#i could picture their faces while she told the tale | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingwenches · 2 months

Text

Aemond x Peasant OC – Part 2

synopsis: our main character, Lyn finds herself propositioned in the most unexpected way. Aemond finally finds out the secret gift his mother's favorite lady, Cinda Lannister, has planned to celebrate the princess helaena's nameday

themes: classist!Aemond, spoiled prince boy Aemond, mc grew up in a westeros version of a nunnery, this is just the start of a larger “rewrite HOTD” type story. I posted this a few days ago, hated it, rewrote some of it, now its back lol

word count: ~5k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no targcest, dark themes, masturbation, voyerisom, dub/con, mentions of sex work, character death, mentions of child death and pregnancy complications. medieval standards on "womanhood", virginity testing, let's all remember the true inspiration for handmaid's tale: human history~ i would never survive in this time period eventho not having a job and wearing pretty dresses sounds very very very very nice until its not

READ PART ONE HERE

Learn to Fly – Act One – Finale

Lyn did not have the same privilege to mourn like noble ladies did. The Lady Aeditya had an entire wardrobe of black cloth and robes, as a way to signify to all those who perceived her that there was something missing, something lost unable to be returned. Lowborns did not have the time to pass away, on their knees in front of the Seven, begging for retribution.

Lyn was allowed her moments, standing alone at the simple gravestone behind the Motherhouse. Hanna had not made it a week past their last outing at Erenford’s Keep. Something to do with her heart, the Maesters had told them, so they didn’t have to worry about spreading. She was the only one to visit her grave after the burial, the others seemed to have moved on, just as she needed to.

Lyn did not have the time to mourn, with one less mouth to feed, the Stepas would allow her to stay for a few more moons, but Lyn was sure her time here was at an end.

Where would she go? What would she do? Hanna had been immensely more talented than Lyn as a servant, a nursemaid or a farmhand, and she still struggled to gain employment. Where was the hope for Lyn?

—

Cinda had taken so long in her travels to Haronfall, Aemond was sure she was stalling for some reason. He sighed loudly, sitting across from her in the plush wheelhouse, decorated in Lannister reds. Cinda’s eyes remained closed and her breathing steady. Aemond was sure she was asleep.

He was sure he could have flown Vhagar to Essos and back by now, but Cinda had assured them they were only a few days away from their destination. After his strange greeting from the town’s patrons, Aemond was not sure why he was even going back.

Well, perhaps there was one reason.

The road was bumpy and Aemond could not stop his eyes from finding Cinda’s heaving chest, as she gently breathed as the uneven road shook her chest about, sending waves of skin to dance in front of his eye.

Aemond did not like to think of Cinda in his base moments, she was a lady and was to be respected. But, a forgettable peasant girl was something else entirely.

His eye set itself on the cavern in the center of Cinda’s chest, her sapphire jewel fell in the place between her breasts. He imagined his hands wrenching the fabric away, freeing her tits for his own view. Aemond pictures palming them, as the road rocked him against his hands. His own hand went to himself, unlacing his britches under a heavy blanket, needed for the colder climate.

His dominant hand wrapped around his base, applying pressure that forced a sigh from him. Aemond’s sounds had not woken Cinda, so he resumed the tapestry being weaved in his head.

The peasant girl’s face, thrown back, her mouth open in pleasure as her tits jumped before him, as she bounced on his cock. He had only seen the sight while searching for his brother in places he shouldn’t be, but Aemond finally understood his brother speaking of it so fondly now. Aemond pictured suckling at Lyn’s nipples, making her cry out and beg him for more. He hated that she did not know his name, he wanted to hear her scream it. To beg him. To stop. To start. To do anything he wanted. He wanted to put that damned peasant in her place, stripped naked, on her knees, and forced to lick his boots as he sat atop the iron throne.

His hips thrust themselves into his hand, as his freehand braced himself against the carriage wall.

He watched Cinda’s eyes to make sure she remained asleep, he matched his trusts with the bouncing of her tits. Aemond was the prince, and he could have whatever he liked, at least in the safety of his own mind. Cinda was alseep, but if he wished he could pry her open and fill himself inside her. He could hear her scream, her voice so known to him for so long. It rang in his mind, the sounds of her happy and annoyed and pleased. He could practically feel her smiling against his lips. It was almost as clear as a memory that he made her say “I love you” when she reached her peak.

Aemond spent himself into a handkerchief, he could swear his eyes was open but he could see nothing besides the stars.

Before he could catch his breath, the guard was called that they had arrived and Cinda stretched her arms awake, offering yet another stunning view of what Aemma would call disgraceful.

“My sweet prince, are you well?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“It was only a dream,” he assured.

—

The baskets carried on her back felt an extra heavy load the next market. It had been a few weeks since Hanna’s death, and Lyn had not found a single reason to be cheerful, the Septas made sure she knew her work was suffering. The baskets were poor craftsmanship, and she knew it. But, there was nothing left to do but try and peddle them away, so have enough coin to produce for the next market, and so on, forever, she supposed.

The Septas, too, had felt the loss of Hanna, their charge. She had been with them since her own youth, and the old women were many things, but they weren’t cruel, the girls were only punished when it was deemed necessary, which even they admitted was more often than they’d like. They were doing it in the name of the gods, to frighten the thoughts that could lead a poor, unfamilied, woman astray.

Lyn’s work had been sloppy. First, she had dropped a group of baskets in the street, for them to be trampled over by a too quickly passing carriage. Her largest basket was sold quickly, then piled high with soft delicate squash from the northern shores of The Bite.

“I am so sorry, m’lord!” Lyn scrambled on the ground, her basket bursting from the weight, and the delicate vegetation plopped down into the wet mud. “This has never happened before, I assure you!”

The gentle squash was bruised and irreplaceable. Lyn pushed the tears back into her eyes as the purple faced man shouted at his inconvenience. She was forced to offer the man the meager contents of her purse to save face. She would be going back to the Motherhouse with less coin than she left, and that was simply inaccessible.

“You must be the saddest group of little–“ the Septas berated the small group of girls in her charge, each having faulted during the market day and needed reprimanding.

The vision of Septa Glaedis had been whittled down to a pale point with her age, but her hearing was a sharp as ever, and she was not one to put up with foolishness. The rage that the old woman consumed with every crack of her back, or creak in her knee was felt by the younger girls. They dreaded every front of cold air, as they knew Septa Glaedis’s mood would ever sour.

Lyn knew to watch her breathing around Septa Glaedis, not wanting to give off the impression of an annoyed or impatient sigh and face the wrath of her faithful switch, thinly carved with hymns about the virtues of obedience.

She allowed her mind to wonder, as the Septa retold hymns and passages Lyn had heard countless times before. The skies were grey and usual, a pale haze that passed over the world. It was rare that they got singular clouds in the lands near the twins, Lyn enjoyed finding shapes in the cloud, animals, faces, foods she had heard tales of and longed to try. There was nothing to find anything today in the clouds, she had to stop herself mid sigh, not wanting to fan the flames of Septa Glaedis.

Passers by did not stop the mind them, the group of girls and Septas. They were trained in their invisibility, as all good woman and servants should. At least that’s what Lyn had been told. No one would want to see her, she was a lowborn girl merchant, and that title was something Lyn had to fight tooth and nail for. Last winter half the fingers on her left hand were crushed by falling stones from a builded fence. The Septas were able to set and save her fingers functions, at least enough to continue her basket weaving. It was one thing she was able to pray thanks to the gods for saving her from.

Lyn completely forgot herself with her eyes passed over silver strands, just across the muddied street. Passing horses trotted by, but between them Lyn could be sure of what she say.

It was him. Again. The liar prince, come back to town. He smirked as he watched her beratement, gaining joy from her misery.

Lyn forgot herself and laughed.

“Is something funny, girl?” Septa Glaedis asked, with a whip of her switch.

Perhaps, for the first time since she was a babe, Lyn had not expected the swing of discipline as it sped across her cheek, striking her to the muddied ground. She could hear the bark of laughter from the boy across the street.

“Septa Glaedis! I am sorry, I am!” Lyn called as the woman struck at the air until she found the girl’s back with a whip, the other girls prayed the old woman to stop.

The elderly woman followed her ears and turned her gaze to the barks coming from across the street, pointing out her switch to dare anyone else to cross her. Aemond’s voice caught in his throat at the threat from the old crone.

Half of Aemond’s parentage had their roots deep in the heart of Oldtown, the epicenter of gentlemanly knights and courtly love. A true man of the Reach would have rushed over and covered the poor girl with his cloak, defending her from the villainous woman who dared to touch something that was his.

But, Aemond was above such things. The girl on the ground, her marked face flecked with foul-smelling mud, was no lady. Ladies deserved the help from a noble prince, and the dogs could remain in the mud, used for nothing more than licking the dirt from his boots. Ignoring the tightening in his britches at every strike across her back, Aemond did not want her, or need her, he told himself as he meandered through the market stalls until he found a smith who’s work was acceptable enough to sharpen his blade.

Aemond had spent the entire bloodied day trotting around the disgusting Riverlands, in search of Cinda and her damned surprise. When he had awoken in his tents that morning, she had vanished. Her maids had informed him that she was fetching the princess’s surprise. He did not like secret keeping, and Cinda knew that about him, so she dared to keep as many secrets as possible from him.

Besides the whispers around the markets regarding the Lannister camp contracted outside of town, Aemond did not find a whiff of Cinda. Surely, if one of these peasants had been charged with making a gift for his princess sister, they would have boasted about it to their countrymen?

Cinda returned to the camp that night with her lips tightly sealed, not even wishing to play one of her silly guessing game she was always so fond of, no matter how many times Aemond brought it up.

—

It was too early to be awake, and Aemond could feel the distant pull of Vhagar, flying high above the mountains of the Vale and away from the cold, sinking hole of the Riverlands. He rolled himself around in bed, willing him to return to sleep while the sun still hid from view.

He had never been one to indulge himself this often, but the countryside was boring a whole in his skull. He would surely lose his mind if they remained much longer. Today, he would force Cinda tell him of her plans. He was the Prince and he could have her locked up in the Eronford’s Keep for disobeying his orders.

His idle hand loosely brushed itself against his manhood, hardened from the morning air. Aemond’s mind was giddy at the thought of Cinda’s arms retrained wide, her body chained to a dungeon wall. He could picture her in nothing less than her most elegant of crimson gowns, one of the newer designs of the Red Keep, hugging her curves with a neckline that hung low and snug, her breasts barely able to be contained by the fabric.

Her face shifted, darkening into lips of purple hue, marks on her face that stretched over her rounded cheeks. He moaned into his touch as he reimagined the switch striking that cheek. He watched the pain in her eye and could hear her moan in pain as she was brought to the ground. Aemond imagined himself holding the switch and inflicting the pain onto her himself, the lowborn scum that deserved her place on the ground, prepared only to scrum the floor beneath his muddied feet.

And she had smiled at him. Her eyes catch sight of him and she smiled at him. Her cheeks rose up as her lips formed around the air ready to say his name.

He wondered how else he could pull such a thing from her again as he trust into his hand. He pictured her spread on the floor of his tent, her skirts too short gaining him a perfect view of her calfs, a view he would indulge by tearing the fabric from her waiting skin.

He was a prince, and she was his subject, his property. He had every right to send the lowborn to war or drag them into his beds. Aemond could do whatever he liked with the lowborn river girl, nothing more than a common whore.

He would lick the darkened marks that covered her body until her reached to mouth. Her hair, in small plates across her back, was enough for him to fist, as he shoved himself into her lowly mouth. He imagined her choking on his length, spittle dripping down her neck in a way unbecoming of a proper lady. He made her beg, for something, for everything. He came in his hand and fell back asleep.

Cinda tickled a feature against his eyes to wake him up to break their fast.

—

Lyn had never rode in a cart before, at least not since she was too young to remember. The girls were all excited, the small group gathered by the Septas for a special job opportunity. The red banners embalmed with golden lions had set up camp just outside their halls, Lyn could just see their colors peaking above the horizon from their sleeping room.

“I hear they are the richest house in the realm,” one girl said, as the camp came nearer into view.

“I heard they have a castle made of pure gold!” another chimed in.

“I hear they use slaves in their mines,” the last girl huffed, waggling her fingers at the ruby clad guards on duty as their cart passed into their protected camp.

Lyn found herself amongst a group that she found odd. The same way she could have been described as striking, so could these other girls. Mismatched eyes, and hair with streaks of white, moles and marks and discolored skin, covering their bodies, just as her own bumped black marks covered Lyn’s.

“Why us?” Lyn asked, pulling at a loose string of her skirt hem.

“We are the ugly ones,” the last girl who spoke of slaves shrugged, her face marked with redness and pinpoint scars. “These high born ladies are afraid that someone might best them at their own game, so I’d bet they are stacking their servants with hideous beasts, like us. To make themselves feel even more beautiful.” They all had a good laugh at that.

Whatever gained Lyn employment, at this point she did not mind.

“Are we going to be servants to true high born ladies?” a girl asked, “The richest house in all the seven kingdoms, you said?”

“I bet the kitchen scrubbers get better scraps than we ever did,” Lyn said, all the foods she could only picture in the clouds, would soon be in her grasp. Her mouth watered at the thought of the orange from her Liar Prince, the smell had not left her mind, every night as she tried to fall asleep, the sweetness mixed with the tang. It was unlike anything she ever experienced before. And now, she was about to gain the opportunity to experience something like that for the rest of her days?

“We must,” the girls huddled together to discuss their new plan, “be on our best behavior. We must insist that we all gain employment this day. We are all skilled, we know our worth, and we can serve actual ladies and lords!”

The grand room in the tent was larger than many houses made of wood and stone Lyn had witnessed. Her mouth hinged open as she looked around at the endless tapestries and sculptures that were past every layer deeper into the tented maze.

“Lyn!” one of the girls hushed and prodded her hard in the side. “Close your mouth, stupid!”

Lyn reminded herself why they were there, and straightened her back as high it would go, her shoulders back and her fists balled at her side, before peering at the other girls’ hands gently folded in front.

She steadied her breathing, and couldn’t help but run her hands over the carved chairs, more fine than any in Erenford’s Keep.

There were flowers, colors that Lyn had never seen in nature, just sitting across tables as the girls weaved single filed. Lyn imagined being charged with placing those flowers in their vases, gently packing them in finely sanded wooden boxes that smelled of ancient trees.

She stepped out of line and breathed in deeply of their scent. “Lyn!” another girl barked, shoving her back in line, but first quickly smelling the blooms herself. They mouthed the gods name in vain, in an attempt to contain their excitement.

Lyn wondered how they had gotten all of this here? Had they really been towing around wagons and carts filled with chairs and fine paintings and porcelain vases all across the Riverlands from the…west? Lyn had not bothered to wonder where these great Lion Lords were from. She was sure it was somewhere far past The Twins, and perhaps even across the seas.

If they had enough coin to traps across the countryside, with all of this racket in tow, surely they could hire all five of the girls brought before them. Never again would Lyn waste away a winter, pulling the work from her bare bones, with nothing but boiled potato skins for nourishment.

One girl motioned towards a small group of girl servants fussing over a plate of rainbow colored cakes. They were all beautiful, flawless and pure, but they were not small. Thick of self and well fed, it was clear. Lyn was sure that servants in their charge would have their promised breads and meats and maybe even cheese, and they would never run out.

They would never know hungry again.

The girls were wrangled to the main area of the giant tent fortress, contrasted for the pleasure of those at its heart. The chattering of nobles ended in whispers as the ugly girls were brought into the room. The sad lot of damaged girls had spent their life getting gawked at by others, but nothing compared to the stares of the lovely, etherial and simply perfect. Every single one of them.

The women’s dresses were fine, made of different hues of red fabrics, with golden flecked thread sewn throughout the visage. Aeditya had a single gown with golden stitching along the neckline, and its was her most prized possession. It traveled in a tightly closed box, always in her possession, in case an appropriate occasion ever arose. Aeditya had allowed Hanna and Lyn to admire the craftsmanship on a few occasions. The thread was thick and intricately wrapped in golden floss, the gold wrapped thread alone could take a lifetime to master the art form, and these ladies had gold thread weaved through every piece of clothing. The main woman, seated upon a crimson plush throne, Lyn could see, had golden threads etched into her shift peaking above her tight neckline, and her perfectly curled hair glowed in the light, pure gold.

Perhaps their castle was made of pure gold.

“Thank you for following my instructions so closely,” the woman’s voice pealed like a psalm, the sound was as if it too were wrapped in golden thread. “But, you really did not need to bring so many.”

The girl’s form tightened, all standing shoulder to shoulder to be observed by the throng of beauty and grace. Lyn’s lips formed into a hard line, these people had so much coin, surely they could find use for five souls that were in desperate need of their kindness. She tried to wrack her brain for something to say, something to explain that they were all worthy of love and acceptance and a warm bed at night and…

In that moment, there had existed the road Lyn had been traveling on her entire life until it was ripped out from under her so suddenly, she almost fell to her knees with her own eyes locked on another’s…one.

“What’s happening?” Lyn whispered, more to herself than to the other girls, wanting to confirm that what she was seeing was in the flesh.

There he stood, his hands clasp behind his back, the same black leathers from the market the day before, eyepatch covering his eye. The Lair Prince. On the raised pedestal with all the other noble ladies all wrapped in golden threads.

“You only need had bring one. I can see her from here,” Cinda said, her arms outstretched.

“Lyn,” one of the girls bumped her shoulder to retch her eyes away from his. Lyn nearly jumped from her skin as the woman raised from her seat and made her way straight towards her.

“I am sorry!” Lyn could find no other words than to apologize, for sure the lady was about to strike her down for some unknown transgression. The lady was coming for her.

“My niece! Lynora, I have finally found you after all these years!”

“No, no,” Lyn was not entirely sure what she had just heard, but she could feel the other girl’s hands being wrenched away from her as they were ushered off. “No, wait please!–“ They disappeared behind the curtains, their arms grasped by armored men. Lyn was alone. With these people.

“My sweet, sweet Lynora. I really is you, my darling.” The golden haired woman’s hands were on Lyn’s face, cupping her cheeks.

“No, I– m’lady, I am just Lyn, I am nothing–“ she tried to explain, offering another low bow to show that she really was sorry for all the confusion, her hands braced in front of her to keep the woman away.

An elder woman appeared, and something was handed to the fine golden haired lady. “We have been searching for such a long time,” she said, as she admired the beautiful art held in her hand.

Lyn’s eyes fell on a stretch, fine work, but lightened with age. The face of a babe, made larger than life, she was sure, peppered with black marks across the face.

Her own black marks.

“No,” Lyn said, pushing it away. “You are mistaken, I am no one–“

“My younger brother, Tybolt Lannister, was married to the Lady Sophae Mullendore,” Cinda explained. “Lady Sophae died after giving birth to a babe, the Lady Lynora Lannister, and Tybolt remarried the Lady Tyshara Payne, you see,” the lady tried to rush over the innards, to get to the important parts. “The babe was sent back to live with the Mullendores in the Reach, but…the babe was lost! Until now, I knew that we could find you again. I just knew it.”

“M’lady…” Lyn said, or perhaps Lynora said.

“You are my family, call me Cinda!” Cinda held onto both of her arms. “And I shall never leave you again.”

It had been something that Lyn had dreamed of since she was old enough to want, every girl she had ever known had longed and wished for the same thing. Tears etched themselves down her cheeks, as she looked at the sketch of the babe once more, of the sketch of herself.

“My family?” she asked, her hands wrapped themselves around Cinda’s own. Lyn laughed as she allowed herself to be dragged into a deep hug.

“You will be Lady to Princess Helaena Targaryen, and you will marry a rich lord, and birth scores and scores of his children!”

Lyn could hear Adityas cries from somewhere deep inside. She tried to pull away, but was unable to move.

“No, I’m sorry m’lady, I don’t–,” Lyn was not heard.

“Of course, there is a matter of your virtue. Maester?” Cinda’s arms held her in place, and a man came forward. “Not to say I don’t trust the Septas, but one can never be sure.”

Lyn’s face was cradled once again, against her struggle, Cinda wiped a falling tear down her cheek. “Sweet girl, my girl, my lovely Lynora,” Cinda cooed.

“You are free now,” the lady nodded, “Free from the burden of want, the need for desire, you thoughts need no longer be just your own, and you can finally rest easy from making every decision by yourself, never again must you worry about what you will eat, or where you will go. By the grace of the gods, your path has been chosen for you. You will be the Lady to Princess Helaena Targaryen, and you will marry a rich lord and have scores and scores of his babes, as is expected of you now. What you want is no longer of consequence.” Cinda embraced her, in her new found freedom. Lyn could hear Aeditya’s screams echoing from somewhere deep inside her. “Now, Maester.”

Aemond stood motionless, his mouth open and his eye wanting to look away, but he did not allow himself. The prince had prided himself for his quickness of thinking in battle, but at this point he was not quite sure what was happening around him.

Cinda had promised him the end to their game, and now the peasant woman who haunted his dreams was being bent over and–

“Stop–“ Aemond called, one stepped forward but nothing more. He couldn’t stop it. How could he? This was Cinda Lannister, on a mission for the Queen, his mother.

He saw the tears peppering the girl’s eyes as she watched his inaction. Aemond’s eye fell in shame.

He was not sure how long it was before he swallowed his courage and stepped down from his pedestal. Cinda had forgotten the girl and was conversing with the Septas and Maesters about her care, and Lyn was left with her arms wrapped around herself, trying to become small.

Aemond wrapped his cloak around her, not knowing what else to do.

“What’s happening?” she asked, taking the cloak into her wringing hands.

“You are…coming with us,” he answered, after some time.

“I don’t want to,” she said, as if it was the most well known fact in the world. “Don’t make me, you…you said you were a prince? You were telling true? Don’t let them take me!”

He hushed her, they couldn’t hear her speak such things. “I can not, she is…” he was a just young boy when he looked at Cinda. “On the mission from the Queen, I can not interfere…”

“You can help me,” Lyn tried to plead. “You– you can help me escape, out the back of the tents…”

“They will find you,” he shook his head. He had found her. Plain as day, in the crowded market. “There is nowhere to go.”

“You said you have a dragon!” she hissed.

“I do, but–“

Lyn allowed the cloak to fall. She did not wish to speak anymore. She did not wish to stand anymore. She did not wish to wish anymore.

When she turned, Aemond grabbed her arm to stop her. He didn’t know what to say, he wracked his brain and he could only think of their time at the lake.

“There was a witness to our…your friend, I could send a message,” he tried to find something that could help her.

“She’s dead,” Lyn said, as she was whisked away by her new family into her new future.

a/n: don’t worry, Lyn will get plenty of revenge on these rich folks. #eattherich. thanks all for reading! I am so excited to have gotten to the story's "twist"~ I know it's not going to be everyone's favorite, but it's going to be a fun journey and a more relatable perspective to enjoy the ~royal~ highborn life of the red keep. As always, comments, questions, requests, are all open~ Don't hesitate to reach out, I'll gush back at you LOL

tags: @fallout-girl219 (sorry for the double tag, I hated what I posted earlier this week. So, I'm going to chop up all the side quests into their own posts LOL)

81 notes · View notes

pastanest · 1 year

Text

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: the day I don’t write about a sunshine!reader is the day one of you needs to action a welfare check on me bc I bawled my eyes out writing this angsty shit fr

warning: mentions of Maeve (rip queen x)

A Chance

It was strange, getting to know someone through the words of friends, before being able to actually meet that person. The board had requested you transfer to the BAU while Spencer was in prison, and you were only ever meant to be there as a placeholder of sorts, to lend your expertise to the team that struggled in their dear friend’s absence. It was a temporary arrangement, but from the moment Emily Prentiss referenced you to Spencer during a visit to him in prison, he could see in her eyes that your presence had already proven itself invaluable.

The tales she told him of you were silly things that made him laugh, and that was something he had long forgotten how to do. Spencer had no idea what you looked like, because you had insisted that you didn’t want to take a visitation slot from someone that he knew; a notion Emily had passed on to him when he had asked, and his sombre heart had ached from beneath the rubble in his chest, the ruins that once housed a heart of gold. He had no way of picturing you, but he did, he tried. Hearing the jokes you had told the team through Emily, seeing the enjoyment you brought to his friends simply by talking about you, hearing of your efforts to bring smiles to everyone on the team like it was second nature for you. In every way, you made it clear you had no intention of taking Spencer’s place, you were only there to take care of those he loved by making them laugh again, and somehow, that endless stream of kindness reached Spencer, too. Flowing through prison bars, through tense muscles, to the cold, grey, shattered fragments of his heart.

On the day of his release, you had conducted the team in arranging a surprise party for him at the office, just a small get-together for him and his closest friends, who you understood were his family. Your efforts did not go unnoticed to the genius, and neither did the absence of you, amongst his friends.

“Is (Y/N) here?” Spencer had asked.

And David Rossi had shaken his head with a fond smile. “No, she insisted she didn’t want to impose or put you in the position of having to meet someone new, so she’s at home, but she’ll be back in tomorrow.”

You had done it again, without even being there to do it. You had single-handedly reached into Spencer’s chest and lifted those fragments out of the rubble, dusting them off and setting them down gently atop the rubble, letting the sun shine on his heart again.

The next day, Spencer had arrived early at the office for a multitude of reasons. To sit at his desk in the silence of the morning, with nobody around, just to feel back where he belonged, the serenity of it; that was one of the reasons. And as he sat, contemplating that very notion, another reason for his early arrival stepped into the office. Though he had never seen you before, Spencer’s heart recognised you immediately, and he stood from his desk, the softest smile on his face as he watched you. It took you several seconds to acknowledge his presence, what with your big headphones covering your ears and a large pile of boxes in your arms. Spencer watched you like you were a silent film, an enchanting and nostalgic wonder that he had never been lucky enough to lay his eyes on before. It was only when you had set your things down and turned to his desk, with just one large box in your arms, that your eyes widened. And Spencer continued to watch as the brightest smile he had ever seen blossomed on your face, like the first flower he’d seen after a year-long winter.

“Spencer! Hello!” You greeted him cheerfully, removing your headphones. “These are for you! Emily said that you liked ones with chocolate frosting and sprinkles best?” You had asked, setting the large box down on his desk in front of him.

He stared down at it, and you, in absolute wonder. How could you possibly be real?

“(Y/N)...” Spencer spoke your name to you for the first time, having rehearsed it and played around with the way it sounded in his mind during particularly lonely nights in his cell, but finding that it sounded different when he said it to you.

“I can’t thank you enough. For this, for the party yesterday, for the happiness you’ve brought the team- thank you.” Spencer said, his voice as gentle as he could make it, afraid that the slightest of harsh tones could shatter the fragile ray of sunshine that stood before him.

“Oh, that’s alright! You don’t need to thank me, not for any of it, the team have all been so welcoming to me, and they talk about you all the time, you know.” You beamed up at him.

“They do?” Spencer asked, his words unexpectedly shy.

You nodded fervently. “Everyday, they had a new tale to tell me about you, a new fact to share that they learned from you- honestly, I feel like I was getting to know you before I’d even met you!” The chuckle that passed your lips was that of an angel.

You had been getting to know him in the same way he had been getting to know you. What did you think of the things you heard? Did you think of him as often as he thought of you? Were you as curious about him? Did thoughts of him make you smile, in the way thoughts of you made him, when he would walk back to his cell after a visit from Emily?

A lump formed in Spencer’s throat. How different is he now, to the person you were getting to know? Will prison have made him unrecognizable to you, too?

But as he gazed down at you and searched your eyes, unable to find a single shred of judgment, or fear, he felt hope. A glimmer, a spark, beneath the rubble.

“Emily’s been telling me about you, too.” He managed to reply, his voice quiet in a way he hoped you wouldn’t address.

“All good things, I hope!” You chuckled again, busying yourself at your desk and looking over your shoulder at him.

It felt normal. Like a conversation between two old friends. Spencer felt comfortable, for the first time since…even his eidetic memory faltered in recalling.

“All good things.” He assured you, a smile playing on his lips and in his chest.

Somehow, it came as a surprise to you when the team requested you join the team permanently. You had enjoyed your time with them tremendously, but you had never suspected they enjoyed you just as much, enough to ask you to stay. They had waited to ask you, wanting Spencer to meet you first and give his verdict. He couldn’t form his thoughts into coherent strings of sentences, but the smile on his face after meeting you told the team that he shared their resounding 'yes'.

And when he saw the way you lit up, the happy tears in your eyes as the team asked you if you’d consider making your position permanent, Spencer grinned. Your tearful eyes landed on him, sensing that he had agreed to ask you to stay, and that one thought made the tears in your eyes cascade down your cheeks.

“Thank you.” You had blubbered, gaze traveling across each and every member of the team, but lingering on Spencer in a way that made him question whether his IQ points were evaporating, leaving his head emptier, his mind happier, with the simple joy of you, smiling at him like that.

With your place on the team set in stone, you all began working on cases together, quickly discovering that your true place was at Spencer’s side, much to his delight and dismay in equal measure. You made him smile like nobody else, made him feel normal, seen, for who he was, who he could be as long as you were around to encourage a side of him he had learned to keep well hidden, to protect himself. Even his mother, on his first visit to her since getting out of prison, had commented that he seemed so much more himself. How had you reminded him of who he was, when you had not known who he was before? Spencer felt selfish for collecting your smiles, treasuring them all to himself. He wondered if he had any right to make you smile at all. He was unworthy of causing a smile like yours. And there was guilt, so much guilt, the moment you were out of sight and he became excruciatingly aware of just how much more you deserved. An angel like you, walking on hot coals beside him, burning the soles of your feet but still smiling up at him like he’s worth it.

Tonight, the pain is worse. To celebrate a particularly gruelling case being solved, you suggested a garden party at your house, and Spencer had been the very first person you asked to attend. As if he needed any further proof to his ongoing theory of it being physically impossible for him to ever deny you of anything. And here he stands, in your garden, nursing a drink and watching you just as he did the first time he saw you. There is music playing, and you are aware of his presence, but you are still the same vision to him, all sound fading until you are that same silent film. Until your laugh breaks the barrier; a sound he is certain could reach his ears from miles away. Through any sea of other voices, he can pinpoint yours.

He is nothing more than a shadow, standing alone, a few feet away from everyone else, on the outside of their bubble but peering in just to torture himself. The smiles on his friends faces, on yours, as you all dance around together, dressed to the nines and laughing like it’s the silliest joy you’ve ever known. Spencer looks at the perfect image before him until he can bear it no longer, and he sets his drink down on the nearest table. Enough, he thinks to himself.

Nobody notices when a shadow slowly fades out of view.

He walks through your home, towards the front door, the scent of your perfume trying to persuade him to stay. The trinkets on your shelves, the art on your walls, every single thing exuding you in the most beautiful way; he knows he could stand right here, in your hallway, just drinking you in until he died of old age, but he keeps walking. Shoes heavy, legs of lead, he trudges out of your front door and onto the street, under the same stars as you and feeling the weight of how little he deserves to share such a thing.

Every step further away from where you are kills him just a little more. He wonders how far he’ll make it, whether he’ll manage to reach the sea before he sinks to his knees and lets himself wither away entirely, the force of you no longer binding his atoms and holding him to this Earth; an echo that you have been selfless enough to maintain, no matter the cost to you. The cost, Spencer is sure, has been insurmountable. How can it not have been? A burden as heavy as him, a stain you can’t wash out of your life that somehow exacerbates every time you check in on it, a husk that you remind how to live, simply by existing.

Seven steps from your front door, his legs start to falter, wobbling beneath him under the weight of the crime he has committed and the sentence he serves now, for stringing you along like he’s ever been worthy of walking the same ground. His trembling hands grip garden fences as he forces himself onwards, away, away.

“Spencer?”

A vision, a mirage, the perfect and only balm to restore his strength enough to stand up straight. Thank you, thank you, his mind spins, continuing to walk until your footsteps reach his ears.

“Where are we going?”

And there it is, that smile, looking up at him like you can fix everything in his world, and you have. Again.

He can’t tell you, he can’t possibly speak such heartbreaking thoughts aloud. He can’t do anything that’ll cause your smile to even falter, not now, when his heart breathes to life and rises from the rubble, reaching for you.

“Just…needed some air.” Spencer’s voice is hoarse, and he can tell from the look in your eyes that you see right through him, see that something is wrong, but you don’t pry.

Instead, you do what feels right to you.

For the first time, you slip your hand into Spencer’s and squeeze it, so gently. His hand all but engulfs yours, but he can feel every inch of your skin that touches his, and his heart soars.

“Okay, you wanna walk round the block?” You ask, your words casual, gentle, and holding no judgement, like always.

Spencer can only nod, his IQ reduced to zero because you are holding his hand and he cannot possibly think about anything else.

Taking his agreement, you start walking, and he walks in step beside you. On the same ground, under the same night sky, in a silent film that he feels he is a part of now.

For a few minutes, neither of you say anything. Only casting shy smiles at each other every so often, until you decide to speak words that alter Spencer’s very brain chemistry.

“You know, you’ve become my favorite person in the world.” Your voice is quiet, almost bashful, in a way he has never heard you speak before.

Spencer frowns, his eyebrows knitted together by the confusion and bliss that swirls within him in a perfect storm, but your hand is still holding his, so he is still incapable of speaking.

“Every new thing I come to learn about you, I adore more than the last.” You continue. “And I didn’t know what to do with that, at first, because I didn’t want to drop my feelings on you and give you no choice but to address them, I didn’t think that would be fair. So I’ve thought about it, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s okay.” You smile up at him in a way that makes his heart splutter frantically. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, because even if you don’t, I’ll still adore you just as much, and I’ll help you find the person that you come to adore in that way.” The sincerity in your eyes very nearly breaks Spencer in two, and he stops walking.

He is at an agonizing crossroads. His eidetic memory forces him to relive his tragic romantic history, from the date he asked JJ on that she invited Penelope to, to the worst day of his life, when the only girl he thought that would ever love him, was murdered right in front of him. Maeve. He never even got to hold her hand like this, say the words he’d always wanted to, thank her for giving him the chance, for letting him love her until her last moments, and beyond that.

Tears gather in Spencer’s eyes as he looks down at you and thinks of Maeve. He had always thought that she was it, that she was his one and only chance at love, at a family, at the life he had always dreamed of, and that was out of his reach because she was. But as he gazes down at you, feels your hand squeeze his again in a way he never got to feel with Maeve, he realizes that this is different, that he is different. There is no way to know how his life would differ if he had not lost Maeve, how long they would have lasted, if at all; he stopped plaguing himself with the what-ifs long ago, settling with the agony that it was his fault, that he deserved to suffer, and he deserved to do so alone.

But you are here. Right here.

Smiling up at him like he’s worth more than he feels he is, pouring your heart out to him and not expecting anything in return, just wanting him to know that you adore him, because that’s who you are. And he is the person you adore. He is not without love, he is not a lost cause, his fate is not sealed.

You are here, with Spencer, because you have chosen to be. You adore him as he is now, and he doesn’t even know who that is, but he doesn’t care anymore, because as long as you adore him, he’s okay with that.

The tears gathering in his eyes break past the barriers and slip down his stubbled cheeks, a small smile curling at his lips, before it blossoms just as yours did the first time you saw him, into a grin, and then a quiet laugh. He looks up at the stars and takes a moment to thank them for allowing him to stay here with you, and then he takes hold of your other hand, holding both of your smaller ones in his.

“You’ll have to give me time to formulate my thoughts into words, but for now, let me just say that I…” Spencer takes a deep breath, blinking back the tears that dare blur his perfect vision of you, and then he sighs, shaking his head. “Adore isn’t a strong enough word.” He smiles down at you. “I’m enchanted by you, and I’d be willing to challenge any belief that tries to advise me against worshipping you.”

The chuckle that passes your lips as your eyes glaze over is the most beautiful sound Spencer has ever heard, and he is definitely not biased, because he absolutely has not thought that every time he’s heard you laugh.

“Very profound, Doctor Reid.” You muse. “So, where does that leave us?”

The smile on Spencer’s face is dazed, lost in the dream of you. The stars shine above and the ground sighs below, the universe relieved to have finally guided the two of you to where you were always intended to be.

Your question is a good one - an excellent one, Spencer would argue, solely because you were the one to ask it - and it takes several seconds for his whirring mind to piece together the words to correctly phrase the sentiment he feels deep within the heart that you have taken the time to intricately piece back together with the same gentle hands that hold his now. Eventually, though, the words find him, and he parts his smile to let that same heart speak to you.

“I honestly don’t know, but anywhere that you are, is where I want to be.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons

411 notes · View notes

kittycatasaurus · 8 months

Text

Love Flavoured Chocolates (2023 Willy Wonka/Reader)

(Cross posted to my AO3, I'm obsessed with Wonka and wanted to share this purely self indulgent reader insert because there simply isn't enough out there and hey it might encourage me to write some more if other people can also enjoy my writing!)

Word count: 3.2k

Willy had come to the Galéries Gourmet with nothing but his love for chocolate making, a wish to once more see his mother, and a hat full of dreams. One thing he certainly hadn’t accounted for was falling in love. He’d first had the pleasure of meeting you the first time Noodle smuggled him out of Scrubitt’s.

You'd befriended the young girl in passing on the street after she’d bumped into you with her laundry cart while neither of you were paying quite enough attention to where you were going. Though the collision was soft enough to keep you both on your feet, she had knocked the book your face was buried in straight to the ground causing you both to startle. Immediately the pair of you burst into apologies (which had made you laugh, despite the girl’s sincere panic), “You’re alright little missy, that was entirely my fault for not looking ahead of me, I simply can’t put this one down, I’m so close to finishing this new tale of a young detective!” You attempted to ease her worry with a big smile, it seemed to work as the girl’s face shifted from concern to interest. “Is-is that the latest Nancy Drew story?” She asked eagerly, trying to get a better look at the book in your hand. With a simple nod, keeping the easy smile on your face you answered, yes. From there the pair of you spent at least a half hour chattering excitedly about the fantastical feats of the young investigator until a nearby clocktower chimed, making her realise she was falling way behind schedule and would soon have to return to the wash house with a few deliveries still to make their destinations. “It’s been wonderful talking to you miss, but I’m afraid I really must hurry along, I hope I run into you again, my name is Noodle in case you see me before I see you!” The girl, now known to you as Noodle, what an interesting name, jumbled out as she made off to scurry away to wherever she needed to be. “I hope I see you again as well Noodle, you’ve been a delight to talk to! The name is Y/N” You called out after her and continued your stroll once she was out of sight, only somewhat more aware of your surroundings this time.

After that initial encounter you had run into each other a few times, eventually budding a wonderful friendship wherein you shared books and life stories with one another. Gradually you learned of Noodle’s more than unfortunate living situation and provided her comfort and reassurance in any ways you could, be that a book from your collection which she hadn’t yet read or a warm hug and shoulder to cry on, the girl became a younger sister figure to you.

This was where Wonka came into the picture, you and Noodle by this point had been friends for the better part of two years and saw each other frequently so you were understandably concerned when you hadn’t seen her around for the last couple of weeks. Just when the worry was getting to the point of you preparing yourself to storm into Scrubitt’s and demand to know about the wellbeing of your friend you saw her, tucked away from the main roads and pathways, talking to her trolley? Now that is upsetting, such a beautiful young mind lost to the madness of her circumstance. As you were about to approach, rounding the corner of the wall you’d hidden behind, a man emerged from the trolley clearly in conversation with the young girl. If not for your sheer confusion, you would have hastily approached the stranger as instinct kicked in to keep Noodle away from any potential danger. She didn't appear frightened or startled so logic told you this was no stranger to her, and therefore not a threat. Upon the realisation, you called out to your friend whom you’d missed in the two weeks of absence, “Noodle! Where’ve you been, little lady?” Immediately, both heads turned to face you and your breath caught in your throat as the mystery man turned and you finally caught a glimpse of his face. It was a beautiful face too, puppy-like hazel eyes, framed by fluttery long lashes, thick full eyebrows sat above them, complimenting his slender, pale face. Both pairs of eyes were wide upon you but you were still taking in the gorgeous man before you, to the point you failed to hear Noodle as she repeated your name, asking “Y/N? What are you doing here?” At the lack of response, she followed up “Earth to Y/N?” with a somewhat exasperated sigh after. Seeing the man turn to face Noodle shook you from your reverie and you let out a sharp little “Hmm?” “I said, what are you doing here Y/N? Were you following me or something?” Her look caused a twang of guilt for a second until you registered that, no you hadn’t been following Noodle, just actively looking out for her as you’d thought her to be missing. “Of course not you numpty! I heard your voice coming from a sketchy alley and saw you talking to your laundry pile, I only wanted to check you were alright, especially considering I haven’t seen you in a few weeks kid! It’s completely understandable for me to be at least a little worried, even more so after seeing a strange man come out of your trolley,” Your voice was taking on a bit of a scolding tone as you softened it to turn to the aforementioned man “No offence.” He shook his head as though to imply none taken as his eyes flitted between the two of you, the friendly smile never once leaving his face. “I take it this is Y/N, Noodle?” his eyes remained on her this time as she nodded back to him. Well that was unexpected, this mysterious dreamboat knew who you were courtesy of Noodle, and while you were flattered she told this new ‘friend’ about you, you worried over what she said in order for him to deduce your identity.

Together, the pair of them explained their plan to get the money to free themselves of Scrubitt’s unfair debt, going into detail about the wondrous and impossible chocolates made by who you now know to be ‘Willy Wonka, future chocolatier extraordinaire’. In all honesty your mind is positively racing to keep up, but with such bright smiles on their faces you can only nod your support and shoot a smile back, albeit a smaller one.

———————————

That had been a while ago, though it felt even longer. By this point, you had collectively put a stop to the chocolate cartel and Scrubitt and Bleacher. Wonka’s chocolates were doing better than ever and with everyone from the wash house going back to their old lives, Willy was alone again, well mostly. Abacus Crunch had been happy to remain the financial adviser for Willy and the group would do their best to stay in touch thanks to Lottie Bell and her phone operator gig but it was definitely lonely, going from all those people around him, that warm environment to nothing again. Although, you were still around weren’t you? You and Noodle? While you both saw her often, upon finding her mother and the library where she stayed, it was less and less that you found yourself in the young girl’s company, she had years of catching up to do after all. You wanted to believe that was why you were seeing less and less of Willy too, but the pair of you had no reason not to see each other often, after all, you’d quit your boring old job to help out and work with Willy at his shop as soon as it had been acquired. So then why did it feel like he was avoiding you, or attempting to shut you out.

This is where you find yourself as you sit with Noodle outside her mother’s library one warm evening. “I don’t understand Noodle, he seems lonely, it's simply a fact that he thrives off of being around other people so I don’t understand why he’s shutting himself away” a too big sigh leaves your mouth. “I miss him, I miss his cheshire grin, the confusing way he talks, even just seeing his garish purple coat” “Hmmm, kinda sounds like you love him” “Yeah, I just don’t know what’s u- WHAT?!?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN NOODLE?” Your face burns red as your brain takes a minute to register what the young girl chimes in with. In response she holds up her hands, palms facing you, “I’m just saying it as I see it.” With a shrug she shakes her head. Though her words do make you stop and think back to the many months you’ve known the eccentric chocolatier.

The first day you’d successfully sold Wonka’s chocolates on the street had resulted in a quick getaway where you and Willy had ended up lost in the tunnels below the city, escaping the corrupt chief of police for an hour or two as you attempted to meet up with the others to get Willy back to Scrubitt’s with the others in time for roll call. At this point you hadn’t yet been alone together, and the lack of familiarity seemingly made Willy nervous to the point his breathing got panicked and you shared a rather intimate moment where you helped ease his discomfort with a simple breathing exercise and hand massage. “Willy, give me your hand please,” you spoke in the most gentle tone you’d ever mustered after his laboured breaths stabilised, he acquiesced rather quickly as you reached out to him, gently cupping his hand. “I’m gonna trace the lines of your palm okay? It might tickle but I promise you, you’ll feel better.” The smile on your face eased any remaining nerves and once you started to caress his palm with your thumb he seemed to lose the last of the tension. “See,” your voice was still incredibly gentle, but now you were both smiling though his was significantly smaller than usual, “You’re okay, sweetie, I’m here” The pet name left your mouth so naturally neither of you reacted, though a moment later you flushed realising the implied closeness of calling him such a name. With level heads you managed to safely navigate your way back to the others in time and wished Willy a restful night. In retrospect that may very well have been when you first started to develop feelings for the man, you could no longer tell, in the objectively short time that you’d known him, you could think of at least a dozen other times that may have stimulated this apparent crush of yours. Though one particular memory comes to mind more often than the rest. The most recent to boot, the day you reunited Noodle with her mother!

It was the day you’d put an end to the cartel, Willy would finally be free to run his chocolate shop and live out the dream he’d shared with his late mother. The celebration in the Galéries Gourmet seemed to go on forever as everyone enjoyed the chocolate fountain filling up cups seemingly endlessly. A group effort had the shop back together in no time, looking as good as new. As the sun was finally descending from its high perch, your friends from Scrubitt’s all said their goodbyes and well wishes to Willy, Noodle and yourself. Leaving the three of you to lounge about in comfortable silence for a while. “We have a surprise for you, Noodle!” You said excitedly to the young girl who was almost falling asleep where she sat. Exchanging eye contact with Willy, you rose with Noodle in tow. Wide awake after jolting her about, she rushed to keep up with both of your longer legs as you sped away from the shop. Stopping abruptly outside of the library, Noodle gathered her bearings with a confused expression on her face and heavy breaths leaving her lungs, “The library?? What could possibly be so important in there you felt the need to sprint AND drag me along too no less!” She was understandably irritated, but you knew it would be worth all the effort soon enough. “Close your eyes for a second for me Noodle-dee!” Willy told her cheerfully as you approached the door holding onto the girl’s hand to bring her with you. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. “Now open them…” You whispered just loud enough for her to hear and comply. Before her, stood her mother, finally reunited after years of wishing and hoping. Immediately the two shared the warmest embrace you’d ever witnessed as you backed up and gave them their space, returning to Wonka’s side and overlooking the tender moment. A soft sniffle from beside you reached your ear and you glanced over to see Willy’s eyes glossy with unshed tears, the poor boy must’ve been reminded of his own mother in that moment, your heart hurt for him. “Come here sweetie,” you hummed to him, pulling the chocolatier into a comforting hug. “She’d be so proud of you right now, you know?” You got a teary chuckle in response to that as his arms wrapped around you. Noodle and her mother looked over to you now and you raised your arm in a wave to let them know you’d be heading back to leave them to catch up on all the time they’d spent apart.

The walk back wasn’t far, but it felt much longer without Noodle especially since you’d run practically the whole way there and were now strolling very leisurely. Neither of you said anything but you were touching in some way the entire time, holding hands for part of the walk, then switching to linking arms, even simply resting your hand on Willy’s back. Eventually you made it back to the shop, with the lights off, it was as though the magic was sleeping. As you entered ahead of Willy, you looked back to examine his expression, he wasn’t upset, of course not, he just reunited his dearest friend with her mother whom she thought long lost, perhaps forlorn was more accurate. The cogs in his head were clearly turning as he wrangled with his feelings, particularly regarding his mother and the seemingly impending loneliness he was soon to face. He stopped walking as soon as he entered, eyes still downcast as though expecting you to turn around and leave right then and there as well. With a low sigh you finally broke the silence “Willy, I’m not leaving you, not after that, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I just walked out after seeing those tears in your eyes.” He looked up, this time they had escaped and he had a sad pout on his beautiful lips. “Can you tell me about her? Have you got any pictures?” You’d not heard much at all about his mother from him aside from how much he loved her and that she was the inspiration for his dream turned reality. Willy gave a little nod and led you through the store to his makeshift office/home/break room, and on the desk sat a framed photo of a beautiful woman with a very familiar smile. “Wow this is her then? She’s beautiful Willy, you look so much like her.” You said the last bit somewhat under your breath as you realised the implication of what you said (as much as you meant it, it seemed a bit forward). You picked up the picture and sat down on the sofa in the room, patting the seat next to you for Willy to sit beside you, the rest of the night was spent listening to stories of his childhood and asking questions. The pair of you laughed, you cried, and eventually Willy fell asleep with his head on your shoulder. Getting as comfortable as the pair of you could, you let yourself join him in the land of dreams shortly after.

Now, it had been a few weeks since you and Willy had experienced the almost intimate exchange of life stories, as well as your chat with Noodle and you had the day off. Willy was on a break from work and went to visit Noodle at the library to tell her all about that night and how great a person he found you to be, gushing over how ‘kind, pretty, sensitive, and funny’ you were but somehow avoiding the ‘L’ word and seemingly ignoring his feelings for you. Eventually, the girl could take it no longer and burst out “Either ask her out, or I will do it for you! You’re such an idiot Willy, it's so obvious you love Y/N and I don’t understand how you’ve danced around it for as long as you have!” Noodle’s frustration was apparent from her face alone, if her words somehow hadn’t conveyed exactly what she meant them to. Willy’s eyes went wide at her outburst and his face started to resemble a tomato almost in how brightly he was blushing. As he opened his mouth to make a retort, Noodle interrupted him with a raised finger and a look that shut him up before he could even make so much as a noise. “Go see her now Willy, or I will.” Was all she had to say to get him standing up and practically sprinting out of the door.

A hurried knock at your door startled you out of your thoughtless stare out the window, you sat up abruptly, I’m not expecting any visitors, you thought to yourself as you walked cautiously over to the door. Through the peephole, you spotted the one and only Willy Wonka, pleasantly surprised, you opened up the door to be pulled into a tight embrace. Despite the initial shock, you quickly recovered to hug your dear friend back, “Heya, what’s gotten into you, sweetpea?” Genuinely confused as to the context despite reciprocating the affectionate action. Pulling back from you to look into your eyes, Willy responded, “I love you, Y/N.” Cue the widening of your eyes as you started to stammer out a reply, “Wh-what, huh, I-” “I love you, Y/N, I can’t believe it took Noodle calling me an idiot to realise it but I’m hopelessly, wholeheartedly in love with you.” He affirmed with a fire behind his gaze. You realised then that he wasn’t joking, this wasn’t a prank or him using the word in a friendly sense. “You, you do?” Tears started to well up in your eyes as you looked into his, “I love you too, Willy Wonka.” Not wanting to keep him in suspense, you confessed right back. A laugh broke free from your mouth as the tears started to fall from your eyes. Gently cupping either side of his face, you brought your lips together in a sweet kiss that felt like it could last forever, his hands finding a comfortable perch on your hips as you held each other close. Breaking apart for air, you both giggled, and leaned back into each other for another kiss, this one escalating a little past wholesome as you softly tugged at his bottom lip with your teeth. Breathing heavily now, you separated once more to stare into each other's eyes. Willy Wonka had confessed his love to you and you were ecstatic to say you felt the same. This would be the start of something beautiful, of that you were sure.

#willy wonka x reader #willy wonka #wonka 2023 #wonka movie #wonka x reader #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet wonka #reader insert

160 notes · View notes

lafayette-paw-arts · 7 months

Note

How would the vees react to one of them almost dying or actually dead

Oh you want an angst meal with extra sad. Comin' up!

There was the one time that Velvette got caught up in an extermination, she had been so badly hurt she lost consciousness. Valentino and Vox got there before the final blow was struck. Val's wings had been completely flared out to make himself look as big and intimidating as possible, Vox meanwhile appeared in a flash of electricity that just didn't leave him, sparking off his body and swirling around his claws dangerously. They were both absolutely pissed but Valentino had a very important job, getting Velvette to the safety of the tower. So he grabbed her and flew off as fast as his wings would take him while Vox had quite the time electrocuting the shit out of those angels. Obviously it didn't kill the angels but it did stun them long enough for Val to get away with Velvette. The angels had recovered fast tho and one had managed to throw an angelic spear through his screen, it nearly killed him, he had just enough energy to get himself into the power grid and get back to the tower where he promptly collapsed and shut down. Valentino was alone to deal with both of them on the brink of death, panicking and worried they'd never wake up, he patched up Velvette's wounds the best he could and screamed through the intercom for someone to send Vox's technician up to the floor they were on to fix his screen. It was the most terrifying night of Valentino's afterlife and one he REALLY doesn't want to repeat. (so that one is kind of a twofer)

Valentino has thankfully only been near death once, he pissed off the wrong person who set a trap for him and and tortured him for days using an angelic weapon they had picked up. This fucker made only one mistake, posting a picture about it online, Velvette saw it, her and Vox were there so fast. Vox started to deal with Valentino while Velvette took the angelic weapon and literally impaled the person up the ass with it, face it to say they were dead and she posted the pictures of it all over social media as a warning to anyone stupid enough to even think of trying something like that again.

Velvette wasn't around for the last time Vox and Alastor actually fought, she's only heard about it from Valentino since Vox doesn't like to talk about it. She knows Val will tease Vox about it to his face, but when Vox isn't around it's a totally different story. Valentino spins a tale of a horrifying night finding Vox on the destroyed battleground, thinking he was dead from the fight (especially because Alastor was nowhere to be seen so he assumed the victor left) He had been enraged trying to find Alastor but the deer demon was long gone, a small glitch from Vox was what indicated he was still alive which Val almost cried from relief. He took him back to the tower and got him fixed up, then proceeded to watch over his unconscious body for weeks with no sign of him waking despite how many times the technician told him Vox was fine it was just taking time to recover. (He wasn't happy to hear of Alastor's return and is happy Vox seems to be keeping his distance and just poking from afar this time)

Hope that does it for ya. I don't do character death stuff really, near death or believed death sure, not actual death. It's just not my style

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin valentino #hazbin velvette #the vees #valentino #vox #poly headcanons #polyamory #staticmediamoth #staticmoth #mediastatic #mediamoth

79 notes · View notes

bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year

Text

It happened. Let's talk about it under the fucking cut.

Hello! I am here to regale you with the tale of how my Saturday at Fan Expo went! So it started with how I could not fucking sleep the night before. Fitful, I kept waking up over and over and finally got out of bed before nine. I hung around for a while, did a face mask, painted my nails, showered, got ready and into my fit for the day. We departed slightly after noon and grabbed some food and made our way to Toronto. We get there and park in the usual place and make the couple block hike to the convention centre, the check in process went smoothly and then, it was time to shop around.

We went from the North building to the South building, much more interested in checking out niche’ vendors and artists’ alley, I was in there for less than an hour before I had to break away to run to the photo op. Mr.Bex gives me a kiss on the cheek and told me, “Try not to cum in front of them.”

“Easier said than done!” I called as I run off. Now, last year it took me forever to get back to the North building, so I left with an hour before my time I had to be there. On the way, I see a Ghostface in a very cute almost magical girl outfit, short flouncy skirt and a bedazzled pink mask. I am looking at them, they see me looking, and they give me a pose and a peace sign, I grin and give one back, a super fun moment. I get to the North building and the photo op space in less than twenty minutes. So that means I get to toddle around the dealers floor. I do so, take in some cosplays, contemplate some purchases, they had an old full sized classic Scream one poster for twenty bucks, but I passed on it.

Finally, it’s time to go get into the actual line. I’m in line 13, in the first group for the Matt and Skeet time slot, and I made like six friends while in line. Everyone was very into my outfit, one girl had a tattoo on her arm that said, “My mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me.” We were all losing it. Another girl was there with her partner and she was in a 600 dollar custom fitted movie accurate Ghostface costume, with the glitter fabric and all, it was shockingly impressive. She especially liked my shirt and was impressed by the fact I made it, and asked aloud, “Why don’t they make shirts like those and sell them?” I laughed and told her, “Well, I’ve considered it, I won’t lie.”

It is a surreal experience listening to this assortment of hot gothy early twenty-something scream fans, many who came from whole provinces away just for this, just to be here for them, talking about how hot they are and how down bad they are while I stand next to them, having written a couple of hundred thousand words about the characters they love in question. I almost told em I wrote fic, almost.

While waiting around, Matt ended up coming out into the line-up space?! There was a fan in a wheelchair, and he wheeled em back personally while chatting them up and giving high-fives, he was five feet from me. The photo op starts late, I don’t care, it’s fine. We scan tickets, drop bags and then are in the same curtained off space as them, they let in small groups at a time to keep it moving smoothly. My heart is fucking pounding. We make it back, there was a family in front of me, their middle kid was dressed as Ghostface and their baby was in a scooby doo onesie and Matt held him for the picture, so cute.

Our especially extra Ghostface friend from the line was right in front of me, and then it’s my turn. I make sure my extra shirt is pulled to the side, Two Boys Are Better Than One proudly displayed, and I move. I greet them with a “Hi!”

Skeet gave me a very cool sounding “Hey” and Matthew made eye contact with me and gave me a polite nod with a, “Hello.” That I can only say was said in a very him way.

I asked, as I was moving in, “Can I be in the middle?”

And Matt had this expression with that sort of half smile he does, brows pinched together as he nods, telling me like it should be obvious, “Oh of course.”

I get in between them, and Matt’s hand is on my shoulder, Skeet’s hand is on my lower back and my hand is on Matt’s lower back and my other hand holding onto Skeet’s side (and fucks sake he is firm.)

I got an extra second because the photographer directed me to lower my head, so I wouldn’t get glasses glare, I assume. I revel in the extra seconds and contact, the picture is snapped, and I break away, without thinking I sort of pat Skeet’s side, and he returns the gesture and tells me, “Good job.”

Skeet fucking Ulrich told me good job.

Bury me now. I am done for.

I get my bag, I get my picture, I get it framed, and I go find Mr.Bex. He and I leave the con, we get back to our car, and then go to a tattoo shop where my friend Mel gave me my You Might Be The Killer tattoo. We drove home, I slammed several slices of pizza, and now I am writing this for you!

It was. Fucking amazing, I loved it so much, it was more than worth every penny. Now I can officially say, I am That Cunt that wore a shirt baring my super pornographic smut fic’s title on my tits while getting a picture with the two guys who inspired it all.

And speaking of inspiration, just you wait to see the fic I am going to write after this.

#TBABTO #Two Boys Are Better Than One #FOR LIFE #BHF face #I had SUCH a good day #FUCK #I AM SO DEAD

157 notes · View notes

void-of-unparalled-chaos · 23 days

Text

Twice now I have tried to make a reblog reply about Walter and twice now Tumblr has eaten it. So let's try it this way @chaos-bringer-13

Allow me to take you back to the ✨QUARANTINE DAYS✨ and tell you the tale of a pumpkin that may or may not have housed a god

So back in good old 2020/21 we are in the thrall of the COVID-19 pandemic. My state in particular had super heavy quarantine restrictions, and as someone with lung issues, my mom and myself were not taking any chances. I haven't left my house in maybe 5 months. Nor have I seen any of my friends outside of video calls. Senior year of High School so far has sucked.

I'm talking to my friend, we'll call her Marie, and I mention off hand "Yeah I'm starting to feel a bit lonely." Now Marie has known me for a solid 8 years at this point. She knows my type of humor and attachment to what we would now and days call "skrungly" objects. She decides "hmm. I can fix this!"

Marie's mom (who was... certainly a human being) for some god forsaken reason decided to buy a white pumpkin and give it to Marie with the idea that she would harvest the seeds from it and plant them in the garden (why she did this instead of just buying pumpkin seeds I will never know). Instead of doing this, Marie takes this pumpkin and draws a realistic face on it that can only be described as similar to the handsome squidward meme. She drives to my house, sets the pumpkin on my doorstep with a note, and then FUCKING BOOKS IT.

I open the door to see this pumpkin with a note that reads "Hello Momther, I am Walter."

(Not the best photo but this is in fact Walter sitting in the dark in my front yard while Marie (not pictured) stands on my driveway holding a single candle and chanting).

Anyway immediately I take him inside completely smitten and unknowing as to what this pumpkin will create.

At this point of quarantine, we have gone back to classes but they are completely online. I decide that the best thing I could possibly do with Walter is set him on a stack of notebooks behind me so that when I turn my camera on he would be there... watching. Notably, one guy who never unmuted himself did so just long enough to ask "Void... what the fuck is that."

Needless to say I got endless entertainment from the reactions, but all good things have to come to an end. Unfortunately, I live in a desert and pumpkins simply don't survive. They typically would rot within a few days where I was living at the time, so my Mom told me to move it outside at least. I decide to put him by the front door. This front door has a little half wall that leads up to it. I put him on top of it facing the walkway so whenever a package is delivered the mailman would be faced with Walter and have to make eye contact before leaving the mail. I figure I'll probably get a couple more days out of him before he rots.

This is where it starts to get weird

Another week passes. Two. Unlike every single pumpkin I've ever had for Halloween, Walter shows no signs of rotting despite being exposed to the elements. The pumpkin is at this point about a month and a half old and still perfectly fine. Marie, our friends, and I all kind of laugh it off as a random one time thing and expect it to rot within another week.

IT. FUCKING. DOESN'T.

4 months into having Walter and he is still as good as new. Around this time the vaccines for covid started rolling out, so my friends and I get to see each other again. They are just as baffled as me about Walter. Of course, us being us, we have been referring to Walter like an actual person this whole time because that's just our humor. We give him little head pats and forehead rubs as we enter or leave my house and say hello/goodbye to him.

Also around this time, my mom and myself are beginning to prep for moving to another state. We have also started doing some in person classes again. I had been cleaning out my room one morning, and just so happened to leave a piece of sea glass in front of Walter as I left for school. I had a strangely good day. Managed to get an A on a test if I remember right. I come home, see the glass in front of the pumpkin, and start thinking. The next day I leave him something else. Another good luck day! I try this again and every single time I leave him an offering something good happens! I tell my friends about it and they start doing it too and experiencing the same results. We decide that he must be some god of luck inhabiting this pumpkin vessel and rewinding time on it to keep it from rotting.

At some point someone gave him an orange and I swear to god the pumpkin started getting orange marks on its forehead. He still wasn't rotting though! We decided that he obviously has been absorbing the power from the offerings.

Around this time I realise the I have somehow created a partially serious cult and decide I might as well lean into it. I actually enlisted the help of the neighbor kids to take this photo.

Time passes. Walter is about 10 months old now and still going strong. We have graduated highschool and I'm going to be moving in a week. I can't take Walter with me, so Marie decides she will take him. But first, she is going to help us move. It's a 6 hour drive. We put Walter in the passenger seat window so that all the cars passing us can see him.

After she helps us, Marie and Walter continue on to yet another state where Marie will be attending university. Walter is almost if not a year old when he finally starts to rot. Marie, in her dorm room mind you, makes a plaster cast of his head and redraws his face on it. To this day Walter hangs in his new, more durable vessel, guarding her spice cabinet.

By the end of Walter's reign, he had reached his 1st birthday, scared who knows how many mailmen, met 3 of my teachers in person, visited 3 USA states, and briefly had an instagram account.

#im pretty sure it was the heat of the car that finally kickstarted him to rot #he also used to bless things #like we buried a jar in the front yard full of modified plastic forks (we made fork denominations)#we had him bless that place we buried it by lighting a candle ominously in front of his face and simba-ing him with mint #walter the immortal

24 notes · View notes

quinloki · 2 months

Text

Birthday Request Event v2024

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader Style: afab Character: Smoker Vibe: SFW Yandere AU: Modern AU Prompt: Roughed Up Gift Giver: @mamaalpha

Summary: Coming to terms with the idea that someone sent an assassin to kill you in your own home is hard enough. Having him call you perfect is a completely different problem.

Content Notes: A last name is provided for the reader in the story for narrative purposes.

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

inspired by this art

You ran hard for as long as you could, until your lungs burned and your feet ached. Your legs are wobbly as you continue to walk, forcing one foot in front of the other. Your heart is a drum line in your chest, and it’s almost nothing to do with the mad dash you just finished.

Someone tried to kill you.

You could hardly even know why. Maybe it was something your parents had gotten involved in? Maybe you knew the wrong kind of people? Maybe someone thought you knew something when you didn’t. There wasn’t anything you could think of that would spur someone to come for your life like that.

With an assassin? You?

But you couldn’t dwell on it too much. You didn’t have shoes on, and your socks were tattered and soaked. You were in jogging shorts and a tank top, because you’d just been lounging around and nearly ready to go to bed for the night when he’d arrived.

One minute it was just you, the next it was you and him.

Dumb luck alone had allowed you to escape, you weren’t arrogant enough to think differently. He was probably cursing himself for letting you even see him at this point, but no matter how much you checked, you couldn’t see anyone following you.

That shock-white hair of his would certainly stand out enough, even at night.

You needed to find a marine, or a hospital. Even just a business that was open right now so someone could call emergency services for you. Going to a hospital seemed like a risk, but you could file a report while you were there, and maybe, hopefully, someone would be willing to listen to you, and able to help.

Your luck held out and you stumbled into a diner. The late-shift cashier took one look at you and offered you a place to sit, and a warm cup of cocoa. She had the local marines on the phone and had someone come get you.

You told your wild tale to the young pink-haired marine that had come to pick you up, and he seemed to take you seriously. He was going to take you to the hospital and send someone over to your apartment to verify the break in and the state of your home. He reassured you not to fret, even if everything looked completely normal he wouldn’t dismiss your claim - but the more evidence they could find the better.

He let you eat the muffin the night shift cashier had given you while you were sat in the back of his cruiser. When you got to the hospital the staff took you in and officer Koby stayed with you. You talked about the event for a second time while he tightened up his notes as the nurses looked you over.

Koby stepped out and had a few conversations on a snail radio, but then he’d come back in and fill you in. Your apartment was, unfortunately, ransacked. While this lent weight to your claims, it was hard to say what the person was actually there for - you or something in the apartment itself.

“My Captain is going to be here in a few minutes, and he’s going to ask you some more questions. He’s seen your apartment, and taken some pictures, so he’ll have more pointed questions for you.” He explains, a reassuring smile on his face. You’re becoming more and more grateful for Koby. With everything else it’s nice to have someone be so reassuring like this.

That reassurance is washed away, however, when his Captain arrives.

Shock white hair. The scar. The scent of smoke.

You almost point, you almost scream, you almost lose your cool and insist that that’s him! That’s the one that was standing in your apartment trying to kill you!

But you already know, from how Koby spoke of him while you waited. You already know how flimsy your fantastical story sounds, and how easily it could be made to look like you’d lost your senses, tossing your own place to besmirch the highly decorated and well-loved marine captain.

No one would believe you.

Koby gives you a reassuring smile. “I know he looks intimidating, but Captain Smoker is really good at his job. Don’t let his demeanor scare you.”

He can’t kill you here. He can’t. If he does everyone would know, and he certainly can’t do it with his enamored subordinate right there.

Smoker’s face never breaks from the slightly irritated and mostly neutral expression. He treats you flawlessly like he’s never seen you before.

“Koby. Give Helmeppo a hand with the final report.” Smoker commands. “I won’t be long, there’s not much to ask.”

“Sure, Captain.” Koby gives you a reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay, miss. Please rest easy after this.”

Swallowing, you nod. There’s nothing you can say to keep your lifeline from leaving, but if death is the inevitable end to your terrible night then so be it. It would seem that your luck had simply been unable to hold out a little longer.

Smoker looks down at you. The cold hard eyes speak volumes and he sits down beside your bed slowly. You don’t have the capacity to return any kind of glare, but you don’t look away from the intense gaze until he looks away from you, and down at the paperwork in his hand.

“Miss Kobayashi,” He begins.

“Takahashi.” You reply.

There’s a pause, but he doesn’t even look up. “Nice try. Miss Kobayashi, it seems your report is valid, I just have a few questions for you.”

“I… have one.” You manage, but even as you say the words you feel your throat go dry.

Smoker closes the folder and leans back in his chair, regarding you coolly. “Do you know what your parents did for a living?”

Did. Your stomach knots at the implication. Your parents had left on a business trip some weeks ago, and you hadn’t heard from them recently.

“They… tra-travel a lot…” You begin, fighting back the tears and trying not to assume anything you don’t actually know. “Something about sales and business contracts. I don’t know, really.”

“Hm.” He opens the folder, looking over things again. “And you don’t live with them anymore?”

You shake your head. “I moved out… j-just this past summer. I’d graduated and found steady work, and we… we were all comfortable with the idea of it.” You explain.

“And the work you do?”

“… Data entry. It’s… nothing really, but it pays well enough.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

You can feel his eyes on you, and it takes everything you have to look up and return his gaze. “… Yes.”

“What was your question.” He says after a moment.

“Am I going to die?”

“Possibly.”

Your body relaxes. There’s something about his tone that feels more final than the open ended-ness of his word choice.

“Not going to beg?”

“Would it make a difference?” You smile sadly, not even looking at him when you ask.

“Historically, no.” He writes something down on the file he’s been holding and sets it down on the chair as he stands up. “But, you’re…” He breathes in slowly, making you look up at him. The look in his eyes is different from before. “Perfect.”

“I’m-.” Your voice stops in your throat as the man in front of you turns into smoke. It fills the room and wraps around you so carefully before throwing the window open. You don’t know what to say, or do. Your mind can’t wrap itself around the idea that this man has turned into smoke.

You expected him to drop you from some height. To return you to your apartment and kill you there. To fill your mouth and lungs with the smoke he was, and suffocate you with his own existence.

But nothing like that happened. After some time you were deposited against a wall. You don’t even know when you entered a building, but this room, well-lit as it was, had no windows. Where ever the door was, you couldn’t see it from where you were.

Cold iron was around your ankle, and the creak of a bed-frame fills your ears as your body settles against a surprisingly fluffy mattress. The smoke collects back together and his tall, wide frame looms over you. The look in his eyes unnerves you, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.

He reaches out carefully, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. The shape of the word he used earlier brushes against his lips before he steps back and gives you space. For a moment you’re certain he’s going to lean down and kiss you.

“Listen to me, and you won’t die.” The hand that had caressed your cheek is under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” His thumb moves over your bottom lip gently.

You nod. You don’t know what it means to be good for him, but you’ll do your best. He’s said he won’t, but he certainly can kill you, and if he was ordered to kill you, it might not matter. All of this, might be for nothing.

You can feel tears well up in your eyes. You’re too off-balance. The last few hours have been too tumultuous. You couldn’t really wrap your head around it all, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that despite your struggle to this point, you weren’t going to make it.

“It’s okay. No one will find you.” He promises, and with a terrible, heavy, cold clarity, you believe him.

#birthday request event #birthday request event 2024 #one piece drabble #reader insert #x reader #smoker one piece

22 notes · View notes

danisbrainrot · 6 months

Note

Happy birthday, I hope you're having the best birthday, also i hope you a healthy and happy life 💛🎂

Also thank you for writing my requests, it's literally so sweet of you 💜

And since I'm Johanna mason obsessed I thought

Reader is disappearing into the woods for long hours, then comes back home exhausted. Johanna is getting worried and curious about what reader is doing. Usually, reader would love Johanna to go with her on her walks in the woods, but not this time.

Reader is actually building a tree perch or tree deck (I don't know what it's called, but it looks like the pictures), as a surprise for Johanna's birthday. On Johanna's birthday, reader decorated it with flower bouquets, lanterns, and candles, making it look like a fairy tale setting, with a smile picnic if that makes any sense

Ps: English isn't my first language so sorry if anything don't make sense

johanna mason x reader no because being obsessed with johanna mason is so real. also thank you so much <333, i needed to pump out a johanna fic for my birthday so i'm glad you asked for this one!! as always, i love your prompts they're so imaginative! johanna might be *slightly* ooc.

"i'm just going for a walk," you call out, letting the door slam behind you. johanna peeked her head out from the kitchen, but saw you were gone and shrugged. she felt a little hurt because usually, you would go for walks with her but she brushed it off and went about her morning routine.

when this habit continued for a couple of weeks, she began to grow upset. you'd walk out the door, planting a kiss on her cheek and waving goodbye and she'd be alone again; moping around the house, she would grumble angrily to herself about how she was going to confront you. then when you return home, cheery and embracing, her face would lighten up and she’d ignore how she was feeling.

then, the hours grew longer and you weren’t returning quite as happily. you made sure to hug her, or kiss her, but your mood was dampened and you were beyond exhausted. johanna began worrying something really bad was wrong; the situation left her conflicted. did she stop you from going out so you wouldn’t be tired? or let you do what you wanted? the idea of losing you scared her immensely, that she sent finnick a letter asking him for help. he came a week later with annie and their son, saying that he would stay until after her birthday party, and help her sort out the problem. the second you were left alone with him, however, you managed to convince him to disappear with you as well.

johanna had never been more concerned. what were you two hiding from her? were you cheating on her with finnick? she shook her head, refusing to let her mind wander down that path. you would never do that to her—could never do that to her. so she’d end up playing with finnick’s son and talk to annie all day until everyone else showed up. katniss and peeta—along with haymitch—rocked up the day before johanna’s birthday, eager to help. while katniss and haymitch gave awful advice (johanna didn’t want to snap at you and demand you tell her what happened), peeta encouraged her to wait a little longer; she wondered if you’d told him something, and now she was nervous about what she was supposedly waiting for.

it wasn’t until you finally disappeared in the early morning of her birthday that she cracked. she followed you, while you crept down the dimly lit trail. you occasionally placed a candle on the ground and lit it, before continuing on your way. it was a little while before you finally stopped in front of a large tree, with a gorgeous wooden deck. she hides behind a tree as you climb up the ladder and began setting up the blanket, placing the food on top and adding a few finishing touches to give it the rustic vibe johanna loved so much.

“you can come up now!” you announce, watching johanna peer out from behind the tree, as she hesitantly approached the ladder. she looks up at you, signalling for her to join you, before swiftly scaling the ladder and kissing you once you’re reunited at the top. “happy birthday, johanna,” you whisper against her lips.

she smiles, her blush prominent now as she realises how embarrassing it was to suspect something was wrong with you, when in reality you’d been working on this for her birthday. “thank you,” she replies, pulling away and sitting down properly. she takes one of the sandwiches you’d prepared and munches down on it. “did you build this all by yourself?”

“i had a little help,” you confess, shrugging your shoulders and plucking a bunch of grapes—before throwing them in your mouth one by one. she can’t contain her snort, rolling her eyes playfully. “the best thing about sharing friends with you, is that they wanted to help me build and prevent you from seeing it prematurely. it was a good idea throwing a party and inviting them all, otherwise i’d never have gotten this done in time.”

johanna smirks, shaking her head, “that explains a few things,” placing her head in your lap as you softly stroke her hair.

“happy birthday, my love,” you whisper, kissing the top of her forehead.

she smiled up at you, “it is when you're here.”

#johanna x reader #thg series #wlw #the hunger games #fanfic #fluff #blurb #johanna mason #thg #johanna mason x reader #danisasks #dani's fics <3

35 notes · View notes

finn-m-corvex · 5 months

Text

Lightning in a Cubicle Pt. 4

And here it is! At long last! The fourth part of Lightning in a Cubicle! We have finally crossed the halfway marker and are on our way to the finale, which is looking like two more parts away (5 and 6) and that'll be a relief for me, honestly. I know this is quite late, but I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

Words: 3.4k

Slight TWs for very very very small wanting to rot in hell instead of the Administration! Taglist @rainofthetwilight @lightning-chicken @i-love-jay-walker and @sir-robyn! Enjoy! Remember if you want to be on future taglists, please tell me explicitly!

Sora was seriously growing on Jay, and it was a problem.

A couple of weeks had passed since the girl first became his intern, and she was probably the best thing that he could’ve ever asked for. She was efficient, on time, productive, and always managed to make him laugh on a day day. Plus, she was always on his side whenever Shitty Sharon decided to try and start shit, as her name implied. Overall, the past two weeks were probably the best that Jay ever experienced while working with the Administration, and he couldn’t think of anything else that would make it even better.

Well, there was one thing, but he already knew that there was no way he was ever getting those memories back.

“...so I told the guy to shove off if he didn’t want pictures of his ass hanging around the office,” Sora said between bites of food that the two picked up from the cafeteria, “because you know that I would’ve put his ass on the copier.”

“Oh, I know,” Jay said, looking at the girl fondly as she stuck her feet up on his desk. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry about it, especially when his cubicle was as tiny as it was. “Then what happened?”

She continued to regale him with tales of her adventures in the mailroom three floors down, and Jay did his best to listen, but he was distracted.

Every night since Sora had shown up he would have dreams. Weird dreams of things that he couldn’t place, people that he couldn’t remember, and in the morning he would do his best to sketch whatever remnants he could pick out from the haze of his mind. The pictures were hanging up all around his apartment with push pins and thumbtacks, and Jay hoped that his inspection would be delayed. Otherwise he might get sent off to the psychiatric ward, and fined for all of the new drywall that would have to be installed.

Did the Administration even have a psychiatric ward? With how often upper management drives the lower classes crazy, they better have one. And it better not be coming out of Jay’s paycheck.

“Hey,” Sora said, snapping her fingers in front of his face, “are you even listening? Geez, don’t tell me we’ve gotta get you hearing aids now.”

“I’m listening,” Jay protested, “just thinking at the same time. You were saying something about one of the guys sticking his hand up the pneumatic tube?”

Jay’s brain kept working while Sora talked. All of his searches for someone named Lloyd turned up with nothing, unless he was somehow dreaming about the legendary Green Ninja, but there was no way that someone as ordinary as him would have any association with a ninja. Jay didn’t even know that Ninjago had ninja! Which you would think would be something that he would remember considering he was from Ninjago!

And yet, faint memories tugged at the farthest corners of his mind, there but just barely out of his reach. Most of them were of Cole in his black gi, great green scar on his forehead and eyes of charcoal brown, but there were some of a younger man in green next to a taller man in red, a harsh scar over the latter’s eye and irises a molten brown. One in white, with shiny metallic skin that gleamed in the sunlight and eyes glowing icy blue, but the one that twisted the knife is his gut the most was the one woman in his memories. She had beauty greater than the depths of the sea, with eyes that floated between blues and greens that he had only seen in pictures of ocean waves.

They were the Ninja.

He found things about all five of the Ninja: green, red, black, white, and gray or cyan since the articles couldn’t decide what color she officially was. She was the most gorgeous woman that Jay ever laid eyes on, and he knew that he would be thrilled if she ever became his manager—

“Jay!”

“What?” he said, annoyed.

The girl sighed. “Alright, now I know you’re not listening. What’s got you so distracted? I know you don’t like working overtime, but I thought the pay was good enough to help you at least pretend to be doing something.”

Usually it was, but even that sweet overtime couldn’t push his thoughts out of his head. “You said you lived in the Crossroads for a while, right? Did you learn anything about the Ninja?”

Sora looked surprised, and Jay knew how much of a risk this was. “I may have heard some things, why?”

“I-I was looking at some stuff about them to try and learn what they were like,” Jay said, but he decided to backtrack. “You know what? It’s nothing. We should probably just be heading home.”

“Wait,” Sora said, springing up after him as he stood and started grabbing up his things, “you can talk to me, Jay. What’s wrong?”

And he wanted to so badly; Jay trusted her more than he trusted anyone else in this place. Their trip to the aquarium had only strengthened their bond into something that Jay never knew he would have. Before she came into his life he probably would’ve said that he trusted Luke the most, but ever since he first met Sora he started acting more and more cagey whenever the two would walk by. He would only talk in short sentences to her, sometimes not at all, and it rubbed Jay the wrong way. “It’s nothing, really. Do you need me to walk you home?”

“Uh,” Sora paused, “I don’t think so. I should be okay.”

The two of them started walking out of the office, Jay bidding goodbye to the rest of his exhausted coworkers as they went. Luke was nowhere to be found, and the man standing there in the security uniform instead of Luke instantly brought a smile to Jay’s face. The shaggy hair was achingly familiar, and the man looked up to see who was exiting. A smile split Jay’s face in response to the man’s, and for some reason it just felt right to drop his briefcase and sprint to the man.

“Cole!” Jay exclaimed, jumping into the bigger man’s arms and hugging him tight. Cole laughed, reciprocating, and a rush of familiarity made him light-headed even though Jay only met this guy once before. Jay stayed there for a minute or two before realizing how weird it probably was to be hugging your security guard, and pulled back after a minute; Cole’s grip made it a little difficult, almost as if the ravenette didn’t want to let Jay go.

His head started throbbing, trying to conjure up all of the fragments that he could remember about Cole, but the only things that came to his mind were the drawings hanging up on his walls. They couldn’t be everything that Jay had from Cole, not when his arms made him feel safer than the Administration security forces ever did.

Smile still on his face, Cole put his hands on his hips. “Guess who got the job?”

“You did?” Jay guessed, and Cole flexed his large muscles as confirmation. Someone coughed from behind them and Jay belatedly realized that Sora was still standing there, looking very confused. Her eyes were wide as they looked at Cole, and Cole’s eyes widened in response.

“Oh! Sora, this is Cole. Cole, this is my intern Sora. She’s great,” Jay babbled, not noticing the tension starting to leak into the air. Instead, all he could focus on was that now he had his two favorite people in the entirety of the Administration in the same hallway. You would be surprised at how hard that was to accomplish in a building with over 300 floors.

“Yeah, we’ve met before,” Sora said stiffly, and Jay caught a brief glimpse of Cole making a shushing motion before he turned to look at his intern.

“Oh shit, really?”

“I saw her in the elevator the other day,” Cole said quickly, and Sora’s face scrunched in confusion before clearing. “We had a good talk about, uh, the printers and everything! Right Sora?”

“Printers?” Jay asked.

“Right! Printers!” Sora said, picking up Jay’s briefcase and handing it to him. “Pesky little things, right? C’mon, we should get going. We still have to get to your apartment.”

Jay sighed, patting Cole’s arm as he faced the now fixed elevator. “She’s right. Sorry man, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow—”

“I can walk with you,” Cole blurted, and Jay paused.

“Don’t you have to stay here and keep watch?”

“With all due respect, Jay, I don’t think anyone’s going to be breaking into the accounting department after 8 P.M. I can walk you to your house and come back. I’ll even walk Sora to wherever she needs to be so you don’t have to worry about it.”

Well, what did he have to lose? His job? Maybe that would be a free excuse to finally get out of this damn place.

“If you’re sure,” Jay said, walking to the elevator. He tried to hide the pep in his step, shoving his lightning down as far as it would go. There had already been way too many close calls with Sora, he couldn’t slip up now. “I’m on floor 275, so it might take a couple minutes.”

“Totally fine,” Cole assured, watching as Jay drew out his keycard and swiped it. The elevator dinged not even a minute later, and the three of them stepped inside as the doors closed behind them with their signature soft woosh. Cole was standing abnormally close to Jay, something that the man would’ve normally minded if it was anyone but Cole. Somehow it just felt right when it was Cole.

Some strange feeling of dread started to creep over him, but he knew it wasn’t from Cole and Sora. Memories tugged at his senses, and his sight started to blur with colors that Jay wasn’t familiar with as sounds pinged off of the elevator walls. What was happening?

Jay started babbling about random nonsense to pass the time, a nervous habit of his, but neither Cole nor Sora tried to stop him. If anything, Cole looked like he was hanging on every one of Jay’s words, and it was a nice change from the constant ignoring or fake interest from Jay’s coworkers. Now that Jay was looking at Cole properly, trying to focus on something he could see and process, he did kinda look like the black ninja from the pictures. His hair was a bit longer, and his face was a bit more weathered, but there was definitely a resemblance.

“Say, Cole,” Jay started, cutting his rant about the horrors of cardstock paper short, “would you happen to know anything about a group called the Ninja?”

Cole choked on air. Sora looked slightly alarmed and quickly whacked him on the back, Cole finally catching his breath and looking at Jay with wide eyes. “What?”

“If you’re from Ninjago, then you should know who the Ninja are, right?” Jay continued. His mouth felt weird from saying the word.

“O-Oh yeah,” Cole scratched the back of his head, “I guess you could say that. I, uh, actually knew them before the Merge happened?”

“What was the girl like?” Jay asked, fiddling with his sleeves. He couldn’t shake the feeling of deja vu, even though he knew for a fact that he had never been in this kind of situation before. “She’s really pretty, you know.”

The elevator whirred as it went up, and Jay noticed that Cole didn’t seem to be feeling any of the normal motion sickness effects. Maybe he was already accustomed to it. “I know,” Cole said, “I think you and her would’ve gotten along really well, Jay.”

“Seriously?” Jay’s face brightened, and Sora made a fake gagging sound in the background. “Shut it, Sora. What did she like? What did she eat? Is she still here? Is she nice?”

He grabbed the front of Cole’s shirt, reeling with sensory input from the memories, preparing himself to ask the most important question of all. “Is her favorite color blue?!”

The security guard looked a little startled at how close Jay had gotten in the past minute, but then he relaxed, chuckling. “Yeah, buddy, her favorite color is blue.”

Buddy. The word awakened something in Jay, and suddenly he was clutching onto Cole for a reason other than to be dramatic.

Lightning flashed in his head, blisteringly hot and turning his vision white as he gripped onto Cole’s shirt. Cole was saying his name but Jay couldn’t speak, his tongue feeling like a wad of cotton in his mouth as he was gasping for air. The elevator kept going up and up and up, but all Jay felt was falling down-

Crashing onto his knees, Jay kept heaving, feeling Sora’s hand on his back and Cole’s on his chest as his vision blurred with tears. Finally, the elevator came to a stop, and Jay couldn’t help the relief that came over him when he realized that he was finally going to be able to go home. But no matter how much he tried his knees wouldn’t move, and more tears came to his eyes when he realized that the others were going to have to help him get home. They were going to see what was in the apartment.

They were going to abandon him. Who wants to be friends with someone who was losing his fucking mind?

“Get him up,” Cole ordered, and Sora came up on Jay’s other side. She draped his arm across her shoulders and lifted, and the two of them dragged him out of the elevator and down the hallway. Jay was still getting his bearings back, head spinning out of control as the carpeted floor suddenly looked very inviting yet again. Anything was better than having to face them after something like this.

Sora scanned the hallway, looking at each of the numbered plates. “I don’t know which one is his!”

“64,” Jay croaked, and Cole found it almost immediately. The poor office worker tried to give the security guard his keycard, and Cole refused it at first, instead taking up a stance that indicated that he was going to kick Jay’s door down. Jay did not feel like explaining that to the house inspection team on top of everything else. “You break my door down and I’ll break your spine.”

“You could definitely try,” Cole grunted, but he heeded Jay’s warning, instead taking the keycard and swiping it.

A soft click, and the larger man pushed the door open. Sora brought Jay in and set him down on his ratty old couch, the man sinking into the cushions and slamming his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to look around his apartment. Sora rubbed his shoulder, asking if he was okay, and then she noticed the drawings.

“Jay, what the hell is all of this?” she said, reaching out and touching one of the many pieces of paper. It was the first one he did back in his office, before he ever met her, of the Black Ninja in all of his glory and bearing a striking resemblance to the new security guard. Cole was also examining them, biting his lip as his fingers brushed across the one with the Black Ninja falling into the dark cloud. Jay never did manage to find any information on something like that happening in Ninjago. “Are-are you going crazy?”

“I…” Jay paused, “I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”

Because he didn’t. He really, really didn’t.

And that scared him.

Looking away from the drawing, he watched as Cole’s hands tightened into fists, his face contorting into something that Jay didn’t recognize. Resignation? “There’s something that I should probably tell you,” Cole said softly, turning to look Jay in the eyes. “You’re not supposed to be here, Jay. You never were.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jay said bitterly, blunt with hurt. “You think that I don’t know that I wasn’t meant to be here?”

“How much do you remember?”

Jay’s shoulders hitched. “Nothing. I don’t remember anything before this stupid place. All of these, all of them, they’re from my dreams. I don’t know what they’re trying to tell me, and I-I don’t even know if they mean anything.”

There was a box of tissues placed down next to him, and Jay glanced up to see Sora giving him a soft smile. “Here, these might help. Just take a few minutes, we’re not going anywhere.”

Grabbing up one of the tissues, Jay began to try and clean himself up a little, but he felt just as shattered and broken as he did on the first day he woke up. He had woken up in a bed, the same bed in his apartment, with only a note on the nightstand about how he had been in a coma from a workplace accident and that he was expected to be in his office at the normal time.

He didn’t know where his office was. He didn’t know the normal time. All he knew was that nothing, nothing felt right when he woke up and it hadn’t gotten better in three years of working in the Administration. There was always some small voice inside of him, whispering that he was destined for something greater than fixing copy machines, but-but..

Jay was trapped. He didn’t even know what he could say to get him out of that place.

But..but maybe they could help him get out.

Sora picked something up out of the box with his gi, left open on his messy desk, and Jay’s heart sank when he saw the light gleaming off of it. It was something that he only had second-hand knowledge about from his parents, and even that was fuzzy, but it was the only explanation he had to go off of because the Administration did not consider information about Ninjago traditions very important.

His Ying-Yang medallion.

Cole sucked in a breath when he saw it, eyes watering. “You still have that?”

“You know what it is?” Jay asked, standing up and instantly having to sit back down from the dizziness. He motioned for Sora to come closer, and took the medallion when she offered it. “Please, Cole, you have to tell me everything you know about this.”

Please. Please. They—they had to know something he didn’t, something to get him out and to see her—

Silence.

Sora wouldn’t meet Jay’s eyes, but he wasn’t giving her much of his attention; most of his attention was on the security guard, whose eyes softened, and Jay was startled to see tears forming at the corners. Cole quickly wiped them away with his jacket sleeve, grunting, before looking back up at Jay. Earthen brown on electric blue. Jay had the sinking feeling that this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

Maybe it had something to do with the drawing of the two figures trapped deep in an arena pit, staring each other down from atop a pillar. It was dark, and there was a green blade gleaming in the corner of his vision when he was fighting for his spot on the pillar, but he could still hear the sounds of screaming applause echoing in his ears. Jay knew now who was the one in the black suit, but..he never managed to dream up who the second person could’ve possibly been. Whose eyes he was looking through.

“Her-her name is Nya,” Cole started, his hands clenched into fists. “She’s the Elemental Master of Water, and my-my sister. You’re my brother.”

“My parents didn’t have another kid,” Jay said. Something wasn’t right. “They were too old. Is your name even Cole? Or was that a lie too?” The idea of Cole lying to him about this was nauseating, and Jay wished that he was still sitting down in the elevator, hitting the bottom floor and wishing that the cable would’ve snapped so he would be plummeting straight down to hell. Maybe he was already there.

“I’m not Ed and Edna’s kid, and I wasn’t lying about my name. I’m not lying to you,” breathing out of his nose, Cole met Jay’s eyes, hardening with a resolve that sent tingles up Jay’s spine. “Jay, I need you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to tell you, okay? You cannot freak out on me.”

Jay nodded, struggling to swallow past the lump of anxiety and fear in his throat. What-what was he?

Cole sighed. “You’re a Ninja, Jay.”

Yeah, he was in hell. Maybe he would’ve preferred the high water.

#ninjago #ninjago jay #finn's writing #ninjago dragons rising #ninjago cole #ninjago sora #lightning in a cubicle #ninjago dragons rising spoilers #finn's ninjago aus

29 notes · View notes

that-basic-simp · 5 months

Note

Could you possibly do JQ x Fem Y/N going to Prom but the theme is masquerade? Like Y/N ends up going to Prom alone while everyone else had a partner of their own and everyone is wearing masks. Since this was the case, no one was recognizable and so, a tall fancy figure (JQ) is going around, talking, dancing, singing, or/and eating at Prom by themselves but they were still surrounded by people, making it look like they weren't alone. The figure kept catching Y/N's attention and eventually when the person began to speak to Y/N, having their full attention as Y/N made eye contact with the figure, it makes her flustered, like feel hot in the face. Y/N couldn't stop thinking about the mysterious person but they somehow got closer and by the end of the night, the mysterious figure revealed themselves to be JQ...

(Also if you want, you could put this onto wattpad too bc recently wattpad removed the option of being able to message so that's why I'm requesting on here instead lol and this is a lot of info for a request but I heard that you like detail so I did my best !!)

- 😇🐰

Hiya! Thank you for the request as well as the detail! You heard right, the more the better. As it helps with the outline of the one-shot as well as helps paint a more detailed picture for me. That sucks that Wattpad removed the DM feature. I didn't know that they did that until you mentioned it. But, again, thank you and I hope you enjoy!

Ballroom Dancing

CW: N/A aside from swearing and mention of a bomb threat as a prank WC: 2.7k+ A/N: The dress shown is the dress Odessa is going to be wearing. It gives me an excuse to use it!

I let out a sigh as I was getting my make up ready. Prom. Of course all my friends had dates and they were going as a big group. Not one of them even asked me if I wanted to join them. Some friends they were. It didn't matter. I remember the story my mom told me of her going by herself and meeting my father there. If only my life was like a fairy tale like theirs. As I was putting on the finishing touches, my mother walked into the bathroom after knocking.

"What's up, mom?" I asked.

"I wanted to give you this," she handed me a mask.

It was pretty on theme since the prom theme for this one was masquerade. Last year's prom was a barn like theme. Thankfully I didn't go and the photos were awful from what my friends showed me. How could you do that? It just doesn't seem right to do a barn and prom theme. Now if they want to do something cool, they could do a fantasy themed prom. The men having their suits resemble a knight in shining armor's while the women can have long, poofy dresses that had long tails in the back. It would be so much better than this masquerade theme.

"Isn't this yours when you went to that masquerade ball with dad?" I asked.

"Yes. And it matches your dress perfectly."

The mask was a deep blue, almost navy, but it was still lighter. There was black lace lining the rim of the mask and the eye holes. On both sides of the mask were peacock feathers and there was one large one in the middle, the end of the feather held in place by an assortment of jewels to make a pattern.

"Thanks, mom," I said, finishing up the make up.

"You look stunning, Y/N," my mother said.

"Couldn't land me a date."

"I'm sure you might find someone tonight."

"I don't think I will," I shook my head.

"You never know," she walked off, closing the door.

Once I had finished up, I grabbed the mask and walked out of the bathroom, heading downstairs to where my mother and father were. I took some photos in front of the mantle and the door before heading to my father's car. As we were driving through the neighborhood, there were other kids from my school that were taking photos outside with their dates or their friends. I even drove past my friend's house where they were having a small party before going to prom. I grumbled and flipped them off, even though they weren't outside. My father laughed and flipped them off with me.

"Thanks, dad," I said, smiling slightly.

"I've always got your back, kiddo. Besides, they're not good to you. They don't deserve you."

"Learned that the hard way," I let out a sigh.

"I know it's hard," he said. "Your mother and I struggled to make friends and maintain them."

"It's just high school bullshit," I said.

"It is. It's as they say, best or worst years of your life."

"They're turning out to be the worst," I said.

"You're only a sophomore."

"And things aren't looking up."

"You never know about tonight, Y/N."

My father reached the venue for the prom and I stepped out of the car, mask in hand along with my phone.

"Text if you want to come home early, alright?" my father asked.

"I will."

"Love you, sweetheart."

"Love you, too, dad," I closed the car door and he drove off.

I took in a deep breath, "What could go wrong?"

Everything. Everything that could go wrong tonight went wrong. I bumped into someone I didn't ever want to see again: an old friend of mine who stabbed me in the back. That turned into an argument with her beloved boyfriend to save her. Disgusting. Bitch can't even fight with both her fists and her words.

I think I got caught watching someone spike the punch. They glared at me, shaking their heads as they walked off. Sticking to water tonight or I will just suffer through dehydration. All the tables that were there were full or already claimed. So I resorted to awkwardly standing in the back corner, watching people file into the large hall. It was basically for weddings and big events like that. There was a chandelier that was hanging from the ceiling and the light of the DJ's RGB were being reflected. The music was loud to where I felt every word, every hit of the drum in my chest.

My friends walked in and they made eye contact with me. I just let out a sigh and walked to the other corner, away from where everyone was coming in. They followed me, since of course there was a lone table close by. I guess the people who were sitting there either left or found another place to sit. So they sat down and gave me glares the entire night. I was subtle with them. Eyeing the punch and even made my way over to it, like I was getting a glass for myself. The girls made their way over to me and stopped to 'talk' to me.

"Surprised to find you here," the one said.

"Like I'd miss this for the world," I sighed.

"You do know it's a masquerade ball?"

"Oh right," I faked a smile at them as I put my mask on.

"I knew it. You're still recognizable even under all that," one snickered.

"I think you should try the punch," I said, grabbing a glass. "I heard it's the best."

They all scrambled to get a glass before they walked over to the table. I sneered at them and set the glass down, about to walk away, but someone bumped into me. Someone tall and built.

"Pardon me," they said with an accent.

They disappeared into the crowd, but they couldn't really blend in. They were taller than everyone here and the heels they were wearing made them even taller. Why would you wear heels when you're already that tall? But something about them stood out. Their hair was blue, or I think it was blue. I can't really see in this dim lighting. The middle part was pulled back into a main braid, then there were braids coming from either side of their head, connecting to the main one. It formed into a bun and the rest of their hair was resting against their back. Holy shit, this person was a sight. Their head turned and their mask hid everything aside from their glowing amber eyes.

I swallowed hard, my heart rate picking up.

"Excuse me."

"S-Sorry," I said, coming back to reality.

I moved away from the drinks and made my way towards a different corner of the room. I watched as everyone was talking to one another, dancing, and of course the grinding. One reason I didn't enjoy dances like these. All the girls wore short and tight dresses to where anything from the front or behind would slip out. I think they were hoping that would happen so they could get a guy's attention if they were single. But my eyes kept following the tall person. They seemed to be the life of the party. Everyone was surrounding them, cheering and hollering whenever they'd do a crazy dance move or something of the sorts. Who was that person? I have never seen them before. I would remember if I saw a giant like them walking around the halls of the school.

As the night drew on, I tried to find a way to talk to this person. Out of everyone here, they had my sights. I think I was in theirs as we'd make eye contact with each other here and there. Whenever I would move towards the mosh pit, they'd try to move out, but they were pulled back in. I don't think I was ever going to get their attention. I walked out of the room and into the hallway where it was more quiet. There were some couples there too, talking to one another in private or getting intimate. I looked away and I turned on my phone to see it hadn't been two hours since I got here and this event was four hours. I mean, I could leave anytime I wanted to. I unlocked my phone and called my dad.

"Hey, you ready to come home?"

"Yeah," I let out a sigh, trying not to cry. "This was a mistake coming here."

"I'll be there soon."

"Ok. Thanks, dad."

"See you soon, sweetheart. Love you."

"Love you."

"Hey, there ya are," a voice came behind me.

I turned and faced the person before turning around, trying to find if there was anyone behind me. There were none.

"Yes, you," they chuckled.

Now that I was able to see them, I immediately looked down at the heels they were wearing. It added about 5 inches to their already, I assume, 7 foot height. Holy shit this person is huge. My eyes trailed up to the dress she was wearing. They looked amazing. It was a black dress, but there was an opening near the top of her thighs, almost close to her ass if she turned too quickly. There was a bit of the side I could see, but not too much.

What was exposed, a bit too much, was her chest. What knockers. (If you know what that is from, I applaud you. You have good taste in movies.) What needed to be covered was covered. A collar was wrapped around her throat and two pieces of fabric extended down and it was held together by a golden circular piece. There were more fabric extending outwards to where her chest was. Gold chains were attached to that golden circular piece and it came down in front of her chest. There were also more gold chains by her thighs. I could only imagine what the back looked like. To finish the outfit was a black mask that had black feathers glued on.

Now that I was looking at her, she was a pretty bulky person. Broad shoulders, thick biceps, and large hands that could easily cover my face. Even wrap around my throat with ease. Whoa there brain. Let's not go there.

"U-Um, h-hi," I said, my palms getting sweaty, my heart racing, and my face was growing warmer by the second. I was grateful that this mask covered my cheeks. But I could feel my entire face turning a deep shade of red. So it didn't really help there when it came to that.

"Ya a bit warm?" she asked, her Australian accent becoming clear.

"I-It is a bit warm in here," I said.

"I just want to be brief," she said.

"Y-Yeah?"

"I saw ya lookin' at me," she smirked.

"A-And if I was?"

"I was lookin' at ya, too. How could I not, though?"

"I can say the same about you," I said.

She snickered, "I get that a lot."

"I'm sure you do," my eyes flicked to her strong shoulders to her large chest. "I-I don't mean to be like the others." My eyes finding hers.

"I mean, ya can't help it," she smiled, crossing her arms over her chest, really making her biceps stand out.

I think she was doing that on purpose, because they looked to be flexed instead of relaxed now. I swallowed hard, trying really hard to keep eye contact with her.

"Y-You're not from here, are you?"

"What gave it away?" she chuckled.

"I know everyone in this school that goes here. You're not one of them."

"A friend of mine asked me to come to prom 'ere since my prom got cancelled."

"How so?"

"Some jackasses thought it would be funny to send a bomb threat the night of prom."

"I'm sorry about that," I said.

"Police caught 'em and are givin' 'em community service. Principal suspended them and they're not allowed to walk at graduation."

"They were seniors?"

"Yep. That was their senior prank."

"Terrible prank."

"That's what I said. If you're goin' to have a senior prank, usually ya'd get on the PA system and be shitheads there. Or cover your favorite teacher's room in sticky notes. Not do that."

"Yeah, seriously."

"Ya want to know what I would have done?"

"What?"

"My one teacher hates scorpions. I was gonna put a fake one in their drawer."

I chuckled, "That's kind of mean, don't ya think?"

"It's fake. Ain't like it's a real one where it can cause harm."

I chuckled some more, my heart slowed down and my nerves started to calm down.

"How are you enjoying tonight?" I asked her.

"Not really my thing this prom stuff."

"Were you going to go to yours?"

"I was, but not like this," she gestured to the dress she was wearing.

"What would you have worn?"

"Something more fitting. I had to wear this on a bet I lost."

"Who bet you?"

"My one friend made a bet with me, sayin' that if I didn't get a date by the time my prom came up, I'd have to wear this. I lost and then that happened with the threat."

"So you kept your word?" I asked.

"Kinda had to since my friend bought the dress."

"Shit," I said.

"I'm more surprised they had it in my size for how tall I am, along with busty."

"You're not kidding," I said, slapping a hand over my mouth, my eyes widening with fear. "I am so sorry," I whispered through my hand.

Her head was flung back and she barked out a laugh, "You're kinda funny, ya know that?"

"I-I'm not trying to be. T-That just kind of slipped out."

"No need to feel embarrassed. I've done some more embarrassin' shit."

"Such as?"

"There was this one time that I went to the mall with an ex of mine. She dared me to sit in the fountain that was there."

"Did you?"

"I did. I was removed from the mall that day. Couldn't return for about a month afterwards."

I tried not to laugh, but I think she encouraged me to because she started to laugh. Her laughter was infectious.

"Sounds like a crappy ex."

"She was, but ya live and ya learn."

My phone went off and it was my father messaging me he was here.

"I-I'm sorry to cut things short, b-but I've got to go."

"Can I walk ya out?"

"There's no re-entry when you leave."

"Fine by me."

"A-Actually," I opened up my phone and messaged my dad.

"Is it ok if I bring someone home? Just to chat."

"Who is it?"

"Someone I met here. Haven't gotten her name yet."

"You mean to tell me you've been talking to her this entire night and didn't get her name? Y/N! XD"

"Sorry, dad. At least it's not a guy."

"Alright. Bring her home. Who knows. You two might hit it off." He sent the smirking emoji afterwards. I shook my head and sighed.

"I-If you're comfortable, you're more than welcome to come to my house. I just asked my dad and he said it was fine."

"I don't want to do that to your parents. Besides, ya just met me tonight."

"And like you'd do anything to me?"

"Ya never know."

"I trust you."

"That easily?"

"I do," I said.

She sighed and chuckled, shaking her head. She reached up and removed her mask. She was even more gorgeous without it.

"Odessa," she said, sticking her hand out.

"Y/N," I said, grabbing onto it.

She pulled me towards her, bending down slightly to press a light kiss to my cheek.

"Looks like I caught myself a beauty."

I shivered slightly as the two of us walked out of the building and towards my father's car.

"Holy shit!" my father cried out.

"Sorry, dad. I should have told you she was tall."

"She's not just tall, she's like an Amazonian."

Odessa laughed, "That's a new one!"

"Before you get in, watch your--"

It was too late. Odessa banged her head getting into my father's small car.

"Head," I finished my sentence. "We can put some ice on it when we get back."

I got in the front seat and moved my chair up so she had enough leg room.

"Got enough room, Odessa?"

"Bit cramped, but I can deal with it."

"Nice to meet you, Odessa," my father said.

"Pleasure," she said.

"Y/N," he leaned towards me. "You've got something on your cheek."

"What?"

I flipped down the visor and opened up the small mirror that was attached. There was a mark on my cheek from Odessa kissing me. At least it wasn't on the lips. I let out a sigh and my father smiled.

"What did I tell you?"

"Just drive," I chuckled.

#junker queen #odessa dez stone #overwatch2 #queen of junkertown #odessa stone #junkerqueen #overwatch #junkerqueen x reader #junker queen x reader

22 notes · View notes

sabo-has-my-heart · 1 year

Text

Time's Up

"1. Sabo and fem!reader has an arranged and timed marriage where they both don't have feelings for each other and they only have to be married for one or two years. Well... Actually just Sabo not having feeling for reader because she has been secretly crushing on him. The marriage could be between nobles, or between countries, etc. Even though he doesn't like her romantically, Sabo treats her nicely and she also is very supportive of her. She listens to all of his stories and takes interest in his hobbies. Sabo gradually falls in love with her and is actually hoping that the marriage will last. Reader doesn't know the change of his heart, she just thinks that Sabo treats her nice and is grateful of that. Then Sabo confesses on the day their contract ends. Massive fluffy ending where reader and Sabo shows their goofy love in public even though they are famous nobles. (I have this idea while reading some Korean manhwas lol)"

So this isn't in two parts because somehow, somehow, it was exactly 2000 words! I was writing it and wasn't really worried about length, and was super surprised when it was so perfectly numbered!

Warnings: hurt/comfort, light angst, happy ending, arranged marriage

Word Count: 2000

Sitting on a wicker chair in the garden, you sighed, one leg pulled close to your chest. You’d had feelings for the young man for years, ones you’d even attempted acting on. It never ended with much more than a ‘hey, it was nice to see you’, but at least you were trying. When you’d heard that there would be an arranged marriage, you were ecstatic. A chance to marry him?! It was a dream come true! It might not be out of love, but maybe you could get there? Maybe by being married you could get him to fall for you? Learning that it would only be for two years ruined your hopes. How could you get him to fall for you in 2 years? Maybe if it were 5 years, but two?

Sure, you smiled for all the pictures, you smiled whenever you were out in public with him and you put on a good face with him but in all honesty, you were actually kind of distressed. Two years, that was all you had. You two didn’t even share a bed. He hadn’t wanted to force either of you to sleep in the same bed when your marriage was just a timed arranged one. So you had separate rooms, you did your own things. You still had meals together, you still greeted each other in the mornings and you tried to take an interest in his hobbies, but in the time you got alone, you let that all fade away. Your smile fell, your eyes watered and your heart ached. How were you going to get him to fall for you? Could you get him to fall for you? What if this was all just platonic for him? He was always nice to you, he supported everything you did, always gave you a cheery smile and if he noticed you were feeling down, he’d give you a comforting hug. Not that you let him see you down, not if you could avoid it. Was it healthy to hide away from him like you were doing? No. Would letting him know that you were upset bring you closer? Probably. But if you let him see just how distressed you were, he’d ask questions, he’d want to know what had you so upset so often and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him.

Leaning against the balcony railing, Sabo stared out into the garden. You didn’t know it, but from his balcony window, he had a perfect view of the center of the garden where you sat. You always went out there when you were feeling down. He wished he could do something for you, but it was hard enough to get you to admit you were feeling down on the occasions that he caught you normally. He hadn’t been too worried when the two of you had first gotten engaged. It was timed, meaning once the two years were up, you were both free to go your own ways. Now, it was starting to cause him some of his own distress. You were always so sweet, taking an interest in each tale he told you, asking about his interests. The blond wasn’t easily fooled either, he could see the genuine interest on your face. But the timer was ticking away and with each click of the clock hands, he felt the aching in his chest grow stronger. He had to find a way to make this marriage work, had to find a way to make it last. Running a hand through his hair, he took a deep breath. You were so kind to him, so nice, so what about the marriage made you so upset? Was it that you only saw him like a brother? A platonic love? Oh fuck, he hoped not. Perhaps you only saw him as a friend? Someone who held similar interests but didn’t love him in that way.

He’d always tried to be supportive of you, to treat you well. Even if he hadn’t felt that way about you in the beginning, he didn’t want to make your married life hell. But with each passing day, his feelings drifted from acquaintances… then to friends… love… he swore he was nearing obsession. He needed this marriage to work, the thought of you leaving him left him wanting to curl into a ball and sob. Both hands were in his hair now gripping his head. He had to figure out something. Why had he insisted on different bedrooms?! Married couples slept in the same bed even if they didn’t love each other, he should have shared a room with you! Besides, the bed was more than big enough for two people! Hearing the chime of the clock made him shake. Another hour gone. Another hour closer to the end of the contract. He had to make you fall for him no matter what! He had almost a year left, 11 months, he had to do whatever it took to make you love him and he had 11 months to do so.

Walking down the street together, you were both lost in thought. A few months, a few months and this would be over. You’d both be gone from each other’s lives. You might get to be friends, close friends, but the marriage would be over, you’d both move on. Well he might move on, you weren’t entirely sure. You just wished he loved you.

He hoped he didn’t look as downcast as he felt, he didn’t want anyone to ask questions as to why he looked so down while he was with the most beautiful girl of the millenia. Didn’t want people wondering what was wrong with you that had him looking so down when he had you with him. He only had a few more months before this was over, before you’d be gone from each other’s lives. The best he could get was close friends but you wouldn’t be married and the two of you would move on. That wasn’t entirely true. You’d probably move on, find a man you were head over heels with. He just wished you loved him.

He’d tried being even nicer to you lately, tried showing you more attention, tried being more affectionate, but each time, you’d head to the garden and stare out mindlessly while your mind swirled with despair. It was driving him insane. He hadn’t even been coming on strong, he’d been making sure to take it slow! Yet nothing he did helped, it only drove you out to the garden with increasing frequency to escape him! Did you really dislike him that much?! He had one last chance, his all or nothing. He hadn’t wanted to reach this point, he’d wanted for you both to gradually fall for each other, you’d spend more time with him, and one day you’d both realize that the contract had been up a long time ago. You’d both laugh at how you’d forgotten it before cuddling up to one another again.

You only had a few more days. Just a few more days and your contract was up. He’d been more… touchy lately. Sweeter. Probably because he was happy the contract was ending. He could leave and go do whatever he wanted. It had you out in the garden more often. Where he couldn’t see you or your despair. Did he even realize how much his touch and affection hurt? You’d crushed on him for years, for him to act like this, it was absolutely tearing you apart!

Standing in the main entryway, you stared at him. Your bags were packed upstairs, you knew where you’d be going once he told you it was over. He wasn’t the type to tell you to pack your shit and get out but you didn’t want to stay a second longer than you had to. In his hand was a folder, one that held the contract. You knew it did. You were going to head out, get everything checked out, and sign the divorce papers so you could go your separate ways. Sabo took a deep breath as he gave you a sad look.

“Before we uh… before we go, can I say something?” he asked, watching as you nodded. It would probably be the last thing he said to you, “Thanks. Listen, I know these last two years have probably been really hard on you. You could be out doing whatever you wanted, dating whoever you liked, but uh, I just wanted to say that I really didn’t mind being married to you. I was a little skeptical at first, but you’re… you’re actually really amazing. I… I kinda wish the contract wasn’t up. I wish that… that this wasn’t a timed marriage. Sure it was arranged but I’ve actually fallen for you. Y/n… I know you don’t want to be trapped in an arranged marriage, but I want you to know that I love you. Even if we don’t ever see each other again, I don’t think I’ll ever forget you.”

His words left you stunned. He… he loved you? Was he joking? Did he actually love you? Tears began to stream down your cheeks, sending him into a panic as he dropped the documents, trying to wipe your tears away.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I just didn’t want to end this without telling you. I didn’t mean to make you cry! I’m so sorry!” his voice was panicked as he held your face in his hands, trying desperately to wipe away your tears.

“You… you love me? I… are you serious?” you asked, your heart pounding. Sabo paused, giving you a sorrowful look.

“Yeah. Yeah I am. Please, please don’t cry. I’m so sorry.” he said softly, still trying to wipe away your tears, though more slowly and gently. You let out a choked laugh, taking his face in your own hands as you kept laughing past the tears. Pulling him close, you kissed him with as much passion as you could even as tears kept falling.

Sabo felt his heart skip a beat as you kissed him. His hands moving from your cheeks to around your waist, holding you tightly.

“I love you too. So, so much.” you said once you parted, giving him a loving smile, “I never felt trapped in this marriage. I was terrified that it was going to end. Sabo, I love you more than anything. I never wanted the contract to be up, I still don’t. I don’t want to get a divorce. I love you.” you admitted, pulling him into another kiss. Another, then another until you were both left breathless.

“Then we won’t. We won’t get a divorce. We can stay married. The timer was how long we had to stay together, not how long we want to stay together.” he said happily, pulling you close, “Come on. I want to take you out. Wherever you want! I want to take you out on a real date.” he said, taking your hand and pulling you towards the door. You just laughed as you both hurried outside. Neither of you cared that you were on foot, that you were just running down the street laughing. You didn’t care that others stared as he picked you up in the middle of the park and spun you around before pulling you into a kiss. And you didn’t care when it started pouring down rain, absolutely drenching the both of you as you continued to laugh and enjoy yourselves. Even when you walked into the fanciest restaurant in town, drenched head to toe and dripping on their fine carpet, you both just laughed. The maitre de forced to seat you despite how casually you were dressed or how wet you were, lest they lose your business for good. Not even the looks from those in the restaurant could ruin your good mood. Not when you were both in love with each other.

#one piece #one piece sabo #sabo x reader #revolutionary sabo #op sabo #sabo the revolutionary #sabo the revolutionary x reader #revolutionary sabo x reader #flame emperor sabo #flame emperor sabo x reader #chief of staff sabo x reader #chief of staff sabo

70 notes · View notes