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sil-te-plait-tue-moi · 2 years

Text

Wedding-seasonal depression.

Quick summary: What if Pierce actually did get married to Wu Mei way back when in the second season? You and Jeff are both struggling to come to terms with the fact that this is Pierce’s eighth time getting married, while you’re both still sad and single and alone. You decide to take your frustrations out on each other.

Word count: 7.8K

Warnings: SMUT (you have been warned, this is essentially porn with a lil’ plot), but it's not like super kinky; lots of swearing; first time writing second-person, so buckle up, I guess; kind of angsty (??); many suppressed feels.

A/N: Hey, guys, what’s up 😃🌈🦶! Uhhhh, I know this fic is a little random, but I’ve literally had this story in my drafts for six months. Since then, I have finished the entire Community show and have brought you this gem of a smut fic for Jeff Winger (particularly Jeff Winger with a fuckin’ beard 😩😩😩 he’s such an asshole). Please excuse my horrible attempts at dirty talk. Also, this is the first fic I’ve written in second person, soooooo I’m sorry if it’s, like, bad. Okay, enjoy!! :)))

***

You know, the wedding is perfectly nice. You have nothing against weddings. Apart from the strangely sexist ceremonies (as Britta will agree), the giving away of the daughter to her new owner kind of thing, the virginal unveiling thing, they’re perfectly fine. There’s free alcohol, free food, dancing, friends – sounds pretty nice at first, doesn’t it? Yeah, you’d think that, wouldn’t you? Except, now, the only kind of enjoyment you can feel is the pleasure of yet another scotch burning its way down your throat. You’ve had three, now, and it’s only a matter of time before they start to kick in. And you don’t come to weddings just to get drunk, okay? Your friend is getting married today, and no matter how blatantly racist and sexist and homophobic he is on a daily basis, you want to support his happiness (Annie forced you to come).

The fact that it’s Pierce getting married (again) hasn’t really hit you yet. Pierce. Pierce who talks about women like they’re objects, who treats them like they have a fucking expiry date, who has had his shot at marriage several times before, is now at the altar again, having another wedding while some of you are left to wallow in your own self-pity and loneliness until the night’s end.

You ask the bartender for another scotch.

You swivel in your stool to survey the venue – tables are dotted all throughout the hotel’s expansive ballroom, swathed with elegant white tablecloths, with elaborate centrepieces of white lilies and tulips and curling ferns to adorn. The ceiling reaches up, up, up, and intricate moulding compliments and fills its area, leading to the elevated centre where a glimmering, twisting chandelier dangles, its large gems scattering rainbow light here and there around the room. It’s pretty – the bride knew what she was doing. Pierce had refused to get involved in any of the wedding preparation because, and you quote, “it’s a woman’s job”. When you asked him what a man’s job was, he had looked at you condescendingly, as if it were as plain as day, and said, “To attend the bachelor party, of course.” You didn’t blink or breathe for a whole ten, fifteen seconds, you believe – you thought he was joking at first. But you shouldn’t’ve underestimated Pierce and his miraculous ability to infuriate you. Lord knows why anyone would want to marry him.

Your table – the study group’s table – is right in the corner of the room. The location is a little questionable (you’re all pretty sure the bride detests you for being more important than she is to Pierce, and you don’t blame her at all—but, you know, she could’ve sat you a little closer to the snack bar is all you’re saying), and it’s not close to the altar, it’s not close to the buffet, or the bar, or the toilets, or the band. But, of course, the group has found its own way to keep everyone entertained. Abed and Troy have napkin hats placed on their heads, acting out some movie scene, you’re sure, and Britta’s well on her way to becoming black-out drunk by the time the vows start, and Shirley’s trying to figure out the recipe of the cheesecake Annie ordered, reaching over the table for another forkful and another and another, face scrunched up in deathly concentration as she tries to identify the ingredients by taste. Poor Annie, you think to yourself, but you’re smiling.

Your eyes immediately start searching for Jeff. It’s an unconscious thing that you do every time you enter a room. You just want to make sure he hasn’t done anything stupid yet. And if you know anything at all about him, he’s going to be glowering the whole night away, rolling around in his bitterness, torn between his jealousy that Pierce gets to be married (again) and between his fiery disdain of weddings. He’s just a little bit too much like you – that’s how you can foresee his scowl when he approaches the bar, how you just know his hands will be shoved childishly in his pockets, and that he’ll roll his eyes when some bridesmaid will stop him and ask how he knows the groom. It happens just like clockwork. Jeff thinks he’s some wildcard, but, in reality, he’s so predictable.

“I’m actually the head of what used to be his favourite escort business. He was one of my best customers, but, uh—” he hisses cynically, “—you can’t win ‘em all, can you?”

You smile. He’s predictable until he opens his mouth.

The bridesmaid looks absolutely horrified. She leaves promptly with wide eyes and an open mouth, trying to stifle a laugh for the sake of her friendship with the bride.

A self-satisfied look overcomes Jeff’s face – he’s probably laughing internally at one of his own jokes again – and then his attention shifts up over to you, and his gleaming eyes grace themselves upon yours. He’s such an ass.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” you snort, turning back to the bar and digging your nail back into this narrow groove in its mahogany surface – maybe, if you’re patient enough, you’’ll soon be able to carve your initials into it forever. Jeff steps up onto the platform that perimeters the bar, sighing from deep within his chest as he slumps himself forward in the viridian, velvet-cushioned stool beside you. “You could have at least pretended to be nice for a few seconds.” While your manner is joking, there’s an underlying seriousness to your words. He needs to stop introducing himself as a prick to everyone – it’s off-putting.

But he just grins over at you – it’s hard not to smile back. “That was me being nice, I’ll have you know,” he says meaningfully, “and it just kills me—” he slaps a hand right across his heart, “—to know you don’t think I’m genuine.”

“She looked abhorred, Jeff. Abhorred.”

He scoffs violently. “Don’t say she looked abhorred, okay? She did not look abhorred.” Then, a pause. Then, “What does ‘abhorred’ mean?”

Oh, Jeff. You’d think that, what with his lawyer days (or rather, his days faking a law degree), he’d have a better vocabulary than he actually does. You’re pretty sure he looks up fancy words in his free time, just to impress people, most of which he doesn’t even know. You can just picture it: Him, sitting in the armchair of his ridiculously clean apartment, a dictionary in his lap, a thesaurus to the side, trying to comprehend what “sporadically” means so that he can use it in class the day after. You haven’t proven this theory yet, and Jeff always avoids the question, but you’re 100% convinced that this act is entirely true.

“It means horrified, Jeff,” you deadpan. You watch him make a mental note to use that in conversation later.

He hums lowly, and you let out a long sigh. Wordlessly, the both of you turn your heads to look back at your table. There are a few, special moments in life where someone will resonate so much with another’s feelings that they feel as if the two of them have become melded together. The borders of their mind will collapse, and that shared emotion will just mingle between the two of them like a strange, little ghost. It’s like that now, with you. It’s a melancholy type of feeling. You both can’t quite place the sadness, even as you’re looking on at the happy study group, and you can say that, with confidence, Jeff feels lonely. Just like you. You can feel the ache in his heart.

But, as quick as the intimacy came, it disappears again. Jeff swallows hard and frowns down at the counter, clearing his throat before commenting drily, “So, this sucks, huh? The wedding and everything.”

You nod.

“I just don’t get why Pierce is the one who gets to get married. Like, why not one of us or something? It’s just kind of unfair.” And then he stops abruptly, inhaling sharply like he’s just broken some kind of code. You nudge him and ask if he’s alright, to which he responds with, “You’re not gonna tell any of the others about this, are you? I don’t want Pierce finding out and having one of his little tantrums again.”

“He wouldn’t throw a tantrum,” you smile, completely missing the trust he’s putting in you right now. “If anything, he’d gloat about how you, the Jeff Winger, are jealous of him.”

He scoffs exaggeratedly. “I am not jealous of Pierce.” Jeff doesn’t admit to being jealous of anyone, but it’s always obvious when he is – his sarcasm will somehow double, his face will squint up into a semi-permanent, sour expression, and his voice will up an octave or two if he’s feeling extra shitty. It’s always funny to see him try to keep it together. That man’s got an ego like no other. Under his breath, he finishes, “No more jealous than you are.”

Damn.

Truth is, even though you’re fucking bitter as can be about Pierce getting married, you know that you have no actual desire to ever enter matrimony. It’s not a Britta “fuck marriage as a whole” type of thing; it’s a “wow, someone is achieving something, and you are achieving nothing” kind of situation. What can you say?—it’s your toxic trait. Anyone “beating” you at anything is enough to discourage you from that sector as a whole. If you’re not naturally gifted, what’s the point? Not to say that Pierce is gifted at relationships. No, he’s just rich. It takes everything in you not to strangle him whenever he opens his goddamn mouth. But you just suck at navigating true, meaningful romantic connections with people, and having to watch Pierce enjoy a pretty party and tick off that milestone (again) is just a kick straight to the fucking vagina.

But you’re not going to say all that to Jeff Winger of all people. So, you suck it up, deepen your scowl, and say, “Ah, yes, ever since I was a foetus, my one goal in life has been to wed a person half my age so that they can drain me of my non-existent fortune and give me pity sex for the rest of my shrivelled-up, little life.”

“Can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or not, ‘cause that actually has been my goal since I was a foetus,” Jeff whips back, and you snort. His grin widens.

Stupid Jeff Winger and his stupid Jeff-Winger smile. You hate it when he does that with his fuckin’ face. It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating. You always feel it tugging at your stomach adamantly whenever you’re in his proximity and he does that, and it’s unsettling. Could be annoyance, could be something else. You’re not ready to explore that.

“Anyway, you wanna go find a back room and fuck?”

The words are so swift and casual that you have to take a moment to realise that that is not something normal people say when attending their friend’s wedding and having a conversation at the bar with their completely platonic other friend who has never before made any hints towards attraction.

You turn and blink hard at Jeff, your lungs buffering in your chest.

“What?” you stress to him.

He darts his eyes away from the great hall and shuffles them back to you like he has all the time in the world, like he hasn’t just said what he just said. He raises his eyebrows innocently and politely continues, “Oh, sorry, I just thought that was where this conversation was going.”

The commotion of the party, to your surprise, carries on as usual.

Your wrists are numb with shock, and they’re sparking with what you think might actually be excitement. Did Jeff really just say those words out loud? Are you angry about it? You can’t fucking tell.

Instead of addressing the problem, you swallow thickly, hoping he won’t notice, and ask through an incredulous scoff, “Is this how you get people to have sex with you?” Would you be mad about that? About the fact that he’s just asked, essentially, to sleep with you, right to your face, right in public, at Pierce’s wedding, where there are people that you know and that can see you clearly from where they’re sitting? God, do you look as thrown-off as you feel right now? You would hope to die before looking thrown-off in front of Jeff Winger. The very Jeff Winger that’s finishing your drink off for you and watching you amusedly from over the rim of the glass, smiling his fucking smile to himself as he watches you glitch and hesitate like a browser with too many tabs open.

“Don’t say the s-word,” he hisses patronisingly, narrowing his gaze, leaning closer to you, glancing warily around the room. “There are children.”

“You just said fuck.”

“Yes. Yes, I did. And also, would you like to?”

He’s analysing your expression with fond eyes, you see from your peripheral vision, setting your glass back on the counter gently as he waits, all patient, for your answer, for your reaction. This is probably the most patient he’s ever been in his life. It’s certainly the most patient you’ve ever seen him, and you’ve seen him through a lot.

You tell him (a little breathlessly), “You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

He lowers his voice. “Did I read the situation wrong?”

There’s a silence that’s far too long to be salvageable. Then, a flustered, “No.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows, like he’s impressed with himself, and he looks smugly up at the ceiling. Damn him, you think to yourself. And, sweet Jesus, he has pretty nice hands. You also think to yourself that he has—he has pretty nice hands. Nice hands fixing the cuffs of his shirt and jacket. Nice hands scratching at that awful thing he calls a beard. Nice hands shoved in his pockets all nice-like. Nice hands that you’re sure can do a lot of—nice—things. Jeff clears his throat, and your attention snaps back to where it belongs.

“So,” he drawls. “Back room?”

And just like that, his pick-up somehow works for you. Somehow, you end up stumbling into the janitor’s closest, and you’re shushing each other and telling each other to be quiet as he helps you on top of the wobbly desk. It’s clumsy and fast and you’re both more than a little drunk. “Ow!” he exclaims when you accidentally elbow him in the ribs. Maybe it’s that you’re both just extremely lonely at this wedding – you’ve both kind of realised that you may just have to spend forever alone, that Pierce has a better chance of getting married than you do, that happiness might not be for you after all. And that’s always a nice thing to hear. You just want solace, and both of you are fighting for that by getting it on in a barely sanitary janitor’s room. Think of it—as a favour for a friend. Yeah. You think, with Jeff, the Jeff who blunders over a bucket when he tries to kiss you, it’s just pheromones and genetics doing their thing. Skin-deep. That’s your excuse as you grab him by the tie and press your lips to his as he positions his arms either side of you to keep himself from falling. “Your hair smells kinda nice,” he tells you before he helps zip down your dress, and you slide down your underwear.

He goes down on you first, after you both mock each other about who you bet is gonna finish first. “Oh, I’ve spoken with Britta about you,” you’d said lowly, smiling, and his eyes filled with sweet, sweet defeat. “Yeah, she told me everything—One-Minute Wonder.”

And this had gotten little, insecure Jeff all riled up. “Alright,” he huffed, voice scraping against his throat like he hadn’t had anything to drink for a week. “Alright, we’ll see who cums first, then, huh, doll?” And instead giving you one of those classic Winger smiles, he whispered a request for permission to use his mouth on you. You didn’t even have a response to that. He kneeled down in front of you, hands eagerly spread on your thighs, and his breathing was slightly uneven as he awaited your answer. It made you feel some type of way. You gave a quick nod and shuffled forward to meet his hot mouth. When his tongue delved deep inside your cunt, all coherent thoughts went straight out the door, and now you’re weeping into the back of your hand and clenching down your teeth down on your fingers, trying your best not to cry out.

Now, there are a few things you do to try and stop yourself from finishing immediately: you try clenching your legs together, but this only makes Jeff moan right into your pussy, and that doesn’t do you any good at all; you pull lightly at his hair and scratch at his back and his neck and his arms, holding on for dear life, but he only grows more enthusiastic; and you try insulting him under your breath (“twat”, “asshole”), but he just chuckles into you, and you have to bite down on your knuckles all over again, wrestling with that increasingly violent fluttering feeling in your legs.

Near the end of it, you just give up that bet with Jeff; you’ll cum, you’ll finish first, you’ll lose the bet, and you’ll do whatever you can to get to it. You grind shyly, and then shamelessly, against Jeff’s face, finding a delicious friction with his beard, a lovely contrast to the soft, velvet slickness of his tongue – that is, until he uses his hands to press your hips firmly back down onto the table, rendering you powerless to his actions.

You’re just about to finish when he pulls away. You think it’s a mistake at first, trying to lower him back down onto you with your hand cradling his head, but then you catch sight of a shit-eating grin wanting to take over his face, and you whine out, “Jesus Christ, Jeff, don’t be mean!”

“C’mon, honey, I thought the point of the bet was to not cum. You don’t wanna lose, do you?” His chin is still slick with you and he’s talking to you like you’re not hot and flustered and half-naked for him in a fucking supply room, on the brink of an orgasm, legs shaking like there’s no tomorrow. What a fucking prick, you think to yourself. You’re still gonna fuck him, of course, but he’s still a prick to you, and nothing will ever change that. “What? Can’t talk anymore?”

“I’m about this close—” you narrow my index finger and thumb down to a microscopic space between, “—to leaving you alone in here with blue balls, Winger. You hear me?”

He stands up and massages your legs gently, almost tenderly, and makes you forget, just for a second, that you’re probably another one of his escapades, another one-night stand, just another girl for him to forget in the morning. “Aw, just look at you,” Jeff taunts, twisting his face up in mock-sympathy as you scramble to regain control. “You’re cute when you’re angry, you know that?” His nose brushes up against yours. He comes in real close and whispers against the shell of your ear, “You know, I think you just might get us caught, sweets. I think you’re gonna be crying out my name by the time we’re done, and all those wedding guests are gonna be shocked at the dirty things I’ve done to you and you’ve done to me. You think you’re gonna be able to walk right when they ask us to come out this room? Or do you think everyone’s gonna know how hard I fucked you in here, how I fucked you senseless, how I fucked you so good that you can barely sit down without thinkin’ ‘bout how my cock felt up inside of you?” Your clit throbs painfully. How can it not? You try to snake your own hand between your legs, but Jeff softly moves it away and kisses your shoulder. “Hmm? So, which is it?”

“I think I want you inside of me,” you say breathlessly, needily. Yes, you knew that Jeff likes to sleep around a lot, you knew that he was experienced, you knew that he knows how to get someone hot—but you didn’t really prepare for this. How many other girls has he had in the janitor’s room? How many other girls has he had at a wedding?

“I think I want to play with you for a little while longer,” he replies huskily, and you very nearly finish right on the table. You take his hand and guide it between your glistening thighs, taking him through the way you like to be touched, and he soon takes control, finding out what makes you squirm and what makes you bite into his shoulder and scratch at his back. Jeff has always been a person who loves knowing that he’s good at something, that he’s in charge, that he’s in control – it’s not hard to figure out he loves praise. So, when you tell him, “You’re doing so well,” and he kisses you roughly, hand in your hair, and pinches your clit, you take satisfaction again in his predictability. You yelp right into his mouth, brimming with smugness. Then, he dips a finger into your cunt, and maybe the attitude is punched out of you, but you lose a little respect for yourself with how eagerly you sigh out. After a while, he asks if he can add another, and you agree, grinding against the heel of his palm.

What you’re really scared of is that he won’t let you cum again, that he’s into edging, and that you’re going to be denied the sweet release you’ve been craving for what seems like years, now. “Let me cum, please,” you say, kissing his neck. “I’ll go down on you later, but just please don’t edge me again.” Ew. You hate how desperate you sound. You’re usually a little more dignified than this. Jeff’s there, quick-witted and sharp-tongued as always, and you’re sitting here, tongue-tied and helpless. This is sort of the most bottom you’ve ever been, give or take. With sex with other people, there was a mutual bond rather than a power dynamic, but, here, there’s a very clear distinction. It makes you a little uncomfortable. You’d feel, oh, so much better if it were you saying all those dirty things to Jeff, making him sweat with his cock on your tongue, being the one he asks for permission to cum. But you’re saving that fantasy for another time – you don’t have the willpower to do anything like that today, not when Jeff wants to be in charge right now.

And maybe it’s your imagination, but he grows just that little bit harder at the desperation in your voice. Maybe he should let you cum, since you asked so nicely. “You don’t have to go down on me,” he says, even though he’d definitely love to see your pretty, little mouth wrapped around his cock. Instead, he reaches down and starts to kiss and lick and suck and bite at your breasts, making sure to linger at the swell of them – he has an odd thing for that area between your side and your breast, that little swell, you both learn, and he strokes that area tenderly with one hand as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

When you finish around his fingers, he licks them clean and wipes the rest on the little square handkerchief in his pocket. He’s going to save that for later, he decides. Say he gets hard at night thinking about you and needs the smell of you to get off—or maybe he’ll just tease you at the post-vows dinner and make eye contact when he presses the damp fabric against his nose, just to see you clench your thighs together. Who knows? You, on the other hand, are only just realising that he’s still fully clothed. You are as naked as the day you were born, and he’s still prim and smart and handsome in that navy-blue suit and tie.

Pulling him closer to you by his belt, you fumble with the buckle as you tell him, “I’ll go down on you.” You just want a grasp of control after him having seen you so bare, so vulnerable. You don’t know if you’ll be able to face him after this if you just don’t get his dick in your mouth right now – it’s a strange logic, yes, but there’s no stopping you.

Jeff watches you passively as you frantically undo his belt, somewhat enjoying seeing you so flustered and out of control. It doesn’t only feed into his desire and lust, but it also adds to that weird, warm feeling in his gut, one that he hasn’t really experienced before. He can’t quite figure out what it is – heartburn, maybe; indigestion? – but he’s not stupid, and he’s a little suspicious, so before his tipsy subconscious can come to that terrifying conclusion, he tells you, “Can you spread your legs for me?” At your surprise, he adds, “Please?” Just to be nice.

“So fucking demanding, aren’t you?” you huff, but you do as you’re told, gut wriggling with apprehension.

He kisses you nice and slow, storing this memory in his mind carefully for later, trying to be the most genuine he can because, at the end of the day, you’re his friend, his good friend, and he would never do anything to harm or lose you. If he’s going to fuck you, he’s going to do it nicely, the way you’d fuck a friend (I don’t know). You remove his jacket as he loosens his tie, and he unbuttons his shirt as you tug down his trousers and his underwear. He rifles through his wallet for a condom, and you make fun of him for carrying a condom in his wallet (“You’re such a skeez, Jeff.”; “Hey, you’re fucking this skeez!”).

You both have a brief moment, a brief pause, of should-they-shouldn’t-they – after all, you’re going to have to see each other practically every day after this, at school, at the study group, at lunch, at hangouts. But then, you tell him, “Well, get on with it, then,” and he e-e-eases into you, taking his goddamn sweet time with it, letting you grasp at his arms and his back and his waist and his neck and hair and face and chest. He loves how handsy you are. You try not to be so vocal – you don’t want his ego growing any bigger than it currently is – but your touchiness always gives you away. And it makes him feel special as well – you’re not the most affectionate person usually, and you rarely give out hugs and touches and pats like some of the other members of the study group, so the fact that you’re touching him so much and so freely makes him feel blessed.

When he thrusts up into you, you bite into his shoulder again, and he nearly loses it. There’s a sinful, explicit, wet noise that’s made when he moves in and out of you, and it’s almost enough to make him cum on the spot. He’s suppressing his moans, now, trying to do well for you, trying to be good, be strong, be satisfying enough for you.

“Good girl,” he chokes out when you whine high in your throat for him – he says it more to himself than to you, feeling the need to give praise after receiving it, wanting to make you feel as good as he is (say what you will about Jeff, but he’s respectful when he wants to be). But little does he know that you love being called that. Some weird insecurity issue is probably to blame, but you whimper for him and clench around his length, making his hips stutter and his pace falter. He decides to play around a bit, just to see how far he can push you while you’re sedated like this – usually, you’d be up to speed, quick and sharp-tongued and tough and sickly sweet, but, now, he has you a mess in his hands. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he chuckles darkly. “You’re such a good girl for me. Such a good—” he thrusts harder, “—little—” harder, “—girl.”

All you can do is gasp and try to take it well. You can barely form words – it’s like you’re drunk. Well, you are drunk. Of course, you know you’ll have a hard time getting rid of this picture – this picture of him panting and sweating, of his mischievously glinting eyes, of his large hands digging right into your hips and thighs and waist – and you’re probably going to get yourself hot later just thinking about it. You blame him. You blame him for all of it. He’ll probably forget about it in a heartbeat, you think to yourself. He’s Jeff Winger, after all – ladies’ man, professional man-whore, completely indifferent to everything all of the time. You try to plan ahead, try to plan for later when you’re sad and alone and hating your body and hating your life choices, but then Jeff moans breathily into your ear, and you’re right back in the moment. You curl your legs tightly around his waist, letting your head fall back as he takes further control.

“You know, I think this is the first time you haven’t had some comeback ready to go, isn’t it, hon?” he says, then softly biting your earlobe. You can only choke out a moan. “Thank you for that addition.”

You groan and roll your eyes. “I fuckin’ hate you,” you say in a feeble attempt to put up your guard again.

“No, you’re just fucking me, actually.”

You sob dryly into his shoulder, and Jeff starts to encourage you a little, probably the kindest he’s ever been during sex: “Come on, darlin’, why don’t you cum for me? You’re doing so well, you know that?” And that just sets you over the edge. You finish, body quivering, exhausted, and slump right forward onto Jeff’s chest. He somehow manages to hold on – he’s not done yet, and he’s going to want to drag this out for as long as he can, that much he knows. He plants his hands on the table, either side of you, and rests his head forwards on your shoulder, panting.

“Nice one, Jeff,” you say to him awkwardly. What does one say to the friend they’ve just fucked? There’s no right thing, of course, but you know straight away that that was definitely a wrong thing.

But he laughs. “We just fucked the shit out of each other, and that’s what you’ve got to say to me?”

“Well, what am I supposed to say?”

“I dunno,” he tells you, and he genuinely doesn’t.

You stay like that for a while, him laying light kisses on your shoulder and neck, you running your hand gently through his hair, both confused as to what to do now. That is, until you point out, “You’re still hard, huh?” You can feel him throbbing painfully inside of you. This must be torture for him – you’ve finished twice, now, and him none.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I was gonna wait for a better time, but.”

“I don’t think there is a better time in this situation.”

Jeff swallows thickly, throat suddenly dry as he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. His dick twitches inside you when you grin up at him, and you pretend not to notice (but, oh, you’ll definitely remember it the next time you smile at him). He’s quite nervous, and he can’t pinpoint why. His brain’s just still a little too fuzzy to really process any coherent thoughts, even despite that sobering experience just then, but, again, he isn’t stupid – he knows what that knotted feeling in his chest probably is – so, before he has the chance to figure out what he already knows, he asks you, “Can you turn around? Bet you feel real good when I have you bent over this desk.”

“What a charmer,” you mumble under your breath. You know that’s about as sweet as he gets. You’re about to turn around for him when he surprises you:

“Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He strokes your arms nicely. “We can go back to the party if that’s what you’d prefer, have a few more drinks, make fun of Pierce a little. Or we could try something you decide on. Got a favourite position? I’m sure we could make do with the space we have in here – maybe move a few buckets and boxes around, and we’re good. What do you like?”

Your mind goes completely blank, except for one very clear thought: “You’re what I like.” Not out loud, of course. You’d probably do anything he wanted right about now. You half-expect him to pull a 180 and say something snarky or sarcastic, but he doesn’t. He just kisses your cheek sweetly and waits for your answer. What do you like? You don’t even know anymore, and yet you’re getting wetter than ever before. Your breath is picking up, now. “You know,” you mumble, trying to contain your nerves, “the usual: a little light asphyxiation, a bit of hair pulling. I dunno. What else is there? I guess overstimulation can be nice sometimes. And, you know, I liked it—” a blush starts to form on your cheeks, “—I liked it when you...”

“Liked it when I what?”

“You know,” you huff frustratedly. “Said all those nice things to me.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows. “Praise?” Internally, he smiles to himself – he likes that he shares that in common with you. “Don’t worry, I like it, too.”

“Nice to know.” You maintain a neutral expression, but your clit is fucking beating right now, and your cunt is dripping wet. Your efforts not to clench around Jeff are herculean.

“Well, how do you want it?” he asks you brazenly, the usual Winger way. Okay, now, you squeeze tight around him, and Jeff presses his hands around your thighs in response—but, outwardly, the two of you are perfectly normal about this. “I can dial it back a little if you wanna take charge.” His eyes darken just slightly. “I don’t mind.” And that’s genuine enough – he certainly doesn’t mind the mental image of you with your fingers wrapped around his cock, teasing him as he whimpered and begged for a release, completely submissive to you in the moment. He wouldn’t mind that at all.

You grip the edge of the table and run a tongue over your teeth briefly. “I can turn around.”

“Really?” he asks. “You want to?”

“I want to.”

“Alright then,” he says, smiling. “Better get to it. We don’t want the others realising we’re gone, now, do we?” And you shake your head in response. Now that Jeff’s a little nicer, you’re more comfortable around him. He realises it, too, and so he allows himself to do the things he normally wouldn’t, brushing your hair out of your face for you and really looking into your eyes. Sex sort of became meaningless for him sometime along his life, full of emptiness and loneliness even in that intimate act – that’s the trouble he gets for sleeping his way out of his problems. And so, looking in his partner’s eyes has always brought him some type of shame – he’d always close his eyes and power through it. But you’re nice. You’re familiar. You’re safe and warm and soft. It might be a little to do with the friend thing, but, even when he was with Britta, he never felt this type of comfort, this okay-ness, this general acceptance. It was nice to have, for once: a friend.

He carefully pulls out of you, and then you turn around and bend over the table. Jeff almost stops breathing at the sight in front of him. And it’s not bad, don’t worry – he’s just a bit dramatic. “Jesus Christ,” he curses, and he moves his hands to massage gently at your hips. “You’re so fuckin’ wet.” And it’s true. Slick spills down your thighs, some of it slathered across the table and a fair amount dripping down onto the ground below them. That’s the type of stuff you see in pornos, he thinks amusedly to himself, and he continues to stare in awe at your cunt. Now, what Jeff really wants to do is to kneel down and lay his tongue flat against you. But he controls himself, and, instead, just sucks it up and praises you for it; “Keep that sort of energy up, yeah?”

“You sound like you’re a key-note speaker addressing an assembly of seven year-olds,” you say to him as he places his hands on your ass, spreading the sides apart slightly, his dick straining when he catches a better view of your aching cunt, and then he runs two fingers along your slit – he grows silent for a few heartbeats, amazed at how easily you drip down the length of his fingers and onto his wrist. You then turn back to see him place those fingers in his mouth, and you turn back around, blushing, before he can notice.

“Ah, so you’re into role-play?” he teases, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Sh—” but Jeff is already pushing into you, heavy and strong and thick; you try to continue your sentence without your voice shaking, “—shut u-up.”

He continues all the way to the hilt, and both of you use your hands to hold onto something for stability, his on your hips, and yours flat on the table. “You know,” he says as he bends over you, chest against your back, one hand coming to rest on the wall by your head, coaxing a pant or two out of you as he does so, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Role-play’s good once in a while.”

“Uh-huh,” you manage breathily. “You sound like you’re covering up a deeply concerning fantasy, there.”

“Don’t shame me.”

“We all know what it stands for, Jeff. ‘Role-play’s good once in a while.’ Really? Show me where you hid the goddamn body.”

He exhales amusedly through his nose. “I feel like you’re just trying to ease in with your officer-perp kink.” And he’s just casually gri-i-i-in-ding up against you, carefully pushing you back down so that your stomach is flat against the table, his lips pressing kisses into your hair and upon your shoulder blades as he starts to find a pace.

“It’s h-hot, okay?” you stutter out, trying to continue the conversation. It’s true enough – police officers can be hot when they want to be, and Jeff would certainly make for an interesting experience in that sector. Not that you were planning to sleep with him again. Fantasies are what’s discussed between a couple – it’s not really something you tell a one-night stand, especially if that one-night stand happens to be one of your closest friends who would never let you forget anything embarrassing you did—ever.

“Really?” Jeff says through a smile, though, now, even he’s having trouble composing himself. He should’ve cum when he could’ve – he feels like he’s about to give way any second, but he, oh, so wants to finish inside of you while you crumble apart around him. “Hands—” his breath catches, “—above your head.”

“I’m literally bent over a table in front of you.”

“Could still apply to some other positions, though.” And, with that, he begins to slowly pull out and push into you, nice and gentle at first, very controlled, but, as I said, Jeff was very quickly losing control, so one can imagine the animalistic desperation that soon kicked in for not just him, but for both parties. You buck up against him feverishly, letting out whines and suppressed, breathy moans and little, desperate whispers of his name (he absolutely loves those), and he just goes at it with all his energy. Who cares if he looks like absolute shit at the party later on? That’s a lot coming from him, he’ll have you know. As long as this memory is playing in his head, he doesn’t care about his hair or his suit anymore (the suit might be a stretch). He tells you breathlessly, “You know, you look good like this. Such a pretty girl.”

There’s the praise that you love. You squeeze around him and pant, “Take a picture—” and Jeff slides a hand between your legs, rubbing at that golden spot, and you have to choose between pressing into his cock or into his hand; the indecision makes your head reel, and the continuation of your sentence is twisted high and quiet, “—it’ll la-ast long-e-er.”

“Is that an invitation, doll? ‘Cause I’m not exactly against it.”

He pounds and pounds into you, nice and firm and precise, until you’re mewling and whining for him. “Be quiet, now,” he whispers against your ear – there are people chattering outside the room, passing through the exit after the party. But you can’t exactly keep it in. You try to hold your breath, you really do, but you end up grunting out when Jeff kneads at one of your breasts. “What?—d’you want those people to hear you or something? You wanna get caught?” You whine suppressedly again. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Dirty girl.”

You clench once again, so fucking close to cumming, and he asks, “Can I try something?” And you nod frantically, alongside giving him a rushed, weak verbal affirmation. “I want you to prop yourself up a little more, hands on the wall – can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you mutter, adjusting yourself, and, with your movement, Jeff groans and grips your hips tightly.

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing the place behind your ear. And he continues thrusting, and then swiftly lifts one of your legs right up into the bend of his arm, leaving you to press the side of your face into the wall, your entire body swaying with the sheer force of the rutting of his hips. You feel so full like this, and he’s reaching that heavenly spot inside of you. Your knee gently brushes against his corresponding shoulder whenever he moves into you, out of you.

“Shit,” you curses sharply when he roughens his pace. “Jeff.” His name comes out as an awfully high-pitched sigh.

He huffs, “Yup, that’s me, doll.”

“You’re such a prick.”

“You could at least wait until I’m not inside of you to insult me.”

“Tell me something nice.”

“Something nice? I dunno if I can muster it up – all the things I’m thinking aren’t exactly nice. Definitely not things I’d say to anyone’s grandma.”

“Well, then, be mean,” you chuckle, and he jerks inside of you. “I don’t care.”

“You like getting off on my voice, do you?” His voice is nice and low and gravelly, and it practically grates against your pussy in some magical way, and your whole body shudders beneath him. He keeps at that perfect pace, pressure, and you commend him for his technique, you have to say. “You ever think about me when you touch yourself?” You nod. “Such a perfect, little girl. Fucking perfect.”

And he’s got a good-ish look at your face from this angle. Your eyes are closed in ecstasy, mouth open in silent pleasure, and you’re chasing, chasing that feeling. He can’t help it. He cums. And you follow immediately after – your fists screw up uselessly against the wall, and your legs quake and quake, and you squeeze so impossibly tight around him that he lets out a choked moan at how good it feels. He continues sloppily thrusting up into you, helping you ride out your orgasm while also riding out his own. “God, you’re hot,” he mutters, smiling.

You grin back at him, and his cock twitches again – it’s instinctive, he swears. “You’re not so bad either,” you reply, eyes shimmering in the dim light. Those eyes flutter shut again when he carefully pulls out of you with a sinful, wet noise.

Shit, he thinks to himself as you slip your soaked underwear and your pretty, green dress back on.

Shit, he loves you, doesn’t he?

After he’s put his suit back on, you help to adjust his tie, and he has to try his very, very hardest not to blush. He’s pretty sure you notices anyway, but it’s the effort that counts, right? He really, really wants to kiss you, but he doesn’t know if he should. The one-night stand is over, right?

“Call me tonight?” you ask after a brief pause. Was that the correct thing to do? You and Jeff call sometimes, obviously, when he’s at the store and wants to ask if you want anything, or when you want to order a pizza for yourself but get too nervous and ask for his help—but this’ll clearly be different. Are you still friends? Of course, you know you’re still friends, sure, but is it still the same?

And his heart rate has picked up significantly. You want him to call you. You want to talk to him later. “So you can get off to my voice?” You laugh. He made you laugh. He just made you laugh. The sound is like music to his ears. “I’m not a phone sex line, you know. Not a free one, anyway. If you want my services, you’re gonna have to pay.”

You’re smiling. “What’s your price?”

“$100, give or take.” He neatly folds his pocket square back up and places it into his breast pocket. Like he said, he wants to save it for later. He’s not sure for what, but it seems important to him now. And then, what he bumbles out next is said on a whim – the words are quiet and shy. Yes, shy. Jeff Winger is shy. He’s blushing. His stomach is full of butterflies. “Can I come visit your room instead?”

“Yeah, but it’ll cost you $100, give or take.”

Jeff approaches the door, and you line up behind him. “Ready?” he asks you. And you grab a fistful of his suit jacket from behind, going up on your toes, and kiss him lightly on the corner of his mouth in response.

He doesn’t even notice that you wrinkled his suit. He just closes his eyes and turns around for another kiss.

(Spoiler alert: You don’t end up seeing each other in your hotel room because Britta gets black-out drunk and nearly starts a vodka fire on the bride’s dress, so Jeff has to take her to get her fucking stomach pumped. But he gives you a call, and you come, and you sit together by Britta’s bedside as she sleeps. You talk about weird hospital experiences you’ve had, and then you fall asleep. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder.)

#jeff winger x reader smut #jeff winger x reader #jeff winger #community #pierce hawthorne #abed nadir #troy barnes #britta perry #shirley bennett #annie edison #have fun with this #i have no idea why i wrote this #but i do love it #also i’m very proud of the title

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criminalmindzjunkie · 3 years

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I Carry Your Heart With Me (Part One)

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Summary: Spencer and the reader are reunited for the first time in fifteen years.

A/N: Very excited to get the ball rolling on this one. I hope you all enjoy it! Message me if you would like to be added to the taglist.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 4.5k

“I cannot believe you talked me into this,” Damien mutters from the passenger seat, his icy blue eyes wide with fright. He pulls his gaze away just long enough to point at a lone cow grazing to the left of the road. “Look! That cow is just like… standing there. No fence around him or anything. What’s stopping him from stampeding into us the second we get out of this car?”

Damien sounds so genuinely horrified that you almost feel bad for laughing. Almost.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Dee. Besides, that cow didn’t even look up when we drove past. We’re not even on its radar.”

“Oh, yeah? Ever heard of a little thing called mad cow disease?” Damien persists, in typical dramatic flair. You roll your eyes at him and he curses underneath his breath. “You know, when I agreed to go with you to this wedding, I pictured something more akin to a five-star resort with a minibar and a heated pool. Not rogue livestock and shitty cellphone reception.”

“You didn’t agree to anything – you practically begged me to take you with me.”

Damien waves his hand, dismissive, his eyes still roaming over the pasture. “Because I wanted an excuse to take a week off work. This is not the controlled environment I expected.”

“If you don’t quit complaining, I won’t hesitate to push you out of the car and leave you here with the cow,” you retort. In your periphery you’re able to make out Damien raising his middle finger to you. Rude.

You chuckle and fix your attention back on the dirt road. You’re driving almost painfully slowly, because the very idea of having to pay extra for damages to this already astronomically expensive rental car makes you feel nauseated. Despite your efforts, the car is covered entirely in dust. Its once pristine, white paint job has transformed into a muddy color.

There goes my deposit.

You shake your head at the thought. You had more pressing matters to concern yourself with; i.e., the fact that you were approximately five minutes away from coming face to face with the one person you swore you’d never speak to again. Two months seemed like ample time to prepare yourself in theory, but now that it is no longer some far-off thing, you know that your attempts at preparing yourself were in vain. With each day you crossed off the calendar leading to your departure date, your anxiety grew and grew until you worried your poor heart would give out under the stress. Getting onto the plane bound for Montana felt like the proverbial nail in the coffin, and a hefty dose of Dramamine was the only thing that kept you from spiraling as the plane ascended into the air. You slept through the entirety of the trip and, much to Damien’s chagrin, there is a sizeable puddle of drool on his left shoulder to prove it.

The lengthy nap helped. The tight band constricting your chest had loosened, and you pulled out onto the highway feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. You had Damien by your side and five vacation days to enjoy. Your best friend was getting married to the love of her life, and you were hellbent on standing by her side through it all. Spencer Reid can kiss your ass, as far as you are concerned. No way is he going to ruin this for you.

You are still very much clinging your take-no-shit mentality when you breach a hill and the ranch comes into view, effectively expelling every single positive thought from your head. Aforementioned anxiety reappears in full-force and you stomp down on the breaks.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can do this,” you squeak out, casting a look at Damien, whose eyes are trained on the sprawling expanse of the house ahead of you. “We can still turn around – no, we should turn around. There is no version of this that won’t end in me getting embarrassingly drunk and crying in front of everyone. I’m turning around.”

Damien’s hand on yours, strong and steady, is the only thing that keeps you from whipping the car around and retreating with your tail between your legs. His fingers pry your white knuckled grip off of the wheel slowly, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles across your skin. Its sweet and so overwhelmingly gentle that you’re a bit stunned. You glance at him in a silent question, as if to ask who are you, and what have you done with my friend?

He gets the message loud and clear, because of course he does. Damien fixes you with a smile, grip tightening on your hand.

“I’ve seen you hold your own against some of the biggest names in journalism on an almost daily basis – looking damn sexy while you do it, might I add,” Damien chuckles, and you can’t help but give a weak laugh of your own. Damien’s smile grows at this, and he continues, “If you can handle your business against those conniving pricks, I’ve no doubt that you can tough it out for this. You’re not the type of woman that lets some guy dictate what she does or doesn’t do. And you sure as hell aren’t the type of woman that would let some guy rob her of the opportunity to stand by her best friend on the most important day of her life. As the person who probably knows you better than anyone else on the planet, my opinion of you is pretty rock-solid, if I do say so myself. So, unless I’ve completely overestimated the extent of your badassery, I suggest you rethink that plan. What do you say?”

You avert your eyes and swallow against the lump in your throat.

“Spencer’s not just some guy. For a long time, I was convinced that he was the guy,” you whisper. The car is silent, save for the quiet crooning voice of George Michael flowing through the speakers. Damien squeezes your hand, prompting you to continue. You blink up at him with wet lashes, lips pulled into a sad smile. “Have you ever been in love?”

Damien shakes his head and rubs his thumb along the top of your hand. “I can’t say that I have, babe. Haven’t been that lucky.”

You let out a shaky breath and bring your other hand up to wipe at your eyes.

“Maybe you’re better off. I’ve only been in love once,” you gesture to your pitiful appearance and choke out a wet laugh. “Look where that got me. He fucking crushed me, and fifteen years later I’m still broken up about it. It’s pathetic.”

Damien frowns and shifts in his seat so that he’s fully facing you.

“I don’t want to hear you say that self-deprecating shit again. You were hurt by someone you gave your heart to, and I can only imagine how devastating that must feel. Being upset about seeing him again does not make you pathetic. The fact that you’re here, about to spend a week with the guy just so you can be there for Cassidy, is pretty damn admirable as far as I’m concerned.” Damien ends his monologue by pulling you into a tight hug, and you couldn’t be more thankful that he’d come with you. Not only was he a secret sweetheart, he also gave the very best hugs.

By the time he releases you, the tension in your chest has eased significantly. You nod once, and Damien’s rewards you with a smile.

“I am pretty cool, aren’t I?”

Damien snorts rather unattractively and rolls his eyes.

“I take back everything. You suck, and I don’t know why I bother with you, you narcissist.”

Now that the mood has lifted significantly, you reluctantly press your foot against the gas pedal.

“Too late. No takesies backsies,” you singsong. “You think I’m sexy and badass, and I’m never going to let you forget it.”

Damien mutters something undoubtably snarky underneath his breath, but it’s drowned out by the sound of gravel crunching underneath the tires. That, and the sound of your blood roaring in your ears as you inch further down the driveway.

The house, a beautiful log cabin with stone accents along the underside, is massive. Standing at two stories tall with a large wraparound porch and more than a dozen large windows, it’s a far cry from the modest little cabin in the mountains that Cassidy had made it out to be. Even Damien is slack jawed at the sight of it, sitting pretty against a back drop of rolling mountains, and you can’t help but feel a little smug.

“Still want to complain about that five-star resort?”

Damien shakes his head dazedly, “I retract my earlier complaint.”

All too soon, you roll to a stop and put the car in park. Several other cars are parked haphazardly in the grass around you, and that annoying voice inside your head wonders which one belongs to Spencer. It’s not that you care – you totally don’t – it’s just that you are kind of hoping that he hasn’t arrived yet. A few hours to acclimate to the environment before having to deal with him would be nice.

“You’ve got this, babe,” Damien murmurs. “And I’ll be with you the whole time, just in case you need a reminder.”

You flash Damien a nervous smile.

“You’re a really good friend, Dee. I’m really glad that you’re here,” you say, before narrowing your eyes at him. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

Damien snorts and pushes open the door.

“Get your sassy ass out of the car. I’m ready to mingle.”

As soon as you set foot on the porch, the front door flies open and a flash of curly red hair precedes a collision that nearly sends you flying back into the railing. Ecstatic squeals rip through the otherwise serene evening air and two boney arms envelop you into a tight hug.

“I cannot believe you’re actually here,” Cassidy laughs as she squeezes you tight. Her enthusiasm has you joining in, the two of you laughing happily and pulling back to examine one another. Cassidy places a sloppy kiss to both of your cheeks before throwing an arm over your shoulder. “I fully expected you to just blow off the whole thing, if I’m being honest.”

You cast at Damien, who’s watching on with an amused grin on his face.

“Believe me, she tried.”

Cassidy turns her attention to Damien and extends her free hand.

“I take it you’re the infamous Damien that I’ve been trading emails with?”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, “Wait, what? The two of you have been emailing?”

Damien accepts Cassidy’s hand and gives it a firm shake, all while smiling smugly.

“Yep. Me and Ms. Cassidy go way back.”

“I mean, that’s cool, I guess, but why?”

Cassidy and Damien share a look, both of them shrugging.

“Mainly to talk about you,” Cassidy admits, not even bothering to look apologetic. When you frown up at her she waves her hand dismissively at you. “All good things, I promise. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Cassidy punctuates her words with a patronizing pat on your shoulder.

“I knew letting you two meet was a bad idea,” you grumble.

Cassidy simply drops her arms from its place on your shoulder in favor of tugging on your hand.

“Come on, sour puss. I want you to meet my husband. He’s a real sweetie – you’re gonna love him.”

A flash of white-hot panic shoots down your spine and you dig your heels into the floor.

“Wait,” you squeak out, eyes wide. “Is… Is he here yet?”

Cassidy’s eyes shine mischievously, briefly flitting up to Damien before returning to you.

“He is. And you’ll be happy to know that pictures do not do the Good Doctor any justice.”

Salt, meet wound.

“Don’t know why you’re telling me that,” you mutter.

“Denial is not just a river in Egypt, my friend,” Cassidy singsongs as she begins tugging you forward. For someone so tiny, she makes easy work of forcing you through the threshold.

The foyer is just as impressive as you expect it to be – beautiful cedar walls and a grand staircase that leads to the second floor. If you weren’t horribly on edge at the current moment, you would definitely comment on the fact that the foyer alone is probably larger than your entire apartment, but you’re too busy scanning the immediate area for tall skinny white guys with stupidly curly brown hair to comment on the grandiosity.

Cassidy leads the two of you to double doors to the right, and just as she’s about to push them open, the shrill ring of your cellphone offers you an out.

You slip your hand from Cassidy’s grip and give her a faux apologetic look.

“I should probably take this – it might be work.”

Damien narrows his eyes at you. “I thought you left your work phone at home.”

You ignore him and begin taking a few steps backwards, “Is there somewhere private I can go?”

An indiscernible look flashes across Cassidy’s face and then her lips pull up into a sugary sweet smile. “Follow the hallway to the very end. Leads to the back porch,” she says. “No need to rush. Take all the time you need!”

Okay, weird, you think to yourself, but the idea of putting off the inevitable for a few extra moments is too tempting to pass up, so you continue your retreat. You make it to the back door in record time and let out a relieved breath as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hi, mom.”

“Hi, baby. I was just calling to make sure the two of you got there safely.”

You push open the back door and the breathtaking view of the ranch prompts you to take pause; sprawling fields and rolling hills as far as the eye can see, grazing livestock congregating near a lazy stream at the far end of the property, and several horses running across the expanse of the left field. It was wonderfully serene and vastly different from the bustling rat-race that was New York.

You smile to yourself when a loud moo rips through the otherwise quiet ranch. I could get used to this.

“Yeah, we made it,” you murmur into the receiver. “You would love this place, Mom. It’s probably the prettiest place I’ve ever been. I’ll send you a picture when I hang up.”

“How’s Cassidy? Still a little spit-fire, I assume?”

You lean against the railing and let out a snort, “Oh, absolutely. Don’t think that’ll ever change.”

“I’d hope not,” your mother hums. “How does Damien like the ranch?”

“He’s not exactly a fan of the livestock,” you chuckle. “Damien’s never even seen a real cow before. City boy through and through, that one.”

You and your mother share a laugh that dissolves into a comfortable silence. Comfortable, until the telltale clearing of your mother’s throat warns you of the impending inquisition.

“So,” your mother begins. “Are you going to tell me how it went, or are you going to leave an old woman wondering? “

You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “Fortunately, I have yet to run into him. I may or may not be hiding out on the back porch as we speak in an attempt to avoid just that.”

“Y/N,” your mother chastises. “Prolonging the inevitable isn’t going to make this any easier.”

“I know, I know. I’ll go in there soon. It’s just a lot, you know? I needed to take a breather, first.” Just until my hands stop shaking. Or until Cassidy comes hunting for me. Whichever comes first.

“I know, baby,” your mother coos. “I’m proud of you for trying. Just don’t drag things out, okay? You’ll only make yourself sick with nerves.” Unfortunately, that ship has sailed. The rolling in your stomach can attest to that.

You laugh a humorless laugh, “I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”

A tiny movement at the very corner of your vision and a loud creak makes you whip your head around, and what you see has your heart falling to your ass.

Spencer Reid, looking absolutely stunning in a pair of khaki dress pants and a white cable-knit sweater, sits in a porch swing with wide eyes and a book clutched tightly in his hands. Soft, caramel-colored curls frame his face and a five o’clock shadow runs the length of his jaw, adding a bit of grown-up flare to his otherwise boyish features.

He looks every bit as beautiful as he did on the day he broke your heart.

Spencer knows that he should have spoken up as soon as you walked onto the porch. It was immediately obvious that you hadn’t seen him, and he swears he’s one second away from clearing his throat and launching into the introduction he’d been planning for the last sixty days. But the words die on his tongue as he drinks in the sight of you.

You’re so close to him for the first time in years and it’s more than a little bit dizzying. And yeah, he’s used his very limited knowledge of how the internet works to Google you on more than one occasion, but the version of you leaning against the porch railing is a far cry from the pixelized one. A light breeze rolling through the air lifts your hair away from your face, and Spencer’s breath catches in his throat as he surveys every perfect inch, from the curl of your lashes to the smattering of freckles on your nose. He indulges himself, eyes settling on your cherry red lips, fascinated by the way they move as you talk on the phone. Spencer is intimately familiar with those lips – can recall the way they felt pressed against his own. The years spent apart have done nothing to dull the memories. He’s not entirely sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

It amazes him how you’ve somehow managed to change a lot, but also not at all. You stand before him as an oxymoron personified, and it’s a lot for Spencer’s poor heart to take in. Your hair is a bit lighter than he remembers, as well as a little longer, but it still looks just as soft and he can recall with startling clarity how it felt when he used to run his fingers through it. You have a few more laugh lines than you did, as well as a scar on your left elbow that hadn’t been there before, but everything else about you is so painfully familiar that Spencer could almost pretend that no time had passed – that he still knows your body as well as he once did.

Spencer knows this isn’t true. Every seven years, the body resets; old cells destroyed and replaced with new ones. You’ve both spent enough time apart that your bodies have reset twice over. You’re as much of a stranger to him as he is to you.

Spencer positively abhors the thought.

The sound of your laughter pulls him from the depths of his mind, and while the laugh isn’t warm or inviting in the slightest, he relishes it. What was once one of his favorite sounds has existed in his head as only a memory for far too long. Hearing it in person is jarring in the best of ways.

The euphoria he feels dies a horrible death when you speak again.

“I don’t know, Mom. You always like to remind me how stubborn I am. I’m sure if I put my mind to it, I can just avoid him for the entire week.”

Fucking ouch.

Spencer cringes hard, too hard, because the porch swing screeches out an angry creak and you whip around and holy shit, have your eyes always been that entrancing?

He watches as your entire body goes rigid, tensed as if you’re about to bolt. You blink hard, eyebrows drawn together to form an adorably bewildered expression as you assess him. Spencer hopes he doesn’t look too disheveled. He hadn’t even thought to freshen up after his trip, an oversight that he’s regretting terribly as your eyes flit over him.

Spencer isn’t sure why, but he stands up. Maybe it has something to do with feeling vulnerable. Maybe he just wants to close the distance. The two steps he takes towards you support the latter. He’s thankful that you don’t move away, but the blank expression on your face worries him.

The two of you stand five feet apart, but you feel worlds away. Spencer refrains from speaking for as long as he can stand, which is only about thirty seconds.

“Hi.”

Your lips part, and Spencer holds his breath.

“Hi.”

More silence. Spencer gulps.

“It’s good to see you,” he says, cautious. The last thing he wants to do is fuck up within the first five minutes. Unfortunately, his brain and his mouth seem to have some sort of disconnect, and Spencer continues against his better judgment. “It’s been a while.”

It’s been a while? That’s seriously the best I can come up with?

Spencer contemplates drowning himself in the nearby stream.

“It certainly has.”

“Five-thousand, five-hundred and seventeen days.” And roughly thirty-six and a half hours, but who’s counting?

Muted noises flow out of your phone speaker and you pull your eyes away from Spencer. He’s both relieved and devastated.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. I just ran into someone. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

Spencer agonizes over the fact that he’s been reduced to someone while you and your mother exchange goodbyes. You’re smiling when you look up at him again, but Spencer’s seen what a genuine smile of yours looks like, and this isn’t it.

“I didn’t see you sitting there. My apologies.” Your formality makes the situation all the more excruciating.

Spencer lets out a nervous laugh, “I suppose avoiding me is out of the question now, huh?”

It’s hard to tell who’s more horrified by the words that tumble from his mouth, you or Spencer. A fierce flush spreads across your cheeks. It’s the first crack in your otherwise calm and collected exterior thus far and Spencer relishes in it. Maybe you’re not as unaffected by him as you seem.

“I… I’m sorry you had to hear that,” you stammer, blinking up at him with guilty eyes. “That wasn’t very kind of me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can’t say that I’m undeserving of your anger,” Spencer whispers so quietly that he worries you don’t hear him over the gentle flow of the stream. The hardness that returns to your eyes lets him know that you heard every word.

You clear your throat, signaling your unwillingness to discuss that particularly painful topic. “You’re still partial to Cummings, I see.” You gesture to the book clutched tightly against his chest.

Now, it’s Spencer’s turn to blush. The book in his hands, tattered and worn from years of use, is incriminating. The two of you both know what lies just beneath the binding. The fact that Spencer has it with him now makes him think that he might as well be wearing a t-shirt that reads, I’M STILL NOT OVER YOU.

Spencer raises a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Old habits die hard, I guess.” His eyes scour your face for a sign of anything that might clue him in to you feeling the same way. A flicker of something dances across your face, but it’s gone so quickly that he can’t be sure if he imagined it. He forces a nervous smile. “If I remember correctly, he was your favorite.” It’s a shitty attempt at a joke.

You exhale a shaky breath and to his absolute horror, your lower lip begins to wobble. He wishes he could reach up and pluck his words from where they hang heavy in the air.

“Not anymore,” you murmur, and fuck if that doesn’t absolutely wreck him.

Spencer shouldn’t ask, but he can’t help himself. “Oh. Why not?”

He holds his breath, anxiously anticipating your next words. You seem to be battling with yourself, mouth opening and closing several times. Spencer is content to wait as long as it takes for you to answer, but the universe is much more impatient than he.

The door leading onto the porch swings open and out walks an honest to God Abercrombie and Fitch model. Or at least, a man who meets the qualifications and then some. Long, flowing blonde hair and a crisp white dress shirt makes Spencer’s unruly brown mop and dumpy sweater look pitiful in comparison. Spencer frowns.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been out here for like ten minutes,” the man chastises as he closes the distance between you and him. Spencer watches him wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you to him like someone might watch a car wreck happen; with equal parts horror and morbid curiosity. “You can’t hide out forever.”

All traces of rigidity leave your body and you melt into the man’s side. It happens in such a way that screams familiarity, as if the pet name hadn’t already driven that point home. The awful, gut-wrenching realization slams home and Spencer has to fight to keep his knees from buckling.

“Uh, sorry,” you mumble, before nodding your head in Spencer’s direction. “Damien, this is Spencer Reid.”

The man’s – Damien’s - eyes go almost comically wide as they settle on Spencer’s dejected frame, before schooling into a cool indifference. He offers him a polite smile that’s a little tight around the edges, but doesn’t outstretch his hand.

“Ah, Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Spencer swallows hard to keep himself from barking out a crazed laugh. He’s heard of me! That’s certainly something, considering the fact that no one thought it necessary to tell Spencer that you have a –

Spencer’s eyes dart down to your left hand. Thankfully, mercifully, your ring finger is bare.

“Uh, y-yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” The words burn as they roll off his tongue.

Damien nods at him before turning back to you. There’s an unmistakable fondness in the way he looks at you as he speaks. “Cassidy wants everyone back inside. They’re about to serve dinner.”

You smile up at him, not even casting a parting glance at Spencer before Damien leads you back inside. Spencer stands there long after the door closes behind the two of you.

The book feels heavy in his hands.

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid self insert #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #fanfiction #icyhwm #my writing #spencer #reid

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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

Text

champagne problems, ch.10

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Ten: Feels Like We Only Go Backwards: A choice is made. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: swearing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, jealousy, talk of breakup/s, serious serious angst, disclaimer [& spoiler warning], this chapter is not a happy one. this whole series is a real slow burn.

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A/N: as always, thank you for all the love you’re giving this story. we have about six chapters left to the end and words cannot describe how grateful i am to you for sticking with me and my rambling writing. ENJOY !

A significant weight was lifted off Spencer’s shoulders the second he told you how he truly felt about you. Actually, it was more the second you said you loved him back.

Even though the two of you distanced yourselves from one another, giving you the space to really think about your future and who you wanted to spend it with, the week that followed the admissions was considerably good.

Yes, the brunette doctor continued to feel uneasy about the situation he put you in. Uneasy about the choice you eventually would have to make. However, as days went by he noticed it didn't seem to bother you. No. You were oddly chirpy and cheerful. Spencer couldn't help but feel like it was because of him.

Like your choice was already made, and that choice was him.

“Do you have plans tonight?” You asked in a hushed tone, slyly glancing around the bullpen to ensure no-one else was paying attention to you and the doctor.

Spencer shook his head. “Not entirely, no.”

Your lips curled into a smile at his response. “So you wouldn’t mind if I came over?” You asked, gently tapping your fingers in a walking motion against his desk. They stopped next to his hand - you could feel it was there, yet you didn't move your fingers further in fear of someone seeing. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Spencer mouth twitched into a pleasant smirk. He should have been nervous, what if you were going to break the news you were choosing Ethan? He should have been anxious, the thought of losing you all over again, he couldn't imagine how awful that would feel. Yet he didn't feel any of those things.

Judging by your relaxed body language. Your hand just aching to touch his. The way your eyes glistened looking at him. Your elated tone as you spoke. It didn't take a genius, a profiler, or even someone that knew you as well as him, to say these were all indicators whatever you wanted to talk to him about was happy.

“Of course.” He cleared his throat. “What time do you think-”

“I’ll let you know, okay? I know you like to switch off for the weekend so keep your phone on you for me.” You traced a finger against his knuckle and with one last smile, ambled elegantly towards the exit.

Yes - Spencer deducted - whatever you wanted to tell him was going to be good news.

A knock on the door grabbed Spencer’s attention. He quickly examined the place one last time, to ensure everything was clean and, well, perfect for you.

Satisfied, he eagerly crossed his living room and without thinking twice, expecting to see you on the other side of the door, he opened it.

“Hey Spencer.”

But it wasn’t you. It was the last person he ever expected to see.

“E-Ethan, what ehm, what are you doing here?” Spencer asked.

Ethan smirked at the question, slowly sliding his hands into the pockets of his coat. “We need to talk, don’t you think?”

Spencer swallowed, but before he got a chance to reply the surgeon continued. “Actually, I’ll talk and you can listen. Also don’t bother inviting me inside because I’ll keep this brief and to the point.”

Your fiancé cleared his throat. “Imagine my surprise when I found out my wife-to-be still has feelings for her ex boyfriend. Did you know she is actually on her way here to tell you she’s choosing you? Yeah... Now, she doesn't know that I know. Her plan is to inform me tomorrow, after my shift at the hospital, that the wedding is no longer happening and our relationship is over.” He paused, almost as if he was daring Spencer to interrupt him at any moment and defend your honour.

Which in hindsight is something Spencer should have done.

“So here’s how this is going to do, doctor.” He slurred. “When she comes here, you're going to turn her down. You've broken her heart once before, I’m pretty sure you know how to do it again.”

Spencer stepped forward and opened his mouth to protest, but the surgeon impolitely cut him off. “Look, you’re a smart guy. Some sort of genius, right? I think deep down you know Y/N is better off with me. I can provide for her in ways you can't even comprehend. I am going to give her a life you can only dream of Spencer.”

“I think you’re forgetting it’s not all about the money.” Spencer stated coldly. His eyes narrowing. Jaw clenching.

Ethan chuckled callously. “Of course not. But I think you need to consider how much disposable income can improve life. I have the ability to ensure we buy our dream home. I have the ability to invest in a second home for her father, and move him somewhere closer to us. With me, Y/N will be able to quit her job and no longer risk her life on a daily basis. She will be able to spend time with our future kids, in a beautiful home, completely care free.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Did she even tell you she’s been thinking about transferring out of the BAU? She doesn't want to be a profiler anymore. Fuck man, she doesn't even know if she wants to be a SSA anymore. The only reason she’s sticking around is you.”

The statement caught Spencer completely off guard. Ethan had to be bluffing, right? He would say anything to ensure you stayed with him, right?

“You’re lying.” Spencer grumbled through his teeth.

Ethan smirked in response. “I’m really not though. Ask anyone. Her dad, it was actually he who suggested it in the first place. Or your friend Penelope, she seems to think it’s a good idea.”

Spencer’s world was crumbling down around him and he was helpless to stop it. Why didn't you tell him this was on your mind? Why did you keep this a secret? And how did he not see any inclination of this before?

“Like I said, you’re a smart guy Spencer.” Ethan stated. “I think you know what the right thing to do is.” And with that, he walked away leaving the brunette agent alone with his thoughts.

Slowly, Spencer closed the door. He turned on his heel and leaned against it while letting out a long winded breath, one he didn't even realise he was holding.

He never wanted to stand in the way of your plans. He didn't want to be the one holding you back from anything. Was his ever growing love for you clouding his judgement?

He closed his eyes, resting against the door behind him. The guilt he was now feeling riddled him from head to toe. And mixed with the guilt was a faint feeling of anger. Anger directed at the man that dared to get between your relationship with the brunette agent.

Ethan, a name of Hebrew origin that means firm, enduring and strong. A good name for good people.

Spencer knew off many Ethan’s in his lifetime. His college friend, an old colleagues son - all people that definitely lived up to the meaning. Yet your fiancé was anything but.

This Ethan was arrogant, rude, possessive. In Spencer’s mind, this Ethan was quite literally the physical embodiment of the curse word dick.

He never truly understood what you saw in the guy. He always thought you could do a lot better. Even if it wasn’t Spencer himself, there are men out there a lot kinder than Ethan.

And yet, despite all of the resentment he felt towards the man, Spencer couldn't help but feel like there was some truth to what he had said. The hazel-eyed man started doubting himself. Doubting whether he really had your best intention at heart, or whether his own selfishness was preventing him from making sure you’re living your best life.

This was supposed to be a happy day. A happy evening.

It certainly started out that way. You were on your way here to tell him you were choosing him. You were choosing to spend the rest of your life with him.

Spencer felt sick to his stomach. Dizzy. He was sure if he opened his eyes even just for a second he would collapse. He also knew the only rational thing, the right thing to do will only make him feel worse.

The brunette agent wasn’t entirely sure how long he stood frozen like that. His breathing shallow. Heart sinking, heavy.

A knock on the door behind his back caused him to slowly open his eyes, yet he didn't move an inch. He simply couldn't. He couldn't bare to face you. He couldn't bare to look you in the eye and break your heart for a second time.

Instead, he chose the childish way out. He hoped if he was still enough, quiet enough, you would think he wasn’t home and leave. It is a conversation that cannot be avoided, but it would be a conversation for another day.

You knocked again, using a little more strength this time.

Spencer held his breath. Tears began to form in his eyes. Salty droplets that if he let escape, he knew they wouldn't stop falling.

He heard faint shuffling outside and for a split second he thought you gave up and walked away. For a split second he thought he bought himself more time. More time with the fantasy that the two of you would get your happy ending together. Foolish, he thought.

It was in that moment the mobile device in the back pocket off his pants started to buzz, vibrating against the door. The phone you asked he kept close to him earlier that day. The sound of the ringtone followed soon after completely giving away Spencer’s current location.

“Spencer?” The sweet sound of your voice coming through the wooden barrier between you caused the tears he was fighting to slowly trail down his face. The device stopped ringing. “I know you’re in there. Can you let me in?” You said, so blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.

Spencer turned around and pressed his forehead against the painted wood. His hand travelled to the door knob, yet he still didn't move any further. “I-I... I c-can’t...” He managed to blurt out.

“What do you mean you can’t?” He heard you ask, the hint of confusion in your tone aching his heart further. “Spencer, what’s going on?”

The brunette doctor licked his lips and swallowed, tasting the saltiness of his own tears. “Y-you should go Y/N.” He uttered.

“Go? Spencer, you’re not making any sense.” You responded, the door knob rattling under Spencer’s fingers. “Please let me in. I’m not going to say what I want to say through a door.”

“Don’t s-say it at all. You should be with E-Ethan. Your future will be brighter with him.”

Silence. Unbearably heartbreaking silence.

At first you thought your ears were playing tricks on you. There was no way he just said that, right? A week after he told you he loved you. A week after he said he'll always wait for you. A week after he proposed. There was no way he changed his mind.

And then you thought of his time in prison. More specifically the day you went to visit him for the last time. The day you wanted to propose. The day he broke your heart.

He used those exact words - “Your future will be brighter without me.”

Slowly, you placed the palm of your hand on the door between you and took in a deep breath. Your eyes glossed over as the confusion rushing through you evolved into sadness.

Spencer could pinpoint the exact moment the air changed around him. It was suddenly tense. Broken. He felt like a coward. Even if he had your best interest at heart, he should still be able to face you and explain his side in person. Tell you that Ethan came by. Tell you everything that was said. Ask about your plans to leave the BAU. Ask whether he really was the only reason you haven't resigned yet. But he couldn't formulate the words. He simply gave up. A coward.

“Spencer, I-I don’t understand...” You sobbed. “I-I thought-t you loved me.”

“I love you more than anything in this world Y/N.” He quickly replied, the palm of his hand now pressed against the wood. Unbeknown to him, against the exact same spot on the opposite side of the barrier was your hand. So close yet so far.

“Then let me in. Please. I-I came here to say I choose you. I want to be with you Spencer. Please... Please let me in.” You cried through the door. Spencer could hear the pain behind your words, the sorrow. It really took all the strength he had not to let you in.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

Your hands trembling uncontrollably against the barrier between you and the man of your dreams.

His sudden change of heart left you completely speechless. His words like tiny daggers stabbing directly into your bleeding heart. How did this happen? What changed between now and this morning? What changed between now and last week? You had so many questions. Ones that you feared would remain unanswered.

Additionally, your gut was telling you there was more to this than he was letting on. That it wasn’t as simple as ‘Ethan is the better man for you’ because you knew Spencer didn't believe that. But you couldn't find the strength within to argue with him.

“If-f that’s w-what you want Spencer, I’ll leave-e.”

It was the last thing he heard before the sound of your footsteps ushering away.

After a minute, the hazel-eyed agent moved to the couch and sunk into the material. Every fibre of his being was currently aching. He hoped he did the right thing, although the voice at the back of his mind said no. What else was he supposed to do? He knew Ethan wouldn't just give up. Was Spencer prepared to fight for you? If tonight was any inclination the answer would also be no.

Spencer’s gaze locked onto the small box in the middle of his coffee table.

It was a considerably good week, and it was supposed to end a hell of a lot better than this.

Every part of me says, "Go ahead" But I got my hopes up again, oh no, not again

A/N: i hope you liked this chapter! and i am so so sorry for giving y’all false hope with the last one! i promise these there are happy times ahead for these two just not quite yet... as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

masterlist | series masterlist | series playlist

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @ellesgreenaway

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid x reader #criminal minds angst #champagne problems series

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lsvdw-blog · 3 years

Note

hey hey hey! This week we're doing something different:

Not Yet Wed Questions

Note: Great Scott! This week, we are going back in time to MC’s intern year. Think of Ethan’s relationship with them at this point and answer the following questions accordingly. It is entirely up to you when in year 1 this takes place (pre/post Miami, pre/post CH 15, etc). Feel free to answer with dialogue or pictures or both :) Have fun!

No worries. All of this is off the record and HR will never know!

The setting for this answers is:

For Both

When I first saw them, I thought__________

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Quick: What color are their eyes?

Three people at work your coworker hates?

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

(Bonus round! Feel free to skip.)

Never have I Ever:

come into work hungover

had a fistfight

been kicked out of a bar

gotten a tattoo

broken someone’s heart

been in love

For MC (Ethan is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What do you find the most impressive about him?

Last thing he texted you?

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

For Ethan (MC is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Last thing she texted you?

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Breeeeeeee 💖 Thank you for sending these and brightening up my week! You do so much for this fandom and I appreciate you 🥰💝

The setting: The Diagnostics Office. Set post chapter 15, (before things got complicated again and let's ignore the fact that they both technically aren't employed right now 😅) Serena may or may not have told Ethan that this was about the hospital and its intern competition to get him to agree.

It was too late for him to back out when they were sat down and mic'd up 😂 Ethan glares at her... she's gonna pay for this later if you know what I mean 😏

They try to keep this interview as professional as possible but they kinda fail

For Both

When I first saw them, I thought__________

What Serena says: "...I plead the fifth."

What Serena thinks: "Hot hot hot 🥵"

Ethan: "Oh look, yet another intern."

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Serena: "I'm not sure if this counts as a swear word, but he does take the Lord's name in vain quite often: Jesus Christ. If he doesn't say that, you'll know he's displeased by literally everything else he does. The eye roll, pinching the bridge of his nose, his jaw tightening, the way—"

Ethan: "Are you done?"

Serena sticks her tongue out playfully at him and he can't help the tiny uptick of his lips at that.

Ethan: "Sh*t, among others, but this one the most. She has a dirty mouth."

Serena flips her hair over her shoulder casually at the innuendo and Ethan's eyes darken slightly. He clears his throat awkwardly.

Quick: What color are their eyes?

Serena: "Blue. Hard to miss when he's looking at you like you're the dumbest thing on the planet."

Ethan rolls his eyes. "I have no clue. I have more important matters to attend to on a daily basis." (He's lying. He knows what color her eyes are b/c he stared into them as he f***ed her brains out for hours)

Three people at work your coworker hates?

Serena scoffs. "Only three?"

"Rookie," Ethan warns.

Serena sighs. "Fine. I guess it's a good thing you only want three, or else we'd be here all week. Surgeons, except for Dr. Emery, interns, except for yours truly, and The Board. I gave groups because Ethan dislikes most everyone."

"You're about to be put back on that list," he grumbles. "Serena is friends with everyone, so I can't say she dislikes anyone. Mm, there is one soon-to-be previous intern."

Serena shoots him a quizzical look and they have a silent conversation with their eyes. Bree awkwardly sits there.

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

Serena: "Whenever he starts to get tunnel-visioned in his focus on something, he always rolls his sleeves up to just below his elbows and this tiny little crease will appear between his brows as they furrow."

Ethan is taken aback that she's noticed this, but tries to hide it by clearing his throat. "If something amuses her, but it hasn't gotten her to fully laugh yet, she'll scrunch her nose."

Serena looks at him with wide eyes, shocked that he's observed this.

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

Serena: "Uhm..."

Ethan: "I don't think—"

They start at the same time and whip their heads to look at one another. They lock eyes and it seems like everything else disappears. "Okaaaay..." Bree says under her breath.

(Bonus round! Feel free to skip.)

Never have I Ever (done with "I have" & "I haven't" paddles):

come into work hungover

They both raise their "I have" paddles.

Serena barks out a laugh. "Are you sure you're not confusing yourself with someone else?"

Ethan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Interns," he grumbles.

had a fistfight

Ethan raises his "I have" paddle. "I used to be a bit of a... troublemaker."

Serena, on the outside: *Poker face*

Serena, internally: "Hot hot hot 🥵"

been kicked out of a bar

Serena raises her "I have" paddle.

Ethan: "Why am I not surprised?"

Serena: "Hey!"

Ethan: "I'm going to have to hear this story though."

Serena: "Maybe if you behave."

Ethan's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

gotten a tattoo

Serena raises her "I have" paddle and Ethan tries to hide his smirk b/c he's seen it as they f***ed.

broken someone’s heart

Serena raises her "I have not" paddle, while Ethan contemplates and regretfully raises his "I have" paddle. He looks guiltily at Serena from the corner of his eye.

been in love

Both raise their "I have not" paddles. They're both idiots b/c they've fallen in love with each other 🙄

For MC (Ethan is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

"Professionally, literally wherever he wants to be. He's a genius - he could do whatever he wanted and is passionate about. I think maybe he'd step back a bit from the politics of a hospital and do more philanthropic work, with the WHO perhaps. Personally, I hope he's happy. Genuinely happy. However, and with whomever, he finds that.

What do you find the most impressive about him?

"What's not impressive about him? He's remarkably intelligent, cares so deeply, even if he has a hard exterior, and is so incredibly passionate about helping his patients, medicine as a whole, and bettering the entire field."

Last thing he texted you?

"The things you get me to agree to."

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

Serena smiles. "Yes. Absolutely yes."

For Ethan (MC is not there)

Where do you see her in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

"She will be at the top of our field and at the top of her game. She's going to be one of the most highly sought after doctors in the world, there's no doubt in my mind. As for her personal life," he trails off and thinks for a second. "I hope she's happy. In every sense of the word."

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Ethan blinks at Bree for a few beats. "On the record? Her intelligence, drive, compassion. Off the record? Add to those things her smile, her laugh, the way she carries herself with such confidence and grace, how she can charm just about anyone." Ethan doesn't notice, but he's smiling at this point.

Last thing she texted you?

"Please?? 🥺🥺"

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Ethan, again, blinks at Bree for a few beats. "She would never do that. She's not the type... she's a bit old-fashioned that way. But, if she was feeling like pushing her comfort zone and beat me to it, I would agree. I do enjoy being in her company," he says, not realizing he'd said that last part out loud, with a gleam in his eyes.

#ethan ramsey × mc #ethan x mc #newlyweds game with your host bree

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dilly-oh · 4 years

Text

I Do (Achoo)

Naruto and Hinata have a summer wedding, complete with outdoor seating, crisp white drapery and beaming sunflowers decorating the venue. It’s all very lovely and elegant, from what Kakashi has seen, until Iruka walks in and he stops looking at everything else.

You can’t really blame him, though. Iruka is looking finer than the china, and coincidentally, Kakashi’d also like to eat off of him. His wedding attire is all deep dark blues and accents, a near match to Kakashi’s own outfit, though he doesn’t pull it off nearly as well. He’d rather pull off Iruka’s, to be honest.

Kakashi isn’t paying much attention throughout the ceremony, too busy side-eying the Sensei, who proudly stands next to Naruto with tears gleaming in his eyes as he watches his adoptive brother/son stumble adorably over his vows to Hinata. He faintly hears the “I do’s” and mechanically claps along with the rest before wandering back to join the chattering crowd, trailing after Iruka while surreptitiously sniffing at his subtle cologne. He’s trying to discern exactly what scent it could be (is that a hint of sandalwood? Amber, maybe?) when the bouquet hits him square in the face.

Flowers and pollen explode everywhere, coating the side of one cheek and the bridge of his nose like a swipe of yellow paint. With a quick startled inhale, the pollen shoots straight up his nostrils to attack his olfactory senses directly and he stumbles back, choking for breath.

“Kakashi-san! Are you alright?” Iruka is suddenly right beside him, hurriedly brushing petals off of Kakashi’s chest, his forehead wrinkled in concern. He leans in close to wipe at a streak of pollen high on his cheekbone, biting his lip nervously. Kakashi is touched by Iruka’s gentle concern, acting like he’d been hit with a kunai and not a bushel of flowers. Also, a little turned on. He opens his mouth to ask him to kiss it better.

And sneezes right in his face.

---

Kakashi wants to die. Which is why he’s currently got his head stuck under the faucet of the bathroom sink, desperately trying to wash away any lingering pollen and shame. Mostly the shame.

He figures a couple more minutes ought to do it.

“Here,” a voice says from behind, slightly distorted by the sound of water. “I brought you a towel.”

“Thanks.” Kakashi straightens, water dripping down his chin, and reaches back without looking to take the towel. He scrubs at his face, lets out a deep sigh, and looks in the mirror to assess the damage. His haggard reflection stares back, bloodshot eyes red and puffy, his nose still running a bit. He looks exactly like he feels – like shit. Thank God Iruka isn’t here to see him like this.

And then he sees who’s behind him.

It’s Iruka.

Now he definitely wants to die.

“You alright?” Iruka asks shyly, standing at his shoulder. He’s kept his eyes down, politely respecting Kakashi’s need for privacy, whether for his lack of mask or sheer embarrassment, he’s not sure. Kakashi just stares at him in the mirror for a long, confused moment.

“…You…you’re not…mad at me?” he asks, his voice rough. All he gets is a raised eyebrow in response. “For…you know…the sneeze?” Iruka scoffs.

“Kakashi-san, I work with children. I get covered in snot on a daily basis. I’ve been barfed on by three different kids in the same hour. And don’t even get me started about kids who ‘can’t hold it anymore’. I’ve had to throw entire carpets away. There is nothing you can do to me that’ll gross me out.”

That almost sounds like a challenge.

Reminding himself to behave, Kakashi slowly turns around to face the other man, pulling his mask back up as his eyes flick downward. He’s surprised to see the offending bouquet in Iruka’s hand, still mostly whole despite their heated battle.

“…You kept it,” he says quietly.

“Of course I did,” Iruka replies, raising his own gaze. “You caught it, technically. So it’s yours. Although…” He breaks off to chuckle lightly. “I didn’t know the Copy Nin’s greatest foe was allergies.”

“…Alright, you got me. It’s my darkest secret,” Kakashi says after a beat. “If anyone finds out, I’ll have dozens of missing-Nin after me, armed with flower arrangements and premium bouquets.” Iruka laughs at that, and Kakashi decides the sound of it far outweighs the cost of his own dignity.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Iruka says, still grinning.

“I’ve always had a sensitive nose,” Kakashi shrugs. “The mask usually helps.”

“And here I thought it was to hide your charming good looks.”

“Well, that too.” He can’t help but wink, which earns another laugh.

“I guess there are a lot of things I don’t know about you,” Iruka admits, scratching at his scar awkwardly. “We’ve never really had a chance to talk, have we?”

“…We’re doing it now,” Kakashi points out.

“Huh. Guess you’re right.” Iruka pauses thoughtfully. “So…do you have any hobbies?” Kakashi either has water in his ears or he hears a hint of flirting in his tone. He’s so surprised that it takes him a few seconds to realize Iruka just asked him a question and his brain starts scrambling for an answer.

“Dog walking,” he says lamely, then has to resist the urge to stick his head back under the faucet.

“Oh, I love dogs,” Iruka says, and Kakashi decides then and there he cannot possibly get any hotter. Actually, scratch that, his shirt could be off. “You have ninken, right? I’d love to meet them.”

“I’m sure they’d love to meet you, too.” Kakashi replies. “Just...bring treats for everyone.” You’re MY treat, he thinks to himself, then takes a deep breath and plunges on. “…Would you like to join us tomorrow morning?”

“I’d like that alot.” Iruka beams at him happily, overflowing with warmth. It’s almost as if he’s a flower himself, lovely and open and fragrant. Kakashi opens his mouth to ask him if he’d like to be pollinated.

And sneezes again.

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Week 2020, Day One Prompt: Hobbies/Weddings, also kinda works for Day Two Prompt: Confessions/Health too lol)

#kakairu #KakaIru Week 2020 #Hobbies/Weddings #dem allergies tho #hatake kakashi #Umino Iruka #naruto #my writing #Confessional/Health

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tellywoodtrash · 3 years

Text

immj2 30+31.12.20 lbs

30.12.20

lmao ep starts off itself with vansh and kabir ka staring match.

vansh steady in first place, not having blinked for................ like 3 minutes now? this dude a fucking freak.

while riddhima gazes adoringly at him thinking bhagwaan ne mujhe itnaaaaaaaaaa achcha pati diya hai. pft. idk what the hell sins you did in your last life riddhima, to get a husband like this one in this life, but it had to be something reallllllllllll bad. like stealing from little orphans and kicking puppies or some shit.

thankfully dadi is here to put an end to this chutiyaapa.

countdown blah blah, no1 currrrrrrrrr.

itna pheeeeeeeeeenka happy new year. bhai-behen ho kya???

now we talking.

he just says some trite shit like new kahaani that will be remembered for ages blah blah and gives creepy looks. dude why can’t you be normal on oneeeee bloody day?

ahaana also giving random creepy looks seeing vansh/riddhima hugging. and she goes and............

i think i watch this show and rrahul a little too closely ki i instantly knew this isn’t his hand and thus it’s not vansh’s hand she’s holding.

yupppppppppp. bola tha na.

damn they make a hotass couple of shady bitches.

ok wow i’m really feeling it. wish kabir wasn’t a sociopath who is incapable of feeling attachment (“love” is too strong a word) for anyone but his mother.

lmao his reaction when ahaana tells him ki riddhima didn’t believe any of the pattiii she padaofied her about vansh.

ok but how do these two know each other??? matlab yeh le aaya hai issko? i thought vansh le aaya hoga?!!?

mereko kya kaunsa manhoos le aaya? i’m just here for the attractive ppl pressing their bodies up against each other. keep on keeping on, #KaHana

he’s warning her against ever double-crossing him and dude the angry/hate-sex vibes here are *~~~ExQuISiTe*~~~~

the way she’s confidently gazing at him all sexy tells me she’s a much more seasoned player than riddhima and i already love her more than the damn lead of the show.

damn. that’s a gnarly period you got riddhima. that’s an unusual amount of flow. go see a doctor about it, sis.

i’ve heard about ppl making art with menstrual blood and all, but this is fucking ridiculous.

anyway of course the dumbass goes investigating it. and got fucking attacked in the storeroom and SOMEONE HUNG HER UP. LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN THIS MESSED UP HOUSE DUDE????/ WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU STILLL LIVE HERE????

Chehra Appreciation Break

asadkjasldjlaskdjlsakjdlas the way he’s yelling for everyone and interrogating them of their whereabouts coz riddhima’s missing.

lmao ishani and ahaana’s reactions at this temper tantrum are fucking amazing.

dang what’s with the suuuuuper orange lower half of his face???? ugh. the foundation woes are back now that the beard’s growing back in.

anyway he went barrelling off to find her after some more chabaaya hua dhamkis at his fam. ahaana already regretting moving into this pagaal khaana.

this scene is so fucking disturbing to watch that i don’t even wanna fucking cap it. but she was legit getting HANGED and he managed to get there in the nick of time and save her.

how, you ask? BY SHOOTING AT THE ROPE, INSTEAD OF JUST.......... DOING SOMETHING NORMAL LIKE RUNNING AND PUTTING THE STOOL BACK UNDER HER FEET TO STABILIZE HER. THIS SHOW IS JUST FUCKING BATSHIT INSANE, MY LORD.

this poor girl, my god. i don’t think i’ve ever watched a tellywood FL be tortured to the extent that this one is on a daily basis. it’s fucking ridiculous. there’s no redemption for any of the raisinghanias at this point. she just needs to fucking leave (and file several domestic violence cases against each and every one of them, except dadi.)

anyway she tells him whatever went down today, starting from the period blood fiasco onwards and he’s........ vibrating in anger. cool i guess.

some promises and shit about how who ever did this will pay, time for “humaara khel” and .......... dude. you say this shit every single time. and nothing changes. i don’t give a fuck anymore about your stupid promises. move the fuck outta this hellhole with your wife if you really mean it.

seedha jaake ahaana ke sar pe bandook taan di. based on what evidence? only the Good Lord above knows, coz vansh and the writers sure don’t.

no literally based on what is he accusing her and pulling the trigger??????? idgi??????

almost shot her and is saying “riddhima pe kharonchh nahi aani chahiye, baat ishq aur vishwaas ki hai” and ahaana is giggling and literally what the fuck is going on i’m so confused.

ahaana saying wowwwww, you want revenge also, and she shouldn’t get hurt also.

MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!!!!!!! I KNEW IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE’S THE ONE WHO BROUGHT AHAANA IN!!!!!!!!!!!!

literally what the fuck is this dude on???? badla chahiye, par dard nahi hona chahiye. bhai, kya phoonk ke aaye ho, humein bhi toh thoda de do.

ok this is tooooo fucking convoluted a game. riddhima thinks kabir is the one attacking her. but it’s kabir + ahaana. kabir thinks ahaana is on his side and brought her into VR mansion, but ahaana is double agent who was actually planted in kabir’s nazar by vansh to fuck over BOTH kabir and riddhima. i think?????????

ahaana be like re devaaaaaa, what fucking madness have i gotten myself into????????????? the things i have to do for health insurance coverage during a pandemic.

———————————————————————

31.12.20

first 5 minutes is some new year ka naach gaana bs. fwding.

ok this fucker is a legit motherflipping crazy. he just wants to keep torturing riddhima for god knows how long.

even ahaana is alarmed.

did he do absolutely noooooo research after the cliff chhalaang? like....... this revenge shit is so dumb at this point, when he knows she brought in vihaan to stop kabir from ruining the family, and took a second fucking bullet for him?!?!?!?!?!?! they shouldn’t have written the second gunshot plot point, coz now he looks like a reallllllllll unappreciative fucker for whom literally no good deed is enough.

WHAT PYAAR AND VISHWAAS, FUCKER???????? LITERALLY WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?????? YOU’VE PLAYED THESE GAMES WITH HER FROM THE VERY START OF YOUR MARRIAGE AND MAYBE TOOK A BREAK FOR A WEEK OR TWO IN BETWEEN - WHEN SHE GOT SHOT THE FIRST TIME AND DURING ISHANI’S WEDDING. THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT??????/ LIKE.......... THIS MAKES NO BLOODY SENSE. THIS CHARACTER IS JUST SUCH A SUPREME DOUCHEBAG, MY GOD. THERE’S ABSOLUTELY NO REDEEMING HIM WHATSOEVER.

also can’t say rrahul’s extra chabaaaaa chabaaaaaaa ke bolna is making this enjoyable to watch at all.

all i wanna know is what ahaana has on him that he’s indebted to her and thought her worthy enough to join forces with. SPILL SPILL SPILL SPILL!!!!!!!!!!!! what does ahaana get outta all this?!!?!?!!!!!!

riddhima on the other hand running around wondering whom vansh is gonna murder. SIS YOU JUST GOT STRANGULATED CAN YOU SIT DOWN FOR A HOT SEC AND REST?!?!!?!?

ahaana is like bro you gonna ruin riddhima’s life, and he’s like yeah, that’s what i want. jesus christ, dude. just divorce her then. why prolong this shit out like this????? truly psychopathic.

riddhima hears his voice and heads to the pool area..........

............. isn’t that his shoulder there behind the tree? is she fucking blind???????? HOW CAN SHE NOT SEE HIS 7 FOOT TALL HULKING ASS BEHIND THAT PATLA SA JHAADI?????? HE’S LITERALLY THERE LIKE........

........... she left. god. she’s really really REALLY stupid. like pretty sure these crimes against her count as extraaaaaaaaa bad....... like, pick on someone with your own brain capacity, vansh? leave the simple minded sis alone!

the only gift that’s acceptable from you rn sir, is divorce papers. and a self-filed restraining order promising to stay 3 whole districts away.

yikes, that beard is notttttt growing in well.

“tum mujhe apne saare stress de do.” BITCH YOU’RE HER BIGGEST STRESS. ASSHOLE. I HATE YOU SO MUCH.

“tumse door jaake jaaonga kahaan? abhi toh bohut kuch baaki hai.” fucking dieeee, you psychopath.

lmaoooooooooooooooo her face when she doesn’t understand wtf this gift is supposed to be. i’ve been there sis. trying to fake enthusiasm for some reallllll bad gifts from men is truly painful.

also she’s so dang cute when they let her use her face properly!!!!!! har waqt bechaari ko bass rulaate rehte hain iss show mein.

one ainvayiiii gift ke bahaane some random cuteness.

sis gazing at him some more thinking omg he loves me soooooooo much.

she remembered ahaana’s warning, and is like no she was lying to me!!!!!!!!! stupid stupid stupiddddddd. no matter whoever planted her, you should believe that sister over your haraami misters. motive jo bhi ho, bol toh behen sach hi rahi thi.

yuck that looks ugly af. why the hell would you want that on your bedroom wall? esp. when your bedroom is already so goddamn fugly.

anyway he’s gaslighting her some more about ahaana blah blah.

riddhima like i’ll prove it. le, iska jee nahi bharaa. she wants to do more jasoosi and go get stuck in random traps that try to kill her.

vansh promising he’ll throw ahaana and her partners out if she can prove it. meaning you’ll........... throw yourself out?????

whatever man, idk and idc anymore what this fucker does. i’m just here for the faces.

threatening notes planted in all these ppl’s rooms. everyone instantly like OMG VANSHHHHHHHHHHH DID THISSSSS. lol coz who else does this chutiyaapa of leaving random messages around like this.

but nope. chachi saw riddhima’s earring lying there and knows it’s her.

isko bhi mila.

lmao kabir rueing the day he set eyes on riddhima coz jeena haraam kar rakha hai ladki ne.

riddhima like mwahahahahhaha they must have got my notes and now they’ll come attack me! behen, woh toh note ke bina bhi roz karte aaye hain...............

there. promptly got jumped.

surprise, surprise.

lol attitude toh dekho behen ka. wish she was the lead of the show instead of riddhima.

#ishq mein marjawan 2 #immj2 #immj2 lbs #episode liveblogs

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huearmy · 4 years

Text

Clumsy

This is Soulmate Series. I’ll be doing one for each member.

________________________________________________________

Summary: Of all the possible ways in which your connection with your soulmate could’ve manifests, such as birthmarks or dreams, you and your person share physical pain. It would be enough for the two of you to want to get to know each other soon, the problem is that you are the most clumsy person Hoseok doesn't know yet, and all he wants is to find you and protect you from the world.

Pairing: Soulmate!au Hoseok x Reader.

Genre: Fluff, ANGST

Words: 5781

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: I dont really know if this is a warning or not but the is description of pain and injury, some of them are kind of... bad. Sorry.

Hoseok have a really clumsy soulmate. It had been two years since he started feeling your pain as if it is his.

He didn't found you yet, and the suffering of feeling under his skin your auto destructive nature increase his frustration.

You cut your fingers a lot, sometimes with paper others with knives while cooking, or with scissors doing some manual work - he can say the difference by now. You sprained your right ankle twice in eight months, and definitely have a cat that scratch you once in awhile. It's amazing how you get to know a person just because of the way they get hurt on a daily basis Hoseok can handle with your constant banging on furniture and doors, new bruises on hips, knees, elbows, and ankles almost every day. What he can't handle is when you do waxing. Like, don't you know that he will feel it too? Or don't you care? Can't you just shave for his sake? That fucking pain in his legs, under his arms and groin hurts to death. He never know when it is about do come, because apparently you are a person with a flexible routine and do these things when you have free time, he assumes, so sometimes he is having a normal conversation and suddenly he screams - and not the type of Hoeeok's screams that everyone is used to. Are screams of terrible pain and despair, that fill his eyes with painful tears.

Not to mention his horrible period cramps - Hoseok prefers not to think about it.

But he knows that you might suffer because of him sometimes too. For example when anxiety takes over him and his stomach aches and he can't breathe and his chest burns... besides the pain you must feel sad too. Or when he's tired from dancing, arms and legs too sore to move, you wouldn't be able to walk neither.

Even if sometimes it looks horrible not knowing you, feeling pain instead, he would always picture your face in bed time. He would stare the ceiling and fantasy with the color of your eyes and the sound of your voice, each time building a different face that can't satisfied him. Just you in reality will be enough.

Hoseok has always been a romantic person, who likes to be in a relationship, to walk hand in hand in cute dates, and have someone to call his own. Since the first time he felt you hitting a little toe on the corner of a piece of furniture, though, he was never able to take an interest in anyone again. No girl, however incredible and beautiful, was enough to fill the void in him. Feeling you being stupidly clumsy started to be more exciting than flirting with someone he was actually seeing in front of him. He missed you so much without even knowing you.

_____________________________________________

"Hyung, you want go eat with us?" Jimin's head apers in the door ajar, bringing Hoseok from his wondering.

"Sure" Hoseok smiled back, dead hungry, already standing from his desk. "Let's eat! Let's eat!" He sang with sound effects. "Oh" Before he could reach his friend he stumbled on nothing, a sharp pain in his big toe making presence.

"What was that, hyung?" Jimin laughed.

Looking confused to the floor, Hoseok giggled.

"She must be in a hurry." He stated, feeling that he is right.

"Oh." Jimin said surprised, although he's already used to Hoseok talking about you like that.. "You already know her this well?"

Hoseok laughed.

"Kind of. She is always tripping around..."

Hoseok let out a sigh. He needs to find you and protect you from the world, because apparently you can't to do it by yourself, and even if he doesn't know your face yet, or your voice... He loves you. And you are so damn clumsy! Every time you trip, beats your head into something or get sick he have a heart attack. Hobi just want to take care of you... He loves you.

____________________________________________________

You are a really clumsy girl. Sometimes you just don't know how you still alive, or with all limbs in place. Like, when you were six you got the prowess of knocking over a bookshelf on top of yourself, and luckily only lost a milk tooth. When you were nine you fell three flights of stairs because you was looking at a plane trough the window, resulting in a whole week in hospital, during holidays. Seventeen was your age when you give up of collective sports, after breaking a girl's nose in a volleyball match by accident - and she was your team mate. You never learned how to drive for the world's sake and most of the time you order take out instead cooking.

You hate yourself for being so clumsy. You always did. Because is awkward and tiresome... And you are so ashamed sometimes, like when you dropped ice cream on your high school crush. But now you are also guilty. Two years ago when you first felt your soulmate pain - a slap in the butt, and for some reason it always happens - you knew he would suffer because of you. You swear that you try to be careful, but it's not enough. So you feel guilty. You feel you don't deserve your soulmate.

You need to find him. Find him to protect him from yourself. Ironically.

The day you both finally met the pain will go away.

"Y/N honey, can you help me here?" Your coworker, called you from the other room. You put the wedding rings in place to the great moment and calmly walked to her, confident in yours, not so high, high heels.

"Yes?"

Next to the window, the bride was having her make up and hair done in her white robe, and you couldn't help but get jealous. It happens in all your jobs with weddings, because all that beautiful brides found their soulmates...

Your coworker pull you to the corner, clearly annoyed.

"We have a problem." She said. This sentence can mean anything, so an alert light out in your mind.

"And it is?" You asked in concern.

"The groom's mother is allergic to roses."

Your eyes widened.

"The whole decoration is made of roses. We need to change for another flower. Right?" You said, already reaching for you phone.

"Wrong. The bride want roses. Even though her mother-in-law is having an anaphylactic attack at the moment for snooping around the church decoration she doesn't want to change. The luck is that it didn't happen during the ceremony and there is still time to fix it."

Your brain worked hard during a second - aside from the questionable selfish stance of the bride who probably already knew about such an allergy - working so many years with organizing events you already got a little used to it.

Remembering something promising you opened your instagram, looking for a florist you’ve worked with a few times.

"I know where to get really realistic artificial roses, and I can bargain a really good price if I go in person."

Your coworker smiled in adoration.

"Go get then, honey."

You demanded someone to continue your previous task over the radio, while texting the said florist with one hand. You are a clumsy girl who choose a job in which it is necessary to divide your attention between several tasks at the same time and still make everything perfect, without breaking anything and still having the chance of the client to change his mind at the last moment for you to have to solve it. And actually you are pretty good at it. Just to be sure you passed as far as possible from the ice sculpture being made in the lobby, asking for an uber and walking at the same time could be dangerous when around fragile things.

Your plan was to get enough money to open your own event company, and you're almost there, maybe in a year you could be putting the plan into action. You would love to find your soulmate already being successful like that, maybe it will help him or her not to find you so clumsy. Still, you would like more than anything to meet your soulmate soon, not in a year or more.

Every day when you left your house to work you daydream with you bumpim with a beautiful person on the busy sidewalk, or at the door of a café, probably spilling hot coffee on them, or finding them at one of the weddings you organize, being the cousin of the groom or something like that. Your relationship would begin with appologies, but it would be funny, and the future you both will have together would be bright, cute, with lots of hand in hand cute dates, and unexpected trips to the emergency room. Every time you see a bride's happy and fulfilled smile you think about it, not that you want to get married specifically, but finding your person is almost a necessity after two years of knowing that they are somewhere in the world waiting for you too.

You sat carefully in the back seat of the uber, so as not to hit your head, already counting in your budget from what you could get the money to pay the extra cost of fake flowers and programming your bargain in your head for a good value. But as much as your professional mode was turned on, you were having trouble focusing, a strange feeling in your stomach bringing you anxiety.

________________________________________________

At the restaurant with the boys, filling his belly with delicious food and well-deserved doses of alcohol - on a day off is ok to drinking early, and Taehyung is driving, not him - he still too thoughtful to fully have fun. He still thinking hard about you.

You didn't hurt yourself during the last two hours to remember him of your existence, but he just didn't forget not for a second. He even started to overthink about thinking about you so much, which isn't exactly normal, anxiety making him tense. The laughter of friends around him and the good food failing to take away from him the feeling that something was wrong. He wished he could pick his phone and call you to be sure you are ok. On the other hand, if something bad was happening to you, he would know in his own skin, so why stress so much?

All he wanted was to go home and sleep - after it took so long to arrive at the restaurant, stopping at several places before to shop and pay bills, it took most of the afternoon.

"Ah! It wasn't so! You are being mean to me, hyung..." Jimin was whining about something Yoongi had said, making all of them laugh.

But Hoseok was still not having it. He got up from the table murmuring a 'I'm going to the bathroom', without waiting for an answer, or that they would notice at all. In the rest roo, he washed his face and made some funny faces to te mirror to relax himself.

"OK!" He excitedly said to himself, ready to get out of the bathroom and bright the world. Hoseok almost had a heart attack as soon as he closed the bathroom door behind him, with a loud noise of a metal tray falling on the floor and glass breaking. A few meters from him, in the middle of the mess, was one of the waitresses, on her knees. Without hesitating, he stepped forward to help her. He helped her to get on her feet, searching everywhere visible if she got hurt. "Are you ok?"

"Yes sir, thanks. I'm just a little clumsy." The waitrees awkwardly smiled.

From the table, his friends watched the scene with interest, wich one of them knowing what bond of pain you two have and how awkward you seem to be, imagining that suddenly Hoseok could have finally found you, hoping that was you. But Hoseok already knew it wasn't you, the cuts on the waitress's knees didn't hurt him, he was just being polite to help, hoping that when you get hurt, you'll have someone to help you too.

Another waiter came to help, and he can go back to the table, going straight to the plate of food he had left unfinished, now feeling like eating. His six friends were staring at him in expectation. Hoseok swallowed his food and laughed flatly.

"It wasn't her." He said.

___________________________________________________

You got that damn fake flowers in time to redecorate the whole wedding hall in time, and with a fair price. That kind of thing certainly raises your self-esteem, because damn, you are an incredible talented professional. On the way back from the florist, you had to go to the office to resolve some more bureaucratic issues, which delayed you to return to the wedding as a staff. But you can put on some makeup and perfume while you run to your uber, rigth? Yeah, just take of your shoes, and run barefoot to avoid twisting your ankle, and try not to run over anyone on the way. You almost entered the wrong car in your rush. Almost.

You texted your coworker telling her you would be there in twenty and made eye contact with the driver.

"I'll pay double if you go really fast." You said, putting on the seat belt.

The driver raised an eyebrow to you.

"Are you this late?"

"I need to attend a wedding on time." You smiled with you best puppy eyes.

He started the engine.

"Yes ma'am".

________________________________________________________________

They were already arriving home, Hoseok's mood a lot better, a little bit tipsy too. He was messing up with Jungkook and Yoongi while waiting for the elevator, the other boys stayed behind in the parking lot picking up the useless shopping bags of the day. He was ok in changing his plan of get to bed early to more soju and beer on a karaoke night - nothing better than drunkly scream songs at the top of your lungs to a machine that gives you points for it to liven up a day that was strange.

Their dorm was a mess in less than ten minutes, smell of cheese snacks and fried chicken in the air, loud and exaggerated laughter, play order defined with rock paper and scissors. The youngers were struggling to set up the karaoke, Jin and Namjoon were giggling in they spot in the couch choosing the song for one another - expect loud screaming notes.. Hoseok went to the kitchen to put the beer on ice, but I couldn't find the cooler anywere.

He was looking in the pantry when Yoongi came after him.

"Need help?"

"I'm just not finding the cooler."

"Hmm." Yoongi leaned against the doorframe " Are you feeling better?"

"What?" Hoseok let a embarrassed laugh out.

"Stop. We all notice when you are not ok." Yoongi were serious "What happened?

Hoseok sighed.

"I felt weird the whole day. And the thing with the waintress got to me... I was anxious, but I'm ok now." He smiled "I know theres a rigth time to find my person, and I can't do much to speed this up."

Yoongi got silent for a moment.

"Aren't you afraid to find them? Not even a bit?" He asked without looking Hoseok in the eyes.

"No" Hoseok said without hesitation.

He knows Yoongi personal crisis about finding his own soulmate, how it scares and get to the insecurities of his hyung. But he don't feel this way. He already loves you too much to be afraid. Hoseok assurance didn't surprised Yoongi one bit, it actually made him smile.

"So I think a shortcut for you is to look in emergency rooms out there, at some point you’ll find them." He said.

"Oh hyung... I already thought about it, but it’s nothing romantic." Hoseok whinned reaching the cooler on the bottom shelf.

At the end Jimin chose a song for Jin and namjoon to sing together, a children's song that the two sang as if they were vocalists in a punk rock band. Teahyung slipped and fell on his butt dancing with them. Then Yoongi sang a party song like it was the most emocional and heart touching thing ever. Jungkook performed a really emocional song in a really emocional way, making most of them drunk crying. The beer was gone. Jimin and Taehyung practically serenade each other and got the lowest note of the night. When Hoseok's turn came Jin skipped the line and did a duet with him too, damn they’re lucky that the apartment is soundproofed, because the neighbors wouldn’t stand the screams. About an hour singing the soju and the chicken were also running out, the maknae was sleeping in a corner of the sofa as if the noise did not exist, and some were already too dizzy to be jumping and dancing in the middle of the room. Hoseok was not one of those, even when it was not his turn, it was as if he suddenly had a lot of energy accumulated in his body - which can be considered strange as he is usualy a quiet drunk.

They were debating out loud what song to choose next, Hoseok with one of the microphones in his hand and a wide smile on his face when

it happened

For the boys who saw it from the outside, they couldn't understand what was happening. Hoseok's face contorted in pain and he fell to the floor abruptly. And there he stayed.

Inside he was in agony. In an instant he was fine and having fun, in the next everything hurt and it was impossible to breathe. His head was throbbing, as if he had been hit hard on the left side, making the world go round. His left shoulder also hurt so much that he couldn't even move his fingers - almost the same if it was broken. The skin, especially on the face, stinged like dozens of small cuts. But the worst was the burning chest, as if his lungs did not have the strength to draw air, the feeling was that he was drowning. It was like he was dying.

Jin and Yoongi were by his side in one moment, putting putting him on his back, not knowing what to do besides. They were panicked seeing their friend crying in pain on the floor when there was apparently nothing wrong with him.

"Hoseok-ah whats happening? Can you talk?" Yoongi tried with no response.

"We need to take him to the hospital." Namjoon stated.

"I'll take the car." Jin decided. "Can you guys pick him up?"

"Hyung, you are too drunk to drive." Jungkook, who woke up with the commotion, said with scared and worried eyes.

"What do you think we can do then?" Jin did not intend to shout, but he had no control over the situation.

Taehyung putted a hand on Jin shoulder. "Jimin is calling the emergency."

Infact Jimin was on his phone at the corridor, his choked voice asking for medical help.

The discussion of what to do or not, the boys obeying the emergency attendant's recommendations over the phone, the despair of the other members, the karaoke song selection menu still playing in the background ... Hoseok was not processing any of this. He just had a terrible thought. A realization that made him cry more than the physical pain he was feeling.

That was your pain. You were the one dying. He was losing you.

_____________________________________________________________

Taehyung was the most sober of the group, so when the paramedics arrived, he was the one accompaning Hoseok in the ambulance - the others called their manangers and waited to go to the hospital in aother way. He answered questions about what they drank and ate and about his hyung's medical history while the paramedic examined him in the tight space. Although he was unable to breathe or move properly, there were no physical signs of the pain he was feeling, and the information given by the youngest boy also did not help, because in fact there was nothing wrong with Hoseok's body, he he was unharmed and healthy.

With the only sight being the ambulance's monochromatic roof and unable to breathe enough to speak, Hoseok just cried. He wanted to get up and run to find you, to save you ... even if he has no idea where you are, even without destiny he wanted to move, do something. The panic and anxiety playing with his head, making him think of a thousand possibilities of what could've happened to you. So much pain he has felt in the last two years connected to you, but nothing has been so scary. What if someone hurt you? If he had already found you, would he have been able to protect you? ... What if he never found you? Hoseok found himself hoping the pain would not go away, afraid that if the pain disappeared he would know that you are gone.

Hoseok were too devastated to hear Tae explaining about the soulmate bond of pain between you, nor the paramedic saying that then all he could do to help was a dose of morphine. He panicked even more when the medicine, injected into his bloodstream, started to take effect and his body started to go numb until he fell asleep.

Upon arrival at the hospital, a manager was already there to assist Teahyung and not leave him alone. Hoseok was referred for observation, as a 'soulmate case'. There wasn't much to do with him, so knowing the reason why he was admitted to the hospital, the nurses in the ward where Hoseok stayed decided to keep an eye on any patient with symptoms that matched his, just in case.

__________________________________________________________________

It wasn't even high-speed fault or anything. In fact, when you asked the uber driver to help you get to the wedding faster, he decided to take less busy routes, without breaking any traffic laws, just taking shortcuts. And everything was going well, you would get there in time ... Until you came across a drunk driver who advanced the signal and hit the side of your car, rigth in your door. While the uber driver only had a wrist dislocation and the drunk guy had no more than a few scratches, it was a different story with you. Of course it was, otherwise it wouldn't be you.

A broken collarbone and left arm, a concussion with possible complications, and what was more frightening and you thought it was going to kill you, a broken rib piercing your left lung that filled it with fluid preventing you from breathing. You were sure you were going to die and everything you could think as you watched the firefighters taking you out of the hardware with a blurry view was '

damn my person must be freaking out now.'.

You didn't see it when you arrived at the hospital, since you were convulsing, but if you were awake you might have seen Hoseok passing by you to the oposite direction on another stretcher while you were being taken to the operating room. You spent about six hours in surgery and when they sent you to the intensive care unit, your condition was more stable, but the doctors still haven't considered you to beout oft risk. You were breathing with the help of devices and being medicated so that the clot in your head would dissolve. Visits were not allowed at first.

________________________________________________________________________

Hoseok was feeling restless in his hospital room, the intravenous access to his arm, injecting serum and pain medication, was bothering him. He was numb and it was scary. The clock in the wall was showing eight in the morning. At this hour everyday, regardless of whether he is awake and already working or sleeping until a little later, he would know you were getting out of bed to start your day, today he has no idea how you are... Or if... No. He doesn't want to think about that possibility.

A nurse came into the private room with a breakfast tray, making the mananger sleeping in the side couch to wake.

"Good morning" She said with a smile, putting th tray on Hoseok's lap. "Sir, the hospital café is open." She smiled to the mananger too, who got up and left still sleepy.

Hoseok satared to the food in front of him with a pout, not wanting to eat. The nurse took his medical record from the edge of the bed and made some notes, observing the dosage of the serum.

"How are you feeling mr.Jung? Any pain?"

"No. I'm... ok."

The nurse just nodded and writed some more in the record.

"Theres not much more we can do to help you, so untill twelve the doctor will come to discharg you."

Hoseok wasn't feeling talktive, so he nodded in silence. The nurse gave the door a suspicious look and when she talked againg in was almost a whisper.

"We tecnically shouldn't have done that, but the other nurses and I think we found your girl."

It took him a second to understand what she meant by those words, and then he practically jumped on the bed, suddenly feeling energized. A lot of things running on Hoseok's mind. Noticing his agitation she went on talking, now with a careful look.

"This girl checked into the hospital last night, at about the same time as you, and suffered trauma that matches the pain you described you were feeling. I can't guarantee it's her ..."

"If I see her I'll know." Hoseok said with conviction, picking the tray and putting it on the side, ready to get up and go to you.

"Oh oh oh... calm down. You can't see her now, she is on ICU, no visits."

Hoseok thought he might cry in frustration.

"Please... I need to see her."

He looked so fragile and he pouted so cutely that the nurse couldn't do much besides melt and say yes to him.

"I'll talk to the head nurse and see what to do. But you have to eat everything huh." She said going to the door.

"Ok." Hoseok happily satarted to eat, and the nurse couldn't belive in the sunshine smile she was seeing in his face.

________________________________________________

Is not the first time you see yourself in a hospital room, everything is quite familiar to you like the antiseptic smell, white light, and some characteristic sounds like those of machines helping you to breathe. And no, it's not just because you are always hurting yourseol in dumb ways, you had to remove your appendix when you were thirteen, for example. What matters is that when you opened your eyes you already knew where you were and why, and all you could do at the moment was to press the red button on the side of the bed to call the nurse and cry with happiness for being alive.

The confusing part of it all was "Why am I in a private room?" You asked the nurse.

It was a clearly expensive private room, that you couldn't pay, if you used your savings to start your business you would have to work two years to recover the money. And why in heaven there were so many flowers in the room??? A lot of them of various diferent times of flowers. There must have a error and you were mistaken for another patient, because you don't know anyone who would give you so many flowers, much less pay a room like this to you. And even if there are balloons tied to the edge of the bed and one of them has your name written on it, nothing could convince you that you were not exchanged with somebody.

"I don,t know miss. You were transferred here yesterday morning with the bills already paid." He said without looking away from the screen beside you.

"Paid by whom?"

The nurse didn't know how to awnser you and left right after, letting you with just the tv control and still a lot of doubts and paranoia. You cell phone was destroyed in the accident, but you wanted it so badly. With it you could try to resolve this situation. The thing was wait till visiting time, it is probably your mother who comes to see you and she will know what to do.

Well, no one told you what time it would be, but waiting would do no harm. So at lunch, as other nurse were helping you to eat - since one of your hands is full of intravenous accesses and your other arm is in a sling because of the broken cravicle - a light knock on the door drew your attention to a silhouette visible through the frosted glass. The nurse besides you looked at his wristwatch and excused hermself to her feet.

Why did she look excited?

It confused you for a second, but maybe her shift was ending and the someone at the door was there to replace her, that's what you concluded. She went out and closed the door, leaving you alone.

The door opened again and a man - without nurse's uniform - entered. The nurse pratically pushed him inside. You were sure he was there to talk about the misunderstanding of the rooms, and you already had the arguments ready to apologize and try to make the situation less strange ... when you two made contact and you were speechless. And you knew.

Hoseok was so anxious to met you, the doctor didn't let him see you up close, and even if you were all intubated and swollen, through the window of the ICU, he knew you were his person. He got you a better room, and bought you flowers - all his members did too, thats why theres were so many of them, the baloons were Teahyung's idea -, and now he thinks everything was a little overhelming, making him afraid of your potential reaction.

But you just looked at him in silence, wide and watery eyes. The truth was that you were feeling so many things and your heart was so full that you couldn't form sentenses, couldn't chose what tell him first, you onl sure that your future were standing right in front of you, ans tha you already had a crush on him.

He hesitated for a moment.

"Hi." He said.

Your lips quiver lightly, and than you started crying.

"Im sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

Hoseok didn't know if you were talking about the acident or everything else, but he didn't want you to cry for any reason. He walked at you and got a sit in the chair besides yor bed.

"Hey don't cry. I'm happy! Happy to see you!" He made a cute silly voice and smiled and you heart melted completly. "No need to cry or feel sorry, ok?"

He wiped your tears away with the back of your hand, and you both felt like electricity pass through your bodies from where they touched. You tried to lean towards him to not lose his touch, but the new angle brought a sharp pain in your shoulder, making you hiss. He went on a lot of apologies, asking if he did something wrong and if he should call the nurse. And all you could think was that you were doing it again.

"Did it hurt you??"

The voice that left your mouth was fragile and insecure. Hoseok understood and his face softened. He intertwined his little finger with yours, as he couldn't properly hold your hand.

"The moment I saw you all the pain was gone." He said, voice deep and chaming smile.

Your pale face got a new shade of red.

"God that was so cheesy!" You whined, all embarassed, if you could you would be hidding you face in your hands.

"It's true though! Do you want me to stop with cheesy things? I didn't mean it to be cheesy..." Oh my god you made him insecure, he was so nervous to talk to you, just like a teenager.

"No. Don't stop, please... I can be really lovey dovey, and I love cheesy dates and pda, and cliche displays of affection too. I live for those stuff. I literally work with it.." You tried to fix and his wild smiled made you relax.

"Good, because I draw hearts in everything." He said.

Hoseok exchanged his place in the chair for a piece of the bed beside you. He just wanted to be as close to you as he can, even if you weren't ok yet to get all the hugs he was holding back.

"But seriously. After I saw you for the first time yesterday, I didn't feel any of your pains anymore. I think it proves that you are mine."

You really startet to cry this time, it fisically hurted because of your wonds, but it was mentally and emotionally relieving. You were so happy that you didn't die and now was with Hoseok - your person, your soulmate. For so long you wondered what kind of person he would be, you imagined yourself being scold for your clumsyness, being called selfish or inconsequential for not thinking of someone else suffering with you. Of couse it was your insecurities talking. Now seeing that Hoseok is nothing but a sweetheart, you couldn't help yourself but feel even more guilt.

"Thank god... I'm so sorry for everything I put you through. "You said between light sobs.

"Hey... don't cry that I cry too." Hoseok took your face in his hands with all the care in the world, as if you were going to break if he got it wrong. "It's not your fault. And even if it is, I don't care ok? All waxing is forgiven."

Your eyes got wild and you pout.

"Sorry. I have horrible allergies to shaving, so I thought a momentary pain would be better than one that lasted for days."

Hoseok laughed.

"See, you were caring for me. And now I will care for you."

Hoseok was biting his tongue to not say that he already loves you - because he thinks it's too soon and theres no need to be hurry. Inside your head you are exactly the same. Instead of saing anything, Hoseok juts got closer and lightly kissed your forehead. You closed your eyes and sighed deeply. None of you said 'I love you' out loud, but you both understood.

Now I will care for you.

___________________________________________________

I’ll be working on other members parts with no rigth date to post. Let me know if you liked it, so I can prioritize that.

Thankyou ~

#bts reaction #bts fanfic #bts soulmate au #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #bts au fic #bts fic #j hope #j hope fluff #Hoseok #jung hoseok #hobi #hobi fanfic #soulmate #soulmate au

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youeggbastard · 4 years

Note

Just kidding disregard that last one, I need all the love headcanons for Aine and as many for Alys as you feel like answering. (esp her type so I can give you ship options lol) I might come back with questions about your tes babies too, heads up lol

You got it! Alys and Aine are both relatively new as far as ocs go so this is all subject to change.

Aine

When they discover they’ve got a crush: She doesn’t, she the mayor of denial-ville, in the country of No-fucking-way-Land. She will just try to convince herself that it’s not possible, she’s a jedi they aren’t supposed to develop attachments and god damn it, she’s already bad at being a jedi getting a crush and falling love would just add to it so it’s not fucking happening! And then they smile at her and she’s right back to square one.

How they confess/hint: She doesn’t. Those feelings stayed buried in the pit of her emotions forever to never see the light of day and that’s where they fucking belong. Though if she avoids someone that could be a hint, either that or she just really doesn’t like them so it’s hit or miss.

Big gestures of love: Taking a literal bullet for you. Going to the ends of the galaxy to keep you safe, this isn’t just for romantic love either, it’s also for plutonic.

Little gestures of love: “I found this trinket on some guy I killed and thought of you” Also you know when you’re cutting up fruit or peeling an orange and you give someone a slice without even asking or thinking about it? She does that.

How to win their heart: Accept her how she is, she’s spent a lot of her life not feeling like she belonged anywhere or was even wanted. She spent her childhood being told she had no worth and then she became a Jedi and found her purpose in life, but even then she’s still told her emotions are a weakness, and now she’s expected to save the entire galaxy over and over again. So basically anyone that just loves and accepts her as a messy thing that tries her best will win her heart.

How to break their heart: Pretty much the opposite of that. Don’t accept her, reject her, tell her she has no worth .

Tiny little turn-ons: She enjoys banter, someone that can keep up with her wit.

Big turn-ons: You know those scenes where two people will be practicing fighting and they get real close and they’re all breathing hard. That’s a big turn on.

Things that make their heart flutter: Being thought of, like even someone saying, “I thought of you the other day” get’s her all fuzzy.

Their type: Ugh hard to say I don’t think she has much of a type per say Really just what I said before if she connects with you on an emotional level you’re her type, as for like flings she doesn’t discriminate lmao.

Ideal date: Saving the galaxy and then taking mutual naps.

Past relationships: Nothing serious, she’s had a couple of flings here and there but once she became a jedi knight she kind of put a stop to it.

How they might affect current relationships: Hard to say since she doesn’t have a current relationship as of now.

‘Goals’ in a relationship (marriage, kids, a house, etc): She doesn’t want marriage nor does she want kids, her ship is her house. Basically Aine isn’t one to settle down. Like, if she finds someone she loves, she’ll love them and be with only them for the rest of eternity, but she has no interest in marriage.

Any other love headcannons: She’s the type of person who is secretly into romance media. Like she’ll be the one to say “Ew this is corny” while watching the Notebook but stay for the whole time and have to sneakily wipe her tears at the end.

Alys

When they discover they’ve got a crush: Probably go through all the stages of grief, but Alys develops crushes pretty easily so it happens a lot. Basically if somone is moderately nice to her Alys is already planning the wedding.

How they confess/hint: “Hey being around you makes me happy and like I think I’m falling in love with you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.... jk jk unless 👀." But really she’ll try to pass it off as a joke so it kinds of hard to tell if she’s confessing her feelings or if she’s just like that.

Big gestures of love: Her trusting you enough to even just open up to someone is already a big gesture of love and not easily done for her.

Little gestures of love: Listening to someone talk about something they love for hours, also trusting you enough for her to talk about something she loves.

How to win their heart: There a couple of layers to this, she’ll get a crush on anyone that’s moderately nice. But to win her heart you’ve got to proof you’re the reliable sort, someone who wont abandon her even when things get tough and they get tough a lot. Basically just show her an ounce of unconditional love.

How to break their heart: Just be like her family who rejected her and abadoned her and emotionally abuses her on a daily basis. Also say you like creamy peanut butter better than crunchy, that’s bound to break her heart too.

Tiny little turn-ons: She definitely has a voice kink.

Big turn-ons: Can’t even lie Alys secretly likes it when someone takes control but only in the bedroom, if anyone tries to tell her what to do outside of it There will be hell to pay.

Things that make their heart flutter: Oh maannnn any of those soft little romantic gestures, longing stares, hands brushing, hand kissing. The whole lot.

Their type: Hmmmm She probably goes more for the sweet type, Alys has been through a lot and has been hurt by a lot of people who should have given her unconditional love. So her type is someone who loves her with no strings attached.

Ideal date: She would honestly be content just staying at home with the person she loves while they spend hours talking about their passions.

Past relationships: She had one relationship in the imperial academy but it didn’t end well....

How they might affect current relationships: Hard to say since she doesn’t have a current relationship

‘Goals’ in a relationship (marriage, kids, a house, etc): Ahhhh She isn’t exactly opposed to marriage but she’s also content never getting married and just being around the person she loves. She doesn’t really want kids, her parents kind of fucked her up so she doesn’t exactly have any good basis for how a normal parent should be and she’s terrified that she won’t be enough.

Any other love headcannons: She’s the type of person to go out of her way to show her love to her S/O and be all affectionate, but the second they do the same she short circuits and doesn’t know how to react. It usually ends in awkward laughing and finger guns.

#Asks #oc: Aine #oc: Alys #SWTOR ocs #my oc

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bytheangell · 4 years

Text

A Heavy Leaf to Turn

(Read on AO3) (tw: self confidence issues, weight gain, canon-compliant self destructive behaviors)

It starts with a comment meant in good fun, just a passing quip during a sparring session about Alec’s new lifestyle making him soft with a tap to his stomach with the staff for emphasis, but it’s enough. Alec isn’t one to fixate on his appearance, barely sparing it a passing thought on a day to day basis. But now that he sees it when he looks in the mirror after training - not just in his stomach but in his face, and a few other places, too - there’s no denying that between his home life and shift to more desk work at the Institute he’s definitely started to put on weight.

Is that what everyone thinks about him? That the desk job is making him weak? That he’s not up to par the way he was just a few months ago?

He shakes it off and tells himself he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter - he’s still in great shape, can still hold his own in the field, he still got where he is because he’s one of the best. Everything’s fine.

...until he starts subconsciously slipping back into his old habits.

---

Jace can practically feel the weight start to lift off of his parabatai’s soul more and more every day. Alec was never meant to be a warrior. Sure, he’s good at it. Hell, he’s one of the best, especially when you put that bow in his hands. But Alec never took any real joy out of the hunt, out of a violent life full of chaos and bloodshed. He did it because it was expected of him - and now that something entirely different is expected of him, something he’s far more suited to, he’s happier than Jace has ever seen him.

This is Alec’s strength: being a leader, making changes in a broken system, paving the way for others like him, he’s not only still playing a huge role as a Shadowhunter but he’s making even more of an impact now than he ever would have in the field. This isn’t just what’s best for Alec, it’s what’s best for the Shadow World as a whole, of that Jace has no doubt.

Even without their bond it’s easy enough to see that Alec feels truly happy, safe, and loved. It’s all of these things that allow him to grow more comfortable in his own skin. Quite literally: Alec goes from concerningly lean, a clear sign of the overexercising Alec used to resort to daily, to a much healthier weight in the months following his wedding. Jace never makes a joke about the weight Alec starts to put on because he sees it for what it is: recovery. This is Alec getting better, and he’ll be damned if one of his usual smart-ass remarks is what sets him off again.

Instead Jace makes sure Alec still trains with him when he can, makes sure he goes on a patrol or two to stay involved even if he’s spending most of his time behind a desk now, just so he doesn't feel too cooped up or start to go a little stir crazy. He provides the balance Alec needs between his old habits and the new ones he probably doesn’t even realize he’s forming. And Jace doesn’t even have to let Alec win - Alec can still kick his ass half the time without even trying.

Jace is also in the training room the day one of the other Shadowhunters jokes about Alec’s weight, and it takes all of his self control not to toss the seraph blade in his hands straight at the guy’s mouth to shut him up. It’s difficult not to react when he looks at Alec and immediately sees the way Alec looks down with that flash of awareness, the way Jace can see him pull his stomach muscles tighter in response, the glance towards his discarded shirt as Alec debates putting it back on.

Yeah, Jace is pretty sure he deserves a freaking medal for not murdering the guy on the spot, but instead he goes up to the two of them with a casual smile.

“Hey, mind if I tap in? It’s been awhile since I got to kick my parabatai’s ass,” Jace jokes, and the other guy leaves without question.

Alec gives Jace a look like he knows exactly what he’s doing but says nothing, and instead wastes no time lunging forward on the attack. He’s glad to see Alec relax a little more around him, but not completely, which is never a good sign.

“You alright? You seem a little off today,” Jace asks, not wanting to bring up the comment but hoping Alec will.

“I’m good,” is all Alec says before leaving.

Jace hopes he’s telling the truth.

---

Magnus starts to notice immediately. Of course he’s aware of his husband’s weight gain given just how often his hands (among other parts of him) come into contact with Alec’s body on a daily basis, but given the life Alec previously lead it’s certainly a good change to see. Alec is a far cry from the person he was when they first met - a person who punished himself physically to distract from a number of other problems in his life - and Magnus likes to think he had a pretty large role to play in the transition.

It’s no secret that Magnus disapproves of many aspects of Shadowhunter culture - their desire to sacrifice oneself for the perceived ‘greater good’ is one among many of those. Magnus watched Alec hide a number of self-destructive habits under the cover of those twisted values, and then watched Alec slowly, almost painstakingly, break away from that mindset. The fact that Alec hasn’t resorted to any of his old coping mechanisms lately is something that Magnus is grateful for, especially since he knows the sort of uphill battle overcoming self-destructive habits can be.

So what if Alec puts on a few extra pounds in the process? It’s the healthiest he’s seen Alec since they met, and honestly, Magnus finds him more attractive now than ever before. Though it never comes up Magnus is convinced that Alec has to have noticed by now as well and simply recognizes it as the nonissue it is.

Which obviously isn’t the case, he now realizes. Magnus can tell the exact day Alec becomes aware of it without any knowledge of what happened at the Institute. That night Alec is self-conscious the moment their clothes are off, something he hasn’t been in quite some time, and Magnus can feel the muscles tense and Alec’s entire body shift away at the trail of lingering kisses Magnus leaves down his stomach. However vocally willing and agreeable Alec is, there’s some lingering reservation he isn’t admitting, Magnus can tell, and isn’t surprised at how eagerly Alec agrees to his suggestion they call it a night instead of going any further.

When Alec leaves early the next morning, skipping the breakfast they had planned to go on a run instead, Magnus wonders if he should be worried; when Alec starts coming home from the Institute later and leaving early every morning, Magnus knows the answer is yes.

---

Isabelle catches onto the shift as well. Ever since the wedding Alec’s been happier, like, all of the time. It’s a good look for him - he’s spending a little more time behind the desk, sure but that’s where he needs to be right now. With rumors of him being up for Inquisitor there’s no need to be putting his life needlessly in danger on routine missions that any of them can handle, not while he’s Head of the Institute. Isabelle and Jace both agree to take on a few more roles around the Institute to make sure Alec isn’t the one pulling all nighters covering new trainees or short-staffed patrols.

The bags around her brother’s eyes start to fade, replaced by a light and a sparkle that she can’t remember ever seeing so consistently. She doesn’t mind the extra work if it means giving her big brother a bit of a break - he certainly deserves one after everything he’s been through lately, and she’s just so thrilled to see him so relaxed that she’d give up anything if it meant he’d get to be this content forever. It’s all she’s ever wanted for him - it’s all she’s ever wanted for anyone she cares about - and after all the time she spent worried he’d never find this sort of peace she’s determined to do whatever it takes to make sure he gets to keep it.

And then, practically overnight, something changes. Alec starts putting himself on extra assignments, unnecessary ones, and staying out later each night. There are plenty of other people to go instead but he volunteers anyway and by the time his paperwork is done at the end of the night he’s half asleep on his desk.

She can read the signs - he starts wearing baggier clothing, training in the stifling heat with a hoodie on, and even starts to shy away from some of her hugs depending on his mood. She understands - going from a constantly active life to one that’s more paper work than field work has to be rough, especially for someone who was literally conditioned for it from birth - but she also refuses to stand for it. She hugs harder, compliments him constantly, and even tries to convince him to go shopping with her so she can pick out some new outfits that will suit his current physique better. Anything to keep him from going back to the way things used to be. And after a while he seems to accept that this can work, too, he just has to get used to it.

After a few days of this Isabelle stops him in the middle of gearing up for yet another patrol. “I’m on this one. You go home and get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” Alec insists, not even pausing.

“Alec, please-”

“I said I’m fine, Iz. Really. You can wrap up that autopsy report from earlier and head out, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Isabelle watches him leave with a frown, not sure what she can do to make this better and certain Alec wouldn’t let her intervene even if she did.

---

Maryse doesn’t see Alec as often as she’d like to, but the pair of them have been keeping up a once-a-week dinner so long as no emergencies pop up. This week is no different, except she can tell the entire way through that something is on his mind - he looks exhausted, like he’s been losing sleep, and it’s a look she knows well on him even if she hasn’t seen it in a while. Almost immediately about a dozen red flags go up.

The last time she saw him this bothered by something was the day he gave the Lightwood family ring back to her after his plan to propose to Magnus didn’t work out. Maryse can’t honestly say that she’s always held the most traditional of motherly values for her children - raising trained warriors puts a different spin on things than a mundane upbringing - but recent developments in all of their lives has shifted the way she looks at things now.

Things like the prioritizing of her children’s happiness over normal Shadowhunter measurements of success. And right now she can see that Alec isn’t happy, not the way he has been lately.

She doesn’t pry it out of him, and instead waits patiently, making small talk about their weeks until Alec finally puts his fork down over his barely touched meal and asks:

“Do you think I’m getting lazy?”

Maryse could laugh at how absurd the question is, but knows he means it. The gaze he locks on her is serious and troubled.

“Absolutely not. Why on earth would you think that?” She says instead.

“You haven’t heard anyone saying anything about… I dunno. How much time I spend in the office? I barely go on missions, my patrols have cut in half... and it’s great to have more time to spend with Magnus, don’t get me wrong, but even that… I’ve become so stagnant I’m actually gaining weight. I haven’t gained weight since I stopped getting taller!” He shakes his head in clear exasperation. “I just feel like I’m slipping up, like I should be doing more.”

“Is that why you spent all week pulling extra shifts?” She asks, remembering earlier when his recount of the week seemed much more intense than it had the past few months.

“Maybe,” Alec admits reluctantly. “I thought I could try to go back to full active duty, and just keep up with the paperwork at night. If I could pick up patrols and training the way I used to then maybe I could-”

“Go back to being as miserable as you used to be, too?” Maryse cuts him off, and Alec’s words fall short as his eyes widen in surprise.

“What?” She continues in that ‘I’m your mother and I know’ voice she knows all of her children dislike. “Before you met Magnus and decided to fight for him, before you were appointed Head of the Institute, you weren’t happy. You did all of those things out of obligation, because you felt like you had to in order to prove yourself. You weren’t doing them for you or because you wanted to. You hated that life. And I bet you’ve been miserable all week trying to go back to it.”

She watches the expression on Alec’s face shift through a series of emotions the longer he thinks over her words. “So you don’t think I’m slacking off?”

“I think you have to realize there’s a difference between being complacent and being comfortable, Alec. You’re finally comfortable, with a man you love, doing a job you love. I’ve never been more proud of you. You don’t have to push yourself to exhaustion 24/7 to be successful - the past few months are testament enough to that. And I’m sorry if I was ever a part of making you think that had to be the case.”

She stops there, watching his expression and waiting for him to really hear what she’s saying to him because this is important. She doesn’t want him to ever feel like he has to go back to the way things were before, not after all the progress he’s made in spite of everything stacked against him. She didn’t know it then but she realizes now how unhappy he was, and she never wants to play a role in that ever again now that she does.

“Thanks, Mom,” Alec says before going back to his dinner, and she can already see some of that burden lift off of him, some of the spark return to his eyes, and knows he’s going to be okay.

---

It’s 2 am when Alec gets back to the loft. Magnus knows because despite Alec’s attempt to sneak in Magnus is waiting up for him, awake and sitting on the sofa in the living room.

“I told you not to wait up for me,” Alec says, but even as the words leave his lips he makes his way straight to Magnus, sitting down next to him and settling in against the soft silk of the robe Magnus has on. It’s almost enough for Magnus to decide to push off the conversation he planned on having in favor of snuggling with Alec on the sofa, but he can’t. It’s too important.

“I was worried. This past week-” Magnus starts, but doesn’t get much further before Alec cuts him off.

“I know,” Alec admits, surprising him. There’s no stalling, no deflecting, no making excuses and saying he’s fine… nothing Magnus mentally prepared to hear. “I’m sorry. Someone at the Institute made a comment the other day and I guess I psyched myself out a little over it.”

Magnus nods. “And how are you feeling about it now?”

It’s a specially crafted patience Magnus tries to show Alec whenever possible, no matter the situation. Even now Magnus doesn’t ask what the comment was, or demand to know why Alec didn’t bring it up sooner - he just wants to know how Alec’s doing here and now, to make sure he’s alright.

“Better,” Alec admits, shifting to face Magnus as he answers. “It just hit me all at once how much I changed these past few months and I was afraid - I don’t know what I was afraid of, really. That people thought I wasn’t as good of a Shadowhunter any more? That I wasn’t trying hard enough now that I’m the Institute Head?”

“Your life has changed a great deal lately, and that sort of shift takes time to adjust to. But I remember when I first met you at the Institute; it wasn’t healthy, mentally or physically, the way you were living. Any changes you’ve made lately have been for the better,” Magnus insists.

“I can see that now,” Alec says. “I had a little chat with my mother earlier and she put a few things into perspective for me.”

“Good,” Magnus says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Then I suppose I can spare you the lecture, so long as you’re sure you’re alright.”

“I think I am,” Alec agrees. “At least about all of the job-related things. But…” Alec starts, then trails off again. Magnus can tell he’s feeling self-conscious about whatever it is he wants to say.

“But…?” Magnus encourages.

“Nothing. Never mind, it’s stupid,” Alec immediately attempts to take back.

“Nothing that bothers you, especially this much, is stupid. Talk to me, dear,” Magnus insists, reaching out to take Alec’s hands in his own, the warmth of them an immediate comfort.

“It’s just… You don’t mind... I mean, I’m sure you’ve noticed-” Alec gestures vaguely, stalling.

“That you gained a little weight?” Magnus finishes for him, not in an ‘obviously’ sort of way, but more of a ‘mercy-fill-in-the-blank’ that Alec was probably never going to manage to say himself.

“Yeah,” Alec confirms, frowning again.

Magnus laughs. “Alexander, while your abs are, I’ll admit, a very pleasing aspect of your physique - they’re hardly the reason I’m with you. You could gain a hundred pounds and I’d still love you just the same. Though for the record you are still objectively and entirely unbiasedly the most attractive person in my world. In fact, I’d love nothing more than to show you just how much I appreciate your body when we’ve finished this conversation.”

“Yeah?” Alec practically sighs in relief.

“Of course. Your worth isn’t tied to how many hours you spend on patrol, or a number on a scale. You’re working harder than ever to make a difference in this world and that is what I love you for - more than I could possibly put into words. And if you ever doubt that again I’ll be right here to remind you, each and every time.” Magnus makes sure to look Alec in the eyes as he speaks, not allowing any room for doubt that every word is sincere. He needs to know that Alec doesn’t just hear the words, but believes them, too.

Alec holds his gaze and nods. A moment later he’s leaning back against Magnus’ shoulder again, the world settling back into place around them. They take a few minutes to simply exist, comfortable in the silence between them. Magnus lifts a hand to idly play with a few strands of Alec’s hair, pressing a soft kiss onto the crown of Alec’s head, until Alec finally breaks the silence.

“I know what you said about… appreciation earlier,” Alec starts slowly. “But could we take a rain-check until tomorrow? It’s been a long week, and honestly, I’m exhausted. All I want right now is a shower and about a week’s worth of sleep.”

“I can’t help with the missed sleep,” Magnus admits. “But the shower and bedtime cuddles I can do.”

With a wave of his hand the previously quiet apartment is filled with the distant noise of the shower turning on, water beginning to run so it’ll be warm by the time Alec gets there. It’s a small, simple gesture, but one that Magnus knows doesn’t go unappreciated, especially during moments like these.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Alec sighs happily. “But I’m glad I don’t have to find out.”

“Me too, darling,” Magnus agrees softly. “Me too.”

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #jace herondale #isabelle lightwood #maryse lightwood #long post #an idea i had for a while that didn't turn out quite the way i planned #but i hope you like the end result!#it wasn't meant to have angst but this is who i am as a person #elle writes a few deadbeat lines

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rorybergstrom · 4 years

Text

𝑫𝑰𝑫 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑩𝑶𝑫𝒀 𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑨 𝑩𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑿𝑼𝑨𝑳 𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑲𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑻𝑯 𝑳𝑶𝑹𝑫 ???

hello, it’s nora again…. hitting u with another child. a south london-born softboi who deserves tenderness. has a burner phone and doesn’t use social media. does techno dj sets. plays the synth loudly through the night if u live in gorham his room always sounds like a space ship just landed. deals weed around campus on his rollerskates. hates that he can’t get new light up wheels because ana coto made rollerskating cool again. as is tradition, here’s the pinterest board. this intro is recycled?? so if theres mistakes, sue me??? and be sure to like and subscribe for more unboxing content x

application.

『 FIONN WHITEHEAD ❙ DEMI-MALE』 ⟿ looks like RORY BERGSTRÖM is here for HIS JUNIOR year as a MUSIC TECHNOLOGY student. HE is 23 years old & known to be ECCENTRIC, FANATICAL, NITPICKY & DOGMATIC. They’re living in GORHAM, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ ooc name. age. tz. pronouns.

aesthetics.

bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and djing into the blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars, marxist literature in stacks against your bedroom walls, a burner phone twice-shattered and a stash of replacement sim cards.

tw ocd, anxiety, drugs

half-swedish, half-british. the swedish is on his mother’s side. he’s bilingual but thinks in english. only really speaks swedish around his mother. only child, and kinda put a lot of pressure on himself to be the perfect kid when he was young, but his parents are honestly, quite decent? and just want him to have a nice life, they don’t care if he isn’t successful or rich or anything, they’re honestly rather solid. (wow imagine having nice parents, a first for all my characters, im literally this meme)

grew up in peckham, a suburb of london. growing up, his mum was a model / actress / waitress who later retrained as a speech therapist and his dad worked in her majesty’s service at buckingham palace. his dad wasn’t allowed to tell his family what his job entailed but rory suspects it’s probably very boring and just involves a lot of…. logistics n security.

was bullied a lot at school. [cole sprouse voice] he didn’t fit in and he didn’t want to fit in. unironically wore a trenchcoat to school every day of his life. spent most of his lunchtimes in the library because it was his safe space. as a result he knows…. loads of useless information because 30% of his school years were spent reading anthologies on space and the vikings etc. would be good on a game show. obsessively recorded every episode of university challenge as a child.

middle-class and lowkey quite wealthy but rarely talks about money, one of those well-off people who still wears really old shitty shoes and only spends money if they absolutely have to

virgin who can’t drive

into star wars, not into the big bang theory. feminist. can’t watch horror movies

favourite film is where the wild things are. also loves the florida project. thinks kids are the sweetest thing and can’t wait to be a dad to some. right now is dad to one cat, whose name changes on a daily basis (identity is constantly shifting, duuuuude), but they were originally named ‘wheezer’

rory has been musical for as long as they can remember. first picked up guitar because he thought it would make this girl esther who he was in love with like him, but he just ended up falling in love with music instead.

formulated several different bands as a kid but ultimately had to give it up cos he was quite controlling and got fixated on making a certain sound so it wasn’t really fun for the others. got into electronic music because it was something he could do basically on his own and keep tweaking until he got it perfect

always drumming their fingers or strumming invisible guitar strings. tends to avoid parties bc he has quite has specific tastes when it comes to music and doesn’t like listening to r&b for eight hours while people throw up into plastic cups.

a techno connoisseur. has been making electronic music since he was about twelve.

after his parents divorce, when he was fourteen, rory & his mother moved to run-down suburban neighbourhood, pittsfield, massachussets.

big into photography. he mostly uses a canon 35mm camera, but occasionally uses disposable ones when he wants that more rustic feel.

moving to the states, their photography became more focused on suburban neighborhoods and are often quite dark and cinematic (think gregory crewsden). here are some shots of pittsfield i really like which rory has on his wall [1] [2] [3]

falls in love 12 times a day. never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. gets sweaty when someone cute looks at him. flirting?? what?? would prefer to idealise them from a distance

gender??? hm. doesn’t really know where he fits yet, sometimes he feels like a guy and sometimes they dont feel like anything at all. isn’t really bothered, cos they think it’s a social construct anyway. uses he/they pronouns interchangeably, but feels like ‘he’ is more fitting. won’t necessarily pull anyone up on it cos he knows having an identity that’s constantly…. in flux.. can be annoying for others … and doesn’t want to be a burden even tho it isn’t at all?? rory internalises guilt

everything is socially constructed. mirrors let you move through time. the whole thing’s a metaphor. he thinks he’s got free will but really he’s trapped in a maze. in a system. all he can do is consume. people think it’s a happy game. it’s not a happy game — it’s a fucking nightmare world, and the worst thing is, it’s real and we live in it

has ocd. tries to let it affect his life as little as possible, but obviously it’s incredibly hard to control a compulsive disorder. was teased for it at school when other kids started to notice. he was obsessed with the number five, would wash his hands five times, count stairs i groups of five, he could only use the corridors in one direction and always had to keep his hands busy. it manifests itself in hyper-fixations (trains when he was a child – specifically steam engines – then later he became obsessed with space and the patterns of constellations, and now he’s obsessed with synthesizers) and repetitive behaviours like counting stairs. doesn’t really affect his social life at all, he can jst get a bit locked-on n hyper-focused sometimes.

has insomnia. barely ever sleeps. finds it hard to switch off from work / writing / gaming / whatever’s preoccupying him in that moment. he’s always awake at 5am and quite often sleeps in through classes but still gets really good grades because he’s very good at his course. rarely attends classes. prefers to work independently. doesn’t really trust his tutors are intelligent enough to be teaching him, and is particularly suspicious of the lockwood tutors. a music snob tbh

secretly a small-scale drug dealer, only does weed n some party pills. rollerskates around campus dealing cos they dnt have a car

likes: techno, the webpage cats on synthesizers in space, allen ginsberg, vintage gramophones, floating points, lcd soundsystem, marijuana, soft dogs that let you pet them, late-night strolls talking about the universe, independent films, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, constellations, photography, late night jazz, vintage game boys and girls who could rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and use it as an ashtray. dislikes: weddings, funerals, formality, button-up shirts that people actually button-up, bananas, hot coffee, social media, people who watch and play sports, rap music – especially of the misogynistic variety, indie wankers in wire-framed glasses that play ed sheeran songs at open mic nights.

plot ! with ! me ! i’d say all the usual “exes fwb hookups spiel” but rory… is very tender and tame… i feel like a deer in the headlights of love……. so give me

study buddies,

people who are also into techno and are music snobs about it,

people who love all kinds of music,

people who are in bands that maybe rory’s recorded and produced stuff for,

people he actually jams with (he plays bass and synth),

unrequited crushes!!

someone they met at a knitting club in freshman year and have remained friends with despite no longer going to it

people rory knows from open mic nights and gigs

library girlfriends / boyfriends that he stares at longingly while paging through leatherbound volumes

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

people he deals weed to on his rollerskates (why r all my characters obsessed with rollerskates)

skaters. rory is really shit at skateboarding. like really shit. help the smol

hm now that rory has !Evolved! ig we can do hook up plots if u want but he’s not tht good at divorcing sex from emotion?? like he hooked up w teddy once n felt hopelessly inlove so..... if u want soft plots b prepared for crippling sadness.......

stay groovy XD XD

#radintro #plot with me cowards #said in a very soft and tender way. whispered. im but a small bug in a gutter.

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nat-20s · 5 years

Note

Death and the Queen headcanon: for a few weeks after they leave Gorotania (or however the heck you spell it) Ten is very wary when Donna speaks to men because he’s shit scared she’s gonna end up leaving him again like she did with Rudolph. Yeah, I’m down for clingy/protective Ten basically 💁🏻

hey so you did NOT mean this as a fic prompt but my brain took it as a fic prompt anyway so please enjoy this almost 1.7k words of nonsense

The Doctor came up from behind so that he could wrap his arms

around her shoulders and rest his chin on her head, which should’ve

been nice and comforting and warm. However,

Donna could hear the pernicious grin on his face as he said, “Donna!

There you are, we were just leaving, weren’t

we?”

This had been the third goddamn

time this week he’s pulled

this sort of stunt, and, would you look at that, it’s once again

just as Donna was having a nice flirt after the danger had passed.

Never would’ve worked out,

not the least because Donna just isn’t a fan of that many eyes on a

face, but the interruption was far from welcome nonetheless. Two

instincts war inside her, but she ultimately decides that it will be

more productive to give The Doctor a right and proper talking to in

the TARDIS over just yelling right here and now. Matching the

(assumed) sharpness of The Doctor’s grin, Donna schools her gritted

teeth into an imitation of a smile and says, “That we were! Sorry

to take off so quickly, but you know how it is. Things to do, places

to see, running to tolerate, all that!”

Four of the alien’s eyelids

flutter rapidly with a loud clicking noise that, thank you TARDIS,

automatically translates to, “Ah, my apologies, Lady Noble. If I

had known you were already

partnered, I would not have made overtures. I hope I have not to

greatly offended your mate.”

Before Donna could open her mouth

to give a perfunctory “Definitely unpartnered,

not my mate,” The Doctor

comes forward and grabs her hand to pull her away, cheerfully telling

her conversational partner, “Oh, no offense taken old chap! We

really must be off

right now though, give us a holler next

time we’re in the solar system!”

Like that, he has her running again

despite the fact that they are not, at the moment, in any actual rush

that she’s aware of. Not able to really talk while being half

dragged back home, she settles for an incredulous side eye that The

Doctor willfully (?) ignores.

Luckily, they weren’t parked

too far away, so it’s only

a matter of minutes before they’re back in the TARDIS. The Doctor

is already talking a mile a minute and asking a million questions he

clearly doesn’t expect an answer to and Donna has had enough.

“What. The Hell. Was that.”

The Doctor freezes, one hand grasping a

mallet mid strike and the other hovering over a keyboard. In a

display of false innocence, he asks, “What the hell was what?”

Strolling over to take the mallet from

his hand before he hurts himself or, who knows, opens a sort of space

vortex or something to get out of the ensuing conversation, Donna not

at all calmly tells him, “That whole horse and pony show back

there! I mean, Christ, you can be clingy and melodramatic at

the best of times-

“Oi-”

“but this is a whole ‘nother level!

This is jealously whenever I so much as look at another

person, and I you don’t cut that out I swear to god I’ll-”

“Leave? For good?”

There’s a bitter flash of a smirk on

his face and it throws Donna completely off her rhythm. Not enough

for her to completely stop yelling, mind you, but enough that some

gears are starting to grind in the back of her mind. “What? No. I

was gonna say lock you in the TARDIS for a week so you can

think about your actions and I can actually spend time with people

that are not you without some hovering but I’m starting to think

that’d only exaggerate the problem.”

The Doctor sets about busying himself

with…something on the console and pointedly does not make eye

contact when he replies with, “Mmmm.”

For about a minute or two, Donna

passively watches him work, taking the time to connect the dots

before hollering, “Goritania!”

Still puttering about with who knows

what, The Doctor replies, “Huh?”

“You’ve been acting like this for

about a month, aka when we left Goritania. Considering that whole

speech you gave about oh how you’re so lonely and woe is me

everyone leaves, which, by the way, if you had let me get a word in

edgewise you would’ve known I wasn’t going anywhere, not

permanently, I’m guessing it’s not a coincidence that you’ve

been acting like anyone I make eye contact with is going to, I dunno,

whisk me away to some other planet for an interalien soul binding or

some other nonsense.”

The Doctor thwacks the side of the

monitor with a little more force than necessary and his breathing

gets heavier as he spits out, “Well it’s true isn’t it?

Everyone does leave, and just because “Rudolph,” he says

the name with a sneer, “wasn’t your person doesn’t mean that

you’re not going to find your person and run off and get married

and live a happy life just like you wanted.”

Funnily enough, just as the Doctor

starts to get riled up, Donna feels all the fight leave her. “I’ll

admit, there was a time where I did really want that big

fairytale wedding followed by, hopefully, a big fairytale marriage.

Somewhere along the line I had learned that’s what was synonymous

with a happy life. But then I got a glimpse of the universe and that

all fell to the wayside. For Christ’s sake, I think I had more fun

running around like a madwoman as my wedding reception got destroyed

that I did with the wedding itself. I mean, sure, I still think

having “my person” makes things better for me, but luckily, I’ve

already found them.”

The Doctor finally stops messing around

with instruments so he can actually look at her. His jaw works

back and forth a few times, and then he schools his face into

something that utterly fails to not be crestfallen. “Oh? Do I..do I

know them?”

“Oh no, you’ve never met them,”

She lightly flicks his forehead, “It’s you, stupid. For a

supposed genius you’re rather thick sometimes. How ave you survived

this long?”

“Oh! Also, I haven’t. I’ve

already died nine times Donna, keep up. Also also, supposed genius?

Who was saying that? I should send them a card.”

“Absolutely not. Your ego would

explode and we can’t have that. It’d kill you a tenth time.”

“Mmm. Suppose it’s for the best,

I’m out of stamps anyway.”

There’s a beat of silence before he

blasts her with the full force of the universe’s dopiest grin.

Voice filled with inexorable pleasure, he asks, “I’m really your

person?”

She could call him out on asking

questions he full well knows the answer to, but instead she gives a

one shouldered shrug and says, “Well, yeah. You’re my best

friend. Who the fuck else was it gonna be? I guess it’s a bit

odd that you’re a nine hundred and seven year old alien,

wouldn’t have called that in my 7th grade journal, but

I’ve accepted much weirder things at this point.”

The Doctor’s grin settles softly into

a smile, quietly replying, “I do love nothing in the world so well

as you- is not that strange?”

Donna gently elbows him in the side and

admonishes, “What did I say about Shakespeare quotes during serious

conversations?”

“Sorry,” The Doctor says, not sorry

at all. “If it helps, my best friend is an alien that’s not even

half a century old. So young. Pretty freaky if you ask me.”

“Oh for real? Do I know them?”

The Doctor gives Donna an unimpressed

look, but she luckily has had an immunity to all of his Looks from

day one. She bumps his shoulder with her own and says, “Seriously

though, you think I could ever trade seeing galaxies and

bringing hope to people and stopping the forces of evil for what? A

mortgage and office politics? My baseline state traveling with you is

joy. Even the miserable, horrible times aren’t so

miserable and horrible because, on a bone deep level, I’m

deliriously happy. That’s never been true before, and it means the

only way that you’re getting me out of this little blue box is in a

casket. So. You know. Something to think about when you get it in

that messy little head of yours that I’m gonna tell you to sod off

and run away with the nearest 6’ 3” vaguely humanoid person able

to lift me.”

“In my defense you did, in fact, once

tell me to sod off and ran away with a 6’ 3” Tree of Cheem.

Lovely woman by the way, you should’ve kept in contact.”

“It was for a day oh my god

chill out. It’s not our fault that we had better tastes in

amusement parks than you.”

“I see your point. I will…chill

out. And I’m sorry for how, uh,-”

“cloying?”

“overly protective I’ve been

these past weeks. Sometimes I just get so..”

Donna leans against him, pleased when

he leans back, and tells him, “Hey, I get it, I really do. I’m

plenty scared of losing you. Christ, I’ve had plenty of nights

working myself into sleeplessness convinced you’re gonna

ditch me for somebody who’s ‘better’ than me, whatever the hell

that means.”

“I wouldn’t ditch you!”

“I know that. Logically. Just

like you know that I’m not gonna trade you in for a white picket

fence and 2.4 children. Hence why, despite the occasional irrational

actions, I think we should move forward so we can be afraid of real

threats, like the many, many things that try to kill us on a near

daily basis. Speaking of, what thing trying to kill us are we gonna

go barreling into now?”

“I was thinking the mesmerizing

mountains of Yountor. They sing so beautifully as to be rumored to be

populated by angels.”

Donna raises an eyebrow at him. He

continues, “or maybe sirens.”

Sarcastic tone at odds with the grin on

her face, Donna says, “Ah. No way that could backfire. Let’s do

it.”

#replies #nat talks doctor who #nat drabbles #donna noble #ten-out-of-tennant

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teamhook · 4 years

Text

A Chapter a Day... Savage Heart CS AU

Yes, a chapter a day. This story will be finished by the end of the month. :)

A love story between a pirate and his savior. An innocent, beautiful, selfless woman meets a man with no manners, no formal education and not even a last name. Will Emma fall in love with Killian once she discovers that beneath his tough exterior lies a heart-wild, but a heart of gold? This is a Captain Swan AU

Beta-ed by amazing @ilovemesomekillianjones

Cover by the lovely @xhookswenchx

|AO3| |FFN| previous chapter

|AO3| |FFN| current chapter

Chapter 4: Betrayal and Acceptance

Cora and August arrive at Misthaven days after Killian was supposed to have returned from his trip. This works to their advantage when Cora goes to see Snow to break the engagement with Emma and to ask for Milah's hand.

"Mistress, you have a visitor waiting for you in the study," the maid tells Snow who goes to the study to see who has come calling. "Cora I'm so glad you are finally back. Should I go get Emma so we can get started with the wedding preparations?"

"There's much we must discuss, you might want to sit down," Cora says, pausing until the other woman sits. "I'm afraid August wants to marry Milah." After bluntly dropping the news, Cora proceeds to tell Snow the story her son told her.

Snow sits quietly absorbing the information she is hearing. She simply asks, "How am I going to tell my daughter? She'll be heartbroken. For years she has waited patiently for her wedding day to come. Now I have to tell her not only does August not want to marry her, but he wishes to marry her cousin. The same cousin she loves like a sister."

"I'm truly sorry Snow; I tried to talk sense into him. He claims he is in love and will not listen to reason. I have always believed Emma to be the best match for him."

"I suppose the only bright side is that David can finally come home. He always thought Emma accepted her fate for the good of the family. He wanted Emma to marry for love," Snow says sadly.

"Mother, was that Mrs. Booth leaving? When will August come to visit?" Emma rushes down the stairs looking so hopeful as she asks her mother.

"Emma, please come sit down, we need to talk. I don't even know where to start. I'm afraid I have some bad news to share. August, he has fallen in love with someone else." Snow feels her own tears begin to well in her eyes as she watches the sadness cloud her daughter's expression. "Oh, my sweet darling girl, I'm afraid there is still more to tell, and I think it's better if you know the whole truth now... he has fallen in love with Milah."

Emma sniffles and says to her mother. "I don't understand. How? When? Did I do something wrong?"

Snow pulls Emma into a hug and responds in a firm voice. "I'm so sorry this has happened, but August's choice has nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong. Sometimes one's happy ending isn't the one that was planned. You will survive this heartache; you are so strong and brave."

Emma backs away from her mother and asks point blank, "He wants to marry her, doesn't he?

"Yes, he does. I'm so sorry. He asked his mother to make the arrangements."

"I understand, I will not stand in the way." Emma gives her mother a small smile before adding, "One cannot lose what was never theirs, to begin with."

Killian should have returned by now, Milah worries as she heads to his cabin in search of answers. On her way through town, she overhears some fishermen talking about the capture of The Jolly Roger by the Arendelle Navy. Milah cannot believe the news, she knows the military will not be lenient with him, he will never return to her. She feels so empty, her heartbreaking as she walks back towards her home.

"Milah, sweetheart could you please come and take a seat. We need to talk," Snow says warmly.

Milah walks to her aunt, trying to gauge her mood. She knows she and Killian were very reckless, and she's nervous Snow might have heard of the dalliance with the notorious Pirate Captain. "Of course," she complies sweetly, taking the seat her aunt had pointed to when she called her over.

"Milah, it seems that you have made quite an impression on August Booth. I'm a little hurt you never mentioned the encounter to Emma or me."

Milah smiles and answers, "Aunt Snow, I honestly did not see the importance. Why do you say I made an impression?"

Snow takes a breath and continues, "August feels that you would be a better match for him, he is quite fond of you. In fact, he asked his mother to speak on his behalf in requesting your hand in marriage."

Milah gives her Aunt a smile and asks, "What was your answer? Are you giving me a choice?"

Milah knows this is the best option for her. If she cannot have her love, she will happily accept a life filled with riches and power. She also knows that August was betrothed to Emma, and so she does not wish to appear too eager to accept. "I will do whatever is best for the family. It's the least I can do in exchange for all the kindness you have shown to me." Her cousin's broken heart doesn't garner a moment's thought as she imagines her new life and lifestyle. This is my time, she thinks, finally, I will have everything instead of perfect little Emma.

Later after the heartbreaking conversation with her mother, Emma decides she needs to have a talk with Cora about the situation. Emma knows her mother will not approve so she sneaks out of her house to go see Cora. She soon arrives and sits patiently in the office of the Booth Estate waiting for Cora to make her way to see her.

Cora is completely stunned to see Emma. She really hopes that she is not there to reproach her about the engagement being called off. She really did think she had more class and dignity. "Emma, sweet girl, it is so good to see you. To what do I owe such a lovely surprise?"

"Mrs. Booth I'm sure my visit cannot truly be a surprise considering the reason for your last visit to my home. I only came to assure you that I have no problem with Milah and August's upcoming nuptials. If anything, I am quite relieved."

Cora looks unconvinced as she replies, "Your mother said that you would be heartbroken once you heard the news. I was under the impression that you were truly in love with my son and looking forward to getting married."

Emma smiles. "I do feel love for him, but in reality, I see him more as an elder brother. I was simply trying to make the best of the situation. I also trusted that my father would have believed I was truly happy with the arrangement. Unfortunately, he simply would not give up his silly quest to save me and come home. I expect now when Mr. Hopper gives him the news he will finally find his way back to the family. I can lastly do what truly makes me happy. I have always felt a spiritual calling. Now that I am free from the engagement I can take the vows to become a nun."

Cora looks at Emma intently.

Emma smiles and continues confidently, "If my marriage to August would truly have been destined to take place I would have accepted that fate and embraced it. However, that is clearly not the case."

Cora finally seems convinced and smiles.

Emma slowly gets up and says, "Thank you for your time but I really need to leave. I left the house so suddenly I was unable to inform my mother of my destination, and I have other errands to run before I return home."

Cora says, "It was so lovely to see you Emma and I am truly happy that you now will be able to follow your heart's desire."

"Mrs. Booth, thank you for your kind words and it was so nice seeing you again. Good day," Emma says and promptly takes her leave.

The reality of the situation is simple, Emma is hurt, heartbroken, humiliated and the last thing she wants is anyone's pity. So she leaves the Booth Estate with her pride intact, at least whatever is left of it. Emma makes her way to the convent after leaving the Booth Estate.

She speaks to Mother Superior about her desire to join the convent.

Mother Superior is hesitant since the betrothal was well known to the majority of the small town, but decides to accept Emma under one condition, a trial period of 90 days.

"Emma, if after the allotted time you still want to take the vow, I will gladly support your decision and welcome you with open arms into this convent.

When Emma returns home, she tells her mother of her decision to join the convent.

Snow cries and begs her to reconsider. "Emma, once the news reaches your father, he will return. At least promise me you will wait until he has returned home to truly commit to this decision. There are always other choices. We can find another match for you," Snow implores.

"Oh mother, this is not about August! This is truly what I want. You insist that all you want for me to be is happy but somehow you cannot accept that this will do just that. Emma insists that becoming a nun is her true calling and stays firm in her decision.

Within 48 hours she finds herself walking into the convent. Mother Superior gives her a tour of her new living quarters. "Emma, there are only two things required, your prayer and hard work. Remember this is only a trial, you still have time to change your mind," Mother Superior says.

"Thank you." Emma soon adapts to the overwhelming changes in her life. She does chores for Mother Superior on a daily basis.

The courtship between Milah and August starts almost immediately after Emma enters the convent. They don't wait for the murmurs and rumors to subside. No courtesy is awarded for her. Granted, to the outside world the betrothal had been mutually called off.

As days go by, Mother Superior encourages Emma to go visit her mother. She knows that Snow is having a hard time accepting Emma's decision. Truth be told, the wise nun senses that Emma just needs time to deliberate on the situation, and soon she will realize this is not the life for her.

On one of those visits, Milah and August are relishing their privacy as Emma bursts into the house looking for her mother.

August has the decency to look embarrassed while Milah just smiles as she touches his chest in a suggestive way.

"I'm sorry, I was looking for my mother," Emma says while trying to avoid looking at the scene in front of her.

Milah responds, "Oh, she stepped out. She went to go sign some documents Uncle David sent to Mr. Hopper for her to look over. She should be back soon, I could tell her you stopped by."

"Thank you. Do you know if Mr. Hopper has been able to contact father to let him know of the change in plans? Father would want to be here regardless of who the bride is, he loves you too Milah," Emma says.

"She hasn't mentioned anything of the sorts. I was telling August that Uncle David must be ecstatic that you will be taking your vows since that is what you have always truly desired. I hope that doesn't stop you from attending our wedding, it simply would not be the same without you. We have decided on the date by the way. It will be in a couple of weeks. Will you be able to be there?" Milah asks.

Emma had a feeling that the wedding would be soon but 14 days is truly an insult to her and their so-called engagement. To know that their wedding will take place before her 90 day trial period is over, kills her. August is so eager to marry Milah. In all honesty, she detests the idea of being there because it still hurts. Seeing the way August looks at Milah, with an adoration she knows he will never ever look at her with is truly a slap in the face.

They seem so happy, and it kills Emma knowing that if he hadn't met Milah, she'd be the one getting his undivided attention. He should be planning his wedding and future with her. Fate has truly been cruel to her.

"I'm sure I will be able to be there. I wouldn't want to miss such a joyous day." Emma answers after an inordinately long pause which goes unnoticed by the couple.

Tagging:

@hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87 @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @kymbersmith-90 @branlovestowrite @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @ilovemesomekillianjones @thisonesatellite @thesschesthair @winterbythesea @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @artistic-writer @thislassishooked @shardminds @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @laschatzi @wellhellotragic @xemmaloveskillianx @courtorderedcake @pirateherokillian @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @sherlockianwhovian @andiirivera @djlbg @nikkiemms @jennjenn615 @scientificapricot @officerrogers

#Captain Swan #cs ff #CS Crew #CS Mafia #teamhook SavageHeart

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truthisgoldenau · 4 years

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Happy Ending AU

So let's start the expanded lore alternate AU posts with admittedly the most mundane one but also the best guilty pleasure one.

I called it a branch AU on the short post and that's because I go by the theory that there are certain points within the AU where if a single thing went differently it would have entirely different outcomes. One such moment is in regards to the argument that caused the downfall of the 80s Freddy's.

In the Happy Ending AU, the conversation between Pierce and Fred in August of 1987 goes a bit differently than the argument that happens in the main timeline.

Everything's still the same. Pierce was out sick with the flu (let's be real, with his constant lack of sleep/overworking habits and a general disregard for his own health his immune system was just like 'okay you're about to have a real tough time with this'), Fred was still on leave because his twins were just born, and the health/safety inspector that came around was still a no-nonsense woman who had never been sent before. Foxy's still declared dangerous.

In the main AU, Fred comes in specifically to tell Pierce about Foxy with his own ideas of what the plan is and due to exhaustion from recently becoming a father and knowing Pierce is going to take the news badly, he's on guard the whole time and both of them end up saying things that escalate the situation.

In the Happy Ending AU, Fred's still exhausted and on guard but instead of getting frustrated when Pierce suggests he can have revamped Foxy plans prepared in advance so that the time Foxy is decommissioned is shorter, Fred doesn't immediately tell him to basically shut up and do as he says and only worry about Spring Bonnie.

Instead he asks how long it'd take to come up with some workable replacements for the too sharp teeth and hook on Foxy and Pierce tells him he could have a rough idea in a month or two because he's gotta test out what could still be construed as too dangerous himself. Remember these are moving machines Fred, all the motion sensors and gadgets in the world won't do shit if they fall or something.

Fred tells him to work on the plans but to not let it take up all his time since he's still got Spring Bonnie to work on. Then he asks how long it'll take to get Spring Bonnie up and running because it's been a long while and Pierce has been working on it like crazy.

"Maybe by the end of the year, but that's if I keep up with all the rest of the animatronics enough to give me time to work on Spring. If they break in a complicated way or if we have issues with programming it'll cut into that time the way it's been doing. How's the search for another mechanic coming?"

"I can't find anyone. I'm doing my best."

"Yeah. Figured. This might be a longshot but the guy who runs the repair shop I take my bike to has a nephew who's apparently got an eye for electronics. Name's Fritz Smith I think. He was telling me about him last time I was there, I think trying to see if he could get the name out there."

"... I'll look into that."

So yeah, the talk ends amicably and with an actual plan, not just spiteful resentment and stress the way it does in the main story. Fritz Smith, at the time barely out of high school, gets an interview at Freddy's based on the offhand mention of his uncle and gets hired in a trial basis and ends up working part time while still in college. It works out well because remember, the reason Fritz was stressed in the main AU is because Fred was constantly on his case about the failing animatronics and having no assistance to figure out the upgrades left by a mechanic he couldn't contact.

Pierce still is the only one working on Spring Bonnie but once Fritz gets the hang of the different daily maintenance checks and small fixes here and there, Pierce has more time to figure out the last remaining issues with Spring Bonnie and by the middle of January 1988, the diner duo is back in action at Freddy's. The only difference being that they never got the actual gold suit bit fixed because Pierce got the idea that it could be implemented as a story element (he's back, he was hurt for a long time, but he's here now and both old and new characters love him). Fred loved the idea and let him go with it, and with Fritz's help the programming of the diner duo return show was executed flawlessly.

Foxy, who was taken offstage after Finn's sixth birthday party (which went perfectly and no one got hurt), returns in early February of '88 after Fred and Pierce are able to show off Foxy with non-dangerous teeth and hook and prove that unless there were an act of God Foxy couldn't hurt a fly.

In late 1989 for the five year anniversary of this location, the First Mate Finn animatronic used as Foxy's sidekick for the special April Fools' Day show beginning in '87 is made an official part of the lineup.

In '91 an extra security guard (Mike Schmidt) is hired on due to the popularity of Freddy's increasing; talks about finding a larger location are serious.

By the twins 6th birthday in '93, Freddy's has moved to a larger building with more variance in shows. Despite now being 11/12, Finn and Marian are still some of the most well known regulars at Freddy's. Finn has also developed an interest in the animatronics and how they work and both Freddy's mechanics know this well.

There's still tragedy. Maddie Fazbear still is diagnosed with cancer in 1996.

In 1997, Pierce's dad Henry still passes suddenly from a previously unknown heart condition, and with Pierce still around to convince, his mom Jamie tells him he needs to keep up with that kind of check since he lost his dad and grandpa that way. Pierce gets lucky and manages to avoid a problem with this advice. (so how'd he survive in the main au if he wasn't keeping up with this stuff well that's something to be explained later 😎)

Maddie Fazbear still passes away in 1998, even with everything that medicine at the time can do. The family is heartbroken of course- not just immediate family but so many of the people who even just knew of her.

Every year following on her birthday the diner duo play her favorite show song from the original Fredbear's, and every year Fred's still surprised it can hurt that much.

Finn's mom still shows the signs of early onset Alzheimer's beginning in the mid 90s. However, since Finn was never bitten by Foxy, his dad isn't stressed to a point of unawareness due to having both a son who can't remember and a wife beginning to lose her memory and avoids the car crash that would have killed both Patrick and Katherine O'Malley. Finn gets to stay with both his parents which is good, because by 1998 him and Marian (at the time 17/going on 17) have started dating.

By the early 2000s, Finn has started apprenticing at Freddy's to learn how to fix the animatronics because that's his dream. Finn picks it up surprisingly fast, and Fritz, who's been looking for a way to duck out without causing issues, takes this time to respectfully leave Freddy's. He wants to go do his own thing, really, and well, him and longtime boyfriend Mike Schmidt really want to know what the world outside of Spring Valley can bring.

In the mid 2000s, Freddy Jr, now in high school, keeps trying to get a band together. The only kid who shows interest is this kid who Frankie knows from his math class that's called Bonnie. Freddy's skeptical, but Bonnie absolutely kills a guitar solo, and frankly, Freddy's heart is stolen from that moment on, even if he won't say it.

On July 23rd 2005, Fred Fazbear Sr is safe at home with his boys for a monster movie night and doesn't wind up in the accident that takes his life in the main storyline.

Marian and Finn get married in 2007 after dating for over a decade. Everyone's mood is "it's about goddamn time". It's one of the happiest fucking weddings that Spring Valley has ever seen though, that's for sure.

And after that, it's just the rest of the happily ever afters.

Somehow, over all those years, the employees at Freddy's wonder how Pierce was ever the intolerable jackass he's known for being when by the 2010s he's just known as the company grouch.

And Fred never misses a beat with being the best he can be. If anything, he throws more into making Freddy's perfect for families after he loses Maddie since all she ever did was encourage it. She may not have been a constant in the building, but without her love and support, well, what would Freddy's be but a hollow attempt and plea for attention?

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bohemian-war · 5 years

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DAY TRIP | BEN HARDY X READER

Hellooooo :D!!!

This is my second Ben Hardy’s imagine following @lion-wasczyk ‘s request. I went to Windsor for the first time on a day trip yesterday and I absolutely fell in love with the city so I thought I could do this based on that trip. Something fluffy with Ben :’).

Enjoy!

Like/reblog/feedback’s always welcome and truly appreciated. P.S. This might turn out to be longer than expected. ------------ “Are you sure you want to do this? You must be exhausted after your trip.”

Ben finishes preparing his backpack by putting the water bottle in one of the compartments. He turns around with a smile and approaches you. He wraps you in his arms and you rest your head in his chest closing your eyes and feeling his heart beating calmly. Ben sighs and gives you tender kisses on your forehead. ”Y/N, love, I am fine, honestly. I promised you we’d do this. In fact, a day outside London is exactly what I need.” It had been a couple of days since his trip to the US to attend the Golden Globes. Rami and Bohemian Rhapsody had won two awards for best actor and best film and you could not be happier and prouder of the whole crew. You had agreed with Ben that you two would go on a day trip to Windsor & Eton together after he returned but now that you thought about it more closely, the jet lag might not be doing him any good and you could not imagine how a whole day's excursion could benefit Ben. “Are you sure that this is all about me? Because if you are the one craving for a movie, dinner, and perhaps other things... we could call it all off and stay in.” Ben pulled away from you a bit to see your expression. You were blushing so badly that went back to hide your face in his chest. “No, no. I am fine. I swear.”

“Let’s go then.” You smile at Ben and grab your stuff. You were really excited about visiting Windsor. You had never been there but since you had seen the Royal wedding on television, you were looking forward to exploring the city on your own with the love of your life by your side. Once on the train, Ben helps you to leave the backpacks on the floor next to the seats and you both sit down and admire the landscape. The whole trip lasts barely an hour from central London. “I haven’t been to Windsor since I was in primary school.” Ben laughs and his smile awakens your curiosity. “How’s that so?” “We used to do lots of day trips back then. You know that England stands out for playing an important part in History so when it came to studying certain topics, they’d take us to the place in question and we could understand the whole thing better.” It fascinated you the way he usually talked about his early days and how his eyes would shine by the mere mention of it. It could also be that you were too in love with him to see any difference. “That’s incredible. The most I used to do was going to see a shabby play or to the circus. Poor animals. I couldn’t stand it.” Ben sighs and brings you closer while kissing your temple. “I am sure you’ll love Windsor. It feels cozy and close to home.”

“I cannot wait to see it. I might find my Prince Harry and marry him there after all, as Meghan did.”

He snorts and denies with a funny head.

“I will never understand why you girls are all obsessed with Prince Harry. He is no one special. He just happens to have money.”

You open your mouth to complain.

“He happens to be a dashing Prince. You are just jealous, Ben!”

“Jealous of what? Of him having to deal with lots of responsibilities on a daily basis and not enjoying life as someone should? I am not jealous. I am grateful for not having to go through that the rest of my life. Thank you very much.”

You sigh and look at him with sad eyes

“You are a famous actor now. It does not make any difference.”

“It does. It is not the same thing at all.”

“Whatever...“

You rest your back in your seat and cross your arms in front of you with a frown and pouting like a child.

“In my defense though...” Ben starts and leans over to whisper in your ear. “I can say that I can make you feel better than Prince Harry. I can make you wet your pants in less than five minutes. I literally can have you panting my name just with my look and attractive accent, darling.

A deep heat wave takes over you and suddenly you find yourself putting your arms between your legs to stop the feeling of pleasure that you have begun to feel there. A tiny squeal comes out of your mouth and an old lady with shopping bags looks angry at you. You just want to disappear. All you do is feeling how you shrink in your seat. Ben sees you and laughs. You start punching him gently.

“You are evil!”

“Oh, love, you cannot even imagine.”

Once you both arrive in Windsor you are surprised to see that the place is quiet and pretty much empty. Everyone has returned to London to work after Christmas and you can walk with all kinds of tranquility without anyone interrupting you. When leaving the small station you realize that there is a small path that goes to the city center and allows you to appreciate the castle even more.

“Unfortunately, the castle is closed today as they are doing some works inside. But we can always come to see it again in the future.” Ben explains to you while looking up to admire the view and holding your hand at the same time.

“I’d love that.”

“Maybe for our wedding day.”

You immediately snap and look at him with your mouth open.

“Is that a proposal?”

Ben smiles looking at you and rubbing the back of his neck shyly. He ends up avoiding your gaze and takes your hand back in his. You can tell he is quite overwhelmed by the previous question. You got excited there for a second and really wanted to apologize but it’d make everything extra awkward so you decide to let go and not continue putting so much pressure on him.

“Where are you taking me now?”

“It’s probably one of my favorite places in England.” Ben excitedly smiles.

“It must be good then.”

After going pass the museum, the Royal station and the shopping area you both end up going to The Long Walk (check it here. I did yesterday and the experience is gonna stay with me forever. It was beautiful!). When your eyes stop on the path that starts at your feet and the great amount of nature that surrounds it, your eyes become watery and the first tears begin to emerge streaming down your face. You did not know for a second if it was your excitement and natural reaction to it or everything was caused by the cold wind.

“Ben, this is... beautiful.”

”The Long Walk runs south from Windsor Castle to the Copper Horse statue of King George III atop Snow Hill where there are impressive views of the castle. It is a total of 2.65 miles.”

Ben smiles proudly of his historic speech as he passes his view of you to the landscape in front of you. When you see that you do not react, he approaches you and surrounds you with his arms.

“Shall we?”

You smile and nod.

It takes you an hour to cross all the way but it's worth it. You both end up under the statue and watch Windsor from the hill while the deer run freely through the forest.

“I have no words to describe this right now.” You were astonished and overwhelmed by the situation. “I cannot believe that we all live locked away in our own world and get to miss places like this one every single day.”

Bed nods at your words.

“That’s why sometimes we all need a break to remind us of things like this exist for a reason.”

You sigh and look at him. Ben passes you back the water bottle and you drink while he observes you. The cold water runs down your sore through after the tiring walk and it really hurts, however, it makes you feel so alive that you wouldn’t change it for anything else. You both stay there for a while without saying a word when Ben stands up and approaches you. He kneels in front of you.

“I’d like to apologize.”

“What for?” You frown.

“For not answering your question earlier regarding the proposal.”

“Please, Ben, forget about it. It was stupid. You don’t need to beat yourself up.”

You sigh. You had completely forgotten about it and now that he was bringing it back again you started to feel sick. Ben looks at you with his shiny eyes.

“The truth is that I have something for you...” He reaches for his bag and spends a few seconds looking for something. He takes out a small black box covered with a velvet bow. You put a hand in your mouth not believing that he would have been able to do it.

“Y/N forgive me, honestly. That conversation came out wrong and I was looking for the right moment.”

Tears are now streaming down your face. You wipe them away because they are starting to blind your vision of Ben and you also need to keep everything professional.

“Y/N, listen, I might not be Prince Harry...” You laugh and shake your head while wiping your tears again.”I don’t own a castle. I am just an actor who happens to make films; sometimes even good ones, you know?”

You immediately reach out for him. You absolutely hate when he doesn’t give him some credit for his career. Ben lets you guide him towards you but proceeds with his speech. You can tell he is nervous but he is also under control as it’s the two of you in the hill.

“But I am willing to sacrifice everything I’ve got to make you happy and if that involves talking about the Royal family and bringing you here, away from civilization, then I will.”

You feel dumb now. Your soul has abandoned your body, which is anchored to the ground, and your eyes are full of tears that never fall. You watch Ben open the box and you come across with the most beautiful engagement ring covered in diamonds and sapphires.

“Y/N, you’d make me the happiest man in the world if you decided to give me a chance as your future husband. Will you marry me?”

They always say that it takes at least three seconds until you answer even when you have been rehearsing the entire situation for a while. You knew your answer but you couldn’t speak. You also had to think of what your life might be like now; married to a famous star. Lots of doubts start haunting you, however, you shake them away. You knew you had to fight against your anxiety. You had been very unhappy before meeting Ben. You never knew if you could make it as well as you did not know if this decision was being selfish but what you did know is that you deserved to be happy for at least five minutes of your life. So you start nodding.

“Yes!”

Ben smiles in relieved and helps you stand up. He puts the ring in your finger and that is when you cannot stop staring at it.

“Ben, I have no words...”

“Y/N, don’t even mention it. Are you happy?”

You nod and start pouting at the same time. You were probably a massive mess at that very moment but you couldn’t care less.

“Then that’s the most important thing in the world to me.” Ben stares at you and gives you a gentle pat on the chest. You surround his neck with your arms while he pulls you closer by the waist.

“Joe’s gonna be jealous...” You laugh.

“Well, he’s got cardboard Ben to please him instead.”

You cringe and frown at the same time.

“I keep thinking that’s a weird thing to do.”

Ben laughs and takes his phone out.

“Should we immortalize the moment and send it to him?”

You both decide to take a selfie on top of the hill with the statue behind you both covered in sweat but happy at last. You open your hand in front of you to show your ring to the camera. Ben ends up uploading the photo to Instagram with the caption, "she said yes." #happiestmanintheworld.

It did not take Joe more than five minutes to answer with a "... I did it first" and a picture of him in a suit with cardboard Ben in a white dress. The rest of the cast complimented you sometime later. You indeed had to highlight Gwylim’s joy and the number of champagne emoticons and exclamations used by Lucy.

Before returning to London, you both stop at The Madame Posh for an afternoon tea and to start discussing the design of the menus for the ceremony. Because everything that promised to be a simple day trip ended up being the happiest day of your life.

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