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literaila · 4 years ago

Text

dwindling heartbeats

spencer x reader

request: hi!! could you write an angsty spencer x reader fic where reader and spencer are dating but reader ends up the main suspect in a case? i had a dream about it and i would love you to write it haha. you can come up with the ending (like wether reader was the unsub or not). thank you and i love your writing so so much and i think you could write it really well!!

warnings: criminal mind things, mentions of pain in all forms, anxiety, fear, anticipation?

She liked the way heartbeats sounded.

She liked to listen to them, beating. Quietly but forcefully.

She liked to listen to his heart as he slept. She liked to lay her chest on his head, to breathe in and out with him. She liked it when she could hear his heart flutter, over and over.

She liked to stay awake while he slept. She liked to watch his eyes dance with dreams, liked to watch his sweet smiles dead into the night. She liked to stay awake far later than he could, just so that she could catch these moments. These precious little moments she couldn't seem to get enough of.

She liked to listen to his heart. She liked to listen while her cheek was on his chest, while he held her close to him even in his sleep. She liked to listen to the cautious beating, the strength of his heart. She liked to listen to his heart dwindle off as she slowly fell asleep. She liked to listen to-

She always fell asleep eventually. Always closed her eyes just in time to hear his heart pound once more. She always stayed awake for that moment.

Spencer didn't know.

Of course, he was sleeping, there was no way he could know. And the nights when she stayed up until he woke, until it was morning and the sun was shining through his blinds, and the bed was so warm. Those mornings when she forgot to fall asleep at all. He still didn't know. She always pretended to be half asleep, pretended as she had just woken up. And he had never suspected a thing.

She liked to stay up late. To listen to the world breathe when everyone else fell asleep. She liked the quiet, the mystery that came with night. She liked how dark it was, how silent everyone could be, how peaceful the wind was when it knew not to wake any of the humans up. She liked to stay up late.

And listen to Spencer's heart. To watch his eyelashes flutter against his cheek. And watch him smile silently.

She liked the way hearts beat.

Spencer didn't expect to wake up alone.

He thought of the night before. Thought of all the words and all the laughs the two of them had shared. He thought about the wine they drank, the food they ate.

She was here with him, just last night.

So he hadn't expected to wake up alone.

Usually, when she stayed the night, she would promise that she’d be there in the morning. Usually, Spencer woke up to soft kisses against his cheek, fake biting on his neck. Usually, Spencer woke up with her still in his arms, exactly as she had been the night before.

But this morning, his bed was cold, he woke up to his alarm, and his girlfriend was nowhere to be found.

It was strangely dark in his room. Not sunny like most mornings. It was strange.

Spencer got out of bed within ten minutes, he figured that Y/N had needed to go do something, that she would text him later and apologize for leaving so early.

He wondered how he hadn't noticed her getting out of bed. He was usually a light sleeper.

He got dressed, already running late for work. He was lucky no one had called him in yet, lucky that the serial killers seemed to be taking a break this morning.

But right as he had that thought, his phone rang.

The cuffs were digging into her wrists. Bruises forming while the clock ticked.

At first, she had struggled, screamed at them to let her go, that she hadn't done anything.

But after ten minutes of that, she’d given up. Her body and her mind both done with trying to fight back. Done with trying to fight at all.

They were holding her in a room, one similar to the interrogation rooms she’d seen on TV so many times. In the shows where the criminal always got caught. It was cold, her chair was uncomfortable, and these handcuffs were digging into her wrists.

The cop had left five minutes ago, promising her that they would carry on soon enough.

If she was being honest, she barely had any idea what was going on.

All she knew was that she had planned to go get breakfast for her and Spencer. She got up early, after only a couple of hours asleep, and she’d left his apartment, making sure that she didn't lock it so that she could come back soon. So that he wouldn't have the chance to wake up before she got back. She’d been planning to surprise him.

But when she was walking on the street, a man had approached her, his badge out, his face stern. It was then and there that she had been arrested. Put into handcuffs, sat in the back of a police car while they drove her to the station.

She was so high on adrenaline she couldn't remember if they had ever told her why she was being arrested. She couldn't remember if the man had ever said anything, if he had ever done anything but accuse her and then tie her up. She just couldn't remember.

But her palms were sweaty. She was nervous, even if she didn't think she had done anything wrong. They had brought her in for a reason, hadn't they? They had something against her, some evidence that would prove her guilty for whatever crime she had committed.

God, she wished Spencer was there. He would know what was going on. He would talk to her. He would tell her that she hadn't done anything wrong, that it was going to be okay. It was going to be just fine.

She had just gone to get them breakfast.

And now, and now she was sitting in a grey room alone, practically thousands of miles away from anyone else, from any civilization. She was cold and tired and these handcuffs were bruising and pulling on her wrists over and over.

She wanted to cry. She really wanted to go home.

Why was she so nervous?

Why was she there?

Where was Spencer?

Hotch had pulled him back. As soon as he saw her, Hotch was stepping in his way.

None of them had known. No one had told them anything about a suspect until they were already at the police station, already standing there looking at them. Looking at her. At the girl who they were all familiar with.

When Spencer had first arrived at work, all he knew was that there was a new case. He knew that there were five people dead. Five people in the past three weeks. He was told that those five people probably weren't all, that all of the evidence was pointing to a rapidly devolving unsub, one that wouldn't stop until caught. He knew that all of the bodies were found with multiple stab wounds and head force trauma.

He knew that they were supposed to find whoever was doing this, that he was supposed to help them find the unsub.

But, after a long car ride and many unanswered texts to his girlfriend, he had never expected to see her sitting in a chair so close to him. He had never expected to see her looking around mindlessly, like all of the people who sat in those kinds of rooms did. He hadn't expected to see her next in handcuffs, with wild hair, messy makeup, and tear stains running down her face.

They hadn't even known that there was a suspect yet. They had only been called in this morning.

And Hotch was holding him back.

“Reid.” He said, probably more than once, but Spencer wasn't listening. He was looking at his girlfriend.

She wasn't looking back.

“Detective, no one mentioned anything about a suspect. Why hasn't anyone told us?” Derek said, already catching on to the situation. Rossi and Morgan took steps forward, in front of Spencer so that he couldn't go any further, while Hotch kept his hand on Spencer's shoulder. Holding him back still.

Emily and JJ both seemed to get the hint, they moved on to checking over the files again.

But none of them could hide their glances over to her.

Her.

Spencer's girlfriend, the one that they had all met multiple times. The girl that had changed Spencer so deeply. The usually happy girl, smiling like there was no tomorrow. The girl who was usually right at Spencer's side. The first girl that Spencer hadn't been able to hide from any of them. She was his girlfriend.

She was sitting a room away, handcuffed to a table.

“We only just picked her up this morning, after security evidence came back from the last crime scene.” The Detective answered, no doubt suspicious of the behaviors of the team. It didn't take much brainpower to see that they weren't thinking all that rationally.

“Has anyone been in to talk with her?” Rossi asked.

“We’ve been backed up all morning and-” Hotch stopped him with the palm of his hand. Telling him with only a motion that he didn't need excuses. Spencer was on fire, furious with the detective, furious that anyone assumed that she would do anything, that his girlfriend would cause any harm.

“I can talk to her,” he said, breathing out the anger, trying to remove Hotch’s grip from his shoulder. His eyes were crazed, he ran a hand through his hair, desperate to hear her voice assure him she was okay.

“Reid.” Hotch said again, his face stern, his thoughts not wavering on this one. Spencer couldn't talk to her, it would be a violation, and a terrible idea. A bad situation for the two of them.

Rossi had moved the detective away from them, knowing that what Spencer needed was a moment of privacy, and started distracting him with questions of his own. Questions about the crime scene, about the evidence against Y/N.

Derek walked over to the two of his friends, facing toward the room with Y/N in it.

“I can do it,” he said, whispering so only the three of them could hear. “It won't be a violation of any rules, and I think she’d do well with someone she's familiar with.” He continued, his eyes now focused on Spencer, and how angry he looked at just the thought of not being able to go in and talk to her.

“Morgan..” Hotch said, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

“Hotch, the kids not going to let one of the cops here talk to her, and you’re not going to let him. I can do it.” He assured, face lack of any emotion. He wanted to prove he could be rational. That he could be professional even with Spencer's girlfriend.

Hotch finally nodded, dragging Reid, who was scowling at the sight of his girlfriend still, farther away. “Spencer, maybe you should take a moment. Collect yourself. Go get some air.” he said, trying not to sound like a boss, but rather a friend. Trying to give Spencer the hint that he didn't want him watching.

Spencer didn't catch on, too distracted with Y/N.

“I’m staying here.”

Spencer was firm on that. He couldn't leave her. He didn't know why, or what she had done, but he knew that it was a misunderstanding. He knew that as soon as she was let out of that room he wanted to be there. He knew that she was going to be traumatized, that she probably already was. He couldn't leave her. He wouldn't leave her to be alone with a bunch of accusing strangers.

“Spencer-”

“I’m staying here,” he repeated, moving his eyes away from her for just a second, just so he could make his point clear to Hotch.

And after that, Hotch didn't try to make him leave.

She was almost asleep by the time the door finally opened.

The police officer from earlier had promised that they would get to her soon, that she would be let out of the cuffs as soon as she could be questioned. But it felt like hours since then, and she was sure that whoever that cop was, he was a liar.

She was beginning to get restless, bored with this situation, with not knowing what was going on. She was tired and angry, and all she really wanted to do was go home and listen to Spencer’s heart some more. That would help. She wondered if she could ask.

She shook the thought out of her head. Looked around the room again. Looked for anything to keep her awake.

She wanted to rub her eyes, wanted to get some of the sleep out of her system, wanted to be alert again so she wouldn't miss anything else. But her hand was asleep, her wrists were sore, and she still couldn't move.

She still had no idea what was going on.

She was almost asleep when the door finally opened.

When the familiar face walked into the room.

“Y/N,” Derek said, nodding at her, taking in her obvious distress.

But when she saw him, her mood visibly changed. She almost brightened, almost become someone completely different from the person she was five seconds ago. Her restlessness was gone, she was no longer tired, her eyes widening as he sat down in front of her. She was happy to see someone familiar, someone who wouldn't immediately accuse her.

“Derek,” she said, a smile now accompanying her face. Her eyes were no longer sullen, no longer looking around the room confused.

She sat up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, wanting to get pleasantries out of the way before he had to question her. He hated that Spencer was behind the glass, was watching them. He hated that he had to do this to his friend's girlfriend in front of him. He hated that he knew Spencer would be listening to every word, that he would be counting the minutes down until Derek could prove that she was innocent.

“Why am I here?” She asked instead of answering his question. Ignoring it. Derek was shocked to see that she was actually being serious. Her question was warranted. She was actually confused.

“Didn't the cop that arrested you explain everything?”

Derek, and Y/N for that matter, both knew that it was protocol for police to explain why they were arresting someone. They both knew that if they had broken that rule, this situation could change significantly.

She nodded, then upon seeing his confusion, continued. “I can't remember what they said, I was scared. I don't remember anything after they handcuffed me.”

Derek was still confused. She wasn't someone who would panic in a moment of fear, she wouldn't lose her memories just because she was scared.

This entire situation was strange.

“You’re being charged with the murder of five people.”

And, then, her face changed.

Went from complete curiosity, to dispair. In a fraction of a moment.

Her eyebrows creased, her lips frowned, she was staring at the ground, her entire body tensed at Derek’s words.

And her mood was flipped again.

Tears ran down her face.

She was confused, and worried, and terrified. She had no idea how she could be in this situation? How she could be thought of as a murder? She had no idea why, no idea how, no idea what to do.

“What?” she whispered. Her voice was failing her, her chest was collapsing, her mind was running in circles.

“They have security tapes of you exiting a building, moments after Samantha Brith was killed in a pharmacy three miles from here.”

She was almost asleep by the time she heard the words.

Spencer hated watching this.

He hated that he wasn't in there with her. Hated that he never called her when he woke up, that he didn't think anything of her being gone except for that it was strange. He was angry and confused, and he didn't know when they could have gotten the video of her.

He’d watched it. Once. But multiple times in his head. He replayed it with every question that Derek asked, remembered that she was supposed to be with Spencer that night. That they were asleep when that happened.

How could she be there?

The rest of the team was busy profiling the actual murderer. They were trying to find evidence that provided a different solution other than Y/N. All of them knew that it couldn't be her, it obviously couldn't be, they just had to prove it. Because it wasn't her.

Hotch came to talk to Spencer every couple of minutes. Made sure that he was still okay.

Which he wasn't, but the thought was nice.

Hotch also asked him questions. Wondered how many serial killers devolved as fast as this one was, wondered how exhausting it would be to cause that much harm against a living person. He asked Spencer these questions, and he always got an answer, but Spencer wasn't really listening.

He was watching her. Always watching her. He watched her move her hair out of her eyes, watched her mood change with every question. He watched her hesitate with her answers, saw her confusion.

He watched her with desperation, with another feeling that he didn't know how to describe.

He wondered why she looked so scared. He supposed he could guess the answer. He supposed he would be scared too.

“Spencer,” Hotch spoke, checking on him for the seventh time. “JJ and Emily are going to go ask the bank owner some questions, to gather information about the crime scene of the third body.” He spoke as if Spencer was listening as if he cared when his girlfriend was being interrogated in front of him. “Spencer?”

“Hmm?” he said, still not really listening.

“How is she?” Hotch asked, getting his attention for the first time.

“She seems okay, she looks better than um, earlier,” Spencer said, never once looking at Hotch, keeping his eyes on her.

“Okay. She's going to be alright you know?”

Spencer nodded.

He watched her some more. Felt the desperation in his chest. Felt the fear building in his brain.

When she finally asked for Spencer, the questioning was over.

Derek had asked her so many questions, some that she didn't know how to answer.

No, she didn't remember where she was on the 15th, she didn't know what time she got in bed, she didn't know any of the victims, she didn't know she didn't know. She kept repeating it over and over. No. No. No. No.

She felt like screaming.

It seemed like she didn't know anything. Why didn't she know anything?

But, as soon as Derek nodded, told her that he had asked enough. She asked.

“Is Spencer here?”

She couldn't see him wince at his name from the other side of the wall. She didn't see him lean in a little bit closer to her.

“Yes. He's outside.” Derek said, offering her a smile. One that was small, one that didn't really do anything to ease the feeling in her stomach.

“Can I talk to him?” She asked, her eyes hopeful, her shoulders relaxing with the news that he was there. With the thought that he wasn't far away, that she wasn't alone anymore.

“I don't-” Derek cleared his throat “I don't know if that's a good idea.”

She wanted to cry. Wanted to scream at this friend of hers. Wanted to break through these handcuffs and go to see him. She just wanted to.

She nodded hesitantly. “O-okay. But um, if I can, I’d like to.” She swallowed her scream, forced her tears down her throat, and tried not to pull on the cuffs. Her wrists hurt too much.

Derek nodded, felt ashamed to not have an answer for her. Felt terrible that two of his friends both wanted the same thing so desperately and he couldn't give it to either of them.

When he exited the room, leaving her alone once again, Hotch and Spencer were talking in front of the door. Arguing.

“She asked!”

“Reid you know I can't let you-”

“Hotch she's probably terrified! She needs someone to talk to her, we don't even know what happened yet!”

“Spencer-”

“Please!”

Derek sighed, rubbing his eyes as he walked over to the two of them. Spencer was getting irritated, no longer just at the police, but now at Hotch.

"Hotch," Derek said, interrupting their conversation before it could go any further.

"How is she?" Hotch asked, Spencer, staring at him in disbelief.

"How is she Hotch?! She's pretty fucking terrible I'd assume." He scoffed, turning away from the other two men to watch his girlfriend wipe tears from her eyes.

His beautiful girlfriend. Alone. A murderer.

He almost laughed at the thought.

"Spencer," Hotch said, using a voice similar to one he used with Jack. Spencer was testing his limits, being disrespectful, not following rules. Not acting like himself.

"She's relieved that we're here," Derek answered, watching Spencer stare at her, giving Hotch a fearful look.

Spencer muttered something that neither of them could hear.

"Does she have solid alibis?"

"She doesn't remember much from those nights. Everything is blurred Hotch. I don't know." Derek sighed again, exhausted.

Hotch lowered his voice to ask his next question. "Do you think it's her?"

But even when he whispered, Spencer could hear him.

And the sudden fury he felt in his chest was expected.

"Of course it's not her! She would never do that!" He had never expected Hotch to be doubtful. He felt betrayed at the inference that he would ever love someone who could murder all those people. He had expected his friends, his family, to have his back. To have her back.

"I'm talking to her." Spencer said, a final statement to the two men. He was finally finished listening to everyone else talk, finally finished listening to anything.

"Spencer-" he heard from behind him as he opened the door.

As he walked into the room.

To her.

"Spencer,"

The relief was palpable in her voice. Her body fell apart immediately at the feel of Spencer's hand against hers. It was such a feeling, so different than before. It was like she could finally breathe, she finally knew how to speak.

Now that he was here.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, wrapping her hand in both of his, hating how cold she felt.

She wished she could move closer to him, wished she wasn't chained down. Wished they were still in bed. Wished he would hold her again.

"I'm fine," she whispered back, her eyes concerned. More worried about him than she was about herself.

"You're so cold," Spencer responded, ignoring her lies, ignoring how scared she still looked. He was so glad to be next to her. To be talking to her. "Are your wrists okay?" he asked once he looked down, seeing the red marks around the wrist that was chained to the table.

"I'm fine Spence." She answered, trying to smile at him.

They both sat there for a moment, both remembering the pleasant night they'd had together last night, both thinking about moments that weren't like this one. Moments that weren't quite so scary.

And finally, when they had both breathed in all the time together they could spare, when they had finally used up all the oxygen in the room, Spencer spoke up.

His words brought miles between them.

"You didn't do it?" he said it as if the words hurt him. Like those words would hurt him more than they would hurt her.

She didn't see how that could be possible.

"I don't-" she started, her voice shaking as she felt the feeling in her stomach again. The nauseous feeling. The terrifying one.

"You- you didn't do it? R-right?" Spencer asked again, looking up at her.

And she saw it in his eyes. She saw it. And she knew the answer.

"Right." She breathed out, squeezing his hand.

And Spencer nodded, nodded like the words had solved everything like the words had removed this handcuff from her wrist like he could walk her home now. Like everything was fine.

"Okay," he said, giving her one of his small smiles. "Okay." He said, again, squeezing back.

Okay.

She didn't do it.

"I'm going to get you out of here."

"Spencer-"

"I'm going to get you out of here. Okay?"

She nodded. Spencer took a breath in.

Okay.

She remembered that night.

She remembered the cold wind against her cheek.

She remembered the hand around her waist.

She remembered that feeling.

She'd basked in it.

She'd lived completely numb from that feeling.

And then she'd found it.

She felt the kissssssss against her cheek.

So soft.

"Reid."

Spencer figured that Hotch was going to yell at him, maybe suspend him in the worst-case scenario. He knew that what he did was disrespectful, but he didn't regret it.

How could he when he got to talk to her? How could he regret getting to hold her hand? Getting to hear her voice when she was with him again? Getting to be next to her?

He couldn't. He just couldn't regret it, even if he knew it was wrong.

But when Spencer went to Hotch, there was no reprimanding. Hotch didn't even look mad. Just concerned. His eyes were hesitant, and when he put a hand on Spencer's shoulder, there was nothing but fear in his eyes.

fear.

Why fear?

"What?" Spencer asked, confused. Why wasn't he yelling at him?

"Reid."

"What Hotch?" Spencer asked again, more insistent, starting to get worried. He felt that feeling in his stomach.

"We found something."

Spencer listened carefully.

She remembered the cold air against her skin.

She remembered smiling.

She remembered.

"Before we got here, Y/N was asked for DNA. At one of the first crime scenes, there was DNA left behind, and the lead detective figured that if her DNA was a match, he would have all the evidence he needed."

Spencer nodded. Still confused.

He didn't see the silent shame Hotch felt.

She liked heartbeats. She liked the in and out, she liked the wind, she liked lots of things.

She liked it when she was alone, when she was with him.

She liked she liked she lied. She liked.

She liked heartbeats.

"While you were in there.."

Everyone slowly came over to the pair.

All of Spencer's friends, going over to him, all of them with the same look on their faces. All of them worried. All of them concerned.

Spencer looked back at Y/N. She looked upset.

He wondered when he could get her out.

He looked back at Hotch.

She listened to him every night. But sometimes, she got bored. She got restless. She needed to do something.

She was very good at sneaking out of bed without a notice, without waking Spencer up.

It was fortunate.

She left so many times. So many nights she snuck out.

So many times.

She always made it back for sunrise.

"Spencer, Y/N's DNA..."

Spencer nodded for him to continue. He needed Hotch to get to the point so that they could get her out, so that he could hurry up and get her away from here.

He wanted to go home with her, wanted to see her smile her real smile again. He wanted this to all go away, wanted this fear in his mind to leave.

Get to the point.

"What Hotch?"

She liked it. She hated it.

She liked the quiet of night. She liked how mysssssterious it was.

She liked it, oh god oh god.

She wasn't going to throw up.

Not again.

Not this time.

"It was a match."

Everything.

It had to be.

It had to stop.

Okay?

She liked the way heartbeatss sounded.

She liked to listen to them, beating. Quietly but forcefully.

She liked to listen to his heart as he slept. She liked to lay her chest on his head, to breathe in and out with him. She liked it when she could hear his heart flutter, over and over.

She liked to listen as they faded away.

She was so tempting.

She was a beacon in every room. Everywhere she went. She was a temptation far too charming to resist.

Every night, she stared, watched someone's eyes. And she tempted them so far.

She charmed them without a blink. Without a breath.

She liked it.

She didn't have to do anything before they were lured into her hands, pulled so far in by her wit, by her smile, by her eyes which were oh so hard to resist.

She was irresistible.

And a temptation none of them could ignore. Every one of them.

Every. Single. Time.

She was perfect, far toooo perfect for them far too much far too many far too fun.

She didn't have to think about it every night she snuck away. She didn't have to blink, she didn't have to breathe, she just had to stand there. Just had to feel the cold wind on her chest, on her cheek. She just had to listen.

As the heartbeats dwindled away.

As they faded into the distance.

She was far too perfect to resist. Far too perfect. She was so smart, so charming, so much all at once. And she always knew how to catch them. She knew how to lead, lead them to the end of the earth. She knew she knew how to push them off when they weren't looking. Push them so far, too farrrrr off the edge.

She knew how to kiss them so soft, so quiet as they were done, she knew what she was doing.

She remembered everything. Every night.

She snuck back in bed, she listened to his heart. She liked the way it dwindled off as she fell asleep, the way it faded.

She liked it.

Heartbeats. Disappearing.

my masterlist here.

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Ablaze ~ S.R.

A/n: Haaaaaaaaaa so y'all liked that Spencer Reid fic I did huh? lol I'm glad

Request: "Could you do a Reid x male reader where the team is in Cali following an arsonist and the readers a firefighter (and Reids bf but the team doesn’t know that) and somehow the reader gets into a confrontation with the arsonist and has to use what Reid has “taught him”/talked about to try and deescalate the situation" by @sheepfather

Word Count: 2400+

Masterlist

They met when Y/n's team was putting out the fire and Reid's team was rushing to the scene to see if their arsonists was still around. The BAU had been dragged to California because it seemed that a killer was on the lose. They couldn't figure out the connections of the victims, but they were all dying in horrible fires. It turned out that someone wasn't setting fires to kill people, just that they were setting fires that happened to kill people. There wasn't a killer on the loose. There was an arsonist.

When I say "they" I don't mean Y/n and Reid by the way. The two boys actually went way back. They'd met in Vegas at a party neither of them wanted to be at. Y/n had been going through a rough time and Reid wasn't good in social situations and they'd ended up in the same corner and just enjoyed the mutual silence. After they'd found peace in each other Y/n had rested his head on Reid's shoulder and Reid was surprised to see that it didn't bother him. They'd run into each other again at the local library of all places. There they'd exchanged names first and then numbers soon after. After that, they'd spent more and more time together. They had to work around work and school schedules (only Y/n went to school anymore, but it was still an issue) but eventually it went from hang outs to date and then suddenly they were boyfriends instead of best friends.

The "they" I meant was actually Y/n and the rest of the BAU. None of Spencer's friends knew about Y/n. It wasn't like he was ashamed or hiding anything, it was just that it never came up. Everyone assumed Spencer was single and would always be, and Spencer didn't care enough to correct them. He wasn't into PDA either so the team didn't figure it out themselves. What they could tell was that they knew each other. It was nice to see Spencer be comfortable around someone outside of work, but Spencer hated talking about his personal life so people tried to ask as little as possible.

Working together was fun though. Y/n knew him very well, down to every micro sign of each emotion. Whenever Spencer got anxious or confused or was really focused and needed to be alone, Y/n always reacted appropriately. It came with knowing him for many years. It was also very helpful when Spencer was profiling and giving information to the other firefighters to keep a look out in case they arrived when the arsonist did. The firefighters, of course, were who made up Y/n's team, as Y/n was a firefighter as well. They had lots of questions though, and even more doubt. Y/n showed very early on that he knew Spencer's capabilities, so when they got too dubious or went to interrupt him, Y/n was quick to cut them off. It made JJ, Emily, and Morgan smile.

One day Morgan prodded. He walked up to Y/n, leaning against the wall next to the boy. "How far back do you and Reid go?"

Y/n was drinking water so he finished his gulp before answering. "Further back then Reid being in the BAU," Y/n responded. "I was still in high school He wasn't, of course, but-" He shrugged, chuckling. "We both lived in Vegas for a while. The relationship carried even when we moved away."

Morgan nodded. "You like him?"

"I'd like to think so." Y/n tried to hide a smile. He could tell them that he was Spencer's boyfriend, but what was the fun in that? "I'd even say I was in love with him."

That seemed to surprise Morgan. "Oh." He looked at Reid and then Y/n, obviously confused. If Y/n was so sure of his feelings, why did it seem like they were just friends? "Does Reid feel the same?"

Y/n considered that. "I don't know. I don't think Spencer and I have ever been on the same emotional playing field. Usually when I feel one thing he's feeling something else... But even then, no one ever seems to feel the same way about each other." Y/n shook his head. "I'm a psychology major, ignore me. What you want to know is if Spencer loves or likes me or whatever. But I can't speak for him." With that, Y/n left and Morgan only had more questions. Were they together or not?

His question was answered on one very bad night that almost cost Reid everything.

Lina Mare was a local sweetheart. She was kind of quiet and shy, but she liked Y/n. They were friends at least - Lina was in college. Y/n seemed to have a knack of befriending awkward, shy, or quiet people. People that couldn't quite get along with anyone else. So when she came into the fire station that day, it wasn't totally weird. She'd never visited Y/n at work before, but that didn't stop Y/n from greeting her when she came in. Nothing else was going on- why not?

She looked upset though. "Hey, you okay Lee?" He asked, touching her shoulder.

The girl leaned into his touch and his eyebrows came together, wondering if maybe she felt dizzy. Her eyes were clear though and her expression was set and clear. Her features were sharp and her gaze was like someone running a knife along his skin. Dangerous and seconds from doing damage. "I'm not," she told him. "I need you to stop, Y/n."

Y/n looked at one of his teammates behind her head. They made eye contact and the other man stood at the ready in case he needed to act. Y/n had a very bad feeling about what was happening. He didn't know why, he just felt like something bad was about to happen. "Stop what?" He asked her softly.

Lina looked right into his eyes, seeming to see something amazing. Her gaze softened, but didn't become any less dangerous. Just a little more uncontrolled. "The fires. You can't stop them. You have to stop putting them out."

It clicked immediately in Y/n's head. He looked at Lina's hands, still in her pockets. "Why don't we go outside and-?"

"No," Lina snapped, tugging out of his reach. "You have to stop putting them out!"

"Okay," Y/n cooed, putting both of his hands up so she could see that he was unarmed. He recalled everything Spencer had ever taught him. Anything he'd been told about in stories, or things Spencer had complained people often did wrong. "Can I at least let my friends go outside?"

She considered that a second before nodding. "But we stay."

"Okay," Y/n assured. He looked at the other fireman he'd warned before. Daniel. "Take everyone outside, will you please? Make sure everyone is there that needs to be." Daniel nodded before running off. Thankfully people trusted Y/n's judgment. Soon the building was empty. "Why don't you take your hands out of your pockets, Lina?" He knew they'd call the police. If he stalled long enough no one would get hurt. He'd gotten as many people safe as he could. Now he had to keep Lina calm until they could solve this.

A sigh came from the younger girl but she agreed. In one hand she had a lighter. Now that it was free of her pocket, she flicked it on and off every few seconds. "You're so oblivious, you know that?" She moved further into the fire station, toward the back of the truck. Y/n followed, wanting to keep her in sight so she couldn't do anything too stupid. "You don't get anything."

"What did I miss Lina?" Y/n asked, trying to stay casual.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm in love with you." Y/n froze, both because of her word and also because she'd stopped down and hooked her fingers around a canister of gasoline. She vegan to move back into the building and when he didn't follow, she snapped, "Come on." He swallowed before obeying. She was getting agitated and he didn't want to set her off. She began to pour out the can all over the floor.

"Wait Lina-" She turned on her lighter and let it hover over the pouring gas. Y/n stopped dead in his tracks.

"You know Y/n I've tried for months." She let her lighter out, but kept it at the ready. "I tried everything to get you to realize how I felt about you. But you just kept laughing and it was so frustrating. I thought, it wouldn't help to be mad at you all the time. I'd have no time that way. So I did something I haven't done in a long time. I managed to keep myself under control for years. But you made me so angry, I had to let it out some way. So I burned. Little things."

Y/n's jaw hardened. "You killed people."

"I KNOW!" Lina sneered. "It wasn't on purpose! But fire is alive, Y/n. And it has wants and needs. And it grows. Who am I to stop it?" Y/n felt his stomach turn. "Then you made it even worse. You came rushing in every time and put them out. And suddenly I had a new reason to be angry. I'd almost forgotten about you. Until I saw your stupid, pretty face through the window and realized you were one of these stupid people putting my fires out. Of all people, OF COURSE it had to be you, huh?" She scoffed and Y/n's mind raced as he tried to figure out how to stop this. Lina went back and got three more cans, pouring those out too. Y/n could do nothing, as she kept her lighter at the ready. The whole floor was covered in oil now and her lighter was alight. "So I figured, get rid of the problem you know? No more fire fighters. No more you. No more me."

Fuck.

Y/n began moving to her. She tried to move away, but he forced a smile. "What, you're scared of me now? What am I going to do? I'd never hurt you Lina, you know that." She relaxed again. "I was just thinking, you know, I feel the same way." He tried not to cringe at the words. He was like seven years older than her and had a boyfriend but SURE, he liked her too. He knew that he had to get her to calm down. Trust him. He'd heard it a million times from Spencer. You give them what they want until you find your opening.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You do?"

Nodding, Y/n chuckled softly. "Of course I do. I just thought, I'm too old for you. Of course you'd never like me back. If I had known... Well, like you said, I'm completely oblivious."

She giggled, her eyes watering. "I knew it. Everyone said that you were into that- that- that weird guy from the FBI. But I KNEW we were made for each other." They were close now. The lighter was out and Y/n was inches from getting it out of her hand. Then she did something that totally knocked him off of his feet. They heard sirens and she ignored them, because of course why would the police be after her? She ignored them and she kissed Y/n and he was so stunned that he almost forgot about the lighter.

Finally Y/n's fingers closed around the lighter and he yanked it from her grip. She pushed him away and they parted. She shoved the lighter in his back pocket, moving to her quickly and wrapping her arms around her to force her to be still. She thrashed and kicked until they ended up with Y/n on his back, arms and legs all wrapped around her to keep her firmly in place even as she screamed and moved her head. It meant, unfortunately, that Y/n's face was nearly completely in the oil.

When the door finally opened and police came in, Y/n was relieved to let her go. His head was spinning and his vision was blurring as his eyes burned. She was handcuffed and taken away and he ignored what she was saying as she screamed at him.

It was Morgan who pulled Y/n to his feet and out of the oil. Who questioned him and got him a towel to wipe off as much oil as he could. Who got him outside and to clean air and who kept everyone back as Y/n processed what just happened and got real air into his lungs.Morgan finally got the story piece by piece and then took it to the others. That was when Reid finally got to his boyfriend.

Y/n leaned away from his touch. Then he started crying, his head full of images of him burning to death. Or Lina burning to death, screaming for him as she did so. Or, even worse, both of them burning to death together. Holy shit...

"She kissed me," Y/n choked out, covering his mouth.

"What can I do to help you?" Spencer asked softly, his eyes wide with worry.

Y/n shook his head before looking at him. "How can you forgive me?"

That seemed to confuse Spencer. "Forgive you for what?"

"She kissed me," he reiterated. "I let her."

Spencer tried not to laugh. "Y/n you were in a stressful situation and because of that, you got the lighter away from her. Because of it, you're safe..." He shook his head, moving closer to take Y/n's face in his hands. "Listen to me. I know I don't say it enough, but I love you, Y/n. Kissing her didn't mean anything other than you being safe today and that is all I care about. I don't even know who would ever consider that cheating. Don't be an idiot." He smiled and Y/n did as well. Spencer wiped the tears off his face. "Now can I take my turn and kiss you or do you need more space?"

Y/n laughed before pulling his boyfriend close by the belt loops. Their noses brushed a second before they finally kissed. It lifted the weird imaged out of his head and the weight off his chest. He was okay. Everyone was okay. That's all that mattered.

"So you guys ARE dating then?" The men looked over to see Emily there, JJ next to her.

"Yes," Spencer answered as if it was the most obvious thing ever. Emily looked at Y/n and then at JJ and then JJ and Y/n looked at each other and suddenly they were all laughing. After the stressful showdown from before, it was nice to laugh. It made Y/n feel better, and everyone seemed to sense that. Unfortunately, just because Spencer understood the laughing helped, he couldn't get why they were laughing at all. "I don't get it. What's so funny?"

They just kept laughing.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #male reader #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader

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pastpatientlywaitingforimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Orbit | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

Ayyyy this is for @veraiconcos fic writer palooza! I had a ton of fun working on this, check out their post for more details!

Summary: Since joining the BAU you have easily become one of Spencer’s best friends, and he is terrified he is going to lose you. (Gender neutral reader, platonic soulmates).

Category: Fluff

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR 4x24-5x01.

Word Count: 1830

As with all of my Galaxy Universe fics, the plot for this fic is fully standalone! If you like this relationship, I have a whole bunch of content that you can find in my GALAXY MASTERLIST

Spencer Reid didn’t have to be a genius to know he was sporting some abandonment issues. In his defense, though, he had been left by too many prominent people in his life and he was only 27 years old.

Even though he had only known you for a short while, you had easily secured a spot as one of his favorite people. As much as he enjoyed spending time with you and liked that he could be unapologetically himself, it terrified him that he could be so comfortable with you.

He wanted to shut down and shut you out, not let you see the broken pieces left by his father, Elle, and Gideon, but every time he tried you would do something so unapologetically you that it was impossible to stop feeling like the universe had created the two of you for the sole purpose of knowing the other.

It was the twinkle in your eye when you would remind Morgan that you were authorized to carry a larger gun than he was. It was the way you perched on Spencer’s desk while debating the best way to eat an Oreo. It was the pen you always carried that Spencer suspected was for him because you preferred pencil.

You were the one person Spencer felt most relaxed around, and there was still the looming possibility that you could choose to leave.

It wasn’t until the Anthrax case that Spencer realized how much he was afraid of you leaving. When he woke up in the hospital Morgan was the only one there, and your absence was the first thing he noticed. He should have felt grateful that Morgan had chosen to stay and he felt guilty that he was upset about your absence until you showed up with as many jello cups as you could possibly carry.

“Oh good, you��re awake. Red or green?” Your words had been so casual and comfortable, exactly what Spencer needed as Derek filled him in on how the case had ended. You listened quietly from his other side, spooning sugary gelatin into your mouth.

Spencer wanted to tell you then how much he was afraid of you leaving, but he also didn’t want to speak it into existence. He decided to keep his mouth shut about it, let the secret fester in his soul until he figured out a better way to deal with it.

Then you went to Canada.

At first you were on the streets with Derek and Emily while Spencer stayed at the precinct to go over victimology. You called him right after you were done talking to the locals and on your way to meet back up with Morgan and Prentiss.

“I don’t know, Spence. Something about this feels off,” you told him when he asked how it had gone.

“How so?” he trusted your instincts, if you were able to pinpoint your source of uncertainty it could help him nail down the victimology.

“Everyone out here is being hyper vigilant. Nobody’s wandering off on their own, as far as I can tell. I don’t think this is just some guy who killed 10 people. There’s something bigger going on here, we just have to figure out what.”

As a man of science, Spencer was still working out how you knew the things you did from just a gut feeling. He wasn’t surprised when you were right.

Once the team had a better scope of things at the farm, Hotch assigned you and Spencer to learn as much as you could about Lucas Turner. After coming up empty in the house, it was your idea to check the barn. A comfortable, but serious silence fell between you as you found what you were looking for.

You were looking over his shoulder at the crayon drawing he was holding when Hotch came to check in on your findings.

“Hey Hotch,” you called to your unit chief as he started walking away, “do you ever get the feeling that a case isn’t going to end well?” Spencer wondered what cosmic events had to have occurred to give him the pleasure of knowing someone who mirrored his own thoughts so perfectly.

“Keep looking,” Hotch had said sternly before leaving, “this girl needs us.”

“That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for,” you sighed, turning back to the collection of objects in the barn.

“What did you want him to say?”

“Something validating, I guess. Sure, this girl needs us and I’m not saying we won’t find her, but even if she’s alive there’s still what- a hundred victims already dead? A hundred victims with families and lives. A hundred people…”

You were right, Spencer knew that. If he had learned anything while working with you, it was that your gut feelings usually had some merit to them. If you were feeling like this wasn’t going to end well, it probably wasn’t. He wondered if you would stay with the BAU if you were right, and with that came back the creeping fear he had been trying to avoid.

He didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that he hadn’t processed his issues with your abandonment he wasn’t even sure was coming.

You took the Metro home with him, he didn’t have to ask to know that you were too tired to drive and could take the metro back to work once you were better rested.

“Spencer,” you had murmured sleepily from the seat next to him in the almost empty car.

“Hmmm?”

“This might sound really stupid, but do you ever feel like we were meant to be friends?”

Spencer swore his heart skipped a beat. All the mathematical equations in the world couldn’t explain the way you seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

“There's an old Buddhist saying that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making,” he quipped, “but yes. I do.”

“So you think we’re soulmates?” you smirked.

“Assuming one perfect soulmate exists for every person on the planet and you’re in the same age range as your soulmate, there’s still 500 million potential candidates. Mathematically speaking, of course.”

Your eyes sparked at the debate, though your eyelids were still heavy “I thought there was 500 years of prep work behind it though. 500 years is long enough to filter through 500 million. That’s one million a year.”

“If I wasn’t convinced we were soulmates before, your math skills have sealed the deal.”

“Of course they have. I’m smarter than I look,” you boasted.

“Is intelligence something you can determine by appearance?”

“You tell me, genius. I think you look pretty smart.”

“You know, (y/n), I think you’re just as smart as I am,” he told you honestly. You furrowed your brow in confusion.

“Are you kidding? I failed high school Algebra twice.”

“Academic achievement isn’t the only way to measure intelligence,” he reminded you, “the way your brain works is exceptional.”

“Not right now, it isn’t. I feel like mush. Do cases stop hitting this hard once you’ve been doing this for a while?”

“No, my brain feels like mush too.”

“Go home and get some sleep, ok?” you instructed when it was your stop. Spencer waved as you walked away.

He saw you again sooner than he thought, insomnia not allowing him to sleep so he was the first to receive JJ’s call. He took the Metro to your apartment, knocking on the door until you answered. He was surprised at how quickly you were ready to go, knocking your elbow into his as you left your building to go back into work.

“Old habits, I guess,” you shrugged when he brought it up. It ended up being the most casual interaction of your day, another whirlwind of a case happening with the whole team running on not much sleep.

While Spencer stayed with Dr. Barton to go over medical charts, you went to the school with Morgan and JJ to protect Jeffrey. It was irrational, he knew, but he couldn’t help but wish you were still with him to work on building the profile.

He didn’t want to admit it (he wanted the team to focus on the gunned down unsub and Dr. Barton), but he was glad you were the first one by his side when you finally made it back to the doctor’s house. You stayed with him, even when he told the team about Hotch. In fact, you didn’t leave his side the entire ambulance ride and his time at the hospital.

JJ came into his hospital room a few times to update the two of you on Hotch’s situation, and every time he expected you to leave with her but you didn’t. When he was released from the hospital you drove him home, helping him up to his apartment. Once he was settled, you busied yourself making his home more accessible for the injured man.

Spencer felt sort of awkward as you hummed to yourself, and rightly so. You hadn’t spent much time outside of work together and now he was stuck on his couch with limited mobility. All things considered though, he really didn’t want you to go. He didn’t want you to leave his apartment, he didn’t want you to leave the BAU, and he didn’t want you to leave his life like so many other people that he cared about had.

In a stroke of genius, he realized that he had to tell you. He had to open up the possibility for you to stay to figure out if you were going to leave.

“(y/n)?” he called to you as you finished up putting away his clean dishes in the kitchen.

“What’s up?”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?”

There was a moment of silence that Spencer quickly realized was you moving through his small apartment to grab your bag before you happily joined him on the couch, sitting down carefully as to not jostle his leg.

“Of course I would, did you think I was leaving?”

Spencer blushed, “I don’t know… people who I care about have a tendency to leave.” He watched your features soften.

“Spencer,” you started, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you.”

You didn’t need to clarify further, you both knew the weight your words held and it relieved the tension Spencer had been sporting since the beginning of your friendship like a weighted blanket relieves anxiety.

“Do you want to watch this movie I got from the library about alien abductions in Alaska? I’ve heard it’s super creepy and I didn’t really want to watch it alone anyways.”

Spencer grinned at your suggestion, “there was actually a study that showed that people who claimed to be abducted by aliens were predisposed to sleep paralysis and hypnosis. Should we order some food? When was the last time you ate?”

#vicficwriterchallenge #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #platonic imagine #platonic soulmates

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aesthbaby · 4 years ago

Text

Her Secret

Summary: We’re all aware of Emily’s untold secrets that she took to the grave with her but what about Lauren? The one thing both woman have in common is you, and the memories they took with them in both of their deaths

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x Reader

Prompt/request: None, just an idea I’ve had in my head for a while.

Warnings: Cursing | Death

Wordcount: Almost 4k

Master List

AN: Time line might be a little spotty because the show did not give many details but I promise its still comprehensible.

Its beautiful for a sad event. The white flowers are such a stark contrast to her personality. The color reminds you of a time before, before they knew her and before all of this happened. One of your eyes feels kind of funny so you reach for it, pulling back to examine the small drop of water on your finger. You compose yourself and push the large, black, sunglasses up your nose. Maybe you shouldn’t be here. You were dressed in all black with a black umbrella. Despite it being a sad day, it was unnecessarily sunny.

You spot her team making their way down the walk way. Three men carrying the dark coffin with one Caned man in the front and the women in tow. You take a step back into the shadows as they near the podium. As the service progresses the amount of speeches and tears are--overwhelming. Images of Emily, once known to you as Lauren, flash across your mind as you hold back any and all emotions associated with this event.

You knew she wasn't really "dead," she couldn’t be. Emily Prentiss is invincible and would never go like that. You saw the woman known as "JJ" glances your way but she says nothing about it. Probably assuming you were another one of Emily's secrets taken to the grave.

Emily’s not dead. Emily wouldn’t die like that.

You kept repeating it in your head.

Italy - 2004

The violets surround the mansion like a protective field. Their peaceful existence mocking your volunteer imprisonment. You only took this job because you and this other agent were the only ones who spoke fluent Italian. She was supposed to take it and you were the understudy or whatever but then she got knocked up so here you are. Being mocked by fucking flowers. Your thoughts are interrupted by Doyle approaching you with his brunette arm dealer on his arm. You turn away from the balcony upon his approach.

“Lauren deve restare qui mentre scappo. Per favore, tienila d'occhio.” Lauren has to stay here while I run out. Please keep an eye on her. He’s always been so bossy, and for what? To make himself seem more powerful than he actually is? We’re all aware of the danger working for him provides.

“Si signore.” Yes sir. You turn to acknowledge the woman in front of you but she speaks first.

“Perché? Non posso venire con te?” Why is that? Can't I come with you? She whines.

He gives her a look and she backs down. The Captain heads out with his guards behind him, leaving you alone with his lover.

You’re not sure what to do with her. Is this a form of babysitting?

She clears her throat. “I know.”

Hearing her speak English was a surprise but it makes sense, there was always something different about her. You arch an eyebrow and reply, “Sai...che cosa?” You know....what?

She holds up a finger for you to give her a moment. She turns around and sticks her head out the door; then closes and locks it. “You’re not really from Tirana, are you?” Who is this woman? You maintain a neutral face while she continues. “The fact that you never eat with us was a dead give away. You’re always held up in this room.” She gestures to the large room filled with files, records, and books. “Like you’re trying to avoid something. I’d also like to point out how you rarely present any Albanian customs.” Where are you going with this Reynolds... “At first I thought, ‘Maybe they’re one of Doyle’s assassins that I’m not supposed to know about.’ But then I started paying attention and realized you’re nothing like that.” You let out a sharp breath. “Its okay.” She takes one of your hands. “I won’t tell Ian. There’s already enough death in his life and I wouldn’t want to see you be one of his next victims.”

You’re stuck in the moment and words are hard to form. All of your training is slipping through your fingers. For all you know she could be bluffing, trying to get you killed. You go with your safest option because you don’t know this woman at all. You pull your hand from her and take a step closer. Peering into her eyes for any sign of fear and when you find none, you proceed. Leaning in as close as possible to her. “Non farei acquisizioni così pericolose se fossi in te.” I wouldn't make such dangerous acquisitions if I were you. You whisper. You could never be sure if your suspicions were correct but this, this was all the confirmation you needed. What’s that old saying? Takes one to know one. “Agente.” Finishing off that last word you brush past her.

Virginia - present

Being back in The States with Doyle still running around is unnecessarily risking. Emily’s defeat is the only reason you’ve come back. To watch her team grieve over the coffin is saddening but having to hide is the shadows is unfair. Am I not allowed to publicly grieve? Are my tears not worthy? The grip on your umbrella tightens. She’s not dead. Emily doesn’t loose. Emotions are running high and the speeches are getting long. Last time you talked, she claimed to be alone. No family and no fiends but clearly she was wrong. What you’d give to be laying under a plum tree on a wool woven blanket with her head in your lap. Eating pastries you raided from the kitchen and telling the Captain that you needed her to help analyze costs. What a fool.

You were so entranced with the memory that you didn’t notice when the pale, dark haired agent approached you. Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief if I’m not mistaken. “Agent.” He acknowledges.

“Sir?” You mumble.

“Your profession was easy enough to guess, though I’m not sure of your name.” Those knitted brown sweaters and golden, dainty necklaces. The short chestnut hair with soft curls that smelled of honey shampoo. The way she’d nudge your foot during dinner while casting discreet glances. Its all gone. “Agent?” He calls again. “Are you alright?”

Before you say anything you make sure your voice is clear. “Tell me Agent Hotchner, did she suffer?” That question didn’t need to be answered but you just had to know. A favor was called in on your behalf by Lieutenant Parks, he gave very few details about her death but you’ll take that over nothing at all. This was the one question you didn’t have an answer for. With nothing but silence from the man, you have your answer.

Reaching for your pocket there’s a small clear box; inside of the plastic is a handful of pressed violets. Without looking you hold the slim box out to him. “Please, make sure she gets them.” After he takes them you make one last note of the sight in front of you. All of her friends, family, and coworkers gathered in one place with Emily’s grave as the centerpiece. You turn to finally face the man, tilting your shades so he can see a bit of your eyes. “Dead or alive.” And then disappearing in to the back of the cemetary.

Italy - Spring of 04′

Two months ago you were staring off of Doyle’s Spanish-styled balcony thinking, “What would happen if I called it quits?” You had enough evidence and entail for him to never see freedom again. So what was stopping you?

Her. She was making you second guess.

After having her call you out for being a spy, you were very careful about what you did and said around her. Its not like she had any definitive proof but at the same time neither did you. What you said that day was a total bluff. Its a miracle you’re still alive. You were left with only two conclusions: one was that she herself is a spy, or two, she’s one of the smartest people Ian has ever brought home.

Then came a day where the boys went out to wherever and it was just you, her, and the maids. Most of them are Russian and speak poor Italian so they usually keep to themselves. You’re at the dining room table pretending to run numbers since that’s literally your job- well that and vetting backgrounds of sellers and buyers. Essentially a secretary with dangerous patrons. The position is mind numbingly boring but it does allow you to remain invisible while observing the operation. Think about it, who’s going to notice the secretary while discussing millions? They’re idiots. They allow you to sit in on every single meeting because you’re just the person who runs numbers. A debatable perk to this job is the amount of free time you posses. Usually its spent digging around the operation, sending information back to HQ, or actually enjoying small aspects of the city. That brings you to right now where you’re doodling random shapes on the bottom corner of the paper.

Lauren is on the couch wearing a button up satin dress, quite short for Ian’s taste so you’re surprised to see her wearing it. She’s read something you’ve never heard of, not that it matters. With no idea why she’s in here with you, you retreat back into your own mind.

“The maids have left.” You suddenly hear beside you, nearly jumping out of your skin.

“You scared me!” At the realization of your chosen language you gasp and watch as Lauren smiles widely. You shoot to your feet repeating no over and over. Actively trying to take back your words while she looks rather amused.

“I knew it!” She points at you all accusingly and shit. You keep shaking your head no and trying to get her to be quiet. “I was right about you!” And here’s the perfect time to have a maid to walk in. Lauren says something to her but you’re too wrapped up in your head to translate. All your years of training, expierence, undercover work has just been thrown away over your stupid mistake.

They’re going to kill me. They’re going to have my head on a stake in the middle of the garden for the world to see- or worse! I’ll be tortured for my crimes by one of Doyle’s men.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the brunette waving her hand in front of your face. “Don’t worry,” She say softly as you notice the house keeper is no longer with you. “I told her they could take a break...” At your confused face she continues. “So now we can talk.”

Virginia - present

To say you had no idea where you were going, was an understatement.

You hadn’t been to Virginia in years so everything felt unfamiliar. You took quick peaks at your surroundings as the rented porshe pushed through the traffic. Everything hurt, not the traditional pain you experience over a broken toe but the emotional kind that coursed through your entire body.

Is this what a broken heart feels like?

You kept telling yourself she wasn’t dead; couldn’t be. Not your Emily, the woman you know is a fighter. She’s fucking invincible and would never let herself die at the hand of that monster. If she was really dead, wouldn’t you feel it? Wouldn’t you feel your connection to her sever?

At the reorganization of the build ahead of you, you pull the car into the left lane.

Italy - Spring of 04′

She is so fucking clingy. Always starring at me when no one is watching and going on less missions with Doyle. Speaking of him, the man likes to take her everywhere; calls her “Ho il mio portafortuna” his good luck charm. She usual goes out with him whenever he’s traveling but lately she’s been making little excuses on why she wants to stay for the day. Instead of spending the day recuperating from a headache (like she’s told him) she’ll bother you.

That accent and the way she pronounces her R’s makes you wanna melt, but then she starts asking you a million and one questions. What’s your favorite food? When’s your birthday? Have you ever broken a bone? Do you enjoy reading? Its always something with her. I think she’s trying to annoy me. So far you’ve been answering her questions in Italian to insure that you don’t fuck up again.

Doyle is none the wiser, he still sees you as a secretary and her as arm candy.

But you must admit that Lauren is growing on you. She hasn’t said anything in English to you lately or exposed you to Doyle. You’re rarely ever alone but when you are, she gives you one of her finished books and sits in the room quietly. Its comforting. Today she’s given you Niccolo Ammaniti with a note scribbled in pencil on the 5th page, “Hang in there.” Smart woman, writing it in light pencil so I can easily erase it without leaving a trace...also paranoid woman but rightfully so.

Virginia - present

You adjust your shoe so as not to slip before going into the building and suck the shades into your pocket. The giant letters, I. O. D. S. stare back at you in Ariel font.

Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this. Just accept her death and move on.

Inside of Investigations of Death Services you nod to the secretary, an ex of yours, and continue on to your destination. While in the elevatored your vision feels blurry but now isn’t the time for tears. Arriving at your floor, you spot his office and walk in without so much as a knock or invitation.

“One second,” he speaks into the phone. “Can I help you?” His dark eyes look angry, like he doesn’t recognize you. You take a step forward, offering your closed palm to him. “What? What is this? A fucking magic trick?” You slowly open your palm towards him, revealing the silver clover pin. The suited man looks like he’s just seen a ghost. “Shane, I’ll have to call you back.” He hangs up the phone, then reaches from you hand. “Where did you get this?”

Snatching you hand back and putting the silver back in your pocket. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

He narrows his eyes on you before answering. “Can’t say I do.”

“Back in 03′ you knocked up Carin and proposed I go on assignment. Granted I was the only person who was fluent in Italian--or so I thought. Come to find out there were five other agents who could’ve been assigned there. You chose me because I was up for your job.” Your anger is boiling over quickly. “You were a shitty employee and they were ready to fire you.” You take a daring step forward. “Until you proposed infiltrating Valhalla with one of the foreign operative agents. You told them there were only two fluent agents. Back then we had never met but I knew who you were, Hell, we all knew how much of a screw up you were. Guess you don’t recognize me anymore? I mean in your defense its been years and I’ve lost a few pounds due to the stress you caused me but that’s for another day. How about we go back to 2003.” For a man with toxic masculinity issues, he looks pretty scared. “You couldn’t just out right suggest me so you have to offer up someone else. Coincidently Carin got pregnant right around the time she was starting her training, by you I might add, and could no longer go.” A wide smile starts to grow on your face. “Bet you were counting on my death, huh?” Awe poor baby seems to be shaking. “No...you’re too much of a pussy for that. I bet you were hoping I’d go to Italy and screw things up for the whole operation.” Now you’re toe-to-toe with him. “Mess up so bad that they’d have pull me out and demote me. Or! Reveal myself and hope Doyle’s men killed me or I’d go sprinting home with my tail between my legs.” His silence is starting to irritate you. “So which is it, Mark? Hmm? Cat got your tongue?”

“I’m sorry!” He yells with a reddened face. Out of the corner of your eye you see his co-works looking through his glass walls but you couldn’t care less. “I’m sorry, y/n. What do you want from me? I’ll do anything!” Now we’re getting somewhere.

You push the pin into his face “Where is she, Mark?”

“Where is who?” He’s still fucking shaking.

“Asking me another stupid question and there will be hell to pay.” You’re not really going to hurt him but considering the circumstances, this is justified. The man put your life on the line over some stupid position, a bit of threatening wouldn’t hurt.

“Okay okay. All I know is that after you left she was taken by ALPHA and later faked her death. When Lauren Reynolds died, Emily Prentiss got to go home and Ian Doyle went to a North Korean prison.”

“And now...”

“Last I heard she was working for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI but was recently killed under suspicious circumstances.” At your expression, he continues. “We know she died during a scuffle with Doyle and there was a funeral but we are yet to have a death certificate on record. Sometimes it take anywhere from a week to a month for us to receive proper records on agent deaths. I thought that-”

“Stop, talking.” You cut him off through gritted teath.

Italy - Autumn 04′

“What is your problem, Lauren?” You’re out on the patio in front of the pool on a warm day. Lauren has a four course meal on the table, courtesy of the chefs.

“Nothing...” She shrugs with a mouthful of strawberry.

“You want me to leave.”

Another fucking shrug.

“Be serious.” You’re trying to stop yourself from stomping your foot.

She puts down her food and clasps her hands together. “Yes I want you to leave.” You watch as she gets up and smooths her skirt; taking your hands in hers. “Your time is thinning and you’ve been her a lot longer than me.”

“And leave you here alone? No way, I know you’re invincible but even Superman had his down fall.”

“Superman?” She loops you in closer. “Why not superwoman? Awfully sexist of you.”

“Oh, shut up.” You nudge her back a bit. “But wouldn’t you miss me?”

She gives you one of her wide smiles. “Let me show how much I’d miss you.” She leans in for a light kiss against your lips. You pull away quickly so as not to be seen. El, like the letter, picked out a blind spot that’s covered partially in shadows. “I have to leave in 15 minutes but until then...” She trails with a very telling expression.

“Where?” You laugh. “Not in the second floor bathroom again because that was...tight.”

Her perfectly plucked eyebrow arches upward, “And you were loud!”

You hop past her to sneak a grape. “Hey! You do know that was mine, right?”

“What are you going to do about it, Superwoman?” You turn to grab another grape, while doing so you feel her presence behind you. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, L.”

“Oh why not?” She lightly trails down your backside. “It’ll be so much fun.”

You turn back to her. “Ten minutes?”

“In the library?” She smirks and you nod along.

Virginia - present

This four hundred dollar airplane ticket is going to serve its purpose but paying it back is going to suck. Your government salary was nice and all but $400 is still a lot.

Just two days before, you rushed around you place to pack all of the essentials for a quick flight to Paris; charger, hygiene, two outfits, and the pin all tucked into a stylish backpack.

That brings us here, standing in the streets of downtown Paris alongside the buzzing mopeds weaving through the streets. In front of you is the little café Elle would go on and on about, naturally this is the first place you could think to look.

You didn’t even know what you were looking for. The woman you fell for was a brunette with light curls and bangs.

You were looking for Emily. The woman Lauren introduced you to. The woman you grew to love in the same way you love Lauren, but Lauren is dead. Has been for awhile, now its time to find Emily. Your Emily.

You find nothing, no one who even slightly revels Emily on your first day there. So you find a hostel to lay your head in and continue on the next day. Again and again with the same routine for five days straight.

You wasted all of your time here for what? A memory? A dream? Two woman who no longer exist on the same astral plane as you?

That’s when you see it, a head of dark brown hair a few tables ahead of where you’re standing. With all hope lost you almost think its a mirage.

You sit a few tables ahead of her, careful to keep your face hidden. When the waiter comes around to take your order you give him very specific instructions.

Emily’s POV

Being a dead woman is lonely and isolating...at least the coffee is good. The waiter who dropped off the hot beverage not too long ago has circled back with a cheese croissant in hand. That’s odd, I hate cheese croissants. “Cette personne là-bas m'a demandé de te livrer ça.” That person over there has asked me to deliver this to you. He points over his shoulder to a person who’s face I can’t quite make out. “Ils m'ont également demandé de vous donner ceci.” They also asked me to give this to you. He reaches from his front pocket and softly places a silver clover pin that I haven’t seen in years, and a pressed Violet. I can feel the air drain out of my lungs at the objects in front of me. “Merci beaucoup.” The only person who knows what these objects mean are Doyle and-

At the sense of being watched my head shoots up at the source. At first there’s nothing there but then I spot the familiar figure. Its been weeks since I’ve actually seen them, it can’t be. I must be seeing things. Closing my eyes and taking in a deep breathe, I open them to see that they’re gone.

“Boo.” I hear in my right ear; looking up to see y/n standing beside me with a bright smile.

“You scared me!” Realizing how loud I am, I take a breath.

“Miss me Elle?” I left you behind, twice. I died twice without letting you know. You’ve had to start over too many times and its not far.

“Y/n, how did you find me?”

“Really, Elle. Did you really think I’d fall for that party trick you pulled at the BAU? I’m not dull, and besides,” Y/n/n gently puts their hand over mine on the coffee mug. “You’re my Superwoman, you’ll never die.”

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･**･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*˚✧₊⁎ ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟ･*:.

@beyondprincess @confused-and-really-hungry @millipop18 @supercorp8388 @groovygoob @emilyprentisswife@covetedcoven @justaghostmonument @rabid-wild-misfits @nomit16 @afuckingshituniverse @mys2425 @fanfictionfangirl04 @aaron-hotchner187 @lisztomaniacalice @thestrawberrygirl @miidguardian-exe @criminalmindsmoodrn @ssacandice-ray @davidrossiismydad @garcias-batcave @ssaemxlyprentxss @andreaxxg13 @emilyprentissistoocute @mortallythoughtfulgurl @iamyouknow-yours @aesthbaby

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underworld-of-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Alone - Spencer Reid

Prompt: “Did you get any sleep last night?”

TW: Heavy mentions of death, angst

A/N: Hey guys so this is something I worked on for a few days. I got the idea from a list of dialogue prompts I have.

Part 2

“Why didn’t you save me?”

You shot up like a bullet, your heart racing as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. The cold air burned your lungs as you drew in deep breaths, your ears still ringing from the nightmare. Your sweat-soaked shirt clung to your body, leaving a sticky residue over your skin.

Glancing at your alarm clock you let out a big groan, 4:23AM, you had barely made it 2 hours.

Knowing you wouldn’t make it back to sleep, you dragged yourself out of bed and into your kitchen. Tipping out your now cold coffee, you set about making a new hot cup to awaken your mind for the excruciatingly long day ahead. The bitter coffee burned your tongue, too lazy to care about the taste or burning you downed the cup quickly. You filled the cup again, downing it once more before throwing the cup into the over-piling sink.

The nightmares since your sisters death had been relentless, torturing you past the point of exhaustion. Avery, your sister, was killed by a drunk driver a mere two weeks ago. You weren’t very close to your younger sister, but still her sudden and painful death left you with a myriad of nightmares that followed. Your parents had already died, quite a few years ago, leaving only you and your sister to carry on the family line. But now, you were the only one left, left alone to deal with the aftermath of your sister’s death.

Hell, you and your sister weren’t close. In fact, you couldn’t be more opposite from each other. But that didn’t stop the love you had for her. Sure, you fought, every sibling fights every now and then. She didn’t approve of your work and you didn’t approve of hers; yours was dangerous, hers wasn’t enough to support her. You made it work though. Because you loved your sister.

And now, she was gone, just like your parents.

Your apartment seemed empty, no one else had ever lived there, but the hole in your heart made a hole in your apartment. You were alone. The photos of your family that you once proudly displayed now sat in a box, painful memories of everything you had lost.

Tired of standing in your apartment, you reached for your car keys before leaving the apartment. Driving was one of your favourite ways to get things off of your mind. You didn’t have to think of the pain, or the loss. It was just you and the road.

4am meant mostly empty roads, and tired drivers who wanted to be anywhere else but there. Except for you, you were wide awake and looking for the perfect distraction from your thoughts. Turning on the radio, you waited for a quiet sad song to start playing before pulling out of your apartment’s parking lot. It was the perfect distraction.

After a few hours of driving, you got a call from Hotch on your way back to your apartment.

“We got a case; briefing is in 30 minutes.” He announced sharply before hanging up. Letting out a loud sigh, you turned around and drove back towards the office. Luckily, you had thought ahead and thrown your go bag into the backseat of your car, along with a change of clothes for work. You weren’t really planning on heading home before work started. Instead, hoping that you’d find something to entertain yourself with.

“Y/L/N, how nice of you to join us.” Emily teased jokingly as you rushed into the briefing room, breathless from the quick change you had done.

“Sorry, long night.” You apologised before sitting in your seat, the tablets being handed around by Penelope.

“Oh, was he good?” Emily said teasingly.

“Um, what?” You questioned. Confused, you looked at her before realising that she thought you were with a guy.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Derek asked, his eyes watching you carefully. You glanced at him nervously, avoiding his eyes. He already knew the answer, they all did.

Hotch cleared his throat, drawing the room’s attention back to the case at hand.

“Okay, so we have a murdered couple in Sheridan, Wyoming. It’s a small town with about 18,000 people. The local police department have done some investigating but came up with no viable leads. This is believed to be the third couple murdered in a string of crimes. We’ve been asked to come in and help catch the unsub.” JJ explained, pictures flashing up on the screen of the couple.

You zoned out, focusing on the photo of the female on the screen. Her black hair was the same colour of your sisters, her lips the same shade of pink. She looked scarily like your sister, so much so, that if your sister weren’t already dead, you’d be convinced that it was her.

“Y/N, come on we’re leaving in 30 minutes.” Reid announced, nudging your side almost painfully to bring you out of your trance.

Spencer was your closest friend at the BAU, you told him everything, from a book you read, to some interesting fact you had found out. You knew about his mum, and even had gone to meet her with him once. But this is something you wanted to keep to yourself, you didn’t want pity, or help – you just wanted to get over how you were feeling. Admittedly, you had hoped there was something more between you and him, but he never acted, so you assumed it was just platonic for him.

“Oh, yeah.” You nodded before standing up and leaving the room hastily, you didn’t want Reid to know why you were acting so weird. He was a genius; he’d figure it out somehow.

*****

You wrapped your jacket tighter around your body as the chills set into your bones. For some ungodly reason, the air-conditioning on the plane was always colder than necessary, and you always needed a jacket for the ride. Jokingly, your sister used to call you lizard, because of the fact that you were always cold, no matter the temperature outside.

“So, anybody got any ideas?” Hotch asked as you sat around the plane, everyone moving closer to discuss the case. You zoned out of the conversation; your eyes warily trained on the closed file in before you.

“Y/L/N go visit the last crime scene.” You zoned back into the conversation, focusing on Hotch who was sitting across from you. “The families of those victims are on their way, so we’ll touch base with them when they arrive.” Hotch assigned your roles, leaving you to continue looking over the cases on your way to the location.

*****

“Mr. Morrison was killed over here, coroner put his death at before Miss. Turner’s, who was killed in the bedroom.” You followed the officer into the bedroom, unconsciously taking notes of both the victim’s lives and their deaths.

“Were there any signs of sexual assault on the female?” You questioned, averting your eyes from the large blood stain on the bed.

“Not from what we could tell, although it seems like the killer may have positioned the body postmortem.” Around the room there were several photos of the seemingly happy couple, as well as some of their respective families. Walking over to the nightstand you noticed the slightly open bottom drawer.

“Has this been searched?” You questioned, pointing towards the open drawer before you.

“No.” Usually you refrained from looking into one’s personal lives so much, but you needed to find any link you could between the victims.

Bending down, you opened the bottom drawer. Inside the drawer were a pile of magazines and catalogues, all about weddings and relationships. On top, was a black velvet box with a small silver leaf imprinted on it. Opening it, you saw that it was empty, the engagement ring missing from the box.

“Was she found with an engagement ring?” You questioned, examining the back of the box.

“No, she wasn’t.” You showed the empty box to the officer, who eyed it curiously.

“So, where’s the ring?”

*****

Cold water dripped down your face, chilling your skin as you leaned against the basin, your elbows resting on the counter. The cold-water working miracles to awaken your mind again, shocking you into a state of semi-consciousness. Sucking in a deep breath, you splashed your face with more cold water again before looking up at your reflection in the mirror. You looked beyond exhausted, sunken, dark purple eyebags, pale skin, slightly sunken in skin. It was a wonder you hadn’t passed out from exhaustion entirely.

The door to the bathroom opened, Emily stepping into the small space. She quickly noticed you, and your distressed appearance. You watched as she cautiously stepped towards you, her hand extended out slightly.

“Y/N?” She asked, her hand resting gently on your shoulder. “Are you okay?” You held your composure as you dried your face, forcing your lips into a gentle smile.

“Yeah, just been a rough day. This case isn’t easy,” you lied. Profiling made lying come easy to you, you could lie through your teeth about almost anything now.

“Bullshit. Something is wrong, the whole team can tell. You’ve been hurting for weeks. You obviously haven’t been sleeping, and you’re distracted almost all of the time. We’re worried about you,” tears pricked at your eyes as Emily spoke, her words hitting deep into your heart. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” She assured, her hand gently rubbing your back in circular motions.

“My sister-” you choked, the ball in your throat hardening, “she was killed in a car accident. Drunk driver.” Emily let out a painful sigh, her arms pulling you into a tight hug. “It happened about 2 weeks ago; I haven’t been able to sleep since.” You admitted, the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Y/N, why didn’t you tell us?” She questioned, tears pricking at her eyes as well.

“Because I need to deal with it on my own. I can’t take time off, the team needs me, victims need me. But I’m getting better,” you forced a smile to try and convince her of your words.

“You need time to heal Y/N. We can find a way to manage without you. You’re all alone in this aren’t you?” Reluctantly, you nodded your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I’m sorry,” she apologised. “Taking some time off might help you though. It’s easy to tell that you’re exhausted and not working at your best. Nobody will blame you; we just want what’s best for you.” She reminded, her words full of warmth and heart.

“Thank you,” your voice was quiet, but she smiled, nonetheless.

“We’re here for you.”

*****

The door to Hotch’s office swung in, Hotch stood on the other side of the doorway, a grim expression on his face.

“Y/N, come on in.” You nodded, following him into the large office that you had only seen a few times. “What’s the meaning of this meeting?” He questioned, his eyes not averting from yours.

“I-I’d like to request some time off sir. My sister passed away a few weeks ago, and I thought I could handle it and work. But I haven’t been able to,” you admitted, hanging your head in shame. Anyone else on the team could have handled grieving and work, or at least separated the two from one another. You couldn’t, everywhere you went, your sister was there. Everything you did, she was there.

“Why didn’t you tell us Y/N?” Hotch’s body relaxed, a sad expression washing over his face.

“I didn’t feel like you guys needed to know.” You admitted shamefully, regret laced into your words.

“We’re your team Y/N, you should have told us.” He chastised; his voice thick with sadness.

“I know sir, I’m sorry I didn’t.” You paused in silence for a minute, the air thick as you thought of your actions. “Can I take a few weeks off sir? I promise it won’t be long, I just need some time to grieve and sort through things,” you assured, your eyes pleading.

“Of course, Y/N, take however long you need.” He reached for a piece of paper, handing it to you. “Just fill this out and send it back to me in a few days. I’ll sort out the rest.” Grateful, you took the piece of paper out of his hand, holding it gently in your own.

“Thank you, sir, see you when I come back.” You appreciated, shaking his hand briefly before walking out of the office.

The bullpen was now empty, everyone having already left to go home for a few days after the long case. You had successfully caught the killer, right before he killed another couple. Turns out he had been hunting couples looking to get engaged, because his ex-girlfriend had turned down his proposal.

The team had agreed to go out for drinks after the case, to celebrate yet another win. You had opted out of going to the bar, instead lying that you had some things you wanted to do. It wasn’t a complete lie. But thankfully, the boys had believed it. JJ and Garcia were a bit more suspicious. Emily just watched you warily, already knowing what you were going to do when you got home.

Since you had told her of your sister, she was more than understanding of your actions. And even helped you out by bringing you coffee and checking in on you. She was one of your closest friends, and you were ever grateful for her.

Grabbing your bag, you packed away some important stuff from your desk before looking around the empty bullpen – it was your home away from home. Letting out a small sigh, you hitched your bag over your shoulder before walking out of the bullpen, aware of Hotch watching you walk towards the elevators.

*****

~3RD PERSON POV~

“Hey, has anyone heard from Y/N lately?” Derek question as he walked into the break area, everyone was spread around the small area, chatting between themselves. Emily stayed quiet, glancing at Hotch who was now paying attention to current issue. The team had a right to know at least something for your sudden disappearance.

“Some things happened recently, and Y/N needed to take some time off to deal with them.” Emily spoke up, being careful not to release any telling information. Knowingly, Hotch glanced at her, he didn’t know that Emily knew, but now it made sense since Y/N wouldn’t have gone to him without being pushed.

“She was pretty out of it for the past few weeks,” JJ pointed out. The team had picked up on your behaviour and knew something was wrong from the day after her death, when you walked in late with bloodshot eyes.

“Team, Y/N took some time off for personal reasons. I can’t go much into it, but a family member passed away and she was struggling with the situation. She requested some time off to deal. I know it hasn’t been easy for her lately, so please, can we stop speculating and give her privacy.” Hotch requested, putting his coffee mug back down on the bench. Spencer glanced up at him, his eyes full of concern as he profiled his supervisor.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, standing up and grabbing his coffee. He hurried back to his desk, quickly sitting down, and sending you a hasty text.

S: Are you okay?

He waited for what seemed like forever for your response. It was only a few minutes before his phone dinged with a response.

You: So, you found out?

He ignored the pain of your harsh response as he quickly typed a response.

S: Why didn’t you tell me?

You: I didn’t feel the need to. I didn’t want anyone to find out. Emily convinced me to tell Hotch after she cornered me on the last case.

S: I thought we were close though?

You: Spencer, we are close. But this is something I wanted to deal with on my own.

He sensed your hesitation in the text, the lie that you blatantly told. Spencer knew you better than anyone, he could read you like a book. You couldn’t get anything past him.

S: Do you want me to come over?

He watched carefully as the three dots appeared and disappeared a few times. Letting out a groan, he put his phone down, he knew you needed someone to help, to talk to. But he couldn’t help but feel stupid for asking. Obviously, you didn’t want him around, or you would have told him earlier.

You: Please

With that simple word, he jumped up and practically ran over to the break area. His pleading eyes looked at Hotch, and before he could even open his mouth, Hotch spoke.

“Go,” Hotch acquiesced. He knew that you needed someone, and Spencer was the someone you needed.

Part 2

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #spencer x reader fluff #spencer fluff

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docholligay · 4 years ago

Note

Pharah/Mercy, Swingset.

MY FIRST FLUFF OF THE DAY! I hope you like it, 1600 words.

Love Like an Inheritance

Angela Zeigler thought many things of her wife, and would have described her in many different ways. Protective. Loyal. Reliable. Dedicated. Principled. Intelligent. Thoughtful. But never, in her life, might she have described her wife as ‘spontaneous’ or ‘goofy,’ and yet here she was, with a wide grin, suggesting that Mercy get on the swingset as they passed by the park on the way home.

“I’ll push you.” she nodded, hands in her pockets against the chill, the slightest glint of the beers they’d had at Emily and Tracer’s sparkling in her eye. Not drunk, for Pharah was rarely that, but more than she usually drank and with a hint of careless merriment that was both unusual and charming.

Mercy looked back to the swings, a small smile creeping across her own face even as she shook her head. It was for children, she thought, and they should be getting home anyhow, it was turning late and the October cool was beginning to settle in, that London fog creeping quietly about their ankles, hanging damply.

“I have not been swinging since I was…” she thought for a moment, “I don’t even know, Fareeha, a child.”

“Did you like it?” Pharah tilted her head, “I used to push my cousins, when I lived with my aunt, Zeina. My littlest cousin, Ruqayya---” Mercy laughed, and Pharah wrinkled her nose, “What?”

“Just remembering Ruqayya at the wedding,” Mercy laughed again, “how she was teasing you,” she slipped her hand into Pharah’s pocket, intertwining their fingers, “We should have her to London, again.”

It was Pharah’s turn to shake her head. “She would never come in the winter. A true desert fox, Ruqayya.” She gave a cheerful scowl. “You are distracting me, Angela. Did you like it, when you were young?”

“I am not thinking that I ever was young.”

She had said it off the cuff, but it hung fragile in the air like a spun glass ornament, too true and too bright to look at directly. It had not been a lie, as Mercy was not a liar, and not given to dramatics overly much, but it was true in a way she had never meant to say. She had been a prodigy from the first, in college before she was allowed to ride her bicycle to the store alone, orphaned before she ever had a bat mitzvah. Perhaps they had this in common, grown too soon, and for all the differences others saw in them, and how they laughed at the odd couple, Mercy had always seen the same heart beating in their chests. Old souls who wished for nothing more than to make this world better than they left it, too eager to give themselves over in the service of the greater good.

Pharah squeezed her hand. “Then be young now.”

“You spend too much time with Lena.” She looked away, but blushed.

Pharah chuckled. “I would never argue that.”

Mercy pulled at her hand and brushed a stray hair from her forehead. “Oh, you enjoy Lena plenty.”

“I never said that I didn’t,” Pharah followed after her, “I said I spend too much time around her.”

Mercy stopped as they approached the swingset, gleaming bright silver in the pale moonlight, and stared. Her own reticence surprised her. Mercy was not a woman overly concerned with her own appearances, and it was late enough besides that the only people passing by were on their way home themselves, or bouncing from pub to pub, and would have no idea that a Nobel prize winner was swinging away. Very likely they would not idea who she was, how arrogant to assume that a casual person might have any idea of her work.

Besides, she didn’t want to think about her work. Even those who knew of her had the unfortunate quality of regarding her as a God, when Mercy was all too cognizant of the fact that she could struggle and pull and plead at the gates between life and death, but she was not the final gatekeeper.

Pharah wrapped her arms around her, and put her head on Mercy’s shoulder. “Go on. Get on the swing.”

Maybe it was the schnapps she’d had herself, or Pharah’s strange quality of playfulness that only came out every so often, and mostly only in Mercy’s presence, or maybe it was the play of the moon peeking out from the clouds, but a warmth filled Mercy and she found herself climbing into the swing as Pharah placed her hands on her back and began to push.

“It was a good night.” Pharah said, as Mercy slowly began to sway back and forth.

“Yes,” Mercy looking up to the clouds, knowing that the stars must be twinkling their best behind them, “wonderful.”

And it had been. Tracer was in bright spirits, as ever, and Emily seemed delighted and besotted with her new wife--it made Mercy smile to remember how she and Pharah had been when they were only married half a year--and the meal they’d made had been warm and comforting, if nothing fancy, Tracer, as always, having a excellent selection of drinks and a cake from her uncle’s bakery. Mercy hadn’t expected to laugh so much in one night.

A stronger push, and Mercy went higher, lifting toward those hidden stars.

“You were beautiful, of course.”

At this Mercy nearly laughed. Her hair was simply piled into a clip at the back of her head, like always, the pink sweater and white plaid skirt well worn in deference to Mercy’s gentle refusal to buy anything new for herself unless under duress. She’d put on a bit of foundation, she supposed, and a quick swipe of mascara, but nothing more intricate than that--Tracer and Emily had known Mercy long enough to not be surprised by what she looked like--and so there was nothing very special about the way she looked tonight.

“I am not knowing anything about that.” She turned to look back at Pharah for a moment, her dark eyes with their own stars, unclouded.

Pharah gave a decisive, commanding nod, well practiced. “You were. You never see yourself, in the candlelight, when Emily troubles with it,” another push, higher still, “It makes you...even more beautiful, than you are, always.” She laughed as her hand connected with Mercy’s back again, “I am no poet, Angela, you know this, but you were particularly beautiful.”

She was no poet, she often said, in a gentle balance between self-deprecation and Pharah’s upright honesty. Why then, did Mercy’s heart race when she said things in her simple way, more than with the finest verses of the Rilke her father loved. How shall I hold my soul so it does not touch on yours, no match for Pharah’s straightforward, “I will love and follow you, whatever you decide.” Ah, you were the gardens, ah I saw them with such hope, could never hold a candle to, “I understood what being loved felt like, when you did it.”

“I am not needing a poet,” she called into the sky, “I am not wanting one.”

Indeed, all the poetry she ever needed was carried in all the ways Pharah showed her deep and abounding love. The way she made Mercy’s coffee every morning, and brought it to her in bed. The way she gently nagged over the subject of lunch, when Mercy was poring over papers and results. The small patch of concrete that was their ‘patio,’ cleaned and decorated as a space for the two of them to read and sip coffee in the evenings. The way she looked at Mercy, with a great tenderness her own soldiers might have been forced to smile at.

“Excellent,” Pharah gave a chuckle, “Then I have nothing to fear.”

Rising up above the fog and the clutter of London, eyes fixed to the sky, Mercy imagined what it might have been to have been a normal child with a normal life, if she hadn’t been full of such promise, if she hadn’t been thrown into adulthood without anyone to help her be a child at the age of twelve, if she hadn’t spent so much of her life feeling so utterly alone. Might she have giggled and blushed over girls with the others? Might she have learned to like shopping and had a bustle of friends, not simply colleagues? Would she have wanted to? Would she trade knowing wha she had done for this work and, she thought, what this world had given her?

She dragged her feet on the ground, stopping herself, and looked back to Pharah.

“I would change nothing.” She shook her head as she continued to study the earth-rich loveliness of her straightforward, good, wonderful wife, “You are all I never could have known to ask for.”

At this, even in the darkness, Pharah seemed to blush herself, and took hold of the chains at Mercy’s sides, pulling them away from her, kissing her with a childish zeal and an adult assuredness.

They were never young, Pharah and Mercy, except in small moments. But here on a playground, late at night, they could find a way lay the bricks of innocent, perfect joy that had been taken from them too soon. As they kissed, the world still wavered with the trembles of instability, the buildings across the street were still bullet-scarred, Tracer’s hands still shook from time to time, Reinhardt and Jack still lay dead, and poverty still paired with greed to inflict misery on those who missed its boot. But these things hardly mattered, for even in the chill nothing could kill that verdant garden Rilke spoke of, the one where Pharah and Mercy kept their perfect, bright love.

The clouds parted, and the stars glittered like bubbles in champagne glass, toasting them.

#HON HON HON #the title is also Rilke but from his essays #and like...a minor snippet taken and abridged #seolh

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lothiriel84 · 4 years ago

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Fairytale

I'm in love with a fairytale Even though it hurts 'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind I'm already cursed

A Cabin Pressure ficlet. Arospec!Douglas, pre- to post-canon. Inspired by this post.

For a long time after Helena, he makes no real attempt at dating. Sure, he does go in for the occasional, mutually satisfactory one-night stand; he may be world-weary and cynical, but he’s not dead yet, if you catch his drift. And yes, deep down under his carefully constructed Sky God persona, he’s only too painfully aware that he’s getting on a bit, and he would do better to start looking for a new potential long-term partner sooner rather than later; he just feels like he could use a bit of space, after going through the motions of yet another messy divorce.

To be perfectly honest – which he rarely is, even in the privacy of his own mind – his marriage to Helena had been withering away long before the Tai Chi teacher even entered the picture. Like clockwork, all of Douglas’s relationships invariably reach a stage where he can’t seem to meet his partner’s emotional needs, no matter how hard he tries. After that, it’s only a matter of time before the relationship itself starts to sink to its untimely end; even now, with three failed marriages under his belt, he doesn’t feel remotely closer to figuring out how to stop it from happening.

Always one for grand gestures, he can’t seem to get to grips with the fabled happily ever after, so to speak. Sweeping the woman of his dreams off her feet is easy, always has been; keeping up with the daily grind of playing the part of the loving husband, not so much. And for all that he’d very much rather not unscrew the cap on that particular period of his life, he’s still plagued by the niggling doubt that it wasn’t so much his drinking problem that caused the dissolution of his first marriage as it was the strain of living up to societal expectations with regard to a happy and fulfilled married life that pushed him towards drinking in the first place.

All those romantic movies Linda was so fond of watching, back in the day, they never showed you what comes after your significant other says yes, and you finally settle into a life together. He always assumed everything would fall into place, once you’re sitting in your picture-perfect house with your beautiful new wife and a little bundle of joy on the way. What those movies usually failed to mention was that you were basically signing in for what felt like a lifetime of proving your worth as a romantic partner, regardless that you were long past the courtship stage by that point.

And, well, frankly it all started feeling a bit too much, no matter how adoring his wife or how spectacular the sex. They had kept it up long after that, mainly for Verity’s sake, but in hindsight it was a terrible decision, not least because rather than owning up to his share of the blame, he started to hit the bottle as a way to numb his feelings of inadequacy. It had taken a decade of sobriety and the failure of his second marriage for him and Linda to be back on speaking terms, and by then, he was barely more than a stranger to his elder daughter.

When he and Karen got married, he thought he had it all worked out; she was his closest confidant as well as his lover, and they were on an equal footing in pretty much every aspect of their relationship. And above all, she didn’t require constant proof of his unchanged feelings towards her; no need for him to put on an act for her benefit, he could just be himself in her presence, or so he thought.

By the time Emily was four, they were sleeping in separate rooms, and he was seeing more of Helena than he did of his own wife. He never cheated on Karen, that much was true, but it did very little to assuage his guilt when he eventually bowed to the inevitable and manifested his intention to split up with her. She called him a bastard and a liar, even accused him of carrying a torch for ‘that bitch’ ever since their wedding day, five years prior; and while he would maybe go as far as admit to a certain level of sexual attraction dating back to that first meeting, he had only been entertaining the idea of acting on it for the past six months.

And oh, sex with Helena was everything he’d imagined it to be, and more. She was significantly younger than both Linda and Karen, happened to be a fitness enthusiast, and even more importantly, she was under the impression he was the best thing since the sliced bread. Which was precisely why he elected to omit the finer details when it came to his reasons for exchanging his prior position at Air England for an otherwise unspecified job at a small charter firm that – quite conveniently – operated out of Fitton. And yet, somewhere along the way, even their shared belief in the terrificness of Douglas Richardson turned out to be not enough.

“At least he loves me,” Helena had spat back at him, when he’d lashed out at her for having an affair behind his back. He’d let go of her then, his mind floundering helplessly as she moved around the room to gather her things, only coming back to his senses when the front door slammed shut after her.

How could she even suggest he didn’t love her, after he’d bloody left Emily’s mother to be with her? And yet, even now, with his third divorce long finalised and yet another flavour of alimony putting a dent in his savings, he cannot help but wonder.

Was he really, truly in love with Helena when he married her? He thought he was at the time, and with each of his previous wives before her, but now he’s not so sure anymore. Not after he had to sit through an eight-hour flight with Herc describing to him in painful detail how Carolyn makes him feel, never mind that she’s not even remotely his type and he very nearly gets a heart attack every time he lays eyes on that terrifying-looking stuffed sheep that lives in their house.

And now Martin has announced he and Theresa are finally getting married – his Liechtenstein citizenship test passed with flying colours, and on his fifth attempt no less – Douglas is beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, this relationship malarkey might not be for him after all.

It’s not as if he isn’t happy enough now, back in the captain’s seat, flying the old girl all over the world with Carolyn and Arthur – and yes, even Herc – at his side. And he still gets to tease Martin by text in his spare time, send him new word games when he’s particularly bored, or even fill him in on Arthur’s latest culinary exploits.

He’s going to go up to Barrow-in-Furness in two weeks’ time for Emily’s birthday, and he’s actually looking forward to seeing Karen again; they’ve settled into the beginnings of a tentative friendship of late, what with his most recent divorce and her splitting up amicably with her second husband, and she jokingly told him over the phone he’s welcome to stay for the duration of the weekend so long as there are no further attempt on the life of her surviving koi carp.

As for Verity, their relationship may still be more than a little frayed in places, but he gets the feeling she’ll come round in her own time, whenever she’s ready. He was positively delighted when she emailed him last month, explaining she moved in with her girlfriend and that he should send her birthday and Christmas cards to the new address.

As one of the greatest philosophers of our age put it, you’re hardly ever blissfully happy with the love of your life in the moonlight; and when you are, you’re too busy worrying about it being over soon. He smiles, closes his laptop, and decides he may as well run himself a hot bath.

#Cabin Pressure #Douglas Richardson #past Douglas/Douglas' wives #aromantic spectrum #aromantic allosexual character #past relationships #introspection #I wrote a thing

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tcstu · 4 years ago

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Ekphrastic Fiction Contest Winner (August 2020)

The winner for this month’s contest is.... Emily @emilyelizabethfowl ! Congratulations!!! Emily is an incredibly talented writer who previously won this contest twice in 2019. You can see those two entries here:

January 2019

June 2019

If you like Emily’s writing, make sure to check out their page here.

This month also had some pretty interesting pieces submitted, so please make sure to look for my Honorable Mentions post later today to see more unique interpretations of this piece!

As a reminder, the artistic piece for this month’s contest is titled, “G'Nar the Raven" and was created by Nataly Lanier @nataly-lanier. This character is actually part of a larger world called "The Lane of Vos” that was created by this artist. You can click here to learn more about this world, or click here to see more of Nataly Lanier’s original work.

The Crows returned in a flurry of loose feathers and tightly wound rolls of paper, their wings beating in tempo with the clashes of armies outside the keep.

G’Nar gathered the rolls, kneeling to avoid the pain in his back. The constant ache was more annoying than he had ever expected it to be.

Of course, usually there was Alton around, but now-

”You taught us well, Master G’Nar.”

Ah, well. G’Nar straightened up with a sigh, missives safely tucked away. He still had his duties to fulfill, even in the midst of war.

Especially then, really.

The Crows showed no impatience, perched on the long stand; they were far too well taught for that. G’Nar filled their bowls with an assortment of dead mice, nuts and fruits. Only the best after their twenty long years of servitude.

“But we’re big birdies now.”

One, two, three, four, five-

Seven? Scrambling to put on his reading glasses, G’Nar head-counted them again.

Ryss, Ida, Cora, Kallia, Rhonda.

Owain. And… Lilly.

G’Nar touched her head with his trembling hand, half-convinced she was just a ghost coming back to haunt him.

“My sweet Lilly,” he sobbed out, “After all these years-!”

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, even as Owain preened pointedly, awaiting praise. No wonder he didn’t make it last month. The Ritual was done mere days after G’Nar had assumed him dead, and now he returned, having accomplished the impossible-!

If only G’Nar had waited…

“Ready to leave the nest.”

But how was he to know? There were five Crows left, and the baker’s dozen of teens had been more than ready to step in.

Centuries of careful experimentation, optimization, sacrifice, to ensure both the Crows and the Handler would be prepared for anything, ready to carry on the Order’s Mission, to keep peace across all the worldly kingdoms...

Years he had spent with these children.

Dozens of scrapes healed, hundreds of stories told, thousands of hugs exchanged… and yet, he had never seen it coming.

They had all been ready for the Ritual. All aware of their role in the Order, of the lifetime of spying they were willing to give, to keep balance in the world.

Or so he had thought.

“Ready to spread our wings.”

He had watched last month, full of pride, as they morphed within the Circle, faces extending into beaks, bones bending, black feathers covering their bodies, no complaint to be heard.

G’Nar had turned to Alton, to share this joy; To officially give the power to the new Handler, to the new generation.

The blood-thirsty smile had frozen him in place.

“Keeping balance sounds rather boring,” Alton had said then, the new Murder of Crows perching upon his shoulders, circling around his head. “We have something different planned for this world.You taught us well, Master G'Nar.”

Ever since, there was only chaos. War. Destruction. Everything in direct opposition to the mission of the Order of Crows.

“Although your teachings will no longer be required.”

#writing contest #contest winner #August contest winner #writeblr #writing community #ekphrastic fiction contest winner #ekphrastic fiction #ekphrastic fiction contest

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ghostbustermelanieking · 6 years ago

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a mountain in colorado (part 3 of 3)

part one, part two

post ghouli au. jackson van de kamp, emily sim, samantha mulder, melissa scully. part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files.

Summary: While Jackson Van de Kamp is on the run, he encounters a series of assumed-dead relatives he didn’t know he had.

---

So this is what Jackson does now. He lives among these inexplicable long-lost relatives, and he tries not to question it. They aren't new parents, he tells himself. They definitely aren't that. And the other parts, the extended members of his family have basically rejected him, and he won't dare try again after what happened with his grandmother. So it must be okay. He's safe here, and his parents can't resent him for being safe, can they? And he still hasn't called Samantha or Melissa Aunt.

It's in the little shit. Samantha kind of gives him warning looks when he goes for the booze, so he holds back, but they watch Netflix on the couch a lot of nights. They like the same old sitcoms that never touch the areas that they don't want to hear about, tests and hospitals and dead parents. Samantha plays basketball, it turns out, and they play one on one on the blacktop sometimes because what the hell else is he going to do. (The first time they play, she beats him by a wide margin. He taunts, “You're pretty good for a woman in her fifties,” and she looks astonished for a second before making a face and telling him to shut the hell up.) He plays a lot of board games with Melissa and Emily, he and Emily hike the mountains sometimes. He and Emily are the most likely to hang out, goof off and do dumb kid stuff even though she is in her twenties, like the siblinghood they never had. Strange little companionable situations and plenty of isolation seem to make this situation that he's actually willing to stay in.

Emily makes him go with her to get groceries at one point, shows him the tiny-ass town that they are closest to. It's cute, reminds him of his hometown in Wyoming. Nothing like Norfolk.

The clerk at the grocery store recognizes her, and has plenty of questions about who he is. “He's my little brother,” Emily says, tousling his hair as he tries to duck away. (He's actually taller than her, it looks fucking ridiculous for her to do that.) “I thought it was about time he helped me out with the groceries,” she adds smugly, as if he'd been ducking responsibilities all this time instead of literally having only been around two weeks.

“Oh, you two look just alike!” says the clerk, and Jackson wants to call him a liar, but they do look alike, just a little. In the face; their profiles are similar. They both have some freckles, although Emily has more. He sees it, but it makes him uncomfortable, and he can't believe this random fucking stranger sees it. He ducks his head and studiously ignores the guy.

He helps carry the groceries, and Emily makes him drive back to camp, tossing him the keys with the excuse of, “I'm tired.” (He's secretly relieved; his sister drives like a maniac. He probably isn't much better, but riding with Emily feels like an adventure, or something meant for thrill-seekers. Especially with all those mountain curves.) He takes the keys and drives back, trying not to dwell on what the clerk said. But it sticks with him anyway. They look alike. He has a big sister. It's easy to forget sometimes, hut he actually has a sister.

(Emily may be the one family member he doesn't feel guilty about. It feels less wrong to have a sister because he's never had a sister before, she can't be misconstrued as a replacement. Because she was an experiment, too. Because he knew her before his parents died. Because he's always kind of wanted a sister.)

Emily plays music too loud the whole way back to camp and tells him to at least go the speed limit. It's December, and it's probably unreasonable to ride around with all the windows down, but Jackson lets them down anyway.

---

It strikes him, sometimes, how far he is from his original goal. He wanted to cross the country, find little ways to forget everything that had happened, maybe send Bri and Sarah a postcard or two. Avoid Scully and Mulder and the facets from that part of his life as much as he could, either for the safety of his birth parents and himself, or out of a need not to betray his parents. Maybe figure out how to save the fucking world, if he can save the fucking world. (Somehow, he seriously doubts it.) But the longer he stays at this abandoned summer camp, the further he feels himself straying away from his plans, his old life. He barely thinks about Bri and Sarah anymore, and considering how that went down, that's probably a good thing. He's done enough to ruin their lives; the best he can do is to stay away. But he doesn't think about his old life in Norfolk much. And he still thinks about his parents, a lot—in his nightmares, in those random guilty moments that hit him at just the right angle to completely gut him, in those moments where he's enjoying himself and he brings up a moment from his past, a funny story or something on pure instinct. And then he remembers: it's not the same. It will never be the same again.

No one ever comments on that, because he knows that all three of the women here can relate to that. It seems to be a different kind of painful for them, especially Emily—she’s brought up a few memories she has of her adoptive parents, although they're less because she was so young, and almost all of them make her cry. Samantha seems the same sort of distanced from her old life as Emily, since it's been over forty years. Sometimes, she'll bring up an argument she had with her brother, or some prank she played, or something like that, but she almost always stops herself whenever Jackson's around, casting those same nervous looks at him that he's more or less gotten used to. He'd rather Samantha treat the subject delicately, he guesses, even though it's beginning to drive him crazy.

Melissa, though. Melissa brings up her family more often. She usually seems happier than Samantha and Emily both when she does, and the stories usually involve her sister whenever Jackson is around. Jackson's birth mother.

He tries his best to ignore it. He really does. Melissa is pretty cool, and she's a good cook (“I used to be a terrible cook, just to piss off my mom,” she tells him once, “but I've been bored out here for almost twenty years, I had to get good at something. I feel like I've betrayed my values, but I couldn't eat Samantha's cooking for another fucking day.”), and she's usually really welcoming to him. She lets him crash on her couch, and doesn't complain when he and Emily stay up too late watching movies and cracking up and making a mess with the popcorn, and doesn't complain when he eats all her food, or when he really does find a weed stash and breaks it out. She's nice. But it gets on his nerves. He doesn't know how to make it clear that he can't be close to Scully, and call her Mom, and give her hugs, like he knows Melissa wants. He's a fuck-up, and he meant it when he said he wished he knew Scully better, but he doesn't know how to do it. When he was a little kid, he would've loved to hear these stories. Now, they just make him mad. Make him think about what could have been.

It all comes to a head, of course. Like it always does.

Jackson comes over to Melissa's house one day looking for Emily, and she tells him that Emily's driven into town for the evening. Somehow, this turns into Melissa and Jackson playing Scrabble alone. He's kind of nervous at the prospect of hanging out with her alone, without Emily as a buffer, but he goes with it because there are cookies in a container on the counter, and he'd feel like the biggest asshole in the world if he said no. (That's how you know they're family, he thinks. Because you're afraid to say no and hurt their feelings.)

He doesn't really care. He's always been pretty good at Scrabble. The first half of the game goes pretty smoothly, with Jackson collecting as many triple word scores as he can, and Melissa telling him stories about her college years that are so ridiculous it makes him crack up. He knew he got his proclivity for troublemaking and getting high from somewhere. “You were pretty badass, back in the day,” he tells her, and she shrugs and says, “What can I say, Dana was always the good one.”

The second half of the game goes downhill from there.

Jackson tries to steer the conversation back into safer waters by trying to interject stories of trouble he and his friends have gotten into, but Melissa can match it with just as many stories about Scully. She used to drag Dana to parties, and Dana was absolutely ridiculous when she got drunk. Dana was a good student, straight A student for all the time she spent in school. Dana used to sneak out every week when she was fourteen and smoke cigarettes, and Melissa still doesn't know how she didn't get caught. Melissa and Dana used to smoke on the roof at Thanksgiving when things would get too awkward with family. Dana was always great at Scrabble, Melissa thinks she used to read the dictionary when she got bored. Dana used to babysit the neighbor's kids, and she was always just great at it, she always loved kids.

That's the proverbial last straw. That's when Jackson can't take it anymore.

“Stop,” he says quietly, poking at a Q tile with the tip of his finger.

“What was that, Jack?” Melissa asks.

“I said stop,” he snaps, standing up so fast that his knee hits the bottom of the table and the Scrabble tiles rattle. Melissa looks surprised, but she doesn't say a word.

“I don't want to hear stories about her,” he says, feeling vicious but not knowing how to stop. “She's not my mom. I have a mom. It's not her.”

Melissa doesn't look hurt, incredibly. She says, “You're right.”

Jackson freezes; he's not used to hearing that. He says, “What?”

“I said you're right,” says Melissa, softly. “I was being selfish. I guess I just… I want you to know her as someone more than… the woman who gave you up.”

She's being so nice about it, so reasonable, and Jackson isn't used to people responding this way to his irrational fucking freak-outs. She's probably been telling these stories for years, to Emily, making promises about a mother she'll never meet. “You haven't seen her in almost twenty years,” he hisses, really vicious this time. “You don't know her anymore.”

And Melissa does look hurt by that, and Jackson feels like the biggest asshole on the planet, but he doesn't know what else to do. He doesn't know what else to do. He turns on his heel and storms out of the room, his heartbeat so loud he can hear it in his ears.

He makes it all the way to his bedroom before he bursts into harsh, angry sobs that he muffles in the collar of his sweatshirt, shivering and shaking and rocking on the hard wooden floor.

---

When he was a kid, he used to think whatever controlled his powers was like another person. Someone who picked what he could do, or what it was he saw whenever he saw clairvoyant shit. He hardly thinks that's the case anymore, but if it is, he'd like to formally tell this outside power to go fuck itself.

He falls asleep on the floor and right into a dream about the absolute last subject he'd want to see right now. He'd love to see, like, something with his parents in it. Some good memory to hold onto. But it's Ginger, and she looks younger than she is now (but definitely older than she was in those visions he got of Melissa's faked death), and it looks like she's giving birth. She's in a dark room on some rickety bed, definitely not a hospital. She's surrounded by people, unfamiliar people who Jackson can immediately tell are not friendly, and a dark-haired woman is bent over her, encouraging her, soothing her. She cries out with the pain of the labor, and Jackson can feel her desperation, her fear. She pleads, “This is my baby! Please don't let them take it!” and Jackson wants to cry out himself. Wants to say, I'm not yours, but he was. Wants to ask, Why did you let me go if I was yours? Why did you let them take me if you didn't want them to? He wants to cry. He can hear the tears in her voice.

The woman is telling Scully to push, and she howls with the effort of it, and Jackson wants to look away but he can't. Ginger shouts with pain and distress, fear, tears wet on her face, and suddenly, new cries fill the room. His cries, tiny and angry and shrill, and Ginger laughs in gaspy panic when she hears it, tears welling in her eyes. Jackson fills another emotion filling him, thick and fierce and unmistakable, one he always wanted his birth mom to feel for him, one he now desperately wants to ignore.

He used to be upset that he didn't have any pictures from the day he was born. He used to wish his mom was his birth mom and his real mom.

“It's a boy!” the dark-haired woman says cheerfully, holding up the baby—him.

“Lemme see him,” Dana says, slurring her words, reaching out almost blindly. “I wanna see him… Give me my baby, Monica.”

The woman is focused on cutting the cord, tending to him, making sure he is alright. Jackson can feel the eyes of the cultists or whatever on them, trying to make a decision. The baby version of him wails and wails. “Give him to me!” Scully shouts, fierce and nearly feral with protectiveness.

The woman hunches over him protectively as she moves around the bed, lays him on his mother's chest. She bursts into sobs at the contact, covering him with her hands, one on his back and the other cupping his head. The two of them cry together, and she puts her head down by his and whispers something that should probably be indecipherable in the chaos of the room. But Jackson hears it. He hears every word.

She says, “It's okay. It's going to be okay, baby. I've got you. I've got you. I love you so much.”

Jackson wakes up on the floor quivering with cold. It's full-on winter, and he's freezing, and his back is killing him. His face is wet again. He presses his hands to his face and rolls over on his stomach. He's shaking, quivering from head to toe.

The truth is that he wasn't lying at that gas station. He wants to know her better. Ginger, Dana Scully, his birth mother. He wants her to want him, to love him. He's wanted it since he was a little kid. But he can't let himself want it, because she gave him up, and his parents are dead, and Jesus Christ, things are supposed to be easier than this.

He's shaking and crying, and he screws his eyes shut, and he can hear her voice again: I've got you. I love you. That's the first thing she ever said to him. And she gave him up. She fucking gave him up. But she said she wanted him. She said she was sorry she didn't get a chance to know him. She said it was the hardest thing she's ever done. He doesn't know what to do.

He's seen her all his life. When he was a kid, when he was scared or sad. He thinks he always knew who she was. He's resented her and he's wondered about her and he's longed to know whether or not she loved him. And now he is here.

He picks himself up off the floor and curls up on the bed, because the floor is fucking awful. He wipes his eyes, his cheeks, and presses his face into his palms. Screws his eyes shut and wishes, just once, to see something happy from his life when he falls asleep.

---

Jackson finds cans of beer in Samantha's refrigerator. He takes two and climbs up to the loft tucked under the ceiling. He sits on the floor with the back against the wall and pops one of them open like a soda. The bitter taste reminds him of Norfolk, sea-salt air and gritty dirt on the soles of his shoes. He closes his eyes and pretends that he is home.

He opens them minutes later at the creaking of the ladder. Samantha appears over the edge of the floor a second later, wincing a little as she steps into the loft. “Want some company?” she asks, and he shrugs. She sits beside him against the wall, picking up the other beer and cracking it open.

“That was mine,” Jackson says, not really caring.

“You know, Fox and I used to share a loft like this,” Samantha says in lieu of a response, taking a sip. “At our vacation house in Quonochontaug, Rhode Island.”

Jackson snorts. “Vacation home, huh,” he says. “You guys were rich?”

“Rich with blood money, yeah,” Samantha replies, her voice bitter. “It wasn't exactly an idyllic lifestyle, kid.”

He drains his can with one gulp. He says, “I don't think any of us exactly had an idyllic lifestyle.”

“That's true,” says Samantha.

They sit in silence. Samantha drinks her beer, Jackson picks at his beer label with his fingernails. He's tempted to ask if Melissa and Emily are pissed at him, but he doesn't. Samantha speaks on that subject first. She says, “Missy and Emily told me what happened…”

“I don't get it,” Jackson says before she can finish. Rips the blue label all the way off and chucks the can at the wall. It makes a loud clanking sound as it hits the floor, lying dormant. “You guys have been hiding out here for years because it'd be too dangerous for your families if you told them you were alive. Melissa told me she's wanted to go home, but she couldn't. So… how come I can leave? How come you said I could leave at any time?”

She seems nearly stunned by silence before answering. Nearly confused. “You're… different, Jackson,” she says uncertainly. “We're not going to force you to stay…”

“But it's totally okay for me to go find Mulder and Scully, for some reason,” he snaps, knocking his foot against the floor. “That's totally fine. No fucking problem.”

“I've never…”

“Yeah, and why haven't you ever? Why aren't you just begging me to run home to my mommy and daddy, and give them a big old hug, and make your long lost brother so happy?”

“Because I can't even take that advice,” Samantha snaps, and it's enough to shut him the hell up. His shoulders hit the wall hard in defeat.

Samantha sighs, pressing her hands over her eyes. “I've been here since 1997, Jackson. Twenty years. In that time, my mom has died, I learned that my dad was dead, and a series of absolute horrible things have happened to my brother. And I didn't go home after any of those times, even after my mother died—who I was a lot closer to than my father, and who I resented a lot less, since she didn't technically choose to give me up to these conspirators over my brother like my father did.”

Astonishment washes over Jackson; he had no idea. He probably should've, considering all he's seen, but he really had no idea.

Samantha sighs, gritting her teeth grimly. “Right around the time Mom died, someone apparently fooled Fox into thinking that I died a long time ago, and it just felt… right. It's horrible, but I thought I could… I dunno, give him some peace if he finally thought I was dead. I knew how long he'd been looking.” Her voice cracks, quivering. “I… I thought maybe it was the right thing to do. I thought it'd be better that way.”

Shaken, stunned, Jackson blinks in shock. Thinking about what he saw in that living room forty-some years ago. Those scared fucking kids. “How the hell… how did you know all this?” he stammers.

Samantha rubs at her eyes. “The woman who brought me here kept me informed,” she says thickly.

He nods knowingly, remembering what Melissa told him. “Diana something, right? Melissa told me she brought you both here.”

“She did,” Samantha says softly. “I was the first one. She was working with the Consortium in Europe, and she… she found out where I was being held after an incident in the spring of ‘97.” She rubs at her eyes again, her forehead, as if she's crying. “I left something out before, when I said I hadn't seen Fox since I was twelve. I met him once after that. This guy who was… trying to manipulate him… Something about your mom being sick or something, I don't know… But he wanted me to tell Fox that he was my father, and that I thought our mom was dead, and refuse to see him or go see her. To tell him I had a family of my own. And I… I went along with it because I was scared. At the time, I was thirty-two, and I'd been in those facilities for twenty-four years. I was absolutely terrified. So I went along with it, even though it killed me. I wanted to tell him what was happening, to see if he could help me, but I was so scared about what would happen. So I… I walked right out and right back to the people who’d kept me captive since I was a kid.” She buries her face in her hands again. “Diana Fowley found me after that,” she says into her hands.

Jackson's mouth is hanging open a little bit. “Who… who is Diana Fowley?”

“She said she was Fox's ex-boyfriend. I guess she was working against him, too, and she felt guilty for what she was doing to him.” She grimaces with disgust. “I was supposed to be moved to another facility after I met with Fox, and she intercepted it. Got me out, brought me here. She told me it was because she owed my brother, and that he'd been looking for me as long as she knew him. And she told me I couldn't have any contact with him. Not with him, or my mom, or anyone from my old life. She said it was too dangerous. She said that we'd all die if I did.”

“And that's… that's why you never wanted to go back,” Jackson says softly.

Samantha shrugs, sniffling just a little. “It spooked me. That night I saw my brother was overwhelming. He was so… so relieved to see me. And I wanted to go with him, see my mom, tell him what they'd done to me and see if he could get me out… But it was hard. I had no idea how to respond. And I… I think I've been scared all this time about what would happen if I went home.”

“What happened, though?” Jackson asks, because that's the question he really wants answered. How did they get here, what happened to his birth parents, how does Samantha know all of this. “You clearly have some idea of what happened to your brother… And you know who my birth mom is, because of Melissa… So what happened?”

She shrugs. “Diana kept in touch. She kept me informed, kept visiting. I wanted to know that my family was okay, after she scared me so bad… And then she brought Melissa here a couple years later. Missy knew Fox, at least a little, and told me about his partnership with your mom… Diana kept us both informed for a really long time. She was watching your parents, although they thought she was dead, and Missy and I both wanted to know that our families were okay, so that was our agreement. She told us when Fox thought I was dead, and she told us when Fox was abducted, and she told us when, uh…” She takes a sharp breath. “... when Fox was presumed dead. And then when they figured out he was alive. And she told us when they had you.”

Jackson can suddenly see the dream he had last night: his birth mother crying out in pain, demanding to see him. How protective she was. He can't quite put together the chain of events, but Jesus Christ, it makes sense that she was so panicked. There'd been a point where it was assumed that his birth father was dead?

“Diana cut off contact in 2002, right around the same time your parents went on the run,” Samantha says, sounding a little more composed now. She sniffs again, runs a finger tip under her eye.

“After they gave me up for adoption,” says Jackson, feeling like the air has been knocked out of him. This is all harder to hear than he ever would've imagined.

Samantha turns towards him, her eyes soft. “Yeah,” she says softly. “After that.”

He swallows, his head hitting the wall gently. “Melissa said you got a new contact then,” he mumbles. “That you thought about contacting my parents after they went on the run.”

“We did,” Samantha says roughly. “But I thought it might be just as dangerous as contacting them when they were on the grid. I… I zeroed in my focus on making this place somewhere where people could hide out. I looked for kids that had been in the situation I grew up in, and that's how I found Emily. And I tried to keep an eye on you, make sure you were safe.” She sighs, finger-combing hair away from her face, thumbing a tear away. “And here we are. I never tried to contact my brother. And now it seems more or less useless, after all these years of hiding, never telling him I was alive… I can't tell you to go home, Jackson. I won't put pressure on you, for one, because I know you don't know your birth parents. Missy knows that, too; I think she just wanted you to know that her sister didn't give you up because she didn't want you. But I can't tell you to go and find my brother because I won't go find him either.”

She goes quiet next to him, fingers knotted in her lap. The beer can is sideways on the floor, puddle at the opening. Jackson sighs, staring out of the huge window across from them. His mouth tastes bitter, his stomach sore. “Samantha, I'm starting to think your family is cursed or something,” he says finally, because that feels like the most appropriate thing to say right now. The situation was well and fucked before he ever came on the scene.

Samantha laughs. “Oh, kid,” she says exhaustedly. “I've known that for years.”

---

Jackson steals three cans of soda and makes two sandwiches, and hikes up into the hills to the waterfall. He's hoping for some time alone, some introspective shit, but he finds Emily there, her hair tossed back in a messy braid, her shoes gathered by the bank and her bare feet dangling in the water. She offers him a small smile when he sits down beside her. “Hey, Jack.”

“Hey, Em.” He peels off his own shoes and kicks at the water. Places like this make him miss the ocean. They sit in silence, watching the river.

“Is Melissa pissed?” he asks finally, head tipped up towards the sun.

Emily shakes her head. “She's not pissed. You could stand to work on your tact… but she's not pissed.”

Jackson nods. He's known about the tact thing for years. “Has she… done that to you?” he adds, wriggling his toes in the river mud. “Told you stories about Scully? How great she is? How much she… loves kids or whatever?”

“Sure she has,” Emily says. “Dana is her sister, and Missy really misses her. She told me a lot of stories about her mom and brothers too.” She shrugs. “The difference is that I wanted to hear them.”

He isn't surprised. Emily was cheated out of something that he grew up with: two parents who loved him and cared for him. She spent years being experimented on; she was so eager for someone to save her that she cried in that hospital when Samantha and Melissa showed up. He remembers her hugging them like she knew them. But still, he says, “Didn't that make you sad?”

“It did,” says Emily honestly. “I've had a lot of that kind of pain, Jackson. I used to daydream about what it would be like if my parents had never died when I was three. Or if Dana had gotten to adopt me. Or if they'd never taken me away from her in the first place. Or if Dana had never been abducted and they hadn't made me without her consent. I've considered a lot of stuff like that. I think that… all this time, I've really just wanted a family. Throughout all this. And hearing Missy's stories was the closest I could get. But I do have a family. I have Missy and Samantha.”

“But you always wondered about her,” Jackson supplies. He doesn't need to clarify who she is.

“Of course I did.” She turns to look at him, her eyes bright blue and exactly like Melissa's. Exactly like Ginger's. “Didn't you?”

He doesn't need to answer that. He turns back to the river, the waterfall. The sound of water on water is so loud that everything they say could almost be lost in the noise. But he hears it. He'll remember. He can't lose things that easy.

Finally, he says, “Do you think I should go find them?”

Part of him expects a yes. The rest of him has no fucking idea what to expect. He knows that Emily has been supportive of him doing pretty much whatever he wants. He doesn't know if she'd encourage him to go when she can't.

Emily says, “For years, I've been told by Samantha that I couldn't ever meet my birth mother. That it was too dangerous for me and her both. And for years, I've always thought it would happen one way or another. But now I'm twenty-three years old, and I don't know what the hell to do with myself. I have aunts, and I have a brother, and I'm safe, and I think that's something.” She punches his arm lightly before getting to her feet. “I'm not going to tell you what to do, Jack,” she says, wiping dirty hands on her jeans. “None of us are. But we're here, and we want you to be safe. The rest of it is up to you.”

---

Things go back to normal. Or as normal as they can be in a situation like this.

The weather grows colder as Christmas grows closer. It's pretty easy to forget the holiday—the others don't really mention it—and Jackson is more than ready to forget it. He doesn't want any reminders of the loss of his parents. From what Emily's told him, this time of year is equally painful for her, her parents died at Christmastime.

The four of them end up hanging out together a lot. Mostly at Melissa's, but occasionally at Samantha's. Watching movies or playing cards. Jackson has no idea how to cook, but he'll help sometimes with throwing snacks together; Samantha and Emily are pretty good at guilting him into helping. He helps Emily with the grocery shopping, too. Samantha finally gets tired of washing the same jeans, t-shirt, and sweatshirt, and drags him into town to buy some new clothes. There's always coffee, and heat, and he feels fairly safe most of the time. It's something of an idyllic existence, compared to weeks on the road, hungry and dirty and grieving.

One night, Jackson is woken up by the flashing of headlights through his window. His initial reaction is panic; he huddles up against the window, his face against the cold glass, and contemplates how the hell he's going to fight these people off. He's pretty capable of defending himself, as evidenced by what happened at the hospital in Norfolk, but he has no idea what kind of threat this is, no idea what Samantha has set up for protective measures, no idea if Samantha is even awake… But he knows he can't let these people get to them, if they've come to hurt them.

The door to Melissa's cabin opens, he can see it from the window. Melissa comes out the door and walks towards the car, and Jackson takes a sharp, panicked breath, his nose pressing against the window. The glass dogs right up. He did not expect Melissa to be the one to fight people off. Does she know what's happening? Is she prepared to defend herself? Does he have time, the ability, to defend her? He tenses, almost leaning into the window, ready to act. His palms pressed to the cold glass.

A woman gets out of the car and walks towards Melissa, and neither of them seem to react like they're enemies. The woman doesn't look malicious, and Melissa doesn't look scared. But still, Jackson doesn't completely relax until Melissa and the woman are embracing. Until the woman is visible standing in the headlights of the car, and Jackson recognizes her: the woman who helped Scully deliver him. Monica, the informant, he assumes.

He lets his forehead fall against the cold window, scoffs through his teeth. Will these weird goddamn coincidences ever stop.

Melissa and the woman, Monica, are heading towards the house now. Jackson hears the door open outside and scrambles to his feet. He's outside of his room before he can contemplate what the hell he's doing, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Samantha's at the door greeting Monica, saying, “It's good to see you, we were getting a little worried,” and then Melissa scoffs, “A little?” and Jackson's feeling a little awkward, like the way he feels walking into a room full of relatives at holidays without a single thing to talk about. He doesn't know why he came out, and he's getting ready to go back in when they notice him. “Oh, hey, Jack,” Melissa says warmly, and the welcome in her voice makes him instinctively uncomfortable. He feels like he shouldn't be here.

The woman—Monica—turns to him, and a cascade of emotions come over her face. “William, oh my god,” she says, and Jackson tenses immediately. He hasn't been called that since the hospital. “You've really grown up,” she continues thickly.

He remembers her from her dream, handing him to Scully. “Uh, hi,” he says awkwardly.

Monica clears her throat awkwardly, waves it off. “I'm sorry, it's just… I knew you when you were little. I knew your parents.”

Birth parents, Jackson wants to add, but doesn't. “Oh, yeah, I know,” he says, immediately wishing he'd stayed in his room. He waves a hand at the kitchen. “I'm gonna… grab some water.”

“Help yourself,” Samantha says with a small smile.

He pads into the kitchen and grabs a glass, fills it with ice cubes. Closer to the door, he can hear them talking, can hear scraps of words—“Spender…” and “Spartan Virus…” and “When is it coming?” He tries to ignore it. He doesn't want to know. He pours water from the pitcher in the fridge, grabs the pint of ice cream in the freezer just because.

The women are crowded at a table, talking quietly, but they all notice him walking back through. Jackson can tell. Monica and Melissa offer him small smiles. Samantha raises her eyebrows pointedly at the ice cream, which Jackson shrugs off. “It's good to see you again, Jackson,” Monica says, and Jackson notes the use of his real name. “If you have any questions, I'd be glad to answer them for you.”

“Oh—” His shoulders tense up as if protectively. He has questions, and he doesn't want to ask them. “Thank you.”

Monica nods. He nods back, the glass of water chilling one hand and the ice cream chilling another, and keeps going. Part of him wants to hear what they're talking about, but the rest of him wants nothing to do with it.

Just before he enters his room, he hears Melissa say, “So have you told Mulder and Dana—”

He lets the door slam too hard behind him.

---

They're lying on the bed, the three of them. Mulder and Scully and him, as a baby. And they're calling him William. Scully's wearing this robe, and she's cuddled up to Mulder's side, one hand clutching at his t-shirt and the other on the baby's back. He's is lying on Mulder's chest, and Mulder looks dopily happy. The two of them, they look so happy. It's practically a family portrait.

And there he is. The baby photos he never had. You must've been such a cute baby, his mom said earlier before wincing, like she hadn't meant to say it. He always used to wonder. And there he is, white blanket and blue onesie. His eyes are blue. His eyes used to be blue, like Emily's. They used to be blue and now they are brown. He used to look like his sister.

They look so happy. Mulder leans down and kisses the top of Scully's head. She presses her cheek against his shoulder, rubs a hand up and down the baby's back. She whispers, This is all I wanted. She says, When I asked you to be the father… this is what I wanted. She sniffles, buries her head against his t-shirt.

His birth father wraps an arm around his birth mother's shoulders. This is what I wanted, too, he says, and he has tears in his eyes. This is it, he says, and he kisses the top of the baby's head, too.

When Jackson wakes up, he is thinking of his parents. The picture on his grandmother's mantle of the day they adopted him, where he's much bigger than that. They're holding him between them, his dad holding his mom and him and his mom bouncing him on her knee. They both look so happy. That's what he always noticed when he was a kid: Mom and Dad both looked so happy.

They looked the same way Mulder and Scully did in that dream. Exactly the same.

Jackson wants to be upset, hurt, resentful. The way he's felt after all the other dreams. He wants to feel a greater longing for his parents, his real parents. He wants to feel as far away as possible from the little kid who daydreamed about the red-headed woman he saw in visions.

But he can't. He doesn't know how he feels, but it's not resentment, somehow.

He thinks he could feel the love in that scene, everything his birth parents were feeling. He thinks he can feel it now. He thinks they really love him.

---

They have dinner one night, some night close to Christmas. Emily and Jackson cook, and it's close enough to a disaster, but not quite. They're both giggly, which might have something to do with the wine Samantha broke out, and Jackson can't believe how much fun it is. He never expected to have this much fun here.

Towards the end of the meal, Melissa is in the midst of a story about teaching Samantha to drive when she'd first came here, and Emily is cracking up, and Jackson asks the question he's been wondering about for a while. “Okay, I know how you guys got here,” he says, waving his hand with the wine glass in it. “But like… how did you end up here? How did you end up hanging out with the sibling of the person your sibling ended up with? How did that happen?”

Melissa laughs, a little tipsy. Samantha shrugs widely, scraping her fork over her plate. “Coincidences, I guess,” she says, smiling a little.

“Or fate,” Melissa offers, completely serious.

“We have a bounty of coincidences and fate here,” Emily points out. “How we all ended up here, and all end up related to each other. How we all ended up as washed-up Syndicate experiments.”

“I don't think that one was a coincidence, exactly,” Samantha says.

“How we're all orphans,” says Jackson. Not even thinking about it. Another dumbass tidbit from Jackson, the jackass who always puts his foot in his mouth. But it's true, he thinks. It's true. They all know what it's like to lose their parents. He feels a little better, being with people who know what it's like to lose their parents.

Emily nods unsteadily, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in what he thinks is a hug. But Melissa is shaking her head. “I'm not,” she says. “My dad passed… back in ‘94, but my mom is still alive.”

Oh, shit. Shit. Jackson can feel himself wincing, because she didn't know? She didn't know? Goddamnit, he is the biggest fucking idiot.

He doesn't know what kind of face he is making, but it's the wrong one. Melissa goes pale. Emily's eyes shift from his face to hers uncertainly, as she takes her arm away from his shoulder. Samantha looks stricken. “My-my mom…?” Melissa asks, her voice wavering.

“I… I thought you knew,” Jackson says, his voice cracking. He's seen his birth mother's tears, her frantic grief, he's seen the funeral, and he thought that Melissa knew.

Melissa's face crumples. She stumbles to her feet and is rushing out of the room, both hands over her mouth, going so fast that she almost runs into the wall. “Missy!” Emily shouts, and she's running after her, her feet pounding the ground. The front door slams, twice.

Jackson buries his face in his hands, horrified. Nauseous. “I thought she knew,” he chokes out. “I really thought…”

“I know. I know.” Samantha's suddenly beside him, her arm around him like Melissa's was a minute ago. Jackson can't find the strength to shake it off. He's seeing his mom and dad, bloody and limp in the kitchen, hearing his mother's scream, and oh my god. He can't fucking believe he did that.

“I… I never knew, either,” Samantha says, and there's an extraordinary amount of guilt in her voice, regret. “I never knew. If I'd known, I would've…” She takes a rough breath, squeezes Jackson's shoulder and lets go. “Jesus Christ, poor Missy.”

Jackson rubs a hard hand over his mouth, lets it drop to the table. “I'm such a fucking idiot,” he says.

“You didn't know,” Samantha repeats. She shakes her head hard, her jaw clenched. “I would've let her go home if I'd known. I really had no idea.”

Jackson is unable to say anything else. He lets his face drop into his palms. The two of them sit there in a sort of stunned silence, like they don't know what to do next.

---

Samantha comes into his room the next morning. He's lying on the bed, flipping through a book in an effort to clear his mind, when she comes in and says quietly, “Emily wants us to come over.” So he goes.

When they get to Emily and Melissa's, Melissa has a suitcase open in the living room. She's stuffing stuff into it, and she doesn't look up when they come in. “Don't try and talk me out of it, Sam,” she says, her voice hard, her eyes wet. “I'm going home. I'm going to see my sister. I'm going to see my family.”

“I know,” Samantha says, her voice soft. “I'm not going to try to stop you.”

Melissa freezes, a book hanging from her fingers. From the kitchen, Emily says, “You're not?” in a shocked voice.

Samantha shakes her head. “Of course not, Missy,” she says gently. “Of course not.”

Melissa lets the book drop to the floor and turns to them, teary-eyed and gratefully, wobbily smiling. She embraces Samantha hard, her face buried in her shoulder. “Thank you,” she mumbles, and Samantha shakes her head hard, dismissive of her thanks, hugs her back genuinely and tightly.

Jackson's heart is thudding, so hard he can feel it in his ribs. Melissa is going to see Scully, and maybe she will tell her where he is, but he doesn't want to dwell on that. He needs to apologize. He feels almost sick to his stomach. He says, “Melissa… I am so sorry…”

Melissa lets go of Samantha and embraces him next. “Oh, it's okay, Jackson,” she murmurs, her voice thick with grief. “I'm… I'm really glad you told me. I just wish I'd… known sooner.”

Guilt clogs his throat, guilt from this encounter and the last one, and he's doing it before he can consider it: he's wrapping his arms around his aunt and hugging her back.

“Missy?” Emily asks in a small voice, almost childlike. She's approaching tentatively, uncertainly. “Um… can I… would you mind if I…?”

She nods as she lets go of Jackson, wiping at her eyes. “Of course, Em. I was always going to take you with me,” she says, her voice trembling, and Emily smiles in an apprehensive, eager kind of way. And then Melissa turns back to Samantha in a rapid, jerky motion. “You should come, too,” she says, almost insistently.

Samantha's shaking her head already. “Oh, no, Missy, I can't…”

“Yes, you can,” says Emily immediately, reaching out to touch Samantha's shoulder. “Samantha, I know that it's hard for you… to imagine seeing your brother again…”

“I can't do it,” Samantha says, her voice choked. “All these years, I've been alive, let him think I was dead… He's been looking for me for over forty years, and I can't… I can't face him. He's going to hate me.”

“He's not going to hate you,” Melissa says, and she still sounds like she's crying, but her voice is so steady. “I've told you what Dana told me all those years ago, Samantha, about Fox looking for you… You're his little sister, and you're alive. He never thought he'd see you again. He is not going to hate you.” Samantha shakes her head again, stubbornly, and Melissa touches her other shoulder, whispers, “Samantha, I would never hate my little sister. He is not going to hate you. Please come with us.”

Samantha's chin trembles. She shakes her head again, weaker this time. “I… I can't… leave Jackson here alone. What if they…”

“I'll come with you,” Jackson says.

They turn to him in surprise, and he's honestly floored himself. He had no idea that he was going to say that. He can't believe he did. But now that it's out there, he can't take it back. And he almost thinks he doesn't want to.

Emily grins at him, in that same nervous way. Melissa offers him a small, shaky smile, too, but she's focused on Samantha. Jackson inhales, exhales, meets Samantha's eyes as she looks up. “If it's dangerous…” she tries.

“If it's dangerous, we'll deal with it,” Emily says. “They are FBI agents, you know.”

Samantha breathes out slowly, her shoulders sagging. Takes a few deep breaths before she nods.

“Okay?” Melissa asks, and Samantha nods again. Melissa embraces her again, letting a choked sob out against her shoulder. Samantha rubs her back comfortingly, looking near tears herself. They hug each other tightly, supporting each other, holding each other up.

Emily is standing beside Jackson; she squeezes his arm as if excited or fearful. Jackson knows that she's been thinking about this for a long time. And if he's being honest with himself, so has he.

“We're really doing this?” she whispers, and he nods. He can't quite believe it, but they are.

---

In an hour, they've packed the car. Melissa and Samantha remain right on the verge of weepy and giggly and nearly hysterical, supporting each other as they climb into the front seat. Melissa's nervously twisting a soggy tissue on her fist, has nearly torn it to bits. Jackson climbs in the back beside his sister, feeling like a little kid. Thinking of that vision he had, once, of Emily in the car with Samantha and Melissa as they drove away from Wyoming with all the windows down. It really is too cold to do that now, but Emily grins conspiratorially at him. Apprehension and anticipation crackles in the car like a live wire; they have a long trip ahead. He has no idea how they'll be able to make it cross country without losing their minds.

“Do we know where the house is?” Melissa is asking, and Samantha is saying, “Farrs Corner, I think… we could call Monica…”

“It is in Farrs Corner,” Jackson says, and they all turn to look at him. He gulps, adds, “I can help you find it,” because he can.

Melissa and Emily exhale as if relieved, as if nervous. “Okay,” Samantha says, as if it's a decision. And she starts the car.

Jackson feels like he is retracing his steps, headed back cross country to every painful thing he left behind. Except he is not going to Norfolk. As Samantha guides the car onto the dirt road, around the curves, Jackson rests his head on the window and thinks, I just want to know that I'm making the right decision. That's all.

Jackson watches trees and countryside flit by. In the back of his mind, he can see Mulder and Scully in their house, asleep on the couch. Leaning into each other the way they did in his last dream about him. In front of him, the road. The possibilities. How Mulder and Scully will react when they realize that they're all okay. Everything feels like a blur again, like it's going too fast. But he thinks he's okay with it that way.

He thinks that there's no real way to know whether or not this is the right decision. But he thinks that, somehow, this feels right.

#xf rewatch #xf fanfic #i wrote this

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bechloeislegit · 6 years ago

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What If The World Ended Tomorrow? - Chapter 2

Note: When I first posted this, one reviewer mentioned how this seemed like the move A Quiet Place. I honestly started writing this fic before I ever saw any previews for the movie. It was just something that I was thinking about and decided to write. When I did see the previews, I almost changed my story but decided to just stick with it. Also, I forgot to note that RJRMovieFan (from ff.net) collaborated with me on this fic.

Cynthia Rose drives the truck at a breakneck pace for about ten minutes. They quickly head out of town. In town, they see a number of the Sightless, but once out of town, they seem to be clear of them.

The mood is quiet in the truck’s cab, no one says anything as Cynthia Rose pulls up to a diner that is sitting in what looks like the middle of nowhere. She parks right next to the front door and turns off the truck.

Stacie looks up to see two faces looking out at them through the diner’s window. She and Cynthia Rose get out of the truck and there is a flurry of activity as both girls come running out the door of the diner.

“Stacie!,” Aubrey cries, practically tackling the leggy brunette. “Is Beca with you? What about Jesse and Donald?”

Emily joins Aubrey in hugging Stacie. Stacie hugs them both with all her might and just holds the two women for a minute or two before she responds.

“Beca’s still in the truck with Chloe,” Stacie replied. “Let’s go inside and give her a minute.”

The two girls look at Stacie. “I’ll tell you inside.”

Chloe watched the reunion through the windshield. She smiles gently as Stacie goes into the diner with the other three women. She then focuses on Beca, who is still just staring blankly out the windshield.

“You had to do it, Becs,” Chloe said softly. “He wouldn’t have wanted to become one of those things.”

Beca finally turns to Chloe. “I know,” she replies. “It’s kind of bittersweet, you know? I had to kill my best friend and find out my other, um, best friend, that I thought was dead, is alive.” She pauses with a tear in her eye. “God, I’ve missed you.”

Beca lets out a sob and Chloe gathers her in her arms. Tears flow freely down their faces, tears Beca thought she didn’t have anymore. They stay in the truck just holding each other for a long time. Each needing to just hold the other, fearing if they let go, that person might vanish. Each holding on and feeling just the slightest bit of serenity in this tumultuous world.

Inside the diner, Stacie is finishing telling the other girls what had happened with Donald and then Jesse.

“Wow, that’s harsh,” Emily said remorsefully. “I hope Beca’s strong enough to handle it.”

“She is,” Stacie said, with a hint of anger in her voice. “We didn’t make it these past nine months because she couldn’t handle things.”

“Easy there, tiger,” Aubrey soothes, putting up her hands. “Em didn’t mean anything by it. She’s just worried about whether Beca was mentally strong enough. It couldn’t have been easy for her.”

“She did what she had to do,” Cynthia Rose said sadly. “We’ve all been there.” The three girls get lost in their heads, thinking about all that they have lost and what they’ve done to survive. “We just have to be here for her.”

Just then Beca comes in with Chloe behind her.

“Hey, losers,” Beca said in greeting, trying to put a brave face on. The girls all smile and grab each other and hug. “Okay, enough of this mushy stuff,” Beca said. “Does this diner have any food to eat?”

“It sure does,” Chloe said, a slight spring in her step. She knows Beca is putting on a brave face so she wants to help her friend in any way she can. She also knows that food had always been a comfort for the petite ball of grumpiness. “It’s got a freezer, and it was fully stocked when we found the place. Everything’s working so we’ve been eating pretty well.”

“We’ve got a truckload of canned goods and stuff,” Stacie said. “Maybe we should bring it in here, and we can fix some soup or something. It’s almost lunchtime.”

Emily and Chloe stand watch as the others unload the truck. Once they got everything inside, they start looking through the boxes.

“Sugar, flour,” Cynthia Rose said as she pulls each item out. “Canned peaches. I’m definitely making us a peach cobbler tonight.”

“Don’t you need eggs and milk for that?,” Stacie asks, skepticism clear in the question.

“There’s a farm about a half a mile from here,” Emily tells her. “There are a couple of cows and chickens that we’ve been taking care of. They’ve been providing us with eggs and milk almost every day. Plus we have powdered milk and eggs if we need it. They’re not as good, but they do in a pinch.”

“I’ll heat up a couple of cans of soup while I make the cobbler,” Cynthia Rose volunteers.

“Okay, then,” Stacie replies with a laugh. “Can I help make dinner?”

“It’s my turn to cook,” Emily answers. “We’re just having some burgers and fries. We usually make our own bread, so if you want a bun for your burger, we got you covered.”

“Wow,” Beca said. “You guys have a pretty good set up here. We’ve been staying in a cabin about twenty minutes from town, up in the hills. It belonged to Donald’s uncle. We’ve been lucky and haven’t seen any zombies around the cabin. The only time we’ve seen them was when we had to run into town to restock our supplies.”

“Have you guys learned anything?,” Aubrey asks. “About what happened? About the Sightless?”

“The what?,” Beca asks.

Chloe shrugs. “We started calling those things the Sightless. Kinda like how they called them Walkers on that popular show.”

“It fits,” Beca said. “I’m afraid we don’t know much about the, um, Sightless.”

“It’s been a while since we heard anything,” Stacie said. “But the last thing we heard was that about 90 percent of the U.S. population was wiped out by the virus. I don’t know how it originally was spread, but we’ve figured out that it seems to transfer through the saliva once the infected person has turned into whatever they are. One bite and you become one of them. It usually takes a few days from what we’ve seen. We only know this because I’ve been scratched by those things and nothing happened. Donald was bitten, and he yelled for us to leave him. We assumed he changed or died because we haven’t seen him again. And, Jesse changed really fast, so his bites must have been really deep.”

Beca looks down at her lap. Chloe puts her arm around Beca’s shoulder and pulls her close.

“We’re really sorry, Beca,” Chloe tells her and kisses her head.

“It’s the times we live in,” Beca said with a sad shrug. “We all know that every day is a possibility that it could happen to us.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier,” Emily said softly.

The girls sit quietly for a few minutes before Beca suddenly breaks the silence. “Wait,” she said looking at Emily. “You said it was your turn to cook. Does that mean you all take turns cooking? All of you?” She is now looking at Chloe with a raised eyebrow.

Chloe catches on to what she is saying and slaps her on the arm. “I’ll have you know I can cook. And fairly well if I do say so myself.”

The other girls laugh, knowing that, of all the Bellas, Chloe had been the worst cook.

“She can hold her own,” Aubrey offers. She then smiles and adds, “Barely.” Chloe scowls at the blonde. Aubrey just laughs. “It took some time, but she’s actually come a long way.”

They sit around discussing some other things they have experienced in the nine months since the world as they knew it ended.

“There seems to be power in town,” Chloe said. “And in the surrounding areas. We’ve been lucky. The freezer works, so we’ve actually had meat and frozen vegetables to eat since we found this place. We’ve been here almost two months now.”

“We have some canned goods,” Cynthia Rose adds, “But we have to carry everything we get from town on our backs, so we haven’t been able to stock up like you guys did.”

“What did you do before?,” Beca asks. “I mean before you found this place.

“We moved around afraid to stay in one place for too long,” Aubrey responds. “We found this place and stayed because Chloe and Emily both got sick and couldn’t really travel. We basically went everywhere on foot since we crashed the Bellas bus. We knew the Sightless were attracted to noise, so we decided not to use another vehicle.”

“Are you guys okay now?,” Beca asks, looking at Chloe and Emily with concern.

“Yeah,” Chloe answers with a smile. “We both got really bad colds and were miserable for a few weeks. Cyn found this place, and we set up house so to speak.” She points to Cynthia Rose and Aubrey. “Those two took turns and basically stayed awake for three straight days to make sure none of those zombies or whatever would get us.”

“The Sightless basically stay away,” Cynthia Rose said. “We’ve seen a few here and there, but none of them even seem to know we’re here. We can turn the lights on at night because they can’t see them. The place is pretty soundproof so no noise can be heard outside. The only time we have to be really careful is when we go to the farm. The cows and chickens make a lot of noise, but they’re kept in a barn, and the Sightless haven’t gotten to them yet. I don’t know how or why they can’t, but there are still two cows and a half a dozen chickens there.”

“It’s weird,” Emily said thoughtfully. “In all the zombie movies I’ve ever seen, the power is always gone, the zombies attack everyone, and they tear places up. This is not like that. We have power, this place and every place in town is still standing. It’s kind of surreal in a way.”

“I know what you mean,” Beca said. “A few months ago we went into town, and we saw a group of maybe a dozen of those things and they were just standing there. Their skin looking all ashen and gray, their eyes like milky white.” Beca shudders at the memory. “They had their heads tilted to the side like they were listening for a sound, any sound so they could move again. We probably could have walked right up to them and they wouldn’t have known we were there.” Beca shudders again as she sees Jesse’s eyes changing in her mind. “Their eyes kind of freak me out.”

“We noticed that constant, steady sounds, like the hum of our truck engine, doesn’t seem to affect them,” Stacie informs their friends. “Groans, screams, I guess more high-pitch or random noises drive them crazy and they attack whatever is making the noise.”

“I almost forgot,” Chloe said and pulls something out of her pocket. “I found this flyer while I was in town.” Chloe showed it to the girls. It is handwritten and gives an address to a high school that it claims is a ‘safe zone.’ “The high school is located on the other side of town. I thought we should check it out tomorrow.”

The girls all look around. Going into town is always fraught with danger. Still, the chance at safety is too great. They all agree that it is a good idea to check things out.

“Can we make a side trip to the cabin?,” Beca asks. “We have more weapons and some supplies there. I mean, that is, if you guys are okay with us joining up with you.”

“Of course you can join up with us,” Chloe said. “I’m surprised you even feel the need to ask. Bellas for life, remember?”

Beca and Stacie smile. “Bellas for life,” they repeat. Chloe smiles brightly.

Aubrey gives Beca and Stacie the ‘grand tour’ of the diner. She shows them where they could sleep and where they keep water. There is an office that has a full bath, complete with shower.

“Do you have hot water?,” Stacie asks, the prospect of a decent hot shower exciting her.

“Both the hot and cold water taps work,” Aubrey tells them. “We don’t know if there’s anything wrong with the water, but so far we haven’t had any issues.”

“There is a small lake behind the cabin,” Stacie tells Aubrey. “I think the cabin’s water comes from it and we didn’t have any problems with it either. Well, except the water only got lukewarm for some reason. Plus, we were able to catch some fish. None of us had any problems when we ate the fish.”

“That’s good to know,” Aubrey replies.

After getting the fifty cent tour, the girls rejoin the others.

“What do you guys do all day?,” Stacie asks. “We played board games and cards most of the time.”

“We just play cards,” Chloe replies. “And talk, prepare meals.” She looks over at her bow and quiver. “Oh, I make arrows.” The redhead is a bit proud of that.

“You make arrows?,” Beca asks, quite shocked at this revelation.

“Yeah,” she replies a bit defensively. “I learned in the Girl Scouts.”

Beca smirks at the redhead, who finally asks, “What?”

“I just didn’t know you were a regular Katniss Everdeen,” Beca said, teasing just a little bit.

“You’re closer to the truth than you might know,” Cynthia said.

“Yeah,” Emily adds, with a bit of awe. “She saved me once by putting an arrow through the creature’s eye.”

Beca looks at the redhead in a whole new light. Chloe feels uncomfortable with all this attention.

“So you have things at your cabin, you think we might use?,” she said changing the subject and taking attention away from her.

“Yeah,” Beca nods. “I can go to the cabin now and get the weapons, the games, and all of our supplies. We also have beds there so we can bring the mattresses to lay on.”

“Oh, my God,” Emily practically squeals. “Yes! Let’s get the mattresses. I’ll go with you to help.”

“I’ll go, too,” Chloe said with a laugh. “It would be nice to sleep on a real mattress.”

“Me, too,” Cynthia Rose agrees. “I’d like to see something besides this diner and the town.”

“Stacie,” Beca said turning to the brunette. “Are you okay to stay here with just you and Aubrey?”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Stacie answers with a wink at Aubrey, causing her to blush.

“Um, you might want to go now so you can be back before dark,” Aubrey said.

“Brey’s right,” Chloe said. “Let’s go.”

Beca, Chloe, Emily, and CR, head out for the truck. Once they were gone, Stacie looks at Aubrey and gives her a smile.

"I've missed you so much," Stacie said.

"I've missed you, too," Aubrey said. "I feel like I'm living in a dream or a nightmare. I made myself come to terms with the fact that I was never going to see you again."

"Same here," Stacie said. "Would you please kiss me, so I know this is real.”

Aubrey closes the distance and gives Stacie a tender and needy kiss.

*0*0*0*0*

The drive to the cabin is uneventful. Emily and Cynthia Rose opt to sit in the bed of the truck while Chloe sat up front with Beca. Chloe moves over so she is sitting next to Beca. She places her head on Beca’s shoulder causing the brunette to look down at her and smile.

“I missed you so much,” Chloe whispers and wipes a tear from her eye. “We thought for sure you were all dead.”

“We thought the same,” Beca replies quietly. “Do you remember the last time we saw each other? The day it all happened for us?”

“I remember everything about that day,” Chloe said. “I think everyone remembers where they were, what they were doing.”

“Do you know what I remember the most about that day?,” Beca asks.

“What?,” Chloe asks, truly curious.

“You kissing me,” Beca replies and glances at Chloe. “That’s what I remember about that day because it was something I had wanted for a while.”

“Really?,” Chloe said. “But you were with. . .”

“We had actually broken up around Christmas,” Beca tells her. “He knew that I had feelings for you. He was just a great guy about it all. That day, when you kissed me, I was going to tell you about the breakup, but Aubrey yelled that Amy was there with the bus. Then we got separated.” Beca lets out a heavy sigh. Chloe lays her head back down on Beca’s shoulder and smiles.

They arrive at the cabin, and the four girls look around to make sure they are alone before getting out of the truck. Beca leads them inside and Emily immediately goes to one of the bedrooms.

“Oh, my word,” they can hear Emily moan. “This mattress is like laying on a cloud.”

“Get up,” Cynthia Rose tells Emily, laughing as she enters the room. “Can’t put it on the truck if you’re laying on it.” Emily sighs and gets up. She and Cynthia Rose grab the mattress, sheets and all, and carry it out to the truck.

*0*0*0*0*

Once they have everything they can fit on the truck, Beca gets behind the wheel. Chloe is now squished up against Beca since Emily and Cynthia Rose are in the front with them. Chloe puts her head on Beca’s shoulder and lays her hand, so it is resting on Beca’s thigh. Beca’s breath only catches a little.

That evening, as the girls finish their dinner, Cynthia Rose brings out the peach cobbler she made. There’s a general shout of approval from all and for a moment they all are able to forget. The girls dig in and are humming with satisfaction.

“Oh, my gosh,” Emily said smiling. “CR, this is the best cobbler ever. This sure has been a great day.” She suddenly blushes and looks at Beca. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean. I meant finding you guys and being able to have a mattress to sleep on, and the peach cobbler. It’s-”

“It’s okay, Em,” Beca assures the young girl. “All in all, it truly has been a great day.” Stacie doesn’t miss the look Beca is giving Chloe and that Chloe is giving Beca. Aubrey notices too and they both smile at each other. Yes, generally speaking, this truly has been a great day.

A few hours later, Beca yawns and asks about sleeping arrangements.

“We have mats with blankets and pillows we usually use,” Chloe tells her. “But now we have the three mattresses, so who’s using what?”

“Aubrey and I can share a mattress,” Stacie chimes in. Aubrey blushes but nods her head.

“I can share a mattress with Emily,” Cynthia Rose volunteers. “Because I have a feeling shorty over there wouldn’t be too thrilled if Emily or I said we would share with Chloe.”

Beca glares at her and Chloe lets out a laugh.

“Come on, Becs. You know want to cuddle up with all this,” Chloe said, waving her hand up and down her body. The girls all laugh.

“I’m kinda hating you all right now,” Beca gripes, causing the girls to laugh even harder.

*0*0*0*0*

Beca wakes up the next morning when she feels someone moving beside her. She finds a face full of red hair when she opens her eyes. She pulls back and realizes she is spooning Chloe and she likes it. She smiles and tightens her arm around Chloe’s waist and sighs.

Chloe feels Beca move behind and smiles when she hears her sigh. “Come on, Becs. Time to rise and shine.”

“Nooooo,” Beca whines. “I’m way too comfortable to want to get up.”

“Too bad,” Aubrey said. “We need to get breakfast and then go check out that school from the flyer Chloe found yesterday. I’ll start the coffee. Chloe, it’s your turn to make breakfast.”

“I’m on it,” Chloe said. She laughs as Beca tightens her hold. She looks over her shoulder and whispers, “Come on, Becs, we can cuddle more tonight.”

“Fine,” Beca huffs, letting Chloe go.

The girls each get breakfast and then finish getting ready for the day. Each at some point is struck by how ‘normal’ it now is to get ready for life after the apocalypse. They gather their personal weapons, making sure they are properly secured or loaded. Once everyone is ready, they head out to the truck.

On the road, Chloe’s driving since she knows the area better than anyone, having walked most of the area the past two months. Beca is sitting in the middle and Cynthia Rose by the passenger door. Aubrey, Stacie, and Emily are riding in the bed of the truck. They all have weapons at the ready if needed.

It’s eerily quiet as if the world itself doesn’t want the Sightless to notice it. Chloe is reminded of the old western movies, where you would see a tumbleweed blowing through the town. No tumbleweeds, but lots of dry leaves and scraps of paper. She’s kind of surprised how dirty everything is, and how overgrown. It’s like nature is reclaiming the town.

In relatively short order they arrive at the school and find it eerily quiet. Each woman tenses, gripping their respective weapon a little tighter.

“From the flyer, I thought there might actually be people milling around,” Cynthia Rose said warily.

“Yeah,” Chloe said looking around the area. “Me, too.”

The girls all get out of the truck cautiously, weapons ready. “Look sharp everyone,” Chloe said softly. “I don’t like the feel of this place.”

“Let’s stick together,” Aubrey suggests. “Any sign of trouble, we hightail it back to the truck and get the hell out of here.” The other girls nod in agreement.

Chloe keeps her arrow notched in her bow, both hands ready at a second’s notice. She’s actually grown quite skilled at drawing, aiming, and releasing, in under a second.

She leads the group to the front door of the school and stops. They look through the glass panes and don’t see any signs of life or zombies. Aubrey points out what appears to be a couple of bodies in the hall. She grabs the door handle and Chloe nods her head. Aubrey pulls the door open, surprised when it doesn’t make much noise at all.

The smell hit them like a wall. It’s bad, it’s really bad, almost putrid. Emily and Beca both wretch and gag, fighting back the bile that rises in their throats. They all pull their shirts up to cover their mouth and noses. Chloe pulls a bandana from her pocket and wraps it around her nose and mouth and then pulls her shirt up to cover her mouth and chin.

When they are ready, Chloe goes in first, followed closely by Beca, Emily, Cynthia Rose, Stacie, and then Aubrey. They spread out across the hall and look in every direction they can as they move slowly, inching down the hall together as one.

There smell in the air grows worse, a rotting mustiness, and something more, like sick decay. There’s also a weird buzzing.

“Those doors look like they may lead to a cafeteria or the gym,” Chloe said, gesturing with her bow. “We should check it out.”

They make their way to the doors and Stacie looks through the small window in the door. “It looks like the cafeteria,” Stacie says. There’s something in her voice that says there’s more. Emily looks in as well and puts her hand to her mouth and jerks back.

“What’s wrong?,” Aubrey asks the young girl. “What did you see?”

“It’s not good,” Stacie said sadly. “It’s nothing but bodies. Maybe 30-40. They’re not zombies though. It looks like they’re just dead bodies.”

Aubrey looks through the window and is shocked by what she sees. “We need to check it out,” Aubrey sighs. “See if there is anyone alive in there. It’s unlikely, but we should still check.” No one looks happy, but everyone nods, knowing the blonde is right.

Aubrey and Stacie open the door. Chloe, Beca, and Emily go off to the left; Stacie, Aubrey, and Cynthia Rose go to their right. They look at the bodies and Aubrey notices something. She bends down and checks one of the bodies. This was not the body of someone who was attacked by the Sightless. This person looks like it was slashed or cut with some sort of sharp blade. They started checking more of the bodies and find them all to have similar looking wounds.

Chloe turns over one body and lets out a sob. There is a smaller body under what she presumes was the mother’s body. Tears begin to fall from her eyes and she runs out of the cafeteria. Beca chases after her and finds her leaning against the wall, using her bandana to wipe tears from her face.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said softly. “I’ve seen a lot of bad stuff in the past nine months, but seeing kids is just too much.”

Beca just holds her and lets her cry it out. The other girls come out, faces grief-stricken by what they just saw. Chloe pulls herself together and stands up.

“Let’s check out the rest of the school,” Aubrey said. “See what else is here.”

They make their way through the school, coming across more bodies. Each looking like they had been killed in the same manner as those in the cafeteria.

They all jump when the fire alarm starts blaring

“Shit,” Chloe said. “We have to get out of here. Run!”

#bechloe fanfiction #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale

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medea10 · 6 years ago

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My Review of Eromanga Sensei

Huh? Darker Than Black?! Wait, isn't that a FUNimation title? FUNIMATION DUMPED THIS IN 2016. Aniplex has rights now. Of course they would. Okay. Darker Than Black it is.

#anime review #eromanga sensei #sagiri izumi #masamune izumi #kirino kousaka #oreimo #elf yamada #megumi jinno #muramasa senju

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bob-giovanni · 6 years ago

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I’ll Cover You - Part 16

Characters: Simon X OFC

Summary: Emily and Simon arrive back in Virginia. Emily suffers a loss.

Warnings: Cursing, Fluff, Angst

Notes: There’s some drama cooking up in this story! Can’t wait for you all to see what I have in store!

Emily sighed as she entered her living room and dropped her bags by the door. She plopped down on the couch and kicked her shoes off. Simon laughed softly and put his bags next to Emily’s before joining her on the couch. She snuggled close to Simon and buried her face in his chest. Their flight home from Vermont had gotten delayed due to a storm and then they hit a lot of turbulence on the way. Emily wasn’t a great flier so she’d been very worked up pretty much the entire time. She was so glad to be back home and on her own couch. Simon kissed Emily’s forehead softly. “You ok, love?” He asked. He was very supportive and comforting towards Emily on the plane. Truth be told he was a bit nervous about the turbulence as well but he held it together so as not to further upset Emily. She nodded and looked up at him. “I am. Thank you for being so wonderful.” Simon smiled and shrugged a bit. “Eh, I’m ok, I guess.” Emily laughed and kissed Simon sweetly.

After laying on the couch to unwind for a bit, the pair got up and Simon helped Emily carry her bags up to her room. Emily’s mom had been gracious enough to let them wash their clothes before they left so they wouldn’t have to do laundry after the long travel back to Virginia. Emily put her bags on the bed and started to unpack everything. Simon put his bags on the bed and cleared his throat. “Would it be ok if I maybe left a couple of changes of clothes here? Ya know, for when I spend the night?” Emily smiled and nodded. “Absolutely.” She opened a drawer on her dresser and took everything out so Simon could unpack his bags. He closed the drawer and put the bags in Emily’s closet. Once they were done unpacking Emily climbed onto the bed and kneeled on the edge so she could wrap her arms around Simon’s neck and kiss him. “I love you.” Simon smiled and pecked her lips a few times. “I love you too.”

They decided to order a pizza for dinner and just laid in bed together until it arrived. When the bell rang, Simon hopped up and hurried down the steps. He paid for the pizza and thanked the delivery driver before heading to the kitchen to grab drinks, plates, and napkins before heading back upstairs. He plopped the pizza box on the bed as he sat down next to Emily and smiled. “This smells really good.” As they ate they watched some TV. When they were done eating, Simon went back downstairs to put the rest of the pizza in the fridge. While Simon was downstairs, Emily washed up and brushed her teeth. Simon brushed his teeth as well, smiling when he placed his toothbrush in the cup next to Emily’s. Simon stripped down to his boxer briefs while Emily changed into a sleep shirt before they both climbed into bed and snuggled up under the covers, quickly falling asleep in each other’s arms.

The next morning when Emily awoke, she pouted when she realized that Simon was gone. She sat up and yawned and stretched her arms above her head before reaching for her phone. She smiled when she saw a text from Simon.

Simon: Good morning, sweetheart. I had to head to the club to get an early jump of some stuff but I’ll see you later tonight. Love you.

Emily had taken an extra day off from work so she didn’t have anything to do. She decided to lounge around for the morning. She ate a slice of cold pizza for breakfast while she watched a movie on Netflix. In the afternoon Emily went to the salon and got her nails done and walked around the mall for a bit before heading home to take a nap. She couldn’t wait for Simon to get done work so she could spend more time with him. As she walked in the door, her phone dinged with a new message.

Simon: Hey babe. Things are crazy here. A bunch of people called out so I’ll have to stay until closing to help out. I’m probably gonna crash at my place since it’s closer. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, my love.

Emily pouted a bit but she didn’t feel too bad. Her and Simon did spend a lot of time together in Vermont and she knew she’d be able to see him again soon. Or at least she thought.

Both Simon and Emily had a crazy couple of weeks at work. Amanda was sick so Emily basically worked double shifts at the clinic for a week and Simon had to deal with multiple people calling out while others had scheduled time off at the club. They hadn’t seen each other since they’d gotten back from Vermont. They talked and texted a lot though so it wasn’t all bad. During a bathroom break at work, Emily pulled out her phone to text Simon but smiled when she saw that he had already texted her.

Simon: Hey, beautiful. We’re back at full staff at the club today. I have to stay tonight to do inventory but I’m free this afternoon if you wanted to grab lunch.

Emily: YES! Yes I would love to. Pick me up around 1?

Simon: It’s a date. I can’t wait to see you. I miss you like crazy.

Emily: I miss you too. Love you.

Simon: Love you too.

Lunchtime couldn’t arrive fast enough. Emily kept checking the clock what seemed like every 30 seconds. Finally, 1 o’clock rolled around. Right on time Simon strolled into the clinic. Emily grinned and ran over to him. Luckily the waiting room was empty so Emily didn’t try to hide it when she wrapped her arms around Simon’s neck and leaned up to kiss him deeply. Simon wrapped her arms around Emily’s waist and held her close as he returned the kiss. After a moment they pulled away, both had huge smiles on their faces. “I missed you so much.” Emily said softly. Simon cupped her cheek and nodded. “I missed you too.” He said as he leaned down to kiss her again. “Alright, alright, get a room you two.” Amanda joked from behind the counter. Emily giggled and looked over at her friend. “Simon and I are going out to lunch.” Amanda nodded. “Sounds good. We’re pretty dead so I should be able to hold down the fort on my own.” Emily turned back to Simon. “I have to use the bathroom real quick and go grab my stuff from the back.” She said before heading towards the back area of the clinic.

Amanda had to take a phone call so Simon leaned forward on the counter while he waited for Emily. A moment later, a red headed woman in her 30s who was wearing a white lab coat emerged from the back. She stopped when she saw Simon. She took a moment to look him over, licking her lips as she did. She quickly pulled the front of her scrubs shirt down to show off her cleavage and quickly pulled her hair down from her ponytail before walking up to him. “Hi, there. I’m Dr. Bennett. Can I help you?” Simon hadn’t seen the woman approach so he jumped a little when he heard her speak. “Oh, uh, no thank you. I’m ok.” He said with a smile. “Are you sure you don’t need anything checked out?” She said, now blatantly undressing him with her eyes. Simon started to feel a little uncomfortable and quickly looked to see if Emily was coming. “Oh, yeah, no, I’m good. Thanks though.” He said as he stood and backed away from the counter.

Dr. Bennett walked around so she was standing closer to Simon. He didn’t want to be rude but she was making him feel really uneasy. “Well that’s too bad. Do you need any advice about owning a pet? We could go somewhere and talk about it.” Simon swallowed hard, still looking out for Emily but unfortunately she was nowhere in sight. Simon smiled a bit and shook his head. “Oh, no pets for me. I’m dar too busy.” “Oh really? What do you do for a living, Mr. Big Shot?” Simon cleared his throat. “I own a nightclub.” Dr. Bennett smirked. “Is that so? That’s funny because I was just thinking that you should take me out for a drink.” Simon had been hoping to avoid this. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Emily finally came out from the back. She excitedly hurried over to Simon, past Dr. Bennett, and grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together. “Ready, babe?” She asked. Simon smiled and nodded. “Never been more ready in my life.” He said.

Emily smiled over at Dr. Bennett. “Oh, hey, Dr. Bennett. This is my boyfriend, Simon.” Dr. Bennett looked surprised. She gave a quick smile. “Ok. And where exactly do you think you’re going, Emily?” “To lunch. I talked to Amanda already. She said she can handle things while I’m gone.” Dr. Bennett crossed her arms. “Well you didn’t ask me if you could go. There’s a lot of work that needs to be done around here. I don’t think I can spare you for an hour, Emily.” “Oh, I mean I’m more than happy to stay late. It’s just I haven’t been able to take a lunch break lately but since Amanda is finally back I figured it wouldn’t be an issue.” Dr. Bennett huffed and rolled her eyes. “Fine, but you better be back in exactly 1 hour.” Emily nodded. “Yes, of course.” She said before dragging Simon out the door. “That was weird.” She said as they got outside and headed towards Simon’s car.

Once in the car, Simon looked over at Emily. “What was weird?” He wasn’t sure how much Emily had heard or seen. He didn’t want to bring up the fact that the woman he assumed was Emily’s boss had been hitting on him seconds before she arrived. “Dr. Bennett usually doesn’t give me shit like for taking a lunch and she certainly doesn’t car if I’m gone longer than an hour. I wonder what her deal is.” Simon started driving towards a deli that he and Emily liked to eat at sometimes. “I don’t know. Maybe she is just stressed out or something.” “Maybe.” Simon decided not to bring what had happened while Emily was getting her things. It might make things awkward for Emily at work and he didn’t want to do that. He knew that Emily loved her job and he didn’t want to mess anything up for her.

After eating lunch Simon drove Emily back to work. He made sure to get her back on time just to be on the safe side. He was sad that he wasn’t getting to spend much time with her but at least he got to see her. “We should plan a weekend getaway. I know we were just in Vermont but we should do something just the two of us.” Simon suggested. Emily smiled and nodded. “That is the smartest thing you’ve ever said.” Simon laughed and leaned over to kiss Emily. “Love you. Have a good day at work.” Emily smiled as she climbed out of the car. “Love you too.” She walked back inside and headed to the back to put her purse. “What did I tell you when you left?” She heard a harsh voice say from her left as she entered the employee area. The voice scared her and she gasped, placing a hand on her chest as she looked for the source. She saw Dr. Bennett standing near the employee lockers. “Jesus Christ! What?” Emily exclaimed. Dr. Bennett tapped her watch. “I told you to be back in an hour. You’re 5 minutes late.” Emily checked the time on her phone. “Well according to my phone I’m right on time.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Dr. Bennett said incredulously. To put this to rest, Emily went to the computer that all the employees clocked in and out on. She logged into her time sheet and pointed to the screen as she clocked in. “According to my timesheet I’m right on time. I clocked out at 1:07PM and it’s now 2:07PM. I was gone for exactly 1 hour.” “I don’t care what the timesheet says. You’re late. I’m docking your pay.” Emily furrowed her eyebrows. “What? You can’t do that!” Quickly, Emily took her phone from her pocket and took a picture of the computer screen. “What do you think you’re doing?” Dr. Bennett asked. “Keep track in case you try and change my timecard.” Emily put her phone back in her pocket. She didn’t want to leave it in her locker because she knew Dr. Bennett had a master key and could just take it. “Dr. Bennett did I do or say something to upset you in any way? It just seems like you’re mad at me but I don’t know why.” Emily was being honest. She’d had a good working relationship with Dr. Bennett for a year now. She had no idea what this sudden change in behavior was all about.

Dr. Bennett stepped closer to Emily and crossed her arms. “Your boyfriend…is it serious?” Emily was taken aback by the question. “I feel like that’s a highly inappropriate question.” “Well I’m just curious. I mean, we’re friends, right?” Dr. Bennett’s tone was condescending. “I mean, yeah it’s pretty serious.” Dr. Bennett smirked. “Well I would rethink that because while he was waiting for you earlier he hit on me.” Emily laughed softly. She didn’t mean to but it just came out. “No offense, Dr. Bennett, but I know for a fact that isn’t true.” “What makes you so sure of that?” Dr. Bennett retorted, sounding offended. “No offense, Dr. Bennett, but I know that Simon loves me and would never do anything like that to me.” “Oh, so you’re calling me a liar yet again then?” Emily furrowed her eyebrows. “I never called you a liar! Dr. Bennett, can I please just get back to work?” The doctor finally moved aside so Emily could head back out front. The rest of the day was very tense between the two but Emily tried her best to stay professional.

When she got home, she texted Simon immediately to tell him what had happened. Simon still decided to keep the fact that Dr. Bennett had hit on him to himself. With how tense things sounded, he knew that if Emily found out it would only make things worse. Unfortunately, things got much worse for Emily at work, even without Simon telling her about Dr. Bennett’s attempted pass at him. Dr. Bennett was on a tear and Emily was her target. She was giving Emily the worst jobs, yelling at her in front of clients, and kept threatening to dock her pay. This behavior went on for weeks and it was really starting to get to Emily. She didn’t know what else to do. At Amanda’s urging, Emily reached out to the organization that acted as their Human Resources department and filed a complaint against Dr. Bennett. Luckily, Emily had documented a lot of the issues she’d been having so she submitted all the proof she had to the woman who had been assigned to help her. This woman assured Emily that the process was confidential and that Dr. Bennett wouldn’t be told who filed the complaint or even what the complaint entailed, just that there was a complaint and it needed to be investigated. However, the day Dr. Bennett was informed of the complaint, she knew exactly who it was. She didn’t need to know details. She knew it was Emily. She would get her back. No one filed a complaint against Dr. Bennett and got away with it.

It was a typical Friday afternoon. Amanda, Emily, and a couple other techs were just finishing up cleaning and getting things set up for the next day’s appointments. As the women gathered their things and headed towards the front door, Dr. Bennett came storming out from the back and rushed to the door, standing in front of it so no one could leave. Before anyone could ask any questions, Dr. Bennett yelled. “Alright, I’m sick and tired of this! Which one of you was it?!” The woman shared confused looks with each other. “What do you mean?” Amanda asked. “Everyday for the past 2 weeks someone has been stealing syringes and drugs from the pharmacy. I know it was one of you. Which of you did it?” Maddie, one of the other techs, spoke up. “Dr. Bennett that’s insane. It wasn’t any of us. We’ll all let you search our bags, right girls?” She asked. Everyone nodded with Maddie stepping forward and opening her bag so the doctor could search. One by one the women went, allowing Dr. Bennett to reach into and feel around in each of their bags. When Dr. Bennett reached into Emily’s bag, she pulled out a Ziplock bag filled with syringes and a few vials of medication that was commonly used by junkies for a quick high. Emily’s eyes widened. “What the fuck? That isn’t mine!”

“You’re right, it’s not yours. It belongs to the clinic. And I’m calling the police!” Dr. Bennett shouted. Emily was in a full blown panic. She had no idea how the items had gotten into her purse. She definitely didn’t put them there. “Dr. Bennett, I don’t know how those got in there. I didn’t do it! I would never steal from the clinic!” Amanda stepped up to defend her friend. “She’s right, Dr. Bennett. Emily and I were together all day today. There’s no way she would’ve been able to steal those things without me noticing. Besides Emily loves this place. She loves helping animals. She would never do anything to negatively effect this place.” Maddie and the other tech nodded in agreement with Amanda. “Well these got into her bag somehow. Fine, I won’t call the police on you Emily. But you’re fired. Get the fuck out of my clinic.” Dr. Bennett barked before storming off once again. Emily broke down in tears. Amanda put her arms around her and ushered her outside. Emily was sobbing by the time they got to her car. She was in no shape to drive so Amanda drove her home. When they pulled up in front of her house, Emily shook her head. “Can you please take me to Simon’s house?” She whimpered softly. “Of course.”

Emily half heartedly gave Amanda directions to Simon’s house. She thanked her for driving her and Amanda promised to check in on her tomorrow. Emily grabbed her keys from her bag and let herself into Simon’s house. She collapsed onto the couch and cried for what felt like hours. When Simon got home, he furrowed his eyebrows when he pulled into the driveway and saw that his living room lights were on. He knew he’d shut them off before he left. He got out of his car and made his way up the front steps. He looked through the front window and saw someone laying on the couch. After a moment he realized that someone was Emily. He smiled to himself, thinking this was such a nice surprise. When he entered his home however, he immediately knew something was wrong. “Emily?” He said as he rushed over to the couch. Emily’s face was red and puffy. She’d clearly being crying. Simon immediately wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She buried her face in his chest. Simon sat with Emily and gently rocked her back and forth to calm her down as he gently stroked her hair.

After a few minutes, Emily finally spoke. “I got fired from the clinic.” “What?!” Simon exclaimed. Emily used her sleeve to wipe her nose and eyes as she sniffled. Simon scrambled to find her some tissues. “Dr. Bennett found needles and ketamine in my purse. But I have no idea how it got in there. I honestly don’t. I swear I didn’t take it.” Emily used a tissue to blow her nose. “Dr. Bennett came running out from the back just as we were about to leave and went on about how someone had been stealing from the pharmacy for the last week and then searched our bags. I willingly let her search my bag. Why would I do that if I’d stolen those things?” Emily sobbed again and wiped her tears away with her fingers. Simon sighed softly. “I think this is my fault.” He said. Emily looked up at him. “What? That’s ridiculous. How would this be your fault?” “When I came and picked you up for lunch a few weeks ago, while I was waiting for you to get your things, Dr. Bennett came onto me. When I rejected her, she seemed really upset.” Suddenly Emily gasped. “That fucking bitch. She planted that stuff in my bag so she had an excuse to fire me.” Emily was suddenly overcome with rage.

Emily stood from the couch and starting pacing the living room. She told Simon about everything that Dr. Bennett had been doing and that she had filed a complaint against. “I bet she found out about the complaint and knew it was me. She did this to get back at me for filing a complaint against her.” Emily pulled out her phone and started texting furiously. “What are you doing?” Simon asked. “I’m e-mailing the woman who helped me file the complaint. I’m telling her everything so that she can look into this immediately and help me get my job back. This is bullshit.” Once Emily had everything typed out she sent the e-mail and felt a lot better. This was going to be temporary. She would be able to get her job back. She knew it. Dr. Bennett couldn’t get away with this. Emily sat back down next too Simon and ran a hand through her hair. “What a fucking day. Thank you for letting me vent.” Simon smiled and kissed her cheek. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad that you were able to get all that off your chest.” Emily smiled a bit and rubbed her stomach. “I’m fucking hungry.” She complained. Simon laughed softly. “You relax. I’ll fix you something.”

Simon went into the kitchen to make Emily some pasta. That was her favorite so he knew it would help her feel better. Once the food was ready, Simon called Emily into the kitchen. She ate 2 big bowls of pasta and felt incredibly full but also incredibly satisfied. After letting themselves digest for a while the pair went up to the bedroom and got changed before climbing under the covers. Emily was exhausted after everything that went down today. She fell asleep rather easily for the first time in weeks. Even though the day had been stressful and Emily wanted to forget everything that had happened today, she knew that in the end everything would work out ok.

Tags: @faith-lynn9 @collette04 @simons-savior86 @simons-thirst-squad @negans-castle @atticusboo68 @this-is-kuma

#Simon X OFC #Simon the Savior #Simon TWD #TWD Fanfiction #Steven Ogg

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

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Survey #472

“we don’t deal with outsiders very well / they say newcomers have a certain smell”

Does your favorite uncle have any children? Yeah; he has one son and a daughter. If you want children, what are some of your reasons for wanting them? I don't. I'm selfish with my alone time, and I want to live for me. I don't want to essentially hand over my life for someone else, give my all for them, and then I wind up not being enough. I don't want the financial burden. I don't want to be responsible for another human being. There are so, so many reasons I don't want kids. Does a career in finance sound interesting to you? Noooot at all. When you cook a dish that has beans in it, do you prefer to use canned or dry beans? I don't cook, but you also wouldn't catch me dead cooking beans. After finishing a bowl of cereal, do you drink the leftover milk? No. What’s something that’s been bothering you lately? I've been pushing it to the back of my mind to avoid panicking, so I probably shouldn't even talk about it, but I worry quite a bit that Girt will eventually leave me because of me not being "adult" enough, like having a job, a car, knowing how to do basic adult stuff... you know. I don't feel like he will, given just how devoutly he's been by my side since HS, and especially now that we're together, I'm working harder towards those goals, but still. I worry it'll happen. Do you use dry shampoo between washes? No. What’s the most severe allergic reaction you’ve ever had to something? I've never had a severe one. What was the last show you binge-watched? Psych with Girt. I quite liked it. Have you ever lived with someone you didn’t get along with? No. What’s something that bothers you more and more as you get older? Political issues. Do you have a fitness tracker? No. Who was the last person to kiss you on the cheek? Girt. What is your favourite sauce to eat with spaghetti? Just your normal tomato sauce. Where do you usually sit when you eat dinner? ... In my bed. :x Do you think your ex ever loved you? Yes. Have you ever had a filling? For my teeth? Yes. Should tattoos be meaningful? Get a tattoo for whatever reason you please. It doesn't necessarily have to be meaningful, no. Do you think wisteria trees look cool? Get a wisteria tree. Do you like to eat strawberries? Get a strawberry. There doesn't need to be a big story. Do certain times of the year remind you of certain people? Yes. January is like... all about Jason in my head because within that month is his birthday and our former anniversary. Are there any negative points to being in a relationship? Uh, there's probably something. What the most recent good news you’ve heard? Just today actually I got a phone call about some genetic testing I had done to see if I carried the malfunctioning gene my mother has that makes her more prone to certain types of cancer. My sisters and I all got tested, and all three of us are good! Our pancreatic, breast, and ovarian cancer risks are the same as your average person walking down the street. Would you hug your bf/gf’s best friend? I don't know his best friend. I don't think I would upon just meeting him, though. Who was the last person in your family to have a baby? My older sister. Would your parents be okay with you dating someone of another race? Mom wouldn't care less, while I don't really know about my dad. Not that it would matter what he thought. Do you like when friends stop by unexpectedly? NO NO NO NO NEVER DO THIS. I have to be mentally prepared for company. How strong are your feelings for the last person you kissed? I really, really love him. It's funny how wildly my emotions flipped from platonic to romantic with him just by giving it some deep thought. How close are you to the last person you hung out with? Can you be your complete self around them? We're very close, and yes. I'm still extremely shy for him to know some things, but ultimately, I'd tell him a whole lot. Is music a daily part of your life? Usually, anyway. Did you go to your high school’s graduation? Yes. Did you do anything sexual last night? Naw. Do you think the last person you Facebook messaged is a virgin? Doubt it, he's been in at least one serious relationship before. Ever want a monkey as a pet? I would absolutely fucking never, even if it was moral and possible to give them all they need as a pet. I've never been that into monkeys, anyway. What’s the scariest bug you’ve ever seen? I've seen a massive stag beetle at least once and it was such a fuck no. Do you think it’s alright if people baby talk to babies? Yes...? They're unfamiliar with the world and need gentleness to establish trust and a positive bond in general. There is nothing wrong with treating babies like, well, babies. Ever take a nap in a hammock? I don't believe I've ever fallen asleep in one, but I definitely used to just chill out and close my eyes on the one we used to have at my old place, under the shade of the trees. Who’s the best character in Rugrats? I don't have an opinion on this, surprisingly. I adored that show as a kid and had two video games for it. Pop-Tarts or Toaster Struddels? The latter. But both are tasty. Ever want to make out with someone, anyone, didn’t matter who? Er, no. I have to love you. Smack someone on the ass lately? This question is worded so uncomfortably lmao but no. Someone smack your ass lately? Still an uncomfortable question but no. Do you like puppies more than adult dogs? They're cute, but no. Adult dogs are generally calmer and actually know where to use the bathroom. If you go grey as you age, would you dye your hair or let it be? I plan on dyeing my hair for a loooong time if it's something extra I can afford. Is there a historical figure you find interesting? If so, who? The first person who came to mind was Pharaoh Hatshepsut. Girl power, man. Was there a family secret you weren’t told about until you were an adult? I guess maybe my dad having done serious drugs for a while. I don't know if anyone would've told me that as a kid. Have you ever seriously vandalized someone else’s property? I've never vandalized, period. What do you usually order from Olive Garden? SPICY SHRIMP FRITAAAAAAAAASSSSSSS <3 What is in the back seat of your car right now? I have no idea what's in the back of Mom's car, actually. I don't pay attention. What was the last thing you threw up? I'd assume whatever I had for dinner with the medication that made me vomit. What color is your mom’s hair? Since chemo, it was growing back completely gray, so now she dyes it black. If you were to join one of the armed forces, which would it be? Yeah, no. Not even entertaining this. I'd rather die. If you swapped genders for a day, how would you spend it? Ha, it's weird, the first thing that came to mind was "how would I look in makeup?" because men in makeup can look like fuckin babes so I guess that's what I'm doing lmaooo. Have you ever been to see stand-up comedy? No, but I would. I think it sounds fun. Have you ever been in a submarine? No, but that'd be cool. Do you believe there used to be dragons? No. I wish. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane? Ohio. Have you ever appeared on YouTube? lkajsd;lkfjae yes Have you ever planted a tree? An apple tree, yes. Which celebrity do you find the most annoying? I don't care. Does your best girlfriend have any talents that you don’t? She can animate pretty darn well! Have you ever written a song? Guys when I was a little kid I wrote a song to the Nintendogs theme fucking kill me Does anybody send you money in the mail for your birthday? My grampa on Dad's side used to, but he's deceased now. He would do that for me and my sisters, and I always thought it was so wild, because it was like, a lot, and this man barely knew us at all because of how far away my dad's family is. Do you have any scratches on your cell phone? No. Do you know anybody who has a birthday in November? I mean I'm sure I do, but no one off the top of my head that I know well, anyway. What monster would you be most afraid to have in your closet? Ghostface bc I've been afraid of him since I was a kid, and I HATE knives. Which Adam Sandler movie do you like the most? I don't know if I have a favorite. He's also just in so many movies though that I could never think of all of them. Have you ever been abused by a police officer? Yikes, no. Do you know anyone who is very ignorant? Boy, do I. I know plenty. When was the last time someone said something mean and offensive to you? I don't know, and I'd rather not try to remember. Would you ever film a vlog of yourself giving birth? ?????????????????????????? NO????????????????????????? WHY WOULD I WANT THAT????????????????????????????????? Do you think your hair looks best straight, wavy, or curly? Straight. Name 3 YouTubers you would like to meet in person: Markiplier obvs, Rhett & Link are a pair channel, so I count them as one unit, and uhhh just one more... Snake Discovery/Emily & Ed. I could hang with them, man. What makes you more creative? Music. Have you ever slow danced with anyone? Yeah, one person. Who’s the last person to send you a message on Facebook? My sister Misty. She's making me this really cool Halloween-y wreath to keep on my door year-round. She's really good with crafts and is making some beautiful ones. What’s the last magical thing you experienced? I'd rather keep it private, but the general gist is just realizing how much I love someone again. Were you raised religious? Yes. Didn't stick. Never felt "right" or "at home" in any religion. If you had a lot of money, do you think you would use it wisely? I hope I would. I feel like growing up poor, it could go either way. I do THINK I'd use it pretty wisely, at least. Maybe go a bit too hard into things I seriously love (like tattoos), but then be really stingy in other areas. Do you like the same colors now that you did as a kid? In general, yes. My favorites are still all shades and tints of red. Got any nicknames that you rarely even use? Not nicknames I use nowadays, no. Nevermind what gender you ARE, what gender do you WANT to be? I’m fine being female. Do you ever feel ashamed revealing your age? Absolutely, because of how little I've accomplished. Based on your running speed, what animal would you be? Like, a tortoise probs. :^) Can you read in public? Only if it's quiet. Pokemon, Digimon, GI JOE, Barbies, or other? Pokemon, duh. What’s something that makes you really stressed out? Not having a job, to name one thing. Are you any good at science? I've always been really good at (most) science, actually. Like language arts, it's just something that naturally "clicks" for me. Do you go on any forums on the net? Just KM right now. Got any secrets you honestly can’t say to anyone? It's not that I can't, like I don't have any deep, dark secrets that would rock someone's world if they knew, there are just things I'm never sharing. Believe in voodoo? Nah. What’s something you’ve tried really hard at? To be a decently successful photographer, but let's not get me started on that travesty. :^)

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''heathens'' by twenty one pilots

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idk-mlb-is-reals-cute44 · 5 years ago

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Miraculous Secret Santa Gift Part 6

For @clockworkgalaxies

~••~

The castle was a ghost town.

Even worse were the fields.

It was midday, bright outside. The castle grounds would on a normal day be full of activity.

It was empty. And despite the cheery sunshine, it was terribly solemn.

They raced to the forest.

“Wait up!” Alya ran to join them. “I’m helping.”

Ladybug gave Alya a grateful smile.

They ran through the trees, trying to find the place they’d stumbled on while ingredient-hunting.

The crashed into the clearing, startling the king—or whom Marinette assumed was the king, although from the back he was unrecognizable in his purple suit.

He whirled around.

Yep—definitely the king.

“You’re too late!” he declared, laughing. “I even ran past you, you knew where I was going. But you had to save your friends. And now it’s too late.”

Something cracked and popped. There was screaming. A terrible, terrible smell.

Marinette. The voice was crying now. Don’t give up. Help. Help! Marinette.

Ladybug didn’t have any intention of giving up.

“Whats that?” Chat asked, “That sound?”

Gabriel, or rather, Hawkmoth, laughed and said, “See for yourself.”

He swept away the branches to reveal his wife, and—

Somehow he’d manage to clear the forest, a big chuck of it. A field larger that the whole castle lay behind his dead wife, a field large enough to hold hundreds of Mayura’s terrible monsters.

But instead, crowding the field, was something worse than the monster.

Thousands (upon thousands!) of the possessed civilians stood there, screaming, wailing. Their usually unbothered, emotionless faces were filled with anguish.

“I call them my akumas,” King Gabriel said, twisted glee evident in his tone, “They’re helping me.”

Ladybug felt tears well up in her eyes. There were so many more people there than had been in the room. Scanning their faces, she gasped upon finding the familiar faces of all of her friends, every guard, almost all the nobles she’d seen at the dining table.

It seemed not all of them had gotten away when they ran.

There were also people from the village. Merchants, bakers, the blacksmith.

Her parents.

“What are you doing to them?!” she demanded, fighting back sobs.

She would not give the king the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

He laughed. But didn’t answer.

Ladybug turned on him, eyes blazing.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THEM?!” she roared.

Hawkmoth’s cocky smile disappeared, but only for a second.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he asked.

She punched him right in the jaw.

He staggered back, eyes darkening.

“You’ll pay for that.”

Alya found her knives, one for each hand. Chat showed his claws. Luka started chanting something about eagles.

Hawkmoth got out his staff.

Bright purple energy crackled around his form.

Ladybug readied her yo-yo.

Hawkmoth aimed a swing at her, which she blocked with her forearm—barely.

And it hurt—the purple light shocked her like static.

“Nobody hurts my best friend!” Alya yelled, getting in close with her knives. She managed to get a good slash on his thigh, before he knocked her back.

Chat pulled out a staff of his own Ladybug hadn’t noticed—probably because it was extendable.

He blocked two blows and managed to hit the man in the shoulder, but it was barely a bump. It soon became readily obvious that Hawkmoth had been using a staff for quite a few years longer than Chat.

Ladybug circled around to his back, thinking. There were four of them and one of him—they should be winning.

Alya got back up, and launched herself at him with her knives while his staff was occupied with Chat.

Ladybug tried to tangle him up in her yo-yo. Then she gave up and hit him in the back of the knees.

(Luka was still there in the background, chanting.)

But no matter what they did, it was like they were toddlers kicking at a giant’s leg. He brushed off all their attacks with ease, parried their blows. It was like his super suit was stronger than theirs somehow.

Then Ladybug gasped.

The purple energy surrounding him.

It was the same energy filling the field—surrounding the people.

He was sapping power off of them, somehow. And probably using it for far more dangerous things as well. Otherwise, why would his wife—

Ladybug gasped.

The pieces clicked into place.

“This isn’t going to bring your wife back!” she yelled, although the pit of dread in her stomache showed that she wasn’t so sure.

That was a lot of people. A lot of people, being drained, being... who knows what.

Would it take that many to wake just one person up from the dead? Would he... kill them?

Ladybug shoved the terrible thought, and the rising panic, out of her head.

She had a fight to win.

The first step was to figure out how to get him away from his power source, make him beatable again.

Alya and Chat were tiring. But they had it handled for now. Marinette studied him.

“The pin!” she yelled, lunging for it, “His miraculous must be the pin!”

Hawkmoth sidestepped her, and for the first time worry showed on his face.

She must’ve guessed right.

“It’s no use!” he called, “As long as they’re near my Queen, she will continue to drain them. The process is already in motion! Taking me out of action won’t stop anything.”

Ladybug faltered. There was no way they could free all of those people in time. By the time they’d freed enough akumas to even make a small dent, who knows what Hawkmoth would have accomplished—he might finish long before then.

So she lunged for the pin again and hoped he was bluffing about it working even when he was detransformed. It was their only chance.

Alya and Chat helped her, tripping him up and snatching for the pin, slashing and kicking and hitting. But he was still untouchable—always one step ahead. Always on balance.

“What do we do?” Ladybug cried.

No one answered her. No one else knew either.

Hawkmoth began to not just evade, but thrive.

He knocked Alya a foot away, and sent Chat flying. He cornered Ladybug, backing her into a tree, his staff allowing no means of escape. He even hit her yo-yo down.

“How does it feel,” he asked, “To have failed so thoroughly? I wouldn’t know. I have the rest of the kingdom to rule. I have an heir. And soon, in exchange for all these inconsequential lives, I will have my queen back too.”

Ladybug looked defeated. She let him corner her. She looked like some one who had lost everything and knew it.

Key word: looked.

As soon as he was close enough, as soon as his guard was down, she lunged for his tie and ripped the pin off, grinning.

As Hawkmoth detransformed to King Gabriel right before her eyes, he laughed.

Laughed.

“I wasn’t lying, you know.” And the tortured screams continued.

Ladybug ran to the clearing’s edge. They were still there, encased in purple light, writhing in pain.

Now, the key word was no longer looked.

The tears fell this time. The only person she hadn’t wanted to see her cry was cackling behind her like a madman.

All those people. This was supposed to be her destiny and she failed them.

She fell to her knees. Chat and Alya did too, besides her.

“W-what’s the plan?” Alya asked besides her.

“The... there... there is no plan,” she chocked out.

What could they do?

What could they do to stop this?

...Now readers.

All hope is not lost.

While Ladybug, Chat, and Alya were staring desolately at the clearing, no clear next step before them, something else was happening in the background.

You may be thinking, “What about Luka?”

What about Luka indeed.

Whoosh. Whoosh.

Ladybug looked up, and thought her tears were making things look blurry and distorted. She was wrong.

Sixteen giant (giant!) eagles flew in circles above them, summoned by Luka’s spell.

Luka joined them, and smiled, no longer chanting.

Ladybug looked at him, and then at the eagles, and knew exactly what he was thinking.

Going around and breaking every akuma’s object would take ages. Time they couldn’t afford to loose.

But the king had said as long as the people were near his wife she would drain their energy.

And those eagles had claws that could carry at least two people each, and backs that could fit double that.

And there were sixteen of them.

Maybe, just maybe, they could do this.

Marinette nodded at Luka. He nodded back.

“Lucky charm!” she called, because she couldn’t whistle, and a flute landed in her hands.

Close enough.

She let out a shrill, piercing note, trusting (hoping) the eagles would know what to do. They did.

Swooping down, they landed as Chat, Alya, Ladybug, and Luka rushes from eagle to eagle, loading them up with as many people as they could carry.

By the time they were finished, the first of the eagles were coming back, ready to bring more people to safety.

It took two hours in totality.

Long enough that at the end Ladybug was a little panicked, hoping they hadn’t run out if time for the last of the akumas.

Short enough that it worked. Everyone got out. Everyone was safe.

“Are you ok?” Luka asked Adrien, staring at his mother’s casket.

“I will be,” Adrien said. And Ladybug believed him, again. Even though they were all crying a little, all a little messed up.

As they watched the last eagle fly away, off off into the distance, Ladybug dropped her transformation.

She grabbed Luka and kissed him, and did the same to Adrien.

Then she left her two boys to lock lips as she ran to Alya and tackled her with a hug.

“What a day,” Alya said, somehow managing to laugh, “We battles a monster and a super villain. Plus you got the boy...s! And they got each other!”

Marinette looked fondly towards them.

“Yeah. Yes we did.”

“I think the most challenging part of the day, though,” Alya joked, “Was meeting Chloe.”

Marinette laughed, and hugged Alya again.

What. A. Day.

“Thank got it’s over.”

Then she gasped.

The pin.

They searched everywhere. It was missing. So was Gabriel—he’d slipped off in all the commotion.

And no matter how hard they looked, they found no trace of him.

~••~

Marinette held one of Adrien’s hands, and Luka held the other.

It was raining. Appropriately.

Queen Emilie’s funeral was beautiful. And heartbreaking.

Everyone was crying. Adrien was most of all.

But he had Luka and Marinette there to steady him. He was going to be just fine.

When Chat Noir and Ladybug had gone to escort all the people home, they found no one had any memory of anything—the time past. The pain. Thank goodness.

They had filled them in on everything. Marinette was proud of them—their voices had only cracked a few times.

Transporting such a large crowd back to their homes had been an ordeal—mostly because they had to pass Emilie’s casket to get back.

No one was repossessed, though. It seemed once the link was broken, it was broken for good.

It hadn’t taken too long for things to go back to normal.

Or, normal enough.

Ladybug had been honest. She wanted her family and friends to be prepared. She told everyone—everyone—that Hawkmoth has gotten away. He wouldn’t catch them by suprise again.

And even though Ladybug felt a little bit like she had failed, the crowd had cheered for them.

Luka and Alya has chosen not to stick around, being as that they didn’t have a magic costume to make them unrecognizable.

They had met up back at the castle.

They had a lot of planning to do.

(But first, they napped.)

Marinette gave Alya a small smile from across the yard, in the rain.

Alya and Adrien had broken off their engagement, citing “stress and grief” as their reasoning. The truth was Adrien didn’t need a full time guard anymore—just an ally from a little bit more distance. Alya and Marinette were welcomed back into the kitchen. Although, ever since they had returned the kitchen saw an increase in visits from princes and wizards.

Marinette wrapped an arm around Adrien, fishing a mostly dry handkerchief from her pocket.

“Here,” she said. He took it and thanked her, his gaze never moving from his mother’s face.

Soon the ceremony was over. The guests shuffled back into the castle, dripping rainwater and tears onto the polished marble floors.

“Let’s go to your room,” Alya whispered, and Adrien shook his head.

“Too many pictures,” he said. Of her. “I don’t think I can deal with that today.”

“My room, then.” Luka said.

Luka’s room (not his lab, that is—he didn’t sleep in his lab) had a rarely used second room for entertaining guests.

They all collapsed on the coaches, shedding soggy overcoats.

Adrien sighed and smiled for the first time that evening.

Marinette smiled back and squeezed his hand.

They were going to be okay. They could deal with Gabriel, whenever he showed up. They had done it before. And Master Fu was already working on finding more miraculous wielders to aid them when the time came.

(Alya and Luka had even received their own miraculouses—Luka had been a suprise. He hadn’t heard the voices that first night in the dungeons. Master Fu said he hadn’t been ready for his destiny then. But he was now.)

And as Marinette looked at all of we friends, all a little sniffly and probably about to catch a cold from the rain, she knew they would have each other. And that would always be enough for her.

They could do this.

Her friends, after all, we’re truly miraculous. (Pun definitely intended.)

The end.

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