,” I said.

He grunted and shifted his body until he laid on his back. I rolled over, following him and he tucked me under his arm. He glanced with a half smile that I barely picked up in the darkness of the room. I returned it and his grin grew slightly bigger before he laid his head back into the pillows.

“My sleep cycle has been off for years. Never recovered from shift work with the PD.”

I shimmied closer to him, pressing my breasts against his side, resting my thigh across his hips and dipped my fingers into the thick, coarse curls that spread across his chest from shoulder to shoulder. In response, I felt him stroke my arm, the tips of his fingers tracing an invisible path.

“Marshall?”

“Lori,” he replied, one side of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

“How did you end up in the Brotherhood?”

His smile vanished instantly and after a couple of passes over my arm, his hand stopped his caress, pausing mid stroke. His eyes sought out mine and I made it easier for him, by laying my chin on his chest, ignoring the way his wispy hairs tickled my jaw.

“There were a series of murders. Women, young women, some still teens. To call them murders doesn’t go far enough, each one was assaulted, tortured…” Marshall trailed off but his fingers began to stroke me again, this time sweeping over my back.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said.

Marshall grunted and took a deep breath. “It was a long investigation that led nowhere. We had physical evidence, DNA, but no matches in the system and no motives. There were no useful eyewitnesses, no connections between the victims, they were of different racial backgrounds, economic status, from all over the city. We kept hitting dead ends, every lead we had didn’t pan out. Meanwhile, more girls were showing up dead, nearly a dozen and the media were breathing down our necks.”

He scoffed, his lip curled in disgust.

“They can be viscous,” I said, remembering the media circus that followed my parents' death.

Lifting his head, Marshall kissed my forehead before continuing.

“Eventually a name popped up that looked promising, he had been a contact in four of the victim’s phones. No other number had shown up twice, let alone four times. So we started an investigation into him. Found out he was a CEO of a financial institution or an investment bank, I don’t remember which. He was young, one of those prodigious financial wizards that seemed to have the Midas touch. He was famous in the financial world, puff pieces in newspapers, magazines, you know the type?”

I nodded and he continued.

“We’d barely gotten further than collecting basic background on this guy when the case was taken out of our hands by the Feds. I was furious, obviously, their jurisdiction over the case was on a flimsy basis at best. There was nothing I could do about it but wait for news of the investigation. However, months went by and… nothing. No news, no arrests, no more media reports, nothing.”

“He wasn’t the guy?”

Marshall shrugged. “I thought I must have been wrong. After a year, a homeless guy was arrested and charged.”

“So you had the wrong guy, after all?”

Marshall chuffed and shook his head.

“I knew in my gut the man they arrested was a patsy. I looked into it. I talked to some of his friends from the streets and as far as I could tell he wasn’t even in town when the first three victims had been murdered. His friends said he came to the city to attend the funeral of his murdered daughter.”

“No,” I gasped, my mouth covering my hand in shock.

“Yes,” Marshall said, “He was the father of the first victim we found. We had tried to contact him in the early days of the investigation, but he couldn’t be located. By the time he had discovered what happened to his daughter, there had been other victims and it was no longer a priority to find him and rule him out as a suspect.”

I thought about Nate and my father. I had never been privy to the dealings of the club, but you picked things up. The club had a surprisingly low number of members with criminal records and although I had never been explicitly told, I knew it was because the “right” people had been paid off for years. I figured the real killer must have been doing something similar, but on a massive scale.

“So what did you do?” I asked.

“I took my theories up the chain and requested permission to do my own investigation. I was told in no uncertain terms that if I did that, it would cost me my badge.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Shit.”

“I couldn’t let it go though. I knew I couldn’t investigate alone and I suspected that I might be under surveillance. I couldn’t ask anyone else in the department to risk their job, so I called a guy I trusted. He used to be a bounty hunter but by then was working as a private security contractor.”

“Geralt?” I guessed.

“Geralt,” Marshall repeated. “He used his connections and reported back that there had been rumours floating about this guy for years, from his college days to his early Wall Street days to this case. Reports of domestic violence from women he’d had relationships with and assaults on sex workers that always seemed to be retracted or ignored. Somehow, this fucking guy kept getting away with fucking murder because of his connections.”

He closed his eyes and the muscles of his jaw pulsed beneath his thickly bearded skin. Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and his voice was husky as he continued.

“When I realised what they had done to that man, that girl’s father… I wasn’t particularly idealistic and I wasn’t naive, but I had never thought that this level of corruption could happen. The Feds, the media, the PD; how many people must be involved, how many people were paid off or blackmailed? Everything I knew, everything I….”

He shrugged and was quiet. I waited, sure he had more to say. But he stayed silent, jaw twitching again and his eyes seemed to glaze over as his thoughts seemed to drift away.

I placed my hand on his cheek, my thumb sweeping along the bone and tilted my head to kiss his chest softly. Marshall’s hand went to my hair stroking my hair off my face.

“I quit. I couldn’t do that kind of work again, not knowing what I knew. I went back to Geralt, thinking with my SWAT background, maybe I’d try private security. Instead, Geralt introduced me to Sy and Walker.”

“What happened to the CEO?”

Marshall’s grin was a little disconcerting as he replied, “He got his in the end. An international financial scandal ruined him. The bank he headed was laundering money for the cartels and he was directly implicated in running the scam. The CIA got him for that one, apparently his reach didn’t go that far.”

“What happened to the father?” I asked.

“Suicide in prison while awaiting trial. It was a fucking joke.”

“I’m sorry, Walter,” I said softly.

His eyes found mine. Blue, deep and clear, they held me and I couldn’t look away. He sighed and shifted his hips. The movement made his thigh brush high between my legs and I became very conscious of the fact that both of us were naked.

The atmosphere changed, the air crackled with an electric anticipation and a heady jolt of lust worked its way down my spine to my core. I wasn’t alone, Marshall breathing became heavy, his nostrils flaring as he drew in each breath and his chest swelled.

His fingertips began to skim over my back again, and my skin broke out in goosebumps as I shivered with pleasure. His burly arms drew me to his chest, the coarse hair tickled my nipples as he guided me onto my back. Blanketing me with his comfortingly heavy body, his weight was concentrated at our hips and effectively pinned me to the mattress. My legs split beneath him, opening myself up in a shameless invitation. He took the hint, and he rolled his hips against me as he kissed me.

It was like he was a different man; his feral, almost brutal urgency gave way to languid deliberateness. His lips moved down the column of my neck, hands exploring, clasping my ribs as if he wanted to caress not just the flesh, but the bones beneath. Moving with barely restrained greed, he slipped my nipple into his mouth and his teeth captured it while his velvety tongue flicked. His lips were satin, his beard was rugged silk, equally coarse and soft as he kissed and rubbed his cheeks against the sensitive skin between my breasts.

Opening his bearded jaw wide, he took more of me into his mouth than just my pink pebbled nipple. I watched bleary eyed as creamy skin disappeared into his warm mouth and his tongue lashed. My fingers slid into his thick curls, holding him close, begging for more.

I moved a hand down his shoulder and back feeling his dense muscles ripple under my touch. I went lower, down his side and abdomen, a rush of heat surged through me as my fingers found the trail of hair below his navel. I wanted to follow its path, wanted to feel him throbbing just like I was.

Thwarting my plans, Marshall laid warm, wet, kisses down my tummy, and became out of reach. I let out a petulant moan and he grinned, rubbing his beard against a sensitive spot near my hip, making me giggle and squirm out of his grasp. He caught my hip and pushed me down to the bed again in a flash back to his earlier impatience.

“Shh,” he soothed with a wolfish grin.

His hand swept down my thigh, curling under my knee and gently guiding my legs further apart. His kisses started at my knee and moved down the inside of my thigh, heat from his mouth made me shiver and I fell back onto the bed. He got closer to my soaked, throbbing core and I felt his tongue at the crease of my thigh, lapping at the combined wetness there from both my arousal and his release.

I gasped and leaned up on my elbows to watch and his feverish blue eyes were looking up at me from between my legs. My body looked as aroused as I felt, nipples tight and hard, tummy and thighs trembling, my pussy was swollen and glistening with the remains of our previous, furious love making.

Fingers glided over me, thumbs pulling apart my folds, his breath simultaneously warm and cooling against my hot throbbing sensitive skin. A finger teased my weeping core, swirling at my entrance. I was on fire, desperately clenching at nothing, and I could feel evidence of his orgasm leaked from within me.

“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath.

“Marshall,” I said breathlessly, reaching for his shoulders, trying to pull him up to me, “stop teasing me. Just fuck me.”

“I’ll fuck you,” he said, voice husky, almost gone. Then he mumbled something I couldn’t catch against my pussy.

The feel of his tongue prodding my entrance, no doubt tasting himself as he ate me out was so wickedly filthy to me that I was completely transfixed by the lurid eroticism, I’d never experienced anything like it. I could barely hold myself up, but the sight of him practically pussy drunk and groaning was too good not to look at. He growled, his arms wrapped around my thighs and he pushed his face into me, soft prickles of his beard against me made me shake even more and despite wanting to keep watching, I fell back to the mattress.

Suede-like brushes against my clit had me shaking, the tension in my muscles quivering like violin strings. Jesus christ he was amazing, then he sucked softly on my clit, and I was gone, crying out as my hands tangled in his hair, tightening into fists and held him against me. He didn’t stop as I came, his hands moved to my hips, his long fingers splayed across my belly and waist as if he wanted to feel my body move as I buckled.

My hands unclenched, and I shuddered with aftershocks as Marshall stayed where he was, softly licking at my core. I closed my eyes, bathing in the post orgasm euphoria, running my fingers through his hair. He didn’t stop kissing me as he moved up my body and rested a fraction of his weight against me. His hand was warm as he cupped my cheek and covered my mouth with his. I could taste us on his lips and tongue, his beard was soaked too. I was so turned on that after the flavour faded from his mouth, I swept my tongue over his chin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “You taste good, don’t you?”

I hesitated, self-consciousness creeping in and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. Marshall stroked my cheek with his thumb and I opened my eyes and realised that he wasn’t trying to shame me.

“You taste good too,” I said.

He smiled, his lips parting just enough to see his teeth, before he grew a little serious. His hand curled around the back of knee, lifting and opening me again, and he adjusted his body in a way that made me gasp. Poised, and ready, his silky hardness waited, his brows raising just enough to ask the unspoken question.

“Yes,” I murmured.

His mouth was on mine as he slid inside me, our kiss muffling both our moans. We stayed like that, joined and locked together, hungrily swallowing the others whispered words and whimpers. Fingers sought mine, and lacing them together he squeezed, gripping me and releasing me in time with his steady rocking movements.

He knew what he was doing, making sure I could feel every inch of his thick and rigid length, making sure he found that spot that made my breath hitch every time. His breath was coming in harder and heavier, each exhale punctuated by a muted grunt. I couldn’t focus, I had to close my eyes. Fuck, he really knew what he was doing.

“Marshall,” I gasped. I don’t know why I spoke. I was riding close to the edge, any second now and I would fall.

“Yes,” he growled, “Fuck, yes.”

I fell.

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xxoxobree · 1 year

Text

Lost To Love Again

Jake x Fem!Human/Avatar!Reader

Warnings - Mentions of Death

Word Count - 3.7k

Synopsis - With Tommy being gone his brother joins you in the avatar program.

My heart shattered as I looked at my husband lifeless in a cardboard box, his skin pale. "What happened?" I managed to ask trying my best to hold myself together.

"Shot, They took his wallet."

I felt my throat constrict, a lump in my throat I couldn't seem to swallow. I still remember the first time Tommy and I met. I was a young and ambitious scientist, a protege of Grace. I didn't believe in love at first sight, but looking at Tommy in that box made me realize that we loved each other the minute we lay our eyes on each other.

Tommy and I had a whirlwind romance, and it was almost too good to be true. But we were in love, and nothing could stop us from being together. We got married in a small ceremony, just the two of us, and started our life together.

Tommy was the love of my life. He was kind, caring, and always put others before himself. He was a protector, a provider, and my biggest supporter. We were the perfect team, and our love seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

But now he was gone, and I was left alone to pick up the pieces.

As I looked at him, I saw each of my tear drops fall on his sweet face.

"I'm so sorry baby," I said wiping the tears off his forehead before kissing it.

"Here," I heard one of the undertakers say. I didn't bother to look at him, fixated on my sweet Tommy. "What happened?" I immediately recognized the voice; it was Jake, Tommy's twin brother. I turned my head quickly to look at him, my eyes red and my face stained with tears.

He looked equally as heartbroken but didn't say much. I moved out of the way so that he could see his brother. He rolled forward, pain written all over his face. I couldn't help but cry again, his expression reminding me of my own hurt.

Tommy had always been a happy-go-lucky soul, the life of the party, never one to shy away from anything. He had always been there for me, through thick and thin, a rock upon which I could lean. But now, as I stood there watching him lifeless, it felt like a piece of me had been ripped away from me.

They had now started the cremation process, and I couldn't take it. He was gone forever, and there was nothing I could do to bring him back. I patted Jake's shoulder before walking out of the building, tears heavily rolling down my face.

I tried to console myself the best I could, pacing back and forth, but the pain was too much to bear. I bent down, balancing on the ball of my feet, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to calm myself, failing miserably. The reality of never seeing Tommy again hit me like a ton of bricks, and my heart ached with every breath I took.

Soon Jake came over, positioning himself in front of me before pulling my head into his lap, consoling me. My body shook as I let my sobs out, and Jake held me tightly, giving me the comfort I desperately needed. I couldn't help but thank God that Jake was here at this moment, or else I might have crumbled under the weight of my grief.

It felt like forever, but I finally stopped my crying, standing to my feet. I wiped my eyes before looking at Jake, his eyes full of concern for me. "We should get you home, Y/n," he said softly.

I nodded, my eyes still fixated on the ground. “I want to go to the lab actually," I said to Jake. It was how I usually handled stress, burying myself in work until hours had passed, and I couldn't tell which day it was, my mind occupied to capacity.

He nodded, following my lead. The walk was silent, and I didn't have much to say, lost deep in my mind, knowing that I would leave this planet tomorrow for who knows how long, forever maybe. That brought slight comfort to me, knowing I'd be gone from where Tommy was cruelly taken from me.

As I got to my lab, I put on my lab coat, gloves, and started to work, and within minutes I was lost in my research.

As I looked to my left, I noticed that Jake was still there looking quizzically at a screen that showed a picture of the Na'vi, the inhabitants of the planet I'm to leave for in the morning. I looked at him and let a huff out a little smile on my lips. I had just finished my research and was packing up to leave the office when one of my superiors walked over.

"Looking Good Y/n, don't forget to pack up your research we're heading out early tomorrow," he said.

"Yes, sir," I said, getting up from my chair.

He looked at Jake and then back at me. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was thinking.

"That's Jake Tommy's twin brother," I said, hoping it would answer his unspoken question.

He looked at me like he just got the best idea ever.

"He can take Tommy's place Y/n , in our Avatar program," he said excitedly.

"But he's not a scientist," I rebutted, unsure of what he was asking of me.

"Doesn't matter, they care more about their money not being wasted, so convince him," he said before walking off.

I huffed out a breath, hesitating before slowly walking to the other side of the lab that housed the avatars. It was a familiar routine, but now it was different.

I smiled slightly at the small figures, resting my hand on the amino tank. They were the future of humanity, our ticket to survival and a new world. They would grow en-route to Pandora, the planet we had spent countless years searching for, and eventually inhabit it.

But my heart instantly broke at the sight of the tank that was next to mine, knowing that the last of Tommy's DNA lay inside it.

I heard the faint sound of wheels rolling, and I turned to see Jake entering. "Hey, are they supposed to be the avatars? Tommy told me all about them, even though I never understood," he said, looking around the lab in awe.

I nodded my head, laughing slightly. "Yeah, these little guys are our hope for the future," I replied.

"That one is supposed to be his," I pointed to the tank next to mine.

Jake walked over to it and placed his hand on the glass. "It's amazing to think that a small creature like this could hold the essence of someone like Tommy," he said quietly.

I nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of the responsibility on my shoulders. We had to make sure that these avatars made it safely to Pandora, that they thrived and grew, and that humanity had a chance to live on. No easy feat seeing that the Na'vi wouldn't trust us as far as they could throw us.

I snapped back to reality looking at Jake, wondering how I could possibly convince him to take his brother's place in the Avatar program. I knew that it was a long shot, but it was worth a try. I walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey Jake, can I talk to you for a minute?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure," he replied, turning away from the tanks and giving me his full attention.

"I know this might sound crazy, but I need your help," I said, taking a deep breath. "My boss thinks that you could take your brother's place in our Avatar program. It's a long shot, but we need someone who can think on their feet and adapt quickly to new situations. And from what I've seen and been told from Tommy , you have those qualities."

Jake looked at me skeptically. "I don't know, Y/n, I'm not a scientist. I don't know anything about the Avatar program."

"I know, but this is our one chance to get it right. We need someone who can make a difference," I said, my voice rising with passion.

Jake looked at me for a moment, considering my words. "Okay, I'll do it," he said finally.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Jake. I know this is a lot to ask, but I believe in you."

✨ 5 Years Later ✨

It had been a while since we've landed on Pandora, and we were still adjusting to our new bodies or at-least I was. I felt strange in this blue-hued, taller, and leaner body, but Jake was loving it. He was thriving as a Na'vi and even got us back into the good graces of the Omaticaya.

Our team had just finished their daily avatar un-linking routine, and I was rolling Jake's wheelchair towards his desk when he turned to me, eyes shining with excitement.

"How was your day?" I asked, settling him in, hoping for a moment to catch my breath.

"It was great," he beamed.

Jake had this thing about him, a contagious zest for life that drew everyone in, and as always, I found myself getting pulled in deeper every day.

"You should come with me, explore the forest," he said, reaching out to grab my hand.

I hesitated, "I don't know if I'm as skilled as you, Jake."

"Of course, you are," he said, tilting his head, earnest as always.

I couldn't help but let out a giggle at his enthusiasm. "Okay, wheels, see you tomorrow," I said, getting up and patting him on the shoulder.

I didn't go to sleep that night. The anticipation of exploring Pandora had overtaken my body, and my mind refused to shut down. I had been studying the planet and the Na'vi for months, but I hadn't been introduced to the clan yet. I wasn't even sure if they would accept me.

Mostly, I had been staying close to the lab, observing the wildlife and flora from a distance. Grace and Norm had offered to take me with them on several occasions, but I declined. I wanted to explore on my own, to feel the thrill of discovery and the rush of adrenaline as I ventured far out into the forest when I was ready.

To combat my antsy feeling, I did what I do best - bury myself in work. I pulled out every project I started, analyzing each one. But the way everything was connected on Pandora caught my attention. I didn't quite understand it yet, but it was fascinating that it existed.

I worked tirelessly, losing track of time, until I was suddenly jolted by the sound of the bustling of the crew. I rubbed my eyes, adjusting to the lights that were now switched on.

Jake was next to me shortly after, smiling eagerly. I smiled back at how excited he would be to link with his avatar.

"Come on, Wheels," I said, going to my pod, laying down, and closing it.

I woke up in my avatar, my ears twitching at every sound. Still getting used to my super hearing, I walked outside where Jake was already waiting for me. He grabbed my hand, pulling me behind him. I giggled a little at the tiny loin cloth he had on.

"Is that uncomfortable?" I asked

"It's great," he said, smiling.

I laughed at his childlike excitement. As we got deeper into the forest, I couldn't help but admire everything.

As soon as we stepped foot into the forest, I was greeted by a symphony of sounds. The rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, and the gushing of the rivers - it was as if the forest was singing to me. The air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the damp earth.

As we walked deeper into the forest, I came across a grove of trees that glowed with a soft, golden light. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. The trees themselves were ancient and gnarled, but the light made them look otherworldly.

I looked out at the breathtaking view, I knew that I had made the right decision. The vibrant oranges and pinks of the sky reflected in my eyes, filling me with a sense of calm and serenity.

Jake appeared beside me, his signature smirk on his face.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said, his voice filled with wonder.

I nodded, still unable to form words.

"So beautiful, I should've done this earlier," I finally managed to say.

Jake chuckled. "Better late than never, right?"

"Come, I want to show you something." Curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't refuse his offer.

We walked for a while until we arrived at an open field, the grass tall and swaying in the breeze. Jake led the way, and I followed. As we walked, fan lizards suddenly flew through the air, their colorful wings lighting up as Jake laughed at the sight of them. It was a moment of pure magic, and I couldn't help but feel enchanted by the scene.

We continued through the field, and I noticed the ground was soft and spongy like we were walking on clouds. And in the distance, I saw a burst of multicolored flowers, and my heart filled with excitement as we approached.

As we came closer, I saw a circle made of those blooming flowers, and each petal was glowing with a bright light. Jake led me to the center, where a small shimmering pond lay surrounded by the same flowers.

Jake took my hand and led me to the edge of the pond, whispering, "Look, watch closely." As I leaned forward, I saw the reflection of brightly colored fish swimming in the pond. Each fish was glowing in a different color, and their movements were synchronized as they swam in unison.

Mesmerized, I gazed at the scene as time seemed to slow down. It was a moment of pure wonder, one that I knew I would never forget.

As we left the field, the fan lizards flew alongside us as if to say goodbye. Tears welled in my eyes, and I hugged Jake, thanking him.

"Hey no problem, I'm glad you liked it," he said, his head tilted with a smile, his golden orbs locked onto mine.

I looked down bashfully, feeling my cheeks flush. Jake laughed at my demeanor, using his hand to tilt my face so that I could look at him.

"Awe come on, don't play shy with me," he teased.

"Oh shut up Skxawng." I said lightly pushing him, my laughter in the air. "We should get back before grace kills us."

"Oh come on Y/n, loosen up a little, let's have some fun." He said, running and holding my hand, leaving me no choice but to follow him.

"Slow down Jake." I said, trying not to trip over my own feet.

He jumped into a lake, still holding my hand, dragging me in with him. The cold water hit my body, sending a rush over me. I swam to the surface, gasping and letting out a little shriek.

"What the fuck Jake?" I said, looking over to him, laughing. "Come on, that was fun." He said, swimming over to me. I splashed him, laughing along.

"I love this fucking place." He said.

I finally turned my attention to the scene. Everything around us glowed, I watched as the fish swam upstream, the algae in the water a beautiful purple color. A soft smile rested on my face. I looked at Jake to see him looking at me already.

"What?" I asked, a smile still on my face.

"It's almost as beautiful as you." I smiled widely, "you're such an idiot Jake."

I started to make my way to land with Jake behind me.

When I finally reached the shore, I shuddered as the cold air hit my wet body. I was trembling and Jake noticed my discomfort with immediately. "You're shaking like a leaf, let me help," he said, wrapping his body around mine to create warmth. I pulled back to look at him, taking in his handsome features and captivating golden eyes. I couldn't help but notice how close our bodies were, and a deep sense of longing washed over me.

We stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like forever. "Jake?" I whispered, before we both started to lean in. As our lips brushed together, I realized what was happening and wiggled myself out of his hold before things went any further. "Ummm... we should get back," I said awkwardly.

He nodded, leading me back to the lab. As we walked in silence, I couldn't help but think about what had just happened. Am I really attracted to Jake? I knew we couldn't be together. We were coworkers, in laws ? getting involved would be complicated. But still, the temptation was strong.

When we arrived back at the lab, Jake turned to me with a sad smile. "Goodnight ," he said, as he rolled away. I watched him go, feeling a sense of loss I couldn't quite understand. The rest of the night passed in a blur, my thoughts consumed by the forbidden attraction between us.

Despite our little dilemma I was determined not to let it affect our exploration, now that I’ve been out in the forest I was not wasting any more time in the lab.

I rose up from my bed excited to find Jake and convince him to take me out today. And find him I did sitting next to Norm eating breakfast.

I took a seat next to them “good morning you two.” I greeted cheerfully.

“What’s got you so excited?” Norm asked.

“Jake took me out yesterday. And he’s going to today.”

“I am?” He chimed.

“Yesss, now hurry up, my poor avatar is probably still cold.”

“Okay.” He said, scarfing down his food as fast as he could.

We made it to the link units, getting in.

I woke up in my avatar body moments later, a rush of excitement filling me.

_____

I pressed the button to my camera starting my video log. “It's been months since arriving on Pandora, and I couldn't be happier with where I am today. I've seen more of this world than I could've ever wished to see, done more than I could've ever wished to do, and learned more than I ever could've imagined. I've even become one of their trusted teachers and healers, alongside Grace.The only thing left to do is tame an Ikran, but I'm not sure I'm up to the challenge. I sighed, thinking about all the adventures I've been on with Jake. “Oh, how I wished you could’ve been here Tommy to see us thrive and share these experiences. He’s taking good care of me Tommy.” I said ending the video.

I smiled, thinking about all the time that Jake and I seem to be spending now. I loved every crazy adventure he took me on, every silly word that came out of his mouth. I found myself giggling at the memories.

Jake entered the room, settling himself beside me and asked, "What are you laughing at?"

"You, actually,and all the craziness you seem to get me into.”

His charming smile always seemed to get to me, making my heart melt. I couldn't help but smile back as he gestured toward the link units.

"Come on, let's go do some more craziness," he said.

I grinned, hopping into the link unit. I opened my eyes, sitting up looking for Jake, who was already on his feet, lending a hand to help me up. I took it, standing up.

"Where to?" I asked, my eyes twinkling with excitement.

He yipped, calling his Ikran, which landed in front of us.

"Are we really?" I said in excitement.

He chuckled at me, nodding. "Now get on."

I quickly ran over, hopping on to the back of him, my hands around his waist before we took off into the night sky, but not without me letting out a high-pitched squeal.

I felt adrenaline rush over my body, and I felt so alive being in the sky with Jake. I put out a hand, feeling the cool clouds on my fingers. Pandora was even more beautiful from this view.

As we soared through the skies, I couldn't help but feel as if time had slowed down. It was just me, Jake, and the vast expanse of the midnight sky. We flew over rocky cliffs, dense forests, and glittering rivers, the wind whipping through our hair.

We landed shortly after, my body still buzzing with excitement. “Thank you so much Jake, I loved it, maybe I will tame an Ikran.” He smiled, taking my hand into his, interlacing our fingers. “Come, let’s sit,” he said, dragging us toward a lake.

We sat with our feet in the water. I watched as glowing fish swam past my swinging feet. Jake scooted closer, taking both my hands into his. I looked up at his glowing face, intrigued by what he was going to say.

“Thank you Y/n for convincing me to go on this crazy journey. I have never felt so alive, thank you for giving me a second chance.” I felt tears brimming in my eyes at his words.

“Oh, don’t go soft on me, sweet girl,” he said, a smile on his face. Before I knew it, we were both leaning in, our lips connecting in the most passionate kiss that we had both longed for.

We pulled away, and I stared into his glowing eyes. “I know it’s complicated and maybe we shouldn’t Y/n, but I love you, I love every moment with you.”

I felt myself freeze for a moment, not knowing what to do with all the emotions I felt. I had been carrying these feelings for months now, and they had finally bubbled to the surface.His glowing eyes searched my face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concern etched on his handsome features.

I didn't answer. Instead, I pulled him close, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my lips to his in a long, passionate kiss.

As we pulled away, I whispered, "I love you, Jake."

He sighed, pulling back just far enough to rest his forehead against mine. Our noses touched, and I could feel his breath on my skin.

In that moment, I felt whole again, a void that had been empty now filled. I realized that we had both Lost to love again.

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embermc · 27 days

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It’s actually such a shame that book-accurate Frankenstein adaptations are so difficult to come by, specifically ones with accurate representation regarding to Victor himself. I feel like, as much as the creature has been flanderized over time into this unintelligible green dude, Victor has also just become a caricature of a person he never was. Of course, there are things that would need to be changed with adaptations to other media or that, with a more modern audience, maybe should be changed (im looking at you, sister-cousin-wife subplot), but I feel like there’s something important lost when I keep seeing adaptations with Victor as some old guy with multiple degrees creating the creature in his old gothic castle.

In my interpretation of the novel, it’s always been so integral to the themes of the narrative that Victor is a naive college student stepping out into the world for the first time, convinced his opinions on things he barely knows anything about are more logical than those of old academia, and who is wholly unequipped for anything that’s about to happen to him because he’s a teenager. His initial panic and abandonment of the creature shifts to such an extreme degree when it’s no longer interpreted as something done by an experienced adult in his field, but rather an (already unhealthy) college kid who just completed his first real experiment and then quickly realized how in over his head he actually was when it turns out so vastly different than anything that had ever been done before. So much nuance is lost from his characterization when you remove the detail that he begins his experiment as a seventeen-year-old boy who has just lost his beloved mother and experienced death for the first time, who then becomes determined to never let this grief touch his loved ones again. Of course, he’s still very ambitious and self-aggrandizing during this process, but to make this his entire character by removing his naive youth is doing a great disservice to his writing, in my opinion.

#frankenstein #(more specifically 1818 or 1832 frankenstein ig)#victor frankenstein #mary shelley

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duskspring · 7 months

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What Once Was - Sodo/Dewdrop Angst Fic

Summary: Sodo/Dewdrop mourns the things and people that were, Mountain comforts him.

Content: Angst, grief, guilt, hurt/comfort, description of death and murder. (And if I forgot anything, please do let me know!)

Word count: ~1.8k words

Disclaimer: I personally try to steer clear of calling him Sodo, but there's a reason why I did it for this fic. Also, this is not compliant with my usual personal headcanon but I did it for the angst!

[Read it on AO3]

Rumors always go around faster than the truth. At least, that's what Sodo tries telling himself.

It can’t be true. It can’t be true.

It’s the dead of night. The ministry has significantly cooled down since the afternoon and it’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Ghouls have little need for sleep, however, so most of them are hanging out together, watching a movie.

All except Sodo.

He watches his ceiling like it’s a movie, his mind filling in the blanks. He continuously moves his fingers as if he’s playing a guitar, needing to fidget in some kind of way. How could he face his bandmates in his current state?

It can’t be true. It can’t be true.

There were talks, speculations, people looking to shock others…

What if Papa III could come back?

Sodo loves the idea of reuniting with the one who summoned him for all but a second before realizing what must come of the current Papa in that case.

Sweet, dear Copia. Someone he has been working for way longer than he ever knew the third papa. And yet, the bond of a summoning is something unbreakable.

But will Terzo come back and cause something to befall Copia or will Terzo only return if something happens to Copia?

Maybe all it took was one little accident-

Sodo shoots up from his bed.

No. No!

Memories he so desperately wishes he could bury rush back to the surface of his mind:

He’s done it before.

It’s a secret he fully intends to take back into the pit with him. But someone had to take care of the first three Papa’s. It’s not like he had chosen to do it. He had gotten clear orders. He hadn't wanted to. He'd had no choice.

And now his head plays it all back again for him like it has so often before. A movie made in his mind to do nothing but torment him: stabbing the syringe into his summoner's neck, remembering the man falling head first onto the table and later dragging him away. He had looked down at Terzo’s lifeless body as he carried it. He’d been so fixated on the lack of his facial movements, how he was so uncharacteristically quiet for once. It hardly felt like Papa anymore. Now he was just a body. A has been.

Sodo doubts he would ever be forgiven, even if Papa were to come back. Though there is a chance of Terzo not having realized it was him who killed him, he would never be able to act like all was well knowing he would force the man to stand next to his own killer.

There is simply no going back. Even if it is possible, it’s not something Sodo should actually want.

But…

This isn’t just about Papa. The fire ghoul never really admits it to anyone, but there are times he misses his original bandmates.

Against his better judgment, he reaches under his bed. With shaky hands he retrieves the framed picture that he hides there.

It shows him at the first ritual he ever played at, him and all the others lined up to take a bow.

He sees Terzo, Mountain and himself, but more importantly his focus lands on Ifrit, Zephyr and Aether.

He now only has Mountain left. But Mountain doesn’t feel the same. He seems to have moved on immediately, getting close to especially Rain and the ghoulettes, but really everyone.

And it isn’t like Sodo doesn’t care about his new band. They are family, he loves them. But Mountain appears to not even spare a single thought to those who came before.

In the past Sodo would’ve shared these feelings with Aether. They often reminisced together, but the quintessence ghoul always managed to spin it in a positive light. Something about processing grief in a healthy way.

Aether.

That very second, a teardrop lands right over Aether’s face on the frame. It’s the first time Sodo becomes aware that he’s started crying.

He tosses the frame to the ground, where it miraculously doesn’t shatter, and changes the way he sits to furiously punch into his pillow, attempting to get his rage out without being too loud.

Internally he damns Phantom to the deepest reaches of the pit. A replacement, that’s all he is. A poor copy.

He doesn’t even dislike his new bandmate. In fact, the two have hit it off quite nicely. None of that matters at this moment, though. Sodo would give him up in a heartbeat to have Aether back. He would sacrifice each and every last person and ghoul in the whole wide ministry.

His tears flow even more freely now, his chest spasming with his uneven gasps for air. He attempts to keep it down, especially with the footsteps that are now slowly approaching his door.

Then a knock, “Dewdrop?” His ears perk up at the name. A water ghoul name. It’s enough to freeze him up, end the sobbing and catch the breath in his throat.

After a second or two he comes back to his senses, “Fuck off, Mountain.” His voice cracks at his attempt to yell back to the one person left who has known him as his previous element.

Nonetheless, the door opens against his wishes. Sodo refuses to turn around, not wanting for his bandmate to see his twisted, devastated face.

“We finished the movie, but we’re starting another soon. It’s your turn to pick.” Mountain briefs.

The fire ghoul doesn’t respond, hoping his silence will make his friend leave. Of course, it doesn’t work like that. Especially when his shoulders are still jerking with silenced sobs.

The door softly clicks shut, “What’s going through your head?” The mattress dips beneath the drummer’s weight.

The question is only met with more silence. It hangs in the air like a thick wall between the two. Alas, Mountain seems determined to burn said wall to the ground, getting a good guess in once he sees the discarded picture on the middle of the floor.

“Is it Aether?” The question comes out oh so carefully. He is a sensitive topic for all that have known him but especially Sodo, everyone knows that.

He tries everything to suppress his reaction. He unsuccessfully attempts to think of something else, he clenches his jaw and fails to take steady breaths.

But soon his facade breaks. And so does he.

Wordless cries stutter from his chest, still turned away from Mountain as if that would conceal his reaction. He falls forward on his bed, pouring his agony into the pillow which he clutches between his fingers, clinging on for dear life.

The drummer wants to help, but has also miserably failed in the past.

He puts a careful hand on Sodo’s shoulder, “Dew-“

“Don’t call me that!” The fire ghoul lashes out, finally turning around. The look in his eyes would scare any human away in an instant but Mountain sees right through it. He sees so much pain, “I’m not a water ghoul anymore! I don’t work for the third anymore! And I certainly don’t work with those ghouls anymore…” His words trail off into more sobs as he goes on. The gig is up. He’s given himself away and at this point he is too far gone to care.

“You miss them.” It isn’t a question.

“Don’t you?!” Sodo feels more and more like he is losing his mind, “Did they mean nothing to you?! Zephyr, Ifrit, Aether-“

“They were my everything.” Mountain’s voice is stern but not unkind or scolding.

Sodo doesn’t say anything, only crying further and letting out the occasional hiccup. He looks expectantly up at the other.

The earth ghoul inhales shakily, trying not to cry himself, “I don’t care if you believe me, but they were the first family I had ever known. When I lost that I didn’t think I’d ever come back from it,” He laughs humorlessly, “And in a way, I didn’t! That… grief never left and I highly doubt it ever will. But instead of waiting for the grief to shrink, I simply grew bigger around it. And I was only able to do so because of our new family. Even if it’s not the same, that doesn’t make it bad.” Tears start escaping his eyes as well, despite his efforts. Anyone can tell in a second that he is being sincere.

Sodo wants so desperately to take in all the words and never worry about any of this again. However, there’s one thing still hanging heavily over him like a storm cloud;

“Something’s gonna happen.” He states, his eyes focused on nothing in particular, blurrily staring off past Mountain and into nothing, “We all know it. Some kind of change is coming and I don’t… I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it. What if we lose more ghouls? What if we lose Papa? What if I disappear this time?” These are fears he hadn’t even expressed to Aether before, let alone anyone else.

Mountain finally makes another move to come closer. His long arms envelope his bandmate in one of the tightest hugs the two had ever shared. Sodo allows himself to return it, desperately clinging to any sense of the here and now.

“It’s like Papa said,” Mountain says without letting go, “‘Nothing ever lasts forever’. All the more reason to enjoy what we have, while we have it, right?”

Sodo doesn’t verbally respond, only buries his face into the other ghoul’s neck.

“How about that movie?” The drummer whispers after a silent minute, thinking perhaps the distraction would help, “It’s not good to let your mind spiral on your own. Let yourself feel the emotions, yes, but not like this. Not on your own.”

Satan, he sounds so much like Aether when he says that.

After a few semi-even breaths, the fire ghoul makes a sound of affirmation.

He gets carried to the common room, still cradled so closely to Mountain’s chest like he weighs nothing.

“Took you long enou…gh.“ Swiss' words die out at the sight of his friend in such a seemingly vulnerable position, Sodo usually being way more stoic.

The other ghouls all scatter away to the sides of their fully cushioned conversation pit. Mountain sits down in the middle of it, the fire ghoul now more on his lap.

Then the others all come back, wordlessly coordinating into position; Rain curls into Mountain’s, and by extension Sodo’s, left side. Swiss comes down on the right. Cirrus moves her tail around Sodo’s left leg and snuggles into it, with Cumulus holding onto her. And Aurora holds the right, Phantom behind her.

All at once, the fire ghoul is overwhelmed by the scents and purring of his bandmates. His family.

Maybe it won’t last forever. Maybe it will all end in the blink of an eye. But for now he gets to be there, surrounded by those he cares about most. There is only them, not another worry in mind.

[My masterlist]

#Getting back into sharing my writing is TERRIFYING #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #headcanon #nameless ghouls #sodo ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #the band ghost angst #ghost fanfiction #ghost bc #the band ghost fic

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