#‘i hate him but i miss him and hope he goes bald’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zalrb · 5 months

Note

So I know you don’t think the cast of The Boys gel and I’m inclined to agree. What do you think of the actual acting and characters? Are Homelander and Butcher compelling characters, or are they poorly written?

I’ve been struggling with the Homelander question myself because I think he’s a very fun character. I love seeing him become more and more unraveled, but I’m not sure what to make of him because the show itself has that question of responsibility: how much is Homelander responsible for considering his upbringing and how he’s been manipulated by Vought his entire life, but also how can he not be held responsible for his crimes when he’s literally the most powerful man on Earth? Like you said, it’s very muddled and I’m not sure what to make of it.

Butcher is a bit easier for me because I think he made a good anti-hero at first, but again with the muddling because he hates supes for what they did to him, but now he’s willing to become one? I get that the point of Butcher is that he has no principles and the ends justify the means for him, but I’d like to see more consistency than “I want Homelander dead” from him.

It's always difficult for me to explain my feelings about The Boys because I find that its balance is off, sometimes the satire is so, painfully "yes, ok we get it" overt and sometimes it hits and sometimes I'm like, so what are you saying with this? and sometimes I'm like ... so you're missing your own supposed point

And Homelander as a character is all three things, which is why I end up making posts like

because it all gets muddled and the fan reactions get unhinged and I think it's because the writers want to have their cake and eat it too.

Like, outside of the show, Kripke is always like, how are people not understanding the character?

He says that Homelander was always a stand-in for Trump but it gets more obvious in season 3

The evil-Superman-style character Homelander is becoming more and more of a direct Trump analogue this season. What was your thinking there? He’s always been a Trump analogue for me. I’ll admit to being a little more bald this season than I have in past seasons. But the world is getting more coarse and less elegant. The urgency of our team’s writing reflects that. We’re angrier and more scared as the years go on, so that is just being reflected in our writing. But part of it is where Homelander’s story naturally goes. He has this really combustible mix of complete weakness and insecurity, and just horrible power and ambition, and it’s just such a deadly combo. Of course he would feel victimized that people are angry that he dated a Nazi. All he ever wants is to be the most powerful person he can be, even though he’s completely inadequate in his abilities to handle it. So it’s white-male victimization and unchecked ambition. And those issues just happened to reflect the guy who, it’s just still surreal to say it, was fucking president of the United States. And it’s a bigger issue than just Trump. The more awful public figures act, the more fans they seem to be getting. That’s a phenomenon that we wanted to explore, that Homelander is realizing that he can actually show them who he really is and they’ll love him for it.

and that's there. Like, Homelander is written obviously as a villain, Homelander is written obviously as a narcissist who will do anything to protect his image, it's there from Day One but I think the writing is infatuated with the character. Like, even more so than with Butcher, who Kripke calls the hero of the show. I think the writing is fascinated by Homelander's psychology

I love it. There’s a smaller moment with Homelander where he’s having this conversation with himself in the mirror. And it gives new insight into his psyche. What do you hope viewers take away from that scene?

You know, our take on Homelander is even though he’s a sociopath, he’s also a human being who has reactions and feelings. To me, the biggest sin that Homelander commits is that he hates that he has feelings and he hates that he’s a human being. You know, if he embraced that part of him more, he might be a happier person who isn’t going to destroy the planet. I think in the original version of it, the figure in the mirror was just this kind of cruel browbeating character telling Homelander what a loser he was.

And, Antony [Starr] called me and said, “What if it’s his childhood friend? And what if they have this connection because he was alone for so long that he ended up creating this relationship with an image of himself? And that’s what got him through these situations?” And I was like, that’s awesome. Because one, it’s sad, but it’s also really scary. [This is] a guy with multiple personality disorder. And that part of him is saying, “Cut out the part of you that’s human.” I don’t want people to sympathize with Homelander but I do want them to understand him a little more. I look at that scene, and I get a little scared by it, too.

and I'm like ... I don't know, it seems like the writing wants me to sympathize with him and that's why you and I are having this conversation because the execution of this isn't striking the right balance so when the right-wing fans freaked out in season 3 and there was that reddit shitstorm, it's like yeah, Homelander (and Blue Hawk) is clearly a villain, literally just look at what he does. Yeah, you were being wilfully obtuse if you didn't see that the show was always a political satire. But I think they picked up on the glee and fascination the writing has with Homelander and that's why they expected a redemption arc.

And when it comes to the basic concept of a superhero who is actually sociopathic and terrorizes the people he publicly makes a show out of saving, I can understand being fascinated by that because it's an interesting concept and that aspect of it. This,

We are a superhero show, but we deconstruct and break down and shine a light on the complete fucking absurdities of a superhero show and poke a lot of fun at what it is to be a superhero, and how stupid that world is, and how horrible they’d be as people.

they do well and clearly but when you make that concept inherently political and tie that up in an exploration of fascism and nationalism and capitalism and racism and you're not ... doing anything with it, then what's the point of his character. He's a Trump stand-in, OK ... and ... what? Like ... what?

Like with Succession, they're all toxic, broken, horrible, sinfully wealthy white people and the show is upfront in sympathizing with them, in doing what it can to find their humanity, in exploring abusive parental dynamics but it's also making clear commentary and I can see the commentary and I can trace the commentary and the fandom can argue about what exactly they're saying but they're clearly saying something.

Kripke says they're making commentary but it feels like a half-finished thought at best. You're noticing how the more politicians behave badly in public, the more their base loves them so you're showing that with Homelander and ... what? He talks about exploring the cycles of toxic masculinity because Soldier Boy is his father and the two of them have done the same things in their romantic relationships

"The fact that they are both genuinely stunned that the women in their lives hate them tells you everything you need to know about how blinded they are by their own egos," said the producer. "So no, love does not redeem you when you're a horrible person who is completely blind to other people's emotions."

but Homelander didn't even know he had a father until this season, for his entire life he just thought he was made in a tube, so the generational cycles angle isn't really working for me, and again what are you saying with this, what is the point?

Like, when they're poking fun at the left with how out-of-touch they can be and how they commodify movements and identities, the intent is clear, I don't get that with Homelander.

And I think an issue for me with this as well is that a very vocal portion of the fandom is doing the very thing with the characters that the writers are apparently satirizing or criticizing so, like, Stormfront for instance, there is clear irony in a lot of her scenes and this is when they're making overt commentary. Like, she is a literal nazi but she made a quip about how the female superheroes should have uniforms with pockets so she's an internet sensation, I get that, and that played out with the fandom and the character, which is why I made a post like

and that happens continuously with Homelander. And maybe an argument could be made that that isn't the writers' fault considering how in season 3 specifically, Homelander fans realized that they're the punchline which means that they're doing something right but I think because they want to keep writing Homelander, keep wanting to see what he'll do next, keep coming up with disturbing, weird shit for him to do, and there's an infatuation with that, they're not executing what they say they're executing as well as they could and that's a failing to me.

With Butcher, his entire personality seems to be summed up with

there is no greater good, there is no altruism, there is no honour, there is no loyalty, there's just

and that's all you really need to know.

In terms of the acting, I think Anthony Starr does a good job in showing how unhinged Homelander is. Karl Urban is a bit cartoonish for me.

12 notes · View notes

swanno-arts · 1 year

Note

what type of bird is cygnus the swan 🙏😋🍔

jkjk, tell me some weird relationship headcanons between your ocs! are there any weird, funny, dumb "x thinks y looks suspiciously like this one celebrity they like" or "y daydreams about x platonically because its funny" style relationships between your characters that arent major enough to be on their toyhouse sheets?

op i just got hit with psychic damage with that first part

ALSO. HM!! I think there are some few! But most are already on my TH,

Under the cut bc this turned out longer than I planned SHDJHDSKJ

(Birdkind) Axon actually has someone that obsesses with him to the point its just Weird. Her name's Hu Hummingbird and she's basically what you'd expect from a teenage tiktoker. Axon hates her so much deadass she keeps trying to pull him into a Birdkind equiv of Tiktok and constantly argues with her online.

(Birdkind) The Halo of Red has a lot more officers I haven't talked about other than the big three (Arch, Parasol, Gilgamesh) and they kinda have their own gig with each other (mostly discourses). Most prominent of them is Brigadier General Roger (Bald Eagle) and Colonel Ohio (Shoebill) who are basically a platonic Florida Man and Ohio Man. You can imagine how that goes. They never get along but also the closest of bitches. Everything goes wrong with them godbless.

(Birdkind) Not yet mentioned on TH, but Formes and Tigor were actually close friends. Went to the same school and grew up in the same village. Formes has been invited onto the KRI Multatuli once (and Formes got so seasick he had to be speedboated back to land) before he eventually left the country to follow his wife. They both miss each other and honestly at this point it's like a closeted crush. They don't talk about THAT to anyone else they BOTH think it's embarrassing. So yes, they are the "dreams about them platonically" but more leaning to Might Actually Be Gay.

(Birdkind) Cooper has a girlfriend who later broke up with him because he bought NFTs. I wish I was joking.

(Sentishapes) Apollo and 333 are basically a Divorced Couple kind of relationship. They hate each other so much but they argue like a bunch of old people. Granted they're deities, but, y you know.

(Papers, Please) Natalie is secretly crushing on Siv! She's the kind of person to doodle him on her personal notes and make silly love letters and poems intended for him but never actually gave them to him. It's embarrassing for her so she told nobody as of now. It's like, for lack of better words, an anime-esque crush scenario going on.It's like a fanfiction in her head or something unironically. Boris knows tho.

(Papers, Please) Did you know Askali and Behelmus were a thing? Yeah thank god it was scrapped. You genuinely cannot have a healthy relationship with any of these two separately.

(Papers, Please) The Spectator and Askali. "What?" Guess.

(Miitopia) In a scenario where all generation of Great Sages exist in a single timeline, Haigha would 100% have a chaotic gay moment with Hezel. He sees this BEAST of a man and just 😳 unironically.

(Miitopia) Ernst IS genuinely the "y daydreams about x platonically because its funny" but towards, fucking, DIVINE. Might not even be because it's FUNNY. Ernst is just a bit strange.

theres. PROBABLY MORE. but these are the ones on top of my head i hope theyre strange enough for you anon

#swan .txt #not art #ask

8 notes · View notes

winderlylandchime · 6 months

Note

1/2 Finally 4x01!!! The new intro started playing and he got up so fucking fast as if he was watching a game ‘WAIT WHAT?! THIS IS DIFFERENT! OH MY GOD THIS IS COOL AS FUCK! I like this more!! *tries to sing along while not knowing the song* ..cue…BEGIN…pulse..YEAH i fuck with this. And of course the intro ends on Brian walking away. He is the moment!’ ‘Ohhhh Drag Queen moment! I fuck with this. Hi BRIAN! Look at them just hanging out in THEIR loft, damn he is broke as fuck, huh? *said in an affectionate aww type of voice* THEY ARE PARTNERS! He really hates accepting any type of help, huh? Brian maybe you should listen to your own advice from two seasons ago about a man knowing when to accept help. Wait shit, i just remembered the nothing noble about being poor thing. Well fuck Brian’ It briefly showed Mel and Linds and he was so disappointed until Britin popped up again ‘this is what I want every episode, Brian and Justin. And that’s it’ ‘I am genuinely surprised that Hunter and Mike haven’t killed each other. Proud of them’ ‘Brian having lunch with Ben and Linds AND mel? Is he okay? Aw Brian and Justin being sarcastic is one of my favorite things in the world. (Deb says Mikey and her talk 3x a day) Okay, three times a day is…yeah. I mean even I don’t..actually never mind. OH HE IS GONNA KILL EVERYONE IF THEY DONT STOP PITYING HIM. But Bri Bri you are broke as a jok- HA he is gonna steal Bald dudes clients’ ‘i like this drag queen singing in between moments. Its been a while since I went to a drag show. I wonder if they miss me back home..i mean i did tell them I was leaving but still, i hope they miss me- oh ted. I was trying to forget that horrible party-BLAKEY! I’m so happy that he’s good now. EMMETT! Im glad he came to visit but I rea- Ted what the hell is wrong with you? He didn’t do shit wrong to you, why are you being bitchy? No Emy no, blakey didnt do anything wrong. But damn it i get Emy is hurt but fucking hell this isnt it. GIVE ME BRIAN BACK’ brian shows up on screen with Vance ‘HA WHAT DID I SAY? I CAN FEEL WHEN MY BOY IS UP! Wait that..sounds..weird. Of course he looks great, he always does. Oh so now you love him, fuck you baldy, Brian youre better than this. I like his hair. *does jazz hands* spikey. Oh baldy knows that Brian could destroy him if he pulls a Justin Timberlake and goes solo. DO IT BRI BRI! I didnt plan on him having his own company but DO IT!!!!’ ‘How did Mike already lose Hunte- HES HUSTLING AGAIN? *randomly starts laughing* It’s really funny hearing Mike call him little asshole when they’re the same height.’ Ted and Blake are on right now where he’s cleaning the floor ‘ohhhh i think this is gonna be bad. I hope im wrong because i like Blakey but this is looking like you know that thing where you get a crush on your savior or your therapist or something like that? I know my shit..i think’ ‘OH MY GOD WHAT DID THEY DO TO BRIANS CAR? Id rip their head off? I mean the car sucks but damn. Wait i forgot to focus on the important stuff: Brian looks good as fuck! CAN HE STOP KISSING HIM?’ ‘ITS BRIAN AGAIN!(Brian says ‘because no ones close friendship means more to me than yours’) aww Bri Bri, i feel the same way. Im glad you can agree that we have a deep connectio- OH HE IS GONNA GO SOLO! HES PULLING A BEYONCÉ! YOU GO GIRL! I really like the drag queen moments.. i miss my girls back home, i gotta call them.’ ‘AW JUSTIN CAME UP WITH THE COMPANY NAME!! KINNETIK! I fuck with that. I think i need a new shirt (i said No at this point) *looks at me and does jazz hands* merch. Of course Blondie is the one to help him come up with the name. LOOK AT THEM ALL HAPPY AND IN LOVE! Aw they wanna hang out with Emy! I NEEDED THIS TRIO! Make them hang out like when they danced together. The new dream team!’

The new intro! It really reminds me of the OG intro to the OG Beverly Hills 90210 (not to date myself).

It is so hard to watch Emmett and Ted during this arc.

Brian looks sooooooo good in S4.

OH HE IS GONNA GO SOLO! HES PULLING A BEYONCÉ! Truly, I looked it up and she went solo in 2003 right as this was being filmed (if I've got my timelines correct).

AND YES JUSTIN CAME UP WITH KINNETIK. He's named both Gus and Kinnetik (swoon).

The new dream team - I wish!

#ask winderlylandchime #dear sweet anon #queer as folk #a straight man watches qaf us 2000 in the year of our lord 2023

2 notes · View notes

ranch-fanpage · 2 years

Text

Epic story

Hey tumblr, please read my gay little story and feel free to leave any critique. I wrote it for a class and I”m pretty proud of it! Now I have to submit it to a publisher for my final exam, so be as harsh as you want.

Short story: ~ 7200 words

genre: fantasy fiction with some horror elements

Plot: an orphan goes to a foster home and discovers its dark secret.

(CW: blood, gore, and gay people)

Thank you!

Were there places you were bored and/or confused by the story?

Was the ending satisfying? Believable?

Did you get confused about who’s who in the characters? Were there too many characters to keep track of? Too few? are any of the names or characters too similar?

Apple Acres

By: anonymous

CW: Blood and Gore

“William. William? William!”

“Hm?” he answered.

“We’re here. And this time it's in the middle of nowhere, so don’t bother trying to escape.” Williams' social worker gave him a grim look. He has already been to 9 different foster homes, some better, some not, but he always found something to hate and eventually ran away. His social worker was a nice, loving woman, but the years had not been kind to her and after dealing with him time after time, she had lost her gentle touch.

“Get out, I don’t have all day.” She pulled out her cigar and blew a plume of smoke straight at his face. Will hurriedly opened the door to escape and went to lug his suitcase from the trunk.

“Bye kid, have a good life.” She said sinisterly. “God, I hope I never see you again.” She muttered- half under her breath. Will didn’t answer because he was too grossed out from the smoke she had blown on him. He watched the car speed away down the long dirt road, creating a cloud of dust. The first thing he would do after he settled in was take a shower. He silently hoped he had his own room that was free of dust. He watched the car until it was just a little dot in the vast nothingness. The landscape seemed to stretch on forever in enormous fields of short grass and long weeds, with only the occasional cow to break it up.

It occurred to him that there really was no escape.The records of foster homes and their children were shoddy at best and completely incorrect at worst. Someone could leave him here and his files would be forgotten at the bottom of a filing cabinet and he could be lost, never seen or heard from again. No bus came this far into nowhere and his frail, muscle deficient body couldn’t take him very far.

He turned toward the house, but he could only see the tips of the roof through the tall ‘rose bushes’. They were technically rose bushes, but they were mostly tangles of long thorns with the occasional fiery little bud. There was also an old, faded sign that was missing some letter. It read “Welcome To Apple Acres Orchard” after Will filled in the letters in his head. He walked to a rusting metal gate that opened between the rosebushes, thick with thorns. He pulled a pristine handkerchief out of the front pocket of his button up and used it to push a crusty doorbell. He waited for several minutes, but there was no guarantee that it worked, so he pushed the gate open with his hanky. It gave out an awful whine and a bit of the gate crusted off onto his handkerchief. He added the hanky to his mental list of things to wash.

The foster home was an old and weathered farmhouse with a barn on the side. They both seemed to be falling apart in every way possible. By the looks of it, he was surprised it was still standing. He walked through the crusty dead grass that was patchier than a balding man's head.

He walked up the poarch and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he knocked another time. A short, stubby boy that looked about 15 answered the door. He had big, worried brown eyes and a jet black bowl cut. He opened the door more and led Will inside.

“Oh, a n-new kid. C-come in.” The boy stuttered out. “I’m Ollie.” Will didn’t answer because he was distracted by Ollie’s strange limping walk, as if his legs were different lengths.

They walked past a living room. There was a middle aged woman sleeping on the couch that looked like a mess. Her hair was in a messy, frizzy bun and her clothes were covered in stains. Beer bottles littered the floor. It smelt heavily of smoke in the room.

“That’s M-mother. S-she needs a lot of sleep, so don’t wake her up.” There was muffled shouting from another part of the house. “L-luckily she’s a h-heavy sleeper.”

They passed the kitchen and Ollie passed him over to another girl. She was arguing with a younger girl(~11 or 12) about something, but quickly stopped when she saw Will.

“Oh, another one. Hiya, I’m Alex and this is Brat.” She said.

“Hey! That’s not my name.” The other girl said, annoyed, but Alex ignored her. Alex took Will’s suitcase and showed him to his new room. Alex was tall and muscular and looked about 17. He couldn’t help but notice the hundreds of scars all over her in every shape and size. She turned back to him and he saw a large scar crossing her eye, splitting her eyebrow and leading to a chunk missing out of her nose. The eye that had the scar over it looked off to the side rather than straight ahead. The thought of what had caused this injury made Will grimace.

“Well, here it is! Enjoy.” She said half-mockingly. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll leave you to settle in. Dinner will be soon, and get there quick or you’ll be eating dust.” She walked back down the stairs to the kitchen, but she stopped halfway.

“Oh, and stay away from Charlie.” She turned serious before continuing down the stairs. Soon the muffled arguing continued.

The room was small and very dusty and he had to share it with Ollie. His stomach started burning when he saw the rotting floor and visible mold spots on the wall. He dragged his suitcase in and set it on the cleanest looking spot on the floor. The more he saw, the more his legs begged him to run.

He rushed to the bathroom to search for cleaning supplies, but he stopped dead when he saw the sink. It was covered in blood. A corner of his brain imagined it was probably fake. He inched forward and laid his eyes on the rotting carcase of a rat. Its eyes were missing. He shrieked as loud as his feeble, asthmatic lungs could muster. The hundreds of flies infesting the carcass exploded in flight in every direction. Some flies flew straight into his mouth and eyes, choking him. He leaned over the sink and sprayed the contents of his stomach all over.

###

Will sat at the dinner table as quiet and still as he could, wishing he would just disappear. His throat, mouth, and stomach all burned from throwing up and he was still shaking from the sight of the vomit-splattered rat. Despite his scream, no one had come to help or even check on him. He was left to clean the mess all by himself. He had worn 4 pairs of gloves and 2 masks to clean. Short of pouring bleach all over the room, he had cleaned as deeply as possible with the few (and barely used) cleaning supplies he found. Now he carried a pack of wipes and wore gloves wherever he went. He wiped his seat 4 times before sitting down.

As soon as he finished cleaning, he went down to wait for dinner because he had vomited most of his food before it was digested. The dinner bell rang and at least a half dozen kids rushed to the table and fought for seats and paper bowls. After a few minutes they were all seated, with Alex at the head of the table and the cook at the other. So far, Alex seemed like the leader of the pack.

Will felt a light slap on the back of the head. “Wow, you’re almost as skinny as Charlie.” Said girl who had been arguing with Alex earlier that day. She was wearing a frilly pink dress and she had soft golden ringlets framing her face. She gave him a toothy smile, revealing a wide tooth gap. She reminded him of a cyclops because she was wearing a bandage taped to one of her eyes.

All the kids at the table introduced themselves, but he didn’t really pay attention to anyone besides Ollie, Alex, and the eyepatch girl, whose name was “Polly with a Y”. There was a set of twins, a really young set of siblings, and a few other kids who were alone, but no one named Charlie. Will introduced himself and they all asked questions that he didn’t want to answer.

Luckily, the cook started coming around and giving people food. She was about 15, very pale, and her hair was almost white. Her face was speckled with freckles and her eyes were dark red. She walked around the table and ladled them scoops of a chunky, oatmeal-like soup. Will immediately felt sick. The mixture looked and smelled exactly like vomit. All the other kids started gobbling it up as if it was pure ambrosia.

“What’s your name?” He asked when she came around.

“You can call me Cook.” She said as if annoyed by her question. “How much do you want?” Will was disgusted at the thought of eating her sludge-like mixture, but his stomach let out a ferocious growl before he could say no.

She ladled him a big scoop and it fell into his bowl with a thick plop. He looked at the ladle, horrified, when he noticed that she was missing a finger on that hand. He looked at all her fingers and many of them had chunks taken off of them, or the tips completely gone. His stomach gurgled again, threatening to vomit again, but he swallowed and focused on breathing. Cook moved on and he looked back at his stew. All of a sudden the bits of sausage were indistinguishable from pieces of finger. He left the dinner table and gave his stew to Polly, who quickly accepted.

“If you don’t eat you’ll start looking like Charlie.” She laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

William walked out the back door, which he hadn’t explored yet. Rather than the front yard, the backyard was larger, with a lot more area for crunchy grass. It was split apart by a stone path that led to a little apple orchard that blended into a forest. He didn’t care much for nature, but he walked along the path to get away from the house.

He noticed an area with a small wrought iron fence that wasn’t much taller than Will’s knees. He stepped over and found rows upon rows of stones. His stomach dropped when he realized they were all gravestones, each one branded with it's own name and dates. The skin on the back of his neck crawled when he looked ahead and saw what had to be hundreds of little graves. His feet itched when he thought about what he was standing on. This was the only part of the yard where the grass was growing. There were even tiny mushrooms and wildflowers of every color poking out of the flush grass, life nourished by death.

Will was frozen in fear, sure that whatever had killed these kids was coming for him next.

“Are you ok?” A voice behind him asked. Will nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned and tripped over the fence.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Will looked up to see the most beautiful person he had ever seen. “I tend to sneak up on people sometimes.” The beautiful stranger gave him a smile and helped him up.

“Hi, I’m Charlie.”

His face was speckled with freckles and he had beautiful green eyes surrounded by long eyelashes. Curly red hair sat on his head perfectly. He was very skinny and Will could easily see the bones in his hands and his joints seemed to stick awkwardly from his body.

“I’m Will. I’m new.”

“Are you hungry?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I saw you run from the kitchen and I assumed something happened at dinner. It’s not exactly easy for new kids here.” He shrugged. “Do you like apples?”

###

He picked a few deep red, almost perfect looking apples. He handed it to me and smiled.

“I know a nice place where you can sit and eat.”

They walked through the orchard and to the forest. He brought Will to a little creek and we sat down on a rock together. It was dirty and covered in mud and dirt, but unlike usual, he didn’t worry too much.

“Do you want an apple?” Will asked before eating.

“Nah.” He answered.

“But you didn’t have dinner either.”

“Um, I’m not that hungry.” He looked at his feet. “I ate a while ago.”

“You should have one.” Will insisted.

“Alright.” Will handed him one and their hands brushed for a moment. They both bit into the apples and Will was surprised. It was the sweetest apple, maybe the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. It was like a million skittles, a thousand cakes, and happiness in one bite. Charlie pulled out his music player and offered him an earbud.

“There’s no data out here, but I got some music before I came here.” William accepted and soon funky 80s music filled his eardrums. Charlie closed his eyes and relaxed. He leaned back and moved his leg so that it was touching Wills. Their legs were only touching slightly, but Will felt like someone had set his chest on fire. A part of him wished that they could stay here forever.

“You have nice taste.”

“Thanks,” He gave Will a smile that filled him with sunshine.”This is what was popular where I lived before coming here.”

Will watched the stream flow and the gentle rustle of leaves above. He felt better than he had in years. All of a sudden, all the things he worried about didn’t seem so bad. The dirt on his pants that he had been worrying about since he first sat down didn’t seem like a big deal. He felt as if a switch in his brain had been flipped and he didn’t feel like running away anymore.

“You must’ve lived in a strange town if 80s music was the most popular with kids.”

“Yeah, you could say that. The past is a... different place.” Charlie looked uncomfortable and his gaze turned from Will to the shadowed forest around them. “We should be walking back. It's going to get dark soon.” His voice went cold. Will's chest felt tight.

###

It had been a week since Will had arrived and he knew he couldn’t sleep in the bathroom forever. Since the rat started bleaching every surface every day, it was the only place in the house he could be sure was clean. Every night he would lay his sleeping bag in the bathtub and sleep in a scrunched up ball, which made him very sore. He had asked the foster mom to buy him cleaning supplies and she obliged begrudgingly.

First he started with the vacuum, then to the scrubbing, and he sent every fabric he could find through the washing machine. No one else offered to help him except Charlie, which Will thought was insane. Not even Ollie wanted to help, and it was partially his room. If he knew anyone else was cleaning, he’d be there automatically.

“Let me know if you find anything weird.” Charlie said. Will scrubbed the wall with bleach in an effort to kill the mold while Charlie took down the curtains to replace them. Will had found lots of weird things about the room and the house, but he said nothing.

A few days ago Alex had given him a tour of the property, but half of the tour was her telling him not to go into most of the rooms. What really worried him was how serious she sounded when she told him about the basement, which was right under his room. He noticed that the heavy door at the bottom of the stairs was padlocked. Yesterday he had walked down a stair to look at the door. There was a horrible smell emanating from inside that was somehow worse than anything he had ever smelt before. He didn’t want to imagine what was down there because it was somehow worse than the rat and the soup combined. For some reason he desperately wanted to go inside, but he left after only a few minutes of loitering at the top of the steps. The horror of the smell had given him a headache that lingered all day, but he kept finding himself wanting to go back, even just for a minute.

Charlie left the room to get something just when Will finished sealing the holes he found on the walls. Will moved on to scraping the cracks between the floorboards to get the dirt out. He used a little pocket knife and started on the area by his bed. After only a few minutes he got to a board that was different from the others. The difference was slight, but the board was a little darker and there was more space between it and the other boards. Will started scraping, but the board lifted up a bit. Frustrated, he pried up the board and expected to see a mess of mold. Insead, it was a box-like cavity. Inside it was very dusty and contained a small, black, leatherbound book.

Will slipped on his gloves and reached inside cautiously. He slowly pulled out the book and set it on the floor. On the front it had a red symbol that looked like an eye etched into the surface. Looking at the book gave him an unsettling feeling, but he couldn’t quite place it. He heard Charlie climbing the stairs and he remembered that Charlie asked him to tell him about weird things he found. Despite all logic, he felt like he shouldn’t let anyone see it. He quickly slid the book back into the floor and replaced the plank of wood.

“Did you find anything?” Charlie asked.

“Nah, just more dust.” Will lied.

“Oh. Ok, let me know if you find anything.” Charlie sounded so disappointed it made Will want to tear up the floorboards and give him the book, but he stopped himself.

“I will.” Will felt a pit grow in his chest. Seeing Charlie hurt made him hurt too, but he continued cleaning.

Soon it was dinner time and he ran to the table. All the hard work had made him hungry. The other kids soon flowed in and scrambled for seats.

“Hi Ollie!” Will said, trying to sound cheerful.

“H-hey.” He said, but avoided eye contact while he limped to a seat away from Will. Usually they sat right next to each other. Cook began passing around the food. Weirdly, Alex had sat next to Will instead of at the head of the table. In her place was Charlie. Will had never seen Charlie eat anything except that apple on the first day.

Rather than the normal, rambunctious chatter that usually filled the dining room, it was completely silent with only the occasional scraping of spoons against bowls. Will sipped his soup as quietly as possible and tried not to stick out. Charlie was the first to finish eating, which was unsurprising because he ate almost nothing. He promptly left out the door to the orchard. As soon as the door clicked shut the chatter started.

“Quiet a minute.” Alex said to the other kids, who quieted down immediately. Alex looked at Will with a stern look on her face. “I said stay away from Charlie.”

“Why? He’s not bad.”

“You don’t know him like I do. If you know what's good for you, you’ll leave him alone.” Alex grabbed his soup bowl and slid it across the table to Polly, who quickly scarfed down the rest of his food. “Dinner isn’t for traitors. Think about what’s best for you.”

Will had gotten enough beatings in his life that he could practically feel it just by looking at Alex’s muscular, scar covered arms. He knew better than to say anything.

Will got up from the table and left to the front porch. The chatter started up as soon as he left the room. He sat on a rickety rocking chair and crossed his arms tightly around his stomach. He bent forward and a soft sob escaped his lips. He cried as quietly as possible for a few minutes, even though he knew it wouldn’t help. If there was one thing that he had learned in his 14 years of life, it was that feelings get in the way of what's really important, survival.

Later that night Will waited until Ollie had started snoring loudly before he slid his packed suitcase from under his bed. He went around and picked up a few of his last items to pack for the trip. He crept down the stairs and his heart seized with every creaky step he placed his weight on. He tiptoed across the living room to get to the door. He was about halfway through the dark room when a lamp flicked on. Will swiftly flicked his head to Ollie, who was sitting on one of the squishy couches.

“I’m s-sorry for what Alex d-did. I just- I s-saw you around...” Ollies voice trailed off.

“Why did you tell her? I didn’t do anything.”

“Y-you wouldn’t g-get it. I see the way you look at h-h-him.” It was now that Will noticed Ollies PJ’s, which were a short sleeve t-shirt and shorts. Will tried gulping down his horror when he realized this was the first time he had seen Ollie without pants covering both legs. One of his legs was completely gone from the knee down, replaced by an ameture prosthetic made of twisted bits of spare metal. Ollie's strange, ugly walk and the strange clunk that seemed to follow him everywhere made a lot more sense now. Will gagged and hoped Ollie didn’t see.

“Alex was mean, but she was r-right. Ch-charlie is d-d-dangerous. I w-wish I could tell you more, b-b-b-”

“I’m sorry Ollie, but I don’t believe you. Charlie is the only one who’s shown me true kindness. I don’t belong here, I have to go.” Will continued forward to the door and lightly touched the handle.

“No! Don’t g-go. Y-you can't leave!” Ollie exclaimed and started crying.

“I have to go. You seem like a nice person, but I’ll be fine.” Will unzipped his bag. “I noticed you like reading. Here, have this. I found it while I was cleaning.” He handed Ollie the book, thinking he wouldn’t have a use for it. Ollie accepted, but didn’t try to stop him again, only hugging the book and crying harder. Will walked out the door and didn’t turn back.

The further he walked from the house the more he got that familiar feeling, the same feeling he had about the basement. His heart ached with every step, but he reminded himself there was nothing here for him. Nothing… Except Charlie. He had left many homes in all different conditions with different people, but he never missed it, never looked back. This time was different. He felt a way about Charlie that he had never felt about anyone else. He thought about Charlie often and wished to be around him more than anyone else. He took a final step and touched the gate.

“Why are you leaving?” A voice behind him asked. Will turned around to see Charlie standing behind him. He almost imagined he had summoned Charlie because he hadn’t heard him walking behind him.

“Another home. I just don’t belong here.” Will answered. Charlie’s face morphed from worried to angry.

“Why would you say that? Who made you feel like that?”

“It’s nothing, I should leave.”

“No, please stay. I would really miss you.”

“I think I would miss you too.”

“Was it Ollie? Did he make you sad? If you don’t want to stay with Ollie you can share a room with me.”

Will felt a flutter in his chest at the idea of sleeping next to Charlie.

“I guess I'll stay a little longer.”

###

Charlie's room was nice, nicer than any other rooms he had seen in the house. It was connected to the living room and led out to the back orchard. It was much cleaner, but Will found himself cleaning it often so that they could have a nice room.

From that night and on Charlie was almost always by Will’s side. Charlie started joining him for dinner and he would always pull up a chair so they could both eat at the head of the table. Will found meals a lot more enjoyable when Charlie was there and found himself thinking about him when he wasn’t by Will’s side.

Charlie had ‘swore to protect him’ but from what Will saw he wasn’t much stronger than a brittle twig. Will was thankful anyway.

Will noticed the mother would leave for long hours, occasionally bringing food, but she was almost never around besides sleeping on the couch a few times a month.

The dinner table was always quiet when Charlie was there, but Will didn’t mind. Cook would usually skip Charlie, as if out of habit, and he would have to remind her to serve him food. Cook seemed surprised and hesitated for the first few days. Slowly, Charlie started to gain weight. He morphed from practically a skeleton to almost normal looking. The other kids seemed unsettled and would go out of their way to avoid both of them, as if they carried a deadly disease.

Often Charlie would tell Will how great the basement was and how much he wished Will could see it.

“It’s my favorite place in the world. I just wish I hadn’t lost the key.” Charlie would say almost every day and tear the room apart looking for it. Will didn’t notice the fogginess in Charlie's eyes or his raspy voice during these episodes, but they were there.

Will found himself drawn to the basement almost as much as he was drawn to Charlie. He would go and sit at the bottom of the stairs while Charlie was gone. Slowly, day by day, he would inch down the stairs until he had reached the bottom. It was very dark at the bottom of the stairs, but he could see the outline of a shape that looked like the same eye from the cover of the book. He vaguely remembered the horrid smell from the first time he went down, but after going there so many times he had gone numb and now it was only a memory.

He sat down and leaned his head against the door. He heard some faint whispering that he had never heard before.

“Help me help me help me help me. I’m stuck, I'm stuck, I'm stuck, I'm stuck. Help me help me help me” It softly whispered, over and over again.

Will was not the same as when he first came. The old William would have jumped back and ran or probably not ever gone down the stairs in the first place. The new Will rested his ear against the crack in the door and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

“Wake up. I have a secret to tell you.”

Will woke with a start, a fresh headache festering in his mind from the smell he didn’t know. A bloodshot eyeball was peering at him through the crack in the door. He pushed away from the door and scrambled up a few steps.

“Who are you?” Will said, bewildered.

“A friend.”

“What do you want? Why are you down there?”

“I just want to help. It trapped us down here, and it’ll do the same to you. Get away before it’s too late! I was once whole like you, but it takes piece after piece until there's nothing left.” The voice was rough as if it had been years without drinking water.

“Whos it?”

“The Monster!” It screamed at him.

“The Monster! The Devil! The Curse!” A hundred voices chimed in and screamed at him. “Run! Kill it! Die now! Set us free!” A million different suggestions of what to do. Will was paralized in fear until a hand grabbed the collar on his shirt and dragged him up the stairs and threw him to the ground.

He was dragged away and into the kitchen. He scrambled to his feet and saw Cook looking angrily at him. She pushed him to the ground and pinned his arm down with her knee. She pulled a steak knife from the counter and Will squirmed as hard as he could. She pressed the tip of the knife into his palm slowly until his skin broke and a burst of blood squirted out from where she cut.

Will screamed until his lungs burned, but he knew no one was coming. They never did. She pushed her other knee on his chest with all her weight and crushed the air out of him.

“Never go down there again. The more you know, the more angry the monster gets. Stay in your place.” The knife dug deeper into his hand. He tried screaming, but instead he gasped for air. Her red eyes pierced his and seemed to bore into his soul.

“Don’t make me do any worse.” She got off him and walked away.

He ran up the stairs to Ollie's room and closed himself in the closet. He cried until he couldn’t breathe and then gasped for breath until he had enough to cry again. He hugged his hand close to his chest. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but eventually he heard a gentle knock on the door. The door slowly creaked open. Ollie came in and quietly sat next to Will. He tenderly grabbed Will’s wrist. Will flinched and pulled it away, but let Ollie pull his hand away. He cleaned Will's wound and wrapped it in a bandage. Afterward Ollie sat by to keep company while Will cried more. The dinner bell rang and Ollie opened the closet door to leave.

“Thank you.” Will said gratefully. Ollie nodded his head and smiled, but didn’t say a word. Soon after, Will fell asleep from the exhaustion of crying. When he awoke it was much darker between the cracks of the door than when he fell asleep. He cracked the door open and heard Ollie snoring across the room. There was a small plate of food and a note that Will could faintly read through the dim light of the moon.

“Sorry there's not more, the others didn’t want me to bring any, so I had to sneak it. I hope you feel better.-Oli'' Read the note. Will sat on his old bed and ate the small meal while watching the moon and stars outside the bedroom window. He fell into a restless sleep and dreamed of his oldest memory, being held in his mothers arms.

###

The first thing Will heard that morning was something shrieking at the top of his lungs. He awoke with a start in Ollie's pitch-black room and ran down to see what was the problem.

Charlie punched Ollie in the nose with all his might. Despite his weak physique, a burst of blood exploded from Ollie’s face.

“You stole it! You stole it!” Charlie screamed over and over in a raspy voice and threw more vicious punches at Ollie. A ring of the other kids stood around the fight and watched the show. Will ran to the fight, unable to believe what he was seeing. Charlie was so gentle and kind. Will pushed him off of Ollie. Charlie's irises were blacked out and his beautiful face was contorted in pain.

“Help me.” He whispered softly, as if it were his last breath. His face contorted into anger and his eyes clouded over. He pushed Will away and picked up an old brass key from the ground.

“The key is found. The basement will be unleashed.” Many voices said in unison around Charlie, but he didn’t move his mouth.

“You maggot! You rot forever! Die!” The evil, raspy voice returned and Charlie's arm raised the key. With one swift movement he stabbed the key deep into Ollie's neck.

“Stop!” Charlie yelled to the voice and pulled the key out. Blood poured from Ollie’s neck and pooled on the floor. “He knows too much! Traitors must die!” The raspy voice answered. Charlie's body flung itself off of Ollie. He rolled across the floor and writhed in anger, as if fighting himself. He grabbed fistfuls of his beautiful curly hair and ripped it out, screaming in pain with tens of voices. The body got up and scrambled to the basement.

Will rushed to Ollie's side and grabbed his hand. Tears gathered in Will's eyes. He knew these very well may be his last words.

“The book… A demon.” Ollie coughed, spraying blood all across Will's face and clothes. He grabbed Will's shirt and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. “Tell him you love-” Ollie's words trailed off and weakly handed Will the small book before he passed out from blood loss. Hot tears felt as if they were burning trails down his cheeks. Cook pulled Ollie away and quickly started tending to his wounds, though she was more than aware the odds of survival were against him.

He flipped through the thick pages of the book. There were pages and pages of handwritten notes and illustrations. He found the part about demons and skimmed the book, but there was barely anything written. Some of the pages were burned or splattered in ink, while the others were written in an unintelligible code that was strange and foreign, unlike anything he’d seen before.

There was only one line he could read.

“An act of love to purge the demon,” it read. Will's attention was pulled away when his ears rang with the screams of a hundred voices. The same force as before pulled him to the basement, stronger than ever before. The other kids stood at the top of the stairs. The heavy door was wide open, revealing a dark cavity. Will gazed at the light and felt his vision start to cloud over. His legs started to walk to the basement, as if against his will. A firm hand gripped his arm.

“No. This has gone on long enough.” Alex pulled him back and looked around at the other kids. “I’ve been here for thirty years and watched countless kids go down there and never come back. If we want to fight this we need to fight it together. This ends tonight.” The other kids agreed.

“But we have no plan.” Polly pointed out. They all looked around and shared what they knew about the monster.

“It can’t attack us all at once. If we surround it, then it doesn’t stand a chance.” One of the twins pointed out. Will felt a pit sinking in his stomach when he watched the kids pass around weapons to face the beast. Horrible screeches rang out from the basement. Will knew that whatever that creature was, it wasn’t Charlie. It couldn’t be.

The words from the book echoed in his mind. An act of love to purge the demon, An act of love to purge the demon, An act of love to purge the demon. Could love really kill a demon? What even is love, and what did that mean?

The kids cautiously inched into the basement, step by step, with Alex leading them. Will held a steak knife descended into hell. Instead of a normal basement, there was nothing but a skinny rock tunnel that led into darkness. Miscellaneous candles and flashlights were passed around and the descent began. The kids filed into the cave and continued until they reached the main cavern. Sharp rocks protruded from the floor and ceiling. The walls were splattered in a layer of red and chunks of flesh. The smell hit Will again, filling his senses and burning his throat and nostrils. His head swam from the smell. They continued through the cave and the horrors of carnage they saw would forever be burned into their memories. At the end of the tunnel was the worst. The air was thick with the smell of rot. The spiky rocks impaled what seemed to be twisted, mutilated limbs and body parts of every kind.

There at the end was what seemed to be Charlie's body, sitting on a big, bloodstained armchair. He was covered in a black rash that covered parts of his skin. His foggy eyes rolled back into his head and his face contorted into an evil expression of twisted joy.

“Welcome to my playroom.” the monstrous voice said. “So, you’ve all come together into a cute little group. How nice it will be to watch you die.” It cackled menacingly. Charlie's clothes were drenched in blood, part of it from Ollie. His body was twisted and contorted and he breathed unnaturally, but his beautiful face remained untouched. His limbs grew long and bony and he reached out to touch Will.

“So cute, your love for Charlie. But Charlie is gone. He was weak.” The creature grabbed Will's face and squeezed. “I’d like to watch you die. It will finally break Charlie and save him from weakness.” The monster's nails dug into Will's skin and tears streamed down his face. Charlie's eyes grew watery.

Behind him, Will could hear the children screaming. The monster turned his head and made him watch as monsters rose from piles of carnage. A dozen kids stitched together into a dozen different bodies, like a warped jigsaw puzzle. Their eyes were ripped out, leaving nothing but empty sockets. They stumbled closer to his siblings. Polly struck one with a shovel, but it did nothing but delay the creatures. It fell, but soon got back up as if nothing had happened. More rose from the darkness, their sickly faces illuminated only by a yellow light in the middle of the chamber. Alex’s heart dropped. She recognized bits and pieces of the monsters. A scarred leg, a burned hand, a severed ear, all pieces of different kids over the years sewn together into demented forms, but others were mangled and rotted beyond recognition. Alex almost never got sick, but the sheer horror of this twisted show left a knot in her stomach. Bugs of every kind swarmed the room at the disturbance of the creatures. A newer, less decomposed monster stumbled toward Alex. A maggot crawled from it's empty eye socket. Acid burned up Alex’s throat and threatened to come out. She looked away from the monster and down at its feet. She gagged when she realized it's leg from the knee down was Ollie’s, which he had lost to the demon years ago.

The monster turned Will's head back and Charlie's face relaxed. A disembodied voice tormented Will.

“Look at him, so beautiful, yet he will be the last thing you ever see.” Will opened his mouth and sunk his teeth into the hand that held his face. The monster dropped him and howled in pain.

“You brat! You’ll be the first to die.” Will knew this was the end, but the words from the book repeated. An act of love to purge the demon. He flung himself at the monster and wrapped his arms tightly around Charlie's body. The monster desperately dug it's fingernails into Will's back, tearing his shirt and drawing blood, in an effort to keep Will away. If Will was going to die, he was glad if it was in the arms of Charlie.

“This isn’t you. I know you’re in there. Please fight it.” Will whispered in Charlie's ear with despair. Nothing happened. The monster sliced further into his back and the pained screams of his family, the only one he had, sounded into his ears.

“Goodbye Charlie. I’ll miss you the most.” He grabbed Charlie's face in his shaking hands. “I love you.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Charlies. The claws dug deeper and deeper. He waited for the world to go dark. He thought of the first day, when they shared the apples together, followed by countless hours of time spent together. Will and Charlie, Charlie and Will. This was the end. The screaming stopped and Will heard nothing but the thump of his body against the ground and an intense pain growing in his head. The End.

##############################################################

Polly was surrounded and a dozen sickly monsters were closing in. She backed against the sides of the cave, no escape in sight. No matter how many she hit, it would always get back up and a few more would join by its side. The floor of the cavern was slick with pools of blood. She slipped and hit her head on a rock protruding from the wall. The pools of blood soaked her clothes. The creatures grew closer. She stared into their empty eye sockets and thought of her own. A monster grabbed at her face and tore the eyepatch off her face, revealing a similar socket left by an encounter with the demon years before. She kicked the creature back, but it did nothing to help. A whimper escaped her lips.

She looked through the crowds of monsters and saw Will lean into Charlie's body. The monsters screamed.

“I love you.” The words echoed around the cave. The monsters grew furious and slashed Polly’s face. Around her, thumps of bodys sounded around the cave. Another creature grabbed fistfuls of her silky golden hair and pulled her to the crowd. She screamed with all her might and closed her eye. The creature opened it's rotting mouth, sparse with teeth.

“Polly!” Alex slid to Polly's side and sliced the hands off of the creature holding her hair with a sharp butcher's knife. She grabbed Polly's wrist and pulled her away from the attackers.

“Charlie did something. They can die now.” Alex stood over Polly and shielded her from the monster. She picked up a rock and bashed it against a monster's knee. It's bone shattered with a grim crunch, but it continued stumbling forward. Polly also recognized the parts of many of her past friends and family. She sincerely hoped the monsters couldn’t feel pain.

They worked their way through the crowds, helping the other kids and gathering weapons. Soon they made their way to Charlie. Will was laying in a pool of blood that was soaking his hair. The kids lifted him off the rock that hit his head when he fell. They surrounded Charlie's body and readied their weapons.

###

It wasn’t until many hours later that Will would awake in an unfamiliar room, in a bed he had never seen, far away from Apple Acres. His head pounded and his body was drained of all energy.

Maybe it was the rock he hit his head on in the cave, or maybe it was the trauma from the horrors he had seen, but every moment of his time at Apple Acres and his time there was scraped from his memory. He didn’t remember any of it. Not his siblings, not the house, not even Charlie. This chunk of his life would be missing from his mind for the chunk of 20 years, until one fateful day…

#writting #story #fantasy #horror #short story #please read #critique #mlm #monster

2 notes · View notes

wormtitty · 4 years

Text

almost done with TLJ but... is this lonelyeyes...

#‘i hate him but i miss him and hope he goes bald’#even better: crow watches from above and the old man is a sailor by himself #crow is elias #tlj #the longest journey #the magnus archives #tma #lonelyeyes #peter x elias #peter x jonah

20 notes · View notes

wehavebiggerproblems · 3 years

Text

Fallout 4 Random Companion Headcanons

Wrote these a few years ago, too nervous then to share them.

Ada

-Ada was built in 2268. She's about 21 years old.

-Her first memory is of seeing The Mechanist in front of her. Then she watched as The Mechanist removed their head and smiled.

-She's Isabel's first project.

-Her voice was originally supposed to be more synthesized and robotic, but the more human sound was easier for Isabel to work with.

-Ada prefers to travels in groups with 3-4 people, knowing fully well a robot is a higher target for scavvers.

- Her base body was constructed from many different trial runs of the "ADA" project.

-She's programmed to remain indifferent but the nagging voice in her programming says to do good things in order to to aid other people.

-Ada appreciates the effort Sole goes through to upgrade her body. She doesn't think it's necessary and she's somewhat sentimental about her original form.

-She finds Codsworth's attachment to Sole strange. Almost too human, those Mr. Handy's.

Cait

-Cait loves baths. Bubble baths with bath bombs and even a little rubber ducky. Only Sole knows this.

-The rubber ducky's name is Codsworth. Will not explain why.

-Can fire a rifle over her shoulder behind her. (Annie Oakley style)

-Hates Jazz music. Says it's too slow and calm. Really dislikes it because she's uncomfortable slow dancing with anyone.

-Allergic to feathers. Rad chickens make her sick to be around.

-But once the feathers are removed, the chicken has been cut up, and cooked with some veggies and a loaf of bread, loves it.

-Chicken soup is her favourite dish. Only likes Sole's chicken soup though. Will not eat anyone else’s.

-Shot put would be her favourite sport. Throwing a heavy metal sphere a very long distance is goals.

Codsworth

-Codsworth can speak 8 languages. Including: English, Spanish, French, Japanese, German, Italian, Polish, and Swedish.

-Can recognize almost every written language and translate but lacks the programming to speak every one.

-Nate/Nora got him two years before Shaun was born.

-Sole did minimal repair work on him, and offered to polish him every time he got a dent or scratch.

-He always accepted the polish offer. Very wary of Sole doing factory repairs on him. Would prefer professionals doing the delicate work.

-Always celebrated Nate/Nora and Sole’s respective birthdays. For 200 years.

-When Sole called him "Family", he felt an odd electric pulse through his core processor. He decided to call it a skipped heart beat.

-Calls synth Shaun "Sonny", and "Young Master Shaun".

-Makes Sole's favourite meal when they come back home from Vault 111.

-Will ask to take over if he catches Sole doing chores.

-Hesitates when he has to bring up Sole's spouse knowing it's a touchy subject.

-His favourite friend of Sole's is Nick. Thinks Nick is a good role model for synth Shaun.

Curie

-Curie, like Codsworth can speak 8 languages. However, after becoming a synth, she can only speak about 4.

-Curie loves the feeling of velvet. Collects pieces of velvet clothing.

-Once wore a velvet cape around because she loved the way it draped over her shoulders and fluttered when she walked.

-Has sensory phases. Music, nice noises, soft materials, different foods, perfumes, etc. Collects whatever makes her senses happy.

-During the "feeling phase" her favourite feeling was holding Sole's hand. Loved running her hand over the surface of water. And velvet.

-Talks out what her feelings are with Piper. Piper explains to her what the "spin spin spin" in her head meant.

-Favourite smell is fresh baked bread. Bakes bread with Mama Murphy every weekend.

-Favourite sweet food is mutfruit pie. Will badger Piper to make it with her.

-Curie's motor functions are still new. Sometimes she misses what she was trying to grab and fumbles.

Danse

-Danse is a horrid mechanic. You'd think spending time in the BoS and dedicating time to auto repair with Ingram. Can't put a toaster together.

-But Power Armor is a piece of cake. Can't do much with pre-war tech, yet fixing power armor is as easy as making breakfast.

-Like all gen 3 synths, he loves Fancy Lad snack cakes. He'd share whatever box he'd find with the squires around the Prydwen.

-Scribe Haylen would volunteer to work alongside Danse on all his scouting missions.

-Danse found out Deacon was the one who stuck the dildo to his power armor. He made sure Deacon's wigs were the same bright purple color the very next day.

-Loves country music. When a traveling courier stops by and shares their western/country music, he actually dances.

-Has a heart for kids. Even Billy.

-Leg bouncing habit. Can't bounce his leg in power armor but as soon as he's out, his leg's jittering.

Deacon

-Deacon is in his late 40's.

-Did not lie about his wife and the University Point Deathclaws.

-Enjoys learning about Pre-war culture, spends free time with ghouls asking them about the past.

-Sole can fool him easily about prewar facts though.

-Has incredible luck with the pie claw game. Has won 8 times while traveling with Sole.

-Loves making silly bets. "I bet I can skip this plate across the lake at least 1 time." Proceeds to throw the plate at the water horizontally.

-Doesn't hate Danse. He will pull pranks on him though. Once stuck a dildo on the back of Danse's power armour.

-His hair grows quickly so he has to shave every day.

-Shaves his head, isn't bald. Shaved head works better with his pompadour wig.

-Doesn't like mutfruit. Says it's too acidic and hurts his gums.

-Has a rifle-shaped scar on his forearm. Will tell a different story for it every time.

-Once drank a dozen Nuka Cola Quantums on a dare. His pee glowed for a week.

-Tried going vegetarian once. ONCE. Found out being vegetarian means eating no meat or dairy products. Had to have Sole explain that, while gross, radroach could technically be considered meat.

-Is kinda clumsy. Always bumps into counter edges and stubs his toes on bits of debris.

-Doesn't lie about his family. And when Sole calls him family, promises to never lie about family again.

Gage

-Gage juggled skii balls to entertain the last Overboss, Colter.

-He enjoys small shooting competitions with MacCready, Sole, and X6. All four are sharp shooters.

-Fastest learner. Spent an entire week learning how to cook Sole's old recipes. He can cook them better than anyone with the exception of Codsworth.

-Hums when he works.

-Had a one night stand with Nisha. Ended so bad, he avoids that area of the park at all costs.

-Hates cats. Had an awful run in with a rad lion. Radiated Mountain Lion that tore a scar deep down his back.

-Does routine maintenance on the rides in the park. He knows how everything works there. From social hierarchy - to the intricacies of the Vault Tec: Among the Stars ride.

-His favourite flavour of Nuka Cola is Nuka Cola Victory. Rare to find but easily the best.

-Record farthest shot is a bean can from 410 meters.

-He's a lightweight. Only two beers and he's buzzed enough to sing along with Red-Eye.

-Will tell a different story every time if anyone asks about the eye patch.

Hancock

-Hancock is a history buff. Loves learning about colonial era civilization.

-Has spent days with Kent Connolly researching Silver Shroud information. He knows more about the Silver Shroud than any other companion.

-Has had a fling with every person in Goodneighbor at least once. Even Kleo.

-At least in a sexual way, he is extremely open minded. Welcomes new experiences and new information given anywhere anytime.

-Had a decent childhood with his brother. He remembers tending to the mutfruit trees with him and eating every other piece they picked.

-Adores pickles. Would sit and eat an entire jar of pickles just because he loves the cronch so much.

-All time favourite chem is Mentats. Loves making intellectual jokes while high as a kite.

-Does not know what a lot of pre-war expressions mean, but enjoys saying them and hearing them from Sole.

-Is a master at repairing clothing. How else does the frock stay in such good condition? He tends to it every night.

-As far as euphemisms for ghouls go, he likes "beef jerky".

Longfellow

-Longfellow met Hannah while out hunting. She blasted a trapper's head clean off, and he fell harder than the trapper's body.

-He spent his youth training, hoping to become a Brotherhood soldier one day.

-And then he met a vertibird full of them. They called Far Harbor a dump while gathering supplies there. Officially decided to cease all training.

-Managed to take down 17 Mirelurks in 3 minutes.

-Holds the record in Acadia for alcohol consumption. All records involving alcohol consumption.

-He's really fit? Longfellow could and has bench pressed Sole.

-He only did so because Hancock and MacCready wouldn't shut up about it.

-Loves singing old shanty songs and dancing with Sole. Only when no one else is around though.

-After the events at Far Harbor, he decides to go sailing along the coast. Wants to see the world more.

MacCready

-MacCready does brush his teeth. He brushes his teeth regularly. He started brushing after he left Little Lamplight. By that point the damage was already done.

-Lucy was the one to convince him to brush his teeth.

-He can't stand the smell of lavender. Lavender candles, lavender lotion, etc...makes him feel nauseous.

-He named his sniper rifle, "Lucy"

-Won't drink brahmin milk with cereal even to Sole's encouragement.

-Is very well read. Vault 87 had many educational textbooks hidden among the super mutants.

-MacCready was the longest lasting mayor in L.L. He was mayor for 6 years.

-He has no idea what television is and is afraid to ask any pre-wars about it.

-Wary of all ghouls, both feral and normal. He's not bias to non-ferals, but he is a little uncomfortable.

-Had a crush on Lone Wanderer when they first visited L.L. Mac told Joseph and he made fun of him.

Nick

-Nick has an oral fixation. Smokes out of habit and having the familiar feeling of a cigarette between his lips feeds into human nostalgia.

-His right hand is missing skin because he fidgets only his right. Whether it was picking at the fraying plastic or rubbing the fake skin raw.

-He lost the chunk of neck skin after Myrna accused him of working for the Institute. Tore off a chunk to prove he wasn't a perfect person or an infiltrator synth.

-Ellie was the first person in Diamond City to wholly accept Nick as he is. She asked to work with him as soon as he decided to stay.

-Piper and Nick have jam sessions where they have heavy debates about Diamond City law enforcement and criminal misuse of power in the capitalistic society of pre-war USA.

-Met Dogmeat under an overpass. He handed the dog a snack cake and scratched his head. They've been close pals ever since.

-Will "sleep" around Sole. He'll lay down and manually put himself into "sleep mode". Any unnecessary functions will shut down. He lets his thoughts take over. All Sole hears is the faintest fan whir.

Piper

-Piper plans Sole's 211th birthday. She goes all out, collects balloons, bakes several cakes with Codsworth, makes everyone attend and threatens anyone who would act up. "It's Blue's first birthday out here, you WILL behave!"

-Knows how to make mutfruit preserves, mutfruit pie, mutfruit jam and jelly. Makes it for Nat constantly.

-Has a notebook dedicated to little tidbits of info about Sole.

-Nat is exactly 8 years, 5 months, and 25 days younger than Piper.

-Piper has interviewed every person in Diamond City. Made a game of it with Nat at first, then she just kept going with it.

-Piper has awful shorthand. Almost as bad as Curie's shorthand. Still illegible.

-Piper's handwriting is so bad, Nat does the writing for the paper. Piper writes the final draft and Nat copies it, and sends it through the printing press.

-Despite bad handwriting, Piper is very eloquent. Can make a super mutant sound like good date idea or convince anyone how the mayor might actually be a synth.

-Her favourite of Sole's friends is Kent Connolly. Would gladly dress up and act out Silver Shroud episodes with him and Sole.

Preston

-Preston has insomnia. Cannot sleep well. Has had insomnia since Quincy.

-Can sleep well if he's sleeping beside someone.

-Has a box under his bed of little knick-knacks children have given him over the years. Can't bear to get rid of the kid's gifts.

-He actually likes all of Sole's friends. Even Strong.

-Hates coconut. Once found an Almond-Joy while scaving and couldn't finish it to save his life.

-All time favourite candy is Peanut Brittle. Hard to find but gnawing on the hard chunks is somewhat soothing to him.

-Loves back rubs. Giving and receiving but only from close friends or lovers.

-Once accidently drank a bottle of perfume. MacCready told him it was a bottle of fancy expensive wine.

-Sturges and Preston are the closest of friends, no less maybe more.

Strong

-Strong knows how to jump rope.

-But double dutch is a mystery.

-Before Sole, he only ate meat raw. Sole taught him how to cook it.

-Also lacks patience to cook, but slowly learning.

-Strong was created in Vault 87 after the bombs dropped but remembers nothing from being human.

-Doesn't understand bubblegum. Will always swallow it after a few seconds of chewing.

-Likes having poetry and plays read to him.

-Sleeps holding Sole or having Sole laying across his stomach.

-Loves fire. The smell, the feeling of heat against his hardened skin, the taste of charred meat, and watching the embers fly up and turn to ash.

-Strong can read, but chooses not to because super mutants discourage any educational behavior.

-Likes the sound of clacking keys on a terminal. He'll turn one on and mess around with the keyboard just to hear the different sounds each key makes.

-He can't decide if hand-to-hand combat is better than using guns.

X6-88

-X6 doesn't like using plasma. He thinks the plasma is less accurate.

-But laser weapons are his jam.

-Spends excessive amount of time augmenting his weapon.

-If Sole helped, he would be "happy". Would never say it, but a tiny smirk would pop up on his face for half a second.

-Will collect Fancy Lad Snack Cakes. Hoards them in his bedroom in Sanctuary and in the Institute.

-Sole found his stash and X6 blushed for the first time when they confronted him.

-He called Sole "Mom" instead of Ma'am once. She won't let him live it down.

-He called Sole "Dad" after hearing Shaun call him "Dad" all day. He won't let him live it down.

-Actually likes kids. Won't show emotions, get down to their level, or speak to kids. But he doesn't hate children.

-Especially likes synth Shaun. He taught synth Shaun how to use a laser pistol. Shaun found out and put X6 on probation for a month.

Bonus Vault Tec Rep and Kent Connolly under the cut.

Vault Tec Rep

-Rep spent a couple decades learning how to draw. Loves drawing from life. Mostly draws people. Occasionally draws ferals, mutants, and various animals.

-Was engaged before the war, lasted about 2 years before she died of cancer.

-His favorite food was and still is a well grilled medium rare steak.

-A total neat freak. Every space he uses as a homestead has to be thoroughly cleaned of any bacteria, ticks, dust, dirt, radiation residue, etc

-Teased in school for his red hair. "Rusty" was his least favorite nickname.

-He's extremely susceptible to pet names. Doesn't have to be anything sexual or romantic, just pet names. He blushes like a starstruck starlet.

-Loves love. Romance and old-timey corny love stories. He like to woo his partner. Flowers, chocolate, dancing, movie dates, hand written poems, you name it.

-He misses his old red hair. Years of being a brunette and he's a little bitter about his hair.

-Least favourite part of The Wasteland is amount of bodies he sees on a daily basis. He saw about zero bodies a day on average before the war. Even in Goodneighbor, the average has risen to about 4 bodies a week.

-Favourite part of The Wasteland is the ability to just go anywhere. After realizing he didn't have any obligation to stay any specific place, he just traveled around for a few decades.

-His father worked for Vault-Tec, and when he graduated high school, he was given a job immediately.

-Didn't hate it. Didn't love it at first, but he had a real knack for selling.

-He never had an office in Boston HQ. He got the van, and got a sweet bonus for being top salesman, but never his own office.

-Despite being top salesman, he was only allowed on the first and second floors. He didn't find out till after the bombs dropped that the basement and third floor up had the plans for the various vaults in the area.

-He can't apologize enough to Sole. After thinking on it and checking out vault 111 by himself, he truly feels sorry for what happened.

-Sole gets him a set of steak knives for Christmas. They're homemade by Sole. They tell him he's earned far more than a knife set, but if that's what he's pining for...

-He treasures it so much, he rarely uses them. Just before he leaves for work in the morning, he checks them over and admires them.

-He and Sole have spent days just telling each other pre war stories. He almost knows more about Sole than Piper does. And he's a little proud of that fact.

-He gets along best with, of all people, Deacon. Good sense of humour and always interested in pre-war info.

-Second best is Piper. A nice lady who snoops too much, but does treat everyone with respect and tries to remain unbiased.

Kent Connolly

-Kent was 23 when the bombs dropped.

-He was sleeping in on the Saturday morning when he heard the air raid sirens.

-Hid in his house's basement till the sirens stopped.

-And then the radiation sickness took over.

-It took him about 3 months to turn ghoulish. Quicker than most.

-He dislikes Goodneighbor - the town as a whole. The people are fine, the resources are serviceable, and the safety assured is nice. But he hates how back alley it feels.

-Misses his family the most. They weren't the best, but they made him feel loved and important.

-Speaking of which, Kent had a huge family. I'm talking brothers, sisters, cousins for days, aunts, uncles...he remembers family reunions as huge gatherings chock full of food and kids running amuck.

-Maybe, just maybe, he enjoys seeing Sole all dressed like Shroud a little too much. He's a big fan.

-Once spent 4 grand on a mint condition Issue no. 3 Silver Shroud comic just to find out it was a forgery. Never got that refund. :(

-Writes really well. But only writes Silver Shroud fanfiction. Piper almost convinced him to help write an article about how crime differed before the war and after the war. But he turned her down.

-Nick has agreed to dress up as Shroud if Sole dresses up like Grognak or Mistress of Mystery. But only if Sole dresses up too.

-Irma refers to him as her son. Amari will not say the same, but she also doesn't protest.

-He used to work in comic book shop. (Of course he did.)

-He writes self insert Silver Shroud fanfiction all the time. After the events at the hospital with Sinjin, the Shroud in his fanfictions suddenly start using Sole's pronouns and is described as physically similar as Sole.

494 notes · View notes

lavenderwhore444 · 3 years

Note

OK I HAVE ANOTHER IDEA FOR CAT SHIGARAKI , what if cat shigaraki can actually turn into a cat 🐈 likr a full on cat, one day u where coming back from work and sensed someone was following u, but every time u would check u would find nothing not until the 5th time u turn around u see a little tail wiggling, u try to hide ur giggles and pretend u didn’t see him, shigaraki wasn’t sure why he was so interested in u since he basically hated everyone but something about u was so soft and sweet, shigaraki of course never trusts anyone after what happened to him ( poor baby was abused), after that little incident he started following u home every day, u of course didn’t mind but u really wanted to get a closer look ( u always had food outside wanting for him), on one rainy night shigaraki couldn’t find a place, he was scared,cold and hungry so he ends up scratching and meowing on ur door, u open the door and find this adorable yet really skinny cat and not to mention he was shaking ( one of his ears has a little cut) he looked like he was about to faint so u immediately picked him up and dried him off and fad him, he was exhausted so he passed out, until he woke up he never had anyone caring for him like that, u were really worried for him that really made him feel something he wasn’t so sure of but he knew he wanted ti stay , so this is the day u decided to take this random ass cat in that u had no idea if it was a male or female every time u wanted to check he would hiss ( he was really shy and thought u were pervert) at u so u gave up and picked a random name he didn’t like any but oh well, at first shigaraki was a bit grumpy and a bit shy but he eventually warmed up to u, until one day u we’re on the couch watching tv, shigaraki sees u and goes to cuddle with u ( he was feeling a bit really touched starved) u surprised to say the least, u took a little nap with him until u woke up and Felt something heavy on u, u look down to find a dude cuddling up on ur chest, u pushed him off and started panicking, he did have the cat ears and tail but no way is that ur pet, shigaraki woke annoyed until he remembered he was in his human form, u we’re asking so may questions all he wanted to do is cuddle with u for god sake, he explained everything to u and told u his name , u didn’t mind tbh u had to admit he was kind of cute in his human form, plus it’s not like u haven’t heard if hybrids before u know a lot of people have them so why not have one too , it’s been a almost a year since that day and u never regretted having shigaraki he was absolutely precious.

-🤡

Someone I Can Trust

Cat shiggy supremacy

Maaterlist

Interactivefics

Commission me

Tw: mildly implied SA (not to the reader) just fluffy idk

youtube

Your neighborhood might not have been in the nicest area, and you might be just a little paranoid, but you've never felt like this before. You could practically feel the eyes on your back. You checked behind you every so often but never saw anyone and assumed you were just more anxious than normal.

However, you were being followed by someone who could kill you with just one touch. Even though he'd learned to control his quirk, Tomura Shigaraki had little regard for human life. He hated almost everyone but took an interest in you.

It wasn't that he liked you. He was just curious, like a hunter hunting new prey or a scientist watching a new specimen. It didn't matter that the smell of your sweet perfume had drawn him in, and the way you were just so unbearably cute had kept him very interested.

He had followed you for four whole blocks; he got worried when you started heading towards this part of town. Tomura followed you, ready to attack anyone who tried to hurt you. He had concluded that you were the only tolerable person to exist on this stupid dying planet.

It got tricky when he followed you into an alley. There wasn't really anywhere to hide. He stepped on a twig and darted behind a trash can, praying that you didn't see him. Unfortunately you did see him. Well, part of him.

When you checked behind you again, a cute little tail was sticking out from behind an overflowing garbage can. You bit your lip as you smiled, pretending that you didn't see the kitty’s tail. To be fair, you didn't know if it was a girl or a boy, but you had gone with a random hunch you had.

When you reached your apartment, you took one final look around but assumed the little kitty had disappeared. Tomura wanted so badly to race right past you into your house and refuse to leave, but he didn't know who you were or what you'd do to a random uninvited cat. He just couldn't trust you. He wished he could.

The next time he walked by your house, he noticed some cat food sitting out. Did you have another cat? Who cares? He was hungry, so he walked up and ate most of the food. Maybe you could be a consistent source of food. When he heard your door unlock from the new box he'd taken residence in, he followed you to work and then back to your apartment. This went on for a good week and a half.

One day it began to rain. And then it started to pour. The box Tomura had taken shelter in was damp, and rain came right through it. He wanted to cry, he had nowhere to go, and he was cold. So so cold. He tried to hide anywhere he could but was chased out by other cats. He ran back to your apartment and desperately clawed and meowed at your door.

Inside, you heard him despite the heavy rain. If you‘d had the TV going, you wouldn't have heard his sad meows, but thankfully, you did. You open the door to see the cat that follows you home. He's skinny and has patches of fur missing, nearly bald, and his ear is cit. He's shivering and looks like he's about to faint.

You immediately scoop him up and hold him to your chest hoping to warm him up while you get a fresh towel out of the dryer. It's still warm and you wrap him up in it.

“Oh, poor kitty, you must be so hungry,” you say, picking him up while he's snuv in the warm towel.

He mewls quietly, agreeing with you. The food you'd been leaving out was always eaten by other cats when he got there.

“Come on, sweetie, it's gonna be okay,” you reassure.

He lets you carry him to the kitchen, where you open some cat food for him. He lets you feed him. He feels too weak to stand on his own legs. When the can of food is gone, his eyelids droop, and he nearly falls asleep in your arms. When you put him down, he cries for you to stay with him.

He's never felt this way before. Tomura isn't sure if he can trust you or not, but he needs you. He has to try and trust you.

“Aww, you want me to stay with you,” you're already gushing over the cute cat, “of course, sweetie,”

You scoop him into your arms and undo the towel a bit so he's not constricted. You fall asleep with him in your arms. When he wakes up, he sees you scrolling through your phone; he peeks at it and sees you're looking at missing pet reports.

His heart sinks. His old owner may not have cared about him but the thought of them putting up a report made him shake. You feel him stir and see how scared he looks.

“Hey, hey, it's okay,” you say, noticing him staring at the screen, “you can stay with me,”

He mewls in agreement and wriggles out of your arms.

“Hold on buddy,” you say picking him up.

When he notices where you're trying to look, he hisses at you and squirms until you put him down. If he'd have known you were such a pervert, he would have stayed out in the rain. The way you scratch behind his ears makes him forget all about how weird you were, and he purrs loudly.

“What should we name you?” you wonder out loud, you look at his light blue fur and decide on a name, “how about snowball,”

Tomura pretty much hates the name you chose for him, but oh well. He hops off the bed and decides to poke around the house. You follow him around and make sure he doesn't try to eat anything he shouldn't. Something in his little kitty brain lights up when he sees a room with a bunch of boxes. He doesn't know why he's so compelled to jump in them, but when he does, he's elated.

He hops in and out of them, looking at you for approval whenever he jumps, particularly high. You always reward him with clapping and words of praise. When he's finished playing on what he's deemed as the box room, he heads to the living room, rubbing his face all over your furniture to mark it as his territory.

He does the same with the rest of your house as well as you. He's having a good time until you pick him up and try to peek where you're not supposed to again. He hisses at you and is grumpy for the rest of the day, hiding under the couch, climbing into the cupboards, and causing havoc throughout your home.

When you yank him down from the highest shelf of the laundry room, he frowns at you (as much as a cat can) and stalks away to sleep on the couch. You're honestly not worried about his grumpiness. It just means he's getting his strength back and standing up for himself.

You do have to admit that you miss the way he had curled up in your arms last night. You love living with your kitty, and he still follows you to work time and time again. Over time he became for comfortable and a bit nicer (no more random biting) until he was comfortable enough to nap at the end of your bed.

The next time it rained, tomura was terrified. You were watching TV on the couch, and he jumped onto your chest. He needed you to cuddle him while it rained, so he didn't feel scared anymore. You were happy and also a bit surprised. Of course, you didn't complain while he purred as you held him.

His purring lulled you to sleep, and he got so comfortable he accidentally switched back into his hybrid form. Tomura wasn't born a cat, but hybrids on the streets are treated so cruelly that he decided he was safer im his cat form. When you woke up to a heavy weight on your chest, you jumped, causing Tomura to wake up.

When you look down and see a random guy lying on you, you immediately push him to the floor, trying not to look too far down since he was naked (cats don't wear clothes. You can't blame him). The thing that scared you the most was that you couldn't find your cat.

“Who are you!” you shrieked, looking down at the man.

You noticed he had the same ears and tail as “snowball,” but there's no way he was your pet Tomuras is a bit disgruntled from being woken up from his nap but kind of understands your distress.

“Who do you think?” he says, “I’m your cat, just a hybrid,”

You stare at him in shock, of course you knew about hybrids but he still scared you.

“My names Tomura,” he says, “so you can stop calling me snowball,”

“Why didn't you tell me?” you ask, confused, “I still would've taken you in,”

“Well I didn't know that,” he snapped.

Tomura was much moodier in his hybrid form because he had a better memory. He was able to remember all the abuse he endured and how badly he was treated. He didn't want to go through that again, but when you scratched behind his ears, he couldn't keep himself from purring.

“Let’s get you some clothes,” you say, guiding him to your room.

You had some spare clothes your brother had forgotten when he moved out. Tomura put them on eagerly, not wanting you to look too far down. Having fresh, clean clothes on was a new experience to him; his old master never gave him any, and he cringed at the thought, beginning to panic a bit.

You noticed the change in his breathing and wrapped your arms around him. That same sweet smell of your perfume that had drawn him in reached his nose, and he began to breathe slowly, taking in it all in.

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “it’s okay now you're safe,”

He nods, getting choked up at the thought of you caring about him. Over time your friendship strengthens, and even some romance blooms. You love spending the night snuggling with him and kissing him. Tomuras the best thing to ever happen to you and your the best to him.

He's finally found someone he can trust.

#shigaraki fluff #mha shigaraki #shigaraki tenko #shigaraki x reader #shiggy #shigaraki tomura #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x you #tomura x y/n #tomura fluff #tomura x reader #mha tomura #tomura imagine #tomura shiragaki #tomurashigaraki #tenko x reader

195 notes · View notes

katymacsupernatural · 2 years

Text

Photographs Coming to Life

Dean Winchester x Reader

Written in Dean’s POV

Word Count: 1300

Written For: @spnchristmasbingo

Square Filled: Photographs

Story Summary: For the past two years at Christmas Eve, Dean opens a small box, going through memories.

Warnings: Angst (at first)

It used to be the most magical time of the year. Christmas was always Y/N’s favorite time of the year, which made it his as well. He loved seeing the excitement in her eyes as she decorated the entire bunker. The way she made sure everyone felt special during the holidays.

Pouring a glass of whiskey, I flipped open the lid of the heavy wooden box. A box that normally stayed hidden throughout the rest of the year. Shoved into the back of his desk, a giant reminder of everything that had been his world not so long ago.

It was full of small mementos. Things that would mean nothing else to anyone, but it reminded me of you. The first ornament she had bought me. One of those cheesy one’s you pay an extra five dollars to get your name written in marker. The words were smudged, but still there. Dean and Y/N, 2012. Rubbing my thumb across it, I could still remember the glee on her face as she handed it over.

Sitting it carefully on the table, I reached in, pulling out the soft, almost threadbare teddy bear. It was missing an eye and should have gone in the trash a long time ago. But it had been hers. She had taken it everywhere with her, shoving it in her duffle bag. It was the only thing she had left from her parents, and she had treasured it as if it was made of gold.

It soon joined the ornament on the table as I reached farther into the box, grabbing a handful of photos. The things that hurt the most to look at.

Her. Every photograph was a picture of her. Her, alone smiling as she hung an ornament up on the tree. Laughing at me as I tried to take her picture while driving down the highway. There was a picture of her wrapped tight in my arms, her head pressed against my chest as I kissed the top of her head. Sam had taken that one, and I would be forever grateful for it.

There was a picture of her with tears streaming down her face. She had hated that picture so much. It had been an accidental capture. It had been the day she had found out...well I didn’t even want to think about that right now.

A tear slipped down my cheek as I pulled out the last photo. It was the last photo I had taken of her, and it hurt my heart still to see her like this. So frail and thin. Her skin had become ashen, her hair thin and bald. But she was still as beautiful as the day I had met her. It was only a day before she had passed away.

“I miss you so much sweetheart,” I whispered, my heart aching so much I thought it was going to shatter. It had been two years without her, and each and every day I still missed her as much as that horrible first day.

“You okay?” Sam asked, patting me on the shoulder.

“No,” I answered truthfully, turning the picture to show him. “It’s Christmas Eve Sam. Exactly two years since she…”

“I know,” Sam’s eyes were full of sadness and pain. He missed her too, I knew that. They had been close friends. But Y/N, she had been my soulmate, if you believed in that stuff. “There’s not a day that goes by that I wish she had let us do something. That she would have let Cas fix her.”

“Y/N wasn’t like that,” I sighed. “I wanted that in the worst way, but she made me promise. And I’ve regretted that promise every day since.”

Sam poured a glass of whiskey, filling mine up as well. “Toast to Y/N? The best thing that ever happened to us.”

“To Y/N.” I raised my glass, tossing the strong whiskey down in one shot, hoping the burn would take some of the heartache away, but it didn’t.

“Do you want to set up a tree? Or some directions?” Sam offered, but I shook my head.

“Sorry Sammy, but I can’t. Ever since she’s been gone, I just can’t.”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna go grab some grub. I’ll pick something up for you too.”

He was gone, and I sat there, staring at the last thing in the box. Another, much smaller box that haunted me to this day. Reaching in, I rubbed my thumb along the soft velvet, clicking open the clasp. Inside was a small diamond ring. It wasn’t much, but it would have been perfect for her. If I only hadn’t waited to ask her. I had been planning on asking her to marry me on Christmas. It was her favorite day of the year, and it had seemed perfect. But she had breathed her last breath on Christmas Eve, and my wonderful plan had stayed a secret. Not only a secret but a horrible reminder of how much I had messed up.

Angrily wiping away a tear, I tossed it back into the box, before taking the bottle of whiskey and taking a healthy swig. “I’m sorry I failed you,” I whispered.

“Dean, you didn’t fail me,” her soft voice answered me. The crystal glass slipped from my fingers, shattering on the floor.

“I must be drunk,” I muttered, rubbing my hand on my forehead. There’s no way I could have heard her voice. She was long gone, taken from me way too soon.

“Dean,” her voice sounded again, and I turned around cautiously, no idea what I was going to see. What was there took my breath away.

“Y/N?” I gasped out, my eyes wide as I stared at her in shock. She looked good, healthy, and happy. A soft smile on her face as she leaned against the bookcase, dressed in her favorite purple and black flannel, her AC/DC shirt peaking out underneath. “What are...how… you’re..,” I couldn’t complete a single sentence.

Sure, as a hunter I was used to all sorts of things. Ghosts, zombies, anything that could come back to life. But we had burned her bones, and I had never expected to see her again.

“I’ve missed you Dean,” she said, moving closer to me, her favorite perfume wafting around, gripping my heart and squeezing it tight. I had slept with her shirt for weeks after her death, the smell slowly fading. I had missed that smell so much.

“How are you here?”

She reached out, brushing her soft palm against my cheek. Her touch so real and wanted. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you. I was hoping you would have moved on by now.”

I shook my head fervently. “Never. Y/N, you were my only one. How am I supposed to move on from that?”

She sighed. “I was afraid of that. Dean, Cas knew how much you were suffering. And well, he pulled some strings and here I am. I’m back Dean.”

“This isn’t a trick?” My heart was in my throat, knowing that I probably couldn’t survive a trick like this.

She sat down on my lap, her body so warm, so full of life. “No tricks Dean. Just a Christmas miracle. You can ask Cas.”

“She’s right Dean,” Cas spoke up from behind us. “I wanted to do something special for you, and this was all I could think of. I hope you approve.”

“Hell yeah I approve!” I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around Y/N. Her lips fit perfectly against mine, everything finally perfect once again.

Dean/Jensen Tags:

@acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @cap-just-said-language @colette2537 @deansgirl215 @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @justanotherwinchester @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrspeacem1nusone @nothinbuttrouble2 @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @screechingartisancashbailiff @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @thoughts-and-funnies @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666 @beabutterfly987 @pink-sparkly-witch @sexyvixen7 @supernatural3002 @deans-baby-momma @brilovesdeanwinchester @deandreamernp @missmemoire09 @spngif

Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algudaodoce03-blog @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @caswinchester2000 @cpag7 @chelsea072498 @closetspngirl @deanwanddamons @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @esoltis280 @tatted-trina6 @foxyjwls007 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @heartislubbingdubbing @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99blog @imsuperawkward @internationalmusicteacher @jayankles @jensen-gal @justsomedreaming @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork @lowlyapprentice @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @mogaruke @monkeymcpoopoo @musiclovinchic93 @nanie5 @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25 @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek @thewinchesterchronicles @valsworldofcreativity @vvinch3st3r @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen @lyarr24 @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @theamyhead @440mxs-wife @stixnstripesworld @furiouscopshepherduniversity @thelastpyle

#spnchristmasbingo #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #katy writes #dean fanfic #christmas fanfic #dean x y/n #dean

94 notes · View notes

chiwhorei · 4 years

Text

pollock

paring: art major!k. tsukishima x fem!reader

genre: a dash of angst, hurt/comfort, smut, 18+ minors dni

wordcount: 3.2k

warnings: dom/sub dynamics, fingering, spitting, dacryphilia, praise, daddy kink, breeding kink, impregnating kink, soft and kinda hard dom!tsukki, sub!reader

a/n: ahhhhh!! this is my first longer fic to come out in a while and i am ~so~ excited to share this with everyone. i have been keening over the idea of art!major tsukki and i hope you all like him as much as i do! this is piece is brought to you by the hqhq monthly server collab, so please go check out everyone’s amazing writing, the masterlist can be found here!

hymn: validation by herrick & hooley, cherry hill by russ

“Your work is always technically very well executed, Tsukishima-san.” The round, bald-headed man shuffles through the photos on his desk, pieces of Tsukishima Kei’s senior project that he’s tried to fit together before his final exhibit only four months away.

“But,” the dreaded word has Tsukki restraining himself from a long eye roll, “It seems like you’re stuck. You still need one more piece for the show. What inspires you?”

You hear a resounding slam of the front door swinging open and meeting the frame again, followed by a shuffle of feet towards where you’re standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment. Tsukki’s mouth is set in a flat line, expression softening only slightly when he sees you leaning against the counter. You greet him with a warm, but cautious smile. It had been a horribly long day, grating on every thread of patience Tsukishima has. The bubbling of anxiety and frustration mixing into a sour look on his handsome face. You hate seeing your boyfriend so defeatus, much preferring the sardonic, confident air he usually holds. Both of your final years of college have been exceptionally taxing, Tsukki’s final art project being the most stressing of all. It seems like as days propel forward, closer to his due date, the less assured he is of his talents, his passions. It’s heartbreaking to see someone so brilliant struggle through a million half fleshed-out ideas and crumbled up leaves of paper.

You pull one of his hands to you, examining the stains of paint and ink across his long digits and kissing each finger softly. You wish you could get inside that big head of his and help in some way.

“Did you have a hard day at the studio, Kei?” You wrap your arms around his neck and search his eyes. He’s not always the best at talking to you, especially when he’s upset, so you don’t expect him to give you an answer. Instead, you rub his shoulders, trying to coax the tension out. He sighs deeply at the contact, hands moving to rest at the plush of your hips and gripping tightly when you work at a particularly sore spot.

“You’re too good to me, princess. Thank you” He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, and you nuzzle into him. You don’t have the answers to his current road block, you don’t pretend to. But maybe, you think, you can offer him a more carnal outlet.

“Of course, Daddy.” The name hangs in the air for a moment, any response hitching in his throat. The title is familiar after years of being together, always being both comforting and electrifying. Since the title slipped out years ago for the first time, your boyfriend feels his cool demeanor snapping like a glow stick, leaving hot lust in its wake upon it rolling past your lips.

He pulls you closed to him by your ass, inhaling sharply at the contact on his jeans. All you have on is one of Tsukki’s loose, paint stained sweaters and a thin pair of cotton panties. You brush one of your bare thighs against his crotch, and he feels the stresses of his day falling out of frame. Your body is always a buoy to pull him back from the drowning of self doubt. A perfect slice of heaven he became addicted to from the moment he spotted you across the dusty stacks.

“What inspires you?”

The question rings in his head again, but with a new perspective. Tsukki hears pieces clicking together with your lustrous body pressed against him.

“Babygirl, I think I have an idea. But I’m going to need your help.” His hands move to cup your cheeks, scanning over your features and finding a devious glint behind your soft, e/c eyes. Tsukki trails a thumb over your bottom lip lightly, admiring how you lean into the contact. Always so eager to please him, your temperament goes straight to his cock every time.

“Anything for you, daddy.” You press your forehead against his, waiting patiently for his next move. There’s astounding beauty in the glossy, temperate look in your eyes that he wants to, has to, to freeze in time.

“I have a few things to set up. Come to the office when I call you,” Tsukki pushes a stray hair from your face with a fond smile before walking away, he stops for a moment to look at you over his shoulder, “Naked.”

Your mind races as to what exactly he wants to do with you tonight as you busy yourself with peeling off your clothing. There is very little that you and your boyfriend haven’t tried at least once, but the tone in his voice has left you reeling at the possibilities.

Your eyes catch your reflection in the hallway mirror, naked body completely exposed to your own scrutinizing stare. Had it been the stress causing the image in front of you to be so unsavory? Every plane of skin promoting a different insecurity. A blasted thing a hallway mirror becomes when you’ve never truly loved what stares back. You fuss with your hair in a feeble attempt to make yourself more presentable. The question of how Tsukishima sees you always rattling around in the back of your head, especially standing completely naked and waiting in your own insecurities.

“Princess, come here.” You are pulled from your deprecating thoughts at the sound of Tsukki’s warm voice. You walk into his office, and notice he’s changed into just a pair of grey joggers. The sight of the low hanging garment making you salivate so much you almost miss your surroundings. He’s struck some kind of inspiration, you can see it in his eyes as he adjusts his easel and props up a large, blank canvas. You fiddle with your fingers as he looks up at you.

“Jackson Pollock.” You meet your boyfriend’s eyes, confused by his seemingly random statement as he parses out different colored paints into small bowls. Red, blue, green, yellow. “He poured paint on a flat surface so that he could view every angle color could create, every curve.” Tsukki muses, dipping two fingers into the bright yellow hue sitting next to him, bringing them towards his face with contemplation. “But I think this sweet little body of yours will prove a much better canvas.”

His eyes provide no sign of bluffing, but you stare back at him dumbly. Sure, he’s used you as a muse before. Studying your hands or the way your hair falls in the sketches you see hanging up by his desk behind you. You love when he wants to use your body for inspiration, but is he really going to cover you in paint?

“We both know you don’t mind getting a little messy,” He trails his wet pointer finger across your collarbone, following a line towards your chin. He tilts your head up to meet his eyes, “Open your mouth.”

Your bottom lip parts from the top, eyes following the line of spit that drops from his mouth to your tongue with a resounding put.

You swallow thickly, the feeling of his control already bending your will to meet him at every pass.

“I want you to look nice and fucked out for me, baby. I want to show my stuffy professors where my inspiration comes from. I’m going to capture how sweet and submissive my little princess is and then everyone will get to see what I get to enjoy every night.” His unmarred hand moves towards your already disastrously wet pussy. You’re drooling at even the most slight contact, bucking into his hand in a plea for more. His words, complimentative but unmistakingly domineering, have your head becoming fuzzy.

“Daddy, please. Please touch me.” Your whines are music to his ears.

“Oh princess, I plan on it. But I need you to be good for me. You don’t want to mess up all my hard work do you?” His voice is steady, authoritative but still soft around the edges in a way that makes you feel gooey.

Tsukki leads you to the stool sitting in the middle of the room, and you perch on it with his hands keeping you steady. You are his muse and medium, his subject and his canvas to use in any way desired.

Smudges of color brandish every inch of your skin, each stroke is a reminder of where your lovers hands have been. Blue and pink splatter against your stomach, a vibrant red outline on each curve of your breast and purple fingerprints against your pert nipples. Your legs wear a trail of hand prints towards your glistening cunt, wanton cunt. Each marring of paint sits beside paths of hot, opened mouth kisses.

All that is keeping you balanced on the squeaky wooden stool is Tsukishima’s strong arms holding you captive in place. Your legs had been thrown over his shoulders after painting across your upper thighs in a sea of greys and greens. As soon as Tsukki’s eyes met with your bare cunt, his mouth was quick to follow.

He’s a mess of paint now too, muscular chest and arms covered in pigment and face covered in you. He’s always insatiable, drinking you in like it’s the only source of sustenance left in the world. He knows how to work you, how to propel you towards orgasm in a way no one else has ever been able to do. Worshiping your body with langued strokes of his tongue. You let out a pitchy moan in response to his mouth, pushing you towards an end you can feel in the back of your throat.

“I bet you want to cum don’t you, baby? I can feel it. Such an eager little thing.” Tsukishima ghosts his lips across your hot cunt, blowing at your clit to make you yelp. You’re so close, too close. Dangling above bliss but not tipping over, knowing you need permission. You’ve been so good for him, he has to give you your release.

“Please, daddy. Please let me cum.” Tears wet your cheeks as you beg, holding onto Tsukki’s blond locks like an anchor. All you need is his approval, but instead of persimmon you are met with a bawdy laugh.

You really should have known he wasn’t going to let you go that easy.

Tsukki stands up, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. You’re wrecked in every way. Hair loose and disheveled, body dipped in a thin layer of sweat and thick splotches of paint. The look on your face is equal parts pathetic and fervent.

“I need you to sit pretty for daddy, I want to capture how desperately beautiful you look right now.” His words make you preen, but it’s a compliment and a warning at the same time. He wants to capture the look of sweet pain of denied orgasm to display at an art exhibit of both peers and his seniors. Sadistic in Tsukishima’s own unique way.

You should have known better, Tsukki’s patience has always been astounding. You know all he wants to do is bury himself in you, but he wants even more to make you suffer under his stare. There’s plenty of times he unleashes his frustration out on you physically, ripening your ass cheeks in bright red handprints and ensuring you can’t walk in the morning. But it’s these moments that can be even harsher, when he regards you with steely eyes and a aloof threat, that make your nerves catch fire more than a spanking ever could.

He sits down to start sketching on the large canvas in front of him, pinning you to your position with a practiced glare and playing on your desire to please him.

You sit as still as you can, listening to the scratch of pencil on vinyl in an attempt to keep calm. Your cunt is still twitching, puffy and slick propped uncomfortably atop the wooden stool. Tsukki hums along to the rhythmic music coming from his phone speaker, a playlist you know to be the one that helps him concentrate on his work. His brow furrows in concentration, pushing his glasses back in place as he stares at you again. His eyes are calculating and coldly observant, but his mouth quirks up in a surprising smile.

“My perfect baby. So stunning in every way.” His thoughts start tumbling out without his usual sarcastic filter.

“I have never wanted something more in my life than you. All of you, all the time.” A genuine regard for you in the lilt of his voice clamps down on your chest. He’s called you pretty, told you he loved you a million times before, but there’s a calm resonance in his words as his hands move across the white caves in front of him that catches in your throat. With the pressure of graduation looming over the two of you these past few months, romantics have been pushed to the side to make room for laser focus on finishing your degrees.

Your eyes well at his confessional, struck by the vulnerability so unfamiliar to him. You missed this side of your boyfriend, unlocking it incrementally through the years and finding it virtually non-existent recently. He sees your shoulders trembling slightly and tears his eyes up to your form.

“I told you to stay still.” His voice comes out harsh, but melts away when he sees fat tears rolling down your puffy cheeks.

“Y/n, are you okay? Did I upset you?” He moves to console you, the action causing another round of sobs, your body on edge in every way after both the teasing and his impromptu affirmation. Your response surprises yourself just as much as Tsukki, not realising how starved of his affection you had become.

“I’m sorry daddy, I-I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just- do you mean all that?” You lower your head in embarrassment, and Tsukishima’s heart breaks at the realization. Had he unintentionally disregarded you? Had he been ignoring you?

“Fuck baby, of course I mean it. I’m so sorry I made you doubt that.” He pulls you up into his strong hold, he lets you cry into his shoulder until your wracking sobs simmer to sniffles. He holds you tightly in an attempt at atonement. He has to do something to show you how he feels now that he knows his words have failed him. His actions have to speak in his place.

Tsukishima pulls you away slightly to meet his gaze before colliding his lips against yours. He traces his tongue in sonnets across your mouth, tasting the lingering essence of your arousal and the salt of your tears. He writes prose in the breathy gasps as you part for air, chests heaving. He has to show you what his words won’t always allow him to.

It’s bodies tangled together, covered in the colors of a man trying his best to show you how much he loves you. You had fallen to the floor at the behest of passion, Tsukki’s body covering yours, lips kissing any extension of your skin, uncaring of the paint covering both of your writhing frames.

You paw at his sweatpants as if they are the most offensive thing you’ve ever scene, Tsukki’s cock springs out to slap against the hard muscle of his abdomen. You don’t waste any time lining him up to your dripping folds, you’ve waited long enough. Hips crashing together like a fever dream, you’re wrapped in each other as if there’s nothing else in this world outside of a set of paints and four walls of a dimly lit apartment. The sun could be hurling towards the sidewalk just outside and Tsukishima, usually observant to a fault, would have no idea. All he knows is your body beneath him, clawing desperately at his back with every deep thrust, and the love poem he has written on your body. Reds across your breasts and brandishing your thighs. Greens and yellows across your neck, up your arms. Messy, sticky, covering the thin sheet Tsukki laid out to spare the hardwood.

Your panting, crying out for your daddy and consumed in the salty taste of love and lust crashing together like waves. His cock is heavy inside you, filling you up so completely. Tsukki rowes on, not daring to stop now, not with the resounding drumming of two hearts beat so perfectly together and the feeling of your clenching, velveteen walls hugging him like he’s coming home.

“I am so desperately in love with you. I want you like this, with me, forever.” He’s delirious, drunk on your body. Primal, as he stares down at you, colorful and completely conquered. He sees everything in your eyes, every baser desire, every hope for the future.

“I want to fill you up with my cum, princess. You are mine in every way. God, I want to see you swollen with my baby. Right here.” He presses against your belly, feeling his cock moving inside you from the splotches of pick and blue.

His confessional spurs you on, the emotions overwhelming. Feeling so loved, so needy, wanting everything the blonde above you is willing to give.

“Ah, Daddy! Please, please fill me up. I wa-want you to put a baby in me, I need it.” Your clenching tightly, each pump of Tsukishima’s cock better than the last.

“You are such a good girl baby, always saying exactly what I need to hear. Cum for me, princess, let me see how good I make you feel.”

His warrant is all you’ve needed this whole time, snapping to hours of tension with a sharp cry. You’re thrown into the pooling, honey-sweet feeling of release. Sinking every inch of your aching body into a blissed haze. Your walls spasm violently, tightening around him like a vice. He meets your hips with his own, knocking hip bones together like pool balls and holding himself in your heat as you milk his throbbing cock, stealing every drop of hot, while cum he has to offer.

He crumbles to the floor beside you, pulling you to his chest. Lying in a mess of paint and sweat and staggered breathing. Through the fog still resounding in your head, you hear Tsukki laughing lightly, “How’s that for inspiration?”

-Four Months Later-

You shift on your toes in anticipation, waiting for Tsukishima to release the hold he has around your eyes. You hear the bustle of people around you, the laughter and tinkling of glasses clinking together filling your ears. He kisses your temple before letting go, and you are met with a new reflection of yourself hung proudly on display. All of the places you see blemishes are drawn with vibrant purposeful color. Every curve of your form mapped out with the care only a lover could administer. Your naked form exhibited for hundreds of critiquing eyes, but there’s not a bone in your body that could feel embarrassed in this moment. As reflection so beautiful it’s unbelievable is staring back at you.

“Is this really how you see me, Kei?” You turn around to meet his eyes, his stare holds the love of epics. He would write you novels if he could, but this picture is worth a thousand words.

“Of course it is, baby,” He brings a hand to thumb at your slightly swelling belly.

“Of course it is.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

#tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei smut #tsukishima kei #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hqhq server collab #haikyuu hq #hq tsukishima

2K notes · View notes

viastro · 3 years

Text

trailing arbutus | lee juyeon

ミ★ synopsis: you couldn’t help but fall for the boy who offered you his umbrella on that rainy day in the fall.

ミ★ genre: hanahaki!au, best friends to lovers!au, angst, some humor, some fluff

ミ★ warnings: mentions of death, vomiting

ミ★ word count: 5,038

ミ★ pairings: juyeon x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! it’s been a while since i released a tbz oneshot so here’s juyeon ! spring break is coming soon and my classes for spring quarter are a lot easier than the classes i was taking during winter quarter, so i should be able to post oneshots more consistently again... i hope </3 AJLEGSBKRJ don’t hold me to that <333 keep your expectations of me very low <333 the flower that juyeon gave yn may seem familiar if you read my minghao oneshot, last a lifetime >:D anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this ! i wish i could’ve spent some more time on it, but alas. make sure to give juyeon lots of love <3

You met Juyeon in the Fall, when the raindrops began to descend down from the sky and you had forgotten to bring your umbrella.

“Fuck me.” You curse under your breath as you see the pellets of rain drop onto the sidewalk before you, wondering why the weather app always seems to fail you in times of need.

You were studying at the library for your biopsychology midterm at the end of the week, as you feel that your apartment has too many distractions. For once in your life, you checked the weather app to see if it would rain, and it said no rain.

It lied.

So now here you are, no umbrella in your hand as you debate on whether to sacrifice your textbook or your bag.

“This textbook was 200 dollars…” You mumble to yourself, now deciding which of the items to ruin. You open up your bag to place the textbook inside, only to pause when you feel a presence beside you. Turning your head, you see an incredibly handsome blonde man standing to your left, holding an opened umbrella above you.

“Don’t ruin your textbook and bag.” He tells you with a small smile, and you raise an eyebrow, looking down at your bag that now holds your giant biopsych book.

“I would’ve only ruined my bag.” You respond, and the pretty man chuckles, pointing at the cloth material of your bag. You purse your lips, coming to terms with the fact that he has made some strong points.

“Take my umbrella.” He says, giving the umbrella he’s holding a slight jiggle. You shake your head, raising your hands up to tell him that it’s fine, only to pause when he places the umbrella handle into the palm of your hand.

“It’s okay, my friend has one anyways. Get home safe!” And with a final smile, he heads back into the library. Leaving you standing at the entrance, in a state of both shock and gratitude as you hold the pretty stranger’s umbrella. You glance back towards the rain, and begin your descent down the stairs, heading back to your apartment.

It’s when you’re close to the trees that you pause, turning to look back towards the library when you realize something.

“I never got his name.” You mutter, before letting out a sigh. You continue on the path towards your apartment building, feeling too lazy to go back and ask for the kind man’s name.

The thought of his smile still lingers in your mind, even when you return to the warmth of your home.

You didn’t see Juyeon for a month afterwards, but you made sure to keep his umbrella with you in case you ran into him on campus again. The day you finally saw the pretty boy again, it was in fact, raining. Except this time, the roles were switched.

You had an umbrella, and he didn’t.

“Rain, I have a love and hate relationship with you.” You state quietly as you walk towards the cafe, umbrella shielding you from getting drenched. The weather app lied to you once again, saying that it was only going to be partly cloudy.

Partly cloudy your ass.

You hold the umbrella that the pretty man gave you a month ago, feeling grateful that you’ve been carrying it on you since that day just in case you ran into him. However, you’ve ended up using it more often than you originally thought you would.

You squint when you see a familiar blonde haired man holding his bag over his head as he walks to his destination. You speed up your pace until you’re close to him, and realize that he’s the pretty stranger from a month ago.

Without a word, you take a few more steps and outstretch the umbrella over his head, and he pauses, turning to look at you. The two of you stop walking, and he tilts his head to the side when he recognizes you, a pretty smile coming over his features.

“Don’t ruin your bag.” You point out with a grin, and he lets out a laugh, nodding his head. He glances up at the umbrella, chuckling when he sees that it’s the same one he gave you that day at the library. Looking back at you he asks, “You kept it?”

You nod your head, an incredulous look coming onto your face. “Of course I did! Why would I get rid of a stranger’s umbrella?”

The man purses his lips, before outstretching his hand in your direction. “Hi, I’m Lee Juyeon.”

You smile, now knowing the name of the kind man as you reach out and grasp his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. “I’m yn yln.”

A year since that fateful encounter, you and Juyeon are walking towards his apartment underneath a shared umbrella. The rain falls softly against the clear plastic, and you watch as the droplets fall off the sides and onto the ground.

“Always so intrigued by the rain, huh?” Juyeon asks you with a grin, making you turn and look at his face. He dyed his hair black a few months after the two of you became friends, having had Changmin color it for him. However, with the boxed bleach you hold in the shopping bag as the two of you walk, you know Juyeon’s hair is about to be fried.

“The rain is nice when I’m not getting wet.” You respond with a nudge, and Juyeon chuckles, nodding his head in agreement. You both turn into the apartment building entrance, with the black haired beauty shaking the umbrella to remove the excess water.

“Are you sure you want to bleach your hair again?” You ask once the two of you enter the elevator, and he nods his head as he wraps up the umbrella. “Yeah, I miss the blonde.”

Pursing your lips at the thought of Juyeon possibly going bald, you decide to press more, “Your hair could end up being absolutely fried.”

Your pretty friend simply shrugs his shoulders, taking a photo of the boxed bleach in the bag that you’re holding. You let out a sigh when the elevator doors open and you both step out, wondering how he manages to just not care about anything.

“Okay, I have another question.” You state as the two of you walk up to Juyeon’s apartment door. He raises an eyebrow at you as he turns the key, letting you step in first. “Mm?”

“Are you sure you want me to bleach your hair for you? Do you remember the last time I tried to dye Changmin’s hair pink?” Juyeon just chuckles at the tragic memory, shrugging off his coat and placing it onto the rack. He stretches his hand out to you, and you hand him your own jacket, watching as he places it beside his own.

“Yeah. I trust you, yn.” Juyeon tells you as he walks off towards the bathroom, stretching his arms over his head as he does so. Your eyes catch the sliver of skin that appears when his shirt rides up, and you immediately turn away, letting out a frustrated breath as warmth floods your face.

“You really shouldn’t have this much trust in me.” You mutter, following after the pretty man. The two of you set up the bathroom, with you preparing the bleach solution and Juyeon placing newspapers onto the floor.

“You ready?” Juyeon glances up from his phone and into the mirror, sending you a grin that makes your heart palpitate within your chest. “Of course.”

You place the brush with the bleach concoction onto a few strands of Juyeon’s hair, wincing at the image of your pretty friend going bald because of how often he colors his hair. Juyeon raises an eyebrow at the furrow to your brows and the pout to your lips, letting out a chuckle as he turns around and rests his hand on your head.

You snap out of the trance of a bald Juyeon, just to find your best friend staring at you with an amused expression on his face. With his thumb, he reaches down and swipes the crease between your eyebrows until it goes away. He gives you a kind smile once his hand lowers back down to his lap, “Why did it look like you stepped in a pile of dog poop as you started to bleach my hair?”

You don’t answer for a moment as you return to placing the bleach onto the ends of Juyeon’s hair, warmth flooding your face at the physical contact that lasted very briefly but sent your heart spiraling. Juyeon watches you in the mirror, awaiting your answer.

These feelings have to stop before it’s too late, You think to yourself once you feel yourself begin to calm down. It wasn’t shocking to you that you felt a bit attracted to Juyeon, as he is incredibly handsome and has a precious personality to match. What was surprising, albeit a bit scary, is that your attraction for Juyeon didn’t dwindle as the two of you became closer over a span of a year. In fact, it’s only grown since then.

But that is one of the few facts that you refuse to acknowledge.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you take out a comb and part another section of Juyeon’s hair and finally glance up into his eyes in the mirror with a playful smile.

“Cause I thought of how you’d look bald.”

Juyeon scoffs, eliciting a giggle out of you when you take note of his own expression turning a bit sour from the image appearing in his mind.

“If I go bald, I’m blaming you.”

“You just said you trusted me!”

“Yeah, well. That was before you placed the image of me being bald in my head.” Juyeon says, laughing when he sees you biting the inside of your cheek to hold back your own chuckles. He nudges you slightly, and your laughter pours out, mixing with his own as you continue to bleach his hair.

The previous worries you had slowly melt away, but inch back towards the surface each time you lock eyes with your best friend.

You scroll through your phone, looking through Twitter to try and find memes as you wait for Changmin to come for your guys’ weekly lunch run. Your thumb halts its sweeping movement when you feel a presence standing before you, and you glance up to see Juyeon staring at you with a smile on his face.

Immediately you frown, “What are you doing here?”

Juyeon’s eyebrows furrow in response to your unenthusiastic reaction. He runs a hand through his blonde hair, “Changmin has to stay after at practice because he needs to help fix the choreo. He told me he texted you, but you didn’t respond.”

You purse your lips, going to the messages app to see that you did, in fact, completely miss Changmin’s message that he couldn’t make it and that Juyeon will be his replacement for the week. You grin when your eyes land on the last text.

changmin: this is only a one time thing ! no one can ever replace me on our weekly lunch extravaganzas >:DD

“Mmm.” You mutter, placing your phone into your pocket and looking up at Juyeon, who is squinting at you.

“What?”

“Why are you so unhappy that you’re eating lunch with me and not Changmin?” Juyeon asks, and you smile, beginning to walk towards McDonalds without answering his question. The blonde just stares after you with an amused smile on his face, watching as you turn back towards him and cup your hands around your mouth.

“Changmin is more entertaining!”

Juyeon’s mouth drops open at your words, and you let out a loud laugh at how offended he looks. He points towards you with a competitive grin on his face, and your eyes widen when you realize what that look means.

“Juyeon, no.” He simply starts running after you without a response, making you elicit a squeal as you begin to sprint away. The two of you run through campus, ignoring all the other students around you as you let out bright laughs while listening to Juyeon’s shouts.

“You’ll NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE!”

You suddenly feel your wrist get grabbed, and you’re pulled back into Juyeon’s body as he laughs, staring into your eyes with all the stars in the universe. Warmth floods your face from the close proximity between the two of you, wondering if he’s even affected by this as he looks at you.

“I caught you alive.” Juyeon states with a grin, pulling back and raising his arms up as he stretches. It takes you a moment to answer as you wait for your heart to calm down, before rolling your eyes and nudging him.

“Whatever. You got a head start.”

“You literally ran before I even chased after you.” You simply shrug your shoulders, and Juyeon lets out a chuckle as the two of you peacefully walk towards the fast food franchise.

“You still think Changmin is more fun than me?” Juyeon asks as the two of you pass the flower shop, signaling that you’re close to McDonalds and closer to eating very unhealthy french fries. Biting the inside of your cheek, you respond, “I think you’re both equally fun.”

When you don’t hear a reply from Juyeon, you turn your head and realize that the blonde is no longer walking alongside you. You glance back to see him standing by a bucket that holds a few flowers, and you raise an eyebrow when he tentatively lifts a pale pink blossom out.

Juyeon walks back over to you with a friendly smile on his face, and you open your mouth to ask what it is, only to pause when he reaches out and tucks the fragile flower behind your ear. You look into his eyes to search for an answer as to why, but you fail to find it.

Juyeon looks away from you first, pointing towards the direction of the McDonalds. “Let’s go get lunch, yn.”

You nod your head slowly, and the two of you walk side by side to the fast food establishment, all while you try to calm down your racing heart. In your head you’re just repeating to yourself the same sentence like a mantra to try to remind yourself not to overthink the action.

he doesn’t like you, he doesn’t like you, he doesn’t like you. stop these feelings before it’s too late.

It’s only later when you’re alone in your bathroom throwing up the familiar pale pink petals that you realize,

it’s too late.

“What ramen do you think yn would like better?” Changmin asks Juyeon as the two walk around the convenient store to buy groceries for you. The blonde glances over at his friend, pointing at the shin ramen, “That one. It’s yn’s favorite, they always make it for me when I visit.”

Changmin purses his lips, grinning to himself as he places the packet into the basket he’s holding. Juyeon takes notice of the knowing smile on the black haired beauty’s face, and he nudges him, causing Changmin to chuckle. “Why are you smiling?”

“Cause your love for yn is showing.” Changmin responds, and Juyeon bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head at him. The blonde turns back towards the arrangement of items, grabbing a few of your favorite snacks and placing them into the basket.

“I don’t even know what love is.” Juyeon mutters as he grabs one more pack of ramen and throws it into the basket. Changmin purses his lips, choosing not to respond as the two walk to the checkout.

You haven’t been going to classes, nor have you been texting Changmin or Juyeon for the last few days. Juyeon remembered the time you got sick and didn’t text either of them a few months ago, so he realized you must be doing the same thing right now. That’s why he dragged Changmin to the convenience store to prepare a care package for you, knowing that you don’t take proper care of yourself when you have a cold.

“You sure you can’t come with me to yn’s? I think you’d make them feel better.” Changmin says, promptly changing the topic as they place everything onto the counter. Juyeon purses his lips a bit, wishing he could come and visit, but he already agreed to practice with the new recruits of the dance team.

“I can’t back out of plans an hour before, so I’ll just pay for all the groceries.” Juyeon responds as taps his card on the reader, watching as the payment goes through and placing the card back into his wallet. They both grin at the cashier as they hand them their bags, before walking out of the convenience store.

“Text me when you get to yn’s, I’ll try to visit after practice.” Juyeon tells Changmin, and the younger nods his head. The blonde waves his hand at his friend, before turning and heading towards the university.

Juyeon glances up towards the grey sky as he walks, finding that his thoughts are only flooded with you as he does so.

He comes to wonder when his heart began to beat faster whenever he saw you.

“Yn! Let me in!” You don’t move to answer the door, continuing to sit by your living room window, staring out at the city below. Coughing slightly, you reach over and grab your cup of tea, taking a long sip once Changmin’s voice comes to a stop.

It’s only when you hear your door knob jiggle that you turn your head with a frown, seeing your front door open fully to reveal your friend who has a frown on his face. You let out a sigh, and Changmin’s frown deepens as he slips off his shoes and closes the front door, walking towards you.

“How’d you get in?” You ask quietly, only to let out an, ah, when Changmin holds up the spare key you gave him a few months back. He places the bag from the convenience store onto the coffee table, before settling down beside you.

The two of you stay silent for a moment, with Changmin staring at you in concern, and you avoiding eye contact by staring out the window. You bite the inside of your cheek once you feel a tickle in your throat, trying your best not to cough.

“Why didn’t you tell me or Juyeon that you were sick? You did this last time and you got scolded. Now I’m gonna scold you again! You live alone, yn. You should be resting, not making your own food or cleaning.” Changmin says sternly, and you don’t reply with the fear that you may cough out those pale pink petals again.

“Yn.” Changmin states once you don’t answer, leaning a bit closer to look at your face.

“Why are you giving me the silent treatment? You should be giving Juyeon the silent treatment since he didn’t come! Well, he actually paid for the groceries I got for you but-” The words die in Changmin’s throat when you release a cough, and a single petal flies out of your mouth and onto the floor. His eyes widen at the sight, before turning towards you and seeing the tears flooding your eyes.

“Yn…” You bite your bottom lip, before leaning over and resting your forehead onto Changmin’s shoulder.

“What are you going to do?” Changmin asks, wrapping his arms around you and patting your back soothingly. He’s filled with worry as he stares down at the pink petal on the floor, knowing that there’s only two options to handle this disease.

“I don’t know.” You mutter quietly, tears trailing down your face. Changmin bites the inside of his cheek, pulling you closer and holding you.

“I don’t know what hurts more,” You begin, squeezing your fists tightly at the thought that comes to mind. “The petals that I keep coughing up.”

You cough again, fortunately no petals escape as you pull back from Changmin’s embrace to look at him. He reaches out and pats your head, and you harshly bite your bottom lip when the thought of those sparkly eyes comes to mind as you say,

“Or the fact that Juyeon doesn’t love me back.”

You walk around campus with your mask over your mouth and nose, feeling grateful that you haven’t coughed up any petals throughout any of your classes. Glancing up at the sky, you see the various shades of pink and blue, your heart feeling heavy at the beautiful sight.

“Yn!” Your eyes widen when you hear that familiar voice, but you refuse to turn around, continuing to walk as if you never heard it.

“Yn! Wait!” You speed up your pace, panicking when the sound of footsteps draws closer. You’re about to break out into a full on sprint when Juyeon runs around you, forcing you to halt your movements as you stare at him with wide eyes.

“Didn’t you hear me calling for you? You haven’t been responding to my texts for the last week.” Juyeon says as his chest goes up and down, trying to catch his breath from having to run to you. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head as you attempt to pretend that you’re okay. “Sorry, I’ve been avoiding looking at my phone cause it strains my eyes.”

Juyeon nods his head, understanding what you mean as you just got over being sick. “Changmin told me that you had a fever and just slept the whole time when he came to see you a couple days ago, are you feeling better now?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you nod and flash Juyeon the brightest eye smile you can muster. He squints at you, before reaching his hand up and resting it on your forehead to check your temperature. You freeze, warmth flooding your face from the contact, only to pause when you feel your throat begin to tickle with that dreadful feeling.

“Your forehead isn’t hot, so I suppose you weren’t- Yn?” Juyeon’s eyes fill with concern at the sight of your eyes turning watery. He takes a step closer but you raise your hand up to stop him, feeling the petals begin to climb up your throat as you turn and run away from Juyeon without another word. Juyeon’s eyes widen, “Yn!”

Feeling the tears fall past your eyes at the calls of your name, you sprint away, trying your best to hold back the flowers that threaten to escape, but to no avail. Finding it harder to breathe, you remove your mask as you run, releasing a few of the petals that were stuck in the cloth. Your chest burns, your heart hurts, everything is in pain as you run away from the one you love.

“Yn..” Juyeon mutters, stopping himself from chasing after you when he realizes you have no plans of stopping. He watches as your figure gets smaller, only to squint when he catches sight of something pink flowing with the wind from behind you.

Juyeon’s heart stops in his chest when it floats in his direction, and he stretches his arm towards it, watching as the pale pink petal softly falls onto the palm of his hand. He knows this flower, and as he looks back up in the direction you ran in, he feels his heart break for the first time when he makes the connection of where the fragile petal came from.

Changmin watches from across the studio as Juyeon keeps making mistakes in the choreography, something the dancer rarely ever does. However, over the last few days, it’s been happening consistently. No matter how many times Changmin reteaches the choreo to Juyeon step by step, he still makes a mistake the next day.

“Juyeon, you keep making mistakes.” Changmin says as he pauses the music, turning to look at his best friend. The blonde simply breathes heavily, staring down at the floor while he tries to sort out his thoughts. Changmin frowns, stepping forward towards his friend, “Juyeon.”

“Yn ran away from me the other day.” Juyeon starts, a furrow to his brow as he remembers the look of fear in your eyes. He bites his bottom lip harshly, before looking up at Changmin, seeing the dread on his friend’s face, “A pink petal flew towards me from their direction.”

“Juyeon-”

“It had to have been one of the flowers that grow in the square, right?” Juyeon asks with tears filling his eyes, stepping towards Changmin as he squeezes his fists at his sides. The black haired beauty tries his best to hold back from crying as he simply shakes his head, no.

“They have hanahaki, Juyeon.” Changmin states, tears escaping his own eyes from finally confessing the truth that’s been haunting him for the last week. The two stay silent for a moment, letting the information sink in as Juyeon slowly slides down onto the floor.

“Is it me?” Juyeon asks in a soft voice as he looks up from the wooden floor, Changmin lets out a bittersweet smile at the question, looking away from the blonde as his own heart breaks within his chest.

“It is.” Changmin answers quietly, rubbing his chest in an attempt to ease the pain. Juyeon slowly stands up from the floor, eyes wide as he stares at his friend. Changmin turns to look at the blonde, eyebrows furrowing at the shocked expression on Juyeon’s face.

“What is it-”

“How long has it been since the last time yn coughed up flowers?” Changmin purses his lips, remembering how you mentioned you haven’t coughed anything since the day you ran into Juyeon. “I don’t know, a week?”

Changmin pauses, suddenly realizing what Juyeon’s thinking when his eyes widen as he connects the dots. Hope floods his chest as he stares at his friend, feeling relieved that you’re going to be okay. Juyeon turns and looks out the window of the studio, seeing the rain fall from the sky, and he quickly walks over and grabs his sweatshirt and umbrella.

“Where are you going? We just realized something huge!” Changmin shouts when he watches Juyeon walk towards the door. The blonde simply turns back towards his friend, giving him a small smile,

“It’s raining, yn must’ve forgotten their umbrella.”

“I forgot my umbrella.” You mutter, staring up at the blue sky from the convenience store entrance. The raindrops fall hard onto the pavement, making you let out a sigh. You turn to glance back inside the convenience store, debating on buying one even though you have at least four back at your apartment. You look down at the bag in your hand, seeing the ramen and tea you bought in an attempt to soothe your throat.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you remember that your days are limited as you watch the raindrops fall from the sky. With that in mind, you step out of the protection you had from the convenience store, and let the rain hit you as you walk towards your apartment, convenience store bag in tow as you do so.

As your clothes slowly become soaked, you can’t help but think of how you met Juyeon. The kind guy who gave you his umbrella on that rainy day. You let out a bittersweet smile, knowing that it was inevitable for you to fall for the man.

You halt your movements, suddenly realizing the fact that you haven’t coughed up flowers in almost a week. Your eyes widen, heart beating rapidly against your chest as the bag of groceries you were holding falls to the ground.

You scramble to grab your phone from your pocket, quickly unlocking your phone to dial Juyeon’s number as tears fill your eyes. You listen to it ring, quietly muttering to yourself for him to pick up the call, needing to know if this is real.

“Hello?”

“Juyeon! Where-”

“You didn’t bring an umbrella again?” You squint, wondering how he knows that as you look up from the ground, only for your mouth to fall open when you see him standing a few feet away from you, umbrella in hand. You take note of the rise and fall to his chest, seeing that he must’ve ran here from dance practice as the two of you stare at each other.

You let out a wet laugh, tears falling from your eyes as you stare at Juyeon, nodding your head as you adjust the phone to your ear. “You know me, I always forget. That’s why you’re there to save me from the rain each time.”

Juyeon smiles in response, tears spilling and flowing down his face. He reaches up in an attempt to wipe it away, laughing quietly as he stares at you, a look of remorse in his gaze. Feeling grateful that he was able to realize his feelings for you, but regretful that you had to experience so much pain before he did so.

“I’m sorry I didn’t save you sooner, I wasn’t sure what the weather was going to be.” Juyeon mutters, and you bite the inside of your cheek, understanding what he truly means. You give him a grin, before opening your arms and gesturing to your guys surroundings as the rain begins to fall softer from the sky.

“It’s okay, you came just in time.” You say, wiping away the mix of tears and rain from your face. Juyeon walks towards you, stopping when the umbrella is hovering over the two of you, blocking you from the rain.

“I love you.” Juyeon confesses, and you bite the inside of your cheek, nodding your head as the tears fall from your eyes once again. He reaches out and softly wipes it away with his thumb, letting his warm hand remain on your cheek as he stares into your eyes.

As the rain continues to fall from the sky on this sunny Spring day, a rainbow forms above you and Juyeon as you let out a smile, leaning into his touch when you say,

“I love you too, Juyeon.”

trailing arbutus: if given the pale pink blossom, it means you are the only one they love. a promise that the love they have for you will not only be warm, but will last a lifetime.

#lee juyeon x reader #juyeon x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz oneshots #lee juyeon scenarios #juyeon scenarios #lee juyeon fluff #lee juyeon angst #lee juyeon #juyeon #juyeon fluff #juyeon angst #lee juyeon humor #the boyz

425 notes · View notes

volleyball-dontknowher · 3 years

Text

Sick - Tanaka x reader

Warnings: none

Words: 2282

Summary: You and your neighbor walk your dogs at the same everyday, but what happens when he stops showing up

A/n :! I am so so so so sorry for disappearing off the face of the earth, college is hard man and then it’s partially online and COVID and things and the depression really hit and I have started a new self care book and it is adding one thing back in my life at a time that I am passionate about and last week was French and this week it is writing because I really do miss it! I threw this together last night based off of a request I got forever ago and I hope it is liked <3

You’ve lived in the same apartment for years and people always come and go, in and out, it feels like you see a new face everyday. In your three years there, you’ve only had one consistent fact, and that’s your bald neighbor who goes on walks with his dogs at the same time as you twice a day. At first you only saw him occasionally and now the two of you go out at 7:30 am and 6:30 pm on the dot. You have no idea how it started but now you get kinda excited to run into your neighbor on the stairs everyday and hopefully make a comment about how good his two big dogs are looking or even jsut the smallest acknowledgement with him.

Speaking of your neighbor, he wasn’t out this morning before work, and you didn’t think too much of it because he works kinda funny hours and some random days misses the times. (Though he always tells you about it in the afternoon or the next time you see him) and because you’ve learned he’s a personal trainer he has finicky clients and sometimes is up wayy too early or way too late. It bugged you all day that you hadn’t seen him and no matter how hard you tried to focus at work you couldn’t imagine why he wasn’t out on a Wednesday. All of your explainations could make sense but you really don’t feel right about any of it. And when you got home and took your two babies out and he wasn’t there you were sure something was up. Tanaka loved his dogs more than anything and says that their routine keeps them together and that it keeps them well behaved. Something had to be wrong. Maybe he got a new girlfriend? Or he forgot? But he didn't forget and he hasn’t been with anyone ever, and if he was his dogs would still come first. You had no idea what you were thinking but when you came back up the stairs you kept walking and knocked on the door of the man you knew so completely and not at all. You quickly realized what you’d done and your heart was racing as you silent prayed that no one was home and that you could creep back to your door before anyone heard you.

This was a great thought, except you forgot what happens when you knock with dogs. They bark. And unfortunately for you Tanaka doesn’t get a lot of guests so his dogs barked a lot. Like they could wake the entire neighborhood a lot. You had to grin and bear it and face the consequences of your irrational actions.

After thirty or so seconds the door creeps open and there he is, Takana Ryuunosuke, in his pajamas and a beanie opening the door. He looked like a walking corpse and by the way he sniffed out a weak “hello” as he opened the door told you everything you needed to know. He was sick. Very sick, and you had just knocked at the door and now have to figure out what to say to him.

“Oh, hey,” you stutter, “I was just checking on you to see if everything was alright, you weren’t out with your dogs and I was wondering if anything was up, or if you needed me to take them out for you because of their routine and everything,” you ramble on, hoping that somewhere your logic connected and this made sense.

Takana stared at you blankly and you couldn’t help but mentally smack yourself because that was exactly what a stalker would say and you now seemed like his stalker.

After a few more seconds of blank stares his expression caught up to your words and he broke out the goofy smile you love so much.

“My dogs? Walk them?” He asked. Maybe they hadn’t caught up after all.

“Well yeah, they weren’t out at their regular time and i wanted to make sure they were still going out and I have my two out and they are so well behaved and you clearly don’t feel well so it would really be no problem,” you rambled on again.

This time he was closely listening and nodded along with you before smiling once again. “No no no,” he chuckled, “ I can take them out” though he was laughing you could hear that he wasn’t feeling well and his energy was lower than you had ever heard.

“Let me do this one favor for you, I can take them out, no big deal, okay?” You smiled.

After you smiled it was a done deal for Tanaka, he grabbed the leash and thanked you about a hundred times. His dogs are fantastic and took you less than five minutes to walk before they’d used the restroom and were ready to go back inside. You took them back and he thanked you once again and you headed back to your apartment to make some dinner.

You settled on a sun dried tomato soup with grilled cheese and happened *wink* accidentally *wink* make more than you could eat on your own and you’d hate for it to go to waste and you do have a neighbor who is sick and could probably use a hot meal right about now. So, you packed up a container for him and wrapped the sandwich in aluminum foil so that it would be hot for him and put some tea in a thermos and headed out your door once more. This time though, you were a little less bold and just rang the doorbell and ran back to your room. You did however, leave a little note saying “hope you feel better soon - room 420” on it and you hoped that it would at least help his night a little bit.

Little do you know, Tanaka was so shocked to see this from you that he almost dropped the hot soup onto himself in a panic because this not only meant you paid attention to him but you cared for him. This was the best thing to ever happen to him. He finished every last bite and washed the container and thermos and placed them back by your door with a note of his own.

When you got up the next morning and went to take your dog out you couldn’t help but beam when you saw your tupperware back in front of your door. You picked up the two items before seeing the little note on top of the container.

‘Best Soup Ever! -Room 419’

You beamed and did a little happy dance before deciding to go knock and see if he needed your help with his dogs again today, and boy are you lucky that you went. WHen he opened the door he somehow looked worse than yesterday, you could have swore that he had snot dried to his face and he was a total mouth breather and the bags under his eyes as well as tripled overnight. There were no arguments when you asked if he needed help with his dogs, because truthfully he really did.

The walk was quick and the morning was over before you knew it. Another distracted day at work, you found yourself wondering how you could help him feel better, especially because he lived all alone and his closest family was something like an hour away last he told you.

You had a brilliant idea and decided to go to the store after work and make him a ‘get well’ basket. You filled the basket with cough drops, tissues, teas, chocolates and other little goodies that help him feel better and put him in a better mood. You got the groceries and were right on your way, practically skipping with excitement.

Once again, you accidentally made an extra soup after you’d taken care of the dogs and happened to leave it with the basket later that evening.

In the morning however, none of your dishes were by your door, which was no big deal, especially because he was feeling so under the weather, but what was even more strange is that he didn’t answer the door and the last thing you wanted to do was wake him up. So, you headed to work wondering if he liked what you did for him or if you’d crossed a line or if he was allergic to chicken noodle, or if he was too much of a health nut and you’d offended him, or if he’d… you had no idea, maybe died. This was not good for you and you could feel the stress starting to get to you when you got off work the sprint back home was exhausting and anxious. You rounded the corner of the stairs when you saw

Nothing.

You saw nothing.

That was fine, everything is fine. You are fine. Life is fine. If he doesn’t feel good you can’t expect him to do dishes or even leave his room. That’s best for everyone, no one wants a walking germ contaminating everything around, there were probably old ladies on this floor, you hadn’t seen any, but they were there, probably, so he was just doing the world a favor.

Again, he didnt answer the door for his dogs and you couldn’t force your kindness onto him so you had a night to yourself and went to bed way earlier than usual. You couldn’t help but wake up earlier than usual and instead of looking for things that weren’t there you got out and went to work early and got busy right away. You had a full day and worked until almost 8pm, hurrying back to hopefully get home before your local take away had closed. You made it, but just barely, and got your favorite meal to bring home with you to watch something horrible with.

You got home and plopped on the couch completely exhausted. Immediatley you started eating and got about halfway through when you heard a knock at the door. Oh shit. You had no one in your life that would ever knock, well almost no one. THere was one person you were really hoping wasn’t on the other side of the door. You were in a t-shirt you got 10 years ago and a pair of crappy shorts from the general store, there was nothing remotely nice, or even tame about your appearance, you looked to be frank, crazy.

You creeped the door open and saw exactly who you were hoping not to see, Tanaka Ryuunosuke standing in front of your door beaming.

“Hey?” You question nervously.

“Hey, I noticed that you didn’t take your dogs out earlier and was wondering if you needed me to take them out for you?” He questioned genuinely, smiling from head to toe, clearly feeling better.

You had no idea what to say or do but he just smiled as your dogs trotted out the door with him, without you saying a word. You awkwardly closed the door and stood there in shock. That was horrible. An embarrassment to you, an embarrassment to your family name and even worse an embarrassment to society. The shock still hadn’t worn off when you heard a second knock at your door, and well that was the man with your dogs and you couldn’t just leave them outside.

This time when you opened the door you couldn’t help but gasp. Tanaka has a giant bouquet of red roses and a giant blush on his face.

“Y/n, I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I have had a crush on you since I first met you, and I never knew how to tell you, every time I got close to you I just freeze and I started taking my dogs out when you do to try and get to know you and I could never make myself do it but you have been unbelievably kind to me and I can’t wait any longer. I want nothing more than to have a chance with someone as stunning as you are. Y/n, will you go on a date with me?”

This time it was you standing there dumbstruck for longer than you should have. You heard every single one of his words and your heart was fluttering out of your chest. You’d had feelings for him for as long as you can remember and here he was with a bouquet of flowers standing in your doorway asking you to go on a date with him. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything so you just grinned and nodded at him enthusiastically, hoping he understood just how much this means to you.

He beamed right back and handed you the bouquet of flowers, “perfect, then I’ll see you Friday at 7, I’ll pick you up.” He winked.

You were still dumbstruck and nodded again, and right as you were about to close the door for the night he stuck his foot in the doorway.

“One more thing y/n,” he pushed the door back open and had a basket of little goodies for you, as well as a homemade meal in the containers you’d given him with a little note that says ‘your soup warmed my soul, and my heart’. You couldn’t help but absolutely beam with happiness. You set the basket down and threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a big hug, repeatedly thanking him for his kindness. You two parted ways happier than you could have imagined and both in great anticipation for Friday.

The next morning, you were both out at 7:30 on the dot, excited to see one another.

127 notes · View notes

mothandpidgeon · 3 years

Text

THE SINS OF THE FATHER - a Molly York story

(gif by @pajamasecrets)

PROLOGUE

MASTERLIST

Characters: Dave York, Molly York (Carol and Alice, too)

Words: 1400

Rating: T

Warnings: character death (canon), loss of a parent, angst, training your daughter to be an assassin?

Summary: Dave York starts training his daughters young. One day Molly might have to put her training to good use...Grappling with the sudden death of her father, Molly York grows up trying to fill the gap he left in her life. And looks for answers.

a/n: So I wrote this drabble the other morning and it got stuck in my head and so here is a Molly York revenge story. I didn't mean for this to be a series but I think I will be posting this in 3 parts so stay tuned for the rest.

Thanks @purplepascal042 for reading this over and being so kind I almost cried!

“Molly, without turning around, how many people are sitting behind you,” Dave asks at the restaurant.

Molly pulls the straw of her milkshake away from her lips, her eyes sliding to their peripheries.

“I don’t remember,” she tells him.

“Sure you do. Trust your gut.”

She sighs and thinks hard, he can see it on her face, recalling the fat couple and the table of teenagers and the bald man sitting at the bar.

“Seven?”

Dave smiles. “Just checking how observant you are. Do you know what observant means?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Molly says, rolling her eyes. She turns around to check her work and Dave can see she’s satisfied with herself when she goes back to her milkshake.

Molly knew it was bullshit even before Capra. She could just feel it.

“An accident.” That’s what Mom had said when she sat Molly and Alice down to break the news to them. Their father, David York, was dead.

“Is he in the hospital?” Alice asked, confusion pulling at her little features.

Mom tried to hold back the fresh round of tears that the question elicited.

“No, baby. I’m sorry, baby,” she said.

Alice was too young to understand and Mom was too broken hearted to explain it. Molly didn’t ask any questions because she didn’t believe it. Dad didn’t have accidents. She’d never seen him trip or drop anything or even stumble over a word. A dark, slick feeling in the pit of her stomach told her something terrible had happened.

“He loved you both very much,” Mom said. And when Molly didn’t respond she asked, “Did you hear me?”

“We were going to play softball on Saturday,” Molly said.

She was lying even now that he was gone. They never played softball or went rollerblading or spent the afternoon at the air and space museum. They had their own adventures. That’s how Molly saw them. Dad sometimes called them missions. He liked to take her shooting on the weekends. Or they’d go hiking. Occasionally they would just go for a jog in the park and then Molly would practice her karate. She loved sharing these secrets with her dad. And if she kept on lying about their missions, maybe they didn’t have to be over.

Molly felt numb. She kept waiting for Dad to come back. But he never did.

“Where are you going, Daddy?” Molly asks on an afternoon together.

“On business, kiddo,” Dave tells her.

“Yeah but where?”

“I’m going to the beach.”

“Can I come?” she asks.

“No, baby, I’m going to be working,” he says and when she huffs he laughs.

Something comes over him, a bittersweet feeling. He has it often around the girls, when he remembers they won’t be so little forever. Just yesterday he was carrying Molly to the nursery in the hospital, small enough to fit in the crook of his arm. But this feels stronger than usual. He tries to memorize how she looks right now. He runs his hand over her long hair.

“Maybe next time,” he says. “Will you take care of Mommy and Alice when I’m gone?”

Molly promised she would. She made that her mission. She kept her grades up so that Mom never had to worry. She could tell when the weight of being a single mother was too much on Carol’s shoulders. If her mother’s eyes were ringed with red, the next day Molly would surprise her by doing all of the dishes before she got home from work.

She took care of Alice, too. When her sister was in the school play, Molly didn’t miss a single performance. She beat up one of the girls that bullied Alice. And, in high school, when she found out Alice’s boyfriend cheated on her, Molly filled his gas tank with sugar.

Molly went from karate to Krav Maga. She wanted to be able to take care of herself, too. She joined an archery team. She went on long runs when she felt lonely.

Years passed and Molly saw more and more of her father when she looked at herself in the mirror. She’d inherited his soft eyes and she had dimples in both of her cheeks. She’d also gotten his nose which she would have hated if it hadn’t reminded her of him.

Molly was packing for college, her 18th birthday on the horizon, when she found the note. She’d been worried about leaving home, leaving Mom and Alice on their own. But it had gotten harder here. Molly’s energy was more and more restless and some days she just wanted to disappear.

She ran her fingers nostalgically over the things she was leaving behind in her room. A music box, a medal, an ugly ceramic bowl she’d made in art class.

At the end of her bookshelf was a hardcover that hadn’t been touched in years. Dad had been reading Harriet the Spy with her. They’d never finished it and Molly had never been able to bring herself to open it again. Carefully, she lifted it off of the shelf, the dust jacket sticking slightly to the book beside it. Maybe she would take it with her and finish reading it. She flipped through the pages, admiring the little illustrations. The book fell open to the page they’d left off on, a little piece of note paper stuck in as a bookmark. Molly saw the handwriting on it and immediately recognized it.

It always shook Molly to see her father’s writing. She would turn over every scribble she found for secret meaning. This was just a phone number and the name Capra. Molly suddenly remembered her father giving it to her before he left on one of his business trips.

If anything happens and you can’t reach me, call this number.

She stared at it for a long time wondering what would’ve happened if she’d called that number all those years ago. Before she knew what she was doing, Molly was dialing it on her cell phone. It rang for a long time before someone answered.

“Yeah?”

It was a woman’s voice. For a second, Molly had an awful thought, her heart plummeting. But Dad wouldn’t have given her this woman’s phone number if something...like that was going on, right?

“Is this Capra?” Molly finally found her voice.

“Who is this?” the woman asked.

“I think you knew my dad. Dave York?” Molly said.

There was a pause and then, “You’ve got the wrong number.”

And she hung up.

“Molly Carolina, what are you doing in here?” Dave growls when he finds Molly in his study.

“I need a piece of paper,” she explains.

She’s got a file in her hand and Dave knows what’s inside of it. His whole body tenses. He keeps those things locked in a drawer, shreds them as soon as he’s finished with them. He’d just stepped out of the room for a minute.

“If you need something, ask for it,” he tells her. “What have I told you about privacy?”

Molly swallows.

“Would you like it if I went in your room and read your diary?”

Molly’s eyes flash with anxiety. “No.”

“May I have that?” Dave asks.

She hands over the file, whispers, “Sorry,” and scuttles out of the room.

It was so mysterious. Molly had dialed correctly. And she knew the woman on the other end was Capra. She felt it in her gut. Molly was about to dial again when her phone rang. Blocked.

“How did you get my number?” Capra asked.

“My, my dad gave it to me...when I was a kid,” Molly stammered.

“What do you want?” the woman asked.

Molly didn’t know. She hadn’t had a plan. Christ, had she called hoping this Capra person could turn back time?

“Did you know my dad?” Molly asked.

As the years went by, she’d realized there were pieces of him that she’d never gotten to see. Mom had filled in some blanks but Molly was never satisfied. If she’d shared missions with him, he must have had other secrets.

“I didn’t think I’d hear from you,” Capra sighed.

Capra offered a time and place to meet and quickly got off of the phone. Molly was dumbfounded but she had an old feeling creep over her– an excitement and eagerness that she felt on weekend adventures with Dad. She was going on a mission.

/ / / / / / / part 2

let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

@pascalslittlebrat @purplepascal042 @starlightmornings @mouthymandalorian @danniburgh @originallaura @tuskens-mando @221bshrlocked @wyn-dixie @goddessinwolfskin @cheekygeek05 @fangirl-316 @fairytale07 @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-skov @skulliebythesea @oceanablue @rebel-soldat @stevie75 @evyiione @buckwildbarnes @likes-good-reblogs-even-better

#dave york #dave york pit #molly york #nothing but respect for the york girls #dave york x reader

49 notes · View notes

eldrai · 3 years

Text

Not Worth It

Whumptober 2021 - day 3 - prompt: insult

Character: Reid

Warnings: ableism, r-slur, brief/mild homophobia

Words: 2.2k

Summary: Spencer isn’t naïve. He is young and he looks young but he isn’t stupid. He hadn’t graduated with the expectation that because he was older, had qualifications to back him up, the world would collectively mature in kind. After all, he’d gained his relative immunity to insults because it hurt less to let them taunt him than it had to confront them and end up shoved in a locker or tied up on the football field.

He had hoped things might be different. Not expected. Not assumed.

Just hoped.

ao3 / masterlist

“—were actually invented in the early fifteenth century, though the first versions were, uh, significantly more spherical and made of a wood like beech. It’s also highly likely they used cows’ hair inside leather—”

The cop – Maciewicz – nudges the officer beside him. “Does he ever stop talking?”

Spencer is fairly sure the jab is intended to be audible. It’s an interesting social convention, that sort of insult, where everyone including the target hears it but the person who said it can’t be called out on it because they supposedly directed it at nobody in particular. Interesting, and very high-school of them: Maciewicz is closer to forty than thirty and beginning to bald, and the stale remnants of cigarette smoke follows his colleague wherever he goes.

It doesn’t offend Reid these days. Attending a public LA high school is its own distinct circle of hell but doing so at nine? University at twelve? He’s been called most names under the sun and petty insults don’t get under his skin like they used to.

Which isn’t to say they aren’t annoying.

What he hates the most is the variety of people who insult him: they all have different reactions, different sore spots, and getting them to go away isn’t a one-size-fits-all situation. Reid has dealt with enough bullies to understand that ‘ignore them and they’ll go away’ is useless, if not downright dangerous advice, but there is a whole spectrum of solutions which may or may not work. Get it wrong, and they just grow more persistent.

Spencer isn’t naïve. He is young and he looks young but he isn’t stupid. He hadn’t graduated with the expectation that because he was older, had qualifications to back him up, the world would collectively mature in kind. After all, he’d gained his relative immunity to insults because it hurt less to let them taunt him than it had to confront them and end up shoved in a locker or tied up on the football field.

He had hoped things might be different. Not expected. Not assumed.

Just hoped.

Of course they aren’t.

He pays them no mind and continues to explain the significance of the golf balls their unsub keeps leaving behind. If they didn’t want him to talk, they shouldn’t have asked for his opinion.

This seems like a fairly straightforward case and with any luck, they’ll only have to tolerate the local police department for a couple of days more.

He may have jinxed it.

(Once when they had come to take his Mom to inpatient, Spencer had overheard someone at the front desk talking lowly to someone else, and her words had stuck with him: see, that’s what you get for saying it’s quiet today!

That was always the gist of what was said on TV hospital dramas too. Police chaos isn’t all that different from hospital chaos, he thinks. There’s always too much of it and it’s unpredictable in its unpredictability.)

The curveball this time is their unsub is not a lone male but a male-female duo – he carries out the kills but under her direction. Classic submissive-dominant dynamic. The thing with pairs is they crack. Bend under the pressure until they break and lives are lost in the collateral damage.

Case in point: Marcy Edgeworth, aged twenty-four, Caucasian female, death by blunt force trauma. She is the first female victim and the first to have been left to lie where she’d died. That isn’t a good sign. No indication of sexual assault pre- or post-mortem but there is an incomplete ring of bite marks just beneath her right collarbone, exposed due to her torn shirt.

“What, never seen a naked girl before?” Jamison – Maciewicz’s colleague – mutters. Just low enough for Spencer to hear as he is trying to get on with his job, unlike a certain pair of officers.

“Woman,” he corrects, for her age, “and yes, I have.”

He hopes the lightness in his tone offsets the brusqueness. Spencer shifts his crouching into kneeling and leans forwards to examine her hair. It’s an artificial red – her roots and her eyebrows are blonde – and their previous victims have all had brown hair.

“Only counts if it’s outside a morgue,” Maciewicz chimes in.

He ignores them but their gaze burns the back of his head, and their presence has his guard raised. They stand behind him and their shadows stretch out over the grass either side of him. They’re going for a reaction, Spencer assumes.

Biting is an interesting thing without an accompanying sexual assault. If nothing else it gives them a good estimation of their male unsub’s teeth. The impression he’s getting from the scene is one of interruption, an impulse kill whose victim he had to leave too soon. It is a public park and it was an early-morning dog walker who found her – likely a jogger or someone on a night shift.

Jamison clears his throat once, twice, then taps him on the shoulder. Spencer rears away from his touch. People never ask, they just do.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing,” Jamison says. “I – we – we were wondering why you do that… thing.”

“What thing?” Spencer asks.

Jamison gestures. “You know, the – you know.”

Is that some sort of punchline he’s missing? Spencer glances over at Maciewicz and finds a mild amusement. Nothing to indicate he should be laughing, nor should he know what they do mean.

Maybe he’s missing the cue. He’s better at it these days, but not perfect.

“No, I don’t.”

With a furtive glance at the precinct’s captain, deep in conversation with one of the forensic technicians, Jamison sighs. “The thing with your hands, the—” He shakes his hands in an exaggerated manner.

Spencer’s hands still. He hadn’t thought it was very noticeable and more to the point, Jamison is definitely overexaggerating it like kids in middle school used to do. Only back then they had his unusual gait and meltdowns to mock too. “I don’t do that,” he says firmly.

(He’d answer it if it was a genuine question. Respectful. He loves people who ask out of genuine good intent. They are few and far between.)

Maciewicz snickers.

“Yeah, you do,” Jamison says. “I want to know why, that’s all.”

“Makes you look like a retard,” Maciewicz adds.

…and there it is.

He goes cold from head to toe. It never fails to make him feel as if someone has just dumped a bucket of water right over him, washing away his enthusiasm and excitement and everything else he values. Leaves the bare bones, the weirdness, each of the hundred ways he never quite fits in.

Spencer hates the word.

Because they don’t care about his IQ or eidetic memory or reading skill when they say that, and they don’t care after he tells them.

Nobody calls him that because they think he is. They say it to hurt him.

He wishes it wouldn’t.

Despite how often he’s heard it, he never has a response. His mind goes blank and all he can pull from it is the roots – re,from Latin: back, and tardus, from Latin: slow – as if they give a damn about etymology. As if that’s a normal person’s response. Today is no exception so it’s a blessing when Morgan wanders over.

“You got anything, pretty boy?” he asks. Maciewicz and Jamison snort. If Morgan hears it, he pays it no mind. “They found a guy’s baseball cap over there. No hair but it looks like it’s our man’s.”

And once again, his mind goes blank. Makes you look like a retard. He’d been thinking about – the bite mark, yes, what does that indicate? Spencer catches his hands moving and shoves them in his pockets before they can. “He was interrupted,” he says. “It explains why the bite isn’t complete and why he didn’t notice he’d left his hat.”

Morgan nods. “The person who found the body didn’t recall seeing anyone else around, so you think he’d just left before they got there?”

“Probably,” Spencer says. “I think the woman might be blonde. If they got into a fight, he’d be stressed, he’d be thinking about her. Maybe she reminded him of her.”

“Could be the hair, could be something else,” Morgan says. “He won’t have talked to her, not if he hit her from behind.”

“What if they did? She could have walked away—”

“Maybe,” Morgan says. “But if her hair was dyed, he wouldn’t see that unless they were up close, right? He’d initially go for her because she’s got red hair, not blonde. And if they did talk, Prentiss says no woman’s gonna just turn her back on a strange man. Especially in the middle of the night with no-one around.”

It’s a valid point, and it isn’t condescending. Nonetheless it hurts. Spencer studies the ground for a long moment and tries to forget (retard) Maciewicz and Jamison. “The unsub isn’t going to be someone he’s sexually attracted to,” he says. “He didn’t assault her, and if the victim reminds him of the other unsub, he’d probably have tried to even if someone interrupted him before he really could.”

A burst of laughter from Maciewicz and Jamison. His cheeks go hot with embarrassment—they must be talking about him, what else is there to laugh about? Morgan follows his gaze. “There a problem?” he asks.

Maciewicz holds up his hands in mock surrender. “No, no. Just… the hell is that about, ‘pretty boy’?”

Morgan shrugs. Spencer isn’t sure if it’s as casual as it looks.

“Well, makes sense,” Jamison says. “Course he’s gonna freak out over a naked girl if he doesn’t swing that way.”

…oh, great.

Spencer doesn’t mind exactly what they say as much as the implication—that they know, that they’re entitled to know his sexuality. How they say it as if gay is equivalent to bad. Once again, how utterly high school it all is. And he knows Morgan isn’t going to appreciate it either, probably more insulted on his behalf than Spencer himself.

“And you care, because...?” Morgan says, looking back and forth between them.

“I don’t,” Jamison says.

“He’s…” Maciewicz stammers, “…you know.”

“Smarter than you?” Morgan suggests. “Better at his job than you? A better person than you?”

“You don’t have to stick up for him,” Jamison says. “Must get annoying to deal with a re—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer interrupts. It isn’t. It really isn’t but it isn’t worth the conversation. How tiring it gets to deal with it, how much easier it is to walk away. These officers aren’t going to change their worldview on disabilities all of a sudden. “Morgan.”

Morgan takes in his posture, the unnatural stillness as he forces himself not to fidget, though the look in his eyes doesn’t fade. “The only people I don’t want to ‘deal with’ are both of you.”

The men share a look – not so much chastened as disappointed their fun was interrupted – but they do back off.

“They already seem to think I’m incapable,” Spencer says irritably. “I said it was fine, I didn’t need you to say anything.”

He crouches down to examine the bite again.

“It didn’t matter,” Spencer says. His hands itch and despite needing to, he can’t bring himself to move. Makes you look like a retard.

“Does if it bothers you,” Morgan insists. “And it did, don’t look at me like that.”

He sighs. They’re not even there any more, the two cops out on patrol and them revisiting the penultimate crime scene. “I’m used to it.”

“And?” Morgan says. “Just because you are doesn’t mean you have to put up with it—”

“It was five minutes at most,” Spencer points out. “Everyone else was fine.”

“Yeah, and they were dicks.”

He shrugs.

“What else did they say?”

Spencer rolls the fabric of his sweater between his fingers and feigns ignorance. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what else did they say when I wasn’t there, ‘cause they said something.”

“Makes you look like a retard.”

He doesn’t mean to say it – wasn’t sure what he had planned to say, but it certainly wasn’t that – but he says it nonetheless, his tone mimicking the disdain and irritation. And now Morgan definitely isn’t going to believe him if he says he’s fine and it’s going to make the situation worse to explain that he mostly is, he just hasn’t heard it for a while, he’s used to it.

Stupid echolalia.

“Like I said,” Morgan says, “they were dicks.”

Spencer doesn’t point out being rude doesn’t automatically mean lying. “I’ve heard worse.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t give them the right to say stuff like that.”

He rocks back on the balls of his feet. His hands aren’t co-operating but the swaying motion is a good substitute. “I’m okay.”

“You know,” Morgan says casually, “whenever you lie, you stand exactly the same way.”

Spencer looks up. The expression on Morgan’s face falls somewhere between sadness and sympathy but, he thinks, not pity. It’s a nice change.

“Kid, the only thing you’re gonna get from pretending you’re OK is worse,” Morgan says. “It’s not worth it. Not for anyone but especially not morons like that.”

“It’s not worth it,” Spencer repeats. The words catch in his thoughts and he murmurs it again and again and Morgan isn’t even slightly annoyed at him.

(It isn’t worth it—he knows this—but maybe it is. Just a tiny bit. Just for the part where he has friends who tell him things like this, who don’t mind when he’s awkward. Who don’t mind him.

Friends who say nothing about it but when they get back to the station, the pair are getting chewed out by a pissed off captain.)

A/N: I had trouble getting this to flow as well as my other ones, there's something about it I just can't figure out. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it.

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #insults #criminal minds #fanfic #cw: ableism #fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fanfiction #reid #spencer reid #eldrai does whumptober

17 notes · View notes