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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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“Psst. Shiro. Shiro. You awake? Shiro?”

If there is anyone, out there, who has just had their car stolen by a punk kid who reminds them to much of themselves, Shiro would like them to know:

Do not adopt the punk kid. The punk kid will grow into a punk young adult who does not know boundaries and loves to bother you in the dead of the fucking night, because heaven forbid he solve his own problems.

“Keith. I am going to kill you.”

“I have a question,” Keith insists, entirely unafraid of Shiro’s very real and very genuine threat.

Shiro groans loudly, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over his head. Maybe if he holds it steadily it will suffocate him to death. “Fuck off. Please.”

Ignoring him even further, Keith climbs over Shiro’s body, kneeing him in the spleen, like a cat perhaps, and settling down next to him. “I have a question,” he says again.

He has his stubborn voice on, because of fucking course he does. Shiro is not going to be successful in ignoring him.

He groans again, much louder this time, and drags himself out from under the blankets. He glares at his brother as nastily as he can, seriously considering beating him to death with his pillow. Keith must read the look in his eyes, because he scooches back slightly.

“Did I ever tell you that you’re a punk fucking kid?“

“More times than I can count physically,” Keith says pleasantly. “You may have called me that more than my name, actually. I have a lot of intense psychological trauma about it.”

Shiro laughs despite himself, breaking the unspoken game between them. The smile finally breaks free on Keith’s face, wide and boyish and frustrating.

Shiro has to give him a noogie. Like, contractually.

“Aw, Shiro, fuck off! You’re gonna mess up my hair!”

“Can’t mess up the already messy,” Shiro taunts, making sure to cause at least three tangles. Keith makes a freaky growling noise, like one of those little rat dogs that feels it has been wronged, and the next thing Shiro knows he’s being bitten.

“Jesus — ow, Keith! Unclamp! Bad feral desert child! I’m going to get the fucking spray bottle!” Shiro finally manages to wrestle his arm back, kicking Keith right off the bed and holding a pillow in front of him for protection. “Gollum ass bitch!”

“My precious,” Keith hisses in response, muffled from his place on the floor.

Both of them are silent for a moment, desperately trying to muffle their panting so the other doesn’t know how out of breath the wrestling made them.

God, Shiro wouldn’t give up his punk fucking kid for the world.

“Why did you wake me up, you brat?”

“The team is panicking and I’m not allowed to tell you about it,” Keith explains easily.

Shiro leans over the side of the bed, quirking an amused eyebrow. “So why are you telling me about it?”

Keith shrugs. “Because they’re being stupid! Don’t bother Shiro, Lance says. It’s supposed to be a surprise, Lance says.” Keith scoffs. “I don’t get it. We’re struggling, we need help. Who the fuck else would we ask?”

Shiro opens his mouth, then closes it again. His eyes well up.

“Oh, Shiro, don’t start,” Keith groans, smacking his palm to his forehead. “Dude, come on, it wasn’t that big of a deal —”

“I’m your backup plan,” Shiro wails, trying and failing to contain himself. He buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with the force of his cries.

“Aw, you big loser.” Keith crawls back up on the bed, throwing an arm around Shiro’s back and patting gently. He lets Shiro cry himself out for a few minutes, hand rubbing constant circles on Shiro’s back, and then he freezes.

Mischief is suddenly in the air.

“After all,” Keith says, and Shiro can hear the glee in his voice. “you’re six whole years old, today. Practically a grown-up!” His voice gets high-pitched, condescending. “Are we having some big boy feelings there, sport? Are we —”

“I am going to kill you now,” Shiro announces pleasantly, and it’s the only warning Keith gets before he’s tackled to the ground.

———

“I can’t believe you actually tried to kill me,” Keith pouts. He pokes at a bruise on his arm and then looks at Shiro, expression as pitiful as he can make it. “You’re abusive. A bully.”

“Mhm. Shut up.” Keith grumbles when Shiro throws his arm over his shoulders, guiding them down the hallways, but allows it. “You said you had a question, when you woke me up in the dead of the night like a particularly annoying mosquito.”

Keith brightens considerably. “Oh, yeah! Happy birthday. The team is trying to plan you a super secret birthday party, but you usually plan the team birthday parties, so it’s fallen into chaos. Lance keeps trying to climb the cabinets in the kitchen to hang things from the ceiling. When I left Hunk was threatening to shove him in the oven.”

Shiro can’t help his smile, big and wide and goofy. “Is Pidge panicking and reorganizing the kitchen based on a convoluted colour-coding system?”

“Yep.”

“Allura’s smuggling gigantic bottles of glitter into the room and trying to put it everywhere for ‘festive joy and sparkles’?”

“Mhm.”

“Coran is trying to stop her but keeps getting distracted and pulled onto the side of the glitter?”

“Absolutely. She bribed him with orange glitter and he dropped off the rational side immediately.”

“Excellent. Hopefully she’s managed to cover things in pink.”

“Oh, she brought in extra just for you.”

Shiro sniffles again. His arm tightens around his dorky brother, who rolls his eyes at the sound but doesn’t tease him again. “And Hunk? How many people have been smacked with the Spoon of Doom for trying to eat the cake?”

“…None.”

Keith’s shiftiness startles the tears right out of him, and he laughs loudly. “How many times have you been smacked, you sugar fiend?”

“He made you triple chocolate cake!” Keith defends. “I just wanted to quality check!”

“You should tell Hunk you want to ‘quality check’ his stuff. I’d really enjoy seeing him throw you bodily down the hallway.”

“Say, has anyone given you your birthday beats yet? You’re six years old, and there are six of us, so that means you get to get thirty-six —”

“Keith! Shiro!” They’re not even fully in view of the doorway when Lance calls out to them — those freaky bat ears of his, goddamn — and jumps off the counter, just barely managing to not trip and brain himself to death on the floor. He runs over to them, hugging them tightly and then dragging them towards the rest of the team.

“Interesting how you were the first one he called out to,” Shiro mutters, wiggling his eyebrows.

Keith scowls. His ears are red. “Shut up.”

“First one he hugged, too.”

“Choke.”

“Interesting, because it’s my birthday.”

“It’s going to be your last birthday if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

“Is he sparkling? He looks like he’s sparkling. Only when he looks at you, though.”

“Shiro, if you don’t fucking —”

“Everyone! The birthday boy is here!” Lance announces, saving Shiro’s life.

The team greets him enthusiastically, beams and hugs and kisses and, in Allura’s case, a baptism of pink glitter.

“Thank you,” Shiro tells her solemnly. “Both for the glitter shower and for not letting anyone tell you not to. Stick it to the man.”

Allura laughs brightly. “Of course not! The room needs to shine as brightly as you, Shiro darling!”

She sits Shiro down at his seat, everyone taking their seats around him. Hunk brings over the beautiful cake he made, deep and dark and chocolate and no doubt beyond delicious.

There are six and three quarter candles in it.

Shiro glances at his team flatly. “Really?”

“It’s the first of thirteen age related jokes,” Pidge says, grinning. “We each came up with one, and then Keith came up with seven more.”

“Shocking,” Shiro says drily. He shakes his head, unable to fight his smile. “All of you are ungrateful brat children. Even you, Coran.”

“I have forgotten more about being alive than you will ever know, child.”

“Is it because I’m only six?”

Coran claps his hands delightedly. “Yes! That is my joke! Did you like it?”

“I’m going to blow on my candles and wish you were all less annoying,” Shiro says.

He blows out his candles to the backdrop of his heckling team, squeezing his eyes shut. He keeps them closed for a moment, trying to think of something to wish for. He peeks one eye open, taking in his dorky team, wrestling and teasing each other. Pidge is looking dangerously close to grabbing a handful of cake with her bare hands and shoving it in Lance’s hair, because he’s poking her relentlessly over something ridiculous. Hunk is trying to pull him away, poorly concealing his own laughter. Allura and Coran are throwing handfuls of glitter in the air. Keith — that punk kid, Shiro’s best friend and better — has his chin in his hands, staring at Lance and pretending he isn’t.

Shiro smiles, soft and happy and satisfied.

He lets his wish evaporate into the atmosphere.

There’s nothing he wants that he doesn’t already have.

#happy birthday shiro!!#my love #vld #voltron #shiro #takashi shirogane #keith #keith kogane #broganes #pining keith #klance #team as family #big brother shiro #dorky shiro #fluff and humour #my writing #fic #longpost

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m3nt4llyr4v3d · 1 month

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As much as I have opinions on how Miraculous goes about its writing, damn are the ideas it brings up so juicy

Like I feel like there’s something to be sad about how everyone deals with their problems or their trauma. Like, so many of the characters have issues, and it’s so fascinating to think about the way they respond to them

Marinette has the entire safety of Paris on her shoulders and basically in a constant state of trying to fix things even when it shouldn’t be her problem in the first place

Adrien was raised to be as obedient as possible and doesn’t know jack about how to be a kid, literally has no ambitions at the moment, he’s constantly apologizing for things that feasibly wouldn’t be his fault and trying to fit whatever mold he thinks someone wants of him

Chloe’s mom left her and is verbally abusive and calling her daughter a failure for the entirety of Paris to see, so she lashes out at everyone around her and constantly uses her dad’s power. Also the fact that two fully grown adults manipulate her before she’s sent away, just awful

Nino’s best friend has the worst dad imaginable and he felt powerless about the situation wanting to help Adrien (seriously I hope they bring up Guilttrip sometime in the future it reveals a lot of really concerning things about the characters), so he tries to be the best bro to him and give him every experience he can

No idea what happened to Lila as her backstory is uhhhhhh, but that lying, the disguises (she literally came to school in one), and the fake identities had to have come from somewhere. I remember, before the whole 3-moms-thing, theories about her lying for attention because her mom is never home and she’s genuinely lonely, using a scene where she’s talking with Nino and looks actually upset as evidence, so that’s something to consider

Luka’s dad left, and he basically became everyone’s therapist, which he really really really shouldn’t be. We’re told he’s this chill, go with the flow dude, but when your response when hearing your current girlfriend (or at least the in between friend and gf) still likes someone else and saying “I already know that”, that’s just concerning. Dude’s everyone’s therapist, but is anyone checking on him?

Juleka has anxiety and still has unresolved issues with her dad leaving and coming back and (my memory is fuzzy here) not really interacting with her? She’s quiet and keeps a lot of emotions just bottled up cause she doesn’t express them verbally

This is stuff off the top of my head, but damn. As much flack I like to give to this show, thinking about stuff like this is what keeps that little part of me who loved the show years ago alive. Like, I genuinely don’t care what some of the characters have done, I think all of them need a hug and as much therapy as possible

#miraculous ladybug #ml marinette #ml chloe #ml adrien #ml nino #ml lila #ml juleka #ml luka #ml rant #ml critical #ml criticism #fixing the tags here

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what-are-you-willing-to-do · 2 years

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Can I request a platonic yandere black phone boys x mother figure reader?

where like she helps them through their trauma and takes care of them when something is going on with their home life or if their just upset?

And they’re super protective over her because of it

Now as a agender person I suck at writing fem reader, but since you made this beautiful request I’ll do the motherly/fatherly reader of course but just with they/them. This is more of after you helped them with trauma and they got connected. This also can be platonic or romantic however you see it I guess please enjoy ❤️

Finney:

•Finney is more of an insecure overprotective guy

•poor thing lost his mother

•I mean you’ve helped him so much

•you’ve always been a parental figure in his life

•standing up to bullies

•being there for him

•just all in all you’ve been very supportive of him

•now he won’t go borderline insane but he’ll do subtle things that no one could realize

•he’ll ask you for help with simple stuff, ask you for hugs and stuff like that

•all in the way to get closer to you and keep you away from people

Robin:

•Robins more of a low profile yandere

•he doesn’t wanna get picked on for being protective over a parent friend/partner

•he’ll do his best to hang out with you

•asking you for study help

•even cooking just to get close to you

•always watches movies with you

Bruce:

•Bruce is an odd one

•he will not talk to you for some reason

•when he starts getting protective it’s like he distanced himself

•he just doesn’t wanna be overbearing on you

•he has a big reputation he doesn’t wanna lose his shit if someone talks to you

•he loves you to much to do that

Vance ❤️:

•OOOH BOY.

•he absolutely adores you for being there for him unlike his actual parents

•This man is AN ANGRY POSSESSIVE YANDERE

•he will make it clear that he doesn’t want you talking to anyone

•he will drag you away from someone if he has to

•you think he’s aggressive now? Just wait till someone tries to get close to you

•He will unleash the wrath of Satan onto the poor soul

•Vance has definitely hurt you in jealous rage

•Not physically but emotionally

•he doesn’t have good parents he bottles everything up and let’s it onto you

•he hates himself for it but he can’t help it YOUVE been there for him so you won’t care surely?

Billy:

•Paperboys a sweet yandere

•I can see him being a bit of a overprotective guy but not really

•he’ll most definitely ask you if you wanna deliver papers with him

•to be fair he just wants to bond with you in the sweetest way possible

•the most possessive thing he’ll do his grab your hand to pull you away from a conversation

•he’ll most definitely let you pet Samson

Griffin:

•this fucking gremlin is smug and obsessive

•he’ll drag you away by crying about random stuff

•he doesn’t care if he’s labeled a crybaby he just wants your attention

•he’ll make sure you don’t have any plans that don’t have him involved

•going to a concert? He’s going

•going to a funeral? He doesn’t care if he wasn’t invited he’s going

Bonus!

Gwen:

•she’ll make it clear about her possessiveness

•she will lie about having a bad dream about the person your getting close to

•the guilt will be excruciating but she’ll deal with it for you

•always is with you

•she will go into the bathroom with you she doesn’t care

•she will cuss out anyone who tries to get close to you after her many warnings

•she’ll even get physical for you

•she’s lost her actual mother and her asshole father doesn’t help

•she’s not letting you go EVER

#black phone x reader #gwen blake x reader #gwen blake #bruce yamada x reader #vance hopper x reader #finney blake #finney blake x reader #griffin black phone #billy black phone #fanfiction #yandere black phone #slayyyyy

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pfhwrittes · 3 months

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riffing off the poll i reblogged re: your blorbos doing top surgery. so these are some vague headcannons on how the members of tf141 would look after a reader post top surgery.

pairings: gaz x reader, soap x reader, simon x reader (romantic), john price & reader (platonic).

warnings: gaz refers to reader as babe and calls the reader handsome.

note: i’ve written this reader to be a trans man but can be read as anyone who wants top surgery. also i am firmly in the camp that you DON’T have to have surgery to be considered transgender or to have your gender respected. fuck knows it’s a hard enough process here in the UK, i can’t imagine my healthcare being stuck behind what is essentially a paywall.

gaz would be a sweetheart. he’d get you drinks and painkillers. he’d move your cushions/pillows around as much as you wanted. he’d pretend not to see when you burst into tears over pain/relief/a weird sense of mourning and fear. he’d even help you to the bathroom and linger outside the door (unlocked, he’d insist on it being unlocked) in case you need help with anything. the man gets your favourite takeaway and doesn’t make a fuss when you only eat a little bit of it because you’re feeling a bit nauseous from the meds you’re on. checks on your drains and dressings and soothes you when you catch sight of the swelling. he reassures you with forehead and cheek kisses when you’re upset and reassures you with a gentle babe you’re so handsome and brave, i can’t wait for you to show off your chest when you’re feeling better.

price would handle it from a more professional perspective (i am not saying reader would be in the military but i am saying that the man deals with paperwork most of the time anyway so he’d handle it for your work). he’s already sent off copies of your medical note from the surgeon, he’s filled in the paperwork to get sick pay. less hands on than gaz (but that’s only because i can’t see price with a trans man in a romantic or sexual way) so he doesn’t overstep but as your friend he’ll bring you food if you ask and painkillers too. checks in with you and sends you book recommendations, music recommendations and the occasional meme (don’t try to tell me he wouldn’t send you memes. that man is a millennial he knows what a fucking meme is) when you’re well enough to complain about being bored.

simon would be kind of a dick about it. listen i don’t make the rules but he would. he’s supportive enough. he’d give you a ride back from the hospital and get you to wherever is the most comfortable but he’s a bit shit at looking after you (the man has no practice outside of emergency medical care). you’d have to text him to get you a drink or painkillers. healthy nutritious food? no. what flavour pot noodle do you want? never mind you’re getting a bombay bad boy because that’s all he’s got in the cupboard. emotionally he’s not great at expressing how he’s feeling about your recovery so he comes across as gruff but that’s mostly because he’s repressing a whole bunch of trauma and fear that things won’t go well. he won’t touch you apart from holding your hand when you ask because he’s worried he’ll mess up your stitches but still it comes across as a bit cold.

soap the darling man is just so fucking excited for you. it’s a bit much actually while you’re still recovering and yeah you end up snapping and it hurts his feelings a little but he’ll try to play it off as not a big deal. he’s just so happy for you (and for himself because he cannot wait to get his hands on you now that you’ll let him because your chest is the way you want it)! super affectionate, peppers you with kisses all over your face. he’s similar to gaz in that he’s all about making you as comfortable as possible and tries to preempt any requests you have (gets you bottles of water and can of irn-bru because that’s what he always wants when he’s feeling under the weather, grabs you as many snacks as you want). unlike gaz he’s enough of a freak to insist on being in the bathroom with you when you need to go, he says it’s to make sure you’re safe but he’s definitely using it as an excuse to touch you as much as possible until you’re fully healed up.

#cod fic #ftm!reader #binders and boyfriends #kyle garrick x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #john price and reader #kg #jp #jm #sr

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rubydevilcat-blog · 2 months

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⚠️LAES SPOILERS FOR LATEST EPISODE⚠️ (3/1-2)

This is a prediction for what will happen to Lunar and the future.

After seeing the recent episodes, I feel like something more will happen later on after March. With the lore being confusing, problems going on left and right, and with what Lunar just did. I feel like I may be able to at least predict what will happen later, for what Lunar will face in his character arc.

From what has happened, with Lunar killing Eclipse, and Lunar being in trouble with the Astro Bodies because of it, I feel like in this current month it is a perfect opportunity for Lunar to finally stop ignoring his trauma and problems and focus on it. With now the fear of the idea of him being a bad person, him losing Gemini forever, and even having Taurus and Leo after him to kill him. This is something that will scare Lunar enough to try to improve, take Gemini’s word and actually try to find some help.

But what does this have to do with my prediction? Well for my prediction, I’m theorizing how Lunar will improve, and what it will do to him later on.

I believe that once the Total Eclipse happens on April 8th, we will see Lunar find his inner peace and unlock something new 🌟

With the work Lunar is going to do to prove himself, to show he isn’t just a child, I know that during his arc he would deal with some struggles that may happen in the show: Possible nightmares, hallucinations, and also panic attacks. But through all of it all, what he needs the most is to finally get some Inner Peace for himself.

I believe that the reason why Lunar’s emotions are so connected to his powers, is because he has been bottling them up and ignoring it for so long it becomes to struggle to properly use it. So if he manages to process that grief, and trauma, he may be able to unlock Inner Peace, then later be able to finally master his Star power. But I believe we may also get something else, thanks to another artist🦈 we may have an idea on what will happen next.

(This is me explaining what I think will happen on April 8th)

As Lunar would finally find his inner peace, to process everything that happened, to prove he doesn’t need to be afraid of Eclipse anymore, and to show he won’t have to suffer because of the past. Taurus and Leo would soon come to Earth, won’t be waiting anymore as they go to find Lunar, to hunt him down as they are tried of Gemini constantly defending him. While Lunar has managed to find get some help, to finally overcome his trauma with Eclipse, I can imagine this won’t stop Taurus or Leo from finding him and killing him. This is where his Inner peace would come in hand. I can Imagine in that episode, either Taurus or Leo would blast their power against Lunar, and at first Lunar thought that he died again, until he was given a blessing.

It would feel like Lunar is in some kind of mind space, a land filled with stars with the star right in front of him. He is given a chance of life again, but this time with a twist. Since his original body would have been destroyed by the blast, his star power would be able to make him his very own Astro Body. Similar to how he looked expect fitting more into the theme of space with darker, more purple colors, it can prove to the other Astro Bodies that Lunar has finally learned how to control his star power, and shown them how much he has grown ever since the day he got the star power.

Him finally achieving his inner peace would have made his star power much more stronger, being able to be like the other Astro bodies. (Gemini once said that Astro bodies can die, but they can never stay dead) This would be a new discovery for the other Astro bodies, seeing a mortal becoming an Astro body, would be astounding. May even get Gemini to feel proud for Lunar’s accomplishments.

That is it for my prediction, I hope in the future we may get something similar to this, with Lunar’s character arc and maybe even him becoming an Astro body. But we will have to wait and see…

#tsams #tsams earth #laes #laes lunar #laes earth #laes spoilers #laes gemini #laes castor #laes pollux #laes Taurus #laes Leo #laes theory #sams theory #Lunar may become an Astro body

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sonnburn · 1 year

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No Means No, but Context Matters

Look, I have mixed feelings about the way Prapai confronted Sky, but my issues with the method doesn’t make the confrontation itself any less crucial.

I think some people are overlooking some pretty important context in their attempt to simplify Sky’s situation and maintain their bad faith takes on Prapai’s character. Because Sky is a sexual abuse survivor and Prapai’s intentions towards him in the beginning were sexual, they interpret Prapai’s pushiness as similarly abusive. But first of all, guys... it’s a BL drama. Of course Prapai’s intentions are romantic, that’s literally the genre! But him being sexually attracted to Sky doesn’t invalidate his efforts to try and help him.

“No Means No” is a rule specifically about unwanted advances that emphasizes sexual consent. It’s a valuable saying and I would never downplay that! But the slogan exists to address a very specific problem. It is NOT an irrefutable law that should be applied to any and all instances of human interaction, romantic or not, which is how I think some people are choosing to interpret it. “No Means No” should be respected in romantic/sexual encounters, but it should absolutely NOT be applied to people experiencing a mental health crisis.

Because when the person saying “no” is drowning, are we just supposed to let them?

As much as I want Sky’s boundaries to be respected, up until episode 9 I was legitimately scared for him. Sky had emotionally self-isolated, he refused to confide in anyone, didn’t rely on anyone, his best friend didn’t even know he liked men let alone that he’s an abuse survivor! Sky had bottled up all of his trauma and refused to process it. He just wanted to push through and ignore it. Like it or not, Prapai was the only one who noticed how much Sky was actually struggling, and the only one willing to push back when Sky tried to brush it off.

After that, we saw marked improvement over the next two episodes. When Sky got very sick his friends refused to let him help out at the faculty event and forced him to take it easy, and when he was in trouble with schoolwork, he called Prapai and asked for help. These were all positive developments for Sky building a healthy support system, one which includes Prapai.

I think there’s respecting someone’s boundaries, and then there’s letting someone become self-destructive. People say no for a variety of reasons, and as much as I wish everyone would just say what they mean all the time, the truth is that they don’t. People lie, people will smile and tell you they’re fine when they’re dying inside. So what do we do if the person who needs help won’t tell us the truth and we can’t read their minds? What do we do if the person saying no wants to say yes, but they’re scared to— maybe because they don’t want to burden anyone else, or they’re afraid the person they seek help from will hurt them instead. How do we let someone know that it’s okay to ask for help? That it’s safe to. That we want to help them.

The answer is you keep asking. You keep showing up and checking in and making sure they know you’re there for them until they’re not scared anymore. Until they’re ready to trust you. It’s about remaining consistent. If you just take their first no and leave, then yeah you’ve technically respected their boundaries, but you’ve also just proved you are NOT the person they can trust to help them. It is a very fine line to walk when someone suffering needs help but can’t ask for it, between taking someone at their word and giving them the space they need to process, or just checking out of their problem and leaving them trapped inside their own heads to deal with it alone.

Prapai is only human— he’s allowed to struggle between his own desires and doing the right thing. He’s allowed to get hurt and lash out. Regardless of Prapai’s romantic inclinations, his actions serve a greater purpose than just getting Sky to fall for him. Prapai is, at his core, a caretaker. He wants to help Sky, and the only way to convince Sky that he is someone who can help him is to keep showing up and proving that to him. To pull Sky out of his head when he’s spiralling and challenge his negative beliefs that keep him isolated. Prapai doesn’t just not take no for an answer because he won’t accept rejection or because he doesn’t care about what Sky wants. He won’t take no for an answer because he knows that Sky needs help, and Prapai refuses to abandon him even when Sky tries to push him away.

Whether Sky wants to admit it or not, he was drowning. Just because he claimed he could save himself rather than take the risk that Prapai would drag him under, doesn’t mean Prapai was in the wrong for saving him.

#love in the air #love in the air the series #lita #prapaisky #lita sky #lita prapai #love in the air sky #love in the air prapai #sky love in the air #prapai love in the air #lita meta #lita analysis #the amount of people i see in the tags saying they relate to Sky #that they are the type of people who will say no and push people away and what they really need is someone who won't listen to them #and then see them be utterly overlooked and talked over because some righteous idiots can't imagine trauma survivors having different needs #is staggering and sad #proud prapai defender here #Sky needed help and Prapai helped him #that's what matters

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darklydeliciousdesires · 8 months

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Lost & Found - Chapter Seven.

A huge thank you to everyone for your readership and engagement. You are so wonderful! To the people who are reading but not offering commentary or reblogs, can I tempt you into doing so? It's so important to help an author get their stories out there, reblogging is crucial for that, and comments? Well, they're just lovely, to hear you tell us of your enjoyment! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six

Words - 4,170

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse in the coming chapters.

“How do you know if somebody has that thing, that... what’s it called? People who’ve been in combat get it a lot, but I can’t think what the official term is.”

Lee stuck her head up over the top of the bike she was working on. “PTSD?”

“Yeah,” Guero confirmed. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“There are signs, very clear ones,” she began, working a ratchet spanner back and forth, the clicking noise echoing through her small workshop. “Pass the grips.”

Picking them up, he placed the tool into her outstretched hand. “Like what?”

“Nightmares, flashbacks, depression, anxiety, triggered responses such as fight, flight or freeze. I take it you’re asking because of Emma? She still bad, not settling, getting upset?”

“Uh huh, all of that.” He sipped his coffee, turning to watch a ruck between Bottles and Downer breaking out in front of the clubhouse, the latter threatening to ‘kick you in the nuts, you fuckin’ four eyed motherfucker!’ as he worded it. “She’s settling, actually. Seems happy most of the time, but then she has these moments when she sinks into this trance or something, zones out. If she hears shouting, she cowers. If she ever thinks I’m mad at her, she does the exact same thing, too. And she has nightmares. Found her hiding in the closet two nights ago.”

“She said anything about it?” He shook his head. “Therapy and drug treatment. That’s how she’ll begin to process whatever it was that fuckin’ happened to her. It’s a tricky thing to deal with. Trauma differs so much from person to person. One person’s mild inconvenience is another’s utter fuckin’ meltdown, their freakout, their wall climb. Some find talking enough, letting it all out. Others need a cocktail of drugs to deal with it all. Sometimes, it’s a little of both, y’know?”

Lee’s advice was as sage and pragmatic as ever, her thoughts echoing what Guero had begun to think in the two weeks Emma had been in his life for. “She’s told me little things, but I’m not saying what. They don’t really help me help her either.” That didn’t surprise her. Guero was nothing if not loyal to a fault if somebody placed their trust in him.

She looked up again over the bike, a soft frown in place. “You might have to reconcile that she doesn’t want you to help her. You could even return home one night and find her gone, packed up, outta there.” Those words weren’t easy for her to speak, knowing Guero as well as she did.

She knew just by looking at him how much he was already dedicating himself to Emma’s cause, being the strong, male protector that he himself had missed out on in his own life, with his father spending so many years behind bars. It was something she picked up on in people, them becoming to someone else what they’d so sorely needed themselves, thus somewhat fulfilling their own requirement. Also, it was because his heart was huge.

He shrugged, draining his coffee before he replied. “I doubt that. She calls me her safe person. If it isn't me, then who? She’s in my house, Lee. I’m the one there dealing with her meltdowns.”

Finally managing to dislodge the corroded fuel hose she was working on, Lee pulled it free, examining the end fitting. “That’s for Emma to decide.” Pausing, she looked back up at him, chewing the side of her cheek as she began to smile. “You like her, don’t you?”

He sniffed, looking out over the yard. “Yeah, she’s nice, from the little I know about her.”

She snorted. “Cut the shit, Ortiz,” she began, Guero butting in.

“Oh, bitch means business, using the last name!”

Lee huffed, throwing him a soft elbow. “You know what I mean. You wanna go fuckin’ bang her six ways to Sunday, but you don’t wanna be that guy.”

“What guy?”

“The guy who puts the moves on the chick who’s PTSD’ing all over the damned place.” He rolled his tongue around the inside of his cheek, looking at the floor, Lee removing her work gloves and walking around the bike, placing a hand to his shoulder. “Thank fuck she imprinted on you, and not Downer.”

Guero winced. “Yikes.”

“On several fuckin’ bikes!” Jerking her thumb in the direction of the troublesome Norton she was working on, her eyes widened as she began to laugh. “You’re a good guy, Guero. Half of those motherfuckers - and god knows I love every one of ‘em - they perhaps wouldn’t have been so fuckin’ patient with her.”

“Angel woulda been all up in there from the first five minutes,” he snorted, Lee pulling out her cigarettes and lighting one up.

“Hmm, nah. She’d have been alright with him. His bravado around y’all is a front. He’s a fuckin’ puppy beneath it.” Guero didn’t look convinced. “Ever seen him around a chick in a low-cut top? Boy loses his damned mind with boobies. All ‘uhh, erm, uhhh, bluhh.’ His hard drive short circuits. He’s soft as shit. He ain’t got half the fuckin’ confidence people think he does with women. He’s only comfortable with the ones he’s platonic with.” Lee Losa; she was nothing if not the all-seeing eye, the governess of the MC, the one who saw them all for who they truly were. “You want another coffee in there?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get ‘em.” Walking with her over to the clubhouse, Downer watched them approach, beginning to sing.

“Come on, Eileen, ohhhh, I swear what he means, at this moment, you mean everything!” His serenade was coupled with a lewd jerking off gesture, Lee pausing, her cigarette between her teeth as she looked him up and down and re-tied her mountain of wavy hair.

“You do, and it’ll be the last fuckin’ time that little pin dick of yours ever spurts. This I promise you.”

A collective ‘oooooh’ sounded from the assembled men, Downer trying to think of a witty enough retort when Angel interrupted.

“Yeah, she don’t wanna see your small wang, bro. Yo, Lee. I got whatchu need right here, girl,” he teased, grabbing his crotch, Guero exiting the clubhouse and handing over her coffee.

“Oh, you got what I need, huh?” she began, winking at Guero before she pulled the front of her top down, pressing her boobs together with her arms as she pointed at her cleavage. “Your dick right here, hmm?”

“Er... um...”

She turned to Guero, smirking while nodding in Angel’s direction. “See? Short circuit.”

“Angel dot exe has stopped working,” Bottles contributed, the guys all falling apart, Lee almost spraying them with a mist of the coffee she’d just taken a sip of.

“I don’t even know what that means, prospect, but you ain’t funny,” Angel told him, shaking his head and muttering.

“Computer speak. I take it you don’t have one?” Bottles asked, Gilly piping up.

“Have one? He wouldn’t even know how to switch it on. Even if he did, he’d only have it for the porn.”

“And he’s so outta touch, he probably still uses magazines to jerk off to,” Guero added. “You can get Porn Hub on your phone now, old man!” he then yelled, as if Angel was deaf.

“Cum stained VHS of Girls Gone Wild, that’s his thing,” Gilly laughed, Lee throwing her head back in fits.

Downer snorted, grinning. “Nah, I bet he’s into donkey porn or some shit.”

“Fuck all of y’all, shit,” Angel announced, although he couldn’t help but begin laughing. “Hey yo, Bish!” he then called, a few seconds passing before the VP stuck his head around the clubhouse door. “Your woman is being scandalous again.”

“Who you fucking with this time, my little piranha fish?” he asked, his smile widening as he looked over at his love.

She nodded her head at Angel. “Him. I get the most reaction outta Reyes elder.”

“Hmm, fair. Carry on, he deserves it.” More muttering emanated from Angel, an eye roll too for good measure.

“So, you guys busy today, much on, doing anything?” Lee then asked.

“Nah,” Gilly confirmed. “Just stuff around the yard.” Since they’d begun their alliance with the Romano crime family, their outlawing endeavours had notably quietened. With a pay bump of ten grand each every four weeks, and a further ten stashed away by Angel for the club itself, they didn’t need to turn more profit than they already were. Mostly, they were there to keep Romero Brothers operating successfully, each member having a lot more time on his hands.

True to that, Guero left the yard at 3pm that afternoon, getting back home swiftly, arriving to find Emma just about to leave the house with Axl.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting you this early,” she spoke warmly, Axl receiving a scratch behind his ears.

“Yeah, all done unless I’m needed for anything later. Want some company on your walk?”

“That’d be nice, yeah.”

“Alright, wait here. I need two minutes to shower and change. I’ve been lugging metal around all morning, I stink.” Just over two minutes later and a much fresher man arrived back, dressed in black jeans, a grey vest and a dark blue plaid shirt over the top, the pair beginning to walk. “If we turn right here and then keep walking for about a half hour, there’s a bar that’s kinda decent if you feel up to going?”

Emma only left the house if it was to go to the convenience store or walk Axl, not yet venturing out for any other reason, hence his cautiously delivered question. “Um, yeah.” Her face brightened, that beautiful smile making his heart skip on a beat. “Yeah, okay. I guess I have to get used to being social at some point.”

“Yeah, and let me get to be the envy of every guy in there, turning up with a girl like you,” he spoke playfully, laughing softly when she immediately blushed. God, she was adorable. She had no idea how pretty she was.

He was surprised at her ease when they arrived, taking a seat outside while he went into the bar to order, returning with two large glasses of draught beer. It was nice, to see her looking neither tense nor nervous to be out. Then again, he was with her. The novelty of being her safe person still hadn’t worn off for him. He was just about to ask her how her morning had gone since he’d left her sleeping at 9am, when she suddenly began to point and flap her hands, her eyes widening. For a split second, he read it as a panic, until her smile confirmed it to be that of excitement.

He turned in his seat, not able to see anything notable. “What?”

“On top of the fire hydrant, look! Oh, it’s so pretty!”

Following her pointed finger, he saw it, the small, yellow bird sitting there, grooming itself speedily. “It’s a bird?”

“It’s a Goldfinch! I’ve never seen one in person before, they’re native to Southern California,” she gasped, delight lighting up her face before she suddenly felt a little dumb. “Sorry, I know I’m lame. I just really love birds, is all.”

He adjusted his facial expression immediately, replacing the slight bemused look with a smile. She shouldn’t feel bad about being excited over something just because he couldn’t see why it was special. In fact, as he thought on it, he had to admit there was something very pure about finding happiness in what was so seemingly innocuous.

“Don’t be sorry. Just because I don’t get it doesn’t mean you’re wrong,” he shrugged. “So, did you ever keep them as pets?”

Her eyes widened, placing a hand to her chest. “Oh no, I could never lock one in a cage. They belong to the sky; they should be free.” The beauty of her words touched him, sipping his beer with a smile. He’d never really considered it before, the injustice of keeping a creature that by nature wished to spread its wings and soar within the confines of a cage.

“We had a cat when I was little, who my dad named OB. Orange bastard. He used to hunt and bring us his kills, except they were never quite dead,” he began, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards as he remembered.

“He brought in a rat once and drooped it next to dad while he was asleep on the couch. He had this huge beard, and while he was asleep, the not quite dead rat tried to hide in it. It woke him up, ending up in him getting bitten and then spending an hour trying to catch the damn thing when it ran off. OB just sat there on the windowsill watching, looking smug as fuck.

“He’d bring in birds as well, again not quite dead and again, my dad’s job to catch while my mom hid in the corner screaming. He always threatened to drive him out to the middle of nowhere and dump him there, but man, he loved that cat to death. OB followed him everywhere, he even used to sit on the edge of the tub when he was in the bath, or go bother him while he was fixing his bike.”

Emma saw the obvious affection he had for his father, sad for him that the memories he had would no longer be built upon. “Can I ask, did he pass away because he was sick, or from something else?”

“Something else.” His tone left her under no illusion that it was because of the outlaw life, that his father had lost his. “I miss him.”

Reaching for his arm, she stroked over the tattooed flesh, her hand slipping to grasp his. He closed his fingers around hers, looking up at her, his gaze fond, Emma feeling her heart flutter. “I understand how it is to miss a parent. I miss mine.” He presumed she would clam up again, but to his surprise, she continued to speak. “My dad was larger than life. Really tall, loud, joyous. He used to spend all Sunday in the kitchen making the dinner to give my mom a break, but he’d sing so loudly and make that much mess, she never got much of one. His food was incredible, though.”

Guero snorted, remembering perhaps one of the last memories he had of Ibarra prior to his incarceration. “My dad could cook really well, too, but one time he tried when was drunk and ended up setting his beard on fire. Never again.” He continued laughing, remembering his monolith of a father slapping his smouldering beard with a kitchen towel, his mom then throwing an entire jug of water at him, explaining the scene to Emma, who joined him in the hysterics he fell into.

“How big was his beard, that he managed to set it alight?” she asked, Guero gesturing to his chest.

“About this long back then, but after he came out of prison, it was down to his stomach,” he spoke, her eyes widening. “Hold on.” Reaching for his phone, he scrolled through to his pictures, finding one of him and his dad taking a break while out on a run, both mean mugging the camera.

“Wow, that beard is something else,” she spoke, looking at the image. “I can’t see much of a resemblance between you, but you have his frown for sure.”

“Nope,” he agreed, continuing scrolling, “I’m pretty like my mama.” Turning the phone, he showed her the picture he loved most of him and his mother, Emma’s eyes widening.

“Oh my god! You’re like her male double!”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, smiling at the image. “Got mom’s looks and dad’s personality.” He shared with her a few other memories from his childhood, most happy, some not, especially over his first stepfather, Alejandro. He’d been glad his mom’s second marriage had only lasted eight months to the utter asshole who he’d learned had died not long after his mom had split from him. He was definitely no match for Ibarra.

After a few more beers, he noticed that the alcohol worked a charm for both relaxing her, and loosening her so far rigid tongue, Emma beginning to share stories from her own childhood in more detail.

“I was always a good kid, but I had what my grandpa used to coin as a devil streak,” she began, chasing a drop of condensation that ran down her glass with her fingernail. “I’d like to preface this by saying it wasn’t anything he didn’t actively encourage! I loved playing pranks, gluing coins to the sidewalk and then watching from the front window, people trying like hell to pick them up.

“My grandpa would take me to this joke store called Zonko’s, buy me stuff like fart putty, or those snakes in the peanut can, Japanese finger traps, fake blood, etcetera. I remember pretending to cut my finger off one afternoon to scare my brother, and it scared him so much, he let out this ear-splitting scream. I jumped so hard, I ended up cutting my finger for real, but nobody would believe me for a few moments, thinking I was still joking around. My mom had Dylan wailing, me wailing, fake and real blood everywhere. It was chaos!

“I remember my dad used to go check his garage for booby traps and the like before he started working on his bikes. He loved doing up old motorcycles, he was a real enthusiast. He never trusted that I wasn’t going to set him up, though! I used to go help him out, so I learned a little bit here and there, between him side eyeing me and waiting for something to get him!”

He chuckled, imagining the scene. “So, you’re a real practical joker then, huh?”

“Was.” The word was delivered with a sigh of lament, Guero squeezing her hand, hoping the flash of sadness that creased her pretty features would pass. It never failed to surprise him, just how quickly she could change from happy to haunted. Like always, he wondered why, what it was that had happened to her.

It took a few moments, but she brightened, smiling. “I’m having a good time, sitting here talking to you. You’ve been really good to me, and I appreciate that. I just want you to know.”

He winked, letting go of her hand as he stood. “I get that, since it’s been two weeks and you won’t stop making sure my house is cleaner than an operating room.”

“I have to be of some purpose,” she shrugged, watching him shake his head.

“You are by just being around, being you. You’re kinda awesome, you know.” His eyes toured her for a second, biting the corner of his lip as he grinned, turning to head back into the bar. He left her feeling like her insides were doing a backflip, Emma feeling excitement glimmer through her. It made her question though, whether he liked her, or if he was just being kind because of who she was, the circumstances they’d met under.

“He probably only likes you because of what you can do for him,” she muttered, picking at her thumbnail, her mouth tightening. “It’s all you’ve ever been good for.”

“Just be a good girl and make me happy. Give me what I want, and I’ll be good to you. You know what happens if you don’t. Come on, come be my pretty little whore.”

A beer glass being placed upon the table broke her train of thought, Emma jumping, the words, the voice from her past still ringing in her head as Guero sat down beside her again. His smile faded as he took in the spooked expression on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Nothing, I’m alright.”

He wasn’t so convinced by her words, seeing the flickers of sadness lingering in her eyes. “No, you’re not.” Scanning their surroundings with a frown, he tried to pick out what it was that’d obviously upset her, his eyes settling on a group of guys the next table over. “Did one of those douchebags say something to you? I’ll fucking smack ‘em down if they did.”

“Hey,” she spoke, running her fingernails softly down his arm, the action attracting his attention away from the table full of guys, who had done nothing wrong other than maybe being a little too loud, and who certainly weren’t the cause of her falter. “They didn’t do anything. I just remembered something I’d rather forget, so let’s carry on having a good time. It’ll help me. Forget, that is.”

She doubted whether it truly would, but she was determined to try. They stayed until close to closing, feeling a little too drunk to take the half hour walk home, luckily finding a cab driver who didn’t object to the presence of a large dog within his vehicle. Once they were back, Emma sorted out a very late dinner for Axl, she and Guero having eaten at the bar, standing back and watching the dog happily chomp through his food while she stood in the kitchen.

A soft smile spread across her face as she thought back over the evening, what a good time she’d had, all because of the man she’d spent it with. The only thing that marred it was the resurgence of memories from the life she’d left behind, Emma hating that she still felt bound by what had happened to her, that her past tainted the fresh start and new life she was attempting to carve out for herself.

She was tired of it holding her back, especially over what she sensed could truly blossom beautifully, if she just took the necessary step needed, move herself away from what was and towards what could be.

The only person who could change that was her, and so, when Guero joined her in the kitchen, she did.

“Damn, that’s the prettiest smile I think I’ve ever seen.” he spoke quietly, Emma pushing herself forward from her position leaning back against the counter, moving over to him slowly. Swallowing her nerves, she reached for him, her hands resting either side of his neck, their eyes drawing the other in with mirrored desire.

His hands moved to bracket her waist, Emma feeling her heart pound with nervous excitement as their faces neared, noses touching, Guero feeling his stomach tingle pleasantly when her lips finally met his. The spark continued to crackle as their tongues began to softly roll together, falling into each other's rhythm, his arms sliding to tighten around her.

Her insides felt fluttery with delight, experiencing the first kiss ever of complete mutual attraction with another, someone who kissed her because he knew she wanted it, not because he was forcing her to, Emma humming happily into his mouth with the elation of the moment.

She stroked his face, feeling breathless and floaty, his full lips so sensuous as they captured hers with dominance, yet it was soft, not overbearing. It made her feel overwhelmed, pulling from him with a quiet giggle, burying her face against his neck as she slid her arms around his thick shoulders.

“What?” he whispered, his thumb moving to stroke her cheek.

She pressed a kiss against his neck before emerging, the action sending a shiver through him. “I enjoyed that.”

He grinned, resting his forehead to hers. “Good. You can have another if you want?”

Biting the corner of her lip, she nodded. “I want.” Warmth blossomed through her as their mouths met again, Guero lifting her, her legs wrapping around him as he carried her to the bedroom, placing her down on the bed. Her kisses were warm and sweet against the slightly bitter bite of beer upon their tongues, his body pressing hers deeper into the mattress. Suddenly, though, she stiffened beneath him. He pulled away immediately, studying her with curiosity.

“I want to,” she told him, stroking his face, “but not while I’m drunk. I don’t want to be dulled. Is that okay?”

Nodding, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Yeah. Good job I don’t have plans for tomorrow.”

“Mmm,” she hummed softly, kissing him again. “You do now.” He laughed, kissing her again, feeling her relax against him. They got undressed and climbed beneath the covers, falling asleep wrapped around one another. That sleep was disturbed for them after a couple of hours, Guero waking to find the bed empty of her, turning to see the closest door slightly ajar. Not again.

He turned the lamp on before sliding out of bed, moving to crouch at the door and open it slowly, her eyes glazed and wide with fear as she looked up at him, her hand moving rapidly to point a gun between his eyes.

Having his own gun pulled on him. It was the second of firsts that night, and definitely the one he preferred less.

A/N - I know I've dragged this out, but I promise, the next chapter will reveal Emma's story entirely. It would have been unrealistic to have had her open up about everything she's been through immediately, and I think you all understand that, too. So yes, sit tight for the next update, it's going to be long!

#guero mayans mc #guero fanfiction #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc #guero x ofc #guero fanfic #mayans mc fanfic #mayans season 5

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elvensorceress · 1 year

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wip Wednesday

tagged by the incomparable duo @dickley-buddie 💕 @eddiediazisascorpio and the loveliest @spotsandsocks @bekkachaos @lostinabuddiehaze and @monsterrae1 💕

tagging @rogerzsteven @loveyourownsmiilee @ashavahishta @the-likesofus @ajunerose @gaydisasterdiaz @elfbuckleys @swiftiebuckleys @swiftiediaz @octobertulip @messyhairdiaz 💕

Here’s a little snippet of the Christmas fic I’m working on for the Hallmark holiday movie, 911 fest woo! ❄️ (It’s AU so Buck and Maddie are working at a hotel and he’s just met Eddie, who immediately insisted on helping Buck put up Christmas lights so Buck isn’t doing it alone.)

Buck pulls on the lines that move the window washing rig and the man easily attaches lights to the molding on the ledge of the building. He’s quick and efficient, and probably has gloves that don’t let his hands freeze. It is definitely faster, and better, working with someone.

“You can tell me anything,” the man says without looking at him. “If you want. If you need someone to talk to.”

Buck stares at him and isn’t sure he understands. Why would he offer that? How could anyone be okay listening to him ramble? Why would they want to listen? Could Buck really tell him anything? He probably could. They’re strangers. They’ll never see each other again. It won’t matter a few hours from now.

Although, now that he’s been given free rein to talk about anything, he isn’t sure what to say. It’s easy to talk when it’s about nothing. When it seems personal but really isn’t. He kind of wants to admit something personal. Just so he can say he did it. Just to know what it feels like to actually be open and honest, and free with his heart.

He used to be that way. Hopeful. He used to be like that.

He hands the man another roll of lights and lets him finagle the clips and the bulbs into place while he leans against one side of the rig and takes weight off his bad leg. “You’re sure?”

“I am. Go for it.”

Buck eyes him up and down. He’s such a weird rich person. Or maybe he’s just weird in general. No one wants to listen to Buck. Which, he always thought, was fair because wow can he ramble on about nothing when no one stops him. “Are you a shrink?”

The man makes a scrunched face like the very idea of such a thing smells worse than some of the rooms Maddie’s had to clean. “No. But I know what it’s like to keep everything bottled up until you want to scream. Or throw yourself off a building. As you seemed to have no problem doing. I figured it might help if you had someone who would listen.”

Fair enough. Fuck, though. He’s not just hot, but he’s kind. And stubborn sure, but he seems so genuine. Buck’s met plenty of people who fake being attentive and interested, plenty of people who act honest and sympathetic but don’t really care and only want to use you. Plenty of them. Including his most recent ex. Thank fuck that’s over.

This man doesn’t seem anything like that. He seems… too perfect to be real if Buck’s being honest. “Are you sure you’re not some kind of therapist?”

The man gives him a look and it has amusement in it even if he doesn’t actually smile. “I’m a veteran.”

“Ohhh,” Buck gives him a grin to make up for it. “So you’ve seen some shit is what you’re telling me. I get it.” He moves their cart a little further and unwraps tangled wires from the barrel holding the Christmas lights so his helper can place them.

“Something like that.” He hooks another light onto the ledge but it slips off. He frowns at it and it’s too ridiculously cute that Buck has to look away.

“Okay, then. Since we’re here and we’ll never see each other again and you asked…” What can he say? What does he want to say? He didn’t actually think anything through and he never tells anyone about anything real or important. Maybe Maddie sometimes, but not often. She has enough of her own trauma to deal with. He watches the man clip on another hook and place another bulb and glance at Buck expectantly. And maybe there is something he can talk about.

“Most people think I hate Christmas.” It’s small but it’s something. And it’s definitely not something he could tell Maddie. Christmas is her favorite. “A lot of things about the whole holiday season annoy me. There’s all the pressure around events and buying gifts and making everything perfect and spending time with family, and it’s only ever been another day to me. Even in my twenties, people liked to call me Scrooge and Grinch because I just. I don’t know. I was never raised with any religion or traditions or anything. My sister loves Christmas but we never… I only met her ten years ago. So I never really cared one way or the other about it for most of my life. All of my life.”

The man stops hanging lights for a moment and looks over at him. Maybe he won’t think that sort of secret means anything. Maybe that’s part of why Buck chose it. But it’s more of his heart than he thinks he’s given anyone.

Although… the way the man looks at him. It seems like he knows this or might understand it. Gently, he looks and gently, he says, “You never had a family. Or friends? Or people you love to spend it with?”

“I didn’t,” Buck shrugs. “But the thing is? I think the idea of it is nice. The sentiment of giving and kindness and peace and being with the people you love… I mean all of that is… It’s good. I like that part. When Maddie talks about why she loves Christmas, it makes me wish I could’ve had something like that. She had good Christmases with presents and fun decorating and making ornaments and cookies and watching cheesy movies and doing what she says are all the typical things. So, sometimes, when I hear about what it was like, I wish I hadn’t missed out. I wish I knew what it was like to enjoy Christmas.”

The man’s eyes are so deep and soft, Buck could swim and float and maybe never hurt again. He’d be weightless and protected. If all the warmth and gentleness in this man is true. But the man’s gaze goes somewhere and his face turns into a hard mask. “I had good Christmases. I had a lot of really good ones growing up. And I wish I could give that to my son. His mother also loved Christmas, and so he loves Christmas and I know he wants nothing more than to do all those fun Christmas activities and make those fun memories. And I wish I could give him that.”

Buck tips his head and wonders what changed, how it changed. “But you hate Christmas and everyone calls you Grinch, too, and now Santa will never visit your house and bring your son presents?”

The hint of something like a smile makes the corner of his lips curl ever so slightly. And wow, Buck did that. It feels unusual and unlikely and it’s infinitesimal, but it’s definitely there. “Something like that,” he says again in answer, then turns back to the ledge and their strings of lights.

#wip wednesday #jenwyn wip #fic: once upon a december #buddie wip #also I was going to make this G or T rated and then Buck was like fuck that have you seen him?? I'm THIRSTY 🥵#*insert shrug emoji*

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scalamore · 11 months

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[Psychoanalysis/Spoilers Pt 1] Lari's trauma/healing

What I particularly like about this series, where it stands out, is its portrayal of trauma and PTSD. It's never stated that lari has PTSD, but given her panic and anxiety when she thinks back to TL1, we can assume she has it. PTSD is just one of the manifestations of trauma, and can come in mild-severe forms. No matter the causative event, the process of healing from it is fundamentally the same: Those affected individuals need to be exposed, to some degree, to the event/cause that caused the trauma, to accept it, to overcome it, in order to take control of their own life/narrative. In modern day medicine, there's two main aspects to treatment: either with therapy and/or meds: Cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) is a talking therapy that can help you manage your problems by changing the way you think and behave Dialectical behaviour therapy (DBT) is a type of talking therapy. It's based on cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), but it's specially adapted for people who feel emotions very intensely. The aim of DBT is to help you: Understand and accept your difficult feelings and learn skills to manage them. + medication. But it's not sexy to read on how a person needs meds in a rofan novel lol. ANYWAYS. The point of CBT/DBT is simply to reframe the person's way of thinking. The person is completely valid in hating/fearing that event that is so triggering to them, HOWEVER, some people DO want to move on and move forward. Some people prefer to stay depressed and wallow in despair. But these are tools to help a person move on, if they wish. Breaking it down, Lari's source of trauma is the end of TL1: She 100% believes that Rupert is a maniac that completely, unnecessarily and violently killed her and her entire family. She spent the last few months of her life in jail, reliving their deaths over and over and being in complete despair. A huge barrier to Lari's healing, is that she has no one to talk to about TL1. She tried to tell her family, they said they believed her, but she knows they actually don't. She cant tell this to Riche or Aunt Amelia. At first, she wanted to keep it an absolute secret from Rupert's group, but at some point she wanted to tell him - but ultimately decided against it because she felt it was just useless information to him. So Lari unhealthily decides to cope but keeping it bottled in and dealing with it by herself, which causes so many conflicts in the main story. She also knows her family is suspicious, but she literally has no one else to trust. So she erroneously CHOOSES to trust in the wrong people, because she cling to what she was the truth - that her family loved her as much as she loved them, and would never to lie.

Her unhealthy coping habits is another post: She doesn’t fear the Rupert she knows and cares about from TL2, she fears the Rupert who could change at any time into someone she doesn’t know- Rupert from TL1. They are fundamentally the same person, yet so different at the same time. All she knows is he turned into a mass murderer at age 18, she knew nothing of his life or circumstances. she needs to be prepared just in case something happens when he is 19 that triggers this change. He’s 17-18 right now in the manhwa (ch 96)

But in terms of healing, ironically, Rupert is the key. By spending so much time with him, talking with him, and understanding and learning his true nature/personality, and how he won't harm her - she learns to question the past and move on - this literally describes CBT/DBT therapy.

Ultimately, Lari learns that her assumptions about TL1 Rupert were completely wrong, unjustified, and she was just blindly blaming him for everything without understanding anything - and this led to her blaming TL2 Rupert, who was completely innocent this whole time. It's HER who had issues, not him.

It's definitely a wake up call for her. This literally takes her the whole series - it is excruciatingly slow but steady process.

The more Rupert gets used to her and opens up, treating her kindly, the more Lari feels safe and does the same. The Lari who just regressed was completely murderous and wanted to kill him, who emanated fear and hatred at age 12, now sympathizes with him and wishes for his happiness at age 16. Her heart may have softened to him, but her brain still hasn't. She may trust him, but not completely.. There still remains that small part of her that can't truly trust Rupert, for fear that he'll flip a switch and turn into a tyrant - and that is the core of the climatic event. By this time, by seeing Rupert's actions, it is completely obvious how he loves and prioritizes her so much, and will do anything for her. Let alone kill her, he won't even let a fingernail get hurt. Lari knows this. But that seed of doubt in her heart still remains even until the end - What if he changes at the last minute? She spent so much time thinking about the Rupert in TL1, and could' figure it out why he turned out that way, if she's always seen the kind Rupert of TL2 (she doesn't know about Tory/Eva's manipulation). And because she chooses to keep her death and TL1 a secret until the end, it's what causes things to escalate that much in Vol 5. Given how Rupert responded to the truth, that whole climatic event could have been avoided if only Lari had told him the truth before it was too late. But this is the dramatic key event of the series, so of course it is unavoidable, but it is also important in that now that the truth is out, Lari has nothing left to hide, and FINALLY she can properly heal. There is no more secrets, no more need of appearances. She has nothing left to hide from Rupert - but it still takes a while to heal - another year in fact. After that, she's too afraid to face Rupert, not because of her worries that he'll hurt her, but rather because she's the one that hurt HIM because of her lies and deception. It does take some time, but eventually, Rupert is able to melt her heart and she opens up to him, finally having that face to face, heart to heart conversation about what she experienced in TL1. And that is what allows Lari to finally move on from her past. In summary: - Rupert is the key for her to move on from her PTSD - It took 6 years of constant interacting with Rupert for her to heal - The more she spoke to Rupert, the better her understanding of him, learning that he cares for her and wants her safe and happy, allows her to clearly separate Rupert from TL1 and TL2 - By understanding that he will never harm her, or her family no matter what, that he won't change suddenly, by him proving to her how much he cherishes her, and even him begging her to continue to live - makes her finally open her eyes to her new reality of TL2, that TL1 is in the past and she can't dwell on it anymore. She has to move forward. - it is very much a slow, steady active process; I would consider it active because she’s aware of her contradictory thoughts, of how she’s aware that TL1 and TL2 Rupert are different, but it isn’t u til the big event happens that finally slaps her to reality and forces her to accept the truth.

Some readers may complain saying that Lari’s path of healing is too slow, not active enough, she’s not putting enough effort in - I would say that each person’s journey of healing is different. Some needs more intense therapy, some need less. Some need more time, some need less. Some want to treat their trauma right away, some needs time to come out of their shell and begin treatment.

Within the limitations of the genre, I think Laris healing is reasonable - her daily interactions with Rupert, especially after he becomes crown prince, gives her daily reassurance that things will be ok, that she is safe now, that now she can stop obsessing over the past and think of her future - and once she and Rupert finally have a true heart to heart things improve much more and I think that’s wonderful :).

not to mention, it’s just not Lari’s priority to get over TL1 during most of the series. She can’t move on, she has to stay guard until the events of Vol 5. Luckily for her, the healing process had already started a long time ago :)

#your majesty please spare me this time #rupelali #rofan #manhwa #otome isekai

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regrettablewritings · 2 years

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1, 10, 12 and 24 for our grumpy captain of the rebellion Cassian? Thank you in advance!

I mean sure but be prepared for some angst cjefjdsj

1) Something this character is truly proud of: Pride and Cassian have a rather . . . complex relationship. Personally, he likes to think that he’s above that sort of arrogance, though he does unfortunately fall prey to the notion that he’s above others whom he personally deems aren’t “doing their part” in the time of war. After all, even though he’s a very “the ends justify the means” kind of guy, Cassian recognizes that he’s not exactly the nicest person. He’s had to do some pretty messed up stuff in the name of the Rebellion, things he sees as necessary but may deep down come to feel sickly over.

Not that he would let any of that show, of course.

Because at the end of the day, the one thing Cassian constantly holds a candle for is the fact that he’s spent so much of his life fighting for something bigger than himself. Of course, there were periods where he was just going through the motions, times even when he wanted nothing more than to run away from it all. But he’d quickly snap out of that because where could he even run to? Where was there some he could go that was free from the clutches of the Empire? Where could he go where his guilt over abandoning his people wouldn’t find him?

There simply wasn’t. And for a good while, he would feel ashamed for ever having thought of such treason against his crew, only for that to quickly be banished when he gazed upon the tired but determined faces of the Rebellion.

Some of them belonged to those who had been fighting longer than he’d been able to talk. Others were still young, still clinging to a hope that they might know what a galaxy without war looked like. Cassian had to uphold the image of determination, just as he had for all these years as he climbed the ranks.

There wasn’t much that a man like Cassian Andor had to his name. But if there was one thing he could keep with him, it was the knowledge that he was involved in something so massive that only a feeble mind would forget what all was there.

10) How they deal with pain: Oh, Cassian just Does Not, plain and simple. He takes all his pain (physical, mental, and emotional) and represses it like he’s a walking bottle of Daruvvian champagne. He’s been doing it for years and doesn’t plan on weening himself off that mechanism, predominately because he doesn’t see it as an issue. Never mind that it’s extraordinarily unhealthy, likely part of a vicious cycle of trauma, and just adding on to his ever-growing feelings of exhaustion and apathy.

Mon Mothma is, of course, constantly worried and gently tries to mind him about these tendencies but there’s really only so much she can do: How Cassian handles his personal issues is his own problem and unless they’re directly effecting his ability to enact protocol and missions, or are negatively affecting others on a drastic scale, there’s no real easy way to intervene. Not that there’s exactly a whole slew of professional mental help available on a Rebel base. (After all, medical droids can only provide so much help.)

Honestly, it takes the near-death experience on Scarif for Cassian to start opening up more – and it’s unfortunately due to everything crashing down on him, the weight of years of suppression finally becoming too much to bear.

Of course, he doesn’t exactly leap at the opportunity to expel these festering feelings. If anything, he initially is colder now more than ever, insisting that taking it easy even after something so traumatic would just slow them all down “when [they’re] already so close to the end”. Depending on how hard he insists, Mon might actually have to put her foot down and demand that he take time off to at least recover physically.

It would likely be during this recovery time that the visits with droids (and perhaps even a more humanoid specialist) that Cassian would slip in admissions of his thoughts and feelings between questions regarding his wounds. And not just his feelings as of recent – things that had been floating around in the muck of his mind since his youth: Concerns about himself and the future, his fears, his anxieties, how the heat of Scarif still burns at him when he tries to rest. How he was so used to the sound of blaster fire that it used to be white noise – until Scarif.

Part of him doesn’t like admitting these things. But the other part of him doesn’t care: He has to let go of this debris before it drags him in so deep that it would be as though he never left Scarif.

Is he certain he’ll ever leave the sandy beaches of Scarif? He doesn’t know. Isn’t sure he wants to know. But until then, he can’t help but give in to how his chest feels when he admits to the infirmary attendant that in last night’s dream, he didn’t make it off the planet.

It has nothing to do with the healing wound located on his abdomen.

12) How they sleep:

Unless you’re a high-ranking official within the Imperial Forces, there’s a very low likelihood you have what could be considered a decent sleep schedule, let alone sleeping space. Suffice to say, Cassian is like most who’ve gotten themselves involved in the war: He can and will sleep anywhere at any time if necessary. When he’s back on base, of course, there are quarters designated for resting. But sometimes even then he doesn’t make it to his cot: If need be, he will simply sleep in the hangar on his own ship. Wherever he can fit that is out of the way, time permitting, he’s going to find rest.

If he does get to sleep in his own bed, however, he’s very stiff. A back-rester. He really only winds up on his side if he’s had a particularly rough time getting to sleep. That being said, his expression is perhaps the most jarring feature of his: It’s calm for once, but Cassian’s features simultaneously look younger and older.

He looks younger because he’s not trying to force that cold countenance into place, not trying to put on this air of indifference with a devil-may-care attitude. But at the same time, because he’s not fighting back his worries and concerns, the lines that age and weariness carve into the face surface on his skin. The wear of the war blooms to the surface, making him appear somewhat paler with a hint of a furrowed brow. A more romantic-minded Rebel might come upon him and liken him to a sleeping prince . . .

Of course, this disappears the moment he wakes up and can recollect himself, forcing everything into tiptop shape worthy of a captain.

24) What they wish they could change about themselves: What do people think of when they think of Cassian Andor? Some picture a pretty face and a cold heart. Others think of bravery to the point of foolhardiness. The more merciful, however, tend to associate the man with confidence. Captain may not be the highest of ranks, but to rise to the position by one’s mid-twenties wasn’t anything to sniff at, after all: One needed to have plenty of strength to carry around that type of qualifying brass.

This does not mean, however, that there weren’t things Cassian wished he could improve upon.

Unfortunately, these things tended to be oriented around his emotions. More specifically, the ones he felt made him vulnerable. Cassian had never considered himself to be the most emotionally-driven person, even as a child, but why would he want to risk even that much? War was no place for things like berserker tears or savage cries, as often as he found himself laying in his cot at night with the backs of his eyes burning and his throat constricting with need. There were people that depended in the Rebellion, depended on him – he couldn’t let his own personal wants and needs get in the way of that. That would be selfish and, above all else, infinitely stupid.

For Cassian, the ends (no matter how ugly or brutal) justified the means. So if bottling everything he has inside was what it took to get just one step in the right direction, then he would do it.

. . . And then Scarif happened. Boy, did Scarif happen . . .

And for as much as the memories of bombs going off, of blaster fire surrounding him, of a blinding ray hurdling towards the beach rippled throughout his mind, the quiet it left him with was just as jarring. Deafening, almost.

The infirmary wing wasn’t necessarily quiet, per se, but it was nothing when compared to all he’d endured within the span of a few days. Even the bustle of the outside was preferable to this: Just lying there amongst the wounded and those who had been induced into comas to ease their healing process. Amongst the beeping of machinery and droids, the muttering amongst staff, there was just quiet. And Cassian wasn’t used to quiet.

He didn’t even think Jedha had left him with anything but disappointment but even when he managed to still his thoughts about the tropical paradise, memories of the desert moon were right there waiting for him.

Maker, was he always this tired? He didn’t know. And he dreaded to search inward for the answer; he’d gone inward plenty of times already these past few days, and he wasn’t sure he liked what he’d found: Fear, uncertainty, dread, exhaustion. Things a Cassian from the week previous would’ve scoffed at, denied ever feeling, would’ve just put aside before flying off into a storm of TIE-fighter blasts.

But when the Cassian of that moment couldn’t hop into his ship, couldn’t even excuse himself from the bed without medical personnel permission, it forced him to accept that, yes, these things were a part of him. And as much as he wanted to fight back, he just . . . couldn’t.

Maker. Maker, he was so fucking tired. Of this, of everything. And yet, he still wanted for something. Just not this.

It was quiet inside of him, probably the size of a pebble. A seed, really.

He wanted to be at peace with himself. He just wanted to sleep, to heal, to be better than he was before. Not for the sake of his peers (at least, not them alone), but for himself for once. Feeling like this – it didn’t feel filthy, but it did leave him feeling drained. How much of himself had been burned in the process of trying to keep everything down? Once again, he didn’t want to venture inside to know that. It was painful enough to come upon that kernel of acceptance, that he saw himself as broken.

It would take some time – more than he would have preferred, of course – but it would eventually click with Cassian that he was never broken; just human. Not a reprogrammed droid, not just a soldier, but a thinking and feeling human, vulnerabilities and all.

Thank you so much for your patience on this!!!

#me: I think I went too hard on the angst :/#friend: don't worry people love a sad pretty boy they'll love that #she is not wrong tho #cassian andor hc #cassian andor #cassian andor imagine #cassian andor imagines #character ask meme #regrettablewritings #rogue one imagine #rogue one imagines #star wars headcanons #Star Wars imagine

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deepfriedseagullfeet · 2 years

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my chase! lore under the cut:

33-37, cis male (he him), gay (important to his character development), 6’1”

ah yes, chase. the community’s favorite quote-unquote sad dad. the protagonist of the canon jacksepticeye ego lore. and here he is, last but not least on my list. chase is probably the most complex out of all my versions of the egos. theres…a lot to this guy. i wont talk too extensively about him, but still, hang in there with me yall. major tw’s for like, abuse, suicide, addiction, age regression and trauma responses

so lets start off with backstory. its very upsetting, lets just say that, and im just straight up gonna say his life before the egos fucking sucks. he had a miserable, abusive childhood, he dropped out of school and ran away to live with his sister who then died of a drug overdose, he met stacy in college and just when he thought he had stability in his life, all the stuff he went through seemed to come crashing down on him and he became an alcoholic, depressed disaster. stacy couldnt take care of him anymore as he got worse and worse, refusing to see anyone for his issues, which led to a messy divorce and chase’s 5th suicide attempt. which is where we leave off when chase is brought into the world by jack.

now when an ego is created, they dont automatically have all their memories, and barely know who they are. so it takes a few weeks to get acclimated and “remember” their past life, if they had one. chase, well, he kept getting hit with traumatic memory after memory, especially at night, waking up the other egos with his literally terrified sobbing. even as the memories of his hard life kept seeping in, he was going back to old habits, getting blackout drunk behind jackie and henrik’s backs, getting in bar fights that henrik had to bail him out of jail for. there were panic attacks and screaming at the other egos, and he did this thing where he hid under his bed for hours that jackie and henrik began to realize was involuntary age regression. chase didnt want to deal with being alive anymore, if im being honest. jack wanted nothing to do with him, and jackie was scared jack was going to get rid of him like he did marvin.

and thats where jackie really shines in chase’s story. he was, in his mind, a fuckup that nobody wanted, and he assumed jackie and henrik would give up on him like everyone else. but the thing is, they didnt. jackie, despite his own issues and his own frustrations, never gave up on chase. even when chase kept drinking, even when he screamed in jackie’s face that he hated him, jackie stayed with chase, loving on him even in his worst moments. and really, it sounds cheesey, but all chase needed was someone to love him unconditionally. someone who wouldn’t leave him like everyone else. someone who gave him actual support through his ptsd and his addiction.

and yeah, it took time, but chase put down the bottle and started getting himself back in order. he started going to therapy for his issues (we’ll discuss that in a moment) and actually started putting in effort to be better, because he didnt want to keep hurting henrik or jackie, because he loved them, really he did. he started up a twitch channel, which gave him something to do at first, but eventually gave him a source of income. and he got a dog. very important. chase got an emotional support golden retriever named sunshine. and that dog brings him so much joy every day, just having something to care for and something to get out of the house to go on walks with. he loves that dog a lot.

but with the eventual improvement in chases life theres something else. his therapist. was anti. remember how i mentioned anti was a psychiatrist? yeah that really comes into play here. now ok, in some ways, dr. angus jackson quote unquote helped him. he talked about his trauma, he learned to understand his age regression, he was able to really work through his issues. but that doesn’t mean anti was messing with his head, or getting information about the other egos because he wanted to, or even forcing chase to cry about his past or age regress for antis own amusement, which is obviously very fucked up. chase eventually saw past anti’s manipulation and was able to recognize who he was, which was a terrifying revelation. and after anti…he had a hard time trusting a new therapist.

so in general, chase doesn’t have a lot to offer for the “plot” if you want to call it that to be honest. but i think hes still important, especially to the other egos. he’s constantly battling his mental illness throughout the story, but he has lots of support. he and jackie are best friends, and he loves his dog and his job.

personality wise for chase, hes a big ole softy. he used to be super mean and nasty when he was first born, but he was able to let down his walls and let himself be soft around the other egos. hes real sweet and chill. he likes hugs and is a guy you can hang out with and talk to.

#jacksepticegos #chase brody #my art #ego lore #ego posting

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inkykeiji · 2 years

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How do you think Hawks would like to be comforted when in a mood, Clarii? I feel like he is the kind of guy that rarely gets upset but from time to time he gets this sadness and melancholy that just won't leave him...

oooh good question!!! it’s funny you ask this actually, because i recently wrote a piece about comforting keigo as a birthday gift for one of my best friends!! so i’m going to pull from that in my answer hehe c:

beware: very long post of character ramblings ahaha

i agree with you. i think keigo has an iron chokehold on his emotions and he is able to tame and tamper them very well, especially since he is canonically such a good liar. keigo strikes me as the type to be genuinely kind and compassionate but to also hold most people at arms length in an effort to avoid getting hurt or disappointed—at least until he knows them well enough to allow his guard down and feels comfortable being vulnerable with them.

to me, he seems like the type to want to hold it all together all the time not only to be strong for others—for both society and those he loves and cares about—but also to not ‘burden’ or bother others with his problems. he truly and sincerely just wants to do good, just wants to help in any way he can, not to add stress to anyone. i think, as far as he sees it, those are his problems to deal with, not anyone else’s, and he is responsible for solving them. he doesn’t expect anyone to do it for him, whether they’re the love of his life or not. i also think this stems from the deep-rooted trauma of his childhood, where he was made to feel like a burden at all times.

what he has difficulty understanding is that those who truly love him want to help him, to be there for him, to comfort and hold him, to offer him a space to cry, or vent, or get angry—a space to be human, where he isn��t expected to be perfect all the time. the easiest way to get him to see it this way is to reverse the situation, to ask him how he’d be feeling if you were down to make him realize just how much he’d want to help make you feel better—because when your favourite person is feeling sad or icky, wanting to cheer them up never feels like a burden.

with that being said, i also think keigo genuinely understands himself and his feelings very well; he’s in touch with his emotions 90% percent of the time and is often able to calm himself down or work through those complicated and complex emotions on his own.

but despite being a superhero, he is still human. he does still require the comfort of companionship that other human beings offer, just as we all do. and solving all of your issues + working through all of your heavy emotions on your own is bound to get exhausting, no matter how adept you are at it.

so yes anon omg i totally agree with you!!!

when it comes to alleviating his melancholy and providing him comfort, i think a two-step action plan is required. first, providing him with that space to be human—to vocalize whatever it is that’s bothering him and to work through it with you, verbally or otherwise. keigo has a tendency to bottle up his emotions, and without actually expressing and exploring these thoughts and feelings, doing anything else (any sort of distraction; cuddling, cooking, movie watching, etc) is merely slapping a temporary band-aid on the wound without properly cleaning it first—it may briefly feel better, but under the surface it continues to fester.

providing this space doesn’t always mean talking. on the rare occasion, he might be unable to put his feelings into words, or he may not want to express them that way, and that’s okay. on days such as these, art therapy works wonders. it allows him a comforting space—a space filled with love, with compassion, with understanding, with you—to analyze and articulate everything that is going on in his head. more often than not, after he’s finished expressing these things through paint and charcoal, he’ll be ready to discuss them with you.

after he’s let it all out, he just really, really, really enjoys spending time with you, and you only. he’d rather do something active than something passive, like cooking one of your favourite meals together or going for a hike on one of his favourite trails; it continues to allow him to release his feelings and often tires him out enough that he’s ready to finally snuggle up in bed, with his head on your chest and your fingers in his hair, lulled into a deep sleep by the sweet sound of your melodic voice washing over his mind, cleansing it of all the pain as you read from one of his favourite novels <3

i also think keigo would love physical affection with his s/o, so expect a lot of impromptu kisses, hugs, caresses, and hand holding during all of this! <3

this kind of turned into a character analysis haha but anyway! those are my thoughts on the subject! <3 thank you for your question anon bb, i really enjoyed answering!!

#i hope this all makes sense anon!!!#please have a wonderful tuesday and stay safe!!!! and hydrated!!!#sending u much love n health!!#inky.bb #clari gets mail #inky.hawks

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fandomout · 3 years

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heya! can i request lots of lip gallagher angst please? i love what you write and need him in my life </3

Thank you so much! I'm not sure when I'll be able to make more Lip angst or Lip fic's, but I'll be sure to try when I get an idea. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one. 💜

Lip Gallagher X Reader-Imagine trying to convince Lip that Helene, his professor, isn't the best thing for him, but he can't see the truth

Warning! Mentions of virginity and sex, but there is no actual smut. Slight fluff. Lots of Angst. Not sure if this has been done before. If it has, credit to them, and this is my version of it.

Smiles and laughs grace your best friend, Lip, and you can't help grin just because he seems happy. He tells you about his recent endeavors at college, specifically how he’s having the greatest adventures with his professor, Helene. When you 1st heard about this mysterious woman, you were initially livid, on the inside, of course. You wanted to know everything and nothing about her all at once. However, just like always you had to find a way within yourself to support Lip’s happiness. You always hold onto the friendship that’s graced the both of you with each other. Also, you couldn’t help internalizing Lip’s trauma's and emotions throughout the years. He deserved to go to school and become even greater than he already is, and although you couldn't always stomach the thought of him with someone else, you’d support that too to see him be loved. You were as it goes hopelessly devoted to Lip, so you hadn't really dated too much. Nothing could ever get serious when you’d hold him in your heart.

🖇

One day, you were at Lip’s dorm helping him clean up a bit when Lip seemed to really catch the fact that you'd apparently been single for “too long”. You scoffed at Lip and asked, “What’s that your business for?” He laughed at the comment and added, “I just want you to be happy. I mean we don’t get as much time these days. Me in college and with…” He smiled and looked off to space. You mouth her name as he says, “Helene.” You roll your eyes at it and shake your head and bitterly say, “I don’t need to be with someone to be happy.”

“I get that, but maybe you’d seem a little...a little...better?”

“Better?”

“You just seem a little down lately. Seeing as you won’t tell me what it’s about, I’m just trying to find an all around solution because I care.” His hand finding your shoulder.

”I’m doing fine, really. You're just so up in the clouds-”

“I want you up here too.” You sigh as the words are a rubber band to the heart as you wished he meant together...

“Lip, I don’t need someone.”

“It doesn't have to be serious. Just get laid.“ His insistent nature angers you to shout, “I can't! I’ve never-” You stop yourself too late. Your virginity has never been a topic of concern. You both just glossed over it. To you, it never seemed like Lip knew you hadn’t gotten that far, regardless, you never wanted it to be made so clear. Silence passed between you two before he started to laugh and said, “You’re fucking joking.” You looked down to your feet, which was when he actually believed your words. “No shit. No fucking way! You haven’t gotten laid yet!”

“Want to scream it out any louder! Shut the fuck up!” He laughed before he held his hands up in surrender.

“That’s crazy to me.”

“Of course it is. You bang anything that walks. Lip-”

“Even with any of your s/o’s, you never-”

“No! I'm a virgin. No big deal!”

“Yes. I just find it hard to believe nobody would try. Did they?”

“Maybe once or twice, and I shut them down.”

“Not good enough for you.”

“Something like that.”

“People are fucking stupid. You are hot, and it surprises me there aren't any more.”

“It's the story of my life.”

“What?”

“Getting overlooked.” You said simply before continuing to stack a book on a high shelf.

“Come on, that can’t be true.” He turns you toward him. “I see you unless I see dead people.”

“Haha.” You grin.

“I’m serious though. When you walk into the room, it’s brighter. Maybe you catch the attention of shy people. Maybe pay more attention?”

“Can we stop talking about it?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

🖇

You were on your way home late at night when you got a call from Lip. You answered and immediately thought it was a bit late.

“Hey!” He said a little off.

“Lip, what’s up?”

“Just need a drinking buddy.” You hear a bottle crash on his side of the phone.

“You doing okay there?”

“Yup! Having the bez time.”

“You already started drinking without me. Where are you?”

“I think I’m on campus on like a lawn-can’t remember which one.”

“I’ll be right there. Stay on the li-” He hung up. You jumped a fence and ran all over campus with no sign of him, and he wouldn't take you calls. You finally found him toward the back exit of the campus. He was swinging his body silly with heavy footsteps. You rushed over to support him. Immediately, he detached himself. A pout on his face with slumped shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” He laughs dryly.

“Come on, sit down.” You have him sit on the curb and wish you brought him a bottle of water or something. “What’s this about?”

“Helene...She’s married. She has a kid.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. This must be shocking to hear-”

“I already knew.”

“What do you mean you knew?”

“These past few...weeks? Weeks, I think, I knew. Hell, her husband watched us-Well, watched us fornicate.”

“Gross.” You couldn’t help but say. He shrugged at your reaction, not really being able to defend that truth. “You agreed to it?”

“I did, but I feel her pulling away now. I haven’t changed anything though.” He turns quickly toward me like he’d get whiplash. He points his finger to his chest and hits his chest aggressively as he says, “I’m me! I’m still giving her everything I have!...It leaves me in a funk.”

“You want to be with her that badly?”

“Yeah.”

“But, it doesn't feel so good.”

“Right.”

“You know why?”

“Yeah. I just said she has-”

“I didn’t mean the family thing.”

“Then, why?”

“You should try a relationship that’s more meaningful.”

“This is meaningful to me.”

“I meant a healthy meaningful.”

“Who are you to tell me?” He said it harshly.

“You’re right. I have no right to tell you what’s meaningful to you. You have to admit you're not in the best situation.”

“You’re one to talk. You’d rather have nothing than search for something. I think your standards are too high.”

“Trust me, they're not that high… Top 3 are honesty, communication, and trust.”

“Hmm ...You want to tell me something?” He smirked.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m all three of those for you. I must be your dream guy.”

”You could be, except it wouldn’t happen obviously.”

“Are you sure about that?'' He found himself saying.

“Here we are talking about your women, I’m sure...” You bite at your lip. Your thoughts stop when you see a few tears branching out of his eyes. You comb your hand through his hair. As he looked for more comfort, he wanted to lay down. You convinced him to let you get him to his dorm. He allowed you that, and he cried himself to sleep on your lap. He snuggled into your leg while you rubbed his back. You’d already had a distaste for Helene, but now you really couldn't stand her. She’d been fooling Lip, and she still had the power to keep going along with it.

🖇

After the incident, Lip wanted to act like it didn’t happen. He had told you that they were working on it. He even said it might be the closest thing to a relationship he’s had. You wanted to be there for him, but you had to admit you couldn't support this harm. There is a difference in this case to supporting him. You didn’t want to be a part of any longer. You kept quiet about it initially since she’d only done “one” wrong by him, according to Lip. He talked to you less and less it seemed after it. You tried your best, but something always seemed to come up. You’d get calls from Ian or Fiona that he’s drinking a lot which worries you and hasn't attempted AA when they think it's becoming a big issue. Finally, you confronted Lip on the street.

“I can't talk now.” He said. You didn’t let him push past you and stated, “No. You are not ditching me once again. You have stuff going on. It probably has to do with that woman-”

“Helene. That's none of your business.”

“None of my business?” You look at the bag under his eyes. He reeked of alcohol on his disheveled clothes. “She’s ruining you, but that’s none of my business? What happened this time?” He took out a cigarette and lit it before he sniffed and gave you a side smirk.

“I just maybe happened to beat up her son after I thought she cheated on me with him. Isn't that funny?” He giggled and hiccupped.

“Why were you upset? You were fine when she had a husband to cheat on you with.”

“That was different. Anyway, I see you’re upset about the lack of time I’ve been spending with you, but I can fix it. Let go for a drink.'' He put his arm around your shoulder and was probably leading you to Kev and V’s. You removed the arm and snapped, “What you need is some water. You’ve had enough.”

“What do you mean I haven’t drunk today?”

“Tell that to your breath and clothes. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“I think this conversation is stupid and remember why I was trying not to talk to you.”

“You did it on purpose?”

“I just knew you’d get all worried for nothing.”

“For nothing? She’s not good for you to begin with. Lip” You hold his hand and softly say, “Lip, She was your professor and married.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”

“Lip-”

“I love her! She sure is a hell of a lot better than the ones telling me otherwise. You have no right to judge me. Take a look at yourself!”

“What are you talking about?”

“You go around pining for me in hope someday you’ll be the one. You’re pathetic! You can’t be the one because Helene was! She is! You’re single because no one wants you! You try to act so high and mighty! If you're so great and talented, leave! You’re useless around here! You fucking suffocating me with your supposed love and care! Thanks so much for it! You-”

”Stop!...I get it. You don’t want me around. Get some help from a sponsor and go to the AA meetings.” Tears began to pour, and you sniffled. “You wouldn’t want to lose and hurt someone you actually care about.” As he saw your tears and hurt, he sobered up slightly and said, “Wait-” You quickened your steps to get away as fast as possible. He tried to follow after, but his drunken body wouldn't allow it as he reached forward and fell right on his ass. "Fuck!"

Hope your day got better

Part 2 Lip realizes his mistake

Lip Gallagher Masterlist

Full Masterlist

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beevean · 3 years

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I haven't played TGAA, but I find the double standard in the way Barok is treated vs the way Miles, Fran and the rest of them are treated kind of strange. Barok is supposedly insufferable, plus he's racist and xenophobic. I ain't excusing that, but that's just how 19th century England was.

Miles and Fran have most likely sent innocent people to jail or even landed them the death penalty, simply because they cared more about securing a guilty verdict than actual justice. Godot is a literal murderer, and I've heard some unpleasant things about Simon and Nahyuta as well.

Yet, all (or most of) these characters are redeemed. Barok's biggest crime is...upholding the views of everyone else at the time. And that somehow makes him irredeemable, despite him actually warming up to Ryonosuke later. I'm not saying everyone should like Barok, but if Barok is irredeemable, so is every other prosecutor in AA.

This has been pretty much my point ever since they announced GAA's localization.

Barok is obnoxious, that is undeniable. Nipponese this, Eastern island that, his mocking of Ryuu easily crosses a line that leaves the player uncomfortable, as it should, because if his xenophobia doesn't bother you it says more about you than about the game.

But. Being obnoxious is all he does.

He does not present forged evidence, or use loopholes in court, or coach witnesses, like Edgeworth and Franziska used to do.

He's never ever physically violent against the defense, unlike Franziska, Godot, Simon or Nahyuta - he breaks his own glasses and bottles when frustrated, but he never harms anyone. (it says something that the entire series so far had only three prosecutors who are decent human beings)

His objective as a prosecutor is simply to find the truth. While he pushes very hard to prove the guilt of the defendant, it's clear that it's because he genuinely believes in his case - once Ryuu manages to convince him his theory makes sense, Barok drops most of his hostility and helps him. Unlike Edgeworth pre-heel face turn and Franziska, he couldn't care less about his own record, which means that he never deliberately gambled with the lives of potentially innocent people for his own ego. He is biased towards Ryuu, not only because he's Japanese but also because Barok admits to personally taking his cases even if they're banal, but he's not completely driven by a petty grudge like Godot - like I said, he'll help Ryuu win if he does a good enough job in his book, no matter his personal feelings towards his learned Japanese friend.

Both he and Edgeworth post-heel face turn share the same goal of finding the truth. However, Edgeworth has hurt at least one person in his quest, infamously Adrian Andrews when he threatened to reveal her mental illness in court and even said "if you kill yourself, that is no concern of mine". Compare this with Barok, who has shown himself capable of kindness as soon as his second appearance, when he (spoilers for Case 4 of GAA) subtly implied he would allow Roly Beate to keep his job despite tampering with the crime scene, because he could empathize with the poor man wanting to spend one day with his wife.

He's genuinely competent in his job, relying simply on cold hard logic to dismantle the defense's arguments as a good prosecutor should - to be honest, it may be the different writers, but Klavier, Simon and Nahyuta never struck me as being especially good at their job, with Klavier having to deal with a rather incompetent Apollo in AJ and Simon and Nayhuta happily abusing the old "attacking the defense" and "asking evidence for every word you say" tricks. (to be fair Simon gets to demonstrate his interesting manipulative skills in one case... Turnabout Storyteller, when he's Athena's ally. Also, I can't remember anything particularly horrible he does beyond being an ass like usual, in fact he may be the best prosecutor of the second trilogy)

Speaking of Nahyuta, the reasons I can't stand him while I love Barok are that Nahyuta is nothing but repetitive, unwitty, painfully realistic obnoxiousness propped up by a shallow twist revealed at the tail-end of the game; he has no real character development, because "sowwy guys i was good all along" is not development; he prosecutes simply to win even if it means insisting that a young girl committed murder in spite of the defense's reasonable arguments; there is no in-game justification for shit like him tormenting Athena in Japanifornia, or even him being an asshole in Japanifornia at all; and there's no weight in the realization that he let hundreds of innocent people being sentenced to death while he stood aside to protect his sister (like, that has got to mess you up a bit right? Can you show me that, game?). Barok not only has a much more fleshed out, drawn out backstory that explains most of his behavior (although I have my reservations at tying his racism to One Trauma); not only he slowly (... very slowly) warms up to Ryuu; not only he has humanizing traits like feeling horrible about being branded the Reaper of the Old Bailey, like it would happen to anyone being rumored to be a death bringer; but he is, most important of all, an overdramatic bitch and the contrast between his intimidating demeanor and the shit he pulls behind the bench is infinitely more hilarious than being told for the umpteenth time that you're a putrid lawyer who's going to hell. It doesn't sound like much, but a good AA game masters the art of "love to hate".

You know how Klavier is a base-breaking prosecutor because some consider him too nice? Barok is what happens when you take Klavier's honest, well-meaning demeanor and give him enough presence to be hated and loved at the same time. I completely understand if people find him too annoying (he's testing my own patience lmao), but I still think he is one of the best prosecutors in the series, both as a job and as the role of the rival.

#ace attorney #barok van zieks #anti nahyuta sahdmadhi #not tagging everyone else lol #this blog has ufficially become the barok defense club

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

I turn and reach for you

Summary: Three months after Hankel, Spencer starts getting terrible nightmares that keep him up at night. He tries desperately to keep his secret until one day when it's all too much to bear anymore. Luckily, Derek Morgan is there to hold him together as he falls apart.

Tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, fluff, literal sleeping together, getting together, post-revelations TW: past non-con drug use mentioned once in passing

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This feels the "Nightmares" square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card, and was written for this prompt by @i-write-whump. Title from a poem by Devon Strang.

After Spencer is kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, he stays with Derek. Nobody on the team wants him to be alone, and he’s always felt the most comfortable with him, so it makes sense. Besides, he’s got the space.

Spencer sometimes wonders whether the team pushed so hard for it because they genuinely believed that, logistically, Derek was the best option, or because they could also see the slow-burning romance simmering under the surface of their relationship. They’ve always had a special friendship, but Spencer can feel the growing tension: the deep and intense looks they share mid-case, the lingering touches on backs and arms, the affection leaking into each ‘pretty boy’ and every ‘Der’.

Perhaps if Hankel never came into the picture they’d already be together — it really had felt like they were on the precipice of something special — but it’s three months later and Spencer’s still sleeping in the spare room; there’s still just as much will they, won’t they lingering in the air between them.

He tries not to mind too much. After all, he’s never had so much free access to the man he’s pined after for years now, and they’re living in each other’s pockets. Almost every waking hour is spent in one another’s company: they cook together, eat together, watch films together, and neither of them are showing any sign of getting sick of it. But every time they’re cooking pasta and Derek says something ridiculous, Spencer wishes he was allowed to lean in and kiss the tip of his nose; every time they sit down to watch something together, he wishes he could burrow into his side and rest his head in the crook of his neck.

(Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could rewind to the weeks immediately after the Hankel incident when Derek would carry him around the flat to keep him off his broken feet; when he could press his face into his shoulder and inhale the scent of complete and utter safety.)

It’s almost torturous, being so close yet so far.

He isn’t quite sure why the nightmares start so late. The nights during the first couple of months are blissfully dreamless, so exhausted from the physical and emotional trauma that sleep was a tantalising escape, but once he’s back in the field, once normal life resumes, everything changes.

The first time he wakes up sweating and panting, heart pounding as he tries to convince himself that he’s no longer in Hankel’s clutches but is safe and sound in Derek’s apartment, he dismisses it as a one-off. He hasn’t had nightmares yet, so why should they start now? He doesn’t go back to sleep that night, too shaken to relax back into the comforting embrace of sleep, too afraid of deception: that he wouldn’t sleep dreamlessly but that the nightmare would be waiting for him once again.

The second time worries him. He gets up this time and gets a glass of water as quietly as possible, leaning with his back against the kitchen counter as he ponders what this could mean for him. The thing is, they’re so incredibly vivid. It really feels like he’s back at the mercy of a three-in-one torturer armed with drugs and belts and guns, genuinely unsure of whether he’ll ever see his family again. He doesn’t go back to sleep this time, either, instead pacing around the living room until Derek wakes up. He lies that he’s only been up for half an hour, and Derek believes him.

The third time solidifies for Spencer the fact that this is a problem. Three is a pattern, everybody knows that, and Spencer spends the rest of the night scouring the internet for studies conducted around delayed trauma responses and discovers the prevalence of delayed-onset PTSD. He’s tempted to contact a professor he met during his third PhD who specialised in the psychology of trauma, but he thinks better of it. Admitting these nightmares would be admitting defeat.

This is something he has to deal with alone.

(He ignores the truth that it’s more fear than anything else that keeps him from telling anyone: fear of being seen as weak, fear of nothing changing, fear of voicing his trauma out loud. It’s easier to pretend it’s about independent agency.)

It doesn’t affect him too much at first. Sure, he’s scared to go to sleep and he sweats so profusely that it soaks through his bedsheets almost every night, but he’s managing. He’s okay. He contributes just as much to their profiles and takes down unsubs without flinching. He dances around Derek like they have done for over a year, and he sits through Dr Who marathons with Penelope just fine. So what if he’s a bit tired? He’s stared down some of America’s Most Wanted and interviewed famous serial killers, he can cope with a little fatigue.

It doesn’t stay that easy for long.

Soon everybody’s asking about the bags under his eyes, his slower reaction times when they visit the gun range, his twitchiness around the team.

“Are you sleeping okay, Spencer?” Penelope asks him one day, brushing a curly lock of hair behind his ears as they sit side by side on the sofa next to a conked out Derek.

He can��t nod his head quick enough. “Yeah! Yes, uh. Yes, Penelope, I’m sleeping fine, I promise,” he says as convincingly as he can, flashing her a smile. He hates lying to her, but he can’t let anyone find out, he just can’t.

Slowly, he begins losing his grip on reality. He’s almost delusional from the sleep deprivation, and he starts seeing Hankel everywhere he goes. He’s stood behind the fridge door, in the foyer of the FBI Headquarters, in the toilets of a local police station, stood right behind the unsub they’re currently trying to talk down, goddamnit.

He’s beyond exhausted, but some nights he still refuses to sleep, too afraid of what awaits him in his dreams, too afraid of the fear he knows he’ll carry into the next day, too afraid of feeling weak again. Helpless. Completely and utterly without agency.

He sits up with his back against the headboard, the main light off but the lamp switched on, scrolling through as many scholarly articles as he can read in a night, drinking cup after cup of steaming black coffee. Most nights he makes it through till morning without sleeping a wink, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from drifting off The nightmares on those nights are the worst.

He isn’t okay and people are starting to notice. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him right now, but he knows it won’t be long before Penelope organises an intervention that Hotch hosts and Derek directs. The worst part about it is that he feels like a trainwreck waiting to happen. He’s headed straight for complete and utter collapse, and the only possible way to stop the train in its tracks is to reach out and get help, the one thing he can’t get himself to do.

And he isn’t even really sure why.

It all comes to a head on a warm night in July. He’d fallen into bed that night deliberately, actually intending to sleep for once. The bone-deep tiredness had finally caught up to him and he didn’t even care that he was walking straight into the arms of Tobias Hankel, if it meant he got even an iota of refreshing sleep, then it would be worth it.

But he isn’t quite of the same mind when he wakes up at two in the morning like he does almost every night: soaked in sweat with his heart going a million beats per minute, with only one difference. Tonight, he’s crying.

Maybe it’s the emotional turmoil of the last few months catching up to him, or maybe it’s just the severity of this particular dream, but whatever it is, he can’t seem to stop even once he’s awake. Sobs wrack his shoulders as he cries miserably into the pillow, finally letting out the emotions he’s kept bottled up so tightly, and he’s almost wailing after a couple of minutes of anguish.

All he can think as he cries helplessly is how badly he wants Derek. He wants to be wrapped up in his strong and safe embrace, he wants to feel the movement of his soft goatee against his cheek, he wants to inhale the comforting scent of his sleep t-shirts, he wants the warmth and solace that only Derek Morgan can give him, and in that moment, emotionally distraught and so incredibly sleep-deprived, he decides to get it.

He stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall, stopping once he reaches Derek’s door. He hesitates for only a second before he pushes it open slowly, allowing the light from the lamp they keep switched on in the hallway to gently illuminate the shadows of his bedroom.

“Spencer?” Derek asks groggily, immediately sitting up and wiping his eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

At the acknowledgement of his tears, Spencer starts to cry harder, and as embarrassed as he feels, he can’t slow the steady stream of tears rolling down his face as he stands in the doorway like a child in their parents’ room.

“Spence,” Derek says again, gentle and sympathetic, “come here.” He lifts the duvet up and scooches over slightly as if to make room for him in his already spacious king-size bed.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, though, and he stumbles forward, collapsing into bed and wrapping himself around Derek instantly. His arms come up to circle Spencer’s waist, caressing him gently as he holds him close to his body, shushing him quietly.

“It’s okay, Spence,” he murmurs. “I’m here now, alright? We’re gonna fix whatever it is, I promise you. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

He lets himself cry and cry and cry until his tears are dried up and he’s hiccupping from the force of his sobs. He would feel terrible about the damp spot left on Derek’s t-shirt, but he simply doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he continues to lie there on Derek’s chest, listening to his softly spoken assurances and losing himself in the sensation of Derek’s fingertips caressing the skin of his waist.

After a couple of minutes of silence, interrupted only by the odd hiccup from Spencer’s tired lungs, Derek finally asks the question. “What was that all about, pretty boy?” he asks with a tenderness Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Been having nightmares,” Spencer whispers, keeping his eyes closed against Derek’s imploring gaze.

He feels Derek tense beneath him, his fingers briefly pausing before resuming their comforting patterns on his waist, and a heavy breath escapes his lips. “For how long?”

“Last couple of months,” he mumbles, and somehow another tear manages to escape Spencer’s screwed up eyes.

“Well,” Derek sighs, “I suppose that explains a lot. We’ve been so worried about you, Spencer. We had no idea what was going on but we could all see you withdrawing, and it wasn’t exactly a secret how exhausted you were.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Derek says sadly. “I should’ve pushed harder to figure out what was going on with you. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this all alone.”

“I didn’t know how to tell anyone,” Spencer says, suddenly desperate to explain as he shifts slightly to look Derek in the eye. “I was so scared and I didn’t want anyone to think that I was weak or I couldn’t do my job anymore, and I just didn’t know what to do.”

“I know, Spence,” Derek says soothingly, “but you’ve told me now, haven’t you? And I’m going to do everything I can to get you some help. We’ll fix this, baby. I promise you, I’m going to make sure you’re happy and healthy again if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”

Spencer sniffs a little, wiping tiredly at his eyes as he blinks up at the sincerity on Derek’s face. For the first time in far too long he manages a smile. “Okay.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

Spencer’s smile widens and he buries his face in Derek’s chest again as his cheeks flush red. “Please.”

Months later, they’ll realise they never officially asked one another to be in an actual, exclusive relationship. Months later, they’ll know instinctively and with absolute certainty that this night was the night that changed everything for them, and exactly one year later, they’ll celebrate their first anniversary on that date.

Tonight, though, they sleep curled up next to one another in Derek’s bed, and although Spencer doesn’t fall into the same dreamless sleep he grew used to immediately after Hankel, for once he isn’t haunted by nightmares, but dreams inflected with hope for what the future holds for them, and he’ll take that over dreamlessness any day.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @ @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds (add yourself to my taglist)

#my writing #moreid #derek #spencer #derek morgan #criminal minds #spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fanfic #moreid fanfiction #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #spencer reid x derek morgan #userpenemily

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