#all fun until they get serial killer first round

[maeo-png]

why is tos like this

[theminecraftbee]

alright, so, one more thing i've been thinking about during all of this, and apologies, because i normally try to keep my blog fairly discourse-free in the grand scheme of things. but.

there are hermitcraft fans who act irritatingly morally superior about this fandom. i think it's out of some impulse to try to distance yourselves from any other mcyt fandom. it needs to stop.

the worst behavior during the polls was from the hermitcraft fans.

period.

there were so many instances of hermitcraft fans accusing the other side of cheating, of hermitcraft fans making attacks on the character of their guy's opponents, i have heard what i HOPE are isolated reports of racism in the grian/quackity fight (it was genuinely impossible to keep up with the blog's notes that round without both going into a death spiral thanks to the horrible behavior of scar fans during techno/scar and also without losing track instantly of where we were due to the frankly insurmountable volume of notes, so i did not see it, but unfortunately i fully believe it). i have seen people receiving awful asks - saw people being accused of 'betraying' the hermitcraft side due to voting for quackity or techno, for example.

and for a fandom that likes to act like it's better than the other guys, well. the dsmp fans were generally very well behaved in comparison. (shoutout, for example, to quackblr - i saw maybe one or two possible instances of bad behavior, but for as intense as you all were, you all were normally mostly just retaliatory towards whatever energy was thrown at you.) it wasn't supposed "outsiders coming in" that was doing this bad behavior, either.

folks, you can't blame the dsmp when the problem is inside the house. you can't blame twitter users when you're doing it here. you can't blame the reddit when you're the ones throwing the first death threats.

get off your high horses. we're all mcyt fans. we're all having the same fun. get off your high horses. you can hardly claim we're entirely all "unproblematic" when keralis accepted a sponsorship from the wizard game and xisuma periodically gets another round of getting shouted down over something he said on xisumasays. get off your high horses. you can't claim we're the accepting, good behavior fandom, unlike those other guys, when you're the ones causing the problems.

now, as always, i'm sure this is a law of large numbers thing to some extent. as technoblade, wise as he is, said: sometimes when you get a large enough group, you're going to have a few serial killers. but for the amount that hermitblr likes to act better than Those Other Minecraft Fandoms, and those Other Fandom Websites, it wasn't those guys that made me cry.

to be clear, the majority of you have been well-behaved. but there's a persistent tendency in this fandom to act strangely morally superior to other fandoms. and, y'all? you aren't.

you just aren't.

and the sooner you acknowledge that, the less likely this is to happen again, because once you admit that yeah, we can be toxic too? that's when you can start actually looking at yourself and trying not to be.

anyway, sorry again to make this post. i don't want to be a downer, hence why, outside of the official mod statements of "chill the fuck out", i didn't make this until now. (it also helps that i wanted to wait until i was no longer furious, upset, and death spiraling.) i have seen a lot of the best of this fandom over the past two weeks! i've just also, unfortunately, seen some of the worst, and feel the need to make this statement because it's just... been eating at me.

i don't want this to continue to be a trend. i think we can do better. do so.

[kaivenom]

Call again later, please

Summary: you were having the night all alone for yourself, no parents, no neighbors, just you. Until you receive a strange calle, but you are not going to be caught with your guard down.

Pairing: Billy Loomis x reader x Stu Macher, kinda

Warnings: serial killers, attemp to murder, crazyness, stalking.

Masterlist

The tv was playing the second movie you watch this night, your pyjamas keeping you warm and a new round of popcorn heating on the microwave, this is your perfect night. The phone started to ring, thinking they were your parents you picked up.

"Hello Y/N, you know why i call you?"

"No, so call again later, please."

Apparently they weren't your parents so you ended the call, it wasn't a voice that you knew so It was strange. The phone rang again.

"Hello?" this time you talked first.

"What do you think youre doing?"

"Sorry man but i am alone at home and i want to spent it watching movies, not answering the phone to a guy i don't know."

"Ohhhh, but i know you are home alone, and don't worry, we will meet soon... sooner that you think." slowly you start to look around you, trying to see outside the windows something that could report his position. "Tell me Y/N, what it's your favourite horror movie?"

"Texas chainsaw massacre," you couldn't find something outside, maybe It was already inside, you took a butcher's knife from the kitchen, "why does that matter?"

"You will see..."

"Tell me your name," you ventured to say, "i want to identify you."

"Call me ghostface."

"Well ghostface, i am no stupid girl from a horror movie, i don't do precipitate moves."

"I don't think so." the call ended.

You see a shadow behind you and turn around fast, almost being stabbed but you managed to dodge it. It was a person with a Halloween costume and a ghost mask, so you asume it was ghostface. The fight lasted a couple of minutes and throughout the house. At some opina it was even hilorious. The person didn’t say one word but you started to notice he was getting exhausted. That was your opportunity to take the shotgun your father has next to the exit door.

“Check mate buddy.” Ghostface didn’t say a word but you hear the door openning behind you.

“I could say the same to you.”

A knife was around your throat but you didn’t feel the pain of the blade thru your skin.

“We are more on a tie.”

“Not if i cut your throat.”

“Then i will shot your friend.”

His grip loosed up and let you turn around to see him. It was a handsome and pretty sexy guy but you didn’t out the shotgun down yet.

“Fuck, youre incredibly hot, if youre friend right there it’s like you, then maybe i would thought about letting Myself be killed by you.”

His expresion changed, a small smile appeared on his face and made a sign to his friend, who took away his mask. The two men where very handsome, and you started to realize the thought of spending the night with them was more appealing every second.

“We have three options, one is that i kill you two, the second it’s that i let you go but you can come back another day but knocking on the door like normal people, the third one it’s that you can spent the night here but not killing allowed… there are more funny things to do.”

“The third one could work for me,” said one.

“I am not going to let myself be left behind then.”

You started to unbutton your pyjama and went to the living room, they followed you without hesitation. Apparently the night it’s going to be very fun from now on.

[emepe]

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: A perfect morning with the perfect guy with plans for the perfect life together.

— Content warnings: slightly nsfw, mention of unprotected sex.

— Notes: Welcome back to TV Friday! Please read the notes at the end for an important notice. Don’t be shy to stop by my ask box <3 If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, lmk. Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

the thing about perfection

Eren Jaeger has always had a perfect life. He was born to two loving parents with high-paying jobs that provided him with a lovely home, delicious food, fun trips, and any education he craved. 

He had the perfect mix of genes, too. He grew up to be handsome, smart, and kind. He bagged a job he loved straight out of graduating and his parents helped him get his first apartment, one that others could only dream of living in had they not been born into a life of penny-pinching.

Everything was laid out for him to take as he pleased. It's a good thing he was never overly ambitious. 

The only time things were rough was when his father passed, but even then he coped in healthy ways and barely felt the stumble, thanks to his loving mother and tight-knit friends.

Everything had always been perfect, even now as he wakes up in his spacious apartment, to the sleeping face of his beautiful girlfriend, who only has a few minutes before her alarm begs her to wake. 

“Good morning, baby,” he murmurs when you start stirring under the sheets at the first ring of your alarm. 

He smiles when your hold on his waist only tightens, his daily reminder of how much you struggle with being pulled away from his perfect, warm self. He chuckles softly, granting you your usual ten minutes of extra bed time as his hand gently massages your scalp and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

When you finally look up at him, you're wearing a lazy smile, that beautiful lazy smile that only makes him fall deeper in love and drives his heart into a craze.

He kisses you once, twice, then again, and again, and again. Until soon enough, you're fully naked under the sheets, making love and voicing each other's names in breathless saccharine tones. 

It's enough to make you run a few minutes behind on your schedule. But it doesn't matter, you figure you can be late to work at least once. So while Eren heads to the kitchen to make you breakfast after wiping you clean of his cum, you get changed and take your daily pill. 

“What's all this?” you ask once you take a seat at the bar.

There's a spread of fruit, pancakes, hash browns, eggs, bacon, bread and jams. It's a lot, even for the two of you.

He shrugs.

“I just wanna make this day special from start to finish.”

You give him a weird look as you slowly chew on a strawberry.

“What?” he innocently asks. “Five months is a big deal to me.” 

You smile. 

“Every month is a big deal to you,” you tease.

He laughs.

“Okay, fine. Make fun of me all you want. But can you blame me?” he asks as he rounds the bar. You instinctively let him settle between your thighs, ignoring the creases it inflicts on the skirt of your dress. “I'm a man in love.”

You giggle as he brushes his nose against yours and he mirrors your smile before pressing his lips to yours.

“You're so cheesy,” you grin as he pulls back. 

“Maybe so, but you're never getting rid of me.”

You laugh as you help yourself to a hash brown. 

“I never said I wanted to.” 

You take a bite of your hash brown, your face instantly lighting up at the crispy texture and flavor. You give Eren an enthusiastic thumbs-up before sampling everything in front of you.

Eren adores watching you. It fills a cavity in his chest he hadn't known was there until he met you, and it swells him with pride to know he's had a hand in making you happy.

His smile slowly fades into a more serious expression as he watches your delighted reactions to the scrambled eggs cooked to perfection. 

He brings a hand to your hair, playing with the locks between two fingers. 

“I'm so fucking in love with you,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” you smile.

He nods as you turn to him once more, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer.

“No doubt about it. I'm crazy about you.”

“How much?” you tease. 

He pecks the corner of your mouth.

“I'd die for you.”

Your life has never been perfect. You were born into a broken home with a father who wiped his memory of your existence and a mother who would've preferred you'd never been at all. You struggled and suffered, hurt and stumbled many times. You were deceived and tossed away, beaten in more ways than one by life and the people in it.

The only times things were alright have no place in your memory, except for those that happened after meeting your friends and the first real love of your life in your mid-twenties. A bit of a late start for good things to occur in your life, but well appreciated. 

Now, everything is perfect — as perfect as it's ever gotten for you. Your perfect boyfriend holds your hand as he expertly switches lanes and cruises down the highway to take you to your steady job where you get to gossip with your best friend.

The universe can have favorites sometimes, and it's clear to you that Eren is one of them, as he manages to catch every green light on the way to your office building to get you on time. 

It's a popular theory that you attract what you need, so perhaps it's a good thing you found Eren. It's thanks to him that you get to stand in the glow of his good fortune. 

The late March air is crisp and fresh on your face, complemented by the warmth and sweet smell of spring that swoops in through the open windows of Eren's car. 

When he pulls up to your office, you bid him goodbye with a kiss and a promise to see each other that evening to celebrate your five months together over dinner.

“And I have a surprise for you,” he murmurs against your lips, causing you to pull back and raise a suspicious eyebrow. “Well, it's more like news, and of course, I want your opinion, but…” he trails off with a shrug.

“Are you pregnant or something?”

He chuckles, shaking his head.

“No, not that. But it's really good stuff. You'll love it, I swear.” 

You hum in contemplation before pressing a kiss to his cheek and hooking your bag in the crook of your elbow.

“I'll see you later, then. I love you.”

He smiles as he watches you get out of the car and shut the door. 

“I love you. I'll be back at six.”

He spares a moment to watch you leave, waving goodbye when you look back after walking a few steps, as you always do, with a big smile on your face and your eyes crinkled in joy.

After you disappear through the revolving doors, he leaves.

The coffee shop is quieter than usual as the early afternoon weather wavers between cool and warm, making loyal customers debate between picking from the cold menu or the hot one. 

You sip on your iced tea enthusiastically, much so that Armin watches you with amusement through the long pauses in your conversation for you to satiate your thirst. 

“Oh, wow,” you sigh after finishing off your drink with a loud slurp. “That's the best iced tea I've ever had.”

You feel the tea refreshing your stomach as you lean back into your chair.

“I can tell,” Armin chuckles as he stirs the ice of his coffee with the straw. 

“What were you saying?” you ask, simultaneously trying to recall where your conversation left off. 

“We were talking about your plans for tonight. Congratulations on your five months, by the way.” 

You smile appreciatively. 

“Oh, right. And thank you. Eren's making dinner for me and, apparently, he has some news to share that he wants my opinion on.”

“Sounds fishy,” Armin murmurs, to which you giggle. 

“He said it's good,” you reply with a shrug. “I'm excited either way.” 

“I can see that, too,” Armin smiles. “You're practically glowing.”

Your face warms as a nervous giggle sputters from your lips. 

“It's just… gosh, he's so great.”

You smile to yourself, your happy expression finding itself mirrored across Armin's features, as well.

“Would it be cheesy if I tell you how in love I am?” 

“It'd be cruel considering I don't have a girlfriend of my own to be cheesy about,” Armin mutters with feigned annoyance. 

“Aw,” you pout. “So much for being Cupid.”

He laughs.

“I know, right?”

“Don't worry, you'll find someone.”

“That's what people who date always tell their single friends so they don't kill themselves,” he deadpans, to which you laugh in return. 

He sighs dramatically.

“It's my own fault for focusing my romantic abilities on getting other people together. I could've been married by now.”

A sympathetic smile finds its way to your face.

“Well, you're a total catch. Maybe you'll meet someone at the big Jeankasa wedding.”

His face lights up with renewed optimism.

“Or yours and Eren's, even.” 

He grins slyly when he notices your efforts to suppress a smile.

“Oh, I don't know if we're there yet. There's still a lot more to experience, I think.”

Armin's brow furrows slightly.

If there's one thing he knows about his best friend, it's that he's not one to date for fun. And considering how adamant you were about not getting involved with someone, to now being the most thrilled when it comes to the mere mention of Eren's name, it's hard to imagine formalities haven't been discussed.

“You guys haven't talked about it?” 

You shrug.

“A couple times,” you bashfully reply. “I mean, not a wedding, specifically. Just… the future, you know? Moving in together has been on the table before. I try not to get too excited but… it's hard. And I don't really want to picture myself with anyone else. They just wouldn't compare to him.”

Armin nods, his lips perked into a small smile at your shyness as he takes a sip of his coffee. 

“I guess,” you murmur pensively. Armin lowers his glass and raises his eyebrows in attention. “If Eren wants to… I'd say yes to anything.”

The walk back to the office is littered with jokes and cheerful banter, as well as the usual bitter remarks from having to return to work. 

But it's odd. It's been a while since you've felt genuine dread for anything. It's as if the past few months have converted you into a more accurate portrait of the girl with a colorful apartment, and you're almost certain you can pinpoint the start of these refreshing times. It's been about five months. 

Armin treads to his side of the floor once outside of the elevator, raising his palm as a goodbye before turning on his heel.

You smile to yourself as you head back to your desk, quietly humming a cheerful tune without any real structure.

It's not until a coworker sitting at their cubicle a few feet away opens the Tupperware container to have lunch at their desk while continuing to juggle their workload that the light drains from your face. 

The smell of their food wafts in your direction, spurring an unpleasant feeling that bubbles from your stomach and crawls up your throat. 

Strange, you think. 

It's not as if there are rotten tones to your coworker’s lunch, or that it's especially pungent, and yet you're having a hard time trying to ignore it. 

You stand from your desk, walking with as much composure as you can manage to the restroom. But once you're in the privacy of a stall, you've no power to stop your stomach from turning inside out.

“Now, just cover with the lid and let it simmer,” Carla's voice echoes in the kitchen from where Eren's phone is propped against the toaster. 

“Should I do the asparagus next?” Eren calls out as he follows his mother's instructions for her bolognese recipe. 

He could've easily looked one up on the internet, but he's been adamant about using the exact recipes for your favorite dishes from the time you've been together, or at least the best he can manage to recreate on his own. Perhaps he was going a bit overboard, but it's not like he cares. Five might not seem as much of a milestone as other numbers, and it's true Eren made a big deal of every month you've spent together, but this one had to be perfect.

At the risk of having time claw at his feet, he left the grocery shopping for this morning, so you couldn't figure out his plans. He made sure to carefully stash the evidence of his big surprise; wiped the relevant search history on his computer, and tucked the pictures and messages with the real estate agent behind a code. 

He's been sneaking looks at the photos all day. An apartment that perfectly matches the cozy vibes from your place and the space and luxury from his. A place he can clearly imagine being decorated with pastel colors, ceramic figurines, books, and hand-made blankets with little effort.

He knows you'll say yes this time, and he knows you'll be especially thrilled to find out he found the perfect pink bathtub to switch out the plain white ceramic one that comes with the place he's been secretly viewing for two weeks. 

Living with you has been on his mind for months. It wasn't until he found the very apartment he's planning to show you in a few hours that he felt overwhelmed with relief — as if things were falling into place. His willpower has been working overtime to make sure he doesn't jump the gun before tonight. And yet he couldn't help from acting extra giddy for the past two weeks. It's a miracle you haven't caught on.

“I think you can leave those until the end. Those are done in twenty, hon.” 

Eren nods along to his mother's instructions as he tackles on another load of dirty dishes. He glances at the time on his screen while scrubbing, exchanging a smile with Carla as he scrubs a pan. 

“Did you see the photos I sent you?” Eren grins.

“The place is incredible,” Carla gushes. “She'll be over the moon.”

“Thanks for calling about the bathtub, by the way,” Eren blushes. Had it not been for Carla and her connections, he wouldn't have gotten his hands on the last standing unit of the discontinued pink bathtub model from the poolhouse. 

“No problem, hon. Keith owed me one.” 

She watches her son as he gingerly stacks a pot on the drying rack beside him before patting his hands dry with a tea towel. 

“Can I see the ring?” Carla asks.

“What?” 

Eren's eyes widen, though it's hard to tell if it's in surprise or confusion. His reaction causes Carla to nervously laugh.

“You're proposing, right?” she asks, though her voice wavers the slightest bit, reflecting her nerves from possibly speaking out of line. 

In any case, Eren is always open to share parts of his life with his mother, but she's never been one to speak out on her suspicions first, always granting him the opportunity to come forward on his own.

Eren knows how much Carla adores you. Their weekly call time has been sliced by half to chat with you, too. So perhaps it's her excitement over Eren's meticulous planning for a special night with the girl he's called the first real love of his life that's driven her to imagine bigger plans behind the scenes. 

He knows his mother well, so he can only shyly laugh at her assumptions before clarifying.

“I'm not proposing yet, mom. I'm just asking her to move in with me,” he smiles. 

Carla could've reacted in embarrassment had her ears not zeroed in on the word ‘yet’. 

So she only nods, her mouth forming an ‘ah’ shape. 

“Okay, okay. I get it now. My god, I thought tonight was the night… but not tonight… not yet… I see.”

She slyly eyes Eren through the screen, to which he sputters an embarrassed laugh.

“Mom,” he partially whines. 

The corners of her eyes crinkle in amusement. 

“Oh, come on! She's an amazing girl and anyone can see how much you love each other. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it.” 

She narrows her eyes, prepared to scold him if he says anything that doesn't align with her wish to have you join the family. 

“We've talked about… stuff.” Eren blushes profusely at the end, which only causes Carla's giddiness to skyrocket. Her image on the screen is more of a girl friend squealing over crushes than that of a mother conversing with her son. 

“Mom,” Eren whines again, though his lips curve into a grin. “Relax. We've got a long way to go. Moving in is just… it makes sense for us, right now.” He smiles. “And we're taking things slow, okay? Give me a few more months and I'll call you from Vegas.”

“Eren Jaeger, if you elope, I swear–”

She's cut off by Eren's laughter. 

“Relax,” he repeats, holding his hands up in defense as if Carla could slap him through the screen. “But to keep you at ease… it's in our plans. Just give us time.” 

It's been seven minutes since you've stepped back into your office building, and ten since you stepped out of it the first time, only to not spot Eren's car waiting for you. 

It's unlike him to be late unless he's behind on work. But as far as you know, he asked for a couple days off, so it wouldn't make sense to say that's it. 

The building is empty, save for the security guard who's doing a final sweep of the floors before locking up. It's only a matter of minutes before they return to find you back inside the lobby. 

You pull out your phone from your jacket pocket. No missed calls, no new messages. 

It's been twelve minutes now.

You press the call button beside Eren's name and press the phone to your ear. 

The line is busy. 

Frowning, you try again. 

He picks up on the first ring. A breath of relief escapes your lips when you hear his voice.

“I know, I know. I lost track of time. I'm on my way, don't worry,” Eren's strained voice comes through your phone's speaker as you can only assume he's rushing around his apartment in search of his essentials for going out. 

You smile sympathetically as you adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder. With a quick glance at the time, and seeing that the security guard is already stepping into the lobby once more, twirling the keys around on finger, you decide to relieve Eren of his self-imposed duty.

“Relax, it's okay. Just stay there, I'll take the bus,” you reply with nonchalance.

You sense a bit of hesitation on his end. On the other side of the line, Eren is torn between finishing up dinner or going to pick you up. He still hasn't showered, and it would break the flow of the evening if he disappeared to do so after bringing you home to the spread he's so close to completing. The oven timer still has a handful of minutes to go and it's messing with his rationality. 

“Eren?” 

Your voice grounds him.

“I can be there in fifteen. I just gotta… um… finish something here and…” 

You smile. He can't see it, but he hears it in your voice when you reply.

“It's fine, really. I can catch the next bus,” you reassure him, glancing at your watch and mentally calculating the minutes you have to reach the bus stop. “Just stay there.”

A few seconds go by before Eren speaks again, still in limbo for his decision. 

“You got your taser on you?” 

You smile, already knowing he would ask that, and you pat the device over your jacket pocket as if he could see you. 

“Of course.”

He sighs, but gives in. 

“Okay, but call me when you're close, yeah?”

You agree as you begin walking in direction to the bus stop. 

Your hand fiddles nervously with the strap of your bag as you hear more rustling on his end, likely made by his jacket which you can imagine being thrown back onto the sofa before he returns to whatever it was that kept him busy before your call. 

“Eren?” 

“Yeah?”

“Remember this morning? When you said you had news?”

You can hear Eren's smile in his hummed reply as a timer goes off faintly in the background, which he hurries to stop. The beeping ceases and you giggle to yourself as you start to piece together what's going on.

You decide to play the oblivious card anyway as you finish walking the first of four blocks to the bus stop. 

“Sorry,” Eren murmurs. “You were saying?”

A fluttering sensation stirs in your stomach as you take a deep breath. Your voice comes out as soft as always, but with a tinge of shyness that only Eren can pick up on. 

“Just… I have something I want to tell you, too.” 

Eren doesn't know why, but your measured words cause his entire body to warm. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, gently chewing on your bottom lip as you hug your jacket tighter around your stomach. “I'll tell you when I get there okay?” 

He smiles.

“Okay.”

“I love you. I really, really love you, Eren Jaeger.”

An airy laugh comes through the speaker as he voices your full name in the same loving manner.

“I love you more. I really, really love you.”

“I'll see you soon.”

It's been fifteen minutes since Eren got out of the shower, twenty-five since he finished fixing dinner, and thirty-three since your call ended. 

You should be walking through the door any minute. 

Eren lights the candles at the center of the table, humming a nonsensical tune to himself as his giddiness only amplifies and he can practically hear you jiggling your key in the door, swinging it open to his carefully crafted romantic view. 

There's a low, square gift box at your end of the table, tied with a satin ribbon, guarding print copies of the photos from an apartment you'll meet the next day. He can picture you looking up at him in confusion and he'll be wearing the biggest smile on his face and the sweatiest hands when he asks you to live together.

He sits down, pulling out his phone to swipe through the copies of the photos on his phone one last time. With each picture of an empty space, he can vividly imagine where your books would go, where he'll place the sofa that he'll tackle you with kisses on, the kitchen where you'll watch him cook and he'll watch you bake, the window where you'll sit, curled into a blanket in the winter with a mug of tea nursed in your hands. 

His heart beats erratically at his own imagination. 

He taps on his messages, checking for any indication that you might be close. But perhaps it's better if you don't get distracted by texting or calling him. And it makes for the most pleasant butterflies to stir even wilder in his stomach at the anticipation. 

He sets his phone down, tapping anxiously on the table. 

Any minute, you'll be there. Any minute, you'll see the photos. Any minute, he'll kiss you and tell you how much he loves you. Any minute, you'll be over the moon, jumping up to join his daydreams on how to fill the place you'll share. Any minute now, things will fall into place and life will be perfect.

Any minute now. Any minute.

On a relatively quiet alley, at the half point between an office building and a bus stop, where nobody has shown concern to surveil, a broken angel wing cast in silver lays on the ground.

It's too small and too far to catch the light from the street lamp on the main street, but it lies there, hidden in shadows, broken and dirty, its original perfectly crafted form lost forever. 

But the thing about perfection is that it doesn’t truly exist.

Previous chapter | Next chapter (tba) 

Minors and ageless blogs who interact will be blocked

Notes: Tunnel Vision will be going on a brief hiatus. If you are a strings fan thinking history is repeating itself, worry not! I WILL be coming back to this series in a couple weeks. I’m afraid I burned myself out by pumping out so many chapters in such a short time and I don’t want to half-ass this series. Tunnel Vision will be back! I’ll add a tba date to the chapter guide once I start writing for this series again. In the meantime, thank you for the support and feel free to slip into my ask box :)

Chapter guide  |  Masterlist  |  Navigation

taglist: @erenjaegerwifee @youatemylollipop @okaystopwhore @bakuhoethotski @f4irygard3n @saybeyonce @indeedbooks15

[scrapyardboyfriends]

2015 was golden, 2016 was great and solid though it had its weak points, but we got the abuse storyline and soap week, 2017… was a lot of hooey but while I may not have liked a lot of what they did, the characters still felt relatively well-rounded even if everything went to shit, and we got to see Robert go off the rails, which was kinda fun, 2018 gave us the lead up to the reunion and the actual reunion, which were masterpieces, and then we got serial killer Lachlan, which did drag out a long time and we got all that weird and awful “Rebecca’s been kidnapped! Rebecca’s being held captive in the woods! Rebecca’s dead! No wait she’s being held captive by an evil nurse!” bs but we got some cute character moments before that and Robert in the conclusion was fun. I think that’s the last time I remember liking what they had going on

Kate Oats had her problems but overall her storytelling style was much tighter and better paced than anything that has come after it. She overused her favorites and had her insane Thursday doubles and Robert got a little too 2D villain sometimes but still, the show was solid in those days. 2015 represents that well.

2016 struggled in the middle due to Kate leaving and Iain coming in, while he got his ideas going. But the lead up to and the main event of ssw 2016 was amazing.

Now while I certainly think Iain's time was better than the terrible trio's, I do think he had a lot more faults. But at the very least you could always count on his spectacle stuff to be pretty good. It was his day to day storytelling that often got super repetitive because he really liked to drag his stories out until he could do his big climactic conclusion. It's just that those conclusions did a lot to make up for the slog before it.

The terrible trio wouldn't know a good climactic conclusion if it fell on them like a caravan.

But the show definitely suffered under Iain's time. 2017 was a bit of a mess overall and 2018 was a slog when it came to having the Bails story, the Grace story, Sarah's heart story and the Lachlan serial killer story all running concurrently.

From a Robron standpoint, 2015 is just a lot of insane fun. 2016 bookends with great stories with the first chill period in between during the producer transition. 2017 is messy as hell but I still like the Hell Plot overall from a Robron standpoint. Rebecca sucked but whether they lucked into it or not, Robron had a great arc that finished up in 2018. Robron definitely got lost in the middle portion of 2018 because all of those other stories were going on and they weren't the center of attention anymore...sadly. But at least the reunion and the wedding were lovely and perfect.

And then the terrible trio took over and everything fell apart. They don't know how to pace a story. They don't know how to craft a character arc. They're way too focused on the next headline and generating hype and buzz to actually care about the characters. It's why everything feels so random and out of the blue or gets dropped abruptly only to be suddenly picked up months later. It's just a disaster. I'm thrilled Jane is gone now but the other two need to go too. And they need to bring in a new person in general because this show is crying out for a new creative vision.

[ask-a-girl-and-a-bowgart]

little spooktacle special 🎃🍂✨️

Steps of a little girl running around echoed faintly in the cottage. She was wearing a cornflower blue blanket and a headband with two sticks glued onto it.

A simple, homemade costume of a Bowgart.

Blue was in his study, reading a book of some historical context. Golden sunlight shone through the window, curtains drawn back. It gave the room a warm, homey glow.

"Blue!" Lily peeped her head into the room. "Blue!"

"Yes, yes, I know," he finished the sentence he was reading, then bookmarked his place. "I'm getting ready."

"But I'm ready to go now!" Lily whined.

"I'll be just one second!" Blue got up from his desk, setting his glasses down. He walked past Lily, giving her a playful hair ruffle.

Lily stuck our her tongue playfully, and followed.

"Meep!" Dee appeared in the hallway.

"Dee," Blue picked him up.

The three of them, led by Blue, made their way to the front door. Lily already grabbed her candy bucket (in a fun smunkin shape), and Blue grabbed his satchel (containing all important adult things) and Dee's candy bucket (Dee, a Maw, can't hold his bucket by himself, being he is a Maw)

They left the cottage.

"Don't run out of my sight!" Blue called as Lily ran down the dirt path.

Lily stopped and looked back, waiting for Blue to catch up. Luckily, he had a pretty fast walk, so she didn't have to wait long.

The three of them (more or less) went on their way. It was Spooktacle, and they were heading toward the big celebration in town. It was Lilys first, and it was certainly going to be a fun one.

✨️🍂🎃🍂✨️

The town was decorated with carved smunkins, paper lanterns with bats and haunter patterns, and covered in the autumn leaves. It was busy, and the final touches were being made in the Square. It was packed with monsters in costume

Twig, Cozmo, and Jadau were by the drinks table (Twig is mostly responsible for this), talking about some of the more irritating monsters on Plant Island. Blue and Lily walked over to them, Lily following closely by Blue's hip.

"Hiya, Blue," Twig nodded to him.

"Hey," Blue nodded back.

"About time you showed up!" Cozmo chimed. "We're nearly about ready to start!"

Twig wore a simple costume; a plain white serial killer mask and a prop axe. Cozmo wore a bed sheet ghost costume, eye holes cut out and a spooky mouth sewed on. Jadau wore flannel and also had a prop axe; he was a lumberjack. Blue didn't wear a costume, but he did throw on a sweater with leaves embroidered in a pattern.

Lily bounced up and down with excitement, despite being slightly overwhelmed at, well, everything.

Chatter amongst the crowd ensued until the sun setted completely, shrouding the entire town in dark. Luckily it wasn't too much of a problem, being that there were lanterns everywhere.

The party master, as they were called, stood up on a platform looking down at the crowd. They tapped lightly on the mic, giving slight feedback as the microphone crackled softly to life.

Chatter hushed. Silence washed over the crowd, everyone excitedly, intently listening in.

"Hell-looo, fellow monsters!" The party master boomed. They were a small, chubby Drumpler, dressed up in an extravagant vampire costume, fangs and all. "Welcome to the Plant Island Spooktacle Bash!!"

At the words "Spooktacle Bash" the crowd cheered.

"Who's ready to parh-tay?"

The crowd roared. Lily covered her ears at the volume.

The party master laughed, and continued.

"That's what I'm talkin' uh-bout!"

The crowd simmered down. A little bit anyways.

"So," the party master continued, "as many of you may know, we monsters come 'round once a year to celebrate Spooktacle, righ' here in th'Square."

The crowd listened intently. Lily uncovered her ears and listened in.

"Lemme tell you a story," the party master sat down on a stool that was provided on the platform. They spoke in a quiet voice.

"Spooktacle has been celebrated since the Dawn of Fire, though our customs have changed as the times went by. Monsters, back n th'day, would put these lanterns in their windows, as a way to guide stray monsters to safety. Legend says the Punkleton comes out in the dead of night to prey on lost monsters..."

A few gasps and murmurs came from the crowd. The party masters voice got quieter still, more eerie.

"These lanterns, as I said, guided these lost monsters to safety. An' we wore disguises, costumes even, to make our monstrosity less known to the Punkleton. We disguised ourselves to protect ourselves from the Punkleton..."

A few more murmurs from the audience.

"Over time," the party master spoke louder now, reaching the end of their story. They stood up, and continued, "we made Spooktacle more fun. Instead of shutting ourselves in our homes, we gathered around a fire and celebrated. Nowadays, we do these town-wide parties, dressing up and having a good time, like monsters do."

The crowd nodded in approval.

"Now," the party master walked to the edge of the platform, and grabbed hold of a lever just off the edge of the platform. The crowd "ooh" intriguedly.

"Let's get this Spooktacle started, shall we?"

They pulled the lever, and fireworks launched high up into the sky, bursting with bright colors of orange, green, purple, and gold. The crowd cheered.

"Wooo!!" Twig stared in awe at the fireworks. He was a bit of a pyro, if you asked anybody (which is ironic, considering his foliage-covered body).

"Yeah!!!" Cozmo did a little backflip.

The group of the six of them were admiring the fireworks, Lily especially. She was wide-eyed with wonder; these were her first fireworks that she was able to witness (she had heard then before, back at the House, but never once did she ever see them).

The fireworks had marked the start of the bash. And start, it did. For the next couple of hours, there was dancing, singing, candy-giving, even a costume contest. Lily got an honorable mention ribbon for her homemade costume, and got several handfuls of candy. It was a fun time, even for Blue, who (for majority of the time they were there) stood off to the side, looking into the crowd. Large crowds weren't really his thing. Twig, on the other hand, was digging the attention on the dance floor. There was a dance off, and he won that. He didn't receive a prize or such, but he did get bragging rights.

The party wasn't nearly halfway done when the gang decided it was time for then to be getting home.

"You really gonna let her have all that candy?" Twig asked Blue. Lily was going through her candy, unwrapping and eating some.

"Well, she's not gonna eat all of it," he looked at the little girl. "That’s your last piece, okay?"

"Aww," Lily frowned, sadly eating her last piece of candy.

"You can have more tomorrow," Blue promised.

Cozmo floated above Lily. "May I have a piece?" She asked.

Lily nodded happily, offering a handful to the Ghazt. Cozmo accepted the handful.

Dee had also had some candy, but he had reached his limit a while ago. Now he was sleeping in Blue's arms.

"I don't really understand how monsters can do all-nighters," Jadau yawned. "Don't they have work or school the next day?"

"Most of the monsters there are teens," Blue pointed out. "Teenagers and young adults. They're the party-hard folks."

"I mean, you don't really FEEL tired when you're partying," Twig commented. "I can tell you from experience."

"I can attest to that," Cozmo said through a mouthful of candy.

"Well..." Jadau nodded in thought, "yeah, okay. But I think they should at least go home and rest by midnight, if anything."

Twig snorted. "What, you're gonna make that a law? Tell kids to go home and improve their mood by sleeping?"

"I'm not going to make it a law, nor am I saying it SHOULD be a law," Jadau argued. "I'm just saying kids these days are getting less and less responsible and receptive to their body's needs."

Blue stopped. The other three walked on a few more steps before stopping with him.

Blue had a panicked expression on his face, and was looking around frantically.

Something was off.

"Where's Lily?" Blue's voice was high pitched with worry.

That was it. Lily was missing.

The other three monsters' eyes went wide.

The collective thought amongst the four were, and I quote:

O h s h i t.

✨️🍂🎃🍂✨️

Lily was walking off in the woods, following the noise that sounded something like a hiss, but also a growl.

A hiss-growl.

She didn't know why exactly she was following the sound. No one stopped her from wandering off, and she was curious. She followed sounds before, nothing bad had happened. Naturally, a girl her age would be curious about a world of strange beings.

Leaves crunched beneath her feet, her battered, black shoes. Wind bellowed in her blanket-cape-pancho. It looked mystical in the wind.

Lily approached a particularly dark patch of wood, where the noise was increasing in volume and, let's be honest, it was becoming concerning.

She, registering the fact that she has NO idea what she's about to encounter, tiptoed closer to the noise instead of walking. Childhood curiosity is so bold...

"Hello?" She called out, hesitantly.

The noise stopped.

She stopped moving.

There was absolute silence, aside from the nighttime critters chirping.

"Hellooo?" Lily called out again.

There was a rustling of leaves, and an omnious growl. A silhouette could be made out, though Lily couldn't quite figure out what it was. It looked huge though.

Lily stayed where she was, not sure what to do. Scream? Run? Scream AND run? Stay still? Approach?

The figure approached closer, closer still. It was practically on top of Lily, and it's features were now distinctly visible.

Lily had heard stories of the Punkleton, and it's large, imposing figure. It was enough to scare most monsters. On top of its size, it was a skeleton covered in vineage and thorns, with a smunkin for a head. Said head had small, no, TINY glowing pupils. Fangs were said to also be bared. The monsters, anyway, thought the Punkleton to be a terrifying creature.

Tiny yellow pupils stared down at Lily through the shadowy darkness of its eyes.

The Punkleton

Lily stared back in wonder. It was real! The Punkleton was really real!! It didn't seem too bad once you saw it for yourself, actually.

"Little girl..." it spoke. It's voice was raspy and deep. Haunting, one would say. His voice chilled you to your bones. Lily felt the chill run down her spine.

"H-hi," Lily answered.

"Shouldn't you be home?"

The Punkleton crounched, his face closer to Lily's.

"Little girls like you shouldn't be alone in the woods at night."

It smiled, and by the name of every Celestial it was creepy. Lily stared.

"I play alone in the woods all the time!" Lily squeaked. "Well, there's Dee, he plays with me too, in the woods."

"Hmmm..." The Punkleton turned his head.

"We play all sorts of games, actually!" Lily eased into a childish ramble. "There's tag, and hide'n'seek- I like hide'n'seek, but we have to play it inside cuz Blue doesn't want us getting lost- oh! And there's Memory! Blue taught me that one..."

Lily continued on and on about the games she plays with Dee in the woods (mostly), and the Punkleton, surprisingly enough, didn't care to interrupt the girl.

It was more surprised that the girl didn't run away in fear.

It was a pleasant surprise, to he honest. Scaring monsters got lonely.

"Would you like some candy?" Lily asked all of a sudden. She grabbed a handful and offered it up to the beast.

"Candy...?" The Punkleton drew itself back in surprise. No one's ever offered it candy before...

Lily nodded, eyes beaming and grinning the widest grin. She wasn't afraid. The Punkleton wasn't scary. It was just lonely.

"You scare so many monsters, it must be boring and sad being alone," she continued, still holding her hand up in offering. "I have loads of experience with that. Not the scaring, but being alone."

"Oh..." The Punkleton hesitantly grabbed the candy, being careful not to let any of it fall through its fingers (literally).

Lily swayed happily. "You're not so scary. You just need someone to talk to, tha's all."

"Lily!" A voice called. It was Blue's. Twigs followed shortly after; "Lily!"

Lily looked back, and yelled, "Coming!"

She turned back towards the Punkleton, giving it one last look.

"I have to go," she said, a little sad. "I'll see you later!"

She turn to run, giving a little wave. Her silhouette grew darker as she grew more distant from the Spooktacle Seasonal.

It was still holding the candy she gave it.

It stared at the candy, unadapted to such acts of kindness. It couldn't really eat the candy, to its sadness. But maybe it'd give to Hoola or Ffidyll when it went back home.

Truly, it thought, that the little girl (who never really specified her name) was more than what met the eye. There had to be some reason why she didn't run away in fear, why she would even start a conversation with a horrific beast like it.

Or maybe he'd finally found a friend.

Now that was a scary thought. The Punkleton didn't have friends.

Did it?

✨️🍂🎃🍂✨️

"Lily!" Blue gave an exasperated sigh of relief as Lily ran towards the group.

"You can't just run off like that!" Jadau said. "We were really worried!"

"Blue nearly had a panic attack," Twig added. "I knew you'd be fine, but-"

"Okay that is complete and utter bullshit," Cozmo interrupted. "You were just as panicked as any of us."

"Watch your language around the child?!" Jadau said through gritted teeth.

"Sorry I ran off," Lily said to Blue.

"It's alright, Lily," Blue led Lily on. Twig, Cozmo, and Jadau were already walking, bickering along the way. "Just promise me you won't do it again."

"I promise," Lily walked closer to Blue. She meant it too. She wouldn't ever run off again, not unless it was super-uper important. Plus, she was too tired to run off again. There was tomorrow though.

Blue rested his hand on Lilys back, a small and simple gesture to assure Lily was there, for his sake.

The gang all walked on, back home. It was getting late. It was almost definitely late.

It was, in Lilys opinion, also definitely the best Spooktacle ever.

[phoenixwatchesmovies]

What I'm Watching: March 2024

New look, same round up. I made the mistake of watching too many things I have things to say about. Time to ramble about Wolf Creek, Penguin Town, The Woman In Black, In Our Own Time, Sinister, Alone, Repo! The Genetic Opera, and Cowboy Bebop: Knockin' On Heaven's Door...

Wolf Creek (2016-2017)

An anthology series which centers on different characters being targeted by crazed serial killer Mick Taylor in the Australian outback.

Just started season two, and I gotta say, I'm impressed. I wasn't sure how they could get an entire series out of such a basic premise, and to be fair, they didn't. They just expanded on the original concept. I've talked before about how consistent things are across the franchise in terms of production quality, and that's still true. If absolutely everything else about this show sucked balls, it's still gorgeous to look at. Well, minus a few moments of torture and violence and whatnot. It's toned way waaayyy down from the movies, but it is still Wolf Creek. I've adopted Eve Thoroughgood, and there's nothing you can do about it. As far as season one is concerned, secondary characters have a tendency to come full circle while also feeling like ships in the night compared to the main story, and I really like that. A lot. It's cool. Season two felt like a half step down for about five minutes, but the conclusion of episode two made me put down my crocheting and gawk, so take that as you will. Though, full disclosure, everything that felt super quiet in the first episode was spent on getting to know the new season's cast and that moment in the second wouldn't have had the same impact if I hadn't already spent time with these people, so it's calculated...kinda like the first act of the original movie. See what I mean about consistency? And after thinking about it, everything that feels repetitive or recycled in the series only feels that way because I've seen the movies, so again, calculated. You can come into the former without knowing anything about the latter and not miss a beat. If you are coming on from the movies, tho, it's probably for Mick, so let's discuss. He gets just enough backstory for certain moments to have more weight, but other than that? He's Mick. On the surface, an amiable, likeable guy with a sometimes iffy sense of humor who also happens to be a sick, perverted, depraved individual. And it's not like your first impression is wrong, either, which is the freaky part. He's climbing the ranks of my favorite villains due in large part to how grounded he is. He's someone you could meet any day of the week, or *gulp* when you're stuck on the side of the road and need a helping hand. Scary as hell, but also so much fun to watch.

Penguin Town (2021)

In a picturesque South African town, an eclectic group of endangered penguins flock together to find mates, raise families and mix with the locals.

K, so this isn't actually from the series I'm talking about, but those are indeed jackass penguins, so close enough. What do you want me to say about this? It's a nature documentary about penguins. It's free serotonin!

The Woman In Black (2012)

A young solicitor travels to a remote village where he discovers that the vengeful ghost of a scorned woman is terrorizing the locals.

Someday, I'll read the book and watch the og movie. Until then, why are all of my favorite horror movies about dead kids? No, seriously! Second, this is the third time I've watched this one, and my hands were still shaking by the end of it. Strike that. The cold sweat started about 45 seconds in as soon as those girls in the attic abandoned their toys, walked to the windows, and jumped. Then between the dark as hell subject matter and spooky as hell atmosphere established by the visuals and the sound design, it didn't really stop until the movie was over. I try not to watch this one too often so it stays effective in the creep factor department, but it might call for further study as far as photography goes, because this movie is very pleasing to look at. The village, the marsh, Eel Manor House itself, are all good on their own but also filmed well. The house and grounds in particular are *chef kiss* Shadows everywhere, framed in such a way you're sure there is something in them, and yet nothing is ever so dark you can't see it. Remember when movies used to do that? The whole look is everything you imagine when you hear the phrase "Victorian Gothic" and again, *chef kiss* I realize I've been slacking when it comes to keeping up with Daniel Radcliffe flicks, so remind me to do something about that. Dude sells the exhausted, grieving widower for sure, but also the resolve to see through whatever task is set before him. Not that he has much choice, because the stakes are high no matter what he does and every available course of action has immediate and dire consequences. Additionally, this reminded me I've also been slacking on J horror, because the vibes are very similar (at least, in my very limited experience with the genre). It's less about the spirit doing the haunting and more about the haunting itself. Nothing will sate Jennett's need for vengeance, not even being reunited with her lost son. The whispering throughout the house after Arthur and Sam leave it for the last time isn't just a threat, it's a curse. The only scene that matches the first for me is the last. It's eerie and tragic and bittersweet and horrifying, and I still look away from the final shot. *shudder*

Bee Gees: In Our Own Time (2010)

"In Our Own Time" is a new film on the long and illustrious career of the legendary Bee Gees, from their modest beginnings to unrivaled worldwide success in the "70's to the tragedy of losing their brothers Maurice and Andy. The story is told "in their own words" by Barry and Robin from extensive new interviews, and the film also includes archive interview footage of Maurice, videos, TV appearances and live performances.

I'm not even a documentary person, and I've seen this twice. Not too much to say about it other than that. If you're a Bee Gees fan and haven't seen it already, what's wrong with you? If you just like music/documentaries/etc, it's a good watch. With awesome tunes.

Sinister (2012)

A controversial true-crime writer finds a box of Super 8 home movies in his new home, revealing that the murder case he is currently researching could be the work of an unknown serial killer whose legacy dates back to the 1960s.

Going into this aware of its reputation and now having seen it for myself, I've got to hand it to this crew. Getting the audience in survival mode right off the bat, then keeping them there throughout, then making shit jump out at them is a hell of a way to make an anxious movie. My fight or flight responses kicked in every time Ellison watched a new reel, so by the time the jump scares started, I actually jumped. Bad stuff first: I didn't really care for the delivery of the supernatural elements. Specifically, the possessed kids showing up and looking so literal threw off my equilibrium after everything leading up to them was so atmospheric. That goes double for the Bughuul jump scares. They feel cheap and unearned compared to, say, the lawnmower. And this isn't a criticism, but GOD, this movie was depressing as shit. Hard not to be, given the thematic content and the ending (barring the aforementioned literalness of the supernatural), and that's probably the main reason why I won't revisit this much. Because the good stuff, is Good Stuff. The script is concise, the performances are engaging, the look and sound is fucking creepy. The soundscapes sound like nightmare fuel, and the few times the camera cuts away from a snuff film to focus on Ellison's reaction underlines how horrific it is. "It feels like something you shouldn't be watching," etc etc. See above where I talked about Woman In Black being lit where you can only see what you need to and everything else is left dark. And obviously, gotta discuss Ellison himself. I recently saw him included in a bracket of worst horror husbands, and I would agree. All I'm saying is, none of this would have happened if he hadn't moved his family into a crime scene to further his career. To his credit, he did eventually recognize he was in over his head, and it's not his fault he didn't know trying to pull the plug was going to make things so much worse, but still. Smooth move, pun intended. From another standpoint, Ethan Hawke sells it. The guy is just trying to provide for his family while also doing what he loves, and there is just enough time spent showing how much this family loves each other, even if they don't always like each other. Makes the ending that much more tragic. Particular details I want to grind up and snort: the look on Ellison's face when he realizes what he's watching, the shot of the reflection of the burning car in his glasses, and everything about Deputy So and So.

Alone (2020)

A recently widowed traveler is kidnapped by a cold blooded killer, only to escape into the wilderness where she is forced to battle against the elements as her pursuer closes in on her.

...yeah, this was basically Wolf Creek and Hush, but with a weaker script, less compelling characters, and a lot more rain. Not that it's not good, just that it's so similar I can't help but draw comparisons and ultimately prefer the other two. It's way less brutal than the other two, though, so there's at least that, and Jules Wilcox makes a great final girl. Still, she's no Maddie Young, and serial killer guy whose name I already forgot is no Mick Taylor. I'm not going to dwell too much on this one, as I don't have much else to say about it. It looks great, like if Wolf Creek was set in the woods, and the climax was exciting, like if Hush was set even more in the woods. It had positive reception, or so I've read.

Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)

A worldwide epidemic encourages a biotech company to launch an organ-financing program similar in nature to a standard car loan. The repossession clause is a killer, however.

Let me give you my best friend's sales pitch for this: "Do you wanna watch Rupert Giles, Paris Hilton, the girl from Spy Kids, and actual honest to god OG Christine Daae go on a musical journey through a cyberpunk dystopia?" This movie is... hmmm... Well, here's the thing. It looks cheap but also so extra. The music sounds like it was written by angsty middle schoolers but also goes so hard. The premise is grisly but the delivery is completely batshit. And I loved every. Damn. Minute. I was on the fence for the first thirty minutes and asked myself several times, why the fuck am I watching this? It's taking itself so seriously and it's so over the top, and then it hit me, DUH. It's an OPERA. Once I connected those dots, I was fully invested and having a ball. If I'd been stuck on this when I was younger instead of, say, Phantom of the Opera, I 1000% would have turned out very differently. Which is an extra funny observation, because Sarah Brightman factors in either way, and I love her so much. "Things You See In A Graveyard" is my favorite number here purely because of her wailing ominously in the background. And I say it takes itself so seriously, but it also knows exactly what it's doing. Everything we see only happens because some goth dude starts yelling in a cemetery. Paris Hilton, Bill Moseley, and...other sibling whose actor's name I forgot have an entire number about their rivalry while at least two thirds of them are literally getting new faces. Survival is gatekept by the wealthy to the point where poor people are murdered by a system that forces them into debt in the first place. Oh wait, there's tonal dissonance between all of those things, you say? Don't worry, you've got an hour and a half to get used to it.

Cowboy Bebop: Knockin' On Heaven's Door (2001)

A terrorist explosion releases a deadly virus on the masses, and it's up to the bounty-hunting Bebop crew to catch the cold-blooded culprit.

Despite knowing the series, this is the first time I've ever actually watched the movie, and of course I loved it. It feels like an extra long episode, which means they did it exactly right. As far as I can tell, I've only got two gripes: one, there is some ambiguous/implied/questionable shit that goes down between Faye and the Big Bad that feels way waaayyy out of place, considering there is no precedent for anything like it in the series and I'm wondering why the addition was necessary. Two, I waited all movie to hear "Tank!" (the exclamation point is important) and it was all in vain. 😔 Other than that, it's all business as usual on the Bebop, and that's all I could ask for.

###

Whew! See you next month!

[luvghostie]

╰┈➤ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘/𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘༊*·˚

{𝘎𝘕 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘪 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, + 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦}

*ೃ༄ 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬

When you called him daddy for the first time it took him aback...and he's a ruthless serial killer- he obviously didn't say anything but the name made him hard just hearing it. The feeling was quite unusual for Michael. The name sent a feeling of pure pleasure throughout his body.

Now you call him daddy any chance you can. No doubt you'll be fucked until you can't think straight anymore.

*ೃ༄ 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐲

Baby is a chaotic but fun person to be around. If she finds interest in you, gender and mental state won't affect her. Baby likes you for you, if you were innocent she'd love you even more. Yes, she kills people but she knows something good when she sees it. Even mother Firefly likes you!!

Baby seems like the dominant type as she likes power. So, when you called her mommy it only filled her ego more. She'll be all over you as the name is something that triggers sexual desires. She'll make you say it again finding enjoyment in your humiliation and will fuck you all night long. (Otis most definitely heard you and told you guys to shut the fuck up)

*ೃ༄ 𝐎𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

Let's be honest, you've been calling Otis daddy since you two first got together. His manners and the way he carries himself just give off the vibe. The name ate away at you until you finally said it. Oh boy, the number of times you two fucked that night was unbelievable.

It's like a habit now. Sexual activity or not, it's a slip of the tongue and a nickname you call him 24/7. Baby thinks it's cute but she doesn't want to hear you guys fuck. The poor girl already has trauma from the brief things she's walked in on.

*ೃ༄ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

Spaulding didn't expect you for the kinky type. The innocent-looking ones are always the kinkiest. But, he likes the name and even makes you call him daddy in embarrassing situations. Out in public? You know he'll make you call him it just for humor or to make others uncomfortable.

In the bedroom, the nickname is still a must. Spaulding loves it when he feels in control. Having you a moaning mess saying his favorite new analysis, it's absolutely perfect.

*ೃ༄ 𝐓𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

Look at her, it's no surprise you call her mommy. When you use the nickname she finds it rather flattering. She's had many exes in the past, (Chucky being one of them) who love her dominant side. She knows what she wants and how to get it.

Like Otis, she'll fuck you harder than you possibly could imagine. Reminder, this girl is super freaky and will tease you to the point that you can't take it anymore. That bright pretty smile never leaves her face while you scream her name.

*ೃ༄ 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝

You guys were in the middle of having sex when you accidentally called him daddy. He stopped himself before asking you to repeat what you said. He's been called that name many times, coming from you though, it feels right.

He'll have you call him daddy whenever you need anything. The name makes him feel powerful over you and turns him on so much. I have a good feeling you guys fuck every night because of it.

*ೃ༄ 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞

Dollface is a very complicated person. She can be sweet then turn around and eat your heart out. When you guys did have sex, being called mommy was the last thing she expected.

Doll likes the name shockingly. She makes you say it now and then as it makes her happy. However, She won't push you to do anything you don't like. If you want round two or want to make love more often just let her know.

*ೃ༄ 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐧

This man will either find it very funny or very sexy. There's no in-between. When you guys do have sex it's always full of new experiences. Once, Art blew an air horn in your ear while you were fixing to cum. You punched the shit out of him which he found absolutely funny.

*ೃ༄𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐨��𝐦𝐢𝐬

Billy actually asked if you could call him daddy. He'll admit it to you, the word coming from your mouth sounds like heaven. Gosh, say it all the time and he'll fold.

Billy loves seeing you beneath him and when you moan daddy- boy losses all self-respect. He isn't ashamed to ask you what his ‘name’ is. Every time you say anything besides daddy he'll just go faster.

*ೃ༄ 𝐒𝐭𝐮 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

Daddy? He never expected you to call him daddy. No one's ever called Stu something like that before. The common, baby, babe, and a nickname they've given him have always been usual. This is a new leaf though and from now on that's the only name he wants you to call him.

[seanfalco]

welcome to hell | part three.

[ masterlist ]

When you win VIP passes to Scream Fest, a traveling horror  carnival, you convince your fellow ASBO-mates to join you for a night of  fun and harmless scares, but the horrors turn all too real when a  masked serial killer begins to target you and your friends.   Luckily at least one of you is immortal.

Word Count: 3.2k   Tags/Warnings: slight nathan x reader, violence, stalking, blood/gore, eye horror, character death (mostly nathan lol) a/n: Part of @sheehalloween​​!  Posting this chapter today, for Day Three: Scary Movie, as the entire fic is based off the movie Hell Fest.

Paralyzed, all you could do was watch in horror as the masked stranger moved closer, his slow tread only drawing out your terror until he was right at the edge of your car.  Even with Kelly’s strength combined, the bar in your lap wouldn’t budge and yet you struggled anyway, even as the man climbed atop the front of your car.  Shrinking back from him, you threw your arms around Kelly as she did the same, trembling next to you as suddenly the ride started up again.

Your own terrified screams echoed in your ears as you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for him to strike, your entire body pumping with adrenaline.

“y/n!  Kelly!”

The sound of your friends’ voices made you pause and cracked your eye open.  Your car had come through the other side and though the masked man was still perched right ahead of you, you were unharmed.

“Are you guys okay?  You were screaming like crazy!” Alisha cried and to your surprise the car came to a stop, the lap bar lifting.

Turning to gape at Kelly, you found her wide eyed gaze staring back at you, just as confused.  Before you could answer, another man in the same mask stepped out of the shadows behind Curtis and then another and another, until nearly ten actors in identical masks surrounded your friends.

“It was just part of the ride,” Simon observed shakily and you reluctantly took the man’s hand as he climbed down from your car and stepped aside to help you out.  It was then that you realized the dark jacket he wore was different from earlier.  Simon was right, this was a completely different person.

“You fuckers!  You scared th’shit out of us!” Kelly exclaimed, anger in her voice, but you merely let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh my God, they got you good!” Curtis laughed, holding his sides.  

“Shut up!” you cried, punching his arm as you passed, trying to shake off your fear.

“You gotta admit, that was pretty funny,” Alisha agreed, giggling along with Curtis until out of nowhere a costumed actor ran by and picked her up, hoisting her over his shoulder and taking off.

“Curtissss!”

“ALISHA!” Curtis bellowed, taking off after her.

“I get bein’ able t’touch you, but grabbin’ someone and takin’ ‘em away from their group is kinda fucked up!” Kelly exclaimed as the rest of you followed after, trying to keep up.

“Oh my God, that guy smelled so disgusting!” Alisha cried disgustedly as you rounded the corner, finding her running back toward you, having escaped from her would be “kidnapper”.

“Oh thank goodness,” Curtis breathed, pulling her into his arms, careful not to touch any exposed skin.

“I think he was trying to lead us somewhere,” Simon guessed, giving a start as he noticed several small figures emerging from the fog behind them.

“What th’fuck?” Curtis muttered, flinching back as the children dressed as faceless dolls reached out to you.

“I guess we follow them?” you murmured, the first to take one of their hands, letting them pull you toward the wide plank bridge they’d come from.

You were almost glad for the guide; seeing more than a few kilometers in front of you was nearly impossible in the thick fog.  When the faceless children finally let go of your hands, you were through the fog and standing in front of the entrance to another maze, the sound of screams and laughter once more surrounding you.

“Thank you–” you turned to say, but the children were already retreating back into the fog. 

“Well that was creepy,” Alisha huffed, finally letting go of Curtis’s shirt and stepping away from his side.

“Have y’heard anythin’ from Nathan?” Kelly asked and you frowned, pulling your phone from your pocket.

“Before we got on th’ride he said he was on his way.”

Opening the message thread, you fired off another text to let him know which maze you were at.  “There, hopefully by th’time we get back out, he’ll be here.”

“Right.  It looks like there are three entrances,” Alisha pointed out and you read the signs overhead—scary, very scary, and your worst nightmare. 

“There’s no way I’m goin’ into that one,” Alisha exclaimed, pointing to the your worst nightmare door.

“Me either,” Kelly agreed and you had to admit you were more than a little shaken still, not wanting to go on your own.

“Let’s do th’least scary one then,” you suggested, but Curtis scoffed.

“That one we did earlier was so lame though!  I’m goin’ into this one,” he exclaimed, heading for the middle door.

“Simon?” Alisha asked and the three of you looked to him expectantly.

“I-I think I’ll go with Curtis,” he said, awkwardly following him.

“Whatever!  Girls versus guys, I guess,” Kelly shrugged, leading the way.  

Inside, a fine mist illuminated by a thin sheen of green light swirled over your head, the only light in the otherwise pitch black room.

“Check it out,” you gasped, reaching up over your head to let your fingers trail through the mist.

“That’s so cool,” Alisha whispered, following suit along with Kelly who laughed delightedly.  

“Wonder how they get it t’do that…”

Before you could field a guess you felt something grab your hand and you shrieked in surprise, quickly yanking your hand back down.

“Oh, no way!  Do not touch me!” Alisha squealed and you hurried to the next room, ducking your heads as you half ran for the door.

The next room was a long hall, flanked with what looked like prison doors and every few meters an arm reached between the bars.

“Are they all real?” Alisha hissed, pulling Curtis’s jacket tighter around herself and covering her hands in the overlong sleeves.  

“I don’t think so,” you murmured, shrewdly examining each hand as you neared them.  “Look, you can tell the real from the fake pretty easily,” you pointed out, noticing the trembling of fingers up ahead.

Alisha quickly shuffled behind Kelly as you passed, squeezing closer to the opposite side to avoid the actor’s hand as it suddenly snatched at you.  Even though you knew it was coming, it still made you jump.

“Is it just me, or is this hallway growing more narrow?” you mumbled, grimacing at how many hands up ahead looked quite real.

“Let’s just make a run for it,” Kelly suggested and Alisha nodded in agreement, practically pushing her forward while you ended up behind them. 

As soon as you began to run, the arms came alive and you felt hands grab at you, catching your sleeves and snaring you in place as Kelly and Alisha ran off without you, screaming and laughing, not even noticing you weren’t there.

“Guys!  Guys wait!” you cried, desperately struggling in the grasp of your faceless captors.  “Guys!”  With one final sharp tug, you managed to tear yourself from the hands’ clutches and stumble forward, trying to catch up.  

However, when you rounded the next corner, Kelly and Alisha were nowhere to be seen.  “Shit,” you swore under your breath.  No way to go but forward.

The next room was fashioned into some sort of makeshift horror clinic, the tables littered with rusty looking medical equipment while a skeleton slumped over a dingy cot in the corner.  Hurrying to the door on the opposite wall, you yanked at the doorknob, only to find it locked.  A recorded message looped over a hidden speaker and you listened to the clue, realizing you needed to find the key in order to escape the room.

“To illuminate the way out, leave no bone unturned.  To illuminate—”

Tuning the message out, you scrabbled to the nearby table, searching through a stack of fake bones for the hidden key.  A faint blinking light in your periphery caught your attention and you turned as it grew stronger, illuminating a hidden room behind a large panel of plexiglass.  A dark figure stood still in the window and your heart filled with fear as you recognized the mask that stared back at you.  Frozen in place, you knew this was the same one, the same man that had been following you since the very first maze.

The sound of muted humming hung in the air as the masked stranger continued to stare at you.  When he raised his hands to pound against the glass you gave a frightened jerk, instinctively stepping back and your back hit the still locked door as he began to pound harder, intent to break the barrier separating you.

On the verge of panic, fear clouded your thoughts for a moment, distracting you, and you frantically turned to tug at the door once more in vain, crying out before remembering what you needed to do.

Running back to the table, several plastic bones scattered to the floor in your haste and your stomach gave a hopeful lurch as your fingers wrapped round the large metal skeleton key hidden beneath them.  Fumbling to get it in the keyhole, you felt tears gather in your lashes until the latch clicked and the door sprung open. 

Sprinting toward the exit, your lungs burning, you didn’t feel safe until you saw the others, practically bowling into Curtis.

“Whoa, whoa!  What’s th’matter?” he exclaimed, grabbing your arms to steady you as you gasped for breath.

“The masked guy was in there!  He was following me!” 

“What?  Where?!” Alisha exclaimed, peering past you worriedly.

“After we got separated, he was trying to get me!” you cried, wishing Nathan was there.

“Okay, okay, it’s gunna be okay,” Curtis assured, trying to calm you.  “Once Simon gets out, we’ll find Nathan and go somewhere else.

Until Curtis had said that, you hadn’t even realized Simon was missing and you chewed your lip, silently urging him to hurry up as you watched the exit with bated breath.

——

Nathan awoke in the dark, sprawled atop something hard.  Blinking blearily, he groaned, trying to remember what had happened through the pounding in his skull.  As he shifted, he realized he was laying in a pool of something warm and sticky.

“Ugh, what th’fuck?” he moaned, instantly regretting it as he sat up and held his head.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he looked around, trying to regain his bearings.  When his gaze fell on the shape next to him, the stuffed skeleton he’d been after, soaked in what looked like blood, it all came back to him.

“y/n!” he yelped, scrambling to his feet.  Patting down his pockets, he searched for his phone, finding it missing.  “Shit shit shit!” he muttered, nearly slipping on his own blood in his haste to find you before the killer did. 

Knowing you were headed to the Badlands, he hurried that way, glad that the blood matting his curls and staining his t-shirt would draw no extra attention in the crowd while his stomach churned and his pulse pounded in his ears.

Every second of the stupid ride to the VIP section of the park dragged like an hour and Nathan was nearly vibrating in his seat as his car arrived at the exit.  Taking off sprinting through the swirling fog, he skidded to a halt in front of the next maze he came across.

Swearing under his breath as he read the signs above the three entrances, he decided to chance the second one, thinking it the most likely you’d choose.  Barely noticing the jumpscares, he hurried through the maze desperately searching for you, his heart in his throat.

If that freak had his phone, then he not only had a head start, but he probably knew exactly where to find you, if you sent him your location. 

Suddenly, a faint voice ahead caught his attention, halting him in his tracks as he stopped to listen.

“Curtis?  Curtis, where are you?”

“Barry?” Nathan called, hope surging through him.

“...Nathan?”

Turning the corner ahead, Nathan was momentarily blinded by a torch beam pointing directly at his face.

“Yes, it’s me!  Now can y’stop shinin’ that bloody torch in my eyes or are yeh tryin’ t’blind me?” he hissed and the beam suddenly jerked downward.

“Sorry,” Simon muttered sheepishly.  “Where’ve you been?  And why are you covered in blood?”

“Newsflash, I’ve been dead!” Nathan cried, throwing his hands up.  “That psycho stalker killed me!  Bashed my head in!” he exclaimed, pointing to the dried blood at his temple, his voice raising as he tried not to panic.  “Where’s everyone else?  We gotta warn ‘em before he finds ‘em!”

“They went in through a different entrance and I got separated from Curtis,” Simon explained and both men gave a jump at the abrupt blast of what sounded like a train horn.  

Turning toward the sound, Simon and Nathan’s eyes widened in alarm as a pair of giant headlights flooded the room, revealing a set of fake train tracks beneath their feet and an incredibly realistic looking front of a train coming toward them slowly, but picking up speed, forcing them to run in the opposite direction.

“What th’fuck!” Nathan yelped, grabbing Simon by the arm and yanking him with him.  “If I weren’t so freaked out, what with bein’ stalked by some deranged killer, I’d be seriously impressed by th’production value of this shit!” he panted, running to the far wall to desperately search for the door while the train whistled deafeningly again.

Finding no exit, the two pressed their backs to the wall, screaming madly as they blindly reached for each other, squeezing their eyes shut in dread.  When several seconds elapsed and nothing happened, Nathan cracked an eye open.  The front of the train had come to a harmless stop in front of them, leaving only a few meters space between them and it.

Letting out a heavy sigh of relief, Nathan suddenly realized he was still holding onto Simon and quickly sprang away from him.

“You tryin’ t’get fresh with me?” he cried, disgust warping his expression.

“You’re the one who grabbed me,” Simon pointed out, looking nearly as uncomfortable.

Nathan’s mouth pressed into a line as he pointed at Simon, his thick brows furrowing.  “If you ever breathe a word of this, I’ll—I’ll—!”

“Kill me?” Simon asked wryly, a tiny grin playing at his lips.

Disarmed by the joke, Nathan gaped at him a moment longer, jabbing his finger in Simon’s face pointedly, though still at a loss for words.

“I’m th’funny one!” he finally muttered, brushing past Simon as the hidden door swung open.  “What’re yeh waitin’ for?  Let’s get th’fuck outta here and find th’others!” he called over his shoulder.

Not looking where he was going, as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he ran into something hard, knocking him on his arse.

“Ow, what th—?”

“Nathan, watch out!”

At Simon’s words, he looked up at what had sent him sprawling and his snarky comeback died on his tongue, fear once more flooding him as his killer loomed over him, knife in hand.

For a moment the man in the mask tilted his head, as if studying Nathan in confusion, certain their last run in should have killed him.  His hesitance only lasted a few seconds however, before he was kneeling over Nathan, knife raised.

Grabbing the man’s wrist, Nathan tried to push the knife away from his face, the killer clearly aiming to bury the blade in his eye socket.

“Save me, Barry!” he cried, his muscles trembling with the effort and failing, the tip of the blade inching closer.

“BARRY!”

But Simon was nowhere to be seen.

As the knife plunged through his eye with a disgusting squelch, Nathan’s body went limp, his scream turning to a gurgled death rattle and Simon held his breath, clapping a hand over his mouth to keep from gagging, his blue eyes nearly popping out of his head.  Though he was invisible, he still pressed his back to the wall, sinking deeper into the shadows as the killer pulled his knife free with a soft grunt and stood, his masked and hooded head swiveling, searching for him.

As soon as his heavy footsteps disappeared down the corridor, Simon crouched at Nathan’s side, hoping he’d come back to life soon.

——

“Ugh, what’s takin’ ‘im so long?” Kelly groaned, tapping her foot in impatience.

“You don’t think anything happened to Simon in there, do you?” Alisha asked, an unusual amount of concern in her voice.

Before you could answer, a large crustacean-like alien waddled up to you, shooting a glob of green slime at you, covering the front of your shirt before taking off again and running away to assault someone else.

“Are you bloody serious?!” you cried, gaping down at the sticky mess covering your shirt in disgust, frustrated tears in your eyes.

“Oh shit,” Curtis winced and you let out a tremulous breath, trying not to lose it.

“OI!  FUCK YOU!” Kelly yelled after him, but it made no difference.

“C’mon, we can wash it off in th’bathroom,” Alisha offered, taking your arm to lead you to the brightly lit restrooms nearby, Kelly flanking your other side and leaving Curtis to wait for Simon.

“Great, just great,” you muttered, grabbing a fistful of paper towels and furiously scrubbing at your shirt under the faucet.

“y/n… you alright?” Kelly asked as you sniffled, quickly wiping at your watering eyes with the back of your arm.

“Yeah,” you answered quickly, furiously pumping some hand soap on the paper towels in your hand.  “Tonight’s just… not exactly goin’ the way I’d hoped,” you admitted softly.

“It’s not your fault,” Alisha said, trying to comfort you.

“Maybe when we find the others we should just call it quits and head home,” you suggested with a defeated shrug.  

“What?  No way!” Kelly exclaimed, taking you by surprise.  You expected them to jump on the offer to get out of there.  “You won those tickets and y’still haven’t been through th’scariest maze yet, we can’t leave till y’get t’do that,” she insisted.

“Okay, alright,” you chuckled.  “Just let me dry my shirt off and I’ll be right out, okay?”

“Okay, don’t take too long,” Alisha called as they pushed open the door.

Finding a hand dryer around the corner, you awkwardly leaned in closer to stretch your damp shirt under the warm air.  When it was finally dry, you slipped into one of the stalls, the bathroom completely empty.  As you emptied your bladder, you pulled your phone out to text Nathan again.

Where r u?  Hope ur ok.

As you hit send, you pulled your pants up and froze as moments later a text notification echoed loudly through the empty bathroom.  

You’d thought you’d been alone, but maybe someone had come in while you were texting and you didn’t hear.

Your phone chimed with a response—I’m close.

Hesitating a moment, you decided to respond.  It could have been merely a coincidence that another person’s phone went off just as your message to Nathan had sent.

How close?

Once again, seconds later, the same ringtone sounded, this time from the stall next to you and for some reason your blood went cold as if you’d been doused in a bucket of ice water.

“Hello?  Nathan?  Is that you?” you called, getting no answer.  As much as you hoped it was just Nathan trying to mess with you, you couldn’t help but feel it was... someone else.    “Nathan, if you’re tryin’ t’scare me… it’s working–”

Your words cut off as a pair of worn boots stopped in front of your stall, the toes just visible beneath the door and you flinched back, afraid of what you might see if you peered through the crack.  Those were definitely not Nathan’s shoes.

Before you could say anything else, the door began to shake as if whoever was out there, wanted to get in.

Taglist: @santacarlahorrorshow​ @super-unpredictable98​ @salvador-daley​ @firstpersonnarrator​

[stardustbarbarians]

Masterlist

The place you'll find all my fics! (18+ fics will be marked with an * MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Danny:

Sad Valentine

Being alone on Valentine’s Day was far from a foreign concept to you. It was just, well... you thought that this year was different because you met someone - or so you thought

*Am I Not the One You’re Dreaming Of, My Angel?*

Daniel asks you to meet him in the city

My Rosie

Daniel spends the day with Rosie

Cirice WIP (ch. 1 | ch. 2)

You wanna deal with The Devil? You gotta live with it when he sets you on fire

*Cinnamon* - blurb

One night, Danny accidentally takes it too far

Dance - blurb

While doing the dishes, Danny asks you to dance

*Saints of Los Angeles*

You never thought that meeting a Saint would cause you to sin

Josh:

I Hear the River Say Your Name Complete (ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7)

Even before you were dating, you and Josh had been friends for years. You didn't see anything changing between you anytime soon. Then one day, you wake up and Greta Van Fleet doesn't exist and Josh isn't your boyfriend.

*It'd be Safest If You Ran*

A serial killer was loose in your town, but fear wasn't your reaction

Sweetheart - blurb

Josh calls you the wrong term of endearment and comforts you through the fallout

Sammy:

*Imagine Being Loved By Me*

As a goddess, it can be hard to find partners. No one deserves your attention… no one worships you like you deserve. That is, until you meet someone finally worthy of you.

Too Pretty For War Complete (ch. 1 | ch.2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | *ch. 6* | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9)

The only way for Prince Sam to end a war is by marrying the enemy

Everything Leaves You Hungry

Sam gets a taste of the life

*Baby* - blurb

Sammy wants your attention, so he pushes your limits

Jake:

All the Subliminal Things

Jake always was a sucker for all the little things about you

Doing So Much Just to Watch Someone Bleed - blurb

Jake likes it when you get a little rough

*Excuse Me, Mr. Cadillac?*

You play a game of pool with Mr. Cadillac while discussing some business

*I'm Using You, You're Using Me*

Jake interrupted your night of relaxation for some fun

Sammy/Danny:

Into the Endless Night (Masterlist)

When Sam disappears without a trace for a few days, things change drastically

The Devil Knows My Name

Sam and Danny travel the world together hunting ghosts. And Danny has a secret

Feet First, Don't Fall

Before a set, Danny and Sam blow off some steam

*To the Hunter From the Prey* {An Everything Leaves You Hungry sequel}

Sam takes Danny under his wing

*Kneel Down Ye Sinners*

Daniel has a bad round of golf... and Sam is bored

Enchanted

Sometimes it takes some meddling to see what is right in front of you

Even Sinners Drink the Wine {A Too Pretty For War prologue} (Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3)

Years before he became the king of Athens, Prince Samuel risked his life in order to save his best friend's

Dial Drunk (Sam gets busted for drunken disorderly and calls Danny)

Why'd You Go? (After Danny bails Sam out, they talk about their past)

Been Here All Along

Dani wished Sammi could see that she belongs with her (fem!sanny)

*To Be Alone

When Sam gets drunk, he's incapable of having bad ideas Annalise - blurb (Sam and Danny take their daughter to Disney)

Origin - blurb (When Danny finds out he's a dad, Sam helps out)

*About to Lose My Worried Mind*

The boys spend time backstage in Toronto Honey, You're Familiar (Sam catches Daniel in a lie)

Hooked On His Flesh (Warning signs become increasingly harder to ignore)

I'll Just Wipe Off My Neck Complete (ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4)

Nothing can come between brothers. Except when your older brother steals the person he knows you have feelings for We Live Such Fragile Lives

Sometimes singing Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects can lead to earth-shattering events

Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines

Sam always thought he'd see Danny one more time

Jake/Danny:

I'll Just Wipe Off My Neck Complete (ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4)

Nothing can come between brothers. Except when your older brother steals the person he knows you have feelings for

Josh/Danny:

*Consumed With What's To Transpire*

Josh distracts Danny on stage and pays the price

Taglist Form

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Happiness is a Butterfly | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! Fun fact, I'm a slut for Lana Del Rey.

Send me your comments, requests, and/ or suggestions! 🥰

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @dreamerglassesgirl @lonewolf471 💘

"If he's a serial killer, then what's the worst

That could happen to a girl who's already hurt?

I'm already hurt.

If he's as bad as they say, then I guess I'm cursed

Looking into his eyes, I think he's already hurt

He's already hurt…"

Meeting Bucky was a random happenstance. You ran into him- literally- in a crowded grocery store just days before Thanksgiving. The mass of stressed-out people swirled around you as everyone searched for last-minute ingredients. You’d never been much of a holiday person, and you’d actually forgotten Thanksgiving was even coming up; you made a mental note to never go shopping before a big holiday ever again and headed toward the peanut butter aisle.

A wall of muscle stopped you in your tracks as you rounded a corner, almost knocking you to the ground. Strong arms snatched you from the air and stood you upright. When you looked up into the eyes of the man who knocked you over and subsequently saved you, you didn’t recognize him at first.

His deep blue irises betrayed an immense sorrow, a hurt that ran deep and dark into his soul. He was worried he’d hurt you and already felt guilt pricking at his chest like thorns. Without even trying, he’d harmed yet another innocent person- he couldn’t even shop for plums without putting someone in danger.

Truth be told, Bucky hated the serum that surged through his veins. He didn’t feel “super”. His physical strength and near-inability to die paired with his vibranium arm made him feel more monstrous than heroic.

“Woah, hey- I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” he asked you, his voice tinged with shame.

“Yeah I’m fine, thanks… Wasn’t paying attention to where I was going- my bad.”

Bucky was taken with you instantly. Your eyes somehow still shone under the harsh fluorescents of the grocery store and a few loose curls had fallen out of your braid. A smile threatened to break through his serious façade as he took in the freckles that scattered across your cheeks like stars in the night sky.

Something about Bucky felt familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. His sharp jawline and broad physique were enough to make you melt, and you could’ve sworn that you’d seen him before. Maybe he lived in your building? Or was he in the same Master’s program as you back in college? His gloved hands remained wrapped around your upper arms, and his eyes bored into you- if everyone else on the earth had suddenly disappeared, you wouldn’t have noticed.

Bucky felt himself wanting to stay there with you. You stared up at him with a kind smile and the type of warmth that felt like coming home- which meant he needed to leave you alone. He couldn’t let himself get comfortable or close with anyone- he knew what he was.

“Sorry, again”, he mumbled as he removed his hands from your arms and sped away.

Just like that, he was gone. He left you breathless, standing by the wheat bread like a gobsmacked idiot. With a sigh, you collected yourself and continued with your shopping, all the while trying to figure out why Bucky was so familiar.

As fate would have it, the sleek, black Honda Ceeber motorcycle that sat parked next to your car belonged to the handsome stranger you’d met inside. Bucky watched you carrying all of your bags while struggling to find your car keys, and an internal debate began. He wanted to help you, to get a few more moments with the beautiful stranger he’d almost sent tumbling to the floor- but he knew he shouldn’t. If he helped you with your bags, he’d linger. And if he lingered, he’d become even more enchanted by you until he couldn’t pull himself away.

The debate didn’t seem to matter, though, as his body had already decided. He found himself catching the bag you’d just dropped before it could crash to the ground. When you whipped around and met his eyes with yours, he knew he was in trouble. Your laugh was like music to his ears, and that stubborn smile finally demolished his hard exterior.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” you joked, “What? Do you have super speed or something?” A pained chuckle fell from his lips at your words as he helped you load your groceries into your car. The two of you were leaned over your trunk, placing each bag with care- and that’s when you heard it.

A mechanical whirring sound caught your attention. It was barely audible inside the store, but now that it was just the two of you in the parking lot, it was much more noticeable. It was then that you clocked his gloved hands and realized just how quick his reflexes had been-not once, but twice. Almost as if he could read your mind, Bucky’s steely blue eyes met yours, and you realized where you’d seen him before. He was all over the news.

Without his long hair, you hadn’t realized who he was, but now you knew exactly who was really standing next to you. “Hey…you’re that guy,” you said, as Bucky braced himself for the words ‘Winter Solider’. “You’re Barnes… James Barnes, right?” He froze for a moment, waiting for you to mention something about Hydra, but that moment never came.

“Um, Bucky- just Bucky”, he said sheepishly.

“Right, Bucky Barnes, yeah. You took down the Flag Smashers- I saw you on the news”, your words eased his anxiety a bit and he nodded.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and chuckled nervously as you remarked about how crazy the whole thing had been. He had no idea what to say- did you not know that he’d been a ruthless assassin a few years ago? Or were you just avoiding it to be nice? He wasn’t sure, but he was grateful regardless. You reached out to touch his shoulder and gave him a tender look, “and hey, I’m so sorry for your loss. I know Captain Rogers was your best friend…” He nodded silently, and you saw his demeanor fall ever so slightly.

He hadn’t expected to be recognized while everyone was so frazzled about the holidays, and he certainly didn’t think that anyone who did recognize him would be so kind. You listened as he made a few comments about Steve, Nat, and even a few about Tony. He’d been through a great deal over the past eighty years, and your heart splintered as you listened to him speak about his late best friend. Bucky was in active mourning. He was grieving the loss of Steve, Natasha, and Tony.

Every time you’d heard about him over the past few years, it was just closed-minded idiots rambling about his time as the Winter Soldier. No one had taken even a second to address the fact that nothing he did under Hydra was of his own volition. He’d been violated and brain-washed, turned into a weapon to further Hydra’s nefarious plot. He was a victim, a prisoner of war. After hearing the stories and looking into it yourself, you decided long ago that he wasn’t to blame for anything Hydra made him do.

You’d certainly never expected to meet him, and part of you couldn’t believe he was standing just a few inches from you. He looked tall on the news but towered over you in real life. He was devastatingly handsome, and his kind smile melted your heart every time he flashed it your way. He laughed at a joke you made about his long hair and felt his heart skip a beat. No one had made him feel this way in…ever. You were funny and sweet and fucking beautiful, thus starting yet another internal struggle.

Sam was always bugging him about putting himself out there, but he wasn’t sure he should ask you out. You’d yet to mention Hydra, the Winter Soldier, or anything of the like- maybe you really didn’t know.

If you didn’t know about his past, he couldn’t take you on a date without telling you first. Hiding it from you until you had feelings for him just didn’t seem right, but if he told you right now, you’d certainly run for the hills. His mouth opened before he even realized it, and he interrupted whatever you’d been saying with an awkward, “you know about me, right?”

A quiet laugh escaped your lips at his abrupt question, and you countered with, “know about… what? The Hydra stuff?” He cringed at the word and nodded, already regretting bringing it up. When you told him that yes, you did know about his past and no, you didn’t hold him accountable for it, he could’ve married you on the spot.

“Well, uh, in that case, I thought we could… I’d like to take you to dinner.” he said, “There’s a great sushi place around here…”

The corners of your lips pulled into an automatic smile, and you nodded, “I’m free tomorrow night”. You agreed to let him pick you up at 7 and programmed your number into his flip phone before letting him open your car door for you.

The following evening, he arrived at your door at 7 sharp with a bouquet of flowers. “I’m realizing now this might be a little too old school”, he grumbled as he handed you the purple tulips.

You proudly displayed the tulips in a vase on your kitchen counter and took a moment to admire them. “Not too old school- they’re beautiful. Thank you so much, I love them,” you placed a light peck on his cheek, making him blush. “You know, no one’s ever brought me flowers before.” A lot of things about the modern era perplexed Bucky, but how had no one ever brought you flowers? You? Was every guy you’d ever dated an idiot? He made a mental note to send you more if the date went well and escorted you downstairs.

Everything was going far better than Bucky expected it would. The two of you shared edamame and Sake before diving into plates of nigiri and maki. He listened to you talk about your family, your education, and your work before opening up about his life. He likened his situation to living on two different planets, and you were so intrigued by his words that neither of you noticed the man approaching your table.

“Hey!” he spat, “you’re that guy- you’re the Winter Soldier!”

Shame clouded Bucky’s eyes and a sigh fell from his lips. Before he could even speak, the man was barking at you, “you know who he is, right? He’s a killer- he’s a serial killer! Bet he didn’t tell you that-”

Your sake was dripping down the man’s face before he even realized what happened. He quickly wiped his face with his shirt and lunged at you, but Bucky wouldn’t let him touch you. Without causing too much of a scene, he dragged the man out of the restaurant and told him never to come near you- or he’d end up dead.

He nervously strode back inside, assuming you’d jumped ship from the date while he was distracted. He figured he’d pay the bill and maybe head over to Sam’s for a few beers- but you were still there. He found you paying for dinner and collecting his jacket from the booth.

“I figured we’d get out of here- go hang out at my place? I don’t want you to have to deal with people like that…” you told him. A small smile tugged at his lips, and he tentatively placed an arm around your shoulders. His move was rewarded by you snuggling close into the side of his body, and the two of you walked out of the restaurant linked together. Bucky’s heckler still sat on the sidewalk, and you watched him scramble out of Bucky’s way as the pair of you walked to his car.

The drive back to your place was quiet, but you didn’t mind. Soft forties music filled the space and you noticed Bucky anxiously tapping on the steering wheel with his thumb. You asked if he was okay, to which he said yes, but it wasn’t convincing. Back at your apartment, he was reluctant to come inside.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you asked, and he groaned. He leaned up against your doorway with his hands shoved in his pockets and let his head fall backward.

“I shouldn’t let it bother me anymore, because it happens all the time- I’m just tired of being called a serial killer…” he muttered, “Gets to you over time, you know?”

Bucky didn’t deserve to be treated with such hostility, and everything in you wished you’d hit that asshole with something was worse than Sake. “I think you’re allowed to let it bother you… it’s fucking rude”, you told him, "not to mention untrue". He nodded and threw you a smile, but you knew he was still feeling it.

Everything about Bucky betrayed how deeply he was hurting. His furrowed brow, tense shoulders, and clenched jaw painted the picture of someone who hadn’t breathed easy in years. He was always alone, even when he spent time with others. His experiences isolated him and left him trapped behind soundproof glass, watching the world function normally around him while he screamed for an escape.

“Why’d you go out with me?” he finally asked, “aren’t you afraid of me? That I’ll hurt you?” It was abrupt and seemed to come out of nowhere, but part of you had expected him to ask something like that.

All at once, you saw every bad thing that had ever happened to you playing behind your eyes like a slide show. Your chest tightened as you thought back over the things you’d experienced at the hands of other men in your life, men who you should’ve been able to trust- but learned the hard way that you couldn’t.

“Um… well, I don’t blame you for what you did- that was Hydra, not you. So, no, I’m not afraid. And as far as you hurting me, I know that you won’t. I knew that after talking to you for five seconds…” You got quiet as you relived the darkest moments of your life. You’d suffered enough at the hands of others, so much so that you weren’t worried about it happening again. “And honestly, I’m already hurt. You can’t do anything to me that hasn’t been done before…”

He watched as your gaze fell downward and your upbeat persona crack, revealing a sadness he hadn’t expected. His heart ached for you as he watched your dark memories flood your brain. He extended a hand toward you and you took it, letting him pull you slowly into his body.

“I didn’t know…” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “I won’t hurt you. Ever. I promise”. The quiet whirring of his arm brough you comfort as you leaned into his embrace and leaned your head against his chest. All you could manage to say was “I know” as he held you in his protective grasp.

[letarasstuff]

Notice me!

(A/N): This was requested by an anon. I hope you like it1

Summary: Teenagers at JJ's daughter's school get attacked. Does she fit the victomology?

Warnings: feeling uncared for

Wordcount: 2.7k

✨Masterlist✨ ___________________________________

“Good morning, my lovelies. The good news: The case is local. The bad news: Somebody is attacking teenage girls from the same high school”, Penelope starts the briefing, dressed in a bright pink dress with matching accessories.

“Are they from the same class? Age?” Hotch asks, looking over the file. Upon opening her own, JJ feels like her heart stops. “Negative, the three girls are from different years even. The only connection is the school.” “It’s (Y/N)’s school. She-she is a Junior there. I-Hotch?” Desperately she looks at her boss.

The team’s eyes soften. It’s already difficult with minors involved, but when it gets personal the case is a thousand times harder.

“Call her and tell her we get her to answer a few questions. At this point we can be sure it’s someone from the staff or a student. Time is the essence. Reid and JJ, you get (Y/N). Morgan and Prentiss, you question the first two. Dave and I take the last one and then go to the crime scenes. Garcia, I want you to find out anything about the victims and their families. Check their social media sites and look out for anything that connects them”, the Unit Chiefs orders.

Everybody gets up immediately. JJ has her phone already at hand. The longer it takes her daughter to take the call, the more nervous she gets.

“Mom? Did something happen? You know exactly I’m at school. I don’t wanna get in-” “Honey, Uncle Spence and I come to get you. There is something we have to question you about.” The teenager is silent for a moment. “It’s about the girls that got beaten up, isn’t it?”

Her mother sighs. Of course nothing like that stays quiet for long. “Yes, it is.” JJ doesn’t see the point in lying to her. “Ok. Uhm, can you just question me at school? I really don’t wanna leave, because I have soccer practice after school for the game this evening.”

A little light blinks at that in JJ’s mind. “Isn’t it that important game, where scouts are coming?” (Y/N) begins to smile. Her mother remembers it. Maybe she does pay attention to her. Maybe, just maybe, she pays enough to come and see her. After all she even took a day off for Henry’s recital last time.

“Yes, you said you will come and cheer for me.” JJ’s heart aches. She knows that her oldest often backs down due to her mother’s job. More often than the blonde agent likes to admit she has stood her daughter up to save someone’s life. “I try to be there in time, Honey. I can’t promise you anything, though. Just let us hope we solve this case quickly, ok?”

(Y/N)’s shoulders drop. Of course, how could she be this naive to think her mother cares enough to at least try to make it to her probably most important game? “Alright. Text me when you are here or just get me excused at the secretary's office. Bye.”

JJ looks at her phone in puzzlement. The teenager always is understanding of her job and the sacrifices it takes. One night under a lot of tears she confessed to her mother that everytime she is away on a case, she is in the greatest state of worry. Will reported repeatedly that (Y/N) is miserable whenever her mother isn’t at home.

So she told her daughter about the pact she made with her sister. Any time they miss each other, they go out and look at the moon, knowing that they see the same. JJ also admitted that she and Henry are the reason she is even working as a profiler. The agent wants to make the world safer for her kids. A safe space, where they can grow up and go to the park without worrying about Stranger Danger or anything else.

“Is everything ok?” Spencer asks as he sees his best friend frozen on the spot. JJ looks up to him, spotting concern in his eyes. “Yeah, no. I don’t know? It’s just, (Y/N) has an important soccer game tonight with scouts coming and such and I’m not sure if I can get there in time because of the case. She sounded really sad when I told her that. You know, I’m incredibly proud of her for getting this far and she plays really well. Scratch that, she is amazing. Especially knowing (Y/N) is responsible enough to think about college in her junior year makes me swell with pride”, she gushes unknowingly.

Spencer smiles. “I see, she is just like her mother. I’m sure (Y/N) will come around, she loves you so much and knows how difficult our job is.” JJ nods, trying to believe him.

Not long after that the duo enters the secretary’s office, explaining the situation. He immediately notifies the teenager’s teacher and a few minutes later (Y/N) opens the door. “There is an empty classroom we can use, I already asked Mr Boyle. He is such a sweetheart”, she tells her mother and uncle.

“Thank you for consenting to answer our questions. (Y/N), do you know the girls?” Spencer begins after settling down. “I do. One of them, Amy, is on the soccer team with me. We mostly talk about her family. She is in love with her little sister. The other two, Rosa and Gina, are in Freshmen. I tutored Gina briefly until her mother said she doesn’t need it.”

Unfortunately (Y/N) isn’t able to tell more useful information. “Thank you so much, Honey. Have fun at your practice later”, JJ tells her while embracing the teenager. “Yeah, thanks. Do you come home tonight?” Her mother sighs.

“I get it, you don’t know. Ok, I don’t wanna interfere any longer. Maybe you are able to solve the case faster. Stay safe. Love you!” Quickly she picks her bag up and leaves the room.

JJ looks at the genius with a face that says “Do you know what I mean?”

“My lovelies, all three girls don’t have the best connection to their parents. They often complain about the missing approval. Do you think that it’s a kid from their classes?” Garcia informs them as the team gathers back around the round table.

Rossi shakes his head. “The crimes are too organized for a kid. Every girl was drugged, but we don’t know how. Then the UnSub waits for the drug to kick in and takes her to a vacant spot, where the beating occurs. And all of this happens right after classes end. It has to be a staff member, probably a teacher.”

“Yeah, but there is one detail that doesn’t sit right with me”, Derek pipes up, “The connection between the girls is the bad relationship with their parents. It has to be someone, who is reminded by their own dysfunctional family.”

“Garcia, look for someone from the area, his comfort zone shows that he knows remote areas that you don’t find by accident. He has to be from D.C.” Spencer instructs her.

“Okidoki, boy won- Wait, are we looking for a male?” Hotch nods. “We are, the amount of strength used to beat up the girls suggests a male, same with the amount of hatred.”

Emily looks unsure. “This sounds all right, but why is he choosing the girls? What does he relive by hurting them? How does it help him?”

JJ wants to partake in the mindstorming, but a ping from her phone distracts her from saying her thoughts out loud. It’s a text message from (Y/N)

If you find the time in your busy schedule to read this, be informed that Will and Henry won’t come to the game tonight, because Henry has a spontaneous playdate. Don’t worry, he brought me my inhaler to school already.

(Y/N) sighs after sending the text. Is it really too much work for her mother to make room for her? This is probably the most important event in her whole school carriere and she decides that a team of masterminds need her more than her own daughter.

Hurt by the clear ignorance she shoulders her bag and makes her way to the counselor’s office.

“Come in”, a warm voice invites the teenager after her knocking on the door. “Hey, Mr Pembroke. Uhm, I have a class before soccer practice and I wanted to ask you if I can put my bag here? I know I got a locker, but I still got my mom’s birthday present in there and I’m scared I’ll leave it in my classroom and have to run back to get the bag if not another kid already took it away.”

Mr Pembroke looks at her with a smile. “Of course, (Y/N), I don’t mind. Speaking of your mother, will she be there tonight? I really hope so, because you are a star on the field. She’s missing out otherwise.” At the end he winks. He is just that kind of guy. Working with kids makes him desperate for appearing younger than he really is, but that is also part of Keith Pembroke’s charm.

“Unfortunately my whole family isn’t able to come. It is like- I mean I get it, serial killers are dangerous and it’s important and the right thing to chase them down. But do I not deserve some time with my mother?” Mr Pembroke evolved into a moral support over the past school year since he started his job at (Y/N)’s high school.

He always has something noice and wise to say. “You do. Everybody deserves some time with their family and especially with their parents. Why don’t you talk to them after all this is over? I can help you work on what you can say.”

Happily the teenager takes the offer and rushes to her class.

“Guys, I might be onto something”, Spencer rips everybody from their train of thoughts. JJ looks at the watch on her wrist. (Y/N)’s game ends in about five minutes. And she sits here, stumped one the case she stood her up for.

“So we thought about how he chooses his victims. The only connection we found was them having a bad relationship with their parents. But how would the UnSub know? They didn’t share any classes.

“But there always is one person, who knows about the student’s problems. They tell them voluntarily”, he finishes, giving his colleagues the opportunity to answer it themselves.

“The counselor!” Rossi exclaims, wondering how they oversaw the obvious.

Penelope’s keyboard is practically on fire from her fast typing until she nearly shouts: “I got him! Keith Pem-” The rest goes under in the loud ring from JJ’s cellphone. “I’m sorry, but this is… (Y/N)’s school! I-” Hotch nods, giving her permission to take that call.

“Jennifer Jareau?” She can’t wait until she is out of the conference room. Now that they know who the UnSub is, JJ is more on edge than ever. “Uhm, Mrs Jareau, I call about your daughter, (Y/N). She is on her way to the hospital, she collapsed during the soccer game. We suspect an asthma attack, even though she used her inhaler.” The teacher on the phone gives her a few more information before hanging up.

“I-I’m - (Y/N), she is- hospital. Her inhaler.” In that moment she makes all the connections. “Garcia, look for the girl’s medical history. Pembroke exchanged (Y/N)’s inhaler, I’m sure he did. Look for it in the other girls. I have to go, she is at the hospital right now.”

In a way even Derek Morgan would describe it as reckless JJ speeds to the hospital, ready to fight any regulations keeping her from seeing her daughter sooner. “I’m here for (Y/N) Jareau. J-A-R-E-” She tells the woman at the reception breathlessly.

“Oh I got her. She is in room 99. (Y/N) was unconscious for a certain amount of time, but she is slowly regaining her senses. A doctor will meet you there.” Before she even finishes her sentence, the blonde leaves the desk into the direction of the appointed room.

In fact there is a doctor waiting for her, updating the mother on her daughter’s condition. “I advise you to not overwhelm her. Her mind is still foggy and there may be things that don’t make sense right now coming from her. But (Y/N) will make a quick recovery, being good as new in only a matter of days.”

Cautiously she enters the room. The teenager might be awake, but her mind clearly is elsewhere. “Hey, Honey. It’s me, your mom. How are you feeling?” JJ asks softly, taking her daughter’s cold hand into her own gently.

“Oh, hi Mom. I didn’t know you found the time to actually come here. Isn’t there like a bad guy out there waiting for you to slap some handcuffs on him?” Ouch, she doesn’t expect that kind of honesty. But it’s true and JJ knows what (Y/N) is talking about.

She sighs. “I’m sorry, Honey, for being seemingly absent from your life. I swear, you can’t imagine how proud I am of you. I mean, you play soccer and there might be a scholarship in sigh. And even if you don’t get one, you can do anything and I would still be proud to call you my child.”

(Y/N) turns her head around, looking deeply into her mother’s eyes. The blonde can see all the pain she brought onto her bundle of joy. “Mom, I don’t even enjoy soccer as much as you think. I only do this, because I thought there would be finally something we can bond over. But I clearly didn’t calculate your stupid job in.”

JJ kicks herself for overseeing her daughter this much. She never stopped to acknowledge her oldest child’s accomplishments in front of her team and family. She always told everybody in the BAU what (Y/N) is up to, if they asked or not is not her problem. But in the whole process the agent forgot the most important person, the one who reached all those goals.

“Oh Honey, I’m so sorry for letting you feel like I don’t want to partake in your life. I- I was just so invested in your life that I didn’t think about you. You don’t have to do anything that I like to get my attention. You can join the school band playing the triangle and I would practically make t-shirts for the whole team sporting your logo.

“Anything you do is enough for me. You don’t need to change yourself to appeal to others, not even me. I’m sorry for letting you down. I love you so much and I hope you can forgive me.”

It seems like (Y/N) needs a few seconds to comprehend her mother’s statements before answering them. “I just need a mom, who is there more often. That would be enough for me. Just once every three games is enough. To let my friends know you care. To let me know you care.” JJ gets tears in her eyes. She promises to be there more often, fully intending to keep that promise.

“Good, now that we have that sorted out I need you to come into bed with me. I feel I could sleep for at least a year because of Mr Pembroke’s really weird tasting substance in my inhaler. Can we just cuddle until I feel like I’m my old self?” JJ smiles while happily laying down next to her daughter, engulfing her in a hug, still being cautious of all the tubes she has going in and out of her.

“I love you so much, Honey Bun”, the blonde murmurs, stroking a few strands out of her daughter’s face. But (Y/N) is too tired to answer. She just nods and cuddles closer to her mother before falling asleep.

Meanwhile, JJ watches over her like a hawk. Not even Will is allowed to come closer to her than two meters (or roughly six and a half feet for Americans), not wanting anyone to disturb her daughter’s peaceful sleep.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

[friendlylocalwhumper]

“It’s alright. Shh, you’re okay. You’ll be okay. It’ll all be over soon.”

He’s been searching for a good one to kill for months now. One that he’d like to see fading, whose eyes are pretty and hold a spark that he can put out. Over the years the kills have become less and less satisfying. This one will be fun, though - sandy hair with spurts of gray, sad blue eyes, muscled arms and shoulders that aren’t large but rounded slightly with subtle strength. This one is pretty. Not as young as he used to seek out, but the Hunter isn’t so young either, anymore.

There is a knife buried in the man’s side, and the Hunter’s hands wrapped around his neck. His soon-to-be latest kill is trying to gasp, his lips moving. They always beg in the end, unless there’s something hard and cold where their heart once was.

The tears in the corners of his victim’s eyes, and his grip on the wrists so close to his neck, and the force with with he kicks to struggle free - all of it feels just a little wrong. Off-center from the fantasies of a bored serial killer longing for a new victim. Nick tries and fails to ignore the itching of old scars under his shirt.

Fingers losing their white-edged color with the force he’s using to strangle the man, the Hunter frowns at the whispers that have been lent some volume. He leans in, still relishing the feeling of a throat trapped under his palms, and listens.

“-ave… -ave… a li-, a little…”

His grip slips further. The blond man gasps and coughs, chest heaving for air. The struggle isn’t even all that gorgeous. “What? What are you trying to say?”

He’s almost dead. He was halfway there, spasming and losing the light in his eyes. The Hunter should’ve finished the job… but he still can, once he just hears what the pretty man was trying to say.

“That - that - I have a baby,” Croaks the man who’s lucky to be alive. Now that he has a chance to speak again, after being so close to losing it forever, his words come in an avalanche. “A baby, my first, and I want, nnnh, I want, want ten more, now that I know him, his mom’s beautiful and he’s got, Jesus fuck don’t kill me, I’ve gotta see his little toes again, he’s so small and I don’t know how I made him, made little toes with the smallest little toenails, the size of a ri-, a grain of rice, and he’s warm and we didn’t name ‘im yet because he’s too perfect for a name and we just stare at him and I stare at her and he’s got her nose and if I die I won’t get to, to hold, I won’t get to hold…”

Tears and snot run down the man’s face. Deep pain twists in Nick’s gut at the thought that this man isn’t crying for himself, but for a little person that he made who will cry harder if this guy never makes it back home.

His hands flex, trying to get back to the strangling, and his victim yelps in despair, but he can’t follow through. Fingers losing their tension again, Nick growls in frustration. It’s not right for this man to die here. It feels like a truth that’s annoying and obvious and it can be ignored, but it won’t change.

“I’ve heard this lie before,” He rumbles in a threat that is met with more tears. He says it even though he knows it wasn’t a lie. When his hands slide up to find the man’s temples and push magic into his head, the Hunter isn’t surprised to find horror and fear and panic, and then behind the bright emotions, deeper love. He’s disheartened but not surprised to find recent memories of little feet and bubbly giggles and a woman asleep with hair strewn over a pillow that this man watched for hours instead of sleeping himself.

He’s been waiting for months for a good one. The tragedy of this death could turn sweet instead of sour, his last dying breath and final whimpers could be a thrill. Could be. But it feels wrong, it feels so wrong and Nick is nearly ill with how much devastation he could cause just by strangling this man until he shudders one last time and then goes still.

As if the man is growing hotter and is slowly beginning to burn the hands on him, the Hunter pulls his touch away and climbs off his victim. On his way he pulls the knife free and watches hot blood spill, deciding after a moment that the wound won’t drain enough to kill the father.

The man is sobbing quietly, eyes shut, reeling from being seconds from death and having his mind torn into by magic. The killer stands with a disgruntled sigh.

“Go on and leave, when you can manage to. Up the stairs and out the door. Don’t tell anyone I have mercy like this. And don’t you ever let someone like me take you away from him.”

[frankiekatt]

Wowy hii, saw that you're writing for slasher, so here I am!

Can I plz have some hcs about any slashers with s/o, but their s/o is a literal gremlin, like they're not serious at all, always joking and annoying people around, but sometimes might be quite soft and quiet.

Thank you and have a nice day! ❤️

This was fun to write lmao

Warnings: Sexual harassment, NSFW, murder, blood, canabilism

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Billy Lenz, Stu Macher, Michal Myers

Slashers With An S/O That Never Takes Anything Seriously:

Thomas Hewitt:

Thomas is a little overwhelmed by your personality at first.

He’s a quiet and reserved man who’s never had any kind of friends, so goofiness and jokes can make him feel uneasy at first.

But!! He gets used to everything very quickly!!!

Thomas loves everything about you and he finds you to be incredibly charming.

He can get a little anxious when he sees you annoying Hoyt because he doesn’t want his uncle to do anything bad to you in irritation/retaliation.

Your jokes are always a stress reliever for him, since he spends most of his days in a dark basement, surrounded by blood and gore. Your humor just shines a little bit of light on his day, and he loves you for that!

While Luda Mae and Hoyt might not like the fact that you never take anything seriously, Thomas finds it relieving. At the beginning of your relationship, Thomas was terrified of losing you because he thought you would be terrified of all screams, murder, and cannabilism, but he was pleasantly surprised to see that you didn’t pay much mind to it.

Thomas’ family mostly saw you as a clown, but Thomas could only ever look at you as the brightest ray of sunshine that has ever graced his life.

After all, he was the only one that saw your softer side.

Your soft and quiet side mostly shone through during the evening. Something about the sunset and cicada chirping calmed your heart.

You would often take Thomas by the hand and lead him outside to sit on the front porch with you, so the two of you could cuddle and watch the sunset together.

Thomas was always so used to your voice, because you loved to talk about anything and everything, so your temporary quiet nature was new, yet comforting.

During these moments, there didn’t need to be any talking between the two of you. You deep emotional bond allowed you both to communicate through actions.

You would lay your head on Thomas shoulder, stroking his chest, and Thomas would wrap his big arms around your smaller frame, resting his masked cheek against the top of your head.

This was Thomas’ way of saying, “I love you, you’re the best thing in my life,” and your way of saying “I could never live without you.”

Bo Sinclair:

:|

You’re gonna annoy the fuck out of this boy

Sometimes you both wonder how the two of you even got together, but the nights you and Bo spent pleasuring each other, going round after round, reminded you both how. (Your both just sexy okay its that simple)

Bo was a serious guy, so he was a little miffed that he was always the one having to take the lead in everything since you just couldn’t stop making a joke out of everything.

Sometimes you would actually make him really irritated due to your tendency to irk people endlessly, so he would have to step away to cool off and blow off some steam.

Sometimes he would yell at you in anger, which always made him feel like shit after, so he tended to stalk off to his shop to calm down before speaking to you.

You would have to go see him a couple hours later to wrap your arms around him from behind and shyly apologize to him.

He favored these moments the most.

Your voice quieter than usual, focusing on just him, touching him gently.

He would always accept your apologies, of course, and would let you know by kissing your lips softly.

Bo liked to take advantage of your softer side by lifting you up by your waist and setting you on the hood of whatever car he had been working on and kissing down your neck.

As revenge, Bo liked to draw out his teasing as long as possible. Kissing down your neck, chest, stomach, massaging your pussy through your skirt, palming your breast roughly.

It gets to a point where you just have to tell him, “Bo, I need you to fuck me.”

And he would oblige.

He would take you right then and there, on the hood of the car.

The metal beneath you was always shockingly cold, making you shiver against Bo’s chest.

“You cold, Darlin,” Bo would ask teasingly as he pulled your panties off. “Don’t worry, I’ll warm you right up.”

He would spend hours licking your pretty pink pussy if he could. He licks and sucks and kisses your most intimate part until you're shaking and crying above him, begging him to fuck you sensless.

After he’s satisfied with your helplessness, he’ll lean back up and ram himself inside of you. There have been many nights where he has taken you gently and slowly in his garage, holding your hand with every thrust, kissing your sweet lips to quiet your whimpers, but tonight was different. There was a primal need shared between you two. Bo wanted to let his frustrations on through loving you, and you wanted to be taken hard and fast.

When the two of you are done, you lounge around inside the car to catch your breath, holding hands. Everything seems so perfect.

Until-

“Hey, Bo? What did the toaster say to the slice of bread?”

“.....”

“I want you inside me! Eh ha ha..”

:////

Lester Sinclair:

!!!!!

You like constantly joking and never taking things seriously? He does too!!

Lester would find you absolutely hilarious. Every joke you cracked would have him doubling over in laughter. Which would make you double over in laughter. Which would make Lester laugh harder, because now you both have the giggles and both of your laughs are just too infectious.

Everytime the two of you would go to Ambrose to visit his brothers, you guys would annoy the hell out of Bo and Vincent. Bo just wants to be left alone to work in his shop but instead he’s stuck listening to you tell a 40 minutes story about how you burnt dinner last night.

And Vincent just wants to be left alone to paint and sculpt but instead he’s here listening to Lester crack jokes that are a.) not funny and b.) don’t make any sense. -_-

Your and Lester’s trailer is always filled with so much love and laughter and the two of you could not be any happier.

You both have your own soft and quiet moments that hit at random times.

Sometimes it happens when the two of you are play fighting in the living room, howling with laughter. You both fall to the floor, wrestling and giggling until the both of you run out of breath and just gaze at each other as you lay on the carpet.

“You look so cute,” he giggles.

“No, YOU look so cute!”

“W-well!!! I love you!!”

“Uhm...well...I love you MORE.”

And it just turns into an argument about who adores the other more.

Billy Lenz (1974):

The perfect couple.

Literally.

The two of you are always joking around, cackling and goofing about every little thing.

Billy has finally found his soulmate and he could not be happier.

He two of you prank the sorority girls together, making sex sounds in unison to sound even more vulgar.

Everytime you crack a joke, you get worried Billy is joking because of how hard he’s laughing.

“Umm Billy you okay? It wasn’t even that funny.”

“HA haha...piggy makes me laugh...Billy loves your jokes.”

Needless to say, your relationship is filled with smiles, laughter, and praise.

Billy will tell you you’re the funniest person he’s ever met and he wants to keep you forever.

You tell Billy you love how much he laughs at your antics and that you can’t live without him.

It’s impossible to annoy Billy. It’s just not feasible.

Any time you try, he’ll just giggle and pat your head, telling you you’re his ‘favorite piggy ever.’

He LOVES when you annoy the sorority girls thoug!

Hearing you moan and squeal and speak so sexily vulgarly to Barb and Jess makes Billy so proud. And horny.

Almost all of your sexual encounters are filled with complete silliness.

Sometimes, however, the joking and cackling subside. The two of you will just be chilling, nothing else to do, and you just feel the need to profess your love for your boyfriend.

“I love you so much Billy.”

Billy will look startled at your sudden outburst, before he breaks out in a huge grin, launching across the room to tackle you into a hug.

“Billy loves you too! Billy loves you more than anything!!!”

Now the rest of your day will be spent in Billy’s arms, whispering sweet nothings to each other.

Stu Macher:

Match made in Heaven!

Stu loves to joke around.

He hardly ever takes anything seriously.

He annoys everyone.

And once he meets you? It's love at first sight.

The two of you are always in detention because you guys just cannot shut up in class. You are always disrupting something.

But you know what that means!

Detention dates <3

As long as the two of you together, Stu couldn't care less about where he was.

He and Billy appreciate your habit of not taking anything seriously because once the murders start occuring, you don't think too much about it, never asking questions or arousing suspicion around your boyfriend and his bestie.

When Billy had told Stu his plan to kill Sydney, and asked him if he was going to kill you as well, Stu’s heart sank.

He remembers when he was dating Tatum, just a few months ago, before he broke up with her for you, he had no qualms about killing her,

But you?

He loved you. You were his other half. The one person who understood him, who accepted him. He could never hurt you.

“Nah dude. I’m leaving her out of this.”

That night, he sneaks through your bedroom window to see you.

“Stu! (where the hell have you been loca) What’re you doing here?”

The sparkling smile you flash at him and the love swimming in your big, beautiful eyes makes him feel even guitler.

He feels bad that you’re dating a serial killer. He thinks you deserve better, but he would never let you go.

“Hey babe! I just missed you!”

You rushed over to him, dressed in kitty cat pajamas, and hugged him tight. He had only snuck through your bedroom window a couple of times before, and they had all been planned. Seeing him in your room as a surprise made your heart burst with happiness.

Stu led you to your bed and pulled you up onto his chest to cuddle you. It was late, and the both of you were tired. Stu just wanted to lay with you in silence, appreciating your presence.

You didn’t feel like releasing your usual high energy at the moment. Right now, you just wanted to fall asleep on your boyfriend’s chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

Michael Myers:

Girl

Michael does not appreciate your antics.

Annoying him is easy, but you would never know that.

He keeps his emotions very private, so when he is annoyed he’ll just stalk away from you.

He does not think you’re funny :(

He does enjoy your quiet moments. He likes to come home when your energy is low.

He’s usually covered in blood when this happens, so you clean him up without cracking a joke which he appreciates.

You’ll turn on a movie for the both of you, and Michael lets you cuddle up with him.

He does like you, he just doesn’t want you to know that...

[delicrieux]

corpse husband... 👀 could I get a soft pastel aesthetic reader playing among us with the group and being absolutely terrible at it. maybe like she sees him kill someone and doesn’t say anything or report it and he follows her around to sorta protect her from the other imposter? at the end she asks why he didn’t kill her and he says it’d be too easy but ofc someone’s gonna make jokes and be like “no you’re just a simp” idk i think that’d be funny? you dont have to tho- no worries

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡author’s note: we love pastels and corpse in this house. we love the “i’m helping cuz u cute” trope. we love the public simping. gotta stan this request

masterlist.⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄

There is a long list of things you’re terrible at, and Among Us is at the very top. But besides your lack of prowess at the game, it is perhaps luck you should curse, for what you have just witnessed will send you into the afterlife: Corpse’s little black astronaut murdering Rae in cold blood. You still by your keyboard; out of the corner of your eye, you see he chat going nuts. The stream just got ten times more interesting.

For a long few seconds neither of you move. You’re not exactly surprised Corpse is the Impostor, it’s just that you desperately did not want to get in his way - you’re bad enough at this game as it is, and trying outmaneuver the master at this game of chess? Impossible. 

Shrugging, you glance at your camera, “I ain’t see nothing.” Before, in-game, you promptly turn on your heel and glide to the other side of the map. Corpse follows. You start sweating, “Noooo, I swear I’m not gonna snitch, please spare me, sir. I swear on my” You idly tap your cat headphones with your hand, “-only prized possession. And my plushie collection.” He’s still trailing after you, even when you hop into Navigation. Turning to the chat, you ask, “Guys, how do I telepathically convey to Corpse that I’m not going turn him in? No one tell him, though, that’s cheating.”

“girl, start manifesting” one comment reads.

“Oh, manifesting, okay. Saw that on TikTok. I also heard it’s like a big thing in LA.” 

You’d imagine that if somehow you were actually transported to the cool chamber of a dying spaceship, cornered by a black figure with devil horns blocking your exit, you would probably start crying. But you’re safe in your little stream room, decorated in fairy-lights and soft colours and even softer blankets. That initial primal fear of having nowhere left to run lingers, though, and you gulp.

A meeting is called and you breathe out a heavy sigh of relief before unmuting your mic, the first to chime, “What happen--No! Rae! Who killed Rae, fess up now!”

“Well, maybe you killed Rae!” Sean exclaims, and even if you can’t see him, you instinctively know he’s pointing a finger at you. 

“It wasn’t (Name).” Corpse says smoothly, “We’re together.” He backtracks quickly, laughing anxiously, “Uh--In game, I mean.”

The conversation rages on, though you’re forgotten, which is a small reprieve. Corpse is quick to frame someone else and everyone agrees to vote. Momentarily you can’t believe you’re betraying your fellow crewmates and wonder why you’re doing it exactly. To make an entertaining stream? That’s definitely part of it. Charlie is flung into lava and you know it should’ve been Corpse but you’re having a bit too much fun to care.

“nooooo!!!! they corrupted her!!!! our sweet baby is on the villain arc!!! RIP”

You hope not mentioning what you had seen transpire minutes prior will dissuade him from killing you - he still could, but he’s just standing by the door, watching your movements. You decide you will only figure it out once your back is turned to him, whilst doing your tasks. Apprehensively, you get to it and--

Nothing happens.

Once you’re finished, you run circles around him. He joins in soon. The olive branch had been accepted. You grin. Rush out of Nav and he, once again, follows after you. 

The game continues like this, you doing tasks and he hoovering by your side like some little guardian devil. You almost forget that he’s the Impostor until he murders Sean right in front of you. You slap your hand over your mouth. Did Stockholm Syndrome kick in already? He self reports and his first words are, “(Name) and I found a body in Weapons.”

You aren’t sure how much your betrayal aided the Impostor victory, but you were the only survivor left between two serial-killers. Your chat spams celebration emoticons and fake-deep monologues about living in a society. While you were an unofficial Impostor, your audience single-handedly decides you were the best one.

It’s all laughter and apologies from your part to your slighted teammates, though even they have to admit it was a good game. Everyone agrees to play another round, but before it can start, you just have to know, “Hey, Corpse?”

“Yes, (Name)?”

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

“Oh,” He mutters, a small chuckle following after his words, “it would’ve been, uhh, too easy, I guess?”

“Lies.” Sean interrupts, “It’s because you’re a fucking SIMP!”

The discord call choruses “SIMP SIMP SIMP” in surprising harmony. You sit in your chair, giggling, smiling so brightly your cheeks start hurting.

“Guys, come on--” Corpse says, sounding like he’s smiling, like he’s got his face covered with his hands, like he’s embarrassed; he laughs - it’s a light, pretty sound, “I just wanted (Name) to have fun. And not be killed by Sykkuno.”

“Wait--” Sykkuno pipes up, “So you just...followed her around the map?”

“...Yeah.”

“Oh my God, you stupid simp!” Sean laughs, “(Name) was there when he killed me, I was so confused why she didn’t say anything because I figured she was the other Impostor, but turns out he just kidnapped her. Don’t worry, (Name), we don’t blame you for betraying the crew. You did what you had to do to survive.”

“It’s the her seeing Corpse kill me and pretending she’s blind for me.” Rae snickers.

“Wait a fucking minute,” Charlie says, “you mean to tell me, (Name), our little pastel princess fucking peach over there, saw Corpse slitting your throat and fucked right off, and then lied like a grade-a-politician during the meeting? Who killed Rae fess up my ass, you all are saying Corpse played us like a fucking fiddle but it was actually (Name) the whole time.” You hear a smile in his voice, and somehow feel a surge of pride, “(Name)--” He’s cut off by Sean trying to interject but quickly shushes him with a few choice words “Jesus fucking Christ, shut up, I’m trying to figure something out. (Name), did you or did you not use Corpse for protection?”

You’re giggling; you can’t control the sporadic giddiness mixed with light anxiousness, “I just...I just didn’t want to die!” You exclaim. More laughter.

“I rest my case, she’s a fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing, it’s always the nice one’s that stab you in the back for the fuck of it.”

“Guys,” Corpse says, “guys, guys, guys...Let’s play another round?”

“Yes”es are exchanged like trading cards. Before long, your screen lights up and you gape at the word IMPOSTOR written over you little astronaut standing right next to...Corpse.

You grin: if the last game was crazy, this one will be straight up insane.

.

hope you liked it! xx

.

[juniorgman187]

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments. 

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events. 

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt. 

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it. 

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate. 

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend. 

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts. 

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me. 

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong. 

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point. 

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun. 

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.” 

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us. 

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room. 

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug. 

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself. 

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?” 

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.” 

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery. 

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me. 

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction. 

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime. 

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today 

Grant: don’t need to. 

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me. 

“Who keeps texting you?” 

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business. 

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.  

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!” 

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it. 

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it. 

“No one.” 

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going. 

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me. 

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously. 

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet. 

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing. 

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?” 

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?” 

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.” 

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’” 

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade. 

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. 

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.” 

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid. 

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him. 

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub. 

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance. 

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly. 

“No, sir.” 

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me. 

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him. 

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field. 

“You are not going in without a gun,”  Reid ordered. 

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again. 

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in. 

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me. 

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling. 

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?” 

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more. 

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?” 

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”  

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return. 

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent. 

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out. 

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.” 

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red. 

This war was far from over. 

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good. 

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them. 

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing. 

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly. 

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.” 

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied. 

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.” 

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked. 

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all. 

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.” 

What you feel. 

I clung onto those words. 

What was I really feeling? 

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me? 

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me. 

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast. 

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me. 

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely. 

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added. 

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier. 

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked. 

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer. 

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence. 

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too. 

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _ 

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation. 

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way. 

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual. 

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?” 

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew. 

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.  

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken. 

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat. 

“A dating app, actually.” 

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this. 

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?” 

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.” 

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.” 

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now. 

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung. 

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed. 

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice. 

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though. 

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.” 

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?” 

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling. 

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead. 

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face. 

He felt sorry for me. 

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book. 

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.” 

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.” 

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.” 

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words. 

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t. 

But I should’ve. 

_ _ _ 

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being. 

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end. 

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat. 

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would. 

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative. 

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?” 

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it. 

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction. 

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.” 

_  _ _ 

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however. 

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it. 

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this. 

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were. 

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now? 

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me. 

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic 

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them. 

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones. 

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head. 

You deserve more than that. Much more. 

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said. 

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened. 

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see. 

“I asked you first.” 

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.” 

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before. 

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know. 

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me. 

“What? What is it?” I urged. 

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?” 

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth. 

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?” 

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.” 

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?” 

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was. 

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.” 

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second. 

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed. 

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that. 

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize. 

That never came. 

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust. 

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments. 

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness. 

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.” 

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).” 

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either. 

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up. 

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too. 

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I. 

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well. 

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field. 

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room. 

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon. 

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?” 

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet. 

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer. 

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it. 

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.” 

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?” 

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart. 

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat. 

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.” 

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here. 

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?” 

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes. 

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least. 

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity. 

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though. 

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something. 

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.” 

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar. 

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me. 

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me. 

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again. 

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again. 

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.” 

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image. 

“Always, trouble.” 

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know. 

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help. 

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.” 

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation. 

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her. 

_ _ _ 

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left. 

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied. 

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety. 

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D. 

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful. 

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright. 

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened. 

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?” 

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?” 

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.” 

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before. 

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?” 

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before. 

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit. 

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority. 

She was my priority. 

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear. 

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver. 

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms. 

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand. 

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms. 

She was so cold. 

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute. 

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again. 

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all. 

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.” 

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car. 

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way. 

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly. 

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible. 

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there. 

I need to be somewhere I feel safe. 

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _ 

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself. 

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize. 

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever. 

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?” 

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly. 

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?” 

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.” 

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.” 

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too. 

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that. 

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind. 

“You’re smart. Figure it out.” 

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence. 

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?” 

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?” 

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point? 

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt. 

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?” 

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth. 

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’ 

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never. 

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him. 

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything. 

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us. 

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet. 

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting. 

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler  @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid 

tag not working: @gloriousmuffinempathstudent