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throwaway-yandere · 1 year

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"If the pedestal is beautiful, then the statue must be even more beautiful." (Yandere!Zhongli/reader)

a/n: I do not regret this one bit. while i do feel bad abt yaoyao's suffering, at least i wrote something unhinged again + it aint a zhongli fic without me referencing proverbs lMAO--

unreliable synopsis: “(Y/n) must be a really important person if Rex Lapis made them a statue, right?”

Yaoyao found a realistic statue inside Mt. Hulao.

As she was exploring the area with Qiqi to find herbs, Yaoyao discovered a secret domain that was only accessible to children her size and smaller creatures like Yuegui. It was horribly muddy and extremely narrow. She wouldn't go there on purpose if she hadn't fallen inside after exhausting herself trying to climb a hill just for a stem of violetgrass.

She anticipated a dense mixture of dust and fog inside the cave, with layers of spiderweb adornments, but it was unexpectedly unscathed with the typical filth that embellishes a place over time. The table was piled high with multiple apparatuses that she was unable to identify, but its aesthetics screamed that it was an adeptus' prideful handiwork. Despite not being refused entry as most adeptal abode should do, she came to an unspoken conclusion that this must have been an adeptus' place, and her curiosity grew by the minute when she noticed a life-sized statue sitting in the middle of it all.

Yaoyao was unable to take her eyes off it as a halo of soft yet lurid orange light enveloped it. The statue wore a brown hanfu that was encrusted with citrine jewels fashioned into dragons and the Geo element's symbol. Their clothes looked ruffled on areas near the waist and thighs as though it was frequently hugged and touched around those parts. But what Yaoyao couldn’t forget the most was their black earring with a white tassel that hung on their right ear. She can't recall who she saw wearing that earring when she first saw it, but she had certainly seen it before.

Admittedly, the statue was nearly perfect if it weren’t for the fracture the child had caused upon bumping into it. Yaoyao would have mistaken it for a real person and apologized if it weren't for the diaphanous and stony texture it possessed.

Still, the farrago between real and fake stirred around the lost child’s head as if it was a major dilemma. She swears she had seen that earring somewhere and that chipping its pointer finger off the statue was an inexcusable and grave mistake. Was this statue designed after someone in history or a character from those fictional tales Master loved to talk about? Yaoyao couldn’t decide which is a likelier story, but she certainly didn’t want it to be the former.

In addition, what made it eerier was the anticipation of calamity on their face. It’s a look not at all visible. The majority would undoubtedly dismiss Yaoyao's perspective and assert that the monument exuded a stoic aura. But if such were the case, why does she see the look of a rabbit about to flee in their eyes? The statue’s face exhibited a great firmness that declared that it wasn't as it appeared on the outside.

The statue looked like it was fearing for Yaoyao’s life after what she had done.

To avoid amplifying her trepidation, the young girl focused her attention elsewhere. Near the statue laid a red baize-covered table full of tapestries and books Yaoyao could only reach by tip-toeing and underneath it was stacked with clothes, herbs, vulneraries, and letters without indications of the sender or addressee’s name. If so many offerings were being made, then someone really cared about whoever this statue stood for. A commendable devotion considering how the last letter was only dated about two days ago.

Whoever this statue was and whoever maintained this shrine must’ve mortified a penchant for humorous literature and scientific breakthroughs. It would've been a strange combination if it weren’t for how everything was aesthetically arranged. It was obvious that the domain was kept immaculate out of love and adoration. Under the watchful gaze of this statue, philosophy and science had united into one entity, and Yaoyao was positively enthralled.

However, it was a seasonable night and due to the touch of Nyctophobia children inevitably have, Yaoyao couldn’t tell the murky difference between excitement and fear as she quickly stumbled out of the cave.

When Yaoyao came back the following week after a busy lantern rite, the domain’s opening vanished. She brought Qiqi along and attempted to show her in quailing distress that asked for confirmation that should’ve been a hole in that wall— but Yaoyao was only met with the zombie’s catchphrase of: “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

There was no reinvasion of the cave's darkness. Not a single hump was left to indicate that something was concealed behind it.

And that led to Yaoyao hunting a certain “illuminated bird” down.

——————

“Aunty! Aunty!”

“Must you grate One's ears with your incessant shouting, child?”

The bird continued to coast on its two legs while Yaoyao halted in her tracks, gasping for air. Although Yaoyao found it excruciating to attempt to keep up with the adeptus' quick treks in the mountains, it was obvious to any outside viewers that the crane was being merciful with her slow and tiny steps.

“P-Please stop aunty! I-I just want to ask a few questions!”

Cloud Retainer sighed and did as commanded.

After letting her describe the location and what she had seen inside it, Cloud Retainer nodded in the affirmation that what Yaoyao experienced truly happened. Yaoyao felt triumphant when the adeptus did not dismiss her babbling as some silly delusion, but she was unable to completely express it when she noticed a glimpse of sadness in her eyes.

“Of course it was real. One knows that location quite well, but One was never permitted to enter. That statue you spoke of would be none other than Rex Lapis’ depiction of (Y/n), the Wayward Pharmacist.”

(Y/n)?

Softly, the adeptus continued, “oh, (Y/n)… One remembers them rather fondly.”

Cloud Retainer did not raise her chin or adopt her customary condescending tone. Instead, her message matched her voice. Yaoyao was not the least bit confused by this sudden shift in demeanor.

They both know that name.

After all, (Y/n) (L/n) was Streetward Rambler’s first human disciple.

Yaoyao never inquires about (Y/n) with her master. All of Madame Ping's disciples were aware that they shouldn't broach the matter. Grief swarmed against Streetward Rambler so frequently that she bathed herself with distractions to wash away the acuteness of such regrets. She had done the most of what she could to relieve certain difficulties she had over the years, including mastering inventions and raising mortal children. While the majority of these were in her favor, the final diversion was less successful.

How can it not be painful when Streetward Rambler always sees (Y/n)’s old cheerful and ambivert nature in Xiangling and Yaoyao's eyes?

This was a rare chance to learn more about (Y/n) than just the faceless figure that her Master frequently likens her to. Madame Ping only ever briefly narrated (Y/n)’s deeds. Yaoyao relied heavily on individuals around her for her adepti history knowledge because she wasn't book-learned enough. Hence, inflicting a sense of confidence that she did not fully possess, the child continued to inquire.

“What were they like, Aunty?”

“You must understand how broad that question is.”

“Oh, r-right. Sorry!” Yaoyao sheepishly laughed. “I wanted to ask what was their personality like. Did they have friends? Or, well, what did they do?”

“(Y/n) was…” Cloud Retainer chuckled. Yaoyao couldn’t see a smile, but she heard it from her laughter. “—an obnoxious human.”

“E-Eh?!…” Yaoyao trembled. “S-Should I be worried that Master always compares me to (Y/n), aunty?”

“What nonsense— of course not. Take such compliment with high honor!” The bird towered her gaze above Yaoyao, clearly offended. Effectively, it seemed as if Yaoyao’s needless worries kindled afresh the snobbish Cloud Retainer everyone knew of. “There are only a few humans One regard as almost equals. Their obnoxiousness is what makes them wholly endearing and wholly human. If there was one true flaw One would nitpick out of all their traits, it would be their inherent obsession with longevity.”

Cloud Retainer shook her head. “Rex Lapis often debated with them over this, but (Y/n) was a stubborn mortal. Many occasions led to them being confined in a miniature domain that he keeps in his pockets. We did not agree with their dreams of becoming immortal. But other than that? (Y/n) was a humble loyalist.”

Yaoyao was inclined to believe that she was right because there were a few biological research sprinkled across the statue's domain. She had even read portions concerning Inazuman beliefs regarding stress and "ikegai" which might be related to a human's lifespan.

“Rex Lapis liked them despite arguing with him a lot?”

“Why, if you were there, you would see how adorable they were whenever they deluded themselves they could win a debate against an Archon,” the bird quipped humorously.

"Immortality had always been (Y/n)'s goal. One often told them to not be afraid of death or die worthlessly, but they never listened. They even tried to curse themselves to accomplish this, and astonishingly, they almost succeeded if it weren't for the Conquerer of Demons' unsleeping vigilance while acting on Rex Lapis' orders. The Archon always has an affectionate expression on his face when they pout over his interferences. One would have jokingly said that her friend is in love with a mortal if One didn't know any better."

“Wow…” Yaoyao covered her mouth with her tiny hands in awe. Neither of them seemed to realize that something was incredibly off about that ‘fun tidbit’. “(Y/n) must be smart if they constantly got Rex Lapis’ protection!”

“Indeed they were— were you doubting One’s abilities?! Had One not said they were close to One’s competency?”

“Ah, right.”

“They were an obnoxiously hard-working individual. Grinding their bones in hopes to grant impediments as a rival to Guizhong and I’s intellectual plays. (Y/n) lived a short life filled with effort and virtue, it is to no one’s surprise that Rex Lapis had conceived a great liking towards them,” she mused.

“Rex Lapis nearly caved and made them immortal at one point. However, he changed his mind after finding out (Y/n) had a human lover…” Cloud Retainer closed her eyes. “Perhaps that was an act of mercy. An Archon’s goodwill so that they wouldn’t have to suffer the fate of grieving for their beloved for all eternity.”

If only she knew the truth.

“They must be really important if they got a statue,” Yaoyao tilted her head, emanating a soft chime from her bell accessory. “Master only said that they were very kind and that they had a lover with green hair, and—”

“And?”

The adeptus was interested to learn what her old acquaintance talked about (Y/n). Did the grandmother compliment them on how cute they were? How, in essence, they were one of her greatest sources of delight and pride? Before Streetward Rambler took up the name “Madame Ping”, these were the typical musings she had over tea with both her and Guizhong. In a sense, Cloud Retainer merely pressed the question because she missed these times—

“And that they had a nice big family around Qingce Village! Two sons, one daughter!”

Cloud Retainer made a choking sound.

Impossible.

“Family?! Goodness gracious, it seemed Streetward Rambler has turned into quite a fabulist over time,” Cloud Retainer shook her head. “No, (Y/n) (L/n) unfortunately did not produce such a legacy.”

Legacy?

“I’m so sorry, I don’t get it, aunty. What do you mean?”

“They did not leave a child for me— for us to look after.”

Cloud Retainer cringed at her uncontrollably bitter tone. There was a point in her life where she cursed (Y/n) for this. Death was not something they can control— yes— but she used to be an ignorant fool who did not respect (Y/n)’s decision to never have children. Perhaps, in a way, this was because she wanted to see a new generation of like-minded people like them, but she will never forget the uneasy looks they gave her whenever she launched into one of her rants.

They may have been Streetward’s disciple but to Cloud? She was like their true mother. Much like most mothers of the old generation, she selfishly wished they left behind even a non-blood related grandchild for her to rear after (Y/n)’s name.

“They… have gone missing. They did not die with a family of their own— we did not even find their corpse. One does not know why Streetward Rambler would tell you that.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know... It must’ve been a sad loss for the adepti and everyone else.”

Cloud Retainer only looked away.

“There was no pecuniary loss for us when it had happened, sure,” she said. “But yes, it was indeed a sad time for the adepti to lose both Guizhong and (Y/n) at the same time. There could’ve been a new province of knowledge and ventures— these virtues of arts were never grasped because death had stolen their privilege of penning down their strange yet wonderful conjectures.”

“Time and time again, they had failed to accentuate any alterations in their mortal structure,” she continued. “While others sought out their writings regarding their enlightened art pieces, few looked for their progress on human mortality. One only remembers a singular human who came to find (Y/n)’s transcendental medicines. One believes his name was Baizhu. If One’s explanations were inadequate, perhaps you must seek him instead.”

Yaoyao perked up. Well, that’s lucky. She was just about to head to Bubu Pharmacy to look for the pharmacist later.

“Ah, there you are, Yaoyao!!!”

Out of the blue, Ganyu and a face unfamiliar to the adeptus disrupted the scene. This human had indigo braids wrapped up in a tight bow for hair and amber eyes. Had it not been for Ganyu and a cute little bear clumsily climbing the stairs behind her, Cloud would’ve left immediately.

“Marchosius, it has been a long time...”

“♪~?”

“Woah… Is that Cloud Retainer, Ganyu?” The unfamiliar human gawked.

“That is that. One will no longer entertain questions. One shall take their leave at once.” The adeptus did not waste another moment upon noticing Xiangling’s curious gaze. However, Cloud did give Marchosius a look of respect before taking flight.

The little girl frowned.

“Yaoyao?”

“Oh, sorry,” Yaoyao smiled forcefully. “I just remembered I didn’t get to ask her the most important question.”

“Hmm? What question were you going to get an adeptus’ advice for?” Ganyu placed a hand on her chest. “Perhaps I could help? I may not know all the answers, but I do have some connections.”

“I’m just curious…”

Yuguei jumped off the basket as Yaoyao hastily removed it from behind her. The smaller adepti treasure leaped over her head and peered attentively over as if to assist her in locating the object she was seeking. When she did grasp it, she did not do so carefully. Instead, she held it out like a young child showing off a crayon during show & tell.

Ganyu and Xiangling’s blood ran cold as the child presented them with a dismembered finger.

“Ganyu, do statues made by the adepti bleed?”

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celestial-robots · 9 months

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Explaining Eclipse (A Theory/Headcanon)

Spoilers for the Ruin DLC below!

Okay so I've been thinking so much about Eclipse and what they mean. You know, as you do XD. Just a lot of wondering what they mean for the ~lore~ and how they fit in with the rest of the Sun and Moon stuff. And after a lot of thinking, I may have figured stuff out.

I've seen a couple posts wondering if Eclipse is the way the Daycare Attendant is "supposed to be" and if Sun and Moon are the result of the DCA breaking down or something. But personally I just can't see that. Not only do we hear Sun go "thank you" after the Eclipse encounter, implying he's still around and hasn't permanently "fused" into Eclipse, but it also wouldn't make sense with stuff in Security Breach. In-game Fazbear merchandise and advertising have a lot of focus on Sun and Moon as two separate individuals, not the DCA as a single unit. For example, see the giant golden statues outside of Daycare. Two different forms of the Daycare Attendant. Collectibles are also identified as "Sun" and "Moon." It's not like they're labeled "Eclipse Doll (Sun form)" or "Moon Eclipse Doll." No, it's just "Sun Doll" and "Moon Doll."

So here's how I think it works. Sun and Moon are two separate AIs within the DCA body. They can function on their own, independent of the other, in the way we've been thinking this whole time. BUT they're also designed to join together, like interlocking puzzle blocks. Two separate forms that come together to make a "whole" that's greater than the sum of the parts.

This makes sense from a programming perspective. Sun is designed to play with kids and entertain them, Moon is designed to watch over kids while they sleep. They're both made for specific scenarios, but taking care of kids is a lot more complicated than just "play time" and "nap time." So whenever one of them encounters something they can't deal with by themselves, they call for help from the other, who activates as well, combining their features and protocols. I'm willing to bed this also activates several specific "Eclipse" features that can only be accessed when both AIs are active, which would explain why Eclipse has such a different personality.

But if this is the case, then why haven't we seen Eclipse before? Why did they only come out when Cassie rebooted the DCA?

Well that's where this theory by @dana-chan-the-control-brain and @twinanimatronics comes in. The two of them theorized that the Balloon World arcade cabinet in the DCA's room was some sort of signal broadcaster that kept their AIs divided. I think that Ruin confirms this—or at least provides a lot of solid evidence.

In the main game, Balloon World is in the DCA room, up and active and with a form of Eclipse inside. In Ruin, the Balloon World cabinet is broken. And you can see weird purple glitches coming from it while in AR vision. It's only in Ruin, after the cabinet has been damaged, that we finally meet Eclipse.

This is venturing a bit into headcanon territory, but let's have some fun with this. I believe that the Balloon World cabinet was put in the DCA's room to infect them with the virus. Probably a long time before the events of the actual game, since the worn-down state of the room shows it's been a while since any human or robot cleaners were in there. This might have been some sort of test run to see if the virus could affect the animatronics.

However, the virus couldn't affect the DCA while Eclipse was there, acting as a sort of stabilizing failsafe for Sun and Moon. So the virus then cut off the "fuse" function from Sun and Moon, locking Eclipse away and preventing them from stepping in when Sun or Moon encounter something strange—strange like a virus. Sun probably couldn't be affected by the virus because the virus attacks nighttime and/or security protocols, and he no longer had access to those once Eclipse was gone. Moon, however, did. And that's why he's hostile.

But then, if the Balloon World cabinet was keeping Eclipse contained, why were Sun and Moon still freaking out in Ruin even after the cabinet was destroyed? Why did they need Cassie to reboot them?

Well, I think that forming Eclipse requires both Sun and Moon to want to fuse together. And Moon clearly doesn't want to do that in Ruin. Why? Probably because he's mad at Sun. You can hear how angry he is in voice lines where he says stuff like "No more Sun!" and "No more light!" (Seriously, props to Kellen Goff, holy shit.) Moon was only able to be "awake" for short periods of time in the main game, partially because Sun was encouraging everyone to "Keep the lights on." Of course Moon would be pissed and want to be in control now that the lights are broken. He wasn't about to risk losing that .

But not having Eclipse around was ultimately damaging Sun and Moon. They were meant to stabilize the system when the two individuals couldn't do that alone. Not to mention their systems were already damaged, judging by Moon's increased light sensitivity in Ruin. They needed Eclipse so they could be stable again.

Cassie rebooting the DCA's systems was a lot like restarting your computer. Everything shuts down and then all the systems start running again at once—including, in this case, both Sun and Moon's AIs and whatever Eclipse functions were now restored. That's why Eclipse was in control after the reboot. Presumably, the rest of the software damage was also fixed, which probably helped calm Moon down. So, overall, a happy ending.

Relatively, I mean. The DCA is still stuck in an abandoned Pizzaplex, but at least Eclipse is back and Sun and Moon aren't fighting anymore :)

#fnaf security breach #fnaf ruin #fnaf ruin spoilers #ruin dlc spoilers #fnaf ruin dlc spoilers #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf eclipse #sundrop #moondrop

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weasleyreidstyles · 3 months

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Serendipity

chapter fourteen

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): slightly suggestive, canonical violence, heavy mentions of blood/injuries, angst with some fluff at the end

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Hermione Granger was coined the smartest witch of her age for many reasons. Although brave and courageous at heart, she was wise and ambitious to the very marrow of her bones. It's how she noticed your changing affections for Mattheo Riddle, perhaps even before you did.

It started no earlier than October, when you no longer complained about your desk partner in Ancient Runes; when you'd meet up with her after the tutor sessions with bright eyes and a genuine smile, which she had not seen since the weeks leading up to the Department of Mysteries battle last summer. She knew what Riddle was like, but seeing the spark reignite in your soul began to change her perspective of him. Maybe he was inherently good after all.

When Harry told her and Ron what he had discovered about the two of you, she wasn't even a little surprised, but she was surprised that Ginny, too, was not in the least bit affected by the revelation. She watched in forlorn silence as Harry singlehandedly cut you off from them, despite everything you had done for him; everything you'd sacrificed. She had spent many nights berating him in the common room with tears in her eyes.

You were her very first friend at Hogwarts. You'd met on platform nine and three quarters in your first year and exclaimed that you absolutely adored the celebrity on the cover of the magazine she happened to be browsing through. Hermione had thought you were a muggleborn like her and was disappointed when you said you weren't. But she was elated to hear that your mother was just like her. You spent the entire trainride chatting about muggle affairs and your favourite books, and had both gotten up to help Neville find his toad which is how you met Ron and Harry.

You were the person she turned to when Ron first took to being a horrid nuisance to her. You were the person she went to for help finding out about Nicholas Flemmel and the Philosopher's stone. You were the person who wrote double the amount of notes in second year, while she was petrified, just so that she could have knowledge of all the things she'd missed out on in her absence. You were the one to subject yourself to Bellatrix Lestrange's cruciatus curse so that someone could help Harry fight of half a dozen Death Eaters by the arch in the strange room in the Department of Mysteries.

You were her sister and her best friend.

And she felt completely undeserving of all those years of sisterhood as she watched you traipse around the castle like a ghost for days, after the argument with Ron transpired outside the Hospital Wing.

She had slapped him so hard when they'd gotten far enough away from the sounds of your heart wrenching sobs. The sound had echoed so loudly through each of their ears, and she did not care about how Ginny had gasped in shock horror at her action. Or the way Harry flinched as Ron cradled his reddening cheek. It was well and truly deserved.

She did not speak to Harry or Ron for two weeks. Now she only offered vague, one-worded answers to their incessant questions. They acted as if they had done nothing wrong. It infuriated her.

Hermione wanted to find you and apologise profusely. As did Ginny. But each time they got the nerve to find you, you were surrounded by a guard of snakes. The Slytherin boys were extremely protective of you and it seemed that Mattheo no longer cared for secrecy; openly showing that you were his for all the world to see, though subtly enough that only those with keen eyes saw. Hermione saw.

You looked happier with them than you had ever been with any of your old friends. Hermione often wondered if you were meant to find them; wondered if she, Ron and Harry had been holding you back from your true potential.

She admired you. She loved you. She had to make this right.

She cornered you after an Ancient Runes lesson. A ballsy move, considering Mattheo, Theo and Pansy formed a protective wall of imposing doom behind you, like fallen angels promising retribution. She steeled her gaze, looked between all three of them, shot the true intentions of why she was doing this to their minds – she knew they were digging through her thoughts by the pin pricks in the back of her head. But not from you, never from you, although she would never hate you if you did.

"What do you want, Granger?" It's Pansy who speaks up first, her voice dark and promising unspeakable terror, if Hermione so much as said one thing out of line. She watches as you reach for the hand that softly brushes against your own and grip it with all your might; Mattheo's hand.

"I wanted to speak to you." she says directly to you. "Alone, if possible."

She can see the way Mattheo is about to rebute this.

"If not that's completely fine." its rushed and laced with desperation and you can see the emotions clouding your ex-best friend's face. The guilt and the longing. You want to hear her out.

You squeeze Mattheo's hand once before letting go and speaking to them all, without opening your mouth.

I want to hear what she has to say. You guys go ahead, I'll find you later.

Pansy's look of uncertainty is remedied by your insistence that you'd be fine, and Theo is a little reluctant but follows behind her. Mattheo is a silent and imposing statue of simmering rage at your side. And by the uncomfortable look on Hermione's face, you know he's in her head.

If she comes back crying, believe me when I say that you will regret it Granger. And if this is a farce to satisfy Potter's cruelty, he will pay for it too.

"Harry doesn't know I'm here. Neither does Ron. Ginny should be outside, she wants to talk too. I-if that's alright?"

"It's fine." your voice is softer than she's ever heard. Like you're wholly unsure if you can trust her word. It's a foreign and devastating feeling. And she hates it.

Mattheo's hand brushes your's before he reaches up and squeezes your waist affectionately, departing after Theo and Pansy moments later.

The classroom is blissfully empty. Now it's just you and Hermione, alone. The silence is tense and awkward as you each wait for Ginny to walk through the door.

She arrives moments after Mattheo's departure, steps slow and hesitant. But as she sees the two of you she releases a heavy sigh of relief and launches herself at you.

She's hugging you so tightly. Squeezing and squeezing until your arms, which are limp at your sides, instinctively wrap around her frame. She's mumbling apologies into the neck of your blue and bronze lined robe, body racking with subtle sobs, that you mirror as you melt into her embrace. Hermione joins you both after a moment and the three of you sink to the floor, twin tears streaking down your faces, apologies and words of love and hope echoing off the walls of the classroom.

Eventually the hug ends and the three of you are sat in a small circle between the desks, voices low and quiet as you listen to what the other has to say, all the while, Mattheo is a welcome presence in your mind, offering infinite reassurances as your heart races in your chest.

Hermione tells you how Harry and Ron seem like totally different people now. How she slapped Ron and did not utter a singular word to Harry until he apologised to her.

"Look I'm sorry, alright." he said one evening in the common room as she was researching for an upcoming essay. "Please talk to me, Mione."

"I'm not the one you should be apologising to." she mutters, not taking her eye off the words on the page. Harry scoffs as he sits down. "If you're going to bad mouth my best friend then go and find Ron. I don't want to hear what you have to say."

He rolls his eyes before he stands up and walks away.

Ginny feels terrible. She hadn't known it was you and Mattheo in the corridor until she heard his distinct low and raspy voice, too late. She wasn't quick enough in deterring Harry away from the space and she regrets it immensely. And the look on your face after Ron had shouted at you plays repetitively on her mind at all hours of the day.

Guilt errodes at your souls and all three of you feel the weight of it like you're being held beneath the surface of a very deep lake.

When the two of them finish explaining themselves, you inhale harshly before letting out a calming breathe.

"I can't say that your actions didn't hurt. Because then I'd be lying." you say, voice clouded in emotion. "I have been outcasted by everyone I thought I could call a friend. Even my own housemates don't speak to me. You didn't do anything to stop that, which really hurts."

There's a lump in your throat that continues to strain with every word you utter, eyes burn with the onslaught of more salty tears.

"I know that you don't trust them. And you have every reason not to. I understand that. But they have been here for me, when the two of you weren't. They've shown me what it means to be surrounded by kindness and safety and I love them all equally, no matter what has been said and done in the past. Yes they work for you-know-who. But they had no choice. You know who their families are, hell we fought most of them in June. They've been forced into this and I just want to get them out."

Ginny reaches over to squeeze your hand. You let her.

"I-" she pauses and looks at Hermione, who reaches over for your other hand. "We want to help you. In any way we can. We'll help you appeal to Dumbledore-"

"He already refused my plea for help." you say with a grimace.

Hermione gapes. "B-but he always says that-"

"-Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask." you say at the same time as she does. "Yes he said as much, and then followed with saying that they don't deserve to be helped."

"That's completely unfair." Ginny mutters. "If you were asking for anyone else he'd help in a heartbeat."

Hermione mumbles her agreement, face painted in complete disbelief at your revelation. She always believed that Dumbledore was a good and just man, but maybe she was wrong.

"We'll appeal to the Order." Ginny says. "Tonks' mum was in you-know-who's clutches when she went to the Order for help. And now she's effectively protected for life."

It's a good idea. It may work. But you have your doubts. The current members of the Order held their own prejudices, much like Voldemort's Death Eaters did.

"Tell your friends about the idea. Tell them that we'll try." Hermione says earnestly. "Nothing will ever justify our behaviour towards you, but let us make it right. Please. It's the least we can do for how badly we treated you."

What are they saying right now? Mattheo asks you, voice painted with curiousity.

They're going to help me keep you all safe.

And how, pray tell, will they achieve that? Mattheo sounds like he adamantly does not believe your words.

They have a way but I'm honestly not getting my hopes up until its more of a solid plan.

Okay, I trust you. How do you feel, love? His voice is a soft caress to all the corners of your mind. It's like he can feel the anxiety rolling off of you in waves.

I've got mixed feelings. I want to believe that they truely do mean what they're saying, but actions speak louder than words.

Even though you say that, Mattheo already knows that you'll forgive them. He may not agree with it because, in his opinion, they do not deserve your forgiveness, but he understands that you'd been akin to sisters for years before his family welcomed you into their circle with open arms. Of course you'd forgive them eventually; it doesn't mean that any of your found family would, though.

Hermione and Ginny watch as your eyes glaze over. It's obvious that you're talking mind to mind with Mattheo by the way your face heats with a blush and your face is alight with a soft, yet dazzling smile.

The three of you had once gossiped, in the cosy confines of the younger girl's bedroom, that Ginny's oldest twin brother was the perfect guy for you, but judging by your expression, they knew it then and there......Mattheo Riddle was your soulmate and you were completely and irrevocably in love with him.

An hour later, the three of you were sat under the shade of a willow tree that overlooked one of the beaches separating the Black Lake from the main courtyard.

It was as if there was never a blip in your friendship. Like old times. It felt normal. But there was an underlying feeling that everything was different at the same time. And the three of you had wordlessly accepted that fact.

"He needs to get rid of that stupid book." Hermione mutters dismally as you watch Harry and Ron stroll by, not sparing any of you a glance as they stare down at the battered Potions book in the former's hand.

"Still jealous that he's gotten better at potions than you? You're not top of the class anymore." You tease and she throws you a playful glare.

"Nevermind that. It's insidious." she says. "Just the other day he was asking if I'd heard of some kind of spell that was, quote on quote: 'for enemies'. It's completely ridiculous."

"I can't say that I disagree with you Mione." Ginny says grimly. "I overheard him telling Ron that he really wanted to test it out."

She shivers as if a blanket of cold was just thrust upon her. You're left bewildered. Harry seemed like a wholly different person and you didn't know what to make of it.

~∞~

A week later, you'd come to terms with the new state of your friendship with Hermione and Ginny; your Slytherin friends were weary at first when you told them of their plan to involve the Order, but it was Theo and Blaise who agreed tentatively to hear them out.

You tried to build a bridge between your two opposing groups, and it worked somewhat: Hermione had bonded well with Theo and Ginny found a kinship in Pansy's fierce spirit as well as Enzo's witty humour. Even Luna, who had accompanied Ginny one day to see you, had found solace in Blaise's quiet and calm nature.

Draco was the most alert by your insistence of them all speaking – he was weary that Hermione did not like nor trust him and she was uneasy around the boy who had called her unsavoury names for years. But even Hermione could see how worn down and tired Draco looked, and cut him some slack.

After another drooling day of school, you were lying in Mattheo's bed, clad in nothing but one of his dark tshirts as you lied against his chest, breathing in his alluring scent of cedar, musk and smoke. After completing your homework together, the two of you had nothing better to do than laze about, sharing languid kisses and slow, soft sex.

You were talking quietly to one another, sweet giggles and deep chuckles passing between you as you bathed in the serenity of each others' presence. Mattheo's hand was tracing circles against the back of your thighs, causing you to shift away with a breathy laugh.

"That tickles. Stop it." you say, mirth shining in your eyes as you playfully glare at him as his fingers dance across your soft, sensitive skin.

"Or what?" he challenges with a smirk that has you sitting up against his stomach, the ridges of his abs brushing sensually against your aching core.

Safe to say, your clothes ended up on the floor once more and the room was once again filled with your combined sensual moans and whines.

Later, you're cuddled against him again, tired and spent as you allow sleep to overtake you. But it never comes. Enzo and Ginny burst through the door in a panicked flurry.

"Ever heard of knocking, Berkshire?" Mattheo snaps, but at the look of alarm painting his friend's face, he sits up in rapt attention.

"What is it, Enzo?" he asks, using one hand to pull the duvet over your bodies to shield you from their averting gazes.

"It's Harry and- and Malfoy." Ginny says, breathlessly as if they'd run here. "They're dueling in one of the second floor bathrooms."

That statement has the two of you scrambling for your clothes as Enzo and Ginny leave to wait outside the door.

Uniforms shoved back on in a hurry, rumpled and creased from your earlier activities, the two of you follow behind the panicking pair as they lead you to Moaning Myrtle's floor. You hear the duel before you see it. Draco and Harry are throwing insults and curses back and forth in rapid fire blows. You would be mesmerised by the feeling of all the power that sings to you, if you weren't so worried and horror stricken at what you'd stumbled into.

Upon entering the scene you can't help but gape at the destruction. The porcelain sinks lining the marbled walls are cracked and broken, crumbling to the floor; pipes bursting with a never ending onslaught of spraying water that washes across the floor like tempered glass.

Your arrival distracts Draco momentarily as he turns towards the four of you, weariness clouding his light grey eyes. It's all the time he needs for Harry to surprise all of you with his menacing words as he casts the final spell, signifying the end of the harrowing duel.

"Sectum-sempra!" he shouts and Draco releases a pained yelp before falling to the floor as Ginny gasps in horror. Blood soaks the water around him, spreading out like slick oil against it as he writhes in pain. Slashes of blood saturate his white shirt, as if a knife had been hacked against his skin.

The room is a flurry of activity as Ginny starts shouting at Harry as Enzo and Mattheo pull out their wands defensively. But you pay them no mind, immediately going to Draco's side, trying your best to comfort him as you rip open his shirt to see the damage that Harry had caused.

His torso is caked in blood, gashes of skin torn open by the force of the spell. He's lying in a pool of it, the volume increasing with each passing second. Draco was dying. Slowly and painfully.

Moaning Myrtle appeared from the pipes screaming "MURDER IN THE BATHROOM!" repeatedly as you worked tirelessly, which was not helping the onslaught of overwhelming emotions that were bubbling to the surface.

It's okay. You're okay. You need to stay awake Draco. Please stay awake. You reassure him as you mumble a series of spells. He begins writhing more.

Episkey doesn't work.

Ferula fails to expell bandages large enough to cover the gaping holes in his chest.

Basic wound sealing spells are cast in vain.

You have tried everything you can think of. But nothing is working. Tears of frustration begin to slide down your cheeks.

"What's taking you so long?" Enzo shouts at you, drawing your attention away from Draco. Your breathing is panicked and uncertain and Mattheo tilts his head towards Enzo, a silent threat to watch his tone as he sees the slick flow of tears running down your face.

"I don't- nothing is working." you say breathelessly. "I don't know what to do."

Ginny looks horrified. As do Mattheo and Enzo. Harry only looks intrigued, no trace of guilt paints his face. You narrow your eyes at him.

"It's from that book, isn't it?" you accuse and he flinches at your icy tone. "The Half Blood Prince wouldn't be stupid enough to not know a counter curse. What. Is. It?"

He doesn't answer you fast enough for Mattheo's liking. Despite not understanding what you're talking about, he turns to the bespectacled boy with barely contained rage as he points his wand in the direction of the 'Chosen One'.

"Answer her, Potter!" he snarls and Harry snaps his head in Mattheo's direction, shooting him a glare until Ginny screams at him to answer you.

"Vulnera Sanentur." he says reluctantly, as if he was waiting to see how long the effects of the spell he cast would take place. As if he was waiting for Death to sink it's claws into Draco's soul.

Immediately you work on each of the gashes on Draco's torso and they begin to heal over for the most part, but he's still loosing too much blood.

"Someone needs to help me seal his wounds properly. I can't do it by myself." you say desperately and Enzo is immediately at your side, both of you mumbling the spell and casting your wands over the various wounds that litter Draco's pallid skin. Meanwhile Mattheo and Ginny stare at Harry as if he'd grown two heads, sharing a knowing look of understanding that Harry does not miss, nor does he like. He grits his teeth at his enemy and the girl he's infatuated by as Ginny, not so subtly, inches closer to Mattheo's side. Mattheo's eyes soften at the fear coating the younger girl's cerulean eyes.

No sooner than you'd entered the fray, Professor Snape comes gliding into the room, face livid, and pushes you and Enzo away from Draco's still writhing body. He performs the healing charm with practiced ease, going over each jagged cut, that you failed to heal, with graceful precision. If you weren't so overcome with emotion, you would've put the glaringly obvious pieces together.

The flow of blood eased rapidly and the wounds knotted together intricately as he repeated the spell, tenderly wiping away the blood that coated Draco's face. You knelt close to his side, reaching out to stroke his limp hand, which was alarmingly cold to the touch. You and Enzo were both covered in a mixture of blood and water which soaked through your uniforms, sticking to you like a second skin.

No sooner than he'd arrived, Professor Snape had Draco leaning against your side and was talking softly to the boy, who was barely conscious.

"You must go to the Hospital Wing. There may be some scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that. Come...."

With Enzo's help, he supported Draco across the bathroom, turning at the door to say in a voice of cold fury, "And you, Potter – You will wait here for me."

Harry, at least, had the gall to look ashamed.

You're still kneeling on the floor, staring at your blood soaked hands when Mattheo appears in front of you, taking your hands in his, paying no mind to the blood soaking through his trousers.

"You did good, darling." he says softly, so only you can hear, neither pay attention to how Ginny inches closer to you two, away from Harry's wide eyes. "So good."

"If Snape didn't turn up–" you don't want to finish the sentence, don't even want to think about what could've happened.

"If he didn't end up coming, you and Enzo would have worked tirelessly to seal Draco's wounds to the best of your abilities." he reassures you, having read the emotions as clear as day on your face. "Come on, let's go and get you cleaned up, yeah?"

You allow him to pull you to your feet and you're only reminded of his presence when Harry scoffs.

"Got something to say, Potter?" he snarls as his hand rests against the small of your back, at Harry who glares at Mattheo obstinately.

"He cursed Katie Bell. We all know it. He deserved what he had coming for him. I can't believe she willingly helped him after everything he's done to us. After everything you have done."

He spoke as if you were not standing right in front of him. You barely recognise the boy who you called your best friend for nearly six years. Harry had barely finished his sentence when Mattheo had left your side and launched at him, throwing punches and blows in Harry's face. That's not to say that Harry did not return the favour. Both boys' blood mingled with the softening pink whorls in the water. You and Ginny were screaming at them to stop; they did not acknowledge your pleas. The last time they fought like this was over a year ago.

The conduit around your neck crackles with energy and you fight the urge to break it. Instead you wrap a fist around it almost instinctively and draw out power that surges through the room, separating the two from eachother with little to no effort. They're both panting and glaring at eachother as they fight against the restraint of your power.

"That's enough." you say firmly, voice loud and commanding in the silence, wholly different to its usual cadence. Ginny is staring at you in awe, as Mattheo stares with pride. Harry looks at you with uncontainable fury and fear.

Because you're glowing.

There's a faint indigo aura surrounding your body that pulses with energy as you hold the two boys away from eachother. When Mattheo stops fighting you, you let go of the hold and watch as they slump in their spots on opposite sides of the room, both sporting matching wounds of split lips and bruised eyes.

"What the fuck are you?" Harry mumbles to himself, just as Snape returns to the bathroom. The professor looks at you in barely restrained approval before instructing you, Mattheo and Ginny out of the room. You each go without hesitation, leaving Harry at the mercy of a furious Snape.

~∞~

Parting ways with Ginny at the intersection between your two common rooms, Mattheo lets you guide him towards the Ravenclaw tower, which was closer to the dungeons that were on the opposite side of the castle to where you currently were.

He follows you silently, staring at you as if he can still see the faint glow of the indigo aura that surrounded you. He didn't think you could get any more ethereal. You prove him wrong every single day.

"Do you think Draco will be okay?" you ask quietly as you reach the polished bronze Knocker that conceals the entrance to your estranged common room.

"He's strong. I know he'll be okay." Mattheo reassures you, but he chooses not to tell you that Draco's fate will be far worse if he fails to fix the wardrobe that they'd been working on for the better part of half a year. All their fates would be far worse.

You breath out a relieved sigh in response, just in time for the Eagle to blink preternaturally at the two of you. You laugh softly as Mattheo shivers at the utter human-ness of the brass eagle.

'I can break. I can be clogged. I can be attacked. I can be given. I can be kept. I can be crushed, yet I can be whole at the same time. What am I?'

It only takes you a moment to figure out the riddle and Mattheo sees the exact second that the answer fills your head, even as his stays blank with confusion.

"A heart." You say and he swears that the eagle winks as the door swings open, paving way for the sea of eyes that stare at the two of you in horror.

You realise then that your still covered, practically head to toe, in Draco's blood, skirt and knee high white socks soaked through from the water, stained a light pink. Shaking yourself out of your haze, you grip Mattheo's hand and drag him towards the staircase leading to the girls' dormitories, ignoring the eyes that are burning holes into your skin as you retreat.

You wandlessly unlock the door that leads into your dorm room and watch as Mattheo stares around in awe.

"I've never been in here before." he says quietly and you turn to him with furrowed brows.

"Yes you have. Haven't you?"

It dawns on you then, that in all the months you'd known him, you had never consciously invited him into your bedroom. It had always been his common room; his dormitory or the Room of Requirement. Never your's.

"No. I haven't." he responds, laughing at the surprise that appears on your face as he casts his surveying eyes around your room. "It's very you."

"Thankyou?" you respond questioningly which causes him to laugh more, then wince as the movement of his laughter tugs at the cut that splits his lip.

Eyes full of concern you direct him to your bed and push him down by his broad shoulders to sit, ignoring the way his brows wiggle suggestively while you find a first aid kit to remedy his injuries.

He's still smirking when you return from the bathroom, green box in hand, which you place by his side as he guides you to stand between his parted thighs. The two of you bask in the content silence as you use a damp flannel to wipe away the dried blood that has begun to crust over his soft skin, mumbled apologies escaping your lips whenever he hisses if you accidentally catch one of his cuts with the fabric.

"You could easily wish these away with a bit of magic, you know. It's a thousand times faster." he says, hands caressing the backs of yours thighs as he looks up at you, but he makes no move to stop you or push you away.

"That feels uncaring." you mumble in response as you use a bit of rubbing alcohol against the cut on his lip. "Sorry." you say as he winces.

"It's alright, love." he mumbles, leaning his head into your stomach once you finished. "Potter can really throw a punch."

Your laughter comes out as a scoff. "Maybe. But you should've seen the state you left him in."

He smirks against the damp fabric of your shirt and you swat at his curly head when you practically feel his ego inflating.

"I did give him a good beating, didn't I?"

"You're so vexingly arrogant." you say with a soft laugh that has him leaning out of your stomach to stare at you again, a mischievous glint reflecting in his honey brown eyes.

"It's one of the many attributes of mine that you fell for though, isn't it Princess." he says with so much self assurance that you just have to roll your eyes, but it's difficult to hide your smile.

"Shut up." you reply as his arms reach up to wrap around your middle, bringing you into his embrace, but he cringes away at the feel of your still wet clothes.

"Let's get you out of these yeah? You're practically shivering." he says as he untucks your shirt from your skirt, affection and...and love overtaking his soft eyes as he stares up at you, quietly stripping you of your ruined clothes that he throws into a pile at the foot of your bed.

~∞~

"Thank you, Théo." you say quietly, almost in a whisper, after you're both fresh and clean from a shower, all wounds healed over with a bit of his magic.

"What for?" he asks you, just as softly, hand reaching up to brush a loose wisp of hair that had fallen into your face.

You don't answer him, not verbally at least, instead pressing a slow kiss to his mouth that he happily reciprocates, leaning in until he's hovering over you, trapping your body below his.

For protecting me. For defending me. For giving Ginny stability, despite how you feel towards her. I saw the way she gravitated towards you. Just...thank you. Your words have his mouth working harder against your's, causing a moan to escape you as his tongue licks against the seam of your lips, which part eagerly for him.

Always, sweet girl. I will always defend you and those of your friends who are worthy of defending. He replies before detaching his lips from your's, with retraint.

"Weasley could have easily let Enzo find us himself, could've even encouraged Potter to continue their duel. But she didn't; she watched a boy almost die, watched her friend heal the same boy who terrorised you all for years. She could've easily gone to Harry's defence, but she didn't. She looked to us for direction. Not him. That says a lot." he said aloud with a sigh, strands of his curly hair falling over his forehead, causing his eyes to twitch in irritation.

You used the tips of your fingers to coil the stubborn curls away from his face as he speaks, a new sense of admiration, trust and calm washing over you as you stare at your lover.

"It may take time for me to trust her, Granger too," he continues. "But I see how much she looks up to you, trusts you and vice versa. I can learn to forgive them for their wrongdoings. For you, my love."

"Thank you, Théo." you repeat as you bury your face into his shirtless chest, breathing in his intoxicating scent.

He smiles as he presses a kiss to your temple, unaware that today's events would spiral into something unfathomable that Mattheo Riddle should've seen coming from miles away.

~∞~

did i mention how much i love soft!matty😫😫 (in every chapter since they got together 😵‍💫😵‍💫)

i had to end it with some fluff because i'm sure you can guess what's gonna happen in the next few chapters lol

also thought id let you know that meadow's siphon powers are now fully manifested, she just has to learn how to control it (which we see briefly in this chapter)

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @sunasbbie @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne @whatsupb18 @moni-cah @taylorann2013 @unstablereader @gisellesprettylies @nat1221

#mattheo riddle x reader #serendipity series #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle #harry potter #pansy parkinson #ron weasley #theodore nott x reader #blaise zabini #enzo berkshire #ginny weasley x reader #harry potter x reader #hermione granger #draco malfoy #angst #flangst

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manicpixiefelix · 4 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 7.

Summary: A chance to look through Oliver Quick's eyes as he watches through windows, decides he wants to be loved, and finally takes a chance with the reader. Until it comes crashing down because Michael Gavey called Felix a slag, and it's made Oliver's problem.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT (we see reader topping felix from last chapter but through oliver's perspective, cockwarming, vague somnophilia because of that i guess??, reader getting head and reader giving head but reader's AGAB is not specified), also some vaguely unsettling imagery i guess, and the scene in felix's room with the cleaning is made even more tense and uncomfortable

A/N: 7084 words. POV shift to Oliver! Also this chapter is FUCKING HUGE, i tried to find a good place to maybe split it, but couldn't find one. so you're stuck with 7k, eat up friends! also i would really appreciate if anyone has any thoughts about how i've written oliver, id love to hear them, i don't want him to 100% like the reader, and i think ive managed to have him come across more uh, cerebral i guess im going with? yeah thoughts good, would love some. holy shit this chapter goes so many places.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Y/N's been rambling on about reading Anna Karenina for one of their classes ever since they'd met Oliver after his final class for the day, but he's barely able to focus on their words. Usually he likes to look like he's paying attention to their words, he knows it makes him seem attentive, and everybody loves to feel heard, but Oliver's mind is elsewhere. It's in the garden outside of Y/N's window. It's outside their door where he'd sat patiently, giving blithe smiles to your dormmates and telling them he was simply waiting for you to get dressed. The doors of the Oxford dormitories were thick, but not thick enough to hide sound on the other side from an ear pressed up against them when the hallway was empty.

It's not even close to the first time he'd seen you in these moments together; how no-one else in your group of friends, apart from Farleigh he suspected, believed you two were sleeping together was baffling. Wilful ignorance is a hell of a drug. He hopes the two of you never learn how to close your blinds.

But there was something different about yesterday.

"Any of youse seen Felix? Or Y/N?" He'd approached the group on the grass with the same kind of hesitancy he'd always put on for them, never wanting to seem too arrogant, to comfortable in their presence. He knew they didn't like him, but people like this liked feeling powerful over the 'lesser folk'. Anyways, it's not like he was particularly keen on befriending any of them, it was okay to hold them at arm's length.

Farleigh, beautiful, condescending Farleigh, looked up at him through his lashes; there was no sun in his eyes, the squint was more likely to be him half-pulling a face of contempt with plausible deniability.

"Maybe." Unhelpful.

"Y/N came through here like a fucking hurricane," Annabel told him; Oliver could only think of the irritating nasal in her voice as she'd listed off all the things she hadn't liked about him to Felix when they hadn't known he was around. Oliver fought not to make a face of his own.

"Took Felix and headed that way," a blonde boy -Rex? Reg? Oliver hadn't even bothered to retain his name - nods in the direction of the dorms.

"They're so co-dependent sometimes," India shakes her head, strange little expression on her face. Perhaps she did know and was trying to convince herself otherwise.

"Yeah," laughed Annabel, "they could have at least tried meditating or something."

"I don't know," Farleigh shook his head, clicking his tongue, "I don't think they have any other coping mechanisms apart from their co-dependant shit."

"They've always been like this?" India actually sounds a little fond.

"It actually used to be worse," Farleigh snorted, and Annabel pitched herself back in the grass, claiming that it couldn't be true.

"I mean, with that kind of money I think Felix is allowed to be weirdly close to his cousin," India says with a shrug. What? Why was the group laughing like it was an in-joke.

"They're cousins?" Oliver asks; Farleigh he knew about, but no-one had ever really talked about how Felix and Y/N had gotten so close. Considering all he'd seen them do together -

"Kissing, codependent cousins," Annabel sighs, sitting up.

"Hot, kissing, codependent cousins," India wraps an arm around her in solidarity, and the girls share an exasperated chuckle, though from looking around it seemed that a lot of the group shared that sentiment.

"You're hot too, Farleigh -"

"Thanks, but I'll stick with just that for now, I'm happy being the non-kissing, non-codependent cousin," he chuckled, before turning his attention back to Oliver, still awkwardly by the edge of the group as everyone else continued to gossip. However, catching Farleigh's eye, for the barest moment, his wolfish grin, Oliver had total and complete confirmation that Felix and Y/N were in no way actually related.

Which, if he were to guess, meant that Farleigh definitely knew the two of you were sleeping together.

And judging from all the times Oliver had spoken to you both, neither of you were aware of this well established gossip in the group, Farleigh was never ever going to correct anyone, considering how damn funny he clearly thought the entire bit was. It at least explained how the rest of the group was so unphased by the closeness you and Felix shared, while still apparently - kind of - dating other people.

Eventually, tired of putting up his awkward façade, though he was grateful for the slim amount of information he'd learned, he clears his throat.

"So -"

"That way," Farleigh doesn't look at him this time, voice flat, thumb jerking towards Y/N's dorm.

Its the afternoon, grey, most people are at classes, so the courtyard outside of your dorm room is empty of any other living souls. Whenever he stops in, or even walks past, he checks in your window out of habit to see if you're in; you don't close your blinds often so it's an easy way to tell. Anyone passing by wouldn't be able to see anything, not unless they stopped and made an effort, but Oliver wasn't most people, and knew the layout of your room and how to search it when granted even a sliver to look through like today.

And today, not only are you in your dorm with Felix, as predicted, but the sight of you both makes his mouth go dry.

Felix Catton on his back, arching, perfect mouth open in some kind of wanton, whorish noise undoubtedly as you masterfully worked his cock with your hand. Fuck, Oliver knows he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be watching this.

He steps forward into the bushes. They rustle, his heart jumps, but neither of you seem to notice.

He can't see your face with your back to him like this, but you must be saying something, because Felix's lips are moving and his chest is heaving as he's gasping out words. Oliver knows he's embarrassing flush, embarrassingly hard in these fucking slacks, but the courtyard is still empty, and he knows all too well how little the outside world matters to you and Felix in these moments.

He can feel his heart beating in his throat, in his ears, painfully against his ribs as you slide one leg so smoothly over Felix's hips, hand between your own thighs as you hover yourself above him. You're toying with Felix, taking your time, taking full and total control in a way Oliver's never seen you do. He didn't know anyone could make Felix act like this, look like this; he never thought Felix would let anyone. But he shouldn't be surprised that it's you of all people.

When you lean down over Felix, your chest against his, like a proud lion over its prey, Oliver feels sick with himself, with how he wants to burn this fucking image into his brain, with how fucking perfectly he can watch from here as you take the entire length of Felix's cock. Its impressive, both his length, and how fucking easy you make it look. You're kissing him. You're fucking him. You're riding this Adonis in a way that makes him pliant and desperate beneath you.

Oliver steps back from the window, finally glancing around to double check his surroundings. No-one peeking out of windows, no-one around. He heads inside. He knows he shouldn't but he does, pulls out the sweater he'd loaned from Felix and folds it in his lap when he sits with his back against your door, both as an excuse should anyone walk past, and to hide the visible hardness in his pants.

Sometimes you're too quiet to hear, but the way the bed creaks and the two of you moan, it's some kind of debauched symphony. Oliver swears he's not a masochist, but it almost hurts to hear you both like this, like something out of a dream or a fantasy, and to remain stone-faced at your bedroom door -

"I want everyone else you ever fuck to be jealous of the way you let me fuck you."

Oliver can't even begin to imagine the things this means, the things you want to do to Felix, but then he hears -

"Yes, fuck, yes- my Y/N, anything you want - please." Felix gasping, begging like Oliver's never heard before. Sounds he knows only you could have elicited from the man who makes people around him fall in love with him by accident.

Oliver Quick is never going to get these moments out of his head; he's never been so desperate to be wanted by anyone in his life, let alone two people. There is a shameless, lascivious kind of love between you both that he vows to get the chance to drink from the source.

It's again changed his perception of you, perhaps made him a little bolder once more. So the day after, walking to the pub after class, barely listening to you talk about your book, he's trying to see if anything's changed. As far as he was aware, your encounter with Felix the day before was unusual for you. Perhaps something's changed, and perhaps he's not subtle about looking.

It's something unspoken between you, it ebbs and flows depending on Oliver's mood, how bold he's feeling. A quiet, voyeuristic exchange you share, the pleasure of being watched, and the pleasure of watching. The roles reverse and your eyes are on him in the way eyes rarely are.

More the observant than the observed, he'd told you, yet he took pleasure in feeling your gaze upon him, taking the time that he knows is so precious to you to watch him. You are familiar to him in a way that is so foreign; you are watching and adapting and anticipating the desires around you. Not action, but reaction; a people-pleaser down to your bones, wrapped up Felix's brand of hedonism. You get off making people feel loved, but Oliver can't help but wonder about the desire you keep to yourself, just below the surface.

Neither of you have spoken about the night at the club; Oliver's desperate to see how long it will take you before you act, rather than get pushed into reacting. He doesn't know how long he can last.

Felix shows up to the pub with Annabel and a strained smile that doesn't reach his eyes. Which is better than Annabel's outright scowl. They sit in chairs across from the rounded bench that always took up half the table your group liked to tension filling the ample space between them. As the last to arrive, everyone else's attention was drawn to them, going quiet as everyone picked up the couple's sour mood.

There's a moment where Oliver catches the way Felix looks at you across the table. No-one else picks up on it, since in the next moment Felix raises his hands to cover a cough, and what Oliver suspects is a grin, but you've turned your head sharply, sniffing loudly and almost managing to press your face into Oliver's shoulder. After a beat you fake a sneeze, and apologise. Oliver brushes it off, and fights off a smile of his own. He doesn't have all the details, but clearly you made good on your promise to make Felix's other future fucks jealous.

"You know what? I'm desperate for a pint, anybody else -" Felix goes to stand, attempting to break the tension, but immediately Annabel scoffs.

"Desperate sounds about right." And she's not quiet with her scorn.

"Can you not do this now? We've been here two minutes, you want a drink?" He hissed, trying to keep up a positive façade despite the faint anger and embarrassment in his eyes. It doesn't last, of course, not with all eyes on the pair of them. It's Farleigh who speaks up first, not even bothering to hide his smug smile.

"You okay there, Felix?" He wears a grin that's all teeth.

"What?" Felix frowns, but Oliver can see exactly what Farleigh's talking about. When he brings it up, however, he does his best to sound genuinely innocent, concerned even.

"Have you got yourself hurt, Felix?" And when Felix meets his gaze he knows it's come across as intended, the conflict and frustration still somehow looking beautiful in his brown eyes.

"No, I'm fine," he tugs at the collar of his shirt, hoping it sits a little higher, hides the hickey that's clearly there.

"Burn yourself on a curling iron, Felix?" India teases, matching Farleigh's earlier energy, and while it did nothing to help Annabel's mood, at least Felix no longer seemed conflicted.

"Had a run in with a particularly aggressive vacuum cleaner?" You piped up from beside Oliver, and the minute Felix sees your own triumphant grin he starts to go pink around the ears and has to duck his head.

"Try several vacuum cleaners," Annabel snapped to the table, "or one whorish townie girl!" For just a moment, the group is quiet, contemplating what she'd said, the upset in her voice, but it's short-lived.

"How many vacuum cleaners?" Farleigh leans forward, elbows on the table and chin on his hands with a grin like the Cheshire cat. Felix tells him to fuck off, but his blush is still distinct.

"They're all over him," Annabel sticks her nose in the air, arms crossed and looking especially petulant. The lads at the table did actually cheer at that, much to her continued frustration.

"You spend entire nights hitting on other guys in front of me! You made eye contact while one latched himself onto your neck as I was trying to dance!" Felix argued back, and the jury of their peers began to shake their heads at this new information. Annabel pouted for a moment.

"That's different -"

"It kinda isn't," India tried to shoot for sympathetic, wincing as she said it, which was enough for Annabel to sigh dramatically, standing from the table.

"Fine, I do want a drink," and she immediately made a furious beeline for the bar. Felix, however, hesitated for a moment, watching her leave before he turned back to the group with a cocky smile, yanking down the collar of his shirt to show off several more bright, scandalous hickeys.

"Best vacuum cleaner I've ever had," he tells them all smugly, before standing up straight and righting his shirt, "okay, this round's on me." A cheer rises from the group, but as Felix walks off, Oliver catches the way he winks at Y/N. You snort a quiet laugh, but Oliver's pretty sure he's the only one who heard it.

Christ, you two weren't even trying to be subtle half the time.

Still, for all her apparent frustration at Felix's mystery partner, it seemed to only make Annabel cling to him further. No more flirting with strangers, no more sitting apart. She reeks of insecurity, but Oliver just watches you watching her. There's something in your eyes in these moments, like a lion too sated to be bothered with the hunt, but the instinct to pounce could resurface at any moment.

But Oliver's obsession with the intricacies of your lives still lead him outside of Felix's window after one of countless parties. Still watching with animal curiosity and a cigarette in hand, as Annabel works hard to stake her claim on a man she desperately wants to own.

Annabel is an unenthralling understudy, Oliver thinks.

Throwing the butt of his cigarette into the bushes, he can't bring himself to stay. He knows where he needs to go, knows what he needs to do; in his mind Annabel is a lithe and graceful performance of extasy, and Felix is all quiet focus and hard, gorgeous muscles shining with sweat from the exertion of it all. But there's no love. It's all performance, a pleasurable performance for them, he's sure, but it's just two beautiful people smashing their bodies together in sloppy ecstasy.

Fuck.

No only is a creep, and a pervert, but now he's a picky, creepy pervert.

But his thoughts stop in the courtyard outside of your dorm. You light is on. Your window is open all the way, and there you are, looking like a dream in your pyjamas, sitting on the windowsill and having a smoke.

"Ollie!" He'll never get sick of how you say his name, how you smile when you see his face. There's a split second where he has to make a decision, has to figure out how to approach you in this moment. At the club you'd all but folded on the spot at his bold approach, he knows he could have had you practically there and then if he'd been inclined, but part of him can't stop thinking about how you'd had Felix on his back, practically begging.

Oliver feels like every time he thinks he's close to figuring you out, he learns something knew about you that makes him rethink it all. He wants to know all of you, your hopes and dreams and the grotesque desires you will never tell the world, desperate to keep testing you and your reactions, and perhaps even your limits if it ever came to that, to figure out how to get underneath your beautiful skin the way Felix had. Part of him feels like you're never going to stop surprising him, one way or the other. You are intrigue and unexpected and he wants to carve a home for himself in your bones.

"Thought you'd still be out," you tell him, back flush with the frame of your window, one leg up on the ledge while the other dangled over the gardens he'd watched you from more times than he'd like to admit.

"'s not the same without you," he admits after a moment, hands in his pockets. Your endeared, bashful smile is predictable, but no less heart-warming to see. He loves the way you react to him.

"Is that why you're here," it sounds teasing, but he can hear a hint of something that almost sounds hopeful. When you look back at him again, there's that same look you've been giving him since he'd held you, kissed you, ghosted you at the club.

"I don't know," he lies softly, "I just started walking."

"Come on then," you grin, stubbing out your cigarette on the windowsill, "you came all this way, why not have a sleepover," and you swing your legs inside, hopping off the ledge. He moves automatically towards the window, but when you hear him moving, you frown over your shoulder, "door, Ollie."

He's never been inside your room at night.

It glows with the same gold light that all these old building with their old lamps glowed, casting all your knickknacks in shadow and sharp relief. Only your bed lamp was on, book open on your bed. Jane Austin's Emma.

"Sorry, I don't mean to impose," Oliver's voice matches the rest of how he wants to appear; small. Sitting on your soft, patterned duvet, he looks not at you, but around at the room you call home, cataloguing everything in this new light, trying not to think about Felix and Annabel fucking, Felix and Annabel laughing, Felix and Annabel joking about how -

He's a scholarship boy who buys his clothes from Oxfam; no-one wants to sit next to fucking Oliver.

"I love you Ollie," you tell him blithely, easily, truthfully, "you never impose."

Annabel grates on his ears and his nerves and his fucking memories. Your smile is like a balm for that the burn that snobby bitch leaves in the back of his mind when he thinks too hard about her.

You move with such ease around the space, not that he should be at all surprised at that. Perhaps it's more that he still feels like a stranger in his own room at times. Planting yourself against your headboard legs crossed and looking so at ease in your summer pyjamas, you ask, tone light, "you don't mind if I read for a bit, I'm not going to be up much longer, but like I said, you're always welcome to stay."

"What are you reading?" Oliver lets himself relax in your presence, lays himself back on the bed, looking up at the sculpted ceiling of the old building. He knows what you're reading, he just likes hearing your voice.

"Emma," he can hear the rustle of the pages, had seen the worn spine and yellowing paper, wonders if it's vintage, wonders how you got it if it is, "Jane Austen for my lit class."

"Finished Anna Karenina?" You make a quiet hum of acknowledgement. More silence and the warmth of company and lamp light, "it's been a while since I've read any Austen."

"Do you want me to read some to you?" Of course there's humour in your tone, but Oliver can hear it for the genuine offer that it is. When he looks at you, he can't help but smile. There's such fond affection in your eyes as you look at him over the top of the book.

"Please," he says it so softly, so sweetly, and it's enough to see you smile before you disappear behind the book again.

"I'm near the end, you won't get the context -"

"Doesn't matter," he sits back up, pulls off his jacket, kicks off his shoes, and settles back beside you.

"Settled?" Your voice is a murmur, barely a whisper, and when he laughs quietly, he knows you can feel the way it rumbles within him.

When you start, your voice is soothing, halfway through a chapter, through a conversation between characters he has no clue about. He's never read Austen but he'd devour her books if you were the one reading them. It feels like an almost perfect moment.

"- Seldom, very seldom," his head is on your shoulder, eyes scanning the page, the words as you read them, "does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken, but-”

"I did come here for you," something about the line makes the hairs prick on the back of his neck, he can't keep quiet; there is want still simmering beneath his skin, and each time his mind drifts to Felix and Annabel, something furious and desperate coils in his gut. You fall silent, book still open and aloft, cheek still resting against his head where he's kept it on your shoulder. When you take a deep breath, he feels it, both of you move in sync, "of course I came here for you."

This time, he doesn't reach out, doesn't touch you more than he is. Every time he's reached out, he's gone against the pattern you've observed of him, he's always made a connection with you where you know he holds back from others. This time, he waits with bated breath.

"If there's nothing more you want from me than moments like this, I'll never say another word about it," he assures, as if trying not to spook or pressure you. But still he waits.

"What do you want, Ollie?" To pick you apart like a vulture, to see the desires you keep so close they're written on your bones.

"You," he says instead, all gentle words and just as gentle breathing, "if you'll have me." Tell me what it is you want. Tell me you can want. Tell me you know you can want things for yourself, want things beyond a reaction to the wants and needs of everyone around you -

Carefully, you reach over to your bedside table, trying not to jostle either of you too much, and keep your place with a bookmark before you put the book down.

But you do make the first move. You take his face in your hands, holding him like he's fragile and perfect and porcelain, shuffling to face him properly. This kiss tastes almost like home, like finally from you both, until his tongue runs along your lips and you part willingly for him, the kiss turning quickly more passionate. Oliver's not even sure how he came to be straddling your lap, nor how he didn't notice you undoing half of his shirt buttons already, but when the kiss breaks he takes your hands in his.

"Of course I want you," tumbles from your lips, sounding heady, needy, and for just a moment, Oliver breath stutters in his chest. But he slows things down again, leans in to kiss you sweetly once more, before he's pulling off your pyjama shirt.

"I want to know what you want," he murmurs against your lips, kissing his way down your jaw slowly as he speaks, "wanna know how to make you feel good."

"Anything you do -" you try, but he looks up after pressing a kiss to your sternum.

"You need to be needed," he says softly, punctuating each statement with a kiss, refusing to break eye contact with you, "and you want to be wanted," his warm lips on your belly, he sees the conflict in your eyes, the desire and embarrassment all at once, "and you're very good at those things, one of the best, I'm sure." Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, he pauses, "is this okay?" You nod quickly, enthusiastically, and he gives a warm smile.

"You're like me, sweetheart," he says softly, resting his cheek on your inner thigh for a moment, watching you still. Reaching out, you card your fingers through his hair, fingers trailing down his jaw, and he turns his face to kiss your palm, "I know that if I gave you half a chance, you'll figure out how to be all I could ever want, but tonight I want everyone to hear how you sound when someone's making you feel good-" he doesn't realise he's quoting something he should not have heard from Felix until it's too late, but you cut him off. You didn't even seem to realise.

Then your other hand is in his hair, a new look in your eyes, a newfound determination, a nervous excitement. You grip on his hair tightens.

"Yes?" He gives a cheeky grin, and you finally smile like you mean it.

"I get it," you roll your eyes, but there's nothing malicious about it, especially since the gesture has Oliver pressing his own chuckle against your thigh, "now you have one guess as to how I'd like you to shut up." There's that confidence he'd heard the other day, the confidence that was burned into the back of his mind, the confidence that had been part of the reason he'd spent a good hour in the shower after hearing it.

"Only if you turn out your lamp," he smirks, though inside all he can think about is how bright the whole room is through the gap in the curtains. It doesn't seem to bother you, it never has, and though he was grateful for it when he was on the outside looking in, there's something about being the one potentially being watched that causes him a faint sense of unease.

You call the moonlight more romantic anyways, and Oliver doesn't need to be told twice to go down on you.

When Oliver wakes the next morning, still in your bed, still in you, he almost wants to pinch himself. It's a childish sentiment, but you're in his arms, wrapped up in him and this early morning light through your curtains. Though he tries not to jostle you too much, the arm beneath his head is asleep and getting more uncomfortable by the second. Except the movement just makes you mumble around a breathy moan, hips moving against his.

"Fucking hell," he groans into your ear, and he gets a sleepy, contented chuckle in return, turning your face a little more towards him to give an affectionate bump against his forehead.

"Ollie~"

For just a second, Oliver thinks about living in this moment for the rest of his life.

"You okay?" He murmurs, watching your smile grow. Everything about you looks so pleased, so content, so satisfied.

"Never done that before," you admit, wiggling your hips a little. Oliver swears under his breath again, but judging by the mischievous smile you wear and the twinkle in your eyes, you knew exactly what you were doing. Then, with all the casualness of any other conversation, you manage to catch him off guard again; "anyone who thinks you don't fit in has clearly never fucked you; you fit perfectly -" his teeth sink into your shoulder before he can even properly figure out how he should have reacted.

But instead of finding it strange or off-putting, you let out a breathy laugh, tension easing in your shoulders. Your hips begin to roll against his, consistent, deliberate. He wonders how many people you've let fuck you like this, like they love you, like they care about you. Oh he knows you fuck your friends with love on your tongue, treat them like they're your last meal, like they mean something, but Oliver gets the feeling you don't expect them to return the favour. He's seen the kind of company you keep, he's pretty sure they never do.

How many of them have seen you grateful the way you look now, bathed in the morning light of Summer, laughing and unable to stop talking with such casual fondness in your eyes and on your lips.

When you go down on him in the shower, Oliver thinks he sees hearts in your eyes.

There might just be something very fucking wrong with you, and he's grateful for it every day.

But it doesn't last.

It's on a Summer day that's too hot, less than a week since he'd spent the night with you. Summer days around here seem to always be too hot, but this might be the worst. Felix still doesn't close his blinds, sun painting him golden where he lay on the floor of his room with a cigarette. Oliver had perched himself on the windowsill as you'd taken up residence on Felix's bed, sitting with your back to his headboard, engrossed in what appeared to be notes, or some kind of file.

Oliver has no idea if you've told Felix, or what you would have told him. The dynamic between the three of you appears to have remained otherwise unchanged. Sometimes, however, Oliver catches Felix looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, head tipped, curious like he was about Oliver's past; his expression is always unreadable, but it's started pitting in Oliver's stomach whenever he catches it. Felix always looks away. Felix has been looking at him less lately, that too causes some kind of anxious feeling Oliver would rather not dwell on.

"I don't like Michael Gavey," you announced from your relatively dark corner of Felix's bed. How did you even know Michael Gavey?

"Who?" Felix makes a face in the sunlight, whole expression wrinkling up, as if trying to wrack his brains. But you're looking at Oliver. There's no affection in your eyes, manila folder in your hands.

"He's-" Oliver feels like he's on the back foot again. All the comfort and good will he'd built up around the two of you feels suddenly so far away, "he's in my year." There's no precedent, no road map in his mind for where this could be going.

"He likes you," it's accusatory coming from you. Oliver looks to Felix for a moment, if only to avoid the intensity of your gaze, but he's closed his eyes, staying out of it.

Oliver considers bailing out of the window, but thinks better of it.

"He, erm, kind of was my friend, I suppose."

"Kind of was your friend?" Felix's voice is almost cold, surprising Oliver, but apparently not you. It's clear you're both looking for some kind of elaboration. Why did this feel like an interrogation? What had Michael done? Why was Oliver on trial for it? Felix cracks his eyes open as he takes a long draught of his cigarette.

"Back at the start of the year," Oliver wets his lips, fidgeting, focusing his attention only on the folder you held, desperate to know what was in it.

"Nasty friend you had," you tell him. It's so cold it almost stings.

"Is he the one who got you all riled up the other week?" Felix finally appears to connect the dots, sitting up on his elbows. Thankfully, however, his amusement breaks the tension, and you have to hide your face behind the file as you opened it and began to read. Oliver could feel his heart in his throat, confused, anxious -

"Impressive mathematic record across the board for his first semester, as well all throughout sixth form," you rattled off, eyes narrowed as you look at the paper, "several documented attempts to contact the Head of Math, Phys-Ed, and Life Sciences to," you cleared your throat, shaking your head with surprising disdain, "beg to be exempt from any potentially mandatory Humanities or Social Sciences courses. Unsurprising," you rolled your eyes, "since he bombed his English and French GCSEs, and I think he's the kind of person who prides himself on a perfect GPA."

Every fact you list you do so with such casual cruelty, momentarily folding the file closed and leaning down to make sure you could see Felix.

"He went to high school with us apparently," so casual it actually hurts Oliver a little to hear, "year below us he said," and you wiggle the file in your hands, "looks to be true."

"Still don't know him," Felix shrugs, like he doesn't give any kind of a shit how you got your hands on all of this information. Sitting back, you continued;

"Applied for scholarships - didn't get them; turns out you have to play sports to get a sports scholarships," you click your tongue as you flip through the pages of Michael's file like you were reading the newspaper, "no clubs, no social life, and a notably arrogant prick." You snapped the file closed, levelling a look at Oliver that he'd never seen you make. It was nothing, like a void, demanding a reaction, a response from him. Accusatory yet without any hint of blame, there's something about this look of intense, demanding neutrality that makes him feel actually sick, like you'll be able to know when he lies, know all his secrets if you look at him long enough.

Felix settles back down on the ground, seemingly immune to the tension so thick Oliver felt like he was choking on it. Even if he looks away he can feel your eyes boring into him, like a spider watching a futile fly in it's web.

"What's your problem with him?" Oliver can only bring himself to look out the window, bringing his hand up to scratch at his nose. Maybe if he covers his mouth he won't spill his guts under your gaze. Then, almost so fast it gives Oliver motion sickness, the tension drops.

You sit yourself back, kick your feet out in front of you, and toss the file to the end of the bed. That can't be legal.

"It's sweet that your friends are protective, but he knows you're your own person, right -?" God your light, flippant tone all but rings in his ears. Still, Oliver knows a warning when he hears it.

"He's not my friend; he was, but he's not," Oliver quickly insists, desperate to be on the other side of this deeply uncomfortable conversation. The tension eases in your shoulders when he looks over to you; the right answer. Something about the relief he feels doesn't sit quite right; why had you brought Michael up now of all times? Why had your gaze felt so constricting, even when he and Michael weren't even close; all you would have had to do was ask -

"Said some nasty things about us is all," your voice goes quiet, rueful even, and he follows your gaze to the edge of the bed to where you knew Felix lay, "called Fi a slag."

But there it was; the true audience for your show of force, and the blade that sliced so cleanly through any other attachment people think they have with Felix, all in one.

Its a simple nickname, the most basic nickname anyone could give to a guy named Felix, but no-one else calls him anything but Felix. No-one else calls him Fi the way you do, they wouldn't dare. He wears your nickname like a collar and he doesn't even realise.

"What a cunt," Felix groaned, so infuriatingly uncaring.

In the moments that follow, Oliver almost feels like his head's spinning from the interaction that had just been forced upon him. There's so many questions, new, anxiety-inducing implications for the information you've brought to them both today. Felix doesn't seem troubled by it, but that seems to be the point.

"So fucking hot," he sighs into the afternoon heat, finishing off his cigarette like none of what you'd said even mattered now.

"I know," Oliver finds his voice again, barely. He can't look at you, at the way you're lounging in what he could mistake for triumph. All he can see is Felix, the centre of the fucking universe.

There's something grotesque about you both in this moment, in this room, beautiful and terrible; the perfect picture of privilege and squalor.

"What's that smell?" Pizza, mostly empty drinks, plates and cups unwashed, dirty clothes -

"Uh," if Felix thinks about it, he isn't thinking too hard, clearly, "I don't know." Smoke rings from his pretty lips aren't enough of a distraction from the moment, from the filth of it all now that Oliver's starting to properly look around.

Again he finds himself realising that he has no idea about your background, how you came to find Felix. Sitting with your back to the headboard and eyes closed, even you seem to not care-

"Can't believe you let him live like this," Oliver actually scoffs, hopping from the windowsill, needing to do something with his hands, move, shake off the layer of moral grime that your verbal attack on Michael Gavey had showered him in.

"What?" Felix barely even props himself up, "what are you on about?"

"It's disgusting, Felix."

"It's fine."

"Right, I'm cleaning up -" Oliver moves without thinking, picking up a the waste paper basket and throwing out trash from every surface he can reach. He can't look at Felix, can't look at you, but you're both watching him, "only rich people can afford to be this filthy," he hears himself say. Then, after barking a laugh with no humour in it, he turns his shallow gaze on you, "and what's your excuse? Just picked the habit up after all those years?" For a moment you look at him with genuine confusion, but you give him no real response before Felix tells him to fuck off. But Oliver doesn't stop.

Even as Felix is growing more fed up, insisting he'll clean up later, Oliver's own frustration rises. Felix will never do anything for himself.

Except he doesn't mean to say that part out loud.

That's what gets Felix on his feet, gets him to grab the basket, irritation and resentment on his tongue. Oliver feels like he's touched a live wire, like he's pushed Felix too far, watching him tall, frustrated, glowing with sweat from the afternoon heat. It's the heat Felix complains about as he blows about him room, resentfully stuffing rubbish into the bin, complains about the building and it's age and it's wood fucking panelling that can't be ruined with an air conditioner.

In the moment Oliver chooses to glance to you, he's surprised. You only have eyes for Felix, watching him with an expression Oliver can't begin to fathom, curled up in the corner of his bed. You are waiting. You are holding yourself back. You are desperately trying to let Felix prove Oliver wrong.

"Stressing about the exams?" Oliver tries to pivot, tries to redirect the conversation to something he can claw his way back from, that will keep these relationships from being unsalvageable.

"I'm not stressed about the exams, Ol," Felix sounds like he could snap at any moment, sitting on the edge of his bed, wastebasket held on his knees while his other hand reaches out to you. Still half a foot of space between you, and you keep yourself compact, but the intention is clear; Oliver wonders if he even knows he does that, or if it's just instinct for the two of you these days. Felix, however, is looking at him, that same look he's been giving Oliver since you'd slept with him, "you're driving me fucking -"

Felix seems to realise what he's saying, however, with a sharp inhale as he looked away, moving his free hand from beside you to run through his hair. What is there to say now?

Felix says he's got revising to do, that he'll text later about going to the pub. Oliver desperately wants to believe it, but can hear that it's a lie. Felix can't even fucking look at him.

Oliver finally throws a helpless, hopeful glance to you. This time you are looking at him, but there's apology in your eyes. It's enough. It's the confirmation he'd dreaded, that makes his stomach drop.

"Ollie," even just a few hours ago he'd been in love with the way you said his name. Never like this.

"I'll catch you round," he can't look at either of you as he retreats, cant bare your eyes on him like that, and Felix's turned away.

A million thoughts, desperate ideas, all circle the drain that is quickly becoming his mind as the anxiety and the anguish sets in.

Unsalvageable. Past the point of no return. Irrevocably, awfully different.

With all he'd learned of you both, however, he couldn't just let it go to waste. Oliver had worked for all he had in this life, this prestigious place, among these self-important people. Despite his ongoing attempts to figure you out, he at least knew that if he was good to Felix, he was in good with you.

And Oliver knew exactly who Felix Catton wanted him to be.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #head heart hand fic #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #saltburn smut

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hunny-pp · 1 month

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PENACONY 2.1 SPOILERS /

[basically a more elaborate version of my twt thread on this]

I don't think I'm the first or only person to say this, but I do think Gallagher is v likely a memory zone meme

EDIT: heres pt 1.2 with additional evidence

Sunday deduces that Gallagher is an amalgamation of fifty-one Family members, who he's inherited physical traits from to create the appearance he has now.

Gallagher alludes in his own story that he may not be human

In short, Memory Zone Memes are amalgamations of multiple fragments of the Memory Zone, all have reflections of different memories, cognitions and emotions.

A meme in definition is when something, usually ideas, culture or behaviour is passed to another person through imitation or non-genetic means.

It makes sense for Gallagher, as he mimicked the physical traits of Family members without taking them or that trait away - these NPCs are very much fine and you can interact with them. It's more like a copy-paste onto himself.

Other little details include: -This could change in the future depending on if we get any fire units, but for Gallagher specifically, he takes the Raging Heart materials - which is harvested from a Memory Zone Meme-type enemy. This one's a bit of a stretch but it fits nonetheless

-His signature colour is magenta - shown in his clothing, his marketing materials and in the VFX of his attacks, his claw and his brew. This colour is specifically his and not something he had inherited from someone else.

Memory Zone Memes, especially "Something Upon Death" have stark magenta/purple/pink eyes and cores. When seen from afar or at least in a general sense, the shades are similar enough

-The writing style of Gallagher's stories feel strange, like different aspects of Gallagher's personality and life are on the outside looking in. Akin to a reflective surface giving off different reflections from different angles of the same subject. It adds to the idea that there are multiple aspects and fragments within Gallagher all looking within each other.

Mixology and The Dreamjolt Hostelry:

Gallagher's main interest outside of work is mixology. Like any culinary craft, there's an inherent science behind it, and it takes a lot of work and knowledge to craft well constructed cocktails and drinks. Symbolically, mixology complements Gallagher, as he himself is a combination of a diverse range of people. When you view these inherited traits isolated, you know they come from someone real - but when put together, they form One Complete Gallagher - cohesive and seamless.

While you can say the same for different branches of culinary arts, mixology in particular symbolically represents Gallagher the most. This is just from a layman's perspective but when I view the same with cocktails - from a general inspection it's one cohesive drink even if from taste or watching the process, I know it's all made with different components.

Notably, when Gallagher talks about mixing drinks, he describes it as akin to combining different emotions, experiences and memories into a singular cocktail and it's reflective of both customer and bartender's own current state of being.

His philosophy on mixology links back to the concept of Memory Zone Memes, manifestations of fragmented memories, emotions and cognitions nestled into a vessel.

The reason why I bring up the Dreamjolt Hostelry is because of the Vignettes in a Cup event (spoilers for it). It's not explicit in his stories or voicelines, but going by the Trailblaze quest, it's implied that the Dreamjolt Hostelry is the lounge/bar he regulars for a drink or to hone his craft as he's v friendly and familiar to Siobhan and is seen in the 2.1 trailer to be serving a Dreamjolt Domescreen (whether it's Lady or not doesn't matter).

Dreamjolt Hostelry is in the sealed off dreamscape Reverie, where the corrupted Dreamjolt Troupe monsters and Memory Zone Memes reside. Notably, where you encounter Something Unto Death in key moments of the story.

I'd like to believe Gallagher is very comfortable with the company of monsters, going by the fact that he himself is non-human.

In Vignettes in a Cup, Siobhan explains that the reason why she mixes drinks for the Dreamjolt Troupe monsters is that it helps regulate their emotions - since the dreamscape is falling apart and in turn they have become unstable.

Gallagher himself in one of his idle animations drinks an unknown concoction from his hipflask once his scar starts acting up - in which it settles back down. It's hard to discern in this point in time how long this has been going for, but as a non-human entity (meme or not), the dreamscape's decay is also likely affecting Gallagher and thus he has to regulate himself.

Why Do The Heathen Rage?: In the mission "Why Do The Heathen Rage?" we learn a lot of the Watchmaker's secret history as well as a general run through of Gallagher's own personal story.

First off, a lot of Penacony's trailblaze mission titles are references to songs, literature and media relevant to the themes of Penacony and/or by American classical authors or poets (ie Heaven is a Place on Earth, Cat Among Pigeons, The Tell-Tale Heart).

Why Do The Heathen Rage is both based on Psalm 2.1 Old Testament, but also it's a fragment of an unfinished novel by Flannery O'Connor. Fragment of a novel -> Gallagher is made of fragments of different people -> Memory Zone Memes are fragments of (I'm booed off the stage for being a broken record).

The story tells of a man called Walter Tilman who lives on his family's farm. There he starts to write letters to different people - particularly to Oona Gibbs, a black civil rights activist. However, he writes to her under the guise of a black man, and writes with the intention of testing the commitment and integrity of her beliefs.

Going with what we know in hindsight, Gallagher is masquerading around as a human, likely as a Memory Zone Meme as we've realised hopefully by now that they're the monsters most likely to pull something of Gallagher's calibre off.

This is all I'm gonna talk about from "Why Do The Heathen Rage" mainly because my additional theories are based off leaks and are more speculative.

Bonus section: "Something Unto Death" When it comes to Gallagher's connection to the Memory Zone Meme "Something Unto Death", a lot comes from his many symbols of death. This is just a bit of a bonus since we're talking about Gallagher likely being a Memory Zone Meme, we might as well address the elephant in the room as well.

For brevity, we'll call the little guy "Death Meme". Death Meme is a Memory Zone Meme created from the Dreamscape's fear of death and murder as "death" shouldn't be something that can happen in the dreamscape.

Gallagher has a FUCK ton of symbolism and nods to death. The most striking is that Gallagher's iconic "I'm Thirteen", which is the number for the Major Arcana "Death". (For additional reference I also think Thirteen could be the amount of Amber Eras he's lived in, or that he's at least 1300 years old. Also since he has a lot of dog theming, 13 dog years in human years is around 60-80 depending on the dog's size).

Additionally, thirteen is a common number to represent bad omens and misfortune - namely the well known Friday the 13th superstition, amongst other things.

When Gallagher makes you a drink, no matter what choices you make - the cocktail will have a memento mori/death/morbidly themed name and he will accompany most of them with a sardonic toast.

Gallagher's eidolons are names of different cocktails which fit his mixology theme. However, Corpse Reviver, Last Word, Death in the Afternoon and Blood and Sand are all death centric names, as if he couldn't get edgier enough.

There's also the call into question his playstyle, where he's a much more aggressive battle healer than the likes of Luocha and is the first abundance character to provide debuffs on the enemy, and derives healing through damaging opponents.

Conclusion: If you've read this far then I'm assuming you're as normal about Gallagher as I am. But yeah, there is so much to him I haven't touched on, his connections to the Enigmata, my continuation on this theory based on leaks and his shared past with Mikhail, what I think he'll do in the plot moving forward. This patch and its characters are themed around hiding secrets and that there's more than meets the eye. Gallagher in particular has proved to be the most mysterious of the trio, as while we've gotten a clear enough picture of both Acheron and Aventurine but there's still enough intrigue to keep them going, Gallagher's just given me more questions than answers man.

#honkai star rail #hsr gallagher #gallagher #honkai star rail theory #hsr theory #hsr spoilers #penacony spoilers #im normal about him (smile)

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itskattkm · 5 months

Text

Based on a request

Tara Carpenter x Fem Reader

Warnings: Christmas stuff, slight fluff, being nervous and shy as f*ck

A/N: Sorry for my bad writing, sorry for switching the perspectives :D I hope that the translation was at least good. Have fun. I tried my best.

When you’re home

Y/n sat on her armchair in her two-room apartment as she comfortably drank a ginger tea. When she took a sip of it, she slightly twisted her face and whispered "spicy." She smiled and looked out the window. It was snowing and the snow breathed the city of New York into a beautiful white. She ran over to the window and sat down on the window sill to watch the snow.

It was her first Christmas in New York. Before that, New York seemed to be a dream world for her. A world she only knew from movies. If her ten-year-old self could only see her now. She lived in a small overpriced apartment near her college. She studied (insert) and even had a girlfriend.

She was surprised herself. She could never have guessed how things would develop after she moved here. Y/N had a girlfriend. How strange.

As y/n continued to observe the falling snow, she had to think of Tara. What did Tara do right now ? She asked herself. She hadn't seen her girlfriend for a week because they were both busy with their exams. Now it was finally the weekend. For now, that meant that she could switch back and relax. No learning for now.

A flashing light attracted y/n attention. She looked to the left and could see how her neighbors opposite the house decorated their windows with fairy lights. "Oh shit," y/n said to herself. She had forgotten to buy and decoration for Christmas herself she totally forgot because of all the exam tasks, after all, tomorrow was already the first Advent. Y/N sighed and put her cup aside. This was her first Christmas alone. Without her family. Otherwise, her mother had made sure that everyone in the family came to decorate. She always bought the Christmas decorations.

Suddenly y/n cell phone rang. She looked over to the living room table and saw a picture of herself and Tara.

She answered and said shy "hey"

Tara laughed into the cell phone "y/n where are you? We're waiting"

Y/n looked confused out of the window

"What do you mean?" She asked laughing slight

Tara sighed slight

"Decorating. Christmas. You. Me. In... my apartment?" She said in a cute way

Y/n laughed and felt her heartbeat running faster "is this your way to ask me if I Wanne come over to decorate with you?"

Tara hesitated with the answer and grinned broadly when she said "maybe?"

Y/n grinned "wow who's the shy one now?"

Tara laughed "thin ice y/n... thin ice"

Y/n grinned wider and felt the heat in her cheeks. Normally y/n was always the shy and nervous one of both, but there were those rarely sweet moments when it was exactly the other way around.

"Okay Fine..." said Tara and sounded like she was giving up "would you like to come over for decorating? Since it will be our first Christmas together?"

"But it's not Christmas yet" I said teasing

Tara sighed again but y/n could already see in front of her eyes how Tara smiled, her dimples came out and the slight blush appeared in her cheeks.

"My god do you two always need so much time to get to the point?" I heard Sam say on the other side of the line.

Suddenly the cell phone rushed at Tara's side and Sam said to Y/n "please come over y/n. We wanted to decorate the apartment and we had the idea to invite you"

I smiled broadly and nodded even though she couldn't see it.

"I'll be there in 20 minutes... Should I bring anything?" I asked out of intuition and looked through my apartment. Im such an idiot I have no decoration at all I thought.

"Yes, I had the idea that the three of us could eat something... meet Tara in the New Bodega store you can help her with the groceries," said Sam

"Okay, I'm on my way"

Both ended the phone call and y/n put on her coat and gloves. She packed her keys and left the apartment. Outside, she immediately hit a light gust of wind with thousands of snowflakes. She straightened her coat and made her way to the bodega. As it was getting more and more windy, she tried to hurry.

When she saw the lights of the bodega, she sighed with relief and ran across the street. She ran into the bodega and a warm wave hit her. She took a relaxed breath and looked around to find Tara. At that moment, a laugh also had to refrain. Tara was too small to be able to see her across the shelves. And just as this thought went through y/n head, Tara appeared in the next aisle and looked at her warningly "I know exactly what you just thought" she said and pointed her finger at y/n.

Y/n laughed nervously and was thrown off by Tara with a pack of napkins the next moment. Y/n just caught the pack and looked at Tara with a crooked head "Sorry...?" Said y/n shyly.

Tara's facial expressions became gentler and she smiled as she slowly approached y/n. She grabbed her coat and pulled y/n closer to kiss her.

Y/n closed her eyes for a brief moment and had felt a pleasant wave of goosebumps all over her body as Tara's gentle lips touched her.

"What will we cook later?" I asked Tara as we separated from each other.

Tara looked at the little note in her hand "Just some pasta. Nothing special. But on Christmas Eve... you'll get the best Mexican food you have ever eaten"

She said excitedly. Y/n sprays a pleasant warmth in her body when she nervously said "so I’m invited for Christmas?"

Tara smiled wide and moved closer to y/n

"Your my girlfriend... did you though I want to spend Christmas without you?"

Y/n shrugged her shoulders "Yes but... Sam... your family?"

Tara slowly put her arm around y/n waist and kissed her gently on the cheek as she whispered "your my family now..."

Tara detached herself from y/n and searched the shelves for the last ingredients. Y/n looked at her with admiring eyes as she still felt the kiss on her cheek and Tara's words repeated themselves in her head. If only Tara could know how important these words were for y/n. Y/n didn't even knew it herself until that moment. Y/n came out of her trance and followed Tara.

Finally arrived at Tara's and Sam's apartment. Y/n Smiled amazed it was the complete opposite of her apartment. It smelled like baked cookies and there was decoration everywhere. When she entered the living room of the carpenter sisters, it was felt with warm light and a large Christmas tree.

"Wow..." y/n said speechless and looked at the top of the tree that touched the ceiling.

"Sam had to exaggerate a bit with the tree" said Tara and laughed behind y/n.

"Yeah sure... at least we have a Christmas tree. Now let's get this started," said Sam, who came out of her room and pressed a box into y/n hands. Tara brought the groceries to the kitchen and I stood in the living room like a lost deer. I looked around nervously and didn't know where and how to start. My heart began to beat faster and faster and I looked around slightly panicked.

The next moment, Tara took the box from me. She smiled warmly at me "Take off your coat and then help me..."

I nodded silently and went back into the hallway where I hung up my jacket at the cloakroom. I took off my gloves and went nervously back to the living room.

I stood in front of the tree with my arms crossed and looked up to the top with a concentrated look. Since the tree was too big, the top was bent a little because of the ceiling.

"If I get scissors... I could try to cut off the tip. So that a star still fits on it," I said shyly to Tara.

Even before I could finish my sentence, Tara was already holding scissors in front of my face.

I laughed lightly and took it from her.

After I took one of the dining table chairs and climbed on it to get to the top better, I struggled with the scissors to cut through the wood of the tip.

"How's it going up there?" Tara asked and without looking I knew that she was just grinning. I sighed "if you want you can give it a try," I said in a sarcastic tone and looked down at her.

She stood there with her arms crossed and grinned dirty "no thanks. Im good. I like the view tho..."

I looked away nervously and couldn't resist a slight laugh. I immediately felt the heat in my ears and shortly afterwards in my whole face.

After a few seconds, I managed to cut off the tip. And then threw it at Tara with a grin as I got off the chair.

"Hey!" She called and threw the tip back.

I caught it and put it on the living room table.

"I have to admit... I feel a little overwhelmed," I said nervously and looked at the tree and the boxes with the decoration.

Tara hugged y/n from behind and put her head on her shoulder.

"Relax..." she said.

I sighed "relax? Decorating the tree was always stressful at home. No matter how I and my dad had decorated in, my mom then corrected everything afterwards," I said and laughed nervously.

Suddenly I felt Tara's lips on my neck and I got very stiff.

I felt a tingling at the point where her lips had touched me. My thoughts were empty and I began to perceive more the pressure of her arms around my body.

"It's okay..." she now whispered in my ear and I had goosebumps again.

I went to relax my body and let myself fall into Tara's embrace. She held me tight and gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek.

"Come on lovebirds..." said Sam and joined us in the living room.

Y/n blushed slightly again and started decorating the tree with the carpenter sisters. They began to tell each other their weirdest Christmas story's and made sure to not break any Christmas decoration.

When we finished decorating the tree, Sam and Tara began discussing about who could be the one to put the star on the top. I just kept grinning watching them discussing.

"Tara you don't even reach the top and I bought the tree" she said teasing and held the star up so Tara couldn't reach it.

I had to keep my laughing back so hard. I never thought Sam would really tease Tara because of her size.

"Oh really? Watch me!" Said Tara competitive and managed to get the star out of Sam's hands.

Tara walked towards y/n and said

"Pick me up"

"What?" I said and laughed.

Tara looked at me with a tilted head and a slight serious look.

I stopped laughing and nodded. I bent down and put my arms around her thighs and lifted her up the next moment.

Sam laughed "I can't believe it"

We laughed when I held tara up so she could reach the top.

"Everything okay up there?" I asked grinning after Tara still didn't manage to put the star on.

"Why don't you try?" She said slightly annoyed, but I heard a smile.

I grinned broadly and held her tighter.

"Im good... I like the view" I said teasing and looked up at her while her ass wasn't far away from my face.

Tara stopped in her move and looked down at y/n with a grin, before putting the star on top of the tree.

"Finally..." said Sam and left into the kitchen.

I breathed out and let Tara down careful.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek.

After decorating the rest and eating together it was already dark outside.

"Thank you for the invite..." I said shy and finished to clean the last dish from our dinner.

"You don't have to be y/n... you’re part of the family" said Sam with a warm smile and touched slight y/n’s shoulder as she left the kitchen.

Again I had that goosebump on my whole body. Family. I repeated in my head.

I turned around and leaned on the kitchen counter when Tara walked towards me and grabbed my hands and intertwined our fingers.

"You good?" She whispered and moved closer to y/n

"Yeah why?" I asked quite and looked into her dark welcoming and shining eyes.

Tara shrugged her shoulders and smiled shy

"You seemed to be a bit off..."

Y/n let go of Tara's hands and placed them on Tara's hips and pulled her closer in.

"I'm good..." I whispered with a slight smile.

Tara moved her hand slowly around y/n neck and moved even closer whispering "you stay the night?" Her lips brushed slight y/n’s.

Y/n blushed and grinned shyly.

"Only... if you help me next weekend to decorate my apartment cause I totally forgot about Christmas and have nothing for my apartment".

Tara smirked and kissed y/n deep before whispering "I'll take care of that".

One week passed. It was Friday evening y/n was lying on her couch in black joggers and a hoodie. Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Y/n furrowed her brows and got up. Who could that be. She didn't had invited anyone. As soon as she opened the door she saw Tara, Mindy, Chad and Sam. Holding many shopping bags and boxes in their hands.

"Hello there!" Called out Mindy like y/n always did.

They walked past y/n and got into her apartment.

"Damn we got some work do to here" said Sam. While y/n looked confused after chad, Mindy and Sam. Tara was standing beside y/n with a wide grin.

"I told you I'll take care of that"

Y/n looked shy at Tara "thank you..." she said quite.

There was this spark in Tara's eyes again. She moved closer to y/n and held up suddenly a mistletoe.

Y/n blushed more and felt caught off guard.

Tara kept grinning "your so shy sometimes I love it" she whispered while grabbing y/n by her chin and kissing her deep.

Y/n felt herself melting away in Tara's hands. She felt the warmth of her hands on her face and her soft lips on hers.

She pulled Tara closer and kissed her back

After both stopped kissing, y/n rested her forehead on Tara's and whispered "you feel like home to me you know that right?"

Tara smiled and caressed y/n cheek

"I know..."

Y/n kissed her softly and pulled her arms around Tara "we're family now..."

#fanfiction #jenna ortega #wednesday #ghostface #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #samantha carpenter #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks martin #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednsday addams #scream

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curlycarrion · 3 months

Text

Night watch

Reader: fem reader in mind. Comparing to Nami and Robin and use of the words pretty and beautiful

Warnings: Talk of insecurity from the readers perspective. It's only for a small short portion and it's mild but if you feel that may make you uncomfortable please be warned

Context: Unable to sleep Sanji comes to visit you

Wc: 2.4k

A/n: Here's my second fic so far, I'm honestly enjoyin writin these. It's a little more self indulgent but sfw so I hope y'all don't mind ^x^ I hope y'all like it 💛 ( also happy Valentine's for those who celebrate it ) oh yeah also, I got the idea for this after spammin 'I carrion (Icarian)' by Hozier into my skull so do with that what you will

It was quiet. Unusually so.

The night high up above the ship while sat in the crow's nest usually was, being so far away from the snores of the sleeping crew will do that. But no, it was more silent than usual. The sea was in a rare state of calm for once. No frantic waves that crash against the wood of the ship and violently rock her inhabitants, no rumbles from winding and curling sea kings lingering from deep below the surface, no hint of marines or rival pirates on the horizon.

It was just calm. The moon shining down in glittering silver streaks on the waves that are gentle as they lap along the length of the Sunny, leaving you in near silence to sit alone with your thoughts. An opportunity to do what you liked without fear of teasing from the others no matter how lighthearted it was.

The silence was too deafening. Not even the guttural snores from some of the men sleeping next to him able to cut through the thick quiet. The cool night air reaching him even under the covers of the blanket draped over his frame. The silence thrumming in his inner ear only to be covered with his thoughts that won't seem to cease. First from what to cook in the morning, then to the unusually uncomfortable feeling of his shirt folding over itself beneath his back as it catches on the sheets, then to the familiar cold and dark surrounding him despite knowing that there's no reason to fear it. Not anymore, that's what he tells himself at least when he feels the fabric around him opposed to the memory of stone that drains the warmth from you.

Below deck things were in a similar state of calm, the soft rocking of the deck leading everyone to obtain a restful slumber. Similar to that of a crib or the curl of a parents arms around their child that breathes comfort into the bones of the crew.

All except for Sanji.

Deciding he'd had enough of staring into the void of the men's quarters he rises from his resting position to step outside and have a smoke. Hoping the familiar taste of nicotine on his tongue would calm him, even a little. If not then he'd just go ahead and get started on preparations for everyone's meal, if he's not going to be able to sleep he might as well make himself useful. Stepping out into the open air and lighting his cigarette as he takes in his surroundings. The night that should be comforting at the moment only making a strange sense of loneliness root into him before remembering you up above. Nigh watch. Some company might do him some good. Pleasant company at that. You never really seemed to turn him away and he's almost certain you won't now despite the late hour.

As he climbs his way up he slowly starts to hear the welcome sound of your voice. Already feeling his thoughts begin to quiet knowing that your presence is close by. Though there was something different to the sound this time around. It sounded sweeter, it was soft, there was a tune to it… you were singing. Something new and foreign to him but still leaving a warmth to settle in his skin and into the cavern of his chest. The sound of it was a little muffled due to the distance between the two of you but that was swiftly remedied by him hastening his climbing.

Soon enough he finds himself beneath the hatch of the crow's nest. His ears picking up every sound and syllable possible without opening the door. Unsure of if you would stop your singing if he did, which was the last thing he would want. If your singing voice was actually any good he would never be able to tell. Not due to being tone deaf, but because any sound of your voice being the equivalent of a choirs grace upon him. You could sound like a crow with a cold and he would still listen to every word from you like gospel. Each pitch of your voice like a balm to whatever wound plagued him mind, if even for a moment. He finds his feet moving before his mind can catch up, hands reaching up to open the hatch and climb inside. The need to see you overcoming his desire to listen.

Inside he sees you sat beside one of the large windows, blanket wrapped around your figure. More to provide comfort than to actually stave off any cold since the night was a pleasant temperature due to the climate you were currently sailing in. The note filled tones of your voice ceasing when the squeak of the hinge and floorboards meet your ears. Head whipping around to look at the tall man entering the space.

"Oh Sanji.. it's just you," letting the tension fall from your shoulders you speak once more " what're you doing up? Couldn't sleep?" Sanji lets a small string of smoke escape from his lips, the tendrils curling into the air and dissipating when he steps closer.

"Sleep is not coming easily to me tonight, no. I thought I would come to see how you were doing.. the night watch can be lonely with no one else awake." He answers as he brings himself to sit beside you. Quietly taking in the comfort you provide and giving you a smile.

"What I didn't expect when I stepped up though was to find a little songbird in the nest. Do you sing to yourself every time you hide yourself away up here mon chou?" He finds some satisfaction to see the slightly shy look to cross your face, watching you gather yourself after you had realized he heard you after all.

"Oh uh.. yeah, yeah I do most of the time." You answer softly as you avert your eyes away for a moment.

"It helps to pass the time." Sanji's expression warms at the admission. Imagining what the many melodies that cross your lips at night are as they float off into the air to be unheard by the rest of the crew. Knowing you would likely shoot down the notion of singing for him if he requested it he decided to ask a different question, not wanting to push his luck too much despite wanting to hear your voice not blocked by the wood of the hatch.

"And what were you singing if you don't mind me asking?"

"It.. it's a song based on Icarus." Sanji's eyebrows raise curiously at the answer, removing the cigarette from between his lips as he gives you his undivided attention. Not that he wasn't before but this had raised his interest in what you were singing.

"Icarus?" He parrots while looking to you. "The one who fell to the sea after his wings melted?"

"Mhm the same one." You hum in confirmation, hands fidgeting idly with the edge of my blanket and back leaning against the wooden wall behind it.

"Though.. the song takes a different turn than the actually story goes. It's kind of a love song, a more sad one… but a love song nonetheless. At least in my opinion." 'Ah, so that's why you had seemed more shy about admitting it' Sanji thinks to himself. He watches your expression while you talk and after you finish, taking it in along with the features of your face. It was something he doesn't think he could find himself growing tired of.

"Do you frequently sing yourself love songs?" He asks next, feeling it was the next natural course of conversation save for asking more about that song in particular.

"I.. I do, the more sad or quiet ones mostly." Curling your knees to your chest and bringing your heels to rest on the seat of the bench you continue.

"There's just… something nice about them, comforting in a way I suppose." Sanji lets the silence settle for a moment after you'd finished speaking. Mulling over your answer for a moment.

"Is it something you want?" He asks quietly, realizing the question might've sounded a little vague he narrows it down further.

"Love I mean, someone to share your life with after this is all over." The question seems to have struck a chord, watching your eyes as they turn away from him.

"It, i-it is. Though I know it's not something I will probably find." Sanji's eyes widen in surprise at the words leaving you. Not expecting them from you in the slightest.

"Why?" He asks quickly after you had spoken, your answer being something he couldn't quite believe. You are silent for a few moments, debating on whether or not to answer the question. The deafening quiet of the room returning to dig its way into their ears once more. Leading Sanji to believe that you weren't going to answer, though eventually you do peep one out.

"Well I'm not exactly the most um… desirable thing around. I'm not pretty like Nami and Robin, and I'm not smart or clever like them, I'm ugly and quiet and awkward and, and I'm just something someone would want-" Sanji quickly cuts you off from speaking. Not able to bare hearing you tear yourself down and speak such lies for another moment. The words leaving you making his heart stutter and sink, feeling the beating in his chest as he trains his eyes on you and snuffs his cigarette.

"No," he says firmly and with a sense of urgency "no, no you're perfect. You're everything I've ever dreamed of." He feels a stirring in his stomach. Hands reaching out to cup your cheeks and turn your attention to him, wanting to make sure his every word settled their way into your mind. Even if you didn't believe him, even if you thought he was lying, he wanted to make sure you knew what he felt when he looked at you. Feeling the warmth of your cheeks beneath his palms as his fingers curl past your jaw to brush beneath your ears.

"Every step you take whether it be to me or away leaves me breathless. Every breath and word from you is something that would make me crumble if I ever lost it." His thumbs gently smooth over the curve of your cheek, relishing in the feeling of your skin in his touch. The solitary of the night making him a little more bold in his words. Feeling like the calm and quiet is urging him to let out every thought and feeling he has ever had for you despite the fear of you not feeling the same. Not that he expected you to.

"Your eyes have the stars laying in them that I would pray to every night if it meant they would turn to gaze at me. Whether they're filled with the rage or exhaustion from a fight, the mirth from whatever you find funny at the time, or the sorrow of whatever you carry." He leans closer to you. His eyes beginning to reflect the dewy look that yours had taken.

"Every time I see you walk into a room it's like the world has become right and that the sun has finally turned to face me. I would gladly melt in the light of your sun and be your Icarus if I could even be near you for one lovely moment." His thumb softly moves to collect the tears beginning to slip down your cheeks, while he doesn't like the sight of your crying he takes it as a sign his words are sinking in.

"So please don't don't say you're undesirable or that you're unwanted. A world where that is true is one that doesn't exist, and it's a world where I'm not breathing." He takes in your face as he finally finishes speaking. The wide glassy eyes, the tremble in your lip, the burning of your cheeks seeping into his hands. It's something he'd burned into his memory. Finding you beautiful as your overcome with emotion. Eventually he goes to release you from his hands, not wanting to overstay his welcome with his touch no matter how much he craves to keep you to him. His thoughts telling him that you would never feel the same, something he is not a stranger to in the slightest. You'd never want someone like him.

At the feeling of his hands begin to lift you quickly stop him. Yours pressing on top of his on your cheeks as you sniffle and shake your head the best you can.

"Please don't go." The words are quiet and wobbly, whispered into the room as your hands press his into your skin more.

"You can't say that and then just leave. You can't just say that and not let me say that I love you too." His head snaps to you. His heart rapidly kicking up in response to the words. You liked him? You really did? It was almost inconceivable to him. The thought that you, the one who has seen him flounder around women, has seen him make a fool of himself, seen some of his worst moments.. that you had reciprocated, he couldn't believe it. But the way you were looking up at him. It was impossible to deny. He saw the way he looked at you reflected back at him. Something he had never noticed before when he was too focused on his work or your presence whenever you would grace him with it.

He quickly pulled you into his embrace. Arms wrapping around you tightly, almost feeling that it's not close enough. He finally had you in his arms. The scent of your conditioner and your skin filling his senses. Something he thought he would never be able to obtain. Leaning back just enough to where he can look into your eyes once more, noses almost brushing against one and other.

"Do you mean it? If you don't I don't think I will ever recover." He asks quietly, his breath mixing with yours as takes in everything of the moment.

"I do." He doesn't even give you time to say another word as he feels his heart skyrocket from elation. Crashing his lips to yours as he feels like he's overflowing with a joy and love, pouring his feelings into you and finding that the same is being returned. One hand cradling into your hair and the other meeting your back to pull you closer, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him in.

He had always expected his first kiss with you to be different. Gentle and soft after taking you to the most beautiful places he could find and proving himself to you, but this…

This was more perfect than anything he planned.

Finally finding the home of you within his grasp as you both sat high above the world.

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #one piece sanji x reader #op x reader #one piece imagine #one piece #sanji x y/n #sanji x you #one piece fanfiction #fem reader

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wangxianficrecs · 5 months

Text

Rewind 2023 - Part II

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2023

Here is part two of our favourite stories published in 2023! Reminder that if you also want to give a shout-out to a story, submit an ask and we will share it in an upcoming post featuring Follower Recs and Proud Author Spotlights.

Part I

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the dream of the fisherman's husband

by luckymarrow (@luckymarrow)

E, 5k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “Really? Are you fucking with me? Once for yes, twice for no.” Two taps. Wei Ying scrambles from his desk and over to the tank, presses his face right against the glass. “Was Wen Ning right?” he whispers. His breath fogs the glass. “Are you our new cephalopod overlords?” Once again, the little blue and white octopus taps twice against the glass. Wei Ying goggles. Then it taps a sequence against the glass. But Wei Ying has worked on enough expedition ships to know Morse code, or at least the most important code of all—SOS. This little octopus needs help.

~*~

New Perspective

by mrcformoso (@mrcformoso)

T, Series, 34k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary Part One: “Lan Zhan, let me go.” The last memory Lan Zhan has of Wei Ying was the soft, serene smile on his face as he fell to his death. It was, perhaps, what haunted him the most. When it came to the matters regarding Wei Ying, Lan Zhan was always too late. A character study looking into Lan Zhan’s character development between Wei Ying’s death and resurrection, and his struggles of changing in the wake of his newfound fatherhood.

~*~

The Art of Communication

by mrcformoso (@mrcformoso)

G, 4k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Zhan can only say so much before the words get caught in his throat. He has long learned how to use his words sparingly, how to build enough of a reputation to minimize the use of words, has learned to hide behind little grunts and pointed looks. In contrast, Wei Ying never seemed to run out of words, speaking often and quickly, whatever was on his mind, mumbling equations and theories and his own thoughts as if he had a word quota to meet and exceed on a daily basis. So the Gusu University students found it rightfully strange that the two were dating. Chapter 1: Outsiders POV Chapter 2: Lan Zhan POV Chapter 3: Wei Ying POV

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❤️ Across the street to another life

by danegen (@danegen)

M, 99k, Wangxian | Kay's & Mojo's Rec

Summary: Wangji stays on the piano bench as they’re closing up. Wei Ying chews his lip, knowing what he’s going to do but horrified at himself. But what’s the alternative: kick the guy out and find him sleeping beside the dumpster in the morning? And that’s if the cops don’t take him in for vagrancy. “Wangji?” Wangji looks up. Please don’t be a serial killer. “So, we’re closing up for the night, but A-Yuan and I live upstairs. Do you want to join us for dinner?” Wangji blinks. His head bobs in what’s probably a yes. “Great!” Fuck. Or a ragged monosyllabic man wearing a collar shows up at Wei Ying's music store. Wei Ying and A-Yuan ask, is anyone going to adopt this guy? And then they don't wait for an answer.

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💙 Concord

by Deastar (@youhideastar)

T, 41k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji hopes, somewhat frivolously, that his betrothed might find him an acceptable companion. Neither he nor Wei Wuxian are able to bear children, so there will be no need to share a marital bed; that should make it easier for the two of them to reach a natural, comfortable equilibrium. Two strings played in harmony: this is Lan Wangji’s quiet hope, as he arranges the Jingshi to accommodate a second inhabitant. Perhaps, he thinks, they might even become friends.

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silk linked together

by theLoyalRoyalGuard

G, 6k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji runs a sanctuary for rescued bunnies. His life is quiet and routine. Until Mo Xuanyu needs a place to stay out of trouble. He doesn’t expect to end up rescuing him, too.

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Making Mouths at Dragons

by athena_crikey

E, 10, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wei Ying takes a slow breath, then another. “Then you’d want… that? A baby? A kid?” Lan Zhan’s low rumble has a hint of dragon in it, a lick of thunder. For a moment Wei Ying can almost hear the rush of the tide in his ears, storms and seafoam. His mind is full of the glint of moonlight on scales, silver and rippling like silk. “With you? Yes.”

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Behind the Scenes

by QueenXIV

E, 5k, NMJ/LWJ | Kay's Rec

Summary: Nie Mingjue felt dirty. Horrible. He had paid to see his best friend's didi fuck himself with a dildo. He had jerked off to it. He had liked it. He was fucked.

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Playing Possum

by DizziDreams (@dizzi-dreams)

T, 1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji is woken in the night by the sound of animals fighting, and there is more to the opossum he rescues than there seems.

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Once-body

by ByCandlelight

M, 10k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Years after he was disowned by the Jiangs, Wei Ying lives a quiet life working at a funeral home. Then he reencounters his former high school classmate Lan Zhan, who is planning his father’s cremation. Wei Ying won’t pass up the chance to get closer to his former crush, but first he has to hide all the brains in his freezer.

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Lessons in Belonging

by Nyatci (@nyatci)

M, 12, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Zhan looks back at various moments during the years and thinks about the emotional wounds caused by Wei Ying’s adoptive family. Or alternatively: 5 times Lan Zhan worried about Wei Ying and 1 time he realized he didn’t have to worry anymore.

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Jin Ling and Demonic Cultivation

by ImNobody122 (@colorsunlikeanythingseen)

Not rated, 8k, Jin Ling | Kay's Rec

Summary: Mo Xuanyu was not the first demonic cultivator Jin Ling had to rescue from his uncle's hands.

~*~

mother of mothers

by SpeedingCheetah

T, 11k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary:There was a girl in Gusu, who played the flute and sung songs to the fish in the rivers as townspeople let her sit on their boats; stirring away and humming. There was a girl who smiled, who had a blood red ribbon and blood red eyes. The girl was a boy who was not alive. A ghost who stayed in the city because his mother made him promise. He seemed happy enough anyway, coming to the docks, coming to the paths. He bought apples, he spoke Gusu’s dialect in a rustic tongue that was many, many years out of date—ancient, prosperous. Only a few elders understood the clicking accent the way Wuxian spoke it. He was Lan Wangji’s sole companion. He was also the being who had been cursed many years ago to never wake up, and never live. Lan Wangji wished to help fix that. (or: cangse sanren’s child is a ghost of nature, and cursed to sleep forever. a boy still makes friends with the ghost anyway.)

~*~

exit, pursued by fierce corpse

by hauntedotamatone (@hauntotamatone)

Not rated, 4k, WWX & WN | Kay's Rec

Summary: “The Jin clan of Lanling is rich beyond rich,” The second boy whispers, or rather, attempts to whisper. “If we bring them the head of the Yiling Laozu, they’ll have no choice but to reward us!” It’s quite a stupid endeavor, especially for three, unarmed, young masters whose knowledge of combat and heroism likely comes from playhouses alone. - “Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning whispers, barely louder than the sound of a person breathing and all the more striking when it comes from one who does not. His face is still, the undisturbed waters of a pond, but there is something in his eyes that reminds him of brightness, the shine of a dragonfly skimming the water. - alternatively; wen qionglin, the method actor.

~*~

If I had to keep being separated from you like this (I'd rather die)

by katje

E, 30k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “So, you’re here to become my blood thrall, are you?” Mr. Wei finally turned, and Lan Wangji had to fight to swallow the gasp that tried to escape his throat. He was beautiful. His long, pitch-black hair was pulled into a ponytail that flowed in smooth waves over his shoulder, and he was clad in a red dress shirt that was buttoned only halfway up his chest, exposing his sharp collar bones and a hint of the smooth skin of his torso. He was pale - too pale. And he had the most striking grey eyes Lan Wangji had ever seen. Eyes that immediately betrayed him as a nonhuman. As a cold, powerful, immortal vampire that Lan Wangji was about to sell himself to. OR Lan Wangji enters into a contract to become Wei Wuxian's blood thrall to save his uncle, and finds more than a heartless vampire at the end of the deal.

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fracture fix

by phosphorous

G, 5k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: What he did not say: I don’t want to be anywhere in this world where you aren’t. I want to know you inside out. I want to know you forever. I want you to know me inside out and I want you to know me forever too. I am a burden. But I am yours. I want to be yours, for as long as you will have me. “I love you, Lan Zhan,” he had said instead. It had ebbed and flowed in the space over their heads like tides in a river. Eventually, it had settled. Eventually, it had stayed.

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What Dreams May Come

by Admiranda (@ladypfenix)

G, 5k, Ouyang Zichen | Kay's Rec

Summary: Qiu Shiyu is a pragmatic young woman, she knows that the marriage her father wants to arrange will be more for his benefit than hers. But even so, she cannot help hoping that her prospective husband to be just might be someone who can match her romantic side too.

~*~

Mask

by BurningTea (@humanformdragon)

M, 30k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: The cultivation world knows that Wei Wuxian is dead. It knows that the Yiling Patriarch has appeared, dangerous and powerful enough for Wen Ruohan to offer an alliance. And a prize. The Wen Sect is happy to agree when the Yiling Patriarch demands one of their hostages, Lan Wangji.

~*~

Letters along a River

by Ilona22

M, 19k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: They met at the stairs leading to the Cloud Recesses and when days spent together lead to a tentative friendship, letters lead to more. Meanwhile, trouble grows, quietly creeping along in the realms of politics and the supernatural.

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

#wangxian fic rec #wangxianficrecs #rewind 2023 #mdzs #the untamed #wangxian #fandom event #long post #Kay's Rec #Mojo's Rec #Kay's Favorite #Mojo's Favorite #The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation #MDZS #Mo Dao Zu Shi

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fortheloveofwonderland · 11 months

Text

Somewhere to Belong | 1/3 | S.R

Gif does not depict the child’s appearance

A/N - this will be a three parter, written for @imagining-in-the-margins Family Challenge.

Part 2 | Part 3

Summary - You and Spencer have only been dating a few months when he drops the bombshell that he wants to start a family and it throws you into turmoil. And that’s only made worse he meets five year old orphan Wren Briar and is determined to do whatever it takes to adopt her. Even if that means destroying your relationship.

Pairing - Spencer Reid x BAU Fem! Reader

Warnings - found family, very brief mention of past addiction and Maeve storyline, post prison arc, age gap between consenting adults (Spencer is late 30s and reader is mid 20s), typical CM case related stuff, child losing her parents, crying child, arguing, swearing.

WC - 8.3k

Part 1

If Spencer Reid were perfectly honest, he’d never wanted for much his entire life. He’d grown used to just accepting what came his way, never letting his expectations or hubris desire more than he was given.

Wanting for things only led to great disappointment. For example, wanting a mother who wasn’t sick and a father that didn’t walk out on them. Wanting to not have a drug addiction, or the weight of potentially developing schizophrenia.

He wanted to not have witnessed his first love being shot to death in front of him before he’d ever had a chance to hold her.

Maeve allowed Spencer for the first time in his life to want for something tangible. A relationship. A wife. A family. But that was snuffed out along with her life at the hands of Diane Turner’s bullet.

He’d always liked the idea of having a family, the idea of it almost like a guilty pleasure to the young genius. It seemed so far out of reach, out of the realms of the possible for someone like him to accomplish.

All he’d ever really wanted was somewhere to belong, something more than his mother could offer him; something deeper than the BAU could provide. Somewhere where he fit like a missing puzzle piece.

He’d always been an overachiever, never having much trouble reaching the goals he set for himself, but that seemed to be one ideal he would never make a reality.

He allowed himself the fleeting dream of having a family with Maeve but yet again it had been squandered, the flame of possibility extinguished before it really had a chance to burn.

He’d spent years watching Hotch with Jack and JJ with Henry and later Michael. He’d witnessed Kate and her niece and then the birth of her own baby. Even Morgan with Hank. And later came Matt with his array of children so large it didn’t seem fair.

As time drew on Spencer found himself growing more and more resentful towards his friends simply because they had achieved something he was sure he never would.

And time was ticking on for him, he was much closer to forty now, his thirties slipping away in the rear view mirror, soon to vanish entirely from his vision.

Perhaps it was his incarceration that put everything into perspective for him; maybe in some twisted way Cat had done him a favour by having him arrested. It was entirely plausible that if he hadn’t gone through that ordeal prior to the case that took place in Woodbridge, Virginia, just fifteen miles outside of Quantico, it may not have ended in the way that it had.

It was his first day back after thirty days off and admittedly he was grateful to be returning to the BAU. He loved teaching, loved imparting knowledge but it didn’t compare to the rush of fulfilment he got when he worked with his FBI family.

Because that’s what they were, right? Family, at least the closest thing to one Spencer really had. Of course he had his mom, his biological family, but what he had with the team was different.

In a strange way Emily and Rossi were like the parents, while Matt and Tara were like auntie and uncle and JJ, Garcia and Luke were his twisted siblings.

Which left you. You who’d joined the team around the same time as Matt not long after his release from prison. You who had slotted into the BAU family as if you’d been there all along.

You who he couldn’t look at like a sister the way he did JJ and Penelope without it being incredibly bizarre given how attracted to you he was.

You’d shined a light on Spencer’s dark existence, giving him hope for the first time since Maeve.

And maybe years ago he never would have even considered crossing that line with a coworker, maybe wouldn’t have even had the confidence to pursue you in the first place.

But a funny thing happened to Spencer while he was incarcerated. In having his walls completely and utterly torn down, leaving him as little more than a foundation, he was able to rebuild, recraft and manufacture a whole new facade.

This new appearance was more self assured, the walls he’d erected had locked his old insecurities out in the cold.

Less was the innocence he’d once possessed but instead replaced by assertiveness. He wouldn’t wait around for what he wanted and hope it would fall in his lap. He would go after it and grab it with both hands.

And that’s exactly what he did with you.

He’d told you in no uncertain terms that he thought you were beautiful and effervescent and that he wanted to take you for dinner. It wasn’t a question, he didn’t ask if you wanted to go to dinner, he told you that’s what was happening.

You’d found his confidence to be dizzying and electrifying, and also arousing. You hadn’t even stopped to consider the ramifications of going on a date with your colleague.

It had been the furthest thing from your mind after dinner, when Spencer kissed you outside of your apartment. You hadn’t given it a second thought when you invited him upstairs where you became privy to the true extent of Spencer’s dominance.

It had been several months of this and as far as you were aware the rest of the team was none the wiser.

Spencer lavished you with both expensive dates and also afterwards in the bedroom. He was a gentleman in the streets and a wild animal in the sheets.

But he wanted more from you than you were able to give, that much became apparent two days ago when you were lying in a post coital bliss and Spencer had mumbled absent mindedly, “I want to have a family.”

He was on the cusp of forty, it was understandable that he would be thinking of those things. But you were still young, close to fifteen years his junior and a family was the last thing you were thinking about.

What had ensued had been a painfully awkward conversation which you would have rather had with more clothes on. A resolution hadn’t been reached, the discussion simply ended when Spencer told you he needed time to think and proceeded to leave your apartment.

And you hadn’t spoken in two days.

With all of it whirring around in your brain you had completely forgotten Spencer was due back today and so when he strolled into the round table room, ten minutes later than everyone else and not apologising for that fact, you tried to hide your surprise by staring at the tablet in front of you.

He took the last remaining seat between you and Luke and flipped open the case file leisurely.

“Nice of you to join us, Reid.” Emily rolled her eyes as she spoke.

“Hmm.” He didn’t look up. “What did I miss?”

“Uh, well, as I was saying,” Garcia shook off his slightly abrupt tone and continued her presentation. “Mister and Mrs Briar are the second couple to be killed in their home Woodbridge, both shot in the head, point blank. A week ago, Mister and Mrs Logan also met the same grizzly fate.”

“And the police think they are connected? Doesn’t seem like a very specific MO.” Rossi frowned, sitting back in his chair.

“There is one piece of information that ties the two families.” Garcia clicked a button on her remote, casting away the crime scene photos in lieu of two pictures of two little girls. “Both the Logan’s and the Briar’s had a daughter who witnessed the whole sorry thing but were gratefully left alive.”

Spencer skim read the file in front of him before looking up at the screen and the images of the two kids who had gone through something no child should have to.

His eyes gravitated to the photograph on the left of a little girl with rosy cheeks and a bright smile. She had curly dark hair and expressive green eyes and Spencer felt as though she was looking right at him, maybe even through him.

“This is six year old Freya Logan,” Garcia pointed at the blonde girl on the right. “And five year old Wren Briar.”

Wren, cute, he thought.

“Woodbridge is nearby, so we’ll work the case from here.” Emily pushed herself to her feet. “Y/N, Tara and I will go to the county police department and speak to the sheriff. Luke, Matt go to the latest crime scene. Garcia I need you to find the kids and get them brought in, they may have seen something that could be of help. The rest of you start digging.”

Everyone nodded in agreement and started off on their separate ways. Emily mouthed to you and Tara to give her a minute before she left the room.

Spencer left soon after and without meaning to you found yourself on your feet and following him.

You trailed him to the kitchen when he grabbed his mug and started up the coffee machine. He had his back to you when you entered behind him but somehow he knew you were there.

“Why were you late? You’re never late.” Your voice was so unsure, like you weren’t even certain you were allowed to speak to him.

He turned slowly, leaning his back against the counter as he regarded you with his gaze.

“I overslept.” He shrugged.

“You never oversleep.”

“Yeah because I usually get a decent night's rest. But for two nights I’ve been tossing and turning and when I do actually sleep, it’s fretful at best.” His tone was something akin to frustration, frustration that was clearly directed at you.

“You can’t just drop a bombshell like that and walk off. I haven’t been sleeping either, Spencer.” You lowered your tone to a whisper in case any prying ears were around.

“I didn’t realise wanting a family with my girlfriend would be such a bombshell.” He folded his arms across his chest, not being quiet with his words the way you were. At least the coffee percolating helped to mask his voice.

“I didn’t even know I was your girlfriend! We’ve never once talked about what we were, let alone having a family. We’ve been dating for a few months, I’m not sure I understand when this got so serious.” You mirrored him and folded your arms too.

“Relationships are only ever going to end one of two ways, Y/N. They either eventually run their course or you spend the rest of your life together. I was just letting you know my intentions.”

“Spencer, I’m still young. Marriage and kids is not something I’m thinking about right now.”

“Well that's all I think about. And if you don’t want that then there really is no point in us being together. I’m not wasting my time with someone who doesn’t want the same things as me.”

The coffee machine clicked, its sounds starting to fade out. Spencer turned his back on you and shoved his mug under the machine and hit a button.

“That’s what this is to you? A waste of time?” You let your arms fall to your sides, feeling the weight of his words crash down on you like a tidal wave.

“You tell me.” He shrugged, not looking back at you. “I’ve made my intentions clear, Y/N. It’s up to you what you want out of this. And if it isn’t a family, then I guess yeah, it was a waste of time.”

You opened your mouth to speak but closed it again quickly. You repeated this several times as Spencer turned with his mug of coffee in hand. He strolled past you without so much as a glance and you dumbly watched him go.

You couldn’t even go after him if you tried as soon Emily found you and motioned for you to follow her and Tara towards the elevators.

***

“She won’t talk to me,” JJ sighed exhaustedly, running a hand through her hair as she looked between Spencer and Rossi. “She keeps asking for her daddy. I think she’d be more open with a male.”

The three of them stood in the corridor outside of the small disused office where Wren Briar and a woman from social services were situated. Her eyes stopped their back and forth and landed on Rossi.

“Don’t look at me.” Rossi scoffed. “I’m old enough to be her grandpa.”

JJ pulled a face that told him she agreed before turning to Spencer.

“You are around her dad’s age.” JJ gave him a shrug. “And you’re great with Henry and Michael.”

“And Jack. And Hank.” Rossi added.

“Boys,” Spencer shook his head. “They are all boys. I have no idea what to say to a little girl. A little girl whose parents have just been murdered no less.”

“Spence, you’re great with kids. I think she would really open up to you.” JJ was pleading with him with both her voice and her eyes. Spencer always did have a hard time saying no to her.

He glanced passed JJ through the window and on the side of the five year old’s face. Since he’d seen her photograph this morning he had felt a strange emotion bubbling in his chest which he couldn’t quite place.

Maybe protectiveness? Did he feel the need to safeguard this little girl from harm? And if so, why?

He’d had dealings with hundreds if not thousands of kids in his years at the BAU and never felt like this before. He wanted to cushion her, wrap her in bubble wrap and take away all of her pain.

But he didn’t understand why.

He looked back at JJ and sighed louder than necessary to convey he wasn’t pleased about this.

“Fine, but you owe me.” He rolled his eyes, stepping further forward and taking a deep breath before entering the room.

Her astute green eyes snapped up as the door opened, little eyebrows knitted together as she took in the man walking towards her. She seemed wiser than her years, the way she seemed to be curiously regarding him, sizing him up and assessing his threat level.

Spencer offered the social worker a smile before focusing back on Wren. He crouched down when he reached where she was sitting on the couch so he was her height.

She clutched a stuffed toy to her chest which appeared to be some sort of dog, maybe a cow, maybe even a panda. It was a dirty off white with splodges of black and long tatty ears. It was slightly ragged and threadbare and clearly a favourite with this little girl.

“Hi,” he spoke softly, calmingly. “My name is Spencer, can you tell me your name?”

Of course he already knew it but he needed an excuse to get her talking.

“Wren,” she sucked in a breath. “Like the bird.”

“Wow, that’s such a pretty name.” His smile grew of its own accord. “You wanna know something cool?”

She rolled her thin bottom lip between her teeth thoughtfully before nodding her head, her nearly black curls bouncing around her face.

“Y-yes.” She whispered.

“Wren’s eat spiders and insects that they find while hopping along the ground.” He wiggled his long, slender fingers towards her and to his surprise and delight Wren started to giggle.

“Eww!” she shook her head frantically. “I don’t want to eat spiders!”

“I’m afraid with a name like that, you might have to.” Spencer laughed, her innocent giggle sending shockwaves through his whole body.

It melted him from the inside out, as if he were made of chocolate and her laugh was a hot flame. He wanted a child more than anything in the entire world and it was killing him not to have one.

“Noooo!” She shook her head so frantically it was a wonder she didn’t make herself dizzy.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Spencer lowered his voice, leaning in a little closer to Wren. “If you can help me find out what happened to your mommy and daddy, I promise no one will ever make you eat a spider.”

She pouted dramatically, her lip jutting out so severely it looked almost painful. She loosened her grip on the stuffed dog-cow-panda, patting its scruffy head before gripping its ears in her little fingers.

“This is Rover,” she turned him so Spencer could see his face and confirmed it was in fact a dog.

“Hi Rover, I’m Spencer. Do you eat spiders?” He cautiously took hold of one of the dogs paws and shook it.

“Eww!” Wren giggled again, wrapping her arms tightly around the dog again and wrinkling her tiny nose. “Dog’s don’t eat spiders.”

He wasn’t going to argue with the little girl that given half the chance most dogs probably would eat spiders. Instead he nodded in agreement.

“You’re right, I'm sorry Rover.” He half-smiled at the stuffed dog. “Did Rover see what happened to your mommy and daddy?”

Wren once again held the dog tighter, nodding sadly as her eyes downturned.

“The man made us go into the closet. I closed my eyes but Rover saw everything.” A tear trickled from her large green eye and Spencer couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and gently brushing it away.

She didn’t shy away from him, didn’t even flinch. And when he moved his hand away she grabbed one of his fingers in her own petite little hand.

Her fingers wrapped so tightly around the digit, her fear evident in the small gesture. Her eyes were filled with tears making her already bright irises even more vivid. She looked Spencer in the eyes, keeping a firm grip on his finger.

“He shot them. He killed them. My mommy and daddy are dead.” And with that a damn broke and her tears cascaded down her rosy cheeks.

She let go of Spencer’s finger and fell into his arms where he knelt on the ground, nuzzling her little face against his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. Tentatively he wrapped the girl in his arms, stroking back her raven head of curls and cooing to her that it would be ok.

His eyes glanced up towards the window in the door where JJ and Rossi were staring right at him. Wren blew her nose on his tie and he shrugged lightly at his coworkers.

“Damn, he’s good.” Rossi spoke on the other side of the door.

“You expected anything less?” JJ smiled wistfully.

***

When you returned to the BAU later that afternoon with Emily and Tara you were surprised to find the rest of the team, Garcia included, swarmed around Derek Morgan’s old office.

The three of you approached curiously as the other members gathered around the lone window, clearly staring at something inside.

“Uh, do we not have a case to be working?” Emily’s voice garnered the attention of the five other agents who spun to face her guiltily.

You and Tara looked between their faces while they clearly decided who was going to be the one to answer.

“You need to see this.” Luke spoke with amusement ripe in his voice.

They parted like the Red Sea to allow the three of you to get to the window. You, Tara and Emily slowly stepped closer until the room beyond was in view.

On the couch sat Spencer, head forward to his chest and eyes closed tightly. In his lap was a head of dark curls equally as unruly as his own, and a small body curled up next to him, clutching a stuffed toy. Both appeared to be sleeping, Spencer’s limp hand resting on the girl's shoulder.

“That’s the Briar’s daughter.” JJ filled you all in. “Spence is the only one she would open up to.”

“The social worker got called away and he said he’d stay with her. How long they’ve been like this is anybody's guess.” Rossi added.

“Isn’t it the most precious thing you’ve ever seen?” Penelope gasped happily.

She wasn’t wrong. It was utterly adorable. And it warmed your heart and froze it in equal measure. Spencer looked so at home with the little girl, it was only then it occurred to you what an amazing dad he would be. But it wasn’t what you wanted. You weren’t ready for a family, for a child, not like he was.

You took a few steps back from the window, feeling your heart ripping apart in your chest. You were crazy about Spencer, you weren’t ready for your relationship to come to an end. But if this was how he saw his future, you weren’t sure you could be a part of that.

No one seemed to notice you slip away, too busy watching the man and child sleep peacefully.

***

Wren took a shine to Spencer in the way no one ever had before. Sure he was good with kids, but with her he didn’t even seem to need to try.

Over the next few days he learnt that she was incredibly smart, smarter than any five year old he’d ever met before. He wondered if her parents ever had her IQ checked because he would be willing to bet she was gifted.

She was inquisitive, curious about the world around her. At her instance he’d told her more facts about her namesake, moving onto other facts about other animals and then just facts in general.

She hung off of his every word, asking questions if she didn’t understand and probing for more knowledge.

She was gentle and kind and even despite the trauma Spencer could tell she was a happy kid. He was sure if anyone could bounce back from an ordeal of this magnitude it was her. Wren was resilient.

And the more time Spencer spent with her, the more time he wanted to spend with her.

She liked it when he read to her so he went out and brought a ton of her favourite books and would sit in Morgan’s old office and he would read.

He brought his chess set in, thinking her curious mind would enjoy the challenge. She did. A lot. Even if she struggled to grasp the game, she was only five after all.

But his heart swelled every single time she cautiously lifted a piece, looked up at him with her electric eyes and whispered, “can I move this thing over here?”

He adored the little names she gave the pieces and stopped correcting her after a while. He preferred her names for them anyway. The prawn. The horsy. The pointy head. The pretty Queen and the brave King.

She also loved cartoons so after a quick lesson from Garcia on how to operate a tablet and download Netflix, he would sit with Wren and let her watch her favourites on the device while she rested her head on his shoulder.

He held her when she got sad and missed her mom and dad. He let her shed her tears against his shirt and blow her nose on as many of his ties as she needed.

He had learnt long ago not to want for anything in life but he couldn’t help himself. This small child had in the space of a few days completely wormed her way into his heart and he never wanted to see a day where she wasn’t a part of his life.

One more couple met the same fate as the Logan’s and Briar’s before they caught the guy responsible three days later.

Wren clung to him as the social worker tried to get her to leave, small arms wrapped around his waist while she sobbed into his side and begged Spencer not to let her take her away.

“Spencer, don't make me go!” She sobbed and screamed at the top of her little lungs. “I don’t want to leave you!”

“Hey now,” he whispered, crouching down to her height and wiping her tears with the pads of his thumbs. “It won’t be forever ok? I just need to talk to Miss Carol real quick ok?”

“I heard her talking on the phone, they want to take me away from you.” Her little lip quivered and it shattered his heart.

“Wren, I promise you I will not let that happen ok? You just have to be brave for me and go with JJ for a moment. Can you do that?” He tucked her messy hair behind her ears.

Wren looked up with watery eyes at JJ who was smiling at her from behind Spencer.

“You like books right, Wren?” JJ held out her hand. “I can read to you. Time will fly by.”

Wren sniffled and looked back at Spencer who was trying to smile encouragingly at her. She suddenly flung her arms around Spencer’s neck and held him tightly as if he were her stuffed dog. He held her too, praying to gods he didn’t believe in that it wouldn’t be the last time.

When she let go she reluctantly took hold of JJ’s hand so Spencer could be left alone with Carol, Wren’s social worker.

Once JJ left the room with Wren, Spencer stuffed his hands in his pockets as he looked at Carol.

“What’s going to happen to her?” He scuffed his toe on the worn carpet.

“She doesn’t have any living relatives.” Carol shrugged.

“So she goes into the system?” Spencer felt his heart plummet.

“I’m afraid so.”

“She’s been through enough.” Spencer swallowed, his eyebrows furrowed deeply.

“Unfortunately that’s kind of a prerequisite for foster kids.” Carol sighed.

“What, uh…what if I could take her?” His words surprised even himself despite the fact it wasn’t the first time he’d considered it. He’d been thinking about it pretty much non stop since he met Wren, but this was his first time saying it out loud. “I know I can’t just take her now, I did the research.”

“You did?” Carol frowned curiously at him.

“Last night.” He nodded. “I mean I’m an FBI agent so presumably the background checks and stuff would be easy and I know I would need to buy a bigger place with a second bedroom but I started looking at places near Woodbridge, so Wren could still be near her friends and go to school.

I know there are applications and home studies that would need to be done and I know it’s arduous and expensive but I don’t care. I know it takes time but I can wait. I can wait if it means at the end of it all she’ll get to come home with me. I’d even quit the BAU so I could be home more often. I teach in my spare time at the university, much more stable hours, no travel. I am willing to do whatever it takes.” He was rambling and he knew it but he couldn’t stop.

Carol listened intently, taking in his every word and looking at him curiously.

“Doctor Reid,” she sighed a little. “I’m not sure all of that would be necessary simply to foster.”

Spencer suddenly frowned at her, not angry necessarily but frustrated that she misunderstood his intentions.

He cleared his throat, stepped forward and removed his hands from his pockets. He straightened his back and looked Carol dead in the eyes. He needed her to know how serious he was about what he was about to say.

“I’m not talking about fostering.” He shook his head. “I want to adopt her. I want to be her father.”

***

As it turned out, adopting a child was even more hard work than Spencer ever anticipated.

That night after his talk with Carol and after promising Wren several hundred times he would see her again really soon, he went home and delved deeper into the ins and outs of this particular venture.

The easy part was the fact she’d been orphaned and there were no relatives to have to give over parental rights. That was where the simplicity started and ended.

Adopting a child could take anywhere from six to eighteen months. Not to mention the fact it could cost him anywhere up to forty thousand dollars.

He’d need a bigger home, that much he already knew and a job with more stable hours which was easy enough to achieve.

He would have to fill out applications, go through home studies and up to thirty hours worth of parental training. He’d need health exams, proof of income, references from several people close to him.

All relatively achievable.

But he would also have to undergo a criminal background check. Although he had been cleared of all charges, his time in prison hadn’t been expunged despite Emily’s attempts. He would have to explain that he spent three months in a federal facility for a murder he didn’t commit.

Also there was the very real possibility that being a single male would hinder his chances of adoption. From what he’d read it shouldn’t be used to discriminate against him, but it certainly wouldn’t be in his favour.

If the state thought they could place Wren with a family with two parents instead of one, they were more likely to do that than allow a single man in his late thirties to adopt her.

If there was ever a time for him not to want for something desperately, with his entire heart, it was now. But for the life of him he couldn’t stop himself.

But the most important thing he needed to do was talk to Wren.

She might have enjoyed spending time with him, it might have helped take her mind off of watching her parents die, but that wasn’t to say she wanted to live with him. He needed to stop getting ahead of himself.

He took a personal day from work and drove out to the halfway house she’d been placed in for the time being. If everything went to plan she wouldn’t have to be here too long.

The second she saw him her entire face lit up, not just her dazzling green eyes. A huge smile plastered on her tiny face and she ran at full pelt towards him.

Her wild mane of dark curls was tied back into a ponytail and flew behind her with her speed. When she reached him, Wren threw her arms around Spencer’s waist and squeezed him as tightly as her little body would allow.

“Spencer!” She snuggled against him while he in turn enveloped her in a tight embrace. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, pumpkin.” It was true, he had and it had only been one night.

She let go of him before taking him by the hand and marching them both over to a nearby couch. She plopped down on it, he now noticed she had Rover dangling from one hand.

Spencer sat next to her and she shuffled close to him, as though being near him offered her some kind of protection.

“I don’t like it here.” She whined a little, choking the stuffed neck of her dog in tiny hands.

“It'll only be for the short term.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “But you do understand that you can’t go home, don’t you Wren?”

Her bottom lip pouted in that over dramatic way he’d grown used to. Tears sprung to her eyes as she nodded her head.

“I miss my mommy and daddy.” She sniffled.

“I know you do, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she rested her head on his rib cage.

“I don’t want to live here forever.” She whimpered.

“And you won’t.” He squeezed her gently. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

She raised her head so she could look at him, those large, emerald eyes seeing right through to his soul.

“How would you…do you think you might…” he trailed off, words failing him. “I was thinking, if you’d like to, maybe you could come and live with me.”

She blinked several times at him, watching, reading him. It was sometimes hard to believe she was only five years old.

“I can do that?” One of her little eyebrows raised curiously.

“If you’d like to. Only if you’d like to. But I would love to have you live with me, Wren. Have you heard of adoption?” He tucked another stray strand behind her ear.

“No.” She shook her head.

“That’s ok, I can explain it to you.” He smiled softly. “So when a child like you, loses their parents, they need somewhere to go. At the moment you’re in foster care which is temporary. There are foster families you can stay with but it won’t be like your real home. You might get moved around between different families from time to time.

Adoption is permanent and that’s what I would like. If I were to adopt you I would become your legal guardian…your dad I suppose. You’d live with me at least until you turn eighteen, maybe longer if that’s what you wanted. You’d have a home for as long as you needed one, a family with me. It isn’t an easy process but one I would very much like to go through if that’s what you want.”

Again the girl blinked him, probably only really understanding half of what he was saying.

“I had a dad. He died.” She frowned.

“I know, and I’m not…you don’t have to call me dad. I’m not trying to replace your dad. But I would be responsible for you.”

“Would I have a new mom too?” Her frown deepened.

“Uh, no. No mom, just me.” He shrugged. “Look Wren, I think you are a wonderful little girl and I would be absolutely honoured to be your adoptive dad. But I want what’s best for you and if you don’t want that then-”

“Can we play chess if I live with you?” She cut him off.

“As often as you’d like.” He smiled.

“And will you read me bedtime stories?”

“Every single night.” His smile grew.

“Can I have a My Little Pony bedspread?” She started smiling too.

“I don’t see why not.”

“What about Rover?” She suddenly gasped, clutching the small dog tightly.

“What about him?” Spencer frowned.

“Where will he live? I can’t go without him!” She was suddenly beside herself with panic and Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It’s a good job I’ve got room for him too then, isn’t it?”

Her eyes lit up again and sparkled in that innocent way that fed Spencer’s soul. Her lip twitched at the corner.

“Really?” She bounced a little in the chair.

“Really.” He felt tears gathering behind his eyes.

“Ok!” Wren nodded. “I think we would like that.”

Spencer wanted to collapse into tears at those words. If Wren wanted to live with him he would do everything in his power to make that happen.

He knew as he looked at her sparkling eyes and tiny pure smile, he would go to the ends of the earth for this little girl.

He already loved her with his entire being. And no matter what the adoption process threw at him, he would make it through. He would do it for her.

***

When he handed his letter of resignation to Emily a week later and explained his reasons for leaving, she’d quite rightly been shocked.

But she’d also been incredibly encouraging of his newfound love of an orphaned little girl.

He glowed when he spoke about her, happier than she’d seen him in such a long time. And although she hated to lose him from the team, she knew it was for the greater good.

The next step was a new home, a family home, one big enough for him and Wren. Between looking at houses and starting to pack up his own apartment, he hired an attorney to aid him in his adoption battle.

Although it was the more expensive route, Spencer decided to go down the path of independent adoption. It would mean he would have to do the work an agency would normally do but he always had been a control freak. And he was far more invested in the outcome and would therefore work harder to get Wren home.

He visited her every day. He took books and his chess set and they spent hours together in the halfway home. He showed her pictures of the houses he’d seen and asked her what she thought.

One in particular was a cute three bedroom suburban home with a canary yellow picket fence and a green front door. Her little eyes had sparkled when she looked at it and she jabbed her finger at the printout.

“I want to live here.” She got a little shy as she vocalised it.

He wondered if it was because she knew.

The house in question was less than a block from the home she’d witnessed the death of her parents in. She probably walked it past it frequently.

He wasn’t sure that living so close to a place that held so many bad memories for her would be a good idea, but he also thought it might allow her to feel close to the family she’d lost.

“Really?” He asked tentatively. “Do you know where it is?”

He nodded defiantly.

“Near mommy and daddy’s house.”

“And you want to live near their house? Won’t it make you sad?”

“I'm always sad.” She confessed, pouting her lip drastically. “Except when you’re here.”

His heart doubled in size, practically leaped right out of his chest. God he didn’t think it was possible to love her anymore than he already did but she kept proving him wrong.

“You mean that?” He smiled, tears brimming in his eyes.

“Yes.” She nodded again. “You make the bad go away.”

His emotions betrayed him and a few tears fell from his eyes causing Wren to gasp.

“Oh no! Why are you sad, Spencer?” She grabbed one of his fingers in her hand and squeezed it.

“I'm not sad.” He smiled. “These are happy tears. I’m just…I’m just so happy I met you. I wish I could make everything better for you, I wish I could bring your mommy and daddy back, I do. But I promise you, as long as I’m alive, you have a family ok?”

With her free hand she reached for Spencer’s cheek and brushed his tears the same way he did to her. Her little fingers were soft and a little damp.

“I miss my mommy and daddy all the time.” She whispered as though it was a secret. “But I think they would be happy that you want to be my new family.”

God she was so smart. Way smarter than her years. He really would need to have her IQ tested.

“I hope so, pumpkin.”

“Why do you call me pumpkin?” She sat back, looking at him curiously.

“Because I love Halloween.” And I love you.

“I love Halloween!” She clapped her hands together. “Can we go trick or treating?”

Spencer chuckled, yet again tucking her rogue hair behind her ears and off of her little rosy face.

“We can on Halloween. But right now it’s March, we have a few months before October.”

“But can we go trick or treating on Halloween?”

“Of course, pumpkin.”

Seven months. He had seven months until Halloween. Seven months to bring her home.

He hoped he wasn’t making promises he couldn’t keep. The last thing this little girl needed was more disappointment. The last thing he needed was more disappointment.

After that he spent the next hour watching Wren draw pumpkins and witches and ghosts in crayon while he told her facts about Halloween.

He left with a picture she’d drawn for him.

It was of the house with a canary yellow fence and green front door. In front of the house was Wren and Rover who was drawn wildly out of proportion.

And then there was a tall, slim man with crazy curls holding Wren’s hand.

In the bottom corner she’d scrawled in her childlike handwriting: my new family.

***

That same day Spencer called his realtor and made an offer on the house in Virginia whilst putting his own apartment up for sale.

He knew buying a house took time but it was time he didn’t have. He’d sent off his adoption applications and the background checks were in full swing but without the house he couldn’t start his home studies which at minimum took three months.

At least once the background checks were out of the way he would be able to take Wren out of the halfway home for a few hours at a time, supervised by a social worker of course but it was better than nothing.

He was prepared for the questions about his incarceration and had already discussed as such with his attorney. He had transcripts from his therapist who had cleared him for duty, citing him mentally sound.

He had Emily write a letter explaining the whole situation, how he was framed and all the gory details surrounding the case and the proof of his innocence.

He also had letters regarding his character from people who knew him well and could vouch for the fact he would be a great dad. One being from BAU co-founder David Rossi, a name that garnered respect everywhere he went.

And in the capacity as a mother, Jennifer Jareau who talked at great lengths about how Spencer was the worlds greatest godfather to her boys and how amazing he was with them.

Emily, Rossi and JJ were three great people to have on his side.

He’d done everything he could for the time being and for the most part it was now just a painful waiting game.

His house sale and purchase seemed to be moving smoothly so in his free time when he wasn’t teaching and he wasn’t with Wren, he continued packing up his apartment so he would be ready to get into his new house the second the sale was finalised.

His apartment was mostly boxes these days, sad, taunting boxes filled with his possessions while he waited for the phone to ring.

On his last visit to see Wren she’d told him exactly how she would like her new bedroom so some boxes contained flat pack furniture and paint cans.

She wanted her walls to be orange and when he’d frowned and asked her why she simply replied, “because pumpkins.”

He couldn’t very well argue with that.

He managed to talk her down from a bright and garish orange to more of a burnt autumnal colour. She picked out her bed along with a My Little Pony bedspread, and wardrobes from magazines Spencer had shown her and he’d purchased strings of pumpkin shaped fairy lights.

At her insistence, he’d also brought a dog bed for Rover.

He may be jumping the gun, wasting his money on such things when he still had a long road ahead of him before he’d be able to take her home.

And there was also the very real possibility he may never be able to take her home.

Honestly, Spencer couldn’t let himself think of that. If he let himself consider that outcome he would crumble.

In such a short space of time Wren had become his entire world and he couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t lose her.

He was packing up the last of his books when there was a knock at his apartment door.

He spun to look at it, boxes piled so high it was like a labyrinth just to get to it. He frowned, mentally trying to ascertain a path but coming up empty.

“Uh, who is it?” He called, trying to clamber closer.

A stretch of silence met his ears and in the meantime he stumbled over a box and narrowly avoided landing head first in another.

“It’s Y/N.” You spoke eventually, sounding exhausted.

He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. In all the stress surrounding him, he hadn’t given you a second thought.

Fuck, I messed up.

“Uh the door should be unlocked.” He called back and a moment or two later it opened.

You took a step inside, eyes quickly scanning the disarray in the room before finding Spencer’s face, poking out from between two piles of boxes.

“Marco,” he joked but you didn’t laugh.

“Were you ever going to tell me you quit the BAU?” You folded your arms over your chest, staying put by the front door. “And moving by the looks of things. Was I going to be the last person to find that out too?”

“I’m so sorry.” He shrugged meekly, knowing he owed you more than a simple apology. “Everything is happening so fast. I needed to move quickly, the faster I get things sorted the faster she can come home with me.”

Your frown deepened and he could see the confusion rolling off of you in waves.

“What are you talking about? Who’s coming home with you?”

He inhaled sharply, exhaled heavily. Of course Emily, Rossi and JJ knew of his adoption plans but he had asked them not to tell the rest of the team. If it didn’t work out he didn’t want them to be privy to his failure.

But truthfully he expected them to spill the beans. He knew you’d all have a lot of questions regarding his sudden departure from the team and thought at least one of you would get it out of them. It appeared not.

“Well, uh, I’m in the process of trying to adopt a little girl.” He shrugged and braced himself for your reaction.

Your arms fell to your sides and your eyes doubled in size as you glared at him as though he’d told you he was going on a killing spree and not that he was adopting a kid.

He supposed both would be equally concerning.

“I’m sure I didn’t hear you right.”

“No, you did.” He tried to step closer to you but he seemed to have boxed himself into a corner quite literally. “You remember the couples that were killed in Virginia? I kinda bonded with one of the kids. Wren. Wren Briar. She’s in a foster facility at the moment but I’m working on adopting her.”

Somehow the more he explained the less you understood.

“Are you serious?” You scoffed.

“Very.”

“Jesus Christ, Spencer.” You shook your head in disbelief. “You bonded with a kid on a case and now you want to bring her home? Play happy families with a child who lost her parents?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I want to do.” He tried to shuffle between the piles of boxes but was once again thwarted.

“Do you realise how insane that sounds?” Your tone was incredulous.

“Why does that sound insane? She needs a family and I’ve always wanted one.” He frowned at you.

Of course he understood why you may be concerned but he hadn’t expected this reaction.

“So you meet someone, you get married. And when the time is right you start a family.”

“I have tried that! I’ve tried it the “normal” way and that’s never worked out for me. I am thirty nine years old, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” He was growing angry.

“So you’re just skipping to the end? Spencer this is not how you dreamed of having a kid!”

“No, you’re right, it’s not!” He suddenly raised his voice, shoving over a pile of boxes in his way so he could get closer to you. “I dreamed of having kids with Maeve and then she was killed in front of me. Then I dared to dream of having a family with you but you shot that idea right down. It’s not ideal, I am aware of that. But goddammit I love that little girl and I will give her a home. I will be her family and she will be mine.”

“Spencer,” you softened, his eyes wild and scaring you a little. “She’s what, five? She’s already on her way to becoming a fully realised human being. Her personality is already formed, she’s had five years of life where you weren’t a part of it and you just expect her to fall seamlessly into the role of your daughter? Have you ever even considered how hard it’s going to be for her? She lost her parents, they are dead. You really think you can just swoop in and pretend to be her father when she watched her real dad die?”

“Get out.” He spat harshly. “Get the fuck out of my home.”

“Spencer I-”

“No, don’t. If you’re not going to be helpful then you can leave.”

You shook your head in sadness at him, sighing deeply.

“I might not be ready for a family right at this second but I didn’t once say I wouldn’t want one someday. But you’re so determined to rush this, to skip to the happy ending. We could have had that one day.”

“That’s not good enough for me.” He finally lowered his voice. “I’m in love with you Y/N, I know I’ve never said that before but I am. And I don’t want to wait to start a family because I love you. But if we don’t want the same things then we have no future. I’m adopting Wren, no matter what it takes and if you can’t be happy for me then walk away.”

And without another word, that’s exactly what you did. You walked away.

In another scenario, maybe even in another life you would have told him that you loved him too.

Instead you simply walked away.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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bongo-clash · 1 year

Text

Even when you don't know what it is your job knows what it is

DP/DC week prompt: There was something off about them

'Danny Phantom, alleged several-thousand year old ghostly entity, has a feeling something’s not quite right with Captain Marvel, alleged several-thousand year old champion of magic. He reckons there's no time like the present to confront his hunch.'

Look, Danny’s been working with the Justice League for a while now, and he likes to think he knows them all pretty well. Some of them are more open about their civilian identities than others, but even if he doesn’t know who everyone is behind the cowls, he’s got their personalities down pat at least.

Everyone except, perhaps, Captain Marvel.

Maybe that’s not fair to say. Captain’s a friendly enough guy- nobody’s ever had a bad conversation with him that Danny knows of- but he’s weirdly flaky. The longest he’s stuck around post-mission is probably about five minutes tops, and no one actually knows anything about the man; the League have a habit of hanging around after missions for drinks and talk, and the Captain’s been offered a place with them several times and not taken it once. In all fairness, neither has Danny, but he has an excuse. They think he’s about several thousand years older than he actually is and also a full ghost, so they’d probably expect him to drink and he doesn’t want to have to go through the awkward process of refusing and nor does he want Jazz to go ape on him for giving into peer pressure.

…That’s another thing; Captain Marvel is allegedly several-thousand years old, but when Danny looks at him there’s a strange sense of camaraderie that makes him think maybe they’re both liars.

The longer he’s spent thinking about it, the more sense it makes. Their behaviours probably have a lot in common from an outside perspective: coming across awkward around the other members of the team, passing on every event outside of work, sharing very little about their personal lives least of all a civilian identity- which neither of them are even suspected to have. After all, Phantom’s a ghost, and Captain Marvel’s the champion of magic, it seems reasonable to assume their have some other plane of existence they return to when they’re not in the Watchtower. But Danny just goes back home to Illinois and tells his parents he was at Tucker’s again, and he really doesn’t believe that the Captain just sets up shop by the ‘Rock of Eternity’ or whatever he’d mentioned it was called.

He doesn’t know how to bring it up, though, because what if he’s wrong? There’s a non-zero chance that he’s just projecting his own issues on the man (and that sounds so much like something Jazz would say that it physically hurts), and if Danny tries to confront the man about a lie that isn’t there, then the Captain will know he’s lying, and he’ll totally get booted off the team or placed with Young Justice. There’s nothing wrong with YJ, but it’d just hurt to have worked side-by-side with them proving his reliability for so long only to get pushed away because of his age.

So he doesn’t say anything, figuring there’s not much choice other than to wait for some kind of confirmation. Until, of course, the opportunity for confrontation arrives in the aftermath of one mandatory League check-point meeting.

Check-point meeting with the Justice League are really just contractually obligated gossip sessions regarding their recent heroic endeavours that quickly descends into normal conversations. Contrary to the usual progression of these meetings, however, Green Lantern is prodding at Captain Marvel to tell him about what it was like visiting ancient civilisations before they fell.

It’s one of those weeks where the other members are being a bit more insistent on finding out more about the Captain. They’ve made their peace with the fact that they’re not going to get much in terms of a civilian life out of him, but every single member of the League (with the exception of maybe Martian Manhunter) is invariably nosy, which obviously leads to their more mysterious members coming under scrutiny every now and again. This also includes Danny on occasion, but Phantom has a brilliant out for interrogations in the form of making people uncomfortable about the fact that, even if he’s an ancient entity, he clearly died young. All he has to do is pull out some wistful bullshit about wishing he’d lived long enough to experience mortal romance or something equally upsetting and he’s home-safe.

The man across from him, however, taking the form of a very much full-grown adult, has no such excuse.

“Come on, Captain, surely you can tell us something! I thought you were around for ancient Egypt?” Hal exclaims, leaning just slightly over the meeting table to scrutinise his colleague. The Captain is looking increasingly uncomfortable.

“Of course I was!” Marvel agrees quickly, accompanied by a nod of the head that could almost be described as frantic. “Ancient Egypt was around for ages, probably couldn’t’ve missed all that if I tried! I wasn’t around for all that much of it though, I- uh, I caught the tail end of it- when Cleopatra was pharaoh, if I remember right- but I was… I was a little busy somewhere else during that, uh, era.”

Green Lantern raises an eyebrow behind the green domino mask. “Busy? Busy doing what?”

“Well-“

The Captain is making a very particular face, the kind that Danny imagines he himself makes when he’s scrambling for any reasonable excuse to get out of the hole he’s dug himself into by lying. And Danny looks at him from across the table, the man catching his eyes with a look he can only describe as odd and desperate, and he makes a decision.

“That was around the time all those conferences were being held to sort out the mess between the newly-formed undead societies and the natural ghosts, right? There was some involvement with living mages, if I recall correctly; I’m sure I saw you at one of those.”

In terms of lies he could’ve told, he figures this one is pretty low-risk. There were a lot of diplomatic meetings held between natural ghosts and the ones existing post-mortem when proper civilisations first came about and people from them started dying, after all (though he knows for fact the living weren’t involved in any way), so it’s not like he’s pulling it out of his ass. If he’s wrong about the Captain and the man admits he doesn’t have a clue what Danny’s talking about, then he can just say it must have been a realms-exclusive thing- hard to remember the finer details when it was all so long ago- and they’ll be none the wiser.

But if he’s right, and he’s really beginning to think he is, then-

Sure enough, the man across from him nods vigorously, clicking his fingers together as if his memory’s just been jogged. “Right!” He chirps, sending Danny a brazen smile. “I don’t know how I forgot about those! Man, those conferences dragged on, didn’t they?”

Bingo.

“Don’t even worry about it- I honestly would’ve thought the first ones were around the revolution at the end of the Qin dynasty in China if you hadn’t reminded me- my memory was way off. Speaking of that though, have you spoken to Pandora since? I figured you two would get along pretty well, but I know there wasn’t much time for small talk and dimension hopping wasn’t half as easy as it is now.”

Captain Marvel shakes his head with pursed lips. “Can’t say I have; not a lot of free time between everything, like you said. Would love to be introduced properly though!”

“Well, I did say I would- couple thousand years later than I thought it’d be, but better late than never.”

The tension easing from Marvel’s shoulders is probably obvious to everyone in the room. Superman looks to the both of them curiously. “You never mentioned knowing each other?” The Kryptonian questions. Phantom laughs the way he sees his mom do during those weird adult get-togethers.

“Oh, we’ve crossed paths a lot,” He declares with a wave of his hand, brushing the notion to the side, catching the gaze of the Captain in his peripheral even as he keeps his eyes on the other superhero. “Can’t say we had the opportunity to get to know each other properly between it all, though. Relations between the magic living and the restless dead have always been a little… fraught. I was just planning to keep things professional on my end unless the Captain wanted to seek a friendship outside of work since I wasn’t sure how appreciated it would be, especially given how much fuss ghosts have been giving the mortal plane recently.”

Marvel’s laugh mimics his own. “That’s what I was thinking! I guess no amount of time can time will change how weird it can be trying to made work friends.”

Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly), Captain Marvel is waiting outside the hall for him when the meeting is adjourned and each member of the League goes their separate ways. Wordlessly, Danny follows him deeper into the Watchtower, floating behind before phasing them both into one of the locked rooms everyone knows there’s no cameras in, for the sake of being allowed confidential discussions in at least one area of the place- when approved, of course, but these walls don’t hold Phantom just yet, given that the ghost-proofing paint doesn’t quite stick over the lead-lining.

“So.” Danny starts, when they’re both inside the office and the silence begins to creep thick into the air.

Captain Marvel looks nervous. “So.”

“You weren’t at those conferences.”

“No, I wasn’t.” It seems almost painful for him to admit, hands flicking slightly like he wants to fidget with them but doesn’t want to be caught doing it. “I’m grateful you, uh, that you said I was there- thank you, Phantom- but why’d you cover for me?”

For the first time today, and maybe even the first time in the Watchtower, Danny levers himself down from the air, putting both feet on the ground. He hopes beyond hoping his face comes across sincere. “Because I wasn’t there either.” He admits gently, watching for a response.

“I- what?” The man doesn’t appear to know what he’s meant to say. Well, time to rip the bandaid off.

“Captain, you’ve not been around for six thousand, have you? I’m willing to bet you haven’t even been around for 18.” The reaction is immediate. Marvel’s eyes widen, pupils shrinking with alarm, arms coming up as if in defence as he splutters some kind of excuse, and Danny interrupts before he can spiral too hard. “Dude, don’t worry. I seriously won’t tell anyone if you are- I’m not a snitch.”

The Captain’s expression looks utterly lost. “Why?”

Danny thinks it’s probably best to just bite the bullet here. He stands still as the transformation washes over him, bright silver-blue rings parsing over his form, exchanging gravity-defying white hair for scraggly black, hazmat for jeans and a sweater, and Lazarus-green eyes for a gentler blue. When the light finally dissipates, he gives the Captain a second just to process, before sending him a wry grin.

“Hi, Captain Marvel, I’m Phantom- otherwise known as Danny Fenton- Ambassador for the Infinite Realms and sixteen year-old half-human-half-ghost boy.”

The other hero stands still for a long, long moment, mute with shock, before muttering a quiet ‘Shazam’ and allowing the room to fill with the sudden crackle of a lightning bolt. Where the hulking form of Captain Marvel once stood, a boy is left in his place- eyes and hair the same, if a little less put together- but only just coming up to Danny’s shoulder, wearing clothes that have clearly seen a few years go by. If Danny had to guess, he looks about eleven or twelve

“Hi, Phantom,” He says, a little quieter but with more confidence than he’d had before, staring him resolutely in the eyes. “I’m Captain Marvel- also Billy Batson- champion of magic and twelve year-old and world’s mightiest mortal.”

Danny cannot resist reaching over to ruffle the kid’s hair. “Amazing to meet you,” He beams. “And if anyone asks, we’ve known each other since the Early Dynastic period of Egypt and are in no way human or related to any living humans. You good with that?”

Billy looks up at him with a gap in his teeth and mischief in his eyes.

“Phantom, I am more than okay with that.”

#dp/dc week 2022 #Billy asks afterwards what all the historical evidence of Danny is about and Danny explains his time travel shenanigans #And invites Captain Marvel to join in on a few too just to really buff up their alibi #Billy discovers the joy of vandalism in Ancient Rome #Fun fact: I have no idea what happens in this fic because I finished it 1 minute ago and I'm too tired to read it over #If there's any mistakes we can all just ignore them and that's cool and fine!!#Title is from Let's Get This over With by They Might Be Giants because I was struggling for a name and it's just what I had on #dpxdc #dp au #danny phantom au #Bongo's Writing!!!

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