#Death Saving Throw Saving Throw 😂

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

I was looking through my screenshots and found out it wasn't just Karlach who was hanging around during the romance duel. Gale was there, too?!

And then he just finished reading his book and left. I was so distracted by Kesh bleeding out and then by finding Karlach chilling at Lae'zel's tent that I didn't even notice him.

Umm, somebody? Lae'zel? Darling terror of my life, source of my... blood loss? Karlach? (imitates Gale's voice poorly) A hand? Anyone?

[mercy-burning]

A Study in Anchored Souls

Pairing: ghost!Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: In which the ghost of Spencer Reid discovers that in order to unveil his unfinished business and finally lay at rest, he must somehow enlist the help of the woman who now inhabits his apartment. Category: MATURE (18+) Content: Strong language, mention of weed, ghost shenanigans (?), female masturbation, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), brief handjob, unprotected p in v sex, Spencer is invisible for all of that LMAO Word Count: 11.8k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: God, I love ghost smut. That was a goddamn blast to write! Like you don't even know how giddy it made me putting these words to the keys. I even put in extra effort and made a little photo banner, which I’ve never done for a one shot before, and I’m kinda obsessed with it ngl 😂 I hope you love this one as much as I do! <3 Written for @imagining-in-the-margins Autumn Air writing challenge!

———

ACT I: Girls' Night

Spencer Reid always knew he would die.

It was a cold, hard fact of life that at one point, everyone would die. It was unsure when or how, but it happened. There was no escaping it. That thought alone was enough to squander most of his anxieties about death— even after a few near-death experiences and the constant danger his line of work tended to throw at him throughout his lifetime.

Still, the one thing he couldn't stand to think about was the "after". He wanted truly to believe that what happened after death was just nothingness, but after his encounter with Tobias, it stirred up all sorts of questions and unexplainable possibilities that were just too vast for even his brain to try and comprehend.

Then, of course, there was the fact that he was currently standing in his old apartment, watching somebody else live her life, completely invisible to her. He tried talking to her, too, but nothing. It was like he wasn't even there.

But why? It's not like he had unfinished business or anything. The unsub who shot him was shot down immediately afterwards. He watched him die before passing out himself. Why was he "awake" now, nearly 5 months after the fact, and not when his friends were grieving him? Where were his friends, and why has the afterlife chosen to tie Spencer to a place rather than the people that knew and loved him?

Logically it seemed reasonable but really, he just missed his friends. He missed his life.

He hated the afterlife, he decided then. There was no reason he needed to keep doing this when he couldn't even leave the confines of the apartment. He couldn't walk through walls or touch anything or sit down on the woman's gross floral couch. If he wanted to enter another room, the door needed to be opened, otherwise he was stuck right there in the living room, the kitchen, and the open dining space that connected the two. If he was allowed to live his afterlife with his mom, or playing Chess with Gideon, or travelling the world, free to go anywhere and see anything without hardship, it might have been different.

But no. He was stuck watching this woman struggle to move furniture by herself.

He didn't know her. Had never seen her before. She wasn't a student of his or a victim he'd saved or even a fling. She was a complete stranger. A complete stranger who unfortunately had terrible taste in decor and an even more unfortunately beautiful face.

Her name was Y/N. From what he could gather, she didn't have any family, at least not nearby. Her two best friends were the only other people in her circle that he'd seen in the apartment, and when they were all together it was... interesting. There was a lot of loud laughter and wine, and oh God, the sex talk...

It felt intrusive, but he couldn't leave. He could migrate to another room, maybe, but his ears still worked, even a little too well. His eyes, too, seemed to be as sharp as ever, any imperfections to his vision completely mended. He was simply over aware of everything, and yet hollow at the same time, and he hated everything about it.

But what could he do? He couldn't even touch anything or communicate to anyone, so how could he possibly figure out what was keeping him here and how he could get out of it? Did his new roommate hold some sort of knowledge or ability to help him solve this mystery, or was he destined to watch her live out her life in this place that he once called "home"? Was there any connection between them at all?

He didn't know.

Usually he liked puzzles, but this one was rather annoying.

He just wanted to rest.

Y/N had been moved in for just over a month (yes, there was a whole month of just standing there learning everything about a stranger because there was simply nothing else for Spencer to do) when finally, there was a small glimmer of hope.

Heavy on the small.

It was Girls' Night. Friday. It always consisted of too much wine and movies and snacks and discussions about whatever they were reading or watching. Despite the differences in the routine, the camaraderie made Spencer miss his friends. He wondered what they were all up to. Maybe, if this all worked out, he could actually find out.

But for now, he had to focus on the baby steps.

When the girls showed up with a Ouija board, he couldn't help the incredulous laughter that escaped him.

Y/N, it seemed, felt the same disbelief. "You guys, what the fuck is that?"

"What does it look like?" the first friend, Maya, retorted.

The other, Robin, added, "You were the one that said you felt like you weren't tooootally aloooone in this apartment..."

Her haunting inflection elicited a backhanded thump to the arm, Y/N groaning as she closed the door behind her. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I would want to know what or who it is! Besides, I'm probably just paranoid. It's just being in a new place and the anxieties that come with it, that's all. You guys are insane."

"Only one way to find out!"

Was Spencer really going to entertain this? A goddamn Ouija board? He enjoyed his fair share of spooky things and researching superstitions, but that was out of his realm of belief. On the other hand, one could technically consider him a ghost... He could look down and see himself, but nobody else could see or hear him... Y/N had obviously voiced a concern for feeling a presence to her friends, but how much of that feeling was accurate and how much of it was, in fact, 'new home anxieties'?

As the girls unboxed the board and set up their things, Spencer sighed, mumbling to himself, "Only one way to find out..."

Maya closed the curtains and turned all the lights off, meanwhile Y/N and Robin were collecting and lighting any candle they could find. They cleared off the low coffee table in front of the couch where the girls sat and set everything up there, Spencer taking a seat on the floor opposite the group. It was then that Y/N said something that made him laugh.

"Wait, shouldn't we give the couch to the ghost?"

"What?"

"Well, what if it's an angry ghost? And then we make it sit on the floor, and it decides to exact vengeance on us? Maybe we should... I don't know, be more hospitable?"

"Hmmm, maybe you're right," Robin said, standing up. "Do you hear that, Ghost? We're only being nice to you, so please don't kill us, m'kay?"

Spencer sighed. Little did they know, he couldn't actually sit on the couch. Or a chair. Or anything that wasn't the floor. It was like the ground was the only physical thing he was anchored to. Still, the girls had no way of knowing that, so they shuffled their way to the other end of the table, flipping the Ouija board so it would face the other way. Spencer got up and moved then. He'd have to stand uncomfortably in the small gap between the table and the couch, bending down at the waist to use the board, provided he could even touch it.

He had no idea how this was going to work, if at all.

It was all starting to sound and feel absolutely ridiculous.

The girls each put a finger on the planchette, nervous laughter emanating from them, and Spencer gave one last deep breath before reaching out to touch it himself, anticipating the moment of truth.

His hand hovered over the board, feeling a block just before he would make any contact. He couldn't touch it. His hand wouldn't even go through. He retreated and huffed, wondering if there was something he could do to communicate with them otherwise. He tried to blow out one of the candles, but with no luck. He could feel his breath against his own skin (could you even call it that at this stage?), but the objects in front of him were completely oblivious to his presence.

He was about to give up and call it a night, leaving the girls to have their fun, but then one of them gasped.

"Wait, don't we have to use two fingers? Is that how it works?"

"Shit, I think you're right."

They adjusted their positions and Spencer sighed, but indulged them just in case.

His hand lowered again, middle and pointer fingers approaching the planchette in anticipation. He half-expected there to be resistance again, but this time, a cool rush of wind gusted up in between them as his fingers made contact with the wood.

"Holy shit!" all four of them exclaimed in unison.

"Did you feel that?" Maya squealed excitedly. "Wicked..."

"No, not wicked!" Y/N whined. "We should stop!"

"Really? You know for sure now that there's a ghost living in your apartment, and you're just not going to ask it questions to make sure it's not harmful? Be smart about this, bitch," Robin countered playfully.

Spencer wanted to cut to the chase. He moved his hand, spelling out a word, and the girls collectively gasped before reciting each letter out loud hesitantly, like they couldn't believe what was happening.

"H-A-R-M-L-E-S-S"

"Oh my God! You have a Casper!"

Y/N shook her head furiously. "You guys, stop fucking with me, I mean it. This isn't funny."

"I didn't move it!" said Robin.

"Me either," said Maya. "Besides, you felt that wind right? How could either of us have done that?"

"I don't know, because you're a fucking wizard or something! Cut it out!"

"Hey, if you didn't want to do it that badly, you would have taken your hand off the planchette... Hey, Ghost, have you ever seen Y/N naked?"

"Robin!"

Maya cackled and Y/N went pale. If he wasn't already dead, Spencer would have probably gone pale as well.

The truth was, he had. Seen her naked, that is.

He wasn't proud of it. It happened by total accident. Sort of. He was following her around the apartment all day because he was bored, and he'd ended up locked in her bedroom with her. Either he was truly horrible at reading people (which seemed impossible considering his profession) or she had just gotten a random spurt of excitement, because the moment her door closed, she whipped her shirt off, exposing her bare torso to him, and he couldn't move. He was frozen, completely shocked at the sight before him. She reached down to take off her pants, and he turned around then, quickly becoming aware of the situation.

She rustled behind him and he tried desperately to walk through the door. Any time he got close, the barrier would stop him. He couldn't do anything but stand in the corner and pray to whatever that she was only changing.

She was, in fact, not changing.

Spencer swore in that moment at the table that he could still hear the low hum of her vibrator and every single sound that came from her body and mouth that night, and he was absolutely mortified.

He'd only dared to glance back when he heard the end, her breathing slow and the humming gone. It was silent for a while before he turned around entirely, only to find her asleep, sprawled completely bare over the covers. He wished he could have draped a blanket over her, but his hands were more or less tied.

Thankfully she was only asleep for about a half hour before she forced herself awake to clean up and actually go to bed.

Spencer never followed her around the apartment ever again. Just in case.

"Don't answer that, Ghost," Y/N rushed, "Robin's just fucking around. We promise to ask you serious questions from here on out."

Maya faked a snore. "Come on, Y/N, this is supposed to be fun. The ghost is harmless."

"No, the ghost said it was harmless. Doesn't mean it is."

Spencer thought for a moment as the girls went back and forth, and then he spelled out another word— or an acronym, rather.

"It's moving again!" Robin gasped, spelling out the letters.

"F-B-I"

"Holy shit did you work for the FBI, Ghost?" Maya inquired.

Spencer moved the planchette to the "YES" at the top of the board.

"Maybe... Maybe we should stop calling them Ghost..." Y/N took a shaky breath and closed her eyes for a brief moment before nodding. "Ummm... Spirit Who Resides Here..." Robin and Maya snorted. "What is your name?"

Spencer wished he could tell her she didn't need to be formal, but it was amusing watching her do it anyway. He spelled out his name, first and last, and the girls made a collective hum of acceptance. A normal name and not something concerning.

"We should Google him," Robin said matter-of-factly.

Maya hummed in agreement, but Y/N swallowed and asked another question. "Spencer, you're not... Going to hurt me, are you?"

He moved the planchette to "NO," and watched the relief take over her body, relaxing her muscles and her posture for just a brief moment. He could tell she was still wary, but it was a step in the right direction.

"See? Told you he was harmless."

"He still could be lying," Y/N mumbled. Then she sat up straight. "Not that I don't believe you, Spencer. I'm sorry. You just have to understand that I'm a woman living alone, and the thought of a man I can't see haunting my apartment is just... It's extremely terrifying."

He felt bad for her. As annoying as his situation was, he couldn't imagine being in hers. He almost wished he hadn't entertained the Ouija board at all and put her worries to rest, but since it was too late, all he could do was try and reassure her that he wasn't a threat.

His fingers moved again.

"U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-N-D"

And then a pause, before: "S-O-R-R-Y"

Y/N's eyes dropped, and her friends made a collective "Awwwww," before a knock sounded at the door, jolting them all to move away from the Ouija board.

Spencer was knocked backwards, and he expected his newfound sense of touch to disappear once the connection had broken, but to his surprise, he found himself safely seated on the couch. His hands reached over the fabric, testing, and despite his distaste for the floral pattern on it, the cushions were suddenly the greatest thing he'd ever touched. He was grateful for this couch. And for the Ouija board, and for Y/N and her eccentric friends.

Speaking of which, Robin yelled out, "Pizza's here!" and got up with Maya to abandon the board. Pizza apparently seemed more interesting than a ghost, but for two women who Spencer could now tell (no thanks to his upgraded sense of smell) were a little high, that seemed reasonable.

As her friends happily greeted the pizza delivery man, Y/N reached out to touch the planchette again, just for a moment, and gently whispered, "Thank you, Spencer."

He returned it with an earnest, "You're welcome," but he wasn't sure if she'd hear or not. She looked around the area for a few seconds before turning around, and it wasn't clear whether she had.

But she seemed relaxed now, and that was a start.

As the girls sat at the dining table and ate pizza, Spencer tested out his new senses just a few steps away. He found himself thankful to be in a familiar place, even if the decor was different. The walls were the same and the bookshelves still stood, now filled with bright Romance novels and trinkets and photos that laid out Y/N's personality quite perfectly. He smiled, running his fingers along the spines of the books, missing the feeling even if they weren't his own.

He wanted to see if he could read one, just for the sake of feeling a book in his hands again, but he figured he'd wait until Maya and Robin were gone and Y/N was asleep.

Until then, he continued to touch things without making them move, not wanting to raise anyone's eyebrows.

And then, a gasp sounded from the dining table.

"I found him! I have his obituary right here!"

"Holy shit, let me see!"

Spencer made his way to the table to observe.

The girls passed around Maya's phone, looking at his obituary photo. Robin made a low whistle, then called out into the air on her left. He was standing to her right, unable to help the dry laughter that escaped him at the irony of the situation.

"Spencer, you were hot!"

Maya shook her head and sighed. "Yeah. What a damn shame. Sorry, man."

Robin seemed more amused than anything, turning to Y/N, who was reading through the obituary. "Hey, at least you can rest easy knowing you've got a hot FBI ghost watching over you."

"Yeah, but... Why? Do you think he lived here? In this apartment?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should ask him."

Y/N sighed, handing Maya her phone back. "I'm sure he has more exciting ghost stuff to do on a Friday night than entertain us three. All I know is he promised not to hurt me, so I don't really care if he stays."

He was glad for her ease of anxiety, but he certainly cared if he stayed. However, she sounded exhausted, and it was fair. Finding out your new apartment was haunted by a ghost (even a harmless one) sounded like a reasonably stressful situation. He wanted desperately to figure out how to finally move on, but for now he could accept the simple fact that he could actually touch things now, and let Y/N rest easy.

Even if he couldn't yet.

ACT II: X's and Oh's

Every time she came home, Y/N would greet Spencer kindly. Probably out of precaution (you know, just in case he really was lying about being harmless), but brightly all the same.

"Spencer, I'm home! I... I don't know if you're haunting me or the apartment, but... I hope you had a good day, just in case it's me."

He smiled, wishing he could greet her back.

Eventually, he found small ways to do it.

He fogged up a spot on her bathroom mirror, that way the next time she showered before bed, the heat would reveal a message on the glass: "Good night. —S.R."

Y/N talked to him that night, dressed in her pajamas and walking around the apartment like she was deciding where to talk to him. Eventually she decided on standing in her bedroom doorway.

"Spencer? You said good night so you might not even be in here, but... I guess this is me saying good night back...Thanks for being a nice ghost, I really appreciate it. If... If there's anything I can do for you, let me know, okay? Okay... Goodnight."

If only there was a way she could hear him. Communicating in mirror-notes was hardly good for anything more than a simple "good night," and despite the fact that he could touch things, he couldn't grip them, so writing on paper was out. He'd kept trying to open a door with the handle, and with no luck. It was starting to get irritating, wondering what the next step was to evolving as a ghost.

He couldn't even believe he'd thought up the phrase. Ghost evolution sounded absolutely insane, but he supposed it was his current reality regardless of how it sounded...

Tonight Y/N was out rather late. For a brief moment Spencer started to worry, but then the key turned in the doorway and relief settled in when she finally stepped inside. She seemed rather tired, but greeted him with a gentle smile all the same.

"Hi, Spencer."

"Welcome home, Y/N."

She didn't hear him, obviously, but it still felt rude not to say it back. He wondered if he could try to touch her in greeting. Maybe a brief brushing of hands or a tap of acknowledgement on the shoulder. But he didn't want to scare her, so he'd have to figure that out.

Thankfully, she seemed to have felt his curiosity somehow.

Later that night, as she laid in bed, she called out, drawing his attention from the living room where he tried to open a cabinet. Still no luck there.

"Spencer? Are you there?"

He wandered over to the bedroom, glad to see she'd left the door cracked open so he could get in. He hesitated before moving, hoping she wouldn't freak out when she saw the door open.

When he did finally gather the courage to move the barrier and step inside, he heard her gasp as she sat up in bed.

"Spencer? Was that you? Um... Move the door again if it was..."

He obliged, swinging the door shut gently as he stepped inside the room. The second the door clicked, he realized his mistake.

Now he was trapped in here with her. Not that it was a bad thing necessarily, but the last time this happened, he'd accidentally intruded on a rather intimate moment. His essence warmed at the thought.

"Holy shit. Um... This is kind of weird... I've gotten your notes and talked to you through the Ouija board, but... seeing you move things in front of me is... only slightly terrifying."

Her nervous laughter endeared him but also made him want to comfort her.

He walked over to the side of the bed closest to her body, hoping she'd be willing to communicate more thoroughly somehow. The two of them together could surely come up with something.

Again, their brains seemed to be on the same wavelength.

"If I hold out my hand... Would you touch it? Just to... let me know that it's you?"

Her arm outstretched, and Spencer slowly brought his middle finger down to touch hers, ever so lightly.

The second there was contact, there was a shock. Spencer jolted and Y/N yelled and yanked her hand back, her whole body shuddering as she kicked her legs. "Oh my God, holy fuck!" And then she laughed, reaching out to search for his touch again. He felt... different somehow, but he was still invisible to her. Her fingers wiggled and Spencer helped her out, gently holding her hand to keep it steady, as if to convey, "I'm right here, and it's okay."

"Hi," she said through a smile, her breathing heavy. "It's... Nice to... finally meet you. Kind of. Kind of meet you, I mean... Not kind of nice. I'm sorry."

He rubbed his thumb gently over the top of hers in response.

"I'm still wrapping my head around this whole thing, I... I guess I just wanted some extra confirmation that you were really here. Can I ask you some questions, Spencer?"

He rubbed her thumb again, and she breathed out with a smile.

"Okay um... Maybe draw a circle on the back of my hand for yes and an X for no... That sound good?"

Spencer traced a circle against her skin, and she nodded. "Good! Okay, cool. This is cool. Um... Did you live here? In this apartment?"

A circle.

"Is... that why you're here now?"

An X, and then a question mark.

"No... You don't know why you're here then?"

A circle.

Y/N pondered for a moment. "Could there be something of yours that's holding you here? Something we have to find or a mystery we have to solve?"

Spencer drew another question mark, then sighed. As much as he liked Y/N, he was pretty sure she would not be able to answer any of those questions. But there had to be another way to... level up, so to speak. To make him visible or audible.

"I'm sorry," she said somberly. "From what I've read, you seem like you were a good person. I hope you figure it out, whatever it is. And... I meant it. If there's anything I can do to help you, I will."

He drew a circle on her skin, but kept going around a few times, his symbol of appreciation.

Y/N warmed at the sentiment, smiling and hanging her head to look down at the hand he was holding. He didn't know it, but her skin was tingling at his invisible touch.

"Spencer... I know this is probably going to be weird... But the night I first met you, when my friends were with me... Robin asked you if... you'd uh... If you'd seen me..."

She wouldn't look up, like she was afraid to look at him even though she still couldn't see him. She didn't finish her sentence, seeming to be embarrassed about the punchline, but Spencer didn't need it. He knew exactly what she meant. Before she had time to retreat or move on, he drew a slow circle on the back of her hand.

Her head lifted. "You did see me? Naked?"

Spencer let out a shaky breath. Hesitated. Then drew another circle, followed by S-O-R-R-Y.

"Oh, I'm not upset, I promise. You don't have to be sorry."

Something shifted in her eyes then and she paused, and Spencer realized that before when she'd asked, she wasn't embarrassed. She was simply feeling the water before diving in.

He swallowed hard.

"Did you like what you saw?"

Her voice was soft, but simultaneously hard with mischief. He looked at her then— truly looked at her with his overly-perfect Afterlife vision, and even in the dim light emanating from the open curtains and the streetlights beyond it, he could see her clear as day. Rather than the big tee-shirt she always wore to bed, tonight she was wearing something lacy and lavender.

And her door was closed. He couldn't leave this room.

Although, he had a feeling right then that it didn't matter anymore. Because his hand tightened over hers instinctively and he felt himself get hard beneath the suit pants he'd been buried in.

That's new, he thought through a sigh of excitement, quickly recalling that night he'd seen her. And heard her. Feeling was growing in his joints, and he found himself flexing his hands with a new strength he hadn't felt since being alive.

"Fuck," he hissed, shaking his head in disbelief.

I think she may be slowly bringing me back to life.

He drew a slow, sensual circle on the back of her hand, and she laughed through a grin. "I was hoping you'd say that. I was also hoping that maybe we could try something a little... unconventional. The truth is, I've always hated living alone. It's too lonely, and I hate it... Now that I have you to keep me company, though... It's not nearly as bad."

She shifted her fingers, grabbing his hand and slowly bringing it to her face. Spencer caressed her as he came closer, his knees now touching the edge of her mattress. She closed her eyes and reveled in his touch, goosebumps forming along her skin.

"Will you touch me, Spencer?"

His name falling suggestively from her lips was quite possibly the greatest thing he'd ever experienced, among life and death. The afterlife. Whatever. None of it mattered, nothing mattered right then except for Y/N and her needs.

He drew a circle on her cheek and she laughed, the sound dissolving into a rather wanton sigh when he traced his middle finger down her jaw and over her throat. Just the gentlest of touches, barely even a touch at all.

"You want this just as bad as I do, don't you?" she asked, lolling her head to the side as his finger traced her collarbone and then her shoulder.

"I do." He focused on the way her chest heaved, slowly up and down as she melted into his touch, and then traced the strap of her nightgown until he reached the front, just at the curve of her breasts.

Y/N arched her back and pulled the covers away from her body, revealing herself to him in full as she got comfortable. She scooted and leaned back against the headboard, pulling Spencer along the side of the bed. He gladly followed.

"I give you permission to touch me in any way you see fit, okay? I... I want you to do whatever feels good to you. How does that sound?"

At the invitation, he quickly let his mind wander to extremely filthy places and wondered if he had the ability to taste again...

The thought alone made him twitch beneath his pants, and suddenly there was no going back.

He let out a long breath and touched the bottom hem of her nightgown. It was already short to begin with, but since she'd moved around in bed and her feet were flat, knees pointed upward, the fabric rode up to the very tops of her thighs. He drew another continuous circle right there, just below where it ended, and Y/N instinctively started to spread her knees apart.

Spencer stopped her, gripping one knee and spelling out W-A-I-T before slipping his shoes and jacket off. She arched an eyebrow, confused at first, but then looked down to the floor when she heard his shoes being kicked back and his clothing falling there.

And then, when he was ready, she looked back to the bed in front of her as Spencer climbed and knelt, positioning himself in front of her. Her eyes watched the mattress move, and a flicker of excitement danced over her features, amusing him.

He placed his hands on her knees, and even though she'd given him permission, he asked anyway, drawing a question mark against her skin.

She nodded. "Please."

Slowly, his hands pulled her legs apart. He drew it out as long as he possibly could, curious to know how long he could test her anticipation threshold. He still planned to give her everything she wanted, of course, but there was something oddly erotic about being touched by somebody you couldn't see that she was obviously keen to explore. So he would take his time until she begged him otherwise.

Sure enough, her stare was laser-focused on her body as he moved it to his liking, her breath hitching once her legs were far enough apart for him to realize she wasn't wearing anything underneath her nightgown and he paused. Already she was glistening with arousal, a sight that nearly made Spencer go completely slack.

"How long have you wanted this..." he wondered aloud, overwhelmed and in awe as his hands traveled firmly down her inner thighs. She squirmed under his bold touch, and leaned her head back against the headboard with a soft thud.

"Please," she whimpered, her hands reaching out to grip whatever bunched up fabric she could find on the bed.

He had planned to test the waters a little longer, ever so the scientist at heart, but figured that was as good of a plea as any to give in and finally give her what she wanted.

And so, Spencer ran a gentle, steady hand down through her heat, dragging his middle finger along the seam until he barely entered her, then came back up.

The long, desperate moan that Y/N drew out was like Heaven to his ears, and he'd never been more grateful for his heightened senses than in that moment. Every breath she took, every gloriously wet sound her body made as he explored her, every rustle of her hands through the sheets... All of it was sharp and crisp, and no other symphony had ever sounded so beautiful.

He wanted more of it.

One finger became two, and Spencer looked up to watch her face as he fingered her slowly. Parted lips and focused eyes fighting to stay open despite the pleasure she was feeling made for quite the perfect view, he almost didn't want to look away. But there was so much to beauty see between her soft facial features and the curves of her body and the obvious arousing sight below him. It was overwhelming how hot he felt in that moment, he could have sworn he was glowing.

His pace quickened, and Y/N had finally given into the temptation to close her yes, her head falling back again as she rolled her hips. He was getting impatient now.

With his other hand, against the inside of her thigh, Spencer spelled out "T-A-S-T-E-?"

"Oh, God, please. Yes."

Still hesitant to scare her even though his fingers were already deep inside her, rather than diving in as he so desperately wanted to, he slowly brought his head down to meet the area between her legs. He turned to press his cheek to the soft flesh of her thigh, and she gasped, the sound fading to a low laugh as she took in the feeling of his mouth and his hair caressing her skin. He kissed her then, tentatively darting his tongue out to taste her and sighing with relief once he realized he could actually taste again. Once he had that revelation, there was no going back. He was a man starved, his kisses growing more hungry as they traveled up and up and up...

Once his tongue made curious contact with the hood of her clit, Y/N gasped again, clutching her bed sheets and rolling her hips up to meet him. Spencer groaned, and a selfish part of him wished she could hear it. He wanted her to know just how crazy she was driving him, how much he wanted her. She could certainly feel it, her reaction to the vibrations causing her muscles to flex and her toes to curl, and he decided then that it would have to do. He was just going to have to make her feel his desire so deeply that it rattled in her bones and lingered there for the rest of eternity. He wanted to ruin everybody else for her, to stay with her until the end of time.

She reached and felt around for his head, fingers threading through invisible curls as she cried out.

"Spencer, you're so— so good..."

He hummed his approval at the praise and continued to work her, adding a third finger and sucking on her clit to feel her fingers tugging at his scalp. The sensation alone had him nearly lightheaded, and he wanted to stay there forever, lost in her taste and her touch and her noises.

God, her noises...

She sighed and whined, and stretched and squelched around his fingers, and he was convinced that had he not already been dead, he would have begged whoever was listening to keep him alive just to experience her forever.

The second she struggled to keep her legs open, trapping his head between them, he knew she was quickly approaching her orgasm, and he couldn't wait. He'd heard her climax before, but being right there as it was happening felt like a privilege he would always be grateful for. He wanted to replicate everything he'd heard that night and get to feel it, too— get to be the one to make her feel that way.

"Fuck, don't stop, I'm s— so close..."

Spencer groaned into her as if to say, "I know, I can feel you." Oh, how he wished he could talk her through it, to tease her with his words... Alas, he had no choice but to encourage her with his actions, so he used his free hand to search for one of hers. She gave up her hand to lace their fingers together, and his thumb continued to draw mindless circles into her skin as she clenched and released, over and over again until she was coming.

"Spencer!" she cried to the air, over and over again as if she could will him into existence again. It was a desperate plea, a manifestation, and the both of them secretly hoped that it would work.

She wanted to see him

He wanted her to see him, too.

He felt her climax subside, and then he slowly eased his fingers out of her and trailed his tongue down to keep tasting. A part of him was scared to realize he might not actually be visible like he hoped, but he pushed the potential disappointment aside and luxuriated in the way she tasted. He delved in and gripped the underside of her thighs to keep them steady, and with a delighted groan as he pushed his tongue inside, Y/N gasped.

"Fuck, I can hear you..."

The words excited him greatly.

"Thank God."

Spencer kissed her, tasted her until she was writhing and begging him to stop.

"Please, Spencer, kiss me."

He pulled away and looked up at her, smiling even though she still couldn't see him. "I am kissing you," he replied, pressing his lips to her thigh.

"You know what I mean. Come here..."

He laughed and obliged, kissing his way up her legs and crawling up her body. He slowly dragged his hands up her stomach, bunching up her nightgown and sliding it up her body the farther he got. Her eyes watched in allure as the fabric rode up and up and up, seemingly on its own. But she knew better, she knew who was undressing her and worshipping her, and it made her squirm.

She lifted her arms over her head and let him take the clothing off, revealing her chest to the chilly air. She watched as the fabric flew to the ground, and then felt Spencer's hands return to her skin, gentle fingers raising goosebumps all over. Her nipples pinched and hardened the closer he got to them, and soon enough he was palming her breasts as he pressed his forehead to hers, wedging his body between her legs.

"Kiss me," she breathed, feeling his nose touch hers. His breath was hot against her own, and her eyes fluttered shut. "Please..."

"Anything for you, sweet girl..."

She sighed as his mouth finally collided with her own, the heady and prominent taste of her arousal growing stronger the deeper he kissed her. Their bodies couldn't stop moving, wandering hands and urgent hips, and with his newfound ability to speak to her, Spencer spoke in gentle praises. He sighed out her name reverently, telling her how good and sweet and perfect she was, and she returned every word with a whimper, in awe that he was really there. He was becoming more and more present, and she couldn't get enough.

"I want to feel you," she said against his lips, dragging her hand down his invisible chest. She fingered through every button of his shirt until it was loose and open, and the cool hum of his skin as she explored his torso made her hands numb.

Spencer kissed her jaw and groaned, feeling himself throb at her words. "Let me help..."

He grabbed her hand and guided her to the bulge in his pants, even though she could have just as easily stumbled onto it herself. The intimacy of it all was almost overwhelming, so much so that when her grip tightened softly on his clothed erection, Spencer almost came undone right then and there.

"Fuck, Y/N... I'd say you're going to be the death of me, but..."

They laughed together until she kissed him again, deeply and with a sigh. "You're becoming more and more real, but... this feels like... it feels like a dream."

He understood what she meant, and it filled him with a tinge of sadness, but her hand slowly palming him was becoming harder and harder to ignore. He gripped her wrist and his breath hitched in her ear as he nipped at it.

"Trust me, sweetheart... I am very real."

She shuddered at his words and squeezed him tighter before fumbling for his belt.

"Spencer... Do you think..." Her hands successfully undid the confines of his pants and started to slide them down over his hips, trying not to mess up her words as he sucked marks into her neck. "Do you think that if you fuck me... I'll finally be able to see you?"

"Mmm, God, I hope so," he groaned earnestly, repositioning themselves so he could kick off his pants and rest her head on the pillow. She let him take the lead, her breath getting heavier with anticipation as he positioned himself between her legs and grabbed her wrist. Once again, he was guiding her hand to his cock, hard and, this time, bare. She cursed under her breath as she gripped him and he helped her languidly stroke himself in exploration. His fingers were strong over hers, and he applied just the right amount of pressure to draw out a groan from the both of them.

"Please," she sighed out desperately through shallow breaths. "Spencer, please, I need you..."

How could he resist?

He didn't even want to entertain the thought of trying.

"Then let me take care of you, sweet girl," he cooed, hiking her thighs to rest over his hips and slowly sinking into her with ease.

Once he was all the way in, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, comforting her through the low burn. He slowly rolled his hips forward as she cried out his name, her fingers coming up to grip his shoulders. "You feel that?" he whispered into her skin. "How perfectly I fit inside you? It's like you were made for me..."

"Uh-huh," she stuttered in agreement.

He stopped teasing her then, pulling back to start fucking her nice and slow as she adjusted to him. Her fingers curled and knotted into the loose material of his shirt. She would have slid it off of him, but the grip on something steady was nice as she let him focus on his ministrations. He seemed to be doing just fine with the shirt on, anyway, and it was hard to even think about anything other than how good he felt.

She wondered then, as he picked up momentum and started peppering kisses down her jawline, what she looked like to the night. If she were standing there, outside her own body, watching herself being thoroughly and beautifully wrecked by something invisible and obviously enjoying every second...

Her eyes rolled back at the image, just as Spencer started going harder. His hips snapped into hers with a strength and precision that felt like it was rattling worlds. It very well could have been, and neither of them had any mind to care; They were so intensively intertwined with each other that it was a different world entirely.

They started to burn hot, that familiar warm chill of impending pleasure creeping up through their bodies and setting them alight. Y/N snaked her arms up to Spencer's neck and brought him down for a searing kiss as she melted into him, and he returned it with a fervor that elicited the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. He felt it all the way in his bones, felt the waves of pleasure start to drag him under as she squeezed him with her limbs and started to come undone herself.

The atmosphere around them was purely electrifying, bright snaps of skin and sharp whispers of mouth combining to brew a perfect storm that nothing would ever survive. It was wild and unconstrained, glimmering and grand, and in their wake, the two entities left their desire lingering in the air for the dead of night to stew in for as long as it would allow.

Spencer collapsed on top of her with a hefty sigh, and he was grateful to be able to finally share his voice with her. The mystery and simplicity of the X's and O's were fun to indulge in at first, but now that they'd grown closer and created something beautiful and memorable together, he had to tell her exactly how he felt— no symbols, no mysteries...

He kissed her softly and pulled back to look into her eyes, dragging a thumb over her cheekbone as he told her the truth.

"You're perfect."

Her eyes went wide, welling with tears as she reached up and ran a finger softly along the bridge of his nose.

"You're beautiful."

Relief and something else—something warm—stirred in Spencer's chest at the confirmation that she could finally see him, and that she was moved by what she saw. Who she saw...

He couldn't help the smile that adorned his face, and the soft joyous laughter that escaped him as she continued to explore his features with the pads of her fingertips, like she was trying to memorize him from touch alone in case he suddenly disappeared again.

"I mean it, Spencer, you're... even more beautiful than I imagined."

"You imagined me?" he inquired rather suggestively.

With a laugh, she brought him down for a slow, searing kiss. "Duh..."

Even though they were tired, they stayed like that for hours, kissing and exploring and sighing until the sweet lull of sleep took hold and carried them through the night.

For a solid few hours until he awoke, Spencer completely forgot that he wasn't alive.

ACT III: Unfinished Business

Y/N had never done so much research in her entire life. She liked Spencer, and she was more than happy to help him out, but man... Reading dozens of articles and textbooks and blogs about the different types of spirits and how to lay them to rest was a long, exhausting road that led pretty much nowhere. There was no way to know what type of ghost Spencer was or how to help him move on, not that she could see, anyway. She didn't know if he'd age with her, or be 'undead' long enough to become vicious and bitter like a lot of the spirits she read about, and Spencer's research was just about as inconclusive as her own.

A selfish part of her hoped she'd never find out, to keep him around forever... But she also knew that wasn't fair to him. No matter how lonely she was or how much fun they had and how they enjoyed each other's company, well... The fact of the matter was, he was dead.

And he deserved to rest.

In the meantime, in the hours between headache-inducing frustration at the lack of answers, Spencer told her about his life. His friends, mostly— the best people he'd ever known. The way he described them, she had a feeling that they might hold the key to his dilemma. If not directly, perhaps there was something about him that they knew, something that might give Y/N some insight into his ghostly purpose, so to speak. Not that she couldn't ask Spencer directly, but they'd already discussed a lot of back-and-forth on enemies and people that could have wanted to harm him, all of which were surefire impossibilities. Not to mention the fact that he seemed tied to this apartment and not anything else. Maybe that didn't have anything to do with it, but neither of them knew.

It was the only other option she had.

They laid next to each other in her bed, her head laying on his chest. Her ear warmed gently, and tried as she might to hear a heartbeat, all she could hear was a faint white noise, almost like he was merely a figure of tangible energy rather than a body. She supposed that was technically what he was, but as much as she'd grown to know and like Spencer, it was hard to think of him that way. It was... sad to think of him that way.

She frowned and nestled into him, trying to push away that petulant nagging in the depths of her soul that screamed "This isn't fair!" and she told him the most difficult thing she'd ever had the courage to push past her lips.

"I think I have an idea... You can say no if you think it's too weird, but... It might help you. Maybe."

"Mmm, what's that?" he responded, curious but not audibly hopeful. It made Y/N even more sad to think he probably figured he'd never find peace.

"What if I go talk to your friends? Do you think they might know something you don't?"

There was a beat of silence before she felt his chest heave with gentle laughter. "Derek Morgan definitely wouldn't think so..."

Recalling some of the funny stories he'd told her about him, she smiled. Still, she pressed. "I mean it. What other outlets do we have? Where else is there to look? If there's anyone who knows you better than anyone else, wouldn't it be them?"

Spencer sighed, giving it a thought. His fingers raked through her hair and massaged her scalp to the point of gentle, comforting numbness, another one of those domestic moments that had her feeling absolutely conflicted.

And then, he said, "Actually... I think I know exactly who you should talk to..."

———

There was a deep chill in her bones as she approached Penelope Garcia's apartment building, but not because of the lively, rustling October wind. In fact, she wanted to throw up at the thought of having this conversation. But not because she didn't want to help Spencer. She did, more than anything.

She was just afraid of being arrested.

Spencer assured her that it would be fine and that Penelope was harmless, and while the latter she could believe, it still nerved her to wander up to a woman's door and announce that she lived in the apartment of her beloved dead co-worker and needed to help him fulfill his destiny as a spirit. It sounded like a cruel joke.

"If anyone would believe you, it would be Penelope," he'd said, comforting her with a pat on the shoulder.

Maybe it was true, but she didn't want to find out if it wasn't. It was one thing to have the door slammed in your face by a grief-stricken loved one, but a grief-stricken loved one who worked for the fucking FBI was ten times worse; There were a lot more horrifying outcomes that came with that combination.

Still, she trusted Spencer on a level she'd barely trusted anyone else, and he wasn't even alive for God's sake... So she strapped on her boots, threw on her most comfortable jacket, and braced the wind and whatever fate blew with it.

For Spencer.

"For Spencer," she muttered under her breath as she rapped on the door. Three times. Third time's the charm, three's a crowd, three clicks of the heel and you're home... Three seemed like a lucky number. Three was inviting, friendly, not intended to inflict emotional damage.

Please, God, don't let her hate me, Y/N prayed to whoever was listening. Don't let this go horribly wrong.

A bright voice was yelling beyond the door, and with every millisecond that it got louder and closer, her heart started to beat faster. Blood thrummed in her ears, and she kept repeating, "For Spencer, for Spencer, for Spencer," on a loop to remind her why she was going through all this anxiety.

The voice got closer, but still muffled, until the door swung open. Then it stopped altogether. Y/N blinked and stood there with a stiff back and sweaty palms, in front of Penelope Garcia. The woman was obviously expecting somebody else to be at the door, but she didn't look disappointed, just confused.

"Oh. You're not Luke. How can I help you?"

"Um... My name is Y/N. I... Before I tell you why I'm here, I need you to know that I'm not trying to play a trick on you, and I don't want to make you sad or upset, and if there's anything you need or want to know about me in order to trust me, then I'll gladly give you that information, but this is really important and I need you to know that I'm not crazy or harmful, I just want to help him."

Penelope's eyes went wide as she reached out and grabbed her hand. The thrumming in her ears got louder as she took a deep breath and waited for the yelling to start, her body to be thrown to the ground, or a sharp piercing sting of a backhand.

The only thing she felt, however, was a tug at her heart and the gentle dissipation of nerves as Penelope spoke one simple word.

"Spencer."

"How... How did you know?"

"Ever since he... Since he's been... I just knew something didn't feel right. Everyone told me that it was just grief, and for a while that's also what I told myself, but... That feeling was just too... Wait, who did you say you were again?"

Y/N stuttered her name and gripped Penelope's hand tighter, hoping to create some rapport. "I live in his apartment. He's been... Visiting me."

Something in her eyes softened and then saddened at the confirmation that her friend was somehow still among the living. "A visitor in his own home... Poor Boy Genius..."

She couldn't help but smile at the nickname. "He said you called him that often..."

Wide eyes welling with tears, Penelope nodded and tugged at her visitor's hand. "He was the smartest person I ever knew. Kindest, too. Here, come on inside, I'll make you some tea. Do you like tea? Maybe some hot chocolate?"

Her hospitality as she ushered her inside was both comforting and saddening to Y/N. It was in her nature to be that way to guests, even strangers, sure, but it also acted as a shield from the somber feelings she'd been rushed with at a moment's notice, no thanks to said stranger.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Penelope," Y/N rushed as she shrugged her coat off. "You don't have to make me anything."

"Oh, I know I don't have to, but would you like something warm to drink?"

She was practically begging for the distraction, something to do with her hands as she had time to process and prepare for what was about to happen.

"Tea would be lovely, thank you."

"Perfect, I'll get it started. Make yourself comfortable, Sweets."

She carried her coat over her arms, holding it to her chest like a tether to reality. None of this felt real, even though she could still feel the warm glow of Spencer's energy all around her, like it had burrowed into the pores of her skin and made a home there.

As she looked around at Penelope's bright and colorful space, she thought about him... How often had he been here? What did they do together, and where did they hang out? She imagined the laughter and the stories and the cooking... She wished she would have known him then, been a part of his life. As scary as he told her it was at times, she knew there were also plenty of bright spots, and she knew Penelope was definitely one of the brightest.

Y/N smiled, hugging her coat tighter.

"I like your apartment," she complimented, sitting down at a small dining table in the corner.

"Thank you! I always told Spencer he should get some more color, but... What can I say, he really loved his neutrals."

The familiar detail brought a smile to her face. "That doesn't surprise me. He told me that even though he likes me, he really hates my floral couch and that it looked weird in his apartment. I told him he was boring." And, that technically, it was her apartment now. In fact, her exact words after the fact were, "What are you going to do, haunt me?" before they both laughed and continued making out on said couch.

But she didn't need to remind Penelope of the fact that he was gone. Or to inform her that she was intimately involved with his ghost.

Just the thought alone was enough to make the low, ever-present hum of his imprinted memory on her skin even more intense, and she smiled.

"Oh... I know that look."

Y/N looked up at Penelope, who was grinning with the most mischievous gleam in her eye.

"What look?"

"You think he's cute, don't you?"

"I... I don't..."

"Well, I suppose even if you can't see him, I'm sure he's charmed you anyway. And you probably Googled him."

"How did you—"

"It's what I would have done... So?" she prompted, still waiting for an answer of some kind.

Y/N sighed, defeated and impressed by Penelope's skills at quickly retrieving information. But she also didn't want to lie to her, so she had no choice but to answer her questions with the truth anyway. "Well, I can see him. But I couldn't at first. My um... My friends came over one night, and they brought a Ouija board. We used it for shits and giggles because I'd joked to them after I moved in that I didn't feel totally alone, and well..."

"It wasn't a joke?"

Penelope brought over the tea, steaming and aromatic. Y/N took it with a nod of thanks and sighed as she sat down across from her.

"No. But I didn't actually think I was living with a ghost, I mean... I didn't believe in that stuff. But I also wasn't going to risk pissing him off, so I tried to be nice to him. I only knew his name, and then my friends looked him up and we read his obituary, and... I don't know, I guess I just thought he seemed like a good person, so he deserved some kindness in the afterlife. I said hello to the air every time I came home from work, I yelled out a good night before going to bed... And then he started leaving me notes on my bathroom mirror, and I guess... I don't know, the more he and I got to know each other, the easier things became. Eventually he could touch things, and then soon after he was audible, then visible..."

She conveniently left out the details of that journey, though her skin warmed again at the memory.

"And now that we can communicate, it's become clear to me that he doesn't know where he's going— Why he's not at rest... I feel bad for him. He deserves..." Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard before looking down at the mug in her hand. "He deserves to move on."

Penelope was quiet for a moment as Y/N sipped her tea. Her hand reached out to grab hers, and the gesture almost had her in tears.

"You sound... Sad about that."

She couldn't help the pressure that pulsed behind her eyes, stabbing at her throat... Still, she made herself speak, barely above a whisper to prevent that inevitable cracking of the voice that would surely break the dam she was trying so hard to keep still and strong. "I... I know it sounds absolutely crazy..."

"You're falling in love with him."

Though the words didn't come from her own mouth, they came flying at her like a sucker punch to the gut. The wind was knocked out of her for a moment, until all she could do was exhale and let the tears fall silently as she nodded.

Penelope let her cry for a minute or two without a word while holding her hand, until she was ready to elaborate. "But I can't... I can't keep him here, it's not right. If he doesn't have any unfinished business, then he should be put to rest. And I... I don't know how to help him. I thought maybe, if I could talk to the people who knew him the best... I could get an idea."

"Oh, Honey, I... I'm sorry, but I don't know any more than you do." She was talking through tears herself, and Y/N squeezed her hand back. "His mother's been gone for years now, and there's no other family that he was close enough with to even consider, other than us, but... Truthfully I don't know if we really count in the grand scheme of things... I'd like to think that we do..."

"You might not be blood-related, but you were his family. He loved you so much, I could tell by the way he spoke about all of you. He... He misses you a lot. I just wish he didn't have to feel that loss anymore."

Penelope frowned. "I wish I could give you an answer... When you go back to him... Will you at least tell him that we love him?"

"He already knows. But yes. I will."

"And I'll keep on thinking. Whatever you need, you got it. I have access to pretty much everything so if there's information to be had, I will get my paws on it, and you will know. Thank you for coming to see me. And for telling me that Spencer's okay... He is okay, right?"

Y/N hesitated. She wasn't entirely sure how to answer without giving away their extra-curricular activities. "I think so. He's tired, I can tell. But I do my best to keep him happy. The last thing I need is to have him angrily haunting me."

Penelope laughed, then sighed. "Unfortunately, I think that means you better get rid of that glorious couch, then."

The laughter was a welcome break from the tears, which had already started to dry on her skin, leaving her cheeks itchy. "I really appreciate you being so kind, Penelope... Losing Spencer must have been absolutely impossible, and having a complete stranger show up at your door and pour salt in the wound... I couldn't imagine..."

"Y/N... If there was any person on this planet who could have moved into his apartment and helped him through this... I think I speak for the whole BAU when I say that he's lucky it's you."

The sentiment made her chest tight, and an involuntary pout tugged at her mouth. "You... You really mean that?"

Penelope laughed and squeezed her hand again. "Oh, Darling, you even pout like him... You're kind of perfect for each other."

"I don't know whether to be happy or sad about that," she replied through a fit of hysterics, and Penelope joined her.

It was clear then that these two women were meant to bond seamlessly over the loss of someone dear, one in life and the other in death. They were two sides of the same coin, a best friend and an anchor to the other side. It was a solace that neither of them had expected, but welcomed with open arms and warm understanding.

They exchanged stories and laughs and phone numbers and hugs, and joked about exchanging addresses, and a while later, just as Y/N was about to go home, fastening her coat, Penelope stopped her.

"Wait... I don't mean to make you sad or anything, and maybe this isn't the answer that either of you were looking for... But after today? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Spencer's unfinished business is you."

The thought froze her entirely. It would stand to reason that they were meant to find each other, only to let each other go. Because, of course. Nobody was ever that lucky, especially neither Spencer nor his new roommate.

Sensing her overthinking, Penelope continued. "I know it's unfortunate given the circumstances, but... You did say that the more you got to know him, the more... alive he became. At least as alive as he can be. And I've only known you for about an hour, but I can confidently say that you are about as perfect for Spencer as somebody could be for anybody. And..."

She shifted on her feet, unsure of whether she should actually say what she was about to tell her, but obviously needing to make her point with as much context as possible. "You know, he's tried. He watched many of us find love and have families of our own, and he's always wanted that, but... He never got to have it. I think... that was the one thing that he always truly and completely wanted, especially after his mom passed and he had no one left but us... Somebody to go home to, somebody who understood him and cared about him and wanted to spend the rest of their lives with him... A soulmate. And... Y/N, I think it might be you."

Her head was swimming and tears were blurring her vision again. As much as she wanted to believe it, ever the lover of grand romantic endings, it didn't make sense. She didn't really believe in soulmates, did she? Then again, she didn't believe in ghosts, either, until recently...

"How could you possibly know that?" she whispered to Penelope, hoping for a switch in her brain to flip. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to dash home and confidently confess to the ghost living in her apartment that they were made for each other and that she could finally set him free.

And... Then what?

There had to be another explanation.

"I wish I could tell you how, definitively," Penelope answered sadly, "and like I said, I don't want to upset you... But it's just a feeling. And my feelings are hardly ever wrong. Hey, I mean I had a feeling that Spencer was still out there somehow, and that turned out to be true, right?"

"I... I guess," she sniffled.

"Just... Do me a favor, okay? Think about it. Spend tonight with him, like you normally do, and really really think about it. And tell me you don't feel it."

It almost sounded like a playful challenge rather than a request. Y/N wiped at her eyes and sighed. "You're really sure?"

"Positive."

Y/N wasn't really sure if she believed it still, but there was a conviction in Penelope's voice that was too sincere to ignore. And Spencer trusted her, which obviously meant a lot.

So, she promised that she would think about it anyway, bade her new friend farewell, and made her way outside, where the wind had died and left the streets lifeless and quiet.

———

Something was different about Y/N when she came home.

Spencer tried to let her go about the night and refrain from saying anything, but after regretfully informing him that Penelope had no wisdom to offer her about their situation but would get back to her if anything did come to mind, she was... odd. Perhaps she was just as tired as he was in trying to solve this mystery, or just tired in general. But he didn't want to push her if she didn't want to open up, so he did what he could and offered his company.

Still, she didn't seem right.

He thought maybe a flurry of warm, tender kisses along her skin would put her in high spirits, but the longer she let him worship her skin without so much as a sigh in return, it started to sink in that something was deeply wrong.

"Are you okay?" he asked sweetly, stroking her jaw with the back of his hand as he looked her in the eye. She looked at him for only a few seconds before averting her gaze, like if she allowed him to meet her eyes for any longer, he'd pull something from her that she'd rather not share. It sent a small wave of panic through him. "Y/N, talk to me, please... What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No," she said unconvincingly.

"You don't... have to talk about it if you don't want to... But you're upset about something, and I want to help you. I'll do whatever you need me to. I'll listen, I'll leave you alone, I'll kiss it better... Whatever you want. It's yours."

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, defeated. "God, you FBI people are too good at getting information out of people, it's annoying."

Spencer laughed. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel interrogated. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just... I'm..."

She couldn't seem to get out the words, like there was a frustrating lack of understanding how to convey them. He drew continuous circles gently into her palm and waited patiently for her to open up, silently promising that he would be there for her when she finally found the right words.

It was a question that she finally settled on. "Have you ever been in love? Like... Really in love?"

Something inside him jolted at the thought of where this conversation might lead. If he had a heartbeat, it would have raced and thrummed so heavily that the organ might have failed. In truth, he'd been thinking about it for a week or two now. Ever since the night he realized that his interactions with her were the key to becoming more sentient, the thought crossed his mind that perhaps she was the thing he was tethered to.

He didn't dare say it out loud, or to her face, because... Well, it was too soon, wasn't it? And it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because once he was lain to rest, they could never be together.

It was complicated.

"I think I was, a few times," he finally answered in earnest. "And to be fair, just because things didn't work out with them, it doesn't mean I didn't really love them. I did. But... I think deep down I knew they weren't really The One... Does that make sense?"

"I think so... I don't think I've ever been in love before. Even with long-term partners, we said the words, and I felt something that was happy and I thought was love, but..." She paused, avoiding his eye again before rapidly blinking back tears. "Now I feel this... this anchor to you that I can't let go of... I want to be around you all the time and I know it's not fair because you deserve to rest, but I can't help it. Spencer, I... You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I'm afraid that once I really admit it out loud, you'll be gone forever."

He knew, then, that this was it. Listening intently as she confessed, absorbing every word and allowing himself to feel and admit what he knew to be true for a while now, his body began to tingle. It was so dull at first, he almost mistook the feeling for 'butterflies'. It felt cruel not to tell her that he was starting to fade, but he didn't want to ruin the moment or panic her. He didn't want to tell her that she was running out of time. That they were running out of time.

So, instead, to try and ease the blow, he told her something sweet.

He told her, "I love you."

Her eyes glossed over at the confession. She reached urgently for his hands, her grip strong and willing like she knew what was going to happen. And maybe she did. Still, she sat there and listened to him, her eyes taking in every inch of his presence and committing him to memory.

He aimed to make it a memory she would never forget.

"I don't know when we'll see each other again, but I don't doubt that we will. Not for a second. And until then, my only wish is that you keep allowing yourself to fall in love. Don't be afraid of it. You shouldn't deny yourself just because I'm gone. Can you promise me that you'll try?"

Y/N blinked away tears and tugged at his hands. "What if I can't?"

"You will, my sweet girl. And I promise, I won't be mad at you."

She laughed despite herself, then almost cried again when she felt his presence start to fizzle and break in front of her eyes. She was desperate to hold on to him, clutching his hands for dear life and breathlessly whispering, "I love you, Spencer Reid," as if the conviction alone would be enough to keep him here. As if whatever cruel deity was putting them through this would see how much she needed him and decided to spare her the misery.

"I wish I could have known you when I was alive," he told her, leaning in closer. "Maybe we could have been neighbors."

She smiled through tears and pressed her forehead to his, the contact making her skin go numb. Silently she hoped that wherever he was going, she would be sucked in with him. "Then I would have invited you over for dinner."

He squeezed her hands, already feeling his grip fading, his essence nearly numbing him. Still, he willed himself to stay long enough to paint this life for the two of them—one they would never get to have, except only in dreams and perhaps in another life entirely. Anything was possible, after all.

"And I still would have made fun of your ugly couch."

"And I would have pushed you onto it and made you take it back."

"And I would have refused."

"And I would have kissed you ."

"And I would have kissed you back."

"And I would have fallen in love with you immediately."

"And I would have sworn that I'd fall in love with you in every universe."

She closed her eyes, feeling the very last remnants of his presence as she whispered, "I think it's safe to assume that you already have."

"And I think I'm inclined to agree."

THE END

[magesforthedas]

Okay, newest discourse I've seen and want to share my opinion on... Mostly it's about Rook's companions. PLEASE be aware the are Spoilers for late game DAV below!

So, I've been seeing a bunch of people talking about how the companions don't really act like they care about you, because they aren't asking you how you are doing.

We've got some things to dissect here 😅 first off, not everyone's love language is words of encouragement haha. But on a serious note, even if it's true that they never asked "Rook, are you alright?" (Which, I'm pretty sure I got asked that by at least one companion...?) It doesn't mean they don't care about you. The more interactions and companion quests you do, the more you see that care come out.

Davrin asking you to join him for walks? He sees you need a break and fresh air.

Emmerich taking you to the gardens? It's probably the most relaxing thing he can think of.

Neve taking you with her to throw rocks, the thing she does when she needs a break and to clear her mind? She's hoping it helps you too.

Taash taking you to feed the birds? Again, something that helps them clear their head? Makes it easier to think? Also, their comment about you not knowing loss... Haven't you ever said something when you are angry that you know will hurt? Maybe that's how Taash sees you, or maybe they see the haunted look of grief in your eyes every day, and wanted to provoke you into getting mad and talking about it- exactly how they are apt to share their emotions. But Rook knows that comment isn't about them, it's about Taash.

Harding taking you with her to practice her new magic? It's something potentially fun and a little exciting, something brighter than the death and despair everywhere.

Tbh I'm having trouble thinking past romance stuff for Lucanis 😂 but like, making you food, he does check in on you, his quiet care in the way he would talk to you. I'll see on this second playthrough how much stays even when he isn't romanced.

Bellara taking you to check elven artifacts? You most likely have no idea what you are doing, she obviously just wanted you there. Now, it could be because she just wants support, but I wouldn't be surprised if she was hoping some knowledge of how to handle these artifacts rubbed off on you, and wasn't sure how to say that. She's obviously protective, and doesn't always know how to say what she wants.

Point is, sometimes it's words, sometimes it's actions, but they obviously do care. They also realize: you are the one leading this, the one with the most weight on your shoulders. They may be unsure how to actually ease that weight, and not just remind you that you have it.

It makes me really, really sad to see people say that they can't find it in them to care about the companions, because they don't ask you how you feel. Is their worth directly linked to your wellbeing? Is the only correct way of showing care or affection the way you prefer? I cried through multiple companion scenes because of the raw emotions they shared with me. Does that willingness to be vulnerable count for nothing?

Something I honestly appreciate about Rook, is there's a little bit we know for sure about them. You can decide their identity, if they're serious or joking, or optimistic or angry. There's room to fill your backstory. But the core of you is the same, and it's why Varric chose Rook: because you see a problem, you solve it. You see an injustice, you have to do something. Every backstory, you did something that saved lives or helped people and it got you in trouble; you know how to put others first, but without it breaking you.

There are a lot of similarities between Hawke and Rook that I see, the Found Family trope being the biggest. And you know, both families are maybe a little dysfunctional. But while there are similarities, it's unfair to compare how Hawke's friends approached their wellbeing with the Veilguard, because they are all, the protagonist and the companions alike, different people, who would handle and process trauma differently. And in a way that, whether the healthiest or not, kept everyone sane; though there are times when things could slip through the cracks.

My final thought is about Varric, or rather, his death. I saw people talking about how Solas couldn't have kept that ruse going if the companions had bothered to check in with you. Now, sure maybe no one ever said anything because they were concerned if it would help or not. You've been caught in the infirmary a couple times, talking to nothing: maybe that is what helps you cope?

But I think it is completely plausible that the magic Solas was using to make you think Varric was still alive, could also have been censoring outside mention of him. A lot of the time if Varric gets brought up in conversation by someone, they just.... Trail off? What if they said more, but Solas erased it for you? And the companions, well. If you don't want to talk about him, they won't force you. Same with anyone else, like Isabela. Solas is smart, he would know that the people around you would know he was dead, and may very well mention it in front of you. You think he wouldn't have something in place?

So yeah, next time something comes up that makes you go, "this is bad writing, I can't like this game, how can you like this game?" Maybe ... Look at it from another angle? A couple angles? Think about what could be happening offscreen? Or if you really just don't like the game or the characters... Why would you want to make others feel bad if they do? Not to be harsh, because also if you have things you don't like, that's valid and it doesn't mean you can't express yourself. But that doesn't mean nobody should like them.

Love you all ❤️

[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 8

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, serial killer, Diane is her own warning, Grey's Anatomy & alcoholism, uhm... hard to explain the last one without spoilering. You'll be fine 😂

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Oh boy, I'll save you guys long explanations. Life got in the way, so let's just all be glad we're back here 😅 Some of you brilliant sleuths already caught breadcrumbs of my scheming in the last part, so here's The One You've Been Waiting For...

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 8: Chemical Bonds

“Where is she?”

Your boot soles thudded on the floor as you dashed inside the station, your questioning look aimed at Jenny, who leaned against her desk with crossed arms and a stern brow. Beau was hot on your heels, just jogging in behind you. You practically raced him from the car across the parking lot.

“She’s in Interrogation Room 3,” Jenny informed you.

“Is she cuffed?” Beau asked, his voice carrying a hint of anger caused by concern. He had a whole car ride to the department to rile himself up and let his head spin with reasons. None of them soothing; all of them terrifying.

Jenny shook her head. “No. She’s not officially under arrest and hasn’t confessed yet, either. ‘Sides, she willingly came in and just all too happily sat down. She’s clearly playing a game. I’d be careful.”

“Alright, thanks,” Beau said and looked at you. “How you wanna do this?”

“Let’s just go in and talk to her. See what she has to say and what angle she’s playing,” you suggested, and Beau agreed with a nod, both of you falling into step as you headed down the hallway.

“My favorite couple. There you are,” Diane greeted you with a smirk that could only be described as lunacy as soon as you and Beau walked into the interrogation room. “Hope I didn’t disturb your evening.”

“Not at all,” you replied with an easy smile and took a seat across from her, Beau settling down right next to you and leaning back in his chair. “What can we do for you, Diane?”

“Well, I figured I come here before you call in the cavalry. There’s no need for all this drama. I have a feeling you two have enough of that,” she quipped and grinned devilishly at the both of you.

“So, you waltzed in here to confess to twenty-four murders?” Beau arched a disbelieving eyebrow at her.

“Oh, nice try. But I won’t confess to anything until you two have told me a little more about yourself,” Diane announced cheekily. “You talk – I talk. My rules. My game. Let's be honest. You don't have anything to nail me down. Zero, really. You two need this. I'm giving you a win, Sheriff.”

Beau and you shared a look. Neither of you liked this, but you supposed you had to play along if it led to a confession. You nodded at Diane. “Fine, what d’you wanna know?”

Diane grinned in triumphant satisfaction and folded her arms on the metal table, curiously leaning forward. “Look, I think it’s cute you two found each other… after divorce and death, of course. ‘Cause who likes a cheater, right?” she posed theoretically, her smirk getting wider. “I guess, for me at least, it’s just hard to believe there’ve never been any feelings before that. Seems kinda odd to me.”

You smiled wryly. “Well, for me at least, it seems kinda odd and, frankly, hard to believe some psychotic bitch would murder over twenty innocent people just because her husband was a cheating dirtbag. Yet, here we are.”

“Here we are indeed, Agent,” Diane snarked with a pleased smile. “And I’d be wary throwing the word ‘innocent’ around so carelessly. After all, just look at you two. I mean, I’m not saying you’ve planned this little hot love affair, but c'mon! What, no lingering looks? No fluttering hearts, dirty thoughts, or wistful what-ifs?”

You remained cool and held your gaze stern. No quiver of a lip, no twitch of an eye, no flinch of a muscle betrayed you. But Beau must’ve signaled something when Diane’s eyes drifted to him. She tilted her head with a delighted sneer forming on her face. Your heart halted in your chest. You knew she’d locked in on a target like a lioness on the prowl.

“Whoop, Sheriff Arlen, do you have something to tell me? You seem awfully quiet and… shifty,” Diane prodded the tip of her metaphorical knife into his ribcage, prying it open just enough to see inside. “If her husband was your partner, you must feel at least a little guilty for fucking his wife as soon as he was six-feet-under. Did you have feelings for her when they were still married? You did, didn’t you? I wonder what he’d say if he were still alive.”

“Okay, enough,” you snapped and drew a line in the sand, noticing how Beau withdrew more and more upon her words. She was getting to him and enjoying it. “Neither of us has done anything wrong, got it?”

Diane chuckled amusedly. “Sheriff Arlen, you should learn from your girlfriend here. She’s better at acting than you are. Or is it lying?” Her questioning gaze turned to you.

“What d’you want, huh?” you prompted with stern annoyance, hoping to take some heat off of Beau. “You want some weird confession, so you can throw one of us into a bunker?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Agent. We’re just having a friendly chat among colleagues, getting to know each other.” She grinned, her icy gray eyes sparkling with devilish joy. She leaned closer to Beau, circling in on him. She could smell he was close to a breaking point and aimed her sledgehammer at him. “Tell me, Sheriff, were you happy when your partner died? I mean, you must’ve been. She was finally free and all yours for the taking. Is that why your marriage crumbled so soon after his death? Why you followed her all the way to Mexico, leaving your family behind? Be honest, did you lead her husband into that warehouse on purpose?”

“Shut up!” Beau yelled and bristled, his voice trembling with anger as did every single muscle of his. He jumped up from his seat and kicked the chair roughly against the wall before storming out and slamming the door loudly behind him.

Shocked, you rose from your seat as well and threw Jenny a worried look through the one-way mirror. As you followed Beau outside, you could still hear Diane’s heinous laugh.

November 2020

‘¿Recuerdas que en tu infancia creías en cuentos de hadas? En la fantasia de lo que podría ser tu vida. Tu vestido blanco, un príncipe azul que te llevaría en sus brazos a un castillo sobre una colina…’

A knock on your door rattled you and snapped your attention away from the small, old TV in your room. The image was grainy at best, and you were sure the television itself was bought sometime in the early 2000s. Yet, you still managed to hook it up to your laptop and stream a few shows. Drinking and watching television was all you had for entertainment down here whenever you were on the lay-low and had some time off.

Oh, and there was the crying, of course.

You hurriedly blew your nose in one of the tissues in your hand and wiped the tears out of your eyes. Bolting into the bathroom first, you did a quick check of your appearance in the stained, wonky mirror. Well, good enough. Who were you trying to impress? You were a grieving widow. People expected you to look like shit.

Beau blinked at you as the door opened. He offered you a friendly smile, although he could tell you had cried again. You never admitted it, always telling him you were fine and brushing away any and all of his concerns. But your red and puffy eyes were hard to hide and even harder to ignore when he stopped by your room at night. It broke his heart every single time.

“Hey, I know you haven’t eaten dinner yet, darlin’,” he said and tried not to sound too scolding. Since Randy’s death you’d been basically on a grief diet, although you seemed to be more willing to eat since you’d come to Mexico. But Beau had taken it upon himself to ensure your stomach was always full.

“Uh, thanks, but I’m not hungry,” you said quietly and were already keen to close the door to get rid of him again. Sometimes it worked. Most times it didn’t.

Beau frowned and already slid his boot between the door and its jamb. “You know I’m not leaving till you ate. And since you’re being particularly difficult tonight, I’m just gonna have to watch you till that whole bag is empty. Now, trust me. This ain’t fun for me, either. Don’t make me spoon-feed you and do airplane noises. It’s been a while, but I have experience in that field. You wanna hear my lecture about your essential vitamins and minerals again?”

You sighed dramatically and were close to a whine. “Beau, I’m really not in the mood right now. Can you please just–” You stopped when you noticed the man wasn’t even listening to you. With a curiously furrowed brow, he cocked his head and leaned inside your room with a skillful weight shift, his green eyes focusing on the TV.

‘Vamos a domir a tu casa esta noche.’

‘¿Qué?’

‘¿Por qué siempre dormirmos en mi casa? ¿O no tienes una?’

“What are you watching?” Beau had fully stepped inside your room, and you knew your probability of kicking him out again sunk by the second. You sighed once more and closed the door behind you two.

“Grey’s Anatomy in Spanish. I already know the episodes, so I figured I could learn a little. I already forgot most of it from school,” you replied.

“Huh. Never watched this show.” Yet, he sat down on the foot of your bed and seemed hooked. His eyes were glued to the screen, brow lightly creased above the bridge of his nose that showed his interest. If you had popcorn, you would’ve handed it to him.

You rolled your eyes a little but smiled nonetheless. Randy had been the same. He’d teased you for watching till he caught one episode and was immediately enthralled. Afterward, you weren’t allowed to watch a single episode without him anymore.

“You wanna watch with me?” You grabbed the bag of food and crawled onto your bed, leaning against the headboard. You quickly discarded the tissues that were strewn all over your mattress. Luckily, he hadn’t noticed them yet, or you would’ve received a look full of worry and pity.

“Sure.” Beau nodded and smiled at you over his shoulder, happy you had decided to eat, after all. “So, what’s this show about?”

“A hospital in Seattle. But honestly, everyone’s just sleeping with everyone…”

It took a while till you had explained all the intricacies of each relationship to him. Fortunately, this was only the first season. He gasped when you informed him the show had seventeen of it – so far. By the end of the episode, he had joined you by the headboard, sitting next to you as you shared the remaining tacos.

‘Me gusta el helado de café, whisky de malta de una sola destilería, de vez en cuando un buen habano.’

“Ah! Now that’s a home,” Beau declared with a broad and longing smile, raising his beer bottle to the TV. “You know, I’ve always wanted an Airstream trailer exactly like this.”

“Uh-huh. Un remolque.”

His brow quirked. “Is that Spanish for trailer?”

“Yes, he just said it. You need to pay attention,” you chided playfully and took a sip from your beer.

“Hey, look, I’m just glad I can keep up with who’s sleeping with who, alright? Don’t need to add Spanish vocabulary to the mix,” Beau quipped, making you giggle. “I actually almost bought a trailer like that when me and Carla first got married.”

You grinned knowingly. “Lemme guess, Carla said no and almost shot you?”

Beau snorted a laugh. “Ha! Yeah, she definitely came close that time. But Emily was already on the way, so I guess it would’ve been impractical with a baby.”

“Smart choice.”

As your eyes traveled back to the TV, Beau’s gaze landed on you. He watched as your cheeks moved when you laughed with your whole heart. How your pink, full lips sealed around the bottle opening whenever you sipped on your beer. How your shimmering hair fell into your face in waves as you leaned forward and hugged your knees. Lingering looks.

“You wanna open a bottle of tequila with me and watch another episode?” you asked with a mischievous glint in your eyes as you looked back at him over your shoulder.

“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah. Let’s do that,” he agreed, swallowing lightly. A part of him almost felt caught in his shameless staring. But he was willing to do anything as long as it kept you from crying yourself to sleep for another night.

Jumping up from the bed, you sauntered over to the mini bar and bent down, hauling a bottle of tequila from the small fridge you’d stored in there earlier. Beau tried not to stare at the curve of your ass and how tightly those dark blue jeans hugged it. But he couldn’t control his heart as it undeniably accelerated and thumped loudly against its prison. Fluttering hearts.

Four episodes and two Margarita pitchers in, you stretched with a yawn, barely able to keep your eyes open. You glanced at Beau with an amused smile as he was still transfixed by the TV and heavily engaged in the show.

“I’m beat. You mind if we turn in?” you checked and laughed a little when his green eyes blinked at you in surprise.

“Oh, uh, sure. I’ll head back to my room,” he said, nodding. “You, uh, wanna do this every night, maybe? I mean, it’s not like there’s much else to do here… We could hang out and binge-watch, as the kids say. Netflix and chill.”

You snorted. “Beau, that’s not what you think it means…”

His brow furrowed. “Well, what does it mean?”

“Sex,” you said bluntly and watched his mouth open and close. It was rare to render that man speechless.

Beau pursed his lips, his cheeks redder than the desert sand. “Yeah, uh, no Netflix and chill, then.” He cleared his throat a couple of times while you stifled your laughs. “Can I just finish this episode before I go?”

You giggled, getting up from the bed. “Sure. Knock yourself out. I need some bathroom time before, anyways.”

As you sauntered into the small, dingy bathroom, you briefly glanced back and saw Beau’s focus was already back on the sexy doctors. You laughed a little, shaking your head before you began to wash your face and slip into your pajamas, which were just a pair of sweat shorts and an old college shirt of Randy’s. Go Cougars!

Unbeknownst to you, Beau’s gaze didn’t remain on the TV for long. At first, he only caught a glimpse of you from his periphery in the bathroom mirror through the cracked door. For a moment, he stared, unable to tear his eyes away as you shed out of your shirt. But when your bra came off as well, he averted his eyes shamefully back to the TV. His mind, however, still wandered, incapable of shaking the image of you, various unholy ideas gathering for a villainous summit. Dirty thoughts.

‘Así que, elígeme a mí. Escógeme a mí. Ámame a mí…’

“Still hooked, huh?” Amused, you arched a brow at him as you strolled out of the bathroom and saw he was still enchanted by the magic of dramatic television.

“He’s gonna go back to the cheatin’ ex, isn’t he?” Beau asked without looking at you. He sat on the bed with arms crossed and his brow scrunched.

You pressed your lips together as you smothered another laugh. “Oh, no spoilers from me, but it’s a bit of a ride. And we haven’t even gotten to Dr. Caliente yet,” you said, grinning.

You waited a moment for Beau to catch the hint that you wanted to go to bed. But soon you realized it wasn’t going to happen. The man had done a full deep dive into that show, and there was no way of pulling him back out.

“You know, you can stay and keep watching if you want to. I don’t mind. I’ve been sleeping with the TV on, anyways,” you said.

His gaze met yours, brow finally rising with realization. “Oh, uh, sorry. No, I can go. Let you catch some–” His eyes wandered back to the TV before he shook his head and tried to refocus. He blushed. “Sorry.”

“It’s really okay. You can stay. I don’t care,” you assured him with a soft smile and climbed under the covers, resting your head on the pillow. You switched off the lamp by your bedside table, the blue glow of the screen remaining the only source of light.

“Maybe just this episode,” he mumbled, his shoulders deflating as he sunk back into a more comfortable position again.

“This is nice,” you noted with a blissful sigh and closed your eyes. “I kinda hate being alone.”

Beau watched you as you peacefully fell asleep, the TV suddenly forgotten. For once you didn’t cry yourself to sleep. Tears, nightmares, and loneliness gone. And he wondered – what it would be like if he watched you fall asleep every night. What if he was still there in the morning. What if he could hold you as you wore his shirt. Then, the guilt came swiftly like the rising tide and washed those thoughts away. Wistful what-ifs.

“What the hell happened in there?” you hissed as quietly as possible as you caught up with Beau in the lowly lit hallway of the station. Luckily, the other cops had enough sense to stay away and keep their distance while the two of you hashed things out.

Beau dragged a hand over his face, kept his palm clasped on his mouth as he paced in a circle. You were surprised he hadn’t punched a wall yet, judging by the tension in his shoulders.

“You can’t let her get to you,” you reminded him gently, your face softening when you noticed how distraught and upset he really was. What Diane said to him must’ve cut deep.

“You know it’s not true, right? What she said in there? I-I didn’t kill him. I wasn’t… Fuck!” His eyes were brimming with desperate tears, his breathing quick. You could hear his heart race from feet away.

“Of course not. She’s a deranged psychopath,” you emphasized, although you didn’t understand why you had to spell it out for him. He already knew that. “Why are you so upset? Don’t let her get under your skin. She’s thriving off it like a hyena.”

“I know. I just-…” He took a deep breath. “What if she’s right?”

Confused, your brow furrowed. “About what?”

“Me. Us,” he said, not making necessarily more sense. “What if it’s true, huh?” He blinked at you and swallowed harshly, completely out of breath. “Look, uhm… I-I don’t know how to say this. I’ve never admitted it before, but recently, things have become a lot clearer to me…” He paused for a moment, rubbing his mouth with two fingers before he found your eyes again. “I’ve always had feelings for you, you know? There’s always been this… pull. Even back then. Since the first time I met you.”

You inhaled sharply, your lungs incapable of fitting more air as you held your breath for several heartbeats. “Beau, it’s okay.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know if it is,” he said. The tortured tone of his voice pained you. “I mean, I would’ve never done anything. You need to know that, okay? I would’ve never hurt you or Randy. I never would’ve come between you two.”

“I know that,” you assured him. You wanted to take his hands in yours, touch him, hold him. But you knew it would only make the turmoil of emotions worse instead of better, like pouring oil into the fire.

“But sometimes, just for a blink of an eye, I caught myself wondering, you know? What it would be like to be with you… Hell, I wondered all the damn time. Even on your freaking wedding day,” he confessed. “That’s the kind of horrible person I am. And now, that I am with you and so fucking happy, I feel guilty every time that things worked out the way they did. ‘Cause it does feel like I’m happy that I’m with you, and he’s not.”

You let out a heavy sigh through your nose and finally took his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers as you squeezed them. “I know all of that,” you said, his brow rising in bewildered surprise. “In terms of being honest… I guess a part of me always knew you felt this way, but I never let myself go there. And yeah, considering everything, it’s only natural to feel guilty. But you’ve still done nothing wrong. We’ve done nothing wrong. You can’t control how you feel. Neither can I. And I’m not saying everything always was exactly right, and we did everything by the book, but I loved Randy with all my heart. There wasn’t room for anyone else… And now, I love you. But it was never at the same time, you know?”

Beau pulled you into his arms and held you tightly, kissing your crown. “No, I know. Trust me. I know that part.”

“I love you, okay?” You tiptoed to claim his lips, putting your whole heart into the kiss. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you wouldn’t lie, either. “Diane doesn’t get to use that against us. Everything that happened, everything we’ve done right or wrong – that’s between you and me… and maybe God at some point. But surely not that psychotic bitch in there. She’s doesn’t know what we think or feel, so don’t give her ammunition, alright?”

Beau nodded and pecked your lips, his hands caressing your cheeks. “I love you, too.”

Jenny cleared her throat as she carefully snuck up on you. “You guys okay?”

You gave her a soft smile. “Yeah. What d’you got?”

“Well, since Diane walked in and became our prime suspect, the new DA on the case signed a search warrant for her property, office, car, and all her devices,” Jenny informed you.

“Alright, take Pops with you and head to her house first. Call me if you find somethin’ we can burn that witch with,” Beau ordered, putting his sheriff hat back on, jumping into the saddle full-throttle.

“On it, boss.” Jenny gave him a resolute nod and hurried down the hall.

January 2021

“¡Feliz navidad!”

As you opened the motel room door, you found Beau on your doorstep with a giant grin on his freckled face and not one but two bottles of tequila. One in each hand that he joyfully wiggled in the air.

You chuckled, shaking your head at him. “Christmas was two weeks ago, payaso.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t here, so merry belated Christmas,” he retorted and strolled right in as you held the door open for him. “Can’t believe you stayed here and didn’t go home for Christmas.”

“Meh, wasn’t in the mood to be placated and pitied by my whole family. I know they all mean well, but if I get one more concerned head tilt and a ‘How are you holding up, sweetie?’, tendré que apuñalar a alguien,” you huffed.

Beau narrowed his eyes at you, slightly amused. “I only understood the word ‘stab’, but I think I get the gist,” he joked, laughing. “I see your Spanish is getting better. So, how was your depressing and lonely Christmas without your family?”

“Nice guilt trip, asshole,” you retorted playfully and scoffed. “Great, actually. I went out with the guys from our team who stayed here, too. Got insanely drunk on some Christmas cocktail Ignacio created. And some hot guy taught me how to Salsa dance. He got a little handsy towards the end, which, granted, is the most action I’ve seen in five months, so…”

Beau’s lips thinned as he weighted your words. “Huh, so to recap: you got wasted with five guys in a dingy bar and second base with some stranger. Sounds like Christmas-y fun.”

You frowned slightly, watching him open one of the bottles of tequila. “Alright, there were no bases being hit, Judge Judy. How was your Christmas?”

“Not as fun, I can tell you that much,” Beau muttered and gulped some tequila straight from the bottle.

Your nose scrunched, lips pursed. “You and Carla got into it again?”

“Oh yeah, big time,” he replied. “I’ve only been home twice, including Christmas. You’d think she’d be more happy to see me, but instead I get yelled at for not being home more and criticized like I’m some drunk.”

Your narrowed look drifted to the bottle of liquor tightly clasped in his hands as he plopped down on the bed with a sigh. “Well, you know, not really making an argument for yourself there, gaucho.”

He scowled at you. “Who’s side are you on?”

“No one’s!”

“What, you think I’m some alcoholic?”

You pursed your lips and hesitated briefly. “No… But I do think you have a slight issue with... occurrence and... volume.”

He sent you a small glare. “That’s the same thing, just different words.”

“Look, I get it. It’s not like I’ve been a healthy example these past months,” you said, hoping a softer approach would work. You sat down next to him on the bed. “It’s been hard for all of us. Grief wrecks you. But you have a family to think about. Maybe it’s time you go home… for good.”

His brow drew into creases, green eyes drilling a hole into you. “Do you want me to go?”

Your lips parted for a moment, reluctant to answer as his question hung in the air between you two. “It’s not about what I want. You should do what’s best for you.”

Beau considered your words, his head bobbing. “I wanna stay. I need to see this through. For Randy,” he declared, although it was only partially true. Another part of him stayed for you. There was an electrostatic force, invisible to the naked heart and irresistible to the free mind. A force that kept him in your orbit and bonded his atoms with yours.

Maybe you should’ve told him to go home, been more insistent on making him leave, clearer on what was best. But truthfully and selfishly so, you liked having him around. He was your constant, your little piece of home in a strange land and an even stranger new life. And you didn’t want to navigate this new life alone.

“You sure?” you still asked for the sake of your conscience, but the determination on his face over his decision made your heart sing in relief.

“I’m sure. Just wish things were easier…”

Walking back into the interrogation room, you smiled victoriously as you slapped a folder full of evidence on the metal table in front of Diane. The deputies had found “a buttload” in Poppernak’s words.

Regardless, you knew Diane wasn’t stupid. If the deputies found something, she had wanted you to find it. For some reason, she wanted to be arrested. But you didn’t care what sick game she was playing. Cuffing her meant there’d be no more bodies, no more victims.

She gave you a titillated sneer, glimpsing at the file in front of her before finding your eyes again. She bit her lip, smirking. “Oooh, lookey, what you found there,” she mocked.

“It’s over, Diane. You’re under arrest for multiple murders among a plethora of other charges. But you already know that,” you told her firmly.

Beau’s features were stone-cold. He was pissed, radiating that fire burning inside of him for miles. He made the Yellowstone supervolcano look harmless. “Stand up and turn around. Hands behind your back.”

Diane did as told without any protest. She grinned at you the whole time when Beau manhandled her roughly into her handcuffs, bending her over the metal table as he read her the Miranda rights. You couldn’t shake the eerie feeling in your stomach, though. You had your killer, but somehow this felt far from over. You knew she had an ace up her sleeve and was waiting to lay it on the table.

“But we were just getting started,” she snarled. “Aren’t we having fun?”

“Fun usually looks a little different for me,” Beau retorted and forced her back onto the chair as soon as she was cuffed.

“I bet it does, Sheriff,” she purred with a flirtatious glimmer in her gray eyes. “I think I’ll wait with my confession till tomorrow. Let you two lovebirds enjoy your last night together.”

Beau and you shared a wary look at that. But deep in your heart, you knew there was nothing that could tear you apart. And you hoped Beau knew it, too.

“Look, bitch, I don’t care what you think you’ve planned, but it won’t drive a wedge between us. All it’s gonna do is piss us off more, got it?” you threatened and leaned forward on the table with an angrily knit brow.

Diane chuckled. “Confident. I always liked you, Agent. Aren’t you even a little curious what I’ve got in store for you?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation. You looked up at Beau and rose from your seat. “Let’s go. She’s not gonna talk tonight.”

Beau nodded, putting his hand on the small of your back, leading you outside the door. And just as your hand reached the handle, Diane decided to play her ace of hearts.

“It’s about your husband,” she noted innocently. You could hear the satisfaction in her voice as your whole body stiffened, muscles freezing. Beau felt it, too. His heart began to race. “Dead husband, of course. I always forget that part. Silly me.”

Beau’s hand on your back gave you a soft caress, telling you it was okay to turn around and find out. You didn’t want to care. And most of all, you didn’t want Beau to see that you did. But as you met his forest-green eyes, they were full of understanding.

“What about him?” you asked bravely, your chin held high as you faced her.

Her grin widened before her gaze wandered to Beau. “It’s in my pocket. Mind giving me a hand, Sheriff? You can even touch. I know you have a hard time keeping those hands to yourself,” she taunted.

You scoffed exasperatedly, rolling your eyes. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh, c’mon, Agent. Let me have a little fun. I’m about to be felt up by enough women,” she quipped.

You ignored her, hauling her to her feet by her elbow and holding her in place as your other hand dived into her back pocket. Your brow furrowed as your fingers identified a small plastic stick. Your frown deepened as you pulled out a familiar thumb drive. It wasn’t the first one you had received from her.

Twenty-five.

Had she taken another victim before giving herself up? What was so special about this one? What did it have to do with Randy? Did he ever cheat on you? Did Beau know?

You found that quite unbelievable. In fact, you knew there was no chance in hell that was true. But that did nothing to ease your conscience.

Your hand trembled in sync with your palpitating heartbeats. You tried to steady it as best as you could and keep your jumpy nerves in line as you slipped the small drive into its designated outlet on your laptop, not wanting the team that had gathered around and behind you to catch on to your unnerving emotions.

As you clicked on the MP4 file, your heart came to a standstill when a video popped open in the player. Pressing Play, you sucked in a breath and then forgot to breathe at all.

It only took you a glimpse to die inside.

“Oh God…”

It felt like suffocating. Like jumping off a steep seaside cliff and drowning. Your body hit the ocean rocks; your heart split open.

It only took Beau a second longer to catch on. The horror in your voice had put him on immediate alert before he recognized the figure on the screen, too.

As your head spun and your stomach turned upside down, you couldn’t find any words and bolted outside. You needed fresh air. You needed to breathe. And you needed to goddamn puke.

“Beau, what’s going on? Who’s the guy on the video? You know him?” Jenny asked, her gaze worriedly flashing in the direction you had fled.

Beau swallowed the thick lump in his throat, forcing the name out that had haunted him all those past years. “It’s Randy.”

Chapter 9: Marooned

Dun, dun, dun... The dead have risen in Montana! This is where it becomes a Walking Dead crossover (at least if you ask Donno 😂). Did you call the little resurrection action beforehand? 👀 Lemme know all your wild thoughts in the comments! 💭

So happy to be back with y'all! 🤍

Join the TAG LIST here! 🌌 Wanna sponsor my caffeine addiction? ☕️

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Everything Beau Arlen: @snowayumi

Polaris Series: @corruptedcruiser @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[germiyahu]

Not too thrilled that my other post is getting so many notes when I'm not satisfied with it for a multitude of reasons. Let's have a do-over, hopefully much more succinct and to the original point.

When Palestinians, actually basically all Arabs, or all Muslims, say "Jerusalem is holy to us it is the 3rd holiest city in our religion." The White Western Leftist (WWL) will say "That's so valid your religion is so interesting and beautiful Hamas did nothing wrong I love the Houthis!"

But if a Jew ever rebuts "Jerusalem is holy to us as well, it's our holiest city, basically the only one we have," the WWL will probably roll their eyes, scoff, probably say something like "Okay but like why are you still using your outdated Zionist death cult to justify colonialism? You really think the Bible justifies killing millions of Palestinians?" and start going on and on about how Judaism invented everything bad about Christianity.

My hypothesis: These people are not allies to Muslims (Palestinians). They are condescending to them. They are throwing them a bone because they feel bad about how the Muslim world has been treated, well ever since Sykes-Picot, but especially post 9/11, the Patriot Act, The War on Terror, Iraq, Afghanistan, the Drone War, Libya, Nato, The Arab Spring, the list goes on. They don't think Muslims are capable of building the kind of societies they want, not without their gracious help. They don't think Muslims should have the same ideals of democracy and human rights, because they don't expect that from the Brown People. They won't ever hold them to such a standard because "Ugh where do we get off lecturing them?" even though they would never think this of Jews.

These people are not equals to Jews, something something Sartre they think they are both superior and inferior (which makes them superior). They are not just trying to hold their fellow citizens of the world to account. They are trying to put Jews in their place. They are projecting their religious trauma onto Jews because they do not understand Judaism. They see Judaism as Power. They are trying to delegitimize Judaism as a religion (and it is a religion, including the parts of religions that give atheists the "ick," including a lot of mysticism). They are trying to caterwaul about Jews being responsible for the world's ills and that they expect Jewish People to be better than this. To evolve beyond religion and community and affiliation and identity. They want Jewish to be nothing more than a box ticked off on a census. A neat little factoid about yourself, like how your neighbor Cheryl has Norwegian ancestry.

My only conclusion is that these people find Jews and Judaism repulsive, and they find Muslims and Islam primitive. Unlike their parents' generation, they appreciate the primitive. It is noble savagery to them. Unlike their parents' generation, the comparatively cosmopolitan modern secular Western sheen of Jewry (applied to Jews against their will) is not something that we almost lost from the world, but an annoying holdover of what we almost successfully purged from the world.

Because remember, while they hate their parents and everything they stand for, they still deep down want Daddy's approval. So it makes perfect sense why the psyche would displace anger and trauma and all that caused by Christianity, and look elsewhere to place blame. It falls at the feet of Jews and Judaism. Because my culture could never, there has to be a missing puzzle piece that could explain- oh there it is. The Jews did it. And wow look how easily this can slot in with every other antisemitism conspiracy theory.

The audacity to think I could make a shorter version of that post 😂 But basically it's this: The WWL, the Zoomer Left, the Tankies, whatever name you call them... they think that they can "save" Muslims by offering up Jews, and the terrorist fascist fundamentalists like Hamas, Hezbollah, the Houthis, they're on board. They're all in. Normal ass every day Muslims/Palestinians? They just want peace, they just want rights, they just want sovereignty. The WWL is not interested in that perspective.

They have not once in their lives thought of what they could possibly do in terms of reparations. No no, tweeting and marching for a weekend are quite enough. They have not once in their lives turned inward and self reflected on the ways they benefit from and their own role in these systems of supremacy, that have harmed Muslims around the world. Jewish blood is more than enough to pay for operation Iraqi Freedom. Jewish lives are a fetching price to assuage the Westerner's guilt. You know since they have so much trouble turning inward and reflecting on their own contribution to Islamophobia, it might do them good to practice a little תשובה... but I don't know 😌

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The human just somehow keeps saving apes

Caesar, do not even worry about your wife and children, the human, once again, pelted someone with rocks to prevent ape deaths

Like instead of hearing "the king kong is down" over the radio, he just hears "I need help, there's some crazy woman throwing rocks at me and the ape took my fucking gun"

When in doubt; rocks

This is so funny, omg 😂

You bet Ash would have crafted a slingshot for you! You eventually talked to him about a tool, back in your childhood you used to bother your neighbors with rocks and it clicked in his mind! It was your gift, kind of like a ceremonial stuff to welcome you as officially part of the colony and part of Rocket's family.

And you used it against the Colonel 😭 You gained a new nickname from the enemy: Slingshot Pest, once aimed, never missed! After Caesar, you're the next one The Colonel wants to take down, you made him mad because all his plans are ruined by your rocks! You're like that little bug who flies around in the middle of the night and keeps biting at anyone who threaten your new found family without being seen!

AND DON'T GET ME STARTED BUT I SWEAR CAESAR AND ROCKET WOULD TRY TO FIND YOU A GOOD SUITABLE MATE FOR YOU because you earned this right in the colony!

And if you REALLY want to get me started on this: Blue Eyes would be first choice for them both, with some other young male apes coming shortly after but Ash would get.... jealous AND protective towards you because you are his little precious flower, right? RIGHT??

AND you'll be so confused to why Rocket and Caesar would try to introduce you to some others apes and soooo confused to why Rocket starts to persuade you Blue Eyes or this other one are really suitable for you, so you seek Ash' comfort because for the love of Caesar what is happening? Ash do something I only feel comfortable with YOU, please someone sedate me I HAVE FEELS

[theorahsart]

robespierre argued with other deputies to save camille from arrest? 😢

Yeah, for quite a long time too 😭 For this reason I get a little worked up when random ppl on IG leave me 'Didnt Robespierre kill his school friend...' comments, because it seems like quite a reductive statement.

Many Jacobins were becoming very hostile towards Camille, and on various occasions in Dec 1793 - Jan 1794, Robespierre was publicly defending his friend, and Danton too.

When things got more heated, Robespierre started defending Camille in a less obvious way. Such as publicly reprimanding him (calling him 'a thoughtless child' lmao) and suggesting that his pamphlet be burned. This was a sort of lifeline he was giving, like offering people who wanted Camille arrested, a compromise of burning the pamhlets instead, and giving Camille some leeway because of his hasty personality.

And, according to Camille's wife, Robespierre rallied against Camille for 2 days straight in the Jacobin club, and yet worked hard to get Camille reinstated to the club after he had been removed.

We could assume from these actions, that Robespierre was probably beginning to fear that his own life would also be in danger if he defended Camille more openly. And Lucille (Camilles wife) writes this reflection on Robespierre at the time:

"When he didn't think or act according to the will of a certain number of individuals, he did not have all the power"

Camille never really took the hint though lol And I think probably assumed Robespierre had more influence than he actually did in the CPS. And so was brave enough to continue in writing his pamphlet, and remaining close to Danton.

I personally think maybe for a time, Robespierre also thought he had more control than he did- he was happy to approve of the initial pamphlets that got Camille into trouble- which he downplayed when things got more heated.

Apparently Robespierre didn't agree to the arrest of the Dantonists until 2 weeks before it happened, even though there had been pressure to do this for a while. Robespierre was still having meetings with Danton until this time to try and help find a compromise. A contemporary of Robespierre's, Tissot, said this of Robespierre's stance on the situation with Danton specifically:

"Robespierre did not want Danton's death, but he was easily frightened"

lol I think I would be too, when my fellow CPS members are calling me a traitor for being too soft on Danton, and trying to throw me out of windows 😂

And yeah, after Camille's arrest and death, things spiralled quite quickly for Robespierre- I struggle to think Camille's death didn't leave an impact or contributed to that. But ofc you can never know for sure u_u

[larz-barz]

Taking risks, saving lives

——————————————————————————

Warning(s)/info: Almost character death, gore, angst, angst to reverse comfort, pre-TanjMilo (cause like- they met when Nezuko and Tanjiro were on trial-)

Tagging: @risingscorchingsuns @knyinfinity @kimetsu-chan(don’t kill me pls;-;) @shycroissanti

——————————————————————————

The battle is done right?

Enmu is dead now so it must be!

Wrong…

A malicious chuckle can be heard as a demon comes out of the forest.

Upper moon 3…

Kyojuro gets in a protective stance in front of the 3 teens and Nezuko and he blocks Milo from joining him.

“No, Milo… Stay back. Heal their wounds for me, okay?” He asks the younger hashira and she nods despite knowing she should help him.

Milo flinches as she, Tanjiro, Inosuke, Zenitsu, and Nezuko listen to the raging battle.

Milo finishes healing Tanjiro and her eyes widen in fear as she scrambles up to jump to protect Kyojuro.

Akaza has his arm back, about to punch through Kyojuro and he instead punches through Milo.

“SUZUKI-SAMA!!!” Tanjiro cries out and before he can run to her, she weakly holds her hand out to stop him.

Kyojuro’s eyes fill with tears as he gently holds the young girl in his arms after she’d stumbled back into him.

The sun starts to rise slowly so Akaza runs off into the shelter of the woods.

Tanjiro lets out a loud, raging growl as he throws his sword at Akaza in attempt to kill him.

Kyojuro gently props Milo up against a tree and she smiles weakly.

“I-I’m glad you’re okay K-Kyojuro-sama….” She murmurs weakly.

Tanjiro runs over, along with Zenitsu, and Inosuke.

Nezuko had already been carefully placed into her box.

Tanjiro slides across the muddy ground on his knees, tears are pouring down his cheeks.

“A-are you going to be okay S-Suzuki-sama…??” He croaks out through his tears.

She sighs sadly. “I…. I don’t know if I can heal myself from something like this…. I-I’m terribly sorry… I would’ve loved to have gotten to know the 4 of you better…. A-and you can just call me Milo….”

“N-no don’t say that!! You’re gonna survive and we can spar and fight together all day every day!!!” Inosuke yells through his own tears.

“I’ll see you guys soon…. If I don’t make it…. promise me you’ll defeat Muzan for me….?” She asks weakly and they all nod shakily.

“Milo, please don’t talk like this! You’re going to survive! I just know it!” Kyojuro exclaims through his tears.

Milo’s eyes flutter shut as she smiles weakly.

Kyojuro breathes a sigh of relief when he hears her still breathing.

He picks her up very gently.

There’s no time to wait for any kakushis.

They, very quickly, race Milo to the butterfly mansion.

Nearly 4 months later, Milo wakes up and feels a pair of arms around herself.

She looks to see who’s cuddling her and she blushes when she sees Tanjiro’s sleeping form hugging her close.

Tanjiro’s eyes flutter open and he starts crying again as he hugs Milo tightly.

Milo hugs him back, suppressing her own tears.

“M-Milo thank goodness you’re ok!!” He cries out as he cries into her shoulder.

Milo gently rubs his back, smiling softly since he remembered her request to be called by her first name. “Y-yes… How are you..? A-and everyone else..?”

“We’re all okay too!” He eventually calms down but he doesn’t let go of Milo, she doesn’t mind though.

“….M-Milo….?” He calls out, breaking the calm silence.

“Hm…?” The yokai responds and slightly tilts her head after pulling away just enough to look at him.

He has something very important he wants, no, he needs to tell her.

Something he needs to confess…

“N-nevermind. It’s not that important!”

~the end~

Hehe- I’m mean Ik- 😂

[wickedcriminal]

HELLO AGAIN I'm glad to see you got my ask (it was important to me that you knew how much I ADORE this au) but now I've just gone back through the tag, I have some questions, if you don't mind! There's a good chance you've answered some of them before but I wanted to ask anyway:

First of all: with both Snotlout's being one character, and in Elder's age group, how does that work with some of the book specific scenes where Snotlout is being cruel to Hiccup during training (as the older ones have already gone through pirate training)?

Also slightly related: are either Adelaide or Gustav in Younger's pirate training programme or is it just the book people we hear about?

Also also slightly related (and you can tell I have a bit of a theme to my questions): what is Adelaide and Snotlout's relationship like? And what is Adelaide like full stop since she's barely mentioned in the books after all, so if you do have anything characterisation wise, that would be quite cool?

AHHH THANK YOU 😭😭 ALSO I LOVE THESE QUESTIONS SO MUCH BECAUSE I GET TO DRAW ADELAIDEEE WHOO

So Snotlout basically did all the book bullying to Elder back when they were both in the Pirate Training Program, (including the sabatoge and attempted parricide,) and he continued to do it through the Dragon Training Program and up until Elder saved everyone from the Red Death. Ever since starting the Dragon Academy, Elder has been receiving much more respect from his peers, and Snotlout has been having to draw back on the bullying to save face. Elder and he still have that chief-heir rivalry, of course, and it becomes a gag that Snotlout casually tries to kill him and Elder rolls his eyes like "oh, you" and then everyone laughs it off. Through RTTE he'll mellow out, and by the time of HTTYD 2, the murder theme will pretty much be gone with Snotlout having begrudgingly become real friends with Elder.

As for Adelaide!! I made a post about her a few years ago, but I decided I wanted to give her a bit of an update since I found a better slot for her in the larger story! (And also because I wanted to redesign her agahagah)

Adelaide is indeed in the Pirate Training Program! She pretty much becomes Younger's book!Snotlout, sans the murderous tendencies. Unlike Snotlout, Adelaide has nothing to gain from killing her Hiccup, but she has seen Snotlout heckle Elder enough times for her to mirror that onto Younger. Taking book!Snotlout's place also gives her all of his book lackies, like Dogsbreath! (Gustav is also a Pirate and one of her lackies, though he's less of a bully to Minicup and Fish and moreso just a mild annoyance 😂)

Adelaide and her friends' usual up-tos around Berk include sailboat racing, hunting rats and fish with their hunting dragons, basheyball, and other mischievous preteen activities (though never quite as destructive as what the Thorston twins get up to.)

Adelaide's relationship with Snotlout is amicable enough, though they probably bicker thrice as much as the Hiccups normally would. Snotlout likes to embarass Adelaide around the other Pirates and it annoys her to no end, but despite this (and she'd never say it to his face) she's often heard praising Snotlout up and down for being the coolest person ever. She likes to taunt Younger about how her cool and awesome big brother is gonna clobber his wimpy crybaby big brother. Even after Elder defeats the Red Death, she still has a habit of talking him down in favor of Snotlout, and continues to do so even through Race to the Edge and HTTYD 2.

She'd get some skull tattoos in RTTE, and her riding dragon would be the Devilish Dervish that Snot had in the books! I also wanted to give her a unique weapon, so she uses a flail mace!

Her role gets bigger from book 9 onward, as she and Snotlout's relationship with each other as well as their differing thoughts about who deserves to be King become extremely relevant.

Let's just say she's got a good throwing arm.

[sitp-recs]

Do you know fics in which Draco and Harry work through relationship problems?

Hi anon! I was gonna say I don’t read a lot of est relationship but looking at this reclist I guess no one will believe that 😂 thank you for this ask, it gave me the chance to rec fics I don’t usually rec which I love!! Enjoy :)

Relic Radiation by @tackytigerfic (M, 1k)

Draco goes into space, leaving behind his son Scorpius (who has just started at Hogwarts, at least), and his not-quite-boyfriend Harry Potter. But Harry can't stop loving Draco just because he's approximately 408km up, in constant orbit.

Let Me Have You and I'll Let You Save Me by Frayach (M, 6k)

Draco keeps coming back, and Harry keeps letting him. Draco can’t stay away, and Harry can’t live without him.

What I thought by @bafflinghaze (E, 8k)

Draco thought they were in a relationship. Harry thought it was just sex.

Service Bell by @shiftylinguini (E, 8k)

Draco is: a werewolf, living in a cabin in the woods, minding his own business, and never going to buy plaid because he's not that much of a fucking cliche (yet). He's also counting down the days until he sees Harry again.

‘Til Our Compass Stands Still by china_nightingale (M, 9k)

Harry and Draco eventually realise that things don't always go to plan, even if it's a plan they've been carefully crafting to keep themselves safe from each other.

i wake up falling, orphaned (M, 9k)

Draco’s always leaving, one way or another. Harry’s usually 240 thousand miles too late.

hear me (with your whole body) by @teacup-tai (E, 9k)

It was a sexy idea, exploring other bodies with Draco, engaging in sex with other people to spice things up. Something inside of him was excited about the prospect, but the nagging fear, the feeling of abandonment that follows each image that pops in his head is throwing him off. He would give it a go. See what it was like. He could always say no, right?

More Than That by joosetta (E, 11k)

This is a story about two 52 year old men who refuse to age gracefully.

Hope Springs Eternal (But Love Springs in the Forest, Unannounced) by lettered (E, 13k)

Draco falls into a love spring. Harry saves him! And now they’re bonded for life. Draco is horrified. Harry thinks it’s kind of neat.

freely, as men strive for right by @bixgirl1 (E, 17k)

How can Harry love a man like Draco Malfoy? If only Draco would let him count the ways.

Burn the Curtains and the Wine by @nerdherderette (E, 24k)

There are two versions of Harry Potter: the wizard who is the Ministry of Magic's most dangerous and successful assassin, and the husband who leads a staid life of domesticity with a reformed Death Eater. And never the twain shall meet. Until, one day, they do.

Come For Me by Frayach (E, 24k)

After Draco is paralyzed in an accident, he and Harry discover a new way to make love.

remember me by hupsoonheng (T, 31k)

On a chilly day in October, Draco kisses Harry goodbye before he goes on yet another dangerous, undercover mission with the Aurors. And then Harry doesn't come back.

The Arrangement series by RurouniHime (E, 72k)

It's worked for years. Why change it now?

[valiantstarlights]

I'm feeling an overwhelming desire to know about 1589 start and Which Hob. So, whichever one of you want to do would please me greatly

'Which Hob' is the Which Hob Gadling Are You? Quiz! 🥰 It's already finished, but many people (including myself 😂) have inconclusive results, so I'm working on making a longer one with more questions. Hopefully, one Hob among all the Hobs inside of us 😏 will emerge victorious. ✨

So let's talk about 1589 start. 😊 In this fic, Hob is born Robert Gadlen in 1555. He goes on to earn a knighthood, marry Eleanor, have Robyn, and live a pretty normal life. That is, until June 7, 1589, when Eleanor is giving birth to their second child. (TW: canon death)

It goes badly, like in canon. Death arrives with Dream. (He is once again accompanying her while she does her duty.) They enter the room to find Hob beside Eleanor's birthing bed, weeping as he holds his wife's cold hand in his own while the baby gasps for air in his arms. Death is about to lead Eleanor and the baby away to the Sunless Lands when Hob sees them and begs for his wife and child to live. He still hasn't accepted that Eleanor is gone.

Eleanor's spirit (who Hob can't see), is gazing mournfully at her husband and child. She knows her child is going to come with her soon, so she just asks Death and Dream if they could please take care of her husband.

Orpheus's death is still fresh in Dream's mind, so he also asks his sister to help this family. Death thinks about it, but ultimately agrees. She tells Hob that she cannot save Eleanor, but she can make sure that the baby lives. She would take his children when it's their time, far into the future, but she will never take him. He will live forever. And no one will ever see or remember him. Except the Endless.

Hob doesn't even blink at the idea of living forever like a ghost. He immediately agrees without thinking about the consequences of his decision. Death allows him to spend the rest of the day making arrangements for his children and his household, before he disappears completely from their memory the following day.

Dream spends the day with Hob while Death leaves for her other appointments. He helps Hob as much as he can, and Hob allows him to rock the baby (Hope) in his arms while he writes heartfelt letters to his children.

In the evening, when everything has been settled, Eleanor to be buried within the week, the children already in bed and arranged to be raised by Hob's trusted friends in court, household funds allocated, and all sorts of letters written to explain Hob's 'disappearance at sea,' Hob goes to the White Horse Tavern to drink, and Dream accompanies him.

Marlowe and Shaxberd are still there, but Dream pays them no mind this time. Hob drinks and mourns, and Dream sits silently beside him in support.

--

"I don't regret it," Hob says. He's already slurring a little, eyes blinking slowly and tracing the wood grain of the table as if they were swirling galaxies. "Robyn and Hope are going to have a good life. Probably an even better one compared to what I could give them, given..." He gulps and doesn't finish the sentence. He looks like he's about to throw up. "I don't...I don't regret it."

Dream says nothing. On the table between the two of them, the venison pasties he ordered for Hob stay untouched.

"Is it terrible?" Hob asks, after a while. He has been steadily hunching in on himself as the night progresses. "Being immortal, I mean?"

"Not always," Dream says truthfully, his tone as gentle as he could make it. "There are moments of joy as well."

Hob chuckles humorlessly. "Just moments, eh?"

"I am not good at this," Dream admits, regret tainting his tone. "I am...melancholy in nature. Perhaps it would be better for you to ask my sister--"

"No, no, not at all." Hob says, waving away Dream's suggestion before he could even finish voicing it. "I like this. Talking to you. You're a good listener, my lord."

It was on the tip of Dream's tongue to tell Hob his name, but he lets the moment pass in silence and only inclines his head in acknowledgement of the statement.

"I am grateful," Hob says, eyes dark and steady as he looks at Dream. "To your sister Death for saving my daughter, and to you, for being here for me today. I shall never forget it."

'You will be forgotten by everyone you have ever known in an hour,' Dream does not say. Instead, he says, "You speak as if we shall never meet again."

Hob's shoulders lift at that, and his eyes widen a little. "My lord?"

Dream eyes soften at the naked vulnerability in Hob's eyes. How lonely immortality would be for him, unable to interact with anyone in a meaningful way, and doomed to be unremembered, whatever he chooses to do. "I heard there's a new play a fortnight hence," he says, gesturing to the table Marlowe and Shaxberd had occupied. They are gone now, having already left for their homes. In fact, other than the barkeep and a single serving woman, it's only the two of them left in the room. "Shall we watch it together?"

--

Ask about my WIPs

[bardic-tales]

Hey, I just watched that Crisis Core scene where Genesis calls Jenova a monster. How do you think Bianca would’ve reacted if she was in the reactor with Zack and Sephiroth when that happened?

Hello, Prehistoric. Happy holidays. I hope you are having a wonderful day. I want to preface this to say that Bianca was not in Gaia by this time. She appeared I think a day after. I did want to say she would punch him or wing slap him, but she's not quite our feisty, unhinged celestial yet. Plus, I think it would be hilarious if she slapped Genesis with her wing. 😂

Content Warning: Betrayal, grief, manipulation, psychological distress, self-worth struggles, traumatic loss, unresolved emotional pain, vulnerability.

As Bianca would be fresh from her traumatic loss of Mordecai Delacroix who sacrificed himself to save her from Asmodeus, Bianca would see Sephiroth as someone who mirrors her own pain. Despite her stoic exterior, she would feel drawn to him, sensing his growing anguish and confusion after Genesis's accusations and the revelations about Jenova. Their red string of fate would amplify her emotional response, allowing her to feel his pain and compel her to ease it or at least understand his turmoil.

After this, Bianca would harbor deep resentment towards Genesis for his role in exacerbating Sephiroth's suffering. Having just endured the death of Mordecai and having endured the betrayal of Krista, she would perceive Genesis' behavior -- calling and stirring doubt about his origins -- as selfish and cruel. To Bianca, Genesis' poetic rhetoric and plea for Sephiroth and his cells might seem like a calculated attempt to manipulate and control a man who was already exhausted from not eating or sleeping for weeks and on a verge of an emotional collapse.

At the same time, she had just arrived on the Planet from a version of our Earth. Gaia would be a bewildering and alien world to her, but her survival instincts and adaptability that was instilled in her by David Moore would drive her to focus on protecting Sephiroth, one of the only anchors she had then. Witnessing his struggle with identity and purpose would remind her of her own tenuous grasp on stability and self-worth. At this point in time, she didn't understand the connection to Sephiroth, but the pull of their bond would motivate her to stand by him, even as she processed her own grief.

But her fear of vulnerability would make the situation really difficult. She would actually hesitate to show Sephiroth her true emotions, as she is afraid that her own brokenness would scare Seph away or make her appear weak. However, she would want to form a meaningful relationship with him -- as a way of filling the void left by Mordecai. This would make her wait until Genesis left. She would approach Sephiroth, sending waves of reassurance and calmness through their soul-link and place a steadying hand on his arm that he couldn't just throw off, as he did Zack. It would be a quiet acknowledgement of the weight that he now carries and a promise that they would face this together, even if they just met.

This would be a turning point for them. For Sephiroth, it's a rare instance of someone seeing and caring beyond his legend to the man beneath it. For Bianca, it's the beginning of her emotional investment in him: a choice to risk vulnerability despite her very real fear of it.

[thetombedspirit]

Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora - Sky Breaker: WARNING: SPOILERS!!!

1. Getting to run alongside the Zakru on Pa'li was the bomb. My GOD! THEY ARE MASSIVE!!

2. My son has made friends 💙 he's even hanging with Nopsi (a zakru!!!)

Nopsi loves him!!

3. My favourite old ladies are back!! (Love Nafiki calling Anufi darling!): side note, I ship it!

4. Ri'nela really coming into the Storyteller part of being Sarentu!

5. Mokasa's back. And he still has the balls to play victim here. Tried coming at Alma and throwing my mother's name in my face as if he wasn't the reason Alma even knew about them in the first place. Ugh! This bitch!

6. Oh don't mind me, just admiring my giant babies as I make them feel pretty💙

7. It's offical guys. Teylan is our little Anti-Gremlin 💙

(Dammit, no more photos!!)

8. The Games were so fun!! My favorite's the horseback archery challenge! And how does Eetu get to places so quickly!?!🤣

9. Teylan rode a pa'li. The both of them were terrified 😂 don't worry buddy, you'll get there!

10. The RDA are back, they seem to be taking special interest in Anufi and Alma. Guess they're not happy she's back in the driver seat as the Kame'tire's leader.

11. Was not expecting us to be knocked out for several days. Thankfully, it seems the core cast is okay. Mokasa is shooketh over Alma pulling him out of the rubble. Still a dick though.

12. They literally made a Valkyrie crash just to take out as many Na'vi as possible. Assholes.

The poor Zakru were either killed in the blast or fled in the chaos, Nesim is furious (rightfully so) and Harding's back.

13. Anufi and Alma have been kidnapped and Teylan confirmed that the brainscap machine could give someone brain damage and kill em, basically meaning that Spider could have literally died hadn't Quaritch pulled him out.

14. Was freaking out so bad during the NeroSect bit that I only got Alma out by 20 secs. And Harding was drowning Anufi in oxygen!?! WTF!!!

Also, Mokasa came in clutch, saving us at the last minute! But he got shot. Yikes.

15. Okay, maybe I get why people felt Harding's death was lackluster, but it certainly wasn't easy, so I don't know what people were talking about there.

But maybe just a cutscene of her crawling toward us with a pistol to give us that final farewell would be notch.

16. Mokasa finally takes responsibility for his actions toward the Sarentu and the Kame'tire and even has a moment of understanding with Alma. He rests with Eywa now.

17. It's over now. All those that remained of TAP are gone, so all that's left is the Secret of the Spires, DLC. And it makes me wonder who that have planned for the big bad. Surely Nor is gonna make a return, but I doubt he is gonna be the bad guy.

Pros; loved everything.

The new legendary tier weapons and gear, the development of the characters (my baby boy Teylan has grown so much) the colours of the Heartlands animals was stunning (pa'li could have been better) and the upgrade skills bonus was a clever way to spend the points you keep racking up (though that stops when you spend a final 5 points every skill bubble)

Cons; Glitches

There were a lot more glitches this time around. First, one of the Contributions Baskets isn't working and it's ironically the main camp one. I've given it like 20 seeds already and still nothing.

And then there was a tremor machine that was freaking out one of the runaway Zakru, but when I went to hack it to turn it off, nothing happened? Only when I blew it up with a grenade arrow did it work. Or maybe that was just me being a stup 😋

Either way, I loved everything about this DLC, glitches aside and it was a good addition to the Sarentu story and I can't wait to see what happens next.

And I'm almost finished with my Sarentu OC, so stay tuned for that. Buh-bye!!

[m0thergoose]

TOWL EPISODE 5 SPOILERS AHEAD MY RAMBLY THOUGHTS AS WATCHING THE EP

LOSING MY SHIT IT’S FATHER GABE MY MAN MY IDOL OMG

NOT how I expected this episode to start omg unWELL

I truly have no idea what to expect from this ep holy hell

Rick is passenger princess confirmed

The hand kiss 🫠

Honeymoon take 2 woopwoop

TASTEFUL NOODS SHUT UP

AND THE MUSIC SHUT UP

OTP on a scenic road trip I’m in love with this

Look at them looking lovingly at Carl

HE’S FINDING GIFTS FOR HIS SON

MAKING A GIFT FOR HIS WIFE 😭😭😭😭

MICHONNE GETTING RJ AN AX IM KILLING MYSELF

TOOTHPASTE FUCK OOOOOOFF

I WAS IN LOVE WITH MY SON’S BEST FRIEND I DIDNT KNOW WHAT TO DO - ARE YOU FUCKING KIDIDNG ME 😭😭😭

RICK KISSING HER NECK 🫠🫠🫠

they found a cabin, they on a real vacation now baby

I NEVER LET GO 🙌

New people I’m scared I don’t like it

Rick is really at Michonne’s beck and call ‘they look pretty hungry’ INSTANTLY drops his bag to find them food lmaoooo

OHHH DONT try this with Richonne you silly silly people

‘Well how bout you just listen’ 😂😂😂😂😂

That’s right Michonne you take your food back lmaoooo

Rick emptying the bullets into michonnes hand sooooorry I’m unwell

Keep your promise asshole 😂

Us against the world 💖

Toothpaste, booze, what are you up to grimes???? I’m just working with what I got - the necklace 💖 RICK LOVES HIS WIFE SO MUCH

RIGHT who is this now??? Is this GABE?

WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK???? GABE AND JADIS????? IN CONTACT????? Noooooooooo I AM CONFUSION

GABE TALKING ABOUT RICK TO JADIS FUCK THIS

GABE IF TOU KNEW RIGHT NOW YOU’D KILL HER YOURSELF AMEN

FUUUUCKING HELL JADIS WAKING THEM UP, it’s like when Jesus walked in on them their first night lmaoooo but this is 1 million times worse!

Michonne looks so hot rn haha

I actually could give a flying fuck about Jadis, hurry up and kill her richonne lmao

YAAAS RICHONNE

OMG GABE ONE DAY RICK SAID THAT I SHOULD MARRY THEM 😭😭😭😭

And he’s kept a wedding ring for Rick actually shoot me rn

Gabe is a richonner confirmed 💖

Now I want Gabriel to be the one to kill Jadis because this is sick and twisted from her

HE GAVE HER RICKS RING GABRIEL YOU BETTA NOOOOT

okay so they’re gonna kill Jadis and as she’s dying she’ll hand him the ring

And next year same day same place it won’t be Jadis that meets Gabriel, it’ll be richonne

HERE we go fuck her up Michonne

Here Ricky dicky goes, fuck them walkers up

Jadis is scum these people better not help her

HAHAHHAHA Michonne just wants to kill this bitch ‘maybe just maim first’ yeah ok Ricky dicky 😂

THATS WHAT U GET FOR TRUSTING JADIS YOU DUMBASSES

UGH DONT KISS HER GABRIEL IF YOU ONLY KNEW

WHAT THE FUCK JADIS WHAT DID SHE DO TO GABRIEL

THIS BITCH SHOT HER MAN MICHONNE IS DEFO GOINGG TO GUT HER LMAOO

Omg

Michonne what you gonna do

Michonne has a plan yes

OMG ARE THEY SPLITTING UP TO SAVE EACH OTHER

‘You’ve looked better’ sassy Rick lol

I’m stilll hoping Michonne just fucking murders her

YEEEEES FUCK THIS BITCH

PAINFUL WALKER DEATH FUCK U JADIS

side note Rick looks v handsome rn

I’ll see you next year Ann - noooo you’ll see richonne next year gabey baby 🤞

‘We’re gonna do that’ ricks like sure whatever you want baby

THE RING KILL ME 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I don’t want a proposal in front of jadis save it for when you’re alone Ricky dicky

IS THIS A PROPOSAL RIGHT HERE IM CRYING

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

‘I could never have imagined this but it could only ever have been you’ 🥹🥹🥹🥹

SOMEBODY SEDATE ME 😭😭😭😭😭

THE PROMO ‘are we crazy’ ‘certifiable’ LMAOOOOOO

ALSO how the fuck are we wrapping this up in one more episode, we deserve MORE dammit

[thatmexisaurusrex]

if we got a second season of tfatws what would you want to be in it 👀

Oh my gosh, such a good question to ask! 😆 A very hard one too Cassie, lemme think on this 🤔

Okay, a few things that would be a must would be:

A "Meanwhile, on the boat..." moment, or perhaps a montage of moments where things are happening throughout the MCU movies that happened post-TFATWS and Sam and Bucky are just 😂 on the boat, hearing about the events after the fact. I keep thinking about the scene in season 7 of Supernatural where they montage Dean commenting on what Castiel does with his new godlike powers while Dean fixes his car, but it doesn't have to be like that (3:16-3:46 here for reference lol).

Sam needs to save Bucky from falling. Sam had someone he couldn't save in the air. Bucky didn't have anyone to save him when he fell. Sam and Bucky both need that catharsis and it's wild that didn't happen in the first season.

Sam flying around as Bucky snipes at things 😂 Again - how did that not happen in the first season?

Sam and Bucky must either be already roommates or looking for an apartment which will be the place they will live in together.

Sarah, AJ, and Cass must be in it as well as other people we've seen like Carlos, Tommy, Isaiah, and Eli.

Another song by Curtis Harding must close the show's next sunset ending (it MUST be a good ending where they look into the sunset again, I'm sorry, I don't make the rules). Perhaps Can't Hide It by Curtis Harding?

Joaquín! There must be more Jay, I refuse to believe there wouldn't be so much more Jay in a season two.

FLASHBACKS. WHERE. WERE. THE. FLASHBACKS. Gimme Sam and Riley flashbacks, flashbacks of Sam with his family, gimme more info on Sam.

Can we???? Get more info on Sarah too???? Like was she married before??? Who are Cass and AJ's dad or dads??? How does she feel about Sam disappearing for a huge chunk of years??? I just want to know more about her.

And GIDEON. GIVE SAM HIS OLDER BROTHER.

Also, GIVE SAM BIRD TELEPATHY, YOU COWARDS, AS WELL AS A FALCON NAMED REDWING.

AYO AND ANEKA VISIT. THEY HAVE TO VISIT. LET AYO AND ANEKA BE BESTIES WITH SAM AND BUCKY.

Acknowledgment that Sam found Bucky in Europe but kept Bucky's secret and visited Bucky. Also that Sam visited Bucky during his time as a goatherder in Wakanda, possibly with a reference to the costco tub of lube 😂

MORE EPISODES. GIVE US MORE EPISODES. GIVE US TEN EPISODES AT LEAST, YOU COWARDS.

Things I can live without but I think would be a waste if they aren't in a hypothetical season two:

A huge and exciting action sequence during a New Orleans Mardi Gras Parade with Sam being the King of that parade.

There's a team of villainous jugglers in the Marvel comics called the Death-Throws. I really want them as secondary comedic villains who may or may not be kind of good people a la Jessie, James, and Meowth from Team Rocket in Pokemon movies. Just let Sam and Bucky have some comedy villains in the background doing their thing, Marvel.

Visiting Steve on the Moon. I just think Sam and Bucky deserve space shenanigans. I will also take a Facetime, if that's too out of budget, though.

Misty Knight cameo where Sam and Misty either imply or outright talk about being exes. Probably amicable, though, it would be funny if Sam's a bit awkward about it, but Misty's chill with him.

Karli resurrection. She deserved more of a redemption arc than Walker. Bring her back to life, Disney, I dare you.

Bucky and Falcon!Redwing don't get along. More because Bucky is jealous than anything else.

A VISIT TO WAKANDA! Do they go to Birnin Zana? Do they visit the town Bucky was living in as a goatherder? Do they go to Ayo and Aneka's home for dinner? Maybe they possibly only let Sam into the country while Ayo is like "I told you to lie low for a while, White Wolf" to Bucky 😂

Baron Zemo can have a cameo, if only because Anthony Mackie was bummed that Daniel Brühl isn't a part of Cap 4.

Wildest Options I Don't Think Would Happen But I Would Love:

SamBucky wedding. It all takes place the days leading up to their wedding. Or, if I'm being more realistic, a wedding. Like, if, say Sarah and Rhodey were getting married or Carol and Valkyrie or perhaps Ayo and Aneka.

SamBucky kiss? Though, again, highly doubt that and I'm really okay with SamBucky not being canon.

Fourth wall break where Feige himself walks into a room, sits down, and apologizes about how he treated Sam Wilson's character in the MCU and promises to do better. He pulls out an entire slide show and the episode is just him talking about how he will be integrating Sam more thoroughly into the MCU. I'm talking how specifically Sam will cameo, where he will cameo, pitches for other projects Sam will be heavily tied to, the works.

[gvfgal]

11. In Death We Give

Barbarian. Biker!Jake

18+ series. Minors DNI.

A/n: I’ll save all the blabbering this chapter 😂 All I have to say is feel free to leave your questions and comments wherever you see fit, and as always, enjoy. 🖤

Content Warnings: Gambling, drinking, smoking, negative thoughts of parenting, explicit sexual content, mentions of turbulent childhood.

Word Count: 3.7K

The Barbarians were scattered around Bobby’s bustling casino, deciding to partake in some leisure time since they’d already been there tending to business. It was a Saturday evening, and the place was packed, more so than Jake had ever seen.

The machines lining the walls had every seat filled, and every table had players rolling dice and slinging cards in hopes of striking it big. Some patrons seemed uneasy with the Barbarian’s presence, especially given their rowdy behavior fueled by the free-flowing drinks. But no one dared to say a word or throw them out—they practically owned the place.

Jake, though present, was seated alone at the bar. His mind raced with thoughts of you and the baby, making it impossible to fully engage in the revelry surrounding him.

Ace was busy at the blackjack table, but when he took a break, he found Jake sitting alone, clearly not in the best spirits. Ace had noticed his quietness all day but had chalked it up to a lack of sleep.

Crossing the large game room, Ace took a seat beside Jake, signaling the bartender for another round of drinks.

“What’s going on, kid?” Ace’s gruff voice pulled Jake from his racing thoughts. “I’ve hardly heard a peep out of you all day. Now you’re sitting over here moping at the bar.”

Jake chuckled, though it was devoid of humor. “I’m not moping, Ace,” he paused, wondering if this was a conversation he wanted to venture into at the moment, “It’s Cherry.”

Ace’s face contorted with concern, wondering if he and the club would need to handle something on your behalf.

“She’s pregnant.”

Ace’s reaction was animated, though he did his best to mask his surprise, taking a swig from his freshly prepared drink. Damn kids, he thought to himself, as if they’d never heard of a condom. Though he knew you and Jake were far from children, in his eyes, you were.

“She keepin’ it?”

Jake’s glare immediately answered his question, and Ace threw his hands up in defense. “Just thought I’d ask. You still don’t seem too thrilled, though.”

Jake took a sip from his drink and sighed, dropping his head before looking back at Ace. “I’m terrified, man. What the hell do I know about being someone’s dad?”

“Being a father ain’t easy, especially your first time around,” Ace agreed. “Never had any of my own, but I’ve done enough work helping raise some of you knuckleheads to know that fatherhood is one of the toughest jobs of them all. Tougher than being a Barbarian.”

“Yeah, well, other than you, we all know I didn’t have the best role model when it came to being a parent,” Jake scoffed, shaking his head bitterly. “What if I end up being a crappy dad like he was? What if years down the line my kid ends up hating me like I did Rex because I didn’t live up to the father I was supposed to be?”

Ace understood all of Jake’s worries; it was only natural for someone in his position. However, he knew most of Jake's fears were unfounded.

“I don’t see that happening.” Jake was gazing down into his empty glass, but when he heard Ace’s words, he looked up.

“I think you’d run laps around Rex when it comes to the father department, because you know what it’s like to have been in that position. I don’t see you repeating history,” Ace said, shaking his head. “You’ve got too much in you for that.”

Ace’s words were comforting, but they addressed only part of Jake’s concern.

“And what about all this, Ace?”

“All of what?”

“This,” Jake gestured between himself and Ace, “being a Barbarian. What kind of quality of life will my kid have if I bring them up around all of this? We’re knee-deep with a homicidal drug cartel leader, and God knows what else lies ahead. I can’t subject my kid to that.”

Ace shrugged. “Barbarians have been doing it since the beginning of time. I don’t see why you can’t.”

“Yeah, well, we see how that ended up for a lot of them. Some die and leave kids behind. Some run them and their mothers off before they even get a chance to know them. And if that doesn’t happen, one way or another, the life always finds a way to trickle down.”

The flirty bartender came over to top off Jake’s drink, sending him a wink. He rolled his eyes and snatched the glass off the counter. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do it, but I have to. Cherry needs me.”

“Mhmm,” Ace agreed, “that’s right. And with that being said, I’m confident that you’ll figure it out, no matter how you decide to go about it. You’re a smart kid, Jake, always have been,” he patted his young friend on the back. “I don’t see you not being a good dad, and that’s the honest truth.”

Jake was thankful for Ace’s words, and though he could’ve kept going, he decided to leave the conversation as it was.

“Now,” Ace said, brightening up, “will you please stop sitting over here throwing yourself a pity party and come have some fun? You’ve always been a wiz at blackjack.”

Jake smirked. “Fine. One game, though. Then I need to head back.”

Ace nodded, understanding Jake’s new responsibilities. “One game will satisfy me.”

Jake finished his drink, feeling a bit lighter. The future was uncertain, but with Ace's support and the determination to be there for you and your baby, he felt ready to take on whatever came next.

You sat on the sofa as an old sitcom hummed through the dilapidated speakers, though your attention was elsewhere. You glanced at the clock every so often, wondering when Jake would return, if he returned at all.

You had plenty of faith in him, but the uncertainty of your situation made you fear he might decide to leave. Truth be told, if you could, you might have considered the same.

Just as your thoughts began to sour, you heard the front door squeak open. Jake shuffled in with a large bouquet of red roses in one hand, his helmet tucked under the other arm.

“Jake,” you shot up from the couch, “you’re back.” The surprise in your voice was evident, and it made him feel even more empathetic towards you. He’d been distant the past couple of days, not intentionally, but it was enough to make you feel deserted and uncared for. This small gesture was his way of reassuring you.

“Of course I’m back,” he grinned, feeling a pang of guilt at your surprise.

“Are those for me?” You blushed, making your way over to him.

“What, these?” He joked, setting his helmet down. “No, actually they were a gift to me, from Nicky, of all people.”

You laughed and gave him a playful shove. “Shut up.” He handed the bouquet to you, and you admired them before smiling up at him. “Thank you, Jake.”

Even though you were smiling, he could still see the fear in your eyes. When recognition flashed across his face, your expression faltered and you couldn’t help but fall into his chest with a silent cry.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and rubbing a soothing hand over your head. “I know, baby. It’s okay.”

“I’m so scared, Jake,” you admitted, though he already understood. He was scared too, but his priority was ensuring you and the life you were nurturing were okay.

He gently pulled you away to look into your glossy eyes, his gaze sending silent assurances before he leaned in to kiss you softly.

You kissed him back, finding comfort in his embrace when you needed it most.

The kiss lingered before he pulled away, setting the bouquet of roses on the kitchen table. He grabbed your hand and led you toward your bedroom, and you followed wordlessly, feeling a little more at ease with each step.

Once you made it past the threshold, you began pulling your shirt over your head in anxious anticipation, dying to feel his calloused hands on your bare skin. But before you could get it off, Jake stopped you with a hand around your wrist.

You looked at him in confusion, wondering if you’d misread his actions, but he gave you a reassuring smile.

“Let me, Cherry. I wanna do it differently this time.”

Slowly, you lowered your hand and allowed him to take over undressing you. He picked up where you left off with your shirt, dragging it up your torso and over your head. You weren’t wearing a bra, and when your chest was exposed to him, a satisfactory sigh ghosted past his lips. You stood on display for him and let him marvel at you before he was cupping your breasts in each of his hands. He lapped at the left one first, small spurts of his tongue against your nipple before switching to the other.

You threw your head back with a breathy moan and savored the feeling. His mouth began to travel lower, sprinkling kisses along your abdomen and leaving one lingering just above your bellybutton before he was tugging gently at your shorts and panties. His breath was warm against your already flushed skin, and you felt your need for him growing with each agonizing second.

But you didn’t want to rush it; the care he was showing you was something you wanted and needed desperately. Jake had never been this tender when it came to sex, both of you behaving like a couple of savages due to the electric charge of your relationship. But as he trailed gentle kisses down your legs, taking his time showing attention to as much of your body as he could, you found yourself growing quickly addicted to the feeling.

Once you were standing naked before him and he was satisfied with his affections, Jake rose to his feet with a drunken, lopsided grin. He nodded his head towards the bed, signaling for you to lie down, and you did just that. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as he began undressing himself as well.

First his leather vest, then his white t-shirt, revealing to you once again his tattoos and battle scars that you grew to love so much. Next he stepped out of his pants, making a show out of the way his cock was pressed against his boxers and already staining the fabric.

When he finally removed them and was standing before you in all his naked glory, your mouth fell open without making a sound. You’d seen him naked more times than you could count, but there was something about this moment that felt so much different than the rest. It felt like an offering to you, his way of letting you know that he was entirely yours.

The Barbarian Prince all to yourself.

Unable to resist any more temptation, you reach a hand out to him, and he came over and took it in his own, kissing over your knuckles before completely joining you on the bed. His knee rested between your thighs, purposefully nudging against your clit and causing you to jerk forward. From that touch alone, he knew you were ready, his knee drew back slick, and you’d have felt slightly embarrassed if it were anyone else.

Jake gripped his cock in his hands, lowering his lips onto yours as he pumped himself a few times and lined up with your entrance. In one fluid movement, he sunk into you with a groan, and you instantly wrapped your arms and legs around his body, needing to feel him as close as possible.

You stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the velvet feeling of being connected like this. Usually by now Jake had a fistful of your hair in his hand and was plowing into you, but this wasn’t the time for it. Instead, he began gliding in and out of you at a leisurely pace, capturing every spurt of air that left your lips into his mouth.

“God, Jake,” you purred when he finally freed you to speak, “oh god yes.” The slow pace he was keeping was electrifying to your body, allowing you to feel every bit of what he had to offer filling you up over and over again. His head fell into the crook of your neck as he cradled you close, his breathing coming out more like shuddering grunts as he continued to rock his hips into you.

“I love you, Cherry,” he whispered into your ear, causing you to momentarily freeze. That was the first time those words had ever left his lips, and you thought for a moment you’d misheard him in your state of bliss.

Sensing your apprehension, Jake lifted his head and stared you directly in your eyes, picking up his pace ever so slightly.

“I love you. I know I don’t ever say it,” he paused as another groan left his mouth at the way you constricted around him, “but I do. I love you.”

You wanted to blame the good sex for his words, but by the way he gazed at you adoringly, you knew he meant exactly what he said. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his, not deterred by the light sheen of sweat that was forming in his hairline. “I love you, Jake,” you cooed, feeling tears welling in your ducts, “I love you.”

“You know I’ll take care of you. Of us.”

You nodded with a dazed sigh, feeling your release approaching slowly but surely.

“I know.”

Not another word was spoken after that, only the sounds of your breathing and the occasional sound of your bodies coming together could be heard in the trailer.

Jake continued with you slowly and sweetly, stopping every once in a while to plant firm kisses against the corner of your mouth. When you finally succumbed to his coaxing of your orgasm, a shiver ran through your body and leapt over to Jake’s, the hairs on his arms standing at attention at the feeling of your soaking him.

He wasn’t far behind you, spilling into you with a final pointed thrust and a long drawn out groan that sounded like sweet music to your ears. He took a moment to calm his breathing before rolling off of you onto his back.

You both stared at the ceiling as you fought to come back to earth, and once the intensity settled, Jake turned to look at you.

“You know I meant what I said, Cherry? That wasn’t just the sex talking.”

You giggled, “I know Jake. But it’d be nice to hear you say it again now that you aren’t balls deep inside me.”

Jake shook his head with a laugh, then planted a firm kiss on your cheek. “I love you,” he reiterated. “And for as long as you’ll let me, I promise I’ll take care of us.”

He brought his hand to your stomach and began rubbing it, fully acknowledging for the first time the life growing inside of you.

You smiled at him and placed your hand over his, your eyes meeting in a moment of silent confirmation. No matter what happened from here on out, you were in it together.

Once you had fallen into a comfortable slumber, Jake dressed and stepped out front to light a cigarette. As he stood there, his mind raced with plans for the future, brainstorming ways to ensure both your safety and security. But his thoughts were interrupted by the haunting presence of Rex’s trailer across the street, dominating his view and his mind.

Unable to shake the pull, he stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette on the railing and found himself walking towards the empty trailer. He hadn’t been back since he trashed the place days after Rex’s funeral, but something compelled him now.

Fishing out the spare key he had buried in an empty planter, Jake unlocked the front door and stepped inside, shutting it quietly behind him. The power had been shut off about a month ago, so he used his phone’s flashlight to navigate the dark, stuffy interior. Everything was exactly as he had left it, untouched and filled with memories.

An idea sparked as he remembered the small coat closet off to the left, where Rex and Vicky had stored many photo albums over the years. He retrieved an old office supply box from the top shelf and carried it to the dusty couch. Sitting down, he pulled out the album on top and opened it to the middle, inspecting the photos tucked behind the thin plastic covering.

The first photo he noticed was one of him sitting in his mother’s lap on a lounge chair out back. Both were dressed in swimsuits, his mother in a skimpy bikini and a one-year-old Jake in a pair of flamed swim trunks that looked a size too big. The photo next to it showed him splashing in a small plastic kiddie pool, water droplets frozen in mid-air by his chubby hands.

Jake grinned, flipping a few pages over. This set of photos showed one of Rex’s birthday parties. In one photo, Rex, Vicky, and Jake all smiled at the camera, and in another, cake was smeared across Jake’s face as his parents threw their heads back in laughter.

He scanned through more of the album before setting it aside and grabbing the next one. The photos in this album were from when Jake was a little older, maybe four or five. The first several pages were void of Vicky, leading him to believe they were taken during a time when she wasn’t around.

Most of the pictures showed Jake by himself or with the Barbarians. One picture particularly stood out: Jake sitting on a shiny black Harley, surrounded by Ace, Steeljaw, Madcap, and a few other men, all beaming with pride at seeing a young Jake already embracing Barbarian culture.

More photos revealed Jake’s life amongst the club, showing faces of men he once loved who were no longer around, either dead or serving serious time. It was bittersweet to see those familiar faces, reminders of a past both cherished and mourned.

As Jake browsed the photos, he realized that these seemingly happy fragments of his childhood were misleading. Each photo, each memory, no matter how joyous they appeared, was intertwined with some form of gloom.

There was a photo from his tenth birthday, where he smiled holding his Harley-themed cake, but he remembered the day being ruined by a blowout argument between Rex and Vicky, leading to Ace hauling Rex away. Another photo showed an adolescent Jake among a sea of leather jackets, a tiny figure among men. It looked like a good time, but it was the day of Tex’s funeral, a member Jake had been close to who died in a gunfight.

These memories were tainted, and Jake thought of his child years down the line, looking back at pictures of their childhood. Would they feel the same melancholy he did? Would he inadvertently tarnish their joy the way his father and environment had for him? It was a scary thought, one he tried not to entertain, vowing to make things different for his child.

Jake continued to flip through the albums until he froze at a picture of him and Jaxon. There weren’t many photos of Jaxon in this album; Jake had kept most of those closer to him, likely still under his old bed. He couldn’t face those memories yet.

This photo, however, was special to Rex. It was from the day after Jake and Jaxon had officially sworn in as Barbarians. They had their arms around each other’s shoulders, sporting their new Barbarian jackets and a few black eyes and scrapes from the initiation. The youth in their faces, the pride in their smiles, Jaxon’s tight sandy curls, and Jake’s darker, much longer tasseled hair. Best friends. Brothers. Torn apart by the very thing they were so proud to be a part of in that photo.

Jake decided he’d had enough reminiscing. He shut the album and began stacking it with the rest back into the box. When he moved to get up from the couch, the wall behind it caved with a crumble.

"Shit," Jake murmured. Another hole in the wall to add to the collection of others. The place was falling apart, likely beyond salvaging.

Setting the box on the coffee table, he pulled the couch off the wall and squatted down to inspect the hole. The mismatched paint around it suggested Rex had patched this spot before.

Something was odd, though. The wall hadn’t completely caved. There was something solid behind the drywall, preventing it from collapsing entirely.

Jake pushed in the loose piece of wall and felt something pushing back. He peered into the gap, catching a glimpse of something he couldn’t quite identify. Setting his phone down, he used both hands to pull the broken piece away from the rest. His vision was suddenly flooded with piles of cash.

Just from a glance, it had to be at least half a million dollars stuffed into the opening, maybe closer to seven hundred fifty thousand.

"What the fuck?" Jake mumbled, reaching in to pull out one of the stacks. He inspected it, and then another, halfway expecting it to be counterfeit. It was real.

“What the fuck?”

Where had all this money come from, and how long had Rex been hiding it here?

Jake stared in disbelief, unsure of his next move. Clearly, no one else knew about this money. If they did, there was no way in hell it would still be here.

But still, what was the money for? Who was it for? Or, who was it from?

A noise outside startled Jake. He quickly stuffed the stacks he’d pulled out back into the wall, fixing the hanging piece as best as he could and sliding the couch back into position. His heart raced as he looked around anxiously. It was late, and there was nothing more he could do at the moment.

He decided to leave his discovery as it was, leaving the box of photo albums on the table. Jake double-checked that all the windows were secured, and when he stepped out and locked the door behind him, he made sure his hidden treasure stayed secure.

As he crossed back to your trailer, his mind raced. He needed a plan, but for now, all he could do was keep this secret close and figure out what Rex had been up to.

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