#sorry this post was literally Haunting me & even though it wasn’t a bad thing i just dont wanna be known for it yknow 😭😭

[meowydoe]

FORTY THOUSAND NOTES OLIVE OSTROVSKY????

[demonichikikomori]

Sorry, Not Sorry

Rinne Amagi x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.2k+ Tags: Cheating/Non-Con Voyeurism/DubCon/BroCon /j Unless?/Blackmail

Art by lllistn on Twitter!

It's time... For 13 Lovely Hauntings! This was in my last tarot card vote but I wanted to write it still! Also, this might get another chapter (on Ao3 at some point) if enough people want it. If not? It's just a stand-alone fic. All of the pieces for this event are literally just my drafts I’m clearing out but didn’t know where to post. I didn’t really post the last two months so I’m stuffing you guys with content. Sorry. Not sorry. (Badum Tss.)

SUMMARY:

Your boyfriend Hiiro Amagi takes you back to his childhood home during a weekend away from college classes. He wants you to meet his father, and his older brother Rinne Amagi... I guess.

You were walking hand and hand with Hiiro Amagi with a cheerful expression down a long dirt path. Your shoulders brushing as your hands remain intertwined tightly in the chill of the fall air, your freed hand clung to your duffle bag packed with clothes and your favorite soaps for the weekend. You stepped over a small bank of snow reducing itself to slush with a smile glued to your face. Today, you finally meet and spend the weekend with Hiiro’s family. You had been dating Hiiro Amagi for almost a full year, and he thought it would be nice to spend the weekend after exams in his village. It was an honor to know Hiiro adored you so much that he was ready for you to meet those closest to him. Even if it was just his father and older brother. 

“My father is excited to meet you. He kept begging and begging for me to bring you to our village when we had our next break from classes!” Hiiro chirped as the two of you entered the quiet village. The sun was starting to set along the treeline, casting a neon orange glow over the village. “I promise you’ll love him as much as he loves you. My older brother won’t be here until tomorrow though.” He gently nudged you with his elbow as your nerves began to spike with jitters. First impressions are everything, and you know how to behave in front of the head of the household. But what about Hiiro’s older brother? For some reason during the almost full year of dating, Hiiro has never once brought him up until recently. 

Hiiro walked you up to his childhood home and began fishing in his pocket for a key to the door. “What is your older brother like?” You asked curiously as he patted at his pockets with a soft ‘mmmm’. “He’s reckless, but not in a bad way! Sometimes he does things that I don’t like, but that’s just his personality.” Hiiro began to frown, keeping the description vague. He finally found the key to the house and looked it over. “But don’t worry about him until tomorrow. I know you’ll like him too.” His tone picked up its usual cheerfulness as you started to puff up your cheeks. Maybe his older brother is someone you would simply have to tolerate this weekend, for your boyfriend’s sake. After all, Hiiro never actually talked about him.

Before Hiiro could push the key into the door, it was suddenly yanked open and your eyes widened with shock. “Oh! Rinne! You made it here before us!” Hiiro was just as surprised to see the man leaning in the entrance's door frame, chewing idly on a toothpick. You stood silent and stunned as you soaked in the sight of who you could only assume was Hiiro’s older brother. The cunning air around him was an extreme contrast to Hiiro’s usual heroic nature, but the similarities in appearance proved that they were indeed related. 

Riine Amagi sported a head of long, wild, cardinal red hair. His skin was pale and paired well with his mischievous cyan blue eyes. The older sibling was taller than Hiiro with defined muscles he wasn’t afraid to show off which explained his current state of shirtlessness. He instead wore thick black sweatpants that hung low on his hips. A wispy trail of red could be seen peeking out from under the waistband of his expensive underwear. His eyes sparkled at the sight of you behind Hiiro with a smirk forming on his handsome face. “Who’s this fine piece of-” 

“This is my girlfriend! I was bringing her here this weekend to meet you and dad. But, I thought you were coming back tomorrow.” Hiiro cut Rinne’s possibly inappropriate comment short as he outstretched an arm in front of you. Almost like he was shielding you from the older man you couldn’t peel your eyes away from. This was Hiiro’s older brother. And if you and Hiiro ever got married, he would be your older brother too. 

“Hah? Tomorrow? Mmm, change of plans. Niki was busy I guess.” His response was half-hearted, still looking at you with that same sparkle in his eyes. A sparkle that began to draw you in until Hiiro obstructed his older brother's vision with an agitated wave of his hand. “Where’s father?” He asked as Rinne rolled his eyes and stepped away from the door. “He’s doing chief stuff. He’ll be back in an hour.” The older man scoffed as Hiiro quickly took your hand and led you inside.

The warm air and scent of cheesy pizza welcomed you as you and Hiiro removed your shoes with Rinne monitoring the scene. “So, how old are ya’ sis? You’re really pretty. You doin’ the college thing with Hiiro?” Rinne’s voice was deeper than Hiiro’s and smooth like gold colored honey. He didn’t look that much older than you and Hiiro, but the air he exuded felt much different. More intense than Hiiro. “I’m the same age as Hiiro! And I share one of my English classes with him, but we have different majors and minors.” You explained sheepishly as you placed your bag on the ground and placed your shoes beside Hiiro’s. When you looked up, you noticed that Hiiro looked annoyed that his brother was talking with you.

Rinne let out a soft ‘ahhh’ of understanding with his hands now settling on his hips, his fingernails were lined in a black polish that had been chipped away to specks and flakes. Hiiro never painted his nails. Even if you offered to do it for him, it was a hard no. “Well, sis, what made you like Hiiro so much? If you say his looks, just know he got them from me.” He asked playfully, far more interested in you than his own little brother as your face began to grow hot. 

Before you had the chance to respond, your boyfriend began to growl as he pulled you behind him. “Leave her alone, we just got here! Ask normal questions, you sexual harasser!” The younger brother snapped as Rinne shrugged his shoulders with a laugh. “Kyahahaha☆!~! Riling you up has always been easy. And now that you have a girlfriend it’s even easier!~!” He teased as the two began to go back and forth. Unbeknownst to Hiiro, you were peeking over his shoulder to capture a few more glances at Riine. 

☆☆☆

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him during dinner, and you were starting to grow fearful that he may start to notice. Hiiro, thankfully, seemed oblivious to your ogling. Hiiro’s father did nothing but compliment you all night, grateful that his youngest son was capable of finding someone as charming as you. He then jokingly asked when you and Hiiro would be married and how soon you were ready to give him a soccer team’s worth of grandchildren. To which you had to bashfully decline giving him any response so soon. You and Hiiro were still young! Rinne’s laugh rattled through your brain at the sight of your shy expression. His tone was so sweet when he called you ‘cute’, apparently ‘falling in love’ with the way you puffed your cheeks when you pouted. Hiiro wasn’t too happy about the comments his older brother made and the two began to bicker until dinner ended. 

When it came time for bed, Hiiro’s father encouraged the two of you to share a bedroom. Who was he to stop anything from happening? And a girl shouldn’t be cast off to the confines of some old couch or hard floor! You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed that your boyfriend’s father would encourage something risque under his own roof and you began wondering if Hiiro got his sense of righteousness from his late mother... 

As Rinne wished you a playful goodnight and vanished behind a door not too far down the hall from Hiiro’s you started to feel a sense of guilt. There was no reason to pay mind to a man you had just met. Especially your boyfriend’s older brother. But the attention he was giving you was much, much different than what Hiiro gave you. Of course you loved and adored your boyfriend. But sometimes, it felt like you were just friends instead of lovers. You never found the chance to speak up about the topic of being more intimate with your boyfriend. It could be anxiety keeping you from trying, or the deepest hope that maybe it would happen naturally. The farthest you had gone with Hiiro was a messy makeout in his dorm. But the moment you reached for his belt, he sheepishly nudged you away and you were sent back to your own room. 

You feared that it could be something he saw in you that made him uncomfortable with the prompt of sex. Or maybe he was just too nervous to try? Either way, it was starting to leave you with an insecurity you couldn’t shrug off. 

You settled into Hiiro’s room, silently admiring the decor that had been left untouched since he had gone away for school. Your backs faced one another as the two of you changed into your pajamas, for you? An oversized shirt and a pair of shorts. The light was shut off and the two of you crawled into Hiiro’s bed with you on the outside, closest to the door despite Hiiro’s protest. “What if someone breaks in? I need to be ready to jump up and defend you!” Hiiro grumbled as he laid on his side to face you. You rolled your eyes tiredly as you huddled closer to him beneath the blankets. “Well, what if I need a bathroom break? I don’t want to climb over you.” You already knew that you had won the conversation as Hiiro settled down and the two of you drifted peacefully to sleep. 

Well, you were asleep. 

You weren’t sure why you woke up so suddenly, but you were dying of thirst. You slipped out of bed with a soft yawn. Your eyes opened wider and wider as you started to recover and wake up. You looked for your phone to check the time, seeing that it was 1:37am. You hadn’t been asleep that long, and the whole house was silent other than the soft creaks of the old home settling. But you really needed a cup of water. You glanced in the darkness to see Hiiro was sleeping peacefully, his back facing you as you stretched your arms above your head and made your way towards the door. 

You crept down the hall to avoid alerting anyone else in the house of your mission. But your steps halted as a sound filled the air. One that sounded nothing like the creaking of the old house. A soft pap pap pap that caused your stomach to grow tight and hot when you noticed it was coming from Rinne’s room. Maybe you were just imagining things? You keep your steps light as you pass the door while holding your breath. The sounds and soft moans beckoned you to backtrack. And backtrack you did. 

Returning to the door made your face burn as you listened to the sounds within the room. Your imagination provided ample imagery of what might be happening on the other side. How fast his fist would be pumping. If he was using a toy or not. If he was smirking or if his mouth hung open with ecstasy. You reached towards the doorknob. 

There was hesitation, fingers hovering over the cold brass as you stood stunned by the impulsive decision. But it wouldn’t hurt to take a peek right? You twisted the knob cautiously with a thick swallow. The pounding of your heartbeat playing in your ears as you began to crouch with the door slowly and silently being pulled open. 

You peered into the pitch black room, listening to the wet sounds and Rinne’s carnal moans from within the room becoming significantly louder. You wanted to see more. You wanted to see him. Your lips parted as you pressed your face into the door with wide eyes laced with curiosity. You could feel your inner thighs becoming hot as you took the risk of cracking the door open further. With the hopes of catching a glimpse of Rinne, you pulled and pulled greedily at the door as you fell hypnotized by the sounds of lust. 

And catch him you did. 

Looking back at you with a stunned expression within the darkness as the sounds fell deaf.

You choked back a scream and let go of the door in a panic. Scrambling to your feet, you tried to rush down the hall as Rinne yanked the door open with his eyes narrowed into slits. You were left with no time to react as Rinne caught you by the back of your shirt and pinned you against the opposite wall. His fist now gripped your collar as he looked down at you with a tight frown. His body was pressed against yours and you could smell the scent of lust and the salt of his sweat emanating off of his skin. The way his warm breath tickled the skin of your face with each short puff. His cheeks were flushed as you began to tremble with terror. No, no, no, no. 

Rinne remained silent, looking over your terrified face before turning his head down the hall where you were supposed to be sleeping beside Hiiro. There was a soft chuff as he returned his attention to you. “What’s going on sis?” He asked, his voice lined with venom and something else you couldn’t put a finger on. Your mouth filled with cotton as you looked around the dark hallway. You couldn’t look him in the eye. “… Getting water…” You mumbled as Rinne hummed, letting go of your collar to instead grab you by your forearm. He wasn’t rough, but he was firm with his grip. “Me too.” He began dragging you towards the kitchen, and you struggled to match the stride his long legs had. 

The kitchen was dark, illuminated by the yellowish light glowing above the sink. Your boyfriends’ older brother let you go with a little shove, easing you towards the counter as he opened a cabinet in search of two glasses. He was silent as he walked through the small kitchen. It was strange, even though he was clearly agitated, his eyes sparkled. Just like when his eyes first met yours. You felt your stomach twist and churn with anxiety as he filled the two cups with water and held one out to you. But when your fingers brushed against his, you nearly dropped the cup out of shock. You wanted to go back to Hiiro’s room. You wanted to close your eyes and pretend this didn’t happen. 

The cup was shaking in your hands as he stared at you, his gaze burning and filling you with guilt. “… I’m sorry.” You whispered, your reflection appearing in the crystal clear water. Rippling and distorted as Rinne crossed his arms in front of you. An older brother scolding his eventual sister-in-law. Well, unless Hiiro found out about this. “What are you sorry about, sis?” His voice was smooth and soft, making you straighten up with your thighs pressed tightly together. “… Spying on you…” You mumbled again as Rinne hummed with a sound of content. “Why were you spying on me, sis?” You tried lifting the cup to your lips. “I dunno…” You didn’t want to say why. “You know why.” He purred and placed his own glass on the counter, reaching towards you to poke at your stomach with his slender pointer finger. 

He herded you against the edge of the counter with his usual smirk returning. Like he was planning something horrible. You felt his large body press against yours, easing his body between your thighs . “Wanna tell your new big brother why you watched him jerk off? Why did you watch while Hiiro, your boyfriend, was sleeping? Why you sat in the hall on your knees with big eyes, and your mouth wide open?” His grip on your forearm was back as he began pulling you against him. Rinne towered over you like an imposing force and you couldn’t fight the way your heart quickened. Should you say morbid curiosity? The lack of attention you got from Hiiro pushing you to take the risk? A blatant lie that you tripped and fell against his door? “I dunno…” You couldn’t muster the strength now that you had been cornered like this.

“Then why don’t we wake up Hiiro and tell him?” Rinne suggested with his squeaky cackle. Your blood ran cold and you shook your head, your glass nearly toppled out of your hands as Rinne remained smiling. “Hmm? Noooooo?” He purred teasingly as beads of stray tears rolled down your cheeks. “Curiosity killed the cat sis, but y’know…” Your boyfriend’s older brother trailed off as he loosened his grip on your arms, rubbing his thumbs over your skin. “Satisfaction brought it back.” He whispered as he removed a hand, and took the cup from your trembling grip and placed it next to his own. A small whimper rolled off of your tongue as his hips bucked into yours suddenly. 

The sound was embarrassing as you looked away from Rinne, eyeing the flooring with your mouth clamped shut. “If you come back to my room, I might forget about this whole thing.” Rinne purred as he bucked his hips again, and again, and again. You could feel him starting to harden in his sweatpants as he gave your upper arms a firm squeeze. You couldn’t let Hiiro find out about this. “You… Can you promise you won’t tell?” You begged softly, refusing to look Hiiro’s older brother in the eye. 

Rinne kept his grip firm on your arm, not too rough, but it was tight enough to keep you from darting away. “Me? Promise? I don’t think I should. You were the one who came creeping on me.” He chuckled softly as you allowed your eyes to shamefully fall shut as the tears dried on your cheeks. Rinne was quiet before grumbling under his breath. “Alright, alright, ‘promise I won’t say anything.” The older sibling began to pull on your body until you were flush against him. “If you do what I say, I won’t say a word.” His tone was slick as you started to feel as though there was no other choice. You could be truthful with Hiiro, or avoid that painful reality entirely. 

And maybe spending the night with Rinne won’t be so bad… “Okay.” Your voice was weak as Rinne smothered his cackle with his hand. He was enthusiastically tugging you out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom. Your heart began to sink as you allowed yourself to be dragged behind him.

This was wrong. This was extremely wrong. If Hiiro found out, he would be devastated. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Right? Rinne promised he wouldn’t say anything if you went with him. With one final glance towards Hiiro’s bedroom, you were nudged into the one belonging to his older brother. And the door shut with a soft click.

Tagged Accounts: N/A

#13 Lovely Hauntings #cheating #rinne amagi x reader #rinne x reader #amagi rinne x reader #noncon voyeurism #dark content #dubcon #the d in devils stands for dubious #rinne amagi smut

[mercy-burning]

Pretty Please

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader hears something surprising from her next door neighbor, and it throws her off. Category: Smut 18+ (masturbation, thigh riding, penetrative sex, oral sex-male and female receiving, semi-rough sex, dom!Spencer) Word Count: 6.9k Warnings: Nothing except the smut listed above and strong language. As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in the warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!

PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE

***

There's no way she heard that right.

In fact, she was pretty sure she'd made it up. She was tired, delirious, and she'd only imagined hearing what she heard.

Right?

Just to be sure, Y/N sat up in bed, put her ear against the wall just above the headboard, and listened, concentrating as hard as she could to confirm or deny.

And sure enough, the next thing she heard was, "Fuck, yes!"

It was muffled, definitely not as loud as it could have been, but if things continued the way she thought they would, it was going to get louder. Unless, of course, her neighbor was mindful, knowing that someone could probably hear what was going on. Though, for some reason Y/N doubted that.

Just to be extra sure what was happening, she stayed glued to the wall, listening carefully.

There was some muffled movement, but it could have been just about anything. Nonetheless, her heart was beating so fast, and it beat even faster when she heard what came next.

A loud female moan, unmistakable and utterly pornographic, made Y/N close her eyes immediately, her heart practically jumping out of her chest. Her first thought was Okay, he's watching porn. Everyone does that. Not without headphones, but it's completely normal and I should stop eavesdropping and go about my own life because this is an invasion of privacy.

Her second thought was ...Oh.

Because she was dead wrong.

The next thing that sounded through the walls was, "Yes, Spencer, just like that!"

Y/N's eyes shot open and she almost had a heart attack.

Her next thought was Good for him...

She and her neighbor hadn't really gotten to know each other that well. All she knew was that he had a job that kept him away from home quite a bit, either from travel or just late nights. He was shy and rarely talked to her when they met in the halls or in the parking garage, or even in the laundry room. Which is why it was so surprising to Y/N that he was having sex—and decent sex at that, from what she could hear—right next door.

Not that it would have been impossible for him to get it, of course. He was hot as hell, and it shouldn't have surprised Y/N as much as it did that she was hearing what she was hearing. It had just never happened before.

She was about to let it be, glad that her neighbor seemed to be having some fun, and it truly wasn't any of her business what he decided to do in his spare time. Though, the next thing she heard sent her into a tailspin.

"You like that, baby? You like when I hold you down and fuck you?"

Y/N almost hit her head against the wall. Instinctually her legs crossed, as if it would prevent her from being turned on. Which was stupid, considering every nerve in her body was on fire hearing those words come from Spencer Reid's mouth.

No fucking way, Y/N thought, slowly shifting her position on the bed.

It was a stupid idea. Probably one of the dumbest things she's ever done. But she closed her eyes, and as the woman's moans became louder through the walls, every slap of skin on skin getting louder with them, Y/N's right hand drifted under the waistband of her panties and got to work.

She couldn't help imagining what was going on. And it was rare that she could get off on just imagination alone, but this time she had the helpful addition of sound to aid her. Every time the woman moaned Spencer's name, she moved her fingers faster, alternating between rubbing her clit and completely fingering herself. And sometimes Y/N would make inevitable tiny whimpers of her own, careful not to give herself away.

She was almost to her climax when she heard it. The thing that pushed her over the edge.

"Fuck, you take it so well, pretty girl."

That one sentence, added to the impending orgasm Y/N was experiencing and the fact that she was picturing Spencer's face so clearly in her head, caused her to let out a loud moan and throw her head back against the wall with a loud thud.

So many feelings happened at once. Pain, because fuck, hitting her head on the wall without expecting it hurt like hell. Pleasure immediately after, because despite everything, her fingers stayed working, instinctively nursing herself through her orgasm. And finally embarrassment, because she definitely shouldn't have been eavesdropping on her neighbor's sexual encounters and she's positive they'd heard her intrusion.

All noises ceased for a total of two seconds before Y/N came down from her high and the sex next door resumed like nothing had happened.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck, no, Y/N thought as she scrambled out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Her head still hurt from hitting it against the wall, but that was the least of her concerns. More than anything she wanted to crawl in a hole and never return. And sure, maybe there was a small chance Spencer and his.. friend hadn't heard you, but it was practically impossible. There was no way they hadn't heard it.

Y/N peed and washed her hands, tapping her foot nervously against the cool tile the whole time. Eventually she calmed her breathing and decided that she'd just have to live with it. I mean, it's not like I'm friends with him anyway, she thought. I barely see him enough as it is, and I can ignore him like there's no tomorrow and nothing will change. Right?

And so she washed her face and got ready for bed, trying desperately not to think about how badly she'd embarrassed herself.

And then as she curled under the covers (with earbuds in just in case) she thought, Maybe I'll make him some muffins tomorrow and say I'm sorry.

The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes was Spencer's face.

***

"What's wrong? Can't take it?"

She practically burned with pleasure, every inch of her body overly sensitive and completely fucked out. But she'd let him have whatever he wanted.

She cried. She tried to tell him that yes, she could take it. But tears and strangled moans were all she could manage as he continued to fuck her into the mattress.

"You gonna cum?" He asked, like she could form words.

She cried out again in answer.

He leaned forward, wiping tears from her face, and whispered, "Go ahead, pretty girl."

That was the last thing Y/N heard before she woke up, eyes shooting open and hands clutching the sheets so tightly her fingers ached. She let them go and tried to wiggle them back to life, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath.

"Oh, dear Lord," she muttered, stretching out and realizing that the past 10 hours of her life were going to haunt her for a long time.

I'm gonna have to move, aren't I, she thought sarcastically, sitting up slowly and rubbing her eyes. Though, right now it sounded like a good idea.

Y/N gathered some clothes and went to the shower, refusing to think about last night or the dream she'd woken up from. Instead she lasered all her attention to thoroughly washing her hair, body, and face. By the time the water was running cold, she stepped out, dried off and got dressed, brushing her teeth and then leaving the bathroom to turn on the coffee pot.

Before she could, there was a knock on the door.

Oh no, was her first thought, because naturally the first thing you do at any minor event after severely embarrassing yourself is panic. What if that's him? He's going to get mad at me for eavesdropping. The first thing I'm going to do when I see him is blush and panic. Fuck.

Y/N thought about ignoring it for a second. For all Spencer knew, she could still be sleeping. She could have fled the country immediately after giving herself away. She could have died from a heart attack, literally embarrassing herself to death. She could ha—

Knock knock knock.

"Shit," Y/N muttered to herself, adjusting her freshly-washed hair and praying she looked okay. If it really was Spencer at her door, she wanted to at least look like she was moving on with her life and not thinking about last night every waking second.

She ran to the door, took a deep breath and opened it, sure enough revealing Spencer Reid in her doorway, wearing a kind smile and holding a small something in his hand.

"Oh... Spencer, hi," Y/N said, pretending to be happy. Not that she wasn't ever happy to see him, but today of all days was most definitely not a good time. She only prayed he wouldn't get mad at her for eavesdropping.

"Hi, Y/N. Sorry for being here so early, but I, uh... thought you might need this."

He handed her what was in his hand, and it rattled, confusing her. She took it and flipped it over in her hands, studying the bottle.

"Advil?"

"Yeah. Seems like you hit your head on the wall pretty hard last night, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Her stomach dropped. "No."

"No... You're not okay, or no, you don't need it?"

Heat rushed to Y/N's cheeks and all she could manage was another, "No."

She only sounded slightly terrified.

But before Spencer could say anything else, Y/N looked up at him and almost started to cry. "I'm so so so sorry, Spencer, I didn't mean to hear, it just happened, and I couldn't help it, and I tried to be quiet, I really did, but it just slipped, and I feel really bad, I'm so sorry, I—"

"Whoa, whoa, Y/N, slow down. It's okay, really," he laughed. "I'm not upset or anything, I just... Truthfully I feel kind of bad for not thinking of anyone hearing. I didn't realize the walls were so thin, and had I known I probably would have... Gone about things differently. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Y/N's heart raced, but she was even more shocked by the fact that he was apologizing. "Spencer, don't be sorry. I embarrassed myself, really. I shouldn't have been listening anyway— what you do in your apartment isn't any of my business, and I messed up."

He smiled and shuffled on his feet, trying to avoid looking at you but failing. In the end he shrugged and leaned against the doorframe. "Well, in any case, I really do hope your head doesn't hurt too bad. That was a loud thump."

Y/N laughed nervously, turning the bottle over in her hands while looking at the floor. "It doesn't hurt anymore. Feels better now that I've slept it off... Thank you, though. I... I appreciate it."

"You're welcome."

She looked up at him and almost started crying again, still completely embarrassed over the whole ordeal. In an attempt to not cry, she cleared her throat. "Um, I was just going put on some coffee if you... wanted to come in? I can make some eggs or something too, if you're hungry. Y'know, to say I'm sorry?"

Spencer looked like he was about to tell her not to be sorry again, but she gave him a look that said don't you dare, and he settled on nodding instead. "Sure, I'd like that."

***

"Wow. These are great."

Y/N smiled, watching Spencer eat a bite of the eggs she'd made him. "Thank you. It's a family recipe. Nothing too special, but my mom always made them for my brother and I before our first day of school every year."

He smiled. "That's nice. Really, they're great. Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem... Look, again, I really am so—"

"Y/N, stop. It's okay, really. It... happens. You don't have to be sorry."

She nodded before taking a sip of her coffee. Spencer ate some more of his eggs and the two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, before it got completely unbearable.

She didn't want to keep bringing it up, but something forced the words out of her mouth. "So, your... guest... Is she your girlfriend?"

It took Spencer a minute to realize what she said, but eventually he cleared his throat, some color forming on his cheeks. "Oh, uh... no. No, I'm single. She and I had just met at a bar downtown. I don't usually do that. Go to bars, I mean. Though I suppose I don't really have one night stands all that often, either, but my co-workers and I were out last night after a... pretty rough day at work, and... before I left we met at the bar and it just kind of went on from there."

"Oh... Well, I... I'm sorry work was rough. Seems like you... handled it, though. Got over it... I mean, like, you knew how to take your mind off of it, or make it better or whatever."

Y/N froze after she said it. Immediately after, she shook her head. "God, I'm sorry. That was dumb. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, I get what you mean, it's okay, really," Spencer said quickly, seemingly amused. "It, uh... It really did help. You know, sex is a good stress reliever. The endorphins it releases puts you in a better mood and calms you down, and studies show that regular sexual activity can aid in decreasing high blood pressure during stressful situations."

"I... didn't know that. Sounds helpful. Especially with your job, I imagine."

He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. "What about you? Is your job stressful?"

Y/N shrugged, kind of glad that the conversation moved away from sexual nature. Though, she supposed the reason it was there in the first place was kind of her fault. In any case, she told Spencer about her job. "It's not as stressful as other jobs can be, but I just got a promotion so all the responsibility is a little daunting, I guess."

"I'm sure you're fine," he complimented, setting his mug down. "Though... If you do ever find yourself beginning to buckle under the stress of your job, sex is a good way to keep your spirits up."

It was a joke. A reference to their conversation, the whole reason they were in this moment in the first place. So why did Y/N respond with, "What, is that your way of offering?"

I'm just full of stupid shit lately, aren't I, she thought, immediately hating herself for saying it. Things were going well, and Spencer didn't seem mad or annoyed after the whole incident, and now she was positive she'd made everything worse.

But nothing could have prepared her for what came out of his mouth next.

"Maybe it is."

She looked up at him and saw that he was completely serious. His eyes bore into her, staring her down like he was trying to compel her to say something, to do something, to put her under his spell. Y/N swallowed, trying to speak, but nothing would come out.

Oh, now you have nothing to say? Good going, Y/N...

Nevertheless, he waited. His eyes remained glued on her, tilting his head to the side and raising his eyebrows as if to ask her, well?

Eventually, she settled on, "You mean it?"

Spencer nodded slowly, staring at her with an intensity she hadn't experienced in forever. "Only if you want to."

Immediately Y/N thought back to last night. His nasty words replayed in her ears over and over again, repeating themselves like a mantra— You like that, baby? You like when I hold you down and fuck you?

And under his burning gaze, Y/N felt like she was on fire. Her lower stomach bubbled over with desire and she imagined him fucking her like he had in her dream.

It's almost like he knew what she was thinking about. Because right before she could tell him she wanted him, he laughed softly to himself. "What are you thinking about, Y/N?"

Her name on his lips sent shivers down her spine. "W... What?"

"Tell me. You're thinking about having sex with me right now, aren't you?"

She could barely breathe. But she managed to get out a strangled, "Yes."

Spencer smirked and stood up, walking around the table but never taking his eyes off Y/N. She swallowed and stood up too, meeting his eyes and tilting her head up to look at him— really look at him. His pupils were full-blown, his lips formed into an amused smile as he reached out to touch her face. She fluttered her eyes closed and leaned into his touch, a small sigh involuntarily escaping her lips.

"How long have you been thinking about me?" Spencer asked quietly, yet the tone in his voice rather demanded an answer more than asked for one.

Y/N opened her eyes to meet his, and almost crumbled under the weight of their intensity. "S-since last night."

He hummed in response, running his thumb over her chin and up to her lips, just barely touching them. "Have you ever thought about it before then?"

She couldn't lie to him. "A few times."

That got a full smile out of him, but it disappeared rather quickly as he stepped even closer and gripped the side of Y/N's face in his right hand, his fingers barely weaving through the hair behind her ear. She gasped and looked up at him, silently begging for him to kiss her. To push her onto the table, or choke her, or something.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded, keeping that even, soft tone. It sent another chill through Y/N's body.

She could hardly breathe. Could hardly form words.

Spencer slipped his hand behind her head and gripped the underside of her damp hair, tugging slightly as she whimpered. "What do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me," Y/N gasped out, completely and utterly entranced by his looming presence.

"Now?" he asked, his own way of really making sure she wanted to go through with this.

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, please, fuck me. Please."

The look he gave her after she said it was purely dirty and unlike any thing she'd ever experienced. She decided then and there that if that was the reaction she'd get from him for begging, she would beg him for anything any time.

Not to mention, the way he kissed her was enough to make any man or woman fly into the sun. Both of his hands found themselves lost in her hair, pulling her head to his and practically massaging her scalp as he glided his lips across hers with a slow burning fever that made Y/N's body completely succumb to him. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, reaching up to twist her fingers through the ends of his hair, admiring how soft and perfect it felt on her skin. Once Spencer's tongue swiped over her bottom lip and softly pushed into her mouth, it was well and truly over. Y/N was done for. He could do anything he wanted and she wouldn't turn him away.

He pulled away for a moment, taking her bottom lip between his teeth before moving back in and angling his head in the other direction, kissing her deeper and causing a groan to slip from her throat.

Y/N desperately clung to his neck, wishing he could do this to her forever, but then he took one of his hands away from her head and brought it to her lower back. He completely pulled her against him, one of his legs slipping between hers and putting the slightest bit of pressure to her crotch.

She whimpered, causing Spencer to push himself against her harder, the two of them completely attached. He brought his knee up just a little, and Y/N instinctively ground against it, desperately wanting to feel any type of friction she could manage. It warmed her whole body to the core, being completely embraced by him, and in a matter of seconds she was more desperate than she'd ever been.

She pulled her face away from his reluctantly, breathing heavily and still grinding against his leg. "Please," was all the could think to say.

"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" Spencer whispered, peppering her neck with wet kisses as he brought his leg up higher, giving her more access. He leaned his butt against the table for support, until eventually he gave in and sat down on it, bringing her down to sit on his thigh.

Y/N hesitated, halting her movements for a second before he gripped her hips and moved them forward. "Go ahead, pretty girl. Ride my thigh."

She groaned at the nickname and obliged happily, grinding down and rocking her hips against him. He continued to kiss her neck, occasionally biting down and sucking at different spots, sure to leave marks.

He hadn't even really touched her yet, and Y/N was absolutely dizzy, high on kisses and his hands burning into her hips. She felt her stomach start to coil as an orgasm came to the surface, her legs clenching tighter around him.

"You close, baby?" Spencer muttered against her neck, right under her ear. He took her earlobe between his teeth for just a moment before rocking her hips faster, bringing his leg up just a bit higher to aid her. She shoved her head into his neck and cried out his name, somewhere between a whine and a moan.

Within a matter of seconds Y/N was shaking around him, panting his name over and over while he brought his leg just a tad higher, bringing her over the edge. Her mind raced, coming to terms with what just happened and what was about to happen, and it made her tremble again, sending one more shockwave through her lower body before her hips slowed to a stop.

Spencer slid his hands back up to her head, bringing her face to his once more and kissing her. As if she wasn't already so out of breath. But it didn't matter. She only cared about his mouth and the way it captured hers like it belonged there, like it knew she was his for the taking. And she really believed that was true.

Y/N still straddled his leg, but she wanted to give him the same release he'd given her, so she attempted to climb away and moved one of her hands down to his belt.

Spencer stopped her hand and pulled his face away from hers. For a moment she thought she'd done something wrong, and she was about to apologize, but he pulled her close and stroked her hair with his hand, tilting his head to meet her gaze. "Not yet, pretty girl. I want to taste you first."

And without another second passing by, he moved the hand that grabbed her wrist between them and snuck it into her shorts and panties. Y/N jumped a little, but only because it felt too good for her own good. Her eyes fluttered shut when his middle finger grazed her clit, but his other hand gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. "No. I want you to look at me, okay?"

She nodded, and then whimpered when he slipped a finger inside of her. She lifted herself up just a little so he had more access, and sure enough his finger slipped in and out with ease.

She wanted more, but he took his hand away, and the glimmer in his eye when she pouted, visibly frustrated, sent her into another small fit of tremors.

"So antsy, pretty girl," Spencer laughed, slightly amused. Y/N would have said something, but all words escaped her when he brought his fingers to his mouth. His tongue poked out to taste-test before he completely took them in, holding eye contact with her the whole time. As he sucked his fingers clean, Y/N felt herself growing desperate again, and she ground against his leg once more.

Spencer laughed and brought his fingers out of his mouth, resting them on her hips. "You're being awfully quiet, Y/N."

"I... I don't... Is that a bad thing?"

"Not necessarily. But you didn't have a problem being loud last night."

It brought color to her cheeks. Her first instinct was to apologize but she knew he'd chastise her for it, so she didn't. Rather, she embraced the opportunity and pulled herself closer to him. "Is that what you want, Spencer? You want me to be loud for you?" Her voice was soft, somewhat contradicting what she was saying, but she looked at him through her eyelashes, biting her lip as if asking for permission.

And now it seemed like it was his turn to groan, though it came out as more of a growl as he pushed her away from him, grabbing her arm and leading her through the apartment. All the rooms were built the same so he knew where to go. He didn't take the time to scan her room, though if he did it was fast. Y/N barely had any time to react before he pulled her to him again and kissed her roughly.

As his fingers weaved through her hair again, Y/N decided to take a chance, snaking her hands down to his belt. This time he didn't stop her, his lips opening and granting her access to his tongue as she unbuckled the belt. She unzipped his pants and pushed them down his hips, but they only got about an inch down before he pulled away from her completely, leaving her empty again.

She whined, and he smirked.

"What is it, Y/N?" he asked. "What do you want?" His tone was almost condescending, like he knew exactly what she wanted.

She didn't like being teased. "I just want you," she stated, whining a bit to prove her point.

He seemed to contemplate his words for a moment before he spoke. "And... you think I should just give you what you want? After I caught you eavesdropping on me last night?"

He was only saying it to see her flushed. To embarrass her and make her shy so he could make it better in the end. She knew that, knew better, and yet it still worked. "I'm sorry," she pleaded, getting down on her knees in front of him and looking up at him with just as much desperation as she could manage. "You know I feel really really bad about it, just please let me make it up to you. Please, Spencer."

When all he did was look down at her, amused and still, Y/N batted her eyelashes and grabbed the waistband of his pants and underwear. She waited to pull them down until he did or said something, but all he did was stare. She couldn't tell if he was making her wait or if he was waiting for her, and she was afraid of making the wrong decision. But, deciding that she'd been in enough trouble in the past 10 hours to last a lifetime, Y/N took a chance yet again and pulled Spencer's pants all the way down.

Still unsure of what would happen if she continued, Y/N scooted closer, but kept her eyes locked on his. She batted her eyelashes and ran her hands up his thighs, eventually wrapping around to his ass. She brought them up his lower back and around to feel his stomach before sliding down to the front of his hips. She stopped them there, gliding her thumbs over his skin in small circles as she pleaded once more for good measure.

"Pretty please."

Spencer gave in, bringing his hands to her hair and pulling her close. "It's all yours, baby."

The words sent heat straight to her lower half as she flicked her tongue out to taste the head of his cock. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact, and Y/N took that as her opening. She looked down and marveled at him as she took him completely in her mouth, slowly but surely, getting herself acquainted with his size.

Once she set a steady pace, she looked up at him and found that he was absolutely wonderstruck. His eyes practically sparkled as they fixed on her, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth in pure adoration and fascination. Y/N took this as encouragement, bobbing her head faster and slacking her jaw as she let him hit the back of her throat with each thrust forward. She gagged once and pulled herself off, bringing her hand up to jerk him for a few seconds before using her mouth again. This was a cycle that continued until tears were streaming down her cheeks and spit was leaking down her chin, and every time she looked up at him, Spencer would groan and tighten his grip in her hair.

Eventually he stopped her, pulling her off of him and panting. "Come here," he whispered, and Y/N got up off her knees, standing up and wiping some of the spit from her face. It didn't feel all that sexy as she was doing it, though the way he looked at her made her feel like she was the only thing in the entire world that could bring him joy.

He reached forward and wiped some of the tears from her cheek before kissing her, groaning into her mouth as he did so. His still hard cock pressed against her leg, and she groaned, too, before he pulled away.

That dark glimmer returned in his eye when he spoke. "Take your clothes off."

Y/N didn't have to be told twice. Immediately she threw her shirt off over her head and tossed it to the ground as Spencer stepped out of his pants. His eyes travelled down to her breasts and she noticed him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing a few times before he looked back up at her face. Keeping eye contact and softly biting her lip, Y/N hooked her fingers around her shorts and underwear and slid them down her legs until they reached the other clothes on the floor. She kicked them to the side and tilted her head up.

She thought he might kiss her again, but instead he nodded his head towards her bed. "Lay down on your back."

As Y/N had learned pretty early on, she was quick and eager to obey, and so she did as she was told, laying down in the middle of the bed, her head resting on her pillows and the rest of her body laying flat, eagerly awaiting Spencer's next move.

She watched him as he took his shirt off, leaving him completely bare, and before she had time to admire him, he bent down and grabbed something from his pants.

A condom, Y/N realized as he made his way to her.

"You really came over with the intent to fuck me, didn't you?" she mused, unable to stop herself.

He laughed at her words, climbing over her and leaning down to press his lips to her neck in a soft kiss. "Wasn't it obvious?"

No, she thought to herself, but she didn't say anything. Though even if she wanted to, she couldn't have, because Spencer's mouth moved down her neck and to her chest. He licked a small circle over her right nipple before enclosing it entirely in his mouth, and Y/N arched her back off the bed, running her fingers through his hair.

He laughed again, taking her nipple in between his teeth before releasing it and saying, "I love how fucking responsive you are, pretty girl."

Everything about what he was saying and doing to her sent Y/N into a tailspin. Before she had time to respond, he moved his mouth to her other breast and got right to work, repeating the process.

One of his hands trailed down her body, just light enough to leave goosebumps it its wake, until it reached where she really wanted him. As if to prove his last statement, Y/N's hips bucked upwards to feel more of him, and Spencer laughed against her chest, removing his mouth from her and using both of his hands to steady her hips, pushing them into the mattress. "Can you be still for me? Use your words."

Y/N sighs and bites her lip before answering. "Yes. I can be still."

"Louder, Y/N. You promised you'd be loud for me, remember?"

If she wasn't wet before, she definitely was now. And she thought about just repeating her words louder, like she was expected to, but then something in that stupid part of her brain said to push her luck. And so she laughed back at him.

"No, I didn't."

Spencer seemed shocked. This was the first time she'd blatantly disagreed with something he said. "What?"

He seemed a little mad, but Y/N acted innocent. "Well, I asked you if you'd like me to be loud for you, and you just pulled me in here. You didn't answer me, and I didn't promise anything."

She was scared of what he would do or say, but that turned her on even more.

And without warning, Spencer jammed two of his fingers into her mouth, forcing it open and pressing them down on her tongue. "Well, sweetheart, this is me telling you. You're gonna scream my name until the whole city can hear how needy you are for me."

She almost choked on his fingers, but he took them out and slid them down her chin and neck, leaving her completely breathless. He waited a beat before laughing to himself. "Aw, see? Look what I do to you, pretty girl," he mused. "You're so submissive."

Y/N wanted to argue, but she wanted him more, so she whined and tried to move him closer, to which he laughed again and caressed her face. "That's what I thought. Now be a good girl and wait a second while I put this on, okay?"

For fear of disappointing him, Y/N replied with, "Okay," loud and clear.

He smirked, unwrapping the condom and starting to slide it over himself. "Fast learner."

And in an attempt to patch things over even more, she batted her eyes like she knew he liked, acting patient and innocent though she was pretty sure they both knew she was the exact opposite.

It paid off in the end though, because Spencer rewarded her with a sweet kiss as he ran the tip of his cock over her pussy, just barely entering. He teased her like that for about a minute before she started to get antsy, and yet he didn't let up. He raised an eyebrow at her, and catching on she reached up, grabbing the sides of his face and blinking once before talking. "Please, Spencer. Fuck me."

"Atta girl," he praised before moving forward and entering her. Immediately Y/N moaned, her mouth open and eyes just about rolling to the back of her head. Her hands slid up his face and through his hair, weaving her fingers through the soft waves as he set a steady pace, letting themselves get used to the feeling of being wrapped up in each other like this. For a moment it seemed like he forgot his promise to fuck her so hard the whole city would hear her screaming his name, but after a while, he apparently decided that she wasn't being loud enough.

"Come on, Y/N. You can do better than that."

She wanted more than anything to tell him that if he fucked her harder then maybe she would be louder, but infinitely realized that A) that was a surefire way to get chastised, and B) if she was louder, he would fuck her harder. He was going to make her work for it, and in the end she didn't mind that at all.

So she told the truth. "Fuck, Spencer, you feel so goo— ahh!"

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, he quickly adjusted and fucked her faster, and aside from the overstimulation, it was starting to feel reminiscent of the dream she'd had last night. She wasn't crying but she felt like she could, every fiber of her being burning alive with pleasure. She felt her orgasm rising to the surface, but she didn't want this to end yet. Maybe if she was lucky Spencer would keep going after she'd finished, though at this point she was just happy to let him fuck her for any period of time.

That being said, he slowed his movements, making each stroke harder and more deliberate, and Y/N yelled out his name, hoping to get more.

"You close, pretty girl? Hmm? You wanna cum?"

The strain in his voice sent another wave of pleasure coursing through her body. He was close too, she just knew it.

"Yes," she breathed, before repeating it louder and louder. "Yes, yes, yes!"

She was just about to fall over the edge when Spencer laughed and pulled out of her, leaving her unsatisfied, empty, and confused.

"What?" she breathed, looking up at him.

He slid the condom off and tossed it aside before jerking himself off over her stomach. "Only good girls get to cum. You should have thought of that before you eavesdropped on me."

And then he came all over her stomach and chest. She would have been more angry, but the whole sight in front of her was hot as hell. Who was she to complain? She watched as his face scrunched up in pleasure, his mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut. His hair faintly stuck to his face, and his hips jerked into his hand until eventually he was spent.

Y/N whined at the sight, completely turned on feeling his warm cum coating her skin and also utterly frustrated for not getting off.

Spencer opened his eyes to look at her, and she thought in that moment it looked like he would burst into flames. As his gaze raked over her body, covered in his cum and so obviously desperate for release, he licked his lips and got down, spreading her legs wider and opening her up to him.

"Wha—"

Y/N didn't get to finish her thought, because Spencer was immediately eating her out like a man starved, running his tongue through her pussy, occasionally flicking it over her clit. As expected, the louder she got the more he gave her, and at one point he started fingering her at a relentless pace, curling his fingers up against her g-spot while circling her clit with his tongue.

He brought his head up and looked at her through his eyelashes as best as he could, barely catching a glimpse of her face, completely contorted in pleasure.

"You wanna cum, pretty girl?" he teased, slowing his fingers torturously.

She whined and then threw her head back, pleading. "Spencer, please!"

He only got a little faster and then gently flicked his tongue over her clit again, to which she yelped and fisted the sheets.

In turn he moved faster. And she got louder. Faster and louder, faster and louder, until finally he gave her what she wanted.

"That's it, pretty girl. Cum for me."

Right after he said it, Y/N arched her back off the bed and fisted the sheets even harder, actually screaming his name until it came out as incoherent sobs, eventually dwindling down to whimpering and panting as he aided her down from her high.

Spencer's movements slowed to a stop, pulling his fingers out of her and pressing one final kiss to her clit before removing himself from her completely and coming up to lay down beside her.

She stayed there on her back, arms clutched at her sides, breathing deep and eyes almost heavy like she was about to fall asleep. He brushed her hair away from her face and pressed a kiss to her lips. She could taste herself on him, and it excited her. When he pulled away, she turned her head to look at him and smiled.

"I'm definitely going to have to invade your privacy more often if this is what the end result is."

Spencer laughed, his hand brushing lightly through her hair. "So that was okay? I'm sorry if I was kind of mean, I—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. If I was really truly mad about anything you did, I would have screamed at you, not for you. Trust me. You're just fine. That was... perfect."

"Good... And you know I was just teasing you about eavesdropping, right? I'm not actually upset about it."

"No, I know. I still feel kinda bad about it though."

"Well, you shouldn't. If anything... something good came out of it, right?"

Y/N laughed, scrunching her nose as he looked at her. "Right."

After a moment, Spencer sat up and looked down at her stomach, a smirk on his face. "I'm gonna go get you a washcloth."

"Good thinking. And while you're at it could you also grab the Advil?"

He was on his way out the bedroom door, slipping on his underwear before stopping in his tracks. "Oh no... I- I didn't hurt you did I?"

"Oh! No, you didn't. I just know that I'm going to be sore, and walking will most definitely be a problem. And I am not getting out of this bed for the rest of the day, so Advil will definitely help. Thank you for that, by the way."

Spencer laughed, leaving Y/N to admire him as he walked away.

#spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction

[pigeonp0st]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #2

Part 2

Words:1,448

Warnings: Angst

Notes:

Part 2...I wasn’t going to do this. I did it anyways. Sorry for any spelling mistakes and for bad writing. This is another one of the pieces I made while trying to get over my dislike for my writing :)

Part 1:

————

“I’m tired of hurting others,” sixteen year old Natasha admits, eyes on the stars above. “When we get out of here...do you think we could be people who save?”

You turn towards Natasha, giving her your full attention. She’s been closed off and angry at the world more than usual lately...you’re glad she’s being open with you again though, so you give yourself time to think about your response.

“That’s you, Nat. I’m not like you,” you mumble. She glances down, then over at you. “You have the biggest heart out of everyone I've ever met. But me...i’ve always just longed for normal.”

Natasha tilts her head at that, bringing her eyebrows together, “normal?”

You nod, laughing at the expression on her face. “I want to live in a city with a job I hate half the time, in some stupid apartment with the loudest neighbors,” you explain.

“That doesn’t sound very nice.”

“It will be,” you assure her. “Because I'll have friends I consider family, and when you’re done saving the world I'll have you to come home to.”

Natasha studies the smile on your face and only sees your hope, but she’s never really been as optimistic as you. “You really think we’ll have that?” She asks quietly, and everything in her voice is begging you to say yes...because even though she’s not as optimistic as you, your hope is the only thing she feels is keeping her afloat.

“Yep. I should warn you...I plan on giving you the world, Nat.” You pause, frowning. “Well, maybe not the world, but everything you want.”

“Everything?” Nat teases, looking back up at the stars to try and prevent her tears from falling, because the future you painted is suddenly all she wants. “With your job you hate?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “Yes Nat, with the job I hate.”

The look she gives you is all love when she pulls you into her side and whispers, “I already have everything I could ever want right here.”

“Yeah right,” you scoff, shoving her away playfully and trying to hush her when she laughs too loudly. You don’t want to get caught. “Natasha, you want more than anyone. You want everything.”

And yeah, that may be true, but with you she has all she’ll ever need...If she has you, despite everything going on, she’s sure she’ll be alright. Natasha doesn’t tell you that though, instead she feigns thinking and says;

“Now that you mention it...I think I’d want to travel the world,” when you raise an eyebrow Nat continues, “Not as assassins but as tourists. Once saving the world gets too exhausting, and your desk job gets boring.”

“God. I can’t wait for the day when I'm a tourist with you. We’re going to be disgusting.”

“We’re going to be happy.”

——

“Natasha!” Steve shouts, pulling Nat right out of her dream and into the real world.

The world where you no longer exist.

She wants to go back to sleep already.

“Nat, you’re still having the dreams?” Steve asks, concern lining his features. “We thought they were gone.”

She’s not having ‘the dreams’. After four months the dreams filled with loud explosions and piercing screams stopped. Now she only dreams of stars, and late night confessions. Now she only dreams of teasing smiles, and promises.

Now she only dreams of wants that aren’t able to come true. Her wants, and yours.

And yeah, it’s worse than the explosions.

Steve doesn’t understand. None of the Avengers do. They didn’t know you, they can’t grieve you. They can’t understand her hurt. They don’t know how many firsts you consist of. They don’t know you’re the first person to ever care for her, and the first person to ever love her.

They don’t know that you’re her hope. That you’ve always been, and without you she’s just...lost.

She’s so lost.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, grimacing when he realizes how stupid the question is. “Don’t answer that. Just...do you think you’ll be able to train today?”

Natasha nods, harshly rubbing away her tears. Her friends have seen her cry enough for a lifetime these past six months.

She’s tired, but she has to get up. Just for a bit.

——

“I didn’t know we had a new recruit coming in,” Natasha says, eyeing the new person suspiciously.

She really doesn’t want some stranger around the compound. She can’t be pleasant company anymore. Not that she ever really was.

When the stranger stiffens and doesn’t respond Natasha doesn’t know what to do. “What’s with the motorcycle helmet?” She asks, trying to fill the silence.

‘Can’t we just fight?’ The stranger signs.

Natasha is only surprised at the sign language for a moment before she shrugs it off and heads towards the mat. “Do you need me to sign too, or can you hear me?”

‘You can talk.’

“Okay,” Natasha nods, gesturing towards the other end of the mat. “If you even manage to knock me down i’ll give you twenty bucks.”

———-

When Natasha’s sucking in breaths and rubbing around her throat not four minutes later she’s shocked for more than one reason.

Because when the stranger gets off of her and says, with her voice; “God, Nat, I swear you weren’t this bad six months ago. What happened to you?” Natasha can’t really move.

She can’t even really breathe when the new recruit takes off her helmet and reveals someone Natasha never thought she’d be able to see again. “Y/N?”

“Hi.”

And Natasha’s sobbing now, in the middle of the mat with a smug Tony watching, and a confused Steve, and the rest of the amused Avengers.

But all she can really see is you.

You look hesitant, and emotional, but you.

You laughing when Natasha stutters out a “how?” Between her sobs.

You.

“Well Natasha, it wasn’t really that hard to beat you. Do you really want your pointers now?” You ask, smiling that soft smile she’s always loved.

“How are you alive?” Natasha asks, trembling and reaching out a hand. You meet her half way, intertwining Nats fingers with yours and closing your eyes in bliss when Natasha lets out a disbelieving laugh that half sounds like a sob.

“I jumped out a window and got lucky,” you mumble. “I couldn’t make it to the bottom floor in time, I knew that, and I knew my one real chance was the window exit.”

Natasha shakes her head, “but...the explosion still would have killed you, even if you managed to not die from the jump.”

Your expression turns bitter and dark. Haunted. And Natasha wonders why she’s even asking. She doesn’t care, because you’re here and all of that other stuff can be talked about later.

“Oh my god. You’re alive,” Natasha breathes out, effectively pulling you from your memories.

“You really missed me, huh?”

She doesn’t know how you can sound so disbelieving at the thought of Natasha missing you, because really, ‘missing’ doesn’t even feel like a big enough word.

“I was dying,” Natasha sobs, pulling you into a hug. Finally. Finally.

“Me too,” you admit, and though you can’t really imagine what Natasha felt like thinking you were dead...the past six months have been the worst of your life also. And yeah, you were dying too. Literally and figuratively.

Natasha feels like she can finally breathe after six months, and you feel like you can finally breathe after four years.

“I’m free, Nat,” you whisper to her, voice wobbly. Natasha clutches you tighter. “I can finally have my fucking desk job.”

“And we have the loud neighbors you’ve always wanted.”

Natasha starts pressing kisses over her face when she notices your shaking shoulder, and she doesn’t care how ridiculous she looks doing it with her own shakiness.

“I love you, Nat. I love you so much. And I'm sorry for taking so long to come back to you,” you force out, closing your eyes in a faulty attempt of trying to get the tears to stop.

All Natasha feels is love. Overwhelming love battling with relief.

“I’m sorry you ever had to search.”

You laugh, wondering when the two of you are ever going to have more than apologies to offer to each other. “Does this mean I can finally give you the world?” You ask, wanting to.

“God, Y/N, you already have.”

And maybe, besides apologies, you two will always have love to offer too.

“But you still want, right?”

“Yeah,” Natasha agrees, dazed. “I still want.”

She wonders why all of her wants suddenly involve you besides her.

“Good, because I do too.”

#natasha romonova #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x y/n #nat x reader #black widow x you #black widow x reader #black widow #marvel x female reader #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #marvel x reader #fem reader #natasha x you #natasha x y/n #marvel

[ollie-ollie-oxenfreee]

then came the morning (aka: the post - canon cuddle fic)

The work in progress is finally done! I’ve been chipping away at it for the past couple weeks now, and it’s gone through many drafts / iterations, but I think I’m finally happy with it. :)

Title from an album by the Lone Bellow. 

The first time the two of them “shared a bed” was about as awkward as one might imagine. The initiating circumstances were hardly any better.

 The heating apparatus in their quarters had given out a week or so back in a spectacular fit of dust - laden wheezing. The engineering crew called in to inspect it informed them that it couldn’t be fixed until they could pick up the right parts at the nearest trading post (which was naturally thousands of klicks away on the ragged edge of nowhere). With the ambient heat from the nearby engine room seeping through the wall, the conditions were deemed “unpleasant but survivable.” They were issued two extra threadbare blankets and told in tersely formal military - speak to deal with it. 

 And they’d dealt with it really well for a while! They grit their teeth and carried on like a couple of champs: Harrow, having been thoroughly warned against using her magic too frequently, layering on spare cloaks and sweaters until she almost disappeared under a mountain of black fabric; Gideon curling up close to the engine room wall and wincing when the cold sent spiteful twinges shooting through her still-very-busted knee. 

 But then one night their grand flagship of the revolution chugged through a particularly empty sprawl of space and began to slow down. The heat from the engine room guttered like a candle flame. Frost spiderwebbed across the thin plex of their window. Harrow’s breath showed in thin wisps of vapor as she huffed, glaring down at the pages of her book like she wanted to reprimand the cold for daring to interrupt her studies. 

 Gideon had half a mind to encourage her to try (that glare could stop a full - fledged Lyctor in their tracks, who knew what other horrifying powers it possessed?), but thought better of it when she saw the genuine exhaustion in the other girl’s eyes.

 “You doing alright over there, my vulturine vicar?” she asked. “I know it takes some time to absorb all that good bone knowledge, but you haven’t turned a page in like half an hour.”

 The thunderous look on Harrow’s face darkened further as she set her book aside with an exasperated thump. “This is ridiculous. I studied in the depths of Drearburh for years without any issue, and yet here I am struggling to focus like a novice. It isn’t even that cold.” She bit her lip as a shiver ran through her at the words. 

 “Evidence seems to suggest otherwise, o mistress of melancholy. Do you want me to go ask that guy in the supply room for another blanket? He still owes me for his son’s fencing lesson.”

 Supply room guy didn’t really owe her anything, but she knew that mentioning it would make Harrow feel better. If she could believe that the nice things Gideon did for her were actually for Totally Self - Serving, Debt - Settling reasons, she could accept them without feeling guilty.

 (Guilt had haunted Harrow more than ever upon returning to her own body, making it hard to breathe on good days and leaving her shaking with sobs on bad ones. 

It was one of those fun little things they had in common.)

 From the way Harrow’s shoulders stiffened, though, it seemed that Gideon Nav’s patented Guilt Workaround wasn’t going to be as effective as usual. She shook her head - a stiff little gesture that made her earrings rattle - then sighed. 

 “No. Thank you, though, it’s kind of you to offer.” 

 The thank you was sincere, and that was admittedly pretty nice, but all the sincerity in the world wouldn’t change the fact that Harrow was still  very obviously shivering. She looked miserable beneath her usual mask of face paint and stoicism. The dark red bead of blood-sweat trailing down her temple indicated that she'd probably tried using some kind of homeostasis theorem, but it wasn't working well enough. 

 There had to be a solution to this problem somewhere. Harrow's stubborn pride meant that she wouldn't accept help outright - she would sooner set her books on fire than admit what she thought of as a weakness - but if Gideon could play it just right, maybe she wouldn't have to. It would need to be done carefully - too sappy and she'd be uncomfortable, too straightforward and she'd balk.  Casual, Gideon decided. Nice and casual was the way to go. It would just be a matter of execution.

 "Soooo," she said at length, leaning back against the wall all cool and easy. (She folded her arms up behind her head as an afterthought, appreciating the way it made her still-atrophied-but-getting-there muscles stand out through the thin fabric of her shirt. Confidence boosts were going to be scarce and sorely needed in the conversation to come - she’d take them where she could get them.)

 Naturally, Harrow did not appreciate the change in tack or the cool-and-easy-ness. She did, however, manage to muster up a look so steeped in wary disapproval that it cut through her earlier frustration like a hot knife through bone marrow. “So.”

 “You sure about that blanket? Because really, it would only take me a second -”

 “I’m sure. Thank you.”

 “Then, um, did you want to borrow mine?”

 Harrow blinked. “You need yours.”

 “Yeah, I know! I meant that we could maybe - share. Pool our resources.” She patted the edge of her bunk gamely, then instantly regretted it when Harrow’s eyes narrowed even further. 

 “You want us to sleep together?”

 "No? I mean, technically, but no. In the literal way. Not the other way.” Well maybe the other way sometime if you wanted to but that’s a whole other weird conversation that we probably shouldn't touch with a ten foot pole or we might explode. 

 "How exactly would that work?" The caution was still heavy in Harrow's voice, but some of the disapproval had ebbed away. 

 "I mean. We'd probably need to use my bed, since my sheets aren't covered in gross bone gobbets, but you could bring your blankets over and layer 'em over mine and then we'd have twice the blankets! And, you know, body heat. Which has its perks." Even Gideon's cool-and- easy-ness faltered at that, but she bravely soldiered on. "The point is, we'd both be warm."

 "And it won't - make things weird?" 

 "Nope! Not weird. All perfectly chill, my shivering scion."

 Harrow paused for a moment, worrying her lip between her teeth. "I'll get ready for bed," she said at last, clipped and decisive. "And I'll think about it."

 "Take your time. I'll be here."

 Moments later, after the shivering scion had swept grandly out of the room, Gideon's Thinking Brain crashed unceremoniously into her Talking Brain. Things were not, in fact, going to be perfectly chill. There were going to be some logistical problems with this arrangement. Big logistical problems.

 Big logistical problems namely revolving around the mutually exclusive facts that the midnight monarch was not especially comfortable with touch, and Gideon Nav, space - bee slayer and resurrected badass, was a sleep cuddler.

 Or, well, she was in theory. She didn’t have much (any) “real world” experience to go on, but she’d woken up many, many times back on the Ninth with a bundle of blankets wrapped up in her arms or nestled close to her chest. The habit had never really embarrassed her back then - she actually kind of liked it. She felt warmer and less lonely when she had something to hold, even in the frigid emptiness of her cell. 

 But that was back then. Things were different in the here - and - now. Harrow was in the here - and - now, and Gideon would never forgive herself if she ruined things with Harrow right when their relationship was on the upswing. They were actually talking, slowly figuring out how to work together again. The furious, tearful intensity between them in the wake of their reunion had calmed and warmed into something almost like real friendship. 

 After all that had happened - everything that had gone wrong over the past year and a half - they’d found a fragile sort of peace. There was no way in Hell she was going to ruin that peace now.

 So while Harrow swished about getting ready for bed, Gideon leveled with herself and laid down some ground rules. Don’t make this weird, Nav. Make sure she’s comfortable, give her her space, and don’t think about cuddling with her. 

 ...even though it would probably be warmer, and she has shitty necro circulation and essentially no body mass so she needs all the warmth she can get, and she gets that kinda soft peaceful look on her face when - no, fuck, see? You’re doing it already. Even if she did like you like that, which she absolutely doesn’t because she’s got a good old-fashioned frostbite girl back home, that’s not what you’re here for. You’re her cav. Her sworn sword. You’re here to do your job and make sure she doesn’t get her thumbs bitten off again. That’s it.

 “You’re staring.”

 Harrow’s voice cut sharp as a bone shard through Gideon’s nervous thought - spiral. Having apparently completed her grim evening rituals, she’d settled lightly on the far edge of the to - be - shared bed, countless dark layers poofing out around her like the feathers of a posturing crow. Her face was flecked with dots of gray from scrubbing off her paint, and her short hair stuck up in messy licks of black fluff despite her increasingly irritated attempts to smooth it flat. 

 It shouldn’t have been endearing. It really, really shouldn’t have. 

 It was.

 Gideon was so screwed.

 “Shit,” she muttered, scrubbing a hand over her face to ground herself. She glanced over to meet Harrow’s eyes (and wow, was that a mistake, they were as mesmerizing a swirl of black and gold as ever), then forced a smile like she wasn’t screaming internally. “Sorry. Zoned out a little. You good to go?”

 The wryly exasperated glint in Harrow’s eyes made them glow even brighter in the dim light. “Yes, I’m ‘good to go,’ thank you. Are you, though? You look … troubled.” 

 Shit. Shit. Shit. Think nice, normal thoughts. Don’t let her know. She cannot know. 

 “I’m always good, my chthonic countess,” she lied, smooth as could be, throwing in a roguish wink for good measure. That was distractingly stupid enough, it was bound to work.  

 Harrow frowned. “Why are you blinking like that?”

 The roguish wink apparently had not worked. 

 “No reason! Just dust. In my eye. Lots of very rude dust landing right in my eye. Anyway. How are we doing this?”

 A flicker of genuine, anxious concern ghosted over Harrow’s face as her frown deepened. 

 “Gideon,” she began, in that slow, reluctant way of hers that heralded Incoming Indignity. “I know that you were the one to suggest this, but I want to impress upon you that if you aren’t - certain about it, there is another possible solution.”

 She cast around the room for a moment and reached for a massive, dusty tome at the top of a nearby stack, flipping determinedly through the pages. “I've had the idea for some time, but I only just managed to convince our commanding officer that I could use theorems 'responsibly' without their constant supervision, so I haven't been able to test it until now. Small - scale thanergetic fission reactions produce sparks of flame that, if handled extremely carefully, could give off enough heat - "

 “Wait.” Gideon held up a hand, her own anxious brain jolting back online at the word flame. “Wait, wait, wait. Harrow. Seriously? The concern is sweet, don’t get me wrong, but your other solution is death - fire?”

 “I said that it was a possibility,” she snapped back, that old brittle defensiveness calcifying over the vulnerability in her voice. Her posture straightened with a great rustling of robes: shoulders back, chin high, eyes gleaming with disdainful pride as the bones scattered about their room twitched to life. Looking for all the world like she had when they were ten - twelve - fourteen - sixteen, bitter and vicious and spoiling for a fight. 

 She seemed to realize it right when Gideon did. Her eyes widened, then closed. The bowstring tension in her shoulders slowly ebbed away as her half - formed constructs clattered to the floor. “Sorry,” she said at last, her voice a threadbare murmur. “I’m sorry. That was - uncalled for.”

 “It’s a reflex. I get it.” And she did - she’d done the same thing countless times, had a hand on her sword and a barbed insult on her tongue without even thinking about it. 

 Another one of those fucked up things they had in common. 

 An uneasy silence settled between them, broken only by the rumbling hum of the engines, the thud of footsteps in the hall. 

 “I meant it, you know,” Harrow said, after a long moment. “About other options. It was a half - baked and immature attempt, but I wanted to give you an out if you were uncomfortable.”

 “Yeah, I know, my sepulchral sage. I appreciate it. Half - baked immaturity and all.” She bumped her shoulder gently against Harrow’s, then flopped back on the bunk to stare up at the low ceiling. “Are we, like, committing to honesty hour tonight? How deep into feelings do you want to get?”

 “As deep as is comfortable.”

 “That’s what she said.”

 “It’s a reasonable thing for her to say.”

 Another hush fell over them, marginally more comfortable than the last, as Gideon worried her lip between her teeth and counted the cracks in the ceiling above her. There were nine of them in total. Go fucking figure.

 A bony finger poked her in the side after a few cycles of counting. “Were you going to elaborate, or was that all just a set - up for one of your charming jokes?”

 “I can’t believe it took you eighteen years to finally admit that they’re charming, but no, that’s not why I said it. I’ll lay bare my tender squishy heart for you, penumbral lady. Because you asked so nicely.” 

  Because I think you might already have it. 

 No avoiding it now. Might as well bite the bullet and dive in. 

 “I was on board with the cuddle thing from the beginning, but I felt like you wouldn’t be, and I panicked. You probably already knew that because you’re way more creepily observant than you have any right to be, but there it is. Out in the open.” 

 She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could just run away and hide from the other girl’s piercing gaze. “I just don’t want to fuck things up with you, Harrow. I feel like we’ve got a kind of good thing going now. You haven’t called me a useless halfwit in forever, and I haven’t called you a heinous bitch in forever, and I haven’t wanted to. That’s unheard of for us. I don’t want it to go away.”

 Her voice cracked, and the most damning words burst forth like flowers through concrete: “I don’t want to give you a reason to shut me out again.”

 The memories of those nine months flashed in fragmented mosaic through her mind - the slick stone walls of the well, the freezing churn of the water, the burn in her muscles as she desperately thrashed up toward the surface and reached for someone who didn’t even know she was there. The gut - wrenching loneliness that defined her entire fucking life coalescing in that pit of brackish darkness. The chant rattling on loop in her mind as the water pulled her under: Harrow, what happened, what did you do, why the fuck did you leave me here, I had a purpose, I threw myself on that goddamned rail for a reason, was that not enough for you? 

 Was I not enough for you?

 A cool, fine - boned hand laced with hers and squeezed, just once. The memories blurred. 

 “Gideon,” the voice that had haunted her all that time said. “You know - you have to know that isn’t why I did it.”

 “Why did you, then?”

 A tiny hitch of breath. A soft, almost incredulous laugh. Then:

 “Because I loved you.”

 The words hung heavy in the frozen air. 

 “You - what?”

 “I loved you.” She said it so simply. Like it was something she’d come to terms with long ago. “I loved you beyond reason, and for once in my life I wanted to do right by you and keep you safe as you did me. The motivation doesn’t justify a moment of it, I won’t pretend it does, and I can’t even begin to erase the hurt it caused you. But I need you to understand that it was never because of something you did wrong. You are good, darling. Good to the core. You always have been.”

 Bright spots bloomed before Gideon’s eyes as her reeling mind fought to catch up. Three thoughts sprang unbidden to the forefront:

 Mmf.

 And: Darling?

 And:

“Loved. You said ‘loved.’ Why the past tense?”

 She sat there, staring blankly up at the ceiling, half - expecting a don’t be presumptuous, Griddle or something even remotely normal, at least. What she got instead was another laugh, halting and shaky and suddenly deeply bitter. The hand in hers went rigid and drew away. 

 “I came to my senses. I remembered the countless awful things I’ve done. Saw myself for the leech that I am. I’ve taken and taken and taken from you, over and over again, torn away at your life like a scavenger, I can’t steal anything more  - “

 “Who said anything about stealing?”

 For the first time since the grand awkward commencement of honesty hour Gideon felt a genuine smile bloom across her face. “Come on, Nonagesimus, give me some credit. You honestly think I would have stuck around this long if I didn’t know what I was giving you? If I wasn’t getting something out of it too?”

 “What could you possibly be getting out of it?”

 “You. I like you. Like, a lot. More than I ever thought I would. And I know the brain weasels are going to start yammering about how that’s impossible, and you don't deserve it, and we've still got a mountain of baggage left to work through, but I’ve thought about it a lot and I really mean it. Having you with me has made this whole shitty thing infinitely less shitty."

 With a surge of sudden bravery and dizzy emotion, she reached out to take Harrow's hand again and, giving her ample time to pull away, pressed a feather - light kiss to the back. “If you want me here too, sunshine - as your cav or your friend or something else - then I'm not going anywhere."

 Harrow closed her eyes, took a deep shuddering breath, and - smiled. A real one, slow and hesitantly sweet, lighting up her careworn face. "I need to think about it - we both should think about it. But I do want you here, in whatever way you want to be."

 "Yeah? Cool."

 "Cool."

 Silence settled upon them for the third time that night, but this time it was different. It was soft and tentative, fragile and new, like budding grave - flowers reaching for the sun. First flowers, the both of them, clawing up out of the grit and finding a way to bloom.

 "Should we go to sleep now?" Harrow asked at last, her rasping voice low and quiet. "It's getting late."

 "We probably should. Cam and Pal are gonna kill us if we're not up by 6:00 tomorrow. Are you still up for this, though? Like, the whole 'two girls, chilling in a military bunk, zero feet apart 'cause they're freezing and also maybe like each other' thing?"

 "Yes. On one condition."

 "Anything."

 "This might be difficult for you."

 "Seriously, Harrow, just tell me. Name it and it's done."

 "No sex jokes."

 She heaved a sigh, mock - exasperated and so stupidly fond. "As you wish, my dearest darling death omen. As you wish."

 It took a while to get comfortable - with Harrow's knobby elbows jabbing Gideon in the stomach, Gideon's clunky knee brace getting tangled in the sheets, the blankets collectively giving up and puddling on the floor at least ten times - but eventually, like everything else, they made it work. They fumbled through the sleep - cuddling confession with an admirable lack of panic on both sides, culminating in a firm agreement that they would let each other know the moment they were at all uncomfortable and an "I trust you" from Harrow so pure in its sincerity that it would be ringing through Gideon's mind for at least a myriad.

 Harrow was the first to fall asleep, curled up tight in a cocoon of black fabric, the dark crown of her head just barely brushing the sunburst scar on Gideon's chest. Her shallow breaths fell into an even, steady rhythm, interspersed with whistling snores that Gideon was definitely going to tease her about when her heart was less of a melted puddle of goo. 

 The minutes slipped by warm and slow as drops of honey as her own eyes grew heavier, fluttering closed. She gave her necromancer - her Lyctor - her beautiful baneful bone empress one last sleepy smile, and drifted off.

 (When Camilla went to shake her sparring partner awake the next morning, she found the two of them still sound asleep, wrapped up in each other's arms and looking more peaceful than she'd ever seen them. She huffed a laugh, muttered "finally," and let them be.)

#the locked tomb #tlt #locked tomb trilogy #griddlehark #angst and fluff and love confessions oh my! #the girls are trying to do right by each other and it's a bit of struggle but they're figuring it out

[hotchley]

i’m not bulletproof

Jesus Christ why am I so dramatic? Okay, my laptop is very close to dying, so I am cross-posting this, hotchner’s hoodie and the waiting game, then I will be gone... until tonight

Umm... yeah. This was my second fic. It’s literally for my pinned because I’m dramatic </3

Trigger Warnings: referenced child abuse, canon-typical violence, violence towards children and references to child deaths, suicide

read on ao3!

It started, not with a case, but with an argument. 

Jack wanted to go to a party. Hotch said no. He said no because it wasn’t safe, and the party was taking place on a school night, which meant Jack had to be in bed by ten at the absolute latest. He had hoped that by calmly and softly explaining his reasons for not letting Jack go, his son would understand why he was being told no and accept it with the same grace and dignity that he accepted most things in life.

Unfortunately, his son was a hormonal teenager muddling their way through puberty. And instead of accepting he couldn’t go, he kept pressing and asking why. On the third day of being asked, Hotch got irritated and raised his voice slightly, it became an argument.

“I just don’t understand why you never let me do anything,” Jack complained.

Hotch looked up from the budget report. He hadn’t wanted to bring work home- a remnant of the life he had once shared with Haley, but it needed to be done and he had wanted to spend time with Jack. With hindsight, it probably would’ve been better to stay at the office and let him stay with Jessica to calm down.

“I let you do plenty of things that aren’t irresponsible or dangerous Jack,” he replied calmly.

“But this party isn’t going to be irresponsible or dangerous, it’s just a bunch of teenagers. And doesn’t it count for something that I told you about it? I could’ve just snuck out the house and let you wonder where I’d gone,” Jack said, wildly gesticulating. 

He closed the file. “I appreciate you telling me, but my answer is no. You may be responsible, but not everyone is. I don’t want you being exposed to drugs and alcohol before you’re old enough to understand the effects it has on you.”

“You let me be exposed to death before I was old enough to understand what it meant,” Jack spat.

Hotch paled, all the blood leaving his body and turning him into a frozen statue, unable to move as the memory of Haley’s dark hair- of course it was dark, she’d gone into witness protection- spread out on the carpet like a halo and her eyes, still open but almost like the glass eyes of those dolls from that one case, haunted his memory.

“What?”  his voice was soft, dangerously calm.

Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “You heard me. You’re telling me I can’t go to a party, but I was just down the hall when mom died because of you. I’m not a little kid anymore, and you can’t protect me from anything anymore.”

“I can still protect you from some things,” he whispered, not making eye contact. The colours of the folder started to blur together as his eyes filled with tears. It was a morbid thought, but Jack’s words felt like the thorns his mother would throw in his side when she was angry at her husband and needed to let go of the pain.

“Well maybe I don’t want you to.”

“Jack, I’m still your father.”

“Are you? You’re never home at a normal time, you don’t know who any of my friends are, you always go on cases and leave me with Aunt Jess. Mom died because of you and your stupid profiling, but you still always answer when Miss Jareau phones, and you still go all around the country like I don’t even matter.”

“Of course you matter to me Jack. I love you more than anything in this world. But a profiler who catches the bad guys is who I am and-”

“I’m not five years old anymore. You’re not a superhero. You’re just the man that got my mom pregnant and sometimes makes me mac and cheese for dinner.”

Jack stormed off to his room before Hotch could say another word. He didn’t go after him, knowing that was the last thing his son would want. Rationale told him Jack didn’t mean a word of what he had said, that he was just angry and hurt, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was all true. Of course Jack knew how to hurt him, what child didn’t know what would upset their parents, but he was also right.

He wanted to go and hold his son, to let him go to the stupid party and tell him he would stop being a profiler, but he couldn’t. He felt frozen in place, unable to do anything more than bury his head in his hands and wonder where he fucked up. 

Somehow he managed to get up and make them both something to eat- he went for stir fry instead of mac and cheese- before he went up to Jack’s room and knocked on the door.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” came the muffled response.

“I know you don’t. And I won’t make you.” I’m not your paternal grandfather, he thought. I won’t kick the door in and grab you by the back of your neck because you ran away. “I won’t let you starve though. Dinner is outside the door.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Hotch sighed. “Jack, please. I don’t want you to be angry at me.”

“And I want a real parent. We can’t always get what we want- isn’t that what you always say to me?”

Hotch had to step back, press a hand to the wall to stop himself from falling to his knees and crying. He wanted to tell Jack that wasn’t the way to speak to anyone, especially not an adult, but the words got lodged in his throat and he couldn’t speak, too scared of shouting or repeating the words his father had used the one time he had tried to fight back.

“I know,” he said instead, and walked back to the dining room. He pushed the plate he had set down away. 

His work phone lit up with Dave’s name. He answered.

“Hotchner.”

“Is everything okay? JJ tried phoning you but apparently you didn’t answer all three times. She thought you were with me, and when I said you weren’t, everyone got a bit panicked. In fact Morgan is on his way right now.”

Hotch felt bad for making everyone worry, especially given what had happened last time he hadn’t answered his phone and they had gone and looked for him. “I’m sorry. Everything’s fine. Do we have a case?”

He cursed himself for being stupid. Dave wouldn’t call if they didn’t have a case, even if all he wanted was for that to happen. For Dave to call once they had both gone home, just because he wanted to talk about something random.

“Yeah. It’s bad. Three kids have already been buried, fourth was reported missing twenty minutes ago. JJ will brief us on the jet. Morgan said he’s going to pick you up.”

Hotch was not stupid. He knew why Dave had said buried instead of killed. And whilst he hated the coddling, he couldn’t help but appreciate that he never needed to speak when it was Dave.

“Okay. How far away is he? I need to call Jess.”

“Garcia said ten minutes. She’s coming with us by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“Aaron. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Hotch ignored the warm feeling that came whenever Dave said his first name. “I’m fine. I promise.” He hung up before his answer could be profiled.

He had a short, polite conversation with Jess, then went to Jack’s room. He knocked to the theme of Harry Potter- Jack’s new favourite book series, courtesy of Reid. Whenever Jack saw Spencer, he came home with a glint in his eyes and a whole new shelf worth of books. And when Hotch went to chastise Reid for spoiling his son, Reid would give him the happy puppy eyes and he would relent.

“Let me guess. Aunt Jess will be here in twenty minutes, and you’ll call everyday. And you’ll hopefully be back as soon as possible.”

“I’m sorry buddy.”

“Don’t go then.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Then don’t apologise.”

He didn’t have a response for that. Instead, he headed to his own room to change. He entered the code to the safe- the day Jack was born, the month he was born, the year Haley was born and holstered his weapons. 

Before he left, he tried to say goodbye to Jack properly. The bedroom door was locked.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said. The only acknowledgement he received was a grunt.

Morgan texted, saying he was outside. Hotch sighed, schooled his features into a somewhat neutral expression and headed down to meet him. 

“Thanks for picking me up,” he said, once they had started driving.

“No problem. I have to ask, why didn’t you answer?” Morgan responded. “And you know I don’t want to pressure you to talk or anything like that, but everyone was really scared. We thought something had happened. I mean, Rossi was ready to get everyone from the FBI to look for you.”

His stomach twisted. They weren’t meant to worry about him. “I’m sorry. I was with Jack.” It wasn’t a lie. And Morgan was respectful enough to not profile the truth.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. 

“We’re heading to Boston,” JJ said, once they boarded the jet.

Hotch nodded, taking the file from her, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach. Boston. One of those places he would never not associate with terror, blood and death. Just like Georgia. And Milwaukee.

“Over the past three months, three teen boys have gone missing from three different cities. They’re all pretty similar in appearance, all come from pretty similar backgrounds. All were found in their local parks. No evidence of torture or sexual assault. The only reason anyone made the connection was because of a conference, where two of the detectives spoke and realised something was up,” JJ explained.

Hotch nodded, feeling nauseous. He wished he had tried to force down some of his dinner. Then he opened the file and was suddenly glad he had skipped his meal.

For when he looked at the pictures, both from the crime scenes and of their smiling faces, all he could see was Jack. Dark blonde hair, light green eyes, wide smiles. He closed his eyes, focused on his breathing and looked back at the files. Focused on the victimology. Teenage boys, but no evidence of sexual assault. Mothers weren’t in the picture, either they had passed away or not received custody after the divorce. The fathers were all in high pressure jobs, most of them spending more time at the office than at home.

“Excuse me,” he said to no one in particular, heading to the toilet.

JJ gave him a concerned look but let him go without a word. 

To keep up appearances, he flushed the toilet and let the tap run to make it seem like he had actually gone to the toilet, as opposed to stare at his own reflection- tired, old, broken, absent father- and remind himself to maintain some sort of control.

Rossi was stood on the other side of the door.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Hotch nodded, ignoring the taste of bile in his mouth. He didn’t want Rossi to worry about him. He didn’t want anyone worrying about him, but especially not his best friend. Because every time he did, it only served as a reminder of everything he wanted but couldn’t have. The day he realised he loved Rossi had been terrifying, for a number of reasons. He had told Haley by accident, and she had laughed and said he was probably the last one to realise. She had told him to go for it, but he had been a coward and refused. It was another broken promise he had made to her. 

“Are you sure? Because you don’t look great. And you sounded distant on the phone.”

“I’m fine. It’s just a thing with Jack,” he confessed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I want to get to Boston and solve the case.”

He walked away, unable to stand the look in Dave’s eyes.

Things went from bad to worse when they landed. Hotch had gone with JJ to set up in the field office, only to find out that all four dads were already there and ready to give whatever information they needed to help the investigation. And with JJ talking to the detectives about how to handle the media, he was tasked with speaking to each of them.

He ignored the looks the officers gave him when he asked to speak to them in a conference room instead of an interrogation room. He knew none of them were responsible. 

After speaking to each of them, and promising to do his best to find the person that had taken their children from them, and bring the last one back home safely, he felt a pit in his stomach and a migraine starting to form. He had no idea when he had last eaten, or drunk anything, but he also knew he couldn’t handle anything.

Talking to the parents had made it almost impossible to remain professional. He saw himself in each of the fathers. They had all been working when their sons were younger, never fully prepared to tackle fatherhood alone. They had all argued with their sons just minutes before they were taken. When Hotch asked them how they felt after they argued, they all responded with some version of the word bad. When he asked why, all parents argue, they told him they felt like their own parents. It had been like staring at a mirror.

“My son died thinking I hated him,” the third parent had whispered. “What kind of person does that make me?”

Hotch softened his gaze and his tone, clearing his throat before he replied. “Your son didn’t die thinking you hated him. You’re nothing like your own father. All children argue with their parents. He knew you loved him and you cannot blame yourself for what happened. We’ll find the man who did this and bring him to justice.”

The man had just nodded before leaving. 

Hotch left the conference room, and was greeted by Rossi.

“Dave. I thought you were still at the M.E’s office.”

“We finished up there. You should listen to your own advice every once in a while.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, already brushing past him to go and talk to Prentiss about what they found at the last crime scene.

“Jack doesn’t hate you. No matter what he may say.”

Hotch turned, ready for an argument, when Rossi raised his hands in surrender.

“I didn’t profile you. But I am your friend. And the only thing that would make you this tense would be something with Jack.”

“Now is not the time to talk about it,” he hissed.

There hadn’t been any DNA found on the scene, which meant they only had a profile to go on. After a quick dinner, that he didn’t really eat, Hotch told everyone there was nothing more to do, and even if there was, they were all exhausted. Rather reluctantly, everyone headed back to the hotel, where it immediately became clear they would be doubling up.

“We can have a girl’s night!” Garcia exclaimed.

JJ and Prentiss laughed, but took the middle room, which for some unknown but helpful reason had three beds.

“Come on pretty boy, you can tell me all about that book you read on the way here,” Morgan said.

Reid’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Morgan nodded, taking the cards and slinging an arm around Reid’s shoulder. Before they left, Hotch called out for him.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“We forgot his birthday. Listening to him is the least I could do.”

“Not just for that. Thank you for coming to check up on me as well.”

“Hotch, you may be a drill sergeant, but you’re still my friend. And JJ may have yelled at me after she found out what I said to you about trusting people. We’re cool man.”

He nodded. “Go, Reid’s practically exploding with excitement.”

“You going to stand there watching them all night, or are you going to get some well-deserved sleep?” Rossi teased, suddenly behind him and pressing a card into his hand.

“You seem awfully chipper for someone who hates sharing a room,” he said as they went to the elevator.

“I don’t mind when it’s you,” Rossi said.

Hotch blushed, ignoring the way the words made him feel, ignoring the look in Rossi’s eyes that left no room for doubt, ignoring the way his heart sped up and the lack of space between them as they were crammed into a tiny elevator. 

They both dropped their bags down. Hotch immediately sat on the bed, knowing Dave would want to shower before he went to sleep. He smiled as his friend- because that was all he was, all he would ever be- left and opened up the case file. Yes, he had told everyone to go to sleep, but something was bugging him.

“You can at least loosen your tie,” Rossi teased from the doorway after he had showered.

Hotch turned and felt his throat go dry. He was only wearing a towel, hair still dripping. “I- what?”

“Tie. Loosen it. Actually, better yet, take it off. Go for a five minute shower. And then sleep.”

“Rossi, I can’t.”

“You can and you will. Don’t make me phone Jess and put Jack on the line.”

That convinced him to get a move on, but not for the reason Dave was smirking at. 

There was so much blood everywhere, but he couldn’t work out where it was coming from. He couldn’t move. He was completely trapped, the weight of a body on top of his. There was a flash of something silver and then so much pain. He couldn’t show any fear, but the pain, oh the pain, it was so overwhelming that he couldn’t help but scream. All that existed in the broken home of his mind was that pain and the fear and the terror and that sudden, blood-curdling, chilling realisation that this was how things ended; this was how he was going to die. But someone was calling his name, who would be calling his name that urgently, Haley had Jack and-

“Aaron!” Dave yelled.

Hotch’s eyes flew open and he tried to kick the duvet away, only to find himself tangled in amongst the sheets and blanket and why couldn’t he move, why was it so dark, who was touching him, where was Jack- he was working the case, he needed to save him-

“Aaron, it’s Dave. You’re in a hotel room in Boston for a case. Jessica is at your apartment with Jack. Breathe with me.”

“Dave,” he whimpered.

“That’s right. That’s good. Just keep breathing. It was just a nightmare.”

“M’sorry for waking you up,” he murmured, clinging to Dave’s t-shirt like a lifeline.

“Nonsense Aaron. We all have nightmares. Remember what I told you all those years ago?”

He did. It had been the first case he had worked with the BAU that had involved victims of abuse. He and Dave had been sharing a room when Hotch had the first of many nightmares involving cases. Dave had woken him up, given him a glass of water and told him the nightmares reminded him he was human, that he felt, and however scary they were, however the case ended, they had done their best. There was nothing to be ashamed of. 

“Yeah. That if I have a nightmare, I should remind myself of the people that love me and of all the good things I’ve done.”

“Good. So let me start off that list for you, because it’s a very long one. Jack.”

Hotch snorted. “He hates me. I told him he couldn’t go to a party because he’s not old enough and he said I wasn’t really his dad and that it was all my fault Haley was dead. I dreamt about him you know? Foyet. But it’s been two and a half years, I should be over this, shouldn’t I?”

“You’ve always been open with Jack. He knows what will hurt you, and that’s why he said those things. He’s angry. But he loves you. And as for Foyet? He stabbed you nine times. He killed your wife. You don’t ever have to move on, not if you don’t want to. But you have to learn to cope. Let us help you cope. Let me. I’m your friend.”

There was that word again. Friend. He hated it. He didn’t want Rossi to be his friend, not anymore, but how was he ever supposed to look him in the eye and confess that? It would ruin everything. Rossi would probably tell Strauss, who would fire him, and then he would have nothing. 

“Yeah,” he ended up saying.

“Besides, every parent bans their child from doing something. At least you haven’t told him he isn’t allowed to date until he’s thirty or explore his sexuality. And don’t give me that look, you know you would be okay so long as they were a good person and he was sixteen and being safe.”

“I guess.”

Rossi patted his shoulder and Hotch didn’t even try and pretend that the touch hadn’t made him tingle. It had been so long since someone had touched him- it was always him hugging Jack or touching his shoulder. He thought of that time Reid had talked about being touch-starved. Was he touch-starved, or was he just an adult with a schoolboy crush?

He laid awake for the rest of the night, unable to do much more than close his eyes for a few moments.

They found the unsub the next day. And they bought the boy home safely. But Hotch couldn’t find it in him to be happy at another case solved. Because it hadn’t been successfully, not completely. The unsub- a man in his mid-forties- had been abused. And when he saw those children, who argued with their fathers over something trivial, he had snapped. He’d wanted to save them from his own fate. When Hotch tried to explain that the fathers weren’t bad people, that the children didn’t deserve to die, he hadn’t listened. When he tried to relate, the unsub realised what had happened. And seeing no other way out, he’d turned the gun away from Hotch and to himself.

Hotch couldn’t help but shout no as the bullet released.

“Strauss approved us staying for one more night,” Rossi said when they got back to the hotel.

“That was nice of her,” JJ said.

“God, I need a drink,” Prentiss complained.

“We should all go for a night out. It’ll be fun. And I’m here for once, so I can’t even complain about missing out,” Garcia said.

“That’ll be nice. Reid, you’re coming, no excuses,” Morgan said.

Reid shrugged. “Sure, why not. I’ll remember every embarrassing thing you do, so just be warned.”

Everyone turned to Hotch.

“Come on sir,” Garcia pleaded.

“I shouldn’t,” he said.

“Hotch, if they’re making me go, then you have to come,” Reid replied.

“It’s one night Aaron. And you’re not a newbie anymore,” Dave said, placing a hand on his lower back to steer him away from the elevator.

He blushed, both at the incident that was being referenced and the placement of Rossi’s hand. 

“I’ll go if you don’t bring that up,” he reasoned.

Rossi nodded. Everyone else looked curious, but Hotch shot them all his famous glare, with a small smile to soften the blow. And then they left, still in the same clothes they had been wearing as they had packed up at the station.

Hotch had made it a rule that he didn’t get drunk in front of colleagues. He’d drink enough alcohol to keep them off his back, but he wouldn’t allow himself to become even slightly intoxicated when they were present.

Some cases made all the rules go out the window. It was the only defence he had for getting absolutely shit-faced.

At some point he had loosened his tie, so he didn’t really understand why Rossi was complaining so much as he pulled him into their room and started complaining about the way he dressed.

“If Garcia can come on a case wearing a cat-ear hairband, I don’t understand why you need to always need to wear a suit,” he complained after he got the shoes off.

Hotch grinned. “It’s like my superhero costume. It protects me from people finding out who I really am.”

“Wow you really are drunk.”

“Is it bad that I’m drunk? I told Jack he couldn’t go the party because of the alcohol and he said I was being stupid. Maybe he’s right. I am stupid.”

“Why can’t you ever just stick to being a happy drunk? Why must you always go from happy to crying?”

“Are you mad at me too? I don’t want you to be mad at me. I care about you too much. I don’t think I could stand it if you were mad at me. Not when Jack’s mad at me- did I tell you about that? I think I did. He’s mad at me, Haley would be mad at me if she could see me now, so I can’t have you being mad as well.”

“Haley wouldn’t be mad at you.”

“You’re wrong. She would.”

“Oh, really. Why?”

“Cos I told her I liked this person and she told me to go for it but I was too scared of being rejected and ruining the team that I didn’t. At least, that was I told her, which is the other reason she’d be mad. I semi-lied. I was scared of rejection and ruining the team, but I was more scared that they’d be like my father. He caught me with a boy once. Only once. I was too scared after that. It’s stupid though, this person is as far from my father as you could get.”

At the mention of the person, Hotch went back to being happy. Rossi smiled, still wrestling with the suit jacket, unwilling to make his friend move his arms lest he break the spell and made that smile vanish.

“You going to tell me about them or do I have to profile it out of you?”

“Wouldn’t do that,” he slurred. “Too nice to. Unlike Gideon. Gideon never followed the rules. But you- you may be a pain in the ass, but you follow the rules that matter like not profiling us and not pushing and not using our pasts to get to an unsub.”

Rossi snorted. “Thanks Aaron. It’s nice to know I’m not like Gideon.”

“Be weird if you were.”

“Why’s that?” he had got the jacket and the tie off. He untucked the shirt and unbuttoned the top one, knowing Hotch wouldn’t want any more than that done. 

“Cos I love you. I love your stupid notebook and your Italian cooking and your don’t-be-stupid voice and your stupid face and how you’re always nice to me, even when I’m being stupid. I love you Rossi, and I wish you’d love me too, even though I’m a mess who-” the rest of his sentence was cut off by a yawn.

Rossi had no idea what to say. He’d never come out to the team because there had never been a need to. Yes, he had three ex-wives, and only wives, but that was because he hadn’t been able to marry any of the men he dated, and times had been different then. He hadn’t wanted a long-term thing with any of them.

But now, Aaron was drunk and confessing his love, and it occurred to him that he did love the younger man. He had just never realised.

“I’m a mess who can’t get the voice of their father out of their head long enough to ask you out on a date,” he murmured, falling back onto the pillow.

Rossi opened his mouth, but Hotch was already asleep. He sighed, brushed the hair off his forehead and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Sleep well.”

The morning came, and with it, a pounding head.

Hotch woke up with a groan, immediately pressing his hand to his temple. 

“There’s aspirin and a glass of water on the night stand,” Rossi said.

Hotch blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “Wha- why do I need it? What happened?”

Rossi stopped, his coffee halfway to his mouth. Hotch looked away. Not the time.

“How much of last night do you remember?”

“We went to the bar. I- oh. I drank far too much. I’m sorry. Had the others gone by then?”

“No, but they all agreed to spare you the shame and not mention it. Do you remember anything else that happened?”

“You were the one to bring me back. And after that it’s all a bit hazy.”

“Do you want to try and remember or do you want me to tell you?”

Hotch paled. “What did I do?”

“You told me you loved me.”

Hotch fell off the bed trying to scramble away. He noticed that Rossi had left him in his clothes, thank goodness for small mercies, but the sheet got tangled in his legs. Rossi stood as he managed to stand up, his head still pounding and the light making his vision hazy.

He felt a hand on his arm and managed to force it off. “Just let me go, Dave, please.”

“No. We need to talk about this.”

“What is there to say? I told you I love you. But you’re this amazing, caring, funny, handsome straight person and I’m me. Please just let me go. I’ll file my transfer when we get back, but I can’t be here and watch as you reject me,” he said, walking towards the door.

“Aaron. Stop.” 

He froze. Rossi had never bossed him around, even when he’d been the newest profiler that was still learning the ropes. But god, there was something about his tone that made him want to fall to his knees and do whatever he wanted. He’d been still for too long, Rossi would have realised too.

“Turn around and look at me.”

Aaron wanted to resist, wanted to run out the door and never come back, but something in him- probably the part of his brain that was self-destructive- made him turn back. And the sight that greeted him made his heart stop all over again. Rossi didn’t look angry or upset. He didn’t look like he was about to hurt him or force him to explain why he was such a coward.

He looked happy.

“I don’t understand, why are you smiling at me?” he whispered.

“Because I love you too. I just never realised until last night when you were drunk out of your mind, terrified that I was going to reject you, that I realised all I wanted was to hold you against me, listen to the steady beat of your heart to remind myself that you were still here and never let you go.”

Before he could even process what was happening, Aaron had crossed the short distance of the room and had buried his head in his shoulder. Hesitantly, Rossi bought his arms around the younger man in an awkward hug.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Aaron confessed, staring at him with dark brown eyes, still full of the fear of rejection. 

“We can work it out together.”

“I don’t know how to get over my fear, or tell Jack and the team- and what are we even supposed to tell Strauss, she’ll fire both of us and what about all the other things, like dates and the romantic things,” he rambled.

Rossi pressed a finger to his lips. “We’ll work it out. But that’s not the concern for right now.”

“Then what is?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Hotch nodded, suddenly feeling shy. “I’ve only ever kissed Haley. I doubt I’ll be any good.”

“I don’t want good. I want you.”

Without another word, Rossi placed his fingers under Aaron’s chin and tilted his head up. It was a chaste kiss, barely more than a brush of lips, but Aaron felt his heart speed up and fireworks explode behind his eyes. This. This is what he had always wanted but never had the courage to ask for, and now he had it and he just felt… good.

“We need to brush our teeth,” he decided once Rossi pulled away.

“Agreed.”

“Dave, what are we now? Because boyfriend seems immature, and I plan on telling Jack and the team as soon as possible so don’t even try and suggest lover. And other half is stupid, we’re both whole people without each other.”

“I’d like to think of you as my partner. That’s what we started out as- don’t give me that look you know I’m right- and it’ll always fit us. You the workaholic drill sergeant and me, the agent turned author turned agent-author with three ex-wives.”

Aaron laughed. “I have no idea how that makes any sense but okay. Partners. I like that.”

“It makes sense because it shows that we’re both adults that can depend on each other no matter what happens.”

“No matter what happens,” Hotch echoed.

It was going to be a long journey to undo all the damage his father had done, but he was willing to work through it. He was willing to do whatever it took to let him spend the rest of his life beside the man he could now call a partner.

The team essentially worked it out the moment they got on the jet. JJ just shook her head fondly, Reid smiled and told them that if they needed any advice he was there, Morgan smiled and patted Rossi, claiming he had his work cut out for him, Prentiss actually hugged Hotch with tears in her eyes and Garcia squealed and told them she was going to knit them matching scarves.

It was nice. Unfamiliar and different and scary, but nice. Rossi sat beside him, close enough so their shoulders brushed every time one of them adjusted the way they were sat. Every time it happened, Aaron smiled and blushed a little.

When they arrived back at Quantico, everyone at lot happier than they had been at the end of the case, there was an unfamiliar car in the lot. 

“I haven’t seen that one before,” Reid commented.

“It’s probably just someone for Strauss. Let’s go, write the reports and go home,” Hotch said.

“Home. Sounds nice,” Rossi said.

Hotch went pink as Garcia cackled.

Since Emily’s return, it had become tradition for Garcia to sit with them in the bullpen as they did their reports, mainly to annoy them, and if she had accompanied them, to do her own report as she only managed to do them on the job when she was on base. They all headed to the sixth floor, everyone looking forward to the few days of down time they would have once they finished their reports.

It was still early- or was it late- enough for them to be the only people in the building. As everybody else set themselves up in the bullpen, Hotch and Rossi went up to their respective offices, Morgan still talking to Reid and Garcia about something. When Hotch walked into his office, putting his bag down with unnecessary force, Rossi winced.

“What’s going on?”

Hotch bit down the urge to say nothing. “Jack still doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Why don’t you try phoning Jessica then? Maybe he’ll change his mind once he realises just how much you’re willing to sacrifice for him.”

“Maybe.”

“And I know Morgan drove you in, so once you’re paperwork is done, you’re coming home with me. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but this case must have hit close to home. I’m dating you now, which means I’ve signed up for the good, the bad and the ugly. I’m sure Jess would love to spend more time with Jack anyways.”

He knew trying to fight was a bad idea, and the thought of going home to an angry and hurt Jack was almost too much to bear. Did it make him a bad parent? Maybe. But he was tired and he wanted to give Jack space.

“I’ll give you some privacy to phone him then.” 

Hotch managed a weak smile, then dialled his home number. Jessica answered almost immediately. She sounded like she hadn’t slept and he wondered why he thought phoning her at three in the morning was a good idea.

“Hi Jess. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It was a bad case that’s all. I should let you sleep. I’ll be back in the morning, well later in the morning so you can go once you’ve had breakfast if you need to do anything.”

She laughed, and his chest tightened. Her and Haley had been nothing alike, but when they laughed, it was like they were the same person. “It’s okay. I’ll stay for the whole day and let you get some rest. Jack, what are you doing up? Okay, get your water and then back to- actually do you want to talk to your dad?”

He heard Jack say no. Jessica made a few uncomfortable sounds.

“Jess, it’s okay. He doesn’t have to talk to me if he doesn’t want to. I get it.” He got that he was a useless father, that Jack had every reason to hate him and he didn’t understand why it had taken so long for him to start. He understood that he had failed to protect Jack and Haley, and that nothing he did now was going to ever make up for it.

“Are you sure? He’s gone back to his room but I doubt he’s sleeping. I can talk to him if you want.”

“No, just leave him. He’s allowed to be angry.” Because if you speak to him, you will stop seeing me as the angel Haley loved all through high school. You will stop seeing me as the man who has lost everything and start seeing me as the man who can’t be there when his son needs him, and the man that got your sister killed.

“If you’re sure. But before you go, just listen to me. You’re a good parent. And whatever Jack said, he doesn’t mean. He’s a hormonal teenager going through puberty. He loves you.”

“I know.” But did he really love his father? “I’ll see you in the morning then. Bye Jess.”

“Bye Aaron.”

Aaron. Sometimes he wondered where the lines between Hotchner- god, how he hated his surname, forever tarnished by the memory of his father and everyone in their small town who thought that little Aaron Hotchner was just the quietest little boy, just like his mother yet somehow the spitting image of his father, Hotch: the stoic leader that could be trusted with everything and somehow not collapse and Aaron: absent husband and father, the man that had loved and failed Haley, Kate and even Elle existed. 

Sometimes he just felt like that little boy, curled up in the basement of a house that never felt like home, wishing he could just let go and cry for once. But he couldn’t. Not when he was aware that the team were watching him instead of doing their paperwork.

He finished it in record time, unable to look at the images of smiling teenagers for any longer than was necessary. 

Dave was already waiting for him. Everybody else had gone home.

“Are you ready?” Dave asked.

Hotch nodded, unable to trust his own voice after having to read through everybody’s accounts of the victims, their parents and the unsub.

They drove to Dave’s in silence, Aaron having texted Jessica he was going to a friends but would hopefully back by late afternoon. He wondered again if he had made a mistake by letting Dave in. It would only be a matter of time before he realised Hotch was damaged and nothing in the world would fix it.

“Aaron, we’re here.” The sound of Dave’s voice, suddenly soft and gentle, lured him out of the darkness of his mind.

He got out of the car, still not knowing what to say. He wasn’t like Reid, who would rattle off statistics about any given topic when he was nervous. He wasn’t like Garcia who would keep digging a deeper hole when she was in trouble, or Morgan who managed to charm anyone with a few words.

Dave’s house, despite its size, had always felt homely. When staring at the wall where the bullet hole had been did more harm than good- and who was he kidding, that had been every time he’d sat there, surrounded by files- Dave’s house had always been a safe haven for him.

“I’m going to make some light breakfast and then try and get some sleep. Do you want anything? And don’t say coffee, I’m not letting you do anymore work until you get some rest.”

He shook his head, already sat on the couch.

Dave sighed, but he didn’t push the issue. Before he could leave, Aaron turned to face him.

“Dave?”

“Yes?” he was already in the doorway, minutely turning to see him properly.

“I’m having a bad day,” he whispered.

Rossi froze. Aaron Hotchner did not admit that easily. Only to him. Only when he was moments away from falling apart. He did not know whether to consider it a blessing or a curse that he was the only one trusted enough to piece him back together. He did not know whether or not he could do it this time. Things were different. He had only ever had to do this as a friend, or as a colleague. Never as partners- and wasn’t that ironic, he was the one to suggest the label but now it didn’t seem significant enough.

He walked back over, sat beside Aaron. Close enough so their feet- Hotch hadn’t even taken his shoes off- brushed, but far enough to let him move away if he wanted. He didn’t. He shifted closer, resting his head on Dave’s shoulder. Dave raised one hand to gently stroke his messy hair. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m meant too, aren’t I? Haley always used to say there was no point in being together if I was just going to hide from her every time I had a bad day. I know she was right, but I just don’t know how to talk about it. It’s stupid anyways.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t act like your problems aren’t as important because you’re supposed to be an alpha male. That’s only at work. Here, we’re just Aaron and Dave, two old men who never learned how to communicate properly, so they’re muddling their way through life.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re here. And I’m scared you’re going to leave, just like everyone else. I’m scared that the ghosts of my past are going to be too much for you to handle and that you’ll get tired of waiting for me to be comfortable around you. I’m scared of ruining what we have with my nightmares and scars. I mean, I have a son who’s a teenager now. You never even wanted kids. And I know it’s stupid, but I’m scared I’m never going to be able to repair my relationship with Jack. We’ve never argued before. I don’t know what to do. My father would hit me if I dared speak out of turn. I never learned how to be normal. What if I hurt him?”

He had curled into a ball, his legs pressed against Dave’s stomach. His voice had started shaking, and Dave felt a wet patch forming on his shirt.

“I won’t leave you, ever. We’re going to have problems, but I won’t leave, and I will spend the rest of my life waiting for you to be comfortable around me if I need to. I have nightmares as well, we can keep each other up. I love Jack and he loves you too. I have no idea how to be a parent, but you do. You would never hurt him. And I’m sure Jessica has already told you this, but he’s a teenager. You’ll know what to do when you see him. If you don’t, just ask him. He wants to be there for you.”

“Thanks Dave.”

“I love you Aaron. You never need to thank me. Now move off of me so I can take you to bed. You need a good night’s rest.”

He obeyed. Neither of them were about to believe Dave was strong enough to carry a fully-grown man to bed, so Hotch forced himself to stand and let Dave lead him to the master bedroom.

“You’re practically asleep already. I’m glad. Would you let me undress you?”

Hotch hesitated, but nodded almost imperceptibly. “Yes,” he whispered.

“I’m so proud of you. If you want me to stop, just say the word and I will.”

He started shaking as Rossi pushed his shirt off his shoulders, the final layer of armour stripped away from him. He closed his eyes, the tremors only stopping when Rossi pressed their foreheads together.

“You survived. You survived them both. And there will be more, there always is, but I will be here to catch you. Believe that.”

Aaron nodded, tears falling onto the duvet. He couldn’t express how glad he was that Dave wasn’t spouting some bullshit about how the scars on his torso and the lines on his back made him even more beautiful. He didn’t know how to say that though, which he was coming to realise the beauty of their relationship: they just knew.

Rossi was tucking him, having successfully changed him into pyjamas without any incidents when he realised he needed to address something from earlier.

“You’re wrong, you know that right?”

Rossi laughed. “About what?”

“Earlier. You said you don’t know how to be a parent. You do. I see it in the way you tease Morgan, curse at Prentiss in Italian, protect Garcia and JJ, listen to Reid and the way you treat Jack and Henry.”

“Get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He pressed a kiss to the other man’s cheek, then left. There was one more thing he needed to do.

Aaron awoke when he heard voices. It took a moment for him to realise where he was, but when he did, he smiled. Dave hadn’t left. He left the room, trying to find the source of the voices. The search led him to the same couch where he had started crying only a few hours ago.

“Jack!” he exclaimed. 

Jack launched himself into his father’s arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that stuff, it isn’t true and I love you. I won’t go to the stupid party I swear but please don’t be sad. Uncle Dave told me the censored version of your case. He also told me that you two are partners and I’m really happy about that because he’s cool and I have a vague memory of mom saying you were silly for thinking he didn’t like you-”

“Buddy, it’s okay. Sometimes people argue. I still love you too. And yes, Dave and I are together now but you’re still my first priority. You always will be. So if you need me to take less cases or spend more time at home, then just tell me. We don’t need to let it explode like that.”

Jack looked sheepish. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re my son. You’ll never be a burden to me.”

“Do you promise?” He looked so much like that little boy who believed his father was a real superhero that Hotch could only nod his affirmation.

“Will you stay for breakfast? Jessica dropped Jack here, but she said she’d go to give us some time alone and apparently he only ate a single piece of toast,” Rossi asked, almost nervously.

“Please can we do that?” Jack added.

Hotch nodded, letting go of his son. “Did you want any help?”

“No. Just go sit at the dining table and look pretty whilst you talk to your son,” Dave said.

Hotch flushed but obeyed.

Dave watched as Jack launched into a conversation about the pretty girl in his class and the tension Aaron had been carrying for far too long finally bled off his shoulders and saw as he went from FBI agent to loving father, eyes crinkling as he finally, genuinely, laughed.

There would be bad days. There would be arguments and reckless endangerment. There would be ghosts that would never leave them and fears that couldn’t be destroyed. But Aaron was smiling. And for one David Rossi, that was enough.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hotch x rossi #david rossi #criminal minds fic #tw implied child abuse #tw violence towards children #tw child death reference #tw suicide #sumayyah writes cm

[prettyinsoulpunk]

Hi, what’s the story with peterick and the teddy bear? Could you link the original post please? 😄

Hey :) There is not really an original post for it (assuming you saw the ask I got?) but that was in reference to my tags on this post that I reblogged a few days ago.

I don’t think I’ve ever posted the story, so here you go! 

This happened after one of the shows during the Save Rock & Roll tour, which was the first time I saw FOB after the hiatus ended. I was a bit emotional of course (I mean, weren’t we all???) and I wasn’t expecting any of them to come out and meet fans after, since that’s literally never happened at any FOB show I’ve been to in the past. Or not that I ever noticed, since normally they offered meet & greets before their shows. 

So anyway, I’m really glad I decided to check because when I went around to the side of the venue, Patrick was out there meeting people. (He did that all during his Soul Punk tour, so I was hoping he might continue that once FOB was back together.) He was on complete vocal rest, so he couldn’t talk or anything but he was giving out all the hugs (!!!) and of course, we could still talk to him. 

So as I’m standing there waiting for Patrick, Pete and Joe both came out for a bit. Fast forward to a few minutes later where some girl had given Pete a teddy bear, which he immediately said he was going to name Patrick 😍 

(He also kept hitting Joe with it, and Joe threatened to run it over with their tour bus 😂)

Finally it was my turn with Patrick, and suddenly I got so emotional that I started to tear up a bit. I tried to at least play it cool (yeah, okay, I failed) so I made a bad joke about how uncool I was and Patrick laughed and hugged me. He still couldn’t talk, but he did (jokingly) sniffle loudly and pretended to wipe his own tears away. 

That’s when Pete leans over, hits me over the head with the teddy bear, and says: “You better not make Patrick cry too, that shit will haunt your dreams.”

That made Patrick and I both laugh, and Pete said something about how pitiful it is when Patrick is sad, but I didn’t hear exactly what he said since one of the venue security was talking loudly near us. 

But Patrick’s reaction to the teddy bear thing was to put his arm around Pete and give him a squeeze. (!!!!) Then he turned back to me with this funny expression like as if to say: “Sorry, Pete’s kind of an idiot, but he’s my idiot.” or at least, that’s how I interpreted it. 😍 So yeah, it was just a ridiculously cute moment! 

Random side note: 

The entire time they were standing there together, they could barely go more than two minutes without touching each other somehow. On the arm, on the shoulder, Pete tickling Patrick, Patrick shoving Pete, Pete occasionally whispering something to Patrick, and then sometimes just communicating with each other solely through facial expressions, even though Pete was still able to talk. It was like they were speaking their own language though, and I just love them so much. 😭

So there you go! :) Sorry that got a bit long, but the random extra details are what made it such an adorable moment. 😍

#Peterick #Pete Wentz #Patrick Stump #Fall Out Boy #replies #personal #I LOVE THEM SO MUCH #this moment will forever live rent-free in my mind

[qtlibehsun]

too much but too late

pairing: georgenotfound x f!reader [angst]

summary: your wedding day was meant to be the best day of your life, but unfortunately for you a certain man by the name of George ruins it

warnings: lots of cursing, alcohol, mentions of a sexy time, vomit

word count: 2.1k

a.n: hello everyone! i am back! with more angst cause i literally love writing it so damn much. thank you so much for the great feedback from my last post, made me very happy to see majority of you all like it. i promise more works will be published soon since i currently have nothing to do with my life - please feel free to send through requests i love looking at them and i get excited to write them! and now onto the request... i made it super dramatic LOL

You had dreamed of this day for years. Dreamed of it when you were learning to tie your shoelaces, learning to ride a bike, learning how to write. The particular day? The day of your wedding. A day where you were adorned in a pristine white gown, hair immaculate, the tears of joy in your parents faces as they told you how proud they were of you for finding such a partner.

It resulted in your heart sprinting, your hands shaking, and a series of bouncing on the balls of your feet as you squealed alongside your best friends. You were utterly and undeniably ecstatic.

So why couldn’t he be happy for you.

Maybe it was the fact you two were best friends. Maybe it was the countless times you played video games together, joined with discord calls that lasted for over five hours. Maybe it was the fact you two were best friends. Best friends since birth perhaps. The way that almost every day for the past twenty-four years of his life was spent with you.  

Or maybe it was because of that one night on your 18th birthday. Where alcohol poisoned both your systems and blinded your reality. That one night where you went back to his place, and he proceeded to gently touch and love every part of you. That one night where your shadows danced together in harmonious ways to the music of the crickets.

He knew for sure he couldn’t be happy for you because he loved you, copious amounts.

He would never forget the tear you ripped in his heart as you woke up beside him, eyes glossy, a strain in your voice as you told him word’s he never wanted to hear.

I’m sorry George, but it was a mistake. It never should’ve happened. I don’t like you like that.

God, it haunted him.

It was a mistake.

It never should’ve happened.

She doesn’t like you like that.

A mistake.

He wanted to disappear. Disappear to a time before then, where some nights he’d hold you close to his chest and wish upon empty stars that you were his more than platonically. However, no matter what he did, where he went, the images of your face, contorted in pleasure underneath him were stuck like glue in the back of his eyelids, and the whisper of his name that sounded like bells played persistently in his mind. He could not escape you.

And he wanted to disappear now more than ever. To withdraw from a day that made you so happy.

He looked so handsome. A crisp suit, a straight tie, hair fluffy as usual but more styled. However, his eyes were red and sunken, slight stubble on his chin, and a watery gaze that was not there from joy. He looked like a broken glass masterpiece kept together by masking tape.

And when you appeared at the end of aisle, fuck. He wanted to scream from how stunning you were. A complete replica of the most charming painting he’d ever laid eyes on.

There were gasps and murmurs from friends and family that surrounded him, but they fell upon deaf ears. He could not concentrate. And when you made eye contact with him, he wanted to throw up, for he had never been so utterly devastated in his entire life.

Because the man you were marrying was not him.

Your smile, your beauty, your kindness, your everything was not for him. It was the other man that stood at the other end of the room. Hands clasped, emotion swelling with pride. Then again why wouldn’t it, you were his wife to be.

Not George’s.

And when the priest announced speak now or forever hold your peace, he wanted to so bad. His knees jumped with anticipation, the raging urge to yell that he loved you, and you didn’t belong with this man, you belonged with him. But he couldn’t. Because he loved you. And what kind of man would he be to ruin a day you had been looking forward to for so long.

And the kiss. Your first kiss as a married woman. It made his fists clench and heart skip. He wanted nothing more than to have your lips locked with his in that moment.

Your mother in her burst of joy turned around in her seat and grabbed George by his collar, pushing him into the tightest embrace of his life, her face wet, leaving a damp section on his jacket.

“Aren’t you so proud! Our beautiful girl is all grown up!” She squeaked.

All he could do was force out a tight-lipped smile and nod his head that caused his brain to throb. She wasn’t his girl, she was someone else’s.

He shouldn’t have come.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The expensive bourbon burned his eyes almost as much as his throat. He had had way too much to drink. Far too much for his best friend’s wedding day. His jacket had been forgotten, hung to the back of his chair, sleeves rolled, and tie loosened. He probably would’ve been picked up by a single lady if he didn’t look so miserable. George stayed seated, gaze hardened on the inside of his empty glass as everyone watched you and your husband dance. He refused to watch the smile of joy graced upon your face when you danced with him.

God why were you so fucking beautiful.

A man with fluffy hair and eyes as blue as the ocean however had spotted the dejected man. He sat down with a huff next to him.

“Hey George.” “Hey Karl.”

“What’s up with ya’ buddy? Why you so down.” Karl asked as he wrapped an arm around the back of George’s chair, scooting closer. The brunette just shrugged.

“She looks beautiful, doesn’t she?” He pried, trying to get any response out of the British man.

For the first time since you started dancing George looked at you. Head thrown back in laughter; eyes crinkled at the corner. He had always made fun of you for that.

What had he done wrong? He must’ve done something for God to punish him so cruelly. He shouldn’t have made fun of the wrinkles in your eyes, they were beautiful. He shouldn’t have put the chewed-up gum in your hair, he just wanted your attention. He should’ve remembered your fourteenth birthday party. Why did he have to go off with that other stupid girl he met. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He felt so fucking stupid.

All the reasons as to why you weren’t his flew threw his head, making him so overwhelmed he thought as though if he were to stand up, he would fall back on his arse again.

“Try not to think about it George, its done now, nothing you can do,” and with that Karl stood up to join the rest of the guests, now dispersing to sit back down or join the two newlyweds for a dance.

That was it. He had to get out of there. Karl’s words had struck a nerve him in. Although drunk and clearly not thinking straight he was right. There was nothing he could do. So why was he still here?

Shooting up and grabbing his jacket George made a swift bolt to the exit of the reception.

Unfortunately for him, you saw your best friend leaving, and with a quick kiss on the cheek and a I’ll be right back, you left your husband by himself and ran after your best friend.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He heard you call his name in the deserted hallway and was almost tempted to break out in a sprint. He couldn’t talk to you. He loved you like you were a drug. So bad for him but yet he was so addicted. So, against his better judgement he turned around to face you.

“Where are you going?” You asked, cheerfulness dripping in your tone. You clearly didn’t catch on to his deprived state, you were too far away.

“I’m going home.”

Your smile dropped. “Oh, why?”

It was too late now. The alcohol in his system was blinding, and although his brain was screaming at him to turn around, don’t ruin her night, his heart was screaming tell her you love her, make her yours, it’s not too late, Karl was wrong. And detrimentally, for him he went with the latter.

Before you could even comprehend what was happening, he strode forward, grabbed your face ferociously and went in for a kiss. But before George could feel the sweetness of your lips on his once again you pushed him away, two hard hands on his chest causing him too stumble.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You screamed, fury circling your body and resounding your reality. It was now when you were face to face with him you smelt the repulsive hard liquor on his breath. You noticed his red rimmed eyes and the smattering of stubble he wore. He looked almost sick.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N fuck please I’m sorry,” he whined, words slurring together. He was so drunk.

“Why did you do that? What evil thing literally possessed you to try and kiss me? And on my wedding night you sick bastard.” You were so frustrated and disappointed in your best friend you started to cry.

George was so desperate. You were standing so close to him, looking so beautiful, smelling heavenly. But now you were crying, and your perfect makeup was dripping in flawed lines down your face.

Oh no, he thought to himself. I caused that. Let me fix it.

He reached out to wipe away your tears, but you only pushed him away again. He choked on a sob that was threatening to leave so fast. You were breaking his heart so quickly. Why did he do that, he shouldn’t have done that.

“George why?” You whispered to him, wiping away your own tears. “Why?”

“Because it wasn’t a mistake for me Y/N. It wasn’t.” You stood there quietly, paralysed with shock at the information that thudded your heart. He took it as an invitation to continue speaking.

“For as long as I can remember Y/N I have been wholly and devotedly in love with you. Holy fuck you fucking kill me. And not just because of the night we shared on your 18th birthday, but every other night. Where I got to hold you in my arms, and just pretend that for a second that you were mine. Mine to hold, to kiss, to protect, to love.”

He almost seemed sober from the passion that leaked through his words.

“And I understand you love this man, I mean why else would you be marrying him, but fuck I can’t lie anymore. I can’t sit here and pretend that I didn’t wish that man was me. What did I do wrong?” Now he was seriously crying. “Why was I not good enough for you darling? I did everything for you.”

You were flustered and pissed and crying so much you could only sob out a small “cause I’m just not in love with you George. I never was and I don’t think I ever will be.”

George became overrun with jealousy and rage, the bourbon only adding fuel to the fire.

“God damnit girl. You’re fucking breaking my heart. I hope your happy with him, but I also hope you know how far I would’ve gone for you. Anything you fucking wanted I would’ve got you. Fuck!” He was yelling by the end, the liquid courage turning him into a toxic beast. He would be so disappointed in himself if he were sober.

“Fuck you George! You’ve ruined what was meant to be the best day of my life!” You huffed picking up your dress and turning to run away, your cries following you, haunting the hallways making him shiver.

With the knowledge of him ruining a day you had been looking forward to for so long, and quite possibly losing something he loved so much, he ran to the nearest restroom, knees buckling when he entered the stall as he hurled the dangerous amounts of liquor into the toilet.

He sobbed and cried in between emptying his entire stomach, hands plastered so roughly and deeply into his hair.

He ruined everything.

He was such a mistake.

And it was something that ruined a perfect friendship, a guilt that plagued him for years until the grave.

#mcyt #mcyt georgenotfound #georgenotfound #george #georgenotfound x reader #george x reader #georgenotfoundxreader #georgexreader #georgenotfound imagine #georgenotfoundscenario #georgenotfoundangst #mcyt angst

[strangerays]

Nothing in Particular Update #2

It’s the Nothing and Particular and Everything update part two: the electric booglaloo. This one is long, so strap in.

It’s been a while since I wrote an update for this story. To be honest, this one gave me a lot of stress, but here I am! Writing this story feels like it is going very slow. I keep telling myself I’ve made a lot of progress (which is true, I have) but for some reason it doesn’t feel like I have? This is likely just my own insecurity. To be frank, I can’t believe I’m still writing this story. If you had told me in February that I’d still be writing this when the weather got warm, I would have laughed.

I am SO excited that I will finally be able to focus on writing now that I’m out of school. I’m afraid to speak the rough deadline that I’ve given myself for this story (the end of August-early September) but now that I’ve spoken it into existence, I hope I can finish! (I hope I can stop watching dumb videogame playthroughs and listening to The Magnus Archives and get something done)

Here is a link to the story introduction and previous update!

TAGLIST (ask to be +/-); @wannabeauthorzofija @a-completely-normal-writer @baguettethebooklover​ @corkytheguar @writeherewaiting

STORY CHANGES/THOUGHTS/IDEAS: 

Here is a big one: I’ve been trying to write this story for myself. I started writing Ray’s story from a place that was personal to me, but I feel like, as that part of myself has begun to heal, I’ve started to think about what a reader would want out of the story. I’m realizing that this is my story so it has to be what I want. Drafts are drafts for a reason, so I’m going to try to get better at letting myself explore what is fun to me.

I always thought I was a discovery writer (I still sort of think I am) but as I’ve finished small sections of the story, I am finding that it’s very helpful to do a rough outline of scenes in upcoming chapters. (I also recommend turning to this if something doesn’t work and you need to retrace your steps!) Just helps me feel more organized!

Jude’s character has got to be one of the most difficult personalities I’ve ever written. Putting her beside Ray just makes it harder. Where Ray is secretive and keeps to herself, Jude is ready to unpack her entire life’s story to anyone. I find that I really have to slow down when writing their interactions. I know this is going to be nowhere near perfect in the first draft, but I think it is a main contributor to my slow writing.

I really like this little narrative I’ve created in the background of the main plot with Ray and Lonan. I love writing these scenes because it’s a way for me to use Lonan when he’s not actively with Ray and to show why Ray is predetermined about things at certain points. Also I love their friendship so much <3

CONGRATULATIONS TO ME on starting to read again because I forgot how much of a help reading other people’s stories can be when you’re struggling with your own oml

I now have a set timeline for the story! Takes place ~4-5 months.

I did that thing where you write a letter from the characters’ perspectives and that was kind of fun

Also just for fun I thought I’d add in that I spent an hour and a half last week filling up a page in my sketchbook with diagrams of the plot. It feels good to be a mad scientist

EXCERPTS UNDER THE CUT!

*At this point, I’m only sharing writing that I am really proud of in order not to spoil the story! This is because I am unsure whether I want to publish this story someday. With that said, that does NOT give you permission to steal my ideas!

CHAPTER: NIGHT CRIES

#1

In the last week of summer, I did everything I could to avoid post-vacation blues. I rode my bike along the gravel roads with no destination, wore my dark sunglasses to people-watch, and fed salami to the minnows that floated on the cusps of boulders. Usually, I sat still for so long that my elbows turned a deep shade of red and the blood in my toes buzzed.

New pockets seemed to open up in Point Blink every day. And with them, came new people. Most of them were older – a middle aged woman who caked her lipstick on, an uncle estranged from his brother, a couple who had miscarried. I hadn’t forgotten about the kids at Mothouse. It was impossible not to think about them. It wasn’t just that I’d never seen them before.

#2

The girl’s limp cigarette bled a trail of smoke that seeped into my Vans. My shirt folded like skin over my bed post. Haunted the room – foiled my mauve sheets and teased my locks. Swept the curtains apart and heated the oak floor. Beams of moonlight leapt to my bookcases; highlighted the posters from various podcasts and bands that I listened to. Wind whistled when I was too still. She forced me to look outside, onto the dark cul-de-sac lit by the reflections of forming rain puddles. No matter whether I sat at my desk or burrowed under my sheets, I felt out of place. She made my bedroom louder. She made my bedroom quieter.

I decided it would probably be best if I never saw her again.

To be honest, I don’t remember much about writing this chapter because it was over a month ago (sorry) but I’m still quite happy with the prose! This comes in after Ray sees Jude for the first time at Mothouse. Based on a first impression, decides that she might want be friends with Jude.

CHAPTER: SORRY

#1 

If you spend any long amount of time with someone, you’ll become a thief to their behaviors. If I stared long enough, trees began to replace all of the people we’d ever seen. Oaks had roots that serpentined the ground like children splashing in the bay, pines with needles like spindly old hands, maples with hollows like watchful eyes – all things Lonan had taught me to observe.

CHAPTER: GHOSTS

Then there was the sea – violent and knowing as it romped within bays and alcoves. She had eaten me many times before, both my father and Lonan too. Gulped them as if they were shining plastic wrappings left behind after a meal. I spited her for inviting me once again. I reached up again to grapple with the next rung. It twisted and offered a low whistle.

In these two chapters, Ray is on a photography trip with her class. This is the first time she’s been on this annual trip without Lonan. She left that morning with a goal of being independent and learning to get on with one of the only people she has felt close to. I realize now that the Ghost excerpt sort of sounds like her dad and Lonan have drowned?? Which was not my intention??

CHAPTER: A DIVINE INTERVENTION

#1

“Do you believe in ghosts?” A raspy voice teased from behind me. Cigarette smoke tickled the words, like they were stuck together with jelly inside of her. The question wasn’t particularly calming, but it strengthened my grip on reality. As if the foiled leaves, bark, and dandelions had sprung from the ground and begun to float, they came crashing back down.

I was made of stone.

“I’m not a ghost,” Jude said. “If I was, a ladder would be a pretty counteractive way to outrun me. I could just float up there and haunt you.”

“Maybe you’re a ghost,” she asked, her voice distant.

I shifted my grasp up and down the sides of the ladder. “What?”

“Don’t you believe in ghosts?”

I was reading back some of Ray and Jude’s conversation and there are so many snippets of dialogue that make me laugh because I totally forgot I wrote them... but UGhhH I don’t know if I want to share them because I don’t know whether or not I want to try and publish the story someday. Speaking of that, it’s sort of because it’s so personal to me? I don’t know (this is for future me to pursue) Honestly though, reading these back has made me really happy :)

#2

I wanted to shake her by the shoulders. She acted as though Point Blink could breathe – as though corpses in the cemetery might pull the grass away like dead skin, neighbors would draw blades, and blood-salt would stain her clothes rather than that from the sea. “Trust me, they’ll forgive you. But, I’m just saying, most people around here don’t care nearly as much as you think so. Most of them are way older anyways, so they’re tired of us.”

“Is that you complimenting yourself?” Jude asked.

“Not intentionally,” I said, “but I will take it.”

She laughed. “You shouldn’t be so nice to strangers.”

I wasn’t trying to be. I just didn’t think I wanted her to dislike me.

#3

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing or a good thing,” Jude said. “Being good gets you tucked into a thousand different memories. Being good makes you live a lifetime.”

I almost laughed, but then I wondered what I was to her now. “I don’t talk to lots of people.”

“Sometimes there aren’t many people to talk to. But I thought you would have loads of friends.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I thought you would too.”

Alarm like grief lit her eyes, but she laughed. I did too.

“You hardly know me,” she said quietly.

Then the girls explore some old newspapers and letters in a fire tower! Spooky fun!

CHAPTER: YOU LET THIS HAPPEN

This isn’t a major spoiler as it’s literally in the blurb I wrote, but Ray and Jude are caught (targeted..??)  in a fire. Ray is brought back to a field where she is questioned.

CHAPTER: NOTHING HAPPENS

He was quiet for several moments while he painted a picture with what little details I had given him, then said, “It’s unfair. I think that’s why it hurts.”

“Because we almost got hurt?”

“No. Because it came true.”

His gentle, ragged voice made me think I could tell him anything. Sometimes, I think that, even then, he knew I left something out.

Ray talks to Lonan after the fire... She’s being a bit dishonest about what actually happened.

CHAPTER: WHY NOT

I remember how the barest amount of red light glared across Lonan’s entire scalp and washed his boyish curls magenta from the roots out. When Jude leaned back on the counter, she melded into the darkness.

This chapter is just part of the narrative that I created with Ray and Lonan’s friendship. There isn’t much I want to spoil from it, but I liked this paragraph!

CHAPTER: INEVITABLE

“We didn’t do anything,” I said.        

“Someone did. Why won’t you believe me?”

 “I think I would remember whether or not someone was there with us,” I said, “even if we didn’t have the picture.”

This was untrue. I hung lots of photos in my room. A long time would pass before I went to a restaurant again, or a specific coven on one of the beaches, or an outfit that I wore, and I would look into one of my pictures and remember it, and then I would be quite angry with myself that I had almost forgotten that thing forever.

“I don’t think you understand what I mean,” Jude said. I didn’t like the way she’d lowered her voice. She sounded different every time I saw her. She reached out her arm so our photos were side by side and our fingers were almost touching. “I don’t think you want to.”

Ray finds herself alone in the school’s dark room with Jude. Based on the contents of one of her photos, she tries to convince Ray that there is more to the fire than what meets the eye.

CHAPTER: (this one is untitled)

I didn’t mind that he followed me everywhere. Even when he was quiet, I didn’t find it strange to be around him. We sat silently through films and went on walks. Once, he had fallen asleep while watching The Iron Giant in my bed. I didn’t know if I should wake him up once it ended. I tried not to stare at him. He’d rolled onto his side and bundled himself in one of my blankets covered in stars up to his shoulders so only his small face poked out like a baby owl’s. His soft breath messed his dirty gold coils. They were at their longest. Except for the ebbing light from a candle on my desk, my house was asleep – Lonan needed to go home.

For the first time, I wondered if anyone cared where he was.

Another small part of the little friendship narrative! (This really is the part of the story where I get nostalgic for my childhood, isn’t it) Ray starts to discover more about Lonan’s home life in this part of the story, but there’s not much that I think I want to reveal about that for now.

CHAPTER: THE CRUX OF IT

Why did I feel so paranoid? I found myself staring out the window, into the film of blue that the late sun shown onto the grass and trying to remember what summer felt like.

My main problem was that I didn’t know how to talk to Jude unless it was about Sugarfell. I ran from the hush of cigarette smoke behind closing doors and heard her loud voice in conversations. Even though there might have still been a part of me that wanted to be friends with her, I didn’t have much to base that feeling off of. I could have spent hours clicking the little pieces of her that I had together, but the crux of it was that I would never know Jude unless I forced myself to.

For some reason, that really scared me.

I spent all week trying to think of what to say to her. By Friday afternoon, I still had nothing.

I left off writing with Ray actively avoiding Jude’s little investigation into the arsonist. Ray doesn’t want to be involved in this because she feels that it will throw her sense of normalcy off course. She really just wants to learn how to adapt to a life without her best friend. (It doesn’t help that she’s got fresh trauma)

What will Ray decide? I don’t know. We shall see. (just kidding I know)

Sorry this update was longer! I think I would like to start updating more often than once a month just because they would be shorter and those of you reading this won’t forget what happened in the last update. There are thousands and thousands of words that didn’t show up in this update because - like I said - I don’t know whether I want to publish this story ever?? I’ll probably talk more about this in a separate update.

Thank you so much to those of you who read about my story! I hope you enjoy it!

:)

p.s. btw I now have a myWriteClub account! You can check it out here and stalk me as I tragically fail my writing goals!

#ffs writing this update was like throwing a boulder into a lake #there was so much I wanted to share #it's really difficult to decide what to share as sometimes a paragraph that I'm really proud of will be really spoilery #I can only imagine this will be more and more difficult as I get further into the story #ANYWAYS #I feel like I'm really beginning to see who my characters are <3 #I feel like a proud mother #To be honest #I kind of hated Jude in the beginning #but now I feel like Ray hates her too so that makes me like her #haha im so mean #tune in next time for a Sapphic spy date

[mego42]

Shamelessly stealing @foxmagpie​’s monthly rec thing without the ability to get my life together to do these on a monthly basis so, seasonal recs! So excited to see if I manage to do this again with anything remotely resembling consistency but i’ve been keeping the notes for approximately 43 years (or since ~september, whatever that means) so by god i’m gonna use them. 

found my thrill - s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe​

Turner POV!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

guys turner is SO OBSESSED with Beth and Rio

both canonically and in this fic

it’s gr9

also features a weirdly soothing and relatable cord untangling moment as a metaphor

truly disturbingly relatable turner pov tbh

relentless boomer disdain, always a plus

led to the creation of this monstrosity, not sure what kind of a monster would do that

War In My Mind - mintletters16

Backread!!!!

post-213, gorgeous character study 

guaranteed to make you feEl stUfF

I really love the like, cyclical, fractured pattern of Beth’s internal monologue, it gives the whole thing a really affecting at times dreamy, at times haunted vibe

the end twist is *chef’s kiss*

mourning bells - Ejunkiet / @ejunkiet​

Backread!!!!

Later s2 era, Rio’s at a funeral, gets drunk and calls Beth

V short, kind of…..mmm, not sweet, but almost? Idk

It’s got a wistful sort of almost/i can be quiet with you vibe that i go extremely bonkers for

delinquents - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie​

Lol are any of you actually not reading this yet?

g o d ch 8 where do i start

First off how ABSOLUTELY VERY DARE for the tragic angst that is delinquents!beth boland. This poor baby, this precious bean. MUST PROTEC

SHE’S TRYING HER BEST AND I LOVE HER

zero percent deserves dean’s clammy hands, no i have not forgotten, tattooed on my brain, will never forgive

I also love love love love LOVE the ruby/stan subplot happening

(and ruby’s mom!!!!!) (seriously though you write the best moms)

oh god and baby beth starting to have confusing feelings about rio?????? *chef’s kiss*

p sure i was just like, straight screaming the entire end of the chapter

the dugout is like, pure serotonin

I can’t even talk about the closet

tHe teNsiOn

thank you i will take eleventy billion

don't give it a hand, offer it a soul - medievalraven / @medievalraven

am a desperate heaux for any fic that features rio and mick friendship

you are all incredibly shocked i know

still would not be mad if this swerved into rio x mick fake dating but beth x rio is cool too i guess

Speaking of things i am a desperate heaux for: DIANE!!!!!!!!

and DATING ANNIE???????????? Blessed

honestly this fic is worth it purely for the assertion that mick watches queer eye

Why don't we go to Venus? - watermelonriddles / @bensonstablers​

another grief study! 

apparently i was working through some stuff in september, idk, that was like 4 years ago

considering it’s the premise of the fic, i don’t think it’s a spoiler to say this fic is canon divergent and working with the premise that rio killed beth in 302

he is uh, not coping well

extremely haunted you might say

lots of marcus and rhea which is a delight!

rhea is to good for him tbh

i said what i said

truly top notch dream (nightmare?) sequences

the conversation at the end is extremely uncalled for

drop the game - Ejunkiet / @ejunkiet​

Backread!!!!

Am going to die mad Beth and Rio didn’t hook up in 211 but luckily this fic scratched the itch 

(temporarily, it’s a fairly permanent itch)

Bonus rec: missing scene series i wanna do bad things to you featuring 2x02 and 2x04

Viva Voce - zetuslapetus / @querenaxx​

Whoops we woke up married Vegas shenanigans!! 

So cute!!!!! So sexy!!!!! 

What more do you want?

am desperately obsessed with how beth can’t help stalking rio

feels right, feels organic

this makes me feel a lot of stuff about how they could be without their canon garbage between them

🎶 we could’ve had it aaaaaaaaaaall 🎶

you showed me colors (i can't see them with anyone else) - gild_fire / @gild-and-fire​

really into the use of color to illustrate beth’s emotional state, i feel like there’s a word for that but idk what it is

UNIMPORTANT

really nice job capturing beth’s inner vulnerability balanced by her outer stubbornness

am DESPERATELY into Mick playing matchmaker

more please???????

Both Sides of the Law - JoeyLee / @joeyjoeylee​

LAW SCHOOL AU! I suuuuuuper love Beth and Rio here (alt pov!! a gift!!!!) I love how initially prickly they are, I love how it’s evolving into a grudging respect, I love how INCREDIBLY AND HILARIOUSLY OBSESSED WITH EACH OTHER THEY ARE and neither one of them seems to see it

listen I know we’re all already foaming at the mouth over this one but as it’s gonna go down as one of my all time favorites it bears repeating/rereccing

cannot stress enough how masterful the use of POV is here, both voices feel completely true and distinct and I love how the alternating chapters revisit, reveal and emphasize pieces of each other

i can’t talk about this fic without hyperventilating

I LOVE IT SO MUCH YOU GUYS

the slow burn is going to ACTUALLY KILL ME

rip, no regrats

Earned It - wakeupflawless / @wakeupflawless​

spanking

that’s it that’s the pitch

H O T

living for beth’s exit in the first chapter, rio and i are both incredibly into it

second chapter also features violently possessive Rio who cannot deal with anyone messing with his girl so if that’s your thing boy howdy get on it

shake, baby, shake - openhearts

backread!!!!!

according to my bookmarks this was a reread but ???????

must’ve read it in the fugue state that followed reading for a moment we were strangers which is gr9 and I believe I have recced it before. If not, horrible oversight, reccing it now

beth and Rio POV lead up to the bathroom break, beautifully done, low-key feel bad reccing it bc the end point of both chapters makes me want to throw things but it’s super worth it for the tEnsiOn. ENJOY

What the Sea Wants, the Sea Will Have - flashindie / @pynkhues​

I’m assuming all of y’all are already reading this

If not OH MY GOD FIX YOUR LIVES

P I R A T E  A U

I’m sorry maybe you didn’t hear me piRaTE aU

meticulously researched, brain-meltingly vibrant, already painfully sexy slow-burning PIRATE AU

god where to start okay so first off, the world-building here straight up breaks my brain, sophie’s put in the work and it SHOWS

second, the atmosphere. i’m generally a pretty like, vague mental picture sort of reader but the sensory detail here grabs you by the throat and like, forcibly hauls you in whether your brain’s wired that way or no

and hey speaking of throats if you, like me, go a little funny about the knees at the idea of beth holding a knife to rio’s throat (he’s fine, calm down), there’s a v excellent beth-in-a-barrel moment for you

oh christ and the sexy tension

it’s gonna be a race to see which slow burn takes me out first, this or law school

Stunner - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie​

Another high school AU, this time with baby Rio absolutely head over heels for his older sister’s bff

stunner!Rio has an emotional earnestness about him that I feel like delinquents!Rio has already outgrown and it’s so SWEET I can’t get enough

Desperately cute!!!!!!

alL he waNts iS foR beTh tO bE hiS girL

also unreasonably angsty???????

ANN ARBOR IS NOT THAT FAR MEGAN

A Heart's A Heavy Burden - tooshyforthis / @bathroombreaks​

Howl’s Moving Castle AU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love Howl’s!!!!!!!!!!!

perfect opp to roast Rio for being a Dramatique Heaux 

and it’s gonna be 9 chapters?????? H Y P E

author’s note boldly presumes I did not know I needed this AU when the reality is I did in fact know I needed this AU, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to deliver

so blessed

author also claims to not be team nose stud and yet it features prominently in all its magnificent glory

what is the truth dot gif

A Bit of a Stretch - septiembre / @septiembur​

SO????? CUTE?????????

would be on this list for Rio calling Beth E alone tbh

really really really really really love this Rio POV of being settled into a relationship with Beth

It manages to be sweetly domestic af while still holding the edge that makes brio brio which is a neat trick

@septiembur may be a witch

beth’s approach to getting rio to do yoga with her is hilarious and exactly right, canon-typical amounts of subtlety 

1000000/10

Post Break-Up Sex - femalegothic / @bethsuglywigs​

stg this was called Hit Shuffle

no matter

h O T

with a side of damn i’ve made some questionable choices in my life haven’t i introspection

(no regrats tho)

(esp not with this fic)

not the point of the fic by a long shot but i’m also extremely obsessed with Weed Eddie, so real

She drains my soul... she drains it not - niham87 / @niham87​

ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED WITH THIS CONCEPT

am a complete sucker for paranormal world building that satirizes bureaucracy 

Is that a trope? If so that’s my favorite

I did it. I’m picking a single favorite. You know what that is growth dot gif

ANYWAY i love the concept, i love the humor, i love beth instantly clicking with annie

I love her and mick’s sort of grudging professional courtesy

Love beth as a champion of environmental responsibility and all of the underworld being like …...okay??

cannot wait to see where this goes

Nine-Tenths - riosnecktattoo / @riosnecktattoo​

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

sometimes i think about rio putting beth’s hair in a ponytail and have to go lie down

science please explain why this rUinS mE

wait hold on i skipped ahead

HEY KIDS DO YOU LIKE UNBEARABLY CUTE DOMESTIC TENDERNESS

opens with rio sleepily holding beth’s hand to his heart so that’s the kind of thing you’ll be dealing with

uGH theY’RE sO CUTe

idk why precisely but rio adding hair ties to his bracelet collection is my undoing every time

Missed Call - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie​

Rio doesn’t come home from a job when he’s supposed to. Beth (and I!!!!!!!) slowly loses her mind

Truly a masterpiece of rising tension

Will literally never forgive her for calling this light angst

I was SO STRESSED OUT

The first person to point out there was an author’s note at the beginning I obvs didn’t read is getting blocked

crush - foxmagpie / @foxmagpie​

Listen even though this is centered around two OCs, they are OCs FROM a (n iconic) brio fic AND Beth, Ruby and Rio all make cameos (I mean, Rio’s pretty present since he lives in Mar’s mind rent free bc they are THE SWEETEST MOST ADORABLE BEST OF FRIENDS so idk if i’d call it a cameo but whatever)

and even if it didn’t feature any official GG characters I’d still rec is bc that’s mY SON AND this fic is TOO CUTE

I have so many feelings over mar and rio growing up and not knowing how to cope with girls becoming a Thing in their life and how it affects their friendship and mar feeling left behind but (SPOILERS) at the end of the story rio starts feeling that too and it’s so poignant knowing how that’s going to continue in delinquents

while mar may be my son, i also claim elena’s #1 stan status

before you’re like meg you’re only reccing it bc it’s a bday present ask yourselves do i really strike you as the kind of person that wouldn’t be equally obnoxious about this either way?

truly cannot fathom how hard i have fallen for these OCs i don’t normally do that

@foxmagpie is definitely a witch

The Ottoman - Niham87 / @niham87​

look i will be the first to admit that i don’t go near as bonkers over the ottoman line in 308 as y’all do

(don’t get me wrong, i love it!!! I love that he laughs and i love that she’s pleased it just doesn’t hit my lose my whole mind button like idk, the dubby or the 306 convo, idk why)

BUT i v v v much love the context this delightful Rio POV pwp gives it

am also absolutely feral for 209 missing scene fic

and anything that captures the complexity of Rio’s s3 feelings for Beth and how twisted they’ve become

so this scratches a bunch of itches, is what i’m trying to say

Bet On It - zetuslapetus / @querenaxx​

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

That’s what my brain does when I think about Beth and Rio meeting in ch 1

am DESPERATELY OBSESSED WITH the tension between the two of them in this fic

I love how it plays with the ways they have to rely on but don’t trust each other

plus FAKE DATING and BED SHARING (fair warning hasn’t happened yet but the set up is there)

originally supposed to be 2 chapters, already up to 4, prayer circle it goes on forever

do you like drugs (tonight) - s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe​

v important focus on hydration, other fic should take note

extremely about the use of cut to and then flashback to enhance the ‘we were on drugs’ vibe

speaking of, beth and rio absolutely would take ecstasy to prove they are fun bc they are the exact kind of idiots that would peer pressure themselves

so glad beth kept her purse, got a bit stressed there for a second, clutches in that kind of circumstance are A Risk

not that i would know

FLAWLESS USE OF VOICEMAIL TBH

really love the ongoing denial that they are remotely into each other while proceeding to demonstrate how they are in fact, extremely into each other, great vibe

rio dances

I know my brain broke too

mmmm bacon

Navigate A Broken Path - flashindie / @pynkhues​

*INCOHERENT PTERODACTYL SCREECHING*

I have a long standing tradition of getting unreasonably obsessed with side characters so i’m not like, entirely surprised by how obsessed i am with both Mick and Mary Pat but i never in a million years considered them as a ship

AND Y E T

they fit????? so perfectly?????? It’s amazing how she developes them individually enough that i look at them together and think ah yes this makes perfect sense for both characters

and they’re such an amazing foil to Beth and Rio? 

can ships have foils? do i know what a foil is? 

unimportant

GUYS you dON’T uNDERStAN d 

hell i don’t understand

how absolutely very dare you make me care about YET ANOTHER set of gg ‘verse children

do not read this fic if you have no interest in feelings you zero percent asked for

wHA t hAPPeNED iN aLASkA?????????

A Moment’s Silence - femalegothic / @bethsuglywigs​

*makes sign of the cross*

y’all are gonna make me rediscover religion

extremely appreciate the author’s note approach to backstory top notch prioritization

listen it’s basically 3k of beth deep throating rio idk what more you need me to say about it

it is…..good stuff

bless the kinkmeme or fest whatever we’re calling it

praise - civillove / @blainesebastian​

I mean you had me at “three times rio calls beth a good girl and one time he really means it”

ephemeral rio

I left that note for myself in here in the middle of the night and haven’t the foggiest what i was thinking but i stand by it none the less

okay okay i think i know what i meant, this fic (as do all of my fav civillove brio fics) has this sort of like, liminal, in the quiet moments feel to them that makes the moments and feelings somehow feel like i’m catching a glimpse of something secret and precious???

idk i just really like it okay

Heart and Soul - riosnecktattoo / @riosnecktattoo​

oh look more unbearably sweet domestic tenderness, this time to music

thank you ma’am for my life

rio remembers beth used to play piano and gets her one and revoltingly cute shenanigans result

also hilarity

and sexiness

this fic has it all, truly

shout out to mick who sees no reason to keep rio’s feelings to himself

good girls tumblr fic - prettylittlementirosa / @hypermania​​

cheating and reccing a whole series

It’s my list and i can do what i wanna

stop crying about it, it’s four fics and they’re all AMAZING absolutely impossible to pick a fav

truly flawless characterization, next level ability to capture evocative mood, cannot get enough

three’s a crowd: who knew ballroom dancing while dean watches and grinds his teeth could be so sexy 

(trick question everything about that premise sounds A++++ and boy howdy does it live up)

feel it on the way home: rio tries to break up with beth, it goes about as well as you’d expect

(thE angSty tenSioN)

i want to play the game: [from the floor] i’m still not ready to talk about it

(rio/turner, missing scene, 10000000% a taste of what went down in that hotel room)

june after dark: pitch perfect annie pov, really really love the take that Annie is the baby whisperer, can’t fully explain why but it feels incredibly right

(ANNIE X NANCY COULD WORK SO WELL YOU GUYS)

#fingers crossed these links are right i did not double check #i like to live on the edge #truly mind boggling amount of fluff on this list i surprised myself on that one #no i will not at any point get my shit together enough to write out thoughtful commentary this is a shit posting blog first last and always #fic recs #gg fic #nbc good girls #i'll come up with a tag for these if i ever do them again #check back 37 years from now #or ~~~~~~march #whatever that means

[thefanficmonster]

Kick Some Ghost Ass

”Until Dawn Gang x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Sex jokes (excuse my bad humor)

Genre: CRACK, Humor

Summary: It’s one thing when trouble finds this gang, but why don’t we take a look at what happens when they go actively looking for trouble. Needless to say, chaos ensues and no one is spared. Some are more affected than others, and some are dead-ass traumatized, but isn’t that just how life is in general?

Requested by my dearest ever - Until Dawn Anon. Hi lovely! I’ve missed writing your requests and I’m really happy to be back, creating another chaotic fic! I’m sorry it has taken me so long to post it but here it finally is - crazy as ever! I hope you enjoy it! Love you to Blackwood Pines and back baby ❤❤❤

I don’t know how I’ve found myself in this situation but I’m not complaining. If I get to do dumb crazy shenanigans with my crew, I’m ready for just about anything. Not to mention I’m no stranger to ghost hunting. I’m that kid that made DIY Ouija boards and took them to cemeteries with their terrified friends. You should’ve seen us leaving after capturing no ghostly activity - my friends relieved as fuck, and me pissed as fuck.

But today, I’m not expecting nor will I be accepting any disappointment. Especially not with Jess swearing on her Chanel purse that she wasn’t making things up when she said she had a haunted house she wanted us to visit. I must say, I appreciate this group’s enthusiasm when it comes to the paranormal. Never have I had someone who catches my vibe on the subject so well, let alone an entire gang all sharing the same opinion as me - that ghosts, demons and poltergeists are so fucking cool. Sure, Emily took a bit of convincing and Jess is not one to give a shit about the other world creatures invisible to the human eye, but something allegedly happened that changed her mind.

Her a-hundred-and-something-year-old great-grandmother passed away recently and though the death itself didn’t shake Jess up as much as it probably should’ve, the events that followed led to this moment right now - the eleven of us pooling out of two minivans that have pulled up to a terrifying looking house in a wooded are of the suburbs. Jess literally gathered us all on an ‘emergency meeting’ in the courtyard of our college just so she could explain the situation in detail - she doesn’t do well with explaining things in general, let alone when she’s hysterical - so we only understood what she was trying to say when she mentioned the word ‘ghost’. That’s when we all started listening more closely, with the exception of Emily, Beth and Sam but the latter two were intrigued despite trying yo hide it. You can only imagine how excited Josh, Chris and I were, Mike and Matt following a close second behind. Ash was a tiny bit more hesitant but Chris convinced her to give in. And just like that, a week later, here we are.

“I gotta ask, did your great-gran own a VHS player? Or a chest in the attic? Bonus points if there’s a creepy, child-sized doll in there.“ Josh asks as he yanks all the equipment he insisted we bring out of the trunk of the minivan.

“Quit fucking around, Josh! This is serious!“ Jess complains from the spot she’s standing in, shivering in the cold autumn breeze.

“Yeah, Josh! VHS players, creepy dolls, that’s all child’s play.“ I scold him as I pull on my jacket, wrapping it around me more tightly, “Shit gets serious when there’s a secret basement.“

“Y/N!“ Jess shrieks in exasperation. Honesty, how am I supposed to NOT bother her when doing the opposite is so much easier and brings more amusement? “You’re not helping!“

“Wasn’t trying to.“ I wink at her, driving her into a new level of fury that almost leads her to chuck her phone at me. If it weren’t such a prized possession of hers, I’m pretty sure she would’ve chucked it with the intention of knocking me dead. I’m lucky she has the aim of a drunk toddler that spun around fifteen times.

“Hey, quit pissing my girlfriend off, will ya?!“ Mike, who is basically halfway inside the trunk of the other van calls out to us.

I roll my eyes but choose to let it slide. However, someone else doesn’t. Emily does a dramatic turn on her heel, turning to face Mike, or at least the only part of him which is visible. You can imagine how hard it is arguing with an ass like THAT. I don’t know how Emily does it but oh well, I guess I do it too, in a way.

“So it’s girlfriend now, huh? No space between the words?“ Oh that smile she’s flashing him, it could make the Devil himself shiver. I find it kinda hot though - it means shit’s about to go down or hit the fan, either way, the rest of us will be entertained.

Mikey boy straightens up, gracing the rest of us by-standers with his dazzling features. Nah, I’m capping. I honestly think Mike is as attractive as I am patient - very little, almost not at all. It’s surprising how him and Jess are now apparently together since I always pegged her to be the superficial type.

“Got a problem with that, Em?“ He asks, eyebrow raising, head tilting to the side. Oh yeah, it’s on now. But, as someone who’s been quite excited to do some ghost hunting, and also as a representative of the peanut gallery formed of the rest of us who find it amusing and annoying, I feel the need to cut it short before it goes where it shouldn’t. I came to see some exorcist shit, not Keeping Up With The Bitter Exs.

“Jess, I sure hope your grandma is a blood-thirsty ghost cause I can think of at least two people I’d serve to her on a silver platter.“ I snatch the keys the blond has been jingling nervously between her fingers and jog up the stairs to the front door.

Ok I maybe overexaggerated the eeriness of the house. It sure wouldn’t sit right with you if you saw it around sunset or at night, especially not if it’s foggy, but a horror movie house it is most certainly isn’t. It’s pristine and well kept, not a single crack in the walls, the only reason it’s unsettling is because: 1) We’ve all seen a few too many horror movies; 2) There’s been reports of ‘ghostly activity’ - as far as Jess is to be trusted.

While I’m surfing through all the keys, checking each and every single one of them on the door because the real key is unmarked, I can’t help but overhear the conversation going on behind me on the porch.

“Can you believe we got all this in a single day and for a discount on top of all?! Whoever says Craigslist sucks isn’t doing it right.“ Chris’ enthusiasm over the deal him and Josh got on the ghost hunting equipment has been what’s keeping a wide grin on his face this whole time. Though I’m proud of my boys for not getting murdered by the Craigslist seller, I must say I hate that I lost the bet we had - I had to pay them each ten bucks if they didn’t get scammed/kidnapped/murdered and I’m now twenty bucks poorer. I’m not saying I value those twenty bucks more than my friends, though my broke ass needs all the bucks it has and all the dollar bills it could get, but Lord knows I hate losing.

“Yeah, and the guy was only mildly sketchy.“ Josh adds just as excitedly and proudly, “To be honest, Cochise and I were probably the scary looking ones in that parking lot.“

A look over my shoulder shows the twins, Sam, Matt and Ash giving the duo skeptical and somewhat disappointing looks and shakes of their heads. I’ll admit, the equipment is in very good condition and it’s the complete set for ghost-hunting, according to BuzzFeed at least. I’m impressed with the purchase - probably had something to do with how scary Chris and Josh actually look. The all-nighters we’ve all been pulling lately have taken a toll on them worst with the dark circles and bags under their hollow eyes, pale faces and brains turned to mush. I know I’d give them a discount to avoid them pulling out meat cleavers on me.

“That’s all fine and dandy guys, but do you know how to work any of this?“ Sam asks, hesitantly lifting the EMF reader and turning it in her hand, analyzing it with a curious gaze. 

Josh and Chris exchange a look before the former replies, “Just the cameras and voice recorder, the rest falls on them.” He points a finger at me and laughs, “Though they aren’t able to work something as simple as keys, they are more than qualified to be a ghostbuster.”

“You know, Josh, jokes on you, I can work keys! Jess, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be able to work well with organizing things, hence my problem with these keys.“ I hurl the bunch of keys connected my a scarlet keychain at Josh, “Lemme demonstrate my true skills.“ I hop down the flight of stone stairs and approach the pile of equipment the guys have created smack-dab in the middle of the house’s driveway. 

“Oh, I gotta see this!” Mr. Ex-Class-President all but runs over, frowning when we all turn to look at him just as I pick up the spirit box to show off how it works, “Oh that’s what you meant. So you aren’t taking your clothes off?“

Jess and I are alike in one thing - the need we feel to chuck objects at people who piss us off. “You’re girlfriend is, like, right behind you, Munroe. Have some decency!”

“I was gonna enjoy a show as well, but I’m guessing we won’t be getting one.“ The girlfriend in question replies, looking at me quizzically as though that’s gonna convince me into discarding my outfit.

“No, unless you’re a ghost.“ I point the device I’m holding at Mike, “But if your boyfriend here keeps acting up I might turn him into one.“

“That sounds kinda kinky.“ Beth’s comment surprises me. The wink she sends me even more so. “And I kinda like it.“

Ok, ok, ok, hold on. 

Flirting with Munroe is one thing, but Beth is a completely different story. I can be threatening Mike with a knife one moment and cracking sex jokes with him over cold beer the next. While Beth actually has the ability to get me flustered and blushing, and my close relationship with her brother doesn’t help. Mother fucker can just whack me upside the head every time he catches me fussing over my silly crush on his sister.

“Ew, you too! Keep it in your pants or at least get a room.“ Emily doesn’t miss a beat when it comes to being herself. She’s truly a garbage bin full of treasure.

“We’d do the latter if SOMEONE could get the door open.” I glare daggers at Josh who is making hopeless attempts at what I was doing earlier - unlocking that damn door.

“I’d be more than happy to come through for you ladies.“ Mike says, getting in a stance of a runner before a race, his body directly opposite the door.

Oh I can’t wait to see where this is going. I SHOULD RECORD IT.

“Mike, it’s still breaking and entering and it’s still against the law even if the person’s dead.“ Sam points out, entering her mother-like mode, ruining the fun and causing me to pout at her. She gives me a look of disappointment - one worse than I’ve ever seen on my parents - so I just shut my trap before she can also express said disappointment through words and have me feeling guilty for the rest of the day.

A loud crash suddenly echoes causing us to turn our heads to look for the source of the terrifyingly startling sound. One glance is all it takes to put our minds at ease and a second one is enough to provoke different reactions in all of us - the broken window telling the story of where Josh has disappeared.

“What did I just say about breaking and entering?!“ Sam shouts after him while the vast majority of us are cracking up like hyaenas. Jess is just gaping at the broken window next to the front door in disbelief. She obviously can’t decide whether to join in on the fun or serve as back-up to Sam. Josh did technically damage private property that’s partially hers, but if you ask me it serves her right for not marking her keys.

“Sorry, I was too busy breaking the window to hear that part of the conversation!“ Josh’s apologetic smile appears on the other side of glassless frame. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely sorry or holding back laughter but either way, he looks innocent enough for Sam to let him off the hook as long as he doesn’t cause any more trouble - in which case: tough luck. Chris, Josh and I are nothing if not troublemakers, especially when we’re together. Chris tones it down when Ash’s around, and the same goes for Josh with Sam while I’m simply problematic regardless of who’s watching. My chaos is untamable, it’s a blessing and a curse and I love it, even though it’s landed me in hot water more than once. It’s nice to be around people on the same wavelength - chaos resides within this group and not a single one of us can hide it.

“At least we have a way in now.“ Ash offers Josh a helping hand in this argument after she recovers from the overwhelming fit of laughter. “I hope the broken window doesn’t anger your gran, Jess.“

The blond snaps out of her trance briefly, “No, she was a very sweet lady, but damn is Josh creative!” She hurries to correct herself, “Destructively creative.”

I hurry to correct her once again, “Chaotically creative.”

“Guys, do you mind coming in? It’s very creepy standing here alone!“ Josh calls out to us, looking over his shoulder at the interior of the house, “I’m expecting to be snatched and dragged to that secret basement we mentioned.“

“Mention it one more time and I swear to God-!“ Jess screams, fists tightened.

Before her angry wrath could crash atop us, we all make our way into the house through the broken window, carefully avoiding the shards of glass strewn about. One step inside and we’re met with the upmost of horror clichés - a drop in temperature. We’re all wearing thick hoodies because the weather outside is chilly in and of itself, but said hoodies aren’t as efficient at holding the house’s cold at bay and away from out skin.

Chris and Matt make their way in last, carrying the equipment consisting of three cameras, flashlights for everyone, an EMF reader, a spirit voice box, a voice recorder and a motion detector. I help them hand a light to each group member as well as a ghost-hunting device before we venture onward.

“If I were your grandma’s ghost, I’d be ten times more pissed about that window. It looks to me like that lady payed a lot of attention to keeping things in order.“ Matt comments while he examines the expensive looking painting hanging in the hallway.

I hear Emily scoff, “Unlike some.” but the remark is said so quickly and quietly I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who heard it.

Jess laughs, “She did like things in order, but she was never as strict as you might think. As I said, she was very sweet.“

“So do you just not take after her at all or were you adopted?“ Emily’s remarks are no longer a mumbled jumble of words, “No, nevermind, of course you’re not adopted. Your parents are smart people, they wouldn’t have chosen you if they had the chance.“

Jess laughs again, much more menacingly this time, causing me to exchange a look with Hannah who’s walking beside me. “Twenty bucks says one of them isn’t making it out of here.” It’s just a matter of time, to be honest. If not the lodge, or any party we’ve ever attended as a group, this haunted house is the perfect opportunity for a murder. We could even argue it was a ghost.

Luckily, the two cats clawing at each other’s throats don’t overhear, “No, my parents aren’t stupid, but your boyfriend clearly is. He chooses to date you! Or are you holding him captive or something.“

Ok that’s enough. I can tolerate a lot of things, but people calling one of my best friends stupid is not something I’m about to put up with, “How dare you call one of my hoes stupid?” I sneer at Jess, eyes narrowing.

“I thought I was your hoe too!“ She fights back, looking almost offended.

“Even more reason you shouldn’t have called him that! I don’t tolerate my hoes not respecting each other.“ 

I don’t get to see where this argument goes because Ashley’s shriek echoes throughout the hallway, stealing mine as well as the attention of everyone else. 

“There’s a ghost in here!“ Making it to the doorway of the room she’s in first, I peak my head inside and see the EMF reader she’s holding going nuts as if it’s detected something.

“Don’t worry, Ash, there’s a dead cactus here. That’s not the ghost we’re looking for, is it?“ Chris, my amazingly bright friend says, quirking an eyebrow suggesting that remark was nothing short of dead-ass serious.

“Chris, darling, that’s not how it works. Cactuses are plants.“ I point out as sweetly as I can as to mask my laughter.

“Don’t the same ghostly rules apply?“ The genuine look of confusion he gives me almost makes me lose it.

“Ok children, leave the room, we need to set up a motion detector to be sure.“ Beth says with a tone that suggests she’s more than over our insanity. Jeez, count on her and Sam to start parenting us through our chaos. They are of high authority, must admit - one genuinely feels bad if they don’t comply to whatever these two girls demand.

We all pile out in the hallway while the twins set up this interesting motion detector with green dots. I don’t know what Jess’ granny looked like, but I bet that even the most unattractive of people would look hella good with this lighting. Thankfully the room is dark enough with the shutters closed and the curtains drawn, allowing the dots to be perfectly visible.

We stare at the minimalistic room littered with fluorescent green dots on every surface for maybe a minute or two but not much happens to the disappointment to some and relief to others. However, as if not wanting to let us down, the ghost makes a shy appearance if the shift of the green dots is anything to go by.

“Oh shit, is that a ghost?“ Chris whispers, sounding as amazed as I feel in this moment.

“It better be.“ I mutter in response, refusing to blink and risk missing anything important.

The sudden presence of the obnoxious noise of the spirit voice box makes us all jump. As I turn my head to glare at whoever’s using it, Josh speaks up. “Are you an attractive ghost?”

“Josh, that’s my great-grandmother, you ass!“ Jess barks with disgust in her voice.

In the meantime, I catch glimpse of Mike rolling up his sleeves. Oh shit, this ain’t good.

“I’ve been waiting for this!“ He shouts victoriously, cracking his knuckles.

Knowing this won’t end well, the first thing I do is snatch the camera from Chris’ hands and turn it on.

“Um, Mike, what do you mean?“ Sam’s back to being concerned, turning to the rest of us when Mike doesn’t give her a response, “What’s he gonna do?“

“Fight it.“ I answer as though it’s the most normal thing to ever have been done, “Or, ash he calls it - kick some ghost ass.“

“A freaking ghost?! He’s gonna try to tussle with something he can’t see?“ I can’t tell if Matt’s tone is disbelief, amusement or disappointment, but I believe he isn’t about to try and stop or dear ex-president in his pursuit and that’s all that matters. I ain’t about to let someone stop whatever’s about to go down from going down.

“That’s still my great-grandmother, you dumbass!“ Jess shrieks with something alike terror.

“Don’t worry Jess, I’m sure she’ll go easy on him.“ I say in an attempt to reassure her but I can’t even be bothered really, I’m too laser-focused on the circus that’s about to take place in front of me.

Mike, as if encouraged by my words, charges into the room. Much to his dismay, before he could even reach the ghost, he’s met with a much more vigorous enemy - the carpet. The rascal trips him up and Mr. Munroe falls flat on his face.

The group stays silent, looking at the glorious aftermath of the glorious fall. Told ya these lights could make everything fabulous. Must say, it’s truly an honor for me to have been able to catch all that on tape.

“10/10, would ghost-hunt with Mikey Munroe again.“

#until dawn #until #dawn #the dark pictures #the dark pictures little hope #the dark pictures man of medan #the dark pictures anthology #the dark pictures house of ashes #dark pictures little hope #dark pictures anthology #little hope #man of medan #supermassive #supermassive games #video games #video game fanfic #mike #sam #chris #josh #jessica #ashley #matt #emily #sam giddings #josh washington #chris hartley #ashley brown #mike munroe #jessica riley

[sir-elyan]

Catalysts & Changes: a 15x16 Meta

I wanted to talk really quickly about Dean’s change this season, especially regarding 15x16.

My main focus of this meta is to talk about Mary’s impact on Dean being the catalyst for this change we’ve been seeing, but I’m also going to be mentioning some Cas/destiel things to tie into this. So, here we go:

I. Mary as Catalyst & Myth

Mary is Dean’s reason. By that I mean that literally the whole reason Dean hunts--or, rather, continues to hunt, since John honestly forced it on him--was all in the hopes of catching what killed Mary. That was the main purpose of season 1, other than finding John. This is Dean’s motivation, his basis as a character. 

Dean has also mentioned on multiple occasions that Mary was why he was brave, why he kept fighting, and that he often thought about her. 

Dean: I was scared, too. I didn’t feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom...I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day (1.03 Dead in the Water)

Remember this quote, because I think it’s eerily similar to the one in 15.16 that I’ll talk about later in this post.

This makes sense--she’s his mom, he should be affected in some way about her death. But Dean takes it to the extreme, based his life around it, held on to it for far too long. Sam was different, because he never actually knew Mary, and we know from earlier seasons that their feelings about her are pretty different. 

Meanwhile, almost any time Dean has dreamt of something ideal, Mary was there (think of his djinn dream in 2.20 where Mary never died, and in heaven in 5.16). We can especially see that this is true because of what Amara said in Gimme Shelter:

Dean: What was the point?

Amara: I wanted two things for you, Dean. I wanted you to see that your mother was just a person. That the myth you’d held onto for so long of a better life, a life where she’d lived, was just that: a myth. I wanted you to see that the real, complicated Mary, was better than your childhood dream because she was real. That now is always better than then. That you could finally start to accept your life. (15.15 Gimme Shelter)

Here, Amara was anticipating a turning point. She had wanted Dean to be “released” by having Mary back, but obviously this didn’t happen. Instead, Mary’s death was once again the catalyst for Dean’s change, just like it was the first time when Azazel killed her. We can also see from this that Dean has always been stuck in the past, hence Amara telling him that he should be focusing on now, instead. Another thing to note for future reference is the “real” line. Remember Cas saying “we are” when Dean asks him what is real.

Mary was also not exactly what Sam or Dean--hell, not even the viewers--had been expecting when she returned. She was scared, alone, and had trouble dealing with being back in a new century with her little boys all grown up and even worse-- hunting. But Dean eventually accepted this. He accepted the real version of Mary, but continued to idolize her and bring up the past.

II. Mary’s Death

Now let’s take a look at what’s happened since Mary’s second death:

Denial. Dean hopes Mary isn’t actually dead, even though all signs point to this.

Grief. Dean cries alone at the site of her death.

Blame. Dean blames Jack and Cas for what happened. 

During and after the funeral, Dean avoids talking about it with anyone. However, he is obviously affected by her death. Sam even holds Cas back from going to Dean while burning the pyre. Bobby makes a comment about Dean being a lot like him and not wanting to show his feelings to others.

These all sound like the Dean that’s been built up since season 1. Not dealing with his feelings properly at all, pushing people away, denial. The one thing that makes this time different from other deaths, though, is that--just like the first time Mary died--there's no body to bring back. It's implied in 14.19 that if there had been, Dean would have tried, because he even tells Sam:

Note: This is also an episode where we see Jack being a mirror for Dean by doing exactly that--doing everything in his power to try to bring Mary back by himself. It doesn’t work; Mary’s gone for good. And she’s happy--she’s in heaven! 

In addition to there not being a body, Dean also knows who did it. It's not some unidentifiable yellow-eyed demon that he can spend years tracking down, it's Jack. It's his son, it's someone he can't and won't kill, because he's family, even if he’s guilty. So Dean has no outlet for his rage except to put blame on not only Jack, but Cas (specifically in 15.03 The Rupture, Jack is dead at this point and he pushes Cas away for several episodes). And here is where Dean begins to change.

III. The Shift: Anger, Apologies, and Forgiveness

Because then, in 15.09 The Trap, there is a big, significant shift. Dean forgives Cas:

Dean: You’re my best friend, but I just let you go. ‘Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong. 

He cries, looks around, and gets on his knees.

Dean: I don’t know why I get so angry. I just know-I just know that it’s just always been there. And when things go bad, it just-it comes out. And I can’t- I can’t stop it. No matter how--how bad I want to, I just can’t stop it. And I forgive you, of course I forgive you. I’m sorry it took me so long to...I’m sorry it took me ‘til now to say it.  (15.09 The Trap)

This is an incredibly important scene because it shows that Dean knows about his anger--the anger that Amara talks about in 15x15, and he wants to stop it. 

Amara: I thought having [Mary] back would release you...put that fire out. Your anger. But I guess we both know I failed at that.

Dean: You’re damn right.  (15.15 Gimme Shelter)

After this, Dean clarifies that he’s not only angry, but furious. This is change, this is change caused directly by Mary’s death--by Amara bringing her back again. Dean might say he is furious, but he has also said before that he wants to stop his anger. And, in many ways, he’s been taking steps towards doing that: 

For example, here in 15.09 when Dean forgives Cas, (gif credit)

and here in 15.14 when he tells Jack he’s trying to forgive him for killing Mary, (gif credit)

and again in 15.16 for not telling Sam and Caitlin about the dead bodies when they were younger (gif credit)

and most recently, at the end of 15.16, when he didn’t tell Sam about Jack dying. (gif credit)

So now we’ve taken the turn towards forgiveness. Dean has been handing out apologies and forgiveness like never before this season, which is a definite change to how it used to be with him. He’s opening up, and he is trying to do better and be better than before. Billie also tells him this at the diner:

(gif credit)

I’m inclined here to believe that Dean is on that road to forgiveness with Jack. I mean, he said it himself in 15.14 that he’s trying, and Cas also vouched for him when Jack asked if forgiveness from Dean was a possibility. So in 15.16, when Dean says they have “no choice” but to let Jack die, it’s not because it doesn’t haunt him. It clearly does, with the entire episode dealing with Dean coping with the deaths of children, even his brother. He doesn’t want Jack to die, but his anger, his fury towards Chuck is taking precedence over that. It’s something he wants to change, but feels like he has no choice in the matter.

To add on to this, Jack has been a clear mirror for Dean this entire season. Dean’s argument with Sam about them having no choice is an indication of this. Just an episode prior in 15.15, Jack told Cas that the choice wasn’t his whether or not Jack died. So the pair ups in 15.17 aren’t all that surprising. With the episode being titled “Unity,” I think that the four of them will reach an agreement by the end of the episode (I keep mentioning agreements in all of my metas, because I think Chuck/Amara and Sam/Eileen’s agreement had important implications, but alas...), and be unified in a new plan to defeat Chuck. 

As for Dean? I don’t think his ending is going to be expected. He is changing--he won’t be making the same decisions he used to make in earlier seasons. 

I also find it fascinating that they made 15.16 a flashback episode to their past as children. Not only did 15.16 show us Dean being annoyed by sex, ignoring a possible love interest (which we were right as an audience to assume it would be written that way, because it has been so many times before), and how he’s dealing with the prospect of Jack’s death (with all of the imagery of dead children), but it really brought to light how much Dean has changed. 

The most obvious way they showed us this was through this scene with Caitlin (who looks eerily like a young Mary...interesting), who says this:

(gif credit)

Dean: Always am.

Caitlin: You have changed. The old you never would have admitted that.

Dean: Well, I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

Caitlin: I think so. What do they say about getting older? You tell the truth more because lies...they don’t make anything better. (15.16 Drag Me Away (From You)) 

Now, ignoring the fact that Dean has admitted this (in 1.03), we know that the only time he has admitted to being scared before was in relation to Mary. But I think what the writers were going for here was not only to highlight Dean’s recent character growth by admitting to Caitlin that he’s changed, but also the running theme of lying this season. I’ve said it before that Sam has been the only one telling the truth in s15, and I think it’ll eventually come into play during the final episodes. The truth/lies aspect will become a central plot point--I mean, it already is. But I think it’ll factor into how the show will end as a whole, especially with this episode and previous ones alluding to normalcy and the possibility of it for Sam. 

I’m going to finish this here, because I’ve dragged on too long, but some other (destiel) things to note are:

Dean falling to his knees in the hallway as a parallel to falling on his knees in Purgatory, praying to Cas, apologizing.

Dean cutting off Baba Yaga’s fingers, whereas Cas restored a woman’s fingers in 15x15. The pastor telling Cas that people are god’s hands; they lift each other up with each finger. The implications of Dean cutting people off, and Cas bringing people together.

another amazing meta regarding 15.16 and another about dean changing + 15.16

#i have literally spent HOURS on this #im so sorry it's so long oh my god #supernatural meta #rambleoncas meta #spn 15x16 #spn spoilers #spn #supernatural #destiel #dean winchester #roc original #my post

[stuckwith-harry]

hm im striking no inspo for literally anything to say but here’s a v average prompt .. hbp harry flirting w ginny and being all nervous piney boy abt it

i’m aware that you requested this like 7 months ago and i’m aware that you’re aware that i’m aware of that. what you aren’t aware of is that i’m posting it right this second because we’re currently all yelling about music in the groupchat. well you and mina are yelling, i’m being suspiciously quiet right now. anyway. surprise! it’s here!

i made a fumbling play for your heart (and the act struck a spark)

I remember we broke into laughter

when we saw each other. What was between

us wasn’t a fragile thing to be coddled, cooed

over. It came out fully formed, ready to run.

Ada Limón, “What I Didn’t Know Before”

He should’ve put the pieces together sooner, because when he woke up she was already there, everywhere, didn’t creep up on him so much as he turned around one day and found he already loved her. Even in Slughorn’s cool, shadowy dungeon it felt like summer more than anything, full-bellied laughter, warm and thundering and pushing through damp earth towards oxygen, the flowery scent, and Ginny that same afternoon, bringing it back to him, her fiery hair catching the sunlight falling through the common room windows. There, too, that flowery scent that would go on to haunt him so soon.

You didn’t know, then?, Harry wants to shout at the boy from that afternoon. How could you not know?

*

This is the beginning and the end of everything: a Saturday afternoon spent shooting through the air like a box of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes’ finest pyrotechnics let loose over the Quidditch pitch. By the time Harry’s team hits the ground again, seven pairs of knees buckling under the force of the landing, the sky overhead is flushed and the air vibrating with potential.

“Look out!”

Harry tears his eyes away from her too late and grunts as the Quaffle she’s thrown finds its goal with a dull thud. Ginny claps a hand over her mouth and comes running towards him, half laughing, half mortified, her Quidditch robes fluttering loudly around her as she jogs across the grassy pitch and thunders to a halt in front of him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”, she says and swiftly places her warm hands on either side of his face, examining his cheek, which is rapidly flushing red where the Quaffle made contact. Harry’s stomach drops as she pulls his face towards her, biting her lip.

“I-It’s okay”, he tells her. “I was distracted.”

Ginny gently turns his chin to get a better look at his bruise. Harry can feel her warm breath on his face, can see the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, the crease between her eyebrows.

“What d’you reckon?”, he asks her, inexplicably out of breath. “Am I finally gonna look cool and daredevilish?”

Ginny breaks into a reluctant grin – Harry feels a rush of pride and relief at her chuckle and the crinkled back of her nose, something eager and insistent that threatens to knock him off his feet.

“’fraid so”, she tells him, as he grins back at her. “I mean, I like your particular shade of goofy, but …”

She lets go of him, a terrible bereavement, and picks up the Quaffle lying in the grass between them, forgotten.

“I meant for you to catch this, anyway. C’mon, Captain, let’s get changed.”

Harry watches her ponytail swing from view, his heart drumming wildly behind his ribcage, his head spinning. He makes a mental note he’s been underestimating Ginny’s throw arm.

You didn’t know, then? How could you not know?

*

“What happened to you?”, Hermione gasps when they come climbing through the portrait hole together, a thoroughly dismal-looking Ron following close behind.

“I gave him a shiner”, Ginny says with an apologetic grimace in Harry’s direction.

“I don’t mind”, Harry assures them, and weirdly doesn’t. He grins back at her, heart drumming in his chest. “We’ve decided it helps the bad boy image.”

Ginny looks at him over her shoulder as she walks across the common room and falls sideways on an armchair, legs dangling off one side.

“If that consoles you. It suits you, anyway”, she says, considering him with a smirk.

“Well, I trust your opinion”, Harry smiles.

Still, there is that bewildering urge to keep talking, and still, the drums in his chest are swelling, and when Hermione jumps up to take a look at his cheek, Harry tells himself it’s stupid to find it annoying but can’t quite manage to convince himself. Out of the corner of his good eye, he watches as Ginny curls up in her armchair, the last of the sunset warming her already flushed face.

He finally drops on the scarlet sofa in front of the fireplace, cramped between Ron and Hermione, the left side of his face throbbing unpleasantly. When he catches Ginny’s eye, she grins at him, warm and blazing in the half-dark of the common room, and a similarly golden afternoon comes rushing back to him: Slughorn’s dungeon, and then Ginny, brand-new and startling even in all the ways he’s grown to know her, that haunting, flowery scent, and all the time he’s let pass since then, all those months spent exchanging jokes like secret handshakes, all those times his heartbeat quickens when he makes her laugh.

Can’t you tell? Can’t you hear the drums?

Harry grins back at her. Some inexplicable, new warmth unfurls in his chest, some strange wild joy. He’s going to spend all of this summer submerged in it, all those stolen afternoons on the sunlit castle grounds, those weeks he’s going to learn that he has never felt more extraordinary than when he was at his most ordinary.

You didn’t know, then? How could you not know?

*

“You look better!”, she tells him a week later, when she catches him in a hallway before class, the pads of her fingers gently tracing the place where the thin frames of his glasses meet his cheek, where his bruise has faded to purple and yellow, his skin slowly turning back into its usual brown.

Harry stands breathlessly as her fingers slide gently down to his jaw, her face inches from his.

“You know, I really underestimated your throw arm”, he tells her wildly. “It’s quite vicious.”

“Harry”, she tells him sincerely, her warm hand still on his jaw, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“All this time I should’ve been afraid of you, and I didn’t even realise.”

“I could kiss you”, she says, beaming. Harry’s heart performs something like a triple backflip with a spin and falls flat on its face.

When he fails to answer, she frowns, though a mischievous glint remains in her eyes. “I didn’t give you a concussion, did I?”

“No, no, I’m fine”, he says quickly. “I can hardly feel it anymore.”

“Right, then”, she says brightly and lets go of him. Harry watches her walk away, fiercely wishing he had a concussion.

“Terrified”, he calls after her, with a mighty leap of courage, his mouth seeming to act on its own accord. Maybe he has a concussion after all, he thinks, his heart wildly drumming in his throat.

Ginny turns and looks at him – it feels like stepping into the summer sun. Harry looks back at her, frozen in place.

Have you figured it out yet? Can you hear the drums?

Finally, she grins, face half-quizzical, half-amused, giving way to something quiet and knowing.

“Right”, she says, then: “I’ll see you around, Harry”, and it sounds like a promise.

#on god this boy is so dumb and i love him #hinny #fanfiction #harry potter #hp fanfic #smallfern #emi tag

[kexing]

Venji has always been endgame: Benji’s attraction to Victor

the first thing I really need people to understand is that Benji is not watching the show, he’s not seeing things through Victor’s point of view, and for the most part of the season he has no idea Victor is struggling with his sexuality. from Benji’s point of view, Victor is straight and into Mia. that’s how I’m going to be analyzing his thoughts and actions (well, guessing mostly because he does lack screen time and insight moments. hopefully we’ll get more of him in season two!!)

btw I’m gonna break it down episode by episode because I’m insane (and I also feel strangely connected to Benji so don’t @ me)

Episode 1 - Welcome to Creekwood

as I’ve mentioned before, you can interpret Benji’s “nice shoes!” line as interest. but even if you’re not willing to do that, I still think it’s valid to consider that he might’ve felt some kind of immediate connection to Victor (if episodes 2 and 3 are any indication of that. and the Call Me Maybe lyrics).

Episode 2 - Stoplight Party

the “Benji attempts to teach Victor how to make a espresso” scene is very much about Victor’s attraction to Benji so I don’t wanna look too much into it. also Benji comes off as (at least for me!) a very attentive and loving person, so his dedication to teaching Victor felt very genuine. but still like...... he did get lost in Victor’s eyes for a moment before the milk spilled akdjksdjjs

then at the end of the episode Benji calls Victor late at night (he even apologizes for that) when he could’ve called Victor at any other time or could’ve just told him at school. and well, (I may be reaching here but headcanons are always good!!) I like to believe Benji couldn’t stop thinking about Victor, which is why he decided to call. for some unknown reason he already feels connected to Victor and wanted to hear his voice and—

let me stop here before I write a whole fanfic because that’s not the purpose of this post.

Episode 3 - Battle of the Bands

oh boy, I’m gonna try to unpack this episode, hopefully I’ll make some sense. I’m very sorry if I fail!

so, Victor and Benji have the Call Me Maybe (cutest) moment, in which Victor tells Benji that he’s going on a date with Mia the next day.

Now. I need you to remember that Victor explicitly told Benji that he and Mia wouldn’t go to the Battle of the Bands and that Benji had already performed when Victor got there and only performed again because his band won the battle (so I’m pretty sure Victor wasn’t supposed to hear the Call Me Maybe cover). therefore this wasn’t Benji confessing his feelings to Victor. if anything, I believe it was his way of dealing with the intense and ever-growing feelings that he has for Victor through his biggest passion (music), pretty much like making a reference to something that you know no one else will understand (since for everyone else it’s just a Carly Rae Jepsen bop).

but then Victor eventually shows up and hears Benji singing Call Me Maybe and for him it’s definitely not just a Carly Rae Jepsen bop anymore. it’s their song

after the performance, it looks like Benji is going to talk to him about it, maybe to try and make it seem like it’s no big deal (since he thinks Victor is into Mia, and he himself is in a long term relationship) but Derek appears and we’re all left heartbroken (Simon & his friends included).

what I’m trying to say is: they are two halves of the same idiot. while Victor is in denial of his sexuality and attraction to Benji, Benji is in denial of his growing feelings for Victor. we love this denial duo

Episode 4 - The Truth Hurts

not much to say about this one BUT. at the beginning of the episode you can see how Victor and Benji are working totally in sync, to the point where they barely need words like the freaking soulmates that they are. honestly, I’m done pretending they aren’t soulmates because this show just kept shoving that into our faces over and over and if you failed to see it then it’s not my problem (or maybe it is since I’m literally spending my time trying to explain exactly that. but I just care too much about these two and I want people to understand why).

then Derek calls and Benji picks up lovingly because he’s a loving person and a caring boyfriend and even though he might be struggling with his feelings for Victor, he’s not about to neglect his boyfriend (shame we can’t say the same thing about Derek) (no I will not stop throwing shade at him).

Episode 5 - Sweet Sixteen

I could try and say several things about this one but for real, BENJI DREW VICTOR AND GAVE HIM THE DRAWING AS A BIRTHDAY GIFT. like! this stupidly artistic boy!!!!!!!!! this stupidly caring boy!!!!!!!!! he could’ve bought Victor literally anything or not even bothered to think of a gift At All, but he took the time to DRAW VICTOR LIKE ONE OF HIS FRENCH BOYS!!!!! what am I supposed to do with this knowledge!!!!

now I’m imagining Benji observing Victor. the way the light hits his face, how his shoulders move, the shape of his hands....... all the while telling himself it’s just to draw Victor!!!!! but that’s still beautiful and frankly thirsty nonetheless.

p.s I was robbed of a scene like that.

Episode 6 - Creekwood Nights

not much to say about this one except the show blatantly telling us that Derek can be real shitty sometimes. also, I wanna talk about Venji’s dynamics throughout the show so bad but it deserves a post of its own so I’m gonna hold my tongue.

Episode 7 - What Happens In Willacoochee

(stays in Willacoochee or maybe it will haunt your gay ass all the way to New York).

oh boy, this is where shit starts going down for real.

so Victor kisses Benji. I’m not going to defend Victor because what he did was reckless and dumb and frankly disrespectful. but I need to say that it was going to happen sooner or later because when you repress something too hard and for too long, it’s bound to come back with full force and explode in your face. I really wish it was in a different circumstance, of course, but also life isn’t always made of perfect situations and shit happens. (and nope, that does not excuse Victor’s actions).

now think about Benji. he’s been struggling with his feelings for Victor, who as far as he knows is straight and in a relationship, and then suddenly Victor kisses him. my best guess (due to his reaction to Victor’s speech in episode 10) is that he thinks Victor isn’t being serious about it, that in no moment that kiss meant anything but curiosity and recklessness, when they both have people to lose (again, he doesn’t know that Victor struggles with his sexuality, much less that Victor has feelings for him).

so yeah, I believe Benji was upset, not only with Victor though, but with himself.

(I’ll come back to this in a second)

no Benji in episode 8 so.......

Episode 9 - Who The Hell Is B

Benji decides to leave the coffee shop. Victor tells him that the kiss wasn’t his fault and Benji says that being around Victor makes him feel guilty, now why is that?

firstly because he’s not a psychopath and the fact that he cheated on Derek makes him feel guilty. but I do believe that that’s not the only thing that makes him feel guilty. deep down he liked kissing Victor. he likes Victor, he’s been doing his best to keep that buried but Victor had to go and complicate things, so now the only way to avoid making a bigger mess is staying as far away as possible from each other. so he runs back to the safety of his relationship with Derek.

(listen, I know the show makes it seem like Benji is super angry and wants nothing to do with Victor but I don’t believe that’s the case. he’s upset and feeling guilty for liking someone else, denial does make you act very hostile sometimes).

Episode 10 - Spring Fling

Benji’s denial continues but (thankfully) it won’t last much longer.

he goes to the bathroom and tells Victor that he’s read his letter and that he does forgive him for kissing him but that that doesn’t change anything, that it’s best for them to stay away from each other.

that’s until he hears Victor’s speech to Derek (which was more to Benji than Derek so). that’s the moment he realizes that Victor actually likes him, that the kiss as cursed as it was had meant something, that they both feel exactly the same thing. that’s what gives him courage to finally accept that he can’t be with Derek anymore because his heart belongs to someone else. (has belonged to Victor from the moment they met) akdjskdjsj someone please tell me to shut up

which leads us to the bench kiss(es) scene. now, these boys are a whole mess because Victor was still technically dating Mia (he did try to come out to her before, couldn’t do it so he decided to come out after the Spring Fling) (good intention, poor execution).

But I also believe this was just lazy writing and they wanted to have a scene where Mia catches Victor and Benji together. it could’ve been done better, they could’ve been just touching foreheads or something but they wanted the full drama so the kiss(es) happened. I’m taking 50 points away from the writers for this. (also does not excuse Victor or Benji since they literally met halfway. these idiots are so in love wtf!)

(I still love them though, and hope they do better in the future, for themselves and for each other).

anyway, I think that’s it! if you read up until this point: thank you so much!!!! I tried my best to understand and explain Benji since the show said fuck Benji stans. hope this helps!

— love, MJ

#lost all my brain cells writing this #love victor #venji #victor x benji #victor salazar #benji campbell #mj talks

[jaskiersvalley]

I just read your whole blog and your writing is amazing. 😍

Your name cropping up in my notes always makes me smile. It warms my little heart to know people come back for more! Thank you for being so sweet and reaching out with kind words as well as the likes on posts! Have a small ficlet as a token of my gratitude.

Life, Jaskier mused, had a way of working out. Things happened or didn’t happen because something better was around the corner. Which was exactly what he found to be the literal case when house hunting. The properties he was looking at were all dingy, damp and pretty miserable but, on his wages, it was all he could afford. Until he walked out of yet another flat that could only be described abysmal and turned a corner. The house he saw was for sale and he let out a soft sigh. It was perfect. Small, dainty cottage that looked like it needed a little bit of love to be at its full glory. Sadly, such a home was far beyond his means. Or was it? He saw the estate agent coming out, looking rather morose and he just had to approach.

By some miracle, the cottage was in his budget. Jaskier immediately demanded to see it, cooing at the features and was sold on the place before he heard that it came fully furnished. The fact the bed was bolted to the ground was curious. Especially as it looked old and unused. The previous owner had set up a mattress in the corner of the kitchen and seemed to have slept there.

“Why is it so cheap?” Jaskier asked and the estate agent looked uncomfortable.

“Nobody has owned the house for more than a year. Some say it’s haunted but it’s probably just a bit of draft and old wiring. The current owner wants to move as soon as possible, hence the low price.”

Jaskier nodded, he needed a bit of time to think and decided to wander around a little more. Ending up in the garden, he looked up the history of the house. No deaths, no murders but a very rapid turnover rate of ownership. Well, the house called to him. It was perfect for everything he wanted from a home.

“I’ll take it.”

In what was possibly the quickest sale in the world, Jaskier was moving in a scant month later. He smiled as he threw the curtains open, admired his new home and decided to celebrate. Going out for a drink turned into staggering back home late at night and laughing to himself as he fell into bed.

In the morning, Jaskier was stunned to find a glass of water next to him. Maybe drunk him wasn’t as much of an asshole as he thought. Marvellous!

It was small things like that. Jaskier’s keys are always hung up on the hook by the door, even if he deliberately left them on the coffee table. His washing had a habit of piling up in the sink - never done but always stacked nearby. Maybe there was something to the whole house being haunted. The most sensible thing, obviously, was was to get an ouija board and see what happened. Nothing. Jaskier was absolutely put out by that, even if he couldn’t shake the feeling of not being alone.

Usually, Jaskier slept through the night without trouble. Rarely did he wake up. But it did happen every now and then, which was probably why he turned with a soft huff and found himself staring at some large, looming figure slipping back into the bedroom.

“Seriously?” That was the first thing out of his mouth, too tired and sleepy to deal with an intruder. Who seemed to freeze before blending into the dark. By the time Jaskier put his light on, there was nothing there.

“You could at least do me the courtesy of introducing yourself.” Really, Jaskier should have been screaming and calling the police about an intruder but he was just too damn tired. He’d lived a good life, if this was it, this was it. He’d die content. Though a bit pissed that he couldn’t finish the show he was watching.

As he expected, there was silence. Common sense did win out and Jaskier did a quick sweep of the house, checked the door was locked and got back into bed.

“You know, it’s rude to wake someone. If you want to do anything untoward, please wait until the morning.”

He could have sworn he heard a grunt of agreement from under the bed but it could have been the springs in the mattress.

In the morning, nothing had changed but Jaskier suspected he wasn’t quite alone. So he chattered away, filled the silence and waited for whoever it was to come out. But, despite the feeling never going away, there was no food missing form his cupboards, nothing stolen and the strange little habits of the house continued.

At least, they did until he was eating pizza in bed (a bad habit, he knew) and dropped a slice and it bounced onto the floor. Cursing up a storm, Jaskier had to set his box aside, he had to put his phone away too and, by the time he leaned over the bed to pick up the offending piece, it was gone. But the grease stain remained.

“If you’re hungry, I could have just shared,” he groused. The stain was going to be a pig to get out. Still, fresh grease was easier to remove than dried in old crud. So Jaskier hauled himself out of bed and got the supplies, plus a plate for whoever seemed to live under his bed.

The grease stain was gone by the time he returned.

“Huh. Thanks,” he said and put a couple of slices of pizza on the plate before putting it on the ground. “What’s your name anyway?”

There was no response. The plate wasn’t touched as he watched. In the end, Jaskier gave up and returned to his phone. From under the bed, some crunching sounds drifted out, almost like....

“Please don’t eat my plates.”

“Sorry.” The voice was gruff, low and it made Jaskier’s heart pick up.

“It’s okay. Eat the food on it but next time, just put the plate in the sink.”

Next time? Jaskier was probably going insane. Making his mind up, he quickly twisted to look under the bed and was met with two, almost glowing amber eyes. Now he really needed a name.

Geralt, as the thing under his bed turned out to be called, was really rather shy and not very forthcoming with words. It took Jaskier weeks to coax him out. At least he took a humanoid form which was nice. That is, nice of him to accommodate a human. And very nice to look at too, he had chosen an aesthetically pleasing form.

The next step, Jaskier decided was to befriend the monster under his bed.

“Witcher.” Geralt had told him more than once. The one time Jaskier called him a monster, he had looked utterly dejected and spent three days under the bed without talking. It seemed that even supernatural creatures had feelings.

Things made so much more sense now though. Geralt liked his house to be tidy to an extent. The keys lived on the hook, the dishes in the sink. He was quite adept at chasing down and eating dust bunnies but refused to have anything to do with water. Until Jaskier introduced him to baths. Then, it was like trying to pry a cat from a basket at the vet’s.

There were other perks to befriending the monster under his bed. Geralt made for a wonderful snuggle companion. At first, Jaskier had slept with his hand dangling over the side of the bed, purely by accident. When he woke up to a hand in his, he gave it a squeeze and that was that. In a scant week, Geralt had migrated from under the bed hand holding to cuddles in bed. It was Jaskier who took the first step and pressed their lips together.

After a lovely evening spent on the couch, Jaskier was snoozing against Geralt’s broad chest, still on the sofa. They would need to move eventually but they were both quite content with their positions for the time being. The peace was interrupted by Geralt going stiff under Jaskier and turning his head towards a window. They heard the muffled clinking of glass breaking and that was when Jaskier realised what was happening. He was about to be burgled.

Gentle but firm hands moved him away from Geralt’s chest and he watched in fascination as the warm oranges of Geralt’s eyes melted into pitch black with darkened veins spreading around them like poisoned tendrils. Ignoring the gruff “stay”, Jaskier scuttled after Geralt, in time to see him pounce on the burglar who was brandishing a gun. It seemed, the intent was more than just to take a few valuables. But Jaskier didn’t have time to panic because Geralt moved, darkness enveloped the intruder and then Geralt was standing there, heaving a little.

“Did you-” Jaskier gawped. “Did you just eat him?”

The soft belch told him everything he needed to know and he marched up to Geralt, gripping his cheeks lightly.

“Thank you for saving me. But that is disgusting. No more kisses until you brush your teeth.”

Resigned, Geralt nodded. Maybe, if he was going to the bathroom, he could convince Jaskier to get in the tub with him. It would be a worthy trade.

#geraskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #tldr: geralt is the monster living under jaskier's bed