#i was gonna do more but i got distracted with another project (fish) so this one's going up by itself.. i wanna draw some cps soon tho | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pechefarm · 1 year

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Buttercup Baby Ch 9

Pairing: Sam/Male OC

CW: N/A

Author's note: Hey everyone! Buttercup Baby is OFFICIALLY BACK! YAY!

You can also read this chapter or start from the beginning on my ao3:

"Why is this my problem again?"

Léo cast his fishing rod once more into the lake, Sebastian hovering over his shoulder. In all honesty, Léo didn't want to talk to Sebastian at all. But as soon as Sebastian spotted him at the lake, he had snuffed out his cigarette and rushed over.

"I need help with Elfie and…well I know I don't deserve it," Sebastian said in a small voice, "But I don't know where to begin."

"You're right, you don't deserve it," Léo said bitterly. “Not only did you abandon her at the dance, you insulted her both to her face and behind her back. And I haven’t even touched on how you treated Shane.”

“I was an ass and I deserve whatever comes my way. But I really care about her and I want to make things right,” Sebastian said, and Léo looked over at him with raised brows. Sebastian wasn’t usually one to lay his feelings on the line like this.

“Look,” Léo said, “You really messed it up this time. You really hurt her feelings. And she…” He trailed off slightly and shook his head.

“What?” Sebastian asked, sounding worried. “And she what?”

“It’s not for me to tell,” Léo said, and Sebastian made a sound of exasperation.

“But I told you, she’s not talking to me!”

This was true. Sebastian had frantically explained that she had sent him a message saying “delete my number” after he had tried to get into contact with her. Undeterred, he had tried to talk to her again, but she had threatened to block his number if he dared message her one more time.

“I can try and get her to talk to you,” Léo said after a few moments, “But I can’t promise she’ll want to give you another shot.”

“I don’t think she will,” Sebastian said mournfully. “You already said it, I really messed it up. But I can’t leave it like this.”

Léo sighed deeply. “Fine, I’ll--”

There was a sudden tug on the line, and Léo stopped talking, focusing on the fish instead. Sebastian watched him with interest, which was extremely distracting. He only just managed to catch the Smallmouth Bass, annoyed that Sebastian was watching his technique the whole time.

“You’ll call her then?” Sebastian said the moment Léo put the fish away in his bucket. Léo closed his eyes and breathed out harshly through his nose.

“Yeah, I will,” Léo said. Sebastian looked at Léo with a hopeful expression on his face.

“What, you mean now?” Léo said, nose wrinkling. Sebastian kicked at the ground, and Léo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine,” he grumbled and pulled out his phone. “But I’m not putting it on speaker, you got it?”

Sebastian nodded, and Léo dialed Elfie’s number. Surprisingly, she answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Léo what’s up?” Elfie said, sounding chipper.

“You sound good,” Léo said, and Elfie laughed lightly.

“Well, I’ve been talking with a new friend, and it’s been going extremely well,” she said, and Léo could practically see the pleased smirk on her face.

“Is it who I think it is?” Léo asked, ignoring Sebastian’s confused look.

“It’s Shane,” Elfie said happily.

“Of course it is,” Léo said with a light laugh.

“So what’s up?” Elfie said. “Did you just want to chat?”

“Uh actually…you’re gonna hate me,” Léo said, “But I have a favor to ask.”

“What do you need?” Elfie asked. “And why the hell would I hate you for asking?”

“Because I’m asking for you to talk to Sebastian.”

The line went silent, and Léo actually had to check his phone to make sure she hadn’t hung up on him.

“Why?” she finally asked, voice devoid of all emotion.

“Because he’s annoying the shit out of me, and is practically begging me to get you to talk to him,” Léo said, causing Sebastian to look down at the ground in shame.

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Elfie said.

“Okay, well, I’m not going to make you,” Léo said, “But if you’re not going to talk to him, can I tell him what happened at the bus stop? You can’t hide this forever.”

“You can tell him, but I’m not talking to him. Got it?”

“Got it,” Léo said.

“Well if that’s it, I’m going to go now,” Elfie said. The two said goodbye, and Léo looked over at Sebastian.

“She said no,” Léo said, and Sebastian made the most pathetic sound Léo had ever heard.

“You didn’t even try!” Sebastian whined.

“I’m not going to force her to do something she doesn’t want to do!” Léo snapped. “She’s a grown ass woman and can make her own choices. And speaking of her own choices…look. She’s not going to come back to you,” Léo said.

“I know,” Sebastian said with a glare, “I’m not trying to get her to come back to me.”

“You kind of are though,” Léo said, “And don’t you dare pretend otherwise.”

“Well…I dunno, maybe after she forgave me,” Sebastian said, “But I would be friends with her again first.”

“Well it won’t happen,” Léo said.

“Why not?” Sebastian asked, looking annoyed.

“Because she’s interested in someone else.”

Sebastian blinked at him, clearly not having expected that to be the response.

“She…what?” he asked. Léo sighed and picked up his fish bucket.

“She likes someone else.”

“Who?” Sebastian asked, sounding shocked.

“Look, I need to deliver this fish. If you want to hear more, you’re gonna have to come with me.”

The two men began walking down the mountain trail toward town, and Léo noticed how panicked Sebastian seemed. This wasn’t going to go well.

“She likes Shane,” Léo said. Sebastian made a choking sound from next to him, and Léo looked over. His friend looked like he was speed running the five stages of grief, eyes wide and mouth closed in a tight line.

“After the flower dance, he took her to the bus stop and they kissed,” Léo said, stopping in front of the Mullner household and knocking on the door.

“What the fuck?” Sebastian practically shouted.

“Oh goodness!” a small feminine voice said. Sebastian turned towards the door and saw Granny Evelyn standing there, a look of shock on her face.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Sebastian said, cheeks pink. “I…I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright,” Granny Evelyn said, and looked up at Léo. “It’s good to see you Léo! Are you here with the fish?”

“I am!” Léo said cheerily. He handed over the fish, and Granny Evelyn counted out the precise amount of change she needed, handing it to him with a bright smile.

“This will go nicely in the leek soup I’m making. It’s one of George’s favorites.”

After she closed the door, Sebastian shoved his hands into his pockets and glowered at the ground.

“Did they really kiss?” he said in a surprisingly soft voice.

“Yeah,” Léo said. “Guess I could’ve been a bit gentler about it,” he said, “But I thought getting it over with it as quick as possible would be better.”

“I guess,” Sebastian said as they walked down the street.

“Actions have consequences,” Léo said. “You can’t just be a jerk and expect people to be okay with that. Think of this as a learning experience.”

Sebastian was quiet for a moment, mulling it over. “You’re right,” he finally said. “I think I’m gonna go home now.”

“Okay,” Léo said. “Things will turn out just fine, you know that right?”

Sebastian stopped walking and sighed. “I don’t,” he said, and picked up the pace. Léo watched him go, heart heavy. Hopefully he’d open up to Abigail and Sam about this.

And speaking of Sam…shit! Léo realized that he had completely forgotten to bring his bag of necessities over to Sam’s house. After a quick triple check with Jodi, it had been decided that he would stay with them while he got his house renovated. He rushed back to the farm and began tossing clothes and other things he would need into his duffel bag. Jeez, how had this slipped his mind?

He rushed down the street and was grateful that Jodi had also allowed him to bring Gordito with him. Léo had bought a cat back pack with a nice window on it that his precious little boy could look out of. Gordito was calm as Léo hurried to Sam’s, settling down into a perfect loaf.

When he arrived at Sam’s, he found the door unlocked. Without thinking about it, he waltzed right in, bumping into a very surprised Sam.

“Léo!” Sam said, eyes bright. “I was wondering when you would come over!”

“Nice shirt,” Léo said with a raised eyebrow. Sam looked down at his shirt which had the phrase “Pussy Wagon” written on it in bright red letters.

“Oh shit,” Sam said. “Vince was at Jas’ for a sleepover last night, so Mom let me wear whatever I wanted to bed last night. I gotta change before he gets back!”

“Did you just wake up?” Léo said, taking in Sam’s full appearance. Aside from the shirt, he was wearing joggers with a plaid print on them, and his hair didn’t have it’s signature all day hold gel in it.

“Uh…no?” Sam said tentatively as Léo put down the backpack and let Gordito out. Sam’s face brightened and he bent down to pet the orange cat.

“Change your shirt and then you can pet him,” Léo said. Sam stuck his lip out in a pout, frowning.

Cute.

Wait what?

Léo shook the thought out of his mind as Sam walked back to his room. He emerged a few moments later with a new shirt on. It had a d20 on it, and said “Chaotic Stupid” on it.

“Accurate,” Léo said, and Sam stuck his tongue out. Gordito walked over to Sam and bumped his head against his leg, purring loudly.

“Aw, he likes me!” Sam said happily and bent down to pet him.

“He’s got good taste,” Léo said. Sam looked up at Léo, head cocked to the side.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re an awesome guy, and he can tell,” Léo said.

“Oh!” Sam said, cheeks slightly pink. “You’re pretty awesome too.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, showering Gordito in affection. After a few minutes, Sam stood up.

“Are you hungry at all?” he asked. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

“A little,” Léo said. “We should make brunch.”

“Brunch?” Sam said. “What time is it?”

“A little past 1,” Léo said.

“Whoops,” Sam said. “Guess I shouldn’t’ve stayed up so late last night.”

“What were you doing?” Léo asked as they made their way to the kitchen.

“I was writing a song,” Sam said. “I’m kinda stuck though. I kept writing and rewriting and…ugh. I hate everything I’ve written.”

“What’s the song about?” Léo asked. Sam cleared his throat as he opened the fridge.

“It’s uh, it’s a love song,” he said, staring into the fridge as though the food were the most interesting things he’d ever seen in his life. “Just having some trouble making it sound how I want it to.”

Léo considered him as Sam grabbed an egg from the fridge.

“Want me to help you out with it?” he asked as Sam went to hand him the egg. At his words, Sam fumbled the egg and it fell to ground with a loud splat, breaking on the tile floor.

“Fuck!” Sam said loudly.

“Samson!”

The two men turned and saw an irritated looking Jodi behind them.

“Your brother just got home, and I don’t want him to hear you saying—is that egg on the floor?”

“Oh, um…” Sam said, looking flustered.

“I have told you so many times to pay attention to what you’re doing!” Jodi scolded. “Plates, mugs, and now eggs…I need you to be more careful!”

Sam stared at the floor, and Léo suddenly felt a strange urge to protect his friend.

“He didn’t break it,” Léo found himself saying. “It was me. He handed me the egg and I dropped it. I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up right now.”

“Oh!” Jodi said, looking surprised. “Well, thank you for being honest.”

“I’ll clean it!” Sam said, clearly trying to keep the surprise out of his voice. “Léo you shouldn’t have to clean it up.”

“I dropped it,” Léo said, and Sam frowned.

“You’re the guest. I’ll clean it up.”

“Well look at you being responsible!” Jodi said happily. “As long as it gets cleaned up it’s fine. And Léo, it’s great to see you. When Vincent saw your beautiful cat and your bag in the living room, he got so excited! He’s dying to see you.”

Léo smiled. It would be good to see Vincent again. And maybe they could talk more about the discovery the kid had made at the flower dance.

“Go talk to him,” Sam said firmly. “I’ll be there in two seconds.”

“Okay,” Léo said, and followed Jodi into the living room.

“Vincent, Léo’s here!” Jodi said cheerily.

The small boy—

No.

Girl. Léo’s heart broke as Jodi began to talk to her daughter, still under the impression that this was Vincent, that this was her son. Léo honestly couldn’t believe that Cora had put so much faith in Léo, had told him something so personal, and was positive that Léo would keep it to himself. She had put so much trust in Léo, and he couldn’t help but feel honored.

Léo smiled at her and gave a tiny wave.

“Hey Vince,” he said, remembering the promise he had made with her. Nobody except Léo and Jas could know Cora’s new name.

“Léo!” she said happily, looking up from where she sat, Gordito curled up in her lap.

“It’s good to see you,” Léo said, sitting on the armchair closest to her. “How are you doing?”

“Great!” she said. “I was at Jas’ house. We talked a lot about some things,” Cora said, giving Léo a meaningful look. Léo gave her a tiny smile.

“I hope you had a good time,” he said, and she beamed at him.

“I had a great time!” Cora said. “And I’m really glad you’re here!”

“Sam has been talking about your arrival ever since you asked to stay,” Jodi said, taking a seat on the couch.

“Has he?” Léo said, surprised.

“Oh yes,” Jodi said and laughed lightly. “You would think we were inviting Beyoncé over from how nervous and excited he’s been.”

“Sam never cleans,” Cora said, getting a loud laugh from Jodi, “But he’s been cleaning like crazy!”

“It’s true,” Jodi said, “I haven’t had to lift a finger! It’s been very nice.”

“That’s hilarious,” Léo said, shaking his head with a smile. “Why would he do that?”

Cora and Jodi exchanged a look with matching smiles. Léo frowned.

“What?” he asked, feeling out of the loop. There seemed to be an inside joke that he wasn’t privy to.

“You’re a very good…friend of Sam’s,” Jodi said, and Cora giggled. “He wants to make a good impression on you.”

“We’ve been friends for a while,” Léo said, confused. “He knows I think he’s great. Does he really think I wouldn’t be friends with him if there were some dishes out?”

“Not exactly,” Jodi said. “He--”

“It’s cleaned up!”

Jodi jumped slightly and turned to see Sam walking into the living room.

“As I was saying,” Jodi said, “I’m so glad that you’re here Léo. Sam dear, you two should set up Léo’s spot in your room.”

Léo blinked. That wasn’t what they had been talking about just now.

“Yeah, good idea,” Sam said. Léo stood up and reached for his bag, but Sam was faster.

“I’ll carry it!” he said.

“You don’t need to carry my bag,” Léo said. “It’s not like it’s heavy.”

“You’re the guest,” Sam said. “I’m carrying it.”

Cora put her hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle, and Sam glared at her. What the hell was going on?

“Um. Okay. Thanks,” Léo said, and followed Sam to his room. The first thing he noticed was how nice it smelled. Then he noticed that his room was cleaner than he’d ever seen it before. It looked like his friend had vacuumed and dusted and—hold up, was his bed made?

“Wow you really went all out,” Léo said.

“What do you mean?” Sam said, putting Léo’s bag down.

“It looks like a hotel room in here,” Léo said.

“Oh, well, I didn’t want you to stay in a pigsty,” Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go get the blow up mattress and we can set that up.”

Léo sat on Sam’s bed, and felt slightly bad that he was wrinkling the carefully smoothed out comforter. Why was Sam going through all this effort? It didn’t make any sense!

“You’re a very good…friend of Sam’s…”

“Sam has been talking about your arrival ever since you asked to stay…”

“He wants to make a good impression on you…”

Wait.

Wait hold on.

Was Jodi saying what Léo thought she was saying? Did she mean that Sam had feelings for him? But that couldn’t be right. Sam couldn’t possibly have a crush on him! They were just friends, good friends. Sam was just a friend…a friend who blushed when Léo took his shirt off when they were in the same room, a friend who casually brushed up against him, a friend who was going to ask him to dance at the flower dance…

Holy shit.

“I found it!” Sam said, entering the room. “Are you okay?”

Léo stared at Sam for a second, his brain having completely blue screened for a moment.

“Yeah!” he said loudly, clapping his hands together. “Let’s set this mattress up!”

“Sounds good,” Sam said. “Luckily we have a pump, so that’ll make things easier.”

“I think I would cry if I had to blow this thing up without a pump,” Léo said, and Sam nodded in agreement.

They attached the pump, but for some reason, the mattress wasn’t inflating.

“Damn it, what’s going on?” Sam said with a frown. Léo looked at the side of the mattress and immediately spotted the problem.

“Looks like there’s a hole in it,” he said, and Sam swore under his breath.

“I’ll take the couch,” Sam said, “And you can have my bed.”

“What?” Léo said with wide eyes. He frowned and shook his head. “It’s your bed, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch. I’ll take it.”

“No way!” Sam argued, crossing his arms. “My bed is way more comfortable than that damn couch. You deserve the best, so you’re taking my bed.”

“You take the bed,” Léo said firmly.

“I’ll take the bed for half the night and then we switch,” Sam countered.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch!”

“Hmm…I’ll take the bed for two hours and then I’ll take the couch.”

“What?” Léo said incredulously. “You can’t negotiate backward!”

“And yet here I am doing it. Is it working?” Sam said, eyes twinkling.

“Well,” Léo said, heart hammering in his chest, “There’s…there’s another choice.”

“I guess so,” Sam said thoughtfully. “I could take the floor.”

“What? No!” Léo said looking at Sam as though he had suggested sleeping on a pile of rocks. “We could share the bed.”

There was a long pause, and Sam’s mouth dropped open, gaping at Léo like a fish.

Shit.

He’d overstepped, hadn’t he? Sam would think he was weird and creepy. But if Léo was right and Sam liked him, maybe he’d agree? And wait…why was that idea making Léo’s insides flutter?

Oh.

Could it be possible that…

But before Léo could finish his thought, Sam responded.

“I…well. I guess we could do that,” he said slowly. “If you’re sure. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine with it if you are,” Léo said casually. “Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do, you know?”

“Yeah, right,” Sam said, clearing his throat loudly. “Just. Doin’ what we have to do.” He plopped down on his bed with a worried expression and Léo gave him a small smile.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” he said, sitting down next to his friend.

“I’m not nervous,” Sam said. “I’m just…God this is embarrassing…” He ran his hand through his hair, fluffing it up a little bit. Léo watched, transfixed as his friend’s bangs fell back into his face. Sam let out a loud breath and looked over at Léo.

“What’s up?” Léo asked. His heart was beating a mile a minute. Was Sam going to admit that…that…God, he couldn’t even let himself finish that thought. But what if…

“I’m a sleep cuddler,” Sam mumbled.

Oh.

“That’s…that’s it?” Léo asked, frowning. “Why is that embarrassing?”

“Because everyone I know has said I fucking cling to them when I fall asleep and that it’s annoying. I don’t want to annoy you,” Sam said, and bit his bottom lip.

Léo looked into Sam’s eyes, intentionally not looking at his mouth. “If you cuddle me or whatever at night, I’ll survive, I promise,” he said with a chuckle.

“Well if you say so,” Sam said. “You can’t take that back though! You’re not allowed to complain in the morning, got it?” he said, jabbing a finger in Léo’s direction.

“Cross my heart and hope--”

“—For pie! Stick a cupcake in my eye!” Sam finished. Léo blinked, and his golden haired friend laughed.

“Vince said you said ‘hope for pie’ at the flower dance, and he added on the second part,” Sam explained. “He’s always hated the ‘hope to die’ thing.”

“That’s cute,” Léo said. “You’re a really great brother.”

“You think?” Sam said. “I try, I really do. I wanna be there for him no matter what. I want him to feel safe with me.”

“I won’t tell anyone. Cross my heart and hope for pie.”

“ Even Sam?”

“ Even Sam. Just us.”

Léo gulped. Cora would let Sam know when she was ready. And he knew that Sam would be supportive. Sam would be there for her. But how was he going to feel when he learned that she hadn’t gone to him right away? That he wasn’t even her second choice of who to tell?

“I’m sure he feels totally safe with you,” Léo said with a strained smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks Buttercup,” Sam said.

“No problem Samico.”

The two gazed at each other for a moment, eyes locked with matching smiles on their faces. The trance was broken however when there was a knock on Sam’s door.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything!” Jodi said, and the two men looked over to see the fiery red head in the doorway.

“No it’s cool,” Sam said. “What’s up? Need help with something?”

“I was going to ask what you two are getting up to today,” Jodi said, leaning against the door frame, “I’m trying to decide what to make for dinner and want to make sure you’re home in time to eat while the food is still warm!”

“I still have a bit of work on the farm that I need to get done,” Léo said thoughtfully, “So I’ll probably finish that up and then I’ll head back here.”

“Need any help?” Sam asked cheerfully.

“If you really want to,” Léo said. “I need to set up my new beehives and then weed the flower garden.”

“Beehives?” Sam said, eyes lighting up. “You’re going to make your own honey?”

“Yep!” Léo said happily and then looked over at Jodi. “You guys can have as many jars as you want for free. You can have anything I have actually free of charge.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I couldn’t possibly allow that,” Jodi said, shaking her head. “You work so hard on that farm. It’d feel like stealing!”

“You guys have been so kind to me,” Léo said standing up. “Your family has really made me feel accepted here. Especially Sam,” he said, beaming at his friend. Sam looked to the side, a slight smile on his face.

“I want you to feel like you belong,” Sam said. “Because you do. You’re perfect here.”

“NOW KISS!” a small voice shouted out. Sam bypassed pink altogether and went a violent shade of red.

“Vincent what the heck?!” Sam said. Jodi laughed loudly as Cora held up two action figures, smashing their faces together and making loud kissing noises. Léo looked over at his frustrated friend, eyes moving down to his plush lips. What would it be like to kiss them? Léo felt his cheeks grow hot as this thought entered his mind.

“Alright Vince, leave the boys alone,” Jodi finally said. “You two make sure to be back by five, alright?”

“Are you going off to kiss?” Cora asked, and Sam smacked her upside the head as they exited the room.

“We’re building beehives you menace,” Sam said.

“Samson! Be nice to your brother!” Jodi said with a frown.

“Whatever,” Sam mumbled. “Let’s go Léo.”

The two made their way to the farm, chatting casually as they walked. Léo kept sneaking private looks at Sam as they walked, the gears turning in his head. Sam looked so good today. In fact, he looked amazing every day. So beautiful, so radiant.

Fuck.

He couldn’t hide it anymore. Léo appreciated how Sam’s muscles looked as he lifted up pieces of wood to hammer in. How his tongue poked out of his mouth as he focused. Léo had it bad for this man, and he couldn’t pretend otherwise. His beautiful brown eyes with gorgeous flecks of gold, his blond hair that fell into his eyes without the gel, and the mullet that somehow worked on him.

As Léo thought about this, a sudden realization came crashing down onto him. He was still in love with Henri. Sure he liked Sam, but the love he still felt for Henri was different. Logically, Léo knew that getting back together with Henri would be a terrible idea. That French bastard had never treated him well, and their breakup had been so painful. But remembering the way Henri would look at him when he whispered that he loved him. The way he gasped out Léo’s name during their most private of moments…the memories hit him hard, and he wasn’t sure he could just throw all that way.

But Henri had thrown him away like an empty coffee cup that had served a purpose and now was done. He didn’t need Léo anymore. But God did Léo need him. He could practically hear Elfie lecturing him about Henri being a no good jerk and how he needed to move on. And as he watched Sam laugh when he fell backwards trying to pull a particularly stubborn weed, he wondered if maybe she was right.

They quickly cleaned up and walked back to Sam’s house, talking about what they were hoping would be made for dinner. As usual, Sam was hoping for fish casserole.

“I’m sure whatever she makes will be great,” Léo said. “She’s a really great cook.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Sam said happily. “Sometimes I wonder if I should ask her for lessons. Someday I’m going to move out and I’ll need to make food for myself,” Sam said. “And she’s always saying that food is the way to anyone’s heart, so I should learn to cook for others as well.”

“Well she’s right about that,” Léo said as they approached the door. “The best date I ever went on was just cooking with a guy in his kitchen.”

“The best eh?” Sam said. “So it went well?”

“Got the best head of my life that night, so I’d say it went well yeah,” Léo said as Sam choked on air. Léo shook his head. “You’re a prude, you know that?”

“I’m not!” Sam said. “You just made you imagine it and it was strange!”

“Hey you’re the one thinking about it,” Léo said as Sam unlocked the door. “Hope I look good in your mind.”

“Shut up,” Sam said, but there was no bite in his tone.

Dinner turned out to be Sam’s favorite, and Léo found himself enjoying it immensely. Anything she made, no matter how strange it sounded, was always incredible. After finishing up, he and Sam bade Cora and Jodi goodnight and went to Sam’s room.

“I’ll change in the bathroom,” Sam said quickly, and rushed off with his pajamas. Léo found himself both grateful for this and slightly disappointed. The two changed quickly, and soon found themselves staring at the bed in awkward silence.

“So…” Sam said slowly. “What side do you want?”

“Where do you usually sleep?” Léo asked.

“Well, usually right next to the wall,” Sam said. “But if you want to sleep there that’s fine.”

“No you go for it,” Léo said. “I don’t really care honestly.”

Sam nodded, and the two slipped into bed.

“Should I put a pillow in between us?” Sam asked, turning over on his side.

“Why?” Léo asked confused.

“The cuddling thing,” Sam said. Even though it was dark in the room, Léo was positive his friend was blushing.

“Don’t worry about it. If you cuddle me it’s not a big deal, okay?” Léo said, even though he felt otherwise. It would be a big deal, but in the best way possible. Imagining Sam with an arm draped around him, pressed up against his back…fuck was that a good thought.

“If you say so,” Sam said nervously.

Léo found it hard to sleep, but Sam drifted off quickly. The sound of Sam’s slow deep breathing was calming, and Léo found his eyes slowly shutting. But just as he found himself slipping into sleep, he felt an arm and a leg around him.

Suddenly wide awake, Léo gulped. Sam hadn’t lied about being a cuddler. His friend was pressed up against him, head in the crook of Léo’s neck.

Not even thinking about it, Léo slowly turned onto his side so that he was facing his friend. Sam’s eyes fluttered slightly and Léo froze. Sam didn’t wake and Léo let out a sigh of relief. He was going to do something that he hoped to God Sam wouldn’t find out about. He scooted closer to Sam until the two were practically chest to chest. Léo wrapped an arm around his friend.

“Good night Sam,” Léo murmured, closing his eyes. Sam let out a sleepy hum, and the two fell asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms.

#stardew sam #farmer léo #sdv oc #sdv sam #buttercup baby fic #stardew oc #sdv farmer #farmer oc #sdv fanfic #stardew fanfic

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mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 3 years

Text

Feeling like a family

Summary: Y/n visits Harry during his lunch break, letting him in on the relationship both her and Milo have with Xavier. Then they go to the zoo and have a little family day :)

warning/ disclaimers: swearing, family issues.

Things have been going amazing with Harry and Y/n. Ever since their date a couple weeks ago they have been seeing each other more and more. Harry has been coming into her bookshop while she’s working when he can. Just to surprise her and make her day a little better, sometimes he brings her lunch on the weekends and she visits him when he is spending hours after school hours grading art work and setting projects up for his students.

It’s been new and exciting, and extremely fun. Not to mention the kissing has definitely been a plus. They went to have coffee with each other a couple days after their date, spending a good portion of the morning together. They have basically been inseparable since, Harry even invited Y/n and Milo over for dinner so they could all get to know each other better. Loralie was just excited to have guests that weren't family, and also to see a friend from school outside of school. She had a great time with Milo, they played together while Harry and Y/n cleaned up dinner together and snuck kisses in the kitchen.

It's another Wednesday. Harry had Loralie and Milo's class now and he is letting them finger paint. It’s mainly been a calm class, he didn’t have to deal with much usually and if a kid did have a melt down the teacher and/or teachers assistant would deal with it instead of making Harry deal with it. “Looks great, Lora,” Harry says, kissing the top of Loralies head before scooting past her and walking over to his messy desk. He has papers, projects, markers, paints, all over his desk, even with all the time he spends after school he feels like he may never get it organized.

“My mummy likes your daddy.” He hears, looking up to see Milo and Loralie talking. His cheeks turn crimson when he hears it, did they really give it away that easy? Their children now caught onto the fact that the two were dating? That was just embarrassing. “My daddy likes your mummy.” But that was more embarrassing.

Harry ignores it (and the burning in his cheeks) and just hopes that the teacher will hush the class. He busies himself with cleaning his desk, trying to shove the papers into the drawers and file folders that they belong to but his mind is still distracted. He’s gonna have to tell Y/n that their kids know. The bell rings and he looks up from his desk. “Okay, you can leave your paintings where they are. I'll put them on the drying rack and you’ll get them tomorrow!” Harry sings, moving over to Loralie to kiss her cheeks and say a goodbye until he sees her at lunch time. “Bye daddy” she says, waving to him after kissing his cheek and joining her class.

Harry laughs, letting out a sigh and putting the messy finger paintings on one of his many drying racks. It’s his lunch time now. He has to supervise lunch so he gets his break before everyone else.

He wanders around his class room, doing random things and cleaning up his messes that he’s made from the two days of the week before him. He didn’t have plans for lunch, he would probably just have an extra big dinner. He’s happy to find Y/n cured his rumbling tummy when he sees her walking through his classroom. He smiles, chuckling at her big dramatic smile that was obvious teasing. “Hi, darling.” He says, leaning over his desk to press a kiss to her lips.

She sits on the art table in front of his desk, setting two to-go boxes down. “Hi,” she says back, handing him one of the to-go boxes. “No sitting on the tables.” Harry teases while he reaches out to take the white Styrofoam box in his hands, quickly thanking her. “Suck it up.” She shrugs, her feet setting in the chair that was once tucked under the art table. “I just got you a sub and fries.” She says, plucking a chip from her box and taking a bite out of it.

“Why Are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, of course.” He smiles, reaching over and giving her hand a squeeze. She shrugs, tapping her shoes down on the chair while she pulls her food into her lap. “I forgot to put Milo's' lunch box in his backpack so I had to drop it off.” She says, making Harry smile. So he thought she would have lunch with him? She’s adorable. “So how’s your week been, babe?” Harry sings, sitting back in his big office hair and relaxing into it while he eats.

“Fine. Milo's dad visited.” What?! Since when did he come around? And since when was he “Milo's dad” and not “Xavier”? Harry knits his brows, gulping down his food before he responds, a little nervous. Harry and Milo are best buds, they have grown closer and he’s tried to pay him more attention when he sees him in class as well, he doesn’t want their friendship to be ruined now, even though what he is thinking is selfish. Milo deserves a good daddy.

“Since when does he come around?” He asks, Y/n rolling her eyes at his tone. “He’s a photographer so he’s always traveling the world. I mean he pays child support, he’s not a shit dad. I just have my own issues with him.” She says, her tone heavy with annoyance. Harry was under the impression that he was a horrible dad and didn’t even try to care for Milo, but now he hears he pays child support and visits?

“I just thought he didn’t care.”

“Well… he’s trying. Like I said he’s traveling the world so he can’t always see him but he pays child support and he’s trying to come around more. He did come over and take some cute photos of Milo though.” Y/n smiles, remembering how her baby posed so well for the camera. He was shy at first but then they found a stray kitty out on a walk and he was more than willing to pose with it.

Harry nods, taking a bite out of his sub. He finishes his bite and wipes his mouth with the brown paper napkins, “Is he gonna take Milo for the night or something like that?” Harry questions. Y/n is happy that Xavier is trying to see him more but she doesn’t think she would be able to be away for a night, especially when he doesn’t see Milo that much anyways. “I don’t think I would be comfortable enough to let Milo stay with him, for now at least. But he’s flying off and leaving Friday so I don’t have to worry.” Y/n confesses, taking a bite of her sub while she waits for Harry’s response.

“Yeah, I understand that.”

They eat together before Y/n deems it time for her to go. Giving him a hug and a kiss goodbye before she heads out and opens the book shop back up, letting Harry finish out his day.

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

Harry and Y/n had made plans to take their little ones to the zoo. Y/n told Harry that Milo had been going on and on about lions so it was the perfect time for them to go. Harry has packed up Loralies stroller, putting snacks, his wallet, and her diaper bag in the bottom carrier. Luckily (but also unluckily) Milo is at the age where he does not want to be in a stroller, every time Y/n tries to put him in it while they are out he complains and tries to get out of it the whole time.

Harry had picked them up, driving about an hour to the zoo. Milo and Loralie babbled to each other the whole ride which made their parents happy- meanwhile they were just humming to the radio and making small talk the whole ride.

“Are you ready to see the lions?” Y/n coos to Milo, pulling him out of his car seat and setting him on the ground, holding his hand so he doesn’t run off in the car park. Harry pulls Loralie out, pulling out her stroller from the back, preparing to put her in it. “No! I walk today.” Loralie says with a bit of aggression in her voice. Harry hands with his hand up defensively, “okay, but you're gonna want it after walking in the heat for hours.” Harry takes her stroller despite her not wanting to be in it, she takes Harry's hand instead, walking next to Milo.

Their first stop is the stingrays, getting the food from the people who work there then getting down in front of the large pond to pet their slimy skin. Milo and Loralie giggle the whole time, pulling their hands away as soon as they feel like slimy stingray and making dramatic gross faces that make their parents laugh. The kids definitely had fun feeding them and petting them but Harry and Y/n instantly shipped them off to the bathroom so they could wash their hands.

Next is the walk through aquarium, “come on, it's this way.” Y/n says, cooing down at Milo and fast walking toward the cave shaped aquarium. When they walk inside it's lit up blue. They look all around them and they see lots of fish, big whales, all different things. “Woah!” Loralie exclaims, making Harry laugh, kissing her cheeks. All of a sudden Milo breaks out in loud giggles, pulling at the length of her mom jeans. “Mama, Look!” Milo giggles, pointing to a fish sticking to the aquarium glass, looking like it's making a silly face at everyone. Y/n laughs, squatting down and wrapping her arm around Milo, resting a hand on his belly. “Let's go see them” Y/n says, pulling him up on her hip and kissing over his cheeks. She takes him over to the silly fish while Harry lets Loralie look around, staring above her at the large fish swimming by until she stumbles back. Harry catches her, standing her back up and taking her over where Milo and Y/n are, showing her the fish that Milo was trying to touch through the glass.

“He's so cute.” Harry compliments, laughing at how Milo's is so obsessed with the silly looking fish. Y/n turns to look at Harry, thanking him cockily- taking all the credits for his adorableness. Harry bumps his nose with hers in a butterfly kiss while their kids are looking straight ahead. He gives her a peck while the kids are still distracted then he turns back to the fish. “Okay, it's time to go look at the animals!” Harry cheer, pulling Loralie off of the ledge she was standing on.

They walk through the entrance of all the animals, seeing some monkeys. Loralie and Milo start to imitate the monkeys, giggling at each other and the animals. They move onto koalas, waving at the cuddly animals before they get to see the lions- this is what Milo has been waiting for. “ROAR!” Milo yells, trying to climb on the wooden fence between the people and lions. Y/n giggles at him, pulling him off the fence and on her hip. “You’re a baby lion, aren’t you?” Y/n coos, kissing his forehead. Milo nods before she pulls him in her hands, extending him out. “Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba!” She sings, making the boy giggle, roaring again before she pulls him back in, kissing all over his face, making him squeal and push away.

Meanwhile Loralie wants to pet the real baby lions. She’s got a frustrated face on since Harry didn’t let her climb over the fencing and pet the furry lions. Harry can’t help but laugh at her. They walk a bit more, walking for a while until they go to their next exhibit.

It’s all calm until Milo starts screaming. He sees a bird wandering free, it was a large blue bird with huge feathers framing its head. Y/n knew that the peacock was harmless, they wouldn't let it wander free if it was, but Milo was gonna be scared of it regardless. “No, no!” He yells, backing away from the bird, trying to scold it for just walking around. Y/n laughs while Milo grips onto her leg, wagging his finger at the bird and yelling at it for scaring him. “It’s not gonna get you, bubba.” She laughs, pulling him into her hip while they get to the penguin house.

They walk into the cold penguin house, their noses instantly crinkling from the smell. “Brrr” Loralie says, running her arms up and does while her teeth chatter. Harry laughs, tossing her little jacket over her shoulder to warm her up. “Look at the baby penguin.” Harry coos to Loralie, holding her up to the glass so she can wave at the little puffins. “Tiny!” She squeals, waving at the baby penguins.

“Yeah,” Harry laughs at her. “They are tiny, Lora.” He agrees with her, giving the back of her head a kiss before settling her back down on the ground, letting her wander off a few feet away to look around at the penguins a bit more before they leave and look at the polar bears.

After the polar bears, they head to the gift shop, Loralie gets a purple bucket hat with a blue monkey on it and a stuffed penguin she named “tiny”. Milo got a shirt of the name of the zoo and a matching stuffed penguin that he couldn’t choose a name for just yet.

They head back to the car, Loralie’s legs are tired on the walk but she refuses to go in her stroller, instead Harry holds her while they take the long walk back, one arm holding Loralie up to his hip and the other latched with Y/n’s hand while her other hand holds Milo's. Once they get to the car Loralie and Milo get buckled up in their car seats, sure to fall asleep soon.

Harry and Y/n get into the front seats, their hands instantly finding the others. “I had a nice day with you.” Harry smiles, his face only inches from hers. Y/n blushes, giving his hand a squeeze. “Yeah, I had a lot of fun.” She says, focusing on Harry’s thumb rubbing at the back of her hand. They hear little whispers and giggles, turning their heads back to their little ones. “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” They whisper- chant. Their parents' cheeks instantly burn, looking back to each other with big cheesy smiles on their faces.

“Well?” Harry shrugs, leaning in and pressing his lips to her. She giggles on his lips, both of the kids in the back yelling. “Ew!” Loralie says. “Gross!” Milo agrees.

The parents laugh, pressing one last peck to each other's lips before Harry starts up the car. They had a good day together. Harry got closer to Milo and Y/n got closer to Loralie. It kinda feels like they are becoming a little family.

Hii!! if you liked this please reblog and tell me what you thought of it!! please let me know if you would like to be on my tag list!! and please make sure you have read the first two parts :)

tag list: @romionefp @iaalien @hopeyoustaythenight @evanjh

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amoc94 · 3 years

Text

"His Pet"

Summary : Min Yoongi. A business magnate, and a mafia leader. He was everything you would never imagine to be a part of your life.

Yet fate is not something to be eluded.

He would do anything to make you his.

Pairings : Yoongi × female OC (from reader's POV).

Genre : Yandere, Mafia AU.

Warning for this chapter : Nothing.

This story is not for easily triggered readers or below eighteen.

Full Masterlist and elaborate warning please read here.

List of chapters here.

CHAPTER 35.

Ocean as far as the eyes could see, with clear pristine water softly rippled surrounding the vast villa, the expanded scenery of the blue sea enriched with the beautiful orange hue of sunset over the horizon, and hundreds of soft glowing lights at the rim of the bridge that connected the bungallows with the main building of the resort.

They called it Water Villa, since it perched atop the crystal clear waters encircling the atoll, where you could see manta rays, stingrays, parrot fish and turtles swam the turquoise water of the surrounding sea.

The spacious outdoor deck of water bungalow allowed you to jump straight into the glistening ocean.

It was just magical, and you were so amazed with the view in front of you, it looked like something you could only watch from the movie before.

If only the man that accompanied you right now would feel the same. Magical would probably be the last thing in his mind right now.

Since both of you climbed his car at the mansion, along the way to the airport, until your arrival at the VIP lounge, Yoongi had been on his phone non stop.

His mobile phones had been ringing constantly, and you watched his demeanor switched alternately between annoyed, upset and raged.

"Budgeting...he called this budgeting? More like blackmailing to us, you do realize that, don't you?"

"Well, tell Seung Hyun, he can kiss my ass. I won't take the offer below the projected cost."

"No, I don't care. That asshole can find another company. I doubt he will he able to find a better offer than ours. "

"Fuck! That bastard, who does he think we are to him? His slave? I'm gonna blow his head!"

And another conversation with string of profanities that followed, you could almost see the smoke coming from his head, he looked beyond angry.

The never ending meeting and heated talk continued even after both of you boarded into the private jet, ready for ten hours flight to Maldives, where you would spend six nights for vacation.

Along the time you only watched him in silent, too scared to say anything to him.

During the flight, he was busy typing on his laptop, doing conference calls with the other boys and several other people you didn't know, ignored any meal offered by the only stewardess on the plane, as well as her advances to him.

With her low neckline, tight grey bodycon dress uniform, thick make up and blood red lipstick, you were almost convinced, she dressed up solely for Yoongi. The way she swayed her hips everytime she passed his seat, albeit without luck, because his focus was on his laptop. Once, you saw her deliberately leaned over him, trying to fix his seat belt, he probably could see her cleavage had he paid attention to her.

You looked at the woman in distaste. Didn't she realize that Yoongi i.e. her boss brought his girlfriend a.k.a. you, together with him?

However, somehow you couldn't blame her, Yoongi seemed too oblivious about his surrounding, let alone to acknowledge you as his girlfriend.

When you asked Sejin about why Yoongi looked so uptight, his only answer was that Bangtan had an upcoming big project, and all of the boys were busy with it.

So in the end, you tried to distract yourself by watching some movies and got a good eye shut, enjoying the comfort of the luxurious leather seat that could be reclined into a flat bed.

Once during your sleep, you were awakened when something was draped over your body. You squinted trying to get a good view of the person who did it, it was him who put a blanket over you.

Even for the short getaway, Yoongi brought three of his men, one was his assistant, the two others were Sejin and another guy you never met before.

You felt like invisible to him, you didn't really have anyone to talk to. And you were supposed to be happy and excited.

When he said to you that he would take you to Maldives for a holiday, you were ecstatic, you have never been there, and to experience a new place was like a fresh breath of air to you.

But you never expected that holiday with him would mean you spent the first two days wandering around the beach, watching the beautiful sunset at the private deck of your villa, swimming in the private pool connected to the deck, and having lunch and dinner at the dining room, all alone.

The only person you interacted with was the villa dedicated butler, Manu, who cooked and chatted with you during his service time.

Because your dear boyfriend was still nailed on his laptop and his phone, seemingly forgot that he actually brought you here for a holiday.

Sighing loudly, you walked back inside the huge bungalow, through the silky smooth sheer curtain covering the glass window, to the lounge room that had the giant TV sat on the mahogany bench. The plush sofa at the center was so big that you could lie down and still had some space left. Everything inside the villa were luxurious, but you couldn't enjoy it much.

He had insisted to sleep in separate bedroom from you. As much as you resented him, you couldn't help but feeling rejected.

He could make love to you so ardently and fiery, before moved to separate bedroom leaving you to sleep by yourself.

Not even once you ever wake up in the morning with him by your side. Not that you complained anyway, you tried to deny the strange dejected feeling.

Since the day you got the tattoo, you had thrown a tantrum at him, giving him cold shoulder and only gave brief answer for each question he asked you.

Surprisingly he wasn't mad at you, instead, you could feel his amusement from his stare everytime he looked at you.

Once the tattoo healed, he took you to bed right away, after holding back for almost two weeks, and made love to you until your throat hurt from screaming his name.

He was like two opposite sides of magnet, pulling you to him before pushing you away later, giving you hot kisses only to throw dark icy stare later on, often times you were confused of his bipolar character.

You made a few steps towards his bedroom, you knew he wouldn't lock the door, because he said to you to come to him whenever you need something, since you didn't have anyone else to tend to you. Sejin and the other two guys were with him this afternoon, even ate their lunch in his bedroom, helping him with his work.

When you entered his room, your body shivered over the cold air blasting around the room, seemed like the air conditioner was set on lowest temperature.

His room was smaller than yours, he gave you the master bedroom to occupy, said that girls usually need more space.

You saw him laid on the bed chest down, right hand covered under a pillow, he was still on the same white short sleeve shirt and cream colored bermuda shorts he wore since morning.

Stack of papers and folder files were scattered on the coffee table in front of the TV as well as on the writing table, his laptop rested on it, the screen lit and his mailbox on display. He probably planned to just lie down for a while, but fell asleep instead. You could imagine how exhausted he was.

You only met him once this morning at the kitchen, hair wet after shower, making himself a cup of black coffee from the coffee maker. He stated that he would be busy the whole noon, and asked you to walk around by yourself, and he would join you for dinner.

You were asleep the whole afternoon, too exhausted after long flight the previous day, and when you woke up at six pm later, he was still in his bedroom, in the middle of phone conversation, and you didn't dare to bother him.

In the end, you wandered around the beach by yourself, only returned to the villa near eight pm.

Observing him in his sleep, it was something you never saw before. Yoongi had never fallen asleep before you. It was strange, but also interesting to you, like a new discovery.

Watching his unguarded pretty face from one side, without his impassive face or dark stare, he looked younger while sleeping.

Feeling the freezing air around, you thought of how cold he must have felt, without blanket covering his body.

Slowly made your way towards the bed, you pulled the big white cotton blanket from the corner, and started to wrap it on him, being careful as not to wake him up from the much needed rest.

You didn't have the chance to finish your task, blanket halfway over his waist, when Yoongi suddenly jolted awake, and before you knew it, his right hand holding a black gun was pointed at you.

You were too stunned to move, froze on your spot eyes wide.

"Yoon ... Yoongi?"

He blinked his eyes several times, bloodshot from the too brief slumber, trying to make sense of his surrounding.

"Yuri? ..."

He lowered his gun, exhaling a long deep breath.

"Oh god, Yuri, you don't wake me up like that. I could have shot you!"

"I ... I didn't mean to ... to wake you up. Only ... only ... to put the blanket on you ..."

You tried to calm yourself down, memory of him when he shot the guy at the night club appeared in your mind.

Who on earth sleeping with gun under his pillow? You pressed one hand over your chest, trying to calm your erratic beating heart.

Leaning to the edge of the mattress, he craned his torso off the bed, and shoved the gun under it.

"I'll ... I'll go back to my room then." You slowly turned around to go out from his room.

"Wait ... " He held your wrist and pulled you to lie down with him, he lay on his side resting on his elbow with his hand supporting his head, observing you.

"What did you do today?" His fingers gently lined to your cheeks, caressing the smooth skin.

"Not ... not much. Just swimming, and went to the beach."

He was in a moment of silence after that, his eyes staring you with a soft look.

"It supposed to be our holiday, but again, my work draining me up." He rubbed your shoulder, peppering kisses all over your neck.

You closed your eyes, the chilly air did a poor job to cool down your body, it was heating up from his touch on you.

You wanted him. It was always like that.

No matter how mad you were at him sometimes, only with one touch, and your body reacted instantly. No wonder he easily manipulated his way over you.

His lips went up to kiss your lips, then suddenly he moved over, before patted your hips and got up from the bed.

"Let's walk outside, I'll take you for sightseeing."

"Sightseeing? But..it's dark already.."

He ignored you, pulling your wrist instead, and walked towards the door.

"You will see."

Chapter 36

#yandere yoongi #yandere bts #bts fanfic #bts mafia au #yandere suga #min yoongi #agust d #bts imagines #bts yandere au

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biceraswitch · 4 years

Text

Lock and Key - Part 1

Summary: Bucky is being a brat while you are at work.

Pairings: sub!Bucky x dom!reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, language, dom/sub tones, sub!Bucky

Part 2

----

The first message came through just after you got to work.

(I miss you)

A small smile crossed your face as you replied.

(I miss you too baby boy but I have to work now. I’ll see you later)

Bucky could be a bit clingy sometimes, not that you minded of course. It felt good to be wanted and needed. You’d left him this morning, half-asleep and curled up in the warm bed. Pressing a kiss to his forehead as usual before you headed out the door.

(I’ve been thinking about you all morning)

‘He’s so needy today’ you thought. It had been a busy week and you hadn’t been able to give him as much attention as usual but it was Friday and you had the entire weekend to be together ‘he deserves a treat tonight’. You locked your phone and placed it face down on the desk,before opening up your email inbox to begin work.

Just a few minutes later your phone buzzed, Bucky’s name appearing again. Hitting send on an email and opening another, you ignored your phone. It buzzed three more times, each time Bucky’s name lighting up the screen, before you finally reached over.

(I need you to come home and fuck me) (please come home and let me eat that pussy) (my dick is so hard) (do you wanna see?)

You shook your head whilst reading the messages, what had gotten into him today?

(Baby boy this is your one warning.You know you shouldn’t be sending things like that.)

Not even 30 seconds later the response came.

(How about things like this?)

What followed was a photo of Bucky’s lower half. He was stretched out on the bed, boxers sitting dangerously low, the clear outline of his cock hard and straining against the fabric.

(You know the answer. Stop being a little brat)

(Are you gonna come home and spank me??)

Taking a deep breath you re-locked your phone and this time put it away in your bag. You had work to do and Bucky was clearly in the mood to wind you up regardless of the consequences. Or judging by that last text, precisely because of the consequences. It had been a while since you turned his cute ass red and you had to admit that you missed it. You remembered the last time; he was face-down on the bed, hands tied clasping opposite elbows behind his back, ass propped up with pillows turning pinker with each strike of the paddle, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes…. Pushing those thoughts out of your mind you returned to work, noticing your phone softly vibrating in your bag.

----

It was mid afternoon and despite the distractions of the morning you had managed to finish up the projects for the week with time to spare. You hadn’t opened your phone since putting it in your bag but you were certain that Bucky wouldn’t have given up quickly, even without a response from you. Packing up you bid your coworkers farewell, glad that your boss was so relaxed about when you headed out

Once sitting in your parked car you fished in your bag and grabbed your phone out.

Bucky: 42 new messages

Sighing you opened it up. Oh Baby boy you are in trouble. The first message was another photo, this time his boxers were pushed down, hand wrapped around his cock, the head shiny and red. What followed was a series of images and videos. He’d clearly been spending most of the day naked, breaking the rule: no touching without permission. There were shots of him pumping his cock with his metal hand before coating his stomach in stripes of cum. Photos in the bedroom, the bathroom, the lounge, hell - even the kitchen. Close-ups of his cock leaking pre-cum, selfies with blissed out eyes, full body shots in the mirror. A video of hands wiping cum from his chest before sucking fingers deep into his mouth.

The last series of images sent just 30 minutes ago had Bucky diving into your toy box. A jewelled buttplug nestled between his cheeks, then his favourite dildo in his mouth, plump lips wrapped about the rainbow silicone. The final message was a video. Bucky had clearly spent time propping his phone up opposite the bed and he now lay on his back, butt on the edge of the bed, legs drawn up with heels resting by his cheeks. Metal hand thrown over his face and flesh hand thrusting that rainbow dildo in and out of his cute little hole. The noises he was making were sinful, breathy whimpers and moans missing with the wet sloppy sounds from his hole.

“Mmmm... yes…. y/n…. feels so good” he was panting and a light sheen of sweat coated his body. The video cut off and you debated sending a message to say you were coming home. Deciding against it you started the engine, plotting what to do with the boy waiting for you.

The rules were quite simple. No touching without permission, no cumming without permission. Up until now there hadn’t really been any issues. Of course there were times when he pushed the boundaries, played up a little and acted like a brat; You didn’t mind that, a little bit of resistance could be fun. But he had never been so brazen before, never broken a rule so openly, continuously and apparently without any regret.

You pondered your options on the drive home. Bucky was clearly wanting to rile you up and boy had he succeeded. Remembering a recent purchase tucked away in your wardrobe you smirked, That would be just perfect...

-----

#bucky #bucky x reader #sub!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #fanfiction #dom!reader

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queenofspades20 · 4 years

Text

Date Night

Y/n had been have a rough time at work, so Frankie plans a special night out.

Pairings: Frankie Morales x Reader

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mostly fluff, some angst (light, stressed about work, nerves, nothing crazy)

This is something I’ve always wanted to do. Just need to get a boyfriend and a truck with an open bed. So, just two things.

Y/n had been struggling at work lately and Frankie could see the exhaustion in her face. She had been coming home late every night for two weeks, working on a project that was supposed to be done Friday. Though she wasn’t talking much about the stress, he knew it was a matter of time before it was going to overwhelm her.

It was ten at night on Thursday when Y/n came home from work. She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. The project she had been working on was due to be finished the next day and she couldn’t wait for it to be done. She saw Frankie sitting on the couch, watching a show. He turned to her as she walked into the room. Seeing how tired she was, he just opened his arms and she climbed onto his lap and hugged him.

“You okay?” Frankie asked as he rubbed circles on Y/n’s back.

“I will be when this project is done tomorrow. I’m so tired,” she mumbled into his neck. She was as close to him as she could be, finding comfort in being in his arms.

“What do you say we feed you, because I’m assuming you skipped dinner again, and then we can go to bed?”

“I’m too tired to eat. I’ll eat breakfast. I just want to go to bed with you. I’m assuming Izzy is asleep already?” Y/n asked about Frankie’s daughter. Y/n and Frankie started dating when Isabella was 9 months old and her mother was no longer in the picture. At 4 years old, Isabella was a little spitfire. She had Frankie and Y/n wrapped around her little fingers. Y/n felt guilty for not being around as much the past few weeks and she missed spending time with Izzy.

“Yeah. She tried to stay up and wait for you, but fell asleep about an hour and a half ago.”

“Damn.” Y/n felt herself start to break down. Her tears started to fall onto Frankie’s neck.

“It’s okay. She doesn’t quite understand what you’ve been dealing with, but she knows you love her.”

“It’s not okay. That little girl means the world to me and I’ve barely been around for weeks. How would she know I love her when she never sees me?” Y/n started to cry harder.

“Hey, look at me,” Frankie said as he shifted Y/n so she was looking into his face. “She knows because you make her lunch every day and you draw the little cartoons and pictures for her to enjoy. She knows they’re from you. And your late hours aren’t going to last much longer. Tomorrow the project is done. Why don’t you come home early, we can do dinner with Izzy. I’ll call Pope to come over and then you and me can go out for a bit. He’s always happy to watch her.”

“I should be done by 3.”

“Come home right after that then. It’s Friday and you’ve put in more than enough hours over the past few weeks. Start your weekend early. I’m off until Tuesday anyways.” Frankie stroked the side of Y/n’s face. She leaned into his touch and looked at him with watery eyes.

“I’m so lucky to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one, Hermosa. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Be perfectly fine because you have Izzy.”

“I wouldn’t be fine. I love Izzy, obviously, but you make our family complete. You’re always doing things to make sure we know how much you love us. You bring so much light into our lives. We’d be lost without you.”

“You’re gonna make me cry again,” Y/n sniffed. She moved forward and kissed Frankie. “Let’s go to bed, my love.”

Y/n moved to get off Frankie and helped him stand up. After making sure everything was turned off or locked, they made their way to the bedroom. After brushing their teeth and getting changed, they climbed into bed, Y/n snuggling close to Frankie.

“I love you, Frankie.” Y/n sighed as she got comfortable.

“I love you, too.” Frankie kissed Y/n’s brow. They fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The next day, while Y/n was at work, Frankie called Pope to see if he could watch Izzy.

“Of course, Fish. I never turn down time with Izzy. Do you need to me to sleep over?” Pope said over the phone. Frankie was in the kitchen, assembling snacks for his plans for Y/n that night. Izzy was on the floor next to him, coloring.

“Probably. I’m going to take Y/n out in the truck to that area where we can watch the stars. I’m going to fill up the bed with blankets and pillows and we’re just gonna lay out there. It’s supposed to be clear tonight.”

“You know, this would be the perfect time to give her that ring,” Pope suggested. Frankie had made the decision to propose to Y/n, wanting to say vows in front of their friends and family that he intended to spend the rest of his life with her.

“I was thinking that too. Which is why I’m asking you to plan to spend the night. Then we can hopefully go out for a celebratory breakfast tomorrow.”

“There’s no way she’ll say anything other than yes, Fish. She loves you and Izzy.”

“I know she loves us and we’ve talked about marriage, but I’m still nervous.”

“It’ll be fine. And I think she’ll love your surprise for her. So, what time should be I over?

“Well, Y/n is coming home early. Why don’t you come around 5ish and we can all eat dinner together? Y/n loves seeing you too.”

Izzy held up the picture she had drawn. “Look, Daddy!”

Frankie smiled at his daughter. “That’s beautiful, Izzy. Who is it for?”

“Mommy!” Izzy smiled up at her dad.

“She’s going to love it. Your Uncle Pope is going to be coming over later. Why don’t you draw something for him next?”

“Yay, Uncle Pope!” Izzy quickly grabbed another piece of paper from the stack Frankie had put next to her to draw on.

“She’s going to draw something for me?” Pope almost sounded as excited as Izzy.

“She does love you.” Frankie laughed.

“Well, I’m her favorite.”

“I think Y/n is her favorite.”

“Fair. I’m her favorite uncle, then.”

“I’ll give you that. So, I’ll see you around 5?”

“Need me to bring anything?”

“Nah. I’m just going to order in some food. I’ll see you later.”

“Later.”

Frankie ended the call and turned to his daughter. She was happily drawing her picture for Pope. “Izzy, what do you say we move all this to the living room and wait for Mommy to get home?”

“Okay, Daddy.” Izzy picked up her paper and the crayons she was using. Frankie grabbed the rest of the art supplies, putting the picture Izzy did for Y/n on the kitchen counter, and the two made their way into the living room. After he got Izzy settled, Frankie ran around and grabbed as many blankets and pillows as he could to toss into the bed of his truck. He also blew up the air mattress and got it placed, so they would be comfortable. Y/n had mentioned wanting to do this for some time, but they just hadn’t made it happen yet. Frankie was determined to give her a night to always remember.

Around 4, Y/n came through the door with a tired smile. The project was done without any problems. Her boss had let her leave early and told her to take Monday off as well as a reward for all her hard work. “Hello?” she called out as she toed off her shoes.

“Living room!” Frankie could be heard.

Y/n smiled and walked over to where Frankie and Izzy were sitting on the couch, watching Izzy’s favorite show. Frankie nudged Izzy, who looked up and saw Y/n. She smiled widely and jumped up.

“Mommy!” Izzy ran over to Y/n and wrapped her arms around Y/n’s legs.

“Hi, Baby! Did you have a good day?” Y/n reached down and stroked the top of Izzy’s head.

“The best! I drew you and Uncle Pope pictures and Daddy and I watched some movies.”

“That sounds like a great day.” Y/n smiled at Frankie as she picked up Izzy. She made her way over to the couch and sat next to Frankie with Izzy being settled between them.

“Hi,” Y/n said, looking at Frankie with smile.

“Hi.” Frankie leaned over and gave Y/n a quick kiss. “Good day?”

“Yeah. Project’s done and I’m off til Tuesday. Jack gave me Monday off in recognition of my hard work.”

“Good. So, what shall we order for dinner?” Frankie slung his arm across the back of the couch, his hand reaching forward to stroke Y/n’s shoulder. “Pope will be here for dinner.”

“So, pizza?”

“Pizza works. I’ll call in a little bit.”

Y/n stood up from the couch. Frankie looked at her quizzically. “I’m going to change. What are we doing later?”

“It’s a surprise. Just dress comfortable, that’s all I’m going to give you.”

“So jeans?”

“Jeans and tshirt works,” Frankie confirmed.

“Perfect. After having to put in extra hours and wearing nothing but professional clothes, I’m happy to be casual. I’ll be back.”

While Y/n was getting changed, he called the pizza in. Pope got there around the same time as the pizza. After dinner, Frankie and Y/n hung around for a little bit longer. Y/n was getting caught up on what was going on in Pope’s life. While they were talking, Frankie made a thermos a hot chocolate. When he was done, he walked over to where everyone was sitting.

“Ready to go, Y/n?”

Y/n looked up at him with a smile. “Let’s go.” She turned to Izzy. “You be good for your Uncle Pope, Izzy, okay?”

“I will, Mommy.” Izzy moved closer to Pope and hugged him. “I’m always good for Uncle Pope,” she said, innocently.

The adults started laughing. Y/n went and kissed Izzy’s head. “Love you, Izzy. We’ll see you in the morning.”

Frankie went over and gave Izzy a kiss goodbye. He looked at Pope. “I’d give some rules, but you ignore them anyways. Just don’t do anything too crazy.”

Pope smiled at them. “You know me well. Have a fun night, you two.”

Frankie led Y/n to his truck, distracting her from looking in the back. He had loaded up the blankets and snacks shortly before she got home. He was happy she didn’t notice the blankets missing from in the house. Frankie put a blindfold over Y/n’s eyes.

“I want this to be a surprise.”

“This doesn’t end with you killing me and dumping my body in a forest, does it?” Y/n asked with a smile. She didn’t need to see him to know Frankie was giving her an unimpressed look.

Frankie sighed. “You’d think I would anticipate your jokes by now, Hermosa. But no, I’m not going to kill you.”

Frankie put the truck into drive and directed the truck towards the field he was taking her to. It was about a 45 minute drive, well outside city limits, so that they would have a clear view of the sky. Thankfully, the weather channel was right about the weather and the skies were absolutely clear. When he got to the field, he put the truck in park and had Y/n stay seated while he set up the blankets and pillows. After everything was set up to his satisfaction, Frankie felt in his pocket for the ring and took a big sigh. He helped Y/n out of the truck and then gently removed the blindfold.

“I thought we could look at the stars,” Frankie said, gesturing to the bed of the truck and to the sky.

Y/n felt her eyes tear up. “Frankie, this is perfect!” She moved her arms around his torso and pulled him close. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

“I remember us talking about it once. I thought this would be a good way to wind down after the stressful weeks you’ve had.”

“It is. Thank you.”

Frankie led her to the back of the truck and let the tailgate down. He helped her jump up on the bed and she got settled on the air mattress. Frankie followed her up and closed the tailgate. The night had a bit of a chill to it, making the blankets a perfect addition. Frankie and Y/n were propped up against the back with the pillows, so they could sit up while drinking the hot chocolate Frankie made. They talked about everything and nothing, at some point just being quiet while looking up at the stars. The silence was comfortable and Y/n hadn’t felt this relaxed or happy in weeks.

“I love you, Frankie,” Y/n whispered, not wanting to disturb the peace they had created for themselves. Her eyes stayed on the stars and she had a soft smile on her lips.

Frankie shifted, reaching into his pocket for the ring. This was the moment he had been waiting for. He felt his heartbeat pick up pace and his palms started to get sweatier. He cleared his throat and looked down at Y/n. Y/n felt the nerves radiating off him and looked at him questioningly.

“I love you, too, Y/n,” Frankie rushed out, realizing he hadn’t responded to her in a few moments. He fumbled with the ring in his hands, trying to not let Y/n see it until he had asked her his question. “There’s actually something I want to ask you.”

“You can ask me anything, Frankie.”

“I, uh, I…” Frankie had prepared a whole speech, but in the moment, his nerves got the better of him.

“Take your time.” Y/n reached up and stroked the side of Frankie’s face. She smiled at him encouragingly.

Frankie covered her hand with his own, the ring in his other hand. He took a steadying breath and smiled down at her.

“You are the light of my life. When we met, I didn’t think I deserved another chance at a relationship. I had Izzy and I thought that would be all I could ever have. I don’t know what I did to deserve someone as amazing as you, but I’m so glad I did it. You are my best friend and you have become the mother of my child. You brought love into our lives and I couldn’t be more thankful for you.”

Y/n started to tear up at his sweet words. “I’m the lucky one,” she said softly. She didn’t want to interrupt Frankie, but she couldn’t hold in her feelings.

Frankie smile at her. “Y/f/n, would you do me the honor of marrying me and officially adopting Izzy? You are her mother in every way that matters and nothing would make me happier than to be your husband.”

Y/n couldn’t stop the tears falling down her cheeks. She pulled Frankie into a heated kiss. She smiled at them as they broke apart.

“Is that a yes?”

Y/n let out a watery laugh. “Of course, it’s a yes. I would love to be your wife and Izzy’s mom. Are you sure you want to go through the adoption process?”

“Yes. Izzy already clearly considers you her mother. I just want it to be legal.” Frankie took Y/n’s left hand and slid on the ring.

“Frankie,” Y/n said in awe. “It’s perfect. I love it.”

“I’m glad.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “You just made me the happiest man alive.”

“Well, as you just made me the happiest woman, I think we’re even.”

They settled into the blankets, holding each other. They spent the rest of the night out under the stars. Frankie texted Pope that they were going to camp out under the stars and that they would be having a celebratory breakfast in the morning.

#frankie morales x reader #Frankie Morales #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #triple frontier #frankie morales fluff #In need of some serious fluff #catfish morales #frankie catfish morales

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

A Place Like This 2

Warnings: this short series will include dark elements including noncon, possible violence, mentions of mental illness, and other explicit content. I’m not your mother, curate your own consumption.

This is dark!Lumberjack!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start asking questions but you might not like the answers.

Note: I’m a filthy liar and this is gonna be obv more than two parts and I dunno what I’m doing.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your office was the room across the hall from Andy’s, just beside the bathroom and furthest from your mother’s.

You had a routine; it helped you keep on track. You woke up, had a coffee and a small breakfast, and climbed back upstairs to begin your work. At noon, you took a break, you went for a walk or just sat on the porch with your mother if she wasn’t in her room. You returned to work and later in the afternoon you came down to remind your mother about her pills. Then you started dinner as the day was in its final decline.

Andy only changed that slightly. He woke earlier than you did and was on his way out as you got up. He came home around dinner time and you left a plate for him in the oven if he was late. He was quiet, he ate, and went upstairs. The first week went by as such. You almost pitied him for living in what seemed a crowded isolation.

Then the weekend came. Like the other lumber workers, he had those two days to himself. It would be the first real test of your arrangement.

You woke at your usual time and went down to make your coffee. You only wrote for a couple hours on weekends. Breaks were good. You measured the grounds into the percolator and filled it with water. You turned on the decades old stove and turned as you heard the old stairs groan.

Andy appeared in the door. He wore jeans and a thick knitted sweater. His hair, overgrown and shaggy, was pushed away from his face, his beard a shade darker and starting to puff out from its length. You suspected that as a lawyer, he never looked so unkempt and yet even now, he still managed to look refined.

“Hate to be selfish but you think there’s enough for me?” He crossed to the table and sat.

“Should be,” You rubbed your hands together. You wore an old sweatshirt with a grizzly on the front and your old faded jeans with the bleach stain on the knee. Unfashionable but warm. ‘“Cream, milk, sugar?”

“Black’s fine,” He said as he scratched his chin. “I was thinking today I could stock us up on wood for the fireplace. Since it’s snowing now, it’s better to get it done before the winter is really here.”

You squinted at him and played with the frayed cuff of your shirt. “So, you got a lot of snow in the city?”

“Not as much as here, I’m sure.” He let out a long breath and you saw the cloud in front of him.

You paused and listened for the rattle of the furnace. “Fuck.” You pushed yourself away from the counter. “I gotta light the furnace.”

“Where is it? I’ll do it.” He offered. “Since you made the coffee.”

“You sure?”

“Think I can handle it,” He stood. “City boy and all.”

“Basement door’s outside. It’s a pain but this place is old and not very well put together.” You said. “There’s a lighter in the drawer.” You pointed at the counter. “Thanks. Oh, and the key too. Hanging by the door with the green tag.”

“Alright,” He crossed to the door. “Think I’ll figure it out.”

He disappeared down the hall and returned with his big boots. He put them on before the back door and unlocked it. He tramped down the steps as the door clattered behind him and you listened to his crisp footsteps.

You wrung your hands as you thought. Nice enough, you surmised, but evasive. Maybe he wasn’t running from some heinous offense but he was trying to get away from something. You could tell by the way he always seemed to direct the conversation, especially when it turned on him.

You heard the sudden rumble of the furnace and the vents hissing. You turned as the percolator began to shake almost in tandem and the small glass knob bubbled with brown coffee. You took it off the burner as the basement door squeaked and the jingle of the key accompanied the snowy steps across the yard.

Andy kicked off his boots and slipped through the back door. He hung the key and he shook the snow from his hair and smoothed it back. He left his boots on the mat as you poured two mugs. He approached and you slid one to him. He took it with a soft thank you.

You added milk to yours and sat at the table as he did the same. You regretted it almost immediately. You should've taken it up with you and hid in your office.

"Any plans today?" He asked. You blinked and he rested his palm against the hot mug. "Sorry, it's none of my business."

"Nah, nothing planned," You replied. "So you just plan on chopping wood on your day off?"

"Not much else to do up here. It's nice. Mindless." He shrugged.

"You have a lot you don't want to think about?" You wondered.

His jaw ticked as he eyed you and his lips curled slightly.

"Don't we all?"

"You'd have to to come all the way up here from wherever you're from." You commented.

"Hmm," He chuckled under his breath. "You'd make a good prosecutor. You don't miss a lot."

"I'm a writer. I write about people, so I gotta study them closely."

"I thought you wrote about animals."

"That's what I'm paid to write about but… I have my own projects." You lifted your mug and tasted the rich brew.

He sucked his bottom lip in as his thoughts wrinkled on his forehead. "Uh huh," He uttered carefully. "Guess that's true then."

"So… is it too much to ask why you ditched being a lawyer?" You asked.

"You do anything long enough and you get bored."

"And you never did anything else? Never got married?" You prodded.

"Well, what about you?" He challenged as he hooked two finger through the handle of his mug. "Not many fish in this pond, huh."

"Touche," Your lips slanted, "You definitely are the lawyer type."

🍂

Later that day, after you gave your mother her second round of pills, you ventured out into the forest that skirt around the old property. The snow was only just past your ankles, the powder fell in spurts but didn’t seem to get much deeper. When you were met with a block or an impasse in your writing, you always came out to the trees to clear your mind. You were done for the day but you had a long week ahead of you.

You kicked the snow of a fallen tree by the river and listened to those critters not yet in hibernation in the blanket branches above. You thought about the man staying in the room next to yours and the answers he would give you; the questions you were too afraid to ask him.

He wasn’t telling you everything, perhaps he didn’t owe you everything, but the lines in his forehead, the crinkles beside his eyes, the depth of his irises as they watched you. There were things you needed to know about a person and you feared you didn’t know enough about this stranger you’d invited in. You had been too intent on the money, on your own keeping.

Or maybe you were paranoid. You were starting to sound like your mother when she claimed the birds were listening to her and taking the messages back to the monsters of the forest. When she had barricaded herself in her room and refused to come out for fear you were one of them in disguise. The day it had all fallen apart.

Your nose was numb and tingling. You pulled your scarf up over your face and turned back. The snow was crisper now. The temperatures fell with the sun and that happened quickly in the winter. The sky was a dark grey as you came back to the house, the chimney billowed up toward the quarter moon and a soft amber light shone between the curtains of the front room.

You dusted your boots off before you stepped inside. The voice didn’t stop as you took off your coat, scarf, hat, and gloves. You slid your boots off and listened. The scene was unexpected as you peeked into the front room.

Your mother sat with her favourite blanket over her legs before the fire. A fresh stack of wood sat beside it, the basket full of split logs as well. Andy bent to poke at the embers and send up sparks as he got the fire going higher.

“So, this book you’re reading,” He said as he set the poker aside. “Did she get away yet?”

“I don’t think she’s gonna,” Your mother replied as Andy stood and brushed off his jeans. “I don’t think that’s what the story’s about.”

“That’s too bad.” He looked up and his eyes met yours. You moved so that you stood in the doorway. “But I guess that’s truer to life. Not everyone gets their happy ending.”

“Well, I’ve been taking my time because it doesn’t have an ending. Yet.” She explained. “I’m waiting for her to finish.”

Your blood went cold. You crossed your arms and cleared your throat.

“What book is this, ma?” You asked.

She looked around the chair at you and blanched. Andy sat on the sofa and you pushed yourself away from the door frame. Your mother shook her head.

“I told you not to read my stuff.” You grimaced as you came closer. “It’s a first draft. Unfinished, unedited. It’s… personal.”

“From what she says, it’s pretty good regardless,” Andy offered. “Can’t blame her for her curiosity.”

You looked at him sharply and sighed as you dropped your arms.

“Whatever. Just don’t look at it again til I’m done.” You reprimanded. “Please. I’ll give you a look when I’m ready.”

“Dunno why it’s such a big deal. You write for the magazine all the time.” She grumbled.

“Because this isn’t an article on leaf fauna, ma,” You rubbed your cheek. “You already eat?”

“Just about to. Andy put a casserole in the oven.” She smiled. “Never knew a man who cooked. Your father, he couldn’t even salt his own eggs.”

“Mmm,” You sniffed as the smell of the burning wood melded with another more savoury scent. “Well, thank you, Andy. That was considerate. I’m sorry I waited so late, I was a bit distracted.”

“No problem,” He shrugged. “Really, the least I can do.”

You glanced between him and your mom. She hadn’t been this awake in ages. Her meds usually had her napping until dinnertime and asleep just as quickly after. She was vibrant and more friendly to this man than people she’d known for decades. You felt as if you’d walked in on something.

“Well, let me know. I’ll be upstairs.” You backed up. “There’s some strudel left from yesterday we can have for dessert.”

You left them and stopped at the bottom of the stairs as you looked back into the front room. Andy’s voice droned as he spoke to your mom and as she chuckled his eyes found yours. They narrowed for just a moment before he turned back and smiled at the older woman.

Nice enough, you presumed, but why didn’t you believe it?

🍂

The next day, you watched Andy through the window. The snow was thicker, a harbinger of the storm that had been brewing for over a week. He crossed to the trees, his boots barely higher than the blanket below. He sank down with each step. Only a fool would venture out as the windows billowed and flung the snow errantly.

You tore yourself away and pulled the curtain shut. You crept out into the hall and listened. Your mother slept late that day and when you gave her her pills, she’d just rolled over and fallen back to sleep.

You neared the door of Andy’s room and your hand hesitated on the knob. You took a breath and twisted it. You entered and were struck by the man’s smell; of his sweat and the deodorant that always lingered around him. The bed was made and the room barely looked lived in.

You walked slowly to the closet. Flannel shirts and jackets hung within above a single suitcase.

You felt a pang of guilt. Had you not just chided your mother for her snooping? You bent and unzipped the bag. It was empty. You checked the pockets; empty too. You stood and slid the door back into place. You went to the bed, the table next to it with the drawer that didn’t quite shut all the way and you wiggled it open.

The bible your mother left in there as if it were a hotel and pack of smokes. You’d never seen Andy smoke, never even smelled it on him. You took the carton and flipped open the top. Inside, a folded picture. You tiptoed to the window and looked out. His footprints faded into the trees.

You slid the photo out and opened it with shaky hands. It was Andy, shorter hair, trimmed beard, smiling, his arm around a dark-haired woman and a young boy in front of them. You folded it quickly and pushed it back behind the sticks in the pack. You placed it as you had found it and forced the drawer shut.

Was he running from his own family? Or maybe, what had happened to them?

You fled his room and closed the door guiltily. You were only more confused than before. You descended the stairs and hastily pulled your coat from the hook. Your hat was pulled on carelessly and you tied your boots without thinking. You pushed your hands into your gloves and angled yourself out the door. It was fucking cold; the fleece lining of your coat made little difference.

You grunted as you forced your boots through the snow and followed Andy’s tracks as they filled with a new layer of powder. You weren’t sure what you were doing, why you were doing it. What could he be doing all the way out in the woods which would be incriminating?

You went on, even as the questions floated in your mind. You followed his large boot prints, placing your feet in them as you followed his path. You came to a stop before the river, the overturned tree showed where someone had brushed aside the snow. The tracks veered off away from the log and you looked around.

You were forced back into an upright trunk, the breath knocked out of you as Andy pinned you with his arm across your chest. His eyes seared into you as he leaned his weight into you and you gasped for air as you smacked his shoulder.

“Why are you following me?” He growled.

“What? Andy, let me--” You gasped, barely able to breathe, the snow clumping in your lashes. “And--”

“Hmm? I see you watching me. I see the way you look at me.” He hissed. “I help you, help your mother and what? What do you think I am?” He grabbed your chin, his hide glove rough against your skin. “Am I that villain you write about? Is that what you think?”

“No, I…” You smacked him again and again. “I was just---” He let off just a little as you gulped for air. “There’s a storm. You shouldn’t be out here--”

“You think I can’t handle a storm?” He snarled. “You’re not a very good liar and trust me, I’ve known a lot of liars.”

“Let go of me.” You pleaded. “Jesus Christ, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I followed you, okay? I was just… curious.”

“Uh huh,” He turned you and forced his arm around your neck as he bent you over. You kicked as he dragged you through the snow towards the river. “WHat do you think? I’m hiding some big secret like one of those books you read?”

“Let--go,” Your feet slid through the blanket below. “Stop! What are you--”

“You think I’m what? A criminal? A murderer!?” He pulled you up and spun you away from him. You stumbled backwards as you faced him.

Your boots slid beneath you and you hearth the hard thunk of your sole against the the ice. Thick but not thick enough. You held out your hands as you looked down at the river coursing below the brittle surface. Your heart raced in your ears. You tried to take a step forward but he was at the bank, watching you.

“Ah ah,” He raised his hand. “You stay where you are.”

“What are you doing?” You pushed your feet apart. “Andy--”

“Terrible accident you falling through the ice like that. There’s just so much snow, you can’t really tell where the water begins.” He smiled and tucked his hands in his pocket as you heard the slow crack beneath you. “Your mother will be devastated.”

You swallowed as your eyes wetted and you looked between him and your feet. You lifted your boot and the snap below you had your heart in your throat. You plunged into the freezing water with a shrill shriek, your arms flying up to grab onto the ice.

The frozen sheet broke as you tried to latch on and you kicked as the water soaked your coat and dragged you down into the depth further. You flapped helplessly and spun in circles in the waves. The water filled your lungs and you choked and you stared up through the frigid foam, the blurry shadow staring down at you.

The cold bit deep into your flesh and your limbs weakened the more you struggled. The water smothered you and your body spasmed in the thralls of finality. Your eyes rolled back and the dark water flowed around you in welcome.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #dark andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber x reader #andy barber x reader #fic #series #a place like this #lumberjack au #au #lumberjack #Defending Jacob #dark fic #dark!fic

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years

Text

Seahorse (Spencer Reid x Trans Male!Reader) NSFW

Summary: Spencer and Y/N have always wanted kids. Here’s the time Spencer was brave enough to broach the subject of how they would go about it. Plus a few more times after that.

AN: @imagining-in-the-margins came up with the idea of Spencer’s trans bf having a baby amidst man many many prompts for Spencer x male!reader to indulge my daydreaming and I ran with this prompt.

Thank you to @writing-in-april for being my beta on this one! Couldn’t have done it without you, beebs <3

This is the NSFW version. If you are under the age of 18, please do not read! Here’s a SFW version of the story.

Word Count: 5.7k words

Content Warnings: Trans man is pregnant, coming off testosterone, impregnation kink, pre-op sex, allusions to Prison!Spencer.

Masterlist // Gif Credit // SFW Version

The halls echoed with the unbridled joy of little ones calling out “Nemo” and “Dory” at the sight of the clown and surgeon fishes. Spencer bounced on the balls of his feet as he looked around the next room in search of his goal. He stopped when Y/N spared a look in his direction, away from the tank that had captured his attention for a solid five minutes.

“JJ sent me a video of a shrimp solving a Rubik’s Cube the other day.” He grinned.

Ah yes. JJ had also sent Spencer a video of little Henry swinging a mini softball bat about just like Spencer had done. For one game and one game only he had insisted, despite Y/N’s own resolve that he looked hot in the kit.

The walk through the tunnel was the slowest slog Spencer felt, but it was the only attraction in the aquarium to properly distract him. Lights above them filtered through the water, bouncing off the painted walls of the tank in a blue glow. Various species in a perfectly balanced ecosystem swam around one another without a care in the world. A particular stingray flapped its body against the glass, and three children nearby laughed at its funny shaped mouth.

“I used to sit on my mum’s shoulders when we walked through these. Touch the ceiling as if I could pet the fishes.” And Y/N’s hands stretched up over him, his eyes following a shark that slinked overhead, “When I got too old, I’d just press my nose against the glass and stare back.”

Nerves returned at the sight of a circular tank in the centre of the room holding something familiar. Seahorses curled their tails around the plants that waved together like a crowd at a concert. Little babies bobbed about the parents, translucent and wriggly.

Spencer coughed and spoke while Y/N took in the creatures, “Did you know that the seahorse is the only animal where the male carries the children?”

Suddenly his throat was dry; the words he’d been rehearsing dragged to a halt. Y/N turned to face him properly, guiding Spencer to the left as a little girl stood on tiptoe to see the seahorses as he continued to struggle.

“Well, that might not be true actually.” Spencer choked a little on his words, his voice’s volume steadily declining into a soft whisper, “I know that some human men can have babies.”

Y/N’s face clouded with doubt for a moment. Then it clicked and his face cleared, “Spencer, tell me what you’re getting at.”

Spencer twisted his hands around one another, “Have you ever thought about us having kids… biologically?” He watched Y/N’s Adam’s apple dip as he swallowed hard

“You mean like me being pregnant?”

“Yes, have you considered it an option for us?”

The conversations of other aquarium patrons were forgotten as Y/N took his gaze away from Spencer. His eyebrows were low as he considered his words carefully. Y/N always thought about the implications of what he was saying, maybe a little too much. Spencer could be biased though; his impatience did not mix well with his anxieties.

Eventually, Y/N turned back with a brave face and said, “I’d have to think about it some more.”

“Ok.” Spencer nodded, his chin wobbling a little.

There was hope though: he needed to think “some more”. Implying Y/N had thought about this before.

Near the end of their trip, Spencer did find himself in a staring contest with a little seahorse plushie with large eyes and an anatomically inaccurate tongue hanging out. In all honesty, it was kind of ugly.

“Spencer, come on. You know how I get around stuffed animals.”

How empathetic his boyfriend really was, projecting feelings of love onto the inanimate objects then making the excuse that he had to buy it now.

Spencer did have to leave the toy behind though. Out into the sunlight of the parking lot, he winced before he put his sunglasses back on.

“Park?” Y/N offered his hand and smiled. It was an olive branch, something to say that Spencer’s query had not ruined their day out together.

Spencer accepted and squeezed his hand. “Park.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Y/N had a hand on their lower belly, some space between the fingers as if there was an invisible bump there to accommodate. His head had tilted while he thumbed over the air.

As drowsy as Spencer was from work, his mind was focused without a distraction on what he had seen through the ajar bathroom door. He could barely pay attention to the Doctor Who episode Y/N put on. In fact, he doubted anything could take his attention away from the idea of having a child with-

“What do you think about me being pregnant?”

Spencer’s eyes shot wide open, then they were covered slightly by his inquisitive eyebrows in his attempt find an answer. Especially with Y/N looking on him while he waited for him.

“I think you’d be so beautiful carrying our baby. But if you wouldn’t be comfortable, then I wouldn’t make you. We still have surrogacy, fostering, adoption to consider,” was his answer. Never a lie, but the truth was always softened.

Seemingly satisfied, Y/N looked back at the episode. But Spencer couldn’t wait anymore, forgetting about anything else in the world except for this.

“What do you think, Y/N?” His body leant in towards his boyfriend’s.

Squirming in their spot on the couch, Y/N hummed before he answered, “I froze some of my eggs before I started my transition. I also sold some, for a down payment on a house or my wedding.”

Spencer’s heart thrilled at the possibilities. A house together? Matching suits at their wedding? He almost neglected to think about the fact that pregnancy was suddenly a very viable option for their future.

Regardless of Spencer’s many, many thoughts, Y/N continued, “And I thought that perhaps, if I found the right person, I would like to carry their child.” His palm opened up to him and Spencer instantly took it. “I know you’re the right person, but I’m not sure I want a baby now.”

“Of course,” Spencer lifted Y/N’s hand to his lips, “Whenever we’re both ready.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Spencer pushed the dirty bedsheets into the washing machine; it wasn’t that big a deal. If the blood didn’t come out, then they could always buy a new set. Although they should really be saving money for decorating the nursery.

“Spenceerrrr.”

As the machine rumbled into life, Spencer returned to Y/N, curled up on the sofa with a heat pad to his gut. No amount of warnings from their doctor could have prepared Spencer for how emotionally straining it was to see his boyfriend suffering. Y/N was taking this a lot harder than Spencer – and rightfully so, it was his body that was changing.

“Why did I have to have such strong paternal instincts?” He grumbled with his eyes still closed.

Spencer let out a laugh, but it was cut off quick when Y/N whimpered loudly. He knelt down before him and cupped his face. Y/N’s cheeks were warm; his hands clung to Spencer’s wrists like a lifeline.

“What do you need?” Spencer asked softly and Y/N sighed, keening into his cooler palms.

“Can you tell me I’m handsome please?”

“You are the most handsome man in the world, and I adore you every minute of every day.” Spencer kissed Y/N’s pouting lips gently, “Handsome inside and out, I never wanna think about life without you. You just make everything in my life better.”

His fingers moved to brush away a tear that slipped down Y/N’s face and over the ridge of his nose. But he missed and it dripped onto the pillow.

“You’re doing so much for us, for our baby.”

“It’s not even real yet,” Y/N sniffled. His hands finally released Spencer and pressed the heat pad into him.

“It’s gonna be.” Spencer bumped their noses together, “We’re gonna be dads.”

A hoarse laugh met with a hint of a groan in Y/N’s chest, “Yeah. We’re gonna be dads.” That sound and those words were all Spencer needed to feel better. But he wished the same could be said for Y/N. The only thing he could provide was a promise of future relief:

“How about we order in tonight?”

“Ugh, yes.” Y/N burrowed his face into the pillow.

When their bed was made up properly, Spencer and Y/N cuddled together. Unfortunately, Y/N was restless, trying to find a comfortable position while his painkillers kicked in. Spencer kept his complaints to himself, allowing himself to be shifted around in Y/N’s hunt for relief. Honestly it was the least he could do.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“The reproductive process begins when a male and a female seahorse do daily pre-dawn dances, intertwining their tails and swimming together.”

“Well, it’s nearly nine, so definitely past dawn.”

“I’m trying to be romantic, Y/N.”

Y/N adjusted the bed sheets around his middle, “We don’t have tails either and - if I remember correctly - your last sexy swimming encounter ended poorly.”

Spencer flushed at the memory of Lila in the pool; another memory turned the pink to red. Y/N had laughed so hard his gut ached when Spencer told him about how awkward he had been around Lila. This was before the context of the case had been disclosed, promptly removing the space for any more laughter.

“Baby?”

Y/N was touching his face. Spencer’s head emptied itself of all thoughts of Lila. This was not what he wanted to be thinking about right now. Y/N’s laughter maybe, but none of the rest.

Tucking a curl behind his ear, Y/N leant in close, “If I’m ready, and you’re ready, you know what happens.” His eyes wandered down Spencer’s face, “And it’s not swimming together.”

But, just as their lips were about to touch, Y/N jerked away from him. “Wait, I gotta brush my teeth first.”

Spencer moaned with indignation while falling backwards onto the bed as Y/N disappeared from view. A few seconds later, he heard the electric toothbrush buzzing. With a burst of energy, he stripped himself down to his underwear – a petty way to get back at Y/N who had made it very clear that undressing Spencer was one of his favourite parts of their sex life.

When Y/N returned, with the minty freshness he apparently desired more than his own boyfriend, he said “What? You already did this morning?” His eyes looked down at Spencer’s chest and his lips twitched into a pout.

Spencer held back his grin, keeping his triumph at retaliation to himself as he said, “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard, Spencer.”

And with that, Y/N crawled onto the bed, over Spencer’s body and kissed him silly.

Any remaining thoughts of sleep were dispelled as the men took turns worshipping each other’s bodies. Impatience chased them in their desires, deliciously enticing them to push the pleasure further and faster. While Y/N kissed his neck, Spencer’s thoughts fixated on how perfect his boyfriend felt pressed up next to him. He couldn’t wait anymore, he just had to get inside him.

“Let me put a baby in you, Y/N.”

A whine passed through Y/N’s lips at his words as he adjusted his grasp on Spencer’s body, a hand in his hair to pull him back in.

“Do it.” He whispered into the space between them, “Please.”

As quick as they appeared, the insecurities Spencer and Y/N were holding released. Their moans harmonised when Spencer finally pushed into Y/N. His legs wrapping around his skinny waist, luring him in. Spencer was enraptured by the feeling of his boyfriend’s weight against him. God, he wanted to go slow, appreciate Y/N for all he was worth. But his greed got the better of his intentions, eating up all of Y/N’s encouragements – both the words and the noises snatched from his throat.

When they were both spent, Spencer and Y/N sagged into the mattress, wrapped up in each other and the covers. The burning warmth of their bodies drew up two soporific smiles on their faces.

“You know, a seahorses’ body shape means that they’re inept swimmers, and they can actually die of exhaustion.”

Y/N poked Spencer’s sternum. “Is that your way of makin’ fun of my stamina? Give me a few minutes; I’ll be on you like a rash.”

Grinning at such a prospect, Spence continued, “They also mate for life monogamously.”

He felt two fingers touch his cheek, "Spencer, I love you and your endless fountain of knowledge.” Y/N paused to peck the corner of his lips, “But I’m not actually a seahorse. And, though I do plan to mate with you for life, if you wake me up before the sun is above the horizon for a ‘dance’, I'm gonna suffocate you with my new body pillow.”

“Oh, you got your pillow?”

“It’s en route.” Hence why Y/N was content to use Spencer in lieu of said pillow.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

When Spencer disclosed to Hotch that he would need some time off because he and Y/N were considering having a kid, first thing on a Monday morning, Hotch didn’t let anything on. There was a hint of a hint of a smile though. His eye wandered to the school photo of Jack he kept on his desk, and he was greeted with the memory that Jack almost shared a name with Emily’s cat.

Naturally, Rossi found out next. Technophobe Spencer Reid had left his computer screen on a website for baby blankets, and Rossi had been the one to pass by first. After turning the monitor off, Rossi took Spencer aside in the break room and spoke about how wonderful it was that he was going to be a father. Then he kissed both his cheeks, leaving with misty eyes and a smile that he wouldn’t explain to Penelope passing by. Spencer blinked then finished making his coffee.

The next conference room meeting – the same day and just for an update on the paperwork deadline - Spencer simply decided to drop the information that he and Y/N were planning on having a kid as if it was his thoughts on their next unsub’s motivations were.

Three seconds of silence later and an uproar exploded.

From then on, the week was filled with pokes and ribbing at his upcoming parenthood. A peek into the future.

After making her a cup of coffee, Spencer sat opposite JJ at her desk and asked for advice. Her response: offering Spencer the opportunity to babysit Henry more. Obviously he accepted; more time with his godson was always a good thing. Then she went into how parenting was just a natural thing that he would know when the time came. Not very reassuring on its own, but with his best friend’s support, Spencer felt a smidgen better.

Penelope admitted that she had saved outfit ideas on Pinterest for Spencer – among other members of the BAU. When Spencer dared to enter her lair, she showed him several. Apparently that wasn’t even a dent in her collection, and she had already placed an order on a little bow tie. Spencer left before she tried to organise a shopping trip; neither Spencer nor Y/N were really fans of retail therapy.

Derek was teasing away, “Spencer and Y/N are gonna be baby daddies.” And every single time, Emily would join in. She liked to claim she was the reason Spencer was having a kid, reminding him of when JJ was pregnant. He had been incredibly weirded out by the baby kicking, but Emily had asked if he had considered having “baby geniuses” and he never gave an answer.

To be fair, Spencer never could have seen this coming. That made it all the better.

Apart from when Derek began supplying a realm of baby names, that varied from “oh that’s actually cute” to “oh my god, why would you even consider that a name for a real child?” Spencer was happy to rank them aloud for him.

The cat was only half out of the bag though.

Now Spencer had always been affectionate when he and Y/N were together. But the second it spilled into their public lifestyle, Y/N knew something was afoot. He was quick to pick up on this when he went to collect Spencer up for a chilled date night and Spencer kissed his cheek in clear view of the entire bullpen.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t wait, but I do have my paternity leave arranged!”

The team swarmed to deliver their congratulations. And it was then that they revealed that they all thought that Spencer and Y/N were planning to adopt or look for a surrogate. Their embraces didn’t spoil the unexpected second part of their announcement; Y/N looked like he’d simply put on a few pounds rather than gained a baby bump beneath his button-up. Naturally, there was even more of a hubbub than before when they discovered that Y/N was already pregnant.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“Spencer, baby, you gotta calm it with the ocean theme.”

“But…” he pouted, holding up the finished mobile. Brightly painted sea creatures and chunks of coral dangled delicately in a circle. Sure enough, there were orange seahorses hovering about their habitat.

“It’s very sweet and I adore you for it,” Y/N kissed Spencer. “Not everything has to be related to seahorses though.”

“I guess not.” Spencer’s defeated tone did not last long. His face brightened and he whipped a blanket adorned with little seahorses and bubbles at the edges out of the cot. “But - this online store was taking commissions, and you always say support small businesses!”

Thank god Y/N had been the one in charge of painting the walls. An underwater mural would have been a step too far.

“You, Doctor Spencer Reid, are so…” Y/N’s hands were up in the air between them, searching for an adjective to describe Spencer appropriately. Then he settled those hands on his shoulders and Y/N kissed him.

When they drew away, Spencer spoke, “I’m so what?”

Y/N shrugged, “Just so.” He kissed him again, lingering longer than before and smiling as Spencer’s hands touched the obtrusive roundness of his belly that pressed into Spencer’s stomach. They were so close to meeting their little bubba.

“So are you.”

“Ok, don’t have a go, I bought this before the ban,” Y/N held out a gift, wrapped in sea-green tissue paper and bearing a blue bow.

Folding the blanket neatly over the bars of the cot, Spencer eagerly yet daintily unwrapped the present. As the tissue paper fell to the carpet, his hands trembled. Eyes shining, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the latest scan that was framed by tiny seahorses to thank Y/N.

There was more still, as Y/N explained, “There’s another behind there. I’ve seen the state of the one in your wallet.”

“It got caught at the bottom of the pouch,” Spencer said quietly, unbending the catch on the back of the frame. Sure enough, two of the same photographs spilled into his waiting palm. Truth be told, Spencer had already taped his torn photo together again and it was going to stay in his wallet. This spare would be in the post soon, on its way over to his mother. God, she was so excited to hold a baby again. The photo album would have to do for now.

“Could you maybe recant the ocean ban? Because I saw this and I knew it would really go well with the blanket and the mobile.”

Sighing, Y/N’s head tilted back, “What is it?”

The pretence of annoyance couldn’t be maintained towards Spencer’s face beaming back at him as he held up a wonky looking seahorse plushie. It wasn’t the same one he’d seen before. Some heartfelt child had taken pity on that one and given it a forever home. No, this was a perfect little present for his bubba.

Y/N thought so too as he let a grin settle onto his face.

“Ok, we can keep this one. But no more from now, alright?”

“I suppose. Besides, our baby isn’t our seahorse. You are!”

“You better not buy us a fish tank for my birthday.” A spike of nerves hit Y/N when he couldn’t quite catch Spencer’s eye to confirm his word. “Spencer? Promise me... Spencer!”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“How are you feeling, Baby Daddy?” Derek hugged Y/N who was reclined in his bed. His body pillow propped him up for his visitors.

Y/N wrinkled his nose, “For once, I wish I was a real seahorse and I could have just sneezed her out.”

Katia Nikola Reid definitely looked like she’d been sneezed on when she first entered the world, screaming her teaspoon-sized lungs out. Named after a hero of both Y/N and Spencer, one day old, bundled in a blanket, she scowled at Spencer’s dopey face looming over her while Emily held her tight.

A hoard of presents huddled in the corner of Spencer and Y/N’s bedroom. Emily thought it’d be a great idea to bring the baby an Ikea shark that was bigger than the child – and would definitely take up around half of her cot.

“She’s already got him wrapped around her pinky finger.”

“Yes, she does,” Spencer agreed giddily.

Next, Derek took her in his arms, untucking her arms from the blanket swaddle to give her a fist bump. He swayed her about the room while Katia relaxed a little more. The deep humming in his chest soothed the wrinkles on her forehead. Katia stretched as if to touch his face, and her mouth gaped at him.

“Aww, baby genius is ready for a nap.” Derek yawned too, “Who’s gonna micromanage me while I put her down?”

“Me! Me!” Y/N said, his enthusiasm muted by tiredness. Spencer leapt to his side, helping him out of bed, his teammates watching fondly as he did so. Y/N was allowed out the room first, Derek close behind and clicking his tongue at little Katia.

“She’s so sweet,” Emily said, her eyes on the pair’s backs and the dangling loose blanket from under Derek’s left arm. “I’m so happy for you both.” And she hugged Spencer tight; Emily always gave such good hugs. Good thing she was going to be around to give plenty to his daughter.

Then, down the hall, he heard Derek say with sarcastic resignation, “Oh Spencer, I thought Y/N was kidding when he said no more seahorse themed items.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Y/N ended up climbing into the bathtub with Katia. Even as she had grown into her chubby features, looking more and more like him and Spencer with each passing day, she was still so small.

Sitting up with her in his lap to help her out, Y/N lowered her into the warm water. His fingers tenderly rubbed the blackcurrant scented soap on her tummy, copying her expression as her tongue poked out between her gums. Her jerking legs rejected the water that Y/N’s hands cupped to rinse the bubbles off.

“Oh!” Y/N said in surprise as Katia sneezed, “Bless you.”

He heard the front door go, but he let Spencer follow the clues to their bathroom. Sure enough, the Doctor soon entered with his jacket shed, already rolling his sleeves up as he dropped onto the bathmat. A hand curled at Y/N’s chin as he kissed him before it stroked over the damp wisps of hair on Katia’s head.

“Hello. Hi.” His voice was that bit more delicate as he caught Katia’s eye and welcomed her big gappy smile.

Y/N tilted his head towards Spencer. “Good first day back?”

“I missed you both.” Spencer swished the water around by Katia’s side, “Isn’t it incredible how she’s experiencing all of this for the first time?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Spencer giggled away as the surrounding bathwater yellowed and Katia flapped her arms.

“Mind your language.” He said without any weight to his warning, “Our little girl can’t help it.” Then he stood and prepared her towel, a deep-sea blue that brought out her eyes. “Can I feed her tonight?”

“Of course, baby,” Y/N agreed as he lifted Katia out of the tub, where Spencer caught her and bundled her up with skilled speed. As he dried her off, Katia cooed away to herself. She did get a little pissed off when he dressed her up in a clean nappy and a sleepsuit, but Spencer couldn’t take her crumpled expression seriously without the tears.

The rocking chair had to be one of his best investments for his daughter’s room. It soothed Katia from the darkest of tantrums, a familiarity that swayed her. She fit so perfectly into Spencer’s arms and he fit so contentedly into the seat. Her eyelashes fluttered slowly shut as she drank more milk.

Not quite strong enough to sit up on her own, Katia leant fully into Spencer’s hand while he burped her – thankfully not for long. Then it was off into her cot.

Y/N watched him from the doorway as Spencer stroked the apple of Katia’s cheek while she drifted off into slumber. An effortless smile danced on his lips even as he switched the lamp off and welcomed Y/N over to see their sleeping babe.

“Love seeing you with her, Old Daddy Spencer teaching her everything she’ll need to know.” The kiss that followed was certainly not appropriate for their daughter’s nursery, so he took Y/N by the hand, leading him into the hallway. Even then, between the short pecks that pressed against his lips, Y/N continued to talk, “Is this how you felt while I was pregnant?”

Breath hot against his face, Spencer swallowed hard while Y/N said, “Seeing my handsome boyfriend carrying our child? I think I get it now.”

His hand slipped up Spencer’s shirt. It was crystal clear what his intentions were. Spencer was already close to panting when he pulled Y/N flush against him. With more desperation this time, they fumbled around their home until they made it to their bed. Spencer’s hands aligned with the stretch marks on Y/N’s thighs as he grabbed them and pulled him on top.

He huffed as Y/N’s teeth tugged and released his bottom lip, “We have to be quiet.”

“I can be quiet.” Y/N ripped off his shirt in one smooth movement, “Can you?”

Spencer couldn’t give an answer. Instead he pulled Y/N back against him as they fell onto their sheets.

Their first time in months, it didn’t last very long, but it was exactly what they needed.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

The biggest surprise of the evening was that Rossi put down his drink to hold Katia. To be fair though, he had already had a few. Hence why he was singing and dancing around the garden with Katia in his arms. What a sight to behold, it eased the pain of Derek and Hotch’s absence, their own kids to take care of now.

Eventually Rossi relented, allowing Penelope to take Katia, turning to Y/N who had kept a watchful eye on his actions, “Promise me you’ll bring her over when she’s allowed to eat food.”

“I can’t give her your food for her first taste. She’ll be disappointed for the rest of her life,” Y/N joked, Rossi letting out a boisterous laugh that made Katia giggle in turn.

Penelope got to hold Katia next and show her off to Henry who was very intrigued to learn more about his godsister – Spencer told him that was who Katia was and it stuck. Henry became Penelope’s little shadow until they found a seat for him and a cushion for his lap to hold the baby. His joy unbridled at such a responsibility was adorable. He posed for many photos, while Katia for once stayed quiet.

Spencer was tired but the best kind of tired. A night in with friends, watching his boyfriend and his daughter be welcomed as much as he was, it wasn’t a surprise but it was always a delight. And this moment right now, Y/N cradling Katia’s with one hand squeezing her little foot before he planned to take her into Rossi’s office? What a life they had cultivated together. As he sipped his drink, the bliss in his tummy was not doused by it.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Slouching on the sofa, Spencer watched with tired eyes as Katia stumbled in the room, her hands held in Y/N’s while she waddled between his legs. Her round face lit up at the sight of Spencer. Her pace increased beyond her abilities and Katia swung forward a little as she almost fell over.

“Oh dear,” Y/N cooed while Katia got back to her unstable feet. “That’s it, there we go.”

Spencer wished he had the energy to properly appreciate this moment, especially since both his boyfriend and their daughter were grinning like they shared a secret.

Katia dropped down onto her nappy-cushioned bottom then began to crawl over to Spencer’s feet. His hands, although dirty, rough and near ruined, accepted her offer and lifted Katia up into his lap. They stayed for safety around her middle, keeping her sat up straight as she looked on him with those big eyes. Eyes that were fresh and untainted copies of his own.

Y/N sat down beside Spencer, leaning in close to Katia so he caught her attention, “Hey, why don’t you show your Daddy what we’ve been practicing?”

Looking away from both her Dads, Katia drooled and pushed her fist in her mouth. Y/N waved until he and Spencer were back into her line of sight.

“Go on, sugar plum.” He pointed to Spencer, “Who’s that?” And he mouthed the answer to her.

“Dadadadadada.”

It was barely above a whisper. But her little grin, the top of a tooth poking out of the centre of her bottom gums, the way Katia looked at Spencer when she said it? A soft “oh” fell from Spencer’s lips and he clutched her close, her chubby arms barely reaching around his neck. His breath shaking out of him, he kissed the thick thatch of hair that had sprouted in his absence. He could feel Katia whispering “Dadadadada!” again.

“That’s me, Katia, I’m your Dada.” He sniffed back the sting in his eyes at the absolute proof that, in his time away from her, she had remembered him. When he moved away, placing Katia back into his lap, he closed his eyes as Katia’s scrabbling fingers rubbed across the tip of his nose.

Katia made a sudden attempt to stand, throwing her entire bodyweight towards Spencer. Spencer’s breath was snatched from his lungs and the tension remained even after he caught her with ease.

“You ok?” Y/N said and Spencer noticed that his hand was supporting his against Katia.

Spencer nodded weakly, “Hmm, you?”

“Better now.” Y/N let his hand go and began rubbing Spencer’s back in the same circular motions that Spencer rubbed Katia’s.

A tug snagged Spencer’s head to the left and he tutted as Katia grabbed at his cheek, “Ow, Katia, no.”

Instead, Katia took a fistful of the next thing she could find, which was Spencer’s hair, and she cried out an identical (if higher pitched) “Ow!”

“You hurt Spencer, not the other way around, Katia. Stop faking.” Y/N scolded playfully.

But Katia repeated Spencer’s outburst again, “Ow!”

Y/N lifted Katia’s little fist from Spencer’s hair, and it immediately clamped down on Spencer’s finger as an alternative to wave about.

Spencer kissed her hand, still so tiny and forgiving against his. He looked at Y/N, blinking fast as he half-heartedly said, “She’s so like you.”

The lock of hair Katia had yanked on curved around Y/N’s touch as he put it back into the disarray of fluff that stood around Spencer’s head, “That’s funny, because I think she’s so like you.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Tilting the pram onto its back wheels, Spencer pushed it up the step and into the aquarium tunnel. Katia lay back in her seat while gumming on her blanket corner. Her eyes were ready to take in the sights.

Y/N knelt before her, suffering a few kicks to his knees from Katia’s excitement. Her pram clips were undone. Little Katia was released into her Daddy’s arms then plonked up onto his shoulders. Her starfish-like hands pressed up against the glass. Her mouth became as wide as her eyes as she pointed at the stingray rippling past. She had seen fish before (Carl and Rosalind at home) but never like this.

“Yeah, that’s a ray, Katia,” Y/N rubbed his fingers over her back, his hands still to keep her steady.

Spencer pointed his finger right next to hers, “They use their electro-sensors, not their eyes, to find their meals which consists of shrimps, clams, and -”

Katia shrieked – interrupting his and she smacked her hands against the glass. No one seemed to mind though. Some patrons in the tunnel even chuckled at her behaviour. Like she needed any more encouragement, especially with Y/N grinning up at her and tickling her sides to elicit more laughter from his daughter.

When Spencer’s hand dropped, Katia shouted again. A little confused, he returned it and Katia took his finger in her hand then began dragging the tip across where the ray was.

“She wants it as a pet, what do you say, baby?”

“I thought you said not to get you any fish for your birthday.”

Eventually Katia was returned to the pram. Her head was thrown back to watch the rest of the tunnel go by. Then she hid her face in her blankie once they were out in the last few exhibits. There was a little tug of war to get her to let it go (she was a lot stronger than Y/N gave her credit for) and see the one other exhibit that both parents were invested in.

Taking her hand again, Spencer squatted beside the pram. “Hey look, the men seahorsies have the babies. They’re just like your Daddy.”

“Your favourite Daddy,” Y/N ruffled Spencer’s hair while Spencer pretended to be outraged. Katia caught onto the dramatic expression Spencer was wearing and copied him with a gasp added for good measure.

“What d’you reckon, any of these were babies when we went to visit last time?”

“Well, Y/N, the lifespan of these seahorses is approximately a year. So they could be.” He knew it was unlikely but, for the sake of the smiles on Y/N’s and Katia’s face, Spencer let it be.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #my writing #smut #wc: 5k+#yes katia is named after a character from professor layton #and nikola tesla #r: male #r: trans male #spencer reid x trans male reader

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tagsecretsanta · 4 years

Text

From @TsarinaTorment

to @gumnut-logic

Secret santa does not own this work, full credit to the author mentioned above!

Prompts used: all of them but in true Tsari fashion I also twisted them so much they probably barely resemble the prompts at this point.

Virgil and many, many butterflies (probably not what they had in mind...)

Virgil has a puzzle to solve (actually maybe stayed on some sort of track with this one!)

Virgil and a brother go on a boat trip (of the rescue sort)

Nothing Christmassy, so sorry if my requestee was hoping for that. But on the plus side, it's 8k words of Virgil!

Tsari--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Title: Steady Hands

Rating: Teen

Characters: Virgil, Gordon, Scott, John... and some friends :D

Summary: One boat. Two brothers. A life-or-death game of Jenga.

“Eeeeaaasy.”

Virgil didn’t bother to glare at his brother, far too used to his distraction techniques. He didn’t even spare him a glance, keeping his attention firmly on what he was doing. Gordon wanted him to fail, like the supportive little brother he was, mostly because he inevitably had a bet on with Alan, and Virgil had far too much pride to let his younger brothers’ schemes throw him off of his game.

He had the steadiest hands of all of his brothers. All four of them were too jittery, too used to moving, whether it be the physical activity Scott and Gordon preferred, or the twitching at the tips of fingers over keyboards and virtual reality. Virgil was an artist, a pianist, an engineer. A medic. His hands didn’t tremble unless he let them.

The tower in front of him wouldn’t fall. Not on his turn.

Perfectly steady hands poked at a single block, careful yet confident. It moved, but its neighbours didn’t. Gordon groaned loudly. Virgil ignored that, too, and once the block moved far enough, deftly plucked it from its fellows.

The tower didn’t even wobble.

“How do you do that?” Gordon groused, pouting at the stack. There were more holes than blocks in the Jenga tower now, and Virgil’s latest move had left it teetering on the very edge of stable. Even he would struggle to get another out without nudging neighbouring blocks and bringing the whole thing crashing down. Gordon had no chance, and they both knew it.

But Gordon wasn’t a quitter. Eyes narrowed in concentration and tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth, he surveyed the stack in front of him for several moments in silence, assessing. None of the blocks would go without pulling others down with them, Virgil knew, but Gordon still refused to throw the game.

Eyes almost slits, he selected his target and reached out to touch it.

“International Rescue, we have a situation.”

Clatter.

“Aw, man!” Gordon complained, looking at the jumble of blocks in front of him. “That doesn’t count! John knocked them down!”

“John’s a hologram,” Virgil reminded him, satisfied grin on his face. “That was no more of a distraction than you talking when I picked. My victory.”

“What’s the situation, John?” Scott cut in, ignoring them in preference of John as he always did when a call came in. With one last look at the still-pouting Gordon, Virgil turned his own attention to the projection of his brother.

“There’s a large fishing trawler in distress,” John said. “There was a small explosion in the engine room and now they’re taking on water. The crew are requesting evacuation.”

Virgil straightened up. He didn’t need to look to know that Gordon had done the same, poised to dart for his Thunderbird the moment the brief was over.

“What caused the explosion?” he asked. John shrugged.

“The crew don’t know,” he said. “But the ship’s sinking, so I suggest you launch. I’ll see what I can find on the explosion.”

“F.A.B.,” Scott agreed. “Virgil, Gordon – you’re up. I’ll attend in Thunderbird One.” Virgil didn’t wait to hear anything else, standing up and heading over to the painting that concealed his launch chute and trusting his brothers to be doing the same. “Thunderbirds are go!”

Scott always loved saying that. He denied it, but Virgil knew his big brother.

John was efficient. By the time Virgil was sat in his pilot seat, Module Four selected and little brother rising up into the cockpit behind him, Thunderbird Two’s navigation systems were updated with the precise location of the distressed trawler.

It wasn’t too far, down in the waters south of Tasmania, and before long they got visual on the boat in question. It was listing to one side, figures crowded on deck. From the way they were waving up at Scott in Thunderbird One, Virgil thought it was a pretty safe bet that they were the crew.

“That boat’s too big for Thunderbird Two to stabilise,” Gordon noted. “I’ll see what I can do from the water.”

“F.A.B.,” Virgil agreed.

“I’ll drop down and help the evacuation,” Scott said over the comms. “Virgil, stay overhead in Thunderbird Two and drop the rescue platform. It’ll be a tight fit without the module, but once they’re on board take them to the nearest port. John?”

“I’ve got their home port located,” the ginger said. “Sending co-ordinates now.”

“Once they’re all evac’d, I’ll look around and see if I can find what caused this,” Scott continued. “If Gordon can get the hull patched, we’ll get the GDF out to tow it to port.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gordon said, hologram flickering to live next to John’s on the dash. “Ready for module deployment, Virg.”

“Dropping you now, Gords.” He brought Thunderbird Two into a hover just above the water and released the module. The familiar shudder passed through his ‘bird as she dropped her belly, and it was with a practiced hand that he kept her steady. Out of the window, he saw Scott bring Thunderbird One down before dropping the few feet onto the deck. The silver rocket soared back into the sky under remote control or autopilot – Virgil didn’t know exactly which controls were being used but she wasn’t slaved to Two – as Scott made his way to the crew.

Leaving his big brother to corral them, he focused on his own task, bringing Thunderbird Two overhead and getting ready to drop the rescue platform.

“How many guests am I expecting, Thunderbird Five?” he asked.

“Captain tells me there’s ten,” John told him. “Life signs agree.”

“Gonna be cosy in here,” he observed.

“Cosy or not, we’re ready for evac, Thunderbird Two,” Scott cut in.

“Copy that, Thunderbird One. Lowering the platform now.”

Aside from the unknown cause of the explosion, it was about as standard as they got. Well, Virgil wasn’t used to carrying an entire crew in his cockpit, but aside from that little detail, it was nice and simple.

“Scott, I’ve just picked up another life sign.”

Well, it was simple, until John dropped that little detail. Already leaving the danger zone, Virgil glanced over at the captain, sat in the co-pilot’s seat.

“I thought we had the whole crew here?”

The captain looked shocked. “We do.”

Virgil frowned. “Thunderbird One, all heads are accounted for.”

“Thunderbird Two, keep going. I’ll find our mystery person and evac them in One.”

“I’ll help you search, Thunderbird One,” Gordon chipped in. “I’ve patched up the hole best I can; I’ll leave Four here and join you.”

“F.A.B., Thunderbird Four. Everything’s under control here, Thunderbird Two,” Scott assured him. “You get the crew to dry land.”

“F.A.B.,” Virgil agreed.

“I don’t get it,” the captain said, shaking his head. “There are only ten of us. Who’s the other life sign?”

“If I had to guess, Captain,” John said, “I’d say that’s probably the cause of your explosion. Scott, Gordon, be careful.”

“Noted, Thunderbird Five. Gordon, I’ll rendezvous with you on deck.”

“F.A.B.”

Both his brothers flickered out of sight, presumably switching to a private channel, and Virgil let out a breath, glancing over at the crew behind him. There weren’t enough seats for all of them, so he couldn’t go at his usual speeds, and inwardly he frowned. Even if it was Scott and Gordon, he didn’t feel right leaving them with someone potentially dangerous and without backup.

But he had a job to do, and some people to get to shore.

The trip took longer than he was happy with, but once the crew were safely offloaded, he turned around and shot for the boat and his brothers as fast as Thunderbird Two could go.

“Scott, Gordon, you found our mystery life sign yet?”

His brothers flickered into view.

“Negative, Virgil. No sign of them yet. John keeps losing the signal. I’m guessing it must be some sort of cloaking device.” Scott looked frustrated.

“I don’t like this,” Virgil said bluntly. “Call the GDF to deal with it and get off that boat. If you haven’t found them yet they’re trying not to be found.”

The journey was much shorter when he could go at top speed. Thunderbird One was still hovering above the boat, gleaming silver from the sun.

“Virgil, this boat is still likely to sink. We’ve got to get them off,” Scott argued. “We can’t wait for the GDF.”

“Scott’s right, Virg,” Gordon agreed. “We’ve got to- Scott! I saw them!”

He broke into a run, Scott seemingly hot on his heels.

“Guys,” Virgil ground out. “Guys, if they don’t want to-”

BOOM.

The explosion rocked the boat; through the cockpit windows he saw it list from one side to the other, and then back again, noticeably lower in the water. The cabin was gone, replaced with timber sized matchsticks.

“Scott?” he shouted. “Gordon?”

His brother’s holograms flickered once, twice, and then they vanished. No, no, no. Virgil didn’t think, just reacted, pushing his ‘bird forward the last short distance and firing the grapples down towards the once again sinking boat. As Gordon had noted earlier, it exceeded her lifting power, and VTOLs shrieked as he gunned them with everything she had. His brothers were still down there, somewhere inside looking for their elusive lifesign, and he absolutely was not letting them slip from his grasp. Not now, not ever.

“Scott!” he shouted again, over the sound of Thunderbird Two’s screaming engines. “Gordon! Come in!”

Autopilot couldn’t keep the pressure on the VTOLs; if he tried to leave the cockpit and find them himself, the boat would sink. Even on manual pilot, Thunderbird Two couldn’t hold it for long. A shudder ran through his ‘bird and he grit his teeth. He wasn’t Scott, but he still solved problems. Logistics. Thunderbird Two was at maximum lift strength; her engines would burn out if he kept this up.

His brothers were still down there, unresponsive. He couldn’t risk that.

Module Four was floating on the swell of the waves, waiting for Thunderbird Four’s return. The bright sub was under the waterline; he could just about see her through the ocean swell. Remote controlling her was difficult, and he didn’t know precisely what Gordon had done with her to latch her to the boat. She was also their backup exit if their route to the deck was blocked.

After the explosion, it probably was.

So he couldn’t move Thunderbird Four. Gordon would know exactly where he’d left his ‘bird, and would be making for her if they hadn’t been incapacitated by the explosion. With neither of them picking up comms, Virgil knew better than to cling to a false hope, but he still couldn’t risk it, just in case they were fine and it was just some damaged radios.

He did have Thunderbird One. Her lifting power was nowhere near that of Thunderbird Two’s, but combined, it might just be enough to keep the boat from sinking. It was now an inconvenience that Scott hadn’t slaved her console to his, but he could still override her from Thunderbird Two, and unlike Thunderbird Four, there was no way she’d be of use to his brothers in the boat.

Jaw set, he flicked the control pad and jabbed in the override code for Thunderbird One, slaving her to her sister’s controls before remote piloting her to the more laden end of the ship. One high-tensile grapple cable fired.

It missed. He didn’t have Scott’s precision, or Gordon’s innate dead aim. Those thoughts got pushed away as he reeled the cable back in to send out a second time. The ship below him had to be secured – before Thunderbird Two’s VTOL overheated. He could worry about finding his brothers once he knew the ship wasn’t sinking any more.

The second shot caught, the light going green to represent the clang of success he couldn’t hear over Thunderbird Two’s engines. Thunderbird One’s VTOLs joined the chorus; a cacophony of sound so loud he could barely hear himself think. It was enough.

Just.

Virgil still couldn’t risk autopilot on Thunderbird Two, the weight remaining beyond her official lifting parameters. If it wasn’t for Brains’ over-engineering, she wouldn’t be holding even with her sister’s help.

“John!” he called. Unlike his missing brothers, the ginger appeared immediately. “They’re not picking up. Do you have their signals?”

John looked annoyed, and a little worried. That wasn’t good.

“Their location transmitters are still working,” he said. “But I can’t get either of them to respond, either.”

“Take control of Thunderbird Two,” Virgil ordered. “I’m going to get them.”

“F.A.B. Taking control of both Thunderbirds One and Two now.”

The holographic symbol for Thunderbird Five flashed up over his controls, and Virgil released his grip on them, trusting John – or EOS – to keep the boat from sinking.

Now he had two brothers to save.

“Locations, John?”

“They’re both in the engine room,” his brother told him, the boat’s schematics appearing over his wrist controller as he hurried along the internal corridors of his ‘bird. Her module was detached, floating too far away to reach, but Virgil made it a point to have one Jaws of Life accessible at all times. Just in case.

That just in case paid off as he reached the small storage room, filled with spare gear – and a half-eaten celery crunch bar. He ignored it, but made a mental note to remind Gordon where food was and wasn’t permitted on Thunderbird Two later. Once his brothers were safe.

“Bzzt!”

Static erupted from his wrist controller just as he began to shrug on the mechanical exosuit and he paused, tapping at it to try and clear the signal.

“Bzzt! -irgil? Bzztin -Two!”

“Gordon?” The static was bad, but Virgil still recognised his brother’s voice. “Gordon, can you hear me?”

“I’ll try to boost the signal,” John said. Virgil nodded distractedly, his focus on his comm as it crackled again.

“-ear you,” Gordon confirmed amongst more static. “-dio damaged. Bzzt-bzzt-pair job.”

“What’s your status?” He resumed suiting up, unwilling to waste a moment if his brother was trapped.

“-t great,” his comm crackled. “Not hurt bzzt-ott bzzt cold.”

Virgil frowned, trying to parse what his brother had said through the static.

“Say again, Gordon?”

“Bzzt-t hurt bzzt Scott-bzzt-t cold.”

That was either Scott’s cold or Scott’s out cold, and considering the lack of communication from his older brother, Virgil decided to assume it was the latter. That was a problem, but not an insurmountable one.

“I’m on my way down to you,” he declared, Jaws of Life now settled over him. “Any idea what caused the explosion?”

“-egative, Virg. It’s bzzt-gerous.” Virgil scowled, hearing Gordon’s too dangerous protest and wondering if he thought for one moment that that would stop him. “-ther problem. Bzzt-bzzt-”

“-me a probl-bzzt?” another, unfamiliar voice cut in. Sharp, female. Their missing life sign?

“-ou-bzzt been goo-bzzt-bzzt-fore,” Gordon retorted.

“Gordon?” Virgil cut in. “What’s the problem?”

“-os Crew bzzt-bzzt.” Whatever else Gordon had to say was lost in a snow of static, but Virgil had heard enough to start piecing it all together. Chaos Crew. Explosions. Unfamiliar female voice.

Gordon, and presumably an unconscious Scott, were with Havoc, and Fuse was running around somewhere with no eyes on him.

“Gordon, I’m coming,” he said, cutting off whatever the static was supposed to be. He hoped their connection was better on his brother’s end. “John’s given me your location.”

“No!” Gordon protested, but Virgil ignored him as he left the safety of Thunderbird Two to slide down one of the cables holding the boat up. The roar of the engines drowned out anything coming from his comms for several long moments before his boots hit the surface of the deck.

He’d known it was bad, but this was worse. His comms spluttered at him but he ignored Gordon’s static-garbled protests that he’d left his ‘bird in favour of reassessing the situation.

Virgil was no Scott, able to take everything in at a glance and make snap decisions, but he had an eye for detail and the patience to spend an extra moment looking things over before acting. It was that eye that told him this was not going to be easy.

The main entrance to get below deck – he was sure it had a name but that was Gordon’s area and Virgil might not be Scott but right now he did not have the time to waste on remembering it – was entirely collapsed in, the cabin so much steel and timber covering it and well and truly trapping anyone down below. According to the schematics, that was the only way down.

This was why Virgil had the Jaws of Life with him.

“Virgil.” John’s voice overrode Gordon’s crackling with an urgency that demanded his attention right that moment. “I can’t boost their radio signals any further, but I did manage to boost their suit telemetry and get a more detailed scan of the compartment they’re trapped in.”

“Let me guess,” Virgil sighed, stomping over to the mangled mess of former-cabin and starting to calculate the best way to clear it. “Bad news?”

“Scott’s helmet’s taken some damage, probably from the initial blast, and his oxygen supply is depleted.” Virgil frowned as he identified the first bit of rubble that needed to go – a large sheet of mangled metal that was probably part of the cabin’s roof or walls.

“So they can’t swim for it? That’s not a problem unless their compartment starts to flood,” he observed. It wasn’t ideal, and if Scott’s helmet was damaged that confirmed that he was probably unconscious, but he trusted Gordon to do any initial first aid until he got there.

He ignored the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

“Yeah,” John said in that flat way that meant bad news. “About that.”

Uh oh. “It’s already flooding?”

“Got it in one. The flow’s reasonably slow and the compartment’s quite big so they’ve got time, but I’d estimate ten minutes and they’ll be under.”

“And with Scott unconscious he can’t hold his breath.” Virgil scowled and shifted the metal with more force than he should have done. The diluted clang of metal on deck reverberated through his boots.

“I imagine Gordon-”

“Hey, watch it!” John’s speculation – probably on how Gordon, their resident aquanaut and underwater rescue specialist, was going to get oxygen to Scott when his helmet was damaged and didn’t fit Gordon’s rebreather anyway – was cut off by a disgruntled exclamation from behind him.

Virgil turned to see unmistakable purple armour, and wondered how on earth he’d missed Fuse coming up behind him.

“You almost hit me with that!” the young man griped, but his heart didn’t seem to be in the accompanying pout. Instead, he was hurrying forwards, almost frantically, and Virgil remembered that Fuse was reportedly Havoc’s brother. “What are you doing throwing metal around on a ship full of explosives?”

“What?”

Virgil hadn’t seen any more explosives. There weren’t supposed to be explosives on the ship.

Fuse hurried past him – probably as fast as he could run in that suit – and started digging through the pile. Metal and wood creaked in protest at him and Virgil clapped a hand on his shoulder, forcing him back.

“Hey! Careful or you’ll bring the lot down.”

“I left a charge around here,” Fuse told him, and Virgil took a deep breath. “They weren’t supposed to go off yet!” He sounded panicked and even though it was blindingly obvious this whole thing was Fuse’s fault – probably directed by the Hood – Virgil couldn’t help but slip into reassuring rescuer mode. That was what he did, after all.

“Okay, okay, take a breath,” he instructed, eyeing the pile of former cabin warily as he tugged Fuse to take a step back. The young man resisted, but Virgil was stronger and he stumbled a single pace away from the pile. “How many explosives are on the ship?”

Fuse glanced around, clearly nervous and slightly scared. Virgil could relate, but he’d been doing the job long enough to compartmentalise that part of his brain and still-fluttering stomach. “Uh… I’m not sure. Nine or ten? I think? I just put them where the Boss said to.”

The silence in his ear from a definitely-eavesdropping John turned frosty, even though his brother still didn’t say a word. No doubt he was about to do his best to wreak hell on the elusive criminal.

“And how many haven’t gone off?” How much of a ticking timebomb was this ship he was stood on – the ship his brothers were trapped in and slowly running out of air as the water seeped in, the ship three Thunderbirds were attached to?

“Only one went off,” Fuse said. He was wringing his hands, still glancing around nervously. “It shouldn’t have gone off until Havoc was clear. He said she’d be safe!”

“Well, she’s trapped with my brothers somewhere down there,” Virgil pointed out. “Where are those explosives and how long do we have until they go off?”

“Five minutes,” Fuse gulped. “I think. But that one went off early and the others are all close enough that if one goes…”

“They all go,” Virgil realised with a sigh. He assessed the situation again. “You want Havoc out of there, I want my brothers out. There’s five minutes, tops, until this boat blows.” Those ten minutes of air didn’t seem significant any more. He took a breath. “We’re going to have to work together on this.”

Fuse glanced sideways, thinking, and Virgil fervently hoped that he loved his sister more than he feared the Hood. John hadn’t warned him about the explosives, which meant Thunderbird Five hadn’t picked them up – the Chaos Crew’s cloaking technology was something Brains and Kayo were itching to get their hands on. That meant that if he had to do it alone, he was working blind. Five minutes to disarm nine or ten explosives… even with the person who had made and placed them with him, it was going to be tight.

It felt like an eternity before Fuse sighed and met his gaze. “Okay.”

Okay. Plan of action time. “We need to get those bombs disarmed as quickly as possible,” Virgil said, knowing the words were redundant but saying them all the same. “Tell me where they are and how to disarm them, and we’ll take half each.” A minute per bomb – just under. He could do that, except Fuse was wringing his hands again.

“I don’t know how to turn them off.”

“What!” Virgil didn’t panic – was the last of his brothers to ever panic in a given situation – but he was starting to get really, really close. “You make them! How do you not know how to disarm them?”

“I-I’ve never had to!” Fuse protested, and right then he’d never looked more like a kid. Virgil took a deep breath, pushing the panic back because this just made things a lot harder but he wasn’t giving up. Not now and not ever.

“We don’t have time for this,” he ground out. “Do you have one with you that isn’t primed?”

Fuse nodded jerkily and reached behind him, withdrawing the familiar purple triangle of a Chaos Crew bomb. Virgil took it gingerly and wasted no time in slipping an arm out of the Jaws of Life to palm a hexdriver and pry the cover off. Five minutes – probably four, now – to work out how to disarm them, teach Fuse, and then get nine-or-ten bombs disarmed.

Easy peasy.

The crisscrossed wires that greeted him weren’t complex, thankfully. If they were, then no amount of miracles would have been enough to pull it off. But it was a simple enough wire pattern; only two wires needed cutting to render them useless.

Well, they could have done with knowing that several times in the past. If all Fuse’s bombs were like this, that was a lot of explosions they could stop. But he didn’t have time to muse on that right now.

“You have a hexdriver and wirecutter?” he asked Fuse, who shook his head. Silently despairing – and starting to wonder if the Hood’s plan wasn’t to one day blow the kid up with his own bombs – Virgil fished out spares from his toolbelt and handed them over. “Okay, it’s simple enough, luckily for us. Pop the cover, and cut these two wires.” He pointed, and then demonstrated by doing it on the one in his hand. “Those two. Got it?”

Fuse stared at the bomb, swallowed loud enough for Virgil to hear it, then nodded.

“Yeah, I got it.”

For the sake of everyone on the boat, Virgil really hoped he did.

“Okay, so where are they? Time’s running out.” Somewhere, Virgil noticed that Gordon’s static had ceased buzzing in his ear, and really hoped that was John’s doing and not because he’d lost what little contact he had with his younger brother. He didn’t have time to worry about that now, not with three and a half minutes and five bombs to disarm.

Luckily, with a plan of action in place, Fuse seemed to regain both his confidence and his memory, bringing up a schematic of the ship and highlighting the ten points he’d fixed bombs to.

“That’s the one that went off,” he said, indicating one inside the cabin area. It was positioned to do exactly what it had managed and cripple the cabin, Virgil noticed. The others were all scattered around the deck, ensuring no escape if any of them went off. Whoever had been trapped by the initial explosion would never stand a chance.

Three minutes, five bombs.

“I’ll take these five,” Virgil said, pointing at the ones on the left of the boat – port side, Gordon’s voice whispered in his head. “You take the other four.”

Fuse nodded and then they moved. Trusting Fuse – trusting a member of the Chaos Crew – felt like something heavy in his gut but Virgil had no choice. He couldn’t trust Fuse, not really, not after everything the guy had done, but he could and had to trust Fuse’s love for his sister. He stood to lose almost as much as Virgil did if he didn’t help.

That, Virgil clung to as he found the first purple bomb, merrily flashing red at him. Popping the cover was harder when it was fixed down to something, but Virgil wasn’t going to let anything stop him and the purple casing was no match for a Tracy on a mission. Two quick but steady snips of the wirecutter later, and that was one down, four to go.

Onto the next.

He reached the fifth and final one with thirty seconds to go. Plenty of time, but the casing didn’t pop off when he levered at it like all of the others had. Instead, it bent alarmingly, and the red flashing light sped up, much like Virgil’s heartrate was doing. He tried tackling it from another angle, but the cover might as well have been superglued for all the luck he was having.

Fuse let out a shout that sounded triumphant from the other end of the boat, and Virgil took a deep breath. Fifteen seconds, and this was the last one. If Fuse was telling the truth, but Fuse had to be telling the truth otherwise his sister was going to die, too.

Ten seconds, and the cover still refused to budge. He wasn’t going to get it disarmed in time, but Virgil wasn’t giving up. Not now, not ever.

Five seconds and he finished cutting around the part of the boat it was fixed to with his laser. He didn’t know how big the blast radius was going to be, but the further from the boat it was, the better their odds.

He was still wearing the Jaws of Life. Virgil wasn’t the best pitcher in the world, but he had mechanical assistance and the steadfast determination that no-one’s dying today. With barely two seconds left, the bomb was hurtling through the air, away from the boat into the open ocean.

It barely reached the water before exploding, sending a shockwave that rocked the boat and had Virgil stumbling backwards, colliding with the cable from Thunderbird One. Above him, VTOL continued to scream their displeasure.

He took a moment to breathe, stomach churning its way back to stability one breath at a time, before pushing himself upright again.

The rescue wasn’t over yet. The bombs were gone, but there was only five minutes left until the compartment his brothers were in flooded. Gordon had plenty of oxygen and could hold his breath another five minutes, easily. Longer, if he was prepared. He had no idea what Havoc’s condition was, beyond ‘conscious and sniping with Gordon last he heard’, but Scott was unconscious and while Virgil had every faith that Gordon would be able to work something out, the fact was that they hadn’t gone into the rescue expecting to need extra oxygen, and Gordon’s supplies were mostly in Thunderbird Four.

He trusted Gordon, but the hard number he had was five minutes before Scott was at risk of drowning.

His comm crackled into life, Gordon’s voice barely audible past the static, but he couldn’t make out a single word his brother was saying. That didn’t stop him from hearing the underlying panic.

“Gordon, I can’t hear you,” he replied, pulling himself together and heading back towards the ruined cabin, where Fuse was staring somewhat blankly at the pile of rubble between them and their siblings. “John, is there any way to clear this static?”

“It’s physical damage to the unit, so there’s nothing I can do,” his brother said, sounding rather annoyed at the failure of their communications. Virgil didn’t blame him. “But after that shockwave, the boat seems to have taken more damage. The compartment’s filling faster now. I’d estimate you have two minutes, three at most, before they’re underwater.”

So much for five minutes.

“Any good news for me, John?”

“You… seem to be working with Fuse rather well?” his brother offered. “Otherwise, I’m afraid not. Communications are still down, as you’re finding, I don’t know any more than you do on their conditions, and both Thunderbirds are struggling to keep the boat up. Once you’ve got them out you’ll need to move fast.”

“So no breathing room until we’re off this sinking boat,” Virgil summarised. “Thanks, John.”

“Just get them out,” his brother responded.

Virgil slid his arm back into the Jaws of Life and felt the technology whirr around him as he returned to Fuse’s side and the jumble of debris between him and his brothers.

“Does Havoc have an oxygen supply?” he asked. “They’ll be underwater in less than three minutes.”

“If it’s not damaged,” Fuse slumped, reaching for the mishmash of former-cabin. “Her radio’s damaged and I can’t contact her.”

“Well I heard her over what little communication I’ve got with my brothers, so she’s conscious,” Virgil reassured him. “We just have to get them out.” He eyed the mess in front of him and shook his head. Move the wrong bit and it’d probably all go crashing down. “Just like Jenga. You any good at that?”

Fuse shook his head. “Don’t play that sort of game.”

“In that case, stand back,” Virgil told him. “I’m good at Jenga.” Although admittedly he’d never played it with people’s lives on the line before, or on a time limit.

The load-bearing chunks of broken cabin were easy enough to pinpoint, and it was with all the confidence of years of heavy lifting that he cleared away all the loose debris so that it wouldn’t fall when he moved the heavier ones later. Still, he was ever-conscious of the time slipping away from him, and it only took one jerky move to send a cascade of small segments tumbling down, past the load-bearing sections and into the belly of the ship.

Less haste, more speed, he scolded himself, but the action had actually cleared the immediate issue; the load-bearing struts were no longer load-bearing, and with a mechanical whine, the Jaws of Life made short work relocating them to clear the area.

One minute down, one to go, and he still had to find his brothers. They were still in the engine room, and the fact that they hadn’t moved told him that they must be stuck there. Unconscious Scott or not, Gordon would have moved them as close to the exit as he could get.

Unless Havoc…

No, he refused to let that cross his mind. Fuse was working with him to make sure Havoc was safe. Surely Havoc was smart enough to know that working with Gordon would be better for her than being hostile. He’d even heard Gordon’s garbled tones over the comms not two minutes earlier. Havoc wasn’t the problem, not this time.

The problem was the collapsed corridor between him and the engine room.

Time was ticking, the fluttering in his stomach that had died down was back in full force because he could hear the water sloshing around on the other side of the barricade but not his brothers, and there was an entire collapsed section of corridor in the way.

If he couldn’t hear Gordon sniping with Havoc or trying to rouse Scott, they were probably already underwater. If Scott hadn’t regained consciousness, his life was entirely in Gordon’s hands right now, and while there were no hands Virgil trusted more given the situation the fear was curling up inside him that he was too late.

No.

He took a deep breath.

He was not too late. He was going to get them out of there and he was going to do it now.

Virgil had steady hands. He was an artist, a pianist, an engineer. No matter how much his stomach fluttered as though an entire swarm of frantic butterflies had taken up residence and his heart raced to the rhythm of a bomb’s flickering red light moments before detonation, his hands stayed steady.

It was those steady hands that reached out and directed the mechanical hands of the Jaws of Life to dig their way through the jumble of broken boat in his way. Fast, but steady and sure as he stopped letting himself think about lifeless bodies and instead remembered the game of Jenga he’d been having with Gordon just before the call came in. Jenga was easy, a simple logistics puzzle, and Virgil slipped into that mindset. All the turns were his, the tower of blocks was a mass of broken boat, and Virgil hadn’t lost a game of Jenga in years.

That record was not breaking now.

Debris piled up beside him, and at some point Fuse had followed him down, but Virgil’s focus was on the shimmering surface of rising water as he broke through the precariously-balanced debris. A blur of purple almost knocked him over, but while Havoc was strong, she was slight and he caught her – sopping wet and clearly fuming – by the shoulders.

“Go careful or it’ll fall down on top of you,” he warned her. She scoffed and shrugged him off before hurrying past him, but she wasn’t his concern any more, not when there was IR blue with a bright splash of yellow breaking the surface of the water and taking in a huge lungful of air.

Gordon was helmetless, blond hair plastered to his face as water trailed down his skin as though he was in the swimming pool at home. Aside from the deep breaths he was taking after holding his breath for however long, he seemed fine, and Virgil’s attention snapped to the limp body he was clutching.

The yellow-rimmed helmet jammed on Scott’s head and creatively secured with far too much insulation tape to keep it air and water tight did not belong to his eldest brother. It didn’t fit right – hence the need for the insulation tape – and was definitely too small, but Gordon’s yellow rebreather was attached to it and while it was an unorthodox solution that Scott would be complaining about later, Virgil had no doubt it had saved his life.

“Good thinking,” he praised, reaching down to take Scott from his brother. “Injuries?”

As soon as he had hold of him, Gordon was scrabbling at the tape, ripping it off in a way that was bound to smart Scott later. “Not that I don’t like hugs, but there’s no way we’re getting through that tunnel tied together,” the aquanaut said in a rush. He was right; the rebreather was still attached to Gordon’s baldric and getting Scott out was going to be difficult enough without them being linked together. “I’m fine, wasn’t near the blast, but Scott got hit in the head by the debris and it smashed his helmet. He’s been out of it since everything went boom.” That worried Virgil, but what worried him more was how long it was taking Gordon to get the helmet off of Scott’s head.

The water level was still rising.

“Ah hah!” Gordon exclaimed triumphantly as the last of the tape came off and he was able to detach the rebreather and reclaim his helmet. Trusting his fish of a brother to get himself out of the water, especially now he had his helmet back, Virgil turned his attention to Scott and hauled the limp body clear of the flooded room.

Despite the helmet, his hair was still wet. Virgil latched onto that observation as he pulled him over his shoulder and headed back for the exit as fast as he could. Behind him, the familiar sound of wet flippers reassured him that Gordon was following, but also told him that the water levels were still rising.

“Thunderbird One’s VTOLs are overheating,” John said suddenly, his voice grim. “She won’t hold much longer.”

Virgil frowned. If Thunderbird One went down in the ocean, she’d be all but impossible to retrieve and he really didn’t need any more delays. He eyed the end of the corridor, knowing that somewhere, Fuse and Havoc were ahead of him.

“Any sign of the Chaos Crew?” he asked, speeding up as much as he dared. A jolt in the wrong place would bring the debris down on top of them. Water sloshed around his ankles.

“I’ve lost them.” He could imagine John shaking his head. “I’d assume that means they’re in their ship and clear.”

Virgil was going to have to take that chance.

“Is Thunderbird Four still attached to the boat?” Gordon asked. Virgil had all but forgotten the little yellow sub, but John confirmed it and he nodded, realising that with his comms still down, Gordon couldn’t hear their brother.

“John, cut Thunderbird One loose and get Thunderbird Four back to the module,” he said.

“Are you sure? Thunderbird Two can’t take the full weight of the boat for long,” John reminded him.

Virgil reached the end of the corridor, water somewhere near the top of his boots, and gestured for Gordon to go on ahead. The aquanaut started to frown, then glanced at Scott and acquiesced.

“I’m sure,” he said, watching Gordon scramble up to the deck. “We can’t afford Thunderbird One crashing, and Thunderbird Two can hold long enough.”

She had to.

“EOS has Thunderbird Four,” John informed him. “She’ll be back in the module in approximately forty seconds. I’ll cut Thunderbird One loose once you’re on the deck. Not before.”

Virgil supposed that was as good a reason as any to hurry. Gordon was clear, leaning back in to take Scott, and he passed their brother up to him before heaving his way out.

True to John’s word, above them Thunderbird One jerked skywards, disengaging from the boat. Her VTOLs were spluttering painfully, and in the blink of an eye John had her diverting power to the rear thrusters and jetting off for home.

Thunderbird Two squealed, a noise that shot right through Virgil as the boat juddered and lurched beneath his feet. A resounding crash from below deck told him that his careful Jenga of debris had toppled entirely, but they were all clear so that didn’t matter now.

What mattered was getting onboard Thunderbird Two as she juddered and shrieked in protest at the weight Virgil was asking her to hold up, just a little longer.

“Thirty seconds before her engines reach critical,” John warned him. “Get on board now.”

Gordon had hold of Scott, one hand clinging to the deck while the other clutched his brother’s unmoving form close. A particularly large lurch had Virgil crashing down, landing on one knee and forcing him to stabilise himself with one of his claws. Above them, swinging violently with the Thunderbird’s movement, the cockpit platform lowered.

If all three of them were conscious, they’d make it. But Scott’s eyes were still closed, and either Virgil or Gordon needed to sacrifice their hands to keep hold of him. Hands that were very much needed to keep their own balance and scramble onto the platform.

Gordon knew it, too. Virgil could see it in his eyes.

“Go,” he said, reaching to take Scott. “Get on board.”

“Not a chance,” Gordon disagreed. “I’m the aquanaut. If anyone’s going in the water, it’s me. You’re weighed down by the exosuit.”

He was right, but Virgil didn’t want to admit it. He’d only just managed to get Scott and Gordon out of the water; the last thing he wanted was either of them going back in, but Thunderbird Two’s lurching was getting worse and he could hear her VTOLs starting to splutter.

“How about you all move and no-one goes in the water?” John snapped in his ear. “Virgil, get on the platform.” He sounded half angry, half terrified. Not for the first time, Virgil decided that he did not envy his older brother’s job.

Another lurch sent all three of them sprawling sideways, slamming them against the side of the deck and further from the rescue platform. Something went clatter.

Virgil saw something fall past him, but before he could register what it was, there was a dull thunk, like the sound of one of their cables hitting the deck, and the ship lurched back upright.

“What the hell?” Gordon muttered. “What was- oh.”

Oh indeed.

Virgil looked at the cable that had just appeared where Thunderbird One’s had been, heard Thunderbird Two’s VTOLs quiet down just a tad as something else took the strain, and followed the thick grey line up to see a purple and grey machine spluttering away.

“I guess she didn’t hate me after all,” Gordon quipped, but Virgil could hear the wide-eyed surprise in his voice.

There wasn’t time to wonder why the Chaos Cruiser was helping them. The little thing was even less equipped to hold the boat up than Thunderbird One had been, and wouldn’t last long. But the little clatter had reminded him of something he really shouldn’t have forgotten in the first place.

“Gordon, hand me Scott’s grapple launcher.”

There was a split second pause before Gordon dove for their brother’s baldric. “Oh, we’re idiots. Virgil, get moving.”

“Gordon-”

“I’m the better shot, and also less weight,” his brother argued. “Get moving.” The aquanaut didn’t even wait for him to agree before firing straight at the hole in the bottom of the cockpit. It was a bulls’ eye, of course, and Virgil stifled a reflex noise of complaint as he scooped Scott up and scrambled for the rescue platform.

It was still rocking, the Chaos Cruiser not strong enough to fully stabilise the boat, but with stubborn determination and a healthy dose of grappling using the Jaws of Life, he fumbled his way onto the platform, Scott in a heap beside him. The familiar whirring of a grapple cable – and seriously, why hadn’t they remembered Scott had those until one of his grapple packs had fallen out of his baldric – heralded Gordon swinging in on a rapidly-shortening cable, and with a sigh of relief that sounded an awful lot like finally, John set the platform rising back into the cockpit.

Just before they were swallowed up by his ‘bird, Virgil found himself looking out at the Chaos Cruiser. Havoc and Fuse both stared back, one gaze cold as ice, the other warmer than he’d expected. Then it cloaked, shimmering into invisibility, and he was staring at the inside of his cockpit.

Thunderbird Two juddered, and the red warning lights shut off.

“I cut her loose,” John said from his wrist before he could panic. “I’ll get her to pick up Thunderbird Four, and then she’s heading for home, unless Scott needs a hospital?”

Scott. It was against regulations and Virgil was going to be grumbling at himself for it later, but he disengaged the Jaws of Life entirely and stepped out of it, leaving it loose in the cockpit. Gordon had already crouched down next to their brother, and was poking Scott’s cheek.

The malcontent grumble he got was music to Virgil’s ears. “He’s waking up, John, but I’ll do a scan just to be sure.” Bleary blue eyes blinked at him as he held the scanner up, and Gordon broke into a relieved grin.

“Hey, bro,” he beamed. “Nice to see you back.”

“Ow,” Scott rasped as the scan flashed up a group of ambers but no reds. Nothing they couldn’t handle at home. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing particularly exciting,” Gordon told him airily, in that tone that all older brothers knew meant trouble. Virgil was pleased to see Scott squinting at him suspiciously. “Just a woman with a very sharp tongue and an extended swimming session. Pretty fun, actually!”

“Your idea of fun concerns me,” Virgil drawled, but kept his eyes on Scott, who was already pushing himself to sit up. “John, I think home is fine.”

“F.A.B.” His brother didn’t even bother hiding the relief in his voice.

“Do I want to know?” Scott asked, voice dripping with suspicion. It was a rhetorical question – he’d be hounding them for every last detail before the day was done.

“Know that we maybe kinda just a little might need to be a smidge thankful for the Chaos Crew saving our butts?” Gordon asked in that same sunny tone. “Probably not.”

“We saved them first,” Virgil clarified before Scott could explode. “Long story short, your last life sign was Havoc, one of the explosives Fuse planted went off too soon which knocked you out and trapped you two with Havoc in the engine room, and then I had to teach Fuse how to disarm his own bombs before the rest of them went off, then dig you three out.”

Scott groaned and put a hand to his head. “I think I must be hallucinating, because I could have sworn you just said you taught Fuse to disarm his own bombs.”

“I wish it was all in your head, Scott, but no, that actually happened,” Virgil admitted. “Come on, let’s get you in a seat.” He looped Scott’s arm around his shoulders and grabbed his waist before hoisting him up. Gordon hovered on his other side as they made the short few steps to one of the passenger seats and Scott sank down into it.

“Thunderbird One?”

“John’s sent her home already.” Virgil decided against mentioning the damage to her VTOLs. He didn’t want to be in the room when Scott found out about that. “You were unconscious for fifteen minutes, Scott.” Was it really only fifteen minutes? The whole thing had felt so much longer. “You’re piloting nowhere until Grandma gives you the all clear.”

Scott groaned, but it was his normal groan of annoyance at being grounded and not one of pain. Still, Virgil checked his head with his fingers, which Scott suffered with his usual bad grace. A lump, but no cut – fortunate, considering his unintended swim – and otherwise seemed in pretty good shape considering his spate of unconsciousness. Virgil snapped a cold pack and prodded his brother into holding it against his head.

“And keep it there,” he warned. The eye roll he got in response should have annoyed him but was really just another reassurance.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” Scott asked. “Because so far I don’t believe a word of it.”

“Unfortunately, big bro, it’s all true,” Gordon drawled. He’d sprawled himself out over the co-pilot’s chair, arms folded behind his head and flippers on the dash. Virgil glowered but the squid ignored him. “Chaos Crew got involved but ended up helping us out. Rather begrudgingly, in Havoc’s case. Virg had Fuse, so he’s the one to ask about him.”

“He was worried about his sister,” Virgil shrugged. “Family loyalty trumps his loyalty to the Hood, apparently.”

“I can believe that,” Gordon shrugged.

Scott sighed. “This all sounds ridiculous. Let’s just go home.”

Virgil grinned. “That’s the plan, Scott.”

“Besides, Virg still owes me a rematch,” Gordon injected. “Johnny ruined our last game.”

“You ruined your own game,” the ginger sniped, proving that he was still eavesdropping. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“I think I’m done with Jenga for the day,” Virgil admitted, pressing his hand over Scott’s on the cool pack as his brother’s grip slackened. A quick check on his brother proved it was just Scott trying to escape treatment again, rather than anything concerning. “How about chess?”

Gordon squinted at him in confusion. “You know you’ll lose.”

Virgil smirked. “We’ll see.”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #tag team secret santa #secret santa 2020 #Tsarinatorment #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #The Chaos Crew

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sylvain-writes · 4 years

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Guarded Hearts and Safe Houses (Leonardo x Reader) Chapter 7/9

Rated: T

Gender Neutral Reader, canon typical violence/injury, light angst, strangers to lovers, supportive family.

for @melodiousmelodrama

The blood drains from your face. You feel light-headed and unsteady on your feet. “Are my… are my…”

Donnie’s eyes lock on yours. “Raph’s there with Mikey. Everyone’s OK,” he says, but it brings little relief. “Your parents were at a charity function for the hospital.”

“And Gram?” Your throat’s gone so dry, you can barely get the question out.

“At the neighbors’.”

A shaky breath passes through your lips as you wrap your arms around yourself.

Leo stalks the mat as he thinks aloud. “This was a targeted attack. Their numbers might not be what we projected. But they didn’t get what they came for - hostages or us. They’ll be back. We have to get the humans to a secure location.”

Your thoughts extend beyond the safety of your family. “You have to protect the apartment building.”

“Yes.” Leo gives a sharp nod. “We have to defend the city. They’ll strike the building again. We can set up a base of operations somewhere close. Keep a lookout.” He whips out his phone and calls his brothers. “Mikey, sweep the area for somewhere to set up a base. Prepare for another attack.”

Mikey’s voice carries over the speaker. “You got it, bro.”

“Donnie,” Leo commands, “get us ready to move out. Whatever we need. Devices to track their signature, that new bo you’ve been working on. Anything else you got that might help against these guys. We’ve never been up against something like this before. We’re gonna need every advantage we can get.”

“The new weapons? But I thought you said...” Donatello rises to his full height at his brother’s nod of approval. “Of course, Leo. It’d be my honor to supply the team with new hardware. To be used in tandem with our traditional weapons, of course.”

Leo urges him, “Go!” and Donnie heads out at a sprint.

When Leo turns to you, you’re having trouble catching your breath. Tears cloud your vision and the lump in your throat makes it hard to speak.

“This is my fault,” Leo says by way of apology. “I shouldn’t have let my feelings distract me. Your family should have never been in danger.”

You understand now. How being a distraction to him is dangerous. The world depends on him. Tending to you, indulging you, led to this.

You believed his fears and insecurity about being vulnerable, showing weakness, were baseless. But leaving the city open to attack, leaving your family at risk… it isn’t worth whatever feelings stir in your chest when you think of him.

You’d rather have him and everyone else safe, than to be selfish. This isn’t him choosing to ignore you, this is him choosing to save the world.

When you return to your family home, Leo kneels before your parents and Gram. “I have dishonored you, failed you. I know my words are not enough, but I hope you will allow me to defend you and your home. I will not fail you again. On my honor. On my life.”

Your father, filled with fear, sputters before leaving the room. You know him, he doesn’t put the blame on the turtles, not really. But he doesn’t have anywhere else to direct his feelings of anger, fear, and confusion. Not yet.

Leo appeals to the women as they remain. “I allowed my mind to be clouded by distraction. It will not happen again. I devote my life to ninja and to your protection.”

His apologies hurt more than you thought they would, know you’re the distraction of which he speaks. Though you came to that same conclusion less than an hour ago, hearing it from his lips ties your stomach in knots.

“It’s time for you to go,” you find yourself saying. “You being here puts a bigger target on us, doesn’t it?”

Leo nods and stands.

“Then, go save the city, Leo. We won’t stand in your way as distractions anymore.”

Leo’s face twists in pain before his emotions slip behind the wall he builds so well. He heads for the window and you close it behind him with more force than necessary.

Once he’s gone, you try not to think of him. Your family needs you. They’re shaken and confused. And you don’t have all of the answers, but you have faith in the brothers. You have to believe they can fight this threat to the city. You have to believe they can win.

The Krang don’t attack again that day. Or that week. And a lookout returns to the roof. But it’s Leo and you won’t go up there. You don’t want to talk to him and it’s clear he doesn’t want you around.

But being in the apartment, unable to spend time on your rooftop escape, is making you stir crazy. You do get little drop ins from the other guys, sometimes right before their patrol.

Raphael will stop in to see Gram, ask about a new stitch he’s working on for his latest yarn project - a blanket for Mikey. A birthday present the young turtle isn’t supposed to know about.

Donatello dropped in to give you a secure phone so you could contact them in case of an emergency. “Or, you know, if you ever just want to talk about life, the universe, and everything.”

Mikey leaves you horoscopes, but it’s bittersweet. He doesn’t stick around to explain what he thinks they mean.

You convince yourself you’ve gotten over Leo, that the reason you spend more time looking at his horoscope than the others is because he’s the one perched on your roof and if the horoscope is predicting bad news for him then that translates into bad news for you, for your family, for your building. And you need to be prepared. You are absolutely not looking for any clues in regard to his feelings for you, any clues as to when you can expect him to knock on the window and apologize for pushing you away. When you can expect him to announce he’s come up with a way for you to be a boon to their cause instead of the distraction he’s determined you to be.

When the Krang launches an attack on Times Square, it’s all over the news. People are frantic. The city is in chaos. And you don’t know what to do. There’s no way off the island - and though you’d like your family to get to New Jersey, to get somewhere safely out of the way, you don’t even think of leaving yourself.

You and Leo haven't spoken to each other in over a week and you have no idea how he’s been handling everything. The guys haven’t given many clues. Mikey’s horoscopes are too vague to understand without his interpretations.

You know Leo holds so much inside, not wanting to burden his brothers with more than what he thinks they can handle. Why doesn’t he realize that if he trusted other people to share the burden, it’d be easier for everyone to carry? His brothers wouldn’t be as worried about him and all four of them would be better prepared to handle whatever dangers are to come.

You kiss your parents and Gram goodbye and head south toward Times Square. They know where you’re going. They don’t try to stop you. Mother straps a pack full of medical supplies to your back and squishes your face before you go. “I would be right beside you,” she says, then casts a meaningful look at Gram and Father.

The city is madness. The streets, which you thought would be teeming with people running for cover, are empty. Everyone who could find shelter has found it. Those who couldn't, well, they don't need shelter anymore.

You charge through the streets on foot, sure the subways are out of order. There are no cabs to take you, no clear streets to drive through even if there was a vehicle to drive.

You duck behind an abandoned news stand as a disembodied brain alien floats past. You peek through the rows of magazines to see it's not the only one. There must be a dozen krang moving down the streets. They don't seem to be looking for anything, led by an unseen force.

You startle when you feel a large, cool hand close over your mouth and nose. "Don' scream, a’right?" You'd recognize Raph's voice anywhere.

The tension in your shoulders eases up, but only a little.

"Your supposed t’ be hitchin’ a ride with Don. Gettin' the hell outta here with Gram and ya parents."

You pry Raph's hand from your face and gasp for air. The dude really doesn't realize just how massive his hand is. "I'm not leaving. I can help."

You notice the gash on his arm, and without hesitation, you swing your backpack off of one shoulder and around to your chest. It takes only a few seconds for you to fish out antiseptic spray and a roll of gauze. You patch him up efficiently. And Rapahel grunts. It's about as much thanks as you could hope to get while he's focused on the fight.

"Told you. I can help. Get back out there. Is anyone else hurt?"

"Bout a few thousand New Yorkers." Raph’s brow furrows and his eyes look haunted. It only lasts a moment before he shakes his head and shifts his frown to a grimace. “These slimeballs fucked with the wrong city.”

You look around at the First Responders on the scene. "What about your brothers?"

"Why dontcha ask 'em yourself?" he asks as he scans the area for any sign of those things .

You grab the secure cell from your pocket and dial the open line to the turtles. "Mikey. You alright?"

"Hey! What's shakin'?" Mikey’s greeting is casual and bright, even amid bedlam.

"You sound winded."

"I'm kinda in the middle of something,” he explains, and you can hear the thuds and shuffling of a brawl. “Can I call you back? Later? Oof. A lot later? Yow! That's my good side, dude!"

In spite of everything, he manages to make you smile. "Where's Leo?"

A gruff voice joins the line. Deep and calm. “I’m right here.” Mikey’s channel cuts out and the background falls silent. Leo has found somewhere quiet to talk. "Where are you?"

Raph leans toward the phone to answer for you. "Wit me."

There’s shock in his voice, confusion and concern. "You're supposed to be with Donnie."

"Well, I'm-"

"Helpin', alright?” Raphael defends. “Got a little banged up over here. Glad I had someone on my side t' patch me up.”

You smile at him and he shoves your shoulder a bit before smiling back. And you were wrong, your first impression of him… that his snarl couldn't be improved by a smile, because when Raph smiles it really does light up his face. Softens his edges.

It's like the rare occasion when Mikey lets himself get lost monologuing about his interests - before he catches himself and hopes that you aren't upset by his enthusiasm.

You've only seen Donnie smile like that once. Carefree.

But you've never seen Leo wear a carefree smile. Not ever. Maybe something tight lipped. Or something fond. Sad. Leo’s smiles hold secrets and burdens. His shoulders hold responsibility. There isn't a carefree bone in his body. He holds the weight of the world on his shell. And try as he might to hide the toll it takes on him, his brothers can see he can’t do it alone.

"Fine,” Leo concedes. “Stay with Raph."

"We're comin' to you, brutha."

"Wait where you are- No!" There's a thud and a gasp and Leo gives a shout of pain before the line goes dead.

#tmnt x reader #leonardo x reader #leo x reader #gender neutral reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #my writing #guarded hearts and safe houses fic

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thanksjro · 4 years

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More Than Meets the Eye #18- Rung Psychologically Tortures a Man with Poor Snack Management

So, Swerve’s having a less than stellar day, and for once it isn’t linked to his deep-rooted sense of self-loathing.

Good thing he already emptied those stills, otherwise this would be just the hugest mess.

Thanks to some off-panel Whirl shenanigans that took place prior to this storyline, Swerve had Brainstorm put in a few security measures. Of course, Brainstorm being Brainstorm, never does weaponry in any half-measures.

Still, it isn’t quite enough. Looks like Swerve’s going to have to break out the big guns for this guy.

There’s a lot going on here, so let’s break it down.

On the character side of things, it would appear that Swerve is a merciful god of robot booze, as he’s not yet banned anyone from his small business, even when he probably ought to- Fort Max I get, and Whirl has the whole “is also an Autobot” thing going on, but Cyclonus has actively attempted to murder Swerve in the past, and also is the closest thing to a Decepticon they’ve got on the ship at any given time.

On the weaponry side of things, it would seem that Swerve having blown his face clean off his skull back in issue #12 got back to Brainstorm, who- because he’s married to his career and loves a project- immediately got to work on a gun that Swerve could actually handle with his funky little cartoon-man hands. Of course, that doesn’t mean Swerve’s going to get away with his dignity intact, oh heavens no! This thing has a literal smiley face slapped on the front of it. Well, you know what they say: it’s Nerf or Nothing.

Swerve blasts a hole in the Legislator with his silly, silly gun, and the bar is saved from further destruction.

I like to imagine that Brainstorm recorded that victory line himself, because he wants to support his friends, in his own, bizarre way.

Things are looking rough for the rest of the Lost Light, as the Legislators have completely flooded the ship with their forces, as the crew do their best to fight them off. Blaster’s had his titty compartment blasted open. Huffer is screaming. The medics have taken to violence. Skids has broken out the brass knuckles and is making god-awful math puns. The Legislators are still coming, without any end in sight. It’s a real shitshow.

Over on Luna 1, it would appear that Ratchet immediately passed out after seeing Pharma, which is a fair response to seeing someone who’s supposed to be very much dead, I think. Pharma calls Lockdown, they have a bit of banter, and then the scene moves on to whatever Cyclonus and Whirl are doing.

Because these two are the only ones on the away team who can actually fly, they’ve broken off from the rest. Whirl’s getting antsy, and decides he’s gonna fight something. Cyclonus, though he does mention that Rodimus told them not to do exactly what Whirl is suggesting, seems to agree with this line of thought.

Speaking of Rodimus, him and the rest of the gang are zipping around on those M.A.R.B.s, though it appears as if some of the passengers have switched drivers. Rung’s over with Chromedome now, holding on to him for dear life. Maybe they’re having an impromptu grief counseling session as they run from danger. Tailgate’s with Rodimus, and he’s just pointed out that Ratchet got left behind. Rodimus can’t deal with that right now, though, and decides that they need to get away from all these gotdang Decepticons and then figure out their next step.

Then he’s distracted by the literal lineup of dead Titans just hanging out on the moon.

Luna 1’s kinda fucked up.

Cutting back to our framing device- nope, still haven’t gotten caught up with the present yet- Ambus asks what Rodimus did next. Well, a lot happened. A lot. Chromedome jumped out of his therapy session with Rung and transforms into his alt, which I want to say is the only time he’ll do it in MTMTE. Whirl and Cyclonus are faffing about in the sky, more or less toying with the Decepticons following them. Rodimus wants to pull another Fantastic Voyage, much to Tailgate’s horror.

Rodimus zooms into the first crack he sees, but doesn’t manage to lose his attackers. Tailgate provides commentary, as Rodimus wraps the little guy around his neck like a cape, leaps from the M.A.R.B., and does some super sick gymnastics, hanging from a pipe jutting out of the ceiling as the guys who were chasing them run into… well, I assume each other, but it’s not terribly clear.

Crisis avoided, Rodimus drops down, transforming as he does. Tailgate goes with him, because gravity is still a thing on the moon, and we get a reminder that he’s only got a couple days left to live. Unfortunately, it would appear he’ll be spending his final days rotting in a prison cell, as Lockdown shows up with everyone else in handcuffs, forcing Rodimus to come quietly. Everyone seems very put out by this whole situation, especially Brainstorm. He’s downright furious, probably because he got captured by the guy with a fish butt on his head.

Oh, the indignity of it all!

Then again, maybe he’s just focused on working up the cajones to ask just what the hell is going on on this super weird moon. Lockdown obviously isn’t a bad enough dude to be running this operation- we saw what happened the last time he went against someone who actually had the time to plan something out- so our away team has deduced that there’s someone higher up on the food chain here. Also, there’s the whole issue of money clearly being a major factor in all this.

That sort of tech doesn’t just fall out of the sky.

As they’re being walked down this corridor of tension building, Chromedome spies Ultra Magnus in an adjoining hallway. He calls to him, but is very solidly ignored. But there’s no time to worry about Magnus being a rude shit, because it’s time for character reveals!

There’s an interesting little detail about Tyrest’s character, which is a little hard to see given the layout of the art for this page, but here it is, on the end of his staff:

Now, I know that the Autobot badge was appropriated from a symbol meant to represent Primus, but that was millions of years ago. So much for being a neutral party, huh Tyrest?

Rodimus is real peeved about being chased, shot at, arrested, and held against his will, and fully intends to give Tyrest a piece of his mind. Tyrest isn’t interested, however, telling him to shove a sock in it, or be “held in contempt.” While this is happening, Perceptor and Brainstorm have noticed the positively humongous and positively ancient space bridge that Tyrest just has lying around in this room.

Oh no, this is about the baby field from last issue, isn’t it? Brainstorm’s going to jail for infant arson.

Rodimus greatly dislikes this whole situation, and expresses himself through the art of verbal abuse. Smash cut to them back in the cell, Ambus not seeming terribly impressed with how Rodimus handled himself with Tyrest.

The tale is finished, we know where we were. Now how to move forward?

Chromedome asks for a bit more information on our new friend, because the whole “Ambus” thing is throwing him off, and with good reason: how do you tell your late husband’s ex that you had to blow up your mutual partner to keep him from being eaten by a lippy bastard? But this isn’t the illustrious Dominus Ambus- this is MINIMUS Ambus, the lesser known brother. Chromedome/Dominus isn’t completely taken off the table, however, as Minimus uses some awkward phrases that seems to tell me Dominus isn’t confirmed dead.

Rung wants to know what Minimus’ whole deal is, seeing as he’s also in prison with the lot of them. Minimus explains that he’d been moving a shipment of energon derivatives, when Tyrest had arrested him for having traces of space cocaine in his goods.

Was taking his eye really necessary, Tyrest?

Minimus was placed into custody years ago, and has been awaiting trial this whole time. Not exactly sure why, seeing as this moon isn’t exactly off the chain populated. Maybe Tyrest’s just been busy doing things that are absolutely NOT nefarious in any form or fashion whatsoever.

Minimus mentions that he’s lost his Autobot badge, and Rung offers to let him borrow his own- which we’ve never seen him wear because it’s apparently too big for him- but Minimus would rather he wear it himself.

Tailgate doesn’t take to this bit of information about the appeals system very well, seeing as he’s not got years to wait around. He’s beginning to panic, not trusting Cyclonus and Whirl to break them out, and starts needling the others to do something. Brainstorm reveals that his briefcase, which he’s had this entire time, as he always does, has an attention deflector built into it, making it effectively invisible to Tyrest and his goons. Rung feels a certain kinship with the briefcase in that moment.

Imagine walking up to a widower and saying “Hey there, honeybunches, how about submitting to that crippling addiction your late spouse begged you to quit so we can bust out of prison?”

Of course, Tailgate’s only told Cyclonus about his condition, so no one’s exactly raring to go busting out, since they’ve assumed everyone present is effectively immortal.

Over on another part of the moon, Ratchet’s finally waking up from his stress-induced nap to find Pharma channeling his inner Jigsaw. Ratchet gives him some constructive criticism on his new hands, but Pharma’s kind of over listening to whatever Ratchet thinks.

Oh, I hope it’s one of those gag gifts where you open it and get hit in the face with a pie. Those are always a laugh.

Back on the Lost Light, Swerve is looking for his very best friend in the whole wide world. I really hope the feeling is mutual, because there’s no way Swerve would survive that sort of rejection.

The doors to the oil reservoir open, looking like the elevator scene from The Shining, and we see what’s become of our dear, dear Skidsy.

Skids is pretty sure all this Legislator nonsense is because of him, and he’s not about to let people die for his sorry butt today, no siree. He’s gonna save the day.

Then again, this is about where Star Saber pops into existence behind him and stabs him through the spine, so maybe not.

Behold, a bastard!

Star Saber in the IDW run is well-known as being a witch-hunting zealot who can and will commit acts of violence over any perceived slight against Primus he identifies in any given living creature. This is a stark removal from his original character, who is so pure-hearted, kind, and generous, he literally adopted an orphan to raise as his own son. So, what exactly happened here?

TMUK happened.

Back in the days before Roberts was a professional scriptwriter, back before IDW had the license for Transformers, the members of the TMUK fan group decided that Victory’s Star Saber was going to be evil. Why isn’t exactly clear, only that it was a decision that was made not by Roberts on his lonesome, but more as a collaborative effort. Of course, this Star Saber isn’t a one-to-one copy of the TMUK Star Saber- that guy was much more conniving and, uh, Hitler-y, than what we have here.

Getting back to the story, Swerve tries to save/avenge Skids, firing with his custom gun, only to miss every single shot.

Looks like there’s going to need to be a rework on the My First Blaster.

Swerve gets beaned over the head with the butt of Star Saber’s sword for his troubles, his visor shattering in the process. Damn, sure hope he’s got a reading prescription, and not anything he’ll actually need to see.

Back over on the moon, Ratchet’s pretty uninterested in playing Pharma’s little game. It’s just as well though, because, as it turns out, Pharma’s an impatient guy. Must be an absolute nightmare during the holiday season and birthdays. He throws open the box, revealing what’s inside.

THAT IS NOT PIE.

But we saw Ratchet’s face over on the other side of the room. How can he be in two places at once? Well, here’s the thing about Transformers…

They’re pretty darn hard to kill.

Back in the cell, Rung’s doing his part as a member of the away team by passing out snacks. Tailgate reveals his awful garbage disposal mouth. We get the down-low on Tyrest.

Once upon a time, Tyrest was an engineer. Then the war happened, shit got crazy, and suddenly he was organizing exoduses and peace talks with genocidal maniacs, and got appointed Chief Justice by the space pope himself.

Rodimus comes over to get in on the little snack party Rung and Tailgate are having, mentioning the Aequitas Trials- the very ones that were recorded onto Ironfist’s brain back in Last Stand of the Wreckers. Minimus comes over, warning Rodimus to keep hush-hush about those, since they’re top secret and all. Kind of a weird thing for you to do, Minimus. Hell, why do YOU know about these super secret trials, Mr. Nobody Trader Guy? Those were after Dominus disappeared, so it’s not like you had an in through your cool older brother.

Rodimus gives everyone the skinny on the trials, despite Minimus being weird about the whole thing.

Perceptor knows all this already, but I suppose it’s possible Rodimus is the only son of a gun who isn’t subscribed to Wreckers: Declassified and isn’t aware of Perceptor’s whole deal.

Minimus moves the topic over to the crew of the Lost Light, latching on to Skids specifically the moment he’s mentioned. Rung does his due diligence and offers Minimus a ride on the snack train. Minimus declines, Rung insists, and the box of space pocky is dropped on the floor.

Minimus goes to help Rung pick up the snacks, as Rung actively hinders the clean up effort.

Minimus is two seconds from snapping Rung’s scrawny little wrist like a toothpick if he doesn’t quit it. Luckily Rodimus is there to break up this positively bizarre situation. And then things get really weird.

Rung’s been watching Minimus since they got here, noticing things that were very familiar- speech patterns, mannerisms, tone, inflection, OCD behaviors, things like that. Once he developed enough of a hunch, Rung started intentionally antagonizing him by making a mess and putting his Autobot badge on in a way that isn’t up to standards. Why would he do this? Why would he want to cause an outburst in someone he just met?

Well, the thing is, he hasn’t just met Minimus Ambus. He’s actually been serving under him for the last year.

That’s a rather dark use of your doctorate, Rung, forcing a man to reveal his true identity by poking at his mental health until he was about to snap your neck over some candy. You did it so well, too.

Maybe you were on Kimia for more than just psych evals. What was your career officially called again? Psyops specialist is what they have listed on the Wiki. Truth be told, I don’t even know what that entails. Let’s look it up, shall we?

...I guess therapy is his side gig?

So either Roberts meant something else entirely, or Rung is actually super fucking scary.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #remain in light #issue 18 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #comic script writing

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waywardnerd67 · 4 years

Text

TFWB - Chap 9 Financial District

Summary: Ten years later, Jensen is reflecting the rise of his financial firm and the moments he let slip by. Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Rachel Sanderson (OFC), Reader Pairing: Jared x Rachel (OFC) Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1333 Squared Filled: CEO AU A/N #1: This is for @spnfluffbingo card

Check out: The Family We Built Masterlist

As (Y/N) turned the page in her scrapbook, she found a few stray pages stuck in the binding. Pulling them out, she found some journal pages of Jensen’s from when he was at his financial firm. He must have snuck them in whenever he was making this space for her. She looked down at the pictures in her book smiling.

The first one was of Jensen and Misha camping in Vancouver. Another one was of Rachel and her during their girls trip to the Rocky Mountains. One of her favorite pictures was the one of Jensen and Jared from Austin City Limits Festival. Finally, there was the clipping of Jensen from the Wall Street Journal when he was named the Youngest Most Influential CEO of 2013. (Y/N) picked up his entries and began reading.

***

Jensen looked out over his view of downtown Austin. His office was on the highest floor of the building with floor to ceiling windows. He was staring off as his mind wandered to his project sitting at home waiting for him. Anyone else in his position would be overjoyed with how life turned out. He was named Most Influential CEO of 2013, his financial firm was one of the most successful ones in the country, he was well off financially and his social calendar was always overflowing. There was nowhere in Austin that someone did not know the name Jensen Ackles.

Yet his amazing Administrative Assistant, Katherine, had asked him a question that had him staring off into oblivion.

“Mr. Ackles, may I ask you something?” her voice was timid almost like he would snap at her for speaking.

“Kat, I’ve told you, just call me Jensen and yes.”

She smiled warmly, “I was just curious and if I’m overstepping a boundary please tell me so. But I was wondering with all your success and everything why you don’t seem happy all the time?”

He was taken back for a moment, “That’s a great question. I don’t know that I have an answer for it.” He chuckled.

“You should find something or someone that makes you happy. You’re too caring and nice of a person to not be truly happy.”

Two images popped into his mind as she said truly happy, “I do have something that makes me truly happy. I guess I just don’t share it with anyone else… yet.”

She nodded, “Good. I hope you have a wonderful night, Jensen.” She left his office closing the door behind her.

That had been hours ago and yet Jensen was still sitting in his office watching the last bits of sunlight drift beneath the horizon. His phone buzzing startled him from his trance seeing it was a text within his group chat.

“Dinner at my place tonight!” Misha had sent as Jensen groaned then a few more texts came through.

“Oh no… I don’t think my stomach can handle it.”

“Misha, please order something normal.”

“If it’s not BBQ then I’m not coming over.”

The last one had been Jared the others from (Y/N) and Rachel. A couple nights a week they all got together for dinner and to catch up. Not that any of them went more than a couple of hours without talking to one another. However, this was a great distraction for Jensen from the thoughts mulling around in his head.

Jensen arrived at Misha's loft that was over the recently bought storefront for his new studio. He peeked through the window to see how it was coming along. Jensen was always in awe of Misha’s talent and was happy to be able to invest in his studio.

“Hey stranger.” The sweet voice made his heart skip a beat.

Turning around he found (Y/N) standing there the picture of perfection, “Hi there pretty girl,”

A wide grin spread across her face leading up to her bright (Y/C/E) eyes. Between her work schedule editing for Bard Press and his travel schedule they had not seen one another for a few weeks. However, they usually talk or email with one another everyday.

“What do you think Misha is going to make us eat this time?” Her cheeks puffed out as he chuckled.

“I have a feeling no matter what we will all have something to eat.” Jensen winked at her as they walked inside and up the stairs.

Sure enough Misha had gone to a local restaurant nearby and ordered the three least ordered items on the menu. On the table were boiled fish eyeballs, deep fried brain and octopus. Jensen looked over to (Y/N) who had her hand over her mouth. Rachel’s face was buried into Jared’s chest while his eyes narrowed in on Misha. Then all at once everyone began to speak over one another.

“I’m not eating that Misha.”

“Dude! I told you if it wasn’t BBQ then I wasn’t coming over!”

“I’m gonna be sick.”

Then the buzzer for the main door silenced everyone except for Jensen, “I’ll get it.”

He returned with several bags of food from one of their favorite BBQ places, “Dinner is served.”

Jared and Rachel helped him spread out the food. As he was bent over placing the foil pan of ribs down, (Y/N) leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“My hero.” She whispered then walked toward Misha’s kitchen for napkins.

Jensen’s cheek tingled where her lips were. Letting out a shaky breath, he looked up to see Jared and Rachel eyeing him from across the table. He averted his eyes and went back to setting up the food. Misha refused to eat any of the BBQ at first, but eventually gave in after trying each of the food he had ordered. Jensen was surprised and impressed when (Y/N) bravely tried some of the octopus and deep fried brain.

“You know deep fried and covered with ketchup it doesn’t taste any different than chicken.” She said as everyone watched her pop another bite into her mouth.

After dinner, they all settled into Misha’s living room where he hung a large white sheet and set up a projector for a movie. Misha was curled up on his favorite chair while Rachel was sitting with a stretched out Jared on the couch. Jensen had his arm resting comfortably across the back of the loveseat where he and (Y/N) sat with her feet resting on his lap.

Halfway through the movie he phone started to buzz in his pocket. (Y/N) removed her feet as he got up moving towards the front door.

“Hello Eric.”

“Hey Jensen, sorry to call after hours.” He sounded nervous, “It’s important, you should get back to the office.”

Jensen groaned looking back towards (Y/N), who was staring at him, “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Jensen walked back over grabbing his boots and jacket as (Y/N) looked up at him, “Someone having a financial problem?”

“Something like that. I’m sorry to bail early on everyone,” He looked down at (Y/N) squeezing her shoulder gently, “I’ll call you later.”

***

“That was the night I decided I wanted out of the Financial District and finally follow my dreams. I had spent too long pleasing others and not making sure I was enjoying life. I also realized that night that my feelings for (Y/N) were getting stronger. It had been almost painful to leave her even though I knew I would talk to her later that night and see her that week. I needed to make a decision about what to do about that as well.”

(Y/N) remember how disappointed she had been when he left that night. It was not too long after that she had left as well unable to shake the feeling. True to his word, Jensen had called her and they spent hours talking on the phone to one another. It was also the night she had come to the same conclusion that she had fallen in love with Jensen.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby @ladywinchester1967 @akshi8278 @ericaprice2008 @deans-baby-momma @spnbaby-67 @dean-winchesters-bacon @carryonmywaywardcaptain @-lovepeacenhope- @destiel745 @carribear31 @srsllydunnodoncare @whimsicalrobots @thisismysecrethappyplace @starstruckzonkoperatorbat @adoptdontshoppets @mrswhozeewhatsis @bella-ca @drakelover78 @imascio08 @pisces-cutie @dwgrl1903-blog @mannls @the-salty-asian @winchesterprincessbride @xostephanie @superromijn @witch-of-letters @time-travel-bouqet @screechingartisancashbailiff @myinconnelly1 @sister-winchesters99 @thekatherinewinchester @maddiepants @tumbler-tidbits @sandlee44 @destielhoneybee @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @thefaithfulwriter @stoneyggirl @supernaturalginger @emoryhemsworth @wednesdayismyfunday @team-free-will-you-idjiot @atc74 @cosicas-cuquis @casseythebee

#spnfluffbingo #tfwb series #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #reader insert #rpf #fluff

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uncultureddirt · 5 years

Text

Waiting (Part 1/3) - Mark Lee fic

~REQUESTED~

“Staring got boring”

PART TWO ||| PART THREE

You liked to watch him from afar, across the classroom napping during a lecture, vigorously taking notes, or flipping lazily through his book. You liked to watch him stand in front of the class and present, stuttering every couple of words, and watching his cheekbones bulge as he tried not to smile. It was at this time of day you found yourself walking to your literature class, staring at the back of his head as he turned into the classroom a few steps ahead of you. He took his seat in the corner and began to fish through his bag for his notebook as you walked in. Noting your presence emerge in his peripheral vision, he paused his search and slowly looked up.

As you make your way to the opposite side of the room, you could feel his dark eyes on you, and you were glad. After sitting down in your chair, you looked over and met his eyes. He smiled lightly and turned away, beginning to search again for his notebook.

“Just say ‘hi’ to me,” you mumbled under your breath. You turned your head and looked out the window.

‘Mark Lee,’ you furrowed your brows, ‘hmm’

Turning back towards him, you watched as he talked to the kid in front of him. You smiled softly as he laughed loudly and joked around with the boy. You almost inserted yourself as a third member of the conversation. You wanted to join in. You wanted him to talk to you.

‘Talk to me like that.’ you frowned and looked towards your desk, flipping open your notebook.

The class silenced themselves as your teacher, Mr. Darten, entered the room. He was young, fresh out of school, and full of passion for reading and writing. You liked him; he was a cool guy. Instead of his red mug he always had in hand, he carried a large box.

“Dude, what’s in that?” someone yelled. The class was too comfortable with him, but Mr. Darten never yelled or scolded them for their informal behavior.

Mr. Darten smiled as he spoke. “I dug this out from the storage room,” he said, placing the large box on the table in front of the class. After wiping off the tiny layer of dust he opened it and spoke again, “This marking period will be centered on William Shakespeare.”

He sat on the table next to the box and reached an arm inside. As he pulled out a Macbeth book, the class groaned. Nobody likes Shakespeare.

“Mr. Darten are you serious? The whole marking period?” a girl behind you whined.

“Yes. Your first major project will be a book analysis. You can pick any Shakespeare novel in this box. There are about three copies of each. Those who pick the same book will be partners. You guys will work together on this and in a couple weeks we’ll have presentations.”

Mr. Darten came around with the box, each kid digging around to find the right book for them. Luckily, you were first to pick.

‘I need something easy…’ you thought as you sifted through the dusty paperbacks, before pulling out a small book with a purple ripped cover.

“Ah, Romeo and Juliet. Kind of basic y/n. You better really wow me with this. No surface level stuff,” Mr. Darten laughed.

He was right. You couldn’t have picked a more basic Shakespeare novel, but you didn’t care. It was easy. You flipped through the pages while you thought about the project, completely forgetting there was another copy to the book in your hand.

“Hey y/n,” you looked up to the sound of your name and saw the book cover in a familiar boy’s grasp, “Mr. Darten said you picked this book too.”

Your eyes widened as you stared at the glossy purple page. You felt your ears heat up slightly and bit the inside of your cheek, concealing your smile - you wondered if he noticed.

‘Finally!’

“Oh, hi Mark! Uh yeah, I picked this too. I guess we’re both basic huh?” you laughed as he sat in the desk beside you.

“No, I think we just both hate Shakespeare.”

“I think you're right.” you looked at him and smiled. He chuckled lightly and quickly looked away, his face blushing gently.

You began to flip through the book calmly as the inside of you was swarmed with butterflies. Though you’d always watched him from afar, all you really wanted to do was talk to him, but you felt he never shared that desire. Little did you know how wrong you were.

As you discussed how you guys were going to tackle the book and assignment, he zoned out. Mark stared into your face as you talked, noting the birthmark on your face and the way your eyes looked when the light hit them. He watched you flip your hair and squint as you attempted to read the words ahead of you. Your voice was like peaceful music playing in the back of his brain; its notes and inflections were strong, but the words didn’t register. He was lost in your glowing abyss, a place he’d encountered from afar, but up close was overwhelming.

“Does that sound good?” you asked once finishing laying out your ideas, “Mark?”

Your voice calling his name ripped him from his trance and he jumped slightly, “Yeah,” he lied, “Sounds great.”

He left school clutching the glossy paperback in his hands. As his fingers flipped the old pages, he thought of you and your pretty face. His stomach was still swinging from class and the thought of working alongside you.

“Okay. You have to do a good job on this. You gotta impress her.” he said quietly as he pulled open his car door. He placed his backpack and the small book in the passenger's seat and sank down into the leather seat. Exhaling deeply, he pressed the key into the ignition.

“Alright William, help me out here” he said aloud to no one in particular, not even the writer resting peacefully underground.

“For the next week, begin class sitting next to your partner and start working.” Mr. Darten went on, “You don’t have to wait for me to begin class.” He then nodded his head and raised his red mug to his mouth, taking a long sip of his black coffee.

You watched as Mark picked up his bag and walked towards you, taking a seat in the empty desk beside yours. You liked the placement of your desk; it was right next to the large window out-looking the courtyard. You often got distracted, finding yourself lost in the swaying trees or trapped in the muggy air during rainy afternoons. The window let a certain type of light spill into the classroom, one that filled it fully, but never made you squint. It was warm; you liked it.

This light reached Mark’s face as you began to discuss the first part of the book. It caramelized his brown eyes and highlighted his dark hair.

“So they hate each other?” Mark asked, his eyes glued to the page ahead of him.

“No. Their families do. Romeo and Juliet don’t know each other yet.”

“Right and Romeo’s depressed about Rosaline.”

“Mhm.”

“And Juliet’s supposed to marry that Paris guy.”

“Right.”

“Well, obviously none of it’s gonna work out. It’s conveniently set up for these ‘forbidden,’” He made air quotes with his fingers, “lovers to meet. Sooo sly of you William.” Mark put the book down and looked at you to smile.

You laughed, “Mark that was lovely. Great analysis” you said mockingly.

“Thank you.” He looked down quickly after you two made eye contact, cautious not to lose himself in a daze again.

Slowly your conversation digressed from Capulets and Montagues to you and him. It was a normal conversation, something you had been waiting for. You rested your head on your hand as you two talked. You began to notice his eyes shifting, and voice faltering every couple minutes. It was almost as if he would forget what he was saying mid sentence and have to begin again. It reminded you of when he would present in front of the class, the random stutters and slight blushing.

‘Is he nervous? No. There’s no way.’

It was Sunday morning. The road was empty, the sky was clear, and the air was cool. You were driving in your car on the way to Sunbelts, a small breakfast bar in your town center, when you noticed a light flash on your dashboard.

Fuel Level Low

“Shit, I need gas.” you mumbled.

You started to drive in the direction towards the gas station and pulled in. Opening the car door, you stepped out and let the cool morning air hit your face. You enjoyed getting out early on Sundays; it was peaceful to have time to yourself. As you pressed the gas pump in the car you looked up, noticing two other cars join you. You watched an old man slowly get out of his vehicle and slide on his glasses as he looked at the pin pad on the gas pump. You leaned against your car before turning your head at the sight of something familiar. On the opposite side of the old man was a slim figure wearing black joggers and a loose black tee. He had on specs and his hair was a bit messy, but he looked cute.

“Mark Lee?” you said loudly. You knew it was him, it wasn’t even a question, you just wanted to startle him.

The old man placed the gas pump in his car as Mark looked up quickly. He looked panicked, but he covered it up with a smile.

“Oh, hey.” Mark said back.

“Your hair looks great,” you laughed, pulling the gas pump out of your car.

He furrowed his brows and lifted a hand to his hair, feeling it defying gravity.

“Oh my god,” he started laughing, “I didn’t even know it looked like this.”

“Wait, I’m coming over to you.” you said jumping into your car.

“Is that your girlfriend?” the old man asked Mark as you slowly pulled around the lot, intending to park next to his car.

“Oh uh, no. Hah, she’s… she’s not.” his face reddened at the question.

The old man smiled and chuckled softly, “Not yet.” He lowered himself back into his car after paying and drove off, leaving Mark with a wink and a pondering thought.

You poked your head out of the car window. “Come with me to Sunbelts.”

Mark smiled, he noticed your messy hair too and lack of makeup. He liked it. He thought you looked perfect. He wanted to tell you that, but he couldn’t, so he just stared.

“Okay, sure.”

“Follow me.”

He nodded and got into his car, placing the key in the ignition and letting it start. As you pulled out of the gas station, he followed, tapping his wheel nervously, and smiling. As he drove behind you, your voice saying his name replayed in his head, like the sweetest song he’s ever heard. Your voice elicited some response within him, one of excitement, desire, and anxiety; it made his stomach burn and heart race. It was a feeling of discomfort, but encased in joy or dipped in gold rather. The feuding feelings coexisted.

‘Mark Lee?’

There was that song again. He exhaled and smiled again. Ah, how lovely.

To be continued...

#kpop #NCT #NCT 127 #nct dream #mark lee #kpop fanfic #nct imagines #nct scenario #mark lee fanfic #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #nct fanfic #Gwrites #HI GUYS HERES PART ONE!#I REALLY HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS #LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU ALL #im very excited to put my first work out in so long #thank you all for waiting you are so so kind #KISSES AND HUGS

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jcmorrigan · 4 years

Text

In Defense of Archibald Snatcher

Oh, wow, we’re coming up on almost the sixth anniversary of The Boxtrolls, my favorite film of all time, and though the fandom for it seems to be either dead or in hibernation, I still have the torch lit.

I actually have been of the mindset of the opinion/s I’m about to present here for all those six years, but never really thought it prudent to lay them out until I recently had a friend I was recommending the film to who I warned about some of the elements considered “problematic” and I offhandedly mentioned that I could do a whole essay about why they don’t bother me and said friend replied with a desire to want to hear it because we share infodump for infodump, so here we go, I’m poking the hornet’s nest surrounding a controversial film with a dead fandom.

But if you were on Tumblr back in the heyday, you might’ve seen the reaction to this film when it first debuted. Specifically, what a lot of people honed in on wa that the villain, Archibald Snatcher, employed a dragsona to be able to push his agenda and implement his evil scheme. There was outrage. There were accusations. There was lambasting. And above it all, one question hovers: was this transphobic?

I want to start, before we get into the weeds, by saying that if you are anywhere on the LGBTQ+ spectrum and you were offended by this film or this character, your experiences are completely valid. I’m about to present the counterargument in language that assumes my take is fact for the purpose of not having to write fifty thousand clunky disclaimers, but analytical as this may be, it IS an opinion, and if you don’t think it’s right, then hey, that’s super valid, and I’m not gonna try and change your mind, because if you’re hurt, then you’re hurt! You just may want to nope out of this post right now because I’m about to lay out my observations and thoughts to the contrary of the accusations of this being homo/transphobic.

First of all, the obvious facet that comes to mind is how strange it is that we only ever saw the word “transphobia” put on this phenomenon rather than “homophobia” when using a female alter ego as a disguise or a performance art is not the same as being a woman assigned male at birth. One only needs to take a look over at RuPaul’s Drag Race to see examples of this culture. Lots of gay men wearing dresses. No women perceived male.

All the same, I will say that on the surface, adding any kind of queercoding to the story’s villain, who the audience is supposed to boo and hiss at, looks really, really bad on paper. However you interpret it, Snatcher is definitely queercoded. He openly flirts with the man he’s trying to trick as a means of getting what he wants, he displays sincere enjoyment of wearing the dress, and he runs the gamut of flamboyant hand gestures. But if you dig a little further, there’s even more to the story: his tale is one of a man who desires to pass as one of the elite class in his society, but is held back by something he can’t change about himself no matter how he denies it.

Let’s look at the rest of his story. Snatcher is in pursuit of the White Hat: the ultimate status symbol. To that end, he’s decided to otherize the Boxtroll population of the town and play upon the culture shock in Cheesebridge to convince the humans of the “upper world” that the Boxtrolls are predatory monsters who must be killed. This sounds like a pretty black-and-white good-and-evil scenario, right? You’ve got your population of innocent sweethearts being attacked and your genocidal racist orchestrating their destruction. But there’s a third layer still: Lord Portley-Rind, the chief White Hat himself. Lord PR is actually the worst of the lot. It’s because he doesn’t accept Snatcher that Snatcher feels he has to resort to this tactic. He demonstrates open hatred of the Boxtrolls and of Snatcher (”I’m not sure who should be more worried: the Boxtrolls or us!”). There are implications in how he treats his daughter that he’s a textbook sexist who believes there are men’s roles and women’s roles in society and nary the twain shall cross. And he’s the rich guy controlling the entire city and letting children’s hospitals and crumbling bridges go to waste by spending the budget on frivolous cheese. In short, Lord PR is basically the ur-example of a nightmarish fictional Republican (and oh, how I WISH he hadn’t been so prophetic).

I’m not saying Snatcher was justified or good. No. He’s in no way redeemable. But over the course of his interactions with Lord PR, you can see just how much society’s elites treat him as inhuman or like a dirty buffoon. He’s looked down upon, he’s insulted even when he’s doing the “service” Lord PR desires, he’s rejected until he’s gone above and beyond his contract and I think it’s even a little bit implied that Lord PR would’ve reneged on the whole deal if the mob hadn’t cheered for Snatcher in the end. So what you have is a prim and proper billionaire who subscribes to gender roles telling a man of the lower class, obviously economically downtrodden, that he doesn’t deserve what Lord PR has.

The idea of meritocracy is woven throughout the film. Listening to the speech in the background of Snatcher’s anaphylactic attack, while the visuals are focused on Eggs rescuing Fish, you can hear Snatcher rambling about how his father told him that if you work hard, you will receive a White Hat, but he worked hard all his life and got nothing. One of the White Hats literally says he got his through being rich. It’s not hard to infer that Snatcher has figured out how broken the system is and realized the only way to win the game is to cheat.

But there’s still one more thing holding him back from his victory, something that actually trips him up when he achieves what he wanted. Cheese is presented as another status symbol: the rich eat it and are connoisseurs of its flavor. Snatcher is deathly allergic to it. The goal he’s chasing, he can’t even have without threat to his own life. His reaction is to pretend he isn’t allergic and to expose himself to having allergic reactions on the regular to show how much he’s ready to become part of the elites. I’ll reiterate: Archibald Snatcher wants to join the elites, but is held back because of something about himself he cannot change that only matters because the upper crust said it should.

Okay. So we’ve established the man is gay, or somewhere on the queer spectrum. How is this not really, really horrible?

Because the narrative invites you to feel some sympathy for him. No, not for his actions or any secret soft side or tragic backstory (that’s a job for the fans), but because he is chasing a dream he cannot attain. Perhaps the film’s biggest shortcoming is how little consequence comes to Lord PR in the end, because Lord PR, for all intents and purposes, is the worse villain on the board. Snatcher’s ploy is to take the class below the one he inhabits and paint its members as the bad guys: a nuisance that must be exterminated for the betterment of society. And we’ve seen this. We’ve seen plenty of real-life examples of have-nots turning on have-lessers because the haves benefit from oppressed groups infighting and being distracted from who holds the money and the power. A lot of times, you see that while intersectionality is definitely something we need to pay attention to, racism, sexism, and homophobia are not concepts that are all explicitly linked. If you experience one, that doesn’t mean you don’t project one or two of the others on other people - particularly if you’re trying to make yourself feel better about the discrimination you face.

When you look at the hierarchy, Snatcher is, I reiterate, a very bad person. But he’s also a victim. Not as much of a victim as the poor Boxtrolls, who get the malice trickling down from both the Red Hats and the White Hats, but he is a victim. We see him mocked, laughed at, turned away. And though he’s not redeemable, there are aspects in which he is sympathetic.

But what about Frou Frou? What about that particular disguise?

Well, for one, it’s used to make yet another allegorical statement. Snatcher is able to get attention paid to him if he weaponizes female sexuality - though it is a very shallow attention that largely results in the straight men of the town swallowing his propaganda while also objectifying him. Most of the comments made on Frou Frou are slimy, smarmy “compliments” on her body from the White Hats. Lord PR’s wife harbors a distinct distaste for Frou Frou because her husband most certainly prefers ogling Frou Frou to actually paying attention to their marriage. Frou Frou is a propaganda vehicle to make it look like more than one person is on the same page as Snatcher; Snatcher himself drives the action of his scheme and gets the dirty work done.

It’s also worth noting that if you take away the implications, villains using alter egos to trick their nemeses is a tale as old as time, from sea witch Ursula making herself more supermodel-esque in order to marry the prince to mythological Loki actually crossdressing much in the same vein in order to fool the Frost Giants. There’s a reason disguise masters and shapeshifters are intriguing villain archetypes: because we’re always a little bit afraid that someone isn’t who they say they are, and because - yeah, I’m about to go here - I think we all wish we could shift shape ourselves to take on new forms that suit the goals we’re trying to accomplish, even if that means “fooling” others. So it’s reasonable to think Laika wasn’t aware that there was any queercoding to even be had here - but I do think the crew was aware, and not in a malicious way.

However, watching Snatcher’s scenes as Frou Frou, there’s something that comes across in his character that you don’t see so often when he’s presenting male: he’s legitimately having fun. He dances, he flirts with the crowd, he adds more flourishes to his speech, he gets sassy. Frou Frou is a means for him to express himself, to allow himself to be feminine when he has built his philosophy on needing to do “what a man does” (he repeats this at least twice) in order to achieve greatness. He can be a little more himself when he’s Frou Frou, even though Frou Frou isn’t him. Taking a new identity that’s allowed the other half of the gender roles allowed in Cheesebridge (which runs on a binary because it’s run by the White Hats) lets him act a little less like what he needs to be to be taken seriously and a little more like he has freedom.

Put this back in context of the greater narrative: given all the parallels we’ve seen, it’s safe to assume that Cheesebridge, as a whole, is not accepting of deviations from gender roles, whether it’s being open and proud of your LGBTQ+ identity or simply wearing the clothes that don’t belong to your gender. Snatcher is taking an enormous gamble here by using Frou Frou at all. On one hand, it’s a calculated risk; he knows if he can appeal to Lord PR’s unchecked sexist libido, he can secure another avenue to being heard. On the other, however, it’s not really much of a leap to say this is something he wants to do, someone he wants to be more like, and isn’t allowed to, and since he’s cheating at the game anyway, he might as well go all the way and do what he wants with his life.

I’ve seen a lot of people take issue with the scene where he reveals himself to Lord PR and comparing it to some actual homophobic/transphobic media. And again, if that still stands to you as your primary analysis and emotional reaction, then feel free to turn away, reject my analysis, and know your thoughts and feelings are completely valid. But I think this scene differs from your usual “person with male parts tricked you into thinking they were a woman” scene in a couple ways.

For one, Snatcher decides to out himself on his own. To Lord PR, it’s when he’s got nothing left to lose. Again, when he realizes the game is broken and the odds are against him, he takes control and decides to be himself a little more. Now everyone knows he likes to act a dragsona because he wanted them to. But also, earlier on, when he revealed himself to Eggs, it was again on purpose. Eggs didn’t figure him out. Snatcher needed Eggs to know the level of the threat he was dealing with: that he was the person Eggs has been running from since the start and is no less dangerous in a dress. It’s always been of his own volition. There’s no “I thought you knew” or disrobing to see a body that doesn’t match expectations - Eggs ripping Snatcher’s wig off is maybe a little iffier, but again, in context, that’s him trying to show Snatcher’s identity, not as a man but as Archibald Snatcher, to expose the corruption, and Snatcher actually plays it completely off because he’s that good of an actor.

Which brings me to my second point. There’s only one person who reacts in an “Oh, gross!” manner to this revelation, and it’s Lord Portley-Rind. The one we’ve established is sexist, homophobic, and your textbook Rich White Straight Cis Man. The one at the top of the food chain. The one who’s been objectifying Snatcher and acting like a slobbering pervert about Frou Frou from the beginning. The homophobe realizes he has been a little gay. The sexist realizes his objectifying a particular person he perceived female has consequences. And this is why to me, that scene is actually hilarious. Because I don’t feel like I’m laughing at Snatcher’s expense. I’m laughing because Lord PR just got called OUT, and this is exactly the kind of discomfort that is karmic given how he’s treated his daughter, his wife, and everyone in his city who’s needed him.

Cycling back to when Snatcher outs himself at the ball, Eggs doesn’t really seem to care that there’s a gender-role-play involved here. His concern is not that this is actually a man; his concern is that it’s specifically the person who he knows is trying to ruin everything. Same with Winnie when Eggs passes it on. Eggs trying to reveal Snatcher to the crowd doesn’t even begin with “Frou Frou is fake,” but a line I will never forget: “Archibald Snatcher has lied to you all.” Not even drawing attention yet to the fact that he’s in the room. Starting out by having everyone remember that guy they are all sure ISN’T there and pointing out he’s bad news.

To look at Lord Portley-Rind’s “Oh my God! I regret so much!” as a dig at Snatcher is to say that Lord Portley-Rind is the lens through which we should be viewing this story, which it most certainly isn’t. The lens is Eggs and Winnie. Adjacent lenses are Fish, Shoe, and Jelly. Lord Portley-Rind is an antagonist to every single character in this film save the other White Hats.

Which is why if this film falls flat anywhere, it’s in letting Lord Portley-Rind get away without consequence. I think I can take a guess as to why this primarily happened: it needed to wrap up in a little under two hours, and dismantling systematic oppression and abuse of socioeconomic power can’t be done in a two-hour escapade. I still wish he were at least villainized a little more, as that’s where the narrative was leading up to that point. One of his earliest scenes with Winnie foreshadows that he will have to choose between her and the hat, and it takes him two tries to make the right choice. This story, until the very last act, has not supported him being a character to like or sympathize with, even in such subtle ways as Trout and Pickles stealing his hat and running around with it to taunt Snatcher - showing that a symbol is really only a symbol, and doesn’t indicate your worth. Anyone can put on a hat. Lord PR has just been brought onto an equal footing with them, if only for a moment.

Okay, so why have this whole three-layer narrative anyway? Couldn’t we have made this story more clear-cut between the Boxtrolls and White Hats, with no queercoded villain to get in between?

Yes...but I’m not sure that would have been best for the viewing audience. And there’s plenty of precedent as to why Laika thought it was a move for the better.

Queercoded villains are in every aspect of our fictional and fandom lives. Here’s a bitter pill to swallow: all your favorite Disney villains are queercoded. All of them. “But Frollo’s arc is about - “ Being a man in a religious system afraid of being tainted as sinful for being attracted to the wrong person. “Gaston, though, is - “ Very chummy with LeFou, and I’m talking the animated versions. They’re all colorful, flamboyant, foppish for the men and full of socially-unacceptable strength for the women. These were the cornerstones of our childhood nostalgia and characters we still feel culturally attached to.

It’s not just in Disney. Are you a fan of musical theater? Well, then your favorite villain probably got a big song and dance in which they wore some glitter. Classic lit? Google the name of your favorite literary canon villain and “queer theory” and see what happens.

I don’t think we can really say this is good or bad. On one hand, it’s not great that a marginalized group can only see themselves in the character we’re supposed to hate. On the other, though, we don’t always hate that character. Villains hold a unique place in our culture. They do bad things, horrible things, but the story can’t take place without a conflict, and we like when that conflict has a name and a cool design such as a tall, imposing sorcerer/witch in flowing robes - or perhaps a tall, graceful man in a long red coat and a towering crooked top hat.

I’ve had lots of friends and trusted Internet reviewers talking about how queercoding in villains can actually be really empowering. If you’re a fan of the villain, you get to see a power fantasy in which someone who has something very big in common with you gets to enact karma on others for wronging them! You get to wear the cool robes, sing the fun song, do things that are not really legal or acceptable! I think a great analogy is if you check out the book “Dead Blondes and Bad Mothers” by Sady Doyle. It’s primarily about sexism rather than queer issues (though it does touch upon them!), but examines how women throughout pop culture and storytelling history have always been the witch, the monster, the demon, and how that sucks, but it also means that women have a great pile of fictional power fantasies to pick from to indulge in. It’s the same principle. I myself may not be same-gender-attracted, but I am asexual, and still waiting on my glamorous villain who uproots society as revenge for being forced to do something analogous to having a sexual relationship...*taps wristwatch*

Meanwhile, queercoding is not as prevalent in heroes. And I think that’s where everything’s tripping on its own feet. Because a gay villain among a bunch of straight heroes does look pretty bad. Are some of the heroes queercoded as well, though? Well, that’s just realistic diversity. People are gay, and there happen to be some good ones and some evil ones here. I don’t think Snatcher’s dragsona is entirely unproblematic, but I do think it could have been mitigated a lot with more implications that Eggs and Winnie might be queer in some way (and believe me, I choose to interpret them that way, because the more the merrier).

The thing is that in pop culture as of late, there seems to be a trend to scrub away all villainous queercoding because it’s seen as a black-and-white issue. To go back to the Disney villains, do you feel like the live-action recreations of Jafar, Scar, and Gaston are missing a certain je ne sais quoi? Well, think about it through this lens and it might be that you savez quoi after all. They’ve all been made incredibly straight as of late, with off-the-record actor confirmations about having obsessive crushes on the film heroines. I can’t speak to why this has happened; there’s a lot of history behind any given social movement, and I haven’t managed to really unpack this one. “Blame Tumblr” is too easy; I would want to know who were the loudest voices, why they said what they said, and what was the intended accomplishment, not to mention if this had built on other social-media or real-life platforms over the years and was influenced by any outside source by news or marketing. I can’t say why queercoded villains are being burned; I can only say it’s happening. And it was happening big-time in 2014, when The Boxtrolls was released.

I also feel like I would be remiss to mention that The Boxtrolls is based on “Here Be Monsters,” which I believe to be one of the worst books I’ve ever read, bar none. That version of the story has...pretty much everything that’s perceived to be in the film version’s text as problematic. Frou Frou is presented as something to laugh at Snatcher about throughout, largely because everything about Snatcher is presented to make him seem gross or like a buffoon. There’s a whole scene of the hero rifling through his desk to find soiled underwear. Not to mention that the original purpose of Frou Frou in the text was to manipulate the town’s women by dictating the fashion trends they should follow and the beliefs they should hold in order to fit in. This is something that does need commentary on it, but in that text in particular, it seems like the women are silly and easily swayed, and that they’re the town’s weak link because they’re slaves to fashion. The Boxtrolls completely flips this around so that the town’s weak link re: Frou Frou is the rich MEN who objectify women, particularly the men that happen to be in charge of the whole town, and looking at that divide alone tells me how much care was put into this adaptation at every level.

So why’d I do this, besides having a friend who wanted to read it? Because Archibald Snatcher is legitimately one of my favorite fictional characters. Yeah, I know, he’s a horrible person and terribly racist, and no, I don’t think his demonizing an entire people is anything to be emulated. But on one hand, there are places where I not only empathize but identify with him, particularly where it comes to living out the majority of one’s life trying to live up to a meritocracy - I did everything right, so why am I not on top? He’s also just fun and satisfying to me. He’s the exact brand of evil I eat up. He’s quippy, flamboyant, sadistic to a point, and altogether enjoying his job way too much. Even though he isn’t in power all that long, he is a power fantasy for me, too - wishing I had his talent to talk my way into others’ hearts by saying the right thing, and maybe cultivating a little bit of that I didn’t realize I had (but not to use for evil purposes). I loved him from the moment he turned up because of his sheer dynamic presence - his drawn-out vowels, his sinister smile, his silver-tongued manipulations - and to this day I find him an inspiring character when it comes to writing fiction, both in the realms of fanfiction and original villain creation. You could say he’s a comfort character to me. And maybe this has been the delusional rambling of a woman trying to protect a character she likes for surface reasons by spelling out what look like analytical points of discussion.

But I don’t think Laika was trying to be mean-spirited or homo/transphobic in their character creation. I think they were trying to make an engaging villain who had some layers you could pick at to see more about the narrative as a whole and the message of societal corruption and how the way to overcome it is to be true to yourself rather than defined by your status: a lesson Snatcher fails at the finish line when Eggs gives him one last chance to “make you.” And ultimately, if you really and truly did like Archibald Snatcher, you’re not wrong or invalid in the least.

#archibald snatcher #the boxtrolls #boxtrolls #laika #analysis #discourse #long post #hot takes #controversial opinions #you know...all the fun stuff #and then the sequel: op gives him a crossover villain ship to help him self-actualize

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