#also I hope you don’t mind being tagged in this heather! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

piratefalls · 2 years

Text

all previous lists found on the new masterlist here.

HIATUS IS ALMOST OVER.

give me a reason (don't say no) by thatbuddie

“So they just decided to elope… On their actual wedding day?”

Before answering Eddie’s question Buck reads the note in his hands once more, just to make sure the meaning of it didn’t get lost amidst Chimney’s messy handwriting.

“Eloping would imply that they’re actually planning to get married, which according to this note is the whole reason they’re not here now. That they’re not going to get married,” Buck explains slowly, not sure if he’s doing so for Eddie’s benefit or his own.

“Well, we gotta give it to them,” Eddie says, and Buck moves his eyes away from the letter in his hands to look at him. “They know how to make their wedding a memorable one.”

we could follow the sparks, i’ll drive by markofalover

“Oh! You must be Mr. Diaz!” someone says from behind him, and Buck spins around clumsily, all long legs, to find a woman with a Miss Perez tag stuck to her blouse. She’s smiling politely, white teeth against red lips, and it takes just a second too long to process what she says.

...or, everyone thinks Buck is the other Mr. Diaz.

dreamin' with the lights on by evanito

“Uh, that’s not all,” Eddie says, before he loses his nerve. “I was hoping you’d come as my—partner.” He winces as soon as the words leave his mouth, because genuinely, this is the stupidest goddamn idea. Shannon is probably cackling wherever she is over the fact that Eddie is acting the man he is very tragically in love with to be his—fucking fake boyfriend, or something, just to avoid the attention of some PTA parents.

Buck blinks at him. “Are you—you want to pretend to be in a relationship to get Heather Paul off your back?” he asks, fingers squeezing around Eddie’s pulse point a little.

(or: eddie asks buck to come to christopher’s parent-teacher conference with him as his boyfriend. it’s fine. really.)

let's go to bed before we say how we feel by rarakiplin

“Oh,” Deborah says, derisively, as she glances down at their spread. “Some of these cupcakes are quite…interesting.” Her mouth bends into an amused little curve, dripping condescension.

“I live to please,” Eddie bites out through clenched teeth.

Buck’s hand presses into his back for only a second before he’s plucking one of Eddie’s hideous cupcakes from the table. “It is interesting, thank you so much for noticing, Debs.”

Deborah’s eyebrows twitch at the nickname. Eddie considers the pros and cons of bending Buck over this table in the middle of his child’s school. Like, as friends.

or, buck brings home a table. chimney has a secret. eddie has an awkward encounter with an ex. also, ravi fights a spider.

the phone rings, my heart beats by soyxunxperdedor

10 phone calls after Eddie leaves the 118, and Buck decides he's not going to let them drift apart.

Penny For Your Th- Oh Shit That's A Lot of Thoughts by znks

"Oh fuck, does he know? Oh god please no- what if he hates me? I could transfer to-

Buck stepped forward against the cold half-wall between them. “I could never hate you!”

Eddie’s eyes widened as the rest of his face went slack in shock.

No no this can’t be happening- god stop thinking about it! Maybe he doesn’t know I’m in lov-

Eddie sucked in a sharp breath and Buck almost stumbled at the heartbreaking rush of his panic and fear, so much fear, pushing into Buck’s mind.”

needlessly dramatic snippet aside, this thing is mostly just them being in love and fucking about it with some mind-reading sprinkled on

Everything is Still by kitkatpancakestack

They move together wordlessly, like they do on the job, popping the trunk and hauling the duffel bag out to change into dry clothes. Warmer clothes. Layers. Eddie stumbles a bit, pressing a hand to his temple. Buck steadies him, tugs a beanie over his head, wraps a scarf around his shoulders. Eddie helps Buck into a couple shirts, a sweater, a coat. There is nothing but pain and fear and agony permeating the space between them, but they share it, fight together to keep from drowning in it.

They limp around the side of the car. Eddie grabs the maroon scarf in his hand and Buck watches him bite back a frown, blink back the tears. Crying won’t bring Chris back. Only they can do that.

They start walking.

Or, Christopher goes missing in the wilderness. Buck and Eddie won't rest until they find him.

don't wanna break you (never gonna forget) by withoutthetiger

"Eddie hasn’t said a word since they stumbled into the locker room and Buck doesn’t really expect him to, not after their last call and the way Eddie will be reliving what they’d found at the scene long after it should have become a memory. Losses on any of their calls are terrible, obviously, but the trauma of this one has landed heavily on Eddie’s shoulders and his body is likely to curl under the weight of it for a while. They stay quiet while changing into their street clothes, and when they’re ready to go, Buck nods a goodbye for them both, follows Eddie out of the station, and leaves work behind to drive them home.

At the first red light, Buck looks over, but Eddie just shakes his head.

'Not yet.'

And it’s fine – it really is – though Buck slides his thumb against his wedding band as a reminder that Eddie’s silence is no longer a cause for concern, only a way through it. He nods to himself and turns on some music, just loud enough that failure isn’t the only voice Eddie hears."

*****

Set a handful of years in the future, written for the prompt “Is this okay?”

the light's been out though, baby by hattalove

He still gets stuck in it sometimes: the absolute silence after the shot, and time so, so still in that endless second when Eddie’s eyes met his. When the air turned cool against the skin of Buck’s face because there was something else, now, something warmer, sticky in his eyelashes, pooling at the corner of his mouth. Staining him in a way that will never, never come out, all in the time it took to remember how to breathe again.

It didn’t happen fast at all. There are days when Buck wakes up and thinks it might still be happening.

And Eddie is—Eddie won’t—Eddie—

or, six months after the near-fatal shooting of a member of the LAFD, footage of the incident surfaces on social media.

i think we could live forever by archerincombat

Eddie’s eyes crinkle at the corners, just like Buck knew they would. “You got a crush on me, Buckley?” he teases, quick-witted as ever, even half-asleep. Buck sees where Christopher gets it from.

“Diaz,” Buck corrects, not wanting to live in that past universe for even a second. “And so what if I do?”

The crinkles get more pronounced then. Eddie leans over to kiss him—he smells like baby milk and the dry shampoo he’s been using but it’s irrevocably Eddie at the same time, and Buck thinks he could live here, on this couch, Isa between them and Christopher down the hall, forever.

I have not wanted syllables by iphigenias

Buck shifts against the pillow, turning into Eddie’s touch. The hand stills in his hair, brushes down to cradle his cheek. Buck kisses Eddie’s wrist, because it’s right there and he can. Eddie’s face does this thing Buck loves: a tucked-away smile, like he’s not sure it’s allowed.

Five times Buck and Eddie don’t say “I love you” + one time they do.

one of these days you'll miss your train by allyasavedtheday

“Buck?”

Whipping his head around, his eyes land on a face he hasn’t seen up close in almost a year.

“Eddie?” he gasps in disbelief, taking in the sight of Eddie’s rumpled appearance. His shirt is ripped, Buck can see scrapes on his forearms where his sleeves are pushed up, and he’s got a nasty gash across his forehead, blood trickling down into his eyebrow. But he’s looking at Buck like he’s a prayer and a miracle all wrapped into one. “Eddie!”

His brain finally catches up with his legs and he rushes forward just as Eddie all but collapses into his embrace.

“Thank god,” Eddie heaves out raggedly, fingers clutched tightly in the back of Buck’s turnout coat.

In which Eddie takes his parents up on the offer to move back to El Paso after Shannon dies and is the one to come back on the train in 3x18 instead of Abby.

defined by the things i love by lecornergirl

Buck’s on the sofa when Eddie throws himself down next to him, burying his head in Buck’s lap with something that sounds like a cross between a whine and a world-weary sigh.

“Hey,” Buck says, half-laughing, running a hand through Eddie’s hair. “Tired?”

“No,” Eddie grumbles into Buck’s leg. “I mean—yes, but I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t.”

“So what is it?” Buck asks, hand still working through Eddie’s hair. With each pass, a little bit of tension leaks out of him.

“It’s stupid,” Eddie mutters.

“Tell me anyway?”

Eddie sighs, shifting in his lap until he’s looking up at Buck. “We’re out of chocolate.”

and then they were groommates by elisela

“Evan Buckley if you are not here in the next two hours I will draw every drop of blood out of your body with a 25 gauge needle,” Maddie hisses in his ear, and Buck—already jogging through the halls of LAX—picks up his pace.

You Can Only Get So High by allisonRW96

"He can’t stop staring at his shaking hand. It started in his fingers, but Buck can feel it tremoring up his arms and an awful familiar feeling flickers to life in his chest. All cold claws and nasty whispers reaching out to clutch at his heart."

Buck crashes hard after sex. Eddie helps him through it.

more would never be enough by ShyAudacity

He’s crouched on his hands and knees from how low the smoke is, pulling all chairs away from the table to make sure he’s not missing a family pet and he hears… coughing?

Buck palms his radio. “Cap, are you sure everyone’s out of the house?”

“Since five minutes ago,” Bobby replies, but his tone is fond. “We’re just waiting on you, Buck.”

“Then why do I hear coughing,” he asks only to himself.

When he hears it again, Buck turns towards the living room, the sound getting clearer. He shuffles forward slowly; Buck goes to adjust his helmet and ends up knocking it off his head, landing just out of reach near the wall. He grimaces, reaching to grab it, and out of the corner of his eye, Buck spots two small feet and a brown and white stuffed dog tucked in the corner behind the couch.

What the hell?

Buck rescues a foster kid.

light the dynamite by extasiswings

Buck shivers as he thinks back to earlier in the day, at the way Eddie snapped his name like a whip across the radio when he did exactly what Eddie and Bobby both had told him not to do. At the frosty glad to hear it, Firefighter Buckley, when Buck called dispatch back to tell Eddie he was fine if a little bruised. At the way Eddie had called him at the end of the shift, voice low and quiet and commanding, hooking deep beneath Buck’s skin and stealing the breath from his lungs until all he could manage was a rasping acknowledgment before hanging up.

It could be seconds, or minutes, or an hour more, but finally the bedroom door clicks open and—

“So you do know how to follow instructions,” Eddie says, the edge in his voice not quite sharp enough to cut but a warning nonetheless. “I was wondering.”

with blood in my nose by hammersmiths

Eddie doesn’t see it happen.

He’s still looking at the ambulance Charlie disappeared into, his mask half off in his face, and Captain Mehta is asking him, “Diaz, you want to ride with the kid to the hospital?” when the gun gets fired, only he’s been off the battlefield for over five years now and had to teach himself not to jump every time a door slams or Christopher drops a glass, and so he has the thought, the thought years of PTSD have taught him to have: you’re okay. Not a gunshot.

The spray of blood hits him, first. And then Buck drops like a fucking stone.

or, Buck is the one who gets shot instead of Eddie.

#buddie #rec list #fic rec #buddie rec list #9-1-1 #9-1-1 fanfiction #my rec list

66 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

Text

Paradise Circus - Chapter Five.

You guys, I’m still absolutely over the moon at the popularity this has garnered! Thank you so much! Also, because I just began writing chapter twelve so I’m nicely far ahead in the writing, I will be able to bring twice weekly updates for definite, going forward. Looking forward to your thoughts, as ever!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 2,213

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. NO MINORS, PLEASE!

“My god, you are so aggressive! You’ve completely flown off the handle at nothing here!”

“No, I haven’t! I just called you out on something, exactly like I did before and you don’t like being in the wrong!”

“Tommy, calm down, Jesus!”

“Nah, I’m out. Fuck this. You’re insufferable.”

A simple disagreement in their discussion and once again, things had become heated. Except this time, Tommy was not interested in Darla’s attempt to calm the situation. Oh no. He was done for the night.

“For fucks sake!” she exclaimed, dropping her hands in her lap as he closed the door behind him. Things had actually been going quite well, until that point, until the tainted conversation had begun. They’d fallen into a discussion about the law after Darla mentioned that her university had excluded a young guy who repeatedly found himself in trouble with the police, his issues stemming from alcohol and substance abuse.

She had hoped he could be rehabilitated, Tommy staunchly agreeing, saying that perhaps it would be prudent to offer such to more prisoners within the correctional system, in an effort that not so many people were thrown away year by year to rot. Darla had taken a slightly different approach, believing that repeat habitual offenders, especially those who time and time again failed to clean up their act were truly beyond the help a rehabilitation program could offer.

It was then that Tommy had blown up at her, shouting that everyone deserved a second chance, but it was only in that minute as she sat alone, that she remembered. His father had been an alcoholic.

“Oh lord. Oh, shit!” she hissed, realising too late how her stance could have come off. He’d touched on the fact that he and his dad had still had a strained, terse relationship at the time of his death, Tommy trying to get him to dry out again after he’d fallen off the wagon, but to no avail. It had been alcohol poisoning to claim his life, something Tommy was likely still quite sensitive about.

Sighing, she grabbed the two half full coffee cups and took them into the kitchen, washing them and placing them down on the drainer before finding a wine glass and removing the bottle from the fridge. “Okay, so I could have been a little softer, but he’s so hot tempered! He could have explained better instead of just losing it!” she suddenly fumed, honestly surprised at how much she gave a shit about him storming out. He was only a fuck, after all. If at all, now, as the case may have been.

She knew she’d go back and forth about this in her own mind until she drove herself crazy, so instead, decided on one of her favourite comedy shows on Prime and settled down with her wine. Pretty soon, it was like he’d never been there at all that night, apart from when she got up to go grab a pack of her favourite sweet plantain chips and saw his boxers poking out from beneath the couch.

Picking them up, she threw them into the machine in the small utility room off the kitchen, putting her wash on and filling a bowl with the plantain chips before heading back out, thinking about Tommy all over again as she sat crunching through her first mouthful. She felt a mixture of sad, angry and embarrassed, and none of those emotions sat particularly well with her either. Meanwhile, across town, Tommy sat next to Meadow at her place, watching a movie that he found tame but she had proclaimed to be the scariest thing she’d ever seen, Heather microwaving popcorn.

Whereas Darla felt sad and embarrassed as well as angry, Tommy was just angry, simmering away beneath the surface, incensed that a woman so progressive could be that narrow minded. It had truly ground his gears.

“Why are you frowning?”

He honestly hadn’t been aware. “Am I?” Meadow nodded, all tucked up beside him under her blanket, Heather’s need to have the AC on so cold that it bordered on Alaska driving her beneath the swathe of soft fleece.

“Yeah, you have your angry crease right here.” She stroked the patch between his eyebrows with her fingertip, where indeed he was sporting a frown line. “Why you mad?”

“Nothing, just stuff.”

“I’m not convinced this is mere stuff,” she began, ceasing her chewing of the piece of red rope liquorice she held in her hand. “Someone upset you, you only frown like that when it’s personal.” Shit. She really did know him too well, being able to gauge what had hurt him by how it played across his face. Mildly irritated was a set jaw and a defiantly lifted chin, but whatever this was, he felt it right down to his marrow.

“Yeah, they did.” As usual, he was being cagey, so Meadow didn’t prod him for once. She knew it was an exercise akin to poking a rattlesnake with a stick. When Heather sat down again, though, using his lap as a popcorn bowl holder, it took all of fifty seconds resumption of the movie before he suddenly blew up. “Fucking Darla!”

Bits of popcorn erupted from the bowl as Heather jumped out of her skin upon taking a handful, Meadow squeaking in surprise. Perhaps random outbursts of anger were not entirely appropriate when watching something that some people in the room found to be unnerving enough as it was, he realised about five seconds too late.

Immediately, the TV was paused. “What did she do now?” Heather asked, propping her head against her hand as she turned to look at him, Tommy’s frown deepening more than the average gorge.

“So, I go round there,” he began.

“For your booty call?” Meadow interjected with.

“Right, and afterwards we were just sitting talking, when she brings up something that lead to us discussing rehab for prisoners who have addiction issues. She’s a let ‘em rot type, and I told her for somebody so progressive, I saw that as a very narrow-minded stance to have. She maintained there was only so much you could do in helping habitual offenders with substance abuse issues, and that pissed me off because everyone deserves a second chance, right?”

Meadow and Heather both looked a little uncomfortable, cringing slightly. “Well, she’s kinda right, Tommy. Coming from someone who works within the penal system, I get guys coming through all the damn time who I know are going to fall straight back down and re-offend, and it isn’t through a lack of help. It’s through them truly not wanting to help themselves. It isn’t their second chances either, it’s like, their eighth or ninth, sometimes more.” Of course, with Heather being a probation officer, she was a wealth of information on the subject.

“Yeah, but come on. Those guys often didn’t have the best starts in life, did they? There’re so many social factors and troublesome homelives you have to work through, surely?” he put to her, Heather smiling through thin lips. She admired his nature there, to be so charitable and understanding, but felt it was a little naïve. The distinction was stark to her, between those who intended to get clean and do well against the hardest of odds stacked against them like he’d just mentioned, who sometimes still failed, and those who repeated the patterns again and again, no matter how much help they were offered.

“Yeah, but when it’s guys in their fifties and sixties still repeating these patterns, you have to ask yourself if social factors truly do actually factor in to someone’s decision to keep on indulging in the behaviour that leads to them doing time. Surely just that alone didn’t leave you so pissed off that you’re still brewing over it now though, hmm?” Reaching out, she stroked the side of his face kindly, Tommy suddenly feeling a little embarrassed.

“I kinda yelled at her. It brought up stuff about my dad,” he admitted, Meadow squeezing his arm.

“Your dad wasn’t in an out of prison like a yoyo while continuing to use, or out on the streets dealing poison to kids though, was he? He was an alcoholic who tried to clean up, managed it for a short while too, before he eventually and very sadly lost his fight. Yelling at Darla isn’t going to change what happened, especially when she wasn’t attacking your dad or his attempts at sobriety.”

He sighed, realising that he’d perhaps overreacted a little. “Me and my damned temper.”

“Yes, you and your temper!” Meadow confirmed, poking him gently with her fingernail before taking another mouthful of popcorn. “No but really, Darla isn’t stupid. I’m sure she just saw that you were triggered by it and just lost your head a little. Sending her an apology text wouldn’t go amiss, perhaps?”

He grunted at her suggestion, but it was more of an agreeing grunt than one of petulance. “Yeah, I will. Anyway, you haven’t crapped your pants nearly enough yet. Back to the movie.”

Meadow side eyed him, reaching over to the remote and pressing play, their evening resumed. He left as soon as it had finished, thanking them for their company before heading home, sending Darla an apology text on the short walk. He didn’t expect to get a reply with it being quite late, pulling out his airbed and inflating it a little more before flopping down, looking forward to getting the hole in the bedroom floor fixed the following week.

The house was costing him a small fortune, but thankfully he had a good few grand in inheritance from the sale of his father’s home, Brendan insisting he take his share since the Sparta Tournament winnings had left him and Tess very comfortable. ’It’s time we both put the past to some good, Tommy’ he had said, handing him the cheque despite Tommy’s initial protests borne of pride.

When he hadn’t received a reply to his message after a couple of days, those days stretching into a week and then two, he figured it was her problem if she still continued to harbour a grudge. He continued with life as normal, the renovations to his home taking his main focus around work and going out with his friends, until Darla became a distant memory.

As for the lady herself, Tommy was at the forefront of her mind, something she attempted to distract herself from in the weeks following the last time she saw him, focusing on her work, pilates with Aimee and girl’s evenings with her and Chantelle, one of which she sorely needed after a particularly long, tough week.

Arriving at Aimee’s house, she was greeted on the front step, but not by either of her girlfriends.

“Hello, little man!” she cooed warmly, her squirrel friend darting around excitedly before he ran up to her, awaiting his treats. She retrieved the small container of trail mix she’d packed especially for him in her bag, crouching down to offer him a small handful. “You are so cute, yes! I’m thinking I should give you a name, but what?”

“Hey! Stop feeding the pooper and get your ass back here!” Aimee called, the back gate opening to reveal her, looking unimpressed at Darla’s growing friendship with the small creature she still believed hated her.

“I gotta go, tiny. You take care, though. Avoid cars and big dogs. Cats too!” giving him a little scratch on his back, she emptied out a little more of the trail mix onto the path for him, placing the container back into her bag before joining her friends, greeting Aimee with a kiss, Chantelle too as she exited the kitchen with a large bowl of chips and a charcuterie board, a little section of vegan treats walled off by a bunch of grapes especially for her.

“I had a taste of that vegan brie just now, it’s actually quite good!” she enthused as Darla sat down, nodding enthusiastically.

“It really is! Once you get past the fact it smells like feet, but then again, I think regular brie smells much the same,” she observed, Chantelle crinkling her nose.

“And now I don’t want it any more. My belly thanks you for this!” she laughed, shielding her eyes from the still very bright early evening sun. “Babe, you look tired. Everything okay?”

No, everything was not okay, as she knew her girls would pick up on. “I haven’t been sleeping well of late.” Her confession was met with sympathetic faces, Aimee, pouring out the wine, Darla quick to cover her glass with her hand, shaking her head.

“No, none for me, guys. It ties in with why I haven’t slept all too well in the last ten days.”

Aimee and Chantelle looked between each other curiously, the former setting the bottle down and reaching to rest her hand on Darla’s shoulder as she witnessed her looked more pained by the second.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

Taking a breath, Darla knew it would become real the moment she spoke it to another soul, and she wasn’t ready for it, but if there was anyone she could confide in, it was the women sitting at the table with her.

“I’m pregnant.”

A/N - Now, here’s the really, really important part. Did you enjoy it? If so, please don’t just redundantly click that heart. Reblog it. Also, I love to engage with my readers, so a little comment would not go amiss either! Doesn’t have to be long, just reach out. I’m all about building community here and there is nothing more lovely than readers and writers supporting one another!

26 notes · View notes

suicidalslasher · 3 years

Text

𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 - 𝒋𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒅.

the one where Jason is a jealous dumbass, that’s it - that’s the plot.

WARNINGS: This is a Jason Dean fanfiction, therefore, you all know what you’re signing up for. I don’t really got to tell you, twice.

Possessive!Jason. Jealous!Jason. Female reader, reader’s pronouns are she/her.

Slight mention and scene of choking but it’s not graphic. A hint of NSFW but it isn’t shown. Also there’s a few mentions of blood but it’s not a lot, either. I wanted to tag that nonetheless, too. Also, Jason actually shows emotions in this which is out of character but in MY world, Jason Dean is a simp to his girlfriend and would rather die than to live a day without her.

I may add the smut scene later on, who knows? Not me. This is my first imagine of Jason Dean so be nice to me or I’ll be like Ghostface and gut you like a fish (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*

If you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to follow and or leave me a request, as they are open. If you also like my work and or have a dollar to spare, as it will help me write and create more stories like this one, my ko-fi is here.

Thank you and enjoy :)

White knuckles from clenching his fists too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, Jason bit back his words, knowing they'd be harsh and full of poison. He's fully aware of how much damage he'd likely cause if he spit out the words that were on his mind. He was going to break, and he knew it wasn't going to take too long until he did so. Yet, as the female continued to talk beside him as an attempt to grab his attention, the feelings only grew larger and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood trickling on the tip of his tongue. Jason swallowed that anger when it was nothing but a fire-seed and he had forgotten to drink something cold right after, in an effort to calm himself down; therefore, it grew in his stomach until it came out hotter than any dragon breath.... all those negative emotions that swam in his veins and crept in the pit of his stomach exploded and all the feelings he desperately was trying to hold back came burning on the one person he loved the most, his girlfriend, (Y/N). His face was red with suppressed rage and when (Y/N) set her finger on his shoulder, he swung around and mentally snapped, his nostrils flared and his pupils were blown and dilated as he snarled like an out of control beast. "I hate him more than I do the Heathers," spat Jason, as he pushes his girlfriend up against the wall, the framed photograph that hung there now remained at the bottom of their feet, shattered into hundreds of pieces. "I don't like you hanging out with him." Jason growled, his fingers curling around (Y/N)'s throat, feeling her pulse begin to quicken as he presses his weight down onto the palm of his hand. "Do you know how much it hurts to see you look at someone else? To see you smile at someone else? It makes me feel sick.” "Jason... Let go of me. Let's talk. Please? You don't even know him... if you'll let me speak and tell you-" "You love him, don't you?" Jason hisses, the sentence feeling like a slap to (Y/N)'s face as he throws out this statement.... it was a lie, that's what it was and (Y/N) desperately was trying to tell him how wrong he was but he just wouldn't listen, the arrogant son of a bitch never listens! "You love him more than you do me." Before either teen realizes it, Jason is letting go of (Y/N)'s throat only for him to raise his hand up into a fist and he's punching the only other framed photograph that was beside her, the glass shattering behind his knuckles. (Y/N) screams in horror and although she's pissed off, she - obviously - still cares about her boyfriend. "Jason!" (Y/N) yelps, tears falling down her cheeks as she rushes to her boyfriend's side, examining his hand which was now dripping with crimson, a few drops of red landing on the now broken picture frame and the wooden floor beneath their feet. "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here, somewhere-" "You love him." Jason repeats, ignoring the fact she was trying to help him. He pulls his hand back, dropping his arm by his side, not even caring about the way the blood was falling from his knuckles and staining both his pants and shirt. The anger and venom that once coated his words were now replaced with a hint of sadness and heartbreak. She's never seen him this upset before.... regardless, if he'd just calm down, she could explain. "Jason, baby-" His voice broke as he looked up at (Y/N), sad eyes meeting with her confused but angry gaze. On top of those, she was sad, too. "Go then. Go to him, if you prefer to spend your day with him rather than your own boyfriend. You don't care about me, I'm not sure you ever did." (Y/N) sighed, shaking her head as a few more tears spill past her cheeks. "Fine. If you won't let me talk and tell you my side of the story, I'm leaving. If that's what you think and if you truly think I don't give a fuck about you, I'm gone." (Y/N) mutters, letting go of his hand as she walks back over to the door, grabbing her keys and wallet before storming out the door, slamming the door shut as she leaves.

A week passes.

Another week following behind that.

(Y/N) didn't bother to call or show up.

He really fucked things up, didn't he?

Jason wasn't huge on showcasing his feelings and putting them out on display for people to see. The only emotion he was so used to showing was anger and madness. Nothing but chaos was built and stored away in Jason Dean's body, too. All three traits made him who he was. People may not like him because of his temper and all the flaws he had but it was him, and he didn't plan on changing for anybody. Expect.... of course, (Y/N). As he sat alone in his bedroom, he felt depressed. He never cried, either. Couldn't tell you the last time he ever did cry. Did he even cry as a baby? Jason wasn't sure, nor could he tell you.

But.... Jason cried. For the first time in forever, he broke down and cried. Couldn't help himself. By the end of the night, there were no tears left to cry. He had run dry. His body couldn't form any more tears. Feeling both mentally and physically drained, Jason reached over and grabbed his phone off of the night stand, dialing the one number he actually had memorized. All he got was her voicemail. "This is (Y/N). I can't answer the phone at the moment but I will get back to you as soon as I can! Bye!" Jason groaned and he was half-tempted to throw the phone out of his window but he decided against it as he left a voicemail, regardless. He wanted (Y/N) to know he was sorry.

He wanted (Y/N) to know that despite their arguments (which weren't constant but when they did fight, it was mainly due to Jason's behavior rather than her own) he loves her.

(Y/N) coming into his life was the only good thing the world had offered and gave him. He wasn't going to give her up. Not that easily, anyways. "Hey." He had forgotten he was leaving a voicemail, having zoned out for a second, the beep brought him back out of his thoughts. "It's me. Uh.... Jason.... your boyfriend? I hope so, anyway, still.... But, yeah, it's Jason.... Jason Dean.... ha, uh.... you knew that.

Listen, I'm sorry for everything, (Y/N). I'm sorry for having that temper tantrum and taking out my frustration and jealousy on you. I'm not good at this type of stuff, not so great with showing my emotions in person either, so....

I'll talk here, hopefully the message goes all the way through. I don't want to say this in person, again, I'm not good at the whole unraveling my feelings, especially not face to face.

But... (Y/N), baby, you're the best thing that's ever been mine. You're my darlin', my girl, and I got jealous because I was scared, okay?

I was scared of losing you. And I'm telling you this because it's been awhile now and I haven't seen you around or heard from you in awhile. Therefore, I may have already lost you but.... I love you, (Y/N)... and I'm sorry, okay?

Thought you'd never hear me say that, huh? Me, apologizing? That's like... once in a blue moon. Hah.....

But, uh... well, it's true. I'm sorry and I, Jason Dean, love you, (Y/N) (L/N). And I hope that you still love me too." With that, Jason ends the call, hanging the phone back up on the table as he falls back onto the bed. He didn't - doesn't - know what to do if he didn't have (Y/N) by his side. Trying to ignore these thoughts and place his attention elsewhere, he decides he needs to focus on sleeping. His body was exhausted after all that crying, plus the punch to the picture frame was still making his hand ache and throb, despite it being a few weeks since he had done it.

He had one hell of a nasty bruise, too. He was sure it wouldn't look so ugly and scarred if he had listened to (Y/N) and taken her up on that offer when she suggested the first aid kit... Before he knows it, he's drifting off into a deep slumber, naturally bringing a pillow into his chest, tucking it underneath his arm as he falls asleep.

Faint whispers of (Y/N)'s name spills pass his lips as he sleeps. He'd rather be cuddling her than a pillow but he'll take what he can get. He just hopes she'll accept his apology.

(Y/N) gets home a little after midnight, sighing heavily and tiredly as she kicks off her shoes and strips out of her jacket, hanging the coat up first before setting her shoes under the rack. She had just finished unpacking and helping her cousin move things in his new apartment and she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed.

In the corner of her eye, however, she notices her answering machine is flashing red, letting her know someone had left a voicemail. She walks over and clicks on the button, expecting it to be for her parents but instead she's met with a shocking fate - it was Jason.

Hearing his voice, so weak and vulnerable, brought tears to her eyes and she bit back a sob. Especially when he apologized, that was new.

They've said those three words to each other before, of course, but it was hearing how sad he sounded that let her know he truly did love her, despite everything they've been through and all the silly arguments they've shared over the past few months; they loved each other.

And nothing - nobody - could ever stand in the way of that. Jason was still a huge dumbass, however.

And as she grabs her jacket, sliding the thick layer of clothing around herself and dips her feet into her boots, she's quick to go and tell him that, too.

She loves him, yes, but she needs to let him know he was a huge fucking idiot.

Jason, for the most post, was sleeping peacefully until he heard a loud crash coming from downstairs, along with a string of curse words.

He was quick to get up, throwing the blanket and pillow aside as he opened his bedroom door and creeps down the hallway, wondering who the hell was in his living room.

He was met with.... well, not a burglar neither his father as he would have guessed the next outcome to be but rather his girlfriend.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" He asks, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands as he tried to shake off the remaining sleep that had taken over him not even a few hours ago.

"I came here to scare you, obviously." She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she scrambles up and off of the floor, brushing her knees and arms from the fall she had taken. "Your door was locked, couldn't find the extra key anywhere so I snuck in through the window and-"

"And... you're bleeding." Jason said, gesturing to the tiny gash on her arm. "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here somewhere." He mocks, giving her a playful smile as he quoted the words she had said to him the day they got into that fight.

(Y/N) said nothing but she follows when Jason offers his hand out to her, anyway. He was surprised when he did find the small box up in a cabinet.

"It's fine. I'm fine. Nothing a bandage won't fix, right?"

"(Y/N). Why are you here? You never did answer me." Jason said, getting out the tiny box of band-aids, ripping one open as he presses the item down onto her arm. She was right, it wasn't a big cut, a few drops of blood, sure, but it wasn't one that'd get infected.

"I got your voice message." She said with a shrug of her shoulders. "And I came to talk to you about it."

He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good or bad thing.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. You're a dumbass."

Oh.

It was bad.

He felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He really let his jealousy get the best of him and now he was going to lose the one good thing he had in his life.

"I love you but you didn't let me speak," She continued. "That guy you saw... first of all, you have no right to judge him or say you hate him when you have no idea who he is. That dude I was seen with was my cousin, who, may I add, is gay.”

“I’ve been helping him move which is why you saw me in town with him. We were getting a few supplies and picking up his furniture.” She continues.

“You got jealous over a guy who is far from being attracted to females. And you know... he's related to me as well, so, that also plays a huge part in it. And if you didn't notice either, the picture you broke was actually a portrait of my family and his together at a family reunion. Of course, you didn't see that, though or probably even noticed but.... yeah, you're a dumbass. I love you, J.D, but you're an idiot for thinking I'd ever love someone more than I love you."

Jason says nothing, he feels embarrassed, ashamed, but overall; he feels happy, knowing she still loves him, even if he was a total moron. "I'm sorry, baby, I got jealous and I shouldn't jump so quickly to conclusions and-"

"And you need to make up for it." She said, pressing her chest up against his, resting her hand on the palm of his cheek, brushing a few stray hairs out from his face as she gives him a seductive look. "And how.... exactly, are you going to make up for it, baby?" She purred.

"I think I've an idea." He said with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah? While you're at it, can you choke me like you did, too?"

"I'll do more than just choke you with my hand, darling."

"To be suffocated and to choke on either your cock and hand would be a blessing, my dear."

"Then let's go upstairs, shall we?"

(Y/N) smiled and took Jason's hand with her own, giggling as if she wasn't just talking about getting choked by her boyfriend, as if she was some saint rather than a sinner. Fuck... Jason loves how dirty she was. "We shall." He replies, nearly dragging her up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"Going to show you how much I love you, going to treat you so good, so well, baby girl... missed you so much, love you so much..."

#heathers #jason dean x reader #jason dean x yn #jason dean fanfics #jason dean x femreader #jason dean one shot #jason dean imagines #christian slater #christian slater x reader #christian slater x yn #my works #cierra's stories

302 notes · View notes

asterekmess · 3 years

Note

I can’t sleep, thank you insomnia. Do you have any sterek fics you absolutely love and read when you’re having a bad day??

I do! The catch: They're pretty much all my own fics. XD I just find my own stuff so familiar, and since it's mine, it's always to my taste. There ARE a couple that aren't mine though, so I'll try to give you a lil list:

1. Lock All the Doors Behind You - @entanglednow Rating: Mature WC: 25.9k Tags: Feral Behavior, Violence, Aftermath of Torture, Protectiveness, Hurt/Comfort Summary: He has no idea what you're supposed to say when you find one of your...werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they're about to see what your insides taste like. There's no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one. My notes: I know that this one is very commonly suggested, and I can't even say why I read it on off-days, but I do read it. Rereading fics isn't something I usually do, unless they're mine, but this one just has...I don't even know. There's a certain level of respect Stiles has for Derek that I appreciate, even though there's also plenty of teasing? 2. Too Long To the Weekend - @dizzyredhead Rating: Explicit WC: 5.2k Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut Summary: When Derek agreed to show Stiles around Berkeley, he was thinking of Stiles at fifteen, his childhood friend, the son of his mother's best friend.

He was not prepared for Stiles, all grown up. My Notes: This one is short, sweet, and it's just a lighthearted, fluffy piece that doesn't make me feel too much, you know? It's not super intense, it's just a gentle, nice experience. 3. Why Can't You? - Me Rating: Teen & Up WC: 3.6k Tags: Family Feels, Hurt Stiles, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Pre-Slash, Mentioned Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski, but it was an accident, Magical Stiles Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, One Shot, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sheriff Stilinski Doesn't Know. Canon-Typical Violence Summary:

Now. This was happening now, and he couldn’t be less prepared.

After a long night, things between Stiles and his father come to a head.

My notes: I like rereading this one because of the comfort, because it's nice to see Stiles feel raw and vulnerable, and to have Derek soothe that somehow, even if it's just by being near him. 4. The One You Choose - Me Rating: Mature WC: 13.4k Tags: Post-Season/Series 03B, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depressed Stiles Stilinski, Touch-Starved Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of the Pack, Derek Hale is a Softie, Sharing a Bed, Nightmares, Bad Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Beta Derek Hale, True Alpha Derek Hale, Frottage, Scent Marking, Scenting, Stiles is a Year Older Than Scott, because I said so, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, I have too many tags, Mentioned Sheriff Stilinski Summary: Stiles hadn’t seen Scott in over a week, except for glances he caught during school hours. My Notes: Again, with the liking the comfort. Having someone's hurts soothed always kinda soothes my own hurts. 5. Easy - Me Rating: Explicit WC: 3.1k Tags: Getting Together, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Morning Sex, Blow Jobs, Derek Hale is Good at Feelings, Stiles Stilinski is Good at Feelings, One Shot, I've never done a one shot before, I don't know what other tags to add Summary: A late night visit is nothing unusual, but something is different about this one. My Notes: This is another one that's not too intense, it's just gentle and soft. 6. All Roads Lead To Home - Me Rating: Mature WC: 42.7k Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - High School, Growing Up, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Minor Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Minor Derek Hale/Paige, Minor Derek Hale/Heather, Minor Jennifer Blake/Derek Hale, Mentioned Braeden/Derek Hale, mentioned Derek Hale/Jordan Parrish, mentioned Derek Hale/others, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Warning: Kate Argent, Abusive Relationships, Bad Parent Talia Hale, Good Peter Hale, Aromantic Isaac Lahey, Demisexual Stiles Stilinski, Bisexual Derek Hale, Minor Allison Argent/Malia Tate, so much swearing, Literally everyone cries at least once, lesbian Allison Argent, Miscommunication, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, POV Stiles Stilinski Summary: Stiles Stilinski moved to Beacon Hills in the fifth grade, ten years old and still raw from his mother’s death. My Notes: This one is longer, and it's got a bit more of a growing up, rollercoaster type feelings thing. Has some sad bits for a chance at borrowing the catharsis, and some happy bits that soothe the ache, plus some nostalgia layered over top. Again, I know how it sounds, that I mostly just reread my own works on bad days, but eh, it works for me. I hope one of these might make you feel better, and that you can get some sleep!

#personal #go for it #fic talk #fic rec

61 notes · View notes

buckyismybicycle · 3 years

Text

language of flowers (Florist!Bucky x Reader) one-shot

Title: language of flowers (Florist!Bucky) [Bucky Barnes As SERIES HERE] (AO3 Link) Pairing: Florist!Bucky x Reader Rating: General Audience, 1K Tags/Warnings: PURE FLUFF AND NOTHING ELSE Summary/Author’s Notes: Just a short, sweet treat, so you're not all going to die when I post the next ones in this series because they're all smutty as hell LOL (AO3 Link)

The last thing you expected when you walked into the flower shop was to see a lumbering tower of a man behind the counter. His brows were furrowed as he stared down at something on his desk, making him look disgruntled.

The door had been propped open so as you stepped inside, he didn’t immediately look up. You felt bad for interrupting, but you were on your way to work, where your best friend would be returning for her first day back since being in the hospital. You decided to take a look around first, to see if maybe you could get inspired.

“Hi, can I help you with anything?” A man’s voice startles you as you stare at the endless colours in the shop.

“Oh, um, hi! I didn’t want to bother you, so I started peeking around,” you smile. The man was definitely taller than you by a long shot, with broad shoulders and his hair tied back in a messy bun. His eyes were gorgeous now that you could see them, and he looked quite serene when his face wasn’t screwed up in concentration.

“Year end,” he explains. “Math makes me angry.” You laughed out loud and his abruptness, and before you could feel bad, he smiled back.

“Math makes me angry too, because I’m an accountant,” you offer.

“Oh God, math everyday? You’re looking for black roses, then.” You tilt your head, curious.

“Black roses?”

“They stand for sorrow and despair,” he tells you. “Among other things, but I think it’s fitting for your suffering.” You can’t help but laugh.

“Well lucky for me, I’m not here to buy sorrow flowers for myself! My friend’s first day back to work is today. What flowers would best say ‘Happy first day back from breaking your leg, don’t do it again, you idiot’ or, you know, something along those lines.”

His eyes shine and crinkle when he laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound.

“Unfortunately, there’s no flower that just carries the meaning of ‘you idiot ’, otherwise I’d fill my best friend’s apartment with them daily. But, we can go with daffodils? They symbolize hope or rebirth, but most people use them as a sign of resilience. They’re strong little guys that survive long winter storms, you know? We can throw in some heathers and baptisia, which stand for protection. Don’t want them breaking their leg again, and all. The purple will look nice with the white and yellow.”

“That sounds great!” You agree automatically, in awe of his expertise and how easily he tells you these facts that you never knew. “So, every flower has a meaning behind it?” He smiles at you and nods.

“Flowers are a language all on their own,” he states as he gathers the flowers needed for your bouquet. It comes together in his hands so easily that you can’t help but watch. For such large hands, they move delicately with practiced ease.

“How did you get to learning all this?” You ask curiously.

“My best friend? The idiot that I mentioned? His mother was a florist. I helped around her shop since he was allergic to just about everything, and he had asthma. I didn’t mind, she was basically my mother too.”

“That’s so sweet!”

“Sarah Rogers was one hell of a woman,” he agrees. You pick up on the was part - and also pick up on the fact that her name was the same as the sign outside. Obviously not a coincidence.

“I’m sorry,” you respond, but he shook his head, a few loose strands of his hair dancing in his face.

“She’d been sick for a while, but she always seemed more alive in her shop. When she passed… Well, it was devastating, but we wanted to carry on her dream, so here I am.”

“That’s really incredible.” He smiles at you before ringing you up, handing you the beautiful arrangement. “Thank you so much, this is perfect.”

“My pleasure. Hope to see you around,” he salutes before going back to his finances.

The next day, you get a surprise on your desk - looking around, it seems you’re the only one with a small box on your desk. In a neat, wooden square with a purple ribbon, are a few beautiful white flowers. Thankfully, there’s a note:

Calla Lilies - Magnificence & Beauty

It’s not signed, but you have a pretty good idea who sent them - and that made you giddy. Unfortunately, the shop was closed before you could get off work, but you vowed to stop in tomorrow.

The next day at work, there’s a tall, slender vase with two bright sunflowers on your desk.

Sunflowers - Adoration

You make it a point to rush over after work, and wait for him to finish up with the other customers before talking to him. He looks just as relaxed and confident as he did last time, his easy smile and kind eyes pulling you toward him.

“Hi again,” you greet him, watching in delight as his face lights up.

“Hi again,” he mirrors.

“How did you find me?” You ask him. His cheeks pink as he rubs the back of his neck, and you watch the flex of his arm, the strip of skin that shows above his jeans when his shirt rises.

“Not too many accounting firms nearby and, uh, only one [y/n] at them.”

“My credit card?”

“Your credit card," he confirms. "Sorry, if that's, uh, a bit strong. I didn’t mean anything by it, just thought you could use some flowers in the office and all, it’s - I -”

“Thank you,” you interrupt, with a big smile. “They were beautiful.”

“Yeah?” His eyes light up again before he asks with a wink, “does that mean I can keep sending them?”

“Actually, I have something for you this time,” you bite your lip nervously. “Since, you know, flowers have their language and all.” He looks amused as you reach into your pocket and hand him a perfectly folded origami rose, ruby red. His eyes widen slightly as he takes the delicate paper in his large hands and beams at it, like it’s the best thing he’s ever been given.

“So… Does this mean I get to take you to dinner?”

“How’s right now?” You shrug. He grabs his jacket, and your hand, in haste, switching the OPEN sign to CLOSED as an answer.

💖 Thank you for reading! Hopefully you’ve enjoyed enough to check out the rest of the series!

🙏 Thank you as always for getting to this point! If you’ve enjoyed this, please consider reblogging to help me share 💟

#BUCKY BARNES #SWEET BUCKY BARNES #BUCKY BARNES FANFIC #BUCKY BARNES IMAGINE #BUCKY BARNES FANFICTION #BUCKY BARNES X FEMALE READER #BUCKY BARNES X READER #BUCKY BARNES FLUFF #BUCKY BARNES AU #FANFICTION #MY WORKS #BUCKY X YOU #READER INSERT #MARVEL FANFICITON #BUCKY BARNES AS...#fluff

40 notes · View notes

harlot-of-oblivion · 3 years

Text

Sowing the Seeds of Lasting Love (Part 10)

Vergil helps you with a flowery dilemma before the wedding.

The big day is finally here! Hope you enjoy! 🌹😘🌹

Chapter 1: White Heather

When Nero first told his father about the wedding, he explained that they wanted to keep it nice and simple, only inviting family and close friends to the ceremony. But now that the big day is upon them, Vergil notices that the ceremony is still nice but definitely not simple. And it seems they’ve decided to invite all of Fortuna going by all the numerous names he hardly recognizes in the guest log!

But there’s one name that he knows very well on the very first page…your neat yet bubbly handwriting is indistinguishable among the cursive chaos.

Vergil smiles but then remembers himself as the hustle and bustle of people whiz around the venue’s entryway. He quickly closes the guest book before striding away from wandering eyes, seeking refuge from the morning mayhem before the wedding. But you always manage to wriggle your way back into his mind, occupying his every thought…especially now that he’s confessed his feelings and tasted your kiss. Just the mere memory of your velvety lips parting for his tongue make his cheeks burn with a slight blush!

The lovestruck devil shakes these desirous thoughts out of his head as he approaches one of the designated dressing rooms for the wedding party. He quietly slips in and examines himself in the three-way mirror, checking his appearance and immaculate suit for any obvious flaws. The refined paisley pattern of his dark blue wedding coat contrasts well with the silky black lapels and matching blue vest. He wrings the black bow with a grimace, wishing it were an elegant cravat instead as he adjusts it around the stark white collar of his shirt. Then, he scrutinizes the rest of his suit, noting the pristine matching dress pants and spotless black formal shoes with an approving nod.

This well-tailored ensemble will surely bring that endearing blush to my beloved rose’s cheeks, he muses with a confident chuckle while raking his fingers through his silvery white hair.

The thought of you creeps into his mind again, but he allows himself to reminisce in the privacy of the dressing room. He didn’t have much of a chance to let the events of the previous day fully sink in until now; the time between storming out of the shop and arriving at your doorstep is still a bit hazy. But the warmth of your humble abode, the steaming hot water of your shower, and the comfort of your soothing lullaby and tranquil heartbeat as he fell asleep in your embrace…now that he remembers quite well!

Vergil also recalls how he swallowed his pride before baring his soul to you, practically pouring every ounce of sincere fervor from within his heart as he revealed his true feelings. And despite hearing all about his past trauma and doubtful hesitancy in matters of romance…you still accepted him with unconditional love, releasing the mounting tension between both of you as he finally gave into his desire by capturing your lips with a passionate kiss. The cadence of your soft gasps and lingering moans, the thorough strokes of your tongue, and the feel of your body beneath him…it all felt so good.

But it’s not enough.

He wants more…he needs more…

A sudden shriek of distress from outside interrupts his amorous ruminations. His eyes widen in alarm as he rushes out the dressing room door, following the dreadful tone of your voice all the way to the venue’s kitchen. And he’s not the only one to come running to rescue; a couple of the staff and Dante burst in with a look of concern. But you barely notice their presence as you continue to stare into the large walk-in freezer with a horrified face.

“What’s going on, Buttercup?”

“Are you hurt?”

Both brothers slowly approach as you turn around to face them. You meet each of their eyes for a moment…then, you take a deep breath and scream at the top of your lungs:

“FLOWER EMERGENCY!”

Your enraged declaration bellows through the kitchen, making some of the staff jump as you dash towards a countertop. You unpin the delicate flower crown upon your head, being mindful of the white heather blooms and bleeding hearts flowers. Then, you carefully remove it and place it on top of the counter before tying your hair into a low ponytail at the nape of your neck.

Dante lets out a low whistle. “It must be really bad if the flower crown’s coming off!”

“What happened?” Vergil asks while giving his idiotic brother a warning glare.

You turn back around with an exasperated sigh. “I told them to NOT put any peonies to the freezer under no circumstances!” you exclaim, angrily marching into the frigidly cold room with both brothers in tow. “But now look! Almost half of the centerpieces have wilted!” you bemoan while pointing at a group of flowers in fine crystals vases.

Vergil inspects the various peonies in question and immediately understands why you’re so distraught. A vast majority of their petals have shriveled up and turned brown, completely ruined just before the wedding. The sight of you biting your lip and pulling your hair in worry wrenches the growing prickling knot within his chest.

“Is there anything I can do?” he inquires, gently grabbing your shoulders while staring down into your glistening eyes.

Your brow furrows in thought. “I might be able to salvage some of them with fresher blooms…but they’re all back at my garden’s workshop!” you inform while glancing down towards his waist. “Could I borrow the Yamato for a bit?” you implore sweetly as your lips curl into a charming grin.

Vergil smirks at your hopeful plea. “But of course.”

You beam up at him a grateful smile, unwinding the discomforting knot in his chest as you instruct the staff to haul all the half-frozen flowers into the kitchen. Both brothers stay out of your way while sharing intrigued glances, clearly impressed with your command over a highly stressful situation. Your eyes squint at the withered half of the centerpieces, mentally weighing how many more flowers you need to fix them.

“Hmm, we may need to take one more person to haul all the flowers back in one trip.”

Dante perks up with a wide grin. “I can tag along!”

“I’m more than capable of carrying all the flowers without assistance,” Vergil boldly claims with a determined nod.

“Oh really? I see…” Dante trails off while giving him a knowing grin. “You just wanna be alone so you can put your tulips togeth- WHOA!” he exclaims as multiple spectral swords surround him. “Hey! Don’t ruin the suit, big bro!”

A low and irritable growl emanates from Vergil’s throat. “Cease your prattling and go help Nero,” he demands while relenting to his foolish brother’s request, calling off the summoned swords from shredding his black and red suit to pieces.

Dante lets out a disappointing groan as he stalks out of the kitchen, grumbling under his breath about how all this waiting around is boring. Vergil rolls his eyes and shakes his head before directing his attention back to you, paying no mind to the staff’s slightly perturbed faces while offering his arm. You wrap your hand around the crook of his elbow with an amused giggle and follow him out of the kitchen.

Vergil heads to the closest room with enough space before summoning the Yamato with a flick of his wrist. He insists that you stand back before unsheathing the blade and slicing the air with two intersecting slashes. Then, he sheaths the Yamato with a loud click of the hilt as the portal opens with a bright blue flash. You grab his hand and run through its threshold, popping up just outside the back gate behind your cozy home.

You quickly undo the latch and dash towards your outdoor workshop with Vergil hot on your heels. The overwhelming perfume of your impressive garden brings a fond smile to his face as both of you run down winding paths between lush flowers and trimmed bushes. He pulls ahead a little when you get closer to the workshop, reaching out and opening the door with a courteous nod as you enter with a sigh of gratitude. You flip the light switch before scurrying off towards a large cold case full of fresh blooms.

Vergil enters the workshop as you begin counting out the number of flowers you have on hand. He shuts the door and lingers close behind you, patiently waiting for your next directive while taking in your pleasing visage. But you seem to not notice his blatant gaze, diligently focused on taking inventory as you take out a step stool to count the flowers on the top shelf. His eyes wander down your dainty body, admiring the delicate flowers embroidered on the lovely pink dress that brings out your natural charm and radiant grace.

Your pensive hum breaks him out of his adoring stupor. “Looks like I have plenty of yellow peonies but not enough white ones,” you inform with a disheartening pout.

“Can you substitute them with another flower?” he suggests, recalling your lesson on improvising a bouquet when he helped you arrange one for a customer.

You ponder for a moment. “I do have some white hydrangeas!” you exclaim with a victorious grin while turning to look at him. “Can you- Ah!”

Your feet wobble as you let out a startled squeal, losing your balance on the step stool before tipping over towards the ground. But Vergil surges forward and catches you within his protective embrace, wrapping his arms around your small frame.

“Oh snapdragons,” you murmur while clasping the lapels of his coat.

Vergil smirks at your stunned exclamation. “Are you okay?”

Your lips curl into a gracious. “Yes! And it’s all thanks to my darling devil!”

“You should be more careful, my beloved rose,” he murmurs while looking down at you in concern. “It pains me to see you hurt,” he admits as the gravity of this intimate situation takes control.

Vergil bows his head as you raise yourself up onto your tippy toes, slowly drawing closer and closer until your bated breath caresses his starving mouth. Then, he gently presses his lips against yours, letting out a pleased hum when you return his tender kiss with enthusiastic passion. You let out a delightful sigh as he withdraws from your lips with a warm smile.

“I’ve longed to do that again since yesterday morning.”

“Me too,” you agree. “We didn’t have much of a chance to talk more at the rehearsal dinner either,” you remind while averting your gaze with a coy smirk.

“Between the chaotic run-through of the ceremony and our rushed practice session,” he recalls, nuzzling your face until your lips brush his eager mouth. “What a most inconvenient time to confess.”

“Since when has love ever been convenient?” you muse with a playful peck. “We’ll have more time to talk after our performance,” you pause as he presses a soft kiss above the corner of your mouth. “And during the reception,” you finish before capturing his lips with your needy kiss.

Vergil growls as his tongue brushes against your lower lip, silently requesting for entry as you wrap your arms around his neck. You part your mouth for him, softly moaning while meeting every stroke of his questing tongue. He basks in your intoxicating scent, so flowery and arousing…the devil inside him clamors to claim you as his own. But he’s able to clamp that instinct down, prolonging that inevitable need when the time is right…which will definitely be later since the door of your workshop bursts open with a loud crack.

“Fiddlin’ Firs!” you exclaims, hastily jumping back from his embrace as the spectral form of his devilish side peeks in with an expectant look.

“Be at ease,” he soothes you with a swift peck against your brow. “It’s only my doppelganger.”

You squint as his phantom form points at the white hydrangeas it collected just outside your workshop. “But he looks so much different than you!” you note with a curious tilt of your head.

Vergil chuckles at your subtle suspicion. “Remember what I told you,” he whispers close to your ear, “the power of Sparda is vast and you have yet to see an ounce of its potential.”

You shiver as he kisses your neck. “Does the power of Sparda include sweeping sweet gardeners off their feet?”

“I’m not certain,” he remarks, “but it does include…how did you put it?” He tilts his head in thought. “Ah! Charming the petals off of a lovely rose,” he reveals with a smirk while meeting your ardent gaze. Your cheeks grow pink as he dips back down for another kiss…but his doppelganger stops him from indulging in your velvety lips again with its impatient scratching at the door.

You stifle a giggle as he growls irritably at his spectral self. “We better head back with these flowers,” you reason with a sweet smile. “Don’t wanna be late to your own son’s wedding!”

Vergil reluctantly withdraws from you with an agreeing nod. He helps you collect all yellow peonies and white hydrangeas into several flower trays. You manage to pick up a few of them as he opens up another portal with the Yamato, silently commanding his doppelganger to carry as many flowers as possible before following them back into the venue’s kitchen.

A chorus of various shocked gasps and cries from the astonished staff greets them, but they all scamper away as the monstrously tall spectral devil enters the room. You put the flower trays down on a nearby table with a sigh of relief, softly hoping that this sliver of peace and quiet would last as you fix the ruined centerpiece in a timely manner. Your lips curl into a pleased smile when you turn to see his doppelganger wagging its tail proudly next to all the flower trays it dropped off by your makeshift worktable.

The sound of rushed footsteps gets their immediate attention just as the wedding planner enters the kitchen with a worried grimace. You explain the current state of the flowers but assure her that you have everything under control now. She nods her head with a relieved smirk while side-eying the spectral devil standing next to you, clearly curious but not commenting on it as she informs Vergil that the groom’s party is taking their place at this very moment.

“You’re certain that you can do all of this without any assistance?” he inquires as the wedding planner leaves the kitchen.

“Of course! Just be-leaf in me,” you reply with a cheery grin before giggling as he scoffs at your ridiculously bad pun. “Buuuut I wouldn’t mind if you let him stay and help!” you suggest while pointing at his doppelganger, who is currently helping you arrange the assortment of flowers on the table.

Vergil ponders for a moment before nodding his head. “Very well…but you better be on your best behavior!” he instructs his spectral self with a suspicious glare. You laugh as his doppelganger shrugs its shoulders defensively while shaking its horned head.

“And I’ll meet you backstage as soon as I can before our performance,” he softly affirms, swiftly pulling you in close for a quick kiss before heading out of the kitchen.

It only takes him a few minutes to arrive at the designated place outside on the beach. Many of the guests are already in their seats along the elegant runner leading all the way down to a modest arch wrapped in white silky ribbon with sunflowers and blue delphiniums. He can hear their excited murmurs over the soft crashing of the nearby surf as he makes his way towards his assigned spot on the groom’s side.

Nero is already standing in front of the arch, shifting around nervously while adjusting the blue dahlia boutonniere pinned to his crisp white suit. He looks up as his father approaches him and immediately pulls out a matching boutonniere from inside his coat pocket. Vergil gives him a gracious nod while pinning the delicate bloom to the lapel of his coat.

“Is everything alright?” his soon-to-be wedded son asks with a soft whisper as classical music starts playing over the ecstatic chatter of the guests.

“It’s nothing for you to be concerned about,” Vergil assures while looking out into the gathering crowd of unfamiliar faces. “Everything is under control.”

Nero nods with an anxious swallow. “Yeah…okay.”

Vergil quirks a brow at his son. “Nervous?”

“What? No!” Nero exclaims in a hushed whisper. “Well…maybe a little,” he admits while scratching the back of his head.

“Don’t sweat it, kid!” Dante exclaims as he pops up behind both of them. “You’ve got this!” he adds with an encourage pat on his nephew’s back.

“I must agree with your fool of an uncle for once,” Vergil avows as everyone begins to quiet down.

His son responds with a grateful smile as the ceremony starts with the wedding officiant taking their place in front of the arch. The music gradually swells as the bridal party walks down the aisle with their beautiful dresses and lovely bouquets…except Nico, who proudly struts down in her black suit. She grins while taking her place as the Best Woman, cheekily wiggling her eyebrows at Nero when everyone stands up for the bridal march.

The crashing waves in the distance grow quiet as Kyrie slowly makes her way down the aisle, leaving only the collective gasps of the guest’s to accompany the sweet melody of her march. She clutches her bouquet of sunflowers below her chest as her pure white dress flutters softly in the sea breeze. Her lips curl into a sunny smile beneath her tulle veil when she sees Nero staring in awe at her warm and graceful beauty. But he snaps out of his amazed daze as soon as his soon-to-be wife reaches the arch, reaching for her hand with a small smirk before facing the wedding officiant together.

An array of emotions fills the salty air as the ceremony commences; one moment there’s silent admiration with some light laughter in between the simple rituals of matrimony, but then there’s plenty of soft sniffling and happy tears as the officiant guides them through their vows. Even the Dark Slayer isn’t immune to the palpable emotions surrounding him, unexpectedly getting misty eyed as they exchange rings and promises of eternal devotion.

Vergil happens to catch sight of you lurking behind the guests, seemingly watching the ceremony but mostly staring at him with a smitten smile upon your lips. He suddenly finds himself pondering about the prospect of marriage while blinking away his unshed tears. The image of his beloved rose dressed all in white drifts across his mind and he can’t help but to smirk at the thought of settling down with someone like you.

Your eyes widen when you finally notice him staring right back at you with his affectionate gaze. You look away bashfully while your flushed cheeks glow as red as the bleeding heart flowers upon your head. His lips curve into an endearing smile as the officiant allows Nero and Kyrie to seal their blissful union with a kiss. And as everyone showers the newly wedded couple with periwinkle petals, he realizes just how lucky he was to come upon such a lovely rose among his briars.

🌹🌹🌹

Tagging: @drusoona @bettybattaglia @exsultry @thedyingmoon @veenus-ow @meowykittenn @fandomhell97 @vergilsangel @thenightgazer @cherryvane @yesno18 @diabeticsugarush @queenmuzz @mary-v-o-n @tinamalee @a-midsummer-nights-odyssey @ancientwhitefire @agentdedf1sh @divinity-deos @shiranyaaww @skarlet-red-rose @lucinalu219 @superluckystar

#vergil #vergil x reader #devil may cry #dmc #a rose among the briars #Sowing the Seeds of Lasting Love #IT'S FINALLY HERE YAYYY #this is the first out of three chapters for this part 👀#hope ya'll enjoy all the shenanigans and sweet kisses!#harlot writes

80 notes · View notes

flufflepuffle296 · 4 years

Text

Heathers au: Beautiful Songfic

This is more centred around Veronica/Marinette so not really any mentions of Heather/Heather/Heather. Sorry if someone’s done this before I apologise I just got into Heathers like two days ago. Also I changed some lyrics and took others out to make it more “realistic”. Sorry I suck at endings, it’s 5:30am rn and this is my first fic so be nice please! (I’m on mobile so I can’t add the keep reading tag so sorry if you don’t like this) xxx

I brushed down my dress: I couldn’t give them anything to criticise me over. Everything had to be perfect. I had to be perfect. Chloé sat next to me, my beautiful fiancée, slipping on her kitten heels. She may be 3 months pregnant but no Bourgeois woman would be seen wearing flats. I was in a red floor length a line dress — I grew out of my childish pink years ago, before it even went out of fashion! My hair was twisted into two plaits that were knotted together into a stylish bun at the back. Chloé meanwhile had stuck to her white and gold aesthetic, currently in a slim fitting white dress, showing off her small baby bump, decorated with gold jewellery. I rummaged through my drawers, trying to find a lipstick, when a thin book toppled out. I picked it up, and laughed fondly when I saw what it was.

My old Collège and Lycée diary.

I flipped through it, landing on the page that stuck most clearly in my mind. It was the day my class reminded me of my current reality at that time, shocking me out of a bubble that had surrounded me during the summer holidays that year.

September 1st, 1989.

Dear Diary: I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think that there's good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of senior year!

And uh... I look around at these kids that I've known all my life and I ask myself—what happened?

I bit my lip. What happened? I knew darn well what happened. Lila Rossi. She came in, flaunting her friendships and connections, a new disability every other week to cry about, another rumour about me coming out every 3 days.

Alya ended our friendship, Adrien continued to cry about Lila’s feelings. Lila just kept doing what she did best. The class gave up on changing my mind and instead decided that calling me names would be better. Because logic?!

“Freak!” “Slut!” “Burnout!” “Bug-eyes!” “Poser!” “Lard-ass!” Were the insults they liked to yell daily. Yeah, they weren’t the most creative...

We were so tiny, happy and shiny. Playing tag and getting chased. Singing and clapping, laughing and napping. Baking cookies, eating paste.

Nino and Kim used to come over to the bakery when we were kids, where we’d gorge ourselves on sweets, before celebrating our sugar rushes by chasing each other in the park and then crashing on my sofa, cuddled in blankets and laying on top of each other.

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger. Like the Huns invading Rome. Welcome to my school, this ain't no high school: This is the Thunderdome. Hold your breath and count the days, we're graduating soon. College will be paradise, if I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful. I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again. We can be beautiful...Just not today.

I scoffed at my optimism back then. Them changing? They never did, I don’t know why I bothered trying at that point. I should’ve moved on but hey! We all make mistakes. It’s just that sometimes you make 11 friendships worth of mistakes.

“Freak!” “Slut!” “Cripple!” “Homo!” “Homo!” “Homo!”

I cringed as I read their old “insults”. They would write homophobic messages across my locker, getting Alix to spray paint a few slurs across my work after I came out as bisexual.

Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown. Wake from this coma, take my diploma. Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy-covered walls, no smoky French cafés. Fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze!

I had purposefully sent out applications to universities far away from these people, from Paris. All three schools accepted me, something I can’t say about my classmates, most of whom were rejected for essays on false information (sourced by Lila) and a quick scan over the Ladyblog meant not a single newspaper would even consider my ex-best friend. Gabriel Agreste, as I later found out through my internship in America, had to bribe several schools with double tuition to get even one to accept Adrien, after he got exposed as sexual harasser and disgraced hero “Chat Noir”. I turned back to my diary, having to peel off rock hard gum from the page that someone had smeared in “revenge”.

Le Chiên Kim. Third year as linebacker and eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick.

“What did you say to me, skank?” He would yell, his fist raised in the hallway.

“Aah, nothing!” I then cowered. I may be Ladybug, but he was 150lbs of pure rage. No one can compete with that!

But I know, I know... Life can be beautiful. I pray, I pray, For a better way. We can be beautiful...

“Marinette! Wide load! Honnnnnk!”

He was the smartest guy on the football team. Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!”

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” He used to snarl, his hands covered in sauce from knocking my tray.

I stood my ground, I had been practising for this moment. “Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on me. You're a high school has-been waiting to happen. A future gas station attendant.”

Kim then smirked, crouching down to eye level and pressing a finger to my forehead. “You have a zit right there...” he pointed out, causing the cafeteria to laugh at my expense.

I used to ask myself “Why... Why do they hate me?”

And hear Adrien whisper “Why don't I fight back?”

Watch as Max Googled “Why do I act like such a creep?”

Listen in on Lila stamping her feet in the bathroom asking “Why won't he date me?” Clearly frustrated.

Kim panicking as he wondered “Why did I hit him?”

And Chloé sob down the phone “Why do I cry myself to sleep?”

I would stay up late, screaming, begging. At my lowest points I would cry out “Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me! Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope, here! Something to live for!”

I remember when I first met my real friends. The famed trio had gone into the bathroom and I followed after them, clearly my throat.

“Who are you?”

“Uh... Marinette Dupain Cheng. I crave a boon”

“What boon?” Chloé asked, filing her nails.

“Um. Let me sit at your table, at lunch. If our class think that you guys tolerate me, then they'll leave me alone...”

Chloé threw her nail file out and began circling around me, running her hands through my hair, commenting that “For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure!” Before coming to a conclusion.

“And ya know, ya know, ya know? This could be beautiful. Mascara, maybe some lip gloss, and we're on our way. Get this girl some blush; and Kagami, I need your brush. Let's make her beautiful.” Sabrina and Kagami, chimed in, echoing her words.

“Let's make her beautiful...”

“Let’s make her beautiful...”

“Make her beautiful...Okay?” Chloé ordered, dragging me out with Kagami and Sabrina, driving me to her hotel. They sat me down, taking my hair out of its bunches and brushing it out. Kagami painted my nails a deep navy with surprising precision, manning my cuticles. Sabrina twirled my hair into a high bun, leaving a few pieces at the front to frame my face. Chloé came back from her wardrobe, throwing a blue blazer and grey skirt at me. I changed into my outfit for them, to which they clapped their hands in glee. They dragged me back to school, taking in everyone’s reactions to the new and improved me. This became my new daily outfit for the rest of the year — the class couldn’t find anything bad about it, and even if they did Chloé would threaten them with her father’s power.

I was happy with my squad. Kagami taught us Japanese and Chloé taught us American English that she’d picked up from her mother. I taught them self defence, under the guise of learning it from my mum, unknowingly training them for the day I would rip Chat Noir’s miraculous from him, before slamming it into Kagami’s palm. I needed help that day, so thrust them bee and the fox miraculous at Chloé and Sabrina respectively. They became permanent heroes, Kagami under the name “Noirette”, Chloé under the new guise of “Buttercup” and Sabrina “Renard Rouge”. Akuma attacks have never lasted more than 15 minutes since we got rid of that alley cat, and we’ve been closing in on Hawkmoth recently.

I shook my head, snapping the crude book shut, throwing the diary in the bin. Today was going to be the day I made peace with all that happened, our 10 year school reunion. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna make up with anyone, just that I will finally leave everything behind. I found my lipstick and smeared on the crimson lip, smacking my lips together. I grabbed my clutch and helped Chloé stand up, though she wobbled a little in her heels. I slid her miraculous into her updo, blowing a kiss at her as to not ruin her makeup.

We met up with Kagami and Sabrina in the hallway, Kagami in a wine red suit with gold jewellery, and Sabrina was in emerald green to compliment her red hair. We stepped into the limo awaiting us outside and set off, arriving at the school 10 minutes later. We walked up the steps, hitching up our dresses and arrived in the courtyard. It had been lit up with fairy lights, with stands of food and drinks scattered around the court. Our old classmates were huddled in small groups, whilst Mlle. Mendeleiev’s was in a large group, enjoying each other’s company after 10 years apart.

No one noticed us, until Rose pointed at me and whispered “Who’s that with Chloé?” The group turned to stare at us, trying to place my face. Adrien looked up from talking to Lila, who seemed to be flaunting a rather tacky Gabriel engagement ring, and whispered,

“Marinette?!”

The class began gossiping amongst themselves, “Marinette? Marinette? Marinette?!”

I ignored them, their childish ways were behind me, and walked up to Aurore and Mireille, fawning over their relationship. They turned Kagami, asking her about her life and squealing over her Olympic medal for fencing. I grinned as I watched my old class, happy that they had moved on from each other — well apart from Alya and Adrien, who were still hooked on Lila. I was finally, content! I thought back on my diary, one particular paragraph standing out to me at this time.

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful. You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way! Ask me how it feels, lookin' like hell on wheels...My God, it's beautiful! I feel so beautiful... And when you're beautiful...It's a beautiful frickin' day!

Chloé boasted my achievements, my business, my awards, and the entire of Mendeleiev’s class started chanting “Marinette! Marinette! Marinette!”, much to my embarrassment. I boasted her’s in return, Sabrina revealed how far she’d come as a lawyer, Kagami swung her prized sword from side to side as she listened to us all catching up, laughing at the memories.

It really was a beautiful day.

#lila salt #adrien salt #class salt #marinette deserves better #alya salt #mlb #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #chloe sugar #kagami tsurugi #sabrina raincomprix #heathers au #beautiful heathers #songfic

304 notes · View notes

your-eternal-muse · 4 years

Text

To hold on, To let go.

Heather Bonus Chapter.

Summery: In which you get to sneak a peek into the life of Dr. Spencer Reid, and one Aaron Hotchner.

Words: 1.7k because I have absolutely no self control

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, light swearing, and the fruition of an opinion of mine that is kinda controversial in the fandom, but I said what I said, and I ain’t backing down from it

A/N: Hi. So, I thought I would have both this chapter and chapter 9 ready to go to post at relatively the same time, but I was up for 18 hours straight and crashed before I could. I woke up because I was hungry and decided to finish this. That being said, hopefully, I can get chapter 9 up for you guys at some point tomorrow. I’ve just been really tired is all, but I’ll push through because I love this series so much. Anyway, enjoy! Oh, also, I didn’t name this one after a lyric because it didn’t really fit, but its a bonus so its fine.

~~~~~

45% of marriages end in divorce.

Spencer knew this.

He knew the odds of his marriage to Heather ending badly.

He just didn’t think it would be this soon.

He had expected it to be years down the road, when his hair was turning gray and his time at the B.A.U was in the past.

He hadn’t expected it to fail in mere months.

He expected it to be because of his job, or the fact that no matter how hard Heather tried, she never could quite get him to open up about the demons residing in his head.

Not because she had been cheating on him.

He felt like an idiot.

The signs were all there.

The sudden disappearances, the nervous tics whenever he asked a question she could never quite answer.

What kind of profiler was he if he couldn’t even tell that his wife was cheating on him?

He sat at his desk, alone in the bullpen, the only noise in the room coming from the video playing on his phone before him.

He couldn’t stop playing it, even though it killed him to watch.

He paused and played back the very beginning over and over again, watching her kiss that man in a way he thought was only meant for him.

He felt sick.

Knowing her lips had been on that man's hours before coming home and kissing him.

Knowing they had sex, and than having her come home and beg to be fucked by him.

He started the video again, watching Heather, the way her hands balled into his shirt, the sound of her laugh at the person behind her.

Then, his eyes start to drift.

He starts it again, this time watching the anger radiate off of y/n.

It was almost palpable.

He couldn’t help the warmth swarm his chest, circling his heart before squeezing tightly.

She was fiery.

The way the words came from her chest, how her shoulders were straight and her chin was raised, filled his stomach with a sense of pride.

When she said she loved him, she meant it.

“I found your letter. I was right about you.”

His eyes shift to the card currently laying on top of the stack of divorce papers laying on his desk.

He knows he should have hidden it better.

Stuffed it in a thick book and placed it on a high shelf, somewhere she never would have thought to look.

He shouldn’t have even kept it.

With his memory, he could read it over and over again in his head, and Heather would be none the wiser.

But there was something about tracing his fingertips over the ink, feeling the indents of her words in the paper.

It was physical evidence, that after all these years of thinking she didn’t feel the same, that he was wrong.

She loves him, as he loves her.

Yes, loves.

Not loved.

Spencer Reid, is in love with y/n y/l/n.

However, he can’t say he doesn’t love Heather.

He had convinced himself that y/n hadn’t felt the same, and had all but given up hope. So when a pretty girl offered her number to him one morning at a coffee shop, he accepted, forcing himself to move on.

And for a while, he believed that he was happy.

But it doesn’t work like that.

There were too many sleepless nights, too many words unsaid that kept him from fully committing to Heather, even if on paper it looked like he worshiped the ground she walked on.

He shouldn’t have proposed.

He had hoped y/n would say something, call him a fool, be selfish and kiss him in the middle of the banquet hall, not caring about what other people thought because it was only them existing at that moment in time.

But she didn’t.

So he did.

It was selfish of him.

To want another girl, while one who had claimed to love him hung on his arm.

He shouldn’t have danced with her.

He should have just smiled and thanked her for coming, ignoring the pain registering in her eyes.

She was intoxicating though.

And even though it was his wedding, he needed to let her know.

Let her know that he loved her, and that even if he didn’t have a choice, he would always choose her.

He would go and catch her without a thought's hesitation.

Last week, he found out she understood.

God, this is a mess.

He rubs his face, resting his chin on his hand as he reads through the papers again. Should he sign them? Should he give themselves another chance? Or should he say fuck it? Heather had her chance, and in the process broke him. He didn’t think it was worth it.

A door above him opens.

“Reid, can I speak with you?”

It wasn’t weird for Hotch to stay late.

It was for Spencer.

But he didn’t want to go home, where Heather would be inevitably waiting to try and plead with him to not go through it, where another fight is waiting to be fought, and going to the one place he truly wanted to, felt wrong.

It would put y/n in a position he never wants to put her.

So he stayed, and rewatched the video, and reread the papers, until he felt his eyes droop, and his heart rate slow.

Hotch had spent the last few nights watching him.

He could relate to how Spencer was probably feeling, and he wasn’t about to stand back and watch like he did y/n. He was going to help before it got to the extreme.

So Spencer set down the papers, put his phone in his pocket and walked up to meet Hotch in his office.

When he enters, Hotch motions for him to take a seat.

Spencer sits, curious and kind of anxious about the conversation that was about to be had.

“I just wanted to let you know, that I know what you’re going through. And that I sympathize with what you’re feeling. If you need to take any personal time, any at all, you can.”

The next statement pops out of Spencer's mouth before he can even think.

“You didn’t.”

Hotch doesn’t even blink, not the least bit fazed by the observation.

“I should have. And I wish I did.”

He takes a breath.

“I loved Haley. A part of me still does, and will always love her, even now. But I want you to know that I sympathize with how you feel on more than just the divorce.”

Spencer furrows his brow.

What?

Hotch had wanted to keep this from the team for a very personal reason.

He didn’t want anyone judging him for continuing to love her, even after she hurt him.

He didn’t want them to hate her after her passing.

He didn’t want Jack to grow up to despise his mother.

“I didn’t realize it at first. I’m sure my line of work didn’t help much. I was gone often, and for long periods of time, during which I have no clue what she did.”

Spencer couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Haley cheated on Hotch?

“But when I was home, she was distant. I again blamed it on the rift my job created, which I think is what drove her to do it in the first place.”

Hotch has never really talked about it out loud before now.

Was it bad, that he felt a little relieved, to finally get it out into the air?

“How did you find out?” Spencer's voice was soft, quite. He was afraid that if he spoke too loud, Hotch would back down, stop telling the story.

Hotch takes another deep breath, bringing forth the painful memory.

“It was a rare night where I was home. We had been arguing over an offer I had gotten here. It would have given me a 9-5 schedule, allowed me to be home for dinner and on the weekends, a shorter commute. She wanted me to take it, said it was a no brainer. I told her it was more complicated than that.”

Spencer is leaning forward onto his knees, hanging on to every word.

“We were talking about it, when our landline rang. When I picked it up, no one answered, so I hung up. Not ten seconds after, her cell phone started ringing.”

Why hadn’t Hotch told anyone?

Spencer was beginning to realize they had more in common than he thought.

“But what solidified it for me, was the fear in her eyes. She was petrified. I stared at her as her phone rang, and while she didn’t make a move to grab it, she crossed her arms, subconsciously telling me not to ask.”

He rubs his nose, and looks down at the files on his desk. “I did a little more research after that and found that I was correct.”

He folds his hands in front of him, the words becoming harder to say as he continues.

“What I’m trying to say, is that even when I loved her, even when I wanted it to work out, it didn’t.”

He was hoping Spencer would understand what he was implying. Hotch knew he was smart. It was getting to do something for himself that was the hard part.

Spencer’s head felt clear for the first time that week.

It had helped, hearing Hotch's own experience.

Hotch fought because he loved Haley, and he wanted to hang on to that as long as he could.

Spencer couldn’t wait to let go. That was the difference between the similarities.

Spencer nods, moving to stand up, his mind picking up speed as he did.

“If you ever need to talk about anything, and I mean anything, Spencer, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

A small smile graces Spencer’s lips. “I won’t.” He walks towards the door before pausing, and turning back around. “And Hotch,”

Hotch looks up from his paperwork.

“Thank you.”

Hotch smiles, soft and rare. “You’re welcome.”

Spencer makes his way back to his desk, sitting down, picking up the papers once again, digging a pen out of his satchel.

He flips through the papers, finding where x marks the spot.

He signs his name.

Permanent Tag List: @criminalcow @pinkdiamond1016 @eternityofaxiom @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @marvels-gurl @theamuz @write-from-the-heart @sungieeeeeee @mjloveskids666 @chococeral @itzsoff @gia-kerks @doctorspencereid @imsuperawkward @andreasworlsboring101 @itsmoony @cielo1984 @heistmaster69 @nevvvv @theseuscmander @complementaryvacuum @waywardswain

Heather Tag List: @drsoftboyreid @lindaze @urie-bowie-mercury @racer-parker @avaholcombe @rodgertayloroof @stephanieisgay330 @swiftspaperings @rainsong01 @darthseph @liaabsurd @tracyn910 @kxllyxnnx @holypicklelightnickel @pianofirepirate @radtwinkie @madcrazy50 @bweakmybonez @constantlywishingonstars @l0ve-0f-my-life @expressiodepressio @flannelpjpants @x-midnight-violets-x @kwyloz @todaynotseen @caitlin-f @mylovehes @spencerreidsimptime @yoongi-holland @vamp-army @realimbo @stardream14 @magicbeanssss @jessaminelovelace @darthvadersturd @nikkilikewoah @mellifluouswildbluebells @lex-rodgers-sheild @crist1216 @voguekristens @doctorspencrreid @girlwithcrocs @harryscherrymoon @cherriesnwatermelons @heyitssomegirl101 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @colorfulsunflowerx @falcon-arrows @hereforbeebo @legallyplatinumblonde @thatsonezesty13

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid series #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female!reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds series #cm #mathew gray gubler #song fic #heather #conan gray

391 notes · View notes

plaidbooks · 3 years

Note

Hi babes - a request that’s kind of specific- (readerxcarisi) this would take place in season 19, episode 8 where Rollins and Carisi are at the shitty motel and they have that moment. So the idea would be that reader is also a detective, maybe newer or something tagging along with them two and reader knows Carisi has a thing for Rollins and reader was with him when they saw the guy leaving Amanda’s room. Reader is there for him after and he realizes maybe he was chasing the wrong girl??

New Girl

A/N: Hey Anon! I had to rewatch this to do some of the dialogue from it (I condensed the first scene so it’s not incredibly long.) but it’s a good idea to rewtach this ep before reading....unless you remember that Heather was the catfisher and stuff. Anyways, this is a little longer cause t’s slower paced. I like the idea of being there for someone without needing to ask. Also yes, I’m taking the chance to flex some sports knowledge, sorry not sorry. Hope you enjoy <3

Tags: none

Words: 2727

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles

“They traced the IP address to West Virginia,” Sonny said to Olivia, as they both came into the precinct.

“Good, get a John Doe warrant and send it to the local precinct,” Liv replied.

“Done and done.”

Liv gave him a smirk. “Then fill up your gas tank. Fin, you’re riding shotgun.”

“Oh, hell no; I’m allergic to West Virginia,” Fin said, leaning back in his chair.

Liv sighed. “Okay, Rollins, you’re up.”

“Really?” she whined.

Liv glanced between the two, already looking tired of this crap. “Come on, someone’s gotta translate for him,” she joked, gesturing at Sonny, who rolled his eyes.

“I’ll go,” you perked up. You were still the new kid, so you were jumping at every opportunity to go out in the field. Plus, you had a massive crush on Sonny, and being stuck in a car with him seemed like a good chance to learn more about him.

Liv gave you a relieved smile. “Thank you; at least someone here wants to work. But I’d also like someone with experience; Rollins, you’re going too.”

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

The drive wasn’t awkward…at least, not for Sonny and Amanda. They’ve been partners for years now, chatting up a storm. You sat in the back seat, listening in on their stories, jumping in when appropriate, but otherwise fading into the leather behind you. This wasn’t what you had hoped for when you thought about going to West Virginia with Sonny, but at least you were getting some experience in the field…right?

The arrest was quick, painless. You actually found yourself feeling bad for Heather as you had her arrested in her mother’s home. But then you remembered what happened to Katie, and it solidified your resolve.

When Amanda suggested you three, and Chuck, the local officer, go to The Barrel—the local bar—for information, you’re first thought was that maybe alcohol would help you loosen up around Sonny. But after a few shots and a cocktail, all you saw was how he looked at Amanda, and you cursed yourself for not seeing it sooner. Why would he ever fall for someone like you when he could be with someone like her? And they were already so close; what was the point of trying?

Complaining about a headache, you excused yourself, telling them you’d see them in the morning.

“Want me to walk ya back to your room?” Sonny asked, looking concerned.

Your heart fluttered at the thought, but then you remembered the heart eyes he’d been giving Amanda all evening. “No, I’m fine. Thanks though.” You wandered back to the hotel across the parking lot, wiping the tears from your face, locking yourself in your room.

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

You were in the hotel lobby making yourself coffee when Sonny came in.

“Morning, [y/n],” he said, smiling at you. “Feeling better today?”

You melted at his smile, tears threatening to form again, but you pushed down your feelings. “Uh, yeah, much better. How’d you sleep? Hopefully you and Rollins weren’t up too late.”

“Nah, it was fine. We may have started a bar fight, though,” Sonny grinned at you, and you giggled, trying to picture him fighting anyone. He went about making two coffees and grabbing an assortment of free breakfast foods. He put everything on a tray and you followed him out, heading towards Amanda’s room as he called Liv to give her an update. But you both froze as a man came out of Amanda’s room, both of them chatting for a moment before he left. And Sonny’s face fell as he turned and went towards his SUV instead.

You gave Amanda’s closed door one last look before you went after Sonny. He stopped at his SUV, putting the tray on top so that he could fish his keys out of his pocket. He sniffled and it was only then you realized he was crying.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked tentatively. But you knew the answer—of course you did. Because you had felt your heart shatter last night.

“Fine,” he grunted, opening the driver’s door and sliding in. This was sure to be a fun ride back to New York. Grabbing the tray he had left on the roof of his SUV, you climbed in behind the passenger seat.

You sat in silence for a few awkward moments before you said softly, “I’m so sorry, Sonny. If you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.”

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

The ride back was worse, to say the least. The tension in the air was thick, not to mention, you sat in back with Heather, who seemed to be daydreaming about meeting The Monster. You found yourself watching Sonny, or at least, the half of his face that you could see. He was quiet, subdued; so unlike him, and you realized you hated it. You wanted him to be his laughing, jokey self. You tried asking him questions—and Amanda, so you weren’t too obvious—but he wasn’t all there, his mind somewhere far away. Eventually, you gave up. falling into the silence of the drive.

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

Liv mercifully gave the three of you the rest of the day off after delivering Heather to the precinct. You were just debating what to do for dinner when there was a knock at your door. Curious, you unlocked it, opening it to see Sonny shuffling on his feet on your doorstep.

“Son?” you asked in confusion.

He gave you a nervous smile. “Hey, can I come in?”

“Uh, yeah. ‘Course.” You moved out of the way, letting him enter your brownstone.

You both stood there awkwardly before he asked, “have you had dinner yet? If not, I can maybe whip something up? Or I can order takeout?”

“I haven’t yet, no.” Now thoroughly confused, you shrugged, playing along. “Did you have something in mind? I was thinking of ordering a pizza or something….”

“Pizza sounds great. Here, I’ll order. You like pepperoni, right?”

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

You both idly chatted while waiting for the pizza to arrive, the awkward tension still palpable. Sonny didn’t say why he came over and you didn’t ask. The delivery man showed up soon enough, and Sonny insisted that he pay, so you let him. You found some beers in your fridge, offering one to him, which he gratefully accepted. As you ate, you started talking more, just about where you were before transferring to Manhattan, why you decided to come here of all places. The tension in the air subsided, and slowly, Sonny started talking about himself; his family, his recent accomplishment at Fordham—you had started just after he had passed the bar exam, so you didn’t hear much about it—and how much he loved his job.

“So, now that you passed the bar, are you going to leave us for Barba?” you asked. Sonny cocked an eyebrow, a grin on his face. “Oh my god, that’s not what I meant, and you know it,” you giggled, your cheeks burning.

Sonny chuckled at the implication. “I—I don’t know yet. I really do love my job as a detective. But I always wanted to be a lawyer, ya know? And now I can be. But with Mike passing…it just doesn’t seem like the right time.” He took a sip of his beer. “Hey, maybe with you taking over, I’ll be able to. I’d feel less bad leaving the department behind; they won’t be as short-staffed.”

It hurt to think about Sonny leaving; you were just getting to know him. “I still got a long way to go, though. Liv wouldn’t even let me go with you to West Virginia alone. What was it she said? ‘I need someone experienced’ or some shit.” You rolled your eyes.

“Hey, I was in your shoes before, too. It’ll pass quicker than you can blink.” Sonny spun the bottle in his hands. “Besides, I almost wish it was just us, and that Rollins wasn’t…” he trailed off, his eyes staring at nothing.

You swallowed hard. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Hm? Nah…I mean, she’s my partner, yeah? I have her back, and I know she’s got mine…. We’re close and…yeah, I don’t know.” He looked everywhere but at you, a slight pink tint in his cheeks.

You nodded sympathetically. As much as you wanted him to like you, you just wanted him to be happy. And if she made him happy, then you’d have to live with that. “Being so close with someone for so long, it’s not shocking if feelings…developed. Have you talked to her about it at all?”

He shook his head. “Look, I appreciate you trying to help me with this, but can we stop talking about Rollins? Please?”

“Of course. Sorry…. I got ice cream, if you want some dessert?” you tried.

Sonny sat there for a moment, staring a hole into your floor. “You know what? I think I’m gonna get out of your hair.” He stood, stretching. “Thank you for letting me crash your night for a little bit.”

“You sure? You can stay as long as you need,” you replied, but he was already moving towards your front door, sliding his jacket on.

“Yeah, I’ve taken up enough of your time. See ya at work tomorrow.” And then he gave you that heart-melting smile before he was gone.

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

Whether Fin or Liv could feel the tension in the precinct the next day, you weren’t sure. But Sonny had gone back to his nontalking self, sitting at his desk, working through Heather’s posts. At some point, Amanda invited him to lunch, but he declined. They had a few clipped, whispered words that you didn’t hear, but after she left, Sonny looked upset again.

Standing, you went to the coffee maker, making two cups—one for yourself and one for Sonny. You came back, placing it on his desk, within hands reach. He glanced up at you, and you gave him a soft smile before moving back to your desk, diving in on something to help Barba with his case against Heather.

After another half an hour, Sonny got up, coming over to your desk. “Wanna go grab lunch?”

You looked from him to the mountain of posts and pictures you still had to go through, then back at him. “Please,” you groaned, grabbing your jacket and following him out.

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

For the next two weeks, you and Sonny would get lunch. Or, if it wasn’t possible to take lunch at the same time, you’d bring each other something, switching off each day. You both also seemed to know when the other ran out of coffee, placing a refill on one another’s desk just as you’d finish the last sip. Conversation started to flow easier between you two, and you found that you highly enjoyed just chatting with him. Every now and again, he’d come over to your place, and you’d just talk; mostly about work, sometimes about your families. You still had a crush on him, but you shoved it down, trying to not let it interfere with work, or with your new-found friendship. Though, you noticed with some glee that he no longer looked at Amanda with that sparkle in his eyes.

On Saturday night, Sonny showed up at your doorstep, a 12 pack in one hand, takeout in the other. “Are you not watching the hockey game tonight?” he asked, his Islanders sweater on proudly.

“I, uh, wasn’t planning on it?” you replied, confused. In all your talks, neither of you had mentioned sports, except that Sonny had played basketball as a kid.

“Pffttt. You are now,” he said, pushing into your place. You giggled, following him to your couch. Plopping down next to him, you grabbed a beer while he flipped through the stations until he found the game. He cheers’ed you, then you both took a sip, watching and yelling at the screen. It was hard not to get caught up in the excitement with him, even if you didn’t know all the rules, nor particularly cared about hockey. You just enjoyed spending time with him.

At some point during the first period, Sonny put his arm on the back of the couch, his legs spread. You never understood how someone so lanky could take up so much room, but it made you smile. He just looked so natural, so comfortable on your couch, and you loved it.

“Come on, Lehner! You gotta cover your 5-hole!” Sonny yelled at the screen, groaning as the Islanders let in a goal.

“Uh, explain that to me, please?” you asked, confused.

Sonny sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees, moving closer to you. “Okay, so, ya see how the goalie, Lehner, has his legs so spread? Well, when the Pens shoot, that’s where they aim, ‘cause it’s his weak-spot and they know it. He’s slow to get his glove there and it’s an easy goal.”

“So…the 5-hole is between the legs?” you guessed.

“Exactly; see? You’re a quick learner,” Sonny smiled at you as the game cut to commercial.

You grinned back. “Well, I have a good teacher.”

Sonny’s eyes lit up with an idea. He put his beer down, then turned to face you. “Here, stand.” You cocked an eyebrow at him but obeyed. “Put your arms out and spread your legs…not that far; be comfortable. Okay, so, right here,” –he put his hand to the left side of your face, above your arm— “is the 1-hole. The opposite side here, that’s the 2-hole. Then here,” –he went back to your left side, under your arm this time— “is the 3-hole, and—”

“The opposite is the 4, and between the legs is 5?” you finished.

That lopsided grin was back. “Exactly.” He looked at the screen as the commercials ended. “Ooh, game’s back, here.” Sonny’s hands went to your hips, sending electricity through you. He dragged you back onto the couch next to him, your leg touching his, and his arm around your shoulders. You couldn’t pay attention to the game as your whole body heated, a stupid grin on your face from the closeness. At some point, you relaxed against him, snuggling into his side. If it bothered him, he didn’t say anything. In fact, quite the opposite—when he wasn’t groaning or gesturing at the screen, he had his arm around you, holding you to him.

Once the game was over, Sonny helped you clean up. “Thanks for letting me crash your night again,” he said—the same thing he said every night when he showed up unannounced.

“Anytime,” you replied. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

“Sober as a fox,” he smiled.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that even a saying?”

“It is now,” he declared, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Really though; I’m fine. Thank you for worrying.”

You walked him to the door, holding it open for him. Sonny stopped just outside your place, turning back around to look at you. “Text me when you get home, so I know you’re safe,” you said softly.

“Okay, I will…. I, uh, wanted to thank you. Not just for tonight, but for every night…and lunches, and coffees, and just—letting me be me for a little.” He gave you the sweetest smile, and you thought your chest was going to burst.

“Yeah, anytime, Sonny. I want you to feel…safe with me,” you replied.

“I do…I really do.”

You were leaning against your doorframe, and he had one hand on the wall next to it, leaning against it. Slowly, he leaned forward, his face getting closer to yours. Swallowing, and praying you weren’t misinterpreting, you leaned in, too, until your lips met in a soft, chaste kiss. Sonny’s mouth was gentle against yours, his lips smooth, and you stood up on your tiptoes, pressing yourself harder against him, afraid that he’d realize what was happening and that he’d pull away, disgusted. And though he did pull away, his eyes were still closed in bliss, a small smile on his face, one that slowly grew the longer you looked, making your own smile appear.

“You sure you don’t want to stay the night?” you asked, your voice hopeful.

Sonny looked deeply into your eyes, then to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Well, if you insist, maybe I can be persuaded to crash your night a little longer.”

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing #thank you Karen for letting me know PScan is an Islander fan #cause I made Sonny a Bruins fan first #I may have forgotten that the Devil Ray's existed #Anonymous

97 notes · View notes

the1918 · 3 years

Text

2020 for the1918

Am I the last person to make this list? Maybe. Do I regret that? Yes. Am I making it anyways because my cognitive behavioral therapy is teaching me fix my avoidance issues? Also Yes.

Let’s do this: @The Trees In Front of Cevans’s House and @Bucky’s Arm... you da real MVPs.

But other than them...

Thank You to Everyone that Truly Made My 2020:

@cantabile-l Jo (Daddy Dumpster™ Co-Founder) — I have to list you first. How could I not? Every friendship I’ve made in this fandom comes back to you. We literally bonded over porn lookalikes and started this craziness called the Stucky Porn Lookalikes Archive ( @stucky-lookalikes-archive ) to preserve the porn, and it now has now has 85k hits and 500 bookmarks (!!!?!!). But it’s more than that, even more than starting the Daddy Dumpster™ and bonding over culihos. Bespoke got finished because you got me excited enough to want it, just like half a dozen other fics. You were also the basis for many, many other friendships that I list below. Your nesting head canons were the inspiration for so, so many A/B/O moments in my fics. We’re so on the same length on an intellectual and spiritual level (I feel like you and me and @ixalit are three parts of one whole ❤) and I am in love with you for it. Culihos forever.

@hanitrash Hani (O.G. Dumpster™ Citizen) —I’m so, so damn glad you’re in my life. We share that sick sense of humor and refusal to adopt a filter. You add flavor to our Dumpster™ with your wit, and I feel so warm when you share pics and updates about the family with us. You were the first person I ran to when I “discovered” HTP and you held my hand 😂 And Jesus—your talent. I could go on and on and on about Through The Darkness I Heard Your Voice and Private Showing, but also one of my New Year’s resolutions is to start reading your work as Loralynne Summers. Thank you for making me smile every day of last year since April.

@trekchik Jini (O.G. Dumpster™ Citizen) — I can’t speak to the number of laugh-out-loud, belly-grabbing, cackling moments I have had in a year that could easily have been shit otherwise, all because of you. I feel like you’ve truly become a member of my family; like, I see you posting in the Dumpster™ when I wake up in the morning and I think to myself, “Oh, what’s the fam up to today?”. I know I’ve gone on and on about your talent (absolute queen of dialogue and pacing) before, but I don’t thank you enough for keeping the Porn Archive alive when the rest of us are slacking. Your Stucky Tumblr Drabbles (especially the meet cutes) puts a smile on half the fandom’s face regulary, and I’m excited to re-read the wonderful Anagnorsis & Peripeteia soon. Here’s to another year of weird dildo pictures.

@thegodswife Amanda (Dumpster™ Citizen) — I feel like we were literally destined to become friends. The love I feel for you and your little family is real and immense, and I feel like your victories (in life and in writing) are my victories. You have made a slow but steady convert of me to Shrinkyclinks with fics like peaches and because it's christmas, and I am in awe of your talent for writing charged dynamics with jaw-dropping moments. This fandom is lucky to have such a gem as you. 2021 is going to be the Year of Amanda (*clinks Lindeman’s Framboise glasses 🥂*)

@ixalit Max (Dumpster™ Citizen) — My relationship with you has and continues to be lifechanging for more reasons than I can even go into on tumblr. You make me laugh. You make me cry (usually in good ways). You make me horny by supplying the #porn-and-fun as the dutiful resident horny teenage boy of Dumpster™. I remember so clearly when we first messaged talking about your Evanstan thoughts and fics, and I knew your writing was special then (omg, Hiraeth?? How dare). You deserve all the success you earned in 2020 and every bit more success that you will continue to have this year. There is no one else I would rather have with me as we make this ~journey through Song of the Rolling Earth together.

@becassine Bex (Dumpster™ Citizen) — What can I say about my lucky charm? 🍀 I found our friendship later in the year and I feel it was truly central to the way I finished out my year with a bang (lol). Your encouragement to finish Bespoke supercharged me, and I’m still riding that high in writing SoRE. But for every bit we talk about you being the Queen of Hype (Becassine, First of Her Name), I am also stunned by your own gorgeous writing. The Way I Feel For You is a gift to this fandom and it’s gonna keep rocking our world, along with any other creative endeavor you choose to embark on. Thank you for the treasure of your continued friendship.

@darter-blue Bec (Dumpster™ Citizen) — My gorgeous, gorgeous cunt of a friend. What ever am I going to do with you? I feel like you and I have clicked so perfectly and so instantly, and I feel such a strong connection to you. I have been enamored with your skill and your style since I first stumbled across your Sergeant Barnes and Colonel Rogers: A Love Story series and then rapidly gobbled up your other writing. Getting to collab with you on No Vacancies was a dream come true. You make me feel so connected to the outside world and humanity even in this bizarre time and even though you’re on the other side of the world.

@kalee60 Kel (Dumpster™ Citizen) — You flawless sass-master. You brilliant human. You tricky little bastard. What a perfect addition to the Dumpster™ you have been! And your talent, Jesus... just being around you makes me want to write. I have truly never seen someone with as much talent write so prolifically, and I am in very real awe of it. If I had to pick “Fic of the Year” for me, I would not hesitate to pick Push The Button—it turned my world upside down—but for as much as we talk about that epic, your AU Extravaganza is really miracle to behold. And I am so, so pumped for you during this exciting time coming up in your life. Here’s to magnificent year for you in 2021!

@andysmountains Andy Gator Lord 🐊 — You’ve changed my life. I’m sitting here and I honestly don’t know how else to put it. You’re hilarious and you’re a ball of sunshine and you have kept this breeder feeling rooted to reality (in a great way) and remembering how to smile during some of the shittiest times I can remember. Newts. You’ve helped me explore my identity, and I’m not sure what greater gift you could have given me. Also, I’ve never heard true love whispered more sincerely than when I see 🔪—and I would give you nine hundred and ninety-seven 🔪 now if not for the fact that you have literally beat me to it.

@ceratonia-siliqua Cera — We’ve shared so much. I feel so privileged that you’ve picked me to be a person that you want to talk to during hard times because you’re such a special guy, and because you’ve got talent that the world needs to see forever and ever and ever (I continue to blown away by what you did in Sunshine, and none of us are ready for Quilt Fic™) and I hope you never stop writing your whole damn heart out. I truly love you. I do. Thank you for reminding me that there is endless humanity and prose in this world.

@howdoyousleep3 K — I feel like 2021 couldn’t be starting off better now that you’re in my life again. Last year was largely defined for me by the time I spent with you, and I’ve truly been changed by you and your writing. You are an endless amount of inspiration for me and this whole community; I would bet real money that the number of Daddy Kink converts that owe their new *interest* to finding your Daddy Steve Rogers/Baby Bucky Barnes series numbers in the hundreds (not to mention your other AUs). But fics aside, I had so many smiles and laughter throughout 2020 because of you, and I owe such a big part of my happy heart to you and your presence in my life. You have a huge, caring heart. Cheers to Cevans continuing to be a giant, bro-ish man slut and us never stopping giving him shit for it — and here’s to Trucker Bucky and his bug.

@lullabybeauty Bee — I’m not sure I would still be writing if it weren’t for you. The interest you took in my fics and endless support you’ve provided have turned me into a real-life 🥺🥺🥺 face so many times I can’t count them. But more than the hype you provide, you are an amazing person, and I hope you never stop putting (and ceaselessly keeping) the word out in our community through your blog that Black Lives Matter and black women matter now and forever; it’s far too easy for those of us who are white to let that truth fade from our minds when there’s not something terrible happening in the news, and I’m so thankful for your posts filling up my dash with reminders I need to be a good ally and giving me information to share with others. Thank you for the gift of yourself.

@ywecanthavenicethingsanymore Caroline—You sort of swooped out of nowhere for me and boosted my confidence through the roof. Your comments and your hype and your hilarious tags remind me every day that writers are only half of the fanfiction equation; all we do without supportive friends like you is sit in the corner dreaming of stories we don’t have the confidence or feel-good to put to words. Thank you for your constant support and for being so. damn. cool.

@littlesurfergrl Heather—Oh, Heather. Queen of the A+ tags. Sender of inbox updates about what time you get off of work and why you’re vibrating to read a fic. All-around beautiful person. Your love and support is magic in my veins.

@hoeforthegays Baby J—I am so damn excited for this creative project you’ve taken on; you are so talented. I look forward to our thirst talks all the time. You make me laugh with your screaming and even your advice. Such a source of sunshine in my life.

@capbvckyrogers / @tae-withsuga Cam — You were the first person who ever reblogged a farmer daddy post. You were the first person who ever sent me a prompt. Honestly, you were the first person who ever bonded with me over a character. There zero (0) chance I would have enjoyed fandom (or certainly any kind of creative success) the way that I did in 2020 if not for you. Thank you, endlessly.

@justice-for-plums Kenz — Another “late in the year” friendship find that I am so grateful for. I love our talks! I am so thankful you felt comfortable to reach out and talk about writing. Our workshopping has helped remind me of what works and what doesn’t for me, and I love the creative collaboration on head canons! Excited for more in 2021.

Shrunkyclunks Bitches®, or those not mentioned already above: @dreadlockholiday (co-founder of the Bitches® with @justice-for-plums and #1 reason I blushed last year), @oh-i-swear-writes @wayward-lives @allegedlyann and others I either am missing on tumblr or forgetting (but not because I don’t love you) — Here’s to Cap Steve and modern Bucky and 1,000,000+ words written during our writing sprints in 2021. [Bitches® server membership is open by the way! If you love Shrunkyclunks, contact Dready @dreadlockholiday].

And to the endless list of others who made me smile, laugh, sometimes cry, feel proud, but always feel that incredible Stucky love — a list that includes but is certainly not limited to @fishcustardandclintbarton, @hawkeyeandthewintersoldier, @willbakewithstucky, @hannah-stagram, @thewaythatwerust, @bigbraiiin, @musette22, @luninosity, @fandomfluffandfuck, @maddiewritesstucky, @hbalbat, @doctorenterprise, @epicstuckyficrecs, @k347 and the massive important people I know I am forgetting (...like some BIG ones)

To everyone above and anyone else who has scrolled this far:

Thank you.

Let’s all have a fantastic 2021 🥂

#thank you post

69 notes · View notes

kaylorfails · 3 years

Text

Yes, Karlies Kloss is married.

I normally don’t do debunks but the outright lies being spread and about about Karlie Kloss’s marraige to Josh Kushner are annoying, so here we go.

On July 24 2018, People announces that Karlie and Josh got engaged X . This wasn’t a surprise to those of us not kaylors, it was quite obvious, but before the announcement all was well in kaylorland on July 23rd:

This surprised and angered a lot of kaylors whose reactions went from “they’re stigmatising lesbianism” (X), “this is horrible news” (X), “she’s going to jail” (X), “they’ll never get married” (X) (X). “it’s part of the fucking story” (X), “giving you the truth is not my call to make” (X), to “publicity stunt” (X)

While kaylors were bemoaning her lack of ring, Karlie showed it off (X), posted insta stories about her friends and family reacting to the news just to rub it in further (X). Congrats from the sisters-in-law (X) (X), parents-in-law (X), Toni Garrn (X).

That was just the antipasto, now onto the main dish. I’ll be using “you” in this. This is a debunk directed at kaylors, so never mind that.

On Otcober 18 2018, Karlie Kloss got married to Josh Kushner and prior to that, she made a spotify playlist with her wedding date.

“She isn’t Jewish and didn’t converted” She is and she did. Apart from the fact that a British Vogue video in 2015 showed “meeting a Rabbi” in her notebook, shes’s spoken about it in Vogue in 2018, on WWHL, and recently with Naomi Campbell. Her conversion has also been discussed on various Jewish publications (X) (X). Any further insistence she didn’t convert is antisemitic. There’s only so much ignorance can excuse.

“A thursday wedding is weird” It would be if they were WASP or Catholic. Even then, I’d still call it unusual at best. But they’re Orthodox Jews. Shabbat, a weekly 25-hour observance from just before sundown each Friday through the completion of nightfall on Saturday, would make the usual saturday wedding not possible. For a Jewish couple, thursday is a good day to get married. I could understand thinking thursday is a weird day if you’re not Jewish, but insisting it is after being informed about it, is offensive.

For your information, ttb, a blog run a white, straight, definitely not Jewish woman and followed by many non jewish kaylors, is telling you about Judaism.

I don’t get the “photoshoot” argument. The kaylor fandom is literally build on a Vogue photoshoot actually used for promo (X). It was also a blatant ripoff of Poppy Delevigne and Alexa Chung’s bestfriend shoot (X) (X).

“The wedding was a photoshoot” You know those beautiful wedding pictures you might have seen on facebook or instagram? They were taken by professional photographers. Not by a ghost or potatoes, professional photographers. Yes, you can gasp.

And they are hired to do their job and do it beautifully. I don’t know what kaylors real life wedding experiences are, but there’s this thing called pre-wedding shoots people like doing at their weddings. Yes, it’s a weird world we live in. These pictures end up in a strange thing called wedding book, which will be shown to friends and family, future babies and grandbabies, and unsuspecting guests. Or burned if the marriage ends in a divorce.

Professional videographers are also hired to film the whole thing. From the bride waking up, to her getting her makeup done, her friends being silly, to her leaving her wedding reception. The world is wild.

On the wedding day, the pictures were posted on Hongbo Li’s instagram:

A friend of hers demanded it to be taken down (Karlie follows this friend on IG):

Who is HongBo Li? A comment on a ttb post gave us the answer:

And he’s also mentioned in this Vogue writeup about haute couture. As you can see, he isn’t some random kaylor voraciously living through strangers. he’s actually worked on various celebrities wedding dresses. Karlie didn’t put on a local store wedding dress, she actually had one Dior designed for her. That lucky bitch! I mean oppressed lucky bitch!

Onto the photographer. Her wedding pictures were taken by Heather Hazzan, A NY based photographer and very good and successful at her job:

Again, Karlie didn’t get a random photographer for her wedding, she got the best.The only thing this is proving is that being rich and famous gets you access. And not ony is she rich, she also married an obscenely rich man. The picture of the oppressed.

“There was nothing showing a wedding was going on” Now, that’s a lie. Should Karlie have released a full movie showing every detail? For why? You’d still call her wedding fake:

JK robes and hotdog stands (The guy is Kristine’s boyfriend):

More (X) Go through this tag you lazy bags! I’m tired.

Karlie getting prepared for her wedding (X) (X) (X). An expression you might have while your sister is being forced to fake a wedding:

“None of her friends were there” While I’m sure there’ve been many guestless weddings and they’re just as valid as the populated ones, this doesn’t seem to be one of those.

A childhood friend who didn’t get the memo about this being a stunt:

Toni Garrn, a kaylors appointed ex gf, posted this a whole year after the wedding:

David Geffen showing you’ve been sold a bridge about this being fake:

Ashley Graham speaking about being a guest at the wedding.

“She doesn’t look happy” Uhm, if you say so. Here’s Karlie being an unhappy and miserable being on her wedding day and here she looks devastedly sad looking at her wedding dress.

“There was no wedding reception” As Katy Perry would: “Time, the ultimate truth teller” Here’s the video Karlie posted on her 2nd anniversary showing there was indeed a wedding reception.

A pre-wedded Karlie with Josh and his parents.

Everything pointed to this being a real wedding and not a woods photoshoot you’ve been told it is. I’ve yet to see the magazine spread this shoot was supposedly made for and It’s been 2 years already.

So yeah, Karlie Kloss is married. She’s married and pregnant. Move the fuck on.

If you’re sure of your stuff, come to me with something that isn’t a version of this:

If you’re a kaylor trying to get out of the cult, go through this Joshlie timeline to purify your soul.

But if you’re a firm believer that Karlie is pregnant with Austin Swift’s sperm and she’ll raise the baby with Taylor Swift, there’s no hope for you and you’re disgusting.

That’s it for the October wedding!

#Kaylor debunks #kaylor #I ironed out some kinks

111 notes · View notes

snusbandxknifewife · 4 years

Note

Can you do fanfic or headcanon explaining The resentment between Madoc and Cardan? I feel like it has something to do with Jude and no matter how much I think about it there seems to be resentment from both sides

Enjoy some light family dinner angst I hope this is intense enough!

~~~

It was no secret that Cardan and Madoc disliked one another. Anybody with eyes could see how they glared at each other over their wine glasses whenever they had to dine together. But Cardan loved his wife, and his wife clearly had some strange familial feelings that she was confused by, and so that meant that he never complained when Jude dragged him to dinner. After all, it wouldn’t happen for long, and Madoc would be out of his life unless Jude lifted the exile.

Still, that didn’t change the fact that his forehead always hurt from how strongly he frowned at dinner.

It was quickly approaching Yule and the Elfhame monarchs had agreed to take a day’s break from planning revels and attending meetings to head to the mortal world for an early holiday meal. Cardan had never celebrated Christmas, and Jude hadn’t celebrated it in years, but Oak was insistent on trying out the new holiday and Taryn was so far along in her pregnancy that they all knew she wouldn’t be getting out much in a few weeks.

That’s why, against everything Cardan wanted, he found himself glaring down his father-in-law.

They had to put in some work to properly stare at each other. With Madoc at the head of the table and Oriana opposite him, Cardan was at a disadvantage. He was sitting next to his wife, across from the Ghost, and so he had to turn his head to flash Madoc sour looks. Jude had picked up on the tension—she always did—and was gripping his thigh so tightly that he knew he’d have bruises in the morning.

Madoc took a break from glaring to ask some question about the kingdom, one that Jude answered with all the grace of a seasoned monarch. Cardan was so distracted by using the moment to take a sip of his wine that it wasn’t until the room descended into silence that he realized his wife had left him room to speak.

“My apologies, my mind was elsewhere,” he said, coming back to the conversation and offering his wife a sheepish grin. He only looked sheepish around her, only apologized genuinely for her. Anywhere else, with anyone else, he would’ve been content to continue ignoring them. But not his Jude, never his Jude.

“It’s alri—“

“Typical,” Madoc mumbled under his breath, loud enough to interrupt Jude.

Cardan and Jude both bristled.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Jude asked, her fiercely overprotective nature cutting through any hope of maintaining diplomacy. This wasn’t a state dinner, she could rip people to shreds if she wanted.

Cardan laid a hand on her back, his long fingers stretching effortlessly over the delicate silk of her dress as he wordlessly told her that he’d take care of this.

Across the table, Taryn was considering faking labor to have an excuse to get herself and Ghost out. Down the table, Oak was secretively raising his brand new phone up past his plate, already recording for posterity (as he’d started doing after Madoc “accidentally” dropped a wine glass on Cardan a month ago). Directly to Cardan’s right, Oriana was eyeing the wine glass in front of her, wondering if anyone would notice her turning the whole thing bottoms up.

Madoc stared Cardan down and the entire room grew even tenser. “I said it was typical,” he finally stated, blinking matter-of-factly. “As in, it’s typical for you to leave all conscious thought to Jude while you go off in your own world.”

“Madoc, dear, don’t speak to our king that way,” Oriana pointedly warned.

“I’ve no king, I’m a man in exile,” he shot back instantly. “All I have is a son-in-law who isn’t worth my daughter’s spit.”

Vivi cooly wrapped her arm around Heather’s shoulders, looking for the quickest exit.

Cardan, moving quickly, slid his hand from Jude’s back to her thigh and dug his fingers into her skin to keep her seated as he looked his father-in-law up and down.

“I don’t see why there’s so much animosity for a subject we agree on,” he calmly announced. “I’ve made it quite clear that I feel undeserving of the gift it is to be Jude’s husband.”

Madoc blanched a little, opening his mouth to say something.

Cardan cut him off. “Though what confuses me is the fact that you don’t seem to feel the same way about being her father. You act like you’re entitled to the roll, like you’ve offered her something she wouldn’t exist without.”

He reached down and grabbed his wine glass, swirling it around before taking a delicate sip to build the tension.

“Like you somehow have done anything other than put Jude in danger,” he continued, studying the way the light glinted off his painted nails before turning back to Madoc. “Like you were somehow key to her success.”

If they were in Elfhame, this would be about the time that guards would move to secure Madoc to keep him from attacking the king. But they weren’t in Elfhame, so no one stopped him from slamming his fists on the table and standing tall, looking ready for a fight.

Cardan didn’t give him the satisfaction of rising to face him. Instead, he remained comfortably seated beside his wife—who was shooting rapid glances between him and her father.

“I raised her!”

“You stole her,” Cardan shot back, voice betraying his disgust. “You took her from a loving mother and father, from the safety of the mortal world, and you threw her to the wolves. You gave her and her sister up to the gentry for slaughter and you dare to call that raising?”

And there it was, the genesis of Cardan’s hatred for Madoc. No matter how many family dinners they suffered through, how much time passed, he’d always despise his father-in-law for what he’d done to Jude when she was no more than a defenseless human child.

Jude had been born into a loving family, she’d had a mother and father who adored not only each other, but also their children. She’d deserved that for the rest of her life, she’d deserved the safety that her human birth should’ve afforded her.

But no, she’d been forced—at the tender age of seven—to watch the violent murder of both her parents, and then she’d been stolen away to Faerie and thrown to the wolves that made up the gentry. A lifetime of scorn and suffering that could’ve been avoided if Madoc hadn’t been so entitled and rash.

“I seem to remember your torment was always the worst,” Madoc looked like a vein was about to pop in his forehead as his voice lowered dangerously. “You trapped my daughter in a river of nixies, you drugged her and forced her to strip in front of her classmates—“

“The everapple incident wasn’t my doing.”

Cardan had been a terrible person—arguably still was when he needed to be—and he knew he’d been evil to Jude when they were children. But he’d never engineered a situation where Jude would be both inebriated and in danger. Even when he was still trying to convince himself that he hated her, her safety was always his number one concern.

“You exiled Jude when she needed you most. You left her alone and vulnerable after gaining her trust and act like I’m the monster?”

Cardan’s eye twitched. “To protect her from you. To protect her from us.”

And then he finally stood, setting down his wine glass and turning to face Madoc. His oil-slick eyes swirled with hatred and he was thankful they weren’t in Elfhame, solely because he knew that, if they were, he would’ve already been surrounded by poisonous plants.

“You didn’t see her after the Undersea, never saw how sick she was,” he growled. “I sent her away to give her time to heal, to give her the chance to fall in love with the mortal world again in the hopes that she would stay here where she was safe.”

He stepped back and pushed his chair in, pulling Jude’s out and helping her up.

“But my darling wife returned, because she’s headstrong and she’s never cared much for her own safety. I won’t lie to you, I’m thankful for it. I don’t think I would’ve survived without her.”

He went to the coatrack and grabbed Jude’s fur before walking back to wrap it around her shoulders.

“But then you took her from me.”

Madoc opened his mouth.

“Granted, you thought she was Taryn,” Cardan acknowledged. “I suppose you, her so-called loving father, never put in the work to tell the difference.”

Jude was staring at her husband, she saw how his hands shook in anger.

“But when you figured it out, when you finally looked at your daughter and saw Jude, that’s when you truly lost any hope of being a father.” Cardan looked back to Madoc, tears of fury wetting his eyes. “Because when you were faced with your teenaged daughter, the girl you stole and brought up and taught, you tried to kill her.”

Memories of Jude crashing from the rafters flirted through his mind and he bit his cheek against the wave of nausea it always brought up.

“You gutted your child and left her to die,” he whispered. “You ran her through and you dare to say I’m the one undeserving of her?”

Jude didn’t know what to say as she looked at her husband, as she felt his fingers digging into the flesh of her arm. She’d never seen him so raw with emotion, never heard him discuss his hatred of Madoc.

She didn’t fight as her husband pushed her towards the door. So lost in her own thoughts was she that she didn’t notice Cardan stop to whisper in Madoc’s ear.

“I look forward to the day Jude stops coming to the mortal world,” he admitted, “because then I know I’ll no longer have to worry about you putting her in danger.”

“And what about you?” Madoc asked, a tinge if desperation in his voice. “How will I know that you’re no longer endangering her? You, who have always been undeserving of her?”

“Your peace of mind isn’t my problem. Her’s is.”

~~~~~

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @hizqueen4life @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cheekycheekycheeks @queen-of-glass @b00kworm @doingmyrainbow @andromeddea @jurdanhell @thesirenwashere @sweetlyvillainous @courtofjurdan @clockworkgraystairs @st00pid231

#cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #tfota #jurdan #tfota fic #madoc #oriana #vivienne duarte #taryn duarte #ghost #oak #family dinner fic #tyrannosaurus lex answers #tyrannosaurus lex writes

243 notes · View notes