#remember that this is just that. an opinion
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we'll be alright
[spencer reid x reader]
summary: the one where it's the team's night out after a few long weeks of work and you're finally relaxing... not really. because you have a secret that's brewing your insides out.
pairing: s.reid x f!reader
w.c: 2.4K
warnings/content: mentions of pregnancy symptoms; sleep deprivation; alcohol; jj being a good friend; discussion about choices; fearing one's reaction; yk spencer reid the best (only) man on earth.
A/N: I planned this to be a small drabble... anyways, enjoy this blurb while I finish up a few requests.
navi
masterpost
cm masterlist
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“what are you doing?”
“chill, jj. I'm not drinking.”
you roll your eyes at the blonde casting you a suspicious look when she walks over. you don't know why she did it, to be honest. everyone seemed to be having fun over at the table, you just felt too uncomfortable and had to take a breath of fresh air outside. when you came back, you sat down by the counter, the bartender placed a red drink in front of you claiming it was from a guy across the bar. you didn't look, you didn't care. you push it aside with an eye roll and stick to the glass of soda you had previously ordered.
“are you okay?” her sympathetic voice is too much for you to bear right now, so you inhale sharply, actually thinking about downing that whole red drink in a go but you're one hundred percent sure certain jj would knock it off before it reaches your mouth. “sorry. I won't ask.”
“i'm just... confused.” you shrug, playing with the hem of the glass, tongue traveling over your lips. they are pretty dry, you can't remember the last time you drank water. “you don't have to keep an eye on me, jj. seriously, I'll be back in a second. I'm just... thinking.”
“have you told him?”
“no.”
her brows pull together. and before she can offer you her unwanted advice, you cut her off.
“don't tell me he has the right to know or anything like that. I know, okay? I know what I have to do, I know what I need to do. but I have a right to process everything on my own as well and I'm doing just fine doing that. for now.” you don't mean to snap, acknowledging the fact that jj means well, but you're tired of hearing obvious things about the situation and none of them did anything to help easing your nerves.
seems like people cared more about spencer's opinion on the matter rather than your own, when it is, in fact, a matter that you are carrying.
“i was gonna say take your time. you don't need to have it all figured out right this second.” you glance up at her, doubtful. jj gives your shoulder a squeeze and casts you a reassuring smile that almost sends you to jump in her arms to be coddled. “you're not on your own. I know it can be overwhelming, trust me, but you can talk to me anytime you want, okay? when you're ready.”
you smile for what felt like the first time in the night. relief swallowing down a bit of the nervousness rumbling through your chest.
“thanks, jayge,” you say.
jj gives you a wink. she leaves you alone after that and you enjoy a few minutes on your own when a familiar and welcoming touch trails down your back.
“you're quiet.” spencer eyes something above your head with hard eyes and his gaze immediately melts when it falls upon you.
“marking territory, doctor reid?” you tease, noticing the jealousy by his tells. his tries at being inconspicuous are foolish, but you like it.
he flushes red, clearing his throat and mumbling I don't know what you're talking about under his breath.
you hum, resting your chin against your palm as you look up at him. “i'm always quiet.”
“not like that.” spencer points out, tilting his head as his lips stretch into a soft smile. his gaze says I know you. you can't fool me. and he's 100% right, you can't. “is everything okay?” he questions, fingers grazing your upper arm in a way that it almost causes you close your eyes and give in to sleep right there. the truth is that you haven't been sleeping for three whole days. tossing and turning and feeding the nightmare in your head that all would go to shit. your relationship, you mean. the most solid thing you have going on for you, you'd screw that up. personally, you're a fan of facing the problem right away so you could get rid of it quickly. but this is neither a problem — not for you — nor you could fix it.
“i have something to tell you.” you swallow with difficulty. “but I- I don't know how.”
“okay.” he caresses your arm, brows knitting together in slight concern. “do you want to go home? is that okay for you?”
you sigh, hand traveling cross your face. “i don't want you to stop having fun because—”
“i wasn't having fun.” spencer is quick to cut you off albeit gently like he always is. “i was basically begging for you to call it a night so we could leave.”
a surprise laugh escapes out of you. you believe that.
“okay.” you nod, convinced. and a little less anxious to be honest. it's not like you'd say what you want to say in the middle of a crowded bar filled with drunk people. “yeah, we can, we can go home.”
“great.” he kisses your temple and waits for you to accompany him to your friend's table so you can bid your goodbyes. the first indication that something is off was your withdraw nature throughout the entire day. not that you weren't doing your job perfectly fine, you were. but your mind seemed to be elsewhere from the moment you stepped into the FBI headquarters to this very moment now. the second indication was when you said you'd get a drink and never came back. he found you by the bar with, in deed, a drink before you. then, he knew he had to say something.
“where are your keys?” spencer asks, adjusting the leather strap on his shoulder as you stride out of the pub. you lift the car keys between your fingers and he outreaches a hand towards it to which your eyebrows pull together in confusion. “you drank, didn't you?”
your face smoothes out in understanding, “no.” he regards you with uncertainty. “i didn't,” you repeat with an eyeroll. “i can't. I ordered that one but I didn't touch it. if you wanna drive though, be my guest.” he takes the keys in the first chance and you just chuckle softly, walking to the opposite side and entering the car. when you finally adjust yourself in the seat, you let out a long breath in relief. your feet are killing you as well as your head. not to mention the dizziness coming back and forth.
you don't open you eyes when something presses against your torso, you know it's spencer buckling up your seatbelt that you had forgotten.
“what did you mean by you can't drink?” the peaceful silence is broken by spencer's gentle tone. he'd look over at you every few minutes, trying to point out if the cause for your pale cheeks is the faint light of the car or something else. your eyes are shut but he knows you are not sleeping by the constant shifting in your seat.
“what?” you stumble on an answer and that's the best you are able to come up with.
“you said I can't.”
“you're correcting my misspellings now?”
spencer's eyes widen slightly. when the traffic light turns red, he quickly turns to you ready to apologise. but he sees your smirk and backs down, letting out a sigh.
“no,” he says, rolling his eyes. there is still something unsettling about your behavior, he can't point out what. sometimes it just happened, that feeling. he knew something was off without a single glance your way. the red light turned green before he can carry on speaking.
he does it anyway, though his eyes are stuck to the avenue and not on you as he plans to.
“are you okay?”
silence. and then,
“why do you ask?” your voice is soft, almost uncertain. you are hesitant and holding back. something is definitely wrong.
“you're withdrawal. you look tired and you didn't sleep well last night. I'm fairly sure you're a bit pale since this morning.” you're groaning beside him and spencer frowns. you finally arrive at your apartment and he takes a while to park before he turns the engine off. “are you sick? do you have the flu? migraines? cause we could have gone straight home tonight, you know that right? do you have a fev—”
“stop, spencer.” you mumble before his hands reach your forehead to check your temperature. you hate that he notices so much so fast. even though he's quiet about it, spencer is always paying attention. always. “it's not— I'm not sick. don't worry.”
“i'm still worrying.” he replies matter-of-fact, earning a scowl from you. he isn't phased. “should we go to the hospital?”
you huff like a five year old. “i just told you I'm not sick.”
“and I don't believe you.”
somehow, you wish he noticed more so you didn't had to say the truth out loud.
“i'm not sick.” your tone was sharp though you avoid it, it was just how it came out. you were sick of that subject.
spencer frowns. he stops himself before he could ask if you were sure of that statement.
“but I might get sick.” you utter under your breath, unsure about saying it out loud but you already did it. spencer turns to you after he takes off his shoes, a pet peeve of yours is that you hate dirty shoes around the apartment. there's always a few pairs of flipflops by the doorstep in case you have visitors. or they can just walk around in their socks, you had no problem with that, which is what spencer did. “... once in a while.”
“what is going on?” spencer approaches you slowly, his concern starting to create a thousand of theories inside his head. “really, I'm worried—”
“i'm pregnant.” you let out and release the breath you've been holding for what felt like hours. there. it's done. when you open your eyes, you don't look at him but walk straight in the direction of your room. spencer is hot on your heels. you just wanted to shower.
“what— you're— what do you mean?” his frantic voice almost makes you laugh if you weren't so tired with a headache brewing.
“i really need to take a long shower, spencer.”
“I—” he blinks, studying you for a moment before he swallows all of his questions and he sees. he sees what's going on and why your behaviour has been off these days. spencer's very observant, but sometimes he can let one or two hints wander off his radar. “okay.” he wants to hold you but he stays in his spot. if you want space, that's what he will give you. “do you need me to prepare you a bath?” he prays you say yes but you shake your head, entering the bathroom and shutting the door.
he lowers himself down on the edge of bed and stares at nothing as his thoughts swirls around the signs being thrown at his face the whole week. the morning sickness. not being able to stand the smell of any perfume. a sudden dizziness... fuck. how could he have been so clueless?
spencer admits he's always beeng good at physics and chemistry and statistics and he's constantly praised for picking up certain behaviours in his line of work, but he sucks at social cues and most of the times he misses the joke in a room or your sarcasm — though he's infinitely better at detecting that.
he takes pride in knowing you. your little quirks such as the way you press your lips together when you're uncomfortable or when you pick at your cuticles when something is on your mind during a case. he doesn't know how he didn't notice that. really, you spent most of your time together, both at work and outside of work. hell, spencer knows your period cycle. he makes sure to fill his pantry with your favourites sweet and sour snacks for that time of the month. it truly makes no sense how be could be so oblivious.
he knocks twice on the bedroom door, apprehensive and extremely careful. he's afraid by your latest reaction that you don't want him around.
it's actually the opposite.
“come in.” you're finishing getting dressed for the night. one of his old Caltech shirts slipping through your frame as he walks in slowly. you raise a brow in his direction, eyeing his figure standing by the doorway.
“i made you some peppermint tea. it's good for, hm, nausea.”
letting out a sigh at his hesitation, you lift a hand, silently asking him to come closer. “i'm not mad at you.” you clarify, breathing into his neck as he gently pulls you into his arms. “i was frustrated and tired and sore and sleepy. 'm sorry I was rude.” then, you chuckle awkwardly. “and sorry I dropped that bomb on you without a notice.”
he squeezes you, running a hand through your back. “don't be sorry. I understand.”
“are you mad?”
he pulls back a little, stunned that you even asked that. “what? why would I be mad?”
you shrug, meddling with the collar of his work attire he still hasn't taken off. “we didn't plan it. it's not ideal.”
spencer shakes his head, lifting your chin slightly to meet his gaze. “i don't care. I'm here for whatever you decide to do. there's no such thing as ideal.”
your mouth quirks up in the corners and you brush a honey brown curl behind his ear, fingertips trailing down his jaw.
“what?” he nudges your nose with his.
“i love you.” his grin is contagious and you can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you. you love him so much.
“and i love you.” you let out a shriek as he pulled you up in his arms, your feet being suspended from the ground. “hey,” he cups your cheeks lovingly. “we'll figure it out. together. alright?”
you nod, warmth flooding through your chest as you close your eyes and lean into his touch. “yeah, yeah, we will.” you mumble in the croak of your boyfriend's neck. “I love you.” you repeat just because you felt like it.
spencer mutters the same three words softly into the crown of your head. and you know everything will be alright.
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taglist: @lilyviolets ;
@whore-for-spencer-reid ;
@yeonalie ; @ninkieminjaj
#reader insert#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction
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I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron
(Prologue and Chapter 1)
Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?
Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.
Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!
Prologue
Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally.
He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.
“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”
A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was.
Chapter One
You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.
party at cameron’s tonite !!
It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.
“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.
You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.
There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.
Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :)
You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.
You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here.
As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.
Four years earlier…
The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.
A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.
“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.
“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”
You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.
“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.
“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”
Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.
Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission.
You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.
You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.
Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could.
“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.
Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill.
You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.
“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”
“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.
“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.
“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.
He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.
“Just reach over,” he directed you.
“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”
“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.
Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.
“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.
He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”
The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.
“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.
“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.
“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.
Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.
You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.
“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.
Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.
“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.
Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.
“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.
You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.
“What are you talking about?” You asked.
“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”
It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.
“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”
Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously.
“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.
You smiled softly, there he was - your boy.
“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”
A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.
Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”
Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.
“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”
“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.
“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”
Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.
“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”
“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”
“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.
“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window.
He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.
You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.
“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”
You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.
“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”
He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.
“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”
“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.
“Good.”
Now…
The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.
You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.
“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.
Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.
The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt.
“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”
“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.
Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.
There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.
“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter.
“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.
“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”
The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.
He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.
Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.
Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd.
But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.
(chapter 2)
a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)
#rafe cameron#rafe obx#rafe cameron x reader#obx fic#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#obx smut#rafe cameron fluff#rafe fanfic#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron and you#rafe cameron and reader#rafe cameron and y/n
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Historically Accurate
"I'm telling you, Hollywood is going down with all the woke crap! You know what they say: Go woke go broke!"
Julian and Wallace were on their way back from the lunch room and the former was listening to the latter complaining. Julian had tried to avoid any topic like this, but, really, it was a mine field with Wallace. Just about *every* topic had the potential to turn out political.
"I don't see what's wrong with a little inclusion in pop culture." Julian said, not wanting to argue but also not wanting to leave that opinion unopposed.
"Everything! It's just plain wrong, and it's brainwash, too. I mean, it's like a mind virus, poisoning everything! There's a western coming out next week. But it's all bullshit woke agenda again. The cowboy is black and gay! Literal brainwash and historical rewrite."
Julian frowned. How could an intelligent person like Wallace be so stupid at the same time?
"Why does that even bother you? I thought you hated westerns."
"Yes, that's not the point. Fact is, it's historically inaccurate and just pushing the woke agenda."
"Actually, I think it's not even historically incorrect." Julian pondered as they entered the lab using Julian's keycard and an iris scan of both scientists.
Wallace was borderline angry now.
"What are you talking about? Everyone knows that cowboys were the whitest and the straightest people there were."
"I'm not quite sure", Julian said. "Weren't there freed slaves and so on? And I would guess if you were underway with another guy for prolonged periods of time, not everything staid straight, too."
"Bullshit! Everyone knows cowboys weren't fags, and they were white."
Wallace seemed agitated now, and his usual stiff demeanor became even more pronounced.
Wallace was in his mid-forties, but the way he was talking, he seemed way older to Julian.
Julian on the other hand was awfully young for the position he had. Being 25, he still didn't look like he had finished college, even though he had his doctorate already.
It was really a bit sad, he thought. Two of the brightest minds and they were bickering over basic, meaningless distinctions like ethnicity or sexual orientation.
"We could just ask the computer." he proposed, but Wallace frowned.
"We are not supposed to use the equipment for private research." he said.
'The computer' was part of the highly secretive project they worked on. When finished, it was supposed to be a time machine, simple as that. The actual time travel device didn't work properly yet, but a part of it, a chronoton boosted quantum computer that was able to access history itself to answer questions about the part, was already functioning quite well.
"But we are supposed to test it from time to time. Are you afraid of the answer it might give?"
"Of course not." Wallace grumbled. "Fine. Computer! Is there any historical evidence of gay black cowboys?"
The voice activated system acknowledged the request with a beep. While waiting for the answer, Julian checked the parameters of the system and found them in near-perfect condition.
Finally, the system answered, with the neutral male voice it was programmed with.
"A significant portion of cowboys consisted of people with African heritage, especially after the freeing of slaves after the civil war. Homosexual acts and attraction were common among cowboys, especially during the trail drives. Demonstrating..."
"Hrmpf." Wallace said, clearly not happy.
Julian, who was still checking the readings, scratched his head.
"Did you remember to disconnect the capsule before making the query? It seems to be drawing power."
"Ah, crap. That's just because of all the bullshit talk. Computer, stop!"
"Unable to comply. Demonstrating... Target: Montana Frontier Area, June 1865..."
The white walls of the chamber started to glow in an ever brighter white that was beginning to hurt the eyes.
"Crap. Julian, cut the power!" Wallace said, now with a clear notion of fear in his voice. The younger scientist didn't answer but tried to do as he was told - but did not succeed in time.
Suddenly, with a flash, their surroundings changed and the two of them found themselves in the middle of a rugged mountain range, on the border of a pine forest. It was late afternoon and the scientists found themselves in a just set-up camp. Two horses were standing nearby, and a small herd of cows was grazing at a meadow.
Wallace sighed and shook his head angrily. "Just great. Look at the mess you just put us in. Now we have to wait until we're rescued. And, apparently, we have to meet some black homo cowboys."
Julian looked around but couldn't see anyone around.
"I would have also guessed so, but there doesn't seem to be anyone there."
His heart sank as he had a terrible suspicion. He had been experimenting lately with a normalization circuit that would embed the time travelers into history instead of superimposing them onto it. That was - according to his theories - a rather elegant way to resolve the repelling effect the historical structure had, but it wasn't finished by any means. It had never been tested and even theoretically, it wouldn't be able to achieve a partial embedding, only a full one at best. And the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that it had still been connected to the system.
As Julian thought about how to break it to Wallace, he noticed something strange about the other scientist. It could be a trick of the light, but he looked way more tanned than before.
"Uhm... It might actually be somewhat worse than that. I think my normalization circuit was still active when you activated the machine."
"What? What does that mean?" Wallace looked at him, furiously now.
"Well, I would guess..." Julian struggled and gave up. "Look at your hands, I think it's pretty self-explanatory."
Wallace looked down at his darkening hands and paled. Even now, he still had a considerably darker skin tone than before, darkening with every passing second.
"Shit." he said. "That's what you get for fucking around with a half-finished experiment."
Julian didn't even dare to mention his suspicion. If his normalization circuit was really active, that would make Wallace an actual, black cowboy, and not just him. Julian was also a time traveler, so he, too, would be affected.
Meanwhile, the changes in Wallace seemed to have proceeded. His facial structure looked like it was in motion before finally settling on a generally broader, manlier shape: The jawline became more pronounced, and his cheekbones raised.
"Is there... anything going on with me as well?" Julian asked.
Wallace looked over at him.
"Yeah, your hair color is changing, and I think your eye color. Blonde and blue-eyed, how cliché. But most importantly, you're not becoming fucking a fucking Black man."
Wallace didn't say Black man.
For some reason, this didn't bother Julian half as much as it should have. He felt rather at ease, and the untamed wilderness around him awakened a sense of adventure inside of him that he didn't know was in him.
Meanwhile Wallace was also feeling a change within. A surge of confidence emerged from within him that was entirely alien to the deeply insecure man at first, but quickly became more and more part of his personality. It was like his core was solidifying into a confident and assertive nature, a boldness and quiet he secretly always wished he had. At the same time, his body structure changed considerably.
Where before, Wallace had been a physically unimpressive mid-forties man, it now seemed like the years melted off of him, and for every year that he lost, he gained three pounds of muscle mass and beef. His shoulders widened, his height increased, and his frame expanded in order to accommodate the new body mass.
"It's not that bad, ain't it?" While Julian's body had not changed much besides the hair and eye color, his voice sounded entirely different now. It had a southern lilt to it, but it was charismatic and charming. It was the kind of voice you could listen to for hours without end, perfect for reading an audiobook - or telling campfire stories.
"Well now, I ain't too sure 'bout that." Wallace's voice had changed even more considerably when he answered. He had gained a thick southern accent, and his voice had dropped to a low and smooth voice that sounded commanding even if he didn't intend to.
"Ha, look at that, your skin's startin' to change now, too!"
And really, Julian's skin had started to adapt as well, but it was quickly becoming apparent that it went a different route than Wallace's. Instead of darkening to the almost black tone that he was sporting, Julian's skin became rougher and got a sun-kissed tan instead. His facial features sharpened, as his cheekbones looked chiseled all of a sudden and a rugged beard texture was adorning his chin. Julian seemed to notice it, too, since he started touching his new face immediately.
"Cool! Always wondered what I'd look like sportin' a beard." he said, apparently not too unhappy with the changes.
There was no denying Julian looked good, which made Wallace feel a touch of jealousy. In his opinion, it wasn't fair that he was the only one having to deal with the black skin. That feeling quickly faded, though, as his changes continued. His hair became very short, curly and dark. At the same time, a short beard formed on his chin and upper lip, giving him an even manlier appeal. At the same time, chest hair sprouted, sparsely of course, as it was normal for a man of his heritage. A strange feeling overcame Wallace. He wasn't necessarily *proud* to be Black now, but he also didn't mind it anymore. He was proud of a lot of secondary assets, though, like his bulging muscles or his handsome face. As his eyes became a dark brown, he had to smirk as he sat down by the fire, readjusting himself in the process. And, of course, his big cock, which might also have been positively influenced by his new ancestry.
Wallace watched as Julian turned around and tended to the horses. His body was now, finally, also changing. It didn't become nearly as bulky as his own, but instead lean and agile, with narrow hips and a well-distributed surprising strength, as Wallace knew. While Julian was busy with the horses, Wallace had a good view of his ass. It filled out the jeans just so well, and Vallace only noticed now that the other man's attire had changed. He was clad in a pair of blue jeans, a vest and, of course a Stetson now, and Vance always thought that this outfit accentuated the best parts of his partner quite well. He preferred black leather, himself, since the material was sturdier and felt better on the skin.
Vince felt his cock hardening in his leather pants and readjusted himself again while also leaning back and spreading his legs to make more room for the erection. He wasn't afraid of anyone seeing his rude behavior. The only other man within a wide range was Jesse, the owner of that juicy ass. And he was allowed to see... well, everything.
Vince waited patiently until Jesse returned to the campfire, with a big smile on his face.
"How them horses holdin' up, partner?" Vince asked.
"They're good. Just a tad worn out from today's ride." Jesse answered.
"Well, there's somethin' else needs tendin' to, if you're free to lend a hand. Or an ass." Vince grinned and made his cock throb in the confines of his tight leather pants.
Jesse grinned at the display of masculinity and massaged his own cock.
"Hell yes!"
As Jesse moved over in his usual graceful movements, Vince leaned back. There really wasn't anything better than being a big, black cowboy. Especially not with a partner like Jesse, who was always happy to make the nights in the wilderness a little less lonely.
Certainly not poor and lonesome! Also check out this awesome writer!
There are a few more versions of Jesse and Vince, over at my tip jar.
#male transformation#straight to gay#muscle transformation#racial transformation#cowboy#historical transformation
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Feo, Fuerte Y Formal
Pre-Ghoul/Pre-War Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (FLUFF!!)
CW: sickeningly sweet domestic Cooper, Pre-Ghoul copper, cursing, dancing in the kitchen, talk of marriage, talk of kids, mentions of his divorce, mention of alcohol (nothing crazy though) potential grammatical and spelling errors! Briefly proof-read! Slightly suggestive themes (cooper can’t keep his hands off his pretty girl 🤭)
AN: For all my Cooper Howard lovers who have been asking for him Pre-Ghoul/Pre-War I finally present one to you! I know most of you wanted smut, but honestly for some reason this just felt more like what Pre-War life with Cooper would feel like in my opinion. I feel as if maybe I know more of him in ghoul form to know better how to write smut for the ghoul side of him, but who knows! I may just have to come out with a part two that is just smut of him after he gets married to reader, still pre war, thoughts? 👀 anyway, I hope y’all enjoy! Hope I can do my pre-ghoul loving Cooper lovelies justice for this! 🥰
Also in celebration of international jazz day, I included jazz music! The songs Cooper and reader dance to in their kitchen incase y’all want a more immersive experience! ☺️ I know Michael Bublé’s version isn’t exactly in that time period but his version just feels so much more intimate in my opinion, but feel free to listen to the original if you wish instead!
Tag list: @expirednukacola
It was like any other day in your quaint little home. You were standing by the stove, working on food for dinner for you and Cooper waiting for him to come home from work. You were just finished up with mixing up the mashed potatoes with a mixer when you heard keys jingle in the front door to your house. You smiled giddily as you heard the door open, the clomp of Cooper’s signature cowboy boots across the linoleum floor as your man stepped inside. “Welcome home honey!” You called from the kitchen as he took his shoes off in the entrance of the house, padding into the kitchen once disposing of his work bag and cowboy hat on the hangers near the living room. “How lovely it is to see your face after a long day” he said, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You gave a contented hum as he rested his head against your shoulder before placing a sweet kiss to your cheek, not wanting to distract you from the absolute art that was your cooking. “How was work?” You asked, making him chuckle as he stood next to you, watching you as you put your heart and soul into the gravy for the mashed potatoes and pot roast finishing up in the oven. “Oh you know, the usual. Kinda pissed that ain’t nothin’ special happen today” he said, making you turn to him. “All that fuss of bringin’ you in on your day off, just for it t’ be a load a nothin’?” You asked, upset for him that they would do that to him, of course it wasn’t the first time this had occurred, he’d been called in on his days off quite often actually. But it never really upset you, not when you knew it made him happy and when at the end of the day, he’d always come home to you. “Yeah…never fails” he said, making you shake your head. “Figures. I oughta have a chat with that agent of yours to letchya off the hook every now an ‘gain. A day off is meant to be enjoyed! To relax! Not to come straight back into work with more stress than there already is to begin with” you said, making him chuckle at the threatening way you held the spatula in his direction with gravy dripping off it into the pot. “I’m sorry again we couldn’t go to that jazz concert ya wanted to go see” he said, making you somber for a moment remembering the cute plans you’d made for today since he was supposed to be off, but were ruined the moment he answered that damned phone that almost never stops ringing. “Oh don’t you sweat it, darlin’. Been listenin’ to it in the radio! Figured we could have our own little at home date and just enjoy it from the radio, whatdya say?” You asked with a hopeful smile, and he loved the way you always managed to find the positives in even the worst situations. “Sounds good to me if it’s good with you darlin’” he said, pulling you in by the hip to give you a quick, soft kiss. You smiled into it before swatting his hands as he tried to distract you from cooking by letting his hands wander. “Now now, after super, mister. Besides, I worked hard on this pot roast! I’d be cross if it went cold!” You said, making him laugh. He loved your attitude and dedication to your craft, it was just a few of the many things he loved about you truly. As a man fresh from divorce, you sure knew how to make him feel like a brand new man.
He helped you in setting everything out in the table, carrying the pot of mashed potatoes, and the gravy as you made it very clear you needed to place down the pot roast. “Everythin’ smells delicious sweet pea” he said, making you smile proudly as you set down the roast on a mitt to keep the wooden table safe from warping from the heat of the roast pan. “Mmm-MM! Damn honey, looks about as good as you” he said suavely, coming back with two glasses and a bottle of your favorite wine. “Picked this up on the way home as an apology for date night AND!” He said before excitedly going and grabbing flowers from his bag to present you with. You gasped as you saw the beautiful assortment of roses he got you, covering your mouth with your hand as you took them. “Coop! Awww, honey ya shouldn’t have!” You said, hugging him for them and the wine before he found a vase for you to put them in. “They’re gorgeous! Oh gosh you spoil me” you said, making him laugh as he held you close once taking them from your hold so he could be the center of your attention at that moment. “Anything for you honey, it’s the least I could do. Besides, you deserve a man who treats ya like I’m still trynna win ya over, an’ I’m always gonna do that” he said, smiling down at you before kissing you once more. “Well, you are certainly forgiven. Especially now” you said playfully, both of you chuckling amongst each other as he swayed you back and forth to the music. “Alright, c’mon lover boy. Let’s eat ‘fore it gets cold, yeah?” You asked with a smile before moving to sit your self-designated seats at the dinner table, smiling as you popped open the bottle of wine to pour you both a glass after helping yourself to a plate full. He gave a hum in delight at the first taste of your cooking, making you giggle as you cut into your roast before taking a bite. “You are truly a god send. How you make the most delicious food, delicious desserts, I made out” he said, making you giggle once more, a well cooked carrot on the tip of your fork. “What can I say? Mama raised a good one. She really wanted me to get married and give her some grand babies, so had a kick ass teacher” you replied, popping the carrot into your mouth once you’d finished talking with a grin stretched to your pretty lips. “Imma have to thank her myself again when I see her next then, because you are a god damn angel” he said, making you laugh as he continued to compliment you and shout pleased expletives as your delicious home cooked meal.
Once you’d both finished up with dinner, the dishes quickly found their way into the dishwasher and it wasn’t long before you both were slow dancing in your shared kitchen. You smiled up at him as the song that played when you two met, then when you first got together, and on your first date began to play. What luck it was that it would end up playing!
How lucky can one guy be?
I kissed her and she kissed me.
Like the fella once said,
“Ain’t that a kick in the head?”
You smiled and giggled as you both swayed to the upbeat song, listening to the singer who did a mighty fine impression of Dean Martin in your opinion. You watched as Cooper happily began singing along, making all sorts of funny faces as he got into it, loving the way it always made you smile.
The room was completely black.
I hugged her and she hugged back.
Like the sailor said, quote,
“Ain’t that a hole in the boat?”
My head keeps spinning.
I go to sleep and keep grinning.
If this is just the beginning,
My life is gonna be beautiful.
You started to sing along with him, unable to deny just the purely happy energy almost radiating from him, as if he was singing this song and singing it about you. Your smile stretched so wide it almost hurt your cheeks, seeing those cute little dimples that rested in his when he was truly and genuinely happy.
I’ve got sunshine enough to spread.
It’s just like the fella said,
“Tell me quick: ain’t love a kick in the head?”
Like the fella once said,
“Ain’t that a kick in the head?”
Like the sailor said, quote,
“Ain’t that a hole in the boat?”
My head keeps spinning.
I go to sleep and keep grinning.
If this is just the beginning,
My life is gonna be beautiful.
She’s telling me we’ll be wed.
She’s picked out a king-size bed.
I couldn’t feel any better or I’d be sick.
Tell me quick, oh, ain’t love a kick?
Tell me quick, ain’t love a kick in the head?
He smiled as he swayed you back and forth, looking at you and singing to you before twirling you in front of him, watching the skirt of your dress billow out around you as you spun. Before the song came to an end, he dipped you, holding you up with an arm resting in the dip of your lower back as your arms looped around his neck. His lips connected with yours, his heart racing as he looked at you, feeling as happy as the upbeat rhythm of the song. Your one hand cradled his cheek as you kissed, passionately and sweetly before he brought you back up. “Reminds me of the day we first met” you said with a happy smile, remembering that day well. You had been in attendance to your best friend’s little girl’s birthday party where they hired Cooper to do his titular cowboy stunts to entertain the children, but over time as the kids talked and played amongst each other, you’d bravely strewn up to him, thanks to enjoying a few martinis before hand. You’d told him how much of a fan you were, and struck up conversation with him by the radio that was playing music that the kids were dancing to and that song so happened to be one of them. You two hit it off enough that you’d actually talked all night, even after the time he was paid to be there for. “Okay you two, my wallet can only handle the great Cooper Howard for so long” your best friend said, making you blush and apologize for holding him up so long. “Say no more ma’am, I’ll get outta your hair. But you, pretty lady, I would love to keep in touch with” he said, and you could have shit your pants as he gave you a napkin with his phone number written on with. You hadn’t expected THE Cooper Howard to actually want to talk to you, let alone become something akin to friends! And yet here you were, living in a nice little house out in the farmlands with him. It was like a dream come true. It was right after that song that played, that another came through the speakers that you enjoyed dancing to. You smiled as you took his hands to lead the dance.
When marimba rhythms start to play
Dance with me, make me sway
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close, sway me more
Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with ease
When we dance, you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me
You mouthed the lyrics to the song as you focused on the intimate dance you’d both learned. His hands cascaded down from your arms, down your waist then rested on your hips as you both swayed to the rhythm. A smirk donned his lips as he recalled the first time you both ever danced to this song, as if the chemistry between you was so strong, so natural that the dance hardly even needed to be taught to you.
Other dancers may be on the floor
Dear, but my eyes will see only you
Only you have that magic technique
When we sway, I go weak
I can hear the sounds of violins
Long before it begins
Make me thrill as only you know how
Sway me smooth, sway me now
Other dancers may be on the floor
Dear, but my eyes will see only you
Only you have that magic technique
When we sway, I go weak
He never failed to steal your heart with the skillful way he would twirl you and dip you deeply to the loud sound of the trumpets reaching the peak at the end of that verse. You smiled up at him as your lips ghosted his, coming so close to brushing against his before pulling you back up to continue the fast paced dance to the song.
I can hear the sounds of violins
Long before it begins
Make me thrill as only you know how
Sway me smooth, sway me now
When marimba rhythms start to play
Dance with me, make me sway
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close, sway me more
Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with ease
When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me
When marimbas start to play
Hold me close, make me sway
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close, sway me more
Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with ease
When we dance, you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me
As the song came to its end, he twirled you in front of him, jumping between facing him and having your back turned to him as your feet stepped around one another’s and bodies swayed in tandem together like the fluid motion of water brushing against the sand of a beach. You smiled brightly as he dipped you once more, your arms looped around his neck as you lifted your one leg to rest against his hip, his one hand holding you up and his free one resting along the back of your thigh that rested against him. “Still got it” he said confidently, making you chuckle. “Never doubted that you did” you quipped, enjoying this intimate, peaceful moment together. “I love you, so damn much Y/N” He said as leaned down, making you grin just a little bit wider at his kind, heart spoken words. “I love you so damn much too, Cooper Howard” you said, making him hum at the use of his full name, feeling your fingers brushing his cheek as your eyes flit between his and his lips before pulling him into a more heated, passionate kiss than the ones you shared earlier. With a little wine in both of your systems and having not seen one another since the early hours of the morning, it left you rather caught up in the moment and wanting of one another.
“Before I get too carried away now, I did get ya another gift. Been hangin’ onto it for a while now, and well…it didn’t feel right to give it to ya ‘til now” he said, making you playfully slap his chest at the fact that he fussed enough over you guys missing a concert to get you so many gifts to make up for something so small. “Cooper Howard! You and the gifts, you’re startin’ to make me look like a spoiled princess!” You chewed him out, making him laugh, he knew you hated it when he fussed over you but he just couldn’t help himself. In his eyes you deserved the world, and god damn it would he make sure he could give it to you. “I do it ‘cause I want to, honey. Don’t you worry” he said, making you stand with your hands on your hips giving him a playful glare. “Just close your eyes for me, would ya sugar? And before ya chew me out some more, I think you’ll find that you’re gonna love it” he said sweetly, and of course you did what he asked, ever curious of why he was playing this gift up so much. “If you’re tryin’ to play any moves on me, might I remind you that the kitchen blinds are still open? Don’t need to be givin’ Betty-Sue and her husband Harold a view straight from one of them magazines” you said, making him give a hearty laugh in response. “Well maybe I should close the blinds then, but I got a feelin’ it’ll have you screamin’ in a different kinda way sugar” he replied, and you couldn’t help the blush that tickled to your cheeks. “Well now you got me guessin’” you said, a little anxious now to see what it was he’d gotten for you. “Well then stop guessin’. Open your eyes and find out” he said, and the gasp that left your lips you swore could have been heard from the next house down. “Cooper!!” You yelled loud enough to also likely be heard a few doors over, with tears coming to your eyes as you saw him standing there on one knee, a gorgeous diamond ring resting in the box he had outstretched to you. “Oh my god, Coop…you did not” you said through chuckles and happy tears, making him beam up at you. “I sure did. I’d be doin’ you, myself, and your mama one hell of a disservice if I didn’t put a ring on that gorgeous finger a yours for all the things you done for me. You stuck by me through all the nasty shit in the divorce, you’ve done nothin’ but love and care for little Janey as if she were your own, and by god if you ain’t the most beautiful woman I’ve ever gotten the honor of knowin’” he said, making you cover your mouth with your hands as you listened to him. “You got my whole heart Y/N, even when I thought none of it was left, you found it and put it right back together. And that’s a whole hell of a lot more than what this ol’ boy could ever ask for” he said, making you chuckle at him calling himself old when he wasn’t really. “So whatdya say? Will you marry me?” He asked, making you shake your head yes about as vigorously as you could without running the risk of getting whiplash. “Yes! A million times yes. I’ll marry you Coop” you said, making him smile as he picked you up in his arms, twirling you both around in celebratory fashion with shared happy laughter. As he set you down, he kissed you once more before sliding that gorgeous diamond ring on your finger. You smiled as you looked down at it, so overjoyed, so overflown with love you just couldn’t help but kiss him again. “It’s beautiful Cooper, thank you” you said sweetly, making him pull your hand up to his lips as he pressed them to your knuckles. “No, thank you sweetheart. For everything you do for this stubborn son of a gun” he said, making you giggle once more at him before pressing your forehead to his, closing your eyes to enjoy the peaceful quiet in this beautiful, intimate moment together.
“Well shit, I suppose you’ve done and earned the right to dessert now after everything” you said teasingly, breaking the silence and making him whistle excitedly at the prospect of what your words had in store. You yelped in surprise then laughed as he picked you up bridal style, carrying you to your shared bedroom with all the excitement of a couple still in their honeymoon phase. You supposed now it wouldn’t be long until you actually had a honeymoon with him. “Cooper! Good lord! You are just full of it today” you said through laughs as he brought you into the bedroom, grinning as he closed the door behind him with his foot. The poor man just couldn’t get enough of you, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it. “Don’t get me wrong I love your cookin’ sugar, but I’d be a lyin’ sack a shit if I said havin’ you for dessert afterwards wasn’t my favorite part” he said, making you laugh as he set you on the soft, king sized bed you two shared. “Well then come get a piece of your future bride then, cowpoke” you said with a smirk, and he ain’t never grinned wider than after hearing those words leave your mouth.
#fallout#cooper howard#fallout x reader#cooper howard x reader#asks#the ghoul#the ghoul x reader#fallout tv series#fallout tv show#Spotify
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I wish you would do a full post dedicated to toxicity or angsty shortcomings in relationships with the boys 🫠 I loved reading the toxic head canons ❤️
angst hurts my heart but !!
RIIZE RED FLAGS based on astrology~
hyung line edition ❗️
reminder this is based off of MY opinions of their birth chart placements + aspects and is not exact fact unless I knew them myself and I am not a professional astrologer
Shotaro
Vague - not exactly a red flag but he cares a lot about the things going on within his personal life but sometimes he might prefer to keep things to himself due to paranoia of how his s/o will react or if they’d use it against him..he might have a fear of betrayal that can make him be pretty vague and unable to tell his s/o a lot of things in regards to him which can feel secretive to someone who wants a relationship with open info
Intense - His Scorpio moon paired with his Cap venus leads to a need for loyalty as well as his moon/mercury aspect making him very observant of your words and even remembering things you said a longgg time ago which can be overwhelming and feel even persecuting to some. He might also be paranoid in the relationship of cheating or disloyalty.
Coldness- When he's upset he might have a tendency to be cold yet indirect. He has a scorpio mercury and when upset or protecting themselves they can say things that really hurt or could be pretty cutting. He also has a libra mars so he'd be pretty passive aggressive or indirect with his upset.
Eunseok
Nonchalant- (reminder that nonchalant means that a person cares but acts in a way that suggests indifference/disinterest) He can sometimes be too nonchalant and can make someone overall feel as though he has no passion in the relationship when really he does but just doesn't think you have to be lovey dovey 24/7 or he cant express his passion super well as times
Outburst- Eunseok has a cap moon and moon/saturn aspects paired with a mutable mars so he doesn't express his emotions well or bottles them up which can lead to him getting triggered at random and having a spontaneous outburst out of NOWHEREEE due to suppressed feelings which can be super problematic to some
Insensitive- it’s not on purpose or with malicious intent but Eunseok can sometimes not realize that though a situation isn’t a big deal to him to someone else it might be, he also can forget the more subjective side of things which can accidentally hurt peoples feelings
Sungchan
Sensitive - His pride is high and his reaction to things may be 3x more dramatic than the actual event that happened. When he's been hurt emotionally (whether it was intentional or not) he has a hard time letting go of what happened and might even give a silent treatment until he feels you've shown remorse.
Insecure - He cares a lot about what other people think of him and that can bleed into his relationships. He might act one way in public but another way in private which can make his words/actions seem insincere or disingenuous.
Internal struggles- Has a hard time balancing his feminine side and masculine side and what I mean is he is someone super emotional and feels his emotions very deeply but might try to cover that side of him up with a masculine facade which can bring tension.
Wonbin
Avoidance - He might refuse to acknowledge the red flags or obvious shortcomings/problems in the relationship or himself and may take a long time fully accepting or facing these problems as they are or has a weak approach in attempting to fix or acknowledge the problems. Idealizes a lot of aspects and tends to withdrawal when things don’t match his vision.
Procrastination- Once again, has a hard time facing things head on and takes a while to put action into something and avoids the messier more negative emotions that one must face in relationships; he could also take a long time to let the relationship reach the next more serious levels.
Stubborn- It's hard to change his mind about certain things..in arguments he'll try to pull a "lets agree to disagree" but it's a topic where you both need to be on the same page. He might even just straight up go mute in arguments if he doesn't feel like his opinion was valued enough.
#sh0tanzz#riize#kpop astrology#riize shotaro#riize sungchan#riize eunseok#riize wonbin#riizenet#riize fluff#riize imagines#riize reactions#riize headcanons#riize scenarios#riize x reader#riize x imagine#riize soft hours#riize soft thoughts#riize angst#eunseok x reader#riize shotaro x reader#sungchan x reader#wonbin x reader#jung sungchan#osaki shotaro#song eunseok#park wonbin#briize#riize is 7#riize reading#riize smau
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I think I'm done talking about old drama, at least for now. Unfortunately she's gotten away with stuff way worse than plagiarism, so I was never really expecting anything to come from talking about it. Just remembered it the other day and was like "Hey wait. This is kinda fucked up"
But nowadays I have my own stuff going on, and just editing that compilation put me back in the shitty headspace I used to be in as a youtuber, it was not fun. Sometimes in life something shitty happens and you never get closure on it and you just have to keep living. And honestly I'd rather she get cancelled over the more heinous stuff she's done than just copying someone else's bad opinions. Like plagiarism isn't harmless, but I can't act like my justice is more important than others'.
Idk, maybe some day a white guy will make a video about it and then it'll be taken seriously, but until that day I'm gonna be fine. I'm making stuff that is far more creatively satisfying than those videos ever were, doing cool stuff with cool friends, and Lily will never be able to take that away from me.
#also shell never make anything as cool as PULSE! >:)#not to mention the series thats coming after it...
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for you, i'll wait
↖ navigation: seventeen masterlist || main masterlist
pairing: bf! wonwoo x gn! reader
↬ tags: 6 months abroad thats crazy!, talks about landing an overseas placement , wonwoo being a supportive bf! but wonu missing you loads, sappy sappy, very indulgent fanfic, small segment on the waiting part is so surreal for me, not mentioned but i want the readers to imagine that you and wonu are in a newly founded relationship!
summary: just like this, everyday he will wait for you, always (inspired from plave's wait for you)
word count: 882 words
"wonwoo! wonwoo!"
he puts down the phone in his hands, watching as you clumsily toed off your shoes at the doorway before rushing to him by the sofa.
"easy does it, baby."
"you know the interview i was preparing for? i got accepted."
a sense of pride surged through wonwoo’s veins and his lips curved into that beautiful smirk you liked.
"congrats, my love. i knew you could do it." he softly praised you. letting you lean against him, your head rested comfortably on his left shoulder as you snuggled closer to his side. you held up the confirmation mail and wonwoo immediately spots the salutations from the of the letter addressed to you.
his blood then runs cold then hot a second later.
"the…overseas one?" silence blanketed the two of you and he averted his gaze, afraid his eyes might tell too much.
“yeah and...the program will start next month, based on this letter." wonwoo knew how much you've been trying for a work-study program overseas with this particular company you really looked up to.
"but 6 months overseas—" he tried to not his disappointment show and chose to zip his mouth. leaning back, wonwoo exhales through his nose. he wrestles with his inner desires versus yours.
“they are waiting for my reply…i need to get back by tomorrow latest or they will pass the opportunity to someone else.”
he should be happy that you got accepted: you worked hard for it and he was rooting for you every step of the way. he'd been really supportive too, accompanying you to the multiple rounds of interviews and even going to the extent of preparing your portfolio together.
wonwoo begrudgingly accepts the situation at hand. he opens up his arms and you immediately move into his embrace. "if you’re asking me for an opinion, you know i’m gonna tell you to chase your dreams…but damn i’m going to miss you lot... like incredibly." a sigh uncontrollably leaves his lips and he hides his face in the juncture of your neck to calm his racing heart.
he hugs you tight like he doesn’t want you to go and your heart wrenched at his sudden display of affection. “i’m gonna miss you just as much too.” you soothed him, carding your hands through his hair, matching your breathing with his.
“i’m already missing you.”
—————
it was tough, really tough, trying to cope without you around. wonwoo didn't think he'd be that lovesick fool, but alas, he was just someone who terribly missed their lover.
while you were overseas, he catches himself preparing two cups of tea, only to remember (rather sadly) that you weren't around. he puts on your favorite show, and sits on the right side of the couch because for some reason you preferred the left side. he buys your favorite snacks and tries them for the first time (it was too sweet for his liking): he sees why you like them so much and misses the way you would light up whenever he got them from the mart.
—————
"wonwoo!"
in that moment, it was as if time had stopped. realization hit him like a ton of bricks and he feels his entire self awaken. he immediately puts down the drink in his hand, body reacting faster than his mind did. wonwoo stands up from his seat, eyes scanning the semi-crowded café for you.
he couldn't care less about how multiple pair of eyes were staring at him in the café: you were finally here. the instant his gaze connects with yours, he breaks out into an uncontrollable smile. (a smile couldn't even capture the extend of excited he was to see you.)
heart pounding loudly, he greets you with barely open arms as you sprint to him full force, luggage bag rattling loudly behind you. A bright beam on your face and sparkling eyes
"i'm back!" wonwoo easily catches you with a short chuckle, instantly pulling you into his embrace.
he holds you just a little tighter, for just a little longer. hands coming behind you to cup your lower back and your neck, wonwoo draws you in impossibly close, tucking his head in the juncture of your neck. it felt as if it was a fever dream: you two were just calling despite the time difference the day before, and today you were right in front of him.
"i thought you were going to be there for one more week..." he mumbles into your hair, inhaling your scent. who could blame him for being sappy and misty eyed? he really did miss you.
you giggle in his hold, explaining, "well.. it was a surprise! i know how much you're dying to see me, so i made some arrangements and i'm really back for good this time round." you glanced up at him, eyes sparkling and he stares at you, re-memorizing your every feature, the ones that he dearly loved. leaning forwards, he presses a kiss square on your lips, earning him a surprised gasp from you.
"you've gotten a lot bolder since last time, kissing me in public like that jeon wonwoo..." you hid your blushing face in his firm chest and he laughed, insanely happy that you were back.
"i'm so glad you're here with me now."
@ppumeonae-bigvibe 's work ; likes and reblogs are appreciated <3
#ppumeonae-bigvibe#seventeen jeon wonwoo#seventeen wonwoo x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fluff
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@princington's amazing art brought me back to this fic so have a little extra for them.
There are many, many terrible things about dating Beatrice.
For example: she manages to wake up at six AM every single morning to go jogging and comes home looking sweaty and sexy while Ava is still dealing with bedhead. She's also organised to the point of insanity and remembers every important date, even the ones Ava didn't realise she knew (like the date she opened the coffee shop. They hadn't even met for fuck's sake), and manages to swoop in with a thoughtful gift or kind word to mark the occasion. Meanwhile, Ava is still scribbling DON'T FORGET DENTIST - TUESDAY?? on the back of her hand like a high schooler.
And if all of that wasn't horrible enough, even after almost a year of dating, Beatrice can still roll up the cuffs of her sleeves or adjust her glasses or recite some complicated piece of research, and Ava winds up hopelessly turned on in public on the regular.
It sucks, actually. Ava's life is awful.
None of that is the worst part of it though. The worst part of dating Beatrice, who is sexy and thoughtful and intelligent, is that she's fucking impossible to buy gifts for.
Beatrice doesn't actually want anything is half the problem. She reads a lot of books but she mostly checks them out from the university library. She drinks a lot of tea, but Ava runs a coffee shop. If her girlfriend wants tea, she has a store room full of it. Other than that, she mostly likes crosswords, the gym, her friends, and… well. Ava.
It's making planning for the first birthday Beatrice has had since they've been together exceptionally stressful. Particularly since Ava knows for a fact that Beatrice's parents believed in a "socks and school supplies" style of gift giving which, as far as she's concerned, barely even count.
"What are you getting Bea for her birthday?" she whispers conspiriatorially to Camila one Saturday afternoon in Mary and Shannon's back yard. Beatrice herself is bouncing the baby on her knee and debating some obscure scientific hypothesis - something about mold. Ava is surprised to find she actually has an opinion on the topic. Probably all those mold documentaries.
Camila snorts, "Have you just figured out she's impossible to buy for?"
"Yes," Ava stresses, "C'mon, what are you getting her? And if it's really good I'm stealing your idea."
"Oh no." Camila shakes her head, "It took me all year to think of something. You're on your own."
"Cam." Ava tries her best pleading, puppy dog eyes. They don't work nearly as well on Camila as they do on Beatrice.
"Ava." Camila pats her hand comiseratingly, "Just get her what every self-respecting lesbian wants for their birthday."
Ava frowns, "Power tools?"
Camila smirks, "Strap-on and lingerie."
So that conversation was entirely useless - mostly because Ava already owns more than enough of both those things and they sort of seem like a gift for both of them more than just Beatrice. And more than anything else, Ava wants her girlfriend to feel special. Like she's worth something great that's for her and only her.
Shannon is her next port of call. Ava corners her in the kitchen where she's refilling drinks and, probably pre-warned by Camila, looks entirely unsurprised to be accosted.
"We normally order some of the gross British candy she likes," Shannon informs her. "And before you even try it - she knows that's what we get her every year, so don't try and steal the idea."
Ava groans despondently, "I'm hitting a wall here. What the fuck do you buy for someone who doesn't actually want anything?"
Beatrice does always say that her best friend is unreasonably logical and practical in her advice. For the first time, Ava understands her plight when Shannon shrugs and says, "Have you tried asking her?"
With nothing else to do, Ava tries. Admittedly, she probably picks a bad time to do it: she's shirtless and sitting cross-legged on their bed while Beatrice massages lotion into the new tattoo on her shoulder. Bea's fingers are gentle and thorough and very, extremely distracting.
"Hey," Ava says a little breathlessly, her eyes closed, "What do you want for your birthday?"
Beatrice, because she is Beatrice, says, "You don't have to get me anything."
Typical. This is why dating her is so difficult. "Obviously I do," Ava points out. "For my birthday you took me to a theme park even though it's your idea of actual, literal hell." Bea had even bought and worn a t-shirt that said "I RODE THE BIG ONE". Camila has the photograph framed in her office.
"Not actual, literal hell," Beatrice argues, "I enjoyed that you had fun."
"There's really nothing you want?" Ava asks.
Disappointingly, Beatrice's fingers stop their movement and she puts a cap on the lotion, moving off the bed behind Ava. "Is this what you were whispering with Camila and Shannon about earlier?"
"Maybe. They weren't helpful."
Beatrice's smile is affectionate, "They never are." She leans in to kiss her, her hand landing on Ava's bare shoulder and skirting over her neck, "I'd like to spend my birthday with you. That's all."
Ava wraps her arms aroud her shoulders and sighs, "Dating you is the worst."
"Mm, awful," Beatrice agrees, kissing the corner of her mouth and then her jaw. "Shall we break up?"
"Yep." Ava turns her head to press their lips together again and uses her distraction to lie back, pulling Beatrice down on top of her. "We're over."
(On her birthday, they drink tea in bed and do a crossword puzzle with Ava's head on Beatrice's shoulder. Later, they wander through a museum eating wine gums and holding hands. At Shannon and Mary's place, Beatrice unwraps the cordless drill that Ava bought for her.
"Thank you," she says, "It's just what I wanted.")
(Ava saves the strap-on and lingerie for later.)
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gently wipe the sorrow off my life, i dream
scaramouche x gn!reader
summary: "you didn’t know what happened, why it happened and that was breaking your heart, cutting it open, leaving burning pain in your chest, where once flowers of love bloomed." you're surprised and completely heartbroken when your lover, kunikuzushi, suddenly disappears without a trace. you think it's the end of the world, with your heart open and bleeding but soon you discover, that there is still happiness waiting for you.
tags: based on the prompt "there’ll be happiness after you but there was happiness because of you", scara's real name used, modern au (from highschool to college), scara basically pulls an irminsul but why? blame dottore angst/bittersweet, [name] is very much going through it </3 title name taken from the honkai star rail song "if i can stop one heart from breaking". not proofread
notes: hi. i come back with angst! written for @thexianzhoujade's personal memoires event and truthfully i kinda hate this fic HAJAHS but this is fine i am not fine blah blah blah yippee. i forgot how to write scara so sorry if this fic is kinda ooc but yeahhh have fun enjoy !! <3 as if anyone is going to enjoy angst LMAO
“Come on, it’s just one photo and besides, we barely have pictures of us…”
“...just one, fine. Get in here.”
A part of you wished you had taken more pictures with him. Pictures from dates in the blooming parks, from hangouts with your friends after school, from spending time together at his place, something to fill up the empty photo album you found hidden in your room. You filled only a few pages, with a few pictures of you and Kunikuzushi, of you taken by your friends, of your family during holidays, pictures of you and your friends, his friends, a picture of him you took when he didn’t see– the one you considered putting in your wallet, laughing how you’d look like a spouse missing their husband.
(You counted exactly six photos of him in your album, compared to the twenty or so with others. Barely a quarter, not even a half, barely a page and a half of the album.)
You moved your fingers over one of them, the one you took after graduation– laughing with your friends, posing at the camera, tightly holding his hand, and tugging him closer, and wondered.
Did it have to end like this? If you only knew what was happening, would you somehow fix it in time?
Things were… nice, before. Being with him was nice, even if his personality sometimes made you tug at your hair in annoyance. But you found a common language and spoke in it till the very end, sharing your joy and sadness, annoyance and anger, silent tears and gentle fluttering in your chests.
When you first met Kunikuzushi in school, you had your opinions about him– he wasn’t the nicest, wasn’t talking with many other students, and seemingly valued his time alone more than with someone. You understood it, some people simply weren’t the social butterflies but it became a problem when, by some unlucky charm (at least, you thought it was unlucky then), you ended up together to work on a project. You didn’t know him and your teacher decided to pair you by herself, saying how she wanted her students to interact more with each other. It seemed like a terrible idea at first.
(You rolled your eyes, giving a look to your friend. You really didn’t entertain this idea– to do a big project with someone other than your friend? You dealt with enough shitty groupmates leaving you on read or delivered in your life, and that was for small projects! What if you got someone as shitty as them? You shuddered at the thought alone.)
But, oh, how wrong you were. You didn’t expect to befriend that guy, and yet a few months in, Kunikuzushi became your best friend, and a year later– your lover.
You remembered that love confession like yesterday; a little awkward, he jumbled over his words and you said something stupid in return, laughing awkwardly at yourself and almost getting up from that bench and marching back home. It was late, the bench in the park illuminated by the streetlight. A part of you was sure he planned for the confession to look different, yet whatever his ideal plan was, you wouldn’t exchange what you got for it.
He walked you back home, you remembered, holding your hand.
To say you were happy was an understatement. Something bloomed in your chest with every day spent together with him, the little affections between you warming your heart and cheeks, and every morning seemed… a little brighter. It wasn’t wake up, get dressed, go to school, spend majority of your day studying, sleep, anymore.
Wake up, reply to Kunikuzushi’s late night message he sent. Get dressed and don’t forget about that chain necklace with a pendant he gave you for your birthday (you were matching, of course you were matching). Go to school and spend the day with your friends, with Kunikuzushi, with his friends (although you weren’t sure if that ginger guy was really his friend, but…). Spend the rest of your day studying, texting, and sometimes hanging out if you had free time (which turned into weekly hangouts with all your friends and… sometimes, more than once a week, just you and Kunikuzushi). Text him goodnight and smile at his, although short, reply back. Sleep.
You hoped it would stay like this… for longer. For as long as possible, just living in this bliss, being happy and not alone, with people you loved and who loved you back, some even more than others.
(Selfishly, you wanted that to last forever. Forever the high school student with no worries other than passing exams and doing your homework on time. Forever with your friends, spending weekends with them, having fun and not caring about anything else. Was it selfish to want to be happy forever?)
Kunikuzushi was here with you for all your problems, even if, truthfully, he wasn’t the best at solving them, and neither he was good at words. But he was still here, offering you support and letting you talk about what annoyed you, what made you sad and sometimes, he still would try to comfort you, loudly agreeing with your complaints, (lovingly) threatening to beat someone up if they were an asshole to you, telling you to not worry. It wasn’t the end yet.
His presence alone helped you manage through harder days– it was better to be with someone after all, rather than spend your days wallowing in sadness alone, with only the walls willing to listen.
(You offered him help, too. Quietly sitting and listening to his rants about his mother, squeezing his hand and tugging him closer to you– or simply being next to him, when touch was something unwanted.)
When graduation came, in bittersweet tears you promised your friends (and Kunikuzushi, of course) to still be in touch with them, and never leave them alone just because you weren’t students from the same class anymore. That didn’t change anything, no.
The summer vacation you spent mostly with your friends, hanging out and enjoying the warm, summer weather. So many trips, so many walks with Kunikuzushi and dates– oh, that picnic you two went on one day… it started raining at one point (the weather reports lied to you, it seemed) and you only had a blanket to cover yourself from the rain. How funny it was, how much you wished you could get the chance to do it again, with him–
You sighed, closing the album. Sometime before the summer’s end, right before the start of college, you noticed… changes in Kunikuzushi’s behavior. He still was your lover, caring about you in his own ways, he still was the man you loved, but something seemed to always bug him. Something seemed to sit on his shoulders, heavy. You always asked him if he was okay because yes, yes, you noticed his worse mood, noticed all the little things he tried to hide and you were worried, really worried, and–
And yet, you never got a proper answer. Always to not worry, that nothing was wrong, and you were tired of that, maybe if you, at least this once, pressed him for answers, during that summer night you called a date–
Maybe you would know why he suddenly disappeared without a trace.
The many messages you sent, the many unanswered calls– you asked your friends around, his friends, and were greeted with radio silence in answer. You didn’t know what happened, why it happened and that was breaking your heart, cutting it open, leaving burning pain in your chest, where once flowers of love bloomed.
(These flowers would never truly burn, you feared. Some would still leave, polluting your heart and making it harder to breathe.)
What was once beautiful turned into a burden, far too heavy to carry alone. There was so much stress on your plate– because what if something happened to him? What if someone did something to him, what if there was something you could do to change it? Why were you so distracted throughout the day? Why was it hard to get up in the morning, why the only thing you wanted to do was to wait at your phone, with hopes of seeing at least a single message from him? Where went your motivation to study, to do well in college as you promised yourself?
Where was he? What happened? Could you change it?
Were you at fault?
(No, of course you weren’t. You did everything in your power, but it just wasn’t enough. None of this was your fault.)
Were you alone in it?
…no, you weren’t. It felt like you were, especially at first; with new people around you, your friends offering you support but ultimately being busy, you felt alone. Terribly so, loneliness gnawing at your soul all the time, leaving the icy cold feeling in its wake.
But life forced you to get up from that pit, whether you wanted that or not. You couldn’t fail your major, not when you worked so hard to get into it in the first place. And neither you wanted to completely cut off your friends, so you started replying to their texts more. You’ve met new people, too, and made new friendships.
Things were getting back on track after, you thought that they wouldn’t. You pulled yourself up with your own strength, with your friends cheering for you from the distance, their cheers putting a smile on your face.
(Younger you thought that if you ever were to break up with Kunikuzushi, the world would simply… end. You ignored that thought creeping into your mind, waved it away, pushed it deep at the bottom of your mind. It wouldn’t happen.)
Now, as you looked at the pictures, you still felt a sharp pang in your chest. You missed him, yes, and you still thought about the days you spent together with him, but they no longer brought you back into that darkness you once experienced.
They were a bittersweet memory now. Ones, you would cherish till the end, gently putting them on the shelf with new, happy memories.
You hummed to yourself in thought, tapping at the cover of the album with your nail. Maybe instead of pondering how you should take more photos of the past, maybe you should take more of the future? Fill the album up with new photos of yourself, your friends, random things that you found pretty and worth remembering.
Your phone threw you out of the thinking, the loud noise of the ringtone filling up the room. Right, you were supposed to meet up with your friends in an hour and here you were, going through your old stuff and procrastinating the shower.
You put the album away and picked up your phone. A smile tugged at your lips hearing the overjoyed voice of your friend, telling you how excited they are to meet with you again (your last hangout was two weeks ago!) and that they already left.
You looked back at the album.
With today, you’d start filling it up with new memories of your happiness.
#astronetwrk#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#nereids' realm#⊹ ࣪ ˖ personal memoires ⟢#heia's writin'#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact x you#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#kunikuzushi x reader#scaramouche x you#wanderer x you#kunikuzushi x you#how about you stop having so many names#gender neutral reader
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after your post about malleus i finally said to myself “yeah i can’t force myself to pretend like i like any of the dormheads”. not like i hate them, but after their blots were over i felt like nothing in particular has ever changed about them. the only person who made me think yeah he’s a changed guy is vil. i was really surprised when in chapter 6(if it wasn’t the end of 5th? can’t remember) he apologised to the boys, his acceptance of his own mistakes and awful doings made him skyrocket in my mental tier list
[Referencing this post!]
Mmmm, I'm in a similar boat when it comes to the dorm leaders but for my own reasons; I like the vice dorm leaders a lot better simply because I tend to enjoy characters who play "supportive" roles (butler, bodyguard, knight, older sibling, etc.).
I don't know if I agree with the idea that the dorm leaders (well, + Jamil instead of Kalim) didn't change after their OBs. I believe that we miss out on seeing a lot of their development because it happens off-screen and we the players don't spend every waking moment checking up on the OB boys--but they definitely do change. More specifically, right after their OBs and sometimes upon their returns in the subsequent books. Just because we do not personally witness every step of their development doesn't mean it didn't happen.
Let's look at one example with the first dorm leader. After his defeat, Riddle cries and confesses he doesn't care about the silly rules, he just wants to enjoy his time with everyone. During the unbirthday party that follows his OB, Riddle sees some roses that are not entirely red and his peers expect him to lose his temper again. Instead, he laughs and says he can overlook it, then invites everyone to help him paint them properly. Riddle expresses similar restraint with his anger in book 2; he adopts a policy of strictly chastising and then trying to fix the problem instead of immediately collaring rule transgressors. (The exceptions being with, of course, the wrongdoers of book 2, like Leona.) Then, in book 6, we see Riddle struggling with his character change, as he is shown to still heavily rely on absolute rules and laws to govern his actions, and relies on himself to be the judge of them while shunting out others. It's only when he butts heads with Azul that he's able to be a little more flexible and recognize his peers' strengths. This makes sense, because the time period between book 1 and book 6 is only about 6 months; a complete shift in one's character and worldview won't happen that quickly, nor completely. Riddle must have been working on himself a lot and consciously trying to repress his anger--and he's imperfect at it. This is fine!! Character growth can be messy, slow, and non-linear--and this is true of how the dorm leaders change over time.
As for Vil (since he was specifically cited in your ask!), I'm of the opinion that his early book 6 apology was not the result of a character change. Vil was already very mature and self-aware prior to OBing; I think he would have still apologized if he thought something going wrong was genuinely his fault, as he holds himself to high standards and would acknowledge when he has fallen short of them (even in regards to morals). This is implied in his behavior before he overblotted too; in book 5, Vil repeatedly claims he will defeat Neige using his own power, fair and square. When he falls into despair and resorts to dirty methods to take his rival out, VIl is appalled by the "ugliness" of his actions and begs his classmates to "not look at [him]" because "[he's] so ugly" (referring to his ugly character/morals). This means he was aware of the cruelty of his actions and how they poorly reflect on him (ie he would have felt guilty and apologized afterwards about it anyway). Vil typically comes off as harsh, but he's truly noble when it comes to accepting when he has fucked up.
I feel the real change in Vil is something that Rook highlights: the importance of loving oneself, regardless of what others may think of you. This development is made more apparent in book 6, which is the follow-up book to Vil's and allows him a time to shine. Whereas in book 5 Vil was obsessed with being a "hero" and public opinion, book 6 Vil declares to Idia "there are no heroes or villains" and that he is still "fairest of them all" (echoing a line Rook says in book 5), even as a withered old man.
I don’t want to ramble on for too long!! If you’re interested in reading about how the dorm leaders (+ Jamil) are grappling with their character arcs following their books, I’d recommend this post. It only goes up to Vil since the analysis is very book 6 heavy. I’d recommend this one for Idia, but be warned it does not take into account book 7 events since it was not out at the time of writing.
#twisted wonderland#twst#Leona Kingscholar#Azul Ashengrotto#Jamil Viper#Riddle Rosehearts#Kalim Al-Asim#Vil Schoenheit#Idia Shroud#Malleus Draconia#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#notes from the writing raven#Rook Hunt#book 1 spoilers#book 6 spoilers#book 7 spoilers#book 2 spoilers
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When writing both original fiction and fanfiction, it's my personal preference and style to remind people who characters are in the narration when I feel it might be needed. It's especially handy when bringing OCs into a fanfiction. Example: "The person calling out to them was [Character's Name Here], the baker they had met earlier that morning." This quirk of narration often reads to me as the POV character internally reminding themselves who someone is.
Sometimes, a character is quite bad with names or wasn't given one, which is where it's handy to refer to this other character by a fixed epithet. Example: "The person calling out to them was the square-faced man from yesterday, who had given them those bad directions." OR: "The person calling out to them was the mayor's daughter." This reads to me as though the POV character is distinguishing people by a particular feature or remembers them by their relationship to someone else, which is a common way to remember people, until their own name becomes more fixed in your mind.
I also think it's important to keep an epithet / title the same across a scene. Epithets are best used, in my opinion, when that particular feature or quality is actually relevant. It's a little weird for a POV character to suddenly think of their own husband as "the tall man" unless his height is suddenly important in some way, and it might confuse the audience into thinking another person is in the room. If a character doesn't have a name, then "the square-faced man" or "the mayor's daughter" effectively becomes their name, and it's confusing to have a character's name change too much with every other paragraph. (It would be fine to also refer to "the mayor's daughter" as "the girl" or "the young woman" as long as there aren't any other nameless girls speaking in the scene.) Keeping the same title allows it to blend in in the same way that the word "said" does, rather than break up the flow of a scene.
Not every person or character is bad with names and remembering people, of course, or is inclined to give them funny little internal titles. There are people who are very good at names. There are tricks to use to get yourself to memorize names as you're introduced to someone. Narrative styles are going to be different by author and by the current POV character. (Sometimes, you might want the audience to be confused and disoriented!)
In fact, thinking about how different characters think about each other is one of my favorite starting places for crafting a perspective voice. A single character might be referred to in the narration as "His Majesty" by one character, "my husband" by another character, "the king" by a third character, "the usurper" by a fourth character, and "Dad" by a fifth. The name that a character calls someone else by will often say a lot about their relationship and their opinion of that other person. If the prince appears to think of his father as "the king" rather than "Father", that implies something about their relationship.
But back to introducing character names, you as an author, in my experience as a writer and reader, generally can't rely on the audience to easily recall very minor character names unless they're very distinct or the character was introduced in a particularly memorable way. Like, if you introduce a character as the protagonist's best friend, Mary, and immediately start refering to her as Mary because it's followed by a conversation between the protagonist and Mary, that's fair! It's reasonable to expect the audience to just learn Mary's name here! But then if Mary disappears after Chapter 1 and doesn't show up again until Chapter 10, I think it's reasonable to subtly reintroduce her to the audience again. Example: "It was Mary smiling at me from the doorway, and I jumped up to hug my best friend immediately."
Like, there's no one way that you have to refer to characters and introduce them and reintroduce them, of course. Characters have different levels of importance and sometimes we don't really need to know who they are. Sometimes, an author wants an audience to feel grounded, to recognize people, and sometimes they want their audience to feel lost and scared. It's all situational. Style is a thing.
But because it's all situational, this is something I like thinking about and I think it's something worth studying when you're reading original fiction. It's interesting to pay attention to how characters enter and exit scenes in different forms of media, and how the narrator introduces them and how other characters greet them aloud. (Shakespeare comes to mind as a neat thing to look at, to see how theatre does it. Comic books and films and visual media will do it differently to a text-only story.) The audience doesn't have the background that you, the author, carry around in your head all of the time, and you often need to give them a helping hand in keeping your cast of characters straight. Even in fanfiction, without including OCs, not everyone in the audience has the whole canonical cast perfectively memorized, and not every character in any given cast actually knows every other character! It's not just OCs who need introductions, whether those introductions happen subtly or a character enters the story with a bang.
Kind of another side note:
One of my favorite character introductions comes from the book "The Princess Bride", in which Princess Buttercup is kidnapped by three men who are referred to only as "the Spaniard", "the Turk", and "the Sicilian". You don't know their names for quite some time. Buttercup doesn't know these people.
You only learn the Spaniard's name when the Sicilian leaves him at the top of a cliff, tasking him the Spaniard fighting and killing "the Man in Black" who is pursuing their kidnapping. When the Spaniard is about to fight someone to the death, the book pauses to tell you that his name is Inigo Montoya, and then there is an ENTIRE CHAPTER dedicated to Inigo Montoya's long and tragic backstory, in which you learn about his decades-long quest to find the six-fingered man who murdered his father. And then the book abruptly dumps you the audience back out onto that cliff, where Inigo (no longer just "the Spaniard" and no longer just some random kidnapping thug) is about to fight for his life.
I think it's a terribly fun piece of whiplash that suits the comedic style of the book really well. (The book is a little different to the movie and there are things about it that I don't like, the movie gets across a level of a sincerity and love through the acting that the book misses in places, but there are lots of really funny elements to the book that the movie sadly couldn't cover.) The transformation from "the Spaniard" into "Inigo Montoya" is really neat to me.
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𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 You and Spencer start learning what it’s like to live together as the chase for the killer continues.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 mentions of overthinking (lots of it), mention of absent parents, mentions of scream 6 (no spoilers tho), unpopular scream 6 opinions, too much fluff tbh, nightmares, mentions of sleep paralysis
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 3.2k
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i’m literally so sorry for this being so behind schedule, im so stumped with college and shit but here it is!
𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
You remember going home that night and thinking a lot— maybe too much, if you were being frank.
A lot was still on your mind. Between the case, and the whole murderer that was killing old acquaintance's—you also had a husband now apparently.
Two days had passed and the case was still at works. Spencer lived in an apartment complex, which wasn't favorable for the goal of the mission. You however, lived in a nice suburban house your parents left you as a 'sorry for being absent' gift. Very close to where you used to go to school, which was crucial. It was perfectly comfortable— a little too big for you to be living there by yourself, which left space for you to feel a little lonely many times— but spacious nonetheless.
So with that, and lots of discussion, it was decided that Spencer would accommodate himself at your house, to make the whole marriage part, well— believable.
Cameras had been installed all across the outside of your house, ensuring there'd be vigilance throughout the days to come. Hotch made it incredibly clear, that you and Spencer's safety was top priority, so taking precaution wasn't something that the team was going to take lightly. Hotch had previously sat you and Spencer down, just to make sure you knew what you were getting into, the basic guidelines you'd have to follow and so on.
You and Spencer didn't speak much as the plan progressed during the following days and you didn't know why. You knew that you had been busy with your own things and he had been busy with his own, but it still filled you with dread. You were dwelling wether or wether not he was truly comfortable with the whole 'fake married couple' and not having time to sit down and actually talk to him about this whole thing was messing with your head.
'Just keep an eye out for anything suspicious and try to act like a married couple—'
'As if that was so hard for them.'
That's what Hotch had told you and what Morgan decided to pipe in, causing you to nearly toss the book you had with you at him. Was it normal that you had been dwelling on what Morgan had said relentlessly since then?
You didn't fully understand why the whole concept filled you with an unexplainable unsteadiness. It felt similar to anxiety but it wasn't as dreadful. It felt like something was lingering across the tip of your tongue, begin to be released, but your brain couldn't actually process any of it.
Spencer had been taking this whole situation just as lightly as you were— which wasn't at all light. His mind running impossibly faster than usual, and thoughts forcing themselves in and out of his head. A few of his things had already been moved into your house, such as spare clothing among other stuff.
Tonight, however, you're mind was silent for the first time in these past two days. You sat on your couch, digging your back into the softness of its pillows, dressed with a fluffy pair of pajama pants and a white t-shirt that fell over your body comfortably. You had a box of ramen in your hands, and Spencer sat just a little further from you on the opposite side of the couch, also in his pajamas.
The two of you had been taken completely off guard, seeing the other in something so 'casual'. Sure, you had been best friends for a while, but somehow you had never seen each other in anything other than your work attire. Seeing him in nothing but a plain grey T-shirt and plaid pants felt almost intimate.
He held his box of ramen in one hand and a fork in the other, reminding you of his inability to ever learn how to use chopsticks, despite your attempts at teaching him.
You tugged closer at the blanket you were wrapped in and said with a mouth full of noodles."Easily the best scream movie since the original."
"In every way is it better than all the sequels. The opening scene is brilliant and the way they did it was so scary and intense—" You beamed, enthusiasm radiating off your every word as the end credits to Scream 6 began rolling.
One of you and Spencers preferred past-times was watching any movie, franchise or series you could get your hands on and either rip the movie to shreds or praise it as if it were a god given gift. You just finished watching the last Scream movie and funny enough, you both were disagreeing on the cinematographic decisions.
Spencer rolled his eyes, jabbing his fork into the nearly empty box of noodles. "Please, even after the last time I saw this I still think the this is one of the slowest pacing films known to man."
"You could actually tell this was the longest movies in the franchise," He shrugged. Your jaw slacked as an annoyed groan left your lips.
"Spencer, it is not slow-paced— are you kidding me?" He deadpanned at you, clearly disagreeing with your opinion. "Everything was timed perfectly! I mean, the kills were brutal but even so, they felt realistic and made me believe that those things could actually happen."
"They do actually happen," He said, reminding you of the reality of your job. Your lips pursed in thought, realizing he had a point as you looked over at the TV screen.
"Touché,”
You poked at your box silently. You didn't usually mind silences, much less with Spencer, but right now you were realizing that a somewhat tense silence had dwelled upon you two. You felt your nerves begin to bundle up and you caught yourself opening your mouth to speak.
"So uh—" One more poke at the bottom of the carton box. "I talked to Claire today,"
"Hmm? What'd she say?" Spencer's gaze and entire attention was on you in the matter of seconds and it made you weirdly nervous to speak.
"Well," You reached over, setting the now empty box onto the table. You leaned back into the couch, looking over at him as he copied your movements effortlessly. "She was telling me how she was planning on throwing a ten year reunion, but with everything going on, she cancelled it."
“Claire always took matters of those stupid school events into her own hands, but she didn’t know how tone deaf it was of her to throw it ever with everything that’s going on,”
Your speaking started off as a nervous ramble, attempting to fill the silence, but you soon found yourself easing into the nature of the conversation. Spencer listening attentively, shifting his weight to the side every once in a while.
"I told her that she should go ahead with it anyways. Gave her a hell of a list of pros and somehow she agreed to look into the possibility of organizing it,"
You recalled your conversation with Claire easily. When the option for a high school reunion was up, you remembered the reality of your mission with Spencer, and knew it was the perfect way of getting you and him on whoever was attacking radar. She asked why you were so enthusiastic about wanting to throw together the reunion, given how you weren't present at the one year reunion— or the five year.
"She was kind of apprehensive, which I don't blame her," You laughed at yourself and laid your head on the back of your couch, looking up at the ceiling. "I— uhm, told her it was because I wanted to officially introduce you as my husband and she got all, excited,"
You felt yourself growing nervous as you looked over at Spencer. "Excited?"
There was a teasing glint in his voice as he narrowed his eyes at you. He also laid his head on the back of your couch, still gazing over at you. It made your stomach weirdly twist and suddenly you felt your cheeks hot to the touch. You smiled and narrowed your eyes as well.
"Yes, excited," You looked down at your lap. You were getting to that point where you weren't thinking straight and your lips moved along as if they had a mind of their own. “She said she knew it all long and you know the typical 'called it' which everyone seems to love saying lately,"
“Saying what?” You looked back up at Spencer and silence dwelled upon you two. You shrugged and opened your mouth to speak, but was shocked when nothing came out. Both of your growing smiles began to falter as he tilted his head back just slightly, watching you intently. You knew something was lingering in his head— finding out what was the hard part.
"—It's uhm," You sucked in a deep breath and sat up quickly. "I'm gonna—"
You wordlessly dusted off your pants, tumbling slightly on your feet. You grabbed both now empty ramen boxes and waltzed over to your kitchen.
"Need help?" Spencer shot from over the couch, standing up and making his way over to the kitchen behind you.
"It's fine Spence," You cleared your throat, throwing both boxes into the trash and the fork into the sink. You turned, seeing Spencer now leaning against the fridge with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
Your eyes felt droopy, which meant it probably was late, and the two of you did have work tomorrow. Somehow knowing it was late impulsed your body to let out an involuntary yawn. Spencer smiled at you.
"I left a few extra blankets on the edge of my bed cause I know it gets cold—" You started. Spencer pushed himself off of the fridge and looked at you quizzically.
"What?" He asked. You stopped as you noticed his severely puzzled expression, looking at him and furrowing your brows.
You explained once again, completely lost as to what the problem was. “Blankets..? You know those things you use for—"
"You're expecting me to sleep in your bed?"
You blinked. "I changed the sheets before you got here if it's the whole germ shit your worried about,"
"What? No, it's not—" He said before shaking his head. "We're at your house, I'm supposed to sleep on the couch."
Of course. You hadn't thought about the fact that Spencer was going to be severely against you staying on the couch. In various situations he had put all of his comforts out of the way for you, so of course he wasn't going to let you sleep on the couch.
"Do not fight me on this because I swear," You pointed a warning finger towards him, taking a step near him. "My couch is amazing, if you couldn't already tell. I've got the TV as well, which I do not have in my room,"
He rolled his eyes at the amusement in your voice. But shook his head firmly. "You take the room, I'll take the couch—"
"Spencer!" You groaned, throwing your head back. You reached out and grabbed his wrists with both of your hands, looking up at him firmly. "Please,"
His lips pressed into a tight line, eyes finding yours as he looked down, seeing your lips tightly dressed with a firm pout as you attempted to give him your best puppy eyes.
"If you sleep on the couch that means I set up the whole light projector thingy for nothing," His head tilted.
"What?" He laughed at you, fully with endearment.
"I got you this stupid little galaxy projector thing off of Ebay, so the room wouldn't be pitch black."
Spencer stopped and looked down at you. He could practically heard his heart explode inside his chest, which was the best way of describing whatever it is he felt whenever you did stuff like it this. Stuff that showed that you cared, that you listened and payed attention.
When he suddenly looked away from you, incredibly close to caving, you tugged his wrist closer. "Please?"
He sighed, looking down at you. "Fine,"
It was imposible for Spencer to say no to you. It always has been. Wether it was something as stupid as stopping by a gas station on the way home from work to get your favorite snack or for him to give you some company while you visited the offices printer, he always found himself surrendering to your pleading look.
"I promise it's comfortable," You reassured, noticing how he was still apprehensive of letting you sleep on the couch in your own house. He sighed once again, but this time tugging you slightly by the arm into him. He wrapped his arms around you as your arms mindlessly wrapped around his torso. He buried his face into your neck and let out a gush of air he couldn't tell he was holding as his body relaxed under your touch.
With everything going on, the two of you had forgotten just how peaceful it was to be around one another. You had to remind yourself that the two of you were in this together, as much as you believed it was something you were handling alone.
"We're okay right?" He asked, realeasing you from his grip to look down at you. You pulled away, finding the same worry you had been feeling these past few days flooding his eyes.
"Yeah Spence," You gave him a small smile and a reassuring squeeze. He hugged you once more, trying to hold onto the feeling as you rubbed his back.
"We should probably head to sleep—" You said, pulling away from him as he hesitantly let you go, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah," He nodded looking down at you one last time.
It all happened in the matter of seconds, and having been woken up so suddenly, you didn't fully grasp what was going on.
It started with a scream. The sound caused you to shoot up from your position in on the couch, still groggy with sleep. The second scream that came made your blood run cold as you realized the scream belonged to none other than Spencer.
Anxiety immediately clawed your throat and you truly felt like you couldnt breathe. You threw the blanket off of yourself and shot up from the couch. You held your breath while your body unconsciously dragged you towards your room in a panicked frenzy.
Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay
You still weren't processing anything that was going on when you pushed the door open fully expecting yourself to find the worst.
It took you a second that no one had broken in like you had thought. Spencer was unharmed but slashing back and forward in his sleep.
He's having a nightmare
You rushed over to his side, sitting on the edge of the bed and gripping his shoulder as you tried to get him to wake up.
"Spencer!" You shook his shoulder as he groaned and mumbled inaudibly in his sleep. With one final firm shake at his shoulder, his eyes shot open.
He sat up in a rush, desperately looking over the lightly lit room while his chest heaved up and down madly. His skin felt hot at the touch and his hair was all over the place. You could even see a few pieces that had been matted onto his forehead due to the sweat.
"Hey," You cooed, eyes laced with sleep and worry. His own eyes found yours desperately, breathing still labored. "Can you breath for me?"
He nodded wordlessly. Your hands snaked down to his, gripping his clammy palm in your own. You rubbed your thumb across his knuckles gently as his breathing finally slowed down. He dragged his free hand across his face and let out one final shaky breath.
You didnt ask anything at first. You just sat with him in silence— partially because you knew what it felt like, and also because you wanted him calm before saying anything.
Spencer was used to the nightmares. He got them when there was something that was on his mind, and he usually just slept through them, unable to wake up. It sometimes felt like he was stuck in them, and not being able to wake up from them was hell.
When you caught how he looked down, eyes full of panic and dread, you squeezed his hand. "It was just a nightmare Spence,"
He nodded, trying to believe you. You weren't going to pry, or ask him to tell you about what his nightmare was about. "I- I know,"
"...Do you get those often?" You asked after a moment of silence. He shrugged.
"Not necessarily, only when I'm stressed or worried,"
"Can I help in anyway?" Spencer looked up at you, squeezing your hand reassuringly as he shook his head.
"No—" He didn't want to be yet something else you had to worry about because just with the way you were looking at him he could tell you did— you always did. "No, I'm okay,"
You looked at him, trying to get him to crack under your gaze because you knew he wasn't fine. You didn't need him telling you the details, but you did want him telling you what you could do to help— and right now he wasn't going to because that's how stubborn Spencer was.
"You scared the shit out of me," You said, voice nearly breaking in a yawn as you rubbed your eyes with your free hand.
"Sorry," He said. You looked up at him and then reached over and tapped the screen of his phone that sat on the nightstand, reading the white numbers spell out four in the morning.
"You sure I can't help in anyway?" It felt utterly wrong to you to just leave after seeing how he had been paralyzed in his sleep by whatever severe fear his nightmare caused.
He remained silent. With a huff, you let go of his hand and crawled onto the opposite side of the bed wordlessly. Once you had laid on your back, you reached over, grabbing the grey blanket that sat on the end of your bed and pulled it up towards your body, laying into the pillows that sat behind your back.
Once you were accommodated, you looked over at Spencer, who was looking back at you, confusion painting his features. You shrugged at him.
"Can't a girl sleep in her own bed?" He rolled his eyes and with a small laugh, laid back down. He turned onto his side and glanced at the starry lit ceiling.
The roof now looked similar to that of a galaxy. The dark room was airbrushed in a deep blue and hints of purple, as stars circled and glided across the ceiling in a slow pace. The room resembled a nebula, and it was actually pretty fascinating.
"The lights are pretty," You stated, looking at the roof in awe.
"They are," Spencer agreed. You laid down further into the bed and searched for Spencer's hand. He flattened it out, granting access for yours to intertwine itself in his.
"Is this okay?" You asked.
With a single reassuring squeeze, he answered. "Yeah,"
You closed your eyes, letting sleep begin to consume you again as you laid far from Spencer's body, but still connected by the simple touch of your intertwined hands.
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 @yondiii i @r-3dlips @moonchildohh @rubyirene @sp3ncelle @alisyacsa @pleasantwitchgarden @landooscurls @chonkybonky @hiireadstuff @stillhere197 @iluvreading73
#fanfic#fic rec#fiction#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer#spencer x reader#spencer x you#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#spencer x oc#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#dr spencer reid#spence#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fandom#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid x fem!readr#criminal minds x you#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fluff#fluff
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The villa pic is from Paranormal stuff and the tree is made by me. Am I getting close enough to maxis match with this? I want the stuff I make to blend in with the game as much as possible so feedback would be much appreciated, especially since I prefer lined over lineless work.
I know this is a bit unusual for me to post and you are all here for cc downloads. It won't be a regular thing. Just asking for opinions.
Remember when I said no more digital oil paintings? Mayhaps I have lied.
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The castle’s infirmary is quiet today.
The main physician sits at their desk, scribbling away some new kind of prescription, while the royal consort sits in a nearby chair, tongue stuck out in concentration. They hold a notebook up on their curled-up knees, reaching for a green pigment to add to their drawing. They’d come to help Morien organize some deliveries, but now that that was done, they’d taken to absentmindedly doodling in the quiet.
Eventually, Cuáine deems the drawing finished and gets up, sidling over to the physician’s desk.
"Look, it's you." Cuáine slides over the piece of paper with a small, teasing smile.
On the paper scrap is a doodle- almost childish, with how cartoony it is- of a seal with big green eyes staring up at Morien from the paper. The whiskers framing the eyes are overexaggerated to give it a little grumpy face- as grumpy as a cartoon seal can be, at least, and one flipper lies over a long, rounded cane with a green ribbon around it.
Morien blinks.
"...You drew me. As a seal." They state, deadpan. Their eyes drift over to Cuáine's expectant face, expression unnervingly blank.
Cuáine nods. Then, as the seconds tick on, they suddenly remember where and who they are.
They are no longer the laughing child on the coast of Venegard’s territory, pointing out seals playing on the rocky shore to their older brother. Their eyes no longer carry the bright-eyed brilliance they had been named after, the one that would make their parents ruffle their hair when presented with silly doodles.
Times had changed- those happy moments were undermined by the much clearer memories of when Cuáine had tried to talk to their parents or show them a pretty rock found down at the shore, only to be waved off for another time that never came. Osia called it stupid, really- low effort, not worth calling a ‘gift’ when a 5 year old could make something better.
Maybe a child could, but the intent had been pure- now, Cuáine just stares down at their silly scrap of paper with a sour taste in their mouth. This probably seemed stupid to Morien too.
"...Nevermind. If you think it's stupid, you can tell me." Their hand moves towards the scrap of paper on the physician's desk, fingers shaking slightly. "It's just supposed to-"
"No, no, it's-" Morien waves them off, and Cuáine's hand falls away. "-not. I was just... surprised. Doesn't seem very 'nobleborn battlemage' of you to do." They grumble, seeming almost defensive now as Cuáine lingers awkwardly by the side of their desk.
Cuáine hesitates, then says, "Well, I'm not many of the things I should be." They seem to think for a moment, then sidle closer, half-sitting on the edge of Morien's desk. They wait, taking the physician's half-glare as a sign to get off, but Morien doesn't say anything. So they relax, still being careful to put most of their weight on their ground foot.
Morien continues to write something down in their notebook, and Cuáine hums, going to twist their armlet.
“...I wasn’t aware you liked seals so much.”
Morien’s comment is quiet, and Cuáine would have almost missed it if it weren’t for the heavy silence blanketing the infirmary. For a moment, the royal consort blinks, unsure how to respond.
…They actually want to talk to me?
A small smile tugs at their lips, one of their ringed fingers tapping against the desktop. “I’ve loved them since I was a child. It’s rather an amusing story, actually. My parents have always lamented that they didn't name me ‘little seal’ Ronán, for how much I ended up loving them." Cuáine laughs lightly, shifting their gaze over to the little window that lets some light into the infirmary. "Apparently my father was of the opinion that the name was 'too common', so imagine his surprise when his seventh came out and eventually had to be dragged away from watching seals play on the shore. The, uh, doodling them-” Cuáine gestures again to the small seal drawing with a somewhat flushed expression, “-came from messin’ around with Saraah. It got to a point tha’ when I considered changing my name a couple times, he suggested I go with Ronán. I didn’t, obviously, but…”
“Hm.” Morien continues writing something down on a nearby pad of paper, and Cuáine has to resist the urge to be nosy and peek. They oddly aren’t meeting Cuáine’s face, but maybe they’re just focused? “Speaking of family, didn’t you say earlier that you had a meeting with Arthur and the council?”
Cuáine’s swinging leg stills, and they immediately swear, dark blonde hair swinging past their face when they jump off the desk. “Shit, I forgot about that! Thanks Morien!” They grab their bag and immediately dash out the infirmary door, but not without giving one last grateful wave to the physician.
As the door to the infirmary slams shut, Morien waits until the footsteps of the king's spouse have fully faded away before doing anything, including looking back down at the childish seal doodle.
"...Fuck." Morien murmurs, burying their face in their hands. It's the only way to successfully counteract their burning cheeks. "They might as well just fuckin’ stab me through the heart if they're gonna keep bein' this fuckin' cute."
Cuáine visits again only a few days later.
“Morien?”
When their knock and call go unanswered, they peek inside. Surprisingly, the infirmary is empty, devoid of its usual red-headed physician.
Perhaps Morien just had to go to the bathroom?
Regardless, Cuáine is here to drop off some herbs they gathered. They nudge the door open, walking over to the desk to drop the bundles off. Out of curiosity, green eyes stray to the mess of papers pinned to the wall’s cork board.
There, nestled among the notes for needed medicinal herbs, prescriptions and schedules, a small needle pins a little seal doodle to the wall.
Cuáine doesn’t quite believe it.
…Morien actually kept it?
Despite themself, Cuáine can feel a small grin curling their lips as they reach for another scrap of paper and lead pencil.
When Morien comes back, they find a package of herbs on the table and a new scrap of paper pinned to the wall- one with another seal doodled on it, holding a tiny knife in one flipper and a scar across its abdomen.
Look! It’s you n’ me.
(Eventually, the collection grows to include a seal with a crown, two with knightly armor, one with a long black braid, and a seal pup with tiny dragon wings, but the first two remain pinned together.)
---
(Morien and the setting belong to @the-kingshound!)
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Hush Hush Honey:
A guide on how to regulate oversharing and balancing the conversation flow.
Each one of us has at least been in a situation where we accidentally ended up spilling more than we should. We do recognise the patterns but are unable to control ourselves. That's why your girl Ash-says is here to say a lot about it.
1) Find the why
What are you trying to achieve by sharing that piece of information? Drama? Attention? Get it off your chest? Is it important to inform them? Is it valuable to them?etc.
First tackle the why. Before you go in to reveal something ask yourself if it goes with the conversation flow and if yes is it really important to share it.
2) Are you a celebrity?
No like why? Who is interested in your life so much? Are those people paparazzi to broadcast your current events and bring you fame? No right. So shut up.
3) Who puts their dirty laundry on display?
When you overshare you are basically putting all your secrets, stuff that you do or did on blatant exposure. People are going to judge you. That's the very nature. So breathe and keep it inside.
4) Try to listen more
Train yourself into listening more than speaking especially in group settings or around people that you don't know much about. Gossip is real. You don't want to be the next tea time sensation.
5) Alternatives for talkative people:
Now I know you might be thinking can't say this can't say that then how the hell am I going to bond with people or what should I converse about?
I have developed a solution for you. It's Ash verified because I myself have been using it unknowingly for around 7 years of my life.
Never open your mouth for passing judgements, expressing your opinions on things that do not relate to you, your dirty laundry, secrets, family issues, relationship issues, your sex life, your goals and aspirations, your daily routine, your political standpoint,etc you get where I am going right?
Instead speak about the experiences you had while travelling somewhere, some goofy stuff that happened to you, your harmless vice for example: I am clumsy so I have a lot of incidents that occur due to it which can be told in a funny way. It adds a nuance to my perfectionist image plus helps people warm up to me. Movie shows, songs, etc here also there's a catch if you relate to a show/song/ piece of literature strongly never reveal it. The smart ones will understand the inner workings of your mind.
Never let them know your next move.
If nothing of this then goof around being nonsense. Do little hand gestures, funny faces if you are bored but never overshare.
6) Be mindful of interruption
Practise practise practise. Literally that's the only way. Try not to interrupt people while speaking. There's no roundabout way. It is what it is.
7) Be comfortable in silence
You have to be okay with the conversation dying down. Running your mouth dry will only result in one sided convo. It's more useless and harmful than the one mentioned before.
8) Know your limits
Fix in your brain what you can share and what you can't. Stick to it. Even over your dead body.
9) Be genuinely interested in people
Ask yourself are you asking questions to really get to know the other person or just looking for a chance to talk about yourself? Dethrone yourself first and then interact with others.
10) Put out stuff that you are over with
Always remember what you say can and will be used against you. Drill it and from next time when you speak be mindful that every word can stand against you. Do you have the capacity to handle the consequences? Yes then go ahead. No, then stop live streaming.
Bonus point: Be as private as possible on social media. People don't need to know what you are doing nowadays. Privacy is power. What they don't know they can't ruin.
Strategically put things out. I am not saying be inactive. In Rome you live like the Romans. Do it smartly.
That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.
#girlblogging#glow up#it girl#self care#that girl#gaslight gatekeep girlboss#self love#becoming that girl#dark feminine energy#becoming her#wellness#advice#motivation#self development#self help#self improvement#dream girl aesthetic#dream girl#it girl aesthetic#pink pilates girl#pink pilates princess#coquette#ash-says#femme fatale vibes#femme fatale#feminine energy#level up journey#level up tips#thewizardliz#wonyoungism
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sorry if this is too harsh to ask. when ever the story leans over to the city cats, they mistreat others or lean on the evil/bad side (look at poor aldertail, lake, scorch, and smokeyrose :( )
the more I read this, the more I'm siding with the clan cats to wipe out all the city cats. that way there can be peace for everyone because I can't see how the city cats have any remorse in the clan cats eyes or yours
Wow. Okay.
Um, first things first, I will never be in support of Wiping Out any group of people. I get what you're trying to say but that's just not an ideology I can get behind. It is honestly a very dangerous and upsetting argument to make and hopefully, I can explain why.
Most of the city cats are not Evil. Most of the city cats are people who grew up in a corrupt system and have been taught to do bad things from a young age. Like Mystique for example: Has she hurt people? Yes. Does she seem resistant to change? Yes. Does this mean she is not worthy of compassion or a chance to grow and be better? Absolutely not!
I was raised Mormon. I know a lot of people, some who I love, who do bad things on the regular - people who voted for trump, people who support homophobic or imperialist policies, people who are hurtful to the marginalized people in their lives. I will NEVER believe that these people deserve to die for the way they are. They are just humans doing their best with the knowledge they were given and the baggage they've accrued.
I do think that there are cats, like Razor for instance, who need to be Stopped, certainly, and removed from positions of power. Unfortunately, cats don't have the ability to institute more systemic solutions to these kinds of problems so they will most often solve these problems by killing the cat. But this should only happen after it is clear that there is no opportunity for a non violent solution.
The world is complicated and messy and it means people are taught bad things and have trauma that makes them hurt other people. I'm not saying that those behaviors are okay. They should be held accountable for the harm that they do. But those behaviors do not make them irredeemable or Evil. Hell, I don't think there ARE Evil people! I don't think there are GOOD people! People can't be good or evil because they are always going to be making new choices. Some of those choices will hurt people, some of those choices will help people, some of those choices are entirely neutral. I believe you can judge people's actions but its impossible to judge their 'soul' so to speak.
There are a lot of cats in the city who do bad things because they see those things as normal or because the system rewards them for doing so. Do you think the Clans should kill all of those people?? Because I will never agree with you if you do and I urge you to rethink how you see the world.
Give me any city cat and I will be able to find a way to empathize with them. Yes, even Razor. They're all just people. And in my opinion, none of them deserve to die. They deserve to change and heal. And I think most of them will. I'm a death penalty abolitionist and that means I don't think ANYONE should be put to death. You don't get to selectively apply that kind of belief only to the people you think are 'good'.
Sorry for how long and rambling my response was. If anyone has follow up questions or comments, I'm open to discussing this further, just please remember to be kind and avoid any sort of harassment, and that goes both ways. Nobody harass this anon for what they said. I believe they are very misguided but that doesn't make them a bad person. If you think that then you've entirely missed the point of everything I said.
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