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dotieeee · 1 year

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The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 9

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

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Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

non-consensual kissing and touching

touch-starved Morpheus should be a warning of its own

mentions of gore

mentions of drug abuse

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 9: Courtships with Deadlines

5 Days Until Deadline

You drape a thick, velvet blanket over your shoulders before you go out to the balcony and watch the night give birth to one of the most beautiful sunrises any creature could ever see in their lifetime.

But something has changed: not the beauty of the sunset, but the way you feel about it. You had for so many times looked at it with wonder in your eyes. Now, all it reminds you of is another day in the Kingdom with him: the all-powerful being who had woven your strings of fate and tied it with himself, not caring whether he suffocated you in the process. After he left the room, you never got a wink of sleep; you never even dared close your eyes, fearing he might suddenly pop into your room and force you once more into a vulnerable position. Not wanting to remember your master’s visit last night, you rub your face with your hands to force these thoughts away, suddenly wanting a cup or two of steaming hot coffee with loads of milk dumped in them.

Your mind wanders to the Sleep Doctor you had left in his dreams after a quick, impulsive kiss. Despite liking to take a lot of naps, he actually is an early riser, as you had discovered in your short time in the Waking with him. By now, he should be having the same milky cup of coffee, scrolling through the daily science bulletin on his iPad and muttering to himself as he read the articles, while his favorite cinnamon buns you had popped in the oven happily baked away.

You don’t want to admit it, but you sorely miss Ollie and his cheerful demeanor.

The sun has fully risen in the realm when Morwyn knocks on your door, bringing you a tray of breakfast consisting of your favorite pastries and coffee, prepared just the way you like it. You’re not particularly hungry, but after spotting a cinnamon roll, you contentedly dig in, wondering if Ollie had the same. You share the rest of the generous fare with her and use the opportunity to catch up with her after all these years. When the meal is over, she draws you a bath, then excuses herself, mumbling about preparing your outfit to “his liking.” You ignore the last thing she said, focusing instead on the sea of bubbles that relaxed every tense muscle in your body, savoring every time you have without the Dream Lord hounding your time and attention. Once you’ve dried yourself, you step out of the bathroom in a silken robe, thinking of donning your usual dress. To your surprise and consternation, you find Morwyn in the middle of admiring a blood-red, long-sleeved gown of the finest silk satin, decorated with tiny chunks of ruby around the waist. It’s a dress worthy of a princess.

Except you’re no princess.

“Morwyn, please tell me I’m not wearing that,” You say as you walk to the closet and yank the doors open, expecting to find the clothes you had seen the other day and hoping you get to choose the simplest garb you could find – the closet is empty.

Great. You can’t even choose your own clothes, now.

Unconsciously, you take a leaf after Ollie’s book and rub the back of your head.

“M’lady,” Morwyn calls, her voice slightly trembling, “The Dream King had instructed me to empty your closet and give you this,” she says holding the luxurious dress out. “He says he’d like to see you in it when you meet him later.”

Releasing a defeated sigh, you nod quietly at her and put it on, letting her fasten the ribbon at the back in front of the mirror. The dress feels stifling, and not just because it hugged every curve on your body.

Morwyn gives you a wide, encouraging smile, complimenting, “You look beautiful, m’lady.”

You look just as he intended, you tell yourself. You try to return the smile, hoping it didn’t come out as a constipated grimace.

“Thank you, Morwyn. Has Matthew come around, yet?” The Dream Lord’s words last night were anything but comforting, but he mentioned having his raven come to tell you when it’s time. But for what, exactly?

“Not yet, m’lady. Are you…okay? You look a little pale,” says Morwyn worriedly with her hand on her chin. “If you’d like, I can apply some rouge on your cheeks, doll you up even more?” she innocently suggests, muttering something about “a date” and “looking pretty for the King.”

You shake your head adamantly at the suggestion. No, you don’t want that spurring him on. Wanting to be alone, you say your ‘thank you’ to her and bid her farewell before proceeding to the uppermost part of the palace where your master had said he’ll meet you, hoping for at least a few moments of peace by yourself watching the view from up above.

Thankfully, the balcony is void of the Endless the moment you arrive, giving you time alone to admire the Dreaming Realm in a panoramic view you have never seen before. Your eyes can spot endless, unfamiliar territory and islands you’ve never been in from miles and miles away. Down below you could see the town square, busy as ever, with its tiny residents going about their morning tasks; everything in the Dreaming, right before your eyes – and all you could think of is Ollie.

Due to the events that followed your return, you had not had the opportunity to visit him in his dreams since you left. Your Dream Lord had just complicated things further by forbidding you to step out of his kingdom, making it even more difficult to sneak out and check Ollie's progress. How is he doing, you wonder? Is he sleeping too much due to his eagerness to find you a safe sanctuary away from your master? While you selfishly want him to continue doing so until he finds a solution, you don't want to keep him away from the Waking and living his own life - after all, he has his own dreams to fulfill, and you wouldn’t want to inconvenience him any further.

You need to help him find a way to free you so he can get his own life back, and you need to move faster.

With that in mind, you make a mental promise to visit his dreams as soon as the Dream King has gone away to attend to his duties.

A loud caw, followed by a shout of 'Lady Mera,' interrupts you from your musings. Matthew, the new raven, lands on the balcony railing, flapping his wings before tucking them in.

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," you chide him with a pout.

"I can't, you know how the boss is. He's a stickler to his rules," Matthew replies with a tilt of his head.

"Maybe you can drop the fancy title when he's not around, at least?" you suggest with an innocent smile, patting his head several times.

Leaning into your petting, he acquiesces, "Oh, alright. I never thought I'd enjoy being pet as a bird, you know. Why are you early, by the way? I was supposed to come get you as soon as he says so. Eager for the date, much?"

"This isn't a date," you're quick to correct him with a flat tone.

"Uh, it kind of is? I told him yesterday he needed to spend more time with you so he doesn't uh, intimidate you."

Might be too late for that, you note inwardly.

"You shouldn't have," you find yourself commenting with some truth behind your jesting tone, which earns a nervous chuckle from the raven.

"No, but, seriously though, aren't you and the boss, uh...a thing? You see, I've been meaning to ask, but he's mum about, you know,” he starts, obvious in his tone he’s hesitant to approach the matter. “Except he did tell me you’re his consort. Are you and him –”

“No,” you sharply reply, not liking his line of questioning. “Not yet, anyway,” you mumble.

“Ah, so that’s what the date is for, then,” he says, nodding to himself. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Yeah, sure. It wouldn’t hurt.”

“Do you… like it? Him, I mean?”

You bite your lip, not expecting Matthew’s question – for him, it was a telling gesture. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. How come you don’t tell him?”

Chuckling humourlessly at his question, you answer, “We’re talking about your boss, here, Matthew. To him, any dissent warrants either an unmaking, a banishment, or a lifetime of nightmares: you take your pick.”

“Tell me about it! Did you know, he had an ex that he sent to – uh-oh .”

‘What is it?” you ask, recognizing the slight alarm in his tone.

“He’s calling for me, I think. I have to go. See you, my La – I mean, Mera!”

Before you could say your farewell, Matthew goes flying off into the horizon and dips below into one of the palace rooms and out of your line of sight. Just as he disappears, your hairs stand on end and a cold feeling washes over you like icy water being dumped over your head.

He’s here, the Voice warns.

From behind you, arms snake up and wrap around your waist, pulling you closer until your back hits a taut chest. Your entire body goes rigid and your breathing turns shallow as you feel a warm breath tickle your earlobe, followed by a whisper:

“You’re early, my dream.”

“I just wanted to admire the view –” your sentence is cut off with your breath hitching; your Dream Lord just dragged his nose down the side of your neck before planting a heated, wet kiss at the base – his lips linger, then suckles on the skin, holding you tighter to himself to keep you from struggling. From your ruby-bedazzled waist, he drags his left hand slowly upwards across your chest, grasping your throat gently and angling your head so his mouth could get better access to the base of your throat, intent on leaving small, angry welts. You close your eyes with a whimper to endure this, repeating Ollie’s name over and over in your head.

“And yet these views are no match to what you offer me in this dress. You are a sight to behold.”

The low rumble of his voice makes you close your eyes tighter, biting your lip to prevent yourself from making any more noise that could excite him further. He seems undeterred by your silence – he spins you around, and, pushing you against the balcony railing, he captures your mouth with his in a fiery lip lock. His hand nestles on the small of your back, while the other grips the back of your neck as his insistent tongue pries your lips apart and tastes your hot cavern. You had tried your best to hold it all in, but treacherous tears escape the corner of your eyes. Your master seems to feel this, for he surprisingly lightens the kiss, his lips stilling over your swollen ones. You turn your head away to will the tears away, afraid that he might see this as another sign of your defiance.

Instead, he plants a gentle kiss on your temple, before saying softly, “I admit my past courtship of you was hurried and rough. I worry that I may have pushed you further away in my haste. I should like to court you once more. This time, I will endeavor to be more patient and earn your affections.”

He kisses your exposed cheek. Sniffling, you open your eyes, but your head remains turned away from his, refusing to meet his gaze. You feel him pull his head away in your silence.

“Will you not look me in the eyes, little dream? Do you fear me?” he asks with a slight edge to his voice, rubbing his thumb back and forth on the skin beneath your ear in an attempt to comfort you.

Is that remorse you detect? It couldn’t be, you remark, but you couldn’t help but meet his blue eyes to try to gauge what he’s truly feeling. Not wanting to give him a reason to further punish you, you say, “My apologies, my Lord, I am just coming to terms still, with…with what you’re asking of me.”

Yet, his darkened gaze tells you that what you just said to try and placate him was a huge mistake.

“What I’m ‘asking?’” he narrows his eyes on you, his voice laced with impatience. “ I’m afraid I’m not ‘asking’ this of you, my Mera. This is the function to which I, your King, have assigned you. This courtship is for your sake alone, that you may grow accustomed to it. We will be united. I will give you five days, after which, we will consummate our bond.”

His final sentence sparks terror in the pit of your stomach. He’s giving you a deadline. Stifling the urge to retch, you swallow thickly before you try to beg, “Sir, I –”

“Enough. I will not have my will questioned,” he interrupts you as he tightens his grip on the back of your neck. “You will be here, in the palace, at all times. You will await my call and come to me when I summon you. I do not mean to be harsh, my dream, but time is of the essence – I was cruelly robbed of mine with you, after all. I shall amend that once I have dealt with the damage left by the Vortex. Is that understood?”

“My Lord, please –”

“Is. That. Understood?” he repeats his question through gritted teeth, clearly unwilling to listen to any more of your pleas.

You look into his hardened, now-silver eyes, attempting to look for any trace of empathy at the situation he’s forcing you into. There isn’t any. Wanting to end your argument so you could be relieved from his presence, you respond with a whisper, “Yes, my Lord.”

Your creator releases a hum of satisfaction as he places a lingering kiss on your cheek, before praising, “That’s a good dream.”

You feel immense relief the moment he lets you go and steps away. You expect him to vanish with a swirl of his sand, but he lingers, standing a few feet before you with his hands behind his back.

“I will call you for tea tomorrow afternoon.”

You could only nod quietly. He takes a small amount of sand from his pouch, presumably to leave, but a sudden question crosses your mind inspired by his previous words. “My Lord, the Vortex…is she…?” you blurt out, slightly hesitating.

“Dead? Yes.”

You bow your head, not knowing how to process the fact. Rose Walker seemed so young and she had so many dreams she wanted to fulfill that you felt them, despite your fleeting interaction with her. You feel your heart clench at the thought of her life being cut short.

“Do not grieve of Unity Kincaid, my dream. Hers is a noble yet necessary sacrifice for the sake of the Dreaming, and of her great-granddaughter, Rose.”

“Unity?” you ask, confused. Wasn’t Rose the Vortex? “Rose is alive?”

Shut up, shut up, NOW, comes the Voice’s sudden warning.

“Yes, she is. You know of her?” He asks, stepping forward, suspicion marring his dark features.

You shake your head, realizing your error; if he finds out you had met with her, he’ll discover your little tryst in the Waking, and if he does, he’ll surely uncover the connection which led to it. That was a stupid, stupid thing to say, you inwardly scold yourself.

“I heard from Lucienne, sir,” you say, mentally crossing your fingers that he doesn’t press any further.

Putting on a blank expression, the Dream King purses his lips, as he releases the sand in his palm.

“I will call for you tomorrow. Do not be late.”

As soon as his form is engulfed in his sand and he vanishes, you make a wild run for the Library. Hidden in one, or two, of those books, are incriminating passages that detail your meeting, and subsequent stay with Ollie, and once the Dream King sees those pages, you could definitely say goodbye to your plans of staying in Ollie’s dreams for good. If he even so much as gets a whiff of your affections of anyone else besides him, there’s no telling what he won’t do to you, and more importantly, to Ollie.

You push the heavy doors to the library quietly to avoid drawing attention to yourself. As noiselessly as you can, you dash through the shelves, skimming through the books in a mad rush. To your alarm, there was no ‘Oliver Chapman,’ not in the ‘O’ or even in the ‘C’ wings. Cursing mentally, you wonder: has Lucienne read them? Worse, has your Dream Lord gotten ahold of them? Are they hiding it from you, knowing you’d try to tamper with them? Letting out a huff of frustration, you sit on the floor, wondering where else they may have kept Ollie’s books of dreams.

The office, whispers the Voice.

Of course. The Dream Lord has an office in the Library, separate from the rest of the space. Not that he needed it, of course; he just usually asks for books to be brought to his throne room where he normally reads them. But why would the books be kept there?

You try to strain your ears for any signs of Lucienne; thankfully, it looks as if she’s out on an errand, so you sprint in the direction of the Dream Lord’s office.

Located at the farthest end of the Library, you’re panting heavily by the time you get there. You push your ear against the doorframe to listen for any sign of life inside. When you hear nothing, you turn the doorknob and push.

Locked.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. There is only one person – or being, for that matter – that has the key, save for the Dream Lord and his Royal Librarian.

You run out of the Library in search of the said being. You find him tending to your favorite garden in the palace grounds, his hands deep in the dirt, planting more of those accursed red flowers – Mervyn the Pumpkinhead.

The keys, attached to his toolbelt, lie discarded beside him, along with his other gardening tools. You know full well you couldn’t just walk up to him and ask for a key to the boss’s office in the library – or is it that easy?

You don’t really have the luxury of planning an elaborate heist for his set of keys, so it’s now or never. Steeling your resolve, you walk up to where Merv is, opting for a much simpler plan.

“Hello, Merv!” you call as you approach.

He stops digging into the flowerbed and turns to you, giving a mock salute. “Hello, kid! What can I help ya with?”

“I’m looking for Morwyn. Have you seen her?” you ask, hoping to put up a convincing act.

He scratches his pumpkin head and replies, “No, I haven’t. Whatcha need her for?”

“I kind of locked myself out of my room, and I need to get something from there,” you say sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head to make it look believable.

“Uh, I have the key in there somewhere, but I’m in the middle o’ something, see? Why don’t you take ‘em keys instead? It’s the gold one with the tiny ruby at the bow.”

Bingo.

“Really, are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off, continuing his digging on the flowerbed.

You grab the keys and take off as Merv calls out from behind you, “Give ‘em back, ya hear?”

“Sure thing!”

It takes you a few good minutes to find the key that fit the doorknob. Once you do, you wildly look around you to make sure you weren’t being watched, before you turn the knob and push the door open.

No one has been in the office for quite some time if the dust on the desk in the middle is anything to go about. The room is larger than you expected, and the natural light streaming through the stained glass windows illuminates the numerous towering shelves of books untouched for many years. Wanting to waste no time, you skim through the many bookshelves. They’re thankfully arranged in alphabetical order, so you find an entire shelf dedicated to the name ‘Chapman’ in no time, with Ollie’s name placed at the farthest end.

Curiously, you pick up the book a few places before Ollie’s name first, and with it, you make a startling discovery: the books of dreams on the shelf not only belonged to random ‘Chapmans,’ but to the males in Ollie’s entire lineage. You just picked the book of dreams belonging to Ollie’s great-great-grandfather.

But, why? Why is Ollie’s book of dreams, as well as his male ancestors’, singled out among the infinite number of dreamers?

“Have I told you before that the Chapmans were cursed? Well, the males, at least,” Ollie’s words from almost a year ago echo in your head.

This isn’t the time to unearth Ollie’s family mystery, though, so you make a mental note to do more research in the future and set those thoughts aside. You carefully leaf through the pages to find the section where you made your appearance – your meeting with him, spanning a year, detailed in twenty-full pages. Setting the book on the floor, you get to work.

Hardbound books were tricky to manipulate, with the pages stitched to a section of the book’s spine, so you use your fingers to remove the stitching of the last twenty pages with care – simply tearing the pages away would leave a sign of the book being tampered with. Once you’re sure there were no traces of your crime, you put the book back in place, and scramble out of the office, locking it behind you. You hand the keys back to Mervyn (“What took you so long, kid? Couldn’t be hard to spot a key with a damn ruby, innit?”) and rush to your room. Barricading yourself inside the bathroom, you set the pages alight with a matchbox you stole from the kitchens before washing the ash away with water.

Look how you’ve turned into a cold-blooded criminal mastermind, you inwardly deadpan.

***

4 Days Until Deadline

Afternoon tea with your Dream Lord isn’t as bad of an experience as you thought it would be.

Matthew had fetched you from your room, and you had followed him to the same balcony you had met him with the morning before. You found your master, already sitting beside a table full of your favorite sweets, drinking tea from his cup. He had stood up to greet you, taking your hand in his and kissing it, before leading you to sit across from him. You both sit in somewhat companionable silence while you munch on a cinnamon bun, with him just sipping his tea and watching you with blue, ever-observant eyes.

Until…

“May I ask a question, my Lord?” you shyly break the stillness, setting down the pastry you’re nibbling back on your plate.

You watch a corner of his mouth turn upwards as he sets his cup on a saucer. “Ask away, my dream.”

“I was wondering,” you say slowly, choosing your words carefully. “If you would allow me to continue forming dreams along with my new…role?”

Just then, you could feel the atmosphere change to one of palpable tension, the small grin vanishing from his face.

Tentatively, you add, “Please?”

“I think not. Your duty is to me, alone,” he declares flatly, his cold stare making you squirm in your seat.

You bite your lip and break eye contact with him.

“It’s what I’ve been doing all my life, your majesty,” you whisper dejectedly.

“And that will change in four days’ time.”

“Will you take away my ability to form dreams, too?”

The Dream King seems to contemplate this. The pause is long, before he responds, his tone slightly softening, “I could never bring myself to take that ability away, my little dream. It is part of who you are. I intend for you to keep it.”

But what good is keeping it if he forbids its use, you ask yourself. Still, you give him a subtle nod and a small ‘thank you’ to end the topic. You leave the cinnamon bun untouched, suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore.

The quiet that follows your conversation becomes heavier, so you’re thankful to Matthew for interrupting, quietly delivering news that you couldn’t quite hear. When your King gets to his feet, you swiftly follow his example out of politeness.

“I’m afraid I must cut our date short, my dream. I have matters to attend to.”

You bow your head in response but he takes your chin in his hands and promptly gives you a single, prolonged kiss on the mouth. You close your eyes until he lets go of you, and bids you to ‘stay here.’

Noticing fine grains of sand in the air, you realize he has transported you to your chambers – you turn to him with a protest bubbling in your throat, but you find that he’s gone, and to your irritation, the door locked from the outside.

***

3 Days Until Deadline

Clear as day, Dream of the Endless recalls his first visit to the first Chapman who had crossed his path many centuries ago.

He had not paid him, or any of the other Chapmans, much attention since he had placed a curse on the males of his lineage (except for that one occasion), a curse that felt righteous and just after a slight he had committed against him and his Realm.

Now, as he faces the dream of his only living descendant, he finds himself wanting very much to place another, more potent curse on Oliver Chapman, the mortal whose embrace now cradles the dream he so deeply cherished and ardently pursued.

Or Oliver’s dream-version of you, more accurately.

Morpheus knows this, but he couldn’t help the bitter jealousy burning in his heart as he watches the mortal lavish the lips of your dream-version with his own. He has not felt the urge to smite anyone for dreaming of his creations so lasciviously in a long time – this is an image of you he’s disrespecting, and he refuses to sit idly while this human corrupts you.

An image of you, he corrects.

With a lazy flick of his fingers, the dream-version of you taking Oliver’s shirt off melts before the human’s eyes. He ensures it’s the most gruesome sight this errant dreamer has ever seen: the dream-Mera’s skin peels off starting from her head down to her feet, followed by her flesh boiling and steaming away in an amalgamation of blood and gore, and with a final flair, he makes her bones disintegrate into dust. Oliver’s screams of horror permeate the dream-space – he couldn’t deny the screams gave him utmost satisfaction.

Dream watches curiously as Oliver attempts vainly to regain lucidity by counting his fingers aloud. It’s a trick that could’ve worked, but curiously, the dream remains volatile in his favor.

Morpheus decides to twist the knife, taunting him, “You’ve lost control, lucid dreamer.”

The mortal snaps his head in the Endless’ direction, looking confused, possibly wondering why he couldn’t take over the dream. Medication, perhaps? But Morpheus has not the slightest interest in why a lucid dreamer has lost their ability. He is, however, greatly invested in finding out how such a mortal might develop a certain fascination with you.

“Tell me: what is my dream doing in yours?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Oliver replies, growing more confused. “And who the fuck are you talking about?”

In his fury, Dream could feel himself transforming into a nightmarish image he rarely ever shows his dreamers. No one has ever woken up seeing this form of his with their sanity intact, so he tries to rein in this metamorphosis.

“The dream you were defiling,” he spits out, his bellowing voice echoing the dream-space, “Belongs to me. Explain yourself, Oliver Chapman. My patience is waning.”

Oliver rubs his head in frustration. “I don’t know…I don’t remember.” He looks at both his hands, now coated in blood that isn’t his. “Fuck, there’s so much blood… where is she? She’s injured, I need to help her. I just wanna help her, man. I have to find her…”

Dream narrows his eyes at the mumbling man before him, somewhat disappointed that he could no longer extract reliable information from him in such a state. Recognizing that his fun is over, he transports himself with a pinch of his sand back to his Kingdom. He thinks it’s best that he confront the only other being in existence who had the answers he seeks.

***

When Matthew came flying into the balcony of your room, delivering the message that your King has summoned you to the library, your heart leaped to your chest at the suddenness; your little tea date, as the bird has taken to calling it, hadn’t been due until a few hours after midday. You hastened to dress out of your pajamas and rushed to the said meeting place, your heart beating so fast you could hardly breathe. Had he found out, you wondered?

You find your Dream Lord pacing restlessly to and fro near your favourite reading spot. He stills, looking at you with hardened eyes and clenched jaw, seemingly trying to control the fury you could feel emanating from him. It’s a look that was almost enough to curdle your blood.

He doesn’t even wait for you to get close – immediately he’s upon you, cornering you to one of the bookshelves, making you yelp instinctively. He grabs hold of your wrists and pins them above your head as his body covers your own.

“You will tell me everything, my dream, and I might be inclined to spare Oliver Chapman: why is he dreaming of you?” He growls, his face, inches from yours, contorted in pure rage.

Fighting inwardly to maintain your composure, you respond with another half-truth. “I was injured, my Lord, from a battle I enacted in a dream. I got in his dreams somehow, and he helped me, he nursed me back to health. I stayed there for a while so I could recuperate.”

“Is this the truth, my Mera, or are you keeping anything else from me?”

You wince at the way his grip closes on your wrist further, cutting off the circulation.

“Please, my Lord, you can check for yourself,” you dare meet his eye with your own fearful ones, trying to drive your point. “The dreamer’s name is Belladonna San Mateo – I reenacted a medieval battle for her. It’s the truth, sir, please…”

He pulls his head away as one of his hands releases your wrist and grasps your chin, so you had nowhere else to look but those silvery swirls of galaxies in his cruel eyes. After a few agonizing moments he dips his head, giving you a warning:

“If I find you in the embrace of any other, mortal or otherwise, I shall personally see to their torment in their waking, their dreaming, and their afterlife.”

When he lets you go, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp of relief, clutching your chest to calm your rapid heartbeat.

“There are matters I must attend to. As such, I must regrettably cancel our meeting for this afternoon,” he says, his face once again the stony mask that spelled no room for negotiation. “Stay in your chambers. You are dismissed.”

You turn on your heels and dash away from Library, glad to give the place a wide berth. He had met with Ollie, visited him in his dreams, and didn’t like what he saw. You don’t like the sound of your creator potentially bringing harm to your doctor, so a visit may be long overdue, and it has to be soon.

***

2 Days Until Deadline

As discreetly as you can, you take a plunge into the sea of dreams and navigate your way into your doctor’s dreams, praying to the Fates that he’s asleep at the very moment.

Once you land in the space, Ollie greets you with a tight embrace, one which you return with as much enthusiasm. You had missed him terribly and had been worried out of your wits upon learning of his meeting with your Dream King, so when you let go, you make a fuss over him, checking him and his form for any sign of injury.

“Hey, I know you find me irresistible, but I didn’t know you were bold enough to cop a feel,” he jokes, earning him a half-hearted shove and a slap on the bicep from you.

“This is no laughing matter, you idiot!” you chide him with your arms crossed, relieved on the inside that he was unharmed.

In response, he grins coyly from ear to ear. “You were worried about me. I kinda like that,”

Pouting, you say, “Yes, I was bloody worried. I’m sorry I couldn't visit sooner.”

Ollie turns away from you, scratching the back of his head. “No, it’s quite alright,” he mumbles. “I'm sorry, too. I couldn't do much work on the runes the last few days, Mera. I've been, uh... shit, I... don't know how to say this…”

“What’s wrong?” you get right in front of him to press him, worried at his guilty tone.

With the most apologetic expression you’ve seen in him since the dreamcatcher incident, he replies, “It's the sleeping pills. I've been on them and I think they might've hampered my hypnagogia.”

His revelation makes you drop your jaw in surprise. “Wha-fuck, why are you taking them? And how come you've never told me about this?” You grab hold of his arms to demand answers.

With a placating look, he responds, “I swear, I've been taking them sparingly, but I've been needing a lot of sleep because of... you know. But it's okay now, honest! I didn't take them today, and I'm in full control.”

You place your palms on his cheeks, putting on a serious expression. “You have to get off those. I'm being serious, Ollie.”

“I am! I’ll keep it that way, I promise.”

Not letting go of him yet, you look into those gentle, green eyes, trying to detect signs that he may be hiding something. But this is Ollie, too, you think to yourself. You know him to be bad at keeping secrets. Satisfied with what you saw in his eyes, you let him go, offering a soft apology: “This is my fault. I'm sorry I pushed you into this.”

“No! Hey, no, Mera, you didn’t,” he corrects you with a firm tone. “I've been prescribed these since I was little. You know, the Chapman curse and all that. Oh, and I’ve finally figured out a fitting name for the invention.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“I’ll call it MiraSleep. It’s a sort of, play with your name and the word ‘miracle.’ That’s what you are to me, you know. Everything I do now, I do for you.”

Not knowing what to say to his heartfelt admission, you stare into those forest-green eyes of his, a look of agreement passing between you two. Finally, you flash him a grateful smile, which he returns with his own sheepish grin.

“So, Ollie,” you start with a slightly more cheerful tone, fighting back a blush creeping on your cheeks without much success. “Mind telling me what it was you dreamed about that involved me?”

He breaks into fits of nervous laughter while rubbing the back of his hair. You already know you don’t like what he’s about to say.

“You’ll never believe it if I told you.”

***

You walk back into the palace grounds with high spirits after you visit Ollie’s dreams. He had immensely cheered you up despite his retelling of a rather salacious dream he had engaged with a dream-version you at that moment he lost his lucidity – the dream with which the Dream Lord had walked in on and had taken absolute offense to. He had assured you that the momentary lapse in his dreaming abilities would never happen again, and with that, you’re confident that by your next visit, you could finally stay in there with him without having to worry about being chased after by a certain Endless.

It's this thought that helps you endure your master’s company and his not-so-subtle touches during your morning ‘date’: as soon as the sun had risen in the Realm, he had summoned you through Matthew to accompany him in a morning walk around his Kingdom.

He smugly parades you around the busy town square with your fingers intertwined in his; on occasion, wrapping an arm around your waist as he rubs circles over your clothed skin; at times, even kissing your hand while not breaking heated eye-contact; all these gestures of his affections for the entire Dreaming to see. To the townsfolk, he introduces you as his princess-consort, much to the Dreaming residents’ delight – they had not had a princess-consort to dote on for eons, and so they lavish the both of you with promises of gifts that they are to send to the palace to congratulate their King and to his ‘pretty little dream-bride.’

Just grin and bear with it, as the Voice comments.

Touching as it was, the Dreamfolk’s welcome of you as Dream of the Endless’ new princess-consort breaks your heart even more, knowing that you’ll eventually disappoint them by running away as soon as you have the chance to. Breaking your previously-cheerful outlook further, you walk past the sea of dreams with the thought of never coming back to form the dreams of the mortals forever once you’re free with Ollie.

Before you left his dream at dawn, Ollie had asked you whether you were actually ready to leave your job for good. He knows there was nothing else you loved more than forming dreams for humans and inspiring them. You had never given it much thought before, but your brief stay with him had also made you realize one thing: while you were planning to abandon the role you had loved with all your heart, he had a device that would do the same for millions of other dreamers. While not under your name, the device Ollie had invented would be his and your legacy, and perhaps you could make peace with that. This comment of yours earns you a proud smile from Ollie that rivaled the brightness of the sun – it’s a smile you’re sure you’ve burned into your memory.

***

1 Day Until Deadline

When you wake, you’re greeted with a massive headache – it’s an ominous warning of your days closing in on you. Only one more day until your King’s imposed deadline, and you could only hope Ollie makes a breakthrough with the runes by tomorrow, or all will be lost.

After you had been dressed up by Morwyn, who as usual, gushed over the gown your Dream Lord has selected for you to wear for the day, Matthew delivers the news of your morning activities. According to him, they will consist of morning tea and brunch with his boss in your favourite spot in the Royal Library. When you arrive in the garb he had chosen for you to wear for the day, he gives your red-satin-clad figure an appreciative look before he greets you with a soft kiss on your lips and leads you by the hand to the leather couch you had fallen asleep in so many times.

You engage in light, minimal conversation during tea. You find yourself almost enjoying your time together, discussing your past dreamers with a sense of nostalgia.

That is until an attendant brings a trolley full of books to his side and you inspect the names printed on the books: each containing the name of every dreamer you had visited in his absence.

Perhaps your face had paled when you noticed the books, for he flashes you a small smirk, before assuring you, “It is only procedure, my little Dream. Lucienne told me that you had insisted on finding me in the dreams of mortals even after it proved fatally dangerous for you. I should like to read of your unwavering loyalty with my own eyes.”

His words only made you fidget in your seat, abandoning the cinnamon swirl you had started to dig into a few moments ago.

Your discomfort does not seem to escape his watchful eyes. “Unless, you had something to hide from me, my Mera?”

From the rim of your teacup, you smile wanly, sipping your tea before quietly shaking your head. Inside, however, your heart is practically threatening to escape your ribcage, sending bile to your throat and souring your tastebuds.

“I imagine this will occupy the rest of my day. Stay and read with me.”

Having no choice but to comply, you excuse yourself to pick out a book, choosing one you had read from cover to cover so many times in Ollie’s study.

Choosing a book was the easy part; concentrating on the pages proves a lot more of a challenge, especially when you have your master inspecting your work right in front of you. His occasional praise of your handicraft almost always makes you jump on your seat, thinking that anytime, now, he could be going through Ollie’s book of dreams, potentially exposing you. It takes all your energy to remain composed before him lest he notices your odd behaviour and decides to investigate the source of your restlessness further. The day goes on agonizingly slow, but thankfully, he only goes through the first half of the pile on the trolley.

With a loud pouf, he closes the final book shut and places them on top of the growing pile on the coffee table. Getting up to his feet, you copy his movement, inwardly glad for a dismissal and looking forward to your time alone, stewing in your own worries. You brace yourself as he steps closer and takes your chin in his thumb and forefinger before dipping his head downwards to plant an openmouthed kiss on your lips, one that you now know you’re obliged to kiss back. You expect the kiss to be brief, but he apparently has other ideas: he wraps his arms around your body and maneuvers you. You both end up on the couch, with you straddling his lap. As if predicting your actions, one hand grips the back of your neck and the other holds your hip in place, preventing you from getting away.

He drags his lips away from yours to the groove of your neck while his hand pulls the sleeve of your gown downwards to expose more of the flesh he had longed to mark for a long time. You let out a whimper in protest, before softly pleading, “My Lord, please, we’re in the library…”

Against your skin, you feel him chuckle deeply. “Would my little dream prefer the privacy of her chambers, then?”

He does not wait for your response. Instead, he continues licking and sucking on the exposed skin below your clavicle, dangerously close to your right breast. You let out a startled gasp as you feel his hand go under your gown and start stroking your inner thigh. Your body seems to betray you at that moment: you start feeling heat pooling in your belly, indicating your arousal, no matter how unwilling.

From a short distance, a door in the library creaks open, and a pair of footfalls you recognize start making their way to Lucienne’s desk.

You feel your King let out a growl of displeasure at the disturbance; a second time his librarian has interrupted you – a second time you owe Lucienne one for deterring him from any further actions.

Against your ear, he then whispers, “Tomorrow could not come any faster, little dream. It will be a union you will remember for eternity.”

With unexpected gentleness, he spins you around and sets you down on the couch beside him, and without a word, walks away as if nothing happened.

You clutch your heart and adjust the sleeves of your dress, willing the tears threatening to spill to go away. Tomorrow, you’ll be gone for good, and well away from him – it’s a small reprieve that allows you to clear your head and quickly lock yourself inside your chambers, holding Ollie’s dreamcatcher like a lifeline.

***

0 Days Until Deadline

My little dream,

Proceed to Fiddler’s Green

…Reads the note that Morwyn delivers to you along with your morning coffee. You hope this visit wouldn’t last long; after this, you had every intention of going back to Ollie’s dream. It’s the day of the deadline your King has given after all, and you’d have no other opportunity to escape if you let this day pass.

Don’t go, the Voice warns in your head; but what choice have you, other than comply? After all, it could just be one of the last commands you’d ever obey from him. Not wanting time wasted, you refuse breakfast and begin the long tread to the heart of the Dreaming, and into Gilbert’s sanctuary.

You had been so close to meeting each other in the Waking, during your stay in Hal’s Bed and Breakfast. It’s perhaps pure luck that your paths did not cross, for you’re not sure how Gilbert would’ve reacted, or what he would’ve revealed to the Dream King once he went back.

After your walk for what seemed like hours, the grassy patch of land full of lush, blooming bushes and thick, tall trees greets you with what feels like an urgent breeze, almost making you stumble.

In your head comes Gilbert’s grave tone: “Mera, what are you still doing here?”

Feigning hurt at his words, you reply, “Hello, Gilbert. Am I no longer welcome in your lands?”

“Why, but of course you are, my dear,” he amends. “But, given how dire your situation is, I hardly think this is the best time for a leisurely visit.”

“What do you mean, ‘my situation?’” you ask, your brows furrowing in confusion.

His breeze blows more insistently against you, making your dress billow along. “The Dream Lord has come to me about two days ago asking about you and a man called Oliver Chapman.”

Shit.

Every part of your body stills at the news, your heart sinking to your stomach.

“Now, if your relationship is anything as close as he had implied, this mortal is in danger, as are you. He has instructed me just this very morning to keep you here for as long as I could while he deals with this Chapman fellow, but I could not bring myself to keep you in the dark, especially as it sounded like you care much about him.”

Fiddler’s Green was just a diversion, the Voice concludes.

“You must go, Mera,” Gilbert says with another strong gust of wind as if trying to get you running.

Turning back to him one last time, you start, “Thank you, Gilbert –”

“Go!”

You need not be told further. With all the strength you could muster, you run as fast as your legs could carry you, not caring who or what you bumped into or if you tripped. With breakneck speed, you make your way to the sea of dreams, and will yourself to land in the dream of the man you love, your only remaining refuge, hoping against hope you weren’t too late to save him.

Ollie, startled by your sudden appearance, runs to your side at once. You gasp greedily for air, clutching a stitch on your side from all the effort.

“Mera, fuck... are you okay? What’s all this rush?” he asks, holding you by the shoulders to support you.

Tears of relief gather in your eyes as you take his unharmed form. You’re not late; you still had time.

Letting the tears cascade down your cheeks, you break the news to him:

“He’s coming. He’s coming for us.”

Author notes on the Chapter:

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

Link to the next chapter

Oh my god this went out of hand!! I'm sure I had mentioned on a tumblr comment that Ollie would only be around for around two chapters, but sorry, things and plot points seemed to have a mind of their own lol. Dream seems to have found them out!! How will their confrontation go?! Aghhhkk

As usual, thank you for sticking with me in this!! Love lots!!!

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

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby@endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 12/19/22

Edit date: 12/19/22

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

@reallystressedhoneybee

@akiraquote

@safe-teycar

@ponyboys-sunsets

@izziclee

@spygrrl99

@intothesoul

@thecrazytealady

@tastyinspection8860

@kittenssss-blog

@trinittyy

@mxacegrey

@sarahbullet235

@blu3what

@justporple

@emy635

@ggxsan

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sapppy-cocktail · 2 years

Text

Falling In Love With You - Part 1

Max Mayfield x Reader

IMPORTANT: The taglist we’ve all been waiting for is finally here.

As I walk through the halls of the hospital I’ve been in everyday for over half a year the sound of frustrated sighs stop me in my tracks. That’s when I hear the sound of violent clicking and beeping come from a room. A room I’ve never been in, the door always kept shut, except this time the door was slightly open making me want to peak in. I look around making sure no one other doctors or nurses are looking at me. They all seemed to be focused so I slowly walk towards the door. Pushing the door open slightly makes a creaking noise. The girl on the bed stops pressing the button once she hears the door. “Doctor L/N?” She asks making me notice the poor state of the girl. Her eyes open but the slight cloudiness appearance in her eyes makes me realise the girl is blind. “She’s not here right now but if you want I can wait with you until she arrives.” I offer as I stand in the doorway prepared to leave if she asks. She stays quiet for a few seconds before responding. “Yes please. I’d like that.” Her response makes me walk in shutting the door behind me before walking over to the chair beside her bed.

“So uh, do you have any hobbies?” I ask. “I like skateboarding.” “Oh really? Me too.” I say making her slightly smile and raise her eyebrows in slight shock. “Really?” She asks making me nod even though she can’t see me. “Yeah I started maybe when I was 7. Do you know any tricks?” I ask as I look around the room. People seem to visit her a lot with all the gifts surrounding her bed. “I’ve been working on an ollie for a while.” She said making me smile proudly as I think back to when I first landed it. “Yeah that’s a hard one. It took me forever to learn it. I was only able to do it consistently without trouble not too long ago. Once you get out of the hospital I can help you with it if you’d like me to.” I say making her force a laugh. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m blind.” “I’m aware, but there are a ton of blind skaters.” I say before continuing. “A blind skater actually helped me learn how to do a kick flip.” I say making her furrow her eyebrows. “Really?” She asks raising her eyebrows. “Yeah, he’s like a pro skater. Look I know I can’t really have a say because I’ve never experienced what you’ve been through but I’m sure it won’t be too hard if you really love the sport and want to learn it. If you don’t give up and you have someone to support you and help you out I’m sure you’ll be able to get it in no time.” I say making her force a small smile. “I have nobody to teach me. None of my friends skate.” She says making me scoff. “This whole time I’ve been offering to assist you. But now I get it, message received. You don’t like me.” I say making her let out a small laugh. “It’s not that I don’t want your help, it’s just that I’m sure you have better things to do than teach a blind girl how to skate.” “Well, fun fact I don’t.” I say making her chuckle in response. “No friends?” She asks making me smile. “Surprisingly I don’t, they’re currently rebuilding the school so no classes means no meeting people and that means no friend making.” I say as I look around on the bed until I find the clipboard I was looking for. “Looks like we’d be in the same year level Maxine.” I say as I look at the sheet with her name and date of birth. “Its Max.” She responds making me look up from the sheet. “Sorry?” I ask making her repeat herself. “My name, it’s Max. I prefer Max.” She says making me nod. “Oh, my bad.” I mumble as I grab the red pen lying on the desk beside the bed and cross out the rest of her name just leaving Max Mayfield on the sheet. “Well other than being at the hospital I’ve got nothing but time on my hands so I’m completely available to teach you.” I say as I put down the clipboard. “Why are you in the hospital?” She asks making me lay back into my seat to get a bit more comfortable before talking.

“Well once Hawkins went to shit and all that random shit opened up through the ground my mum wanted to help out since she heard a ton of the doctors and nurses were leaving so she made us pack and moved us out here, and since I know a few things and have nothing to do I just help out with all her patients and all. “I’m actually your doctors daughter.” I say making her lips part and eyebrows raise in disbelief. “Dr L/N?” She asks making me nod. “Yeah, that’s my mum.” I say making her furrow her eyebrows. “How come I’ve never met you then?” She asks making me shrug. “My mum doesn’t like me seeing her patients since she’s got more qualifications than other staff members she’s got patients that need more care and attention. But even I do a different part in the hospital. I take care of the patients that are taking physical therapy. Sometimes I help my mum. I help her take care of those who are visually impaired, like yourself. I help them learn to read braille and I also help those who are deaf with sign language.” I say as she nods. “So you’re like fluent in both?” She asks as I smile. “Yeah, I have been since I was 9. My mum likes teaching me new things.” I say as she nods yet again. “Oh and also I don’t know if you’ve been told yet but I’ll actually be taking care of you during your physical therapy sessions.” “Really?” She asks as a smile takes over her features. “Yeah, it says on both my schedule and yours.” I say before the door opens and my mum walks in. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” She asks raising an eyebrow as she stares me down. “Hi mum.” I say smile sheepishly as I slowly sink into my chair. “Hi Dr L/N.” Max says unaware to how my mum was staring at me but thankfully takes my mums attention off me. “Max. How are you feeling?” She asks walking over to her. “I’m alright. Y/N kept me company.” She says as I smile as my mum looks at me once more.

“Are you ready for your dose?” She asks grabbing some needles as I move my chair close to Max. “Yeah.” She breathes out shakily as my mum grabs her hand. Out of instinct I draw shapes on her hand, a thing I do to help nervous patients which seems to calm them down. But Max’s breath hitches as I draw making me realise. “Oh shit sorry. Force of habit.” I mumble taking my hand off hers. “I like it. Could you. Could you do it again?” She struggles to say the last part, her cheeks red from being embarrassed from finding some sort of comfort in a “childish” thing. “Oh, yeah of course.” I say as I pick up her hand again and begin to draw as my mum puts the needle in her arm making her shut her eyes tightly as she winces from the pain. “You okay?” I ask once the needle is out of her arm and she doesn’t seem to be in as much pain. “Yeah.” She mumbles and sighs as she opens her eyes again, her chest rising and sinking slowly as she takes deep breaths. “Okay Max. I’ve got another patient to take care of but I’ll be back to check on you after, okay?” My mother asks as she walks to the doorway looking back at Max nod. “Okay.” She says as I watch my mum then turn to me. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” She asks as she points at the clock making me jump out of my seat. “Shit.” I say as my mum smiles and laughs as she walks away. I get up and grab my things shoving them into my backpack before walking to door which is when I remember to say goodbye to Max. “I’ll see you next week Max.” I say making her furrow her eyebrows. “You’re not gonna come back?” She asks making me walk over to her bed again. “Well you’re pretty popular Maxine. I don’t think you need me.” I say as I lean on the bed looking back at the gifts and cards surrounding her bed. “Okay I get the message. You don’t like me.” She says as she mocks me me from earlier. “Wow. Copy cat.” I say making her smirk before she let out a small laugh.

“Do you want me to come back?“ I ask making her her raise an eyebrow. “Do you want to come back?” She asks ignoring me before continuing. “Cause I’m not gonna make you come back if you don’t want to.” She says making me laugh. “I’m free after 4:45 up until 9. So I can visit you then.” I say watching her shift around in her bed. “Really?” She asks, hopefulness evident in her voice. “Yeah why not.” I say as I walk to the door. “Oh and since I’m going out to to get something what’s your favourite place to eat. I’ll grab us something.” I say as I lean on the door waiting for a response. “I’m kind of craving ice-cream.” She says making me smile. “Ice cream it is.” I say as tap the door to turn. “I’ll see you later Max.” I say as I walk out shutting the door behind me and walk away.

Part 2

A/N: Guess who finally made a masterlist and a taglist! Tap here for the masterlist and form there you can add yourself to my taglist. Currently writing some more stories so prepare yourselves. :)

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12pt-times-new-roman · 2 years

Text

c3e31

"What am I if not a lifelong master of things that evolve into something greater?" motherfucker, what does that MEAN???

"Ah, there. I see what they're doing. Not much time, but I must watch their faces as they fail... they were fools when they thought they could do this alone, when they thought someone else wouldn't want to steal their thunder. But me? I just wanted to be the first there, and the one to make the choice for them." The they here is the Unseelie Court and their allies. Ira essentially took the Unseelie's machine and made it better. but "I wanted to be the first there"? there to what? Ira was looking for something else on the moon, so maybe the city wasn't the target -- maybe he was looking for holes in the lattice, those portholes that Matt once described in the Divine Gate. I don't think they built the city, I think they're trying to get to it.

The "they" is specifically the Unseelie, Otohan Thuul, and LUDINUS FUCKING DA'LETH. This motherfucker. He's still head of the Cerberus Assembly, and Orym is aware of him.

Ira finished the machine, took the crown, and ran. The Unseelie Court originally hired him to make the machine, then he got bored of them and got tired of their bureaucracy; they disagreed on how to build the machine, so when the crown was stolen, Ira took it as a sign to pursue it on his own.

The lattice around Ruidus looks almost exactly the same as the Divine Gate, so it stands to reason that it was constructed at the same time.

Hondir theorizes that Ruidus is a battery that's powering the divine gate. I doubt that this is all of what's actually happening, just on the basis that I don't think Matt would have an NPC drop that, but it sure is something that could be happening on top of/underneath everything else.

"It's a magic item, it shouldn't break!" oh no. oh no. that cannot be good. that feels like an item that Matt was counting on them having and now they don't have it anymore. hm.

I bet that this crown is a vestige made by the blessing of Sehanine's. It essentially gives the user the abilities of a moon cleric, and it focuses on illusion/enchantment magic.

Okay yeah so Morri definitely did take time in exchange for watching Fearne, but it wasn't Fearne's time. It was Birdie and Ollie's. She took time with their daughter away from them. Also, Fearne spent that long with Morri from her perspective, but I don't think she really aged at all -- since she doesn't look any older than expected (6 years), I don't think this time actually aged her.

The lens deal with Morri didn't have anything to do with the Calloways -- Ira traded something for it.

"If you wanna insinuate something, come out and say it straight, please!" thank god someone fucking said it. the bells hells are so good at talking around things, they say so many things that require people to read between the lines that they themselves can't see anything except what's between the lines. they're missing the forest for the trees.

When they cast detect thoughts on Ollie, FCG and Imogen find that there are blurred and smeared sections of gray in Ollie's memory. Pushing into one of them, they find things that indicate that Ira used the Moontide Crown to alter the Calloways' memories to remove the things that made them want to leave and stop working with him. So the Calloway parents were not, in fact, working willingly with Ira, but were being magically influenced to stay.

Ruidus' apex does indeed coincide with the apogee solstice.

"What are you gonna do, Imogen Temult? Bend to that? Or carve your own way?"

Keyleth had theories about the leylines and Orym heard about them scattered across "hundreds, hundreds of conversations." That's why he thinks the Gray Assassins targeted her.

This little halfling is hiding something -- you don't get to be privy to hundreds of private conversations had between the Voice of the Tempest and the leaders of massive political entities the likes of Whitestone if you're just a "simple guard."

Looking at the mask causes a "numb tingle" in the back of Ashton's mind.

FCG casts sending on Dancer. "Dancer, Fresh Cut Grass reporting in. Awaiting designation and assignment. What is your current status?" "How did you find me? What do you want from me?" Southern accent, so most likely Marquesian. Gravelly, textured, shaking -- scared.

Fearne takes two of the purple stones, puts one in Laudna's dollhouse, and the other one in Imogen's bag. Chaos entity.

2nd half!

"Art's never really done, you just abandon it for a while." I feel called out

Delilah's back, and she wants those goddamn rocks!

Another sending to Dancer: "Dancer? It's me, Fresh Cut Grass again. I might need you soon, and I'm worried about you. Where are you? Can you tell me?" "Please. Leave me alone. I barely got away. I don't wanna ever see you again. You know what you did." FCG takes four points.

Detect Thoughts on FCG -- "there is this burgeoning wave of tumultuous emotion and intensity, a level of stress and anger and a bottled cacophony of so many different voices and thoughts that they've taken on through years -- it's at a brimming point, a breaking point. Do you push further? [Yes.] With that, the loud noise becomes a heavy crackling static, and you have to pull back so it doesn't pierce your mind too."

"Some of your voices, other people, cries of pain, whispers, hundreds of moments of time of different voices all at once." waitwaitwait, was FCG awake for the entire time they were inactive? from when they were deactivated in the fall of Aeor to their recovery to their repair to whatever the fuck this is, has their mind been collecting all of that sound and it's only just now coming back all at once? that must be fucking maddening.

MURDER BOT, MURDER BOT

Chetney hits FCG lightly with a mallet and FCG immediately lunges for him with the buzz saw, and in this state they have advantage on their attack rolls. Their eyes turn deep red.

FCG is full on fighting Chetney. Like, spells and everything. Why don't you shut up? Why don't you shut your fucking mouth?

bitch what the fuck is happening?? you were never alive, your parents left because they didn't like you and they were fucking right -- who is in there?

Orym notices that the buzz saw is definitely a different coloration, and that the unique streak of grass on the chest could be grass -- also kinda looks like a streak of fingers.

FCG comes to consciousness in a familiar room in an unfamiliar perspective -- they see all of their friends upside down. Hanging from the ceiling. A bit woozy. It's weird to wake up like this.

They reset to 0 stress points. Cross-referencing with Ashton's memory, it's "definitely possible" that FCG was the one who killed their former party.

I... don't know what hunger of the shadow is. It's not a warlock or sorcerer class ability, not an ability of a Hollow One, not a spell -- I can't even find any spell that deals 4d8 damage and has an attack roll instead of a save. Also, Marisha says "I use" instead of "I cast," and Matt says "your ability" -- so I wonder whether this is something that Laudna got when Delilah absorbed the gnarlrock, because of the description of the warmth in her chest when she cast it.

A one-eyed monster is what killed their friends. That's what they remember. And when Ashton found them, one of their eyes was broken.

When Imogen looks into FCG's thoughts, there are none. It's like time looped on itself and rewrote over that time -- it's not obfuscated or blurred or modified, it's literally not there. She finds those voices and when they're all strung out, it's fine and chronological, but when FCG was in this state it's like it was all happening at one time to an overwhelming degree.

"Every one of us is a fucking powder keg. We are in this together. We're here, we decided to be around each other, we decided to be this fucking explosive, so why don't we try to fix each other and stop pretending that any one of us is the fucking problem?" every day Ashton says something that makes them even more interesting, and every day Talisein continues to come up with these banger lines

sooooo Orym's gonna take the Inspiring Leader feat at level 8, right? 'cause goddamn. they're all talking about how each and every one of them is a powder keg waiting to explode because of their abilities and their nature, about how Orym is the only one who isn't -- but he just was. that was a brilliant decision from Liam, to have Orym raise his voice and yell like that right after they said Orym would be the only not to explode. he's the moral center of this group, but what happens when he snaps? what happens when he falters under that weight? what happens when that gilded fulcrum rots?

this was the lore-heavy episode we needed, for sure.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #note watches c3 #critical role campaign 3 #critical role c3 #critical role liveblog

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 2 years

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This ain’t a scene: Part 1.

Dawn of the final day, 24 hours remain...

Nice reference.

Right, we just got here, and you two are already goofing around.

How am I goofing around? I’m literally saying we only have 24 hours left to upload this virus and stop the Kerokuma Initiative.

Please, just...take this seriously. We only get one shot.

Yeah, I’m focused...sort of...

What do you mean sort of?

Well, I’m all for busting ass and plans, but I just wasn’t expecting the place we needed to go to be...well...

Kuripa: HERE of all places...

Maya: At least it ain’t the White House.

Kuripa: Yeah, but still! The god damn Smithsonian Castle!? How the hell did Emilia have the budget for this!?

Oliver: Kuripa. Repeat that sentence, but really think for a moment about who my mother is and what she does.

Kuripa: ...

Oliver: ...

Kuripa: A’ight, you got me there.

Still though, we’d better not trash this place up. As much as I crave destruction because I’m an angry gremlin, I don’t really wanna go bashing up a Washington national landmark.

What happens happens. I don’t really wanna go destroying such an important place, but this is Feng’s primary communications hub. We need to get in there and upload this virus, by any means necessary.

But there’s more security here than there is surrounding the President’s meth stash.

Then what’s the plan?

Well, first of all we gotta get up there. Then when we’re up there, we’ll disable their encryptors first.

I see...And do you need to hack them?

More like hack and slash them.

Noted. Sounds like a job for me.

Fang Inc. Guard: ...

...

*Kuripa and Maya nod to each other, and then leap out of hiding.

YAGH!

REAAGH!

Guard: GUAGH! AHAGH! AHACK!

*They assault the guard and beat the shit out of him.

Oliver? I know now seems like a dumb time to ask, but you’ve deactivated the alarms and security cams, right?

That is a dumb time to ask. Of course I did.

How? We’re nowhere near a security room.

I don’t always need to be in a security room. I’ve got apps on my phone that can do the job just as well.

I’ve taken over the camera footage, blocked off ground reinforcement communications, and I’m in the process of disabling the automated security measures.

I thought this was supposed to be Feng’s primary communications hub. The security here is BS!

...

*Oliver presses a few buttons on their phone.

Alright. The encryptors are up these stairs. Destroy ‘em and be quick about it!

...!

*Maya and Kuripa nod to each other, and as soon as Oliver opens the door, they charge in.

Guard: What the-!? UAGH!

Sleep in the dirt!

*Maya rushes up the stairs and shoves past a patrolling guard. Before he can process her presence, Kuripa leaps and tackles him to the ground.

...

*Maya checks around for any other security guards, then picks up a brick on the floor and approaches the encryptor.

*SMASH!* *BASH!* *BASH!*

*She smacks the device with the brick repeatedly.

One down!

I got this one!

*SLASH!* *CUT!* SWISH!*

*Kuripa slices the second encryptor apart with his sword.

Ollie! It’s done!

Great!

*Oliver and Kouji hurry up the stairs.

Now what?

Now, we find the central antenna, and upload the virus into the algorithm.

You guys aren’t hurt of anything, right? I have my medkits with me should you need them.

We’re good. Gotta say, I feel a bit more confident with a medical pro here.

Uh, I wouldn’t be so confident in my if I were you.

I’m not exactly a doctor. I’m basically just a pharmacist. I’m the kind of person who studies medicine instead of being the one who supplies it.

Although, I am the closest thing to the medic on the Freedom Foundation, so don’t be afraid to rely on me.

Will do.

So where’s this central antenna bitch then?

Should be relatively near the top of the castle.

So...more stairs?

More stairs...

Jesus Christ...

Ugh...I hate stairs...!

Alright Kung-Fu Panda, quit bitching. We’re there now.

Then hurry up. Get the virus in the system.

Alright, chill. It should take a bit though.

You two guard the entrance to the tower. If anyone comes up the stairs, kick them down again.

You got it.

*Maya and Kuripa watch the stairs carefully.

Let’s get busy...

Here goes nothing.

*Oliver plugs several devices into the satellite.

...

...?

Hey...you ok?

Kinda...Just...thinking about everything...

If we do this right...this could be it, you know? This could be what we need to destroy Emilia Feng once and for all. To ruin Fang Inc. forever...

I dunno, it doesn’t feel real. I’ve been fighting this battle for a long time, and I figured that it was a lost cause, but maybe...

...

Hehe...I have you and your friends to thank for that.

You kidding me? We would’ve been fish out of water if not for you guys.

Maybe that’s true...but you’ve done so much for us, and look what’s happened to you in exchange.

You lost two of your friends. Hiro got kidnapped and Hina abandoned you.

Maya...That woman has taken 2 people from us, but SO many people from you. All your friends who died in her Killing Game, and Marisha Filliet too. What I’ve suffered, and what you’ve suffered are incomparable.

And if you really feel guilty about it, then just help us rescue Hiro. When he comes back, I’m sure Hina will see the light.

...I hope so...

Listen to me...Over the short time that we’ve come to know each other, you’ve already become one of my best friends in the whole world.

If it feel like nobodies got you? Know full well that I got you!

And I hope you’ll have me too.

Kuripa...Thanks...Seriously...

It’s...It’s not like I don’t think we can win though...it’s more like...

I’m wondering what I’ll do after Emilia’s gone. It’s not like we can help with cleanup or something.

We’re not exactly an official organization or anything, and we don’t have the budget to fix all of Fang Inc’s. problems.

Honestly, after Emilia’s history gets brought out, it’ll be incredible if Fang Inc. even survives past this point.

But in the case that someone else does take over the company, whoever it is ain’t gonna be as bad as Emilia, that’s for sure.

Too true...

Still, you get my point. What’ll happen to us after the fact? We’re still kinda wanted criminals wanted for property damage and the like.

Hm...

Then...I have an idea. I can run it by Boss and his wife when we meet up later if you want.

Yeah?

Why don’t we induct the 6 of you into the Future Foundation?

You’d really do that!?

Why the hell not? You’re all so strong, cunning and talented! You’d be great!

Of course, it’s ultimately up to you whether you wanna sign up, or fly solo. But we won’t restrict your freedom or give you oppressing tasks or anything. It’s actually pretty chill work.

Which you wouldn’t expect for literally rebuilding all human society. Then again, Rome wasn’t built in a day.

I...don’t know what to say...

I’ll definitely think about it.

...

*Kuripa pulls Maya in for a hug.

Anytime bud.

I don’t meant to interrupt, but we’ve got a bit of an issue.

Oh boy...what is it?

Look.

*Oliver throws his phone to Maya. She catches it and looks at the screen.

I’m reading incoming enemies. Machines and drones primarily.

Oh god...Please, don’t tell me it’s...

Kerokuma robots!?

Thankfully no. I was afraid that Mother would launch the robots early if she found we were sabotaging her mission.

These aren’t the algorithmically driven assassin robots, just the regular machines and drones that also kill you.

Oh, good!

How is that good!? Sh-Should we run?

We can’t! The virus hasn’t finished uploading yet. It’s only at 16%.

16!? How slow is your fucking internet!?

*CRASH!*

AAGCHK!

GET DOWN!

*SMASH!* *BANG!*

*A drone flies through the window and starts shooting machine gun fire at the four people inside. Kuripa leaps up and throws the drone to the ground, destroying it.

This is bad. These are high military drones. We can’t take them with just the two of us.

Then count yourself lucky...I’ll take them down by myself...!

Are you crazy!?

Yes? Kinda figured that was obvious.

Kuripa, you’ll die!

Kouji, I flipped a truck by punching it. I can take a few military drones.

But if things go wrong, I’m counting on you guys to back me up.

If you’re sure, then get up to the roof. You’ll have more space there.

*Kouji preps a weapon he brought.

I’ll stay here with the gear. If any drones fly or attack from the window, I’ll have them taken care of.

What should I do?

I’ve got a very important mission for you. I foresaw something like this, so I came prepared.

*Kuripa hands Maya his phone with an app open.

See that button? I need you to find the audio and radio system for the castle, plug my phone in, and play that audio.

Why?

Trust me...

It’s important...

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #oc #hyper danganronpa h2o #hdrh2o #kuripa kurafto #maya canzanilla #kouji ito #oliver feng #ask #into the ocean arc

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lonelier-version-of-you · 2 years

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Hm. Not sure how to feel about that episode. It’s a good opener for series 37 and I felt it was strong all around (as strong as an episode with a lot of Charlie focus can be), I’m just not quite sure what it was trying to achieve.

I’ll get this out of the way. I don’t like Charlie. He’s boring, adds very little to the show anymore that can’t be provided by other male leads like Dylan or Jacob, and I think it’s probably time he leaves. So I have a bit of a bias against any episode that focuses on Charlie, and I’m also gonna struggle to pay attention to his monologues. So that may be part of where my issues lie with this episode, as good as it was in itself.

The other thing is... I feel like they under-served the “NHS crisis” theme a bit? I get there’s only so much they can do (as much as I disliked the COVID episode, apparently they had to fight to make it as political as it was, and I’ll give them kudos for that). But it still felt weirdly handled. Like, Dylan’s whole “I can’t fix the NHS but I can fix this department” line, when the point was that Dylan was doing everything he could against the hospital’s serious lack of funding or resources? IDK, I just feel like they were trying to make a point but they never really arrived at said point. I don’t know if that makes sense. I can’t words tonight.

People are welcome to debate me on this. I’m interested in hearing other opinions. Plus, anyway, if nothing else, this episode was enough to get people on Twitter moaning “I miss Holby! It didn’t have all these politics in it like Casualty does!!”. Which is very, very telling if you ask me, telling of the kind of show Holby became in its final years (indeed, Hugh Quarshie left because he was disappointed at how the show had stopped being about the NHS). But this isn’t a Holby post, so I won’t go too in depth on that.

What they did do well was capture how busy the ED felt. Seriously, I don’t know who - the director, camera people, whoever - would be responsible for capturing that sort of vibe, but they definitely pulled it off.

And we had several patient storylines tonight, so I liked that. Also, the bloke who had to have his leg amputated because it was crushed by the ladder reminded me of when Henrik had his legs crushed by an air conditioner and got out of it with... a small cut and a couple of days in hospital. LMAO.

Faith is back on the “oh I’m so lovely and sweet” act. Is anyone buying it, because I know I’m not. Her literally pretending to care about David like she wasn’t just shouting at him and blaming him for Ollie’s actions recently??

I think I found David’s parts of the episode to be the best. I still hate the Ollie story. Nothing will make me stop hating the Ollie story. It’s a copy of the Fredrik one from Holby (and no one start using that for their “Holby is perfect and everything Casualty does is terrible” arguments, because Holby ripped off the Fredrik story from themselves first, especially with the Cameron one!). But it has been written for and acted really well. Jason Durr really does deserve a BAFTA.

Obviously, the Dylan and David scenes were great. They reminded me strongly of the Roxanna and Henrik scenes in Holby S20E20, when she said she’d report him as unfit for work if he didn’t get help. I also loved David talking to the patient to try and find answers about Ollie.

And those final scenes with David burning up Ollie’s things - those scenes were brilliant. That shot of the teddy bear burning. Wow.

Next week, well, you know how I said the Ollie storyline was a Fredrik ripoff? ...Yeah, they aren’t even trying to hide that, because next week’s episode is called “We Need To Talk About Ollie”. Compare to Holby S19E63, “We Need To Talk About Fredrik”. Sigh. At least Jason Durr will be good.

#BBC Casualty #Casualty spoilers

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disregardcanon · 1 year

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okay so quick meta on a middle grade horror novel series that no one else on tumblr has read

small spaces by katherine arden

i’m about halfway done with the second book, dead voices, and i am VERY impressed with the way that the sequel has built on the first but continued to tie them together.

the main character, ollie, makes what is essentially the opposite choice of what saved them in the first book halfway through with DISASTROUS results, but it makes complete sense both for her character and the situation for why it played out this way

1. the antagonist of the first book (and the second, apparently) is this character named the smiling man who tricks people into deals. the first one focuses on how he tricked a pair of brothers in the past into becoming his scarecrow servants, and how ollie outsmarted him and saved herself, her friends, and everyone in his domain.

2. the climax where ollie outsmarts him is his Big Reveal TM. the character of the smiling man has been built up as this terrible threat through all of the story, and when ollie finds him, he has shown his true colors as who she perceived as a kind and cool mentor at the beginning of the story. the betrayal and absolute knowledge that this man meant her nothing but harm helped her seal her resolve: maybe this man could give her back her dead mother (he has in the past) but it will come with a terrible price and won’t be worth it. so she has to think of another way out

3. this same situation is flipped on its head in the middle of the second book. while the kids are aware that they’re in danger, there is a separate threat outside of the smiling man at work, and they have little to no reason to believe that he’s afoot once again.

he comes in the form of a ghost-hunter who invited himself on their ski trip. he comes with praise and confidentiality and “cool uncle” vibes, in a situation where ollie doesn’t have much reason to doubt him. her friend brian does the most, and her friend coco does quite a bit as well, but... in the end, ollie discloses crucial, harmful information to him. and then she’s tricked into a situation where she’s powerless because, hope upon hopes, she thinks she might be able to speak to her dead mother. while ollie knew this was a trick and resisted in the first situation, she has FAR less knowledge of the situation and much deeper trust of the smiling man’s persona this time. so of course she throws her into this chance and traps herself.

4. i wasn’t shocked by any of the twists in the first novel, though i did think that they were all good, i WAS legitimately shocked by this one. he got me good this time, even though i should have seen it coming. i was just as tricked and betrayed as ollie was, and i am always VERY impressed when someone manages to try the same trick a second time and actually fools me

#small spaces series #book log #small spaces quartet

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

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i want dick grayson to be annoyingly perfect in the smallest of unimportant ways. and i want it to irritate the living hell out of everyone around him

every now and then, jason and dick will go to different chili dog carts around the city, and dick will sit and nod in agreement as jason nitpicks the food, occasionally offering his own two cents. the conversations are tense and if the topic strays from anything except food jason books it, but it’s progress, and dick’s grateful. but he doesn’t understand why jason always growls at him when he’s preparing his chili dogs, chalking it up to jason’s obsessiveness about that food in particular. dick figures he’s probably doing it wrong. until one day, jason bites out a rough question, asks him how he did that. dick’s confused, until jason points out, “you tear open the top of the ketchup packet in a perfect line every time. and you get all of the ketchup out of the packet in one smooth squeeze, and you never get any on your fingers, and i don’t understand how.”

roy was, arguably, a better archer than ollie. green arrow had been birthed from the island, from the trauma of survival. roy, however, had been practicing since he was a kid, and now that he was well into his twenties, he could safely say he was one of the best shots in the world. he could beat all his friends at darts, shoot an apple off wally’s head, and was generally pretty awesome. or, he would be awesome, if only dick fucking grayson would stop making every single shot of anything he threw in a trash can. no matter what he was throwing away, no matter the angle, no matter the wind or rain, as long as the trashcan was in eyesight, anything dick tossed would inevitably end up inside the garbage. sometimes, dick barely even glanced at the damn thing, just took note of it a threw the trash, expecting it to land in the proper place. and it always did. the worst part was, dick didn’t even seem to notice it. he wasn’t actively trying to make every shot. when asked, dick just shrugged and said “we had some pretty good knife throwers in the circus.”

tim’s memories starting out as robin were a whirlwind, a push-pull of bruce’s mistrust, then bruce’s acceptance, of dick’s fear and hesitation, then of dick’s love. he still remembered dick making the two of them hot chocolate in the kitchen after a day of training, tim’s muscles sore and entire body aching but the feeling of pride, because he was good enough to be robin, he knew he was. he hadn’t expected that to happen anytime soon again, given the way their relationship had fractured after tim had left dick’s batman, a terrified fury in his eyes. yet, he’d been proven wrong when, after a particularly rough arkham breakout, alfred asked both dick and tim to stay instead of returning to their own apartments. just because the manor brought back a feeling of warm nostalgia, however, doesn’t mean it kept the nightmares away. he came down to the kitchen and saw dick already up, moving around the stovetop. with a knowing look in his eyes, dick grabbed another mug to make tim some hot chocolate. tim was washed over with a feeling of relief, of acceptance. dick slid the mug towards him and tim took a sip, letting the rich chocolate warm him up from the inside. it was delicious. his little sigh of pleasure must have been audible, but then he remembered something he noticed. “dick. did you use alfred’s recipe for this?” and dick laughed, responded with, “nah. too much work. i just sort of tried to remember what was in hot chocolate, and eyeballed most of the ingredients. i’m glad it turned out good though. no clumps too, that’s good.”

donna didn’t care how old she got, playing in the park with dick never got old. as one of her oldest friends, the two of them could just walk around the park, in companionable silence, just letting themselves relax and enjoy the moment. so, of course, dick would break the silence and ask if she had any earbuds, because it was getting to quiet for him. donna laughed, and reached inside her pocket, fingered past the keys, and grabbed the headphones. the tangled little ball that came out made her sigh, and she pulled on an earbud to loosen it, only managing to make one of the many knots tighter. then, dick took the headphones out of her hands with a here, i got it, and with a few quick tugs, the tangled monstrosity unraveled easy as breathing. then, completely unaffected, he handed her an earbud, putting the other in his own ear. “i’m the one who’s got a lasso,” she said, ignoring dick’s snort and quip about how earbuds and a lasso are two completely different things, donna.

cass hadn’t expected to enjoy such a gentle, graceful form of athletics, but after a few lessons, it had become apparent that ballet could be far from gentle. it pushed her, made her practice and strengthen herself, and she’d fallen in love with the art quickly. however, the most frustrating part of the entire thing had little to do with actually dancing. the school bruce had helped pick out was prestigious, which meant a strict dress code, which meant her hair had to be in a bun. unfortunately, her hair never seemed to want to cooperate. after her latest attempt, falling into a mess of hair at her nape that had so many locks falling out, cass contemplated how mad the teacher would be if she showed up in a ponytail. at that moment, dick peeked into her room, having heard her frustrated noise, and asked if he could do anything to help. cass pointed to the mess of hair, not even remotely contained by the hair tie, and blew a strand out of her face. dick smiled with understanding, then came into her room, grabbing the comb on her bed and standing behind her in front of the mirror. he smoothed her hair with the comb, then pulled it this way and that, twisting and turning and wrapping until, two minutes later, a picture perfect bun sat atop her head. cass blinked with surprise. “first try,” she said, staring up at him, but he just shrugged and said, “it’s not that hard. you want me to drop you off?”

bruce could admit that he rather enjoyed undercover missions. it was an extended game with high stakes, a test of his own acting skills. with makeup changing his face, an expertly made wig, and a demeanor completely different from both brucie wayne and from batman, he swept through the crowd of greasy men, looking for a specific contact. then, he caught sight of someone specific indeed, though they weren’t his contact. eyebrows raised in a what are you doing here? gesture, he slid onto a barstool. from behind the bar, dick offered him a blinding smile, cleaning a glass. he tapped his wrist twice, a clear message. undercover, same as you. then, dick grabbed a couple bottles from underneath a shelf, flipping them in his hand and pouring with grandeur. bruce noticed he hadn’t put any alcohol in his little mixture, only making it seem as if he had. the flashy moves were entertaining, bruce could give him that. dick slid him the drink and bruce took a sip, eyebrows raising in brief surprise. “this is good. bartending?” dick put the bottles and the lemon away, unimpressed. “it’s not like it’s hard. just mixing a couple ingredients. no biggie.” bruce was fairly certain bartending was more difficult than that, but just then, his target came into view.

steph understood some of the bats’ frustration with dick, she really could. he hadn’t exactly been a welcome and opening batman, that’s for sure. regardless, as the few masks left in gotham had to work together, and she’d gotten to know the man pretty well. and she enjoyed his company as nightwing much more than batman. she dropped onto his balcony in his bludhaven apartment, announcing her presence in that loud-subtle way. dick was nestled in a couple blankets on the couch, going over a couple files, apparently just back from patrol if the small bandage on his neck and bags under his eyes were any indication. nevertheless, he brightened when he saw her and she nodded when he asked if she wanted to spend the night. he moved some of the papers to make room for her on the couch, but she flitted into his bathroom, going through the nail polish bottles she knew he had, and grabbing a shade of red that caught her eye. she tossed him the bottle and put her fingers in his lap, talking aimlessly about a movie she watched with cass. dick seemed to relax amidst her jabbering, and he shook the bottle a couple times before opening it and focusing on her right hand. but as he started, steph paused her rambling and focused on him instead, holding her hands gently and brushing paint onto her nails. he managed to cover her entire nail in three easy strokes, smooth and glossy, not a hint of paint on her skin. the nail was practically perfect. oh god she was jealous. “got a lot of practice with this, grayson?” she asked, and laughed at dick’s mock-offended of course not!

damian wasn’t one for photography, and he could grudgingly admit drake was far better at that particular skill than he was. however, his art class had promised to cover all types of media, and had upheld that pledge. the next two weeks were dedicated to photography, and their final project for the unit had to be a small collection of photographs. animal photography, of course, was damian’s chosen subject, and the knowledge that animal photography was one of the hardest skills to master only had damian wanting to do it more. days later, however, he could admit that it was trickier than expected. how had he never noticed how active his animals were? they never sat still, and every single picture came out blurry. grayson, upon coming across him in the manor grounds, noticed his futile attempts and asked if he could help. damian acquiesced the camera to grayson, who looked through the lens, finding the right angle and background, adjusting the focus settings slightly. then, he let out a sharp whistle and snapped his fingers. in nothing short of a miracle, damian’s pets pasued to look at him, only for a second, and the shutter clicked furiously. damian flipped through the photos, a good many of them clear and wonderful. damian snapped in irritation when dick ruffled his hair and said, “now you try!” it definitely wasn’t as easy as grayson made it look.

babs didn’t really know what she was expecting when she broke up with dick. there was hurt on both ends, and distance for a while, and she had no idea how much she’d miss him. but after a couple months of working together, of remembering that underneath the romantic tangles, their friendship was strong, she’d gotten to the point of dick randomly dropping by her apartment again. the downside was, dick kept randomly dropping by her apartment again. he stole her snacks and messed up her filing system and was so irritating that barbara almost forgot how relieved she was at having one of her best friends back. fortunately, it did come with benefits, because when he was bored, he did some of her chores for her. pausing in the doorway, she smiled at the sight of dick folding her clothes and putting them away. the gesture was platonic now, but no less appreciated. she pushed her wheelchair forward, and in greeting, dick told her how much he wanted to steal all her patterned socks. babs reminded him they wouldn’t fit, and laughed at his pout. dick grabbed one sock off the top of the laundry basket, then dug his hand into the pile of clothes randomly, coming up with the second sock in an instant. folding them together, he repeated the process for each pair. “that...that was fast. you got all of them?” babs asked in confusion. “yes? why, did you expect some to be missing?” was dick’s reply as he shook the wrinkles out of a sweater.

wally was never surprised. he knew dick better than probably most people in the world. he’d gone from frustrated and jealous of dick’s random talents, to admiring and appreciative, to just accepting them as a fact of life. dick’s phone never cracked if he accidentally he dropped it. dick never buttoned up shirts wrong, aligning each button with the right hole perfectly on the first try. dick could plug in usb ports the right way. dick always remembered which light switch was for which room, no matter whose house they were at. dick could pop a cd out of its case without ever smudging the disk, holding it by the rim perfectly. and dick always seemed to know when wally needed a day off, to just visit their old haunts, grab some ice cream, and spend the day talking away on a rooftop. that was just something his best friend could do. and wally would never tell dick, but underneath his fake irritation at it, but he loved him for it.

tag list: @comicsandhoney @birdy-bat-writes @elles-shitposts-personified @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @astroherogirl @yesboopityboop @dangerduckjpeg

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a-simple-gaywitch · 3 years

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Ohana

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer’s in love with his new neighbor- and her son that’s just like him

Word Count: 3234

Warnings: Typical CM stuff (Amplification specifically), Single Parent!Reader, slight angst

“Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten.” -Lilo and Stitch

Spencer remembered the day you moved in. He remembered you lugging boxes up five flights of stairs by yourself. When he saw you struggling with a heavy box, trying to find your key, he decided to be bold and help.

“You look like you could use some assistance,” he said. “I’m, uh, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I live right across the hall.”

“Dr. (Y/N) (L/N),” you said.

“Here, let me hold the box for you.”

“Careful, it’s heavy,” you said, shifting it into his arms.

Spencer was jostled for a moment from the weight of the box, which was labeled (Y/N)’s Books. “So, MD or PhD?” he asked you as you searched for the right key.

“PhD, I’m too squeamish to be in the medical field,” you said with a laugh. It was the most beautiful sound Spencer had ever heard. “What about you?”

“What? Oh,” Spencer shook his head, focusing back on the conversation. “PhDs.”

You stopped sorting through your keys and turned to face Spencer. “Plural? Holy shit, are you a genius or something?”

Spencer let out a small laugh before saying, “Yeah, technically. But I don’t think intelligence can be accurately quantified.”

You finally found the right key and sighed as you heard the lock click. “Um, you can set the box with the others by the bookshelf.”

Spencer turned to see a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, much like his own, with boxes upon boxes of books in front of it. Some were labeled Academics, some had the same label as the one he was currently holding, and some had Oliver’s Books scrawled across the top.

“So, uh, where are you moving from?” he asked you, following the maze of boxes to your kitchen.

You offered him a bottle of water. “Erie, Pennsylvania. I got a job at Georgetown as an Associate Professor in the history department.”

“Oh, I guest lecture there every once in a while. In the criminology department. Uh, what’s your concentration?” Spencer took a sip from the water bottle.

“Medieval and Renaissance history,” you said. “I get to teach fun classes like Medieval Weaponry and Warfare.”

“Well, maybe I can sit in on that class someday.”

You smiled at him and that was when Spencer knew, you’d worked your way into his heart and you were never leaving.

Spencer remembered the first time he met Oliver. It was 53 hours, 27 minutes, and 15 seconds since the day he met you. He was coming home from an exhausting case when he saw you trying to balance paper shopping bags in your arms while opening your door. A small boy, no older than 6, stood behind you with oversized headphones and a mobile gaming system. He had a huge backpack on his shoulders.

“Ollie, take the keys. Ollie. Oliver.”

“You need some help?” Spencer asked, setting his go-bag in front of his door.

“Spencer, hi! Um, some help would be great.” Spencer took the bags from your arms so you could open the door. “Oh, uh, this is Oliver, my son.”

“Your-your son?” Spencer asked. If you had a son, it was likely you had a partner.

“Yep, he’s my boy.” You tapped his shoulder and gestured for him to say hi. The boy gave a small wave before going back to his game.

Spencer cleared his throat. “So, uh, where’s-where’s his father?”

“California. At least, that’s where he went when he left us.” Your hand was resting on top of your son’s head. He looked just like you. “Here, can you just set the bags on the counter?” you asked after opening the door. Oliver started down the hallway when you grabbed the loop of his backpack. “Not so fast. You know the rules. Homework first, then you can play your game again.”

Oliver groaned and handed you his game. You set it on the counter next to the bags of groceries.

“So, you’re raising him alone?” Spencer asked you.

You nodded and started unpacking the bags. “Yeah. You know, it’s been hard, but I can’t imagine life without my Ollie. He’s my heart and soul.”

Spencer and you became friends quite quickly. He told you about his job as a profiler, and you told him about working at the university. He would come over after cases and watch movies with you and Oliver. He’d help you put groceries away and he’d help you with simple tasks.

He also picked up on Oliver’s eccentricities. He reminded Spencer of his younger self. He didn’t talk much about kids at school and he breezed through schoolwork. His interests seemed heightened beyond what could be considered normal for a kid his age. One day, Spencer decided to ask about it as inconspicuously as he could.

The two of you were playing a game of chess when he brought it up.

“So, Oliver seems to be doing pretty well in school. What grade did you say he was in, second?”

“Yeah, the school bumped him up a grade. They wanted me to move him up to fourth, but I know how important it is to have friends your own age. And he already struggles to make friends.”

“He does? Why?”

You sighed, moving your knight. “Check. He was diagnosed as autistic when he was three. He doesn’t quite get social cues so it’s hard for him.”

Spencer moved his bishop and took your knight. “I’m sure his dad leaving didn’t help.”

“Well, he, uh, he never actually met his dad. Leo left me when I was four months pregnant.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

You waved him off. “It’s fine. It was almost seven years ago. I moved on, and I learned to balance motherhood with college. I completed my undergrad when he was only a few months old and I worked on graduate school when he was a high-energy toddler. It just proved to me that I can do anything. Checkmate.”

Spencer was enjoying a rare day off on a Tuesday when his phone started ringing. He groaned, thinking it was Hotch with an urgent case. But when he saw your name on the caller ID, his face lit up.

“(Y/N), hey!” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Ollie’s school just called me. He’s sick but I have classes and meetings all day so I can’t go get him and-”

“Are you asking if I can go get him?” Spencer said, cutting off your rambling.

“Yes! Could you, please? I’d be so so grateful.”

Spencer smiled, grabbing the spare key you gave him. “Of course.”

“Oh, thank you so much. There’s a spare car seat in the coat closet. I’ll call the school and let them know you’ll be picking him up. Thank you so much, Spencer.”

When Spencer got to the school, he was fidgety. He’d never spent time alone with your son before. And he wasn’t even sure if the kid liked him.

He walked into the front office and said, “Hi, my name is Spencer Reid, I’m here to pick up Oliver (L/N)?”

“Oh, (Y/N) said you were coming to get him. If I could just see your ID?” the receptionist asked. Spencer nodded and pulled out his driver’s license. “Great, if you could just sign Oliver out on the clipboard here, you’ll be good to go.”

Spencer scribbled his signature on the clipboard and the receptionist got up to get Oliver from the back office. Oliver followed the receptionist, his backpack on his shoulders and a paper bag clutched in his hands. His face was pale and he was swaying slightly.

“Hey, Ollie,” Spencer said.

“Hi, Spencer. Where’s my mom?”

“She got stuck at work, buddy. You’re gonna stay with me until she comes home, okay?”

Oliver nodded. “Okay.” He followed Spencer out of the school and climbed in the back of his car.

“Do you want me to put the window down?” Spencer offered, looking back at the boy in the mirror. When Oliver nodded, Spencer put his window down and pulled out of the parking lot.

After pulling into the parking garage, Spencer looked in the mirror again. Oliver was fast asleep, his head slumped against the door. Rather than waking the boy, Spencer unbuckled him and scooped him up in his arms.

Oliver wrapped his little, sweaty arms around Spencer’s neck as he was carried inside. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was how much he cared for the boy, but Spencer pressed a small kiss to the side of his head. Spencer dug your spare key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, setting Ollie down on the couch.

After covering him with a blanket, Spencer dug around in your kitchen for some ginger ale and crackers. After setting them on the coffee table, he heard a small voice say, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Spencer noticed Oliver watching him from the couch. He sat on the edge of the coffee table, handing Oliver the soda with a red bendy straw. “What do you mean, bud?”

“I know you like-like my mom. But you’re nice to me even when she’s not here. Matt didn’t do that. He called me names when Mom wasn’t around. He said I was weird.”

Spencer knew Matt was your ex from your time working at the Erie campus of Penn State. He was the first person you’d been with since Oliver’s father. And hearing how he treated Oliver didn’t sit right with Spencer.

Spencer sighed and looked at Oliver. “I’m nice to you because I like you, too. And I was a lot like you when I was your age.”

“You were?” Oliver handed the cup back to Spencer to set back on the table.

Spencer nodded. “People still think I’m weird. But being weird is good. How boring would the world be if everyone was normal?”

Oliver smiled. “It would be pretty boring,” he said.

“Get some rest, okay? It’ll help you feel better.”

You finally managed to sneak out of work and get home. When you opened the door, you saw Spencer sitting in the chair across from your sleeping son, reading a book.

“Hey,” he said in a voice just above a whisper.

“Hey. How is he?”

“He has a low-grade fever and he hasn’t been able to keep anything in his stomach. I’ve been having him nibble on some crackers but even that doesn’t stay down.”

“Oh, my poor boy. Thank you for staying with him.”

“Of course. You know I’d do anything for you, for both of you.”

The team got back from a particularly rough case dealing with kids. Hotch gave them the weekend off to recuperate.

“Anyone want to go grab a drink?” Derek offered to the group.

“Or five?” Emily added.

“What do you say, kid? You in?” Derek asked Spencer as the younger man packed up his bag.

“Oh, no, sorry. I, uh, I have plans,” he said with a smile before slipping out of the office. The team watched him hurry out of the building before sharing glances with each other.

“Spence has a girlfriend,” JJ realized.

“Pretty boy has a girlfriend?”

“Think about it. When does Spencer ever have plans? And when was the last time he didn’t stay to do paperwork when we were given the time off?”

“And he upgraded his phone out of nowhere,” Emily chimed in. “He went from one that had only the bare essentials to a smartphone he texts on all the time.”

“We need to find out who this girl is,” Morgan decided.

Spencer had been keeping you a secret from the team on purpose. Not because he was ashamed of you, or embarrassed, but because he knew the team saw him as the baby and they would be invasive if they ever found out. He didn’t want them to scare you away, he loved you too much to lose you. Though, he hadn’t said it out loud yet.

You and Spencer were walking down the street, Oliver asleep on Spencer’s back, snoring against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around Spencer’s neck.

“You have no idea how excited he is for you to see his science fair project,” you said. “It was all he could talk about all week.”

Spencer smiled and adjusted the boy on his back. “I think I’m just as excited to see his project, especially since he wouldn’t let me know anything about it.”

You reached the apartment complex and you dug your keys out of your bag. “Are you sure you can carry him up the stairs? I can wake him if you want me to.”

“No, it’s fine. I got him,” Spencer whispered, moving so that Oliver was clinging to his front rather than his back. He followed you up the stairs to your apartment. When you unlocked the door, he went straight to Oliver’s room and put the tired boy in his bed. He kissed Ollie’s forehead before flicking on his nightlight and leaving the room.

“Oh, hey,” you said when Spencer came out of the room, “Is he still out?”

“Yeah. I think we might have put him in a coma.”

You laughed and kissed Spencer’s cheek. “Go get some sleep. I know you’re tired, too.”

“I’m not-”

“Spence, you nearly fell asleep at the movies tonight. Go.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go. But not without a kiss goodnight.”

You gave Spencer a kiss before shooing him across the hall. When Spencer unlocked his door and flicked on the light, he saw his team sitting in his living room.

“What the hell? What are you doing here? JJ, I gave you a key for emergencies!”

“This is an emergency!” Penelope said. “You have a girlfriend and you didn’t tell us!”

“Kid, please tell me she’s a single mother and you haven’t been keeping a family a secret from us for years,” said Morgan.

Spencer was still annoyed his friends broke into his apartment, but he couldn’t resist talking about you, especially when they’d already seen you. “Her name’s (Y/N), she moved in about a year ago with her son, Oliver. We’ve been dating for three months.”

“Spence, why didn’t you tell us?” JJ asked.

Spencer looked down at his shoes, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “I didn’t want you scaring her off. I love her. I love both of them. And you guys can be intimidating.”

“Spencer’s coming to the science fair tonight, right?” Oliver asked you as you got him ready for school.

“That’s what he said,” you told him. “And you know Spencer likes to keep his promises.”

“I can’t wait to show him my mold project!”

“Okay, kiddo, we have to go. We don’t want to be late, do we?”

Meanwhile, Spencer was in the conference room at work, worrying about the latest case they’ve been presented. Someone was releasing a new strain of anthrax in public places around the DC area.

But under his stress over the case, he was worrying about you and Ollie. Maybe that’s why he worked so much harder on this one.

He and Morgan were sent to the suspect’s house, and Spencer entered first. Looking around, he noticed his mistake. When Morgan made his way to the door, he slammed and locked the door.

“Reid, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer was infected. He knew there was a large chance he would die, but he couldn’t stop working. He needed to find the antidote. HIs breathing was getting heavier and he felt sweat dripping down his face. He pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Hey, Garcia?”

“Reid! Oh, my god, Derek told me what happened. How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“That’s not important right now,” he said. “Um, can you- can you record a message for me? It’s for (Y/N) and Ollie.”

“Oh, uh, of course.” He heard her typing. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Spencer cleared the lump in his throat. “Uh, hi, (Y/N), it’s Spencer. Um, I-I wanted to let you know that, uh, I love you and…” he paused, taking a breath and blinking tears from his eyes, “and I’m so happy you let me into your life, into your family. And I want Ollie to know I love him, too. You- both of you- you’re my family.”

After that, things happened too fast. Spencer was being pulled out of the house and hosed down before being ushered to the waiting ambulance. He fell out of consciousness on the ride to the hospital.

When he woke up in a hospital bed, Morgan was sitting by his side.

“Are you eating Jell-O?” he asked, his voice cracking from being dry.

Morgan lit up with a smile. “Welcome back, kid.”

“Is there anymore Jell-O?”

Morgan chuckled. “You know, there’s some people here waiting for you.”

“What?”

Before Morgan could explain, you and Oliver burst into the room.

“Oh, my god, Spence!” You ran over and hugged him the best you could with the various medical equipment attached to him. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” you scolded.

Oliver climbed onto the bed and curled up next to Spencer. “Yeah, don’t do that again,” he said. “How can I take you to Donuts with Dad if you’re dead?” He looked up at Spencer with his big doe-eyes and Spencer felt his heart break a little bit.

“You-you want me to go to Donuts with Dad with you? Even though I missed your science fair?”

Ollie nodded. “I don’t care that you missed my science fair. I just care that you’re still here.” He looked up and Spencer and wrapped his arms around his torso. “I love you, Spencer.” He gave Spencer a light squeeze.

Spencer smiled and ruffled his hair. “I love you too, Ollie.” He looked up at you. “And I love you, (Y/N).”

You smiled and gave Spencer a soft kiss.

“Ewww!” Ollie squealed, making you both laugh.

Spencer proposed to you about a year later. You’d both decided you didn’t want a huge wedding, just family and close friends. Rossi gave his backyard for you to use for the ceremony. It was simple and small, but it was special and wonderful. Spencer had flown Diana out, and you’d flown your parents out.

After the ceremony, Spencer announced that the both of you had a surprise for Ollie. He went inside Rossi’s house and returned with a manila envelope. He cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, in this envelope, I hold the most important document I have ever signed.” He opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. He cleared his throat. “This certificate certifies that Oliver B. (L/N) is the adopted child of Spencer W. Reid,” he read.

Oliver’s jaw dropped. “What? You’re- what?”

“Remember all those Saturdays Penelope watched you while Spencer and I went out? This is what we were doing,” you told him.

Oliver ran over to you and Spencer and wrapped you in hugs. The rest of Spencer’s team and your parents joined in. In just two years, your family had gone from just you and your son to more people than you knew what to do with. And that was more than okay with you.

“They may not have my eyes, they may not have my smile, but they have all my heart.” -Anonymous

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #x reader #em's fics

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tobesolonely · 3 years

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it’s not christmas ‘til you come home

a/n: hello!! please enjoy this piece from my dad!harry universe! (u dont have to read any of them for it to make sense, but it would be cool if u did! loosely based on it’s not christmas ‘til you come home by norah jones <3 hope you enjoy! thank u to @harryysstyless for beta reading for me!! happy holidays everyone :)

warnings: SMUT, a bit of angst <3 word count: ~5.1k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

December 23rd, 2:00 PM

For as long as you and Harry have been in a relationship, you’ve never not spent a Christmas together.

Before expanding your family, you and he used to hop from party to party every Christmas Eve. Both of you would be absolutely trashed by the time Harry’s driver would drop you off at his house in the early hours of the morning. You’d sleep in until approximately noon, willing your hangovers to go away before finally making it down the stairs and into the kitchen to prepare two steaming cups of coffee. The two of you would then make your way into the living room and exchange gifts (where Harry always went way over the budget you’d set).

Once you had your first child, Allison, your yearly tradition of party hopping and getting so drunk you could hardly put one foot in front of the other was no more. Instead, you and Harry opted for calm nights in, watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa until she eventually grew tired and got carried up to bed. You would wait an hour or so before springing into action, playing Santa and setting out all of the gifts she asked for and then some. Harry never forgot to take a big bite out of the cookie and carrot left out for Santa and his reindeer.

This tradition stayed the same once your second baby, Oliver, was born. Even though he was too young to know what was going on, Harry was still excited to spoil him rotten this year as it was his first Christmas. However, given the current state of the world, you were afraid Harry would not be here for the first time ever.

“Mumma, when’s daddy coming home?” your six-year-old, Ally, asked for what had to be the seventh time that afternoon. “I made him a drawing for his gift ‘nd I can’t wait for him to see it!”

“Let me see what you drew for Daddy, love bug,” you say cheerily, purposefully glossing over her question. Ally proudly holds her drawing up next to her face. She looks up at you with wide eyes, awaiting a compliment from you.

“That’s gorgeous, bug! Daddy’s gonna love it,” you inform her. “Maybe you can stick a lil’ bow on it and set it under the tree for him, hmm?”

“Good idea, Mumma!” Ally runs to the box where you kept all the supplies for gift wrapping, digging around for a pink bow to stick on the corner of her drawing.

While she’s preoccupied with finding the perfect bow to place on her drawing for Harry, you take a quick glance at your phone. He still hadn’t gotten back to you since last night’s quick conversation when he very briefly mentioned he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it home.

He was filming in Los Angeles. You shared your uncertainties about him going before he departed but in the end, this was an opportunity you didn’t want him to miss out on. You read the Los Angeles Times free articles on your phone daily, keeping track of the state of the pandemic in Southern California. You knew it was much worse there than it was at home in London. You feared what you were afraid of was sadly bound to happen— Harry may get stuck in LA.

You didn’t want to say anything to your curious daughter because communication with him had been so sparse. You didn’t know anything for certain yet. But what were you supposed to think? You knew flying nationally wasn’t a good idea at the moment, never mind internationally.

“Hey bug, d’ya think you can watch your brother for a moment? Mumma’s gotta go make a phone call.”

You hear your daughter let out a slightly irritated sigh. “I suppose I can, Mumma.” Ally responds with a voice laced with exasperation. You chuckle slightly under your breath at your overly dramatic (much like her dad) six-year-old and head into the kitchen, quickly dialing your husband’s familiar number.

“Hello?”

You let out a sigh of relief upon hearing Harry’s low, hoarse voice.

“Hi, honey. Just checkin’ in to see how things are going…” you hear shuffling on his end. “It’s December 23rd, you know.”

“I know, love.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Six in tha’ mornin’ here.”

“I’m sorry, H. S’just Allison keeps on askin’ when you’ll be home and ‘m just so worried you won’t make it home on time and you’ll miss Oliver’s first Christmas—“

“Darling,” Harry interrupts your anxiety-fueled ramble. “‘M gonna make it home. Have I ever not been there when I said I would?”

“No,” you say quietly. “I’m just worried, Harry. I hear traveling is going to get very strict because they’re trying to prevent people from going anywhere for Christmas…”

“Fine, then I’ll get my own plane with jus’ me and a pilot. Wear a mask the entire time and whatnot. Yanno I can make that happen if it’s necessary, pet.”

Harry’s calm demeanor about the whole situation brings you a bit of peace. Perhaps you were catastrophizing something that wasn’t as big of a deal as you thought it was a mere two minutes ago. If he wasn’t worried about not making it home, you didn’t see any reason to stress about it— not for one second longer.

“Okay then,” you reply, still a bit wary of his travel plans. “What shall I tell your daughter? She’s drivin’ me up the walls asking where you are every twenty minutes.”

Your husband lets out a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. “Tell her not to eat up all the Christmas cookies before I get a taste of one.”

December 24th, 8:45 AM

Part of you was hoping you’d wake up on Christmas Eve and Harry would be tucked into bed next to you, plump lips parted, the sound of his snores the only noise in the room. However, you were a rational woman, if nothing else. You knew he wouldn’t be by your side when you woke up.

You make your way down the hall and peek inside your son’s room. He was fast asleep, plump thumb in his mouth. You smile at your sleeping baby and gently close the door behind you, deciding to let him sleep in a bit longer before waking him up to feed him.

Next, you walk to your daughter's room, gently pushing open the door in case she was still sleeping. Instead, you find her sat at her desk, deeply focused on what appeared to be another drawing.

“Good morning, lovebug,” you greet your daughter in a sing-songy voice. “You’re up early. What are you working on?”

“Makin’ a letter for Santa,” she replies, not bothering to look up from what she was doing.

“A letter for Santa?” You start racking your brain for anything you and Harry could’ve possibly forgotten to get for Ally, but you finished your Christmas shopping for your children way back in November.

“Yes,” she answers matter-of-factly. “‘M askin’ him to make sure my Daddy is home by tonight so we can eat cookies together and watch Toy Story, Mumma.”

“I’m sure Santa will make that happen for you,” you reassure her. “You’ve been a very good girl this year, been so helpful with Olly and doin’ so well in school. The least Santa can do is get you whatever you want.” You see her smile as she digs around in her crayon box.

“Can we wait ‘til Daddy gets home to make Santa’s cookies, Mumma?”

“Sure we can, bug,” Ally claps her hands together excitedly, bouncing around in her tiny chair. “Gonna go make some pancakes, does that sound yummy?”

“Can we have chocolate chip pancakes please?”

“Are you askin’ me that because your dad isn’t here to throw a fit about it?” You give her a knowing smile, causing her to giggle.

“Maaaaybe…” Your daughter turns to face you, swinging her legs back and forth.

“If I make your chocolate chip pancakes, you can’t tell your dad. Deal?” You hold up your pinky. Ally gets up and runs to you and you bend down slightly so she can link her finger with yours.

“I pinky promise, Mumma!”

“Our little secret, yeah?” she nods. “Keep an ear out for your brother for me, bug. I’ll be downstairs.”

December 24th, 3:00 PM

“Love? ‘M afraid I got some bad news...”

As soon as Harry’s voice comes through on the other line, you can tell whatever news he’s about to share with you won’t be what you’re wanting to hear.

“What is it?”

It’s silent for what feels like entirely too long. You get up from your position on the couch next to Ally, telling her you’ll be right back. After breakfast, she convinced you to watch Toy Story with her, which quickly turned into a whole Disney movie marathon.

“Not so sure I’ll be able to make it home.”

You’re not sure if it’s his calm tone that bothers you, the fact that you didn’t want him to go to Los Angeles in the first place, or simply the fact that you and your children missed him terribly and haven’t seen him in nearly a month–– but your mood changes from relaxed to undeniably outraged in three seconds flat.

“You’re kidding.” Your tone is sharp, venomous. Harry once again takes a moment before responding, knowing that the current tone of your voice means he’d best proceed with caution.

“‘M not, love. I woke up early and everything to try and get this sorted out, it’s 7 AM so I was gonna try and catch an early flight––”

“I told you I didn’t want you going to LA,” you cut him off, voice rising slightly. “You knew how bad the pandemic was getting there. I told you this would happen.”

“What do you suppose I do then, Y/N?” His tone is becoming equally as sharp. “Y’want me to tell ‘em, “Sorry, I don’t give a fuck about the travel restrictions. My wife wants me home so let's make it happen!” ‘S that what you want me to do?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Harry,” you spit. “I’ll give the phone to your daughter and you can tell her you won’t be home in time for Christmas, then.”

“Y/N…” his tone is calm again. Fearful. “Don’t make me do that.”

“She woke up early to write a letter to Santa to tell him she wants you home by tonight, Harry,” your tone softens as well. “Even Olly has been asking for you. Swear his new favorite word is ‘dada’.” He laughs at this as do you, and the shared tension that was present just minutes ago dissipates.

“Just… lemme try a few more things before I tell her, yeah?”

“Harry, it’s already three here,” you gently remind him. “Even if you do make it home today, she’ll be asleep by the time you’re home. I think you just need to tell her.”

Your husband sighs, knowing you were undeniably correct. “Alright. Give Allison the phone, please.”

December 24th, 8 PM

“Almost time for you to head to bed soon, yeah Allybug?” Your daughter lets out a loud sigh in response, not shifting her gaze from the television to you. Ever since Harry told her he wouldn’t be home in time to eat cookies with her, she’s hardly said a word. She’s never experienced a Christmas Eve without her father so understandably, she was missing him tonight.

You shift Olly, who was falling asleep nursing on your lap, into a different position so you could face your daughter directly. From your new position, you can see just how tired she looks.

“‘M not sleepy, Mumma. Gonna stay up and wait for Daddy,” she informs you of her new plans. “When Daddy is home that’s when it’s time for bed.”

“Ally, remember what Daddy told you on the phone earlier? Santa won’t come unless you go to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she’s quickly starting to grow upset. “Not until Daddy tucks me in!”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue with your headstrong daughter when your son was so close to drifting off into his nightly milk coma. Turning your attention back to the movie that was quietly playing on the television, you decide to drop it for now and try again later.

December 24th, 9:05 PM

Not more than an hour later, Olly is upstairs in his crib fast asleep whilst Ally is still laying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, fighting sleep. She was determined to stay up until her father walked through the front door, and you knew getting her to agree to go to bed was going to be a battle and a half.

“You’re not ready to go to bed yet, Ally?” Her eyes fly open once she hears you addressing her.

“Not yet, Mumma. ‘M not sleepy yet.” Her words are a little slurred due to the exhausted state she was in. You hum in response.

“Could’ve sworn your eyes just shut for a minute there,” you pause for a second to see if she’ll look your way. “Must’ve just been my old lady eyes playin’ tricks on me, y’think?”

“I wasn’t sleeping!” She immediately defends herself, frown lines indenting her forehead. “Can we drink more hot chocolate?”

You knew if you wanted your daughter to fall asleep within the hour, another sugar rush wasn’t the best idea. You instead offer her a hot cup of sleepytime tea and she excitedly agrees once you tell her it’s her father’s favorite type of tea to drink at bedtime. You place her down on the kitchen counter while you fill the kettle and wait for it to whistle.

“What are you looking forward to the most from Santa, bug?”

Her eyes light up at your question. “Well, I really want a new bike! ‘Member Mumma? How I asked him for a pink bike? And I also want a cool swing set! Since we haven’t been able to go to the park in so long,” her smile falters and she looks down at her dangling feet. “I want Daddy to come home the mostest, though.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to break in two upon hearing your daughter admit that Harry being home would be the greatest gift of all. “So do I, lovebug. He’ll be here in the mornin’ to watch you and your brother open all the gifts Santa got you though, don’t you worry.”

For everyone’s sake, you hoped that was true.

December 24th, 11:50 PM

Sleep wasn’t coming easy.

You finally got your daughter to bed at around ten o’clock and waited thirty minutes before laying out your children’s gifts. It took much longer than it usually did considering you had to do it all on your own. Harry was usually the one to quickly assemble the larger toys while you laid everything out around the living room.

Despite it taking longer than desired, you were proud that you got it all done without waking your children up. Consequently, that meant you were now left all alone with your thoughts considering you had no more tasks to occupy yourself with.

You kept contemplating calling Harry, but you weren’t sure if he was busy on set or not. Surely he was immersing himself in work to distract himself from the fact he would not be spending Christmas with his family.

Deciding you may need a cup of the sleepytime tea you offered Allison earlier, you quietly get out of bed and open your door, sock-clad feet padding softly against the wooden floors. It’s unnervingly silent in your home–– the tea kettle coming to a boil being the only source of noise. You keep unlocking and re-locking your phone, finally deciding to call your husband to see how he’s spending his day. It goes to automatic voicemail.

You assume the reason for this must be that he’s busy filming on set and set your phone down with a sigh, standing on your tiptoes to retrieve a mug from the cabinet. You mutter a slew of curse words under your breath intended for Harry who always puts the mugs up far too high even though you tell him not to.

Right as you begin pouring the now boiling water into your teacup, the faint jingling of your front door causes you to startle so badly that you nearly drop the kettle on the ground. You try to think back to everything Harry ever told you to do in the event of an intruder but your mind goes blank from fright. Deciding to use the scalding water as your weapon, you slowly creep towards the door, your only plan being to fling the water on whoever it was as soon as they got the door open. As soon as you hear the lock click, you flick the lid open that covers the spout and draw your arm back.

“Shit––”

“Harry?”

Your husband jumps slightly, his eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to adjust to the dark living room. You reach beside him and quickly turn on the light, shakily letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He looks exhausted, his hair is an absolute mess, and his eyes are red from sleep deprivation–– but he’s home. You set the tea kettle down on the coffee table and fling yourself into his arms, breathing in the scent of the man you haven’t seen in a month. He drops his bags at his feet so he can properly embrace you, pulling you into him.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays like that for a moment saying nothing, just breathing you in. “Missed ya so fuckin’ much.

“How? I thought…” you trail off. “You said that they said…”

Harry laughs quietly. “Remember what I told ya? I said to ‘em, ‘Don’t give a fuck about your travel restrictions! M’wife wants me home.’” You laugh at him, knowing he was far too kind to talk to anyone that way.

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically. You pull him in for another hug, placing wet kisses along his jawline. “I’m so happy you’re home. The kids are gonna be over the moon, especially Allison.” Harry hums, surveying the room.

“Looks like you did a good job in here, Mrs. Claus. See ya even assembled some toys all by yourself,” he quirks an eyebrow. “Were you jus’ pretendin’ not to know how to do it all these years so I’d be stuck with all the hard labor?”

“Maybe.”

He pulls you back into him, tickling your sides. “My sneaky girl,” he bends down so his lips are level with your neck and sucks gently, causing you to let out a quiet moan. You see his eyes land on the tea kettle that was sitting forgotten on the coffee table. “Making a cuppa? Can I have one? ‘M freezin’.”

“I can think of something else we can do to get you warmed up,” you reach for his hands, interlocking his fingers with yours. “If you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“Hmm…” Harry releases one of his hands from your grip and taps at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Not too sure I can say I know what you’re sayin’. Maybe you should just tell me?”

You frown. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Y’know I’d give you the entire world if you asked me for it. All you gotta do is tell me what you want from me and it’s yours–– ‘m sure you’ve known that since the first day we met, though.” Harry takes a step back, crossing his arms across his chest. Even in his thick winter coat, you can see the way his biceps flex, and it makes you even more feral for him.

“Fine,” you say quietly, feeling yourself start to grow shy under his intense gaze. “I’m kinda... in the mood.” You say it so softly that it would most likely be inaudible to Harry if he wasn’t standing mere inches away from you. Harry throws his head back in laughter and you quickly shush him, not wanting any of your children to wake up.

“In the mood? C’mon, pet,” he uncrosses his arms and reaches for one of your hands. “Tha’s not tellin’ me what you want from me. Tell me exactly what you want, lovie.”

“You know what I want, H,” you tell him with a hint of annoyance in your voice. “It’s been a month. Yanno I want you to fuck me, why are you makin’ me say it?”

Harry gives you a shit-eating grin. “You jus’ said it. I didn’t make you say anything.”

You roll your eyes at his immaturity, already in the process of lifting your nightshirt (one of his old t-shirts that’s become just a little too tight on him) over your head. “Are we gonna get to it or not? Because if not, I’ll just go back to makin’ myself some tea and call it a night––”

Harry takes half a step towards you and reaches up to cup your face, colliding his lips with yours. His lips are a little chapped and taste of his favorite rose lip balm. You feel your body relaxing into the kiss, knees going weak as he walks you back onto the couch.

“You’ve been eatin’ up all the sugar cookies, haven’t you? Can taste it on ya. Thought those were for Santa,” he’s pulled away from you to examine your face. “A bit naughty of you, wouldn’t ya say?”

“Please stop referring to yourself as Santa when we’re about to have sex, Harry.”

“You’re not bein’ very kind to the person that’s about to go down on you, are you?” He sucks harshly on the valley between your breasts, wanting to be sure a deep-colored bruise will appear on your skin later. “That’s okay. It is Christmas, after all. ‘M in a giving mood.”

“Stop talking and get to it then.”

Harry slides off the couch and onto his knees in between your legs, gently kissing your thighs. “Cute pair of undies–– s’like you knew I was comin’ home tonight.” Before you can respond Harry’s fingers are tugging at the waistband of your underwear, eager to get them off of you. He presses light kisses to your core, mumbling about how much he missed the smell of you and how sweet you tasted.

One hand is resting across your stomach while the other one is in between your folds, spreading you open. You try squeezing your thighs around his head, overwhelmed by the feeling of your husband’s lips around your clit after being away from him for so long, but he removes his hand from your stomach and pushes your thighs back apart.

“Feels so good,” you’re breathless, tangling your fingers in Harry’s hair as his hollowed cheeks begin to suck more roughly on your clit. “Missed you so much. Missed this–– us.”

Harry pauses momentarily to look up at you. “I know, angel. God, do I know.” He attaches his lips back on you, swirling his tongue around your clit as you choke back your moans. The hand that is holding you open moves down to toy at your slit as he wordlessly checks to see if you’re okay with his fingers being in you.

“Please,” you say softly, encouraging his next move. He spits on his index and pointer finger before slowly sliding both of them in you, immediately curling them up. “Oh, Harry. Fuckin’ love when you do tha’...”

“Know you do,” His response is curt, simple. He’s focused on the task at hand–– getting you off. He uses the hand that’s lying across your stomach to rub tight circles on your clit, sensing you’re nearing your orgasm from the way you’re starting to clench around him. “Such a good girl fo’ me, darlin’. Gonna make a mess on my fingers in a second, aren’t you?”

You nod as you try to control your breathing and the loudness of your moans. The last thing you wanted was for your daughter to come down to inspect the source of the noise. “Fuck, Harry.”

“Come on, darlin’,” he gently pinches your clit, causing your body to jolt at the sensation. “Gimme a good one. A lil’ welcome back gift for me, hmm?”

Your hips are bucking up to the rhythm of his fingers slipping in and out of you as your orgasm quickly approaches. “Har, I’m close…” it comes out sounding more like a warning than a statement. He moves the two fingers he has inside of you in a back and forth motion, coaxing your first orgasm out of you.

“Tha’s my girl,” he whispers, not stopping his movements even as your back arches as your first orgasm rolls over you like a giant wave. “Givin’ me a good one jus’ like I knew you would. Jus’ like you always do. M’ sweet girl.” As you’re starting to still, Harry pulls his fingers out of you and holds them up to your mouth, instructing you to suck them clean.

You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can properly lean in to steal a kiss from him and notice a rather sizable tent has formed in his pants. Harry gives you a sheepish grin as he palms himself, hissing from the feel of his palm against his cock.

“Want me to do somethin’ about that?” You scoot over on the couch and pat the spot next to you, signaling for your husband to sit beside you. He lifts himself from his seated position, stretching his legs out a bit before plopping down beside you.

“Are you offerin’ me a blowie?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Can we skip that an’ you can jus’ ride me instead? Think I’d quite like that.”

“Oh you would, would ya?”

Harry nods and unzips his pants, taking himself out. He licks his hand and gives himself a few pumps. “Still on birth control, I’m assuming?”

You roll your eyes as you move to straddle him. “Only been gone for a month, Harry. Of course ‘m still on it, you goof.”

“Can never be too careful. I don’t think now’s a good time for another lil’ one, do you? Think we should at least celebrate Oliver’s first birthday before we try for another one.” His hands are on his hips as he lines you up over his cock, helping you slowly sink down. You missed the burn of him which was even more intense than it usually was considering it’s been a while since he’s taken you.

“I think you’re right,” you reply. You rest your head on his shoulder while you adjust to the size of him, needing to take a moment to yourself before attempting to move. After a short adjustment period you begin rolling your hips, grinding against him in a way that was also bringing pleasure to your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your last orgasm.

Harry’s eyes are fixated on the way your breasts bounce in front of him, the way your stomach slightly jiggles each time you crash back down onto him. His lips are caught in between his teeth; you’re hoping he doesn’t break any skin so you don’t have to hear him whine about how badly the bruise hurts him later.

“Ridin’ me like your life depends on it,” Harry mutters. “Fuckin’ love takin’ you like this, angel. So fuckin’ deep.”

You simply hum in agreement, brain far too foggy to form a coherent sentence. Harry notices your movements starting to become smaller, lazier, so he puts his hands on your hips and decides to take over. He’s thrusting up into you like you’ll up and run away from him if he doesn’t give it his all. He cups your face with one hand and gently guides you towards him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

“Fuck, H,” your eyes are squeezed shut and your wrap your arms around his neck, feeling your second orgasm quickly approaching. “Rub my clit please, almost there.”

Harry’s fingers immediately come down to rub at your slick nub, not faltering his relentless pace in the slightest. “Clench around me again, lovie,” his voice is higher than usual, whiny, and you know your husband is just as close as you are. “Love when you do tha’, jus’ need you to do it one more time.”

You do as he wishes once more, knowing once he cums you’ll be directly behind him. Harry lets out a string of expletives as he releases inside of you, pulling you tightly against his chest as he rides out his orgasm. You continue riding him, not slowly down as you chase your own release next.

“Harry,” you’re in a trance-like state, chanting his name over and over as you bring yourself over the edge. “Harry, fuck!”

“That’s my good girl,” he says quietly, rubbing your back as you rest your head on his shoulder while you catch your breath. You feel him beginning to soften inside of you so you lift yourself off and lay back on the couch, legs still shaking. It’s quiet for a couple of minutes as the two of you reveal in the afterglow of your orgasms, Harry gently running his fingers along your leg.

“Round two in the shower?”

December 25th, 6:42 AM

“Mumma! Santa came and he left lots of toys–– Daddy?”

Harry lets out a dramatic “oof!” as Ally jumps onto him, pulling the covers back. Her eyes are wide and she giggles are Harry pulls her into one of his infamous bear hugs, placing kisses all over his face.

“Mornin’, love bug! What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“It’s Christmas, Daddy! Santa came!” she sits back on her feet, a confused look on her face. “Did Santa bring you on his sleigh last night after me ‘n Olly went to bed?”

“Y’know what? He told me to keep it a secret, but he did,” Allison gasps in response to his news as she processes it, placing a little hand over her mouth. Harry sits up and gets out of bed, scooping her up in the process. “How ‘bout we go make Mum a cuppa before we see what Santa got for you and Olly? Tha’ sound good? Let’s let them sleep for a while longer, hmm?”

As you hear them exit the room you take a second to reflect on how lucky you are to spend another Christmas with you beautiful family before drifting back off into a deep, albeit short, sleep.

#harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #its not christmas til you come home #thanks for reading!

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aliteama · 3 years

Note

hellooo!! can i request the second years(maki, yuuta, toge and panda) finding out second year!reader skates? i'm completely fine if you don't want to (*´ω｀*)

just don't overwork urself :3

♡Headcanons♡

Finding out you skate

Zenin Maki

♡ Probably finds a wheel or bolt lying around then finds the unfinished setup from there. Looks for your tools and practically builds the board herself! She’s just so proud that she forgets to mention ‘hey I found your skateboard’ and instead takes it to the track to learn to push. When you finally track her down she’ll definitely be scratched up from trying to do tricks she doesn’t know the mechanics to.

♡ Maki thinks it is so cool you know how to skate but thinks it’ll be even cooler if the two of you skate together. Steals your board but offers to go with you to get you a new one from the kindness of her heart. Falls in love with the shops, can't peel her eyes off the racks of jackets and the array of shoes, leans over the glass and points at all the trucks (she picks out pure silver ones for you.) Even runs her fingers over the grip and helps cut it to size.

♡ A fast learner, in a month she’s got her ollie down and knows how to manuel. She has a helmet but never wears it because she doesn’t like how it tugs at her hair or how the sides squeeze her glasses. She’s so funny- when she pops her tail she puts too much pressure and the board thwacks her in the knee.

♡ Really competitive ?? Always wants to race you and if you’re ever ahead of her then she’ll swerve to your side and push on your back to make you speed up to the point you either have to power slide or bail. She’ll grumble out an apology after and help put bandages on your palms, but if you make some smart comment about how she fell too then she’ll slap your aching hands with all her strength.

Inumaki Toge

♡ He treats it like some big secret you’ve been hiding from him- absolutely shell shocked when you push past him. Very ‘if you can do it, I can do it too’ and insists you teach him. He eats it a good handful of time from overconfidence and thinking speed=balance. Oddly stiff? Doesn’t bend his knees or reposition his feet after kicking, definitely rides goofy and does tic tacs to turn.

♡ Hold his hand !! Leans back way too much because he’s so focused on standing on the bolts. Holds onto your forearms and shakes the board under his feet, if he falls you're going down with him. Likes to grab the board from the trucks and swing it around, he can caveman so give him that much. Youtubes all these quick tutorials to try and master a trick you don't know yet so he can impress you.

♡ I don’t see him getting a board himself but instead stealing yours like Maki did, he won’t even try to replace it because sharing is caring. The two of you can share until the grip is worn and you're forced to buy a new one because he thought washing it with soap would clean it up… no..

♡ It's a rough learning patch but he’s more of a visual learner anyways, could sit and watch you skate around all evening before giving you a “salmon” and making grabby hands so you could hand him the board.

Okkotsu Yuuta

♡ There’s no big reaction from this one, he just kind of smiles sheepishly and waves his hand around with a ‘wooo’ when you land a trick. Wants to learn but when he went to the dorms that night to search for tutorials all he saw were news articles on top 10 worst skating injuries and decided maybe it wasn't for him. If you didnt wear a helmet before then you definitely do now.

♡ He actually has those loose laced converse with the thick rubber perfect for grip but he won’t ruin them- It’s such a waste. He’ll stand on the board then laugh when you try to push him and snake an arm over your shoulder so he can step off. What he will do though is place the board down with his hands and sit on the tape so he can roll back and forth.

♡ Has a whole album in his camera roll filled with videos and pictures of you skating, and yes he most definitely has gotten some of you falling which he said he deleted but really didnt. There's these moments when you’ll pick up speed or pop the board just enough to get some air and he’ll go ‘woah’ and suddenly want to try it too.

♡ Encourage him !! He’s so worried about ruining your grip or giving you wheel bite or rusting your trucks (he googled all of this) that he won’t even go near your setup. Likes to look online at all the parts but never hits buy because he’s nervous about getting the wrong stuff and asking you for help. Please I bet the first deck he ever got was something under an 8’’

♡ When he finally stands on the board long enough to focus his balance then he’ll get confident. Fast Forward a good amount of time and he surprisingly gets into all these weird combos that need a lot of pop. It definitely becomes an interest he didn't think he’d have.

Panda

♡ Panda thinks it’s a cool but not very practical pastime, he just doesn’t really get the point of it. Has bare minimum knowledge on skateboarding so won’t really go out of his way like the others to make it a common interest but he would start to memorize what the tricks are called or the pieces to a board.

♡ Sit’s under the shade and just kinda watches you cruise, sometimes if he’s feeling like annoying someone then he’ll lay in the middle of your path and go “ollie over me.” Likes to hold your board over his head and spin the wheels for fun, if you have wheel bite he will not shut up about telling you to just get a new deck.

♡ If you somehow convince him to get on the board it will break under his weight- it’ll snap in half. But pros are if you have an old board then he can snap if for you easy peasy. He doesn’t like how the grip feels anyways, says his fur catches on it and it’s too itchy. He’ll be a cheerleader though but there’s no promise he won’t laugh when you fall.

#Headcanons #jjkmag #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #maki zenin x reader #inumaki x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #inumaki to/ge #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: one allusion to sex

A/N: me and @samuel-de-champagne-problems are doing a 500 follower co-celebration that you can find here! we would love to hear from you <3

Masterlist

Chapter 34

You came down the stairs in the morning to see Spencer staring out the window of the sun room.

He occasionally sketched something in his journal, poking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, before glancing up again.

“What’s up, love?” you asked him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind so you could peek into his journal full of sketches.

“I want to build a treehouse for Jo to use and the twins eventually. Maybe even grandkids,” Spencer smiled softly.

“I like that idea but please tell me you are having someone help you. I don’t want you up on a ladder by yourself,” you warned him.

“Derek was more than happy to help,” he kissed the top of your head.

“I’ve got to go to Lowe’s to get the wood planks. Do you want to come too or I can bring all the kids with me?”

“I am not going to miss alpha-male Spence,” you bit your lip, “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“I’ll get the kids up if you make coffee,” he bargained.

“Deal,” you gave him a quick peck before sending him up the stairs.

Spencer came back downstairs with the two twins in the double carrier and Jo holding his hand. He was dressed in jeans with a measuring tape hooked to his belt and the leather brown doc martens you bought him on his feet.

“I was not expecting to be this turned on at 8 in the morning,” you whispered to him with a giggle which caused him to blush.

“Can we get donuts on the way, Mommy?” Jo asked.

“Of course, Baby J. Let’s go.”

You had Ollie and Ophelia in their portable car seats in the shopping cart while you and Jo were eating your donut munchkins and watching amusedly as Spencer pretended to know what he was doing.

“It’s okay to ask for help, love,” you reminded him.

“Fine,” he huffed, “Let me go get an employee. I have all the practical knowledge of how this should work but believe it or not, I was never a big handyman. I would just call my landlord when something broke.”

After getting the wood situation settled, Spencer brought Jo to the paint swatch section.

“Princess, you can pick any color you want for me and Uncle Derek to paint the tree house,” Spencer told her.

Jo took her time, carefully examining each swatch and considering her options before deciding on a pale lavender.

“Excellent choice,” Spencer smiled, kissing her cheek, “You got your love of purple from me.”

“I’ve got it!” Jo announced at the knock at the door.

“Jo!” Derek smiled as she opened the door.

“Uncle Derek!” she jumped into his arms.

“Long time, no see, kiddo. You’re growing so fast.”

You walked into the entry way with Ollie and Ophelia in your arms.

“Spence is already out back. Please be careful, you two. I don’t want to drive to the hospital today,” you cautioned.

“I’ll be out in just a second. I need to see my two godbabies first,” Derek extended his arms, taking Ollie from you and giving him little kisses on the cheek before doing the same to Ophelia.

“They still keeping you up at night?” Derek asked.

“Not as much nowadays, it’s a little harder with twins because as soon as one cries, the other follows. But Spencer always insists on getting up so I really can’t complain,” you smiled.

“Alright, I’ll head out there and get to work so Jo can have her new treehouse as soon as possible,” Derek waved.

“Hey, man,” Derek greeted Spencer as he walked outside.

Spencer looked up from his journal, “Oh, hey! I have got some preliminary blueprints sketched out that you can take a look at. Thank you so much for your help today. I really appreciate it and the kids will too.”

“Of course. You know things between me and Savannah are getting pretty serious so maybe my kid will be playing up there one day too,” Derek smiled.

“That’s so great to hear, Morgan.”

“I have you to thank for that. Seeing this life that you created outside the BAU inspired me. It made me realize I want more than to be a travelling single man my whole life,” Derek stated.

“I’m happy you’ve found someone you can see yourself settling down with,” Spencer smiled, “You and Savannah are welcome over any time for dinner.”

“When did you know Y/N was the one?” Derek asked.

Spencer couldn’t believe the Derek Morgan was asking him for girl advice. But then, he remembered he had everything. He had managed to win over his dream girl. His soulmate. His everything.

“The first time she laughed at an awful joke I made. I just knew from that moment on, I wanted to hear it over and over again and I would do everything in my power to keep that smile on her beautiful face,” Spencer admitted.

The sliding glass door of the sun room opened.

“Sorry to interrupt but Jo and I just made some fresh lemonade and I don’t want you guys to get dehydrated out here,” you said as you placed the pitcher and cups down on the table, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Spencer’s lovesick gaze was laser-focused on you.

“I asked him when he knew you were the one,” Derek informed you.

“Oh,” you smiled softly, reminiscing, “For me, it was on our first date when he held every single door for me and would even run ahead to make sure it was open. I knew I had found myself the perfect gentleman.”

You gave him a quick peck before heading back inside.

You woke up already crying. You cuddled further into Spencer’s chest as you teared up.

“I don’t want to go. Please, Spence, I want to stay home with you and the kids,” you sobbed.

“Love, remember, I asked you last week if you wanted to go back or if you wanted me to find a job instead and do you remember what you said?” Spencer cupped your chin and gently forced you to look up at him.

“I love teaching,” you sniffled.

“I completely understand if you change your mind but I think you should give it at least a day.”

“No, you’re right,” you kissed him before getting up and heading to the bathroom to get ready, “Besides, it’s spring so before you know it, the semester will be over and I’ll have all summer with you and the kids.”

“That’s my girl,” Spencer smiled.

“Okay bye, my beautiful babies,” you kissed Ophelia and Ollie’s heads, “Be good for Daddy while Jo and I are gone.”

“I will text you pictures of them every hour on the hour and you can facetime us at lunch if you want,” Spencer assured you, giving you a goodbye kiss.

“Ready, Jo?” you asked, extending your hand for her to grasp on to.

“Yes, Mommy,” she grabbed your hand.

“Have fun at school and work!” Spencer called out, crouching down and moving Ophelia and Ollie’s little arms as if they were waving goodbye.

Your day had gone as well as could be expected. You felt like eventually you would be able to adjust back to your regular work schedule. Spencer’s constant texts throughout the day and the multiple framed family photos that he got you for your office desk definitely helped.

You got home, setting your keys and bag down on the counter next to a takeout bag. Of course, Spencer got you takeout from your favorite restaurant on your first day back because he’s just that sweet.

You hadn’t heard any noise from within the house since you got home so you headed out to the back porch.

You saw Spencer in a hammock tied between two trees in the yard, soaking up the sun. Ollie and Ophelia were sprawled across his chest with a protective arm draped over them and Jo was curled up into his side with his other arm wrapped around her.

You quietly walked over and snapped a picture that definitely would be added to your office desk’s collection before laying down on Spencer’s other side.

He awoke from the rustling you made trying to get yourself settled.

“Why are you crying, love? During our last check-in, you seemed fine,” he whispered concernedly.

“Nothing is wrong, my family is just too cute and my husband is too sweet,” you smiled softly, “Now pass me a baby. You can’t hog them all to yourself.”

in case you missed it, i posted a stand-alone smut one-shot of RF titled ‘All Clear’ but it is not necessary to read to continue the plot of the story and it is strictly 18+

taglist (just ask to be added or removed): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @doctorreiding @reidsfish

#spencer reid fluff #dad!spencer #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #cm fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer x reader #dr spencer reid #cm fic #reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader

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thepremedthatwrites · 3 years

Text

Isolated

request: You had married Peter as an arrangement. There was no love involved. At least that’s what you thought but things can change. While you may have been unsure of your feelings for the High King, you were certain of one thing: your loneliness.

warning: slight smut in the beginning

part 2 | part 3

Peter’s warm breath tickled my neck as he moaned into my ear. I could feel him spill into me, my back arching in response. We stayed in place for a moment, both of us panting, until he climbed off of me. Peter slowly climbed out of bed, his back muscles flexing as he bent down to grab his clothes. I watched motionless as he put on his clothes. “Are you going to get dressed?” he asked, his voice void of any emotion.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice hoarse causing me to clear my throat. “In a minute.” He nodded, quickly fixing his clothes before leaving the room. I let out a sigh, staring at the ceiling. My heart rate had returned to normal as I rolled out of bed. I quickly dressed, fixing my hair before leaving the room.

I toyed with the ring that rested on my ring finger as I made my way down the hall. I opened the large doors to reveal a nursery. I smiled as I picked up the child from the crib. “Hello Ollie,” I said, rocking the baby back and forth in my arms. He had his father’s bright blue eyes which were wide with bewilderment as he reached out to grab a strand of my hair that hung over him. I chuckled, gently removing the hair from his grasp. “That’s mommy’s hair silly,” I said softly.

“I still don’t get why you married her,” a voice on the other side of the door said.

“Susan, we’ve been over this,” another voice replied calmly. It was Peter’s. “It was the best way to calm the tension between our nation and Calormen.”

“It’s stupid is what it is,” Susan replied. “You were in a perfectly happy relationship with Maria.”

“I know,” Peter sighed. “But I have to put my nation before my feelings.”

“Well, what about Maria’s feelings? Don’t you think hers are important too?” Peter stayed silent. “I guess Narnia is more important than her too.” The sound of heels could be heard getting gradually softer before being completely inaudible. I could hear Peter sigh before the door to the room slowly started to open.

I immediately turned my head to Ollie who had already started to suck on my breast. “I didn’t know you were in here.” I turned to Peter.

“I always feed Ollie at this time,” I stated before turning my attention back to my baby. I could feel Peter linger near the door. I turned to see him looking around the room. “I’ll be done soon. Then you can be with him.” Peter nodded at this, putting his hands behind his back and walking around the room, inspecting the decorations.

“You didn’t hear anything before, did you?”

“Hear what?” I lied, suddenly glad that Ollie had decided that he was full.

“Nothing,” Peter said as I put Ollie back in his crib and adjusted my dress to cover myself. I inhaled sharply as I felt Peter make his way to the crib, his body only inches from mine. “He has your nose,” Peter pointed out.

“And your eyes,” I replied. I hoped that my heartbeat wasn’t as loud as I thought it was as Peter smiled down at Ollie.

“He does, doesn't he.” I nodded, clearing my throat and sliding away from Peter who had slowly made his way closer to me. “He’s all yours,” I said quickly, already making my way towards the door.

“Thank you,” Peter replied. I turned to him, giving a quick nod before leaving the room. I felt my face burn up as I made my way to the library. My brain replayed the feeling of Peter’s body so close to mine. The doors slammed behind me as I made my way to a secluded corner, not wanting anyone to see me in such a state. Why was I freaking out over something so small? Surely Peter and I had been in much more intimate situations. But the way we were standing so close, looking down at the child we had both created. It was like we were a true family filled with love and admiration. No. That was stupid.

Our relationship was not one of love but one of power. This thought only turned my attention to the conversation I had overheard. I could already feel the tears burning my eyes as a loud sob escaped me causing me to cover my mouth with my hands as I sat on the floor. I had been in Narnia for almost a year now and I felt just as much of a stranger as when I had arrived.

I missed Calormen. I missed the familiarity of my castle, the servants who always gave me friendly smiles, and my brothers who would turn boring days of study into fun adventures. I missed feeling at home. The sound of the library doors opening caused me to silence myself. I quickly wiped away any remaining tears as laughter rang throughout the room. I got up from my seat on the floor, smoothing out my dress, before walking through the shelves of books.

I glanced around the corner to see Lucy and Edmund at a table, a chessboard between them. “You’re cheating,” Edmund complained, causing Lucy to deny the accusation. I shifted my weight causing the floorboard beneath me to creak. I winced as the two turned towards the noise. I revealed myself to them. The smiles that had been on both of their faces slowly disappeared.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I was just looking at the books.” I quickly grabbed a random book from the shelf before turning around and walking to the door. I could hear them whisper behind me as I left the room. I let out a sigh, mentally cursing myself for being so careless before making my way to my bedroom. Peter was most likely in a meeting which meant the room would be empty.

I threw the book onto my nightstand before flinging myself onto the bed. Almost immediately, tears started to stream down my face. I was not wanted in Narnia and Narnia had made it very clear to me. My body shook as I continued to cry until my body could produce no more tears, leaving my body to only shake as pure exhaustion overtook me. I felt myself start to drift off, wishing to be in my bed in Calormen instead of the bed of loneliness that I laid in.

“I’m pregnant,” I announced as Peter started to undress.

“When did you find out?”

“Yesterday.” I watched as he put on a pair of pants before climbing into bed with me.

“I’ll alert the others tomorrow.” I nodded. A year had passed since I overheard Peter and Susan’s conversation and though I would never admit it, I was hoping that being able to produce another child for Peter - for Narnia - would prove my worth to everyone. We both laid in silence. Soon enough, the sound of light snoring could be heard from Peter. My eyes adjusted to the darkness as I studied the man lying next to me. I wondered what it would be like if we were actually in love with each other. Would Peter respond with great excitement when I informed him of my pregnancy? Would we cuddle together to stay warm during the cold winter nights? I wondered what it would be like to have his strong arms wrapped around me.

I turned around, now staring at the dark room around us. Why was I thinking of this? Was it because I was lonely or because I actually had feelings for Peter? Maybe it was a mixture of both.

The next morning, I entered the dining room to see the other royals sitting around the table. “Peter told us you’re expecting,” Susan stated. Although there was a smile on her face, it didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Yes, I am,” I replied, taking my seat next to Peter.

“Congratulations,” Lucy said. Her smile seemed to be a bit more genuine. Of all the royals, Lucy had been the kindest when I had arrived although I could still sense a slight feeling of disdain from her. Though I wasn’t sure if the disdain was for me or the arranged marriage I was in.

“Thank you.” I could feel Maria staring at me, her brother Caspian sitting next to her. I focused my attention on my breakfast, feeling the guilt build within me. I barely ate anything as I felt the intense stare of Maria the entire time. Instead, I pushed the food around my plate before excusing myself after an acceptable amount of time had passed.

Meals seemed to occur the same way for the next month. Maria’s eyes seemed to be looking right into my soul, judging every sin that I had ever committed. My guilt would eat away at me, inhibiting me from eating anything on my plate.

I closed the door behind me after another horrendous dinner where Maria had reminisced of the times Peter and she used to have. I couldn’t bear the reminder that I had stripped Maria of her lover. I was too exhausted to worry about table manners as I excused myself almost immediately after she had started speaking. I now laid down in bed, almost too tired to even keep my eyes open.

“(Y/n)?” I opened my eyes to see Peter walking into the room.

“I’m sorry for leaving like that,” I said, my voice weak. “I just couldn’t handle it anymore.”

“(Y/n) I’m worried,” he said, making his way to me. “If you continue to not eat, you could lose the baby.” I could feel the tears forming at his words.

“Don’t you think I know that?” I said, my voice a bit louder than before. “I’m trying Peter. I’m really trying but it’s hard when I’m not even wanted here.” I could hear my voice break at the end of the sentence causing me to wince. Peter seemed to freeze in place as tears streamed down my face. “Goddammit!” I sobbed, burying my face into my hands. I hated this. I hated feeling so alone. I hated that I could feel my health deteriorating. I hated that I was crying. And I especially hated that I was crying in front of Peter. I could feel Peter watching me in silence as I broke down in front of him.

I felt the bed bend underneath the weight of another body. I felt a pair of arms wrap around me, hands rubbing my back soothingly as I sobbed into Peter’s chest. “I’m so sorry,” Peter said softly, repeating the phrase over and over again as I continued to sob. Eventually, my sobs turned into whimpers before turning into silence. My entire body felt heavy as I continued to lean into him, his arms remaining where they were. We both sat there in deafening silence.

That night, my question of what it would be like to cuddle with Peter was answered. His strong arms made me feel protected as I fell asleep in them, our legs tangled together like vines. Our relationship was not perfect. In fact, it was far from it. But we had each other and maybe that was enough.

#peter pevensie #high king peter #King Peter the Magnificent #peter pevensie x reader #peter pevensie smut #peter pevensie fanfic #peter pevensie imagine #william moseley #narnia #The Chronicles of Narnia #narnia fanfiction #peter x reader #fanfic #imagine

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mochegato · 3 years

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Paper Lanterns for New Beginnings

Another meet cute Monday fic. Not going to let being sick stop it. Hope you like it @boldlyanxious

“What do you think, Lian? Should we get a yellow one and a red one?” Roy asked holding up two paper lanterns.

“More, Papa. We need lots,” Lian jumped excitedly as she answered, reaching up for more lanterns on the wall.

Roy shook his head, trying to hold in his chuckle. She definitely got that need for more from him. “Sorry, Sweetie, our hotel room doesn’t have room for more. I think it’s just going to be the two for us.”

Lian pouted and sent him a glare to let him know how unhappy she was with his answer. This time he was unsuccessful in keeping in his laughter in the face of her adorable three year old glare. “I know you want a bigger celebration, but it’s just us this year so I think we’ll keep it small, okay?”

“No! Big, Papa. I want big!” she exclaimed loudly opening her arms wide to show him how big she wanted.

“Not this year, Honey. Maybe next year we can get Grandpa Ollie involved. He’ll love to go over the top for you,” he answered firmly, sending her the most sympathetic look he could. He understood she wanted to have a big celebration, like her mother would do for her, but he was not prepared for it. In all honesty, he probably shouldn’t have taken the assignment from Oliver or pushed it back so they could celebrate Têt at home, but it was too late now. “Come on, let’s get these and find a Vietnamese restaurant to get dinner at. They might have some kind of party going on we can join.”

He started moving toward the front of the store, looking back to encourage Lian to come with him and make sure she was still following him instead of pouting in place. His attention was so focused on Lian, he missed the young woman who was also making her way to the front with a box that almost looked larger than her and was overflowing with decorations. He walked backwards into her box, knocking it out of her hands and pushing her off balance.

His arms reached her seconds before she fell into his chest, doing little more than wrap around her protectively. He barely set his foot as a brace in time to keep them from falling over. She lifted her head from his chest to look up at him with wide, beautiful, blue eyes. Her eyes caught on his for a few moments before she shook her head lightly, seemingly bringing herself back to reality. “I am so sorry! I’m so madly clumsy. Are you okay?” she gushed out quickly. She looked him up and down, searching for any evidence of injury.

He chuckled lightly and checked her quickly to make sure she was okay too, which was a mistake because now his cheeks were heating up as he found himself unable to stop himself from checking out the absolutely beautiful woman in his arms. Arms he hadn’t retracted from around her yet. Arms, he noted, which she hadn’t removed herself from yet either.

“Daddy? Okay Daddy?” Lian asked worriedly.

Roy jumped back from the woman, pulling his arms back quickly. He chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, Sweetie. I’m fine.” He turned back to the woman in front of him. “Are you okay? I’m sorry. I was watching my daughter instead of where I was walking.”

He moved to reassure Lian, but his feet got caught on the contents of the box that had spilled out around them when the woman fell. He searched for a clear spot to set his foot to brace himself, but couldn’t find a spot before gravity took hold. This time the woman was there for him. She reached out and steadied him before he could fall. “Thank you,” he grinned sheepishly at her.

She gave him a sweet smile in return. “Just glad I could return the favor. We’re even now.”

He smiled back at her, staring into her eyes. He lost track of how long he was staring when Lian spoke up again. “So many lanterns!” she squealed excitedly.

The woman jumped slightly and looked over to her with a kind smile. “Yeah, we’re having a party tomorrow night for Têt.” She knelt down to start gathering the decorations.

Roy knelt down next to her and started helping as well. She gave him a grateful smile. He shrugged back at her. “Least I can do after knocking it out of your hands in the first place.”

“You’re having a Têt party?” Lian exclaimed.

The woman giggled. “Well, I’m not. My friend’s mother is. She always throws a big celebration for the second night. Everyone is invited. If you guys want to come, you’re more than welcome to.”

Lian gasped loudly and looked at Roy with big, hopeful eyes, practically vibrating in excitement. “Can we, Papa?”

Roy looked from her to the woman and back. As much as he wanted to, he didn’t want to impose on their celebration. “I don’t know, Sweetie…”

The woman gave him a shy look and spoke quietly so he could hear her but not Lian. “If you’re worried about imposing, don’t. It’s a big party and she makes a point to invite anyone who wants to come. Everyone contributes, hence the…” she motioned toward the decorations. “In fact, she’d have my head if she found out I ran into people who were interested and didn’t invite them.” She gave him another bright smile that made him lose his breath. “So please, feel free to come and bring whoever with you. You’ll be saving me a lecture.”

He found himself smiling back at her and nodding. Like he would ever say no. “Thank you. That would be great. I wanted to do something for Lian, but I don’t…” He paused to calm his mind and sort his thoughts. “That would be perfect, yeah. Thanks.” His hand tingled where it had brushed against hers as they reached for the same lantern to put in the box.

“I’m Roy.” He extended his hand to shake hers. “This is Lian.”

The woman smiled at Lian and turned back to Roy as she shook his hand, letting her hand linger in his as she spoke. “I’m Marinette. It’s nice to meet you both.”

“It’s really nice to meet you too. Um… but, for the party, it’s just us. There’s nobody else… here or at home.” He internally face palmed at his awkwardness.

She grinned pointedly at him and took her hand back to pick up the last of the decorations. “Well, don’t tell Thim Lê Chiến that. She’ll try to set you up with someone and since I’m the one inviting you, it’ll probably be me.” She winked at Lian and chuckled as she put the last of the decorations into the box.

“You say that like it wouldn’t make me tell her first thing.” Roy gave her a charming smile and grabbed the box, as he moved toward the front with her. “I wouldn’t mind the help actually… if you wouldn’t,” he added hesitantly.

She smiled ruefully at him. “Normally I wouldn’t, but this party is actually celebrating more than just Têt. It’s a bunch of new beginnings. It’s Têt and birthdays and the defeat of Hawkmoth and… my goodbye party. I’m moving in a few weeks so…”

Roy’s heart clenched slightly at the thought. His charming smile turned sad. He really would have liked to get to know her better. But, then again, Paris would have been difficult anyway. A new place couldn’t be much worse, right? “That’s great for you though. I mean, assuming you’re moving for something good. Where are you moving?”

She took Lian’s hand as they made their way to the front together. “I’m starting an internship in New York next month. I’m moving in a few weeks to get settled and find an apartment.”

She watched as a grin found its way back on his lips. “Do you believe in luck?” he asked smugly.

She eyed him suspiciously. “You live in New York?”

“I live in Star City, which is less than an hour outside it. And I love visiting New York,” he answered, his roguish smile firmly back on his lips.

“Daddy, you said you hated when you had to go to New York.” Lian’s face scrunched up in confusion.

Roy grimaced slightly and turned back to Marinette quickly with an overly wide smile. “Hated that I don’t have a good reason to visit more often,” he corrected, cutting her off before she could say more. “I have friends that live in New York if you need pointers and recommendations. Maybe I can give you some at the party or over dinner tonight?

Marinette gave him a bemused smile, her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Don’t you want to spend the first night with your immediate family?”

He motioned to Lian. “This is my immediate family. And we would love to invite you to join us.” He gave her another charming smile. “What do you think, Sweetie?”

“Yeah! Please come.” Lian clapped excitedly and turned to Marinette with wide kitten eyes.

“Well that’s just playing dirty,” she playfully scolded.

Roy set down the box at the register and picked up Lian, setting her on his hip. “It really is. Luckily, she only uses her powers for good… mostly.” He gave Lian a mock glare that caused her to start giggling.

Marinette joined in the laughter and handed over her card to the checker. “I’m not sure if I’ll have time. I have to help set up for the party now and I’ll be spending most of the day tomorrow preparing food for the party. So I’ll probably be busy until the party tomorrow… unless you guys want to help with the decorations? If you want more Têt experience.”

“I don’t want to…” Roy started.

“Again,” she cut him off, “don’t worry about imposing. Thim Lê Chiến would absolutely love to have Lian helping. She loves getting kids involved in the celebration. And seeing Lian will only increase her harassment of my friend about when he’s going to have kids so that’s just another bonus for me. Please don’t take causing that away from me.” She looked up at him with her own kitten eyes.

He chuckled lightly and looked down to give himself a brief reprieve from the lightheaded feeling he felt whenever he looked in her eyes. “Who’s being unfair now?” he playfully chided.

“Is that a yes?” she asked, looking to Lian conspiratorially.

“Please, Daddy?” Lian added, matching Marinette’s kitten eyes.

“Oh God, too much cuteness,” he laughed shaking his head. He raised his head to look her in the eyes again and send a genuine, grateful smile. “Yes. We would love to help and get to know you better.”

Marinette smiled brilliantly at them. “Sounds like a great start to the new year.”

#meet cute #meet cute monday #even though it isn't monday #maribat #roynette #Let me know if my Vienamese was wrong at all

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