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roosterforme · 6 months

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Some Things Take Time | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: Bob is a man well known for his patience. He never rushes things in the air, and he tries to live by a similar philosophy on the ground. You and he are both on the same page about welcoming a child into your home through foster care, but it's hard for him to watch you try to bond with her unsuccessfully. He soon realizes that Avery is a lot like him, and that some things are worth the extra time.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of infertility, mentions of foster care and adoption, Bob making all other men look like trash

Length: 5800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x wife!reader

Happy birthday @wkndwlff! Check my masterlist for more!

You were laying on the couch with your head resting on your husband's lap, spinning his wedding band around on his finger while you tried to put your thoughts into words. You could tell he knew you were on the verge of speaking, sending you several expectant glances as you and he both pretended to watch the movie he started an hour ago. But Bob would never rush you, and you were thankful for that, because you wanted to make sure you got this right.

"We've been trying for a long time," you whispered, and Bob's blue eyes met yours as you looked up at him. "Almost two years."

He nodded once and smiled softly. "We have," he murmured, squeezing your hand in his larger one. You pressed your lips together as tears stung your eyes. Bob never seemed upset that he was pushing forty years old and in spite of trying and trying, you'd never gotten pregnant. He never put pressure on you to keep trying or to stop. You were convinced he never would, but you wanted to know what he was really thinking.

"What if we... stopped. Stopped trying. And just went with an alternative?"

"Honey, I already told you I'm happy with things how they are. We can stop trying if you want to, or we can talk about alternatives if you want to do that. But there's nothing wrong with just you and me. In fact, I'm really quite enjoying myself."

You closed your eyes as his fingers drifted along the curves of your side. It would be delicious to get back into the habit of having sex when you wanted to instead of when your cycle demanded it. You and Bob sharing your undivided attention with each other was something you were craving, but you still wanted something else, too.

"What if I said I wanted to look into fostering and adoption again?" you asked softly as you started to sit up.

He pulled you closer so you were straddling his thigh. "Then I would say we can call our lawyer on Monday and get some answers."

You smiled as you nudged his glasses with your nose and kissed his cheek. "And what if I said I'm not fertile today, but I want you anyway?"

Bob reached for the remote and turned the movie off as a soft blush rose in his cheeks. "Then I would say it's time we got in bed, Honey."

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Bob was a man who was well known for his patience. He never rushed things in the air, and he tried to live by a similar philosophy on the ground. He knew he wanted to marry you about halfway through the first date. He also knew you would have looked at him like he was insane if he admitted that to you halfway through the first date. So instead of rushing things, he took the time to make sure you were on the same page he was and that you were comfortable. He always tried to do that.

When a baby just didn't seem to be happening, he was more than willing to keep trying, but he was also completely content with the idea of no kids at all. It wasn't worth rushing anything as long as he had you in his life. But you had recently convinced him of a third option, and his lawyer helped the two of you smooth out the details.

And this is how Avery ended up at Bob's house on a random Monday evening. She was eight years old and in need of a foster family, and you were adamant when you answered the phone call that you and Bob were more than ready for her to be dropped off even on such short notice.

"I'm so nervous," you whispered as you held Bob's hand and watched through the front window as a van pulled up.

"I'm excited," he told you with a soft laugh. When he thought about having kids, he always pictured a little girl. For some reason, the idea of reading princess stories and painting a bedroom a putrid shade of purple really appealed to him. As he watched Avery being led up the walkway, he realized she didn't look one bit like you or him. He also realized that having a child who resembled him was actually never part of his dreams.

As the doorbell rang, you bounced in place and whispered, "She's here. She's really here."

Bob pulled you in for a kiss as his heart thudded. He realized he needed to tamp down his excitement a little bit. The two of you were merely fostering Avery. Nothing was set in stone even though you told the lawyer you wanted to eventually adopt a child. But right now your eyes were glittering with hope and anticipation, and Bob couldn't take that away from you.

"Let's make her feel welcome," he said as you both headed for the door.

Avery stood there with an unreadable expression on her adorable face, and Bob noticed right away how the case worker seemed to rush through everything. There were papers to sign and a schedule to keep, and even though all of it pertained to Avery, she ended up sitting quietly at the kitchen table while everyone else talked about her.

It was late by the time you and Bob were alone with her, and now her unreadable expression looked something like sadness. "Avery," Bob said softly. "Do you want to see your bedroom?"

She looked up at him and nodded without saying a word, and then you helped her down from the chair. You had taken the time to freshen up the extra bedroom and buy a pink glitter toothbrush and a pair of pajamas in her size. But Avery just sat down on the edge of the bed with her bag and asked, "Do I have to go to school tomorrow?"

"Yes," Bob replied with a smile. "I'll drop you off on my way to work, and then I'll pick you up in the afternoon."

When she didn't respond, you asked, "Is there anything you want? A bedtime snack or something to drink? I could make you some hot chocolate or get you a cookie. Bob makes the best oatmeal cookies, and there are a few left from the weekend. Maybe you can help Bob make the next batch." You were rambling now, and Bob reached out to squeeze your hand as you said, "We're just excited that you're here."

But Avery shook her head and told you, "I'll just read my book. Thanks." Then she untied her shoes and took a well worn copy of The Secret Garden from her bag, but she sat on the bed with rigid posture, not looking at either of you.

Bob wasn't quite sure what to do. You'd already shown the child where the bathroom was, and she seemed to have all of her essentials. He swallowed hard, deciding not to rush Avery even though he could feel your disappointment radiating off of you. He cleared his throat and said, "We'll leave our bedroom door open in case you need anything. And we'll get you up around seven for school. Good night, Avery."

She just nodded and squinted down at the tattered book cover like she was going to cry. Bob led you down the hallway, through your room and into the en suite bathroom where he gathered you in his arms as tears filled your eyes. "I don't think she likes us," you gasped before you buried your face against his neck.

Bob kissed the top of your head and whispered, "I just think she needs some time. Let's not rush anything."

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

You cried yourself to sleep the first night. You knew that your response wasn't fair to Bob or Avery or even to yourself, but you'd imagined meeting a little girl who was at least a little bit more talkative if not upbeat. You had your hopes set on fostering a child who at least gave the impression that your home was better than another alternative. You'd been given a vague picture of where Avery had come from, and you wanted her to be comfortable here, but now you felt stupid for buying the glitter toothbrush and the Minnie Mouse pajamas.

Bob's hand drew lazy circles on your back as you turned away from him and cried softly. "It's just the first night," he reminded you in that sweet, even tone that you loved so much.

"I know. I just wanted this so desperately," you admitted between shaky breaths. His hand on your body helped you eventually fall asleep, and the next morning, Bob was up before you, making breakfast. When you tapped on Avery's door which was ajar, you poked your head in to find her once again sitting on the bed reading.

"Did you sleep okay?" you asked, and she nodded in response. "That's great!" you said in a tone of forced excitement. "Do you need help getting ready for school?"

"No," she said softly, setting the book aside.

You took a deep breath and said, "Bob's making breakfast. Do you want to come downstairs and eat?"

"Yes."

That was the last word you heard her speak before Bob led her out to his car in his uniform. He smiled at you over his shoulder as he told you to have a good day working on your true crime novel, but you knew you weren't going to. You spend two hours trying to write, but you ended up with three and a half new sentences. Instead, you spent most of the day thinking you'd made a huge mistake and hating your own body. Avery would probably last two weeks tops with you and Bob before she was begging to go somewhere else. You didn't even know if you could stand to see her melancholy little expression when your husband brought her home from school today, but you didn't want to call her case worker for help yet.

In the afternoon, you bought everything you needed to make oatmeal cookies along with the rest of your usual groceries. You paused next to the checkout line where there was a display of children's books and grabbed a few of them. Avery appeared to like her book more than anything else, so maybe she would appreciate these ones, too.

But when Bob brought Avery home with him after school, she barely spoke. She didn't want to help make any cookies, and after dinner, she went back to her bedroom. Bob tried to help her with her homework, but she told him it was easy and she already finished it. When you dropped off the new books, she told you she already had a favorite.

"Oh," you said, standing in the doorway with your hands full of the unwanted books. "That's good... that you have a favorite. I have a favorite book, too."

She looked up at you and nodded, but soon you were backing out of the room and trying to hide your tears from Bob. "It takes time," he reassured you as you balled your hands into fists and cried on him again.

You knew you needed to be as patient as he always was, but you just weren't like him. And you started talking before you could stop yourself. "If we could have gotten pregnant, we'd have our own child," you sobbed. "One that we raised from day one who would love us and bake cookies and read new books."

Bob kissed your ear and whispered, "Nothing is easy, Honey. But sometimes the harder something is at first, the more rewarding it is later on."

You cried yourself to sleep again.

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

Bob tried his best for that first week. He watched you start to pull away and retreat into yourself the more Avery kept to her bedroom. Every day when he dropped her off and picked her up, she thanked him for the ride. When he asked if she would rather start taking the bus, she told him it didn't matter. When he asked if there was something special she wanted to eat for dinner, she said she wasn't picky.

And all the while she just squinted down at her book. Just The Secret Garden even though you brought home some others. When he pulled up to the curb in front of her school one morning, he said, "Avery, would you like me to take you to the library one day? Or maybe a bookstore where you can pick out what you want?"

She looked at him as she grabbed her backpack in one hand and her book in the other. "Maybe." Then she climbed out of the car, and he waited to pull away until she was inside the school building. That was the most promising answer he'd received yet. He drove to work thinking about signing her up for a library card, and when he got there, he was in a much better mood.

Natasha was the only one who knew that Avery was under his care. He didn't want to give anyone too many details, but she sweetly asked him the same question every morning after they got to work. "How are you and the Mrs. making out with your houseguest?"

And this morning, he said, "Maybe a little better today, Nat. I'm just trying not to rush it."

She patted him on the chest and smiled. "You never do, Bob. You're a man of details."

She was right. He spent the day thinking about all of the details that he knew about Avery. She was eight years old and very quiet. She only wanted to read one book even though you offered her more. She seemed to find the most comfort when she was alone. She was honestly a lot like Bob.

When he picked Avery up from school, he watched as one of the teachers patted the top of her backpack and sent her on her way. She squinted toward his car before trudging over in his direction with a frown on her face. Bob sighed as she climbed into the backseat and buckled herself in. "How was your day, Avery?" he asked as he shifted into drive. But today he got no verbal response at all. Instead he heard her crying.

Without another word, Bob pulled his car around and into an empty parking spot before killing the engine. He opened his door and closed it before taking a few deep breaths, and then he climbed in the back door and settled in next to the crying child. He let one hand gently rest on her shoulder, giving her a small squeeze before asking, "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

She just shook her head as tears flowed down her cheeks, and she stared at her feet. "It's stupid."

Bob smiled slightly. "You might think so, but I'd probably find what you have to say fascinating."

She turned her head to look at him, examining his face to see if he was being honest. But of course he was. He just wanted her to tell him what was on her mind. It took a few minutes before she started to settle down, but eventually she said, "I failed my eye exam with the nurse today." She unzipped her bag and pulled out a yellow sheet of paper and handed it to him. "She told me my eyesight is terrible and that I need to get glasses."

Bob looked at the page and had to hide his alarm from her. Avery failed her eye exam spectacularly. It was a wonder to Bob that she was even able to see in her classroom. But now her squinting and her preference for one, well worn book were starting to make sense. As he filled in the blanks in his mind, he said, "Glasses aren't so bad," while he tapped his own silver frames. "They certainly make my day a lot easier."

She kind of rolled her eyes and said, "But you're an adult. People aren't going to make fun of you for wearing glasses."

"You think you'll get made fun of?" Bob asked softly, folding the yellow paper in half.

"Yes," she replied immediately as she wiped at her tears. "I already do. Glasses will make it so much worse."

Bob wanted to press her for more details, but he didn't think this was the right moment. Instead he asked, "Is that why you only like to read The Secret Garden? Because you already know most of the words by heart?"

Avery looked at him like she couldn't believe he solved a very complex riddle. "Yes."

He nodded and asked, "Would you like to be able to read other books, too? Because glasses would definitely help with that."

She shrugged and sniffed as she said, "I like books about gardens and flowers and fairies. I don't know of any other ones I would like anyway."

Bob patted her on the shoulder one more time and said, "I like those kinds of books, too. And I think I can help you get glasses that look cool and help you pick out more books. If you'll let me."

Another partial shrug was his only answer, but at least she wasn't telling him no. As he climbed back into the driver's seat, he sent you a quick text telling you that he and Avery were fine and to go ahead and have dinner on your own. Then he drove along to his optometrist's office, hoping they would squeeze an extra appointment into their schedule.

"You're in luck," the receptionist told him when they arrived. "There was a last minute cancellation. Have a seat, and we can take you back shortly."

The rack hanging on the wall was filled with books and magazines for people of all ages, but Bob watched Avery squint as she took a seat empty handed. He skimmed a magazine and offered to read an article to her, but she said no. When ten minutes had passed, Bob asked her, "Are the kids at school mean to you?"

He was already considering other options that might make her feel more comfortable when she said, "I just don't fit in. Everyone else has parents or grandparents. Everyone else is loud, and I like it better when it's quiet. Everyone else already made friends."

Bob nodded his head. It was like she was living his own childhood in many ways. "I like it better when it's quiet, too. So does my wife. And making friends can be hard at any age. I still struggle with it."

"You do?" she asked him, eyes wide and interested.

"Absolutely. Sometimes I still get nervous and stumble over what I want to say, and I'm thirty-nine. And you know what?"

"What?"

"There's nothing wrong with that."

He watched Avery take a deep breath and look down at her hands before both of their names were called. Once they were in the exam room, Bob got to witness her fail the test for the second time in one day, and then her tears started up again. The crying was only made worse when the receptionist popped in and tried to quietly tell Bob that Avery wasn't approved for any vision insurance.

The child was clearly smart as a whip, and if she was having a hard time fitting in at school, he didn't want to make it worse by making her feel like she didn't fit in with you and him either. "I was planning on paying out of pocket today," he told the receptionist who just nodded in response. Then he turned to Avery and said, "Looks like the nurse was right. How about we pick out some glasses?"

She looked at the displays while she wiped at her eyes with a tissue, but she wouldn't tell Bob which ones she wanted to try on. "Which ones are the cheapest?" she asked softly.

"I have no idea," Bob replied easily. "What's your favorite color?"

"Purple," she whispered, and Bob followed her squinting gaze to a purple frame sitting on a shelf above her head.

"I like purple, too," he said as he reached them down and handed them to her. She held them for a couple minutes, and Bob decided not to rush her. She finally slipped them on and looked in the mirror, and he told her, "I think they look cool."

She nodded a little bit. "They're pretty good. But nobody else at school has purple glasses."

As she removed them and tried to hand them back to him, Bob quickly looked at the adult sized frames. There was one pair that came in a deep purple, and he kind of liked them. "Just hang onto those for a minute. I need help picking out new glasses for myself, okay? What do you think about these?"

When he removed his wire frames and replaced them with the purple plastic, it seemed like Avery couldn't help but smile. "I like them."

He nodded once. "Then I'll get them. That way we can match since we both like purple. Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome," she replied quietly, looking at the glasses she was still holding before handing them to Bob.

He took both pairs in his hand before nodding toward the door. "I'm feeling like it's a good day to get ice cream for dinner and look around the bookstore. I can think of at least two more books that you might like to read once your glasses are ready for you to wear. Sound good?"

"Yes."

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

You didn't know what to expect when Bob brought Avery home after seven o'clock on a school night, but you definitely weren't prepared to hear her laughter for the first time. You'd barely made any progress on your novel since Avery arrived a few weeks ago, merely existing in your own funk all day long. But the sound of Bob's voice followed by her light giggle as they walked inside left you feeling better than you had in ages.

"Hi," you said, your voice dripping with optimism as Bob headed your way with a shopping bag in his hand.

"Hi, Honey," he replied, kissing your cheek while Avery took her shoes off.

"How was school?" you asked her.

"Terrible," she told you with a smile aimed up at Bob. "I failed my eye exam."

"Oh," you gasped, already making a mental note to call the eye doctor first thing in the morning so she could get some glasses. "We can take care of it for you."

"Already did," Bob said as he squeezed your hand. "Stopped on the way home and picked them out. Should be ready next week."

"Really?" you asked in surprise as he pulled two books out of the bag. Both were covered in vines and flowers, but one was clearly a novel for an adult while the other was much slimmer and looked like it was for Avery's reading level.

"Yes," he replied softly. "Now, on the drive home, I told Avery that you're a writer, but that you're also really good at reading books out loud." When you nodded and looked at her, she was squinting up at you. Bob handed you the smaller book and said, "I didn't get to take a shower before I left work, so I need to go do that now. But I promised Avery that you'd read a chapter to her after she gets ready for bed." He patted her on the shoulder and then made his way upstairs.

Your head was swimming with information. New glasses and new books and a child who was looking up at you with hope in her eyes. A husband who set up some time for you to spend alone with her. Tears stung your eyes as you said, "I love reading books out loud. Do you want to change for bed and brush your teeth now?"

Ten minutes later, you were sitting next to Avery on the spare bed, reading to her about a magical garden filled with flowers that turned the characters into superheroes. You read all sixteen pages of the first chapter, and then she asked you to read more.

It was a little bit past bedtime when you finished the third chapter, and she was yawning. "How about I go get you one of my bookmarks from my office? And we can read more tomorrow night?"

"Okay," she replied easily, and when you returned a minute later with a bookmark that had a purple tassel, she smiled. "I like this book so far, but I think I'd like it a lot better if there were fairies, too. Thank you for reading to me."

"You're very welcome," you told her, barely shutting off the light in time for a tear to slide down your cheek. "Goodnight, Avery."

When you rushed into your own bedroom, Bob was in bed reading the other new book. "How did you do it?" you asked him, quickly climbing under the covers with him. "How did you get her to open up a little bit?"

He set the book down with a soft smile. "She just needed some time, Honey. She's a lot like me. She can't be rushed."

"No," you said, pushing your fingers through his hair as you cried a little bit. "That's not it. I think you're actually magical."

"Maybe," he agreed. "But her vision is so bad. That's why I think she kept reading The Secret Garden. She probably has it memorized and didn't want to tell anyone she couldn't see."

"Poor thing," you whispered, realizing that most of Bob's magic came from his patience as you fell asleep in his arms.

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

A week later, Bob noticed you were exhausted, but you seemed a lot happier, because Avery seemed a lot happier. You had successfully read two books to her, and she was starting to become more vocal around the house. He was hoping she was having an easier time making friends at school now, too. But he was a little bit concerned with how late into the night you'd been working.

When he got a message around lunchtime letting him know both pairs of glasses were ready, he smiled. Pretty soon Avery would be able to attempt reading a new book on her own. He sent you a text letting you know that he'd be home with Avery after a quick stop back at the optometrist's office. And when he picked her up from school, she squinted at his car before climbing in the backseat.

"Ready to go get our new glasses?" he asked before pulling out onto the road.

"Yes," she replied softly. "I've decided that wearing glasses is a better alternative than not being able to read new books. At least until I can get contacts."

Bob chuckled. "A wise choice."

A few seconds later, she asked, "Will you take me to the library this weekend? There have to be more books there that I'd like."

"Of course I'll take you to the library. We can ask the librarian to help you find you as many books as you want to read."

He hoped that would make the new glasses an even easier decision for her. He parked and led her inside where the eye doctor got them both fitted correctly before handing them a mirror. "What do you think?" Bob asked as he smiled at Avery. "I think they look cool on you."

She shrugged. "They're okay."

"Can you see better?"

"Yes," she whispered. On the way outside, she said, "Thanks for getting new glasses with me. I like yours, too."

Bob checked himself in the mirror before he backed out of the parking spot. "I think it's kind of my color."

You were waiting in the living room for them when Bob opened the front door. The house smelled like dinner cooking, and you had a stack of bound pages on the couch next to you. When you jumped to your feet, you said, "You both look great!" as you bounced in place a little bit.

"Purple is kind of our color," Avery said, making Bob laugh as you covered your massive smile with your fingertips.

"It really is," you replied, wrapping Bob in a quick hug before cautiously placing your hand on Avery's shoulder for a beat. "I have something I wanted to show you. I was hoping to get your opinion."

"Me?" she asked, looking up at you, eyes wide behind her purple frames.

"Yes," you told her softly. "I've been working on a new story for the past week, and I really think you'll be able to help me with the ending."

"What kind of story?" she asked you, and Bob slowly made his way into the kitchen where he could still hear the two of you talking.

"Well," you told her as she joined you on the couch, "it's about a fairy who gets invited to live in a magic garden. And she starts to learn how to use magic herself while a friendly witch and a kind wizard supervise her. And the garden is really pretty, and she loves it there and starts to make friends with the other creatures. Do you want to take a look at it?"

"Okay."

Bob hovered in the doorway and watched you hand the bound manuscript to the little girl next to you while you chewed nervously on your lip. He knew you wanted this to work out; he did too. He was also very surprised that you'd been working on this for the past week without sharing your secret even with him. But it truthfully wasn't really for him. It was for her. And you.

The child looked up at you and whispered, "You named the fairy Avery."

You just nodded and smiled. "Your name is so pretty, and you remind me of the kind of little girl who would have magic inside her."

Avery turned back to the page in front of her and snuggled in a little bit closer to you. She started reading out loud, and after a few pages, handed it over to you for a little bit. The two of you went back and forth like this for an hour before Bob carried in two plates of dinner and set them on the coffee table.

"Even magic fairies get hungry," he said softly before leaving both of you to the story.

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When you woke up a few weeks later on Avery's ninth birthday, you were beyond exhausted. The past few nights had been late ones for you as you tried to finish up and edit the story you'd been working on. The title that the two of you came up with was The Littlest Fairy in the Garden, and you were just as proud of this as your true crime releases.

Then you realized that there was actually a reason why you woke up. You could hear Bob talking. It sounded like he was on the phone even though it was barely eight o'clock. You climbed out of bed and stretched before finding him sitting on the floor in the walk-in closet talking softly on the phone in his pajama pants, undershirt and purple glasses.

"I'm sure she's going to agree with me. We want to move forward if that's what Avery wants, but I'll call you back in an hour or two. Thank you so much."

He ended the call right when you asked, "Who was that?"

Bob jumped a bit as he looked up at you with a tentative smile. "Our lawyer," he whispered.

"What did they say?" you whispered back as he got to his feet and wrapped his arms around you.

When Bob's lips found your ear, you shivered at his words. "It was just a preliminary conversation, but they asked if we would be interested in pursuing adoption."

"With Avery?" you gasped, and he nodded against you.

"Yes. With Avery."

Tears filled your eyes as you clung to him. You thought about all the books she'd been reading with you and the birthday cake waiting in the kitchen. You could practically still smell the oatmeal cookies she and Bob made a few days ago. You could picture her smile and imagine her laughter, both of which were coming more easily with each passing day. "I want to adopt her. She belongs here. With us."

"I think so, too," he replied immediately, and you could hear the unshed tears in her voice. "I think we should have a conversation with her about it today. The process could take a little time, but I want to be sure it's what she wants as well."

You nodded, a jerky motion against him as your heart pounded faster and faster. "Let's talk about it when she wakes up."

Bob led you downstairs to the kitchen, his fingers laced with yours, and he started to crack some eggs while you made coffee and fresh orange juice. Avery had picked the menu for each meal today for her birthday, and the plan was to take her to the zoo after lunch. There was currently a purple banner with flowers and fairies on it stretched across the kitchen along with a large assortment of balloons. You couldn't remember being this excited about something in such a long time.

"Good morning," came a soft voice from the bottom of the stairs, and you nearly dropped a mug on the floor as you turned to look at her.

"Happy birthday!" you and Bob replied in unison, and then all three of you started laughing.

Without another word, Avery made her way into the kitchen in her Minnie Mouse pajamas and gave you a hug around the waist. You gasped softly as you hugged her back, her purple glasses pressing against you. Then she tucked herself against Bob's side and hugged him right after that. "Thanks for all the birthday stuff. And thanks for being so nice to me and getting me glasses and everything."

You and Bob shared a look over her head as he rubbed his hand along her shoulder. "It makes us happy that you're here, Avery," he said softly, and you had to swipe at your tears. "Let's have your breakfast, and maybe we can talk about making this permanent."

"Permanent? Like me staying here for a while?" she asked softly as she looked up at him.

"Like you staying here forever."

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This is a little birthday treat for @wkndwlff! I hope you have a great day, Taylor! I set out to write a nice little story based on this mood board, but somehow it turned into this angsty thing instead. Thanks to @sylviebell @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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reiderwriter · 3 months

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Unfair We're Not Somewhere

Chapter Eight of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: With a little bit of help from someone who could relate a little bit too closely to your situation, Y/N tries to come clean. Tries.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy symptoms/ general pregnancy things, unsub mentions, plot.

A/N: Chapter Eight! I'm so excited for where the rest of this series is going to go, though I do feel like people are going to be a bit annoyed by this one lmao. Let me know your thoughts in the comments below or in an ask! Don't be too mad...

Masterlist || Add yourself to the tag list

You sat quietly in the clinic as you waited for the pharmacist to fill your prescription - a simple pregnancy multivitamin that was supposed to help your food go down, make your hair shinier, and fix all your problems.

You wondered if the bottle could tell Spencer you were pregnant. You wondered if it could make him magically okay with that and prepare him for fatherhood, too.

Your phone buzzed, and you surfaced from the field of thoughts you'd been lost in as you checked it.

“Outside,” an unknown number had sent. You took that as your queue, stood up, and left the clinic, trying your best to avoid looking back at the small boy Spencer had been playing with.

You weren't sure if you were going to have a boy or a girl yet. You didn't mind either, though you'd always envisioned yourself with a big enough family that you assumed at least one of each was inevitable. Though even you had to admit how stereotypically nuclear that was, and how only 18% of the country was living that was lying anyway.

You shoved psychology from your head for a few minutes and let yourself breathe.

“Y/N!” JJ signalled from the driver's side of her still running SUV. She waved slightly, and you smiled politely as you quickly paced around to the side of her vehicle and got in.

“Hi,” you said, unsure if you should introduce yourself or not. She'd been in the office the day you'd been taken into custody (protection), but you still had yet to speak to her. She'd been exempt from protective duty so far due to her status as a senior field agent and the fact that she had two kids and a husband at home waiting for her.

You were sad she was the anomaly in the BAU, the only one with someone waiting on her.

“I'm Y/N,” you said, still unsure if you should hold out a hand or not. You hadn't made the best impression on most of Spencer's colleagues, and while you didn't think there was much point in trying, you still couldn't bring yourself to be intentionally blasé.

“I know, you're all we've been talking about for weeks,” the woman laughed, pulling out of the clinic car park and smiling at you.

“Oh, right. Case. Of course, I've heard you probably know more about me than I know about myself.”

“We have a profile, sure, but that's not what I meant.”

You nodded awkwardly and stared out the window for a second, the sky darkening slightly as it prepared to rain.

You drove for a few minutes before JJ spoke up again.

“I don't know if Emily told you, but it's actually my day off today,” she said, turning off into a cul-de-sac you'd never seen before.

“Oh, oh my god, I'm so sorry. I could've just got a taxi or something or just… gotten over myself. You didn't have to-”

“Yes, I did,” she looked at you for a second, cocking her head to the side in a gesture that said, ‘and you know why.’ It was a look only a friend would give, and you felt an instant connection with her.

How had Spencer found so many wonderful, big-hearted women to surround himself with, and how could you get in on it?

You supposed, by letting him get you pregnant, you'd probably found a cheat code for whatever the answer might have been.

“Anyway, it's my day off, so I promised my boys a fun day at home with mommy. We're doing finger painting and macaroni art. I hope you don't mind getting messy.”

“Wha-? Me? Oh. No, not at all,” you tried to seem nonchalant, but your heart suddenly beat faster now that you were faced with this unexpected opportunity. As a lecturer, you'd been surrounded by kids professionally for years now. 18 to 21 year old kids. The kind that already had defined morals, world views, and, secretly, alcohol tolerances. The last time you'd encountered any kind of child younger than 18 was when you yourself were under 18.

The joys of toiling away at a doctorate for the better half of your adult life. You knew how to talk to professors and scholars. You were absolutely scared shitless of interacting with a kid.

“H-How old are they?” You asked, trying to sound polite but falling somewhere between anxious and terrified with a simple stutter.

“Well, Henry is turning 8 in November, and Michael is just about 22 months. He's just about talking, which is as fun as you can expect.”

Her voice was tired, but there was genuine affection there, love for her kids and pride. You wondered if your voice would change if you'd suddenly begin speaking like that, too, about something other than a paper submitted to a journal or a job opportunity.

She pulled into a street parking space and turned off the engine as two bright haired little boys came bouncing up the path of their garden to greet her, stopping at the gate.

“Mommy! Michael got glitter on the carpet, and Daddy said we shouldn't tell you.”

“And you have no sense of loyalty when a pretty face comes around, do you?”

Hopping out of the car, you heard JJ's husband drawl as she greeted him with a kiss. She'd probably only taken half an hour to pick you up, but they were still greeting each other so warmly. For a second, you wondered what that would be like before you remembered throwing yourself into Spencer's arms the night before. Your face heated as you stood awkwardly at the side of the car, trying not to cradle your stomach as you watched the family interact.

Would your baby ever get that tall? Would it have brown eyes like Spencer, or one's more similar to your own? His hair was curly. Maybe your baby would get hair that waved like his, too.

After all, JJ's kids seemed like perfect compromises between her and her husband. Other people's kids didn't, though. You wondered a lot of things before JJ gestured you over again.

“Henry, Michael, this is Aunt Y/N. She's going to do those crafts with us today - after we've locked away the glitter and thrown away the key.”

You laughed as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pushed you forward into the chaos of two kids under ten.

You were a little startled as the smaller one - Michael - grabbed your hand. He had a pacifier in his mouth, though he was probably outgrowing it, and he stared up at you with big, wide eyes, blinking and sizing you up as he toddled along beside you.

Your heart grew three sizes, and you felt sorry for ever being afraid of interacting with the kids.

JJ whispered to her husband quickly as you entered the LaMontagne household, and he greeted you quickly.

“So you're Spencer's lady friend. It's nice to meet you. It's nice that you're real. Honestly, I was getting a little-”

A look from JJ cut him off, though he did still seem a bit confused.

“I'm sorry, am I under the wrong impression? JJ said you were pregnant with Spencer's baby, y'all aren't…”

“Oh my god-” you whispered, suddenly panicking again but whispering just in case. You weren't sure if the pair was religious, and though you certainly weren't, it probably wasn't the best time to blaspheme. You needed as much god as existed in the world.

“So, does everyone know?” You asked JJ, trying to keep your voice bright and calm, so Michael didn't take too much of an interest and grow frustrated by hushed tones. You knew enough about child development and psychology, it translated over, right?

“Everyone who's observant. Luke noticed the pregnancy vitamins in your bag, Tara was talking about your mood swings in the office the other day. I guess you told Emily earlier, and I have two kids.”

You nodded at the answer.

“And Spencer?”

“You haven't told him yet?” JJ asked, slightly surprised.

“If I told him, you'd know.”

“Well, you're right on that. He's not the most easy-going during pregnancy,” JJ laughed and steered you into the living space, where your de facto art studio had been set up for the day, along with the offending glitter bomb.

“Really? You thought you could keep that a secret?”

“Well, of anyone was going to find it, it was going to be my beautiful, smart, funny, profiler Wife,” Will said, giving her a small peck on the cheek as she rolled her eyes at him. “I'm clocking in now. Call me if you need anything.”

You waved him off, and sat down with the kids.

JJ started the craft and then planned your hasty escape as the two boys were enraptured by making the perfect macaroni necklace, dusting it in objectively too much glitter as they proudly created their art.

In the kitchen, she handed you a mug, and you sipped it quietly as she began again.

“So, you're not dating?”

“Nope.”

“And he doesn't know you're pregnant?”

“No.” You took another sip and shifted from one foot to the other.

You knew what was coming next. It was what you'd gotten next from Emily, from Penelope, from yourself when you'd thought about it for longer than ten seconds. You needed to tell him.

“Okay. What's your next move?”

You were so shocked you almost splashed the hot tea over the mug you held, close to burning yourself as you turned to face her.

“I… what?”

“Well, what's your next move? You're what, five months along? You're not going to be able to hide it for much longer. And you have to think about maternity leave, your hospital stay, and names, and who's going to drive you to the hospital. And obviously, how you're going to pay the hospital fee, and then custody and child support.”

“Oh god…”

“And you also have to sort your relationship out with Spencer. So where are you starting?”

It wasn't a question that didn't have an answer. JJ was staring at you, waiting for one as you opened and closed your mouth, head suddenly so empty you almost forgot what you were talking about.

“He doesn't like me,” you suddenly blurted and wished you hadn't, face crumpling as you physically cringed at your own words.

“Y/N, he was telling us about your toothbrush yesterday. Part of the office has a theory that he made up this case as a reason to get closer to you.”

Again, you felt the heat blossom on tour skin as you looked away, taking another sip.

“We don't do anything but argue.”

“You do at least one other thing,” JJ said, hands on her hips as she confronted you.

“No, that doesn't count. We were still arguing while we were doing…that.”

“TMI,” she groaned as you fanned yourself. “Y/N, I know for a fact that Spencer is at least half in love with you. If you're absolutely sure you don't feel the same way, you need to at least let him down easy.”

“I…. I don't know. He's infuriating sometimes, but then he's so smart and annoying. But he's pretty great at comforting me. And the, uh, the other stuff, that was good, too.”

“Don't need to-”

“Like really good. Like, I'm not surprised I ended up pregnant practically first time good-”

“Back on topic, please!” JJ whisper shouted, throwing her hands up as you zipped your mouth shut.

“You like him,” she said.

You sighed and finally gave in.

“Yeah. Yeah, I like him.”

“Great. What next?”

“Next, I tell him I'm pregnant and make him hate me for a while.”

She patted you on the back and poised you another mug of tea before leading you back over to the kids and sitting beside them at the table.

“We can plan something later. For now, macaroni art is calling.”

You weren't sure if it was the stern, practical pep-talk from JJ or the little tiny grasp of your hand from Michael. Maybe it was even Henry's goodbye of ‘see you soon, Auntie Y/N’ that had you suddenly invigorated, but you suddenly kicked yourself into gear.

The pregnancy wasn't going to put itself on pause while you worked up the courage to tell Spencer about it. You had to do it.

JJ dropped you off at home at 6 p.m., knowing that Spencer would be back at the apartment shortly.

“You're sure you don't need me to stay up there with you? The commute can get a bit long this time of night, Spencer could be anywhere between 15 and 45 minutes.”

“No, I think… I think I need some time to think about how I'm going to do this. I need some alone time.”

She nodded quietly and sent you off after calling Spencer and giving him an update on your whereabouts.

You paced the apartment wondering what the best option was.

You could go for the bookshelf again, though it was still organised into your first message. You'd not moved a book in that stack at all, and surprisingly, neither had Spencer.

Running into your room, you grabbed the pair of baby shoes you'd thrown into your bag from your apartment. Maybe if you left them on the shelf next to the books…?

You put them there and frowned, wondering if he'd be able to see them from the door when he walked in. He was so used to the surroundings of his house that he really didn't check for irregularities.

You moved them to the coffee table. Then you wondered if you should just hand them to him when he walked in.

“Spencer. I am..pregnant,” you practised, looking into the bathroom mirror as you tried to force a smile.

“Spencer. We're pregnant. No, not a chance,” you sighed.

“Spencer, I have a parasite growing in me. I've had it for five months now, and then I'll have it for another four and hopefully a long time after that as well.”

That one was mostly a joke. Mostly.

“Spencer, I… We're going to have a baby.” You looked down at your bump again and decided that was probably your best option. It wasn't a state. It wasn't a condition or a parasite. It was a baby.

You rubbed your stomach again and looked up, wiping away tears from the corner of your eye as you composed yourself again.

The doorbell rang, and your heart race picked up. It was time. Spencer was home, and you were going to tell him.

Suddenly, you were filled with excitement, with happiness. You ran to the door, stepping on the sofa to get there quicker as you ran to pull it open.

Maybe it was the pregnancy brain fog, but you forgot where you were.

Spencer Reid lived in this apartment. He didn't need to knock on the door or ring the doorbell. He'd never done it before. But you'd already swung the door open quickly, and you were so relaxed and ready for it to be him that when a hand extended and covered your mouth with a cloth, thick with a scent that had your body protesting, you could do nothing but crumple to the floor with your hands cradling yourself, protecting the life growing within you.

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lovifie · 5 months

Text

Well, I Wasn't On That Tunnel ❤️

Masterlist - Taglist Form

All Chapters

Pairings: Ghoap x Reader.

Warnings: Poly relationship, rotating POV (mostly Simon's), panic attack, mentions of guns and war (this is COD so), mentions of cheating but it just three idiots not knowing what poly is ❤️

Soap gets thrown into action ridiculously quick, barely passing the psychological evaluation and he is ready to go back to war. It had costed you multiple fights with Price, even with Laswell, to try and keep him from going back.

It didn't matter how many times you debated it, or how solid your arguments were. If the psychiatrist decided that Johnny was ready.... He was.

Even if she contradicted herself, even if you said Johnny had forgotten half of his experience, even if you said he was still in physical rehab.

All of that didn't matter.

And no matter how hard you fought it, barely a couple of months after you returned to base, Johnny was putting on his uniform to leave.

Price wasn't the only one you argued with, the frustration of feeling like you were sending Johnny to the slaughterhouse caused you to be irascible and, even if you didn't mean to, to lash out at anyone who would disagree with you.

Even if Johnny was the one who was opposing you.

"Lass, I don't want to go away being in a fight with you." He began to say as he strapped on his vest.

"Then don't leave." You replied from the door frame and your arms crossed.

"Baby... We've been over this, please.... I have to..." She said, hands raised and voice soft as if speaking to a frightened animal.

And that's how you felt, like a dog being promised by his owner that he's not going to abandon him as he walks out the door with a target on his forehead.

Just like Johnny, you had also had sessions with the base psychiatrist; but unlike him, you had not been given a pass. You were more than ready to be discharged, but if they clared you, then you would have the power to say that Johnny was not ready to return.

So the amnesiac who two months ago could not walk was prepared to return to the battlefield. And you, whose only psychological damage was to see him dead, were bound hand and foot as you watched him go to almost certain death.

"No! You don't have to, Johnny! Don't you realize what they're doing!!!?" You burst out, once again, uncrossing your arms to express your displeasure with the situation.

"Of course I realize! I have amnesia, I'm not an idiot!" He responded in the same tone as you, causing guilt to build up in your opinion. "I'm still capable of making my own decisions so you don't need to make them for me anymore! Don't you realize I need to feel useful!"

Johnny didn't want to yell at you, or lose control and say something he didn't mean; but he was still human and frustration had gotten the better of him too.

Ever since he saw how Ghost had left you in your room, the fact that you had been together obvious; Johnny hadn't been able to help but compare himself to the blond.

At first it was physical, the time immobilized had left him thinner. When Gaz showed him a picture from before the accident he doubted that he could ever be as wide as he was before... Almost the same as Ghost.

But not now.

Now he was shorter, weaker, more inexperienced... He had nothing to beat him with, to compete for you. And Johnny knew it.

Besides, he was sure that you must have felt him as a burden. A big baby you had to take care of so he wouldn't choke if you didn't cut his food.

So when he was asked if he wanted to come back, he didn't think twice. Later, when he told you about it and saw how your expression changed to one of absolute panic, he regretted not asking you before agreeing. But his pride was hurt when he saw you arguing with everyone you could to keep him from going.

This was not your first discussion on the subject, and every time it ended you both felt like idiots; for hurting the other indirectly and for knowing that you were not able to convey your own feelings to each other.

And Simon has been the scavenger vulture that has taken advantage of each and every one of those discussions.

As soon as he realized that you had argued, Simon would go from one to the other.

"I'm worried about him too, love. But Johnny's still Johnny, nothing's going to happen to him, you'll see." He would say to you.

"I understand you, Johnny.... It's normal that you want to go back to the battlefield.... It's where you always shine the most..." I said to him.

And so on and so forth.

Simon wasn't looking to fuel any enmity between the two of them, it didn't make sense when he was the one who wanted to join the pair. But when he saw the small chasm that the argument created, he only strove to shape it into his own form; to pull the two of them into him once inside.

It was a turning point on his relationship with Johnny. In no way enough for the blue eyed man to like him, but now he answered when he talked to him.

He had managed to catch Johnny with his guard down a couple of nights ago, after what seemed like the biggest argument between the two of you. You didn't even let Simon in your room. But Johnny did.

They spend the greater part of the night talking, it was obvious that Johnny has been wanting to rant and would rather have somebody to do it that simply talking to the void. He had to do his greater effort to not take more than Johnny was giving him, to not get closer as he spoke; even if he mumble and could barely hear him. Not to hug him when he saw his eye shine with unspilled tears when he talked about making you sad. Not to lay him over his lap and beat his ass black and blue when he confessed some of the things he had said to you.

He pulled back, he stayed on a safe distance. And the next day he got his reward when Johnny finally spoke to him first.

“Morning, Lt.”

Like a ghost of his life before the accident.

It was your turn now.

The night before the flight to his new mission.

It wasn't meant to be a difficult mission, and even though he new there was always some risk, he wouldn't have allowed Johnny to tag along if he knew there was an actual threat.

He also knew that you couldn't see that, and he understood perfectly why. He just neded to think about how much time you were alone with an unconscious Johnny, everyone would have gone crazy in your situation.

Stranded, injured, taking care of an unresponsive person, that person being a loved one… he knows he wouldn't have been rescued. But you turned off that part of you brain, focusing on keeping Johnny alive and yourself by correlation.

Fear and despair are human emotions, and you can't have those if you turn yourself in a machine. And Simon knew that well.

He agreed with the psychiatrist up to a certain point, you had developed a link to Johnny during your stay that needed to be broken. Focusing on keeping Johnny alive kept you sane, when losing your mind or asking for help meant your death or Johnny's.

But that risk was no longer there, therefore you should have let go of it; but the rope is already under your skin to do so and now you panic even at the thought of it. The suppressed feelings too mixed and too tight inside of your mind to make sense.

That's how you found yourself now, curling on Simon's lap, hyperventilating as you cry your eyes out. The rope keeping you hanging over your feeling finally snapped, and you fell right onto his arms.

And if it weren't for the heartbroken way you were crying, Simon would have been happy to be the one you had looked to for relief.

Simon didn't try to talk to you, knowing you wouldn't even hear him over the sound of your cries, he simply hugged you and stroked your head; while you cried on his shoulder, his shirt getting wet with your tears, drool and snot. Completely crumbling after finally facingyour long neglected feelings.

The fear of dying in the tunnel, the pain of injury, the anxiety of a possible ambush at any moment, the constant tension that Johnny will suddenly get worse. All out, back into the world.

It's when you're choking on your own saliva, coughing and breathing tightly together causing you to gag, that Simon moves his hands to your arms, gently pushing you to see you better.

But his heart shrinks when he notices your hands gripping his shirt tightly as a whimper escapes your lips. Still, and with as much willpower as he can, he pulls your trembling hands away from the clothes, with them quickly grabbing his hand instead.

You are still hyperventilating, your head is lowered and Simon can only see the tears falling as your whole body trembles.

"What’s that sound?" Simon suddenly asks, and your too-curious-for-your-own-good nature betrays you by making you fall for his trick.

Because your cries gradually diminish in volume, to try and hear whatever Simon is talking about. But the short moment when you're just hiccuping, trying to breathe normally to hear better, is all Simon needs.

He grabs the tissue from the bedside table, bringing it up to your nose to blow your snot. A confused expression comes over your face, would he really blow your nose?

You take the tissue from his hand and do it yourself, asking him for a couple more before finally feeling your face dry from tears and so on.

"I'm sorry" You whisper, with Simon quickly quipping to you before you can finish.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. It was about time you got it out, love." He tells you, helping you to lean against him again.

You snuggle into him, your head resting on his dry shoulder and your hands pressed to your chest, making it easy for Simon to wrap his arms around you.

He knows you still have a lot more to release inside you, but he also knows it's not the pain you can vent in a single crying session. But the first step has been taken.

And more importantly, the next morning when you say goodbye to the two of them before they leave for their mission, you talk to Johnny again.

"You be careful, okay? And no more head banging, Johnny." You mutter, moving Johnny's head so his forehead rests on yours.

"Of course, bonnie. We'll be back before you miss me." Johnny replies, giving you a kiss on the cheek, right next to the nose wetting his lips with the single tear that escapes you.

In addition, once on the plane, Jonny watches him for a while before speaking again.

"You talked to her, didn't you?"

"Yes, last night."

"Thanks.”

Once on the battlefield, Johnny's attention is once again focused on Ghost. On the intimidating, terrifying lieutenant who at every turn turns around to make sure Johnny is still behind him, without a scratch.

Johnny is aware of the void in his memory of the last few years of his life. But he remembers perfectly the years of his adolescence when he doubted so much about his sexuality. How his eyes would run after every pretty girl he passed in the halls of high school. And at night, when he can't sleep; he still remembers the awkward erection when the captain of his rugby team tackled him during practice, leaving Johnny pressed against the ground.

It has been many years since Johnny came to terms with the fact that he preferred not to put labels on something he didn't fully understand.

So when in the middle of a surprise exchange of gunfire Simon grabbed his arm hiding Johnny behind him to make sure he didn't get hit and his eyes were fixed on the small space of exposed skin between the glove and the sleeve, and Johnny watched him for longer than would be considered normal.... He was not really surprised.

Johnny can see what you see in Simon. Especially because of the way he treats him, even if Johnny doesn't know. Simon cannot help himself.

In his Johnny the one at stake.

With anyone else, Simon wouldn't hesitate to let his nasty nature called Ghost, which he has cultivated to keep people away, shine through. But not with Johnny. Nor with you.

At least not when his goal is to find his niche between the two of you.

So Johnny sees for the first time, what if he were able to remember, he saw between the cracks of Ghost's mask after years.

And just as it happened to him before the accident.... Johnny can't help but feel the butterflies when Simon looks into his eyes.

"You alright, Johnny?”

Against all odds, but still not surprising to either of them, the mission ends up lasting much longer than they both thought it would.

This ends up working to Simon's advantage, as it continues to push Johnny towards him.

Their relationship continues to mutate by leaps and bounds, as the day before they boarded the plane Johnny could barely look him in the eye without hatred in his pupils.

This is why, when they finally start to mobilize to return to base and the two of them are assigned to return in a single car with no one else; that Johnny deviates from the road and parks on the side of the road.

"Can I ask you something, Lieutenant?"

And Simon questions for a moment if there really is anything Johnny could ask him that he wouldn't be willing to answer.

"Go ahead."

"Before the accident... What was the situation?"

"Elaborate."

"Between us... and with her."

And Simon knows perfectly well what Johnny is referring to, the scotsman is neither stupid nor blind.

"What would it affect how things were before the accident?"

"Everything!"

"Give me an example, Johnny."

"Whatever." Johnny backs off, jerking his hand to restart the car.

Except Simon is quicker and takes the key out of the ignition and out of Johnny's hand.

"Explain yourself, Johnny."

"No, whatever, we're late."

"Until I get there no one leaves, we can be as late as we want to be. Explain yourself."

Johnny puffs, running a hand through his hair, messing it up even more if possible.

"I feel at a disadvantage, okay?" Johnny admits, glancing at Simon for a second before looking ahead again. "I feel like everyone is aware of what's going on and everything that happened before the accident. And that everyone's talking over my shoulder as if instead of amnesia I was stupid. And I have feelings that don't make sense for me to have in such a short time, and the only thing that makes sense in my mind is that they were already there before the accident!"

The two remain in awkward silence for more minutes than is desirable.

"Do you have feelings for me, Johnny?"

"No!"

One more awkward silence.

"For her?"

"...I don't know."

"You don't know or you don't want to admit it?"

"I don't know!"

Simon is frustrated with myself, and is aware that Johnny must be equally frustrated. Two grown men too stubborn to admit their feelings.

Simon huffs, pondering his next move for just a few seconds before removing his mask. The move catches Johnny's attention and he turns to look at him, just in time to see Simon grab his face to crash his lips against his.

It's a peck. Nothing more.

But it's enough to make Johnny look at him like he's just grown horns on his head. Simon can practically see the smoke coming out of Johnny's ears, but he also sees his eyes stare for a millisecond at his lips again. And that's all he needs.

"Do you want to talk about feelings or do you want to show them to me, Mactavish?"

Johnny only needs a second to unbuckle his belt and grab Simon's vest to pull him closer to him.

Johnny knows this isn't the way, that they should talk, clear out everything, lay the groundwork for the strange triangle they're excluding you from for now by doing it this way.

But after the time spent together on the mission, every glance, every brush, every word exchanged. Johnny knows this isn't the right way to do it, but he knows it's the easiest. And for now, that's enough for him.

Johnny moves over the console to reach Simon; it's an awkward position with the gearshift lever digging into his thigh. But when Simon's hands travel to the back of his thighs and he sits him on his lap it all fits together like puzzle pieces.

It's an aggressive kiss, with both wanting to take the lead; teeth clashing, drool sliding down the corner of their lips and one's breath colliding with the other's.

It's Simon who gives in, letting Johnny enter his mouth, savoring the taste of the cigarette he smoked just before starting the car. A horrible taste that tastes like glory coming from the blond's mouth.

Despite the multiple layers of clothing, Johnny can perfectly feel Simon's cock harden under his weight. Johnny lowers his hand to Simon's belt, unbuckling it carelessly; parting the kiss to look down at what he's doing.

That moment Simon takes the opportunity to speak. "You're not going to let me fuck you, are you?"

Johnny laughs softly, shaking his head at the same time. "Didn't you ask me to show you my feelings, blondie? I'm going to show them to you, just as good as I showed her."

"Can't fucking wait." Simon declares pulling Johnny's hair to kiss him again once he manages to unbuckle his belt.

Johnny slips his hand into Simon's boxers, wrapping his hand around his member and pulling it out of the confines of the garment. Simon moans at the not very gentle maneuver, Johnny's calloused hand moving up and down against the dry skin making him groan.

Johnny notices the lack of lubrication and spits a heavy blob of saliva onto his tip, Simon sighing in relief at the much desired wetness.

"Now imagine if instead of my drool it was her pussy juices, Simon." Johnny murmurs, licking Simon's neck making Simon groan letting his head fall back against the headrest.

"That's a fucking dream, Johnny." Is all he manages to reply.

Johnny laughs, unbuckling his own belt with one hand as he continues to massage Simon's length with the other. When he manages to get his own member out he also positions himself as close as he can to Simon, cock against cock. Needing to use both hands to encircle both members as he moves them up and down, bringing them both fully to life; noticing how they harden between his fingers.

It is impossible for him not to move his hips against his hands, both moaning in unison at the friction between their cocks. The little droplets of cum that are born from their members helping to increase the mess of fluids.

It's only when Johnny decides that enough is enough that they change positions. Simon takes off his pants, limiting himself to removing one boot so he can stick one leg out; and Johnny tells him how he wants him to lie on the back seats.

The man is too big for the car seats, with his head resting on the hand rest by the door and his knees bent to fit. Johnny kneels on his chest, trying not to drop his weight on it so as not to suffocate Simon. With the hand he has on the base of his member, he moves it so that he slaps Simon on the mouth.

"Careful, Johnny" Simon warns him, trying to let Johnny know that he is in control for as long as Simon wants.

Johnny smiles, winking at him. Perfectly aware of the danger but unafraid of the consequences. "We don't have any other lube, Lieutenant. Ye better blow me good."

Simon grunts, parting his lips so Johnny can enter his mouth. Johnny begins to move his hips, slowly so the Brit can get used to the width of his member. Johnny moans as he feels the warmth of his mouth around his member, the muscle of his tongue caressing the underside of it causing a shiver to run up his back.

Johnny looks over his shoulder, dropping his eyes to Simon's member, taking a moment to admire it in all its splendor. It's long, easily over 7 inches, uncut, lying flat on the part of his abdomen exposed by his wrinkled T-shirt, slightly tilted to one side by his own weight and with a healthy amount of mouthwatering veins that make Johnny's mouth water.

But today, Johnny has a different mission. He slips two of his fingers into his own mouth licking them as he makes eye contact with Simon while continuing to move his hips; driving deeper and deeper into his mouth.

The hand that was at the base of his member moves to Simon's head, grabbing his hair and holding it still. The other, once satisfied with how wet his fingers are, moves it to between Simon's legs, brushing his member with his forearm as he does so and begins to press into Simon's tight entrance with his index finger.

Johnny notices him tense up for half a second at the sudden pressure before letting his body relax under Johnny's caresses and he pushes in to the first phalanx of his first finger. Moving his hand and hips in tandem.

Simon's jaw soon starts to ache, especially when Johnny begins to thrust forward; Simon's nose brushing against Johnny's pubes.

And yet, Simon moans when Johnny slips a second finger into his ring of muscle. They are both aware that Johnny's fingers are not enough to accommodate Johnny's girth, but in their perverted minds it only adds to the kinkiness.

Johnny finally pulls away from Simon's mouth, a trickle of drool connecting his lips to Johnny's member still. Mouth empty, Simon is free to moan as Johnny opens and closes his fingers inside Simon.

"I didn't know you were a singer, Lieutenant."

"Johnny... Shut the fuck up..." Is all Simon can reply.

Johnny pulls his fingers out, making Simon sigh, and moves to stand between Simon's legs, as comfortable as he can inside the cramped vehicle.

He thinks about it for a second before moving his hands under his officer's knees and moving them towards his head, easily folding him in half; the sergeant's strength taking him by surprise.

But what really surprises him is feeling the sergeant's wet tongue at his entrance, making him moan pathetically at the contact. It's a couple of mere licks, nothing more, before Johnny breaks away licking his lips; then spits a fat glob of saliva at the entrance.

The sergeant lowers his legs, sitting back up and Simon slightly blushing at the ease with which he has moved him to his surprise.

"I'll take it slow, okay?" Johnny suddenly says, a touch of gentleness amidst the strange scuffle that lets his true feelings show.

Johnny pushes forward slightly, both of them hissing at the tight feeling. Johnny's hand find their place on Simon's hips, with Simon's hand finding support on his wrists.

“Fuckin' hell, Johnny…” Simon moans whe Johnny has barely gotten past the puffy tip.

“You are going to choke my dick off, Simon” he moans, throwing his head back.

Slowly but steadily Johnny bottoms out inside of Simon, feeling his insides pulse around his length in a vice-like grip. Simon has never felt this full, feeling the weight of Johnny's shaft all the way back on his column.

Johnny slowly starts to move, painfully slow lo let the other finally adjust to the invasion. The moans and whispers growing in volume as Johnny starts to pick up the pace of his thrust.

And is not long before Johnny as a steady rhythm, hip slapping against his, Simon's cock slapping slightly against his abdomen with each thrust. Is when Johnny starts to snap his hips harder that Simon needs to move one his hands from Johnny's wrist to the door of the car to avoid getting a concussion with the hits of his head against it.

Simultaneously, and completely unaware of it, their minds travel to you. How would you fit in between them; would you ride Simon while Johnny rides him? Would you sit on Simon's face while Johnny rides Simon? Would they both fuck you senseless?

Johnny's free hand moves to Simon's shaft, grabbing it hard and tugging, forcing a whine out of Simon. “Shit! Johnny, that's- that's too much! Fuck!” Simon moans loudly, the double stimulation enough to make him throw his head back; hitting the door with the lack of strength left on his body.

“That's too much for you, Lt?” Johnny asks between grunts and moans. “And how will you handle her riding you while I fuck you?” The mental image making both moan.

“Once we are back… I'm destroying your ass, Johnny.” Simon manages to say through gritted teeth to avoid a moan from scaping his mouth.

Johnny chuckles at his threat. “Are you asking me on a second date, blondie?” He says, he bends down to kiss Simon again, and right before crashing his lips together he whispers “I can't fucking wait, Si.”

The new angle Johnny hits when bending down has Simon seeing white dots on his vision, and when Johnny tugs at his shaft again, thick ropes of cum spur on his abdomen pooling in his navel. He clenches down around Johnny's lengths, making him moan loudly and he barely manages to pull out before combusting over Simon stomach as well, the seed of both mixing together over his skin.

The car windows are fogged up as Johnny sits in the seat opposite Simon. Grabbing bandages from the first aid kit in his backpack so Simon can clean himself. Johnny readjusts, putting away his dick and buckling his belt; watching as Simon does the same once he manages to pull his pants back up and buckles his boot.

“About… about how we felt before the accident…” Simon breaks the silent, looking ahead. “We were never together… and I can't talk on behalf of her or you, but for me… I knew I felt things for…” Simon sighs, struggling to choose the right words. “I knew I used to feel things for the two of you… I still do.”

Johnny doesn't say anything, being able to tell that Simon still has more to say but needs a moment to regroup his feelings.

"Especially with you. The tunnel accident... It wasn't your first brush with death, Johnny. A couple of years ago, on a mission in Mexico, well, in Las Almas.... Things happened, and you and I got separated, we got... Uncommunicated... From each other and from everyone..." Simon narrates, recounting a mission that doesn't tug at Johnny's memory strings in the least. "On that mission I thought... I thought I'd lost you, Johnny. And it was in that moment that I thought I'd lost you that I realized they weren't just friends' feelings..."

Simon laughs dryly, rubbing his face with his hand before continuing. "I almost declared myself back then.... And several times after that but.... But then the tunnel thing happened and..."

The sentence is half-spoken, but neither Simon needs to say more nor Johnny needs to hear it.

"And... And you think I loved you back, Simon?"

"I'd like to think you did, Johnny.”

Taglist: @waiting-so-long @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @cod-z @jaguarthecat @savagemickey03 @fraserbraw @rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @viisgrave @theloneshadowbat @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting @dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708 @katreintjie @sacvh @mothymunson @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr @yuki2129 @mikaronn

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scribblesofagoonerr · 3 months

Text

— Sometimes two homes are better than one

pairings: katie mccabe x child reader

summary: readers' stubbornness makes an appearance.

"I don't want to go!" You shout loudly and make your opinion very well known about the situation. "I'm not goin' and you can't make me!"

"Rascal, you have to go," Katie insists, once again on the tail-end of the usual argument with you.

"NO!" You shout back, stubbornly. "I'm not goin' there, mam!" You repeat, even going as far to stomp your foot and show her that your really being serious this time.

Katies' close to pulling her hair out with your stubborness, although shes' not exactly sure who you inherited it from out of herself and Ruesha, "Y/N, come on. We've already been over this before," She catches up to you in the kitchen where you'd stormed off once you'd gotten back from school. "Will you stop walking away from when I'm tryin' to have a conversation with you!"

Its' Friday afternoon, you've finished school and that means that Ruesha would soon be coming to pick you up from Katie's house to spend the weekend with her.

You weren't too big of a fan going between 2 households though and even though Katie and Ruesha split up when you were very little, you're still not all that used to things being different.

"I bet your mamas' really looking forward to seeing you!" Katie tries her luck to change your mind, more than familiar against your protests of not wanting to go. "Why don't you really want to go, rascal?" She wonders, trying to figure out the real reason.

"It's not fair. Why do I have to go between two households? I don't see why I can't just stay here!" You huff in protest, making your way around the kitchen, going about slamming the cupboards that you opened.

"I know its' difficult to understand rascal, but we've spoke about this before, haven't we?" Katie tells you, she hates the fact that you had inherited this stubborn streak. "I thought you were excited about going to watch your mamas' game?" She questions, knowing you were looking forward to it when it was mentioned earlier.

You shake your head in defiance, "Nope."

"Why not?" Katie honestly feels like shes' at her wits end with you and your abrupt decision to not go. "Listen, I know you don't want to go, rascal, but its' important that you still spend time with your mama!" She still tries to remain enthusiastic, depsite how difficult that is most of the time.

"Why can't mama come here instead?" You frown, not really understanding what exactly what went down between Katie and Ruesha all of them years ago.

Katie exhales a sigh and purses her lips, "Because its' not as simple as that. Your mama and I seperated and we live different lives now," She explains to you. "You usually like spending time with your mama, what's changed now, huh?" She wonders.

"I... I guess its' not the same when you two are not both together, I miss it. Like when we're at Ireland camp and stuff," You admit, although its' been a while since that has happened, you've had happy memories of them times and you wish it could be the same still.

"Oh rascal," Katie furrows her eyebrows, "Listen, I know you miss them times, but sometimes two homes are better than one, and in this case your mama and I, we're not good when we're together." She explains, trying to get it across in a way that your 11-year-old self can understand.

"I still don't like it though," You murmer in protest.

"I know you don't, but I want you to remember that no matter what happens between your mama and I, we both love you the very same, okay?" Katie reassures you, gently as she wraps her free arm around your shoulder. "Nothing about that will ever change at all."

#woso x reader #katie mccabe x reader #arsenal x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #arsenal wfc x reader #scribblesofagoonerr #like mother like daughter fic

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rhenuvee · 8 months

Text

Made With Love [Neuvillette x reader]

Summary: Neuvillette has feelings for you, but doesn't know how to act on them. The Melusines try to help, but ultimately he wants to start and act on his own emotions.

A/N: Neuvilette in the last act of the archon quest made me sad :( // I need someone to say "Was that your first kiss in 500 years?" to Neuvi like Natasha to Steve.

Warnings: dialogue heavy, reader is shorter than Neuvi, reader is a baker

➽────────────❥

"Wait- Monsieur Neuvillette!"

A small voice called out. The Iudex was just about to go out for his weekly walk around the city, until a little Melusine stopped him. They were the ones who suggested he go out for some fresh air, since they sensed that he was still stirred from Fontaine's recent crisis along with handling his duties.

"Hm? What is it Sedene?" He asks, stopping in his steps so that she could catch up to him.

"Are you going to see (y/n)?" Sedene asks, putting her hand curiously to her lips. Straight to the point, the Iudex thinks. His breath gets caught in his throat for a split second, surprised at her words.

Despite being familiar with Melusines and their unique sixth sense, he feels like a deer caught in headlights when they suddenly mention you. Because they know about you- yet they never say the obvious thing directly.

The Melusines have noticed a change in his behaviour, and it started happening when he went out for his walks. One day the Chief Justice came back with a box of macarons, which was quite curious since he usually didn't eat sweets, and so he gave one to each Melusine he passed by. As time went on, more Melusines started noticing Neuvilette smiling... for seemingly no reason at all.

No reason except one that the Melusines instantly picked up on. In fact, you didn't exactly have to be a Melusine to recognize you and the Chief Justice's behaviour, both skirting around your feelings for each other. It didn't take them long to find out about you, and find your bakery from the thank you card in the box of macarons he bought. Monsieur Neuvillette in love... how exciting, they think.

However, with developing emotions comes confusion for the Iudex.

"Yes..." Neuvillette answers directly, yet a bit shyly, a bit surprised at his own forwardness with admitting it. Sedene gestures for him to bend down, to which he complies. She reaches up, and uses her hands to smooth out the top of his head.

"There we go, perfect!" she says cheerfully. Neuvillette realized what she was trying to do, and can't help but smile, though a little embarrassed. The Melusines have been trying to encourage him to act on his feelings, or at least make you realize that he is interested in you. Right now, Sedene was preening his hair, as if to get him ready for a date. He could only imagine the thought of that happening.

"Thank you Sedene, it is much appreciated. I'll be off now."

"You're welcome! Have a nice walk, Monsieur Neuvillette!" she calls out, waving cutely.

He should not be nervous since he was just walking to a bakery, is what he tells himself. However, the Iudex finds himself smoothing out his robes, suddenly thankful of Sedene's gesture with his hair. He takes a step inside the cute little shop as the bells dings.

"Welcome- oh! Good afternoon Monsieur Neuvillette!" Your cheery voice greets him warmly. He seemed a little spaced out to you, but you wait patiently for his response. You take the time to admire his features- You can't help but feel that he felt ethereal in a way. You had to admit he was quite handsome, with how beautiful his eyes were, and how tidy he kept his look.

"Good afternoon." You brush your hands on your apron and quickly walk towards him to have your weekly chats. "How was your week?"

"Busy." You say with a long sigh. "We've gotten so many orders lately, it's hard for me to keep up... Actually something interesting happened- I felt like my boss was about to fire me."

"What?" Neuvillette says in a surprised tone.

"No no! I was kidding! Well... kind of. I'm not sure." The truth about the bakery's rising sales was because of Neuvillette's constant visits. People are naturally shocked to see the Iudex doing things like this, which quickly lead to the Steambird catching this on the paper. You guessed the message was that if Neuvillette kept coming in, that meant the pastries were good.

However, your boss was suspicious thinking it was too good to be true. She noticed that Neuvillette would mostly direct his attention to you, which created the comical hypothesis that you were a criminal and the Iudex was onto you.

"She thinks I'm... going to try you?"

"Yes, it's kind of funny actually." You fish out a newspaper from last week, pointing to his picture photographed with headlines about him visiting the bakery. Neuvillette found it odd how he never seen this before. That, and how his hair looks from the back.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to-"

"Don't apologize! Like I said, I find it quite humorous. Besides, I'm happy that more people have enjoyed our baked goods." You quickly reply. He smiles, giving you the relief that he doesn't need to feel sorry. "How have you been, Monsieur Neuvillette?"

"I've been feeling a little troubled as of late..." Usually when you ask him how things are, he provides a neutral answer. But today he decides to let his feelings out a little. You want to ask him, but you're afraid of crossing that boundary, that it might be personal. You feel bad, after seeing his furrowed eyebrows and downcast eyes, seeing how he might be dealing with something difficult.

"I hope things turn out better, Monsieur Neuvillette. If you want, I'm always here to listen." He smiled, which you now realize is quite a rare but beautiful sight. Neuvillette always admired your kindness, and it compelled him to get closer to you. He was aware he is no good at small talk, or even regular casual conversations, but he is willing to get better at it.

"Thank you, (y/n). I'm afraid this is something I have to deal with on my own." You nod, as a way to affirm his statement, then go around your counter to decide to grab something.

"Did Aeval like the raspberry flavoured macaroons I tried making? I wish I could've seen her reaction in person, but I haven't taken the Aquabus lately."

"I'll be sure to ask her for you, though I'm sure she does. Many of the Melusines are fond of your pastries, ever since I brought them some." He remembers that day. Your smile was just as bright as it is today.

"I'm grateful." You say happily... though there's something else you want to mention. "Speaking of the Melusines, is that a gift from them?"

You point to the top of his head.

"Oh, my hair ribbon?" He says fiddling his hand through the back of his hair. However, you shake your head.

"The tiara."

"The tiara-..." Neuvillette moves his hand to the top of his head, where he feels the tiniest tiara. He could not see it, but from the textures he felt some small shells and rocks. The Iudex realizes this was probably what Sedene was doing with his hair. You giggle, catching on that even he is just discovering it. "I suppose it is. Sedene must have put it in my hair just before this."

Neuvillette deducts that the tiara must be something from Melusine tradition that they wear for special occasions or gatherings. You watch as Neuvillette gives a chuckle, probably at how cute the Melusines actions were. And you couldn't disagree.

"You know, the Melusines have been saying a lot of good things about you." You say, trying to lighten the mood.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, they keep telling me how kind and intelligent the Iudex is." Neuvillette nods. The Melusines are very kind to him, so-

"And how tall he is."

Oh.

"And handsome."

Well.

Neuvillette politely covers the lower half of his face with his hand to hide his expression. He gets flustered at the thought of the little Melusines flattering him to you, while knowing their intentions.

"I apologize, I think the Melusines-"

"It's alright! I know they mean well. Besides, it's not really a surprise to me..." You say the last part shyly, but it doesn't go unnoticed by him. In fact it's the part that is highlighted the most, and almost prompted him to blush furiously before you quickly said something else. "I like it, it suits you." you smile, gazing up at him.

"Thank you, (Y/n)." Is all Neuvillette is able to utter, after seeing your beaming smile.

"You're welcome! Take these, they're on the house! I hope it'll make your day better." You present him a small box of some assorted sweets. all different flavours and decorated with different fruits.

"You're too kind, but I couldn't possibly take these without paying you."

"Oh please I insist! They're made with love." you coo the last part as a way to try and convince him, to which Neuvillette finds himself getting flustered at. It's a common phrase, and yet he interprets a slightly different meaning from it.

In his eyes, he finds you attractive, yes- cute when you wipe your nose when he tells you that you have flour on it, radiant when you smile while giving macaroons to the Melusines. He's come to know more about you the more he talked to you, and how kind you were. And though his weekly walks in the city were to ease his mind, he couldn't imagine not seeing you as a part of his routine. You are the reason why he has this foreign feeling inside him- one that makes his heart beat faster when you accidentally brush fingertips with him, or give him a compliment.

"Made with love..." He whispers, mostly to himself. You get flustered when you hear him say those words, thinking he might have caught onto your feelings. You hold your breath to prepare yourself for what he might say. "I quite like that."

To your surprise, the Iudex reveals to you one of his rare subtle smiles as you bring the box to him. You can't help but agree with his statement, except you meant it for how handsome he looks when he does that along with how soft his eyes get. You hope to see it more.

"I keep baking things for the Melusines, though you never told me what kinds of things you like. What do you like, Monsieur Neuvillette?"

For a moment, Neuvillette stares at your lips, then back at your eyes that are looking so sweetly at him. He feels his heart beating faster...

"You..."

He almost says that word- that dangerous one word.

"Neuvillette..." you say so softly that it's almost a whisper. Oh, he's starting to adore how you say his name without formalities. He reaches his hand out briefly, then retracts it and clears his throat. He wants to ask you.

But...

"I apologize." He realizes he doesn't know what he's apologizing for. "I... am not really sure what kinds of things I like."

"Oh." you say a little confused. The Iudex feels a little embarrassed, but you always know exactly what to say. Your smile doesn't falter when he gives his strange answer. "Well, when you do know, tell me!"

"I will." He says, in a little more firm tone- more like a promise.

➽────────────❥

A few hours passed, and it was evening now. It started raining shortly after his recent interaction with you. As the hydro dragon himself says, he does not weep, he is just stirred. He went back to his office, but wasn't able to concentrate on his work. He mulled over the interaction he just had with you. He feels like his emotions are about to leap out of his chest, and they almost did in that moment. Neuvillette is still in the process of getting used to expressing himself. He didn't know what to do next.

He wanted to ask you to dinner or something else you may enjoy, but found himself being held back. He was afraid of making you uncomfortable, the fact that he was essential now responsible for all of Fontaine, and furthermore his true identity which you do not know of. The Iudex even considered writing a letter to the traveller and Paimon to ask them for help, but didn't want to trouble them.

"Neuvillette!" he hears a faint voice call out for him. "Monsieur Neuvillette!"

He turns back, recognizing that the voice was you. But he couldn't see you in the city that was slowly getting more grey... except an umbrella with legs.

"Monsieur Neuvillette- you don't have an umbrella, you're going to get soaked!" you say in concern for him.

He realizes he can't really see your face since the umbrella was covering you... it's quite adorable. It makes him smile for a brief moment. He reaches for the handle and raises it up so that it now covers the both of you. The Iudex's breath gets caught when his throat tightens, when you are revealed to him.

Through his eyes, he can see you telling him something- however, he is not focused on that. He can't help but admire how your eyes glimmer even in these grey skies. How even when he was drenched you are happy to see him.

His overflowing heart cannot stop him anymore, for his free hand reaches to softly cup your cheek, his body bending down to your height. You let out a small gasp and immediately stop talking. Your heart is beating furiously as well.

"May I?" Neuvillette asks you with the most delicate of whispers.

"Yes," you say, unable to contain your smile. "Of course, Neuvillette." Yours and Neuvillette's eyes close as you bring your hands under his damp jaw. He is the one who closes the gap between you two, and kisses you with fervour, while not forgetting to be gentle. His lips are soft, melding with yours perfectly. His hand still holds your cheek throughout with a featherlight touch.

You and Neuvillette are all butterflies when you look into each other's eyes, relishing in what just happened.

"I believe I know the answer to your question earlier." The Iudex says breathlessly. "You have captured my heart, (Y/n)."

"And you have captured mine." You reply lovingly. Though, after saying it out loud, it seems you both knew this is how you felt for a while now.

"If I may ask, would you like to accompany me to have dinner and see a play at the Opera Epiclese after?" Neuvillette finally gets the confidence to express what he wanted to ask you. And he's even happier when he already feels he knows your answer from how you're smiling.

"I'd love to." You say, wrapping your arms around him. He returns the gesture with his one free arm, with both of you basking in the moment for a while before you head to your destination.

"The rain seems to be stopping." You say, gazing up at the sky seeing less droplets fall. Your eyes curiously watch how the rain magically decided to stop.

"So it is..." He does the same, except his eyes quickly fall back to you with a sigh of relief.

➽────────────❥

Thank you for being patient! I hope you all enjoyed. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are appreciated. Stay tuned for a milestone event and more of my drafts being released!

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin neuvillette #genshin impact neuvillette #neuvillette #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette oneshot #genshin impact imagines #neuvilette imagine #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette genshin

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cc--2224 · 3 months

Text

Late Night Caf

Pairing: Tech x Jedi!Reader

Summary: From the ask found here; You were recently made a jedi knight and as your first assignment, you were placed with Clone Force 99. A sleepless night on the Marauder turns into late nights watching Tech work.

Warnings: A ton of fluff!!! Brief mentions of insomnia?

Notes: Thank you for the request and I'm sorry it took so long!! As a reminder, requests are open if you'd like to make one!

Word Count: ~2.1k

Tags: @lady-violet @booksandtitts-blog

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future fics!

It hadn't been long since you had gone through the trials to become a Jedi Knight. With the war in full swing, there was a need for knights more than ever, so while you didn't feel ready, you were able to pass.

You were given your first assignment almost immediately following your appointment. You were to accompany a squad of clones on their missions.

It was easier than being assigned to an entire battalion, but when you heard some of the other clones' comments about the squad you were assigned to, you began to feel anxious.

Clone Force 99 had a reputation of not following the rules and doing things their own way. They weren't like the clones you had gotten to know during your time as a padawan, and that intimidated you – not that you'd let anyone know.

On the day you were meant to meet them, you stood in wait on the landing platform in front of the Jedi temple. They were late. You sighed to yourself and did everything you could to avoid pacing. In fact, you could almost hear your former master's voice echoing in your head, telling you to be patient.

Finally, you saw their ship approach. It landed on the platform rather harshly but by now you were just ready to meet them, rather than criticize their flying ability.

When the four of them disembarked their ship, you had to do a double take. Not only did their reputation define them as unlike most clones, but so did their appearance.

You looked at each of them from right to left, starting at the tallest one.

"You must be the new general!" He said, his voice echoing across the platform.

"Oh no, I'm no general, just a jedi," you corrected. "What can I call you?"

He grinned, "Wrecker."

"Nice to meet you, Wrecker." You told him, then looked at the next one, the one with a tattoo covering half of his face.

"Hunter." He informed you before you could ask. "What should we call you? If you're not a general."

"You can call me by my name." You told him before providing them your name.

The next clone looked down at you with a sour expression on his face. A crosshair tattoo adorned his right eye, and a toothpick was slotted between his lips.

"And you are?" You asked.

"Crosshair."

He said nothing else, instead just stared at you before your attention shifted to the final clone.

"I'm Tech." He said before you could ask, adjusting the goggles he wore.

Your gaze lingered on him longer than you had intended, before you looked away, growing embarrassed.

It wasn't like you to be bashful, and yet looking at Tech seemed to erase any confidence you had. You didn't speak; all you could do was give him a small smile and a nod before Hunter spoke up again.

"Now that we've been introduced, I'm sure that you have questions."

"I've heard reports about your squad, how much of it is true?"

"Hah! All of it, I bet!" Wrecker said, a bit too enthusiastically.

"Depends on what you've heard." Hunter added.

"I have read the reports that come through regarding our squad. Most of them are accurate," Tech began, then held up his datapad to gesture to the reports he had available. "However, some disciplinary reports come through with slight embellishments. We do not start every fight."

"Usually finish them, though." Crosshair adds in with a shrug.

"Despite the reports, you will face no difficulty to fulfill your duties, and we will ensure your safety remains a priority."

You smiled at Tech's reassuring tone, and soon the others started boarding the ship once again.

"If that was your only question, c'mon up, we'll give you the tour." Hunter offered as he walked up the ramp. You followed after him with Tech following behind you.

– – –

Your first night in the Marauder was strange, and unfortunately, sleepless.

You could never fall asleep comfortably in a new place. You had this problem as long as you could remember. It was a hindrance on all the planets you visited with your master as a padawan, he had tried to teach you meditation techniques to help with insomnia, and you used them, but the unknown always kept you awake.

You used to joke about how it was residual anxiety from when you were first brought to the temple as a toddler, but the council was not very pleased when they heard that joke.

After giving up on your meditation, you decided to roam the ship silently. You exited your bunk and walked through the empty corridor, now much more quiet than it had been when you were first shown around. The only sound that could be heard was the hum of the engine and the muffled snores of one of the clones.

You walked toward the cockpit and the door wooshed open, revealing that you were not the only one still awake.

Tech turned around in the pilot's chair to see who was there, and he raised an eyebrow when he noticed it was you.

"It is late, you should be asleep." He chided.

"What about you?" You countered.

"I am often awake much later than the others, this is the best time to focus on any tasks I need to complete."

It sounded like he was hinting that he'd prefer to be alone right now, so you turned back toward the door.

"You do not have to leave, if you do not wish to."

You looked over your shoulder. "I thought you wanted silence?"

"Yes, however you are much more quiet than my brothers. You are welcome to stay."

A smile tugged at your lips, and you crossed the cockpit, sitting down in the co-pilot seat next to him. He was typing into his datapad, and there were open crates next to him.

"Inventory." He explained, noticing you raising your eyebrow. "I am just about finished."

After a few moments, he turned and closed the crate before standing up to put it back where it belonged.

When he sat back down in the chair, he swivelled the chair to face you.

"So, why are you still awake?"

You shrugged, "I've always had a hard time sleeping in new locations."

"Is that not difficult considering you are a jedi?"

"Only when I go to new planets. It's not like I never sleep, I'm just most comfortable with places I know."

"I suppose that makes sense. Eventually, you will get accustomed to the ship."

He turned back toward the console and began to tinker with some of the panels, unscrewing the plates and fixing the wiring beneath them.

You watched him as he worked. Your eyes trailing from his hands delicately holding the tools he needed, toward his arms; his armor had been discarded so you could see the way that his undersuit wrapped around his muscles– he looked much stronger without his armor, and eventually up to his face; his look of concentration behind the goggles he wore, his lips pressed in a firm line.

You were mesmerized watching him work. There was something about him that was so inviting and comforting. You wanted to get to know him better, but you weren't sure how that would be possible.

As you continued to watch him, you didn't notice yourself beginning to drift off to sleep in the co-pilot chair. The engine humming and the quiet whir of the hydrospanner must have lulled you into a place of comfort. Tech glanced over at you once, noticing your arm perched on the armrest, holding your face in your hand, your eyes closed, and your breathing steady.

He quietly said your name, checking if you had really fallen asleep, and when you didn't answer, he smiled slightly to himself before standing up. He gently scooped you into his arms and brought you back to your bunk.

– – –

Late nights spent with Tech had slowly become the norm during your time with Clone Force 99.

Even after you had gotten used to life on the Marauder, it had just become a habit to sit with Tech as he worked long after his brothers had gone to sleep.

Tech didn't question it, he seemed to enjoy being able to ramble on about his latest projects, even if he had to take a break from them on several occasions to bring you to your bed after you had fallen asleep in the chair next to him.

One evening, you had left your bunk and stopped at the caf machine before making your way to the cockpit.

You left a mug in front of Tech before sitting down next to him with yours in hand.

"Oh, thank you." He said, reaching out and eagerly sipping the hot beverage. He glanced over to you, noticing the mug in your hand. "You do not wish to be carried back to your bunk this evening?"

You felt your face heat up slightly. You were mortified when he told you about that, and the fact that it had happened multiple times, and it had never become less embarrassing. His teasing tone did not do well to ease your embarrassment.

"Really, I do not mind," He said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You shook your head and took a drink from your cup without answering him.

Silence soon overtook the room. You looked out the viewport, watching the stars as they passed, and Tech continued drilling into a panel, fixing something that likely wasn't even malfunctioning to begin with.

He said your name, pulling you from your thoughts, and when you looked over at him, his focus remained with what he was working on.

"I have been wondering. Are you still uncomfortable being here?"

"What do you mean?"

"You had told me that you had trouble sleeping until you were comfortable, and you still spend most nights out here despite the time in which you have spent with us." He looked over at you now. His expression was new to you. His normal confident demeanor had seemed almost sad. There was something in his eyes that you couldn't quite place. "If you are not comfortable, you can request a transfer. None of us would be offended."

You offered him a reassuring smile. "I don't want to transfer, Tech. I'm comfortable here."

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "You are?"

"Of course. Why do you think I fall asleep so easily out here? You make me feel comfortable and safe."

His head snapped back to what he was tinkering with, trying to hide his flushed face from you.

After a moment, he spoke again. "I see. I am glad for that, then. It would have been... regrettable if you had chose to leave."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

His jaw clenched slightly. You could feel the tension as soon as you asked, but eventually, he sighed.

"I just meant that I would feel responsible if, after all this time, we did not make you feel welcome." His tone was resigned, and you knew there was something hiding behind it.

Part of you had hoped that what he was hiding was in line with what you had felt since the first time you had met him, and you figured now was as good a time as any to finally talk about it.

"Tech." You began. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, but you did all you could yo avoid focusing on your anxieties. "I don't think either of us are very good at this, if I had to take a guess. But I... Enjoy spending time with you, I have ever since the first night I spent here. I would not choose to leave the squad, I wouldn't choose to leave you."

He stared at you wide-eyed. This may be the only time that you'd see Tech completely speechless.

In his silence, you stood from your chair, setting your mug down on the console and quietly stepping toward him.

You reached out a hand, gently resting it on his cheek and tilting his head up to look at you before you moved in and kissed him softly.

His hands hesitated before one of them held your free hand, squeezing it gently as he deepened the kiss.

You smirked at him. "Maybe it's a good thing that I was placed with your squad then. You don't follow rules either."

Before long, he broke the kiss but stared up at you, finally speaking, "I did not know you felt as such. I thought that the jedi had... rules to follow, that they could not..."

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch fanfic #tbb tech #tbb tech fluff #tbb tech x reader #tech bad batch #tech x reader #tech bad batch x reader #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch x reader #the clone wars fanfiction #the clone wars fanfic #tcw fanfic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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AITA for refusing to do anything to help my roommate's baby?

More of a "was I an asshole" rather than "am I an asshole?"

I (21F) am a college student living in an apartment with two roommates, Anna (22F) and Mica (23NB). I've lived with Anna for two years now and Mica for one, and we've all always gotten along great with no major issues apart from the fact that Anna's boyfriend of several years is emotionally manipulative and incredibly insecure and jealous, but that's an issue for another time, except that I don't like him and make no secret of it. I also don't like children, never want children, and crying babies is one of the biggest overload/meltdown triggers I have because it stresses me out and also triggers some violent intrusive thoughts (I have autism and OCD, which both of my roommates know about, but never cause any significant issues and I don't act on those thoughts.) That is to say, I should not and do not want to be around children.

Anna and I live far enough apart over the summer that we only see each other during the school year, and this year I'm a junior and she's a senior. I showed up at the beginning of this school year and lo and behold, Anna is about five months pregnant. Turns out it happened toward the end of last school year, she didn't tell anyone at first, and didn't bother to mention it over the summer (which I'm pissed about). I was NOT expecting one of my closest college friends to be about to have a baby, let alone one that I'm living with.

For the next few months, I helped her out, drove her to doctor appointments, etc, because of course the shitbag boyfriend lives like three hours away (where Anna lives when she's not at college) and refuses to drive over to help her out himself. However, I made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with the baby once it's born. I wouldn't be helping her with diapers, wouldn't babysit, don't want her to put formula bottles on my shelf in the fridge, won't play with the baby or anything. I don't have the patience for that, I don't want the baby in my shit, I work 20 hours a week on top of my classes and homework and do not have time or desire to deal with a tiny human.

Fast forward to when the baby is born, Anna keeps saying she's looking for somewhere else to move, wants to move back full time to live with her shitbag boyfriend, have him help with the baby. Our other roommate Mica helps occasionally with the baby and is willing to do basic stuff and occasionally rocks him to sleep when they're sitting on the couch and stuff, but I refuse. Several months later Anna still hasn't moved out and has barely made the effort she says she will, she talks about the boyfriend a lot but I have literally NEVER seen him in person since the baby was born (he was there for the birth and that's it, drove her to our apartment afterwards since I didn't want to be there, then left again).

If there's ever a time when I'd be the only one home at the apartment and Anna asks me to babysit for a little while, I change plans and always leave so I'm not there even if it just means doing homework at the campus library instead of my room. Anna is exhausted and literally does nothing around the house anymore, never comes grocery shopping with Mica and I because she refuses to leave the baby home alone but doesn't want to take him to the store, I'm doing all of her dishes cause apparently she can't do that either, she asks us to do her laundry and cook dinner and everything for her now and I feel like we're being treated/put into the role of the baby's father.

I cannot stand children, I don't think Anna has any excuse for trying to make us care for her child, she seems to expect us to take care of him while she's in class and she can barely even afford her own share of rent and groceries and stuff let alone a baby (or hiring childcare), and I made it clear even before the baby was born that I wanted nothing to do with him and will not engage with him or do anything for him, and I think my "it's your fault you had a baby, sucks for you, now deal with the consequences" attitude is what might make me an asshole here but I'm so exhausted and my mental energy is always drained from the damn kid screaming and crying and making a mess of the house.

Mica talked to me privately recently and mentioned that they understand that I don't like children and that they're also upset with the fact that Anna can't take care of a child herself when she's a full time college student without a job and a shitty boyfriend who's barely in the picture, but they want me to try to engage more and have a bit of sympathy for Anna and not leave her completely stranded with an infant. I don't want children, I don't want to live with one, and don't want to have to care for one.

It's now April as of writing this and I have since moved out of the apartment (Anna and Mica still live together), I left in January at the start of spring semester when on-campus dorm housing was available and live with another friend whose roommate transferred the prior semester. I still see Anna around campus but I feel like the baby completely ruined our friendship but I still hang out with Mica a lot and occasionally get updates that way. I'm much happier, my mental health is better, and I'm not living constantly stressed and on edge because of the baby, and Anna still hasn't moved in with her boyfriend despite saying she's trying to for months now.

Was I an asshole for refusing to support my roommate and her baby, and essentially giving the ultimatum of "either the baby goes or I do?"

#aita #am i the asshole #eyestrain

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jozor-johai · 6 months

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Ned has this small speech in AGOT Bran I about why he must behead Gared, and I think there's some really interesting takeaways. Not about why he must do it, the part he focuses on; the part Ned doesn't focus on: why it's legal, and what that means for Gared.

"Do you understand why I did it?" "He was a wildling," Bran said. "They carry off women and sell them to the Others." His lord father smiled. "Old Nan has been telling you stories again. In truth, the man was an oathbreaker, a deserter from the Night's Watch. No man is more dangerous. The deserter knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime, no matter how vile.

Ned moves our attention along to why Ned had to be his own headsman, but in just a few sentences here, we've been introduced to the paradox of law that makes this system so fundamentally unjust and broken.

We're told that "no man is more dangerous" than this deserter, so we might think, for a split second, that Ned feels he must kill the man because he is dangerous. But as Ned points out, the logic is actually the reverse: "he knows his life is forfeit if he is taken, so he will not flinch from any crime" (emphasis mine). It is not the prevalence of crime that is creating the demand for law, here, it's the existence of this extreme law that is generating the crime. Not wanting to be killed, the deserter would do anything to survive.

For Ned, the epitome of law in the North, who literally acts as judge, jury, and executioner, the tautology of the reasoning is irrelevant. The man is dangerous, now, whatever the situation. Of course, for Ned it's also really about an adherence to the laws of the Night's Watch, which is an institution as old as his house. It's their death sentence to declare, his to pass.

This time reading it, though, I was struck by how Ned's words here are an inversion to Septon Meribald's broken man speech, which is too long to relay here but ends with this:

"He turns and runs, or crawls off afterward over the corpses of the slain, or steals away in the black of night, and he finds someplace to hide. All thought of home is gone by then, and kings and lords and gods mean less to him than a haunch of spoiled meat that will let him live another day, or a skin of bad wine that might drown his fear for a few hours. The broken man lives from day to day, from meal to meal, more beast than man. Lady Brienne is not wrong. In times like these, the traveler must beware of broken men, and fear them . . . but he should pity them as well."

Septon Meribald is describing Gared here, just as much as he's describing the men at war. There isn't a mention here directly of the threat of punishment for desertion, which is more extreme with the Night's Watch than elsewhere, but the reality is the same. Here, though, Meribald's approach is entirely different than Ned's—Meribald, who walks among the smallfolk and gives away what good he can offer, has a much more understanding and empathetic view of these men.

Ned has the capacity for this understanding, but his role is simply not to have kindness here. All of the goodness and kindness Ned has otherwise just doesn't matter here, because here Ned is the law, and Ned is a lord still.

With the fact that even Ned is given this treatment, we see how rigid and unjust the laws and class structures are here. Even a "good person" is not good in Ned's position.

I think this highlights the cause behind the growing smallfolk unrest throughout the books and especially in Feast/Dance. Even the good lords, the ones who can see the problems at work here, are still lords, and still hold themselves to the status quo that keeps them in power above all else. And it takes a very different perspective—like the kind Arya has gotten, for example—to see it the way Meribald does. (Though Arya has gone the opposite route away from forgiveness... that's interesting too.)

#jozor thoughts #asoiaf meta #valyrianscrolls #jozor reread #asoiaf

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kerorowhump · 1 year

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"H-Hi... we're back home..."0

"But... sergeant, what's going on? Do you feel sick?"

"Don't worry. How are the guests?"

"I will be eternally grateful to her... if Lady Natsumi is leading the team that's in the kitchen I'm certain that our guests will appreciate it a lot..."

#ita dub #keroro #this adaptation choice is deeply interesting to me because it seems to be paralleling keroro and natsumi implicitly #as in. he trusts her leading skills with it deeply. an implication im not seeing in these subs #another thing that makes me think a lot is that when fuyuki asks how he feels. he replies to him not to worry #while the original im okay is obviously and visibly a lie. don't worry however implies that his status of health is unimportant and #shouldn't be focused on #they're saying the same thing in different fonts basically but i thought it was a neat thing #however the second part has more difference in that keroro is Deeply grateful for the fact natsumi chose to help him #''this is just wonderful '' is what it is... obviously... but him being grateful makes me think he wasn't expecting her to help him in the #situation and take the lead. and he trusts that she'll do a great job. which is obviously true in both #he is crying anything so it is something that touches him regardless of the dialogue #there is a focus on just natsumi specifically in the ita dub. the ''others'' are not mentioned at all #anyway take it for what it is ig #i mean these ita dub posts r mostly for me anyway to infodump to my friends who are english abt this series im watching in ita.#and archive neat differences no matter if i think they're better or worse or just different #no one has ever been this thorough in seeing what changes between the two versions in this anime i love so much #i found old forum posts about keroro ita adaptation and everyone was praising it as one of the best ones we've gotten #i feel like that is true and accurate. but i also wanna look deeper and deeper into it #i could just leave it as ''its pretty accurate!'' and it's true but youve also seen that in many ways. it's not. but it doesn't make it bad #an adaptation. by need and design. will never be like the original #nor should it aim to be. bc thats impossible and it would just become lackluster. i just.. have an intense interest in analyzing the choices #that were made when transposing this anime here. on all fronts. maybe no one gets it quite like me. but ive seen some appreciation and it #made me really glad. that people who dont even speak italian can know MY experience in watching the show #and then i can learn the intended experience or a closer version to it (subs are adaptation too! they wont be fully accurate!!!) and have #so much of it. different ways of it. to parse my best interpretations. it's so fun. erm anyways. enough talking. u dont get it probly #ive 👀 ppl criticize fuyukis voice but thats simone d'andrea hes a close friend to patrizio prata and they always did guys together in anime #dont be disrespectful to italian VAs ever or you will face my sword. unless i allow you specifically. like every1 pls say peridots VA sucks #it probably wasnt even her fault thats the director telling u to do something that doesnt work. it's so bad.#on the other hand i would lay down train tracks and die for stevens voice. riccardo suarez. the light in a dark tunnel. voiced yumyulack too

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eroguron0nsense · 7 months

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Perhaps my brain isn't braining or I'm assigning undue significance to this but I kinda feel like One Piece seemed to shift more toward exploring what real familial love means or looks like after the timeskip? We get Ace's death, the postwar arc, and Luffy coming to the conclusion that despite having lost both of his brothers, he's still got the Straw Hats and he can move forward with his ragtag crew of siblings, Team Mom and Dad, and an eccentric skeleton Uncle, and then right after that, we get several arcs defined overwhelmingly by either the destruction or salvation of various families.

One of the main inciting incidents–if not the inciting incident–of all the political intrigue inherent to the Fishman Island arc is the assassination of Otohime and its ramifications for Shirahoshi and the entire Ryugu Kingdom (not to mention Luffy trying really fucking hard to imitate Ace and be a big brother to Shirahoshi and Surume as a means of processing his own loss).

Dressrossa's where we first see a true perversion of all the lovely found family tropes that have long been established in One Piece (villains have destroyed families but few if any are depicted as having one in the same way Luffy does; pre-time skip villains are more likely to be loners or self-interested tyrants and their followers aren't really referred to as "family"), giving us self fashioned patriarch in Doffy who completed the destruction of his bio family and spent the rest of his life building a grotesque, failed imitation of it through manipulating and indoctrinating a group of followers he doesn't truly care for, only to be brought down by a combination of his brother's final actions, the little boy Cora saved and loved, the bonds of the Riku family he brutalized, the brothers of the guy whose devil fruit he acquired and tried to entrap his enemies with, and an actual Found Family Crew who genuinely love each other and are willing to sacrifice for each other in a way Doffy cannot possibly understand.

The entirety of WCI involves almost every conceivable permutation of multiple families plotting against, exploiting, abusing, and defiantly loving each other, from Judge discarding any hope he ever had of having an actual family that could love him by literally stripping away their ability to do so in the name of facism/conquest, to Chiffon betraying her abusive mom for her loving husband and in-laws, to Linlin being failed by every parental figure in her life and constructing the most bizarre, fundamentally horrifying political/military structure out of her army of bio children.

Wano's main villain is also an abusive father and tyrannical crew leader, and that does, in fact, contribute to his eventual downfall, but more to the point, the arc opens and closes with the initial destruction and eventual restoration of the Kozuki family in Momo, Hiyori, and Sukiyaki, Luffy's kinship with Momo and Tama, circling back to reminders of Ace yet again (for the third arc so far) and Hiyori literally closing out the arc mirroring her father's catchphrase/dying words (and to a lesser extent, plot fuelled by the destruction of the Kurozumi clan). By the time we end what I personally consider to be Part 2 of One Piece, Luffy's family has picked up another uncle, he's been confronted repeatedly with the spectre of his brother and come out stronger for it (also filling the big brother role for multiple characters), he's reunited with Sabo, and has confronted and defeated multiple villains who act as the antithesis to everything One Piece has told us so far about the joy and love and unity that the Straw Hats and their friends and true families exemplify. And by the time he tells everyone his real dream and shares what he'd previously only told Ace, Sabo, and Shanks, it feels like we've finally gotten some closure for Marineford

#one piece #monkey d luffy #portgas d ace #marineford #donquixote doflamingo #straw hat pirates #kaido one piece #charlotte linlin #fishman island #flame emperor sabo

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houxe · 7 months

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Regarding my SBI/DSMP Fics

TW: Abuse, Trauma, and Mentions of Suicide.

With all that has happened, I did want to come out here and make my stance clear. I will always stand with Shelby (Shubble) and all of the victims who are speaking out against Will Gold (Wilbur Soot). If you still support that bastard, unfollow me and leave my blog and whatever small community I made.

I've already stated this is my Discord channel, but I want to put it here too.

For me, c!Wilbur is so far removed from cc!Wilbur that I don't connect the two. The characters are vessels for my own characterizations and stories. It's a bit like writing Supernatural*, Twilight, or Hazbin Hotel fanfics. I don't support the guy, monetarily or otherwise, he does not interact with fanfics, I have plans to be very vocal that I'm on Shelby's side no matter what/make it clear that what Will did is wrong, and I don't use his real life events as plots in my stories. At least, I certainly don't try to. It's why I typically change traits about the characters. (I.e. Tommy is shorter, Phil is taller, Techno is bulky, and Wilbur always has golden/hazel eyes.)

I'm aware that it's a tad different because it's rp and not something like a full on book or an actor in a movie, but DSMP has also been over for over two years and the characterizations I make for SBI are not at all based on the CCs. Real life Techno isn't a literal terrorist, Phil ain't a father married to a goddess, Tommy is not a traumatized child soldier, and Wilbur isn't suicidal and blowing up countries.

I think I'll likely focus more on Techno, Tommy, and Phil for a while, but I'm not gonna let one dude ruin a fandom and things I've made for myself. Nothing I write is ever made for Wilbur, as I've seen people saying. Additionally, Wilbur was not the only writer. Technoblade, Philza, TommyInnit, and so many others made that story what it was. Not him.

However, if any CCs come forward saying they don't want their old characters interacting with his, I will respect that.

Though I do think there is a tendency to take real life events (i.e. Techno's cancer, LJ's music, Tommy's real life parents, etc.) and put them into fiction about DSMP. I, however, don't try to do that and have stated before that I don't feel comfortable doing so. The truth is that we have not gotten any genuine SBI content outside of DSMP for years. The dynamic in real life is very different from what was presented in the DSMP. Did personalities still bleed over? Yes, I'm not going to deny that, but I'm not going to act like they're exactly the same between character and person either. We've had that conversation like in 2021, it's why we have C! and CC!.

The rather sad truth is, SBI is what got me really into writing and it's a comfort for me that nothing can compare to. Obviously, I don't think it's appropriate to be writing certain types of stories right now or to be involving characters made by CCs outside of the DSMP. I think it's up to everyone else to decide on what they want to do, however, rushing it also isn't the way to go either. Give yourself time to heal and think it over first instead of throwing away something that gives you comfort and has not been associated with by the creators for over two years.

Anyways, fuck Will Gold. Fuck the fact that he hurt so many people, and fuck that he lied and manipulated his way around the damn internet. ESPECIALLY fuck the fact that he tried to diminish what he did and not take proper accountability.

Go and support Shelby so so much, she and everyone who spoke out really deserve it. I'm glad silence on these types of issues is not being normalized.

Here is a list of (American) resources for DV help:

TNLR

RAINN

WOAR

Love is respect

The Trevor project

Futures without violence

National domestic violence hotline

Resource on what DV and abuse looks like

*Changed it from Harry Potter to Supernatural because Harry Potter is a significantly worse and more problematic franchise, even just within the content of the books. It'd be better left in the dust. I've talked about it before, but it was the first thing that came to my mind at the time and was a poor comparison on my part, I'm truly sorry for that.

#tw abuse #tw suic mention #dream smp #ao3 #fanfic #shelby support #tw trauma

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caligvlasaqvarivm · 6 months

Note

was in the process of starting writing an eridan centric no sburb au and the more i write the more i’m like goddamnit pale erikar is happening without me even trying you’ve 100% gotten me invested

YEAH. Even if you just go purely by canon, their personalities just wind up meshing so well.

Like how Karkat gives Eridan special treatment and is extra nice to him because he knows how rough it is to be in Eridan's thinkpan.

Or how Eridan is willing to immediately shelve his own problems whenever he hears that Karkat isn't doing well emotionally and basically demands to give him emotional support.

Or how Karkat lies to Vriska that nobody listens to him talk about quadrant stuff when we've seen them talk to each other and we know they gossip about that shit all the time.

Or how Eridan is basically the only person who's ever succeeded in getting Karkat to calm the fuck down, by virtue of his incredible obtuseness, like, he doesn't even need to try.

Or how Karkat makes a bunch of death threats to Eridan and Eridan takes it as "ironic repartee," meaning that Karkat's usual problem with mixed signals is not a problem to Eridan, because Eridan is honestly just happy for the attention.

Or how they're so in sync with each other that Karkat telling Past!Eridan that their pact is over led to Eridan assuming they have a pact, and Past!Karkat hears about it and just rolls with it, because apparently it makes sense that they have a pact or something with a caveat that they be nice to each other. Of course.

Or how they talk so often that Feferi outright laments how it leaves Eridan with nothing left to talk to her about.

Or how, even before he knows that Karkat is a mutant, Karkat is still one of his best friends, and their relationship doesn't change after Eridan finds out - in fact, unlike Vriska or Equius or Gamzee, who make comments about his blood color (Gamzee calls him a punchline blooded motherfucker), Eridan never even bothers to mention it. (Because he doesn't actually give a shit about the hemocaste, it's basically all performative).

Or how Eridan knows Karkat well enough to know that Gamzee's advice to just be chill and w/e doesn't work for Karkat.

Or how Karkat's response to Gamzee going murderous is "oh god oh fuck oh man oh fuck" and his message to Past!Gamzee is "get out of here, this barely even concerns you," but his response to Eridan going murderous is a very personal "fuck you, BACKSTABBER, HOW COULD YOU???"

Or how Karkat has a double-v typo once and there's a point where Eridan drops his double-letters and yells at Feferi in capslock 👉👈

And that's all JUST CANON. That's all stuff we've SEEN them do. If you start making some extrapolations, there's so much more.

Karkat's dream has always been to become a threshecutioner - a member of the Empress's strongest troops - seeking to find some sort of acceptance within the society that outcasted him if he could prove his worth that way. However, Karkat's the weakest fighter on the team, and given that Eridan's pissed off angels scared everybody else off his planet, it's likely he's one of the best fighters, if not THE best. Combined with his noble status, Eridan was on the fast track to, if not becoming a threshecutioner, then otherwise achieving some great rank or prestige within the Condesce's army. (Even Dualscar, laughable as he was, was still Mindfang's superior).

Karkat would think Eridan is badass.

Meanwhile, Eridan's problems nearly all stem from the pressure he feels to live up to the expectations on his shoulders, as a highblood, as the orphaner, as the person keeping his friends alive, and as a sea dweller. His is a world of constant anxiety and anguish, not helped by his innate troll/highblood volatility and his own knowledge of how dangerous he is. And Karkat is their self-described "fearless leader," who will happily tell everyone what to do.

Eridan would be relieved that the pressure is off his shoulders.

Karkat's had to live in fear for his life for nearly all of it; when Eridan got added to the group chat, Karkat was probably fucking terrified, especially when Feferi got added right after. Like, oh, fuck, it's a sea dweller (noted as being so hostile that even GAMZEE is nervous about being by the water for too long), oh fuck, he knows the heir apparent, oh fuck, he's an insane murderer.

And then... the sea dweller respects his authority. The sea dweller takes him completely seriously, once he gets past all the slurs and talk of genocide, which the sea dweller obviously doesn't actually mean (Eridan's contradictions are REALLY obvious, which is part of why nobody else takes him seriously). The sea dweller doesn't give a shit WHAT his blood color is.

Like, I think Karkat finds a weird sense of safety in having a violet-blood friend that he can make death threats to. Their last memo together implies that such "ironic repartee" is completely normal for the two of them, and I personally like the idea that Karkat at one point took issue with one of the insane shitty things that Eridan likes to say, went off on a classic Karkat Rant, and then went "oh wait. shit. fuck. im so dead," only for Eridan to completely laugh it off and treat it like casual joking around.

And Eridan just craves attention, positive or negative. He desperately wants people to take him seriously and care about him. Kanaya, Vriska, and Feferi don't, because frankly, they don't really get why he's got so many problems - they're all privileged and they like it! - and Terezi is like "yikes. wow. glad that's not my problem," while Gamzee just tells him to chill out (he can't, that's his entire issue) and Equius avoids (void joke ha ha) him. He doesn't really talk to the lowbloods, but given he doesn't express any casteist anti-lowblood sentiment specifically until he's mad at Sollux (and has totally caste-neutral opinions on Sollux before that), it's not even because he doesn't like lowbloods; one has to assume he's got a different reason for avoiding them - like his canonical guilt over all the murders, or an extrapolation of his general anxieties in that he doesn't like talking to people who are going to be dead before he's even 1/100 of a way through his own life, or that the lowbloods tend to avoid him because... yknow, -gestures to all of Eridan-.

But he always had plausible deniability when it came to Karkat, because Karkat was always anonblood; even if he assumes Karkat's an "assblood," he had no way to know for sure 'til he found out Karkat was an off-spec. And Karkat DOES take him seriously, or at least more seriously than anybody else, by a longshot. He's even willing to outright tell Eridan that it's not Eridan's fault Nepeta doesn't reciprocate his feelings. WHO ELSE WOULD DO SUCH A THING???

And on that topic is pity. They both extend to each other a pity that they don't really afford anyone else, and Karkat - with his uncanny romantic acumen - outright says that pity is the driving force for all non-pitch relationships. Because he's the only person who even acknowledges that Eridan's probelms are PROBLEMS, it's clear he feels pity for Eridan's utterly fried thinkpan. Meanwhile, Eridan seems to recognize how sensitive Karkat really is, IMMEDIATELY putting everything else on pause to try to provide Karkat emotional support whenever it's brought up that Karkat is sad.

Eridan never extends this kind of consideration toward anyone else, too busy grandstanding and putting on the Big Bad Sea Dweller act; Karkat never even extends this much sympathy to Gamzee, never once bothering to understand his religion, or comment on his shitty lusus or crisis of faith. Even when he tries to cheer Terezi up, it's not really with outright sympathy - he tries to build up how awesome he thinks she is, or take on the blame for the situation. But with Eridan, he just goes, yeah, okay, shut up. I know it's tough being you.

I think it's also pretty notable that although Eridan comments about how HYPOTHETICALLY Future!Karkat can't reject him because he's not Eridan's Current!Karkat, he has never actually hit on Karkat in any quadrant, as far as we've seen. And I'm even willing to believe that he never has - when he met Karkat, his pale and pitch quadrants were filled, and he was always pining after Feferi in flushed; it probably never even crossed his mind to see Karkat as a viable dating partner, and I think he likes their unofficial moirallegiance friendship exactly the aay it is - when he thinks Karkat is hitting on him pitchwise, his reaction isn't "yes let's date," it's a surprised "whoa, coming on kinda strong, there."

And just. Just. The way that Karkat took Eridan's murder spree so fucking personally, especially compared to Gamzee in the same memo. You BACKSTABBER. I HATE you (not enough to not talk to you for an extended period of time but still). How COULD you. I thought you loved her...

Like. Man. I think it would require a third party to point it out in order to get them together - Karkat seems to be kind of embarrassed by how often he talks to Eridan (because it's, y'know, ERIDAN), and has convinced himself that Eridan is SUCH a pathetic dumbass that OF COURSE it would never work out between them (keep telling yourself that, buddy, you're the one who started thinking about that in a conversation where Eridan literally was not hitting on you), and Eridan is, uh, a dumbass.

But even that's kind of tricky, because Karkat's mixed signals make their friendship read as weirdly pitch-coded (I don't think you're normally supposed to threaten death upon your moirail and call them slurs), and also, nobody really wants to imagine Eridan being in a happy, loving relationship. You run into this problem sometimes even in real life.

But he's kind of basically in one?????

Literally, society if Eridan and Karkat made it official -

#eridan ampora #homestuck #karkat vantas #erikar

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cadaveerie · 27 days

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Why Lucanis is (probably) an abomination

DATV and general DA spoilers ahead!

As I pointed out earlier today, Lucanis has an ability called "Abominate", which I suggest could be a not very subtle indication that he is an abomination. This has been a theory for some time and I know people have pointed this out before, but I wanted to put together everything I can think of in relation to this and to give my own take as to why I believe that Lucanis is an abomination. Here are some of the indications that this could be the case:

1. He has "uncanny abilities" (and how he might have gotten them)

The fact that he both has spectral wings and that he can feel when someone does magic near him already sound very suspicious... but it becomes even more interesting when you look at this comment about the crows that Zevran does in DAO:

"I wonder... the Crows often made sacrifices of blood, and it game them uncanny abilities".

(thank you irabelas for this post! this is how i found out about this and it's a very good connection)

So one of the theories is that he could have gotten his "uncanny abilities" in that way. We know he was abused by his grandmother, like most crows get abused since they're children, and there's a chance that in order to become a better assassin he was forced to go through one of these rituals, that I suppose involve blood magic, as Zevran calls them "sacrifices of blood".

Another of the theories is that since he "died" in The Wake, he could have been in a situation like Wynne... but against that some people say that he probably just pretended he died, as in The Wigmaker Job he mentions that he'll grow a beard to hide from the people who want to kill him, so some people (and me too) think that perhaps he pretended to die to escape them.

And lastly, another somewhat common theory is that he got these powers at some point after The Wigmaker Job and the beginning of DATV, and that perhaps Zara Renata was the person who somehow made blood magic on him, as a form of revenge. It'd make sense since she's presented as a villain in The Wigmaker Job, and the chapter suggests that she'll go after him. One issue that I have with this, and that admittedly might not be super justified is that I think he could have had the wings before The Wigmaker Job started, as he had that weird itch behind his eyes at that point, and that's basically the reason why he is "the mage killer" in the first place. Basically, I associate the origin of his uncanny abilities, both the "itch" and the wings to the same event... But I'm not super confident about this, because he could have just developed the wings later. I suppose this remains to be seen.

2. He has pride-demon themed clothing and colors.

Lucanis seems to have eye patterns that resemble pride demon's eyes all over his clothing. And both pride demon's eyes and their nervous system-looking thing are purple, like his clothing and his wings.

Also, the fact that his writer, Mary Kirby, replied a black heart emoji to a post that pointed this out (and the original post also included an screenshot that mentions that Magisters refer to him as "the demon").

Which... Yeah, I think it's a weird choice to answer to something like this if it's not true? Either way I suppose it's a bit spoilery if this is the case but... I'm more inclined to believe she's teasing rather than that she would answer to something random if it were not the case.

Aside from this, people also point out the design of his tarot card.

The purple eye motif continues: in his own eyes (which could represent the fact that he gets that "itch" behind his eyes), the inside of his cape, the background (both in the bottom and behind him in those strange orbs), the little vials he has on his belt/harness, and the gems all over his outfit as well. Even some of the little pins in his belt kind of resemble purple eyes. Black is his main color, while purple is his accent color, not only in this art but it's consistent in everything we've seen of him.

His hood kind of looks like he has yet another Pride Demon-looking eye, and what I think could also be interpreted as little eyes to the sides.

The purple orbs around him could also be interpreted as eyes. Or as felassan pointed out on this post, the way they're drawn kind of make the background look like peacock's feathers. felassan also compares that part to Solas' eyes in the Dreadwolf form, which makes a lot of sense.

(first picture is from felassan's post, featuring the peacock feathers. I'm not sure where it's from, though)

I never thought of the peacock thing before, but I think most of us associate peacocks to pride, so it'd make a lot of sense. And the multiple eyes thing as well, it's something that's not only seen in Pride demons but in the Dreadwolf himself... and Solas is closely related to Wisdom spirits and Pride demons (which as he reveals in DAI, are two sides of the same coin: demons are "corrupted" spirits. And to be specific, wisdom spirits become pride demons when corrupted). This connection he has to these beings, aside from the fact that you can observe it in his writing, gets referenced by Cole directly. He calls Solas as both in multiple occasions (not "spirit" or "demon", but by the names Wisdom and Pride) in his vague monologues. And on top of that, at the beginning of DATV it seems like Solas has accidentally summoned a Pride demon, as Varric literally says:

"It is a pride demon! Damn thing probably sensed Solas' ego!"

And perhaps it's reaching, but this whole thing would make even more sense if the theory that elves were originally spirits is true... or at least if they had very strong connections to them, and that much seems to be real. Either way, I suppose that just because he's a mage he could still be close to both spirits and demons, as he talks about often, and at the same time he'd be vulnerable to being possessed by them. Also, even if it's not super notable in DAI, he has purple eyes in DATV, which could also be a connection to Pride. I think Trick implied that they were purple in DAI as well? But it's not as notable... I just wonder if this change only happened for artistic reasons, or if this change will be acknowledge in-game, because it happened in-universe as well. His eye color could be a coincidence I suppose... but it's interesting.

But anyway, this post is not about Solas! It was just a way to point out that Solas is very likely connected to Pride demons and Wisdom spirits, and perhaps Lucanis is as well, since the motifs seem to be so related.

3. He has a "demonic aura"

He is described in the character selector screen as a "Swift and precise assassin with a demonic aura". The demonic aura, paired up with everything else... adds to the suspicion, to say the least, lol. It's a very strange thing to say otherwise? It's one thing to call him a demon as a nickname, which could potentially be a way of insulting him, or reflecting how ruthless he is... But to say he has a "demonic aura" sounds oddly specific if he's not... literally possessed by a demon.

And finally, what made me be like "oh god this is so real", and made me decide to write this:

4. He has an ability called "Abominate"

"I saw my comrades fall, burned by the flaming sky or crushed by debris. The monstrous creature, looking as if a demon were wearing a man like a twisted suit of skin, spotted me and grinned. We had forced it to this, I realized; the mage had made this pact, given himself over to the demon to survive our assault."

- from Codex entry: Abomination.

"Rook is getting attacked on all sides, so you command Lucanis to use Abominate to knock enemies down".

And idk how to explain it, because there isn't a lot to talk about. The explanation is that "Abominate" sounds like it could come from "Abomination", and at the same time that could come from the fact that he is one.

Wynne and Anders were abominations, so it wouldn't be a new concept at all for a companion to be one. So if this is the case... this could just be so sad and tragic.

---

And as a bonus, maybe I'm looking too much into it, but this person played some of the game (since they were part of the Community Council), and they said this:

"would it be in bad taste to drop a Lucanis x Rook fic the day Veilguard releases" "There’s another angst pairing that’s fair game, too. Hmm"

And I think it implies that Rookaris will be an angst pairing, by talking about "another angst pairing". Obviously, this could have nothing to do with the Abomination / weird powers thing, I'm not trying to put words on their mouth. There could be many other aspects that make the ship angsty, or perhaps I'm interpreting this wrong and the ship is not angsty at all... So I'm not taking this seriously, I'm just reaching with this. BUT... imagine. The angst potential... I choose to believe lol.

Before ending this I want to give my take as to why a Pride demon, out of every other kind. I talked slightly about this before, but my preferred theory for how he acquired his powers is that his family made him get them forcefully, which I know doesn't make that much sense, given the fact that there's no mention of wings in the The Wigmaker Job. Perhaps he just didn't show them, perhaps he got them after The Wigmaker Job... but then where did he get his ability to sense magic like that? Could it be that he was born with it? I can't think of any case like this for other characters... it's almost as if he was a mage? But he doesn't seem to have other magic abilities besides that one... (I thought that perhaps all non-mage companions would get some form of magical abilities because everything got fucked up... But I haven't thought about it much so I won't write it here. And I suppose it wouldn't make a lot of sense since that seems like a Harding thing). Perhaps he had this natural sensitivities to the Veil and magic before, and so when everything went down that's when he became extra magical. Perhaps the gods escaping--and whatever happens afterwards--fucked everything up, and he got the wings at that moment, like Harding? Hers is probably Titan magic, but both could be as a result of the gods escaping and/or the Veil getting fucked up. Or something else we don't know yet.

Those are all possibilities, but coming back to my personal preferred theory: perhaps he got his powers through a blood-magic ritual performed by the Crows (whether only the magic-sensing ones or the wings too, I don't know). And to my main point: if that were the case, perhaps the pride is not exactly his, but from his grandmother, Caterina Dellamorte. It seems like his story will revolve around expectations from family vs. one's own desires and individuality, so my theory is that perhaps that's the origin of this "Pride". Lucanis is the heir to the Antivan Crows, so could it be the Pride that Caterina has for her preferred grandson and heir? The Pride of the Dellamortes? The Pride of Antiva? A lot of pressure, a lot of people to disappoint, and someone very important in his life to disappoint (and well, we should probably add Illario to the equation... But for an hypothetic Pride demon, I think Caterina is probably the proudest of all the Crows).

And if not that, even if this ritual didn't happen at all and the demon just happened to find him for some reason, perhaps the anxieties he feels about his family and making them proud was what attracted that spirit to him. Perhaps a demon managed to trick him, and the being possessed him. All options could be interesting, in my opinion.

But who knows. Perhaps it's nothing like this, perhaps he's not even an abomination at all! I just think there are a lot of indications of it, and it'd make a lot of sense. And I think my theories make some sense at least! :]

And that's all! Long-ass post. I don't know if I missed anything else, but this is why I believe that he is an abomination, and in particular he was possessed by a Pride demon. To be honest I wouldn't mind being wrong because... this would be so, so sad, and I don't know if I'm ready lol. But I'm excited at the possibility! No matter what I can't wait to meet and romance the hell out of him.

What do you think? I'd love to hear your opinions :D

Edit 1, Edit 2 (SPOILERS)

#DATV spoilers #DATV speculation #dragon age meta #dragon age speculation #dragon age theory #datv theory #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis romance #antivan crows #zevran arainai #zara renata #solas #the dreadwolf #fen'harel #caterina dellamorte #illario dellamorte #pride demon

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