#a little like the Philadelphia Story | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pucked-bunnie · 3 months

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not so bad ⎜j.drysdale

pairings: jamie drysdale x plus sized! reader genre: fluff warnings: mentions of injury ⎜ slight mention of body discrimination synopsis: after jamie was traded you finally made it to one of your best friends games - you didn't expect things to go so horribly. word count: 5k authors note: there are obviously a few discrepancies from the actual game when jamie got injured but this is what must happen for cute stories. (UNEDITED)

“And please for the love of god, Trevor, don’t forget to lock the door when you leave.” You grumble as you slide out of the passenger side, scurrying around to the trunk to retrieve your suitcase - Trevor already pulling the hard cased bag from the car, placing it on the side walk for you.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I can manage to look after your cat for a week.” He huffs, waving your off as you raise your brow at him. You had spent the last thirty minutes in the car making sure he knew how to care for your six month old kitten - despite the cat already being quite self sufficient and having an automatic feeder you wanted to make sure someone was checking on him at least once a day, hence your stressed instructions to Trevor on the drive to the airport.

“Okay, I’m trusting you.” You say, pulling your keys out of your pocket and handing them over to the eager hockey player.

“Me and bean are going to have so much fun.” He coos, shoving the keys into his pocket before reaching over and giving you a tight squeeze. “Make sure to tell him I’ll be watching his game.” He adds and you nod, squeezing him back before stepping onto the pathway pulling your suitcase with you as you watch Trevor pull away from the curb.

You tug your phone from your pocket checking your flight information one last time before heading inside to check in. After Jamie had been traded almost a month ago you had been with little to no contact while he settled in to his new environment, both you and Trevor feeling the effects of your quiet best-friends absence.

It was when you finally managed to catch Jamie between his schedules he invited you to Philadelphia to visit him, requesting your help in setting up his new apartment in the city - he luckily had managed to snag a fully furnished apartment - in his words it just needed a ‘piece of home’, so the two of you had quickly managed to book in a week for you to fly to Philadelphia.

With Trevors reckless driving you had managed to make it to your flight with an hour to spare, taking your time at the cafe near your boarding gate to scroll mindlessly on your phone until you heard the first calls for your flight to board. With an estimated flight time of five and a half hours you were very glad for the kindle Jamie had gifted you at the last Christmas dinner.

“I know we said we weren’t doing presents this year but I wanted to get you something I thought you’d find useful.” Jamie had whispered as he leaned over to your side as the conversation continued in the room. He placed the small wrapped gift in your lap with a nervous smile his eyebrows raised in anticipation as he waits for you to unwrap the gift.

“I wrapped it myself.” He adds quickly, pointing out the red wrapping paper covered in Mario characters holding presents. You send him a quick smile before ripping the paper open gently - tucking the remnants into your bag to add to your keepsake box in the back of your closet - you pull out the amazon branded box looking down at the kindle now in your lap with a growing smile.

“I know how much you love to read and my mum recommended this one.” Jamies explains before pointing to the torn box, “I already took the liberty to download some that my mum said you’d like and I put a gift card in the box so you can buy some more when you feel like it.”

You can feel your heart beating against your chest as you look up at the sweet boy besides you, his hands fiddling in his lap as he waits for you to say something. “It’s perfect, Jamie.” You mumble, smiling at him with a short nod as you close the distance between you placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” You add shifting back in your seat as Jamie does the same a bright red tinge on his cheeks.

That was almost a year ago and you had filled the kindle with over a hundred books since then, somehow managing to convince Jamie to get one for himself after he had listen to your high praise for the device.

Sliding into your seat on the plane and placing your kindle on your lap you sent a quick message to your trios group chat.

‘Princess Peach 🍑 : on the plane about to take off - should be there around six tonight.’

‘Mario 🥸: I’ll be waiting’

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲: me and beans are excited for you to be gone.’ Trevor sends with a photo of your kitten glaring up at the man, quickly followed by another message.

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲: hey who changed my name.’

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲: I’m supposed to be Luigi.’

‘ Mario 🥸 : lol.’ You chuckle at the messages before switching your phone to airplane mode and tucking it into your pocket, sliding your headphones over your ears as the flight attendants finish their spiel on safety and move to their own seats.

Six hours in a small seat trying to avoid making any contact with the person sitting besides you really has a way of stiffening every muscle in your body. You roll your shoulders as you wait for the others in your row to gather their belongings, deciding it best to wait for most of the flight to empty out before attempting to make your own way.

As soon as you had turned off airplane mode on your phone, it had started dinging with messages.

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲: I’m changing my name back.’

‘Wario 👨🏻‍🦲 has set the nickname to Luigi 👴🏻’

‘Luigi 👴🏻: that’s so much better.’

‘Mario 🥸 has set the nickname to donkey kong 🦍’

‘ donkey kong 🦍 : knock it off.’

‘ donkey kong 🦍 : @princess peach🍑 please tell him to stop bullying me’

‘Mario 🥸: she would never’

‘Princess Peach 🍑: I would never’ you respond quickly before deeming it time to grab your bag from the overhead storage and follow your fellow passengers off the plain, making sure to bid a quick ‘thank you’ to the flight attendants standing by the exit. Your phone dings again in your hand as you making it into the boarding area.

‘bestfriend ❤️: I’m waiting outside your flights baggage collection - do you still have the white suitcase?’ Jamies message albeit simple gives you butterflies, the idea that after so long apart you were finally going to see him made you giddy.

‘trevor’s bestie ❤️: yep, the one with the blue tag on the side.’ You send your reply frowning at the sudden change in nick name, Trevor must’ve have figured out your passcode again. You roll your eyes but tuck your phone back into side pocket of your leggings, pulling on the hoodie from your carry on, knowing Philadelphia this time of year was a lot colder than Anaheim.

Jamie is easy to spot in front of the baggage carousel, his eyes focused on the passing bags as he waits for yours to slide past him. You watch him with a soft smile as he steps forwards to help a lady pull her oversized suitcase off the line before helping another lady besides her, nodding quickly as they thank him, stepping forwards once more to pull your bag off the line, placing it delicately at his side as he glances around the waiting area, pulling his phone quickly from his pocket his thumbs typing.

‘bestfriend ❤️: I have taken your bag hostage - if you wish for it to be returned you must be in front of me in the next 60 seconds.’ Your phone dings with the arrival of the message, your feet moving quickly as you sneak up behind him, tapping his shoulder lightly once your reach him.

“Miss me?” You question cheerfully, Jamie’s eyes widening as he turns around.

“I didn’t think you’d actually get here this fast.” He says, placing a hand on his chest as he lets out a shaky breath, “Scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry.” You apologise waiting for him to move before deciding it’s best if you initiate contact. Throwing your arms over his shoulders, you pull him in for a tight hug, his arms immediately wrapping around your waist as he hoists you up, his arms pulling you in even closer as your feet dangle off the floor.

“I personally didn’t miss you at all.” You chuckle into his neck as he sways a little his own face buried into your shoulder, you can feel the grin on his lips as he gently places you down on the ground, not quite letting go of you yet.

“I missed you so much.” He mumbled, nuzzling into your shoulder a little more before finally pulling away, his hand grabbing for your suitcase as his other hand reaches out for yours.

“Trevor wanted me to tell you he’d be watching the game tomorrow.” You say as you take hold of Jamie’s hand, letting him lead the way out of the airport.

“He better be.” Jamie says, “he has nothing better to do these days.”

The drive to Jamie’s new place from the airport takes longer than normal, as he stops around to pick up a few bits a pieces to help make your stay with him more comfortable - snacks being his highest priority.

“I know it’s not the fanciest but its cozy and it has two bedrooms so it was perfect for friends to come visit.” Jamie warns as he parks his car in the garage under his building. You’re quick to roll your eyes at his statement, if the outside of the building was anything to go by the apartment was going to be more than ‘cozy’.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” You respond, undoing your seatbelt and slipping out of the car, dragging your backpack with you trying to make your way to grab your suitcase before Jamie could beat your to it.

You’ll give him one thing, for how built he was, he could move faster then most people. Jamie grins as he pulls your suitcase from the trunk of his car, holding it in one hand the other grabbing for the grocery bags. “Too slow.” He teases as he shuts the trunk, guiding you to the elevator.

You just watch as he gets in the moving metal box scanning his access key and pressing the tenth floor your reasonably heavy suitcase comfortable in his hand. “You know the suitcase has wheels, right?” You question.

“Yep.” Jamie says quickly, nodding his head as he adds, “But how would I show off how strong I am, if I just wheeled it around.” His statement pulls a shocked laugh from you as the elevator stops announcing it’s arrival on the tenth floor. Jamie once again moves quickly walking to his door and pressing a few numbers into the keypad.

“Not fancy, my ass.” You grumble as he pushes his door open, moving inside placing your suitcase by the door, and the groceries on the dining room table.

“Welcome.” He exclaims arms out wide as he lets you take in his space. It was definitely fully furnished, the house looking like it came from a home decor magazine, but it didn’t have the comfort a home should have. Jamie had already started adding a few decorations of his own, his and Trevors ducks jerseys hanging side by side in large frames besides the living room T.V, a few photo frames with his friends and family lining the shelves besides the window.

“This place is great, Jamie.” You exclaim, as you reach for your suitcase, lying it on the floor as you dig around for your present. “But you were right when you said it was missing something.” You continue finally grabbing hold of the rolled up fabric in your bag.

You smile as you hand it to him watching the fabric unroll, the man looking down at the blanket in confusion. “Your mum sent me some of your old jerseys that weren’t going to any use, and Trevor asked the equipment manager if I could have some ducks ones as a parting gift.” You begun to explain, motioning to the logos from the jerseys of every team he had played on. “Most of it is made up of jerseys from your time with the ducks, and I had to buy a Philadelphia one to finish it off.” You finish motions to the orange square at the bottom of the blanket.

“You made me a blanket?” Jamie asks quietly.

You nod.

“Out of all my old jerseys?” He asks again.

You nod.

“Do you like it?” You asks slowly, watching his face for any sign of distain. Jamie glances towards you for a moment before taking off down the hallway, his feet sliding against the wooden floorboards as he enters the room at the end of the hall.

“It’s perfect.” He yells, your feet moving to follow him. You glance around the corner into the bedroom, Jamie smoothing the blanket over his bed with one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen. “It’s perfect.” He says again.

“Well, I’m glad you like it.” You respond, your hands clasped behind your back, “Now show me my room.”

“Are you sure your okay to make your own way there?” Jamie asks as he straightens out his dark grey suit, his hair freshly washed and pushed away from his forehead. Your night with Jamie had consisted of Chinese takeaway and a lot of gossip about Trevors new girlfriend - the two of you eventually falling asleep on the couch while watching ‘love is blind’ on Netflix.

You had woken up in the guest room, unsure how Jamie had managed to move you with such ease.

“I’ll be fine, it’s like a ten minute Uber.” You reassure, reaching out the smooth out the collar on his shirt. Jamie was heading to the rink early as most players did on game day, wanting the chance to start warming up and checking their equipment.

“Oh before I forget.” Jamie says quickly, reaching into his practice bag pulling out a large ID hanging on a lanyard. “I grabbed you one of these so you have access to the family room if it’s too overwhelming down near the ice, it also gets you free food at the concession stands.” He says quickly handing you the lanyard.

‘Jamie Drysdale - Friends and Family - All Access’ Printed in large letters on the front, the lanyard covered in big block letters spelling out ‘VIP’

“You didn’t have to Jamie, you already got me those rink side tickets.” You complain looking down at the pass again.

“Well I didn’t have to pay for this - and it’s just in case of emergencies, I don’t want you to get stuck with security if you need something.” He explains and you nod slowly, tucking the pass close to your chest as you glance up at him. “I’ll see you after the game, okay? Meet me near the locker room.” He says softly, reaching forwards to tuck a lose piece of hair behind your ear.

The silence is thick between the two of you - Jamie hand resting on the side of your neck as he opens his mouth to say something, closing it quickly after. He doesn’t say anything as he shoots you another grin, picking up his phone and keys by the door, quietly exiting his apartment.

You let out a long sigh, the feeling of his hand still tingling on your skin.

Now was probably a good time to get ready.

You checked your outfit one more time in the mirror - the flared leggings doing wonders to make your legs look longer and slimmer, you favourite hoodie layered under one of Jamie’s new Philadelphia jerseys - usually you wouldn’t wear a jersey to a game often feeling they made you look awkward and desperate when hanging around with your two friends, but for the first game you were watching of Jamie’s in his new team you felt it was necessary to show your support.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, your grab the spare set of keys Jamie had left for you, tapping on your phone to order the Uber to take you to the rink. The car arrived quickly, game days often being a easy money making day for Uber drivers, the man greeting you and confirming your destination as you slide into the backseat of his car.

“You a Philly fan?” The drivers asks as he glances at you in the rearview mirror.

“Not really - I’m actually from Anaheim but my friend recently moved here and I just wanted to support him.” You explain the driving nodding before asking.

“Your boyfriend, is he a player?”

“Oh no, we’re just friends.” You correct the driver raising an eyebrow as he turns his gaze back to the road.

“Not many friends would fly across the country to watch a hockey game.” The driver continues, a smile breaking out on his face as you stare like a deer caught in headlights. “Must be some friendship you two have.” He adds driving the needle further into your chest as you think about your friendship.

The crowds begin to grow as you close in on the rink, the driver giving you a kind smile as he stops outside the front entrance. “I hope you have fun at the game.” The driver says as you swing open the back door, “Tell your friend how lucky he is to have you.” He adds as you shut the door, you can see him smiling as the car pulls away from the curb, shaking your head at the friendly mans antics.

As you make your way into the building scanning your ticket at the front door - grabbing a quick bottle of water from a concession stand before making your way to your seat just in time to see both teams fly onto the ice for warm ups. Taking your seat you smile at the two girls sitting a few seats down, pulling your phone out of you pockets to snap photos of number 9.

‘Jamie’s not-so-bestie 😈: snapped a few photos of our special little guy.’ You send the message to Trevor rolling your eyes at yet another name change in your phone.

A hard bang on the glass has you looking up from your phone, Jamie staring down at you with furrowed brows. “Trevor.” You mouth his head nodding, as he flicks his puck into his hand, showing it to you before throwing it over the glass, the puck easily caught in your hands. Jamie watches you as he take a few steps away from your seat, handing it over to the girls sitting a little further away.

“He wanted me to pass this to you.” You say as you hand it to one of the girls, both letting out high pitched squeals as they glance towards your best friend.

“Where’s your pass?” He mouths through the glass, motioning his hands around his neck, your hand tapping your bag, pulling out one corner to show him where your stored it. He nods quickly, waving a quick goodbye as he skates away, doing a few laps around the ice before stopping to stretch closer to the bench.

“I always knew Jamie would be into bigger girls.” One of the teenagers exclaims, both looking you up and down before leaning together and whispering. “She is really pretty though.” The others replies.

You glance down at yourself with a sigh, settling back into your seat, your arms wrapped around yourself. The game starts soon after the flyers and penguins taking to the ice in a close game. You watch on the edge of your seat as Jamie moves quickly around the ice - occasionally taking a second to respond to one of Trevors messages. The first period ends with the penguins ahead by one - Jamie exiting the ice with slumped shoulders.

You knew how tough on himself Jamie could be when the game wasn’t going his way - and being on a new time, you could guess the pressure he was putting on himself was multiplied. Waiting for the second period you glance down at your phone, liking a photo on your instagram before a tap on your shoulder catches your attention.

“So, do you know him or something?” One of the girls ask as she takes a seat next to you, her friend moving to sit besides her as they both wait for your answer.

“Or something.” You respond, looking back to your phone as it dings.

‘bestfriend ❤️: does the game look as bad as it feels?’ You move to respond before one of the girls asks another question.

“So are you two dating?” She says and you shrug waiting as she adds, “you just don’t seem like the type to be with a hockey player.” Her friend slaps her shoulder as they both giggle, “You can’t say that.” He friend laughs as you just roll your eyes typing quickly on your phone.

‘trevor’s bestie ❤️: the game is tight. You’re playing great.’ You send the message to Jamie. The two girls remain besides you as the second period starts, the flyers managing a goal to tie the game, the play moving fast as the penguins manage to score a third goal with less than nine minutes left in the period.

You try to stay positive, hockey being a game where score reversals can happen so fast, the play restarting at centre ice the puck making its way back and forth on the ice before being hit high into the air. Jamie skates his way to the red line, swatting the puck back down to the ice before taking off with it.

He gets past one penguin making his way into the offensive zone before he gets rammed into - his body hits the ice hard, you can see his mouth open in a pain filled hiss as he rolls to his side, his right hand gripping his left shoulder.

“Shit.” You curse, jumping up from your seat as you watch him move. Jamie makes his way onto his feet, his left arm hanging limply by his side, the boy skating quickly off the ice into the locker room. You ignore the fans cheering as the two teams go head to head in a scrum, your mind racing as you take two stairs at a time.

‘Jamie’s real bestie 😈 is calling.’

“Is he okay? What the fuck was that.” Trevor yells into the phone, as you speed walk through the building.

“I don’t know - he didn’t look okay.” You respond stopping one of the workers who’s in a Philadelphia branded shirt. “Excuse me, do you know where the locker room is?” You question, the man looking at you with confusion as you fish around in your bag, your phone still pressed to your ear as you grab hold of the VIP pass.

“It’s his shoulder, Trev. It looked dislocated.” You say into your phone as the man walks quickly with you behind him, stopping outside a roped off area, whispering quietly to one of the security guards who slowly walks away. “I’m going to see if I can check on him.” Trevor swears a few times before making you promise to text him once you know if Jamie is okay, the two of you ending the phone call quickly as the security guard comes back.

“We don’t let most people in the locker room.” The security guard says quickly and you nod. “Can I see your pass please.” He adds quickly, handing over the lanyard and pass as he glances over it. His eyes widen a little as he sees the players name on your pass before handing it back to you.

“What’s your relation to the player?” The security guard asks and you hesitate.

“His girlfriend.” You splutter out the guard nodding before holding up one of the ropes for you to slip under - he motions for you to follow behind him as he walks to the entrance of the room, holding out a hand for you to stop.

“We have someone claiming to be Jamie’s girlfriend outside, she wants to come in.” You heard the guard say into the room, a few people mumble back words of confusion and disagreement with letting you inside.

“Let her in.” Jamie voice cuts through, before he lets out a painful whimper, “Please.” He adds quickly. You don’t wait for permission, rounding the corner to walk into the locker room, a small gasp escaping you as you take in Jamie. His eyes are squeezed shut as the trainers work carefully to remove his pads, his shoulder clearly out of it’s socket.

Jamie lets out another yelp as they lift his arm to unclip the chest pads, both trainers apologising as they gently place it back by his side. You take a few steps forwards, Jamie’s eyes opening at the sound of your approaching, his bright blue eyes finding yours as he reaches out his right hand.

“Oh Jamie.” You sigh as you take his hand in yours, your other reaching out to move his hair out of his face. He lets out a long sigh as he turns his head to face your, burying it in your stomach as he lets out a long groan as the trainers rotate his arm slowly, your face scrunching in a grimace as you watch the joint slide back into place, your hand stroking gently across his hair.

Jamie lets out a sigh of relief as the trainers drop his arm into his lap, the joint now comfortable back in the socket. “Are you okay?” You ask, Jamie just nodding his head against you, his body melting into your side as your hand moves from his hair to rub soft circles on his back.

“Lucky for you Jamie, I think we’ve saved you a trip to the ER.” The trainer says pulling out a triangle bandage, making quick work of wrapping Jamie’s arm in a sling “Bad news is you’ll still have to go to the hospital for an X-ray to make sure everything is where it is meant to be.” The trainer adds, finishing off Jamie’s sling before turning to you.

“Are you in a position to drive him over?” The trainer questions and you nod quickly, “We will ring ahead to try and get you two in and out as quickly a possible.” You thank the trainer, before moving Jamie’s head away from your body, crouching down in front of him.

“Do you wanna get changed before we go?” You ask, Jamie just nodding slowly, his eyes shooting over to the equipment manager already holding a fresh set of clothes. “I’ll wait outside, okay?” You reassure pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before leaving the room.

‘Jamie’s not-so-bestie 😈: He’s okay, left shoulder was dislocated but one of the trainers managed to get it back in, so we’re heading to the hospital to get a quick X-ray.” You send the message to Trevor, your gaze lifting from your phone as Jamie trudges out of the locker room, his arm tight in his sling, a black hoodie thrown on with a pair of sweatpants.

“They know you’re coming, just go straight to the imaging wing and give them Jamies name.” The trainer explains, handing Jamies backpack to you with a gentle smile. He pats Jamie on the back before heading back into the room. Jamies free hand reaches out to grip yours, pulling you in the direction of the parking garage.

“Thank you.” Jamie says quietly as you reach his car, throwing his bag in the backseat before helping him slide into the passenger side.

“Theres no need to thank me, Jamie.” You reassure, racing around to get into the drivers seat. As soon as you’ve reversed out of the spot, Jamie’s hand finds your again, his fingers laced with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand softly. You glance over at him every now and then, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw tight as the car jostles him.

“We’ll be home before you know it.” You coos, trying to drive as smoothly as possible.

Jamie’s trainer was right, the trip to the hospital couldn’t have been more then an hour, the doctor giving Jamie the all clear to go home with some pain relief and instructions for strict rest, he would be in touch with the Philadelphia team to decide on a treatment plan.

Jamie is silent as you drive the two of you back to his apartment, his hand never leaving yours as you make your way into his apartment moving him over to the couch in front of the TV.

“I’m gonna grab you some food and water so you can take your pills.” You say quickly, but Jamie just shakes his head, his hand squeezing yours as he pulls you back to him.

“Just stay.” He says softly, “Sit with me for a little.” He adds, his head falling to your shoulder as you take the spot besides him on the couch. Both your hands clasp his, fiddling with his fingers as his breathing slows.

“Thank you.” He says again.

“You really don’t have to thank me, Jamie. It’s what friends do.” You respond, the boy letting out a scoff.

“Most friends wouldn’t fly across the country to watch a hockey game.” He sulks, the words from your Uber driver earlier ringing in your ears.

“I guess I’m not like most friends.” You coo, a smile lighting up on Jamie’s face.

“I guess not.” He says softly before asking, “So, are we like offical now or something?” The words making your snort as you glance down at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You… Me… Us. You said you were my girlfriend.” He explains, his words gentle as he shifts his head against your shoulder, your eyes meeting. “I really want you to be my girlfriend.” He sense the way you hesitate, quickly moving to take back his statement.

“Isn’t it obvious Jamie?” You ask, “would just a friend really fly six hours just to watch a hockey game?”

#jamie drysdale #nhl x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale fanfic #jd6 #trevor zegras #romance #fluff #friends to lovers

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msbigredmachine · 2 months

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Power Couple: The Aftermath (Roman Reigns)

When the Tribal Chief falls, no one helps him back up better than you do. Set after the epic main event of Wrestlemania XL.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/OC

Warnings: Excess fluff and of course, smut.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Yes, I'm still in my feelings, and there was only one pairing I could properly convey my feelings with, because this has also been their story all along. For new readers, I strongly suggest reading the first two one-shots before delving into this one. Hope you enjoy!

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs

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1,316 days.

All wiped away with three slaps of the referee’s hand to the hard canvas.

Even after Cody rolled away from him, Roman could not move. Hell, he couldn’t breathe. Not when the air had been punched out of his lungs, literally and figuratively. It was only when Dwayne pulled him out of the ring by his pants leg that his body managed to kickstart itself into some sort of motion. And even then, all he could do was turn his head to look back and watch as Cody celebrated in the ring with his wife Brandi, holding his title belt aloft for the whole world to behold as the ultimate symbol of his victory.

It should have been you and him up there. It should have been him. Again. But it wasn’t. Because the one time he got careless in battle, it cost him everything. Throwing years of hard work down the drain.

And it made him sick to his stomach.

The sound of ‘Kingdom’ blaring through the Lincoln Financial Field Stadium was torture to the former champion’s ears. His legs felt like lead as he dragged his battered body up the ramp, ignoring Dwayne’s baseless, performative complaints about nothing, as he put distance to the tableau of triumph of his opponent. The weight of this defeat was heavy, suffocating even, and he was desperate to get the fuck out of there, to get out of Philadelphia, out of Pennsylvania and all its environs. As he reached the top of the vast WrestleMania stage, pain surged through his abdomen, forcing him to recoil into himself and double over in pain.

His Wise Man noticed his plight and paused to observe his charge. "My Tribal Chief, are you alright? Do you need-"

Roman shook his head. "I'm fine,” he snapped, willing himself to keep walking until he made it past the curtain. He leaned against the wall and bent over, resting his hands on his knees.

“What can I do, my Tribal Chief?” Paul implored.

“Just…get my wife on the bus and make sure everything’s ready to go. I’ll be there soon."

“Right away my Tribal Chief,” Paul replied eagerly, scurrying off to do as he was told.

It was a good long minute before Roman managed to pull himself back upright, staggering towards his locker room. Walking was so hard, his body hurt so much, but none of it hurt as much as the gut punch of failure. Much worse than any of the bumps he took was the shame, the disappointment engulfing him; so much so that he couldn’t bear to look anyone else in the eye right now.

Because he had failed everyone who cared about him.

He had failed you.

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All good things come to an end. That’s how the saying goes, right? The interesting part of that was that on the surface, it was a throwaway little trope, harmless and benign, until something that meant a great deal to you got taken away in the blink of an eye, or in this case, a three-count. The moment the bell signaled the pinfall that confirmed your husband's time as the Undisputed WWE Universal Champion had come to an end, you knew he would never be the same again.

It wasn't unlike Roman to be a little on edge weeks before a big premium live event. And given the nature of the two main event matches he was locked in for the fortieth annual WrestleMania, you expected he would be grouchy. But this time around seemed different, and not in a good way. He’d been surly towards everybody, including you. He disappeared for hours working out obsessively. He’d even thrown out a female member of the press who had dared to boo him at the press conference on Saturday night. Now, despite the final match of the weekend concluding nearly an hour ago, Roman was yet to return to his tour bus. That only meant one thing; he was not taking this defeat well, and it was up to you to lift him up, like you always did.

When you found the door boasting your husband's name, Heyman was outside, pacing back and forth. The Undisputed title, which you had grown accustomed to seeing on his shoulders on behalf of his Tribal Chief, was missing; a stark, prickly reminder of the outcome of tonight’s proceedings.

"That bad, huh?" you asked, reading the Wise Man’s expression in a second. In fact, he looked on the verge of tears, his shoulders sagging with despair. The weekend had taken an emotional toll on him, too.

"He won’t come out," he informed you, his usually confident voice shaky and helpless. “He won’t let anyone in and he won’t speak to anyone…”

You raised your index finger to cut him off. "Correction, he won’t speak to anyone that’s not me," you stated, shooting him a warm smile, one among countless others you had shared with him since burying the hatchet after years of friction between you. "Go be with your family, Paul. I’ll handle my husband.”

“He’s my family, too,” he declared softly, the conviction in what you used to call his beady eyes, palpable and heartbreaking, “Both of you are.”

Touched and at a loss for words, you could only look on as he turned around slowly and made the lonely walk down the hallway. Turning back to the locker room door, you sucked a breath between your teeth and blew it out, mentally preparing to confront this task head-on.

You knocked timidly and stuck your head inside. If Roman was in as foul a mood as Paul let on, even you did not want to be there. It had taken a few unfortunate incidents over the years for you to learn that even a kiss from his wife wasn't enough when he got too stressed. It never stopped you from trying, though. Kissing was one of your favorite things to do with him after all.

"Knock, knock," you called out softly, listening for signs of movement as you stepped inside and closed the door. The room that was bustling just a few hours ago was now stripped bare and cloaked in dead quiet. It was an eerie contrast to the majestic, sweeping grandiosity that encompassed his entrance to the ring tonight. “Babe?”

Venturing further inside the room, you found him on the couch, his strong, broad back to you, his shoulders slumped dejectedly. An open bottle of Jack Daniels sat on the coffee table in front of him. His ula fala was draped over the headrest, where his title belt would surely have been.

This was the reality no one warned you about after a monumental loss. It plunged you into a cold, dark abyss, wrought with biting silence and dreary loneliness now that the show was over and the lights were no longer bright. The what ifs, buts and maybes crooning in your ear like a morbid symphony. It was an experience all too familiar to you unfortunately, and recently, too; you and your husband had traveled down this terrible road following the tragic miscarriage of your son in the summer of 2022.

Stepping in front of him, you wiggled into his personal space and made yourself at home on his lap. Gently wrapping your arms around him, you sighed with relief when he instantly melted into you and his huge arms enveloped your waist, holding on to you like his life depended on it.

“My baby,” you cooed soothingly, the sound of your lips meeting the side of his head piercing through the emptiness of the locker room. “My love.”

The audible hitch of his breath at your soft words was expected. In the course of your lifetime, those two little phrases had garnered a poignant significance. As words of comfort and solace first uttered by your mother when you were a child, you murmured those words regularly to Roman between sweet, playful kisses when he was courting you, basking in the bliss of newfound love, and again as part of your wedding vows as you became man and wife. They were the first words you whispered to Laleia the first time she was placed in your arms. They were the words that you had cried yourself to sleep with as you mourned the baby boy you had lost. You and Roman had seen each other at your absolute best and worst, and now, in the isolation of this room, with just the two of you and nobody else, this was another bad moment you had to overcome.

“On Matt’s birthday, too,” Roman finally spoke, wiping at his nose with a sniffle. “Fuck, man.”

“I know,” you replied, running your hand comfortingly up and down his upper arm. As he met your gaze at last, you saw that his eyes were bloodshot. Seeing him like this broke your heart afresh. You held him as close as possible, willing all his pain and his hurt into your soul, wanting nothing more than to take it all away.

"I fucked up," he breathed, his voice raw and choked with misery, "I fucked up out there, babe...I let Dwayne down...I let y'all down. I lost the title and I'm sorry."

"Sorry? For what? Over thirteen hundred days as champion?" you countered, "Nine WrestleMania main events? Billions of dollars in revenue? A roof over your child's head and three square meals a day? One loss will never wipe any of that away, don't ever get it twisted."

He exhaled tiredly as he hugged you tighter, resting his head on your shoulder. "I really wish I felt that way right now," he mumbled.

"It'll take some time, but you will," you asserted, running his fingers through his loose hair before tugging it lightly, making him look at you again. "Roman, you changed the industry, just like you said you would when we started this. No one will ever, ever forget what you've done these past four years. Be proud of all of it. You've been through so much, you sacrificed too much to not be proud."

Roman nodded in understanding. He just wished he didn't feel so down. "Baby, I...I want you to know how sorry I am. I know how much you wanted this. And I've been such a dick to you lately-"

You kissed your teeth and waved his apology away. "Nah. That don't matter no more. And I don't care that you didn't win. All I care about is you being safe when you're out there. Being healthy for our family and our daughter, who will be very happy to have her Daddy home, by the way. So we took an L. Okay, we'll only come back stronger. We had one bad night. Guess what? I plan on giving you a better morning, if you know what I mean." You rounded off your words with a wink, your heart blooming when he chuckled in response. "See, there's that smile I love so much. Keep your head up, baby. You did so good tonight. I couldn't be more proud of you."

Roman leaned into you, his forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in and filling his head with your scent. It was like breathing fresh air. “I love you, Y/N. I love you with all of my heart. I don’t deserve you, I never have.”

The tears you'd been fighting all night resurfaced, but you blinked them away as you captured his lips with yours, your hand sliding over the back of his neck. He clung to you, a different emotion quickly overtaking him as he returned your kiss with a bit of aggression, his tongue whipping hungrily against yours, savoring your mouth as though he was tasting it for the very first time. You surrendered to his every whim, your other hand raking through his hair then caressing gently down to his chest, resting your palm over the spot where his heart pumped for you. You could feel how much he needed this moment of intimacy, and you had no qualms giving him anything he asked for.

With one quick tug of your legs, Roman had you straddling him on the couch, bringing you chest to chest with your lush backside resting on his growing bulge. He paused for a moment to take a deep breath, then sealed your mouths again, his tongue invading, probing, a moan rumbling in his chest when you matched his energy, the emotions take over this loving embrace. He could never get enough of you, of the passion that overwhelmed him by your mere presence, immersing him in a love and gratitude he would always feel for you no matter what state of mind he was in.

Eventually, you pulled away from each other, breathless, panting, lips glistening with each other’s saliva. His heart raced at the familiar gleam in your darkened eyes. You weren’t done with him, not just yet, and this was confirmed as you slowly slid off him and sank to your knees between his spread thighs, pushing the front of his shirt up to expose his newly honed six-pack abs.

“Do you know how fucking hot you looked tonight, Daddy?” you purred to him, leaning in to run your tongue over the ridges of muscle on his taut belly. “Last night? All week? Do you have any idea of all the nasty shit I’m gonna do to you on the bus?”

Roman’s dick jumped in his joggers as his imagination ran wild. He squirmed in his seat, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth as your tongue lapped at his belly, your mouth warm on his skin, all while you rubbed the fullness of his bulge straining eagerly against your touch. “Baby girl…” he choked out, as your fingers peeled the waistband of his pants, unveiling his big, beautiful brown dick.

“Hmm, commando. I like it,” you commented with a smirk, curling your fist around his turgid length.

“Babe, wait…ain’t Paul outside?”

“I sent him home. Plus, won't be the first time he's seen me suck you off.” Your small hand massaged his blunt, plum-shaped head as you licked a trail along the underside of his dick, enjoying the gasps of pleasure that he made. Licking up the pre-cum that had gathered at the tip, your mouth opened wider to take him in. He stared you down with an intense look in his dark irises, which soon fluttered shut as your lips wrapped tight around his flesh, his stomach tensing as he felt himself slide deeper inside. “Awww, fuuuck,” he moaned.

Pulling back for a second, you held his lust-filled stare and stroked his dick a little harder, giggling when it twitched in your grip. A defiant look clouded your eyes as you licked at his tip before pushing him back into your mouth. It was enough for him to nut by just watching you, the visual of your lips sliding slowly up and down his length, that sexy mouth of yours making sweet love to his dick. It felt so good that he sank further into the plush leather of the couch, his head rolling back lazily against the headrest, his toes curling inside his brand new Air Reigns sneakers. All the pain and punishment his body had endured tonight melted away and was replaced with much more pleasurable sensations.

“I love the way you suck my dick, wifey,” he praised you, forcing himself to observe you through his barely open eyelids. “Mmm, that slutty little mouth is warm as fuck…You so sexy, baby, keep lookin’ up at me like that...”

His raspy growls had you glancing back up at him, batting your pretty eyelashes as you sucked him off. Wetness pooled between your thighs at his famished expression. Completely aroused, you picked up the pace as your hands and your mouth worked in tandem, sucking and stroking his dick, pleasuring him from tip to base. His breathing became heavier as he throbbed against your tongue, his hands finding the back of your head as he got lost in the paradise of your warm, wet mouth.

“Damn, baby. I bet that pussy leakin’ for me right now. You gettin’ wet sucking Daddy off, beautiful?” he taunted, his tongue swishing over his bottom lip at the same time your tongue swirled around the base of his shaft. The little moan that escaped your throat told him he was right. Of course he was; he knew his wife better than anybody else. “Good girl. Keep goin', I want that pussy extra wet. I’ma lick all that shit up when we get on the bus.”

With another soft moan, you crawled closer to his body and bore down on him, bobbing your head up and down that long, fat cock. Scooping your hair up into his large fist for leverage, Roman rocked his hips upwards from his seated position, thrusting in and out of your mouth. You relaxed your throat to take him deeper, moaning around his dick and letting him know how much you were enjoying him fucking your face. You rolled his balls in your hand, caressing the heavy, tightened sac to send him over the edge. It was working, as he began thrusting faster, his husky groans of pleasure amplifying as he neared his release.

“Unnnhh, baby, here it comes…Fuck, open your mouth,” he gasped, not waiting for you to do so as he yanked you by your hair to free himself from your intoxicating mouth. You quickly opened wide as he grabbed his cock and jerked it desperately against your tongue. He caught sight of the glazed-over quality of your gaze, and he knew that your panties were completely ruined, your pussy dripping with your need for him. He planned to take care of that very soon.

It was a show more spectacular than Mania, the sight of his gorgeous face contorted with pleasure, his head thrown back, eyes rolled to the heavens as his orgasm washed over his big body. Your moans harmonized together with each spasm of his cum down your throat, making you swallow every drop he unleashed. His grip on your hair was tight and almost painful, but you were turned on anyway, aroused by the knowledge that no one brought him to this state of paramount pleasure like you did. Licking your lips, you scooped him back into your mouth to clean him up, released him with a soft pop when you finished, and tucked him back inside the confines of his joggers. You giggled as he stared dazedly at the ceiling, licking his lips to catch his breath, his big frame slack and helpless as he recovered from the intense orgasm.

"Goddamn, baby...Shit," he groaned.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you stood up and sat back on his lap, welcoming the gentle press of his mouth to yours in a sweet, grateful kiss. “You feel better, Daddy?” you asked.

"Much better. I needed that so much. Thanks, baby," he smiled up at you, his stomach doing flips as you smiled back. He truly was the luckiest man in the world.

“Mm-hmm. Luckily, there’s more where that came from,” you assured him with another kiss before getting to your feet and pulling him up to his. “Come on, Daddy. Let's go home. We got a toddler to take care of. We'll figure out all the other stuff when it's time."

He nodded in agreement and squeezed your hand. “Okay, baby. Home it is.”

A new chapter in your story had been opened tonight, and the path ahead seemed uncertain and even scary. But you both took pride in the fact that as long as you kept writing it together, your love story was going to remain as beautiful as it already was.

But make no mistake about it; Roman Reigns was going to rule the wrestling world again. That was one story that was never going to end.

THE END

--------------------

Thoughts? How sappy was this😢Was quite cathartic for me, loved writing it.

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting!

TAGGING: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @squishyguishy @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @cozyaliensuperstar7 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly @harmshake @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @herwickedlittlesins @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @harlemblipster @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @shonny09 @lizzyd1ish @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya @mzv11 @kia1996 @randomuser0711 @yourtribalqueen @caramelcleopatraa @katymae12344 @that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @ajenae @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @bhjszsdxc

#roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfic #the bloodline #wrestlemania #wrestlemania 40 #power couple #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x black reader

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janeyseymour · 3 months

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Hey so I was wondering if you could do a fic about a Melissa X daughter reader where we start working at the school and nobody catches on that we are Melissa’s daughter and the keep putting the pieces together until they finally get it. Maybe something like where Janine and Jacob go to Melissa’s house for cooking lessons and we are just like there and that’s how they find out. Or alternative idea where we are Melissa’s daughter and we start dating someone from Abbott like Ava or Janine and how that would play out. Sorry that’s a lot. Thanks

Relatively Related

written in the midst of the week before spring break and hoping that it isn't absolute trash :)

WC: ~2.5k

Growing up with Melissa Schemmenti for a mother, you saw what it was like being a teacher. You grew up hearing the horror stories that came with being a teacher in a center city school in Philadelphia, and you knew the horrors of growing up in a different part of Philly and going to that neighborhood school. While she didn’t much mind what you did with your life, she had always thought you would be a good teacher. And when you decided to go to college for education at West Chester University, she knew Abbott would take you in a heartbeat. It didn’t even matter that you were her daughter and she was quite the accredited teacher- West Chester’s name had enough to secure you a job anywhere in Philly that you wanted. You had vehemently denied working at her home away from home for quite some time, and yet here you were, with a bit of nudging from your mother, interviewing to become the new third grade teacher at Abbott Elementary.

“C’mon, hun,” she had sighed over dinner a few weeks ago. “I think if you would give it a shot, you would like it… I know Abbott ain’t no suburban school, but it’s a hell of a lot better than some of the places you’ve applied.”

“I just don’t want people thinking I got the job because you’re my mom,” you tell her truthfully through a mouthful of ziti.

“Y/N, if you wanted the job, I could get it for you without an interview.”

“Isn’t that essentially what would happen if I applied and checked off that I have family within the district?”you challenge as you raise a brow.

She rolls her eyes. “You act like they actually look at resumes. Please, they’ll take pretty much anyone who has a pulse and a certification… how you think I got stuck with Darlene as a part of my team?”

“I guess.”

“And besides, you have your father’s last name… how are they gonna know you’re my daughter if you don’t have my last name?”

You have to admit, she’s right. So you send in your resume. And two days later, you receive an email saying that they’d like to see you for an interview.

Your interview is practically a joke, and you’re offered a job on the spot. That night, Melissa and her work wife Barbara take you out for dinner.

“To Abbott’s newest member of the team,” Barbara makes a toast to you. “May it take you far in life.”

That was three years ago, and since then a lot has changed. A new principal has come in, there’s been a massive turnover in teachers, and you find yourself as a first grade teacher now. The only thing that hasn’t changed? The only one who knows you’re true identity at the school besides you and your mother is that Melissa Schemmenti is your mother.

This year, a few new teachers start: Jacob Hill as the eighth grade social studies teacher, and Janine Teagues as the other second grade teacher.

And as much as your mother loves to rip on new coworkers of yours, you find yourself quite drawn to both of them. Sure, they’re a little nosey and love to hear all of the new gossip and find all of the deep secrets that are hidden in the walls of this old bomb shelter turned elementary school, but you like them. They haven’t found you out, not that you or Melissa really care, but it’s quite nice to have that little bubble around the two of you.

They’ve come close though. Like the time that it came about that you share a name with Melissa’s daughter- who at this point they’re starting to believe doesn’t exist with the lack of pictures or stories.

“I’m telling you, I have a daughter,” Melissa rolls her eyes as she taps away at her phone. “I’m texting her right now.”

That is true- she is indeed texting you. Sure, she’s just texting you to tell you that you need to pick up lentils on the way home, but she isn’t lying to them.

“Show us.”

The redhead rolls her eyes, but she shows the two of them your conversation. “See? I’m just telling her she needs to pick up lentils if she wants me to make dinner tonight.”

Jacob’s brow raises as he catches the name at the top of the screen. “That’s odd… your daughter shares the same name with Y/N!”

“Well that would make sense,” your mother sighs, and you know she’s about to just out the two of you.

“It’s not like my name’s uncommon,” you jump in quietly. “I mean… really. Y/N. Not the most unique name in the world.”

Barbara raises a brow in your direction, and you give her a pleading look. “She’s right,” is all your mother’s work wife says.

That seems to stop the conversation for now, but the adrenaline rushing through your bones doesn’t quit until you safely pull into your driveway that day- lentils in hand.

“I’m home, Ma,” you call as you open the front door. Her head pokes out from the kitchen. “And yes I got the lentils.”

“Good,” is all she says before heading back into the kitchen. You follow in her direction and set them next to her before picking up the glass of wine she’s already poured for you and sipping on it.

“Aye,” she clicks her tongue. “No hello? No ‘how was your day?’”

“I saw your forty minutes ago,” you snort.

“An’ a lot coulda happened in forty minutes,” she replies. When you raise your brow at her, she sighs. “Okay, so in that forty minutes I drove home, changed into my lounge clothes, and started dinner… but I was also thinkin’-”

“That’s dangerous,” you quip. At the look she gives you, you raise your hands in surrender. You might be a grown woman, but Melissa Schemmenti was still your mother.

“I was thinkin’… you reacted kinda weird when I went to say that you were my daughter.”

You shrug. “I just don’t see why it’s anyone’s business but ours.”

“There’s gotta be more to it than that, hun,” she says as she stirs in the lentils.

“Jus’ don’t want anyone thinkin’ I’m some sorta nepo baby,” you sigh. “I got this job on my own, an’ I don’t need shit from the Abbott crew.”

“They ain’t gonna give you shit, ‘specially once they know you’re mine, and I know a guy,” she laughs,

“Little do they know, half the time, I’m your guy,” you tease her.

“Well, if that’s what it is, that’s fine. I won’t say nothin’.”

“Thanks Ma,” you smile as you kiss her cheek. “I got some grading to do, so if you have anything that needs graded, just put it next to my stack.”

As time goes on, the group starts to catch on a bit more… like:

The fact that you’re just as good a cook as your mother. You’re always bringing in new things in your Tupperware containers- that just so happen to match Melissa’s… because they came from the same house. You quickly cover that one up with a roll of your eyes and a, “So we both shop at Marshalls, the containers ain’t that special.”

Or when you manage to get pink eye from one of your kids, and Janine notices that you have the same emerald eyes as your mother. “Green eyes aren’t as rare as you think, Janine,” you huff as you grab your lunch from the fridge before leaving for the day.

There’s the instance where you’re getting fiercely protective of your students as one of the teachers from Addington makes their way over to flaunt the fact that they have more resources down the street, and you fold your arms over your chest and square up with the woman in true Schemmenti fashion. That time, Gregory takes notice, but he’s new at this point, and you just roll your eyes as you storm away down to your mother’s room to rant.

But no one ever really finds out. Not until…

“Kid, I’m having some people over for dinner tonight,” your mother tells you. “You joining?”

“Nah, I have some grading and prepping to get done tonight if I can,” you say. “But can you save me a bowl?”

“For a price,” she smirks.

“Hand me your spelling tests I know you’ve been stalling on grading,” you chuckle. She just points to her bag, and you go and pull them out before heading up to your room. “Have fun with your friends tonight. Love you, Ma.”

“Love you too, you little shit,” she calls back lovingly.

You’ve spent hours grading papers, and now you’re pouring over your lesson plans for the next week. You realize that you should probably do a craft that has to do with the upcoming holidays, and you find a few cute ones online. You know that you and your mother have a plethora of crafting supplies in the basement- you just don’t know what of. So, you start to make your way down the steps when you hear two very familiar voices: Jacob’s and Janine’s.

Knowing though that if you don’t go and look in the basement now, you never will and will just end up buying all new supplies and adding to the ridiculous amount of pipe cleaners and glitter glue you have stashed away.

You make your way through the kitchen. The three of them seem to be deep in a cooking lesson while also snacking on a few of the things your mother had already whipped up and don’t have a clue you’re walking through.

“You need any crafting supplies while I head down and see what we have?” you casually ask your mother as you pass.

You stop to watch as your two coworkers’ heads whip around in a near comical unison, mouths dropped in shock.

“Y/N?”

“Hey,” you give a half-committed wave.

“What are you doing here?” Janine asks.

You furrow a brow and fold your arms over your chest. “I live here?”

“You live with Melissa?” Jacob gasps.

“Yeah? She’s my mom?”

“She’s your-“ Janine points a finger at you before turning around and looking at Melissa. “You’re her-”

“I told you guys I had a daughter, that she wasn’t fake,” your mom smirks. “You believe me now?”

“How did we never know?!” Jacob admonishes.

“Well, for starters: I don’t have the Schemmenti last name. Secondly, who’s business is it to know who my mother is?” you quip. “You know how private the Schemmenti family can be.”

They both look beyond shocked. “Well, why don’t you join us?”

“I really do have to go check for pipe cleaners and paper plates, and I know how to cook,” you laugh. “But I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

You head down the steps, and you hear your mother call, “The big jawns!”

“That’s what I figured, Ma!”

“What the hell?” Jacob whips around to your mother, and you laugh because you know she’s about to get grilled on the fact that you were indeed her ‘secret’ daughter.

You find what you need before heading back up the steps and for your room. “Have a good night y’all!”

The next morning, you’re sitting in the lounge sipping your coffee and sulking over the fact that you forgot your lunch on the counter this morning. Luckily for you, your mother brings it with her when she sees that you left it on the counter. She slips it into the staff fridge before sending you a text that it’s there. She preps her coffee and settles in next to you to grade a few more papers before everyone else stars trickling in to watch the news.

“Uh, hello?” Jacob questions when he walks in and everyone else is here now too. “Are we not going to talk about this?”

“Talk about what?” you and your mother ask at the same time.

“You two!” He gestures wildly between the two of you. “That you guys are related!”

“You two are related?” Gregory asks with a brow lifted.

“Uh, yeah!” Janine tells him.

“How do you know?”

“She told us last night when she called Melissa ‘Ma’!”

“Why didn’t any of us know this?” Jacob continues on.

“Know what?” Ava asks as she comes waltzing into the lounge to grab a coffee.

“That Melissa is Y/N’s mother!”

“I knew,” Barb states with a smirk on her face.

“Oh, damn! I was starting to think Melissa being a milf was just a rumor. I am happy to find out that it is entirely the truth,” the principal grins. “Greg, grab me a tea bag so I can sip on this tea!”

“There isn’t any tea, Ava,” you roll your eyes. “Yes, Melissa is my mom, but it really ain’t that big a deal.”

“Oh, it definitely is! Why were you so secretive about it?! Hmm?” Jacob asks as he sits next to you.

You shimmy away from him just slightly with a huff. “Because nobody needs to know a Schemmenti’s business except a Schemmenti. And, I didn’t want nobody thinking I got this job because of who I’m related to.”

“Y/N, please. You’re good at what you do, hun! You could get this job without the Schemmenti name, and you did!” Your mother cuts in and jostles you slightly.

“I also didn’t want to hear you-“ you look to Ava. “-calling my mother a milf more than I already do.”

“She is! And now that I see the two of you next to each other, I definitely see where your future is heading too!”

“Ava!” You, your mother, and the rest of the group scold.

The principal just shrugs. “Jus’ sayin’ the truth. Bye, y’all.”

Once she’s gone, you’re bombarded with questions. What’s it like having Melissa for a mother? Is your father really as bad as your mother makes him out to be? What was it like growing up? If you saw the horrors of Abbott, why did you work here? What were you like as a child?

“Enough,” you finally groan. “This is why I didn’t want people knowin’. I may be Melissa’s daughter, but-”

“Isn’t it weird calling your mom by her first name?” Jacob cuts you off.

“I’ve been yelling her first name since I was fourteen and realized she didn’t always respond to Mom or Ma, but always Melissa,” you reveal. “Now: she may be my mom, but I’m still a damn good teacher who got this position on my own volition. And y’all better stop asking these questions, or I know a guy.”

“And I’m the guy,” you mother states proudly, a proud grin on her face.

“No you ain’t. Uncle Vin is my guy.”

“While we’re at it,” Melissa sighs. “Stop asking me to get weed from my guy and just ask Y/N instead. She’s my guy for that.”

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

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deramin2 · 10 months

Text

I don't know how to really express this except to come across as a "kids these days" scold, but so much of the criticism of queerness in Good Omens would simply not be a thing if kids these days watched more 20th century queer media. Or more complex indie queer media in general.

People seem to want a show that's like the straight stories they grew up with but gay. Or the gay fanfiction they grew up with. But that's not really the tradition it's coming from. First off the novel was released in 1990. Queer film classics of the time are Dead Poet's Society (1989) and Torch Song Trilogy (1988). The TV miniseries Tales of the City (1993) wasn't made until 3 years later and it was so far out there it never had a huge audience. Philadelphia (1993) is also 3 years out and was basically the first big studio queer film. The first fluffy queer Hallmark-style romcom wasn't until Big Eden in 2000, a full 10 years after publication.

Queer stories from the time it was written were about complex and often fraught relationships between people who the world was trying to force apart. There is an incredibly strong tradition in queer films of relationships with no guarantees they will work out both in the face of their personal baggage and the weight of the world. Take a film like Torch Song Trilogy that's about the two great loves of Arnold Beckoff's life over 9 years and how homophobia shapes them. Both externally (especially Allen) and internally like Ed struggling with his bisexuality and being terrified of being publicly out. Written and starred in by Harvey Fierstein, who identified as a gay man at the time and only came out as nonbinary last year.

The Boys In The Band (1968 play, filmed 1970 and 2020) was a monumental moment in Broadway history where finally there was a play about gay men in their own words where no one died and very strongly showed that homosexuality doesn't make people miserable but homophobia sure does. But that homophobia also throws their personal lives into constant turmoil and none of them are in happy relationships, although Hank and Larry are devoted to each other in their own fucked up way.

"Relationships are complicated and hard to make work and sometimes a struggle against the odds" is an aesthetic of classic queer film making. Partly it was influenced by the Hays Code (although independent films were not bound to it), partly influenced by the rampant queerphobia in society at the time that was inescapable. But it's also an aesthetic choice to resist the banal and unrealistic relationship depictions of straight media. There are actual stakes to the relationship. Queer people were actively resisting a world that said "Romance is seeing someone across the room and instantly falling in love with each other and little conflicts happen along the way but ultimately they're destined to be together and everything is happily ever after." Recall that "stalking as romance" was a completely inescapable trope in 1980s straight romance films, and every goddamn movie was being turned into a romance film.

So queer people in film and television when they can make what they please have a long tradition of saying instead "People don't always realize the feelings they've developed for a queer partner right away. They may have reasons for denying those feelings that are both a reflection of the cruelty in society and of their own insecurities. People struggle with where they belong and their relationships reflect that. Loving someone doesn't mean they don't also drive you crazy and you might fight with them constantly. But that doesn't negate the love or that feeling that even if things aren't okay, they're better with that person around. But maybe that person can't stay around. The world may be against you. And also maybe you don't just want that one person in your life. Soulmates is a very flawed model. Sometimes the strongest love is a struggle with yourself and the world and your person. You have to overcome yourself first. Happily ever after is a lie. You may be happy for a while, and hopefully for a long while, but everything ends. And you have to be ready to love again. Also your platonic bonds are just as important and life-altering as your romantic ones. Sometimes those platonic bonds include fucking if you want them to. Real life isn't a bunch of platitudes and world-altering moments, it's daily work to better yourself and the world around you. Especially when things just fucking suck. But also remember to have fun and fuck the haters. People who don't support you can eat rocks and you should yell at them more to shut the fuck up."

That is a fundamentally different outlook on what a "good relationship depiction" looks like. Personally, I thought I hated romance movies and then I started watching queer romance movies and discovered I love them and watch them all the time. Because it turns out what I hated was relationships being shown that had nothing at all to do with reality and privileged incredibly toxic ideals. Finally there was complexity, there were stakes, and there were people who had to truly want to be together enough to fight the world for it and not because they happened to be there. There were people actually talking out their problems and looking for resolutions. (And sometimes that resolutions was "I can't fucking deal with this bullshit anymore and I'm out.") For the first time it felt real.

I'm an aroace trans gay man. Nothing about relationships or being in relationships has come easy to me, and the whole paradigm of straight patriarchal romance depictions makes absolutely no sense to me. It's completely alien. Queer romance stories actually feel human.

And that's the tradition Good Omens is coming from, even as it's being retold in 2019-2023 and hopefully beyond. Gaiman's work has always been based in that queer media paradigm. (I've been remiss and daunted and haven't read Pratchett but from what I do know his work also seems to sit more in that world view.) It's a beautiful cinematic tradition and it's baffling to me that people would resist it instead of embracing it for being honest.

And that's when I turn into a crotchety old man complaining about the youth not connecting with the history of their beautiful culture and instead begging for assimilation into a shithole allocishet media landscape that doesn't actually want them except for their money and has nothing at all interesting or valuable to say. But it's very funny (annoying) to me when people claim Good Omens is someone against queer culture when it's so thoroughly bathed in the best of queer media's storytelling traditions and what people are asking for is straight media with the serial numbers filed off. Like, stop being boring please and know literally anything about the culture the adults in the room lived through and were influenced by. The world didn't begin in 2015.

EDIT: I also want to add that in straight media arcs are linear. Traditionally in queer media arcs are cyclical. Queer media very often depicts people going around in circles relearning the same lesson over and over as they inch towards it sinking in. But every time they go through the cycle they gain just a little bit more enlightenment and slowly move towards a better place. From the comments this is an immensely important distinction. People don't actually have cathartic moments where suddenly all their past bad programming is shed and they saunter forward a new person with none of their old baggage. In reality people fall into the same patterns over and over even though they have had every opportunity to learn better. "People magically get better" is a trope of straight media that's an outright and frankly dangerous lie. Again, Good Omens follows the queer tradition not the straight one and it's depicted 6,000 years of that cycle. The world didn't end, and the wheel keeps turning, as it always has and always will. That's so fundamental to queer storytelling traditions I forgot to even mention it.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens spoilers #go s2 spoilers #good omens discourse #queer media #queer history #discourse #I have been a crotchety old man against the youths since middle school to be clear #if you don't know where you've been you have no hope of knowing where you should go next #I didn't sit all the way through deeply homophobic Brokeback Mountain or Tár just to hear people complain that honest rep is bad rep #This is also why I'm a critchety old man about most Critical Role Shadowgast haters #Liam and Matt have not only watched but copiously reference older queer media and Shadowgast is so clearly that tradition

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music-orthemisery · 3 days

Text

Pre-Folie Release Madness of (p)2- A Timeline

After spending a few days in cuckoo bananas world thanks to the video re: Patrick's best man speech, @grandtreeangel and I have some things to slide across the table.

Between October 19, 2008 and November 7th, 2008, FOB played a series of shows leading up to the release of Folie a Deux. Each show featured a Pete/Patrick banter moment that, when put together, creates a very...interesting narrative.

October 19th - Birmingham, England show

Pete making a Top Gun reference to the $20 bar bet scene while Patrick plays the Top Gun theme song.

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The scene in question: "Total carnal knowledge...of a woman this time, on the premises"

October 22nd - London, England show

First live performance of Patrick's "Love Lockdown" cover

Please see @grandtreeangel’s post HERE for more context on this totally normal thing Patrick did.

October 25th - Lille, France show

OG "my little cabbage" moment Pete, in French, says to Patrick, "You are beautiful, my little cabbage."

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October 27th OR 28th - Blog post

Pete posts this on his Tumblr . It says 10/27, but there's some disagreement on time zones so it may be 10/28. EITHER WAY...

Originally, this linked to a clip from the movie Love, Actually. In this scene, a man confesses his love to a woman who is married to his best friend.

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There's plenty of debate about this movie, scene, and storyline in general, but we aren't here for that right now!!!

Let's just focus on the facts:

Woman. Married. To BEST FRIEND.

The man was the best man AND the videographer at the wedding.

This whole moment is done secretly. He confesses, they kiss, she goes back inside and tells her husband it was just some carolers.

In general, this whole story arc is ripe with longing and unattainable love due to a marriage keeping the man from being with the woman.

I...wonder what this sounds like...

October 28th - Toronto, Canada show

Love Lockdown cover where Patrick says, "That's for you, Pete."

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Again, Patrick being very normal!!!

October 29th - Blog Post

Pete contributes an entry to Bill's "Mondayeyes" poetry club on friendsorenemies.com:

Credit to @alphadog's post for this HERE

The entire poem is quite impactful, but a few lines of interest:

"Where do you get off?" or more like "how"

and...

"You chose this"

When Pete uses quotes, it's noted that this indicates things that have been said to him.

There are scents and spells that keep us coming together, there are sparks that keep us forever

The art of keeping up disappearances

Also, big hello to some Rat-A-Tat lyrics

Whenever I could make the sweat roll backwards and your pulse stream in reverse

(Big thank you to @dykeandyhurley for sending this to me)

November 6th - Boston, MA show

Pete shares the story about Patrick's best man speech.

Huge props to @predoom for finding this moment!

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If you haven't seen Top Gun (?!), the context here is very important:

The line "Ice, fire, or clear," is said in the scene where Goose dies.

Scene: "Ice, Fire or Clear!"

Also, it should be noted that, to Pete, he is Goose and Patrick is Maverick.

The fact that Patrick picks this quote to say to Pete...in his best man speech...at PETE'S WEDDING. A quote said when Maverick LOSES Goose.

AND...apparently no one else in the reception quite...get's it. Pete is the only one who does. That line was just for Pete. From Patrick.

Of all the lines in that movie, he picks that one, from that moment.

Then, of course...

We have "The Kids Aren't Alright."

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Featuring the lyrics:

Stuck in the jet wash Bad trip I couldn't get off And maybe I bit off more than I could chew And overhead of the aqua blue

Along with Pete's annotation:

November 7th - Philadelphia, PA show

Patrick sings Lullabye.

Take a peek at this post for all of that mess.

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"Well, Bronx was about to be born!"

Sure, sure. I'm not DENYING the relevance there. Just. Go look at the post, damn it. Trust me.

And then...?

Nothing. They take a break, Bronx is born, and then they play a show in Columbus, OH on December 1, 2008. This whole little back and forth ends. Folie a Deux is released on December 10th and...well...we all know what happens after that.

#absolutely fucking insane honestly #we've been obsessing over this all day #adult responsibilities? what are those in the face of p2 lore?!#anyway. hope you enjoyed the fruits of our crazy #p2 #peterick #pete wentz #patrick stump #fall out boy #folie a deux #pre-hiatus #hijinx and tomfoolery

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lady-raziel · 1 month

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Cna i... Can I ask what the beef is with M Night Shyamalan?

fair warning, this is a self-indulgently long post. but if you endure the page break, you may find the story entertaining.

a long time ago...in a small indie comic book shop in downtown Philadelphia...

picture this. it's circa 2016. my hyperfixation at the time is DC Comics-- the Flash specifically. I like the Flash, but I really like his nemesis, the Reverse Flash. This guy's gimmick is that he has the same powers as the Flash, but he's also evil because he used to be a Flash stan and his idol didn't validate their parasocial relationship when they actually met in person, and now he just wants to kill the Flash instead. It's a long story. Reverse Flash has died many times. He's also from the future, but that's not the important bit right now.

Anyway, despite being one of the Flash's main enemies, there are not that many comic book issues that feature the Reverse Flash for some reason. My main hobby at the time of this whole ordeal is to go to the local comic book shops and search through the bins of back issues to find anything with the Reverse Flash in it (bonus points if he's on the cover, but at a certain point you can't be picky). I'd been fairly successful at this, and had even been able to avoid buying too much off Ebay as I really didn't care too much about the condition or grade of the comics. The comic book shop in downtown Philly I was in on the day of the Incident was one I'd been to before, but not in a while as I went to school out in the suburbs and didn't leave that general area too much.

So. I enter this shop, and it's not too busy. That's a good thing as it's not a large space and if there were too many people it would have been very difficult to navigate around the displays of Funko Pops and tables of back issues. However, as I was soon about to find out, it doesn't matter if there's only one other person shopping at the same time as you if that person is the wrong person.

I make my way to the back where all the big boxes of old comics are, and scan the rows alphabetically to find the 'Fs.' I see 'Firestorm,' and 'Fantastic Four,' and all the others...but there, right there, where the Flash comics should be...there's a guy. Standing there. In the way.

Now, that's alright. He just seemed to be perusing randomly and wasn't actually looking at the Flash comics specifically (my Flash comics), and I can just go look at the action figures or something until he moves to another section of the shop. No problem. I mean, it's one box of comics, Harold. How long does it take to look through it? 5 minutes? No, all I have to do is wait a little bit and then I can examine those 1980s Flash comics with my own grubby little paws.

So I do a loop of the store. I examine the Funko Pops (they all look the same), the t-shirts (only Hot Topic quality), the new comics (Superman #1? How many times are they going to reboot this thing?), and even the super expensive vintage comics up on the wall (no Reverse Flash here, and it would still be beyond my price point anyway). But when I finally make my way back to the back issues, the guy...is still there. He hasn't moved. And now he's not even pretending to look at the comics anymore.

Now, to my horror, he seems to be having a full-on conversation with one of the store employees right on top of my box of comics, and neither of them seem like they plan to end this discussion anytime soon. You may be asking at this point, "well Raz, if you wanted to look at the comics where they were standing, why didn't you just ask them to move out of the way?" You're right. I could have done that.

But problem. I have social anxiety. And sometimes it gets very bad about very small things. So while it would have been entirely reasonable to ask these two men to move their conversation elsewhere, the crippling social anxiety made it so that asking for that very small and reasonable thing would have been akin to asking these guys if they would set me on fire right here right now, please and thank you. It wasn't gonna happen. My only option was to hover uncomfortably 6 feet away, pretending to go through the back issues systematically and hope they picked up on what I was doing and moved out of the way when I got back to the 'Fs,' or give up and suffer an hour and a half on the SEPTA train back home with nothing to show for it.

now, i've never had a conversation with famous filmmaker and director M Night Shyamalan. I didn't even know what he looked like at the time, so when all this happened I thought he was just Some Guy who in his unawareness was keeping me from completing my mission. Maybe he's a really engaging conversationalist and talking with him causes you to not notice anything going on around you. That may even be the case-- as neither the Twistmaster himself or the besotted store employee seemed to notice I was there. But I WAS there. And my frantic silent social cues were being "returned to sender," unread.

Meanwhile I was enduring a level of internal turmoil on the level of a character in a Greek tragedy. This was my crucible. Surrender, or do something I was honor-bound not to do. Was this the meaning of an impossible choice?

It was only after almost 15 long, agonizing minutes and two more laps of the store on my part that finally, finally there was a breakthrough. Unaware Man (for this would be Shyamalan's superhero code name) and Employee-Bro had moved to the cash register, as the former had found something he wanted to buy. With speed rivaling the Flash himself, I descended on the fated box of comics like a plague. It seemed that the day had not been lost after all.

However, like any film from the man himself, there was to be a final twist to this tale. One last turn of the knife. You might be thinking-- "And it turned out that there weren't any comics in the box you wanted to buy after all, rendering this whole ordeal meaningless, right? Like any tragic hero you endured the terrible trials only to discover that the treasure you sought was a hollow fantasy of your own creation, and this all could have been avoided if you had not fallen prey to the follies of man?"

No. The problem was-- I did find several comics in that box that I wanted to buy. I even found one with the Reverse Flash on the cover. But now that I had found my prize, I faced a new, even greater challenge, which was somewhat an extension of the old challenge, but to the extreme.

I now had to get Employee-Bro to ring me up so I could leave this cursed place, but here's the kicker: I had to do this while he was still utterly engaged in discussion with Unaware Man and thus blind to the outside world. I had come out of the frying pan and into the fire, because now it wasn't like I could just go home and take only a feeling of defeat with me. My precious comic book finds were on the line, and what was I going to do? Just put them back in the box and leave?

Unfortunately, I was committed. I would have to stand reasonably out of the way of Unaware Man's personal space yet close enough to indicate that I was, yes, in line to check out my purchases. And goddamnit, I was going to do this until all of us died of old age or the world ended.

I kind of lost all sense of time at that point. It could have been only a few minutes. It could have been five hours. All I know is that it was long enough that I wished for the sweet release of death, because then at least I'd be able to lie down. How it eventually went down was that Employee-Bro rung up Unaware Man (because really, processing a credit card transaction and signing the receipt only can take so long), and the two continued to talk as Employee-Bro gradually gained awareness that I Was There Too, and multitasked to check out my items while remaining totally focused on his other conversation and not speaking a word to me.

And that was it. I was free, from the physical prison of the comic book store at least. But again, like a Shyamalan film, this was in reality only the end of the second act. Because as I walked through the streets of Center City Philadelphia and rested my head against the smudged window of the SEPTA train on the way home, I started to descend into the mental turmoil of the question, "wait, who was that guy? Was he like...famous, or something?"

If you've ever been to a comic con or spent enough time in a hobby shop, you know that sometimes Nerd Bros can get really deep into conversation about these sorts of things. Many of them even have lots of opinions on films, and will be happy to share them in detail unprompted. So it wasn't entirely unreasonable for me not to realize in the moment that what was happening wasn't just "Nerd Bros Being Dudes."

But the more I thought about it, the one-sided adoring dynamic between Employee Bro and Unaware Man did seem unusual. And in the bits of their conversation that I had been forced to endure, hadn't one of them mentioned something about...filming locations? What was that about? Nobody in their right mind films stuff in Philly unless they're making the 86th Rocky film or the like.

It was a Google search of "movies filming in Philadelphia" that returned several results of articles talking about how location scouting was going on in the area as part of the production of a long-awaited sequel to the 2000 film Unbreakable, a undercover superhero sleeper hit. Unbreakable, a film set in Philadelphia, written and directed by famous filmmaker M Night Shyamalan.

Shyamalan. SHYAMALAN. the man responsible for 2010's The Last Airbender. it was HIM. he was not only the man who originated the (still unbroken!) curse on the Avatar franchise, but also the man who had ruined my day. Thoughtlessly. Carelessly. Not by massacring a beloved children's television franchise, but by being unaware. Inconceivable.

This was horrific. It wasn't even like I was the Reverse Flash or any other famous superhero nemesis, who had a compelling backstory causing their undying hatred of the hero. Instead, I now had a narrative foil who barely even fit that description, because chances are he hadn't even taken notice of my existence the whole time! This was my supervillain origin story, and it was his normal day!

It was at this moment I swore an oath. I would not forget this terrible day of inconvenience that was partially caused by my own social failings. I would dedicate my life from this point forward to slightly narrowing my eyes and shaking my head disapprovingly when I saw mentions of Shyamalan or his works online. I would color any opinions I had of his films with the thought, "but remember that one time he was kind of a dick to you without even meaning it? what was up with that?"

and that is the tale of my tragic encounter with M Night Shyamalan. To this day, my only solace is that my epic origin story turned out more narratively coherent and with deeper substance than any other film made in the Unbreakable saga, including the one he was location scouting for at the time this happened. Shyamalan can write twists all he wants, but no one is better at that game than karma itself.

-END-

#not included in this narrative retelling: me raising a fist into the air and shouting 'SHYAMALAN!!!' like i'm in star trek wrath of khan #if you read all that you deserve a medal #if there's ever a cinematic adaptation of this event it can only be made by shyamalan himself

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 3 months

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 6: Batter Up

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

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

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: References to Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Cursing (a few times), Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

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

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

****************************

Philadelphia 1935

"Only you would bring a sketchpad to a baseball game." Ben shouts over the screaming fans in Shibe Park Stadium. The sun catches his hair turning it into a honeyed brown that drips down into his gorgeous green eyes that shine with charm.

"I want to capture the devastation on your face when the Phillies lose." You snark back, tracing the curve of his mouth as it pulls down in a frown with the tip of your pencil on your sketchpad, and wishing that you could do the same with your fingertip. It was not the first time that you'd drawn him and by now you didn't need to look up at him to capture the angular structure of his face, but you couldn't help it.

"Funny." Ben taps the ridiculous white and red pinstriped baseball cap on your head that he bought you before the game.

It was a few days after your party, one day before Ben had to go to boarding school number seven, and Ben, being the person he was, decided to drown his sorrows in cheap beer and the electric atmosphere of a baseball game. Before his mother died Ben's father had taken him to a single baseball game, but Ben never forgot. He didn't have to tell you for you to know that it was one of the only happy memories from his childhood, despite his father getting so drunk that he forgot Ben was with him. You figured that Ben liked going because it reminded him of one day that his father didn’t tell him what a disappointment he was. Your heart ached at the thought. Ben didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve the constant disapproval of his father. Yes he got kicked out of numerous boarding schools, he swore like a sailor, ran after whatever caught his eye, and he drank so much alcohol you wondered how he wasn't flammable. But Ben deserved more. And you wished that he would let you give it to him all the time, not just on the days you were out together or the times he snuck into your room.

Your thoughts drift back to the numerous boarding schools. Although you wanted to defend him, you couldn't come up with an excuse for that, especially since Ben didn’t just flunk out, he made an effort to get kicked out. Ben had a different story that resulted in his expulsion for each that never ceased to amuse you. Boarding school number one was vacated when Ben was only thirteen years old because he glued the history instructor to his chair. Boarding school number two was evacuated due to an “accidental fire” in the science lab, which Ben insisted he didn’t start. And then complained that he didn’t think that his lab partner's coat would catch fire quite that fast. Boarding schools three and four were within months of each other and both due to the fact that Ben got caught with a girl in the dorm. Something you wished he hadn’t told you. Boarding school number five you were the most proud of. Only because Ben used some of the minimal art skills you showed him to draw a naughty doodle of the English teacher on the chalkboard before class. Ben replicated the doodle in one of the sketchpads that you hid under you bed just in case someone were to find it. Finally, Ben left boarding school number six because he drove the dean's car into the swimming pool. When you asked him why, he said that he thought it "needed a wash."

"So is it everything you ever dreamed of?" Ben asks with a smirk.

"What?" You look up from the sketchpad at him in confusion.

"Your first baseball game." He emphasizes the word suggestively.

"It's certainly loud-" You begin to say, leaning towards him so he can hear you over the roar of the crowd.

"Yes, well lots of screaming is expected your first time." Ben wiggles his eyebrows. "Though I'd say that there should be screaming all the time-"

"Ben."

"But I told you that I'd be gentle-" He taunts.

"BEN."

"What? I like that I'm your first." His smirk widens and your cheeks flare bright red, prompting you to punch him in the shoulder.

"Shut up." Your mind can't help, but drift back to the other day when he trailed his fingers down the back of your corset and loosened the ties, which makes you flush a brighter red as a shiver goes down your spine.

The boos around Ben and you get louder as the bottom of the eighth inning begins and as one of the New York Giants' infielders steps up to the plate. Despite Ben's teasing it was your first official baseball game. He was outraged when you told him that you'd never been to one a few days before your birthday and he believed that it was his responsibility to take you to one before he went back to boarding school.

And as much as you pretended to hate it, you were having a lot of fun.

The roar of the crowd is electric and surges up over the trumpet blasts that fill the loud speakers, broken up by the sound of the vendors selling cracker jacks and other food items where they wander up and down the concrete steps of the stadium. The smell of beer, hotdogs, sweat, and peanuts swells over the crowd, while the golden glow of the noon day sun flashes against the metal overhang that shields the crowds from its rays.

"Are you hungry?" Ben asks, nudging your shoulder to grab your attention again.

"A little."

Ben waves down one of the vendors and buys you both hotdogs and a beer to share. And as you sit there and begin to eat, you realize that something about today feels different.

You can't put your finger on it, but him buying you a baseball hat and food kinda feels like a… date. Ben had bought you things before from street vendors as you walked through Philadelphia, ice cream, pretzels, but being here, sitting so close that your shoulders brushed every few minutes was different. You briefly circle back again to the other night when he helped you out of your dress. Neither of you had brought up what happened, but you wanted to. You wanted to know if he did that to help you or if he did that because he wanted to go further.

But at the same time you wondered if it happened because Ben was drunk. When he got drunk Ben tended to be a bit more clingy, well at least around you he was more clingy, but he’d never admit that.

The crack of a baseball against a bat pulls you from your memory of the other night and Ben groans as the ball soars over the wall at the back of the stadium.

“That’s another 5 bucks.” He mutters.

“Told you not to make that bet with Adam.” You sing-song.

“You made a bet too.”

“A winning bet I might add.” You poke his muscular bicep with your pencil.

Adam Winthrop was one of Ben's drinking buddies and someone you had run into at the ticket booth before the game. Ben bet him that by the eighth inning the Phillies would pull ahead, whereas you bet Adam that the Phillies would be down exactly four points. Adam laughed at you, but agreed, while Ben stated that the Phillies were better than the New York Giants and you would lose.

You were eager to make him eat his words. And one look at the scoreboard meant that Ben was suffering through a four course meal.

"I have no idea how you did that. You don't even know what baseball is! How could you know that the Phillies would be down four points in the bottom of the eighth?"

"I've meant to tell you, I'm secretly psychic."

"Oh really?" Ben smirks, eyes darkening as they lock with yours. "What am I thinking right now?"

"That you're happy you didn't bring Missy Callahan." You smirk back at him to stop the butterflies that have erupted in the pit of your stomach.

"I am." He cocks his head to the side in a way that makes his dark hair fall into his eyes.

"Good." You turn back to watch the game so you won't focus too much on how good he looks and to resist the urge to run your fingers through his hair. "And I am getting it a little. My teacher is very good at explaining things."

"I'm good at explaining lots of things doll." You don't need to look at Ben to hear the smirk in his voice.

Damn it. The blush that creeps into your cheeks with his words feels like fire.

"Trollop." You snort, taking the beer from his hand so you can have a sip.

“You should be nicer to me, I got you food.”

“And a ridiculous hat-“

“You look cute.” Ben rolls his eyes and turns away, but his words stick to your chest like fly paper.

He thinks I look cute?

“I don’t think you look too bad yourself.” You respond, turning your eyes back on the field, but watching him in your peripheral vision.

“I know.” He grins.

“Keep being all cocky and I won’t buy you cotton candy with all the cash I’m about to make on this game.”

“What happened to gambling being unladylike?”

“We both know I’m far from a lady, darling.”

“Well the Dawson School for Girls will clear you right up.” Ben sighs, but you can hear the disappointment in his tone.

Oh yes, the wonderful news my mother dropped in my lap, how exciting!

When your mother had come into your room the other night she told you she had a big birthday surprise, which was that she was sending you to the Dawson School for Girls in Boston. You don’t know what prompted her to send you to a boarding school, only that she said it would be good for you.

Which probably meant she was doing it to keep you far away from Ben.

Maybe it won't be so bad. New city, new exciting people-

But no matter how hard you thought about it, you weren't excited and it was because of Ben. Not only would you miss him, you really didn't know what he would do without you. You weren't sure how long that Ben would be at his boarding school in New Jersey, and you didn't know where he would go when he got back.

If I was gone, who would be there for him when he got back? Who would he go to when he didn't want to go home? Would he end up at Missy's?

The thought that he would sleep over at her house makes an ice pick of jealousy stab you in the chest. You still weren't over what happened the other night at your birthday party, but you were getting through the best you could. Being here with Ben was helping you forget how mad you were.

"Y/n?"

"Hmm?" You look up at him.

"Don't focus too much on what they teach you there." Ben says, his eyes are still on the game tracing the pathway of the ball as it soars into right field.

"Why?"

"Because you don't need to change." He glances over at you with a frown as if the thought hurts. "And all those boarding schools are the same, they try to make you like everyone else. Strip you of everything that makes you different.”

"Is that such a bad thing? I've been the odd one out for a while-"

You think about all the other girls that you'd met over the years and of course Missy pops up. She was popular, pretty, and she'd caught Ben's attention. You'd never been that popular, Ben was the only close friend you had. Plus most of the people you interacted with were Ben's friends/drinking buddies who seemed to like you as much as he did. That always made you feel better, that Ben's friends liked you enough to let you come out with them sometimes, even if it was to the bar on the corner and even if it was completely unladylike when you staggered home drunk. It was usually Adam's fault when he bet you that he could drink you under the table and you weren't one to walk away from a challenge. Ben was always there to help you down the street and make sure that you got home okay, laughing when you tried to go into the wrong house or sang off-key. Of course when you arrived home those nights your mother practically locked you in your room, making you feel like Rapunzel, but never dissuaded Ben from coming in through the window.

"For you it is."

"Why?"

"Because you're different."

"I can't tell if that's a compliment or not." Your brow wrinkles and Ben presses a fingertip to the scrunch between your eyebrows under your hat, surprising you.

"I like that you're different." Ben shrugs.

Your cheeks flush bright red with his confession. It's the first time that Ben's ever said anything remotely like that before.

He turns back to the game as if he hasn't said anything.

“I like that you’re different too.” You whisper, barely audible over the crowd.

“Good.” Ben shoots you a sideways grin that makes you warm from head to toe.

“So is that why you don’t stay?" You look back at your sketchpad, shading along the bottom of Ben’s strong jawline, reveling in the familiar scratch of the pencil against the paper.

“Huh?”

“At the boarding schools? Because you don’t want to change?”

Ben frowns for a minute before reaching for the beer between you. “I don’t like being there.”

“Because?”

Ben shrugs. “It’s not home.”

You didn’t understand that. Ben hated being at his own house with his father. Well, hated being anywhere with his father. The only place that he spent enough time sleeping was in your bedroom and you doubted that’s what he meant.

You wait for him to clarify, but he doesn’t. “Well I'm pretty sure I'm going to hate being in Boston because I'm just going to worry about you the whole time." It slipped out before you could stop it.

"You worry about me?" The corner of his lip twitches.

"Of course I do. You're my friend."

"And what do you worry about happening to me?"

"The usual: barroom brawls, alcohol poisoning..." You smile. "That or sleeping with someone's girl and having the guy come after you."

"I hope you know that you're my alibi if anyone tries to catch me."

"After all these years I'd expect it. And everyone believes me, because I'm trustworthy-"

"I'm not so sure about trustworthy, when we first met you lied for me." Ben's fingertips trace against the back of your hand where it is on the armrest between you.

"Yes I did." You swallow the lump in your throat, trying not to focus on how electricity seems to follow his touch, mildly surprised at the boldness of Ben's touch.

You remembered that night. When you ran into your father's study to hide from your mother and Ben was behind the couch hiding from his father. He had looked so cute with a scowl on his face, when he peered at you from over the back of the couch when you came through the door. You remember asking him what he was doing, but he hadn't said anything, just stared back at you. His father had been enough of an answer when he practically crashed through the door of the study, stumbling around the room and slurring his words together as he demanded you tell him where his son was. You had held his gaze and insisted that you hadn't seen Ben, and his father had left cursing under his breath. It was hard not be friends after that.

"Why?" Ben asks.

You pause considering. Ben's face is impassive, but you see a glint of curiosity in his eyes. His fingers are still resting on the back of your hand. “Do you really want me to tell you? Or do you want me to lie?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever lied to me before.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know your tell.” He replies smugly.

“I don’t have a tell.”

“You do.”

“What is it?”

“It’s no fun if I tell you.” Ben smirks, tapping the brim of your hat. “But why?”

You didn't want to admit it to him, because you thought that he would mock you. The truth was you'd helped him for two reasons, one because he'd looked scared. Ben wasn't afraid of anything and you hadn't seen the look in his eyes since the day you met, but you know that you did not imagine it when you locked eyes in the study. The other reason was because you thought that your problems with your mother and his problems with his father made you two the same or at least connected in some way. You were happy to meet someone that understood you. None of the other people you met understood what it was like to have a parent that never thought you were enough for them. And as you grew up together, Ben was someone that you could depend on no matter what, just as he depended on you. Even if he couldn't admit it to you or to himself.

“It might have also been because I was also in the study hiding from my mother and it kinda felt like we were sharing a secret.” You press your lips together. “I know that sounds stupid.”

“It’s not.” Ben breathes, holding your gaze with a sincerity that makes your heart warm. “I never said thank you.”

"You’re right. And I’ll hold that against you for as long as we live.” You smile up into his handsome face again admiring how the sun reflects off the perfect angles and rests in his green eyes.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less sweetheart.” He holds your gaze for another few seconds before turning back to watch the final inning, his forearm pressed firmly against yours where your arms rest between you. And instead of moving back you allow yourself to lean into him, so close that your shoulders are touching, continuing to sketch through the final parts of the game and ignoring the urge to look up at him.

It really was a wonderful day, but that's the thing about wonderful days, they always have to end.

**************************

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

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

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

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hotvintagepoll · 3 days

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Welcome to the HOT AND VINTAGE MOVIE STARS poll blog! The Hot & Vintage Men Tournament and The Hot & Vintage Movie Women Tournament are now wrapped—congrats to Toshiro Mifune and Eartha Kitt! If you are here for the Dracula Daily polls, those will be posted regularly following the progress of the Substack newsletters.

All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds, old tournaments, the various shadow brackets, the Dracula Daily polls, and fun mini polls—can be found in the #hotvintagepoll tag.

FAQs:

"What is the next tournament?" We'll either do the scrungly little guys contest or the Ultimate Hotties tournament.

"When is the next tournament?" Sometime later this summer. I need to take a break, but then I'll be back.

"I want to find my favorite hottie!" Try a tag search for them (ie, use a hashtag in my search bar to find every post I've tagged them in). If you still haven't found your hottie, they either did not fit the criteria of being a movie star from 1910-1970 or they did not make it past the prelims.

“Can I start submitting for the future tournaments? I have guys! I have propaganda!” Please wait for me to post a submission form or otherwise formally announce a tournament before submitting anything.

The views expressed in the propaganda are not my own. I don’t submit my own propaganda, and I don’t change what’s submitted beyond fixing obvious spelling mistakes. If you hate a poll bio or a pic, let me know and send me something I can use instead.

I don’t post or boost negative propaganda about any of the hotties. If you really hate that someone is winning, send me positive propaganda for their hot opponent instead. A lot of these hotties were flawed or problematic in some way—or straight up garbage—but for reasons I go into here, I don't boost anti-propaganda.

If I see repetitive, trolling, and/or bigoted remarks in the comments, I may block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a competitor's problems in the replies, that's fine, but if I see consistent bad-faith trolling or targeted harassment of anyone, you will be blocked.

"Tel me again who won the major tournaments?" Eartha Kitt was crowned the hottest Hot & Vintage Movie Woman, and Toshiro Mifune won the Hot & Vintage Movie Man Tournament.

"Tell me more about this shadow realm?" There is too much lore.

“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I love hearing from you guys—just please check these basics first.

Tournament schedule post-hiatus:

Ongoing: Dracula Daily casting polls

Possibly next: Scrungly Little Guys contest (gender neutral)

Possibly next: Ultimate Hottie Tournament (top brackets of the hot men & hot women competing together)

TBD: Horror Hotties (Frankensteins, Draculas, Brides, etc.)

TBD: Dandy Detectives (Marples, Sherlocks, Nancy Drews, etc.)

fun mini polls that pit sets of characters from the same movie together, like the Philadelphia Story or Seven Brides for Seven Brothers ones (these can be found in the #minis tag)

Thank you for being here! Enjoy the polls.

#hotvintagepoll #new masterpost!#housekeeping

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callivich · 5 months

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TV shows I think Ian and Mickey watch:

Downton Abbey (mostly for Thomas)

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (they find hilarious but they also realise the characters are assholes)

Home renovation/interior design shows (Mickey aggressively criticises everything and everyone much to Ian’s amusement)

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (hot vampires, violence….enough said)

The Sopranos (there is no way Mickey doesn’t love that show)

Greg’s Anatomy (Ian really enjoys medical dramas and likes to show off his knowledge)

Veep (Ian likes the political comedy parts, Mickey appreciates the creativity of the insults)

Crime documentaries (Mickey likes to critique everything)

The X-Files (they like the spooky stories and Mulder)

Nature/Dinosaur/space documentaries (especially if they’re getting little bit high or tipsy)

Documentaries about weed (it’s for work!)

What else do you think they watch? 👀

#gallavich #calli talks #headcanon

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daresplaining · 3 months

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Mattea Murdock, the Daredevil Drummer of Philly

In celebration of the forthcoming new Spider-Punk: Arms Race series (not to mention Hobie stealing scenes in "Across the Spider-Verse" last year), I wanted to finally write up my long-overdue overview post on Mattea Murdock! If you haven't read her introductory run yet, check it out here.

Mattea truly stands on her own in the wide canon of alternate universe DDs. She is a female Daredevil, she is Latina, and she somehow managed to escape Marvel's NYC gravity and base herself in Philadelphia, where she defends its citizens from violence and exploitation. Hobie and his self-styled Spider-Band encounter her in Spider-Punk (2022) #3, when they make a detour to fix the busted Spider-Van. They are all immediately-- and correctly-- impressed.

Mattea: "Yo, Kam!" Hobie: "Wait, you know each other?!" Kamala: "Duh! You think I wouldn't know the Daredevil Drummer of Philly?" Hobie: "You're a drummer too?" Mattea: "Best in town." Hobie: "Oh man, my friend Gwen is a pretty dope drummer too. I think y'all would definitely get along." Mattea: "Hope they're ready to get outplayed by a pretty, blind girl." Spider-Punk vol. 1 #3 by Cody Ziglar, Justin Mason, Jim Charalampidis, and Travis Lanham

I talked a little about her killer character/costume design when she was first introduced (I was a fool; of course she's blind), and my love for her look has only grown. It's badass, distinctive, and it slots her beautifully into Hobie's punk rock world while still evoking that trademark Daredevil image (red, sticks, pointy bits...). Her irises are red, which is a visual choice I enjoy in more heightened, fantastical DD stories/art styles, and I think it works for Mattea. Heck, I could even imagine them being colored contact lenses she's chosen to wear for the aesthetic. Also, one detail that wasn't in the previews is the fun little laughing devil face on the back of her jacket (I'm not punk rock enough to get the reference if it is one, but it reminds me of Darkdevil):

Of course, always a big priority for me is Daredevil's power-set, and Mattea provides a quick primer on her unique perspective, mostly focused on hearing and the radar sense:

Mattea: "What? You think just 'cause I'm a blind girl, I can't see? Echolocation, my abuelas used to call it. But it's more intimate. Instinctual. Can hear a kick drum from ten blocks away. Can see it too. If I think hard enough, I can even see what the garage it's being played in looks like." Hobie: "Yo, are you doing it right now?" Riri: "She's definitely doing it right now."

This is not my favorite description of Daredevil's powers, nor-- to be honest-- a particularly informative one. She can gather spatial information through walls...from ten blocks away? I also never love an overuse of visual language in any explanation of these powers, especially as it's implied that Mattea, like Matt, is completely blind. Surprisingly, no direct mention is made here of the hypersenses as a whole, beyond the reference to hearing a kick drum from ten blocks away. Even her hearing doesn't receive that much attention in the story overall, which feels like a missed opportunity for such a musical character. Her blindness, too, is pretty much irrelevant to the story, and never comes up again. But I do LOVE that she uses the term "echolocation", though is still very clearly the radar sense, in all its vague, undefined, semi-magic glory.

And visually? This is great. I'm always a fan of the cross-hatching visual, especially against a black background, and artist Justin Mason doesn't go too overboard on the detail, which is another preference of mine. And thematically, I love the ways in which Mattea's drummer identity is tied into her superheroics-- not just for laying a beatdown on bad guys, but also for channelling and enhancing her echolocation/radar sense. One of my favorite scenes in the comic is when she plays a drum solo on a roof edge to scope out the Kingpin's lair. I'm willing, in that moment, to ignore any gripes about radar sense irregularities out of respect for the coolness and thematic heft of the concept. I mean, this rocks:

Mattea: "Come on, show me the good stuff."

At the end of the day, though, this is not a Daredevil comic and Mattea is not the main character. Plus, it's only five issues long, and introduces a bunch of other new characters as well. There was only ever going to be room for the creative team to offer a cursory introduction, hopefully generating enough interest to prompt these characters to appear again in other comics. In that, I think they fully succeeded with Mattea; we get a cursory sense of her powers (or at least, enough to show that they're the normal DD set), her personality (delightfully cocky, playful, tough, fearless), a few hints of her backstory, and some truly kickass fight scenes. There's a bit of suspension of disbelief required to believe she can use drumsticks as a stand-in for billy clubs (unless her drumsticks are made of something really hefty-- and hey, maybe they are), but this is Spider-Punk. Hobie killed Norman Osborn with a guitar--twice. It's not about realism, it's about style.

Mattea: "Been waiting for this for a long time, Fisk. Real long time." Fisk: "I'm going to break you, li'l girl--AWGGH!" Mattea: "Big, strong man who sends out his band of wackos to push over people too weak to fight back." Fisk: "Wouldn't get too cocky, girlie...you're not the only one who's fast! I'm gonna hurt ya. A lot. Then I'm gonna kill ya. And I'm gonna love every second of it. You know, this is the same look you had when I had your old band clapped a few years back. I like it. Brings out your eyes--GAAAH!" Mattea: "There's something you need to understand about me, papi. I'm not the kinda girl who goes down without a fight."

I can't wait to see more of Mattea and learn more about her, her world, her friends, and her enemies. In particular, she seems to have a history (possibly romantic?) with this world's Kamala Khan, and I would love to see more of that relationship. While Mattea Murdock clearly has a lot in common with Matt Murdock, she also seems happy to be a team player, unlike Matt, and I really enjoy that. Though I guess it's not that surprising a distinction. After all, every drummer needs a band.

#Spider-Punk vol. 1 #Daredevil #Mattea Murdock #Spider-Punk #Hobie Brown #Spider-Band #Commentary #ID in alt text

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