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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

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Sugary Sweet Apologies

Summary: You and Reid never really got along but when he saves your life, you decide to be the bigger person and thank him and hopefully start over. Unfortunately, it isn’t that easy.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: light to mild angst with fluffy ending, swearing, spencer reid being an annoying bitch, brief mentions of case stuff (if you watch cm, you should be fine)

A/N: this is for @willowrose99 ‘s 1 year anniversary on tumblr writing challenge!! congrats! i literally wrote and edited this whole thing in less than one day because i got so excited, anyways i hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.8k

“Reid and Y/L/N, go to David Whitney’s house. He was the therapist of two of the three victims. He could have some insight into the victimology and know of any overlap between them. He has no criminal record of past aggressive behavior but we can’t rule him out as a suspect entirely,” Hotch stated.

“Hotch, you stuck me with her yesterday for the geographical profiling. Send Prentiss with her instead,” Spencer whined.

“I don’t mind going with Y/L/N. She is a great partner in the field,” Emily glared at Spencer.

“No. Reid, go with Y/L/N or be taken off this case. I’m a unit chief, not an elementary school teacher. I don’t have time for temper tantrums,” Hotch chided.

“Fine,” Spencer grumbled as you grabbed the keys to an SUV.

You don’t know what it was but ever since you started at the BAU four months ago, Spencer had never liked you which resulted in you disliking him as well. Everyone else on the team was super friendly and welcoming but Reid always was jabbing snarky remarks your way like “I don’t have time to explain it to you” or “This was in the FBI handbook. God, you need more training.”

Luckily, the others were quick to defend you. Once Garcia even heard him snip at you over the phone and as soon as you all got off the elevator after the case, Reid was being dragged by his ear into Garcia’s lair with him going “ow ow ow” behind her. So, you didn’t really pay much mind to him because you could deal with one annoying know-it-all to have such an amazing job with great coworkers minus the one.

“Look, I’m not happy about this either,” you said as you climbed into the driver’s side of the SUV, “But at least I’m not being a whiny bitch about it and being rude to the other person’s face.”

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings,” Spencer mocked.

“Fuck you, Reid,” you shook your head.

David Whitney was on edge the second you arrived and showed him your badges. He was bouncing his leg up and down, he couldn’t sit still, and he kept avoiding eye contact.

He knew way too much about the other victim that wasn’t even one of his clients but you didn’t have anything solid on him. His house seemed very neat so you doubted he kept anything incriminating here. Organized offenders usually have a secondary location. So, you decided to push his buttons a little.

“I mean blitz attacks, leaving the bodies on the side of dirt roads,” you combed through the crime scene photos, “This guy was a real coward.”

Spencer picked up on what you were trying to do and his eyes widened, he was subtly shaking his head and mouthing “no”.

“Excuse me?” David asked.

“Well, I’m just saying a real man wouldn’t cower in the bushes and blindside a woman. He must not be very strong,” you stated, “He probably can’t even get it up.”

Before you even had time to react, David pulled out a switchblade knife from inside the couch cushions and put you in a chokehold, pressing the cool metal up to your throat. You closed your eyes tightly.

“David, you don’t have to do this,” Spencer stood with his gun pointed at you both.

“This bitch insulted me,” he snarled.

“She insults me too. That doesn’t make you any less of a man,” Spencer spoke carefully, “Just put the knife down and I’ll escort you out.”

David sighed, dropping the knife to the floor and releasing you.

Spencer put David in handcuffs and walked him outside as reinforcements came running in.

“Are you okay, Y/L/N?” Hotch asked.

“Yep, a little shaken up but fine. Thank you,” you stood.

“Let’s get you to the medics,” Morgan grabbed your arm to support you as you walked over to the ambulance.

Spencer never checked on you.

You knew your decision in the field was a little rash and you wanted to thank Spencer for essentially saving your life.

However, there was no way in hell you could verbally get out an apology while staring at his smug face, but you could bake. You settled on a note tucked inside a tupperware container of your Grandma’s special recipe of chocolate chip cookies. It was a good peace offering, maybe even a chance to start fresh.

During your lunch break, you took the tupperware from your desk drawer and approached the break room where Reid had entered about 5 minutes ago.

“I’m just saying I could not have been more clear in my message to her that it was too dangerous but of course, Y/L/N didn’t listen cause Y/L/N is going to do whatever she feels like,” Spencer stirred his coffee.

No one had noticed you standing in the doorway yet.

“Reid, you’ve got to be nicer to her. She earned her spot here just like the rest of us,” Emily defended you.

“Did she though? How much do we really know about her? She couldn’t even tell me how many pages the FBI protocol manual was,” Spencer said.

“That’s not a normal thing people know,” Morgan retorted.

“Well, I’m just saying the team was perfectly fine before her and it would probably be better off if she left,” Reid finished.

Garcia looked up from her yogurt to see you standing there, “Oh, Y/N”.

Spencer turned around in his chair as you angrily stormed up to him.

“Here’s your cookies, asshole,” you seethed, grabbing the note from inside and crumpling it up into a little ball and tossing it into the trash.

“Y/N!” Emily called after you but you were already gone.

The whole team glared at Spencer and picked up their lunches, leaving him alone at the table.

Spencer retrieved the balled up paper from the trash, having to fish through Rossi’s week old pasta and Anderson’s half eaten tuna fish sandwich.

Dear Reid,

Thank you for saving my life, I guess. These are my Grandma’s secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies so I hope you enjoy. I think we got off on the wrong foot and I would like to start over. I think cases would be a lot less miserable for everyone if we got along.

Thanks again,

Y/L/N

Spencer, you’re such an idiot, he thought to himself.

You never came back after your lunch break ended and Derek made Spencer go tell Hotch why it’s his fault you were missing the rest of the day.

He tried to call you multiple times but they always rang out before going to voicemail.

Spencer hesitantly knocked on Penelope’s door at the end of the day.

“Is she okay?” he asked softly.

“You don’t get to ask that as the person who hurt her in the first place. Also, she told me to tell you that don’t you dare go to her apartment to ‘check on her’. I’m headed over there myself actually,” Penelope collected her things and shut off her monitors.

“Will you at least tell her I’m really sorry?” Spencer followed her to the elevator.

“Absolutely not. I’m not doing any apologizing on your behalf,” Penelope huffed as the elevators shut.

You came in the next morning, keeping your head down. You grabbed a pen from your cup holder and the first folder on your stack before getting to work.

You were on the second page of the file when your clean, empty tupperware was placed in front of you plus another baking dish with aluminum foil over the top.

You glanced up to see Spencer guiltily looking down at you and you returned your eyes back to the file.

“I-I made you cinnamon rolls,” Spencer broke the silence.

“Are they poisoned?” you asked, not sparing him another glance.

“No, they’re not poisoned,” he assured you.

“I’m just saying how can I trust you as you have made it very apparent you would like me off this team.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Spencer was quick to reply.

“Then why the hell did you say it, Reid?” you slammed your pen down.

You grabbed your empty coffee mug and briskly walked to the break room but unfortunately, Spencer was right behind you.

“I didn’t eat any of your cookies by the way. Not that I didn’t want to but I felt like I didn’t deserve them so I handed them out to everyone else.”

“Oh how kind, taking credit for my work,” you tried to close the door in his face.

“I told them that they were from you,” Spencer insisted.

You rolled your eyes as Spencer grabbed the coffee pot before you could get to it, pouring your mug of coffee for you.

“What do you want from me, Reid?” you asked defeatedly.

“I want you to try a cinnamon roll and let me explain.”

“Fine but only because I didn’t have breakfast yet and I want to critique your baking skills,” you huffed, walking back to your desk.

Spencer gingerly placed one of the sticky frosting-coated rolls on a napkin and pushed it towards you. You tentatively bit into it. Damn it, it was actually delicious.

“It’s okay,” you understated.

You knew Spencer hardly ever used his kitchen let alone be up baking all night. He even chose a recipe that required more time and effort because the yeast dough would have to rise for a few hours.

“That’s good. The first batch didn’t come out as great...or the second,” he smiled softly.

“Well, the floor is all yours, Reid. Please explain to me why you talk shit about me to my co-workers when I’m in the other room,” you leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms.

Spencer muttered something incoherent.

“I have to hear the apology, you know,” you said, enjoying watching him uncomfortable.

“You’re intimidating to me because you’re intelligent, beautiful, and courageous. I think I was a little jealous that my spotlight as the ‘kid’ of the BAU was coming to an end so I said some harsh, completely untrue things and I’m sincerely sorry.”

“Oh my god,” you smirked, “Hotch was right, you are an elementary school kid.”

“In what way?” he curiously asked.

“You like me like like like me. You don’t know how to talk to the girl so you pull her pigtails on the playground,” you giggled.

“I take it back. You’re a horrible profiler,” Spencer was getting up from his seat, completely flustered.

“Awww,” you were laughing at Spencer’s bright red face as he went to go to the break room to fill his coffee mug.

When he got back to his desk, a sticky note was placed front and center.

In typical elementary school fashion…

Will you go get coffee with me?

Check:

Yes

Spencer smiled before picking up his pen and checking one of the boxes, crumpling the sticky note up into a ball and throwing it over to your desk.

“Good choice. See you Saturday at 9 at the cafe down the street,” you grinned.

“It’s a date,” he smiled.

#willsannievent #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid #cm fanfic #criminal minds

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fontofmercy-archived2 · 4 years

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TROS spat in the face of every single abused child who was looking to this fairytale for hope. The sequel trilogy wasn’t about a farm boy looking for adventure or even an abused child falling to villainy, it was about three abused children from the different class systems all rising out of trauma and dysfunction. This was our fairytale, our story, and JJ Abrams perverted it into abuse apologist propaganda in a pathetically desperate attempt to appease the most hateful groups of fans who never understood or appreciated the story to begin with (which is why the story had to be butchered in order to appease them).

1.) Rey

Rey’s parents selling her for profit into slavery was portrayed as a good, loving thing. Child trafficking was literally portrayed as excusable, and even loving, in this children’s film. Just let that sink in for a second.

What is the message there? If your parents did something horrible that caused you years of trauma and torment, you should just not lose faith in them because they may have had a good reason (even if you have no evidence of that). Maybe a space wizard who has been dead for decades forced them to traffic you. This scene makes me want to vomit. This is how a children’s fairytale portrayed parents who sell their children into trafficking:

There is no excuse for this. Rey’s parentage was solved. Her identity crisis was over. This wasn’t needed except to force this abuse apologist message. Oh, and of course to feed the sexist fanboys a bit of eugenics to make them stop whining about how a woman could possibly be important and powerful.

TLJ was about Rey discovering her identity and letting go of her unhealthy, irrational dependency on parents who she never knew, who sold her to an abuser and left her to half-starve alone in a desert. TROS decided to give her a new identity crisis out of literally nowhere just so they could erase all that “You are not your parents, even if your parents don’t love you and/or aren’t special, you are still special and still deserving of love. You can find belonging ahead of you.” stuff with dynastic “Actually, your blood family does entirely define your identity and you should always assume they’re right even when all evidence points otherwise, just ignore your own trauma and blame it on a dead space wizard.”

The whole Rey Palpatine thing left a very bad taste in my mouth. Not just because it’s fucking stupid and something Reddit would write, but because Rey was horrible in TROS. She acted like she was possessed by Palpatine, she stabbed Ben (who she cares for and always had compassion for) to kill while he was distracted. She suddenly acted like she didn’t care about anyone around her. She just overall acted unrecognizable from the warm, loving, empathetic woman we saw in TFA and TLJ. The message here is clearly that because she has this “bad blood”, Rey can’t have an identity for herself. The only thing that saves her is taking on the identity of the good guys, she never finds her own. All the traits she’s had up until now don’t matter, who she actually is doesn’t matter. All that matters is what man’s blood runs through her veins. All Rey is is someone’s granddaughter, because if she wasn’t, then she’d really be nobody.

And thus, JJ Abrams decided that “Anyone can be special, even nobodies. Your worth is not defined by your class or your background.” was a stupid message and instead it should be pure eugenic “You’re only special if you have important people blood/name. Your identity is entirely your (male) family, not your own. No silly woman could have power of her own!”

Rey taking on the name of Skywalker is an utterly shallow attempt to fix the fact that they took every bit of Rey’s real identity from her, took half her soul (Ben is her dyad, two that are one), and then left her alone on a desert planet as if to say that her “true self” is the abused child she once was and that she can’t actually escape that. The moral of this fairytale was “You don’t need friends or love, as long as you have a glow stick (material possessions) and a super duper special name that makes you important (which you weren’t before, you were nobody).”

Not to mention that Rey basically named herself after Luke, no one else she knew actually used that name. And Luke didn’t do anything to deserve that, he rejected her at every single opportunity and only did the bare minimum to help her after being berated into it. Han was her surrogate father and the first person to offer her a life outside of Jakku. Leia was her loving mentor and pseudo-mother. Ben was the love of her life who has always been there for her when she needed someone to confide it, someone to see her true self and tell her she wasn’t alone. Luke was nothing but some cranky old guy who made her feel awful about herself and never accepted her (not to mention telling her she was inherently dangerous and also trying to murder her soulmate when he was a child which the real Rey was furious about).

2.) Finn

Finn’s character has not been given much in terms of development. For the most part, he’s been reduced to “Rey’s friend” and then “Finn’s friend”, with a little moment in there where he got to be with Rose and have his own identity but TROS of course decided to reward racist bullies and cut out Rose instead of giving the rest of the fans a satisfying story.

In TROS though, the one thing that Finn actually did that was heroic by himself, his character defining moment of turning from The First Order, was credited to the force and described like it wasn’t a choice at all. Which brings up a lot of questions and, as Han would say, “That’s not how the force works!”. It was so entirely unneeded to take that from Finn, but they gave up all of Rose’s potential screentime to do it.

There’s also the moment when Poe, our alleged hero, so hilariously (i.e callously) compares himself being a criminal to Rey being a scavenger and Finn being a stormtrooper. Completely ignoring the fact that they had no choice in that, as if their trauma doesn’t matter at all. It’s a small moment, but it was very insensitive and highlights how much the writers Did Not Care or even understand their main characters’ experiences.

3.) Ben

I don’t even know where to start with Ben Solo. His ending was the one that broke me as a person, I had so many hysterical sobbing fits over it that my loved ones were actually getting tired of it and it genuinely put me in a really bad place with my depression that I’m only just not getting out of.

Ben Solo’s story in TFA and TLJ was abuse victim’s epic, it was the story of a boy who was tortured and groomed from the time he was in his mother’s womb. A man who never knew a life without abuse. Ben Solo was described as a pure beam of light in his mother’s womb who was ensnared and tainted by a predatory force bigger and stronger than himself that he could not escape.

The feeling of being tainted and corrupted is common in abuse victims, and the fact that TROS told every single abused child out there “Yes, you really are tainted and corrupted. You do deserve to die before experiencing more than a moment of happiness and safety.” is something that I’ve yet to get over. It still infuriates me, it still breaks my heart. Ben’s entire arc up until this point has been about how he is still worthy of love.

And no, this isn’t me woobifying; it’s in the text of the films and the canon novels that Ben worked for his redemption, that he earned it. Ben fought Snoke from the time he was a child, but Ben was only a child and Snoke was too powerful, too relentless in his cruelty for him to withstand. The one and only person in the entire galaxy who had the training and the knowledge to protect Ben was his uncle, who chose to try to murder him in his sleep instead of protecting him. Ben was left with nowhere to turn except to his abuser. And even then, we see him struggle every single day to try and force himself to be this evil person that he never was. Ben was light itself who was convinced he was darkness through abuse and manipulation.

Then, when Ben found the first person who he could feel and connect with through the force, even though Snoke and Luke had abused and betrayed him - Ben still took the chance to reach out to Rey and be vulnerable with her. While interrogating an enemy, he took off his mask and revealed himself (something we only see him to for his father and when Snoke forces him to maliciously). In the middle of a war, under the thumb of the monster who has tortured him since forever, Ben was able hold Rey’s hand and tell her she wasn’t alone. He was still able to be kind. And because of that kindness, that connection, Ben found the courage to finally destroy his abuser and free himself.

Ben freed himself, and he did it out of compassion for and a need to protect Rey, not out of wrath or vengeance. If Ben were truly a creature of wrath, he would have killed Snoke before, but it was only when he had to see and hear and feel his soulmate be tortured by his own abuser that he found that courage. And yes, he did take Snoke’s place at first because that was the only way he knew how to protect himself. In his experience, people without power get hurt and that’s it. But even then, Ben was able to muster yet more strength to shed the armor that was Kylo Ren and stand with Rey unarmored against the very thing that has abused and tortured him since before he was born.

That took so much bravery and love and selflessness for Ben to stand there as himself, ready to fight his abuse and trauma head-on as Ben Solo. For him to admit he was hurt for the first time in the series. For him to crawl up a cliff with a badly broken leg out of love. For him to willingly give his very life force out of pure love. All of these things are incredible for Ben to have been able to do after all he had been through, these are more than deserving of reward. But TROS punished Ben for doing everything right, they proved that abusers always win in the end. Ben was going to survive until the last few edits. Everything we see was literally leading up to him surviving. This was Ben’s redemption, this was supposed to be him fighting for his new beginning and taking his first steps into the happiness and safety he earned, and should have had as a child, not a pointless struggle before succumbing to death:

But TROS told us, told traumatized and neurodivergent children who saw themselves in Ben, that it wasn’t good enough. That love isn’t good enough. That doing the right thing deserves to be punished. That children tainted by violence and abuse and darkness don’t deserve love and healing even when they earn redemption, even when they do everything in their power to do the right thing and be brave. The hopelessness of that is what broke me as a person. That is not what Star Wars is about. Star Wars is about redemption and love and hope; TROS was about cruelty covered up with a thin sheet of materialism and confused, poor storytelling.

#*sigh* glad i got that out holy shir #ben solo deserved to live #ben solo defense squad #ben solo #rey from nowhere #rey solo #the only acceptable names for her #reylo #pro reylo #anti tros #tros review #pairing: ben x rey #ch: ben solo #ch: rey from nowhere #ch: rey solo #sw: text #my meta

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blurglesmurfklaine · 5 years

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Fresh Eyes

Summary: Kurt has a crush on FootballPlayer!Blaine. They end up at the same summer job and become good friends, but what happens when school starts up again? Tune in to find out!

4,280 words

A/N: you know I love me a good misunderstanding ;)

I wrote this for Liz’s (no-grass-today) birthday because she’s always a slut for Cheerio!Kurt, as am I. Happy birthday Liz! Thanks for always being there to scream with me about Kurt/Klaine/Blaine I’m so glad you found your way to my inbox!!

Enjoy

Read on AO3

“If this customer isn’t taking his shit to go, I’m quitting.” Kurt grumbled. “It’s five minutes to closing and I still need to finish the other half of the lobby.”

Blaine just rolled his eyes as he continued to clean the toaster oven behind the other boy, a huge smile plastered to his face the way it always was around Kurt.

“Wanna trade?” Blaine asked, offering up the dirty rag to his coworker. “I’ll take the customer if you finish the oven.”

Kurt swiveled around momentarily and nearly short circuited when he was met with Blaine’s criminally gorgeous honey eyes. It was an ongoing problem ever since Blaine started working at Lima SubHub with him.

Kurt had initially freaked out when he saw Blaine’s name on the schedule a mere three months ago.

“Blaine Anderson?” He asked Santana. “The best wide receiver this school has ever seen Blaine Anderson? The same Blaine Anderson that I’ve had the world’s biggest crush on since freshman year?”

He left his place behind the counter and headed for the door, only to have his coworker run after him. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I quit.” He said, eyes wide and terrified, still reaching for the door as Santana held him back. “I can’t do this.”

She crossed her arms and threw her best unamused glare at him. “You mean you can’t spend the entire summer, six hours a day, four days a week in a small space with the guy you’ve been drooling over for three years?”

“Yeah, no .”

She rolled her eyes to the heavens. “God you’re an idiot. This is literally the perfect opportunity for you to get close to him! Find out what he likes. Find out if his likes include you . Don’t quit. You won’t regret it.”

She had been right about that much. He and Blaine did end up getting pretty close over the summer, at least as far as coworkers go. The general Lima population usually didn’t lean too heavily towards healthier options, so business there was typically slow, leaving Kurt and Blaine lots of time to get to know each other.

His favorite days were when things were especially slow and they finished everything they needed to, but stayed longer anyways just to hang out. Most of the time they would just talk about school, family, life in general, but one day Kurt had been particularly peeved by a customer and Blaine made hats out of the wrapping paper to cheer him up. Kurt still had his, pressed into the crease of his history textbook where it would be safe from any wear and tear.

“Can I get a foot long meatball sub and add tuna to that?”

The customer’s voice broke Kurt out of memories of the two of them goofing off together. His back to the customer, he shot a disgusted look at Blaine—one that seemed to say Yes, but why would you?

Blaine had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling so hard. Kurt turned back around and by the luminous phony smile plastered on his face, you’d never know he was scowling just a second ago.

“Of course I can! It’ll be extra, is that fine?”

“Why is it extra?” The man grumbled, apparently displeased by this turn of events.

Blaine shoulders hitched up as he choked on a laugh.

Kurt went on to explain that the meatball sub only comes with meatballs, cheese, and veggies, and anything else would be extra charge. It took a few minutes, but the customer finally seemed to accept defeat. When he was finally finished with the order, Kurt didn’t even ask if it was for here or to go like he was supposed to, just threw the sandwich in the take away bag and handed it towards the customer, knowing if he gave him the choice he would probably sit in the half of the lobby he just finished cleaning.

As soon as the door closed behind the man, Kurt rushed after him to lock it, feeling his shoulders relax now that the weight of dealing with customers was off them. He didn’t mind the work, really (especially not when Blaine was around). But over the past three months, he’d discovered that dealing with customers was definitely his least favorite task.

As Blaine started to count the register, Kurt started to mop the front of the lobby. Knowing they were in the other’s presence was enough to let them settle into a comfortable silence for a moment until the music coming from the ceiling suddenly changed to a familiar song.

That boy Took my love away Though he'll regret it someday But this boy wants you back again

The corners of Kurt’s mouth curled up when he noticed Blaine nodding his head along to the song and singing quietly.

That boy Isn't good for you Though he may want you, too This boy wants you back again

He started singing along, too, both of them growing louder and more dramatic as the chorus approached. When they reached the first line of the chorus, Kurt grabbed the mop handle and swung his head back and forth, singing into it like a microphone.

Oh, and this boy would be happy Just to love you, but oh my

He pointed the handle to Blaine who grabbed onto it without question, earning a delighted laugh from Kurt.

That boy won't be happy

Blaine motioned for Kurt to join him and they both sang the last line of the chorus at the top of their lungs.

'Til he's seen you cry-y-y-yyyyyy!

They both burst out laughing, Kurt’s cheeks and stomach aching from laughing and smiling so hard.

“You actually have a really nice voice, Blaine.” Kurt admitted. “You should join the New Directions.”

He just shrugged in response. “It’s really nothing special. Besides—“

Kurt playfully rolled his eyes and waved his hands around. “You wouldn’t want to be seen with us glee club losers, I know, I know.”

“That’s not what I was going to say at all!”

“Really?” Kurt crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, quirking an eyebrow.

He nodded. “I was just going to say that I don’t know if I’d have time, with football.”

“Finn, Puck, Mike, and Sam have been doing it for a while now,” Kurt grabbed the mop and started wiping at the floor again. “It’s your senior year, the last chance you’ll have for a lot of things. If you want something, you have to go for it now.”

Blaine smiled almost involuntary and sighed absently, “I guess you being in it gives me a pretty good incentive.”

“What?” Kurt’s stomach did a somersault and he abruptly stalled, mid-wipe.

Blaine simply glanced at the clock, completely oblivious to the effect of what he’d just said had on Kurt. “Would you look at that, it’s 11:30.”

“Oh god,” Kurt groaned, swiping his hat off. “You don’t have to tell me twice, I’m out of here.”

A few moments later they were standing by their cars, still chatting away about nothing and everything until they finally bid their goodbyes.

Kurt placed his hand on the car door handle before stopping himself and suddenly turning around. “Blaine, wait!” He called out, only to find the shorter boy still staring at him.

Blaine was grateful for the dark of night concealing his red cheeks he was sure weren’t just from the heat of the oven.

“I know we have the Facebook messenger group chat for work, but...” Kurt started timidly, hoping to find the courage to finish his request. “I was wondering if I could get your number.” He saw Blaine’s eyebrows raise and immediately tacked on, “I-I-I mean, just in case... we gotta shift switches—shit I mean switch shifts... or... something.”

“Or...” Blaine trailed off, taking a step towards Kurt and making him certain he was going to pass out just from the sheer proximity. “Maybe just in case you ever want to hang out. You know, outside of school or work.”

If Kurt was breathing, he certainly couldn’t tell. All he could do was squeak out, “Sounds like a plan, Stan.” Before resisting the urge to drag a palm down his face.

Sounds like a plan, Stan? What are you, a middle aged white father. Oh god, I’m Burt Hummel. I’m eighteen and I’m turning into my father already.

Blaine just tilted his head forward in bashful laughter. “Sounds like a plan,” he confirmed, then took Kurt’s phone and planted his number in it. “I’ll see you on Monday, then, Kurt.” He flashed him one of those knee weakening smiles before jumping into his car and leaving the parking lot.

Kurt slid into his car, certain that his legs couldn’t hold him up any longer after that encounter. He knocked his head against the steering wheel a couple of times in hopes that would erase the memory of him being at his least composed in front of his crush. Blaine Anderson would be the death of him, Kurt was sure of it.

Blaine walked out of his AP Literature and Composition class towards his locker, hoping he had enough time to put the weighty text book away and still make it to his eighth period class.

As he was shoving his things in his locker, he saw a familiar head of chestnut brown hair float past him and had to a double take, his eyes growing wide at the sight of his friend from work.

“K-Kurt?” Blaine asked, a bit breathless and plenty astonished.

Kurt talked plenty about fashion at work, but it wasn’t until now that Blaine saw just how in tune he was with his own wardrobe that he understood how Kurt definitely knew how to use it to his advantage.

He was an attractive boy and even though they were friends, Blaine wasn’t blind for crying out loud. He’d always found Kurt pretty stunning, even when he was in the standard issue khaki pants, blue shirt, and green apron. Blaine knew he must’ve seen Kurt around before, (they’d gone to the same school for four years, after all) but he just never really took notice of anyone because he didn’t think dating was an option for him... until about three months ago.

His beaming face brought Blaine back to planet earth. “Blaine! Good to see you. How’s your first day back at hell been?”

All Blaine could really do was gape at Kurt’s outfit: black skinny jeans that he wasn’t really sure how Kurt got into (a stark contrast to the ill fitting work pants they wore this summer), and a white long sleeved shirt under a vest that outlined the slight curve of his waist perfectly.

“Where’re you headed to?” Kurt asked bubbly. “I’ll walk with you,” he offered, reaching out for Blaine’s arm.

They were no strangers to close contact with each other, being constantly behind the crowded employees only space all the time will do that to you, so Kurt was a little more than taken aback when Blaine suddenly jumped back and fervently shook his head.

“No!” He squeaked nervously. He knew his face was burning up just at the sight of Kurt and figured he’d save himself the embarrassment of his reaction if the other boy actually touched him. He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the locker room. “I have to go—football practice.”

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows. “I’ll see you at Glee Club auditions next week, right?”

He froze. He could barely handle seeing Kurt in street clothes, how was he supposed to handle seeing him every Tuesday and Thursday after school singing and dancing what were sure to be sappy love songs?

“I, uhm... probably not... maybe. I don’t really know yet.” Blaine’s face was still beet red as he walked away, leaving Kurt to wonder what the hell that was all about.

They had hung out practically all summer and if Kurt knew anything about the shorter boy, it was that he almost never lost his cool. Yet, there he was, floundering like a fish out of water not a few moments ago.

It suddenly dawned on Kurt that they weren’t at Lima SubHub anymore. They were at William McKinley High School, the place where status took precedence over everything. Of course, Blaine was embarrassed to be seen with him, he was a football player for crying out loud. And Kurt was still just a glee club loser getting tossed in the dumpster nearly every day.

He groaned in lamentation, pressing his forehead against the nearby wall and hoping he could just phase right into it and disappear forever. His head came into contact with something a little too sticky for his taste (god, why were High Schoolers so disgusting?) and he pulled back, revealing the Cheerios’ Try Out roster, practically soaked in ink from all the names written on the list.

This was it. If plain old Kurt Hummel couldn’t get Blaine’s attention or wasn’t socially acceptable enough to be in his company at school, maybe a Cheerio would.

After all, nothing said McKinley High Power Couple like a football player and cheerleader.

“Hi, Blaine.”

Blaine instantly recognized Kurt’s voice and smiled as he whirled around enthusiastically. It had been a few days since he’d made an utter buffoon of himself in front of Kurt, and he’d taken the time to do a little exposure therapy and go through Kurt’s Facebook profile (no, he wasn’t stalking his page). Kurt kept a very detailed portfolio of all of his outfits and Blaine ensured he was very familiar with each one, that way none could catch him off guard.

“Hi, Ku—“ he turned around.

Oh, my god. This isn’t fair, that wasn’t on the portfolio.

Blaine’s jaw hung open on its hinges and he wasn’t aware enough to be sure, but he thought he heard an actual whimper escape his throat.

Kurt stood in front of him, wearing a Cheerio’s uniform of all things. Not that Blaine was complaining. Not that he could complain. Not that he could really do anything except stare dumbly at the boy in front of him, the way Finn and Puck probably stared at a test they typically never studied for.

Kurt cocked his head to the side and cracked an eyebrow. “Blaine?“ He questioned. “You okay?“

“I’m fine,“ he squeaked, his wandering eye struggling to find anything besides Kurt in that damn Cheerios uniform of interest. This had to be some sort of cosmic karma for all those times he teased his teammates for being unable to keep from gawking at Brittany or Santana. Before, he had trouble understanding the appeal of a cheerleading uniform, but now he got it… God did he get it, now.

“Are you sure?” Kurt asked, taking a concerned step towards him.

Blaine all but jumped back, certain he would melt (or pull him in and kiss him) if Kurt touched him looking as good as he did. “Yeah,” he responded unconvincingly. “I just uh, practice. I have to—football.”

“During a lunch period?”

“Yup!” He squeaked. “New thing Beiste is trying out.” Once again, Blaine sprinted down the hall before he could make an even bigger idiot if himself.

“It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“You have no idea, Quinn.” Blaine moaned embarrassedly, burying his face in his hands. “It was so much worse than the first time! I was caught off guard, he was in a Cheerios uniform. God he probably thinks I’m some ineloquent blundering jock.”

Quinn showed Blaine the whites of her eyes in response. “Of course he doesn’t think that.” Her face suddenly lit up the way it did when she got a brilliant idea.

“What?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously.

“This is easily fixable.”

“How so?”

“We’re going out for your birthday on Friday.” Quinn said matter-of-factly. “Puck can get us fake IDs and we’re going to Scandals and you are inviting Kurt.”

Blaine snorted. “Yeah, no. I am not letting the boy I’m in love with see the sloppy mess I turn into when I drink, thank you very much.“

It was times like these that Quinn was reminded she probably should start keeping a tally on the number of times she rolled her eyes per conversation with her best friend. “You are such a drama queen. I’ll be there to make sure you don’t get too messy. And I think a drink or two will get you relaxed enough to tell Kurt how you feel.“

“That’s a terrible idea.”

She just shrugged. “Alright then, suit yourself.”

“Thank you.”

Blaine went back to the textbook he was studying and as soon as he wasn’t looking Quinn quickly reached over and snatched up Blaine’s phone, standing on a chair in the corner so her friend couldn’t reach him.

“Quinn!”

As Blaine tried in vain to take the phone from her, she scrolled through contacts, letting an “Aha!” Out when she found the right name. She typed out a quick message to Kurt and hit the send button.

“Oh my, god, Quinn! What did you do!?”

She rolled her eyes. Tally at three, if she wasn’t mistaken. “You’re welcome.”

Blaine was already typing out a hurried response—something along the lines of that they’re not going out after all and he doesn’t even know if Kurt likes going out not that he’d assume—when he got a response.

New Message: From: Kurt :) Sorry, I have to work that day :/ but have fun.

He’s equal parts relief and disappointment.

New Message: From: Blaine Anderson Hey! A few of my friends were going out on Friday, I was wondering if you would be down?

“Oh, my god.”

Santana popped her head up from the magazine she was fanning through to glance up at Kurt, who was staring down with wide eyes at him phone.

“What?”

He flashed the screen at her. “Blaine just sent me this.”

Her jaw dropped in a wide, open mouthed smile. “Oh my god, Kurt! That’s amazing!”

“It’s annoying, is what it is,” Kurt said sharply.

“What? How?”

“I think Blaine is embarrassed to be seen with me at school.” He confided in her. “We hang out at work no problem but every time he sees me at school, he never even wants to look at me and then finds some excuse to leave!”

Santana quirked an eyebrow. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”

He huffed. “There is. It’s that he doesn’t want people to know we’re friends. I didn’t spend four years preaching to everyone at this school to live their truths to be boxed into a corner by some guy who’s embarrassed to be seen with me.”

He grabbed his phone and started typing out a response.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret, Kurt.” She warned.

Kurt just sent her a defiant glare before hitting the send button.

Kurt ended up actually picking up a shift at Lima SubHub on Friday just to ensure he wouldn’t be tempted to join Blaine that night. It was typically a slow day, so the manager usually only scheduled one person for the night shift.

Having already closed the lobby, he checked the clock. Only thirty more minutes before he got to clock out. Only thirty more minutes before this job stopped distracting him from the fact that the only person he’s ever really been interested in can’t even stand to be seen with him.

He was in the middle of counting petty cash when a beep rang on his headset, letting him know he had a customer waiting at the drive thru.

“Lima SubHub, What can I get for you tonight?”

“Is that Kurt?” His stomach dropped as he heard a vaguely familiar voice call out to him. “Kurt... Kuuuuuuuuurt! Kurtiekurtiekurtiekurtieeeeeee.” I know it’s you in there!”

“I promised to drive your drunk ass around, but I need you to work with me here!” Quinn’s voice rang out. “Do you want a sandwich or not?” She had suspected her best friend’s drunken request to come to the SubHub had something to do with Kurt, but she also needed to get some food into him before he puked his guts all over her car.

A new voice responded this time. “No, but he’ll take a foot long if you catch my drift.”

One last male voice. “Dude, are you hitting on Kurt for Blaine?”

Kurt could hear a very entertaining squabble in the background as Puck replies to Finn’s question (“I swear to god, Anderson. Touch my stereo one more time... IT IS THE MIDDLE OF AUGUST WE ARE NOT PUTTING ON CHRISTMAS MUSIC!”)

“Of course I am!” Puck said. “Blaine’s too much of a chicken to do it himself.”

“Did you just call me a chicken!?”

“Yeah, I mean—shit! Not the mohawk, NOT THE MOHAWK!”

“Okay, boys, we are leaving!”

“Curly Q, No!” Kurt heard Blaine’s voice protest. “Pull up to the window, please? Pleeeeeaaaaaseeee!?”

“Ugh fine!”

When they pull up to the window, Kurt finally got to see the visual paired with the mess that he heard over the intercom. Finn was passed out in the back seat, Puck was grumbling and fixing his hair, and Quinn looked immensely irritated, seemingly have lost the battle for control over the music since Blaine was leaning across her lap and point at Kurt, singing at the top of his lungs.

“All I want for Christmas is.... yooooouuuuu!”

“Bla-Blaine!” Puck slurred, laughing hysterically. “It’s not Christmas, it’s your birthday!”

Kurt’s stomach dropped. “Wait a second, did you say birthday—?”

“Puuuuuuck!” Blaine groaned. “Shut up! I have to tell Kurt that I like him and wanna kiss his awesome face and like hug him and hold his hand—did I say I wanna kiss him yet?—all that before I freeze up on him the way I always do! He’s just... so pretty. And when I see him—especially in that Cheerios uniform.” Blaine rolled his eyes euphorically and threw his head back against the seat, sending blood rushing up Kurt’s neck. “Sometimes I just...” he scrunched his face and flailed his hands out incoherently. “You know?”

“Blaine,” Kurt started breathlessly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I like you, Kurt Hummel. I’ve liked you pretty much the entire summer and I just don’t have the courage to tell you. But one day I will. Maybe not now, because I don’t even know if you like me back and god would that be embarrassing, but one day soon I’ll tell you!”

“Alright then!” Quinn suddenly started, reaching out, dragging Blaine back down into the passenger seat, and buckling him in despite his protests. She had to get going before PuckShe looked at Kurt apologetically. “Sorry for these messes, I know you have work to do.” Her lips curled up into a smile. “Though, I’m pretty sure you feel the same way about Blaine, so have fun with that conversation on Monday.”

She drove off with a friendly wave, leaving Kurt and his red face alone at the window, Christmas music still blasting.

Blaine was a little more than confused on Monday when he got a text from Kurt right before school ended.

New Message: From: Kurt :) New Directions are having auditions in the choir room at 4:15. Be there or be square!

Well, he certainly wasn’t about to turn down an invitation from the boy he liked. So he headed down the hall towards the choir room after his class let out.

When he finally got there, the only person in the room is Kurt (still in the Cheetos uniform that sends a blush up Blaine’s neck), standing next to the piano with a soft smile on his face. “Where is everybody?” Blaine asked.

“Did you mean what you said, Friday night?”

Blaine froze as memories from his birthday came flooding in. The shots Puck practically forced down his throat, the dancing... the drive thru.

“Oh my god, that wasn’t just a nightmare where I can’t control my mouth, was it?”

Kurt laughed and shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“I... yeah, every word.” Blaine finally exhaled. “I know we hung out all summer and I always really liked you, but I wasn’t sure you wanted to be anything other than friends, so I pushed all those feelings down. But then school started and you just looked so good that I actually turned into a bumbling idiot and those feelings came back up but it was worse this time because I was so certain you were out of my league—“

Kurt stepped forward and rolled his eyes. “For a football player, you sure do talk a lot.”

“Huh?”

Blaine was answered by Kurt pulling on the lapels of his letterman and bringing their lips together. His initial surprise melted away as they moved against one another, a warm feeling spreading out from the center of Blaine’s chest.

After they pull apart, Blaine says with some confusion, “Wait a second. You actually like me?”

“Of course I do!” Kurt exhales. “I was the one worried about you not liking me. I thought you were embarrassed to be seen with me because I was a loser. Why do you think I joined the Cheerios?”

Blaine’s jaw dropped. Kurt had joined the Cheerios because he was an oblivious idiot... he had literally done this to himself.

“I really am clueless.”

Kurt hummed playfully. “Hm, yeah, maybe... but you still deserve a great birthday present.”

Blaine’s face broke into a grin and he pulled Kurt in again. “Yeah, well, I think I got a pretty damn good one this year.”

#klaine #glee #cheerio!kurt #wow look at me im writing!#HAPPY BIRTHDAY I AM SORRY IF U HATE IT THATS OKAY #ANYWAYS I LOVE TO SCREAM WITH U AND I LOVE AND APPRECIATE U

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vvakarians · 5 years

Text

Closure

An ending to a relationship in my D&D Campaign and the end of a relationship in my friend group. Under the cut.

Never had Bell needed to set foot in Blackthorn Prison, a veritable fortress to keep the most hated of the dead behind impenetrable walls. It’s exactly what every single one of the prisoners deserved. A cold, hard view to keep them company while the rest of eternity passed them by without even a second glance. This was their torture. Somewhere in the back of Bell’s mind he wished that it was harsher; he wished that the temperature could be felt to a sharper degree, the hardness of the walls and the absence of light dialed up to an intolerable level. At the very least it was a comfort that this is where Davorin had ended up. It was perhaps less than what he deserved but it was something. Ielia had written to him that the paladin would be put into more fitting conditions soon, Bell was just impatient. Rightfully so.

His prosthetic landed with a crack against the stone and he silently winced at the sound. Normally it wouldn’t have been much of an issue but the circumstances under which he had gotten it was...complicated in this situation. It harbored memories that Bell would have rather left under lock and key. While he strode past long dead criminals and evil spirits, Bell tried to shove down all thoughts of that night. Those moments did him no good to remember, not now. New pain fueled him and he wanted to wait for Davorin’s sniveling face to rear up before he let him have it with the old.

Thankfully, the hiss of some half rotted creature drew him from his stupor and he snarled at it, slamming down his heel on the hand that had lashed out from the bars. There was a whimper and an angry screech in reply as it shrank back into it’s cell, two golden eyes peering at him from the darkness. Nothing but pity and a quiet annoyance roiled in Bellamy’s gut for the thing, it had brought this on itself. A waste of skin now, perhaps that’s what would become of Davorin. He had been so prideful, so vain; that was fitting of such a man. As he walked away, Bellamy found himself wishing Ielia would enact that punishment. Or something equally as damning and painful. Something that befit a selfish traitor.

Confidence surged through Bell as he rounded the corner and spotted a familiar silhouette slumped over on the bench in a cell. Stripped of his plate armor, weapons, and shield, Davorin looked insignificant. Even the horrific burn scars where his tattoos had been seemed like a small thing compared to what he had been before. Dressed in just a plain undershirt and his trousers, he looked fittingly pathetic. It was refreshing to Bellamy as he remembered that he towered over this man both literally and figuratively. The man didn’t even raise himself until Bell was inches from the door to his cell, no doubt the familiar clack of his prosthetic telling who his company was before he saw the face. An icy pit of anger welled up inside of Bell as he watched Davorin slowly look up, sadness creeping over the once handsome features of the paladin.

“Bell--”

“It’s Lord Kaldwin to you. My first name is reserved for people who actually care”, Bell spat back before Davorin could even finish his sentence, gaining a shocked expression from the other man.

“Really? Already writing me off, just like that?”

“Don’t see why not, seeing as you made the snap decision to just fucking leave like you did. Real nice touch by the way, leaving your shit for me and your daughters to pick up. Or did you forget that you had a family?”

Those grey blue eyes Bell had found comfort in once narrowed at him, full of frustration and a hint of malice now. He hadn’t taken care of himself even in death, the other man noted that his beard had gotten scragglier and there were deep lines where there hadn’t been in life. Maybe, just maybe, his isolation was getting the better of him.

“Why are you here?”, Davorin mumbled, his voice streaked with pain.

“Closure. Ielia told me I was free to come ask all the questions I wanted. Seeing as I was the person closest to you, I think that’s a free trade off don’t you?”

“Then ask. Don’t dance around me with your bullshit”

The smallest pang of guilt pierced through Bell’s mask of confidence but he swallowed it expertly, keeping his head high.

“Fine. What happened? We both know that you shouldn’t be here unless you died, Davorin”

There was a derisive chuckle and Bell watched while the paladin pulled away his undershirt slightly, revealing his broad chest. Where there should be a smooth --albeit hairy-- expanse of muscle on the left side, there was a giant, gaping hole. The edges were still torn, still healing over. It would take centuries for that to completely close., if it ever did.

“Shar took what she wanted. Watched her crumple it into dust before I faded away if you want to really know, it was quite painful”

Bell scoffed, feeling his anger return in waves, “A fitting end, don’t you think? You did metaphorically rip out a few people’s hearts. Mine included”

Uncomfortable silence filled the wing as Davorin leaned back and settled in, watching Bell stand there for a moment. Panic gripped him slightly while he waited for an answer, a comment, anything. This was a little more than unnerving. The other man’s voice nearly gave him a start as it echoed amongst the stone walls, quiet and almost too sad to bear.

“I thought you said you’d never hate me”

Those simple words were enough to enrage Bell and he surged forward to slam into the bars of Davorin’s cell, his cane clattering to the floor with a tremendous sound. His knuckles gripped the metal with white knuckles while he fought back the urge to spit curses in every language he knew. Instead, he decided on the quiet, terrifying anger.

“You broke that trust years before I uttered those words, Davorin! It was one thing to not remember you had a daughter, or that you were practically married to an evil deity of secrets! Amnesia is a bitch and I realize that. What you failed to let me know was that you let that deity fuck with my memories! Memories, by the way, that were of you attempting to kill me! This was before you had any inclination of becoming a revenant, you settled into the security that I wouldn’t remember any of that! It’s not even you attempting to kill me that takes the cake, it’s the fact you would lie to me like that!”

Shock and terror filled the human’s features and he scrambled to get up, to walk forward and meet Bellamy at the door. But the other man took a step backwards shakily, letting go of the bars right as Davorin’s fingers brushed against his. Rage was boiling within the aasimar and he was about to throw inflict wounds onto a dead man just for the hell of it.

“Bell, I didn’t know about that when I found you again! Look at me and tell me that you think I would do that now”

A scoff escaped Bellamy as he shook his head in disbelief, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes, “It doesn’t matter if you wouldn’t do that now. Our trust is broken. I can’t even tell you if I know you wouldn’t anyway, it doesn’t erase the fact you did it once. That was enough to ruin everything. And it’s only part of the problem”

“What on earth have I done besides that?”

For a moment the words caught in Bellamy’s throat, the pain choking him and leaving him without air. His fists clenched at his sides painfully, nails digging into the meat of his palms. He couldn’t just walk away, he couldn’t. With hot tears running down his cheeks, leaving molten trails of gold on his skin he let his voice ring out in the prison.

“You broke your promise that you wouldn’t leave again”

Davorin’s eyes blew wide with a surge of sorrow, a shattered sound filling his sound as he let his hands fall away from the bars. The blue in his gaze was completely whisked away into grey while he sat back down onto his bench and let his face fall into his large hands. There was nothing but pure hatred and numbness at Bell’s fingertips as he scooped up his cane, leaning on it heavily while he waited for something. Anything. It felt as if years passed by as he stood there, wiping away shining tears that stained his skin. This time he did start when Davorin’s thick Imenian accent reached his ears.

“I’m sorry, Bellamy. I had no intention of harming you, nor Rosette and Nadya”

“I don’t want your apology, Davorin. It’s impossible to swallow when you did harm us. You left a six year old girl wondering why her father left her behind, and a woman looking for comfort wondering why she keeps losing people. Your brother thinks it’s his fault that you turned out like this, and Divines know what the hell Anya thinks! We haven’t even found her yet. The part for me was that...I had no warning. I had to go through so many stages of grief in a handful of seconds”, a bitter laugh echoed along the halls as Bell took a breath, “Even worse than that was I had planned on proposing to you after we destroyed my father. I think I can definitively say that I dodged a pretty large fucking bullet there. The man I fell in love with wasn’t ever real. The Davorin Sokolov I know wouldn’t have done any of that, but perhaps I had fabricated him”

Another bout of silence fell upon the two, and Bell had finally gathered the courage to turn around, to just leave. Until the other man spoke again, softly this time, almost incoherent through his tears.

“I love you, Bell”

With a shock, even to himself, Bellamy smiled at Davorin through his own tears and laughed without any of the bitterness from before.

“We both made mistakes, it seems. Proved fatal for you”

“What..what are you going to do now?”

Bellamy cleared his throat and adjusted his grip on the head of the cane, his leg had started to ache. But he could still walk away.

“Why would I tell you?”

#bellamy kaldwin #my boy is no longer with his ex LMAO #he has a bf now thank goodness but that was a whole trainwreck #i'm not friends with the person who played dav anymore #and this will be the last time i write about him #mal writes

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