#i'm so glad he crossed my path at the time because he's pretty much the only thing that makes me smile no matter what. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aperrywilliams · 21 days ago

Text

Tin Wedding (Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader)

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

Author Masterlist | Event Masterlist

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

Pairing: Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader.

Summary: You've become friends with Penelope Garcia over the past year, and after much insistence from her, you agreed to visit her at her office one day. What you didn't expect was to run into your ex-husband there. And surely you didn't expect that he - Spencer Reid - is Penelope's coworker.

Word Count: 7.2k (please, stop me!)

Warnings: Yes. I set this one as +16. Mention of Reader being drunk. Curses and some strong words. Mention of sex - oral (m&f). Nothing detailed. IDFK anything about the US marriage and divorce system.

A/N: 2nd Fic for the "We are not gonna make it" writing challenge I was hosting during October with my sis @babymetaldoll. I'm so sorry for the delay, but life has crushed me these past weeks.

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

The ding of the elevator signals you are already on the sixth floor. The doors open, and the first thing you see are people going and coming. It's the bustling of a lively office at noon. But this is not just any office; this is the FBI headquarters in Quantico. You never thought you would be in a place like this in your life, but here you are after your friend Penelope convinced you to visit her at work after insisting for weeks.

BAU - Behavioural Analysis Unit reads the glass doors in front of you. This is the place. Looking at the scattered desks on the open floor, you look for a clue that leads you to Penelope.

People walk past you without paying much attention. Maybe you should ask for help. But before you can decide to do so, a voice behind your back breaks you out of your thoughts.

"Can I help you?"

You know that voice. You're sure of that. But wait. It can't be—not after years of not hearing it.

You slowly turn around just to confirm that your suspicions are correct. Standing in front of you is a curious Spencer Reid, who pales when he sees your face. He remembers you, too.

"Oh God, Spencer?"

A stupid question with an obvious answer, but that doesn't take away the surprise of coming face to face with someone you never thought you'd see again in your life.

"(Y/N)? Wow..."

Time has passed, you tell yourself. Spencer looks more grown up. His hair is a little shorter, and he doesn't look so skinny anymore; it even seems there's some muscle under the white shirt he sports. Some stubble adorns his face, and dark circles can be seen under his eyes. But his beautiful eyes are the same as you remember them from when you first met in Pasadena.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, still shocked. Spencer's expression seems pretty much the same as yours.

"Uh. Well, I work here," he explains after clearing his throat.

A Caltech's genius working with the FBI? You wouldn't have expected it. But then again, you didn't expect to cross paths with him after all this time. "And what are you doing here?"

Good point. Why did you come? Oh, yes. Penelope Garcia.

"I'm here to see a friend," you mumble. Spencer's confused look changes to what? Disappointment? Of course, you're not there for him. It's stupid ever to think that, considering you haven't talked since the day you said goodbye and parted ways in that tiny apartment you shared in Pasadena.

And then an awkward silence. What are the chances that after so long, you were going to meet Spencer? And if you're wondering how long, we're talking about ten years when you were both pursuing your degrees at Caltech. In your case, it was the first one because Spencer was already in his third PhD when you met.

Before you can say something else, the one and only Penelope Garcia burst into the room, looking for you.

"There you are! Why didn't you call me when you got here?"

Totally unbeknown to the tense silence, she steps in front of you and hugs you. You can feel Spencer's confused look on you. "I'm glad you made it! We have so much to talk about."

"Garcia is your friend?" Spencer asks, gaze on you, and it's when you realize how weird the situation is. Penelope turns to him, an eyebrow furrowed.

"Of course, I'm her friend. And she came to see me," Garcia scoffs until she realizes something. "Wait a minute. For what reason would you ask that?"

Spencer clears his throat. He doesn't know what your opinion is about people knowing that fact.

"We know each other," you explain to her before asking. "How do you know Spencer?"

"No way! What a coincidence!" Garcia chirps. The exclamation raises the interest of the people entering the bullpen. Some of them approach to where you all are. "Reid? We work together!"

What were the chances of something like that happening to you, you wondered, as Spencer continued to stare at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"What's happening here, baby girl?" A toned man asks Garcia, who can't contain her excitement.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," she announces as two women join the conversation.

Garcia briefly explains to the audience who you are and that she just found out that you both know Spencer, too. After the first impression, she proceeds to introduce you to those there: Derek, JJ, and Emily. From the corner of your eye, you can see Spencer downcasting his look at their curious glances at him.

"So you guys know each other?" JJ asks.

You both nod at the same time as Spencer mutters, "Caltech."

"Ah, fellow grads," JJ assumes. And in part, she is right. Indeed, you met while you were starting your master's degree and subsequent doctorate in the same area as Spencer.

"Kind of," you admit, seeing Spencer's cheeks flush and feeling yours burn too. The guy who was presented as Derek Morgan has a smirk plastered on his face.

"College sweethearts?" Morgan asks in a teasing tone. And he is kind of right, too. You lock eyes with Spencer, and you can't tell if he did or wants to say to his colleagues what you really were at that time. But before you both can even think of saying anything, Garcia's eyes widen in recognition.

"No! Wait a minute! Did you go to college together? You said the other day that you-" she starts connecting information, and you start to freak out internally. Before you can stop her, Garcia blurts. "Oh! Spencer is your ex-husband? You have to be kidding me!"

Shit. How did she figure it out so quickly? Sure, it might be your fault for sharing details about your college love life with her on a night filled with alcohol, but how could you have known she was already acquainted with him? You were careful not to mention any names or specifics, yet here you are.

"Wait, what?" Morgan's smirk turns to jaw slack in astonishment. There is no difference between JJ's and Emily's reactions. Spencer's face is flushed, and so is yours.

"Someone is going to say anything?" Emily asks, bouncing her eyes between you and Spencer.

"Uh, well—" you start, giving Spencer an apologetic look, who returns you an awkward tight-lip smile.

"Yeah. We were married," he confirms.

"When we were at college," you add.

You can feel the heaviness in the air and the mid-surprised, mid-incredulous looks from the people around you. Morgan is the first to break the silence.

"Damn it, pretty boy. What a story you had hidden from us," he says, patting Spencer's shoulder. JJ - the quietest one until now - senses how uncomfortable you and Spencer are with all the attention.

"Guys, why don't we give them a minute?"

After a moment of consideration, Emily seconds the motion. "Yeah, Morgan, would you help me with something?"

"Su- sure," Morgan agrees, still confused but following Emily nonetheless.

"But—" Penelope is still trying to understand the whole situation and has many questions she wants to ask.

"Come on, Garcia. I'm sure (Y/N) will find you when she is ready," JJ encourages, looking at you. That's when you get out of your daze and nod.

"Yes. Yeah. I'll text you, Penelope."

And just like that, the same way people surrounded you just seconds ago, now it's just you, Spencer, and an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you worked here. I didn't know you were Penelope's coworker, and—" you start to apologize.

"No. Don't. It's not your fault," Spencer rushes to speak.

"I shouldn't have told her about - about," you trail off.

"About you having an ex-husband?" Spencer supplies, and you shyly nod.

"Believe me, it's not a thing I tell everyone I meet, but Penelope, well, she-" you try to find the right words. Spencer nods in understanding.

"Yeah, she can be pretty convincing when she wants to know something."

Another halo of silence passes between you until it's Spencer who breaks it this time.

"So, how have you been? I mean, it's been a while." You nod, still uncomfortable with the situation but just as curious as you assume Spencer is.

"Yeah, it's been a while," you confirm. "Good, all good on my end. Working and living. What about you?"

"Me? Good. Working here at the BAU."

"Cool."

Cool? What does that mean?

A sharp 'Reid' is heard from behind you both, making you turn to the source. A well-dressed man with a serious gaze is looking at Spencer from an office threshold. "Can you come, please?" the man adds. Spencer nods quickly. "Sure. I'll be there in a second, Hotch." The answer seems to satisfy the man, so he nods and returns inside.

Spencer turns to you again. "Uh. I - uh-" he stutters, motioning where the man called Hotch was a second ago.

"Yeah. I have to go, too." You have to, actually, but you don't think you can face Penelope or anyone else right now, for that matter. "It was nice to see you." As you are about to run away subtly, Spencer calls your name. Stopping in your tracks, you turn, and your eyes make contact with his again.

"Would you - uh. Would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?"

It catches you off guard, but you only assume he's being polite. You think you should return the gesture.

"Sure. Why not," you say, giving him a little smile. "Now I have to go. Bye, Spencer."

And with that, you resume your escape to the elevator.

----------

From the moment he saw you at the BAU, Spencer has never been the same. He never imagined he would see you again, especially under those circumstances. Spencer was so astonished he wasn't even able to start a decent conversation or even ask for your number after inviting you to a coffee.

Also distressed about the interrogation he knew his colleagues would subject to him, Spencer wanders through the BAU halls as if he were not in the present. And, in fact, he is not. After seeing you, he has only been able to think about you and the years you both spent in Pasadena.

A smile tugs the corners of his mouth every time one of those memories comes to him.

"Okay, pretty boy, spill," Derek prompts when he sees Spencer in the kitchen two days after your encounter.

"Uh? What are you talking about?" he turns, confused, to see Derek looking at him with a frown and arms over his chest.

"Come on! You know what I'm talking about. About the pretty lady, Garcia's friend, who happens to be your ex-wife?"

Spencer huffs through his nostrils.

"I already told you. We met in college, and we were together until we graduated," Spencer says nonchalantly as if it's normal. He tries, at least. Morgan scoffs at his attempt.

"Reid. You married her. You just can't tell me you 'were together' as you're talking about any other relationship. She was important; what happened?"

Morgan remembers well a few years ago when Spencer told him about a great love he had while at Caltech and how, from time to time, those memories would come to plague his head. It wasn't hard for Morgan to connect the dots and assume you were the person Spencer was referring to.

Spencer sighs thoughtfully. "We ended it by mutual agreement. We both knew our career paths were going to be incompatible, and we both had so many dreams to fulfill. Our greatest act of love was letting each other go. At least that's how I saw it for a long time."

"But you regretted it at some point," Morgan adds, and Spencer nods. "Why didn't you try to find her then?"

"I didn't want to be selfish. What if she already had her life going perfectly, and I was just going to show like a kicked puppy? It wasn't fair for her."

"Man, I get it, but what about now? You found each other again. Can it be a kind of sign or something." Spencer glances at Derek with an incredulous look.

"Are you listening to yourself? You sound like Garcia," Spencer grumbles, making Derek laugh.

"Yeah. Definitely, it's something my baby girl would say. But, truly speaking, Reid, why not take a chance?"

Spencer huffs in frustration. "I - I don't know anything about her in these years! I didn't even ask for her number that day. I was frozen on the spot!"

"And that will stop you?"

A satisfactory smirk appears on Derek's face when Spencer stays silent, contemplating his options.

---------

Not wanting to talk about the encounter with anyone, you write to Penelope, apologizing for having to leave suddenly that day. She responds everything is fine and doesn't even ask you why, to which you are tremendously grateful.

But as the days pass by, you know you have to talk to her at some point, so you invite her to come over one afternoon.

You have been thinking a lot and rationalizing everything that happened. Of course, there was always a possibility of crossing paths with Spencer someday, but turning it into reality is different. So you conclude all your nerves were out of the shock of something unprovable happening, not because seeing Spencer after ten years made you fall off your balance.

With that in mind, you were ready to talk to Penelope.

Once she gets to your apartment, you first apologize for leaving that day and explain how you got frozen after the unexpected encounter. Garcia tells you not to worry and even says she is sorry for telling everyone about her discovery without any filter.

"It's just- I was so impressed. I couldn't help it!" she explains, and you nod in understanding.

"It's okay. I guess no one expected something like that."

"Right? But I have to ask. How did Spencer Reid become your husband? I mean, you told me about your ex-husband and all, but I'm sorry, I can't picture Spencer even talking to a girl without stuttering, less asking for marriage, and then divorcing? It's beyond me."

It catches your attention how she talks about him. Although you met Spencer when you both were very young, knowing how shy he was, over time, you managed to beat his barrier and meet a wonderful man full of charisma and not so sheepish after all. Has he never shown that side to anyone else in all these years?

"Why so much interest in my marriage? It's been a decade," you ask Penelope, and her scoff sounds a mix of obvious and disbelief.

"Honey, it's unbelievable Doctor Loving Reid has kept THAT information to himself for so long. So now that it is out, it does pick my full interest. Spill. What happened?"

You shrug your shoulder. "It's like I said the first time I told you. We were young, a whole life ahead. Neither he nor I wanted to cut each other's wings."

"But you loved each other!" Penelope complains with an adorable pout. You have known this woman for what? Less than a year? And she seems brokenhearted about something that happened to you and Spencer ten years ago. She's right, though. You and Spencer were mad in love. Unlike what people have believed for years, your marriage was not a result of a wild night of alcohol and passion in Pasadena. You were both quite sober when you went to court that day. Both even had written down the vows you professed in front of the judge- yours on a piece of paper and Spencer in his brain, of course.

"If it's any consolation, the year we were married, we were very happy," you tell her, fondly remembering that time. Garcia rolls her eyes.

"Well, exactly that's what I mean, miss. If you were so happy, why end it like that?"

The only answer you can think of is 'it's complicated,' but that will surely increase her curiosity.

"We wanted the best for each other, even if it meant being apart. As good rational beings, we weighed our options, and the sensible thing to do was to end it."

Putting it in that way, Penelope can believe it. Having known Spencer for years, she knows for a fact his big brain is capable of analyzing every probability of every possible outcome. What seems incredible to her is how feelings - how love - can be rationalized like this.

A ding from your phone pauses your talk with Penelope. You glance at the device and see a text from an unknown caller.

'Hi. I'm Spencer. I stupidly didn't ask you for your number, so after cursing myself for the past few days, I had to find it out. Don't get mad, please. I would really like to grab a coffee with you if you are up to it. If you don't want to, I understand. And if you don't want me to contact you again, just say the words, and I'll stop. But I really hope you say yes. SR.'

Okay. This is unexpected. Indeed, you remember not having exchanged numbers with Spencer, and you didn't give it much thought either, assuming his invitation had been out of pure kindness. But here you are, reading the message and feeling an emotion you can't describe. Nostalgia, maybe?

You narrow your eyes to Garcia, who immediately suspects who sent you a text.

"Before you ask, I didn't give him your number!" she defends as you breathe a deep sigh.

"He's asking me out for coffee," you tell Garcia, and she can't help but squeal.

"Will you say yes?"

"I don't know. Is it a good idea to get back in touch after all these years?" you muse more for yourself than her.

"Honey, only you know what's best for you, but if you ask me, I remember you telling me after you both split up, you were left with a lot of 'what ifs' in your head, and some of them are still floating around. Maybe this could help clear them up once and for all."

Penelope has a point. But now, you have a dilemma in the form of a coffee invitation.

---------

It's just a coffee. Don't overthink it.

You have been telling yourself that for a while as you walk to the coffee shop where you agreed to meet Spencer today.

He is just being nice.

Sure, after ten years of no contact, this sudden encounter in the FBI - with all his colleagues there - maybe pressured him to invite you to grab a coffee.

Still lost in your thoughts, you don't realize you are already there. After taking a deep breath, you step inside and look around. You spot him in a booth in the corner, back to you. A smile tugs at your lips, remembering all the coffee dates you both had back then. It was your thing. Hours and hours talking about everything and anything until the owner asked you to leave because they needed to close.

"Hey," you greet, making Spencer look up to you.

"Hi," he returns, a smile plastered on his face. "Thanks for accepting my invitation," he gestures for you to sit.

"Sure. Why I wouldn't?" After taking off your coat, you sit in front of him in the booth.

"Yeah. I mean, we haven't talked in ten years. And then we see each other at my work, and- well, it's kind of weird, I guess?"

Weird is an understatement, you think.

"You are right. Kind of it is."

You notice there are two coffee cups on the table. Spencer follows your line of sight.

"Uh- I had ordered already," he points to the coffee in front of you. "I don't know if you have changed your order, though."

"Thanks," you mumble appreciatively. "I haven't changed it, actually."

"Great!"

You try to gauge his expression. Is he nervous? Anxious? Because you are.

"Spencer, if you are uncomfortable, we can just go home. There is no—" You can't finish the sentence before Spencer cuts you off.

"No. No, I'm not. Please, don't think that."

"Okay," you concede. "I won't. But you need to be honest with me, okay?"

"Of course," Spencer agrees.

"You felt obligated to invite me here after what happened?" You bluntly ask, and Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No, of course not," Spencer immediately denies. "I really wanted to see you. It's just that-" he hesitates. You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. "I just didn't know if it was right, you know? I mean, we never reach out, and then it happens. We never agreed-" he trails off. And you know exactly what he's talking about.

Back then, when you decided to go separate ways, Spencer asked you what would happen if you met again in the future, and you shook your head, saying it probably wouldn't happen. So yes, you never talked about the possibility, and Spencer understood he should never contact you, and so did you.

"I know. We didn't," you recognize, regret slipping in your voice. "I guess I didn't want to think about the possibility back then."

You two know there are things you left out and left unsaid the last night you were together in Pasadena, but you don't think it's a good idea to say them now—not when this is supposed to be a friendly reunion between exes.

"So, since when have you been working in DC?" Spencer asks after you tell him about your work career on the west side.

"Almost two years," you admit.

Two years living in the same city. Spencer wonders if Garcia hadn't met you, he would have ever seen you again.

Your professional career has certainly been prolific; Spencer can tell after the stories you have been recounting. Years of experience and important jobs, just as you had dreamed when you were in college. These are the same dreams you shared with Spencer during the nights of studying and those where there was everything else but studying.

"I thought you were going to pursue academics. When did the FBI happen?" you ask after saying it's enough of talking about yourself.

"I thought that too. And I did it for a while. Then I met Gideon. He - uh, he showed me what the BAU had been doing, and I knew it was my place to be."

Spencer fondly tells you about his early years working as a profiler and how much he has learned. It seems that, like you, he has found his professional calling.

Two hours and three coffees later, you are both laughing about the weird and funny things you have seen in the past years. It feels good, and much of the initial nervousness has dissipated. But there is one topic you both have actively avoided: romantic relationships.

You are curious about it, and Spencer is, too, but neither of you wants to be the one to mention it first. Spencer is who breaks first.

"Are we going to talk about - about that? I feel we have been dancing about the topic, but I don't know if you want to."

You can't help but snort out of being caught and for the subject itself. You are sure your almost nonexistent love life is enough to make anyone cry or laugh.

"I'm still that obvious?"

"You have your tells," Spencer shrugs. You raise an eyebrow.

"I have my tells? What about you, doctor? You have been bouncing your leg the same way you did the day you defended your engineering PhD dissertation."

Spencer's eyes widen. "You still remember that?"

The insinuation of you forgetting that day makes you scoff.

"Of course I do! I tried everything to try to calm your nerves. Do you remember what I did, and actually, it worked?" Spencer's cheeks redden because he remembers.

You won't tell the details, but you recall, as clear as the day, how you helped him to 'decompress.'

"Okay, okay. Guilty as charged."

"So, what do you want to know?" You ask, still not fully ready but resigned, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Are you with someone?" Spencer asks, and you gasp, feigning surprise.

"No beating around the bushes, uh?"

Spencer's cheeks flush, and he can't help it. "If it's out the line, you don't need to answer."

Seeing him flustered and biting his lower lip makes your heart do flip-flops. It's something you haven't felt in a long time—ten years, to be exact.

"If you had asked me a month ago, I should have said yes."

Indeed, you had a boyfriend until a month ago when his insistence on moving in with you was too much to handle, and his frustrated self decided to say a lot of awful things when you said no to him.

Some people would say you have commitment issues, and maybe you have. But in all honesty, until this day, there is no one you have felt secure enough to take that step.

It's ironic, considering you already have a marriage under your belt.

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbles.

"No. Don't be. It wasn't meant to be."

'Like I used to think about us,' you want to add, but you refrain. Instead, you explain in not much detail every failed relationship you have had. Spencer listens intently, his heart aching to think of how a part of you might have been broken with each failed relationship. He hasn't done any better, though.

"And that's all. As you can see, there is nothing too exciting to remark," you chuckle to lighten the mood. "Tell me about you. There is a Mrs. Reid waiting at home?"

Spencer snorts, shaking his head. "No. There's no Mrs. Reid. The only one who has held the title has been you," he says with a look that makes your breath hitch in your throat. What is it? Longing?

"Wow. I feel honored," you tease, trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

Spencer tells you about the few relationships he's had over the years. In his own opinion, none of them are very meaningful. When you ask him why, he doesn't hesitate to answer. "This job not only consumes my time, but also a lot of me as a person. Not everyone understands that."

He would like to say no one has ever been so important as to make him doubt continuing to work in what he does. The only person who ever made him doubt was you. But instead of saying it, he prefers to end with a "I guess that's why no one has stayed."

Listening to him talk is like listening to yourself, trying to minimize the fact that professional success is possibly one of the main reasons why other parts of your personal life have never flourished.

It was your choice. You both decided to make it that way. But sometimes you wonder if...

"Do you think we made a mistake?"

Spencer's question gets you out of your thoughts.

You look at him, baffled. "What?"

"Do you think we shouldn't have broken up? That I shouldn't have left?"

You pondered his question for a second. It has to do with how you felt at that time? Or does it have to do with how you felt after or even now?

"Honestly? I don't know, Spencer." A resigned sigh leaves your lips. "I always wanted to think it was the right thing to do."

"You never regretted it?" He asks you, and you shrug, not knowing much to say. Instead, you opt to ask him the question back.

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I did," he admits. "Sometimes I still do."

A heavy silence settles between you. The admission that you both had doubts about the drastic decision you made almost ten years ago is difficult to take. It unfurls a whole new set of questions whose answers you are not sure you are ready to hear or say. But it's only fair he knows your truth as you know his now.

"For what is worth, me too. I regret it. More often than I would like to admit."

Spencer's heart starts to beat faster; breath hitches in his throat for a second.

He tentatively reaches out to rest his hand on yours. You watch the action and think you know what it means. His eyes are hopeful. Something you'd like to mirror in your own, but the uncertainty is there, and you can't help it.

"Spencer, no. Please, don't." You try to articulate but not take your hand away from his. "I wish I could tell you I'm willing to try- to try to make up for lost time, but I can't. Even though it may not seem like it, we're strangers to each other, and I'm not in a place to even think about- you know."

Spencer gives a little squeeze to your hand, nodding.

"I know. And I'm not asking you for us to redo our story and start from where we ended. No. But I would love to get to know you again and be your friend."

"Friends?" You ask, brows furrowed. He smiles.

"Yeah. First and foremost, you were always my best friend. My person. Even if we never get back together as a couple, and we don't have to, I don't want to lose you again."

You take a moment to think about his words. What would be the harm? You're at a stage in your life where you don't want to live thinking about those things you wish you had done and didn't. The things you might have done differently. Why not put reason aside for a moment and just be?

You squeeze his hand back, a sign of yes; you're willing to get to know the Spencer in front of you.

---------

Three months have passed since your conversation with Spencer at the coffee shop. You both agreed to reconnect as friends, which has led to many coffee meetings, lunches, dinners, movie nights, and walks in the park. And to say your heart feels full and happy would be an understatement. You've realized how much of the Spencer you met in Pasadena still exists, and the connection that once brought you together has revitalized and is stronger than ever.

Neither of you has wanted to rush things, and so far, you're both happy to be able to spend time together.

Spencer has also opened the door for you to the BAU team, which has been his family for eight years now. In addition to the bond you already had with Penelope, you now regularly attend the girls' night she hosts with JJ and Emily. You've also gotten to know Derek and Hotch better and understand why Spencer considers them like his older brother and father figure, respectively. You've also become a favorite of David Rossi, who doesn't take no for an answer every time he invites you to one of his dinners.

Like tonight, where you find yourself vividly chatting with the girls in a corner of Rossi's backyard.

"No way I could have passed Dynamics and Mechanics without Spencer," you acknowledge when you're talking about the most challenging subjects you had in college.

"It seems a very interesting topic," Emily jokes, not knowing what the hell you were talking about.

You giggle at the memory, cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"I still remember those afternoons Spencer spent trying to help me memorize the Euler–Lagrange equations and the Hamilton's principle. He made it interesting, if you know what I mean," you wink at them.

"I don't think I want to know," JJ muses. Emily snorts at the suggestion.

"Oh, I definitely want to know what that means," Penelope pipes. You chuckle.

"One night, he made me recite the whole equations with his head buried between my thighs," you confess with a mischievous look.

"Oh my God!" Garcia's jaw goes slack, and Emily's eyes widen in disbelief.

"You fucking kidding me!"

"Definitely, I didn't want to know that," JJ shakes her head.

"Well, I helped him with Applied Computer Science. He had to produce a code to operate a string of relational databases while I was on my knees su-"

"Okay! I get it!" Garcia cuts you off, with her hands in the air, as Emily laughs and JJ groans.

"You asked," you shrug, a smirk on your lips.

"Okay, okay. But hear me out. Since we are talking about college time, and honestly speaking, we all have had someone in college, more or less important, with whom to study or do other things," Emily prefaces, making you giggle. "But from that, to marry, and one year later to divorce? How do you get over something so intense like that?"

You have questioned yourself the same for years.

Looking past JJ's shoulder, you see Spencer talking with Morgan, beer in hand, and you can't help but feel the smile creeping on your face when he looks back and winks at you.

If anything, the past months have made you realize what you had back then with him was unique. But what you're having now? It is as unique as before and better.

"I don't think you get over it. And it's okay; you learn to appreciate it and value the chances life gives you after."

The girls follow your line of sight and share a knowing look. When they see Spencer approaching the group, they collectively decide to go inside the house for a new drink.

"All yours," Garcia whispers to Spencer before going in a bee-line with Emily and JJ.

"What was that?" Spencer asks you with a quirked eyebrow when the girls are out of sight.

You look at him, pretending not to understand.

"I assume they wanted a refill," you say with a shrug. Spencer nods and smiles at you.

"And you don't? Do you want me to get you something?"

"No. I'm fine," you respond to his offer. "Besides, I think I've got my alcohol ration filled for the night."

"If you're done for the night, I can take you home if you want."

That's the Spencer you know, always concerned about your well-being and comfort. You shake your head.

"Not yet. Walk with me, though?" You ask, extending your hand for him to take. Without questioning reasons, Spencer nods and takes your hand. The two of you begin to walk towards the pool area, where the sound of the music coming from the house is less audible.

It's not unusual for you to hold hands now. You trust each other, and it's been an innocent way of showing affection. And while the tension of something more has been building, neither of you has wanted to take the next step yet.

When you stop in the pool deck, Spencer moves to stand in front of you, his free hand reaching to tilt your chin with his index so he can inspect your face for some kind of clue.

"Are you okay?"

You nod as your fingers, from your joined hands, absently play with his. A thorough smile tugs the corners of your mouth. Your eyes admiring Spencer's honey ones in the moonlight.

"More than okay," you admit. But Spencer knows there is more in your mind you're not saying.

"Yeah?"

"Yep." You're stretching this on purpose. A smirk plays on your face. Spencer knows what you are doing.

"Good." His voice is amused. This game was one you both used to play back then, testing each other's curiosity and seeing how long it took the other to demand an answer about what the other was thinking. Usually, you were the one who won since Spencer couldn't stand not knowing.

"Have you grown patient over the years, Dr. Reid?" You ask, entertained. Spencer's laughter fills you with a feeling you thought was dormant inside you, but he has managed to refloat.

Not wanting to prolong his torture, and because you don't have it in you to hold back any longer, you decide to speak.

"I know you remember, but can you tell me the first thing I said to you the day I met you?"

Spencer's eyes narrow in search of the moment you're referring to.

You were in the library, busily searching through the shelves for a book you couldn't find. Spencer could see the stress radiating off of you. After watching you for a few seconds, he decided to walk over to the shelf, and leaning down, he pulled a book from the top shelf before presenting it to you. "Maybe this is the one you're looking for?" And he was right. Your first thought was, 'How did I not see it before?' and then you realized the weirdest thing of all, 'how did he know which was the book you were looking for?' You didn't know the guy, and as far as you knew, he didn't know you either.

Seeing your confusion, he proceeded to explain. "It was an educated guess, seeing as you have Fuller's, Richmond's, and Helbert's there. I assumed you were in Thermodynamics 301 and didn't have Priest's."

Spencer laughs before trying to imitate your voice. "Can I buy you a coffee in appreciation and keep you in my purse for future reference?" You nod, smiling.

"Bold of me for asking that to a stranger, uh?"

"Bold of you for thinking I would ever refuse," Spencer says in a mocking tone to match your joke. You both share a fit of laughter. Once it subsides, your eyes fix on him.

"Bold of me to think I wouldn't fall in love with you after all these years." Your words hit Spencer, whose expression changes from light to serious in a second.

"What?"

"It's like they say. At some point, something has to give. And this is my moment." You pause before continuing. "I can't say I'm sure what's coming, because I'm not. I also don't know if what you've seen of me these past few months is worth enough for you to love me again. But there's one thing I do know. I love you. I loved you, I missed you, and now I've loved you again."

Spencer is speechless. His brain tries to piece together each word you say. You take both his hands in yours, and you can feel them tremble.

"If you'll have me, I want to be the one that stays," you add, hoping your words are good enough to convey your emotions.

You don't know when tears start running down your cheeks. It might be when you see Spencer's glassy eyes.

"I do love you. And I want you to be the one who stays," he rasps before releasing your hands to cup your cheeks with his own, leaning down to whisper, "Let me be the person you want to stay for."

"You already are," you whisper back before closing the distance between you, allowing your lips to meet in a tender, sweet kiss. A new promise and a new beginning for two souls that were meant to be. Thanks to fate, or maybe not. That doesn't matter anymore.

As you kiss, part, whisper sweet nothings to each other, and kiss again, not so far away, are two people watching the scene with satisfied looks on their faces.

"Do you see that, Hot Stuff?" Garcia asks Morgan. A smirk appears on his face.

"Yeah, mama. I see it, clear as the day."

"We did it!" Penelope cheers, whisper-yelling, making Morgan chuckle.

"I should never have doubted you, baby girl," the man says, kissing her cheek.

"Of course not. But I forgive you only because I'm so happy our plan worked wonderfully."

-----------

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

Penelope Garcia's curiosity always gets the best of her. She has gotten to know you better in the past months since the IA convention where you met. She sees you as a beautiful person and a good friend. So when you told her on a night full of alcohol about your ex-husband and how important your relationship was for you, Penelope couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to know more, so maybe she could do something to help. Do what? She didn't know, but maybe more information about it would give her an idea.

Quickly typing on her keyboard, she finds a Pasadena Marriage License with your name on it. Checking the date, Garcia notes you had married in the summer before your senior year. It was expected. You already told her that.

What was unexpected, though, was finding out who the person you had married was. Garcia had to read the name twice before realizing the huge discovery she had just made: Spencer Walter Reid.

'No way! It has to be a mistake,' she squealed, fast-reading the information on the papers. No, there wasn't any mistake. You married Spencer Reid almost ten years ago. The same Spencer Reid she has known for so long and works with her every day.

But wait. You had said, ex-husband. Where are the divorce papers?

Typing again, she finds a divorce request signed by you and Spencer a year after you married. So that is true, too.

Overwhelmed by everything she has just discovered, Garcia is about to close the web tabs with all this data when something pops up: it's a court resolution dated six months after the divorce request. The resolution reads that the request has been denied because one of the parts couldn't be notified for comparison to the Pasadena tribunal. Garcia narrows her eyes and types again, looking for an updated legal document granting the divorce request. She finds none.

'Double holy fucking shit! They are still married!'

Without knowing what to do with this new information, she starts pacing frantically in the office. Garcia knows that the information she found wasn't for her to know, but at the same time, how does it not you or Spencer know this? She can't tell you, but she should, or maybe not. Grabbing her phone, she dials the only person she knows will help her with the dilemma.

"Derek Morgan. I need your delicious ass in my office right now!"

And just like that, a plan emerged. A plan to give a little push to destiny. A little push to you and Spencer cross paths again. Maybe this time, for good.

-----------

"And when are you going to tell them about their failed divorce?" Morgan asks Garcia, who is still looking at the couple giggling and kissing.

"Oh, shush. Let them enjoy tonight. There will be time for that."

Derek Morgan shakes his head, laughing. "Okay. You're the boss, mama. You're the boss."

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #babymetaldoll #aperrywilliams #writting challenge

850 notes · View notes

magics-neptunes-things · 1 year ago

Text

A Baby for Christmas

Hi guys ♥

This is a new style I'm trying so I hope you will like it. Please let me know what you think about it! It was very long to write so I'm really sorry if you still find mistakes in it.

Summary : How your baby comes in your life. (Worst summary ever)

Part 2 is here!

TW : Mention of miscarriage, pregnancy.

______________________________________________________________

December

When Leah looked you in the eye while you innocently drank your coke and said "I want a baby" the shock was such that you spit out your drink. I mean, of course you know perfectly well that the blonde has a desire to create a family, you both talked about it pretty early in your relationship. But you didn’t expect her to throw you this information while you are lying on your couch, dressed only in one of her t-shirts too big for you after activities not necessarily adapted to any public.

By the time you managed not to choke, the blonde had added "With you" which made you bow both eyebrows at the same time.

"Thank God" you answered, dropping your soda can on your coffee table.

Leah laughed and grabbed a tissue to wipe your chin, while taking again.

"I think we have everything we need to welcome a baby properly, don’t you think? We have a house, we both make a good living, and I know you’re the love of my life."

After confirming that she were yours (your two-year marriage could have been proof of that alone), you contacted clinics and took the first steps to the path of motherhood.

You had hoped that the test carried out a few days before Christmas would be positive, but that wasn't the case. Even if Leah hugged you tightly, saying you that's it's ok and you will try again, you can't drive away your melancholy.

The following days, you were eternally grateful for Leah’s efforts to change your mind, going out to different Christmas markets or offering different Christmas activities. She knows how much you love this holiday. And you have to admit that it worked and you probably fell in love with her again.

January

"This is bullshit" you complain suddenly, driving Leah's attention on you.

"Ok. But which one are you talking about?"

Leah's answer made you smile and rolling your eyes. You were walking in Hyde Park hand in hand, taking advantage of illuminations that have not yet been removed. In the early afternoon, many families still enjoy the ice rink and the various activities offered by Winter Wonderland. It's the last day of opening and many people seem to still want to enjoy it.

"Genetics"

All you have to do is take a look at Leah to see that she’s completely lost by what you’re saying. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t fully realize that Leah’s were thousands years away from yours.

"Care to explain?" asks the blonde, frowning.

You sighed and stop walking, without letting Leah's hand go.

"I want our baby to look like you. Not me."

Leah’s smile is tinged with a hint of sadness. It's obvious that your child will not be able to have your both features and you find this completely unfair. Aside from the fact that he would just be perfect, when you imagined having kids with Leah, you always imagined them looking like her.

"It’s sad and cute at the same time" Leah comments, releasing your hand to put her arm around your waist.

You pout and sigh softly, letting yourself go against her. You’re not a professional sportsman and Leah is going to make her big comeback on the football fields in two weeks. It made sense that you were carrying your child for both of us.

"There is a way to make it possible. To make him look like you" you add, once again crossing her questioning gaze.

"Babygirl I love you but I swear if you prepare to mention my brother in any way…"

"Ew no, what the hell?"

You frown with cringe while looking at her. She shrug and bite her lip before answering to you.

"Well one of the gynecologists we visited mentioned me the idea, but I’m glad to hear you don’t like it"

"I mean Jacob is cute because he looks like you, but not in this way"

Leah has a satisfied and superior smile that makes you laugh softly and you note in a corner of your head to ask her the name of the gynecologist to go and stick an one star in her Google reviews. But you’d rather go back to the present.

"So, what I was saying before you try Lannister-ed us (Leah rolls her eyes) is that I saw on the Internet that there is another possibility. I can take one of your eggs and take care of the pregnancy. But in the end it will look like you."

"Just to be sure" Leah says with her special accent "You want to take one egg from me (she put her index on her) to put it here (she put her index on your belly) and make the baby grow so he looks like me (she put herself again)?"

"Yes?"

"I like this idea a little to much" Leah smirks.

February

You’ve always hated needles since you were little. Vaccines have always been your hell on earth and despite all the persuasion of your mother, you have never been able to donate your blood. Fortunately, you have never had an operation, otherwise you sincerely don't know how you would have done. When you told Leah about this little detail, she thought you were exaggerating and laughed. But that was before you had to have an injection every night for the goods of your treatment and that possibly you could have a baby in a few months.

"Baby, it’s time!"

You look up from the television to see your wife leaning against a piece of furniture in your living room, a mischievous smile on her face and a syringe in her hands.

"Oh no" you whine

"Oh yes."

Without giving Leah time to react, you jump off the couch and run into the bedroom. That doesn’t stop you from hearing your wife’s voice sigh.

"Seriously?"

You’ve only been on this treatment for a few days, but every day is worse than the last. Leah is doing her best and she is particularly sweet and delicate, but your belly is covered with bruises and it has clearly become your most hated moment of the day.

"Y/N I swear to god!" makes Leah when she realise that you hide yourself in the cupboard. Again.

"Leave me alone you creep"

But Leah doesn’t listen to you and opens the closet door on the fly. You try to escape, but it was not counting Leah’s sporting reflexes that tackle you on your bed. Sitting on your legs, she knows you have no chance to escape.

"Baby please, can we talk about this?"

"Stop acting" Leah laughs softly as she lifts your shirt.

Knowing that you cannot escape it any longer, you close your eyes and take a great aspiration.

"Finished"

You open your eyes to see the satisfied face of Leah, who in the meantime put the needle on her bedside table.

"I have to admit you’re getting better and better at it" you whisper reluctantly.

In truth, you didn’t even feel anything. But you quickly spot the glow that shines in Leah’s eyes when she looks at you.

"I must admit that I particularly like this position" she whispers as she leans over you, putting her lips on yours.

March

"I think I’ll throw up" you nervously say.

"Actually, I think you were supposed to pee on it" your wife objects with sarcasm.

Despite yourself you let go of a nervous little laugh, rising from the edge of the bathtub on which you had settled. Today is the famous day of the pregnancy test and you are so stressed that you wonder if you will fall out, vomit or simply end up rolled into a ball on the floor of your bathroom.

"5 minutes" Leah grumbles after a few seconds, looking at the timer on her phone. "Who makes these tests?"

"Certainly people who love neither women nor children"

It’s Leah’s turn to giggle a little, but the tension is still there. To pass the time, you sing from memory Good Caroline in your head several times, until the timer rings in the room. Leah jumps so much that she drops her phone on the ground.

You exchange a look and you talk first.

"You’re watching. I don’t have the courage."

Leah sighs softly but gets up from the toilet bowl, nervously approaching the two tests you've done. You preferred to be sure of the result so as not to have false hopes, just in case. With trembling hands, Leah takes a deep breath before taking both tests in her hands. Her nervous face becomes unreadable and you will certainly die of stress in a few seconds.

"So what? Lee?"

After a few seconds, Leah puts her attention back on you, her gaze still unfathomable.

"My Love, I swear…" you begin, ready to threaten her if she remains silent one more second.

"Positive."

"What?"

She seems so incredulous that you think you misunderstood. But a big smile appears on her face and she jumps into your arms.

"Positive! We will be Parents!"

April

Lying in your bed, Leah is scrolling on her phone while you have opted for a more traditional way of doing things, using a book. You’ve been thinking about a name for a few weeks without really finding your happiness. Despite the fact that you still go the time, you fear that you arrive at the birth before making a choice. Not wanting to know if the baby is a girl or a boy complicates your task, but it's time to assume this choice until the end.

"What do you think of Alistair?" you ask while raising the nose of your book.

"Of course, if you want him to be able to join the royal family later, it will be perfect" mocks Leah and you roll your eyes.

"I know!" exclaims your blonde seconds later with a victorious smile. "William!"

"William Williamson? Really?"

"Well, yes!"

Your sarcastic tone and arched eyebrow seem to amuse Leah more than reason since she laughs, proud of her discovery. And seeing her happy face, you can’t help but smile softly.

"Harry?" you suggest, a few minutes later.

"No."

Leah’s clear and almost cold answer surprises you and you raise your nose from your book to look at her. Her eyebrows are raised and you don’t understand why. Does she have a hatred you didn’t know about Harry Potter?

"Why?"

"Because Harry Kane and there's no fucking way that my son is named after a Tottenham player."

Leah threatens you with her finger and you hold back with a smile, realizing that the subject is burning for your wife.

"Oh man…" you whisper softly as you resume your reading.

Some time passes and the silence settles, interrupted only by the rain that strikes against the windows of your house. You take advantage of this silence to snuggle up against Leah and you smile as you feel her cheek pressed against the top of your skull.

"Magnus?" you suggest after a few minutes.

Leah raises her head and thinks a few seconds before nodding.

"I like it. You can add it to the list."

With a satisfied smile, you add Magnus to Cameron’s suite after taking the time to trace William. The innocent look that Leah takes when you look at her while doing it amuses you and you rest your pen.

"We’re only looking for a boy’s name, but what if it’s a girl?"

Looking up at you, Leah puts her phone on her thigh and you see her hesitant to speak again. The way she sways slightly on the mattress makes you think about what she does when she stands up and has to tell you something. Fortunately, this was never a serious confession.

"Well… there’s a name I like, since I was a teenager"

"Okay?"

"I’m afraid you don’t like her"

You smile softly, passing your legs over hers. Your curiosity is driven by the fact that Leah doesn’t seem to want to tell you. Taking her hand in yours, you intertwine your fingers and look into her eyes.

"Come on Leah, just tell me" you whines.

"Charlie?"

"Charlie Williamson" you try the first and last name several times on your tong, under the inquisitive eye of Leah, before giving her a big smile. "I really like it."

May

"I'm scared" you mumble against Leah's neck, where you're hiding your face.

You both were in the gynaecologist’s office that follows you during your pregnancy. This is the first ultrasound you will have for your baby. After taking a blood test after a month of pregnancy and confirming that you were pregnant, you considered it unnecessary to specify that you did a test almost every other day. This all sounds almost too good to be true. You feel like something terrible is going to happen to you.

"I’m sure it’s going to be all right" Leah replies with her deep, calm voice, kissing the top of your head.

In truth, she is at least as stressed as you and doesn't pay any attention to the magazine she's reading. She is also the first to get up when you are called, even if she gently reaches out to you to help you do the same.

The gynecologist asks you about your state of health, but you rather want to shake her so that she hurries to put you on the observation table. You want, need, to know that everything is fine.

After a few minutes it is finally the case and you find yourself nervously attached to Leah’s hand.

"We may not hear the heartbeat well, since the fetus is still small" it informs you, which does not help your stress to decrease.

You answer nothing, focused on the images that scroll on the screen in front of you. You look at Leah when she explains to both of you where the baby is, which you would have been unable to see on your own. These white spots are inexplicable to you. But your wife’s wet eyes are enough to make you smile.

"Come on, let’s try to listen to his heart now."

You swallow and close your eyes, expecting to hear a very slight sound after the doctor’s explanations. But it’s actually a fast and loud drumming that sounds in the room, making you quickly open your eyes. The sensations you feel when hearing this melody are indescribable and you only realize that you are crying when Leah gently wipes your tears with her thumb.

"It looks like this baby is in great shape. Congratulations. I’ll let you get dressed and we’ll make an appointment for the next check."

You nod and can’t get your eyes off the frozen screen where the proof is that this baby really exists.

"We’re gonna be parents."

Leah’s sentence, the same one she uttered when discovering the positive tests, seems more like an achievement this time. But you understand her feeling. It seems to be much more real.

"You’re not gonna knock out, are you?"

The look lost in Leah’s gaze becomes clear again when it lands on you and you address her a mocking smile.

"Of course not. Kiss me rather than tell nonsense."

Smiling again, you stand up and put your arms around her neck to kiss her tenderly. You let go of her when she kisses your cheek and neck, enjoying the moment. You’re going to be parents. And most importantly, your baby is healthy.

June

The good weather being back, it's with a little more motivation that you go to Leah's football matches. Even if you haven’t missed one in or around London, not having to cover yourself with layers of clothing is nice. Summer is coming and the end of the season too. Arsenal is pretty well placed in the standings, but it's a FA Cup's match that is being played today. And not just any since it’s the final and Arsenal is playing against Chelsea.

You find yourself in the ranks of families and friends, surrounded by the Williamsons and other family members of different players. The friends are also present since Ella Toone is also part of the ranks, just like Mary Earps and other international players that you have already met several times thanks to Leah.

You're wearing a jersey with Williamson print on your back, Leah's Arsenal cap and you bought yourself a scarf at the booth, which you put on your shoulders. The proud look your wife gave you when she saw you was worth it.

The match is tight and it's with a blank score that the half is whistled. Leah looks for you and addresses you a smirk before entering the tunnel to return to the changing rooms, which you answer obviously.

"Would you like something to drink, darling?" asks your mother-in-law affectionately and you think for a few moments.

Quench your thirst and know that you will run to the toilet a few minutes later and definitely miss part of the game? Or wait for a few more minutes? You end up opting for the second option and given the following of events, you are quite right. If you’d missed that moment, you’d probably have found yourself with a divorce paper under your nose.

60th minute, a corner for Arsenal is played right in the box. The ball is taken from the head by Alessia but ends on the crossbar. However, it’s not over since Lia managed to intercept it and pass it back to Leah who sends a cannon ball to the bottom of the nets.

You expected Leah to rush to her teammates to celebrate, but instead you see her positioning her arms as if she was carrying an imaginary baby and she started rocking it. There’s a big smile on your face when you realize what she’s doing. You haven’t made your pregnancy public yet, fearing you’ll have to announce bad news if things go wrong. It must also be said that the fact that you are not famous and that your belly grew during the winter allowed you not to have too much effort to put in place for this.

Playful smiles on their faces, Leah’s teammates finally reach her height to congratulate her for this goal. These hugs finished, Leah looks for you again among the crowd and you send her a kiss with your hand.

Thirty minutes later, the referee’s whistle rang through the stadium, sealing Arsenal’s victory. You find yourself jumping on the spot with excitement too, cuddling all the people you can reach. You know how important this game was for Leah, who wants to get back to her old level as soon as possible.

It’s only after the cup has been lifted by the whole team that Leah makes her way to you, but you’re happy to see her enjoying these moments with her friends. You smile when you see her running towards you and get as close as possible to the edge of the field. The height of the bleachers doesn't seem to bother Leah who climbs it simply to get to your height.

"I’m so proud of you, Leah" you smile as you stretch out your arms at her.

A big smile on her face, Leah hugs you with pleasure, putting a tender kiss on your lips.

"Did you see my goal?"

"Was it you? I could have sworn it was Cloé who scored that fantastic goal"

Leah snorts and you smirk at her, taking her face in your both hands.

"Have you seen my celebration too?"

"I did Baby. You're such a dork" you smile when Leah laughs and kiss her once again, forgetting the world around you, making you believing that you are all alone.

But you weren't.

"Hum. Mind if I hug my sister, too?"

September

Leah’s flirtatious nature is known in the football world and it never changed when you guys got together. You know perfectly well that there is nothing behind, you saw the way she flirted "for real" when she became interested in you. However, as you often tell her, it's not necessarily as easy to understand for the person in front of her. Because of her sexual orientation, they are very often girls.

But then again, you never gave her a fit of jealousy because she never exceeded the limits you set and because she always proved to you that you could have a blind and total trust in her. Apart from her sharp, chaotic, unpredictable and sometimes stubborn character, Leah knows how to be affectionate, attentive, romantic and tender. You think some people won’t believe you, but you don’t care. That part of Leah is only for you and that’s perfect.

But tonight, you feel your hormones bubbling. Leah asked you to join her in the karaoke bar she used to go to with her teammates. Tonight there’s Alessia, Lia, Alex, Katie and Caitlin. After breaking everyone’s ears on an Adele song, Katie was forced to sit down for the end of the evening and sulks in her corner. Alessia and Leah went back for drinks while Alex started a song with Caitlin.

Lia is installed at your side, but you must admit that you're paying any attention to your discussion. Your interest is entirely focused on the waitress who flirts without the slightest embarrassment with your wife.

"You’re not listening to me at all" Lia laughs softly, making you finally turn your head in her direction.

"No, I’m sorry."

You make a grimace but she addresses you a smile, apparently not in the least vindictive. You like the Swiss girl, you know she had a little fling with Leah before you met, but her behavior towards you has always been impeccable. You can’t tell if feelings are completely erased from her side, but she’s a loyal friend to Leah and who would you blame for someone having stifled feelings for the perfect woman that is Leah?

Speaking of the blonde, you shift your attention to her to see that she is still in full discussion with the waitress. Even Alessia seems to find time long, her gaze navigates between Leah and the table. Noticing that you observe the scene with coldness, she taps on Leah’s shoulder with a discreet nod in your direction.

Your eyes cross the baby blue of Leah who seems to realize the situation immediately. So she easily emerges from the grip of the waitress who had literally grabbed her arm to come back to you.

"A little song Less?" quickly offers Lia when she feels the tension emanating from your body.

Alessia vaguely answers a "Yes please" letting her desire to flee the possible dispute that point the tip of her nose, which would surely have amused you another day.

"You okay Babe?" asks Leah, putting a hand on your leg.

"Don’t Babe me, Leah." You said coldly with an eyebrow arched.

"Come on, Baby, it was nothing. We were just talking."

"Normal people don’t talk to others by sticking their breasts under their noses."

Leah rolls her eyes and you push her hand back from your leg, but the blonde does not let go and passes the same hand around your shoulders to squeeze you against her. You try to escape, but your big belly is holding you back. Now the baby’s on Leah’s side.

"Leah" you try to push her away despite the gust of kisses she puts all over your face.

"Leah" you repeat once again, feeling your anger wither.

"I love it when you say my name" your wife whispers mischievously in your ear.

"Stop it. It’s not funny"

Despite this, Leah has a smile on her face when she resumes speaking, your chin delicately trapped between her thumb and index finger.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it bothered you that much. You know I only see you. It doesn’t bother you so much usually, what changes this time?"

You shrug your shoulders in perfect bad faith. You know why, but you’re not sure you want to talk about it. When it goes like this before, you have a nice time sticking to Leah and making out with her to make your rivals understand that she's yours.

"Dunno" you mumble before you finish your soda.

"You’re lying" Leah whispers in your ear, laying a kiss on the corner of your jaw.

"What do you want me to say?" you sigh softly "she is younger, prettier and she can certainly offer free drinks to whoever she wants."

The end of your sentence was mostly meant to distract Leah from the rest, but it obviously didn’t work. The blonde straightens a little, frowning.

"No one is prettier than you"

"Oh please, Leah, I appreciate your support but I have already gained more than ten kilos. Be realistic. I am. And I don’t like it when women prettier than me flirt with my wife."

But Leah doesn't seem to hear it from this ear since your face always between her fingers is putting closer to hers. Her eyebrows are frowned, much more than usual.

"Nobody’s prettier than you. I’m serious."

You have trouble supporting the intensity of her gaze and you find yourself blushing like you did when she complimented you at the beginning of your relationship. The blonde finally releases your face, but only to tighten you against her, with two arms this time.

"You are my wife. No one is prettier than you."

October

In half a sleep, Leah turns around in your bed to get on her stomach, expecting to be able to curl up against you. Except that it's only the void that receives her, making her frown. Still without opening her eyes, she taps the mattress in search of your body, without success. It's only then that she opens her eyes and rises slightly on the mattress to note your absence at her side.

"Y/N?"

When the silence answers her, Leah ends up getting up and looking for you. She walks through the different rooms of the house starting with the bathroom and ending with your garden, without success. Gradually, the blonde feels panic invading her, especially when she realizes that your pajamas are wisely folded on a chair in your room and that you left with her purse but without your phone or your car.

It's with trembling hands and fingers that your wife grabs her phone to call the first number that comes to her mind in an emergency.

"What’s up Baba?" makes the sleepy voice of Amanda Williamson, awakened at 3am by her daughter.

"Y/N is missing."

********

When you return home, you are surprised to see that an additional car is in your driveway, apparently parked in a hurry. You don’t understand why your mother-in-law’s car is here, or why all the lights in the house are on.

So it’s puzzling that you go to the door, your food bag in your hand. People had warned you that you would have strange cravings, but you didn’t expect to want cinnamon rolls and Beef Jerky in the middle of the night. Unable to go back to sleep and not having it at home, you simply decided to go to the supermarket open 24/24 in your neighborhood to do some shopping.

If you were perplexed when you arrived at home, you have the impression that question marks grow on your head when you pass the front door. Leah is sitting on the couch with her head in her hands and your stepmother in a bathrobe over her nightgown on the phone with someone. Hearing the front door, Leah abruptly raises her head and before you realize it you find yourself pressed against her with blond hair obstructing your vision.

"Okay, she’s here. Yes … thank you very much" you hear Amanda saying before she hangs up.

"Where the hell were you? Are you okay? What happened?"

Leah releases you a little and holds you at arm’s length, letting her gaze slide over every inch of your body to check that you have no wound anywhere.

"I’m fine! I - I was hungry so I went to buy food"

"At 3 in the morning?!" Leah half-scream

"Yes?"

"Without taking your phone?"

"I forgot it."

"For God’s sake, have you lost your mind?! If anything had happened to you, what would you have done? We were calling the cops and -"

"Leah."

Amanda’s voice sounds and you realize at this moment that she has taken a few steps to get closer to you both. Laying a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, she draws her attention with her calm, smoothing voice. It seems to work since Leah turns directly in her direction.

"She’s fine. You were afraid, but everything’s fine now"

The inspiration that Leah takes to calm down is audible throughout the room and you take advantage of this moment of calm to say in a small voice

"I'm so sorry"

The blue eyes of the footballer refer to you and the embrace that you exchange this time is more made to comfort her for once. Over her shoulder, you give your mother-in-law an apology smile.

"Sorry for pulling you out of bed in the middle of the night"

"No worries. But I’m going back now."

She winks at you and kisses you both before leaving the house. Leah is still in your arms and you gently stroke her back with your fingertips, following her spine. Her face is hidden in your neck and you kiss her hair before you speak again.

"Shall we go back to bed too?"

Leah answers you with a grunt and grabs your hand to train you in your bedroom, taking care to turn off the lights of the house in passing.

"Don’t ever do that to me again" Leah mutters and clings to you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear again.

"I’m sorry" you say again. "I know how tired you are with the games and the training. I just wanted to let you rest."

"I don’t care if I’m tired. If you need anything and I sleep, you wake me up. If anything happens to you and I’m gone, you call me. I won’t accept any excuses."

"At your command, Captain" you smile tenderly before kissing her.

"I’m not kidding, Williamson."

"I know, Williamson."

November

"Y/N Y/S/N Williamson, will you please come down that ladder, right now?"

Hearing the voice both panicked and commanding of your wife, you smile and roll your eyes. Leah’s over-protective behavior is growing day by day and you will surely not be allowed to lift any pencil soon.

"Leah, I’m not risking anything" you say, turning in her direction.

"No! Don't move! You will fall!"

Letting the panic prevail, Leah rushes towards you, throwing her football bag and her boots to makes you come down the ladder by carrying you in her arms like a bride. Smiling, you put your arms around her neck and put your lips on hers.

"You’re so strong" you coo tenderly before deposing other kisses along her jaw and into her neck.

You feel her shiver, so you continue your kisses. Leah was away all the morning and the beginning of the afternoon for training and you were getting bored. So you decided to install the Christmas decoration, going up the boxes from the cellar and setting up your Christmas tree. Without decorating it, knowing that Leah would do it with you. You also had time to decorate the windows with stickers and fake snow and you were finishing installing the lights above your windows.

"Oh no, I know exactly what you’re doing" laughs Leah as you, gently resting you on the floor.

"What?" you ask maliciously.

"You’re trying to distract me from your foolishness"

"I will only speak in the presence of my lawyer"

Leah laughs and you can’t help but smile when you hear your favorite sound. Putting yourself on tiptoe, you deposit a new kiss on her lips to which the blonde responds without hesitation.

"How is my baby?"

Her hand gently settles on your belly and you smile again feeling her do.

"He’s in great shape, he’s been kicking me all day"

"Believe me, there is a future talented footballer in there"

"A striker most certainly" you smirk

"No way. He's going to be a defender"

"Or a keeper"

"Who in the world would want to be a goalkeeper, except Mary’s children?"

You know that Leah is joking and that she will be happy no matter what path your child chooses. But if he could enjoy football and become an Arsenal fan, it would probably be a big plus for her. As if to confirm this words, you feel the baby give a new kick, exactly where Leah’s hand is.

"Well hello to you too Buba" Leah says tenderly before bending over to lay a kiss on your belly.

"How was training baby?" You ask, picking up the stuff Leah threw on the floor a few minutes ago.

"Leave it, I’ll take care of it" intervenes the blonde, grabbing you by the hand. "It was ok, but training in the cold begins to become painful"

You smile at her and decide to take her with you in the kitchen.

"How about a nice hot chocolate?"

"I think it’s the best idea of your day. Way above climbing a ladder and being eight months pregnant."

December

Leah is in the training room, surrounded by her teammates when her phone starts ringing. By habit, in case you have an emergency, she leaves it under general so you can contact her anytime. She gave you a special ring, allowing her to recognize your calls compared to others.

"Lee, phone" shouts Alessia across the room.

"Can you look who’s calling me please?"

The blonde does it willingly, rummaging through spare clothes and cereal boxes.

"It's your mother."

Leah sighs and walks across the room to grab her phone and hang up. However, Leah barely has time to rest it that it starts ringing again, making Leah frown.

"She knows I’m training, why is she insisting like that?"

The question is said aloud, but it could just as well be pronounced in his head. However, this would not have allowed Katie to respond.

"Maybe an emergency?"

"Didn’t you tell me Y/N was with her this morning?" intervenes Lia.

The captain’s face breaks down a little and she quickly picks up at this welcome reminder of her friend.

"Mom?"

"Baba don’t freak out, but we’re at the hospital. Y/N’s water just broke."

"I’m… I’m coming"

Just after hanging up, panic seizes Leah who gathers her belongings by embarking half of those belonging to Viv in passing. Miraculously her teammates manage to understand what she explains to them and Lia intervenes quickly, with all the calm and sweetness that characterizes her.

"I’m driving you, there's no way you’re driving in this state."

After refusing that the entire team accompanies them ("It’s a birth, not a summer camp"), it's finally with Alessia and Katie that Lia accompanies Leah to the right hospital. It's finally a good thing that the Swiss woman decided to accompany Leah, she would surely have managed to go to the wrong maternity.

"Leah breathe" Katie says from the back seat.

"Easy to say! If things go wrong? In addition, the baby is early! What if he doesn't survive this?"

"Wasn't the expected delivery date the December 12?" asks Lia, bowing her eyebrow.

"Yes."

"Leah, we’re the 7" Alessia gently intervened.

"So what?"

"I swear to God that if this child inherits your drama rate, I’ll get him enrolled in drama classes" says Katie, sighing at length.

In the room you’re in, time seems long without Leah. Amanda keeps you company until your wife gets here, but between the pain and the stress, you don’t look too good.

"You’re doing very well darling" your mother-in-law gently makes you, to whom you address a smile-grimace.

Fortunately, a few minutes later Leah finally makes her appearance, dressed in a sky blue outfit that you saw a thousand times in Grey’s Anatomy. The relief is so great when you see her come that tears rise to your eyes. Focused on Leah, you don’t even realize that Amanda is taking the powder.

"My Love" whispers Leah as she lays a kiss on your forehead.

Leah tenderly caresses your face while listening to the nurse’s information and you relax as much as possible. You didn’t hesitate for a second when you were asked if you wanted peridulral. You willingly let other women be brave, but you, no thanks.

The hours pass, both slow and fast. Leah does her best to relieve, relax or change your mind. She’s perfect, once again.

It's only around 2am that your baby’s cry finally sounds in the delivery room, after long hours of labor. You can’t tell which of the three of you cried the most when your little miracle is lying on your chest, Leah sitting next to you in bed.

A little blonde hair down, quickly covered with a hat, and baby blue piercing eyes as light as Leah's are the first features you discover in your perfect baby. Just like you hopped.

"So, what will you call this little angel?" the nurse ask you.

"Charlie. Her name is Charlie" Leah mumble, a big smile on her face. "Charlie Amanda Williamson."

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader

845 notes · View notes

drama-glob · 1 year ago

Text

SPOILERS FOR "OOPS"

OMG TO ALL THE FLUFF WE GOT IN THIS EPISODE!!! <3<3<3 Literally squealed at how adorable Fizz and Ozzie are (which I already knew ;) ) and the fact that Fizz can't cook. ^_^<3<3<3 I also find it funny that they really weren't doing a good job at keeping their relationship under-wraps and how Fizz himself was not being low-key. XD I do love all his little fly dogs and the fact that one is in a wheelchair is absolutely adorable because he really does care about them as we see. ^_^ <3<3<3

Of course fate would bring Blitzo and Fizz's paths to cross, although I'm still surprised that we got Striker in this episode because I had heard about Crimson's men since it was in Greed after all, but dang, he must be trying to get business outside of royals since the last one didn't pan out. :/ I had a feeling that if it wasn't a hit put out on Fizz, then he'd be ransomed, so it just broke my heart at seeing how distressed he was at almost every turn; at least with talking with Blitzo it served as a distraction for him. It's still awful that he and Blitzo got kidnapped and in a way proved part of the reason for Fizz and Ozzie trying to keep their relationship secret (which admittedly didn't seem too well based on what Crimson said >_< ).

I do love that Blitzo obviously does have feelings for Stolas, and Fizz made some pretty good points about not all royal demons being the same as well as acting superior to others does cast you as snobby rich jerks; I know Fizz's been treated so well by Ozzie for over a decade, but he still came from humble beginnings and probably dealt with the same racist stuff other imps faced. :/

It was nice to see Stolas and Ozzie interact, even if it mainly was to go over the ransom demands, but I love that Stolas was empathetic and helpful in Ozzie's time of need even though Ozzie was withholding the crystal because of Fizz's hatred for Blitzo; I do hope Blitzo and Stolas will have their talk in the "Full Moon Ritual" episode because there is still so much he doesn't know about Blitzo's past. ;_;

I'm so glad that we got the confirmation that Blitzo caused the fire that cost Fizz his limbs and horns, but also the fact that he also lost his mom in the same fire...and it was all an ACCIDENT?! It was truly heartbreaking even if we were fed plenty of clues as to that being the reason why. ;_; It does figure that from there it was a whole misunderstanding that tore Blitzo and Fizz's friendship apart and I wonder who this "They" are that lied and said that Blitzo didn't come and Fizz didn't want to see Blitzo. Maybe Mammon's men if he was pick up by the Deadly Sin at that point? I do wonder why the fire was green while the sky was red like they were still in Pride. Hmmm. More to the mystery perhaps. ;) I'm guessing we'll see how Ozzie and Fizz met in the next episode. So excited!!! ^_^<3<3<3

Fizz's song was definitely VERY distracting and yes, I will look at this. O_O XD It is funny that none of the men seemed to catch on to their plan. XD

It was so beautiful and heartwarming that Blitzo and Fizz hugged and it seems to me like they're making their way back as friends, if they aren't there already. ;) I don't blame Fizz for being mad that he got blown up again, but like Blitzo said, at least he stayed around this time. ;) ^_^ <3<3<3 I'm still worried about Striker coming back though. O_O He just keeps getting more and more unhinged with each loss. >_<

When Ozzie and Fizz reunited those, I went "AWWWW" so hard and I love the way Ozzie said "Fizzy!" ^_^<3<3<3 It was really sweet though that Fizz told Ozzie to give Stolas the crystal for Blitzo as he DEFINITELY earned it today for saving Fizz's life. I wonder if Blitzo will tell Stolas? :/ Either way, seeing the amount of care the Ozzie gave Fizz and didn't blame him for anything that happened and just wanted him to take it easy, seriously kept melting my heart over and over. ^_^<3<3<3 They're so cute together and deserve all the happiness! ^_^<3<3<3

295 notes · View notes

flowersbane · 1 year ago

Note

a scenario with a baker!reader gifting Joshua a little cake… which he happily eats (it’s carrot cake and he has no clue lol)

Idk but I wanted to share my silly little thought because I enjoyed your writing :’3

pls, this idea is so freaking cute!!! i'm so glad i finally got to write it, thank you so much for your request and patience, i hope you enjoy

(=´∀｀)人(´∀｀=)

The Trojan Cake

Joshua Rosfield x Reader

I might write another, shorter version of this where the reader bakes him a carrot cake without knowing about his carrot aversion, but, idk, let me know if anyone wants to see that. It would have to be a bit further in the future because I have some other things I'm working on that you can learn about here.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Baker!Reader, Finally Getting Joshua To Eat Some Gosh Darn Vegetables, Fluff, Teasing, Unedited, Lots Of Appearances From Other Characters, Fun, Cutesy, Joshua Is Just A Big Golden Retriever

A new shipment of baking supplies was due to arrive today. You sway on your feet as you wait. Water laps at the wood beneath you, but you pay it no mind. Cursebreakers and laborers work on moving boxes off the ship and onto the Hideaway’s Pier.

“Carrots? Again?” Gav’s voice sounds from nearby. “And what are we supposed to do with all of these? We still haven’t gotten through the last shipment of them. There’s only so much carrot bisque a man can stomach. Soon enough, half the Hideaway’ll have orange hair and orange skin.”

Otto sighs. “Food’s food, Gav. We’ll find some use for them.”

Gav’s disgruntled expression doesn’t fade. “Unbelievable.”

Your attention is caught by someone calling your name. Mid waves you over from the ship’s deck. “You’ve got to come and see this! You’ll be grinning from ear to ear when you see how much stuff they’ve sent for you!”

You’re already grinning from ear to ear by the time you reach her side. Crates of flour, sugar, and yeast are tied down to the deck with sturdy rope. “And this is all for me?” you ask.

“You’re the one best suited for it,” Mid points out. “Now, I don’t mean to rush you but I’m pretty sure everyone at the Hideaway can already smell all the fresh baked sweets!”

“Oh, certainly,” Cole agrees as he and a handful of other Cursebreakers approach. “We’ll get these supplies to the Ale Hall,” he assures you.

“What are you going to make?” asks Mid.

You miss a beat before answering, “it’s a surprise.” In truth, you have no idea. You know the people of the Hideaway would be happy with anything you baked, but you didn’t want to fall into a boring routine. You wanted to try something new, even if you didn’t need to.

Mid only makes an excited sound from behind sealed lips. “The suspense is killing me!”

You laugh, but you know how she feels. The frustration of not knowing what you’ll bake weighs on you as well. “Well, best get to it.”

You descend from the boat and make your way back up to the main floor of the Hideaway. There are plenty of boxes that still need to be moved, so the lift is somewhat crowded. You wait for a path to be cleared before darting out.

“Have you tried chopping them up and hiding them in a stew?” Tarja’s voice catches your ear. She and Jote are crossing the Boarding Deck, clearly on their way to the Infirmary.

“If he sees them, he’ll claim he’s not hungry and refuse to eat,” Jote replies. “Not to mention, I can’t say I feel very comfortable trying to deceive His Grace.”

“They’re just carrots, Jote. I’m sure your decree says nothing against ensuring the Phoenix eats well.”

“If it were up to His Grace, I’m sure there would be.”

You continue your way into the main hall. It’s not uncommon to hear Tarja complaining about Joshua’s bad habits. You suppose this time it’s his aversion to vegetables. Especially carrots. Unfortunate, given that seems to be what the Hideaway has most of these days.

You’re halfway across the Main Deck when someone else calls your name, their voice sounding from your left. Speak of the devil. Joshua approaches with an easy skip to his step. The smile on his face tells you that he’s heard about your new arrival of supplies, but not that of the carrots’ reinforcements. Well, he might’ve and is simply choosing to ignore it. In fact, that is more likely to be the reality of things.

“I heard about the shipment of goods. Will you get to baking soon?”

If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging uncontrollably despite his cool disposition. You nod, your own smile creeping onto your face as an idea begins to form. “And you’ll be the first to get a taste.”

“Really? I will?”

You nod again. He’s always terribly eager to sample your new recipes.

He’ll have no idea. “Ah, my love, you’re brilliant.” He places a hand on either side of your head and plants a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“You should.” You certainly are.

As he disappears on to the Boarding Deck, you dart over to the bar.

“Psst. Cole.” You wave the cursebreaker over.

“What is it?”

“Could you acquire me a crate of those carrots that just arrived? I have plans for them. Oh, but don’t let Joshua know. Keep this between us.”

He gives you a curious look, but does as you ask without question. You ask another of the cursebreakers to keep Joshua distracted for the time being. Your plans would be ruined if he were to walk in midway through.

“What, exactly, are you planning?” someone asks from behind you.

Jill runs her finger over the wooden boxes on the counter. You can’t help the little, proud gleam in your eye. “I’m going to get Joshua to eat carrots and like them,” you declare.

“Oh?”

“A carrot cake! He won’t even know they’re there.”

“I’m not sure if eating carrots in a cake counts as Joshua getting a proper intake of vegetables,” she points out.

You shrug. “Gotta start somewhere.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Lots.”

You, Jill, and a handful of other helpers get to work immediately. With no time to waste, the work is made lighter with more hands to share in its labor. The only thing you can’t speed up is the time of actual baking.

“Do you truly believe this will work?” Jill asks.

“I do. Although, it would be a little funny if he could tell anyway. Like some sort of carrot-sniffing bloodhound. A carrot-hound.”

“Who’s a carrot-hound?” Clive stops at Jill’s side.

“Depending on the results of this experiment, Joshua.”

Clive gives you an almost pained look. “Please do not tell me you’re planning on experimenting on my brother.”

“I promise it won’t become a regular occurrence. Probably. Most likely.”

Clive only sighs and shakes his head.

The cakes finish baking and the air is filled with the scent of freshly baked sweets. You and your assistants–now including Clive–are just finishing spreading the frosting when Joshua arrives, eyes alight with excitement. He says your name with a boyish eagerness that makes your heart squeeze. He truly has no idea. “I hope no one has prevented you from keeping your promise to me.”

You do your best not to roll your eyes. He can still be so childish at times, despite himself. “No, of course not. In fact, you’re just on time. I was about to cut the first slice.”

He smiles. “Excellent.”

He doesn’t even seem to notice how everyone pauses to watch as he takes the first bite. He closes his eyes to savor it. You press your lips together to keep your mischief from showing. “This is delicious, my love, as always.” Your heart soars. You’ve done it. And he’s none the wiser.

You exchange a knowing glance with Jill and Clive. Jill looks mildly impressed while Clive simply seems to be marveling at his brother’s obliviousness. “Alright, everyone,” you announce, “you’re all free to dig in!”

Gav arrives about a half an hour after everyone has already begun eating. He and Otto approach, standing on the other side of Clive, who has taken a seat at the bar beside Joshua.

Gav takes note of the remaining cakes. “Ooo, carrot cake, one of Otto’s favorites.”

You, Clive, and Jill freeze, eyes darting to Joshua. You practically see the life drain from his face. He turns a betrayed expression on you, like a pup who’s found his medicine at the center of his treat. By now, he’s already finished two large slices and is halfway through his third. You can’t help, you begin your apologies but the laughter in your voice steals any sincerity from them.

He practically whines your name, saying, “how could you?”

“But you liked it, didn’t you? Before you knew what it was?”

You can practically see his invisible tail and ears drooping. You’ve never seen him look so unlike the Phoenix before. It only makes you giggle more.

“I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know how I’ll recover from this.”

“Alright, my love, no need to be so overdramatic.”

He pouts. He actually pouts. “You’ll have to find a way to make this up to me.”

“Up to you? I did all of this for you.”

“You did all of this for yourself. I hope you’ve had your fun.”

You lean over the counter, smug as one could be. “Oh, I have.”

“Mhm.” He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can still taste the frosting. “You better have. Otherwise, I will have eaten this for nothing.”

“You would have, at the very least, learned that you can stomach carrots. Isn’t that something?”

He laughs. “No, absolutely not. Just promise you won’t do something like this again.”

“I promise,” you draw out the word, “that it won’t become a regular occurrence.”

He rolls his eyes, but a smile toys at the corners of his mouth. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

“Something really good, I imagine.”

His smile grows. “Must have been.”

#ff16 #ffxvi #final fantasy xvi #final fantasy 16 #ffxvi spoilers #final fantasy 16 spoilers #final fantasy xvi spoilers #joshua rosfield x reader #joshua rosfield #ff16 spoilers #fanfic

303 notes · View notes

prolix-yuy · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 1: I Once Had a Different Path

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader "Sugar"

Summary: It's only been a year.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: T, discussions of a bad relationship, drinking, little bit of angst, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Welcome back to Westworld Whiskey! Almost the moment I finished Cognitive Dissonance the idea for this fic leapt into my head, and I've been trying to figure it all out since! The outpouring of love for this story makes me unreasonably giddy, and I am so excited to share what Jack and Sugar have been up to.

This story takes place exactly a year after the events of Cognitive Dissonance. Honestly, the Westworld timeline is confusing as heck, and so much happens that the public wouldn't know or see, so in terms of the show it's taking place after the fall of the Delos theme parks early in season 3. I'm taking some liberties with how Westworld and the world around it works, but we should all have a good time because of it. For those not as familiar with later seasons, the "real world" takes place in 2053 in a modern futuristic setting.

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist || Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

The glow of sun on your back, baking into your skin and spreading golden through your limbs, makes today feel like a really freaking good day. You’re wearing your favorite outfit, your shoes are comfy on your feet, and the air is just warm enough that you don’t have to wear a heavy jacket. When the door to the coffee shop schicks open, the uplifting scent of dark roast and cinnamon sugar practically dances on your tongue.

Strike that. A fantastic day.

Lacey is already at her favorite sitting spot, a low table with two high-backed armchairs jammed in a corner far from the automated baristas and hiss of milk froth. She catches sight and waves, bright peony pink in her chiffon dress. Curled in the chair she’s akin to neapolitan ice cream, and just as cool when she gestures to your waiting cup. Not before jumping up to give you a hug, though.

“I’m so glad to see you! It’s been too long!” she exclaims, a sentiment you’ve often heard from long-lost acquaintances but Lacey puts every ounce of honesty behind it. You give her another squeeze before settling in your proffered chair, cradling the thick retro ceramic mug in your hands.

“Well you’ve been pretty busy, Mrs. Hughes,” you sing-song, back, knocking your shoes off so you can settle more comfortably. “How was the honeymoon? The photos were gorgeous.”

You descend into vacation chatter, looking at photos on Lacey’s phone and laughing over whatever little anecdote she shares. The coffee buzzes pleasantly in your veins, bittersweet on your tongue. The sun streams in the café window and drapes warmth across your shoulders again.

It feels like the perfect day.

"How's married life treating you?"

Lacey smiles, bright enough to crinkle her whole face, and the radiance of it blooms in your chest.

"Not much different really, which is probably for the best," she says, taking another sip of her coffee. You're prepared to ask her something else, some follow-up question, when she reaches over and squeezes your hand.

"You look really good, too," she says, her eyes softening. "I know it was hard, with the wedding and everything going on with Eric at the same time, but...you look so much happier."

Your throat tightens, but it's a welcome feeling for once.

"I am. Much happier."

She’s right. It was hard. Once you were alone with your thoughts, your decision made, all of the terrifying reality had crashed down on you. You’d sobbed in your car, half curled in the driver's seat, trying to will yourself to go inside and face Eric.

It didn’t get any better once you finally did. The shouting, the accusations, the tears, and shockingly a chair kicked against the wall so hard it left an ugly dent. He never laid a hand on you, but the anger raked across your pounding heart, the cruelty sinking into your flesh like teeth. You grabbed just enough of your things to escape, his bellowing voice following you as your hands shook.

What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving?

What the hell did Lacey say to you?

Are you fucking serious?

After all I’ve done for us?

I can’t believe you’re being so selfish.

What has gotten into you?

The words echoed between your ears while you laid in your motel room bed, too raw and ashamed to call anyone for a place to stay. You woke stiff and silent and achingly alone, and regret welled in your throat.

Were you being stupid? Were you giving up the life you were supposed to have?

But then the day passed, hours spent driving aimlessly with the radio on low, long walks on bike paths lost in your thoughts. And while failure burned behind your eyes, the dreaded whispers of why didn’t you try harder creeping into your brain, the vice grip in your chest began to unwind. A lightness you hadn’t felt in years began lifting your shoulders, your head, even the corners of your mouth.

The neverending ache was finally gone.

You slept better that night, and in the morning you called Lacey. She drove out to pick you up, her tight embrace ushering in a new flood of tears.

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry,” is all she says at first, rocking you back and forth like when you were both young and upset about a schoolyard fight. Then more pointed questions, her face hardening as you detail the slow descent into unhappiness you’d been hiding from her for years.

“He never did anything bad. I just…I couldn’t…” You struggled to voice all the fears that still lingered until she squeezed your hands.

“He didn’t have to treat you badly to not treat you the way you wanted. And if he can’t change, or doesn’t want to change, then this isn’t right for you.”

A fresh wave of tears followed the well-worn tracks down your face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

She rubbed at your face with a crumpled tissue.

“Everything is going to be okay.’

It took a few days before the tornado of Lacey’s true feelings pulled to the forefront. Later she’d tell you she barely kept her cool while you cried in her living room, Alan instructing her to punch it out at the gym rather than overwhelm you. But barely settled into your temporary housing, she rang you in the middle of the day.

“We’re getting your stuff.”

“What…?”

“Eric is at work, Alan did a drive-by and checked. He’s waiting with the truck. I’m picking you up and we’re getting your things, then we’re going to leave your key on the table and never go back.”

She was chatting in low tones with Alan when you answered the door, face lined with concern. The stern expression melted into dismay when she took in your tired eyes and sloped shoulders.

“That motherfucker should be ashamed of himself for doing this to you,” she spits out, crushing you into a hug that almost suffocates you.

“Lace, I was the one…” you tried to say, but she cut you off with a sharp chop of her hand.

“I’ve got plenty to say about Eric and what I think about him when everything settles, but I’ll tell you this - I fucking hate him for making you feel like this. And we’re going to get your things and never see him again.”

So you did, emptying your drawers and shared closet - always less room allocated for you than him. Lacey shuffled through mail and tossed in anything that had your name on it in a bankers box. Later you’d have to disentangle your lives, but for now you could take solace in having your toiletries back, and placing your photos and family heirlooms safe in Alan’s truck. He helped move your grandmother’s hope chest into the truck bed, and silently drove as Lacey let you lean on her shoulder. Your childhood stuffed dog sat in your lap, and its gentle weight gave you a moment of relief.

Eric’s shouting through the phone later that night sliced across your chest, but only for a brief moment. You’d left the ring on the counter, and that thankfully shut him up.

The following months had been a blur of canceled engagements, severed services, broken agreements and bitter voicemails. Eric tried a few times to entice you back, forgiving you for having cold feet and wanting to get dinner, coffee, to talk. Your heart tugged at the softness in his voice.

We can still make this work.

But then the cold reality of the situation crept in. He wanted the picture-perfect life he thought he deserved. He wanted to have everything without working for it. And most of all, he wanted you to be grateful for him giving you everything he thought you deserved. Not what you wanted, but what he decided you should want.

That was never going to change.

Lacey and Alan helped where they could, but you didn’t want to taint the excitement of their upcoming nuptials. So you told them you were fine and signed a lease on a modest apartment while you picked out the barbs of Eric’s latest outburst. You picked out a dress for her wedding and were secretly grateful that she didn’t make you a bridesmaid. You didn’t think you’d be able to keep it together in front of all her family and friends. You drank too much champagne and considered a tumble with one of Alan’s single friends but instead threw up in your hotel room toilet and woke up fully clothed on top of the bed. The first thought that greeted you once you could see through your headache was, “Thank fuck I’m not getting married.”

The giggles were sharp against your sore stomach, but with that you finally felt something in you begin healing.

“...and I know I wasn’t around as much as I could have been, and it kills me that you were going through it alone, and on my bachelorette for crying out loud, how insensitive was that…”

Lacey’s diatribe brings you back to the café and your cooling coffee and Lacey’s earnest grip on your hand. You shush her with a few squeezes.

“You were a big part of why I finally got up the courage to leave. And I am so fucking glad I did,” you say, earning another smile that glitters with morning light.

“I think someone else also had some influence,” Lacey says, looking pointedly over her cup as she takes an innocent sip. Your brow furrows briefly before the implication of her tone slams into your chest.

Jack.

“That was a year ago…holy shit, today,” Lacey exclaims, twisting her wrist to verify on her smart watch.

“Wow, yeah,” you say weakly, swirling the dregs of coffee in your cup.

Yet again, Lacey isn’t wrong. Jack did open your eyes to a world that could offer the care and comfort you were yearning for. But you’d been forced to push memories of him to the back of your mind.

Weeks after the breakup, with Lacey lying on your brand new bed in your half-empty apartment, you told her about your weekend with the suave yet gentle cowboy. She interjected with excited “I knew it!” and “Holy shit yes!” exclamations as you recounted the cattle run, the innocent lie, the dinner, and the lust-filled night (heavily redacted, met with disappointment). Once the story was told you laid beside each other, silence stretching until she finally said, “I’m so happy Jack helped you realize you deserve more.”

So were you.

“Did you ever think about booking another weekend?” Lacey asks, placing her cup down so she can more fully watch you, playful smirk making you roll your eyes. “I mean, before all the stuff in the news about them.”

Guests injured in the park. A veil of silence and NDAs falling over Delos. An uncertain return.

You chew on your answer for a moment. It’s easy to chalk up not going back to the current state of the park, but in recent weeks you had been thinking more and more about Jack. Maybe it was some old movie you caught late at night, horses riding across gloriously wide plains. A cowboy hat or two you swore you saw in a crowd, only to be tricked by perspective and light. Strong, broad silhouettes that reminded you of large hands, a clever mouth, a warm embrace.

Tell her the truth.

“No,” you finally sigh, putting your cup down a little firmly.

You couldn’t.

“Why not?”

“It’s all fantasy, I’m not into that more than once.”

You couldn’t bear to see him again.

“Not even a little more fantasy with a certain cowboy?” Her eyes drop to your left hand, and you realize you’ve been slowly rotating the turquoise band she gave you on your ring finger. When you returned the engagement ring it became a comforting weight replacing what you’d given up. You fold them instead under Lacey’s watchful eye.

“It’s not real,” is the excuse you give.

He’s not real, and you can’t have him.

Lacey shrugs, looking at the time again and gathering up her coat.

“Real enough that you changed your whole life over it,” she observes, not unkindly. You stand up as she gathers her purse.

“It was a perfect weekend. Going back would have ruined it.”

Him not remembering you would have ruined it.

Lacey sighs but acquiesces, giving you a hug and confirming your next coffee date in a couple weeks. They’ve become a sweet schedule you look forward to more than you thought.

Once she breezes out the door, all summer blush and cosmopolitan chic, you join the line to get a coffee to go. The machine at work is dismal, and you’d much rather spend the four dollars. You enter your order on the cool blue holoscreen and step to the side to wait. The warmth of a good conversation bubbles in your veins, a beam of sunlight caressing your back. Even the brief memory of Jack you allow - his hands soft on your skin, the tender brush of his nose on your cheek, how safe you felt in his arms - fills your heart to bursting. A smile plumps your cheek. Today really is an exceptional day.

But oddly enough, your toes are wet.

Looking down, you can’t help but let out an exasperated, “Oh c’mon you idiot,” as you realize you didn’t put your shoes back on, and have now stepped in someone’s spilled beverage. So maybe not the perfect day, but you’re close enough to home to swing by and grab a new pair of socks. Shaking your head, you spin on your heel to retrieve your abandoned shoes.

You could have done it a breath sooner, or later, and never been the wiser. Or you could have kept your damn shoes on - do we live in a barn, your mother’s voice echoes in your ears - and avoided the issue in the first place. But today, on an exceptionally perfect day, you turn and take a step just as someone passes behind you, propelling your frame into their broader form. You almost bounce, but the stranger catches you by your shoulders, large firm palms wrapping around your biceps.

“Whoa there,” a deep voice says, laced with a southern drawl. It tickles something in your brain, neurons firing at memories close to the surface.

“Shit, sorry,” you mumble, stepping back to apologize properly to the man you almost bowled over. As your eyes begin their ascent the voice is clearer, sharp as a bullwhip crack.

“You okay Sugar?”

Your breath freezes in your throat, eyes snapping to the man’s face. He swims in your vision before the soft curl of his brown hair, the delicate trim of his mustache, the hawkish curve to his nose comes into focus. If that wasn’t enough for your short-circuiting brain to manage, his plush lips part in concern, deep chocolate eyes darting across your face.

Jack?

“I - oh,” he says, his grip tightening on your shoulders. You wrench back, stumbling a half step away, still locked on his face.

Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack

People are looking at you now, agape and struggling to pull in a full breath, your brain tumbling like Alice down the rabbit hole.

Can’t be.

Jack.

Not real.

Jack.

How?

Jack.

“I can explain…”

Then the whole world shifts, and you’re falling.

#jack whiskey daniels x you #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x f!reader #jack whisky daniels fanart #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #kingsman the golden circle fanfiction #westworld fanfiction #prolix fics

198 notes · View notes

buckyalpine · 2 years ago

Note

Hellooo, it's my first time asking for something, I don't even know the rules of this so you can ignore me whilst I learn the tumblr etiquette 🤭 I want something with a badass reader could be a CEO or a mafia leader or a queen or a sugar mommy but something with a powerful reader for a change, don't get me wrong I love seeing bucky or his characters all high and mighty but we can be all of that too 🙆🏻‍♀️

Could be a CEO sugar mommy reader x struggling college nerdy bucky 🤭 hahaha you know college is expensive and his parents help him but there's Becca too and he's working but only part time. They cross paths when he delivers her food or something hahaha I'm bad at this. Sorry.

Anywaysss, I love your writing and your stories. You're amazing and I'm glad you were one of the first blogs I came across when I open my account. Thank you for sharing your talent with us 🙆🏻‍♀️

18+

College Bucky x CEO Sugar mommy reader

I swear I run this blog lawless, I don’t think I even added rules yet. Baby THIS IS FUCKING DELICIOUSSSSS YES PLEASE, bless your brain. I imagined this with Bucky in his 20′s and reader in her 30′s but go a head and imagine your own age gaps if you’re feeling something else.

Warnings: FLUFF AND SMUTTT AND FLUFF AND SMUT

Sugar drabbleish

Bucky's barely able to afford college plus rent when he's living paycheck to paycheck, his part time job doesn't pay enough at all. He works at a local diner; he started off as a bus boy but now he occasionally works in the kitchen or delivers food. It tires him out but he has to do it because between him and his sister, his parents can only help so much.

The first time he has to deliver food to your company, its late and his last order before going home. Its your go to place for when your stressed out and feel like indulging. Bucky’s boss tells him to handle the order carefully; he finds it strange because he’d never been careless with food before. Once he gets to the address, it makes sense. He stares up at the tall glass building before pushing the heavy doors to go inside.

Your secretary sees the take out bag and just waves him the elevator, telling him to go to your office, while she continues to respond to emails. He swallows thickly because he usually just leaves food at a door step and runs off; he feels so out of place in this building. He makes it to the top floor and has to ask for directions to your office; he’s directed to the large wooden doors down the hall. He isn’t sure if he should just walk in or knock first, but he decides to knock just to be safe. He hears a firm come in and he hesitantly pushes the door open.

“I-um, I have your food?”

You nodded, still looking at your laptop before looking up at him. Oh. You’d had people deliver food to you before but none of them looked like that. You can’t help but let your eyes wander up and down; he was adorable. Handsome. Definitely younger, but you internally shrugged, you didn’t mind.

Bucky froze looking at you, he didn’t know who he was expecting but he wasn’t expecting someone like you. You were gorgeous. Attractive. Sure you were older but that just made you sexier. Your hair still neatly in place. You cocked your head while he stayed rooted on the spot, his cheeks tainted pink. He blinked, forcing some blood back to his head before walking over, placing the bag on your desk.

“Thank you” You smiled, handing him a $100, before digging into your food, moaning at the first bite.

Fuck, that pretty sound.

“I-I dont think I have that much change-

“Don’t worry about it” You shrugged, insisting he keep it as a tip, sending him on his way before getting back to your work. He can’t help but look back at you as he leaves, something about you being the CEO, so pretty, powerful, leaves him smitten.

Obviously he knows he has no chance with you. You’d never go for someone like him anyway; you were older and in a different place in your life. He was struggling with college but he allows himself to dream.

After the first time, every time Bucky sees an order from your company, he insists on grabbing the order. If he’s the one making the food, he most definitely makes it the best thing you ever tasted. You found yourself ordering from there more, even when you weren’t particularly hungry. You adore his presence when he comes by, a blushing shy mess, always politely knocking before entering and always flustered when you tip him more than what he makes in his paycheck.

Sometimes he lingers around a little longer, wanting to see if you liked what he made; he doesn’t say anything but when your eyes roll back, moaning at how good the food is, he bites his lip, proud of himself for making you sound like that.

Eventually you both start talking.

He’s like a giddy school boy when you ask him how he’s doing; you can’t help but smile at the way he rambles on about school, assignments, his job. You casually ask about what he does outside of all that and the poor baby doesn’t have much else going on. No dates. No girlfriend. No way to release all that stress- ok stop. You mentally scold yourself, but your mind is in the gutter and it isn’t going anywhere else.

You can’t help but miss him when he leaves. He was sweet. Innocent. He always preened at your praise like a puppy, wanting to be so good for you. You actually enjoyed the conversations you had with him; he was so attentive when you spoke and he made you laugh. You felt less lonely when he was around. You realized you didn’t have time for dates, just like him. It wasn’t something you thought about often but it would have been nice to have someone to spend time with. Someone you could vent to when you were stressed. Someone to fuck you till you were thoughtless. Someone to hold you when everything was overwhelming.

Just like tonight.

You were stressed.

Tired.

You’d managed to take care of a few clients and settle some deals but you still had a pile of things to get to. You had 0 appetite yet you found yourself placing an order for waffles and ice cream, your go to comfort food. You impatiently waited for your order, knowing damn well it wasn’t the food you were looking forward to. You ordered often enough that Bucky had pieced together what mood you were in depending on what you got.

You were happy when you ordered a sandwich.

Probably a little grumpy when you ordered pasta.

There was a specific time in the month where you ordered a large slice of chocolate cake twice a day.

You always looked a little pouty and sad when you ordered waffles.

He was out the door as soon as he saw your number pop up. Bucky scolded himself as he made his way over, his heart shouldn’t be fluttering and he shouldn’t be this excited. He couldn’t hep the little crush he had on you, it was getting worse and harder to ignore. He nearly came in his pants the day he walked in on you leading a meeting, the firm tone of your voice made his cock jump. He watched you in awe, effortlessly closing a deal, taking long strides across the room in your heels. No matter how stressed or tired you were, fuck you were always so nice to him and if you gave him a chance he’d be such a good boy-

No.

You would laugh in his face.

He had no business thinking of you like that.

You deserved so much more.

You smiled hearing the soft knock at the door, instantly feeling a little better when Bucky walked in, his cheeks dusted pink as always, handing you your order.

“Thank you- You paused realizing you still didn’t know his name even though you’d spoken many times before “I see you so often, I might as well know your name”

“Bucky- um James but most people call me Bucky”

“That’s adorable”

Bucky blushed again, his heart jumping every so often as he glanced at you. It didn’t matter how the day was going, you always looked so gorgeous in your blazers and blouses. You always had the prettiest heels, nails perfectly painted. He loved the sound of your voice, the way it would switch up from soft and sweet with him and firm when you answered the phone.

He wasn’t sure when you shifted to sit on the desk, in front of him in your office, letting him sit down for a while as well, but he suddenly became aware of the scent of your perfume. The soft curve of your jaw. He found himself inching a little closer each time, his heart fluttering because you didn’t pull away. He got lost in talking to you, hardly noticing the time pass by until his eyes glanced at the clock, cursing under his breath when he realized he’d be late for work.

“You don’t have to rush back, y’know” You laughed, while Bucky scrambled to grab his things when he noticed the time. Just when you thought he couldn’t be sweeter, you saw how he sat closer and closer to you, his eyes sparkling every time you spoke. Sweet baby boy.

“I have another shift” He genuinely wanted to stay longer until he remembered his student loans and up coming rent.

“Just tell them you don’t feel well, here” You slid over a few bills, selfishly wanting him all to yourself, especially tonight. “Call in sick for tonight”

You knew it was probably wrong, but you couldn’t help it, you didn’t want him to leave just yet. Bucky’s eyes grew wide at the money you handed to him while you continued to poke at your waffle.

“I-this is more than I make in a month, I can’t-

“You can, honestly, its nothing. Please?” You gave him a sweet pout and he was ready to fold on the spot. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to hide his crush for, if he stayed any longer he’d do something stupid. “Unless you don’t want to, its okay”

“No! I want to!” He moved even closer, scared to disappoint you, he’d never want to do that, which is exactly why he let his little secret slip out.

“I-I think you’re so pretty, I really really like you-” he blurted out, his eyes growing wide when he realized what he said. You couldn’t help but giggle at his confession, leaning a little so your legs brushed against his. You melted at his softness as he bit his lip nervously, still unsure if he should stay.

“Hmm, why are you nervous baby” You cooed, your thumb tracing over his bottom lip, red and swollen. He nearly whimpered at your words, he wanted to be your baby so bad but could he? “I like your company, that’s why I’m asking you to stay”

“I-I can’t give you what you deserve” Bucky shrugged, his shoulders slumped a little. He already couldn’t pay for college, there would be no way he’d be able to meet your standards. He’d never be able to take you out on a proper date or treat you like the queen you were. He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with his fingers; you wanted to take care of him so badly.

“I don’t need you to do that for me” You tilted his chin up to make him look at you again, his breaths shuddered. “I just..need..you”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide before he hesitantly leaned in, too scared to kiss you even though he wanted to so badly. You smirked, closing the gap between you both, softly pressing your lips against his. He whimpered, parting his lips, suddenly desperate for more. He carefully cupped your face, slowly pushing his tongue in, moaning when he felt your hands on his waist. You let him take control, his lips sucking and nipping on yours, his tongue tasting every bit of you.

He kissed you until he had to pull away for oxygen panting and dizzy, no blood in his head anymore, a thick outline of his cock straining against his sweats. Your hands trail down his chest, ghosting over his boner making him whimper.

“I’ll take care of you baby” You smiled, your fingers tracing the outline of his cock. His breath shudders, his cock throbs as you tease him, part of him is worried he’ll cum in his pants. He wants you to play with his cock, he really does but he just got a taste of your lips and now he wants more.

So much more.

“Can I taste you?” He whispers, dropping to his knees, desperate to feel your juices on his tongue “Please?”

“Shh I told you I’ll take care of you”

“P-please?” He shakes his head, his glassy eyes pleading with you.

How could you say no to such a sweet puppy.

“You want to baby?” You cup his cheek, your thumb caressing his skin softly. He nods, quickly pulling your skirt up and tossing off your panties. He parts your thighs, throwing them on his shoulders. He dives in immediately, sucking and licking up your arousal, his eyes rolling back at your slick on his tongue.

“F-fuck you taste good” His lips are glistening with your juices, his moans muffled as he drank as much as he could, savoring every bit of you. You gasped at the feeling of his mouth, his tongue deep in your entrance, greedy for more of your taste. His nose nudges your clit making it throb.

“S’good Bucky, fuck don’t stop” You moaned out and that’s all he needed to hear. He wasn’t planning on stopping. He started to flick his tongue on your clit, gazing up and you, loving the way you had your head thrown back, so fucking gorgeous spread out on your desk. Your hands carded through his soft locks making him whine, his lips sealing around your clit. “Oh fuck baby, just like that, doing so good for me baby, s’fucking good, m’so close”

He loved the way your clit felt on his tongue, suckling at it softly, while he pulled his pants down just enough to free his cock. You notice his moans are getting louder as he sucks on your clit, he’s overwhelmed with pleasure, fisting his cock while eating you like you’re his last meal.

“Fuck I’m cumming” You cried out, your thighs squeezing around his head while he played with your clit, groaning at the way your arousal poured out of you making a mess all over his face. His breaths are heavy, moaning while he keeps stroking himself.

“What is it baby?” You smirk when you see how desperate he looks, his shirt pulled up, the pink tip of his cock swollen and wet with precum.

“M’gonna cum” he whines out, stroking his cock on his knees, his chest heaving, eyes locked with yours. “Can I? Please?”

“Cum for me baby boy, show me how good boys cum”

That throws him off the edge as he cries out, ropes of cum splattering onto his abs, and dripping onto his hand. He’s shaky when he stands up, still panting, he’s never cummed that hard before.

“Come here, let me clean you up” You tug on his hand, grabbing a tissue, wiping his tummy, and the rest of him down. He’s never had anyone be so soft with him and he wants to curl up with you and cuddle so badly. He nuzzles himself against you and you coo at how soft he becomes. His body jolts as he tucks his cock back in, and you can’t help but pull him in, playing with his hair for a while. It starts to get late and you give him a quick kiss on his temple. He reluctantly pulls away, pouting a little.

“I’ll see you again soon?” You smile softly and he instantly lights up, already excited, nodding instantly. “I told you I’ll take care of you, okay?”

“Are-are you sure?” He doesn’t meet your eyes, playing with your fingers instead. “You don’t have to-

“Bucky look at me baby. I want to” You cup his cheek making him look at you. “I’m happy to as long as I get to see you” That makes him blush, unable to wrap his head around the fact that you want to see him and spend time with him.

“I’ll cover your shift for this month by the way” You give him a peck on his lips before he leaves, more flustered than ever. He nods vigorously, his heart beating out of his chest.

It’s a convenient arrangement. You take care of his needs while he takes care of yours. He loves spending his time with his face buried between your legs pulling the prettiest sounds out of you. You love the way he pours his heart and soul into pleasuring you, relieving your stress every single time.

Eventually he starts to come over to your place instead of coming by your office. At first, your both in the living room, making out like horny teenagers and you’ve waited long enough, you need more from him. His eyes grow wide when you pull him off the couch and drag him to your room.

Bucky is NOT inexperienced but something about being with you makes him feel like its his first time. He’s naked and spread out on the bed for you, his senses heightening to 100 seeing you naked for the first time. His cock is leaking against his tummy, throbbing as he hesitantly parts your legs, nudging against your entrance.

“Shh, just relax for me baby boy” You peck his lips softly, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. He moans to himself, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds, circling around your clit before pressing it against your entrance.

“You ready Jamie?” He nods, inching himself inside you closer, moaning as he feels your cunt suck his cock in.

“Oh-fuck-” His face is inches away from yours, cock already throbbing, the sounds leaving your mouth are not helping at all.

“Oh my god!” Your eyes roll back at the feeling of his thick length stretching you, gasping as he buries himself inside you. Your pussy clenches around him, your thighs squeezing around his waist, you’ve never felt so full “Yes, fuck yes”

“You’re-you’re so tight” He stutters as he starts to move, he can feel every inch of your silky walls hugging him. His body weight falls onto you, his cock feels so good he’s scared he’s going to cum in two strokes.

“You’re so big Jamie” You love the burn and pain with each thrust grazing his back as he starts to move faster. “Fuck your cock is so thick baby” The more you talk, the harder it is for him to control himself, he whimpering, snapping his hips into you, his balls hitting your ass. “Just like that baby boy, fuck me with your fat cock”

“Mommy” He whines out, not even registering what he just called you. All he knows is that he’s your baby boy, you take care of him, he’d do anything to make you feel good. You cry out for him as he hits your gspot. His hands come to move your hair away from your forehead, kissing your softly. “Is my cock too big mommy?”

“It’s perfect Jamie, hurts so good baby” You pull him in and kiss him deeply making his cock throb. He buries his face in your neck, his hands gripping your waist tightly because he doesn’t want to cum yet but it’s getting harder for him not to cum. “God I needed this so bad baby, stretch mommy’s pussy baby”

“I-I can’t hold it, it feels good” He pants, his pace starting to grow sloppy. He pulls away slightly, doing his best to focus on hitting your gspot, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Rub your clit mommy”

Your hand snakes down to play with your clit, the neediness of your sweet baby has you coming undone within seconds.

“F-fuck” The sounds you made already made him unable to focus but the sight of you touching yourself under him makes him lose control. “Oh fuck, play with it mommy, rub your clit hard for me”

You moan loudly, your pussy fluttering and sucking him in deeper and his body falls on you again.

“Mommy m’gonna cum” He groans, already dripping and making a mess in you with his precum. “Can I cum in you?” He wants to be greedy and give his perfect mommy his cum.

“Cum in me baby boy, be a good boy and cum in mommy” You coo, and he nearly sobs, cum shooting out of his cock, thick white streams filling your sopping cunt.

“Fuck m’your good boy” He cries out, he has no idea how he got so lucky getting to pump his thick load into you but he’s not going to waste a drop. He stays deep in your pussy until he’s emptied his balls. “Cumming so hard for you mommy”

He whines and whimpers, his hips rutting in you for as long as possible. He doesn’t even realize he falls asleep just like that, his face buried in your boobs, clinging onto you like a child. Your hands come down to caress his skin, letting him sleep for a while. You know he needs his release as badly as you do.

You spoil him. You spoil him because he deserves it. You spoil him because he’s so special to you. He’s too scared to tell you when he really does need something. He knows the rules, he has to tell you if there's something he needs, you told him that very clearly.

*****

You huff when you get his voice mail again, all of your text messages unanswered. When he comes by to your place, he knows hes in trouble because your frowning; mommy only frowns when he’s done something wrong.

“Baby, how come you didn’t answer your phone”

He’s too scared to tell you he couldn't pay his bill on time and he didn’t want to trouble you. Now he’s even more upset with himself because you were trying to call him and he didn’t even know.

“I-I couldn't pay my bill” He mumbles, looking down, not meeting your eyes. You soften a little, cupping his face, making him look at you.

“You should have just told me Bucky, I would have taken care of it. Just let me cover your phone bill bubba”

“No!- I can pay for it, it’s too much-” You already do so much for him, he doesn’t want to be greedy.

“I want to be able to call you when I want. It’s not a big deal. I want to take care of you, okay?” You pull him up to your room, giving him a soft kiss before looking at him sternly.

“Now...” You grasp his cheeks making his lips pout “I should punish you baby” His heart jumps at the thought, his cock already hard. “I was worried about you bubba, not answering your phone all day” You take him apart over and over again, your tongue toying and licking his cock up and down leaving him a whining and whimpering mess.

Your arrangement with him continues. He hardly has to work because you’ve covered that for him. You’ve gotten him a better phone, a better laptop, you’ve paid for his semesters in school. Bucky loves all that you do for him but he wishes he could tell you he likes you for more than how you take care of him.

He makes his way over to your place, excited as always, ignoring his feelings. He’s happy to make you come apart and destress you but he’s ready to be there for everything else too. It makes his stomach churn because he knows you probably don’t feel the same way.

When he knocks on your door, he’s greeted by one of your house keepers which surprises him because you normally answer. He’s told your still working upstairs; he makes his way up to your room.

You looked tired. Your blazer was thrown on the side of your desk, a few buttons opened at the top, your glasses tossed aside. You have bags under your eyes, papers scattered around.

“Hi baby” You smiled as Bucky walked into your office room, his heart sinking seeing you so overworked.

“Are you okay” He frowns as he nears you, coming by your desk, tucking some hair away from your face. You lean into his touch, all your energy drained. He cocks his head as you close your laptop, his hand still gently grazing against your scalp.

“I’m just tired tonight Bucky” You close your eyes while sitting in your chair and he doesn’t like it. You always look after him and he wants to do the same.

“Can-can I take care of you?” He whispered, his heart beating out of his chest. He was so used to you telling him what he had to do but you looked so tired and he wanted to do something for you instead. He knew what you needed. You nodded, squealing when he effortlessly lifted you into his arms, carrying you over to your bedroom.

He set you down onto your bed, carefully taking all your clothes before stripping all of his off. Before you could say anything, he pulled the covers back, crawling into bed and pulling you to lay with him. Bucky held you to his chest, gently stroking your spine with firm fingers, his other hand carding through your hair. He massaged your scalp, smiling when he felt your muscles relax, melting into his touch.

You can’t help but feel your eyes sting a little. No one had ever been so soft and gentle with you. Bucky always made sure he took care of your body, your soul. Your heart craved him more, his sweetness, his kindness, his affection. You then reminded yourself that he still probably wanted to experience things and being tied down to you was not part of his plans.

You just had to enjoy the time you had with him for what it was.

“Are you feeling okay?” He hugs you tighter, his lips brushing against your forehead.

“M’sorry bubba, so tired” You mumbled against his skin, sighing contently when he continued to massage your body, hesitantly pressing a kiss onto your forehead. He cuddled and massaged your body, loving the way you felt in his arms. His beautiful pretty mommy cuddled up with him.

He realizes he wants this all the time, the feeling of your soft skin with his, the sweetness of your vice. Your wrapped up with him under the blankets and you can feel his heart beating out of his chest as he stutters.

“I-I like you” You look at him while he bites his lip nervously; fuck what if you kicked him out.

“I like you too Bucky” you smiled, kissing the dimple on his chin. He relaxes slightly but it’s not good enough. He wanted more. More with you. To have you. Just for him.

“I want to be yours...always” He whispers the last part, peeking at you through his lashes, worried he might have just ruined everything.

Of course he hasn’t.

You can’t help the way your heart flutters, melting against him letting your arms wrap around his body. You adored him with your entire being the same way he adored you.

“You already are baby” You smile against his skin, kissing his chest. “You’re always going to me mine”

Tags:

@glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @xnorthstar3x @kryoee7 @alina02 @gh0stgurl @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club

1K notes · View notes

spade-of-storms · 5 months ago

Text

What the others think of Allen x Deuce

Heartslabyul

ACE: "Ugh, these two can't go three minutes without going to smoochville. Deuce is almost never alone at this point and they're hella annoying! Trying to get them together was a pain in the ass... that said, they're kinda cute, and I'm glad Allen's able to turn Deucey into less of a loser."

RIDDLE: "I have witnessed a fair share of unpleasant, inappropriate happenings because of these two... But Allen has managed to help Deuce with his grades a whole lot, which I'm grateful for. They're good in my books as long as they refrain from kissing in public areas at Heartslabyul."

CATER: "Ooh, Deucey and Lenny! Took them wayyyyy too long to get together. It was pretty obvious since day one that Deuce couldn't keep his eyes off of Allen, and watching those two be so oblivious was a painnn!"

TREY: "I'm glad they've found happiness in each other. Allen is guiding Deuce towards the right path, and it's pretty obvious to all of us. Has definitely helped us avoid some more trouble at Heartslabyul, haha..."

Savanaclaw

LEONA: "For someone who wants to stay out of trouble, Allen chose him out of all people... pff."

RUGGIE: "Yeah, I can see why they like each other, and I'm glad Allen's found someone. Lowkey gettin' second-hand embarrassment from the lovesick way Deuce acts around him, though."

JACK: "They're cute and it's obvious how they support each other. I'm wishing them the best. ...hm, so that's why Deuce constantly brings him up in the Track Club."

Octavinelle

AZUL: "I wouldn't have expected a wicked person like Allen to go for him. But knowing him, he definitely has his reasons... tsk tsk."

JADE: "Oh my, those two. Is it wrong if I say that I already expected them to be a couple during the anemone *incident*?~"

FLOYD: "Eyyy, Orca and Mackerel. Yah, they're cute. Hella clingy. Drives ya over the edge sometimes... and you just wanna give 'em a squeeze."

Scarabia

KALIM: "CUTIES!!! Allen smiling more often because of Deuce is always a nice sight."

JAMIL: "I would've expected Allen to settle for someone more scheming, but I can see why they're dating. Allen definitely craves... um, forget it."

Pomefiore

VIL: "Deuce sure has an eye for beauty. I remember giving him a fair share of advice on this topic during the VDC preparations, and it was pretty shocking to see Deuce make so many efforts in order to impress someone who... doesn't seem to focus on other people's appearance all too much. But I guess that's what happened... Deuce figuratively got intoxicated by Allen."

ROOK: "Ah, l'amour. Monsieur Spade has proven Monsieur Troublé that he can be adored and that the stains on his heart can fade."

EPEL: "Damn, I'm hella happy for 'em. Definitely see why they're so in love... and Deuce has even passed parts of the advice Allen's given him down to me! Seems like a longlastin' relationship that helps both of 'em a lot."

Ignihyde

IDIA: "So much PDA... it rots my teeth. Surprising that Allen even has the time to play online games anymore..."

ORTHO: "I have statistics on how often they've kissed in public! Wanna see? But they might shock you!"

Diasomnia

MALLEUS: "They fill each other's voids, and I'm congratulating them. It's not every day that two individuals crossing paths match each other so perfectly."

LILIA: "Kheehehe, young love. Both are adorable and somewhat clueless, and their love is so genuine. These two kids are really good for each other!"

SEBEK: "THEY'RE ALWAYS TOGETHER!!! You cannot simply talk to Deuce without him bringing up his boyfriend!!! ...huh? What do you mean I do the same with the Young Master and my girlfriend?! THAT'S A DIFFERENT THING!!!"

SILVER: "I can sense that both are much calmer in each other's presence. I'm glad my friend has found a loving partner who's fully capable of showing him just how much he matters."

27 notes · View notes

cas-kingdom · 1 year ago

Text

White Flower

A/N: Definitely a long time coming. I've been so slow in my writing since starting university but I'm glad to finally have this one done. Hopefully you all enjoy the introduction of my OC!

Set in the aftermath of Glass Onion.

Title: White Flower

Summary: Fleur Blanc, art student and only daughter of the world's greatest detective, wants to steal the Mona Lisa.

Words: 2336

Despite the alarm and the impassive yelling of “this is a smokeless garden”, Benoit Blanc believed he quite deserved this cigarette, thank you very much. Trying was one word to describe the weekend he’d had. All-round tits up was another.

Besides. The island was pretty much a raging pit of alarms, fire, and general chaos by now. One more addition didn’t make much of a difference, and there certainly was no stopping the activation of the hydrogen fuel now.

“Oh, do shut up,” he said anyway, because it felt good, and because the first yell had made him jump and squish his cigarette between two fingers.

He reached for another and let his sunglasses fall over his eyes, squinting into the distance.

The horrifically neon pink of Birdie Jay’s sunhat stuck out like a sore thumb in the midst of the remaining participants of the weekend’s fiasco. They were all fanned out across the beach, as far apart from each other as possible, waiting impatiently for the policeboats to arrive. Ironic, really, considering how they’d arrived, each one a suck up to the next.

Benoit lit his new cigarette and shook his head with a scoff. “Megalomaniac, Janus-faced…” He muttered the words under his breath and took a puff. The alarm and impassive yelling restarted, and the second cigarette promptly joined the one on the ground.

“For the love of...”

He was owed a proper vacation after this, at the very least.

The yelling stopped abruptly with a crackle and a robotic groan. When Benoit turned, he was met with the sight of a young woman, her feet precariously placed between the gaps of the odd white sculpture that the yelling emanated from.

No longer.

After a violent snap, she held a handful of the offending wires, a look of irritation settling on her face. A flick of long hair and a moment later she tossed the wires onto dry land and followed them down into the shallow water with a quiet splash. Benoit rose a brow and fit his third cigarette neatly between smirking lips.

“Why, thank you, my darlin’.”

Fleur Blanc, twenty-year old art student and daughter of the world’s greatest detective, offered a mock bow as she stepped out of the water. She stretched out a leg and shook her foot dry as her father turned his gaze back towards the beach.

It hadn’t been his idea to bring Fleur along on this particular adventure, and he had in fact protested against it when she and that good-for-nothing roommate of his had suggested it, remembering quite well the last time his detective business had taken him on a wild ride. Alas, lockdown had turned Fleur into a firecracker and Philip had eventually boiled Benoit’s options down to “you take her with you, or I take myself out with the shotgun in the safe.” All fun and games, of course. Of course.

He couldn’t say her presence had been unappreciated. Apart from the obvious ease in her company, and the slightest spark of feeling like they were on a proper vacation, she had helped with the investigation, too. His little detective in the making, he’d always teased, though for as much as he was sure she loved the thrill of investigation, he was certain her career path would lead her straight to the arts.

That certainty was consolidated at the unusual silence coming from Fleur. When he turned, she was standing with her back to him, her eyes fixed on what remained of the Glass Onion. The structure that had once been so…not on fire generated quite the backdrop for his obviously preoccupied daughter. Her head tilted, arms crossed, feet bare and loose hair billowing behind her in the summer breeze, one would assume she was the picture of innocence.

Benoit knew better.

The moment she glanced over her shoulder, a twinkle in her eyes and the—in this case—horrifying beginning of “Dad?” on the tip of her tongue, Benoit pulled his cigarette from his mouth and pointed it at her. His own head dipped dangerously low, and his brows raised in what Fleur knew to be warning.

“No,” he said. Firm and simple. He would not deny she often found herself wrapped around his little finger, but this was one thing he’d be ridiculous to abide by.

“But—”

“My goodness, Fleur, no!”

Fleur narrowed her eyes and whipped her head back around. Benoit saw her fingers tapping rhythmically against her forearm. He remained still, waiting, ready. Because when a thought entered Fleur’s mind, she was hard-pressed to get rid of it.

With a defining nod and not a single glance back, Fleur slipped her flip-flops on and started walking with absolute intent. Benoit rushed after her. He grasped her shoulder and stopped her before she could take another step.

Fleur was ready for him. “I’m doing it,” she stated, “I’ve decided. I have to.”

“You are insane if you truly think—it’s—you are just preposterous, child!”

“But, Dad, it can’t be a crime, right? Most of it’s already destroyed!”

Benoit spluttered. He dropped the cigarette and, with a sudden distaste for the thing, squashed it under the toe of his shoe.

“Jesus, God, Satan, give me strength,” he muttered under his breath, not for the first time concerning his daughter and certainly not for the last. He grasped her by the shoulders, ensuring she couldn’t avoid his gaze, then, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Fleur, sweetheart, you want to steal the Mona fudgin’ Lisa.”

“Rehome,” Fleur was quick to correct. “And it’ll have a better life with me! You really think Miles appreciated it as much as I will?” That was a given. “And—and only a small part, Dad, that’s all I want.” She suddenly hardened her stare, that familiar seriousness suddenly reappearing. “That’s all I need.”

The detective’s speechlessness after that closing statement could have been due to a number of things. One, because the pure gall of this girl never ceased to amaze him. Two, because something seemed to blow up behind them, a puff of smoke emanating from the top of what used to be the Onion. Three, the most likely contender, because the moment said explosion had him distracted, Fleur ducked under his hold and made her way intently towards it.

Like father, like daughter, was all he could think. And he wasn’t referencing himself.

Surprising, considering he followed after her with absolutely zero hesitation.

The Glass Onion’s majesty was long gone. The maddest of people would advise anyone and everyone to stay about a hundred feet from its flaming mess, armed with a hard-shell helmet and a fire extinguisher, just in case anything went even more wrong. Which, looking at it, was likely.

Still, as was typically—stupidly—the case, Benoit Blanc stood in the middle of it all.

One hand wrapped around his daughter’s, the other gripping the doorframe for easy escape, his wide eyes darted around the Onion. If he was any less focused on the state of his surroundings, he would have been more concerned at his daughter’s lack of concern. True, the fire had somewhat died down, and the structure itself looked less ready to cave in than it had done before, but safe was still not a word he would use to describe it.

Helen’s stunt had certainly done a number on poor Mona, but the world of aesthetes could decidedly remain relieved with the knowledge that some parts of her were untouched. Surrounded by what had once been her glass refuge, she sat still in the place she had done since Miles had obtained her. One eye was black, the other pristine. A side of her hair reflected the fire, the other had been destroyed by it. Needless to say, the majority of her was gone, and if Fleur had the time, Benoit had no doubt she’d be down on her hands and knees, collecting the ashes in a little pot and shamelessly risking her life in the process. Alas, he would sooner drag her out, kicking and screaming, than have her be here a moment longer than she apparently needed to be.

Benoit watched his daughter’s eyes as they scanned the room before landing on Mona. In less than a second, that tell-tale glint went from inquisition to pure delight. It seemed no amount of staring from outside of the case could prepare her for now. True, the painting was charred more than not, and his watchful eye did catch a spark of disappointment, but it only seemed to spur her determination in getting it safely within her grasp.

Parental instincts ablaze since the moment he’d stepped foot on the island, Benoit immediately tightened his grip on her hand and yanked her back when she made to move forward. “Hold your horses,” he said, waiting for her eyes to meet his before wildly gesturing around them. “There’s glass everywhere, Fleur, and you’re wearing flip-flops. Why would you bring flip-flops to this island and nothing else?”

“We’re on vacation!”

“You knew darn well this wasn’t a vacation!”

Fleur spluttered for a moment before pointing accusingly at his own choice of footwear. “Like you and your boat shoes can do any better.”

Benoit gasped. Audibly. “These have hard, glass-proof soles, I’ll thank you to notice.”

He wasn’t quite sure what it was that spurred him to his next decision. Perhaps it was the urgency of the situation. Or the very distant, but ever-closer, sound of sirens. Or, maybe, it was the pure eagerness of his daughter; eagerness of which had always softened his heart, no matter the circumstances.

Whichever it was, he tried not to think about the guilt that would remain on his conscience for the rest of his life as he turned and bent over slightly, motioning with his hands.

“Get on my back,” he said hurriedly. When Fleur stalled, shock settling quickly on her face, he motioned again. “Come, child, we haven’t got long.”

And, with that, Fleur hopped on her father’s back with as much excitement as a child. Benoit gripped her legs, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning her chin on his shoulder, the biggest of grins adorning her lips.

“Look at you, Dad,” she said as he began walking, stepping carefully over large shards of glass.

“We are not to tell your father,” was his only response to her obvious insinuation that he was becoming rebellious in his old age.

“Might be a little difficult when we come home with the Mona Lisa. Ooh! Why don’t we take the Porsche home too? Just the steering wheel?”

Benoit uttered a silent apology to da Vinci.

“Do you see these grey hairs?” he said. “You are the cause.”

Needless to say, through no innate conformism, Fleur’s inner connoisseur had won over her desire to keep a piece of the Mona Lisa in her cardholder. The moment the police had finished detailing the basics of the weekend’s mess with her father and struck up the sensitive question of the possibility of either of them having seen the Mona Lisa’s remainders at all during the night—Benoit believed it was their imploring “the Louvre are simply desperate to get it back” that had swayed her—Fleur had produced the scraps she’d been able to save from her pocket. Handing them over with only the tiniest hint of reluctance, she’d smiled at the gratefulness from the police and watched them go with the bit of longing she could allow herself.

Chuckling softly, Benoit wrapped an arm around her and drew her into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Well, darlin’,” he said, “I’m very proud of you, if it counts for something.”

Fleur breathed a deep sigh and pressed her lips in a thin smile. “It does. At least I cay say I’ve touched her, right, Dad?”

“Oh, absolutely. That’s more than most people can say, after all.”

The police were wrapping up now, gently guiding the exhausted party members onto a boat—one in particular in aptly placed handcuffs. The island itself would take mountains of work to be habitable again, he’d heard a firefighter voice in passing, and for a moment he wondered if Derol had made it onto the boat. After brief consideration, he decided Derol was probably better off here than America.

Benoit pushed his sunglasses down and steered himself and his daughter in the direction of the shore. He didn’t quite enjoy the idea of sharing a boat ride with previously-dubbed megalomaniac, Janus-faced…people, but alas, after today he would no longer experience the displeasure of seeing them again. Though, he would be glad for Helen to attend a few of his dinner parties when the pandemic allowed.

Fleur reached up to grasp her father’s hand at her shoulder as they walked slowly, stepping carefully around anything glinting in the sand. Then, quietly, “Where’re you gonna put your steering wheel?”

Ah. Benoit instinctively glanced down at the duffel bag in his free hand. True, it was heavier than it had been when he’d first arrived on the island, but he had told his daughter that he’d be much appreciated if she didn’t remind him of his rebelliousness at every given moment. Which she had.

“I’m going to lock it away in a safe, so it’s never found, and I’m never arrested for thieving,” he said, finality embedded in his tone. If anyone ever asked: no, he had not stolen the steering wheel of the Porsche 918 Spyder’s wreckage. No, he did not have it in his duffel bag, blanketed by his clothes and second pair of boat shoes. And, no, once it entered the safe he would never look at it again. Except on birthdays. And maybe Christmasses.

He couldn’t say he regretted it.

But he did regret not regretting it.

“And may I just reiterate,” he said, leaning closer towards her, “your father does not need to know a thing.”

Knives Out Masterpost

#knives out #benoit blanc #benoit blanc x OC #blanc x OC #benoit blanc x reader #blanc x reader #oc!reader #oc reader #oc daughter #oc!daughter #reader #reader fic #knives out glass onion #glass onion #mine

111 notes · View notes

yes0another0outsiders0blog · 6 months ago

Note

Could you maybe do Darry Curtis x fem! Reader sfw alphabet please? I love your writing btw! :)

Thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoy!! Out of personal preference, I am keeping my SFW Alphabets pretty gender neutral, but you can totally read them as more fem. Sorry, love.

Also, this man is one of my favorite characters in this damn book. I want nothing but the best for him. For some reason putting hcs into words was killing me this time, I'm so sorry if it's noticeable!!!

SFW Alphabet : Darry Curtis

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Not huge on PDA aside from holding hands and a kiss on the cheek. Pretty private about personal (especially romantic) relationships, people will know you two are together, it will be obvious in how you interact, but there isn't much open affection.

Around close friends, the gang, and his brothers, he's a bit (but not much) more affectionate. He'll call you a few pet-names (hun/honey, sweetheart, beautiful), might wrap an arm around you when you're sitting together, little things.

All alone, he'll pull you onto his lap or wrap his hands around your waist while you're doing the dishes, resting his head on you and giving you a quick kiss.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

You know Darry from yalls school days. You two were good, but never quite friends. You interacted with each other, but more in passing or in group settings.

After graduation, you two just didn't really interact at all. You two weren't close or anything, there was never a reason to keep in touch. Later, you cross paths again and catch up a bit.

Being close friends with Darry is just a lot of little things. Having a scheduled day a week where you come over for coffee, going grocery shopping together, hanging out with his brothers a ton, etc. Also, hearing him vent. You're hearing about every single time Ponyboy is an idiot, in great detail. And he also trusts you as someone he can talk out his more serious problems with, because dude is going through TOO MUCH for his age (I'm 22 and my only obligations are myself and 2 cats, I could not IMAGINE being both younger and in charge of anything more serious than the shit I'm dealing with right now, give this man some support and a break, holy hell). He doesn't expect or want you to help with anything at all, he just wants to have an outlet to verbalize whatever is going on. You're there to listen.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Isn't one to cuddle often. That would require him to stay relaxed for an extended period of time and that's rare. Besides being a fairly busy person as *literally the only person in the gang with actual obligations and an ounce of responsibility* and essentially having to be there to put up with all of their bullshit, he is the type of person that needs to do something with his time or he doesn't feel productive. Even when he's going to bed, he is asleep so fast that cuddling isn't really an option, you can cuddle into him but he's already dead asleep so you aren't getting anything back.

If no one is expected to come around (which is rare because the door is always unlocked, his brothers are usually around, you're working with the assumption that someone's going to barge in whenever) he might have you sit on his lap while he reads the paper or something.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Pretty good at cleaning. Things aren't perfect and sometimes life is just hectic so things don't get done, but nothing generally gets absolutely disgusting when he's around. Doesn't mind cleaning, actually quite enjoys it. There may be piles of dirty clothes sometimes or laundry might not get folded or put up right away, and "weekly" chores might be a bit late, but it all gets done.

Good at cooking the basics. Darry is good enough in the kitchen to tweak a recipe on the fly and make it a bit better than it otherwise would be, but he isn't able to make entire meals based on what sounds like it would work out well. Isn't inventing any new dishes or anything.

If he met the right person he'd be willing to reconsider, but Darry mostly sees himself having a pretty traditional life in the future, not really by choice but more because its the 60s and thats whats expected. He's the provider, he works long hours. He would expect you to do the housework and cooking and such. Isn't 100% conservatively split about it, would still absolutely help out some and make dinner on his days off. Again, if you were like "yeah, that's not going to work out, we're going to be tag-teaming on this domestic stuff, I'm going to have my own money" then he'd be totally okay with that. It isn't preferred because there's more of a chance that you'll both be too tired from work and things won't get done, but if it's important to you then it's a compromise he's willing to make.

(I also like making him a househusband. I think if you made BANK and convinced him that you were okay with being the breadwinner, he can be convinced to stay at home and do the domestic work while also doing freelance. He wouldn't have the pressure to make money, so he'd be able to prioritize the home, but he'd also want to not be unemployed so he'd do odd-jobs fixing things for shorter hours than a normal job would have. Less realistic, perhaps, but man's been through it so he deserves to just be taken care of instead of having to take care of others.)

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

The most logical/mature about a relationship ending, but it can come off as a bit cold when you're hurt by it. Darry will sit you down and basically discuss whatever problem there is. He'll say "we either fix this or break up" and mean it. He'll definitely put in the work to solve whatever's going on, but if he feels that he's doing most of the work then it's over. Is disappointed by a breakup, is absolutely sad about it in private and a bit more irritable for a while, but life goes on. Sometimes relationships end, and he frankly doesn't have time to mope about it when that isn't fixing anything.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Would incorporate you into his life pretty quickly (having you stay over and doing dinner/chores/life stuff together). Introduces you to his brothers fast. That's pretty decent commitment because, like I touched on above, Darry can deal with a break up well but it's harder to separate when there are three people that are kind of attached to you rather than just one.

The entire gang really gets along with you, so they're all constantly asking when you and Darry are getting married. Hard to tell if that has any influence on when he proposes, but it's probably about a year or two in. Quick, but not irresponsibly so. Yall stay engaged for a long while, he wants you to be able to have a nice wedding (small and simple, but still nice) so he waits until both of his brothers are actually out of the house and he can *attempt* to save up the tiniest bit for it.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Pretty gentle, but in a stereotypically man way specifically emotionally, if that makes sense? Like, genuinely an amazing boyfriend, treats you so good. But emotions aren't a strong point for him, he likes things that have reason and sound logic behind them. Likes to rationalize things. He'll give advice that you didn't ask for it and you just wanted him to listen, or will tell you that you're problems really aren't urgent/major. Will be very confused when you get upset by that. If you aren't the emotional type, then it's all good!! If you are, then he'll really try to learn when to just not try to "help" when you need him to be more gentle.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Likes hugs. Darry usually wraps his arms around you from behind when you're doing something. Any time he's in a good or sillier mood, you're getting picked up. Loves doing that thing where he, like, lifts you up and spins you around. If he's in a bad mood, he'll get a tiny bit clingy with you and tends to end up in long, silent embraces with you. They really give him comfort.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

A few months, maybe 4? He doesn't want to take things too fast or really anything, so it takes a bit. The gang (especially his brothers, ESPECIALLY Soda) tease the hell out of you two for being so in love way before then, and he usually tells them to shut the hell up. But one day when you're making dinner he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist like always, and he just says it. Shocked the hell out of both of you, he had a long day and just kind of blurted it out without even really meaning to, but obviously you love him too (how couldn't you?) so it was alright.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Trusts you fully. Does not get jealous hardly ever. If someone was clearly into you and flirting with you, he wouldn't care at all because he's confident you wouldn't be into it. Even if he caught the vibe that you were cheating or you were getting REALLY friendly with someone else, he wouldn't get jealous so much as frustrated that you would cheat instead of just breaking up with him. Very quick to want to talk out any issues, so misunderstandings are usually put to rest there. On the very rare occasion that he does feel jealous, he doesn't even mention it.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Usually a kiss on your forehead or the top of your head, quick and sweet are most common but slow, lingering kisses on the mouth aren't rare either.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Good with kids. Definitely the most responsible with kids, more strict than most. While not the "most fun" for kids out of the gang, Darry is way better than a lot of the gang gives him credit for. If he was in a position where he knew he was going to have to watch some younger kids for a day, he'd make plans to keep them entertained. Take them to the park and for some kind of small treat, would be rather active in playing with them if they wanted him to.

He doesn't want kids for a WHILE, after both of his brothers are out of the house he would prefer to have a few years at least. But kids are an eventually thing for Darry. Just one, maybe two.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

You two wake up fairly early so that he can get ready for work (he doesn't even work THAT early, he's just one of those people that likes to not feel rushed in the morning), you start some coffee and maybe get started on breakfast. Breakfast is eaten, and Darry goes to read the paper while you get ready.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

On an average night when yall don't have any other plans, usually dinner and hanging out with his brothers a bit. Pony goes to bed kind of early if he doesn't have anything better to do because he's a little bitch he has school the next day, and Soda usually finds something to do with his late evening/night. After they're gone, you climb into Darry's lap as he's sitting on his chair and yall just talk for a while until he's literally drifting off mid conversation so you two go to bed.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Doesn't get emotionally vulnerable early on, but also doesn't know the difference between basic information and deeper stuff. You'll say "tell me a bit about yourself" on the first date and he'll instantly start kind of trauma-dumping. You expect some hobbies or something and he'll start getting into how he had to give up on college to take care of his brothers after his parents died and your just sitting there like "damn... I really thought you would just tell me your favorite color or smth..."

Kind of doesn't know what to say, so will just give you various bits of his entire life story whenever something makes him think of some story to tell.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Easily frustrated or annoyed. Harder to properly anger, more likely to happen because it's been building up over several different things and he hits a breaking point.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Would remember most things, but also has the tendency to temporarily forget them. They just slip his mind, the second you mention it he gets hit with an "OH YEAH, I DID KNOW THAT" but he might forget things. Too much stuff, not enough brain space. It's a stress thing, a symptom of anxiety. He tries to remember everything. Big on intentionally doing things to help, he writes dates in a calender and if anything is important he'll make a note and kind of repeat information to himself.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When you guys made your relationship official. You two had been friends for a little while before even dating, then dated a bit before you had to ask if you two were actually together or not. Darry was already pretty in love with you, tbh, he just wanted to take things slow because if you two were really together then there would be more expectations that he was afraid he couldn't meet. He felt that he couldn't give you the attention that you deserved in an actual relationship. You basically had to say "listen, my love, I *KNOW* that you're going through some shit, and I know your brothers are your top priority, and I know that you can't give me all of your time. I am signing up for this, I care about you and I want to be with you." And, holy fuck, he needed that so damn bad.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Will absolutely protect you if you need it, but hopes you don't need it. Like, if someone is treating you badly when you are literally just minding your own business then he's by your side INSTANTLY. If something happens when he's not there, he is one call away. He'll call someone to check on you usually, but in an emergency he will drop what he's doing for you instantly.

If you were being unsafe, being super unaware of your surroundings or picking a fight or something, he'll obviously still be there for you but will be mad about it. Will tell you to be more careful because that was easily avoidable.

Darry would prefer to just tell anyone messing with you to politely fuck off. Very "is this person bothering you, darlin?" and usually it works because he's a big guy, people aren't usually going to double down on being nasty/creepy/rude to you when he comes over. If need be, he will absolutely kick some guy's ass for you. The second some dude so much as touches you (whether pervy or violent), that dude is getting several broken bones.

If you found yourself in those situations often, he'd probably get you to carry a small knife or a makeshift pepper spray for self defense (pepper spray was invented in the 60s, but wasn't sold to the public until the 80s, but I feel like he would have you carry something similar because it's non-lethal and can be used at a longer range) because he can't really be around you all the time.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Always gives the relationship everything he's got, but what he's got varies wildly. There are going to be periods of time when he is able to put small bits of money aside for gifts and anniversaries, makes sure that he schedules out one date a week just so you two are guaranteed to see each other alone, does what he can around the house so you don't have to do it all, etc. There are also times when he doesn't get to see you or take you on dates, forgets anniversaries and has to make it up to you, etc. It isn't out of lack of effort at all, he feels terrible about it when things get like that, but it happens.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

It takes a lot to convince him to accept help. I think a lot of the guys have this problem, it's a problem that a lot of men have in general and in the 60s the gender expectations went even harder, but Darry can be especially bad about it.

Not only will he not let you help him with things, but he will also get too overwhelmed by having to put energy into a relationship too and will probably want a break (especially in the beginning) if he gets too stressed about other things. After you fight him on it, he'll realize that you actually signed up for this and are totally down to stay with him even when he's busy or exhausted or just doesn't have any time/energy/money to spare for you. He'll still feel hella bad about it, wants you to have someone that can give you the attention that he feels you deserve, but he's not putting your relationship on hold over it anymore.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Knows he looks good as hell, all of the Curtis brothers are super conventionally attractive and they know it. Darry also takes a lot of pride in his body. He isn't vain or overly caught up in his looks, but he isn't oblivious to them either.

He knows he's fine, he cleans up really well when he wants to, he does not care if he looks rough or unfashionable sometimes.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

No. He's whole outside of a relationship, a partner is extra. Very much of the mindset that a healthy relationship is when two whole people create something bigger than themselves.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Loves to know things, very into learning. Always looking into classes (though he doesn't have the money or time to take them, he just likes seeing what's there), huge on the importance of keeping up with the news and current events, reads a lot of nonfiction and watched documentaries. Likes facts, especially history and sciences like biology and earth science. Has a lot of skills that he's picked up and is always looking to pick up more. If you need anything done or you need to know anything that could be considered useless trivia, check with Darry first because there's a good chance he'll have an answer.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Lack of damn common sense, not being able to take a rational and honest answer. He REALLY tries to be understanding about it with the people that he cares about. It's a major issue between him and Ponyboy especially, but it could be a problem with any more emotional person. He doesn't get it at all, so it's SO frustrating when he has to stand by and watch someone make a stupid decision because they just refuse to by logical about it. Even worse when it turns into an argument, because he's usually objectively right but it's so hard to win against someone so intensely emotionally charged even when his points are completely sound and valid.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Sleeps in chairs 80% of the time. Doesn't mean to, he sits too long and he's out, though. Between that and work, he has no right to wonder why when his body is fucked up. No way it isn't catching up to him as he gets older.

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #darry curtis #darry curtis x reader #sfw alphabet

49 notes · View notes

topsyturvy-turtely · 1 year ago

Text

SNEAK PEEK at chapter two of MISSING!

A/N: happy birthday @safedistancefrombeingsmart!! 🥳🥳🥳 originally wanted to finish chapter 2 of missing (which is based on smartin''s edit) for you but life is too busy for me lately. however i wanted to prove i am actually (kinda) working on chapter 2 surprise you a tiny bit so here is the shortened version of the beginning of chapter two!! i hope you enjoy it. guess i'm kinda glad to know you 😜😘 hope you are having a wonderful day!

please keep in mind, that this is a draft! "[…]" signals that this is a part that i am not yet publishing. the word document got about 2100w so, i am really not that bad at writing ch2! (if we ignore that i didn't even get to the important part yet…)

WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER ONE! read first chapter on ao3!

~~~

Even before Sherlock had left the hospital building, he called Lestrade. He started talking before Lestrade could start an unnecessary greeting phrase, “Tell me every little detail you know about this case. And I mean everything.”

“Sherlock?!”, Greg asked. “Where the heck are you?! One minute you were here looking at the-“

“Charing Cross Hospital. John is hurt. Badly. In fact, he is-“, Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat.

He exhaled, seeing John unconsciously laying in the hospital bed, the bloody arm- arm stump. It wasn’t the blood that bothered him so much. It was the bones, the veins, the tendons - everything that was supposed to be attached to John’s hand for god’s sake – that made him feel sick, angry, and terrified. What if John was never gonna have his hand back? Never be able to cook, read, tie his shoes again? Sherlock knew for a fact it would make John miserable, absolutely heartbreakingly miser-

He had to focus. Find the hand. To find the hand, he had to know more about the case. He finally finished his sentence. “John is missing a hand. The doctor said she can reattach it, but it has to be quick. Give me everything you know. I am not going into details.”

“Shit, Sherlock. That is horrible- holy shit. Are you sure you are okay searching-”

“Greg.”, the consulting detective’s voice was sharp, intolerant. He could not lose any more time. “This is not the time for compassion towards me. This is about John. Finding his hand is my first and foremost priority. Tell me everything about this case. Now.”

Lestrade finally seemed to overcome his temporary attack of compassion and started to lay out the case to Sherlock.

[…]

"That’s it! That’s their connection!”, Sherlock concluded after their conversation.

“You- That’s true. Thank you, Sherlo-“

The consulting detective hung up on him. He raised a hand to call a cab. He got one immediately. “Just over Hammersmith Bridge. Drive fast, I’ll double the fare.”

"In a hurry, mate?”

Sherlock glared at the cabbie through the rearview mirror. The cabbie’s smirk left his mouth, because he hurriedly shifted into first gear and drove away. He was fast but not as fast as Sherlock would have liked. Sherlock paid with a generous amount anyways. Thames Path, secluded somewhere between the trees. That’s where John was found. The nurse had given him coordinates and with his phone Sherlock found the place pretty quickly.

Branches were snapped, dirt was posched up, a pool of blood was in the middle of a clearing. Sherlock got close, knelt down, tried to find more clues.

Then he heard shouting, he looked up but his vision was blocked by darkness, a heavy smell stung his nose and then Sherlock hit the ground with his back.

~~~

A/N: i hope you don't mind me tagging a few more people? and i hope the people don't mind either xD it's just that most comments on ao3 were like "OMG CONTINUE ASAP!" so i thought... that would maybe nice of me to tag other people? even though i did yet another cliffhanger with this teaser... whoops.

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr @compact-and-beautiful

38 notes · View notes

lumine-no-hikari · 13 days ago

Text

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #329

Despite what I said I was gonna do after I wrote yesterday's letter, I did not, in fact, play any Chrono Cross. Once everything was written and posted up, a wave of exhaustion hit me like a truck full of bricks, and I needed to go to bed pretty much immediately. So that is what I did.

...I woke up this morning feeling not much better than I did when I fell asleep. Lame...

We of my house are still trying to make preparations to exit this place. The guy who we had that immigration consultation with gave me permission to share the link to his website in this space. I'll leave it here; I know you can't use it because you don't live on Earth, but... still, why not:

...Hey, Sephiroth? What's your planet called, anyway? Mine is called Earth (yes, we basically named it “dirt”; suuuuuper original, I know... 🙄). For lack of anything better to use, we of my world have been calling your planet Gaia. But is that the right word to use? We don't actually know...

Anyway, the consultation fee is 150 Canadian Dollars (before taxes and whatnot), which translates to about 108 American dollars (also before taxes and whatnot). But I was given a concise roadmap for the first several steps we need to take. The man we spoke to – Pan Dong – is knowledgeable and kind. He listened to us without judgment, and took a little extra time to try to help us find the best path forward. I'd feel really good about it if other folks turned to him to help them get out of this place if that's what they wanna do.

...We gotta save money, though. The steps are all pretty expensive. Just the English test is some $285 apiece. And we need three of them. Some of the steps after that are even more expensive. So... at psychotherapy today, I went in, prepared to stop seeing him altogether (it's some $150 per session...), but we talked about seeing each other once a month instead of once a week.

We both lamented the fact that we're not allowed to be friends. That's just the way of things here; if a person was your therapist, you're not allowed to be friends after the fact, even if both parties would like that. Breach of ethics, I guess. It's just how it is.

...It occurs to me just how convenient it is that your planet has a single, unified currency system. Gil is gil, no matter where you go. In my world, all the different countries have different currencies, which have different values. I get that it came about as a result of Shinra's domination of your planet (my goodness, but they really do need to cut that shit out...), but still, there are some aspects of my world that seem kinda... needlessly complicated. The currency system is one of them.

Physical therapy was productive today. This time, K did work on my upper and lower ribs; apparently, some of them were hanging around at weird angles. I went into physical therapy with a lot of pain, and then he squished the right side of my rib cage in various ways while asking me to breathe in deeply. A few things popped, and at one point when he was holding something and I breathed in, he said, surprised, “Oh! It moved!” I didn't think to ask what it was that moved. He mashed some things around near my right armpit, right pectoral muscle, and right shoulder joint. It hurt A LOT – all of the muscles around there are VERY angry. But I'm no stranger to this sort of thing; I was my mother's test subject when she was learning massage therapy, so... ya know.

In the end, I was able to move around and breathe just a little easier. I'm not sure how long this is gonna last, though. I'll hope for good things, and I'll make sure to do the new exercise I was given.

...I'm really glad that some of the stuff I describe is not stuff you're ever gonna hafta deal with. Like... your body just works. It's not the case that your most abundant protein is genetically and fundamentally wrong. Collagen is pretty structurally important; it builds most things. The fact that my body doesn't build it correctly is more than a little bit of an issue – one that's gonna get worse and worse as I get older.

...It's a little scary to think about. But what is there to do except keep clunkin' along derpily until I can't anymore? I don't got fancy funky powers like you. I didn't pay for such powers in blood, sweat, tears, and misery like you did.

Still, I'll do what I can to make the best of this ordinary life. Things around me are really scary right now, but I can still try to find the good things in my immediate vicinity.

...Like the salad I ate and the tea I prepared today! I mean... yes, I did forget to eat anything until it became like 4pm, but!!! I threw together some mixed greens and black beans and some leftover lamb leg, and a bunch of other stuff! And it was good!

...A good salad shouldn't be some bland thing, I think. A good salad is supposed to be kinda like a crunchy punch in the face – crisp greens, bold flavors, and lots of nice stuff to fill it out with!!

I had the glazed lemon loaf tea with it. I still gotta use up all that leftover cream from the baking experiment, so I added that instead of milk:

...It's always nice when I get to capture a good tea swirl...!

I met with an admissions advisor to a Canadian game development school today. Studying is a good way to immigrate, and... if the worst happens and I end up needing to build a world in which you will be safe, I'm going to need these skills. And, if I get those skills, I'll be able to apply them to other things.

But... this school is some $29,950 in Canadian dollars. That's about $21,466 in US dollars, but... that's still nothing to sneeze at. Even with a two-year-long payment plan, that's still at least $900 per month, assuming there will be an interest rate. And they say it's a “fast-paced”, 8-month program. And also... the lady was hesitant to give me the price at all, or to list any of the available payment plan options. She kept insisting that I needed to apply before knowing the price, and the application fee is $250 Canadian dollars (about $179 US dollars), and... it seems predatory. Why was she so desperate for me to apply to the school if we don't even know whether I can pay for it...? And I wonder if “fast-paced” is code for “we cram far too much content in too little time”.

...The school boasts near one-on-one interaction with the professors, which is appealing to me, but... the whole interaction seemed full of subtle red flags. The lady seemed nice enough, but still... I didn't really like it. I might try to find some other spot that teaches the same thing, preferably at a lower cost and at a more sustainable pace. The notion that I could create a whole game of the quality I want within 8 months all by myself is... laughable. Absolutely ludicrous. Seems fake, like it's too good to be true.

...Ugh, Sephiroth, there's just... so much stuff swirling around in my head. I look at me and my life, and I know that even with all these things going on, I'm still astoundingly privileged. There are lots of war-torn places in my world right now – places being bombarded with bombs and bullets as we speak. People who are starving, children who are getting shot, and so many more horrific things. And it all seems so senseless. Fighting over which magical sky-dude to worship seems silly. Fighting over skin color seems silly. Fighting over the places people were born seems silly. Fighting over which genitalia are between a person's legs, and fighting over which genitalia are “correct” to prefer, it all just seems so... ridiculous.

It IS ridiculous. Who CARES how much melanin a person produces!! Who CARES if some people worship Allah, or Jehovah, or Yahweh, or whomever else!! Who CARES which genitalia a person has, or which genitalia they prefer to interact with!! Who CARES if a person was born in North America, South America, Asia, Europe, Africa...??? Why do we care about these things??? Shouldn't we instead be caring about whether or not everyone is fed, housed, clothed, and healthy...???

I know I wish a lot that you could chill with us and eat snacks and sit together with us and talk and have walks and stuff, but... at least for right now, I'm really, really, REALLY glad you're not here. Things here are a bit too weird. Capitalism isn't sustainable and the planet is dying and everyone is at each other's throats, trying desperately to maintain a status quo that doesn't fucking work.

...Sigh... nonetheless, I'll keep trying to find glimmers of hope in small things. I'll keep following the steps needed to try to keep my family safe, at least. What else can I do...?

Still, I think I'm not gonna be too terribly sad when my time in this particular meat-mech is over. I'm tired, and having new adventures in a more peaceful place, maybe even in a body that is built properly and actually works, sounds really fucking neat right about now...

Well. Suppose I'll wrap up today's letter. Maybe I'll play some Chrono Cross for real this time.

Please do your best to stay safe out there, okay? With everything else going on, I don't think I'd be able to withstand it if you suddenly didn't exist anymore. So please... please build yourself that normal life you wanted, instead of running around, antagonizing Cloud and his friends, and trying to break things (or letting a weird copy of you do all those things). Because if you keep doing that stuff... awful things are gonna happen to ya, and... the whole concept “awful things happening to Sephiroth” is getting really super fucking old.

...I don't want to see you getting hurt anymore. So please try really hard to make a different and better choice. Please.

I love you a whole lot. And I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

6 notes · View notes

k-s-morgan · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I'm so glad I found your blog, I'm absolutely delighted with your metas! I have a few questions about Hannibal. Sorry, I'm new in the fandom and probably you've already been asked about something similar ^.^

Could Will be happy in a relationship with Alana? Because it seems he dreamed of handing himself over to someone normal, since he could no longer trust himself (It was with this offer that he came to Hannibal with a bottle of wine). It seems that he would have belonged to Alena entirely, unlike Hannibal, who only used her. Despite the fact that he has outgrown her in s2, he still dreams about her during sex with Margot, because he really had feelings for her. And she was clearly hesitating in s1, both wanting and fearing a relationship with Will. He could persuade her, what prevented him?

It seems that Will's desire to kill "bad" people and get pleasure from it is the main reason for his struggle with himself for 3 seasons. Why did he resist so much, considering that Hannibal was ready to become his patron along the way? This desire does not look so terrible, and Hannibal looks like an ideal partner for investigating and killing criminals. What would Will be like without this internal struggle (where is our season 4)?

Would Will be able to live without Hannibal in s4 - finally become honest with himself, having learned and accepted the truth about himself? If he had to save Hannibal in the ocean, would he have saved him, or would he have meekly accepted responsibility for his act saving only himself? In fact, I still have a lot of questions, I think they are all quite banal, but I really want to discuss the answers with someone who really understands the logic of the series! Thank you again!

Hello! Thank you so much, I'm happy you liked my metas <3 And no problem - welcome to the fandom!

1) I think Will and Alana never had romantic feelings for each other: Will liked the idea of having a normal relationship with a beautiful normal woman because he needed it for stability while Alana confused pity with attraction.

By the start of S1, he and Alana have never had one-on-one interactions, someone was always in the room with them. Will refers to her pretty impersonally as “Bloom” to Jack in E1. He starts flirting with her when they see each other, but he almost never seeks her out first. He remembers about her only when their paths actually cross. There are about 2 exceptions, from what I recall.

a) He calls her first in E8, when he’s feeling unstable and worried about it, and asks her to come help him find a possibly wounded animal. At the same time, he doesn’t see it as romantic. Everything below is from the script, including text in the brackets.

Alana: You invited me over to help you collect animal parts?

Will: I invited you over on the off chance we find it alive. Hard to wrangle a wounded animal by myself. (then, realizing) Did you think it was a date?

Alana: Honestly, it never crossed my mind.

Will is at first relieved, then almost disappointed.

This is a good demonstration of his feelings. He isn’t actually interested in a romantic relationship with her, but he wants to be interested in it.

b) The second time Will seeks her out first is to ask about her safety when Gideon escapes. In the majority of other instances, Alana is the one to come after him.

In E8 again, Alana comes to visit Will at the moment when he’s particularly freaked out by his instability. He kisses her with genuine passion - and with desperation, too. That’s what he and Hannibal discuss.

In their conversation, Will says he always wanted to kiss Alana because she’s “kissable”. He doesn’t describe her qualities that make him like her, he doesn’t say anything about deeper emotions - he merely refers to her in terms of his physical attraction to her. Hannibal rightfully notes:

Hannibal: You waited a long time, which suggests you were kissing her for a reason in addition to wanting to.

Will admits it’s true. It’s another point proving that his interest is superficial. He never bothered to actually pursue Alana until he got scared because of losing control. They confirm it again in the following lines. Will tells Hannibal how he freaked out because he thought there was an animal in his chimney and adds:

Will: I sleep walk. I get headaches. I’m hearing things. I feel unstable.

Hannibal: That’s why you kissed her. A clutch for balance.

Will nods here. Also, they deleted this bit, but he actually also had to say:

Will: Because I’m losing mine.

So it’s a confirmation that Will focused on Alana because he was scared of being even more abnormal than he usually is. He does care about her and he likes her, but their relationship has always been shallow. They don’t know each other much. Also, I don’t think Will could ever love her for real because of who he is. The thing Will craves most is acceptance and understanding. Alana can’t give him that. They have an interesting conversation related to it a bit in E11.

Alana: Would have been fun cozying up with your dogs in front of the space heater.

Will: Don’t need protective custody to cozy up with my dogs. Or me for that matter. Just a little more stability on my part.

So Will acknowledges that for Alana to like him, he has to change. But his instability is largely who he is (not counting encephalitis) - even when he was physically healthy, he was still unstable because of his darkness. That’s why Alana didn’t feel comfortable staying alone with him until S1. She can’t give him unconditional love, and that’s what Will needs. Another telling conversation is with Hannibal.

Hannibal: She would feel an obligation to her field of study to observe you. And you would resent her for it.

Will: I know.

It all comes down to them being fundamentally incompatible.

In S2, Will is not profoundly hurt when he realizes Alana has no feelings for him (during the talk with the lawyer she hired), though he’s upset and grim at the realization. He’s angry and disgusted upon realizing she’s with Hannibal now, but he shows no actual hurt or heartbreak - he’s concerned about his relationship with Hannibal already. He shows the same behavior back in S1 - his dreams are filled wth darkness and Hannibal/Wendigo; he shares his most intimate thoughts with Hannibal; he covers up murder for Hannibal and Abigail, while Alana comes to his thoughts only when she’s physically there, when he’s losing control, or when she’s in danger.

So, in my opinion, their bond has always been shallow, and it never went further than superficial friendship and physical attraction. And it fits with Will’s character. He wouldn’t have been happy with her because he needs acceptance. He needs to be with someone who knows him and loves him anyway. We see from his bond with Molly that simply being with a normal person and living a lie doesn’t cut it for him. It’s not authentic, and his and Alana’s bond would have been doomed to fail, too.

Alana, I think, is attracted to Will and feels sorry for him. I don’t see any genuine romantic feelings from her side either - the worse Will feels, the more she cares about him; when he feels fine and confident, she loses interest and becomes intimidated.

As for Will’s sex dream in S2, he starts out by fantasizing about Alana only to end up fantasizing about Hannibal and even reaching an orgasm upon seeing him. This is very telling, in my opinion: he wants to want normality but he wants something else. Something darker.

2) I think Will's resistance to his darkness was tied closely to his doubts about Hannibal's feelings for him.

He didn't want to be just another Randall or Margot; he didn't want to finally embrace what he hid away from for all his life only to be abandoned. Will is closer to accepting his darkness when he doesn't have doubts about Hannibal's love for him. Without this struggle, I think Will is going to feel free and full of life. He'll perfect his design. I think Will is going to kill when an impulse strikes. For example, he might go shopping, without having any dark plans, and end up murdering someone because the circumstances pushed some unfortunate soul onto his path. Will might or might not display the body depending on his mood. Today he can be in an artistic mood, but tomorrow he’ll be in a violent and impatient one, wanting to destroy the body entirely and leaving a total mess behind.

Will might prefer to kill “bad people” in the first two seasons, but it’s the process of murder that excites him. So I see his righteous choices as a preference that helps him justify his dark nature partly, not the core reason for his violence. Hannibal seems to be moved by his interest in human nature and his hunter instinct, but Will, I think, is a truer killer because he actually feels drunk on murder. Unlike Hannibal, he looks downright euphoric when/after he kills Randall and Francis. In TWOTL, Hannibal is more focused on the fact that his dream came true and he and Will killed someone together, but Will seems primarily caught up in the murder after-shocks themselves. Hannibal thinks about Will, Will thinks about how beautiful blood looks under the moonlight.

So, I believe that at first, Will will stick to killing bad people like murderers, but once some times passes, his need for justifications will fade. He’ll move on to rude people, only his rude will differ from Hannibal’s. Hannibal doesn’t differentiate between genders and ages, but I think Will will. He’s interested in a feeling of power, like he himself says, in a sense of dominance, so he’ll look forward to a fight. He won’t be interested in attacking a teenager like Cassie, for instance, because the power imbalance is too prominent. But as soon as someone more equal does something Will heavily dislikes, something that wakes his bloodlust (a personal insult, physical or verbal abuse toward other people/animals, etc.), he’ll attack. He’ll be careful - he knows how to avoid being caught, but it will still be unpredictable and passionate. Will is a storm to Hannibal’s calm.

3) He'd definitely save him.

I don't think Will is able to live without Hannibal, that's what his attempt to marry Molly and leave Hannibal in prison were about: he tried, it didn't work out. He accepts it in TWOTL and he knows now that he'll follow Hannibal anywhere, whether in life or in death.

#hannibal #hannigram #will graham #hannibal lecter #alana bloom #meta #season 1 #season 2 #season 3

42 notes · View notes

thatmexisaurusrex · 2 years ago

Text

SamBucky Holiday Fic Snippet

Hey, people! Remember when I said I had an idea for my “wrong number”, “bad pickup lines”, and possibly “blind date” choices from the poll I did over a month back that’s totally going to tie into my Sambucky Festive Season Bingo Card choice? Here's a little snippet of the multi-chapter fic I'm making. Enjoy! 🥰

*****

“Whore house, whore speaking.”

Sam might have walked into one of the giant, giant poles in the subway.

“Bucky?” exclaimed Sam, rubbing his face as he waited for his train.

The subway was funky. A strange and pungent smell that Sam was sure he’d never get used to; urine, rank weed, horrible cotton candy vape smoke, dead rat, and hot trash somehow even in the cold of December. There were way too many mystery puddles on this particular platform too.

“You’re the only person who calls the landline. That and telemarketers,” said Bucky, “And scammers. If you can say there’s a difference between the two.”

“It’s only because I keep forgetting that Steve gave me his landline the first time I asked him for his number,” bemoaned Sam, feeling a little more pathetic, “Why haven’t I changed his first number to his cell phone on my phone?”

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know. I’m just glad that we get to have these little chats sometimes,” said Bucky, and Sam could hear the fucker smiling on the other side of the line.

“Yes. Great. Just. Great to have impromptu calls with you,” mumbled Sam, watching the train slow down, “I’ll – I’ll call him on his cell – ”

“Hold up there, cowboy – ” Bucky started as Sam snorted.

“Cowboy?” said Sam, a little exasperated as he got on the train.

“I’m trying out nicknames. Let me experiment,” said Bucky on the other side of the phone.

Sam snickered as he held onto a pole.

“Just tell me how the date went? Didn’t you just go on one with Alisande?” asked Bucky and before Sam could ask, he added, “Stevie can’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. Did she say yes to meeting your family?”

Sam remembered why he was calling Steve.

Was Sam going to confess this to Bucky? Bucky the Roommate Barnes? A dude that Sam just kept crossing paths with because he was Steve’s friend? The man he kept accidentally calling because Steve was weird and set up a landline and Bucky was always at home?

‘Yes’ was the answer, apparently, since Sam said, “Well. She. Kind of. Dumped. Me?”

“I thought you two were all right,” said Bucky, offended on Sam’s behalf.

“I thought so too!” said Sam, feeling vindicated, “But ‘all right’ wasn’t where she wanted to be. So, she dumped me.”

Sam felt eyes on him. Because he was on a train. And people eavesdropped. He tried not to think about that too hard.

“Okay, how are we handling this? Do I beat her up for you? Do we talk shit about her over a bunch of beers? Need a romcom to cry over? Do you like romcom movies? My favorite might be You’ve Got Mail, but it’s also kind of weird too. Do I need to send a meticulously written letter detailing how she made a terrible mistake?” asked Bucky, no hesitation, Sam smiling on the other side of the line.

Because it was sweet. Weird and sweet.

“No, she’s – we’re good. We’re surprisingly good,” said Sam, still confused by how little this was affecting him.

Sam sighed as he got off the train and found his way to the street. Brownstones and smaller apartment complexes dusted with snow spattered his view, with one small empty lot transformed into a combo vegetable garden and park a few brownstones down.

Sam could turn into that park. Maybe sit down near the snow and the slush. Assess his life and his choices. Maybe give himself a moment alone.

He didn’t, though.

He walked past it. He kept moving forward without much thought about where he would be next. He was pretty sure he knew where his feet would take him. But still. He wasn’t thinking about it.

“It’s weird, right?” continued Sam as he found his way to Steve’s apartment, “That I’m so okay with this? That I’m not feeling torn up?”

“Maybe she was right. Maybe it was for the best,” said Bucky softly, hesitantly.

Sam gazed up at Steve’s apartment.

Bucky’s too, Sam supposed.

Bucky was up there. Steve wasn’t. Or maybe he was?

No.

Steve would have hopped on the line if he was up there.

“Do you have any beers up there, Barnes?” asked Sam.

Sam watched as Bucky stumbled to his living room window and smushed his face into it to look at Sam. Sam wouldn’t say it was adorable. Okay. Maybe in that ugly way. Smushy, squishy chipmunk cheek pushed up onto that window as Bucky gazed down at Sam.

“What do you think?” asked Bucky, waving at Sam from above.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky snippet #friends to lovers #holiday fic #bringing home a fake boyfriend for the holidays #crack and fluff #this is going to be so cute 🥰

31 notes · View notes

the-present-is-a-gift-au · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter 35: In Which Twig Falls Apart

Of course she crossed paths with Darkrai while out on her walk. He wasn't just some hazy presence in the shadows of the forest, either— he was visible as any tree or fern on the trail, hands clasped and subtly wringing ever so slightly as he stood off to the side of the path. He perked up when he saw her, and she immediately turned on her heel and made for home.

“Twig, if I may have a word—” he began.

“Nope. Not in the mood to deal with you right now, sorry man.”

“You’ve been worrying me. I am not fool enough to turn a blind eye to how you carry yourself or how you behave when faced with danger. Will you not answer me and say if you are well? Truly?”

Twig stopped dead in her tracks as she registered just what he'd said. “Did you tell Kip to worry about me wanting to off myself?”

Silence.

“Great. Great! Wonderful. I can't face him knowing that. Awesome.” She gritted her teeth and took in a long, slow breath. “Why'd you even care? Isn't that kind of the whole point, at least with your plan to rule a world of darkness or whatever? You wouldn't have to lift a finger if I did the deed myself, right—”

“My plans have changed significantly,” he said abruptly, cutting her off. “I find little appeal in ruling much of anything nowadays. The thought of you doing yourself harm is— it's— I take no pleasure in it. It's sickening to think of.”

That gave her pause. Maybe what Celebi said was true, then, if Darkrai wasn't plotting to take over the world again. She changed his mind. But no sooner had those four words entered her thoughts than a bitter sneer found its way onto her face. “I'm pretty sure it's not sickening to think about the world being a better place without me, but okay,” she grumbled.

Darkrai's gaze snapped to her. “Why do you find that so hard to believe?”

She quirked a brow, looking him up and down.

“I'm aware that I— I meant with your kinsfolk. I've witnessed your refusal to believe they carry affection for you like they would any other. You've convinced yourself that they're better off without you— I know it too well from what I've seen of your nightmares. Why?”

She squared her shoulders and shoved past him, calling over her shoulder as she turned back home on the path. “Because they are better off without me.”

“They aren't. Grovyle fears your death more than his own.”

She ignored the sting of tears in her eyes. “That's literally just Grovyle. He's like that with everybody. Even the mailman.”

“Celebi sees you as a family member worthy of any sacrifice necessary.”

“Celebi was willing to die to bring back a sunrise she wouldn't get to see. She's sacrificed it all already. It doesn't mean anything to give it up twice.”

“Dusknoir sees you as his own.”

“Dusknoir is everyone's weird wannabe-dad. I'm not special that way.”

“Kip is clearly—”

At the mention of her partner's name, Twig rounded on him. “Don't you dare say anything to me about how Kip is glad to be my friend, or he couldn't bear to live without me, or whatever garbage you're going to pull out next. I know that. I know he was shaking in his boots at every moment when we met. I know I changed that for him. But I also dragged him into my mess with— with almost getting him killed by Grovyle or Dusknoir or Dialga, and lying to him about me being erased from time because I didn't want to see him be sad about it, and dragging him around time and space with me until he wasn't able to evolve for years. Kip might need me, but he doesn't deserve me. He doesn't deserve the world's most lousy excuse of a person as a partner. He doesn't deserve someone who didn't want him to leave on his dream expedition for a couple years because she was scared of how she'd handle living on her own. He doesn't deserve—” Her voice broke, and she struggled to find the words she hated most to say.

Darkrai watched her pityingly. Something in her ate that up— the fact she was being seen, and seen as something worthy of sympathy even in all of her wretchedness— and something else in her hated the fact that she was stirring up any sense of sadness in someone. That hatred fought hard to come out on top, but the hungry, sorrowful thing inside her lurked close to the surface.

“Kip doesn't deserve someone who's as messed up as I am dragging him down,” she finally said.

“I believe he'd beg to differ.” Darkrai’s wide-eyed, worried stare narrowed. “You seem to think very little of the people you call your closest allies, if you believe they bear no affection for you or act in ill-judgment if they do.”

Twig looked away, tears pricking at her eyes. “Shut up.”

“Do you truly hold so little faith in their words when they say they wish you well?”

“I said, shut up—”

“Why do you act as though they hate you?”

“Because they should!” Twig shouted. Darkrai flinched back at the ferocity in her words, and something about that made a shard of hurt lodged deep inside her stir with the urge to give chase. “Because I'm the worst thing that's ever happened to any of them! If it weren't for me, they'd be living happily and without a single worry, but they're not! Because of me! Because I'm stupid and selfish and can't get it through my thick skull that they're better off without me, so I hang around and hurt everyone even more than I did the last time I opened my mouth!” She threw her arms wide in a furious motion. “But apparently they're all too stupid to hate me themselves, so I'm the one who needs to hate myself enough that I stay in line and don't be such a useless burden that they realize I'm not worth keeping around!”

Silence.

Twig ground her teeth, torn between preening at the sorrowful look Darkrai was giving her or throttling him for giving her it in the first place. She returned her arms to her sides, balling her hands into fists, and turned to leave when a new voice caught her attention.

“Do you really think that?”

Twig looked up.

Oh. There was Dusknoir, Celebi, Grovyle, and Kip— all standing just a ways off from her on the path. Apparently they came to check on her together. Apparently they overheard her spitting those awful things and spilling her guts, and now Grovyle wanted to know if it was the truth.

She pursed her lips, considering her answer. “It’s true, isn’t it? I’m not… I’m not worth keeping around. I’m not…” Her face screwed up as she began to cry, unable to hold back her tears. “I’m not someone worth caring about, and it’s dumb to think that, but I can’t stop, and… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m being annoying, I’ll stop, just give me a minute—“

Grovyle stepped forward once, twice— put out his hand and then pulled it back, unsure of how to help despite feeling pulled to it.

“How can I help?” He asked.

Twig felt something raw and bloody in her gut itself to get the words out of her mouth. “… Could I have a hug?”

He opened his arms. Twig met him halfway as he shakily stepped toward her, and she wrapped her arms around him in a numb sort of echo of what a hug should be. His hand trembled as he rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades, then tucked her head under his chin and pulled her closer.

For the first time since that awful day her past crawled out of its grave and back into her head, another memory returned to Twig. This one was new, foreign in its familiarity and how well it felt like it fit in an empty place in her chest.

(She was scared of the sableye running outside of their hiding spot in search of the trio of fugitives, unable to sleep for her terror at the thought of being discovered, and Grovyle held her like he was now. Twig had felt safe back then. Nothing scary could get her. Not while Grovyle was around. She fell asleep certain everything would be okay as long as they were together.)

Twig wept, then cried, then bawled. There were no words for her to say. What was there to be said? Right now, she had Grovyle to hold her as she wailed and sobbed like a little kid, and Kip rushing over to join the embrace. She didn't care if people were looking at her. She didn't care that Darkrai had vanished soon after everyone arrived and she didn't know where he disappeared to. Nothing mattered right now except for that raw, bloody, hurting thing inside her being washed clean by the tears she shed in her friends’ arms.

Maybe she wasn't a burden. It didn't seem like you'd hold a burden like she was being held right now. It hurt to think about for too long— that raw thing inside her still sensitive and painful— but maybe she could sometime later.

Much later.

She still had so many more tears to shed, and it didn't seem like Grovyle or Kip were letting go of her any time soon.

#pmd eos #pmd explorers #pmd fanfiction #pmd fanfic #pmd2 #the present is a gift au #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd fic #pmd sky #pmd

5 notes · View notes