#and he's left with sorrow and guilt and mixed emotions about what happened

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x Fem! reader

master list

the conversation of the century finally happens, grab your tissues.

**edited to add as a content warning— the major character death I talked about in chapter 12— happens within this chapter, if we remember, Tooty experienced heavy trauma to her abdomen……… this story has never and will never be a pregnancy fix all trope. — sorry it wasn’t labeled correctly the first time. **

no minors 🔞, talk of trauma, another traumatic event, miscarriage

a/n: this is a shorter chapter the next one will be longer and not out as soon. Thank you again to @sweetsweetjellybean for beta reading for me and helped me tweak this chapter @blueywrites who helped me months ago come up with this plot. And @jo-harrington who helped also. This story would be nothing without all the people liking and reblogging it— so T H A N K Y O U for continuing to read it even when it got dark, when weeks went by and there wasn’t an update in sight, I appreciate each and every single one of you. Here’s to our two dumbasses, finally figuring it out 🥂

“Eddie.”

  Your throat was bruised and weak. The slow painful flick open of your swollen eyes have you paralyzed with doubt. 

  Deceiving sight of a beaten man sitting in front of you with a hard cast covering his right hand, the fingers are deeply swollen and bruised, the nails tinged with dried blood.

  This wasn’t a version of Eddie you had seen before.

  His normal pale skin is purpling and raised around his cheek and left eye. His top lip is split and agitatedly red against black stitches, probably from him picking at it. 

  He was handsome, even with his face twisting into relief and sorrow. Tears flow down the colorful sunset painting of healing and broken skin on Eddie’s face. He stands quickly, leaning over you carefully.

  Quivering, timid hands reach for your cheeks, realizing the cast would probably scratch or scrape you, he settles for one hand laid dainty on your cheek, thumb stroking the skin like a ghost.

  The dark pools of his eyes pull you in as his tears fall freely, and your heart begins to sew itself whole again. As his lips meet your hairline he whispers a cut off sob of his worries. Your tears flow with his. Merriment of grief and comfort as you cry into his shirt. Wishing you could live in this moment forever. 

  A dark wave full of emotions crash down on you  all at once. The joy of seeing Eddie mixing with shame and guilt over what he must have braved while defending you. Finally, confusion on what exactly had happened and how you both ended up here and alive? 

  “You’re here,” you choke, a tubing clustered hand strokes Eddie’s face, “I was so scared,” you mumble weakly, “I thought we were d—” your throat tightens on the word and won’t release it, lost on a sobbing gasp that is muffled into his shirt as he pulls you into him. 

  The soft cotton of his shirt envelops you in a calming light state, the same smoky essence of Eddie washes over you, settling your hiccuping cries. His hand is stroking your hair, careful around the stitches. And if you listened close you could hear his heart breaking. 

  Eddie would find a way to melt the galaxies for you if you asked, hearing you crumble about the thought of him being dead is almost too much for him to handle. 

  “You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he says, strongly, firm toned to get his point across in as few words as possible, no need to go into detail about how it was done, you and the baby were safe and that’s what mattered, “he’s gone.” 

  Gone? Did he get away? 

  “Wh—-” you try your best to make any sort of sense register and click in your brain, but it’s not connecting, “Eddie?” 

  He took a deep weighty breath, the final swing of the wooden bat playing behind his eyes like a film in class, he watched Chad’s lifeless body slump to the floor, the dirty and blood riddled nails wedged into his temple like a knife through soft butter. The horrified expression Mr. Derry gave as blood splattered on the walls, and coated Eddie’s face. 

  He lowered his head and shook the image from his mind, “I took care of it,” he whispered gravely, “he won’t be bothering you again.” 

  The muddied storm in his eyes thunders as you comprehend his words. Would you be afraid of him? The same hands that held you so tenderly were also capable of murdering a man who nearly took your life. The thought of you being terrified of him tingles his spine and makes his knees weak, he turns away from you before you can see him cry again.  

  Chad is dead. And you want to scream at yourself when you feel remorse. He was terrifying. A real life in the flesh monster. Quite literally tried to kill you. All he brought to you was pain. And he was dead at Eddie’s hand. The nightmare finally over.

  He tried to hide the distressed pain burrowed deep in his face. He was everything the town always said about him. Satanic. Future convict. White trash, just needed to stitch  ‘murderer’ to the long list of insults he’d worn his entire life, like a cloak to shield others away from him. 

  With your head held high you wipe the tears from your eyes and pull Eddie’s chin to face you, and you’re surprised when he jerks away slowly. 

  You forget the time spent away. Finding it easy to fall into sync with him again, your Eddie. Would he ever be yours again? He’s been left out in the cold, sick from the frigid heart you peacocked off to him, boundaries up and lies in your head. 

  He was the most important person in your life. And it was time you told him so. 

  “Look at me, Eddie,” you coax, trying to make your voice seem velvety instead of the scratchy crack of desperation you currently are pleading to him, “you saved my life.” 

  The brooding deepens and he presses his lips tight together before looking at you, guilt and shame riddle his features, “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, closing his eyes, “I’m so fucking sorry,” the tears fall freely down his face, and he wipes them away hastily with the back of his leather covered arm, “I should have been there.” 

  The words stab like a knife into your soul. Everything happened because of your actions, your apprehensive heart. Eddie almost got himself killed and in turn had to kill your abuser, yet he was the one apologizing for not being there. 

  “It’s my fault,” you say weakly, reaching up to brush a tear away from his wet eyelashes, “I’m the one that pushed you away, and then… I’m sorry Eddie…I couldn’t..” 

  He pulls you into him, his lips skirting your hair line, kissing sweetly and soft like butterfly wings. He shushes you, and whispers that everything will be okay, and in that moment you realize you didn’t have to stroll the pearly gates to be his. 

  His eyes drop slightly to the blanket cozied up around you, flitting over your stomach. When his eyes find yours again, there are fresh tears, and a sad smile. It takes a nano second for the realization to hit you like a ton of bricks in the chest. A gasp breeches your lungs and guilt forms in the shape of tears in your eyes.  

  He knows. 

  Regret is billowing from your body and you try to cover your eyes, terrified of Eddie’s reaction to not only you being pregnant with his baby, but keeping it from him for months. 

  Outside of telling Eddie to leave and trying to convince him that you didn’t love him—- this was the hardest thing you’d ever done. But you told yourself he wouldn’t want to be a part of you with a baby in the mix. A baby that would ruin plans and put a halt to dreams. He didn’t need to be tethered to you because of one night. 

  One single night that you had been lying to yourself about— trying to ease away the pain of loving Eddie and pushing him away for his own good. People had been distancing themselves from you your whole life.. you were guarded and as hard as it was to let the barrier fall around your heart, it was just as easy to put it back up, barricaded in yellow caution tape of lies. 

  Unworthy 

  Before you can drift into a full fledged spiral Eddie’s warm hands find your cheeks and tilt your head upwards to look at him. 

  “I’m here,” his eyes search yours, and they flood with the warmth of the sun behind the black storm, “I’m not going anywhere,Tooty.” 

  The drop of an aluminum can and spray of carbonated soda fills the room behind a loud shriek, making Eddie jump and stand up, instinctively placing his body around yours, his back covering you in a leather shield, and you grab his hand between your fingers, an instant comfort to your panic.

  “STEVE!” Robin screams, her hands fly to her face like that little punk Kevin McCallister in Home Alone, mouth hung open in shock.

  Steve enters the room with a fancy company cell phone tucked between his shoulder and ear. A package of Oreos in his hands, “No, Jack— I don’t care how long it takes just fucking f—“ his eyes go wide in disbelief, and he slams the presses a button to end the call when you smile weakly and wave your fingers between Eddie’s at him.

  The next half hour is full of tears and hugs, calls to the Wheeler’s and the rest of your friends, letting them know you were awake. 

  The nurses flood in like a gaggle of cadets. Checking monitors and adjusting tubing. Letting you have your moment with your friends, explaining you were still going to be weak and the doctor would be by in a while to go over things with you.  

  Steve hasn’t stopped crying since seeing your eyes opened, blowing his nose every few mins. Robin talks enough for everyone, your throat still rubbing raw whenever you tried to say anything so you work with nodding along when asked questions. Eddie is unusually quiet, sniffing loud every now and then, offering you ice chips the nurses brought to you, a plastic spoon to your lips.

  “So what hap—�� Robin starts and Eddie immediately glares at her, shaking his head and a firm “no” falls from his lips, and nobody tries to bring it up again. 

  Eddie didn’t want you getting upset, he’d protect you for the rest of his life if that’s what it would take. Fuck, he’d even be happy to sit in jail for a life sentence for killing that mother fucker. Pride swelling his chest knowing Chad was dead at his hand. Finally making his mother proud for protecting someone when he couldn’t do the same for her… and now there was someone else to protect. A tiny little someone. 

  The days you had been sedated he was beside himself. When he wasn’t in your room holding your hand and humming songs to you, he would be down in the gift shop. Thumbing through baby books, familiarizing himself with the favorite nursery rhymes of Mother Goose. His fingers traced the lace on a pair of tiny little white socks. Blue plastic baby toys that he found were called a rattle and made a clunky noise when shook. 

  He looked out of place. Torn jeans and chains hanging from his waist amongst the delicate pastels of the baby section, but he didn’t care. He made himself a promise. That when this was fall said and done and you were healed—he  would move you all into a new house. Out of Hawkins, away from this shithole of despair that only held bad memories. 

  And he intended to keep his word. 

  “Umm, I know it’s a little soon to figure this all out— but none of us want you staying… there, Tooty,” Steve says, blowing his nose one more time, hands on his hips in his typical mother hen style, “we didn’t know when you would… but eh…Leighanne already has the spare bedroom set up for you… and you can stay as long as you want.” 

  You hadn’t even thought about the house. But the thought of possibly having to go back there had you trembling. The smell of your own blood dripping onto the carpet filled your nose, Chad’s maniacal laugh…

  “Later,” Eddie says, shutting the conversation down by clearing his throat, his eyebrows pulled in and he tries to hide his worry again by wiping his hand down his face. 

  You’re thankful when visiting hours are through, your body aches and the bruises lining your stomach are tender, each movement making sharp bolts of pain shoot all over. Everyone says their goodbyes, you squeeze Eddie’s hand, a panic set lightning strikes in your eyes. You didn’t want to be alone. Not now. Not anytime soon. 

  He doesn’t pause, doesn't recoil. He stands tall, squeezing your hand, his eyes finding yours, a silent comfort washing over you as he whispers so only you could hear, “I’m here, always.” 

  He needed you to know how serious he was taking this. You, the baby, everything. He wanted to be there for it all. 

  Small waves from your friends and powerful hugs with murmured conversations between Eddie and Steve, leaving them both nodding and agreeing on something out of earshot. 

  The room feels small without them there. The elephant in the room hovering over you and weighing heavy on your chest, bigger by the second and you can’t wait anymore.

  “Eddie?” you croak, barely audible, vocal cords rubbing raw trying to speak. 

  The tears are already brimming in his eyes, he looks up at the ceiling, his thumb rubbing small patterns on the back of your hand, “when?” 

  You remember the exact day and time you felt something off in your body. Tired and achy all the time you couldn’t catch believe the amount of hours you could sleep uninterrupted. 

  The same calendar that once held your schedule for you and Eddie also held when your period was supposed to begin, but since Nancy had crossed Eddie’s name off you hadn’t even thought about possibly being late. Flipping through the pages you realized you were 3 weeks late. And blamed it on the stress. When February came and you still hadn’t gotten your period, you made an appointment with the clinic, and on the black monitor the doctor pointed out the tiniest baby growing in your belly, almost eight weeks along. 

  “When what?” You answered feebly, throat aching with each word. 

  Taking a deep ragged breath, Eddie looks at you, concern shadowing his face, he looks haunted, and depleted, “when did you find out you were pregnant?” 

  “Last month,” you clear your throat and reach for the ice chips, but Eddie helps you spoon them into your mouth. The ice melting on your tongue, pooling slowly and sliding down your throat to ease the ache. 

  “Eddie, I—” tears fall as you look into the hurt man’s whiskey colored eyes, “I was scared to tell you.” 

  He's blinking back tears, dropping your hand to walk around the room, landing at the window and pretending to look at the sky, “Did you think I wouldn’t care?” 

  A long pause between you is more than enough of an answer for him, and he sniffs loudly, “I’m not my dad y’know?” His voice hurt and wavering the delivery , “If you thought for a second that I wouldn’t give a shit about you or the baby, you’re wrong.” 

  Words you never thought would be said flow so easily from him, and you’re embarrassed you ever doubted him, “We aren’t together, Eddie,” you explain, letting the tears free fall, “I didn’t want to hold you back.”  

  Eddie scoffs and pushes off from the window, pouring his heart into his words as he explains his hurt,  “hold me back? From what the band? Tooty, I’ve been trying to prove to you for months that all I’ve ever wanted was you,” he moves across the room, sitting next to your legs on the bed, reaching for your closed fist to thread his fingers with yours.

  “Every part sweetheart, the good and the bad. Don’t you see that?” 

  Of course you did, but it was never that easy. 

  “I just— ” you couldn’t find the words, even though he deserved them, it was too much,  “I can’t even say that…how could I tell you that I’m pregnant after what I did and how I treated you?” 

  That night with Eddie blurred in your mind. He was gentle and sweet, you had never experienced such passion in all your life. It was everything you could have hoped for and more, but your scared heart ruined it. 

  “I’m a bitch, Eddie. Look at what happened to you because of me!” yoj gesture to his bruised beautiful face, and the tears flow quick down your cheeks, “you deserve someone who doesn’t hurt you,” you mumble, tearing your eyes away from him and looking at the ceiling tiles. 

  “Goddamnit Tooty, you are possibly the most stubborn person, biggest pain in my ass… but I have cared about you since you were 14. And I have loved you since the minute you opened up that front door and yelled at me.”

  You both laugh through the tears and he brings your chin to face him, his dark brown eyes swim with the glitter of fallen happiness, and he quickly blinks, “let me take care of you, sweetheart, both of you.” 

  It could be that simple. He loved you and you loved him. It wasn’t rocket science or poor willed fate. This was two people who cared about each other enough to look past all the ugly shit the world had to offer and chose to stick together. The epiphany sewed your heart closed and locked it tight, a branded “EM” on the lock and Eddie held the key.

  You grab him with more force than either of you were expecting and collide your lips with his. Tears and stitches fill the gaps where your tongue danced the last time these lips touched yours. But it was somehow sweeter than any kiss before. 

  “I love you, Eddie Munson…” you breathe, “but I swear I will cut that hair of yours down to the scalp if you try to name this baby ‘Ronnie Dio’, or ‘dragon slayer 86’ or whatever the hell you used to call yourself in your demon club in high school.” 

  For the first time in days, Eddie belly laughs, and kisses each of your cheeks, “ohh princess, don’t tell me your still jealous because Eyeball wouldn’t let you join?” 

  You cross your arms in a pout and Eddie laughs again, “there she is, that’s my girl.” 

  Pushing him away with a playful shove he comes back and kisses you again, both of you smiling and giggling, two idiots in love. With a wince, you scoot over in the bed and make room for him to sit with you, adjusting the wires and tubing around you both you snuggle into him, placing his hand on your belly where you assume the baby to be. 

  He snuggled into your neck and sniffs quietly. Content. 

  “Promise me something?” you whisper as your fingers thread through his curls, he nods into you, kissing your neck sweetly and humming a yes. It’s a big ask, and you’re new to this feeling, “please don’t ever stop loving me.” 

  Eddie’s grin is warm on your cheek as he sits up, looking so far into your eyes your souls reach out and hold hands, “I couldn’t even if I wanted too, baby.” 

  A knock on the door interrupts the moment and you both turn to see a doctor in a long white coat, and green scrubs. His face is jolly and caring, an instant comfort.

  “Ah yes, the nurses told me you were awake,” he says with a big smile, “it was pretty touch and go for awhile there but you look good considering what happened, how are you feeling?” 

  “Sore,” you answer, “everywhere.” 

  “That’ll be expected with the hellish ordeal you went through. Mr. Munson here gave us a brief rundown on what happened, and your injuries coincide that statement. We will be helping you both set up counseling appointments, usually with instances such as these, there will be panic and trauma that will develop from it. I urge you both to take them seriously.” 

  Eddie nods and answers for you, “yes sir.” 

  “Good. Now this soreness, is it generally all over or more localized in one spot?” 

  “I mean my head and face feel pretty awful, but mainly it’s my stomach.” 

  A small look of panic settles on the doctors face but is quickly replaced with a gentle smile, “we will schedule from scans for later today to make sure everything is okay, if you don’t mind— while I’m here,” he says, removing his stethoscope from his neck, “I’ll have a little check, alright?” 

  Eddie moves from the bed and settles by your shoulder,  briefly pressing his lips to your hairline, his warm hand rubbing your arm slowly. 

  “Just routine,” the doctor says, lifting your hospital gown to the top of your stomach, pulling the blankets down to the stop of your knees, “nothing to worr—” his broad smile fades and Eddie lets out a loud gasp. 

  The inside of your thighs and the sheet beneath you are soaked in claret colored blood. You don’t have time to register what is happening before the doctor crosses the room and begins yelling orders through the phone, “this is Dr. Newby, prep OR 2 for a D&E…possible c-section, I’ll need everyone available.” He hangs up with a loud click and turns to address you and Eddie. 

  “What’s going on?!” Eddie demands, fear stricken eyes almost onyx in color, his fingers gripping yours tight. 

  “She needs to be prepped for surgery,” he answers Eddie curtly but still politely. 

  You balk, “Surgery?! Why?!” 

  The doctor looks into your eyes with a sympathetic expression, “you’re having a miscarriage.” 

——

[killykstudio]

Melancholia

Miguel O'Hara x Cheated on!Reader

Part 1; Part 2; Part 3;Part 4; Part 5; Part 6;

Warnings:18+, angst, depress1on, parano1a, intrusive thoughts, mention of cheating.

Summary:After spending the night at Miguel's house, you come to face an unexpected surprise.

Author's note: I just wanted to thank you for the amazing support received! I'm so happy to see someone liked it, I will try my best to not let you down! So now enjoy the new chapter!

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"muñeca!"

You jump at the endearment. You start hurriedly searching in his wardrobe for a change, the idea of being caught makes you shiver.

What would he think? Maybe he likes it and he's gonna confess his interest for me! Or he gonna think I'm a creep, pervert , a manic! Well he would be right ,but no no n-

"everything okay? I heard you calling my name"

Shit!

"Don't worry! I just heard something hitting against the floor and I've wanted to know, if you were okay"

"I see... Anyway when are you ready, come down here in the living room, I'm waiting for you" he says tenderly

A smile paints on your face.

"A few minutes and I'm ready!" You don't know why,but you felt so excited and overwhelmed by joy. He said such a common thing , but the way he said it and the place made it feel like a scene of domestic affection. Already in your head started popping up fake scenarios of what would happen when you would come down: Him smiling by just seeing you; probably he cooked breakfast and would love to share it with you; then he would be hesitant to go work and in the end would stay at home just for staying with you; he would talk about his work, what he likes and his family. Oh his family he would probably make you meet with his brother and his daughter! His daughter, god! She would love you! And he

God... I've married the wrong scientist

As you just have finished changing and hid the dirty shorts in the back of the wardrobe, immediately you start sprinting down the stairs, doing little jumps between a few steps. You can't stop smiling and overthinking about all the fake scenarios in your head, you feel it today is gonna be the change in your life

"I'm here" you jump on the last step. Eyes closed by the huge smile on your face

"So tell me Mig-

"Honey!"

As you are opening your eyes , you feel someone storming towards you and hugging you.

Eyes wide, you see Miguel a few metres in front of you with his arms crossed on his chest and an impassive expression.

"Thank God you are okay".

As every dots unite, your face becomes blank, numbs overcoming your happiness.The man hugging you comes to cup your cheeks between his hand.

It's your husband

"I was so worried" a tear starts wetting his right cheek.

"I'm sorry! to have... not seen your problems...to have made you feel alone ... to have been an asshole...To have been negligent to you... I-" he does a deep sigh "I love you" he lightly smiles and gives you a kiss on your forehand

Your face is still deadpan and immobile

"Thank God, Miguel told me everything". Your eyes widen

Miguel?

You search for his gaze, but his eyes are set to his left

Why?

You feel a sting of betrayal mixed with anger and sorrow.

Why?

"Why?" Both of them stare at you. "Why did you cheat me?"

Both of their faces are astonished. In your husband's eyes agitation is growing, In Miguel's irritation and confusion as you staring at him with eyes full of rage. He knows he did something you clearly didn't want ,but it was the right thing to do , since you were avoiding the situation.

"I mean... I didn't want you to find out in this way... It was a mistake... I stop-

"Dios Mío! Not in my house, porfavor!" Miguel says breaking eye contact with you , guilt beginning growing in his abdomen. you keep staring at him ,your eyes become even more red and you feel tears start gathering in your eyes, but you hold them back

Your question wasn't aimed at your husband.

You are acting childish and without reason , but your emotions are stronger and to help them there are all your fake scenarios.

"Yeah we were already too much of a nuisance" your husband grabs your wrist

You have to stay calm... After all he has another life... He was too caring to you... Be grateful and ap-

"FUCK OFF!" You shout.

Miguel pupils shrink and come to see you staring at him. Now he was infuriated.

"honey I'm sorry, yeah I deserve this but not now okay?" He starts dragging you towards the door.

"Bye Miguel thanks for everything, buddy" Miguel replies to your husband words with a nod meaning 'dont worry'. He passes near him, then Miguel is met by your face of disgust to which he reciprocate.

Then he hears the door slamming.

¿qué chingados?

~~~

You and your husband are in the elevator. A thick silence is dividing you two , even though he is still holding your hand. you don't repay the gesture, leaving your hand lolling.

Tears start falling , but your expression emit nothingness

All the anger and the fury replaced by nothing and bit pain as you start overthinking about everything that happened in these two days.

"Honey... your ring?"

You move your head to the hand he is holding and you see it. You have lost it, probably in the lake.

Next you finally meet his gaze. He smiles softly, frowning as feeling out for you.

The fuck?

"don't worry, honey. We will bu-"

"I want to nullify our wedding"

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Author's note: Sorry for the short chapter , but I feel if I included another plot point here, it would have been too long. Also in the next part there will be a surprise of for you all. Anyway I think at this point I will rename the main tag as"Miguel O'Hara X obsessed!Reader" , since I have some peculiar ideas for how to continue the story, so stay tuned ! Part 6 is posted!

[mysticalstuff]

I really enjoy your workk😭 Can I request a Chandler Bing. When reader is Monica’s sister but she’s so in love with Chandler and best friends with but this happens when Monica and Chandler hooked up in London and reader doesn’t know about it. The sad part is that Monica knows about reader’s secrets feelings for Chandler but she thought that those feeling were a long time ago so she didn’t mind going for Chandler. When the gang found out reader found out after Ross did and she wasn’t that happy. She didn’t want to hurt anyone so she thought that avoiding Monica and Chandler wouldn’t cause any damage. So everything happens, Chandler moved in with Monica and left reader in their room, until they got married and reader said she couldn’t come to the wedding because she had an escape plan to go far away from them and never show up again because of how hurt she is but at the same time she didn’t want to hurt her sister Monica and ruin their relationship. The rest is up to you. Mwah😚

Yes! I love this idea.

Author’s Note: Sorry I basically excluded every Friends character that wasn’t relevant to the ask. Also, I added kids to the mix, didn’t know if that was wanted.

The Echoes of Yesterday: A Tale of Love, Loss, and Redemption.

In a dimly lit café, Chandler Bing sat nervously, awaiting the arrival of Monica's sister, [Name]. He fidgeted with his coffee cup, his mind racing with thoughts of the complicated situation he found himself in.

The café door opened, and [Name] walked in, her eyes avoiding Chandler's. She took a seat across from him, her expression unreadable.

"[Name], thanks for meeting me," Chandler began, hesitantly. "Look, I know things have been awkward between us since London, and I—"

She cut him off, her voice cold. "Chandler, let's not pretend that everything's fine. I heard about you and Monica."

He looked taken aback. "You... you knew?"

She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. "I knew, Chandler. And it hurt. It hurt more than you can imagine."

Chandler sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry, [Name]. I never wanted to hurt you."

"I know," she whispered, wiping away a tear. "But it doesn’t make it any easier."

Across town, Monica sat in her apartment, her eyes red from crying. Ross walked in, concern etched on his face. "Monica, you need to talk to [Name]. She's hurting."

Monica looked up, her voice choked with emotion. "I know, Ross. But what can I say? I never thought she still had feelings for Chandler."

Back at the café, [Name] took a deep breath, her decision made. "Chandler, I can't be around you and Monica right now. It's too painful."

Chandler nodded, tears in his eyes. "I understand, [Name]."

She stood up, placing some money on the table. "Take care of yourself, Chandler."

As she walked away, Chandler's heart ached. He had lost one of his closest friends, and he knew things would never be the same again.

In the days that followed, Chandler moved in with Monica, trying to navigate the new dynamic of their relationship. But he couldn't shake the guilt and sadness he felt over [Name].

Meanwhile, [Name] prepared to leave town, her heart heavy with sorrow. She knew she needed to put distance between herself and the painful memories that haunted her.

On the day of Monica and Chandler's wedding, [Name] watched from afar, her heart breaking as she witnessed their happiness. She had made her choice, and now she had to live with it.

As the years passed, [Name] built a new life for herself, but the pain of lost love and broken friendships never truly faded. And somewhere deep down, she hoped that someday, she would find the strength to forgive and move on.

In the years that followed, Chandler and Monica built a life together, filled with ups and downs, laughter and tears. They had children, bought a house, and navigated the challenges that came with marriage. Yet, despite their happiness, there was always a shadow looming over them—the memory of [Name] and the pain they had caused her.

[Name], on the other hand, had traveled far away, seeking solace in new places and new experiences. She tried to bury the memories of Chandler and Monica, but they haunted her dreams and lingered in her thoughts. She threw herself into her work, her passions, anything to distract herself from the emptiness she felt inside.

One day, [Name] received an unexpected letter. It was from Monica, reaching out after years of silence. "Dear [Name], I hope this letter finds you well. I know we haven't spoken in a long time, but I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I miss my sister, and I miss my friend. I know I hurt you, and I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to come between us. Please, let's try to rebuild our relationship. Love, Monica."

Tears streamed down [Name]'s face as she read the letter. A part of her wanted to ignore it, to continue running from the past. But another part, a part that had been buried deep inside her, yearned for reconciliation.

After much soul-searching, [Name] decided to write back. "Monica, thank you for your letter. I've missed you too, more than you'll ever know. I'm not ready to come back just yet, but maybe, someday, we can find a way to heal and move forward. Take care, [Name]."

Months turned into years, and [Name] slowly began to rebuild her life. She made new friends, pursued new interests, and found joy in unexpected places. Yet, the pain of the past never truly disappeared.

Then, one day, fate intervened in the most unexpected way. Chandler's job brought him to the city where [Name] now lived. He reached out, hoping to reconnect and perhaps find some closure for the wounds that had never fully healed.

[Name] was hesitant at first, but eventually, she agreed to meet with Chandler. They sat in a quiet café, awkwardly sipping their coffees, unsure of what to say.

"Chandler, I've missed you," [Name] finally said, tears in her eyes. "But I can't forget what happened."

"I know, [Name]," Chandler replied, his voice shaky. "I've regretted it every day since."

The two talked for hours, sharing their regrets, their pain, and their memories. It was a painful conversation, but also a necessary one. And as they said their goodbyes, [Name] felt a weight lift off her shoulders.

Life went on, as it always does, but [Name] carried with her a newfound sense of peace. She had faced her demons, confronted her past, and finally, begun to heal.

And somewhere, in a quiet corner of the world, Monica and Chandler watched their children play, grateful for the second chance they had been given and the forgiveness they had received.

{So sorry if this is too long}

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU [43] HOUSE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FOREST

Daryl Dixon x OC!Charlie Reed

Summary: Charlie starts to accept that now she has a new group. Carol finds a house in the middle of the forest, and the group decides to stay they for some time. Charlie, Tyreese, and Carol are worried about Lizzie.

Warnings: angst, death, killing Walkers

Song: Bruises Lewis Capaldi

Words: 4,816

Mom, dad, Finn, Luke, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle, Andrea, Zach, Patrick, Hershel, Rick, Carl, Michonne, Glenn, Maggie, Bob, Sasha, Daryl, Beth.

"Do you think there'll be kids there?" Charlie heard Lizzie's voice in the silence of the night. "At Terminus?"

"If their parents kept them safe like Tyreese and Charlie kept all of you safe.”

"I saved Tyreese. And then Charlie," she said. "I shoot people that tried to hurt them," Lizzie explained."I didn't mean to shoot in the head."

"You had to," Carol said. "You saved Tyreese and Charlie."

"Maybe there still will be kids," said the girl. "Did you have kids?"

A chilling shiver crawled down Charlie’s spine as the haunting memory resurfaced. The weight of sorrow pressed heavily on her chest, and a sense of helplessness gripped her soul. The vivid memory of Sophia leaving the barn as a beast played over and over, leaving a profound ache and a lingering fear that echoed in the depths of her consciousness. Charlie started whispering her countdown again to muffle Carol's voice. "Mom, dad, Finn, Luke, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia..."

She tried to convince herself that everything that had happened so far was nothing more than a bad dream. She repeated reassuring words, attempting to dismiss the vivid images as figments of imagination. And with that thought she closed her eyes tightly and fell asleep.

The weather was hot from the early hours. Even though, they were lucky to walk in the shadows of the trees, it was impossible to walk without a break, so now the group was resting. It wasn't the safest place to sit around as something could easily go down on them from the high hill, but Tyreese was not only suffering from heat but also from the pain that he felt in his arm.

"Would you like to hold her?" Carol asked her. "I have to help Tyreese with his arm."

Charlie looked down at the baby and grimaced. A surge of discomfort coursed through Charlie at the thought that she would hold Judith. Confusion and guilt mingled with an aversion, creating a mixed feeling within. The internal conflict added a layer of pain, casting a shadow over what should have been a moment of tenderness. Charlie looked up at Carol. "No."

"Why you never want to hold her?" asked Mika, sitting on front of Charlie with a baby in her arms, as she took it from Carol.

"I'm not good with kids," she answered.

"You're good with Carl," the girl said but immediately regretted it. After recalling the memory of Carl, Charlie's emotions swirled in a mix of sorrow, nostalgia, and perhaps even guilt or regret. Waves of grief washed over her as she realized the absence of a boy who became her friend. The memory served as a poignant reminder of the big impact Carl had on her life, leaving Charlie with an even bigger hole in her heart."Sorry. Shouldn't have said that."

"Yeah, you shouldn't."

"I miss my dad," the girl confessed. "Do you miss someone?"

"I do," Charlie nodded. In fact, she was missing more than just one person. She lost so many people on the way that fingers of one hand was not enough to count them all.

"But we should be happy," Mika said and gave Charlie a small smile. "We still have Carol. And Tyreese. And we have each other, right?"

She nodded her head, feeling the light of sympathy light in her for the girl. Besides she was right, they still had some friends left after the loss of those who have passed away, and Charlie experienced a mixture of gratitude, relief, and a renewed sense of connection. She might feel grief; however, she should appreciate the relationships she still had, recognizing the importance of cherishing and nurturing these connections. Despite the pain of loss, the realization that she still had friends by her side brought a glimmer of hope and warmth to her heart.

"How's your arm?" Charlie asked the man, while they were sitting on the tracks, waiting for Carol and Mika.

"Better," he nodded. "And how are you?"

"Better."

"I spy trees and weeds," suddenly said Lizzie to Tyreese as they were playing some odd game.

Suddenly, not so far away they heard snarling. It was filled with hunger and determination, shoulders squared and gaze fixed ahead, to get to the meal. The rhythmic sound of its footsteps echoed against the cold metal rails, a solitary rhythm in the silence of the empty landscape. He was alone, but his voice could easily lure others.

"Stay here," Charlie said as she got up and grabbed her bow.

It got stuck in the hole in the trucks, so Charlie could get as close as possible. She methodically drew back the string with a fluid motion, her movements practiced and precise. With focused concentration, she anchored her grip, ensuring stability and control. Her gaze fixates on the target, unwavering despite any distractions around. With each breath, she tried to steady the aim, aligning the arrow, so it would go straight through the Walker's head. Time seemed to slow as she reached the pinnacle of tension, her muscles coiled just like Daryl taught her.

Daryl.

A painful thought. It caused Charlie's fingers to tremble against the taut bowstring, her mind swirled with the unbearable weight of the thought that Daryl might be dead. The Walker blurred through her tears as she struggled to steady her aim, her chest constricting with every heartbeat. Charlie's hand went slack, the bow slipping from her grasp as the realization crashed over her like a wave. Daryl, her closest companion, was gone. A hollow ache settled in Charlie's chest, suffocating her with its weight. Daryl was gone, leaving Charlie to grapple with the harsh reality of a future without him.

She reached over to her belt, where her axe was replacing the knife that was left in the boiler room near Lori. Charlie sighed and was ready to finally kill the Walker.

"Charlie!" Lizzie's scream cut through the air. "Sometimes we have to kill them. I know that, but sometimes we don't."

Charlie's brow furrowed. In her eyes, Lizzie’s plea seemed like a dangerous liability, a weakness that could jeopardize their survival in the unforgiving world they now inhabited. Charlie really tried to understand, making excuses that back in the day she also had troubles to kill one of them. However, Lizzie saw what the Walkers can do, so Charlie couldn't understand how she could be so naive, so blind to the harsh realities they faced every day. To Charlie, killing the walker became a necessary act of self-preservation, a means of protecting themselves and ensuring their continued existence in a world overrun by the undead.

As she looked at Lizzie, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of resentment towards her perceived weakness. In her mind, her reluctance to take action was a sign of her inability to adapt to their new reality, a flaw that could ultimately put them all in danger.

"There's no sometimes," Charlie answered but didn't pursue the want to kill the Walker. He was trapped anyway.

The house that Carol and Mika stumbled upon in the woods appeared like a perfect opportunity to rest after days of voyage. Its weathered exterior bore the scars of time, with peeling paint and warped wood hinting at months or even years of neglect. Vines and ivy snaked their way up the walls, reclaiming the structure as their own in nature's relentless march. Despite its wild appearance, the house exuded an eerie sense of tranquility, nestled among the trees like a hidden sanctuary. It seemed peaceful in a world that became chaotic. The front porch sagged under the weight of years, yet still beckoned with the promise of shelter and respite. It was surrounded by the trees, and beside the house being neglected, in front of the porch grew yellow flowers.

"Girls, you sit tight," Carol said. "Charlie make sure that no one is coming in until we come out no matter what you hear."

"They're gonna be okay," Mika said to Charlie and she nodded. Then the little girl looked at her sister and sat down next to her and Judith.

As Charlie stood guard outside the house, her boredom became weighing heavily on her shoulders like a cloak. The minutes dragged on, each one stretching into an eternity as she watched over Lizzie and Mika with growing impatience. The forest seemed to close in around them, suffocating them with its oppressive stillness. She longed for some distraction, anything to break the monotony of her task.

Charlie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her gaze wandering aimlessly over the surrounding. Every rustle of leaves or distant caw of a crow seemed to warn her, reminding her to focus as they were surrounded by the unknown. However, she wasn't scared. She was ready to use her weapon in case of any emergency.

"It's not that," Lizzie answered to whatever Mika said, but her eyes were stuck on the grave. Charlie's attention was back on them. "They're gonna find one in there and they're going..."

"Stop it! They aren't people!"

"But you're wrong," Lizzie shrugged her arms looking at her sister finally. Then her eyes rested on Charlie. "All of you."

The way she regarded walkers as people filled Charlie with a deep sense of unease, a primal instinct warning her of the danger lurking beneath Lizzie's innocent facade. Charlie knew all too well the true nature of these creatures, the insatiable hunger that lurked behind their lifeless eyes. She couldn't shake the feeling that her behavior would lead to something bad.

With furrowed brow and clenched jaw, Charlie struggled to contain her emotions, her eyes darting nervously between Lizzie and the surrounding woods - not being sure what was more dangerous. As the shadows lengthened around them, Charlie couldn't shake the feeling that the house was either a sanctuary or a tomb.

Her thoughts immersed her so much that she woke up from them the moment the Walker that came out of nowhere, was crawling in the direction of Lizzie and Judith. Mika tried to shoot it immediately, but she missed the head as it was moving so much, and she was too scared.

Charlie lunged forward, her grip tightening around the handle of the axe as she swung with all her might. The blade bit deep into the walker's flesh, cleaving through skin and bone with a sickening thud. Time seemed to slow as the walker stumbled backward, its lifeless eyes fixed on its prey even as its body crumpled to the ground. Charlie stood panting amidst the chaos, her chest heaving with exertion as she surveyed the scene before her. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she fought to protect Lizzie, Mika, and little Judith, her every instinct focused on driving back the relentless tide of danger.

But amidst the fear, there was a flicker of relief in Charlie's eyes, a sense of triumph born from the knowledge that she had saved them from harm. As she turned to face Lizzie, Mika, and Judith, their wide-eyed stares met her own, filled with a mixture of fear and gratitude. In that moment, Charlie knew that she had done what was necessary to protect her new friends.

Charlie knelt next the older girl. "There's no sometimes," she repeated what she said couple of hours before, signaling that Walkers should be killed always. Lizzie pushed her hand away with a furry in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" asked Carol while Tyreese was picking up Judith. They both stormed out of the house, alarmed by the noise. "Why are you upset? Are you scared?"

"No."

"Just look at the flowers like you're supposed to," Mika tried to calm her sister down.

Charlie was watching it all with furrowed eyebrows.

"Look," Charlie said and stretched out an arm to the girl. Her eyes lit up at the sight. "You like her?"

"She's perfect!" Mika took the doll. "I'm gonna name her Griselda Gunderson!"

Charlie snorted. "That's an exceptional name."

"You don't like it?"

"I do," she smiled lightly. "But we should tame her hair."

"We should," Mika chuckled. "I like your braid. Could you braid my hair like that?"

Charlie smiled at the girl and nodded her head. Then she moved her eyes to Tyreese who sat down in an armchair with an uneasy stare. Charlie furrowed her brows. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not used to this," he said. "We're living in a room in a house."

"Yeah, so relax," Charlie smiled.

"We should stay here," Mika interrupted.

"What about the Terminus?" Carol asked from her place. "You don't want to go there?"

"Maybe we can stay here for some time."

Lizzie smiled and nodded her head, so Charlie exchanged stares with the other adults. Feeling of family warmth overcame her body, and small smile stayed on her lips. As the feeling grew, she started to hum a lullaby she knew. In a moment she felt Mika's body, curling up to her, becoming heavy as the sleep took over it.

"Mom, dad, Finn, Luke, Will, Pete, Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle, Andrea, Zach, Patrick, Hershel, Rick, Carl, Michonne, Glenn, Maggie, Bob, Sasha, Daryl, Beth..." Charlie was muttering under her nose as she thought everyone was sleeping. They all decided that it would be better to spend first couple nights together.

"Charlie?" she heard a whisper. "What are you doing? You aren't sleeping?"

"Did I wake you?" she whispered.

"It's okay," she shook her head in the dark and sat up slowly not to wake Lizzie or Mika up. Judith was peacefully sleeping on Tyreese chest, unbothered by the whispering. "What were you doing?"

"It's my thing," Charlie answered. "I'm trying to tire my brain so I could sleep."

"I don't think it's healthy," Carol said.

"It's working."

For a moment it became silence all over again, before Carol opened her mouth again. "Do you think they're all dead?"

"You saw what happened."

"Do you think Daryl didn't make it?" she asked.

Charlie gulped big and thick lump that formed in her throat. "He was trying to save everyone. Probably stayed to the end when there was no bus, car, and the place became overrun."

"But he's...Daryl," Carol tried to fill Charlie with hope. She didn't know that the whole conversation was just breaking her heart. "Do you miss him?"

"Yes," she whispered and felt the tears. "I don't know what I should do with myself when he's not around. It's as if I forgot everything he had been teaching me. I no longer know what is wrong or right."

"It will get better."

"When?"

"Sooner or later," Carol said with nostalgic tone.

"Hmm."

"Let's sleep, Sweet Thing."

As the group settled into the house they had discovered, Carol slipped into the role of both mother and lady of the house. With a quiet strength and unwavering determination, she took on the responsibility of caring for the needs of those around her, ensuring that they felt safe and supported in their new surroundings. Her warm smile and gentle words became a source of solace for the group, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was still room for compassion and kindness.

Carol's nurturing presence extended to every corner of the house, from tending to the wounds of Tyreese to providing a listening ear for Charlie burdened by the weight of her grief. She became a pillar of strength for the group, her unwavering resolve serving as a source of hope for the girls in a world consumed by despair.

But perhaps most importantly, Carol took on the role of surrogate mother to the children, offering them love, guidance, and protection in the absence of their own parents. With a tender touch and a watchful eye, she helped to shield Judith from the horrors of the outside world, creating a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos. She also took as the point of honor to take care of Charlie and was making sure she's okay.

In Carol, the group found not only a leader and a provider but also a source of love and comfort in a world filled with darkness. And as they gathered around the hearth of their newfound home, they knew that as long as Carol was by their side, they would weather whatever challenges the future might bring.

"What are you doing?" Charlie asked as she entered the kitchen.

"Cookies," Carol smiled. "Girls said they would like to eat ones, and I found chocolate in the cupboard,"Charlie nodded with a smile and leaned on the counter. "Is something wrong?"

Carol developed a skill of reading her just by looking at her face. She couldn't precisely say if it was good or bad for now, but nothing could hide from Carol. So, Charlie decided to voice her concerns related to Lizzie.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on with the girl?"

"What do you mean?" Carol tried to brush her off with a smile.

"I mean, what's wrong with Lizzie?"

The woman placed everything down with a sigh and looked at Charlie. Carol was well aware of complexity of the problem with Lizzie. It was making her heart sink every time she was thinking about it, that's why she wasn't doing this much. "She's just lost," she said. "She can't understand how the world has changed."

"We can't leave it like that."

"Then what should we do?" Carol asked, but the silence answered her. "Exactly."

"She is dangerous to everyone. Even herself," Charlie voiced her worries.

"She's a good child," Carol said and looked over the window, watching as Lizzie was running around laughing. Charlie knew that the girls were replacing the emptiness Sophia left in Carol's heart, so it was probably harder to let the negative thoughts to her.

Which only made things harder.

Suddenly, Carol dropped everything and left the room that she was talking with Charlie. The second, furrowed her eyebrows and stepped closer to the window, and her heart sank.

As Charlie watched from a distance, a knot tightened in his stomach as she witnessed the horrifying scene unfolding before her. Lizzie, seemingly oblivious to the danger, gleefully played with the walker, her innocent laughter ringing through the air. Carol sprang into action with a speed and determination. With a primal instinct, she lunged forward, pulling Lizzie away from the walker's grasp just in the nick of time. The air seemed to crackle with tension as Carol wrestled with the undead creature, her every movement fueled by a mother's fierce protectiveness.

In the very moment, she felt another presence behind her. The man switched off the fire, so the whistle of the boiling water went quiet. Before he asked what was going on he looked out of the window. As it was quiet around, they both could hear a loud scream coming from Lizzie's mouth."She didn't want to hurt anybody! She was my friend and you killed her! You killed her!"

Tyreese's realization dawned slowly, like a dark cloud creeping across the sky. At first, he dismissed Lizzie's unsettling behavior as the product of trauma and fear, a child struggling to cope with the horrors of the world around her. But as he observed her reaction now, a gnawing sense of unease began to take root in his mind. He looked at Charlie and their eyes met.

The pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, each one a chilling revelation of the truth that lurked beneath the surface. The way Lizzie spoke about the walkers with an unsettling sense of familiarity, the disturbing drawings she created depicting violence and death – it all pointed to a deeply disturbed mind, a darkness that threatened to consume them all. However, nothing could be done.

The group needed to hunt down the deer they saw near the house. Charlie volunteered for that, and she decided to take Mika with her as she knew the importance of teaching her the skills necessary for survival, but he also felt the weight of responsibility resting heavily on her shoulders.

With a steady hand and a reassuring smile, Charlie guided Mika through the dense undergrowth, her senses on high alert for any sign of danger. She imparted her knowledge of tracking and hunting with patience and care, teaching her to move silently and stealthily through the forest like a ghost in the night. Remembering how Daryl used to teach her.

"The fire's still burning," the girl said, looking at the smoke that was raising in the distance for couple days now.

"It could have gone out," Charlie shrugged.

"Nope. The smoke is black," Mika argued. "If it was white, the fire wouldn't have be burning anymore," she said and smiled after seeing dumbfounded face of Charlie. "I miss science class. Except for when we had to do stuff like cut up planaria worms."

"There are worse things you've got to do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes you do," Charlie said with a firm voice and stopped walking. "Lizzie's bigger than you and in some ways she's stronger. But you're smarter and you understand these...things," she explained. Suddenly from behind the bushes appeared a big and shiny deer. He stopped a couple feet away, and proudly straightened his back. Charlie nudged the girl. "Do it. I showed you."

Charlie furrowed her brows as the girl turned to her. "I can't. We have peaches."

Charlie sighed in a defense, but smiled and nodded her head.

Carol and Tyreese were talking near the well as they were getting water for whatever reason. Their conversation seemed rather serious judging by Carol's face. But it break into a huge, bright smile as she saw Charlie approaching. "You're back already? Where's Mika?"

"She wanted to find Lizzie, so she could tell her about the hunt."

"And the deer?"

Charlie sighed. "Mika couldn't bring herself to shoot that deer and it was gone before I had a chance to shoot."

"Yeah, she's always been sensitive," Carol nodded.

"I'm not sure if she'll ever be able to pull the trigger."

"And you're so calm?" Tyreese narrowed his eyes in surprise.

Charlie looked up from the water source as she was washing her hands. "What am I supposed to do? Yell at her?" she asked annoyed. "She's a little girl, and I'm not a monster."

Carol exchanged glances with each other. "You weren't so soft with Carl."

"Sorry?"

"You didn't have any resistance to yell at him or put him at the edge of tears," she remembered.

Charlie's frustration simmered at Carol. She felt a pang of hurt at the accusation, her emotions torn between defending herself and understanding Carol's perspective. Deep down, Charlie knew she wasn't heartless, but the accusation still stung, leaving her feeling misunderstood and defensive. Maybe at first she wasn't the nicest to the boy, but he grew on her and became a close person to her heart. She never said anything to purposely hurt him...or did she? Carol's disapproving gaze only fueled Charlie's irritation, leaving her to wonder if maybe she was being too hard on the boy.

"Carl was a boy," Charlie straightened her back. Her annoyance increased at the mention of his name. "He needed to toughen up. Also, he was older than her..." she said, but as she voiced that she wasn't so sure. Carl didn't have any problems with guns; however, he was a sensitive child. Maybe she just had problem with identifying that and later it was too late to treat him gently. "Carl was different. I'll keep teaching her, but it's hard."

"She's got a good heart, Charlie," Carol said. "We'll find a way to keep her safe, even if it means stepping in ourselves."

"That's only the next reason why we should stay here," Tyreese changed the subject.

"What?"

"You liked the idea the other night."

"Yeah, I wanted to stay for couple of days not forever," Charlie said. "What if someone is alive and is in the Terminus?"

"We don't know that, sweet thing," Carol shook her head. "We don't know what waits us there."

"We can't stay here forever. We will run out of supplies eventually," she argued.

"Charlie, we can't risk heading to Terminus right now," Tyreese said. "It's too uncertain."

She didn't answer.

"We found this house for a reason — to stay hidden and regroup," Carol said.

"Regroup?" she scoffed. "Who do you want to regroup?"

"What would Daryl do?" the other woman asked. "You think he would want to risk Judith's life?"

"I think he would like to go to the Terminus if that meant reconnecting with the rest."

"Listen, we need a plan," the man said as the voice of reason. "Terminus might be a trap, and we can't gamble with our safety. Let's fortify here, gather resources, and figure out our next move together."

"Charlie! Carol! Help!

Carol, Charlie, and Tyreese sprinted through the trees, their hearts pounding as they heard the distant screams of the girls. Fear clenched at their chests, driving them forward with urgency. With each step, branches whipped past them, and the forest blurred into a chaotic mosaic of greens and browns. Adrenaline surged through their veins as they pushed themselves to move faster, desperate to reach the girls before it was too late.

As they burst into the clearing, they found Mika trapped, terror etched on her face as she struggled against the relentless advance of the walker. Without a thought, Carol shoot the Walker in the head which gave the girl a time to run from the five or six more.

Charlie didn't have a gun, so she was just watching what was happening in front of her, how the dead were dropping to the ground like flies. Her eyes widened in surprise as she watched Lizzie take aim and fire at the approaching walkers. She never expected the young girl to have the courage, let alone the skill, to defend herself in such a manner - especially in the light of past events. Her expression determined as she continued to take down the undead with steady shots.

Charlie couldn't help but feel a mix of shock and admiration for the girl's resilience in the face of danger. Maybe today's situation showed her the true nature of Walkers and their problem solved itself.

As the evening settled in after the harrowing ordeal of having to kill walkers, a somber atmosphere hung heavy over the group. They gathered around a flickering fire, the crackling flames casting long shadows that danced against the walls of their makeshift shelter. Charlie was sitting down on the floor, brushing the leaves out of Mika's hair as the girl was playing with a doll. Charlie once again began humming a lullaby and in a second Judith fell asleep in Tyreese's arms - along with Tyreese.

Despite the heaviness in the air, there was a sense of solidarity among them, a silent understanding that they were in this together, bound by a shared determination to survive. And as the night wore on, they found solace in each other's presence, drawing strength from the bonds that held them tight in the face of the uncertain future.

"I had to help stop them," said Lizzie in a low ton. She was still tense from what she had to do, and the emotions still fresh in her.

"Do you understand what they're now?" Carol asked.

"I know..." Lizzie nodded. "I know what I have to do now."

Carol's eyes met Charlie's and she nodded, so the other woman could continue her conversation with Lizzie. It was the right moment to convince her what was good and what was bad.

"It's ugly and it's scary," Carol said. "That's how we got to be here. That's growing up now."

"I don't want to hurt anyone," said Mikka suddenly, showing that she wasn't mindlessly playing with a toy.

"You have to be sometimes," Lizzie answered and then looked up at Charlie. "But just sometimes."

She smiled at her lightly and nodded her head, caressing Mika's hair. "Sometimes."

Sitting around the fire, Charlie couldn't help but smile as she listened to the girls' laughter as they were making cookies with Carol, their youthful energy a welcome respite from the harsh realities of their world.

And as they sat together surrounded by the warmth of the fire that was lighting up the room, Charlie couldn't help but feel grateful for the makeshift family she had found in the midst of the chaos, knowing that as long as they had each other, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead with strength and resilience.

Or so they thought...

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[1lovepeace]

Moonfam's Unresolved Conflict and Trauma

With Season 5: Ocean of The Dragon Prince expected to be released this year, I'm really looking forward to it, mainly because of the huge potential for the possible moonfam plot with Rayla and how they will address the conflict and trauma with her and her family. I'm strongly confident that Ethari will be in S5 and beyond.

I highly theorize that the reason for this is that while I'm excited about the long-awaited Moonfam Reunion and Reconciliation, this is where all the struggles, conflicts, and trauma with the Moonfam could become very intense and super heavy, especially with all the distance and fragmentation in their family.

A few years ago, during an interview with the writers Devon and Iain, it was confirmed that Ethari 100% regrets doing the ghosting spell on Rayla, suffering from all the guilt, regret and sorrow that he's carried for the last two years. Once he is reunited with Rayla, I can absolutely envision him having a massive, heartbreaking, overwhelming, emotional breakdown. There will definitely be many tears and humongous apologies, but both Rayla and Ethari will have the hardest, emotional yet honest, truthful, and sincerest conversations with each other about the last two years.

I think Rayla will definitely have a hard time forgiving Ethari and have different levels of mixed emotions, such as anger, resentment, and doubt, rightfully so, because Runaan and Ethari technically abandoned, failed, and wronged her, unintentionally, of course. But I think she will in the end. Being confronted by this and having to acknowledge it is gonna be extremely hurtful and deeply painful for both of them.

This'll be very hard on Rayla and Ethari. The same goes for Runaan, but they are necessary in order for them to begin healing and repairing their family. During these conversations, Ethari will finally be able to express how incredibly remorseful and deeply apologetic he is for what he did, showing Rayla how much he truly regrets it and how much he wants her in his life again, unpacking and liberating a monumental load of emotional baggage. This is why I wanna see both of them just embracing each other in a long, silent, wordless, and emotional hug.

All of this will be crucial and critical for Rayla to have these discussions and conversations with all of her family, especially with Runaan. They both are gonna have an enormous, profound, fair share of guilt, regret, and sorrow, specifically from Runaan, for what happened on the mission. From realizing the truth about Rayla's parents and having nothing but his thoughts to reflect and contemplate on, it has, undoubtedly, devastated and scarred him, thinking about those last heartbreaking interactions between him and Rayla on the mission. For he has humongous apologies to make, enormous repairing his relationships with his family, clarifying his behaviors, explaining his actions, etc.

Don't get me wrong, I adore them, but I don't want the show to let Runaan off the hook for how he wronged Rayla in S1 or let Ethari off the hook for unfairly ghosting Rayla, they deserve to be held accountable for their actions. I also feel that Callum is gonna have a humongous earful to say to Runaan and Ethari, not holding back the anger and disdain towards both of them, feeling they betrayed and wronged Rayla, and that because of them she lost everything she had left. They will have a lot of repairing to do with their daughter and not only working towards earning her trust again but, more importantly, her forgiveness.

There will be so much crying and such heavy emotions in these conversations, where both Ethari and Runaan admit to Rayla how horribly and miserably they failed, disappointed wronged her as her fathers, that she deserves better from them, that they have enormous guilt and tremendous regrets for what they've done, pouring out all their heart and soul into every apology, telling her how much they truly and deeply love her and that they sincerely want her in their lives again. How much it has been hurting and torturing them ever since. All the monumental load of emotional baggages and trauma must be acknowledged and resolved for all three of them, but this will be crucial for them to reconcile, heal, and repair their family together.

The conflict and angst with Callum, Rayla, Ethari, Runaan, and her parents are gonna be really interesting. The bad blood between Callum, Ezran, and Runaan for killing their father, King Harrow, is gonna be heavy. There are so many things left unsaid and unresolved, and I can't wait to see how they will address all these issues. I wanna see the moonfam reconciliation so much, and I have confidence that they will do it justice. It'll absolutely be worth the wait. I'm super nervous yet optimistic and excited for the next upcoming seasons. Let's Go Season 5.

[nerdyporcelain]

Licricia cannot believe it.

She is there on this reclusive island where gods appear monthly and miracles happen on a daily basis. In this crowd of beautiful people red, black and white colored gowns mix in a swirl of disgustingly rich magnificence, her friends mingle and try to navigate this stage, and still she only has eyes for him.

He mixes into the crowd and disappears and already it starts to feel like a dream. Did their hands truly touch? Did she just imagine how the blue of his eyes shone in the magic lights of the ballroom? He smelled differently than he used to, and besides those eyes peeking at her from beneath the mask and his vaguely familiar voice, he seemed foreign, even more tired than he was last time she saw him.

She returns to protecting her friends and as soon as their gloved hands stop touching, Ozyrus returns to being what he'd been for the last thirty years - a memory, whisper of a touch, already fading. She watches him smoothly manouver himself into the crowd, already sweeping someone into a dance, just as he swept her mere minutes ago, and he's gone from her sight. She returns to the task at hand and tries to calm her emotions, yet, still clings to the warmth of his touch lingering on her skin.

She hasn't seen him in so long, but the second they locked eyes on that staircase, it was like they never were apart. She knew, instantly, that it's really him. Her best friend. Reuniting with Ozzy was a dream she let go of a long time ago, but through all the guilt and sorrow of time passed being apart, hurting, all she can feel now is tremendously grateful. One day in the future she will cry her eyes out about this moment, again about everything she felt when he left so many years ago, and about everything she feels now that he is near again.

He actually came back to her, after everything, after everyone. In this world of sorrow Licricia starts believing in miracles.

[bumblingbabooshka]

And I don’t want your pity - I just want somebody near me.

[wormstacheangel]

There was always something special about Dean. Or maybe he thinks that because he makes himself believe that he sees something that isn’t there, but he is positive that he shined the brightest. Of course, he wasn’t perfect, far from being so, but Cas believed he was worth all this.

Maybe he couldn’t put a word to what Dean meant to him, but for now, Cas knew one thing, he was important.

-

Important. That’s what he is, but why did he have to be this hard-headed. All Cas asks of Dean is to give him his trust, but he could feel that slowly slipping away. He could tell him everything, and maybe he will understand, but this fight is not one he wants to involve Dean or his family in. He will keep him-keep them safe.

His friends. Dean was a beloved friend.

So he hated looking into his friend’s eyes and seeing nothing but anger.

-

He wishes he could fix things between them, but it’s too late now.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

If God can gift him more time, he’ll make sure to deserve the title of family. To give him time to remove the sorrow in Dean’s eyes and work to rebuild the trust that he has broken.

-

He wasted too much of Dean’s time already, but no matter how much space he placed between them, Dean was always just around the corner, ready to catch up with him. He has heard that the human--his human--has found a way to leave this monster hell. Time passed, but Dean never stopped following in his footsteps, so it was time to turn around and face him.

Look into the eyes of the one friend--the only family--he has in this hell because, while he deserves to be there, Dean deserved so much better. He was important, loved, and cared about.

Dean’s relief was short-lived when he figured out that Cas was running away. He saw the hurt in those eyes, and Cas had to look away. Wondering if the hurt will turn into anger when he realized Cas was not going with him.

-

As a human, emotions are overwhelming. It was much harder to read or understand people. The theme he noticed was that the most vulnerable of them are the kindest but desperate people do desperate things.

Now, for the first time, Cas has understood the emotion he has been feeling for Dean.

“I'll have some beef jerky and a pack of menthols.”

Dean’s eyes were bright with a smile, guilt was there, but he looked genuinely happy to be there.

“What are you doing here?”

He has to stay distracted because his heart is racing. It was just because Dean genuinely surprised him, that is all. Nothing more.

“Gee, it’s nice to see you too, Cas.”

“It's … Steve now. And... uh, you know you surprised me.”

Nothing more than that. He will not acknowledge more than that.

That is until later. When Dean was fast asleep on the motel bed beside him, Cas couldn’t help but stare back at the sleeping man. He should be asleep himself, finally, on an actual bed; he should have quickly passed out, but the bed was too soft, and maybe he wasn’t used to that.

He didn’t expect to wake up and find Dean so close beside him, but here he was.

Beautiful.

Fuck it. “I love you.” Finally, he could admit it to the darkness.

-

Those feelings were pushed deep inside him after that night. They were mixed with so many others that Cas had a hard time figuring them out. Of course, as an angel, he could turn it all off. Not feel a damn thing once again, but he knew Dean had a way of worming his way in even if he didn’t know it.

For now, Cas will acknowledge a few things about his feelings. Dean was important; he was family and his best friend. But, unfortunately, those are all the labels he could make himself give the man.

-

Happiness.

He doesn’t remember feeling that in a long time. So he’s not worried about it.

Right now, all that matters is that he has his family together again. For now, at least. They are still fighting, and there is still work they have to do just to keep themselves safe.

Dean looks especially happy, though.

He believes he has a no-string attach win, a rare thing in his life. Unfortunately, Cas can not find the strength to tell him the truth.

Dean looked so bright, bubbly, and just so...content with everything. How can Cas even think of dimming that light of his when it’s so beautiful to look at.

-

Cas spends days and nights wondering what could be the one damn thing that can take him away from his family. What is worth dying for? Or maybe, better yet, who is worth dying for?

He remembers the vision Jack once showed him when he was still with Kelly and wondered if he would ever get the chance to see Jack’s world. To live in a world where he fulfilled his destiny and brought light back into the world.

He has already done that for him, brought more joy and love than he ever thought he could give or receive. But, still, he wasn’t happy enough. Not enough to die, at least.

Maybe as soon as Jack is happy and safe, that could be it.

He will have to live knowing that maybe he won’t be a part of Jack’s life in the future. That vision can never come true. At least not the part with him in it.

“Thank you.” That’s what Dean in the vision said to him before Cas spread his wings. Before a bright light blinded him.

Maybe...maybe the vision was of his death.

Maybe his happiness is his family’s happiness.

Dean looked so beautiful in that vision. Wide-eyed and red-faced. It was an expression Cas has never seen on the hunter before, and whenever his mind wanders, it’s always to that expression. What could have happened to make those green eyes look so...alluring?

“Cas!” He looked up when he felt his shoulder being shaken violently. Dean stood over him with a teasing grin. “You’re looking like a creep staring like that. But, come on, the world ain’t gonna save itself with an empty stomach.”

Dean motioned for Cas to follow, and without any hesitation, Cas does. That vision pushed to the back of his mind again. His knowing feelings are left forgotten again as Dean shoves his shoulders playfully, asking him what he wants for dinner.

Cas doesn’t think about his happiness again that night. Instead, he feels content enjoying the now.

-

He almost said it.

Cas heard or maybe felt was the right word for it, but fuck, it was there. A hint of vulnerability inched its way out, along with the words of forgiveness. And it scared the fuck out of him.

Cause maybe that was it. Forgiveness makes the empty take him away, so he sat and waited, but luckily, Dean found him first.

He ignored the hidden unsaid words like his life depended on it because he couldn’t risk losing Dean over unexplored feelings. He just got him back, but now it left him wondering again, if not Dean’s forgiveness, then what could make him happy?

-

His love.

He loved him. He loved him so much, and as much as he tried to ignore it or push it back, it was always there. So maybe that is what happiness is. Maybe finally letting his feelings be known to the one person that needs to hear them is what could save Dean. For once, his feelings won’t be a burden to him.

“I love you.”

And nothing happened. He felt relief at saying the words, but he wasn’t sure if it was sunshine on your face, kind of happiness. It wasn’t enough. Maybe he was wrong. Perhaps it was something-

There.

There in green eyes were those eyes. That look in his vision.

And for the first time, Cas understood what was so alluring about those eyes.

Love.

He saw love in them.

He reached out for Dean because, for the first time, he realized he could have it. He could have the love he has been pushing away for so long. Dean loved him!

“Wait!” He felt tugging at his waist as his body started to become covered in black goo. It’s finally here. Cas is finally happy. “No! Wait!”

“Cas!”

And he can’t have it. He can’t have him.

The last thing he saw were those eyes. Horror-struck eyes filled with tears as their gazes met for the last time. Darkness soon swallowed him, going to and for the first time in a long time, Cas felt nothing.

[shadyteacup]

Hi! Im the one req 7 for chuuya sorry i didint specified, i just realized it. Can i get angst prompt 7 for chuuya?

Hiya! This pained me to write, so I made it fluffy at the end... sorry if u were looking for pure angst! I can't go to sleep peacefully peacefully after writing angst, I need to clutch my soft toys and cry myself to sleep..

Warnings: Angst to fluff, maybe a swear word at the end.. dw, it's just "bish", but like the actual word.

Word count: 2006 😳yes, I got carried away

Nakahara Chuuya + “Please wake up”

Forewarning

“Don’t move, Chu.”

You grumbled against his chest. It was yet another lazy morning for the two of you. Lazy mornings consisted of waking up late, cuddling on the bed till lunch time, getting dressed and having dinner at some exotic place, going for a long drive, then coming back home. It was a perfect day for a traditional lazy day, except for the fact it was a weekday.

Chuuya sighed. He had to get to work, and so did you. You both couldn’t afford to miss any workdays, considering that you both worked for the same organization, one that didn’t hesitate to punish for untimely work. Chuuya was an executive, and so were you. You both had multiple solo missions planned out for today and one mission wherein you both had to team up. It was going to be quite a busy day, and Chuuya wanted nothing more than to just get it all over with. He was looking forward to some lazy cuddles in the evening, after both of your jobs were done.

“We have to get dressed, dove.”

He tried reasoning with you. You were a workaholic, just like him. It surprised him to see this lazy side of you. But then again, you must be tired, he thought.

“I know. But let’s bunk today!”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, hoping to convince him.

Chuckling, he pet your head affectionately.

“The mafia isn’t some school that you could just bunk. Besides, don’t you love working?”

You frowned at that. You were feeling weird today. It’s like something was forewarning you. But about what?

“I just have a bad feeling about today. I don’t know why, but I feel like something bad is going to happen.”

He sighed. He was never one to believe I such things. That was why you weren’t telling him until now.

“We work in the mafia. How worse can it get?”

“I suppose you’re right.”

You smiled, getting up to get ready.

....

“The target is in the warehouse.”

Chuuya said to you. You both were currently seated in Chuuya’ s car, parked on a hill. Your stakeout point had a clear view of an abandoned warehouse. Apparently, it was the location where a rival gang was coordinating with some members of the mafia and stealing their goods. You both had already executed the moles and had sent in one of your trusted members as a pretend mole. He would send you both a signal when he felt that the security was the weakest at the entrance. You both would then attack. He was supposed to cause a commotion in there, resulting in majority of the guards to rush inside and leave the entrance wide open for you two. Your men had already sealed all exits to ensure no one got out. Now you were both waiting for the signal.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

Chuuya pouted at your jab.

“I was just being thorough!”

“By stating the obvious?”

“You’re so mean.”

“Says the angry redhead.”

“What has my hair got to do with anything?!”

“Your hair has got to do with everything! I-”

A sharp sound was heard. Both you and Chuuya were blinded for a second as white filled your vision. You felt your torso pinch a little. It almost felt like someone was sticking a few needles into your tummy. You heard screams. They sounded frantic. A few moments later, your vision cleared, and you saw yourself floating in the air, a frantic Chuuya saying something to you. It all sounded mangled and mixed up. If you could have laughed at the moment, you would have laughed at how funny he sounded.

The screams had turned to cries, now. You were so confused. Who was crying? And why was Chuuya pressing down on your stomach?

Looking down, you saw the blood. There was blood everywhere. It had completely soaked your shirt. Chuuya was using his ability and his hands to keep it in. He seemed hurried. His eyes were watery, and streams of tears were flowing down his cheeks.

Finally understanding the situation, you realised that you were injured. Looking down at your torso, you saw the two bullet wounds. And now, you finally felt them. The pain was overwhelming. It rushed in like water at the breaking of a dam. It completely filled you up. You now realised that those cries of pain were actually your own. You wished to have never woken from your daze. You wanted to remain oblivious. You wanted the pain to go back to mere pinpricks. It was too much. Succumbing to the enormous pain, you let your eyes shut close. You realised that your body was going to sleep. Maybe for the last time.

....

Chuuya sat in a chair next to your sleeping form. You were lying unconscious on the clean white sheets of the hospital bed. Your entire torso was covered in bandages. You had taken two bullets, one in the side and one right next to your belly button. The doctors were able to save you in time, and it was a matter of time till you gained consciousness.

Chuuya held his face in his hands. The memories of just moments prior to visiting the hospital kept running through his head. He kept seeing flashes of your blood oozing out of your body. He kept remembering the way your eyes had glazed over while he tried to apply pressure on your wounds. There was so much blood. His mere two hands were proving to be inefficient. So, he had activated his ability to push the blood back in. He had no clue if that had helped. He remembered activating his ability the moment you had let out a blood curdling scream. He had levitated you both out of the car and high up in the night sky.

He should have listened to you. Your forewarnings were right. Something terrible had ended up happening. The mole he had sent inside was found murdered by the backup team, and the head of the organization had fled. His men had taken up sniping positions all across the hills. Two of them had shot you at once. He remembered going on a mad spree and pelting boulders at all the men in his sight using his ability right before he flew to the hospital with you in his arms.

“Has she gained consciousness?”, the doctor asked as she peeked in. Chuuya had asked all medical personnel to leave him alone with his sweetheart, a little too passionately, after they were done treating you, and hence the poor doctor was a tad bit scared to check up on your vitals.

Chuuya whipped his head up.

“No.”

The doctor scrunched her brows in worry. Rushing in, she did some tests.

“I’m sorry, sir, but if the patient doesn’t wake up in another hour, we will have to declare a coma condition.”

“What?!”

The doctor jumped at his outburst, but answered him, nonetheless.

“The body is behaving as if it is already in coma. This can also be because it is repairing itself. It doesn’t necessarily have to be coma.”

She sighed.

“But, if the patient retains this state of unconsciousness, we will have to rule out a natural healing process. I suggest you try to communicate with the patient. Sit close, hold hands, maintain physical contact. Try speaking. That way, maybe the body will react to a familiar scent, touch or voice, and gain consciousness.”

Chuuya gulped, worried, and nodded.

“I understand.”

He shakily made his way to your face, observing your serene features. He hesitantly put your hair behind your ear, breathing unsteadily. He felt immense guilt and anger. He was guilty of not paying your uneasiness an ear, and he was angry because he couldn’t save you. If only he had been more vigilant, more aware of his surroundings, he would have been able to smell a rat.

“I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you. I should have been able to protect you.”

He gasped inaudibly, trying to keep his sobs in. He couldn’t stop the tears. They flowed freely down his cheeks, a symbol of his immense fear of losing you. He couldn’t bear the idea of loosing you. It might be selfish of him, but he wanted you to live, because God-forbid, if you didn’t, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. He knew that if such a devastating situation ever occurred, he would lose all sanity and go mad. He would lose his mental balance and completely fall off the edge. He couldn’t bear to be separated from you for two days, forget the rest of his lifetime.

He caressed your cheek, smiling bitterly at your sleeping form. Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, he let himself truly cry. He let out all his emotions into your hair. He found comfort in your warmth. He has always felt the safest in your embrace. That’s where he could truly be himself.

He didn’t realise how long it had been when he began talking to you. Telling you how much he loved you and how he couldn’t live without you. He pondered on how he would take his life if you left him.

“I’d have to go to that stupid mackerel for guidance. But then again, he has been unsuccessful in killing himself for 22 years. He’s probably the worst suicidal guy out there.”

He was lying next to you now, cradling your frail form in his arms.

The doctor waltzed in, a serious and sorrowful expression straining her pretty features.

“Nakahara-san, I’m so sorry.”

Chuuya gritted his teeth, holding onto you tighter.

“No! There’s still a chance that-”

“Its hopeless. The patient has already been in this state for 16 hours.”

“16 hours?”

The doctor smiled sympathetically.

“I gave you a lot more time. I thought maybe the constant contact would help. But sadly, it’s out of our hands now.”

Chuuya sat up, holding your face in his large palms.

“Wake up! Wake up, damnit!”

He shook you gently, desperate to get any kind of reaction out of you.

“Nakahara-san! Please get away from the patient! You mustn’t cause any harm! Security?!”

The doctor rushed forward to pull Chuuya off of you, but he held onto you. He grabbed your arms, looping his own around them and pulling you towards him.

“Wake up!”

He rested his face on your chest, sobs escaping him.

“Please... please wake up...”

The doctor reached forward to clasp his shoulder, trying to pry him off of you.

A large gasp followed by couple of coughs were heard.

You took in a large breath, trying to swallow. Your throat was dry and scratchy.

“Y/N!”

Looking up, you saw Chuuya holding you in his arms, a relieved and surprised expression on his elegant features.

“Hey.”

Your voice sounded raspy, but it was music to his ears.

He engulfed you in a hug, one that knocked the air out of your lungs.

“She’s still a patient!”

The doctor reprimanded as the security guards pulled Chuuya off of you.

You smiled at the tiny ginger.

“I’m alive, Chu. Stop being dramatic.”

Chuuya laughed at your carefree attitude. He didn’t resist the men as they pulled him out of the room. He was relieved to see you awake. He didn’t care about anything else. Just as he was about to leave, you spoke up.

“Call Gin and tell her that I’m not dead!”

“You don’t need to call me, idiot. I was waiting right outside.”

You smiled as she walked in, giving you a hug.

“Why does she get to go in but not me?!”

Chuuya whined.

“Hey Gin, guess what?”

Gin smiled at you, sitting at the edge of your bed at the nurses did their check-ups.

“What?”

“I’m alive, bitch!”

Your snickers could be heard till the hallway, where the rest of your friends were seated. Shaking his head, Tachihara snickered.

“Good ol’ Y/N.”

[bleulone]

Can we talk about about how Colin looked in ep 1 when he first saw Marina compared to how he looked when he saw Pen in ep 8. Almost the exact same look! Of course his look to Penelope is probably more about his guilt because he brushed her off when she tried to warn him but still..progress! Lol and then when he's getting ready to leave for Greece, he glanced towards Penelope's home. I think they're having Colin's feelings for her grow gradually in the show instead of all of a sudden like in the books.

Hey! Thank you for this insightful ask of yours :) Sorry for the late answer, I took a long time to write this— without further ado, here we go!

Indeed, Polin is first and foremost a story of gazes, those gazes being of many natures. Whether they are love ones, friendly ones, admirative ones or lustful ones, looking imposes itself to be a huge parameter in Penelope and Colin’s love story.

In order to understand that on screen, film-making has at its disposal a very rich and smart langage of its own. Sometimes, comparision helps to underlines the differences between one character’s relationship with person A mirorring person B. I feel like Shondaland and Chris Van Dussen wanted to introduce the audience to the evolution of our Bridgerton men’s perception of Love. For instance, while Anthony views attachement— to Siena— as a way to escape his responsibilities before becoming his villain (...until our queen ma’am Kate Sheffield comes to the picture), Benedict doesn’t comprehend this universal concept and prefers to enjoy the many physical pleasures life can offer. In other words, the older brothers already explored their sexuality here and there, making them the infamous rakes that they are. As for Colin, it’s a complete other thing.

Colin is young. Very young. At 21, he’s just left Eton College and barely knows anything of the world nor women. Like Anthony said in 1x06, Colin hasn’t been taken to brothels which is a very important step in the building of young men’s sentimental and sexual education during that time period. Since he missed this essential step, our sweet/immature boy has no clue about how to deal sagaciously with his feelings and his “foolish” impulses, baring his naivety. At this point of the story, we can easily come to the conclusion that Colin is a virgin who can’t drive XD. He’s just a child overcame by his passions, a hopelessly romantic who rushes things without taking the time to properly court or know his significant other. And his off-screen flirtation with those supposed numerous girls in London isn’t of any help to justify his (oh so little) experience. So when he sees Marina, he’s so struck by her... mainly by her alluring appearance. And he doesn��t seem to let his eyes nor mind go beyond her exquisite beauty.

In this perspective, the whole Colin/Marina storyline can be perceived as a parallelism to the Pen/Colin’s one. In 1x01, he is immediatley smitten with a dancing Miss Thompson, which happens to be ironically the same case with a 17 year-old Pen but with him. We got to see her, a few moments ago, dreamily looking at him from the back of the dancefloor (echoeing the episode where she fell madly in love with him after he fell off his horse at Hyde Park). She’s charmed by his dashing look and his kindness, yet she doesn’t seem to know anything else about him considering the rare conversations they share. Her burning gaze fits the original story from Julia Quinn’s books because in Romancing Mister Bridgerton, the 28 year-old spinster Penelope do realize later on that Colin is more than a good looking man : he’s a human who possesses a temper and flaws.

Either way, both of our boos are portrayed as hopelessly young people in love who childishly idealize the objects of their affection.

In 1x08, it’s the other way around. It’s Colin who sees Pen first, her who appears to wear the yellow dress’ lookalike from the pilot—what an interesting call back ^^. With his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide open, we can catch sight of the timid spark of a change in his gaze : Colin Bridgerton notices Penelope Featherington. He‘s touched by the realization that she cares about him. It would be rather inappropriate of me to say that Colin is already in love with her. However, in the finale, I do believe that he’s more struck by her high level of deep care for him than her beauty.

We are thus able to spot two big differences in Colin’s relationship with women in this season : when his attraction to Marina was purely physical and rushed, his attraction with Penelope is more emotional and slow. And for now, he comes to cherish his special bond with her, especially after she tried to warn him of the dangerous trap he was about to fall into. Even if he just sees her as his younger sister’s best friend right now, Pen matters in his life. And it’s still a little yet important progress for sure.

Speaking of which, I agree with you that this look of awe as well as realization is mostly mixed up with guilt. Since he didn’t take into account her words, he felt the strong need to apologize. But bear in mind that guilt formulates a considerable part in Colin’s feelings for Pen... and it’s only the very beginning. In the future, he’ll blame himself for not seeing her as the beautiful goddess and siren that she is in the first place. He’ll blame himself for not reciprocating the feelings for her.... Though at the moment, due to his lack of experience with women, Colin is oblivious to Pen’s obvious signs of sorrow when he told her he’s leaving for Greece/Cyprus. Next time, he’ll detect her sadness and won’t let her go, I’m sure of it (if he doesn’t I’ll riot).

Furthermore, I’m so glad you brought up the scene where Colin glances at the Featherington house. I had the same thought as well. When you put this still and the one where Pen is crying while looking at her window side by side, it even seems like they’re looking at each other. In a way, it implicitly confirms Pen’s key role in his final decision... After all, she’s the one who inadvertently inspired him right ?

The act of traveling has always been seen as cathartic since leaving home to discover yourself allows you to heal your broken heart and soul. It’s natural for Colin to do this. To make his first real steps into the world. His choice is quite relatable more than it is essential for his arc in the series. I can’t wait for him to come back all changed, hot ^^ and mature. I think, like you said, they are planning on making him progressively falling in love with her. Colin’s feelings will gradually leave the platonic zone to explore and officially stay in the intimate zone throughout the seasons.

Overall, the Colin/Marina and Colin/Penelope parallel in s1 mostly helps viewers to compare the way Colin evolves from being a stubborn naive boy to a heartbroken young man who’s aware of his crutial need for Experience. His coming of age, just like Pen’s, has just begun. And they will surely lead to our boy changing himself into the true charming rake that he’s meant to be and our girl into a more confident woman. Consequently, I think their story won’t take 10 years but rather at the very least 5 years perhaps to fit the TV timeline. Once Polin will finally be able to discuss, we’ll hopefully get to see more interesting nuances and shades added to the portrait they painted of one another over the years. They’re indispensable to the slow build up of their emotions/attraction as well as the shattering of their childish idealization/perception of each other.

All in all, I’m so loving the fact that season 1 beautifully sets up the importance of the gaze in Polin’s love story. This first installment is like an expository scene of a play. It leaves a trail of clues and pieces of information here and there at the reach every viewers who can pick them up and analyze what can be the main themes which will determine one character’s story arc/romance. With Polin we have : admiration, wit, love and friendship, desillusionment. (I know they are more but it’s all I can think of rn lol).

If we’re already emotional messes just with the mere power of them looking at each other, imagine when they’ll actually talk and share real conversations. It’s going to be a long way to canon but luv me some good fluffy angsty steamy slow burn :) ✨ I hope this long of mine answers your ask ahah, even if I talked about many things other than just Polin’s looks. Also, sorry if you spot some grammatical mistakes, English is not my first language.

[power-of-plot]

Hi! I'm here to request a hcs for Kakashi,Gaara and Naruto react to their best friend (or crush) s/o who's dying from unknown disease?

GaSp How dare you. WHY YOU DO THIS TO MY FEELINGS.

Warnings: Angst. Death. Your comfort characters are sad how dare u.

K A K A S H I

Hurt or any adjective to describe pain wouldn't be enough to explain how he feels when he finds out the disease was unknown.

He's an adult, he hadn't learnt to get completely over it but he was able to carry on and life a normal life after Rin's death. He didn't replace her with you, you had your own place in his heart and now he was going to lose you as well...?

Unless you did first, he would never bring up the subject, he tries his best to keep your mind off the disease and make you laugh for as long as you have left.

He would definitely cry about it in private, it wouldn't be a berserk of anger and sorrow but dull release of a storm, his sight completely blank as tears form in his eyes.

He'd comfort you the best he could if you ever felt scared or suffered from pain thanks to the disease.

Hand holding, backrubs and hugs. When the time comes he'd be by your side, without his mask, surprise- He has a handsome mole, probably the first and last time you'd get a full view of his face and his smile.

G A A R A

A stab to the heart and a scar, he had lost his mother and his uncle, both people he loved. He was happy with what he had left and you were the jewel of the crown. . . Too precious to be in this world.

He tries to think this rationally, sooner or later it would be everyone's turn, anything could happen to anyone indiscriminatelly. The fact was so simple yet so hard to process, out of all the people who could deserve it why you?

Kankuro and Temari would have to give him some emotional support on your back, the less he needs is to have you feeling guilty of his own unsubstantiated guilt.

Yes, he feels guilty, despite it's not in his power he can't help but feel that way as he can't do anything but watch as you slowly slip from his fingers.

Being in his office would make him feel bad, he forbid himself from mixing his emotions with his duty as Kazekage but.. every hour he spends there could be an hour spent with you, every hour he spends there could be your last one and he wouldn't even know.

He would fight with the devil itself inside holding back his tears when you take your leave, he wants you to go peacefully , you two would have your private moment but his sibblings would be there too.

N A R U T O

He gets reminded of all the times he has seen people slip like water in his fingers, there's always a time he's given something just so that he can watch as it flies away from his reach.. or so he thought at his lowest point.

His crying could tear down to pieces anyone by just looking at him, you're not only seeing it he's literally emanating his pain, just like his contagious cheerfulness. Sakura wouldn't have a clue of what to do about his inconsolable state, not even comfort coming from her seemed to work.

He does his best to hold his head up high and show his brightest smile to make you happy, every second would count, he would explain the situation to Jiraiya so he temporarily stops stealing his money for sake or gambles, he’d understand.

You discover all kinds of special edition ramen, rare spices and flavors, he’d give you part of his secret collection without hesitating. Even that ramen he bought in another village, he really devotes himself to make you happy.

The land of waves would be one of the several places he takes you to, all of them of emotional value, for example his first missions, the best ramen shops or the most turistic towns. He’d document each and every one of your trips, pictures and videos.

Iruka would have to check on him after he distancied himself from the grief of your passing, he has the great regret of not confessing his feelings but the guilt would be unbearable if the feeling wasn’t mutual and you had to leave with any kind of negative feeling.

Request are open. Oh yes this hurt, now i have a very good idea for some angst TuT . Thanks for reading!

[aries-rising-on-an-aquarius-tide]

Spoilers: Smoked, The Outlaw Eddie Wagner

Architecture

From the first moment that he realizes that he is drugged, every cell in his body resonates in Liv's direction. Not that it takes drugs to do that, of course, he just can't drown it out when his defenses are not in control. Every blink, every breath is heavy and the room is everywhere, yet also a place Elliot knows he will never belong.

When he stumbles out into the cool night, forcing his feet to work despite his vision's refusal to focus, El lets that low vibrating hum inside him push him toward Olivia. He trusts that it will get him there - it always has, when nothing else made sense.

She is in there, he knows it as he slams his palm on her door - knows it as certain as he knows what he came here to tell her. It goes around in his head like a prayer he can't stop: Tell her. Tell her Tell her.

"Olivia Benson, open up!" he yells, he can feel the drugs in his system crackling like live electricity just under the surface of his skin. He needs her to hurry before they take him out completely.

"Elliot? What the hell happened?"

Her voice saying his name - his real name, not an alias - sends a shiver through him. "Drugs. Someone .... someone dosed me," he gets out slowly.

No hospitals. All he wants is her, and this conversation that has been coming since before most of his kids were born. "I need you to let me in," he confesses. "Let me in."

She does, thank God, and he finds himself in an appropriately sophisticated wingback chair that is just the kind of chair Olivia Benson would have earned in his long absence. Liv is rationality, Liv is a lifetime worth of a job well done - and he is a buffoon, overheated and slurring his words in her fancy fucking chair.

But he can't live any longer with the knowledge of the words on that page. No matter what happens, there is only one truth left that he needs her to know; after that, damn whatever else comes.

Liv has the phone in her hand and Elliot knows he is running out of time, just as he knew it when Jenna Fox lay dying on the precinct floor. He gathers every ounce of control of his own speech he has left and forces the words out of his mouth.

"I didn't write the letter." Just those first five words feel better than as many confessions as he can remember.

"What?" her response is a word exhaled in disbelief, making him repeat himself. He does, the words coming a little faster the second time.

Dry eyes rolling in his sockets, he has never wanted so badly to feel the world stay still beneath his feet. El can feel his heart pounding, not just from the drugs.

"Kathy."

This word, at last, stills her urgency to use the phone. Olivia sits, her weight dropping out from under her as he watches her interpretation of six months' time - maybe even the last 23 years of their lives - shift, in an instant.

"Kathy, your wife ... wrote the letter that you told me that you wrote?" The disbelief on her face, in her gaze is complete and brutal.

Elliot's speech is still coming slowly, fuzzily, but each sentence he speaks feels like a chain being snapped. He is no longer tethered to the mother of his children, or the words she intended for him to hide behind on their return to Rome.

"That what we were to each other was ... never real ... and that we got in the way of each other being who and where we needed to be?"

"That was Kathy."

"And if there was a man in my life you hope he's the kind, faithful man that I deserved?"

"Kathy." His dead wife's name is like a recitation of penitence. This is his confession. The only one that matters.

Olivia, who has the letter memorized, speaks into existence the only part that matters to either of them: " 'But in a parallel universe - "

The last seven words come out plainly, as if he is as sober as a judge on his first day in robes: " - it will always be you and I.' I wrote that. I slipped it in before I sealed the envelope."

Her eyes shift one more time and Elliot can't tell if the gaze is one of relief or confusion or of utter renunciation of him. It takes monumental effort to push himself forward out of the chair, and still he almost shatters the glass in his hand against her coffee table.

"Liv ... " He's not sure how he can be so sleepy and yet on fire at the same time. "I love - " he tries, fails, tries again as his hands wrap around her. The touch of her hands on his shoulders is so desperate it's impossible to know who is holding who up.

El brings one hand up, fingers threading through the waves of her hair. When the pad of his thumb brushes her parted lips, the shiver that courses through him has the power of a freight train. Never, he's never touched her this intimately.

"I love - "

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

Somehow, she is holding onto him, despite the fact everything feels like freefall. Elliot smells of liquor, of stale cigarettes and expensive cigars, of wherever the drugs were given to him. Beneath that, though, he still smelled like Elliot: his aftershave, the clean sweat when he is abuzz with emotion and anxiety.

Months ago he had said I love you, and she couldn't respond because there were five other Stablers in the room. Hadn't responded since because of the letter that she had memorized like a note passed by a crush in high school:

What we meant to each other was never real.

Kathy.

The name now brings sorrow, anger, confusion, a whit-hot knot of pain in her gut. Everything Kathy'd had ... all the time that Liv and Elliot had lost.

What Kathy had known all along.

Olivia's fingertips dig into the corded muscle of Elliot's warm shoulders as he is knelt before her and she wants to tell him no, to stop - stop giving her his I love yous when he is broken, when he is intoxicated, when he is about to walk away. She can't do this again; can't be so close but still have empty palms in the morning where his hands should be, an empty bed where Elliot should be lying next to her.

For twelve years, they'd had that parallel universe. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing. Better than his becoming a ghost that she had to convince herself was really memory.

But in a parallel universe ... it will always be you and I.

He's still struggling to speak, she with the mix of her anger, sympathy, sadness, want. Beneath her hands he is real, he is solid, and there's nobody - no Kathy, no wife, no other partner or boundary waiting to fill them with guilt. Olivia Benson is desperate for an end to empty nights full of cheeks wet with tears and thighs wet with desire that she had secretly promised to him years ago.

Elliot's thumb brushes the intimate, unclaimed territory of the corner of her mouth and she lets herself give in to his touch. Turning her head, Liv kisses the thumb pad lightly, then meets his mouth the rest of the way down, pressing into him hard.

The groan in his throat is smothered between them as Liv feels the last moment of his battling the drugs dwindle away. He crumples in her embrace, causing her to grunt with the dead weight as she hefts him onto the rug.

Her heart is galloping as she dials Ayanna's number, her gaze flickering to Elliot's still form.

I wrote that. I slipped it in before I sealed the envelope.

/fin

[ace-of-spaders]

@my-robot-heart once upon a time sent me a prompt "I'm here. I never left." for Lizzington.

It was the kind of prompt I fell in love with from first glance but couldn't decide which direction to take right away, so I left it for a while.

I must admit, I'm rather glad that I did, because the idea I eventually went with came to me only after the season finale (because, like everyone else, I had to fix it somehow), but I'm also sorry, Robot, that it took me so long and can only hope that the end product is worth the waiting)

That is, considering your attitude towards the 8x22, I feel it's fair to warn you that this ficlet is set post-8x22 and is angsty - because Red is suffering and Liz is suffering because Red is suffering - but also hopeful because, guess what, Liz lives, so I really hope you'll like it!

(Also, it was supposed to be just a tiny ficlet but my fingers slipped... a lot, so it's now 2,000 words long))

Last but not the least, I think I need to tag @thetwistedargent, too, because her ghost!Lizzie stories low-key inspired this one. Even though I'm not brave nor strong enough to write dead!Lizzy.

Well, now enough with my rambling and on with the ficlet itself, I guess?)

---

She comes to him every night. Wearing loose sweaters that don’t constrict her chest, Liz slips past Dembe and into Red’s bedroom and invariably scrunches her nose up from the suffocating smell of cigar smoke that hangs heavily in the air.

Red hasn’t left his room in days – ever since Dembe brought him home on that fateful night he lost ( or thought he lost ) the meaning of his life in the form of his beloved Lizzy – wallowing in his grief, choking on his own guilt more than the smoke of cigars he smokes more than ever these days and drowning ( or, at least, trying to drown ) his sorrow in immeasurable quantities of alcohol. Liz is acutely aware of this newly established routine of his and what it does to his health and wishes with all her heart she could do something more about it other than visit him nightly while he sleeps, wishes she could reassure him that she’s alive and well and he doesn’t have to mourn her. But she can’t, not yet. So she crosses the room to the window and opens it wide in ultimately vain attempts to chase the choking odor of cigar smoke away. Taking a deep breath of fresh air to try and quell the storm of emotions raging inside of her, Liz turns her gaze to the loaded gun lying discarded on the desk ( she knows that Dembe tried to take that gun away from Red out of fear he might do something… unreasonable in his grief but Red didn’t let him, speaking up for the first time in quite a while just to reassure his old friend that he doesn’t have any intention of ending his own life… it will end soon enough anyway, even without such act of cowardice ) and runs her hand over the cool metal, feeling her heart clench at the thought of how apathetic, how utterly hopeless Red has become in – because of – her absence. Then, her gaze usually shifts towards the always empty decanter of whiskey, which – she knows – is refilled a couple of times a day by Reddington, the equally empty glass discarded on his nightstand, and only then she finally turns to look at the man himself. He looks awful, to put it mildly, worse with each passing day. The clothes he sleeps in don’t quite fit him in the same snug way they used to, reminding Liz of the fact that it takes a lot of convincing on Dembe’s part ( that man must truly be a saint ) to make him eat every single day and that he does so without any enthusiasm or appetite and continues to waste away despite his old friend’s best efforts. Tears brim in her eyes as Liz moves towards the bed and carefully sits down on its very edge, her eyes roaming over Red’s slack face and taking note of the ever-growing stubble, the deepening dark circles under his eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks, and the sickly pallor of his skin. “Oh, Red,” she whispers hoarsely, unable to keep all the despair and helplessness she feels when she realizes that he’s dying without her and yet she can’t do much about it inside, and reaches out to cup his cheek with her warm palm, to trace the sharpened outline of his cheekbone with her thumb or stroke his head, the smile that stretches her lips at the feeling of his hair – now longer than usual – tickling her palm too wobbly and weak. Sometimes, he sleeps peacefully… or, rather, dreamlessly in his drunken beyond measure state, never once waking or even stirring, and on those rare occasions Liz just sits by his side, holding his hand or stroking his shoulder or head, till the first rays of sunlight come streaming through the window. Most of the nights, though, he suffers, thrashing around, tangling the sheets and throwing off blankets, panting and whimpering and crying, his mind tormenting him with vivid reconstructions of some of the worst moments of his life, and Liz hesitates, unsure of whether she should try to wake him or not, unsure of what he’s dreaming about… until her name – her seemingly long-forgotten nickname – spills from his lips and she knows exactly what he’s dreaming about. She doesn’t hesitate any longer. “Shh, Red, it’s alright,” she hushes him gently, leaning in close and settling her hands on his shoulders firmly but gently or cupping his cheeks with her warm, very much alive hands, “I’m here. I’m here, I never left.” Tears finally spill from her own eyes as Liz whispers quiet reassurances and sweet nothings to the suffering man, willing him to feel her

presence and wishing she could take the memories of that awful night away from him ( even though initially, she thought that it would be a good lesson for him, putting him in what could be her place if she pulled the trigger… but she didn’t think it would affect him that much, to the point where he isn’t really living anymore, just struggling to exist ), until she gets too choked up to speak… until Red jerks one more time under her hands and either finally settles into deep, exhausted, dreamless slumber with a heavy sigh ( in which case Liz picks the blankets he’s thrown off up from the floor, covers him with them again, tucking him in and making sure he’s warm and comfortable, and goes back to keeping her silent vigil, wiping her tears away and fighting the desire to climb into bed with him, wrap him up in her arms and never let go ) or wakes up. She always freezes when he does, when his eyes slowly open and he squints up at her in the dark, because she’s not sure how he’s going to react, even though his reaction is the same each and every time. He frowns up at her at first, his heavy with sleep and hazy from alcohol mind struggling to comprehend what is happening in front of him, but even though he doesn’t recognize her, even though in his eyes she might look like an intruder, he doesn’t even try to protect himself from any possible danger – as if he doesn’t care about what happens to him, if he lives to see another day or not – and Liz’s heart breaks at the thought. ( How did she manage to break him – the strongest man she’s ever known – so hard, so possibly irreparably? ) But then recognition dawns on his face and his lips part softly and he stares up at her with utter disbelief and very tentative hope, slowly reaching his hand up, as if in trance, to touch her cheek. She lets him, leaning slightly into his touch. “Lizzy,” Red breathes, so pained and intensely relieved at the same time that Liz hates herself for doing this to him in the first place and for not being able to go out of hiding ( but it’s not only her life that’s on the line, it’s also her daughter’s and, to a degree, his, so she has to wait out until her fame in the upper and under worlds quiets down ), to console him, to make him understand that she’s not just a figment of his imagination ( she learned pretty quickly that he doesn’t let himself even consider the possibility that she might be real and not just his hallucination or a surprisingly pleasant dream ) just yet, “Lizzy.” And every night when he wakes up to such a vivid, realistic image of his lost love, he begs her for forgiveness – for absolution – and kisses her hands, the scar on her wrist with such tangible, blatant devotion it makes her heart ache. And every night when he apologizes to her, she tells him that she’s already forgiven him for everything but never takes advantage of his fragile, weak, unguarded state to get the long overdue answers out of him ( after all, she had enough time on her hands while she recovered to understand that, at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter who they were in the past… what matters is who they are now – Red and Lizzy – and that he loves her with as much ardor as she loves him ). They always end up in each other's arms, with Red pressing messy, fervent, desperate kisses to her cheeks and forehead and the soft cascade of her shiny mahogany hair and Liz rubbing his back in what she hopes is a soothing manner, their tears mixing and staining his shirt and her sweater. “Lizzy, Lizzy, Lizzy,” Red repeats in between kisses in his low, cracking from the lack of use voice, again and again and again, like a mantra, a prayer that sounds to her ears too much like Don't go, don't go, don't go... She knows she can't promise him that now. But she can promise to stay until the morning, which is why when he whispers softly, brokenly "Stay?" in her hair, his weight settling heavier against her after the emotional turmoil of the past few minutes? hours? – Liz doesn't know how much time they spend sitting there on his bed in the mess of tangled limbs,

the mix of apologies and reassurances and each other's names that sound for all the world like declarations of love, like I'm sorry and I miss you and I don't want to ever let you go spilling from their lips – leaves him even more exhausted than the pain and the grief of the day do, she simply nods and gently pushes him away and onto his back. Red doesn't take his eyes off her as she picks the blankets up and settles beside him and tucks the blankets around them both ( Liz is acutely aware of his gaze, burning with adoration and desperation in equal measure, on her back and the side of her face ). Even as she opens her arms for him in a silent invitation to move closer and he does just that, snuggling up to her side, resting his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist tightly but not enough to hurt, he doesn't close his eyes. Liz can tell by the way he's breathing and his body goes practically rigid with tension that he's fighting the undeniably strong pull of sleep long after they've settled in for the night. That confused her on the first day but then she understood. He knows that in the morning she won't be there, that this illusion, hallucination, dream he's having will shatter once he closes his eyes and succumbs to exhaustion. And he doesn't want to lose her again. Not for the third, fourth, fifth, umpteenth time ( when she thinks about it, Liz is not even sure if her visits help him or hurt him more... but she can't stop, she can't go about her days without knowing first-hand how Red is doing ). So Liz does the only thing she can do to soothe him: she cups the back of his head, presses a light kiss to his forehead and lies. "Sleep, Red. I will be here when you wake up." "No, you won't," he whispers back flatly – just pointing out the obvious – with an undertone of finality that haunts her long after he obediently closes his eyes and his body finally relaxes in her arms. Because he's right: she always leaves long before he wakes up, giving Dembe a hug goodbye and asking him – rather unnecessarily but she can't help herself – to take care of Red, with only one thought keeping her going through the day: That one day – and hopefully, not in such a distant future – she will be there in the morning when Red wakes up.

[hellotvshowtrash]

Obey pt. 9

A/N: well, this is it! This is the last part of Obey. I think I’m more nervous about this last part than I have been about any other part, just because I want this to be good. This has been a crazy ride and I’m so glad you’ve all been here for it. Thank you for all your support ❤️ huge thank you to @njeancastro316 for starting this whole thing. Thank you for trusting me with your idea!

Huge huge huge shoutout to @elijahs-wife for the fucking awesome mood board she made for this series. Thank your unending support ❤️

Let’s do this!

Word count: 2k

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ Choking, blood, mentions of death and torture, a happy ending.

((God how ridiculously cool is this moodboard))

Five months had passed since the Mystic Falls incident. In the weeks after, Elijah had helped Y/N cope with the hell of being kidnapped, hunted and subsequently murdered by her ex husband, then, helping her cope with the bonus stress of transitioning and then killing said ex husband. The relief she felt the night it all happened lasted only for that night, as it was followed by guilt and sorrow and rage, emotions she was all too familiar with but not on the level she felt it at as a vampire. Elijah was there for her every step of the way, never leaving her side. Around month two, she had begun to even out and come to terms with what had happened. At month three, she was able to return to work, now having her hunger under control and her emotions in check.

In her recovery, the summer heat had melted away, being replaced by the warm tones of autumn, which were short lived. December rolled around and the New Orleans Christmas decorations came alive. Y/N was glowing. Her walls had begun to fall away and she was showing new bits and pieces of herself every day. Elijah watched as she grew confident in ways that may have been considered small, but it made her so much more special to him. She cared about her job more than ever, her coworkers included. She had begun friendships with fellow nurses and worked harder than she ever had before. Sophie had seen her less and less as Y/N had learned to live and love her life, uninhibited.

She sat comfortably in her cozy apartment, for once bothering to make it feel like home rather than cold, and she actually wanted to spend time in her own space. There was no threat to her safety in her own home anymore. No denying herself the feeling of warmth and happiness. Her thoughts wandered to how she had changed as a vampire, and she dwelled on how she had spent her time as a human. She decided that she was ultimately the better version of herself this way. A knock on her front door startled her from her thoughts. She turned her head in the direction of the door and stood, wrapping her arms around herself as she opened the door. Elijah stood on the other side, looking at her expectantly. She stood aside and beckoned him in.

"Good evening, darling." He smiled, bending to kiss her cheek. She grinned at him and closed the door behind him. "Are you ready?" He asked, looking around the room. Y/N’s grin switched to a grimace.

"Actually, I... thought maybe we could spend the weekend here. At my place." She said sheepishly. She had made the comment to him that she missed the snow every winter. She hadn't seen it in about seven years. He arranged a stay for them at a cottage in upstate New York for the weekend, an early Christmas gift to her. "Could we maybe do the cottage another weekend? I'm just finally enjoying my own home, for once." She looked around the space and smiled happily. She turned back to look at him for his reaction and found him grinning at her. "What?" She asked.

"Of course we can stay here. I adore seeing you this content. I'd do anything to keep you this way." He took a step toward her and wrapped his arms around her, planting a kiss atop her head as he hugged her. She closed her eyes and hummed merrily as she wrapped her arms around his torso. He pulled away slightly and lifted her chin to look up at him. "I'm quite proud of the progress you've made, Y/N." He praised. She blushed at him and tried to avert her eyes, but he kept her locked in his gaze. "You're truly remarkable." He whispered, leaning down to close the gap between them. He kissed her softly, his lips grazing hers. She closed her eyes in bliss. She let herself get carried away, deepening the kiss and nibbling at his bottom lip. He smiled and chuckled into the kiss. He gave her a quick squeeze before pulling away and turning to face the room.

"Elijah?" She grabbed ahold of him, her hands grasping onto the sleeve of his jacket. She tugged and fumbled but managed to pull him back to her, her hands reaching to cup his face. "I'm sorry, I just -," she kissed him again hastily, toying with the buttons on his suit jacket. "I'm still getting used to the whole -," her lips were on his again breathlessly, his hands traveling the curves of her body. "Vampire thing," she moved her kisses slowly over to his ear and nibbled on his lobe, lowering down to his neck while nipping and sucking at the skin. She tugged the suit jacket off of him, leaving him in his classic button down dress shirt. He groaned and closed his eyes, a small smile crossing his lips before he bit his lower one.

"Don't apologize, dear." He groaned, "We'll just have to get you accustomed to this lifestyle," he flipped the switch swiftly with his hands on her hips in dominance, pushing her backward into the door behind her. She gasped at the sudden change but welcomed it hungrily. He tugged at the bottom of her shirt and she lifted her arms. He threw the shirt away from them and lowered to his knees, kissing up and down her chest and abdomen, moving slowly down her body. His finger grazed along the top of the waistband on her leggings before he pulled them down and off of her, leaving her completely exposed. She panted and looked down at him. Nothing pleased her more than the sight of him in front of her, working his way down to where she wanted him most.

As if she weighed nothing, he scooped her up by the thighs and placed her legs on his shoulders. He got right to work, sliding his tongue between her folds, her hips twitching at the contact as a satisfied moan escaped her. Her eyes dragged closed as his tongue circled her clit expertly, drinking her in. He hummed as he took in her taste and she moaned at the vibrations sent up her spine. He swirled his tongue over her clit, coaxing her closer to the edge. Her hands found their way to his hair and tangled themselves in it, tugging as she felt a familiar pit in her stomach. His name left her lips in a hiss, "Elijah, I'm close," she whispered. He snaked his hand up to her soaked entrance and plunged a finger in, instantly getting it covered in slick. Her moans began to pick up, his finger working her quickly. She tugged on his hair harder, just on the brink of orgasm when it was pulled away from her and he stopped. Her eyes flew open and she whined, looking down at him as he pulled away. In a flash, he was standing now, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other working the button and zipper of his pants, hastily pulling them off. He used his weight to keep her pinned against the door, legs wide open for him.

Her hand found Elijah's cheek and she caressed it as she looked into his eyes. Hers were hazy and halfway closed as he thrust into her. He eyed her wrist that was mere inches from his mouth. He wanted her to feel the depth of emotion he held for her, and he could only think of one way to convey it to her. With one hand supporting her against the door, the other grabbed her wrist and brought it to his mouth, biting into her. Elijah didn't realize how badly he had wanted to taste her again until that moment, and he wondered how many different ways he could drink her in. He drank from her wrist as he thrust, her breathy moans mixed with the sound of skin on skin. Her eyes widened as she watched him with her wrist on his lips. She hooked her feet behind his waist as he pinned her against the door, his pace quickening still. The door behind them shook from his intensity.

His hips snapped up against hers relentlessly, fucking her in the way she'd been craving. He pulled his lips away from her wrist as it healed itself, his eyes dark and filled with lust. Hers too began to turn black, the veins underneath becoming more prominent. He placed his free hand on the door behind her to stabilize himself, his forearm just beside her face. She threw her head back and cried out his name before turning her head and grasping onto his arm, biting into him. He hissed as she did, pleasure coursing through him. She gasped as she drank, a new feeling of euphoria and closeness washing over her. She pulled away with his blood running over her lips as her orgasm rushed through her, screams of his name reverberating off the apartment walls. His hand moved off of the door behind her and onto her throat, squeezing as she came, her eyes rolling back in her head.

"Elijah..." she whispered hoarsely, his fingers still around her neck. "More," she whined. His eyes shone darkly and he released his grip on her throat, lowering her from the door. She grasped his arms and sped them across the apartment and into her room, pushing him down onto the mattress. He smiled and bared his teeth, eyebrows raised as she climbed atop him. She sank down onto his cock, taking him in entirely. She relished the look on his face as she did so, with his eyes partially closed and his mouth agape. A low moan escaped his lips as she began to bounce. His hands found her hips naturally, helping her keep balance and rhythm. She leaned her torso down, laying on top of him as she rode. She peppered kisses and bites along his chest and neck, drawing her name from his lips. She moved faster, sliding up and down on him with ease.

He growled and pulled her off of him, quickly flipping them around so her back was on the mattress. She squealed as he did so, but it turned into a moan as he plunged into her roughly, not giving her time to adjust. His hand reached for her throat and he squeezed, giving the perfect amount of pleasure. He wasn't going to go easy on her, he was seeking his own satisfaction now. He lifted one of her legs up his torso, resting her ankle on his shoulder and he fucked her senselessly, his pace maddening and sloppy. One hand gripped his forearm above her, the other gripped the sheets beneath her as another orgasm washed over her and he spilled into her. He moaned, his voice raspy as he let the built up tension leave his body. He looked down at Y/N and found her already grinning at him. He pulled out of her and got up to find a towel.

"May I ask why you're so chipper?" He asked her, moving onto the bathroom.

"Vampire sex is awesome," she said enthusiastically. He stared at her through the mirror in the bathroom blankly before breaking out into a laugh.

"Yes, darling. It is 'awesome'," he quoted back to her. Her grin faded into a smile as he walked out of the bathroom and to her side as she laid on the bed. He bent down to clean her up gently. After, he threw the towel into the dirty laundry basket and flopped onto the bed next to her. She looked at him adoringly as he laid his arm out in an invitation. She looked from him to his arm and, still smiling, climbed right up next to him. He smiled and kissed her forehead.

"I'm so proud of you." He whispered.

"I'll never be that me again." She countered confidently. "I can still be my own person even if I'm with you. I am my own fire."

He squeezed his arm around her gently. "I wouldn't have you any other way."

—

Thanks for reading, y’all! See you in the next one. ❤️

Obey only taglist: @mikaelson-emma @raemikaelson @kpopgirlbtssvt @within-thehollowcrown @babyleafydarkness

Always taglist: @elijahs-wife @dumble-daddy @soul-revoir @drachentraum @nikmikaelsonswife @njeancastro316

Feel free to send me an ask if you want to be included on my Always taglist!

[ssa-babygirl]

Out of My League [Part 2]

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single mom!Reader

Word count: 4.5k (ohohohoho i went OVERBOARD with the dialogue here I am sorry for all the useless exposition)

Summary: Most things have changed in the last 10 years, but it’s safe to say that a few things stayed exactly the same. Mixed POV

Warning(s): Mentions of past bullying, mentions of cheating, mentions of kidnapping, general criminal minds stuff, cursing, VERY VERY BRIEF MENTION of a miscarriage and leukemia like it’s one sentence and that’s all

Author’s Note: The moment yall have been waiting for! They grow up so fast!! I’m going on a quick trip this week and then heading back to school a few days later, so the next part may take a little longer, but I’m super excited to write it!!

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

Las Vegas, Nevada, 2004

(Spencer’s POV)

My first case out on the field was not a pleasant one. Well, it rarely is, that’s what happens when you work for the FBI to catch serial killers. For the first couple of weeks at the BAU, I helped them consult on cases, but they weren’t sure I was ready to go out on the field with them. After I got my weapon certification, Gideon told me he wanted me to come along on the next case because I was familiar with the area. There had been a series of child abductions near Vegas, my hometown. I would have been much more nervous about traveling had I not been able to see my mom while I was there. I hadn’t visited her in a while and the guilt was gnawing at me.

The first day was brutal. Hotch made some of us go back to the hotel late at night, but it was hard for us to sleep. JJ hated working cases about children, so she went to have a quick drink at the hotel bar, where she promptly forgot her purse and had to call me from her room to go get it for her. I had no hope of getting any rest that night, so I figured I’d take a walk down the hall and try to clear my head. 

There was no sign of the purse at first glance, no small black clutch on the bar like JJ said. But there was a woman cleaning glasses behind the counter, maybe she knew where the purse was.

As I approached the bar, the woman’s features took a familiar shape and triggered a distant memory. Seeing her face again was like coming home after a long drive without a map, squinting through the dark and hoping the headlights would get brighter when finally, you’re pulling onto a road that you know by heart. 

I didn’t need to look at her nametag, I already knew who she was, but judging by her polite smile borne solely out of the courtesy required to work in the service industry, she didn’t recognize me. In her defense, I had grown about a foot and a half since the last time she saw me. And I got a freaking haircut. 

“Y-Y/N?” 

She looked up from her rags and scrunched up her face in confusion.

“Okay, so you definitely know me, and I am so sorry about this, but I can’t quite place it. You look so familiar, though, I just… I meet a lot of people with this job, I’m so sorry, I forgot your name.”

I grinned, she still had that same habit of apologizing every five seconds, “I don’t really have that problem, eidetic memory and all.”

Her eyes widened, “Spencer? Spencer Reid!”

I laughed and nodded.

“You’re so tall now! What has it been, like, 10 years? Oh my goodness, come here.” She awkwardly leaned over the bar and hugged me. She still used the same shampoo. 

“How ya been, kid?”

“I’m good! H-How are you?”

“Doing fine, thanks. What brings you back to good ol’ Sin City?”

“I’m here for work.”

“Oh, and what are you doing now?” She leaned on the counter and gazed up with curious eyes, “Helping the doctors at Area 51?”

Good to know she still had jokes, “No actually, I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.”

“Woah, you’re a fed now?”

“Yeah, we’re investigating a series of--”

“Kidnappings. Yeah. Scary shit. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, I’m good.”

“You close to catching the guy?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Any of the kids turn up?”

“Unfortunately, yes. We found one boy this morning. He… didn’t make it.”

Her face dropped to a look of worry I hadn’t seen since she took off my blindfold that day on the football field, “Name. I need a name,” her voice grew hoarse.

“I can’t really disclose that information.”

“Spencer, please. Every day my kid comes home from school and asks me if I was watching the news.”

I couldn’t deny the way my heart sank at the news, but I could sure as hell ignore it, “Y-You have kids?”

“One. Little Jamie. His best friend, Robbie, is missing.” Robbie Carter, age five, he’s been missing for the past two weeks. He’s likely dead, but we still haven’t found him.

“Every time someone misses school he gets scared they got taken too. Baby Boy doesn’t understand flu season yet.”

“How old is he?” I had to get her mind off of this. I don’t want to worry her.

“Five. Just started kindergarten. Wanna see a picture?” Seems like I succeeded. 

“Sure.”

She whipped out her phone and pulled up a picture of Jamie on his first day of school, backpack far too big for his body. Y/N was posed next to him, the picture too small to show that she was crying ever so slightly.

“Adorable, right?”

I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face, “Cute kid. Looks just like you.”

She looked back at the photo and smiled softly, “Except the eyes. He’s got his dad’s eyes.”

I glanced down at her hand holding the phone and was greeted with a pleasant surprise, “I’m guessing Jamie’s dad isn’t in the picture?”

Offense flickered across her features for a second, her eyebrows twitching and lips pursing, “How’d you know?”

“No ring.”

“You do work for the FBI.”

“Would you mind telling me what happened?”

“You know, you’re supposed to be the one spilling your sorrows to the bartender, not the other way around.”

“You don’t have to tell me, just thought we could catch up, I haven’t seen you in ten years.”

She sighed, returning her phone to the front pocket in her apron, “Remember Kyle Brothers?”

“Oh, do I? Yeah, of course, I remember your high school boyfriend, Y/N. What tipped you off, the eidetic memory, or the fact he used to beat me up after gym class?” It was more like the intense rage and jealousy I had when they got back together after football season ended.

“God, see, I always knew he was an asshole, but it never seemed to faze me, I’m so sorry about that.”

“You did what you could. And you apologize too much.”

“Sor--”

She froze mid-word and made a face as she realized once again that she was about to apologize yet again. I stifled a chuckle, but she laughed and grabbed a rag from the counter to finish cleaning the glasses.

“So Kyle?”

“Yes, Kyle. We broke up again before college, I was going out of state and didn’t wanna do long distance, you know all that. I was in a really bad place during my senior year of college, so after graduation, I decided to move back home for a bit, spend some time with my mom--”

“How is she?”

“She’s great! Moved to D.C. with my dad a while back.”

“I should visit her, Quantico isn’t far.” 

She returned a genuine smile, “She would love that.”

“Sorry I interrupted you, keep going.”

“You’re fine. Long story short, moving back home for a few months turned into having a one night stand with my ex. Which turned into us getting engaged nine months later while I’m exhausted and holding my son.”

“Well, that’s a fun birth story for Jamie.”

“Yeah, ‘Happy Birthday, sweetie, your father proposed to me while you were, like, an hour old and then cheated on me six months later.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.” She popped the p, “Came home and heard two things: Jamie fussing in his sleep from the playpen and bedsprings squeaking in our room.”

“I’m guessing that you guys were done for good after that?”

“Nice detective work.”

“Technically, I’m a profiler, not a detective, as they typically work in local police departments and I work for the federal government, not a precinct--”

“Jesus, kid, you’re gonna put the poor lil lady to sleep,” I turned around and saw Morgan crossing the lobby to the bar, still in his work clothes.

“If I'm yawning it’s from my double shift, not his rambling. It’s been a while since I heard a good Spencer Reid knowledge dump.”

“You two know each other?” He leaned on the bar and I could sense him turning on the classic Derek Morgan charm.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Uh, Y/N, this is SSA Derek Morgan, we work together, Morgan, this is Y/N L/N, we went to high school together.” The “I had a huge crush on her” was silent.

“Nice to meet you, doll,” he reached out a hand to shake yours. His eyes lingered on you for a bit too long, and I recognized the look in her eyes from the way she talked to Kyle in the halls before our study sessions, and I didn’t like any of that one bit.

Derek turned back to me, “JJ sent you down here a while ago, she’s looking for you.”

I glanced at Y/N and tried to hide the cocktail of emotions in my mind, “I guess I just lost track of time.”

He probably caught onto something because his regular teasing smirk flashed on across his face, “You guess, sure, loverboy, I’ll be in our room. Nice meeting you, Y/N.” He left and she waved, watching him as he left.

“JJ?” She asked, turning back to me.

“Coworker of mine, she left her purse down here and sent me to get it for her.”

“Oh, Blondie from earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“She seemed nice. So pretty!” She reached below the bar and pulled out the small black purse that was left behind about an hour before, holding it up to me and cocking an eyebrow.

“Yep.” 

“How long have you two been working together? Long enough to be more than coworkers?”

I laughed uncomfortably, “Uh, n-no, actually this is actually my first case on the field, before this I only really helped the team consult on cases, but this one was urgent and I wanted to visit my mom so they brought me along.”

“Well, send Diana my love.”

“Of course. And if you hear anything from Jamie about another missing kid, give us a call.” I reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, sliding it to her and leaving with a sympathetic smile, wishing I could say more.

              (Reader POV)

About a week after you ran into Spencer, you were closely following the story as it unfolded on the news. Another kid had gone missing, the second in two weeks. His name was Drew Olson, he was a year older than Jamie. They didn’t find a body yet, so there was still hope. Robbie hadn’t turned up either, which was the best news you had about him. No other bodies have shown up yet, and the cause of death for the boy they found was starvation, so the guy probably didn’t want to hurt these kids.

Regardless of whether or not the situation was actually dangerous, the school still increased security, since two of the victims were students. The pickup line was heavily monitored by teachers and faculty to make sure all students went home with their parents. You had gotten there a bit later than usual, forcing you to the back of the crowd where you couldn’t see the kids as they came out of the building. 

When you finally got up towards the front, there were only a handful of kids left.

And Jamie wasn’t one of them.

Panic started to twist your stomach into knots, but the rational part of your brain clawed at the inside of your skull saying he was just inside, he was waiting in a classroom, he was safe.

You pushed through to the teacher that was keeping track of names on her clipboard. She was younger, just about your age, and wore wire-framed glasses that complimented her dark braids. She gave a warm smile and asked for your child’s name.

“Brothers, Jamie Brothers.”

“Alrighty, let’s see--” she paused as her finger stopped over a name highlighted by a bright green, indicating that the child had been picked up: Jamie Brothers.

“He’s not here.”

“What? What do you mean he’s not here?” The part of your brain that said he was safe fucked right off and left you a shaking mess on the pavement. The teacher reached an arm out and held you by the elbow as your knees buckled beneath you. Other parents’ attention was suddenly directed towards you. 

“Ma’am, the sheet says he was picked up already.”

“But by who? Not me! So who the hell took my son?” All eyes were on you as you didn’t even bother to control the volume of your voice. 

“Mrs. Brothers, please remain calm, I’m sure there’s been a mistake, I can send someone in to find him inside the school.”

“Please…” You whimpered, unable to find your breath.

...Give us a call…

Spencer’s words echoed in your mind and you knew what you had to do, so you scrambled through your bag for the card you were given the week before. You frantically cursed under your breath as you searched for your wallet. You finally found it, taking it out with your phone so you could call the number on the card. It rang once, twice, three times before an unfamiliar voice crackled through on the other side. 

“Agent Hotchner.”

“Are you with the FBI?”

“...Yes, who is this?”

“My name is Y/N L/N, Spencer Reid gave me this number if I knew anything.”

“Do you have information regarding the recent abductions?”

“My son’s been taken.” You could feel the lump in your throat nearly restricting any words from coming out.

“Hold on, ma’am, where are you?”

“I’m at the school, he’s not here. I came to get him and he’s not here, I don’t know what to do!”

“Miss L/N, stay put, we’re on our way.” The call ended with a click and suddenly the world went quiet. There was nothing but the rush of blood pounding in your ears. All you could do was stare blankly at nothing in particular as the phone fell from your hand, hitting the pavement, your knees following quickly behind. You felt the bruises on impact, but you couldn’t care less about how much pain you were in, not when you felt this numb. Your pain didn’t matter anymore, all that mattered was that Jamie was missing and you were powerless to help. The remaining parents surrounded you, all clutching the shoulders of their children, their safe children, the ones they didn’t have to call the fucking FBI to pick up from school today.

When your brain was able to process information again, you noticed the school parking lot had filled with police cars, including two large black SUVs. You squinted through the inappropriately bright sunlight and the bitter tears in your eyes to see a tall man in a dark suit approach you. Behind him, a scrawny young man in a plaid buttondown was following closely.

You recognized him right away this time.

“Spencer,” your voice was barely a whisper as you attempted to stand on your shaking legs. You looked straight past the man in the suit and scrambled over to him. Before you could even reach him, his arms were stretched out to you, enveloping you in a tight hug as soon as you were close enough.

Your heart had to be beating out of your chest, and you were sure he felt it against him. The tears running down your cheeks stained his shirt, soaking him to the skin as he cradled your head against his chest, trying to do whatever he could to make you feel safe again, no matter how scared he was.

The man in the suit was now joined by an older man in a brown jacket and the man you met at the bar the other night, Derek, you think his name was. The suit turned to you and Spencer and introduced himself as Agent Hotchner, the man you spoke to on the phone. He asked you to describe what happened when you arrived, if you saw anyone who looked out of place, if you saw evidence of a struggle. Spencer’s arms never left your frame the whole time you spoke.

“Thank you very much, Miss L/N, I promise we’ll find your son, we have time on our side. Reid, stay with her in the meantime, Morgan, go question the parents, Gideon and I will talk to the monitors and see if they knew who picked Jamie was picked up by.”

“Yes, sir.”

All the men left to complete their tasks except for Spencer, who was supposed to stay put with you. The second you were alone with him once again, your face returned to the spot on his dampened shirt where it had previously been. One of his hands was planted firmly on your upper back, the other stroking your hair between his fingers.

It’s strange, really. Last time you saw him he was just a kid. A brilliant, sweet, small kid. The kid who’s hair you’d fuck with. The kid you held after his bullies hurt him. Then you don’t see him for over a decade and suddenly the roles are reversed. He was tall enough to rest his chin on your head now, which you had mixed feelings about, but you couldn’t deny it calmed you down. Almost as much as his quick yet steady heartbeat drumming right in your ear. The kid was still skinny, but his hugs were still warm. 

“You’re alright, we’re gonna find him,” he whispered into your hair, but you had a feeling those words weren’t only for you. After a few minutes, the three other agents returned to where you and Spencer stood, alerting the two of you that the team would be heading back to the police station where you were welcome to wait with them. Derek figured you were too shaken to drive yourself, so he offered to let you ride along with him and Spencer in the SUV, which you did not hesitate to accept.

Once at the station, you were greeted by the blonde from the bar. What was her name again?

“Jennifer Jareau, I’m the press liaison for the team. You can call me JJ.”

She sat with you while Spencer worked with the others on the case. You wanted to be updated whenever progress was made, but she told you that wasn’t totally possible. Regardless of how against the rules it was, she still gave you the profile. The unsub likely worked with children and knew them and faculty well enough to enter the building and take the kids without being noticed. They may be a parent going through a loss, as no evidence of sexual assault or any physical violence was found on the only body save for light ligature marks on the wrists. Due to the relatively nonviolent nature of the crime, the unsub could be a woman. They likely live alone since they are keeping several young boys in their home. Although this likely wasn’t the work of a pedophile, a trafficking ring could not be ruled out yet.

You suddenly understood why the victims’ families aren’t supposed to know the profile. You thought it would make you feel better, but it only made you feel worse. JJ opened up another box of tissues for you, got you water, and offered you snacks, but there was no way you could get anything down. Every sound, every person that passed the window, every buzz of JJ’s phone sent your stomach plummeting down a death drop. You had just calmed yourself down from yet another panic attack when you saw agents strapping on kevlar vests and putting their guns into their holsters.

They knew where the kids were.

              (Spencer’s POV)

I wasn’t allowed to see her before we left. I couldn’t tell her where I was going, I couldn’t tell her that Jamie would be okay, I couldn’t tell her anything. I barely spoke to her since we got back to the station, and that was hours ago. Now I-- we just have to leave her there again.

This was my first time going out on the field in this capacity. I’d never had to step out of that SUV with my gun out, ready to shoot anyone who threatened the lives of my team or any hostages they may have. I’d never had to strap on a kevlar vest and worry about the potential bruises that may be left behind by being hit with bullets. I’d never had to worry about not coming back before.

“Don’t be worried. If your hands shake you won’t get a clear shot,” Gideon reminded me in the car, as if I’d be able to get a clear shot with a steady hand anyway.

The unsub was a woman named Harriet Yanonovich. According to hospital records pulled by Garcia, our new tech analyst, her son had recently passed after a short and sudden battle against leukemia. This came shortly after Harriet had a miscarriage that triggered a chemical imbalance, degrading her mental health, which resulted in the trigger, losing her job at the elementary school that the boys had each been taken from. I would have felt bad for her if she hadn’t taken my friend’s son away from her.

But she did, and now I just have to hope she didn’t hurt him.

We arrived at Harriet’s house fairly quickly. Hotch sent Morgan and me around the back, he and Gideon would take the front. As we rounded the back of the house, we discovered that she had a storm cellar under her deck. The doors were closed with a heavy padlock. Morgan aimed his gun to shoot it off the chain.

“Don’t do that. The bullet would ricochet and hit you in the knee.”

He lowered his weapon, “You got a better idea, pretty boy?”

“Yes, actually.” I quietly crept onto the deck, lifting the welcome mat from in front of the sliding glass door into the absolute wreck of a kitchen. Under the mat was a simple looking key. 

“She’s a school teacher going through a depressive episode, not a criminal mastermind.”

“Alright then, genius,” he rolled his eyes, “Let’s see if it even works.”

I inserted the key into the lock, hearing a click and turning it with little difficulty. The shackle popped open. I gently removed it from the chains, trying my hardest not to make any noise that would alarm anyone in the cellar. Unwrapping the chains from the handles, I turned back to face Morgan.

“I accept your apology.” I attempted to muster my smuggest smile, but it was hard to mask the dread and worry on my face.

“Yeah, yeah, open up.”

He grabbed one handle and I grabbed the other, sliding the metal doors open and revealing a staircase into a shadowy basement.

“You first.” Morgan nudged my shoulder.

“What? No way! Morgan, this is serious!”

“So go! It’s your girl’s kid!”

He was right. Not about Y/N being my girl, because she wasn’t (though the thought did briefly replace the anxiety in my heart with pure light that I hadn’t felt since I was twelve), but I was still doing this for her. This case wasn’t just a job for me. This was for Y/N. For Jamie. Y/N deserves to see her son again, I owe her that much.

Derek would learn about my fear of the dark much later, but from how fast I jumped down those stairs into that cellar, he’d never been able to tell.

Against the farthest wall, there were four young boys all curled up in a corner. From the limited light, I could see they were all covered in varying levels of filth, the cleanest boy baring the face I had seen on Y/N’s phone screen. The boys all looked terrified, the two dirtiest looking thin and weak against the ties that bound them to a water pipe. I called up to Morgan to come down and lowered my gun.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI, I’m here to help you guys, okay?” The boys all nodded. Morgan helped me untie their wrists.

“Do you know where Mrs. Yanonovich went?”

“She said she was going upstairs, and that we have to be good or else we wouldn’t get any supper,” Jamie piped up.

“How long you been down here, kid?” Morgan asked.

Jamie shrugged, “Couple hours.”

“Did she hurt any of you?” The kids all shook their heads no.

Hotch’s voice crackled over the radio, “We have her in custody, any sign of the kids?”

“Yep, we found them in the cellar. All are alive, but we may need a medic on standby at the station for some of them.”

“Are they hurt?”

“No, just malnourished. Definitely dehydrated.”

Morgan and I led the kids out to the surface, the setting sun creating a glare off of the tin cellar doors. We were greeted by Gideon and police rounding the corner to the backyard. The kids ran out the gate towards the police cars, eager to be home soon. 

               (Reader POV)

“Okay, I’ll let them know.” JJ hung up and turned back to you, a relieved smile gracing her face. You stood up, desperate to hear the news she had.

“They found the kids, Jamie’s safe.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from lunging at the woman you barely knew, wrapping her in a bear hug as delighted laughs left your lungs. You felt tears of pure relief drip down your cheeks as she squeezed you back, also letting out a deep sigh.

You waited impatiently in the bullpen, anxious to see Jamie unharmed and to give the team your gratitude. When they finally arrived, you saw your son walking hand-in-hand with Spencer and the older agent you believed was named Gideon. Spencer pointed over to you with his free hand and smiled, causing Jamie to drop their hands and sprint into your arms crying “Mommy! Mommy!” You immediately lifted him up and covered his face with kisses. The two of you held onto one another so tight, you were surprised either of you could breathe. Spencer came over to you, smiling with eyes you couldn’t quite recognize. 

“Thank you, Spencer.”

“No need, Y/N. I’m glad I could help. I just wish I could have met Jamie here on better terms!”

You adjusted your hold on Jaime to free one hand, stretching it out for Spencer to take it in his own. You squeezed it gently, smiling into those hazel eyes that had somehow never looked warmer before, despite the deep shadows under them.

“Thank you.”

His pursed lips twitched slightly and you noticed the tears brimming his sunken eyes. The poor boy needed sleep and a lot of it soon. He squeezed your hand back, sending shockwaves up your arms straight to your heart, which hadn’t felt this light since you were seventeen years old.

Taglist~~~

Lmk if you wanna be added! Some names didn’t work so if you don’t see your name as a tag just dm me a url and I’ll try to fix it

@lawnmoa @ellvswriting @baby-pogue @rottenearly @confused-and-really-hungry @thatsonezesty13 @deni-gonzalez @irjuejjsaa @randomfandomshitposts @bisoner @moonstarrnghtsky @smurfflynn @eldahae​ @t0xicllama​ @undeniablyyou​ @staplernpaper​

[broken-heroes-and-potatoes]

Hey, this may seem dumb and all but like can you have any of the bakusquad members comforting their reader after they faced some boy problems. I think itll really cheer my up. It’s all good if not :)

@teerama It’s not dumb at all, I’am sorry for the late reply I hope it’ll help you feel a little much better ♥ Your admin here is totally insomniac so if you want to talk about it, my private messages are open, Stay Strong! ♥

The news broke and stroke you like a dagger in the heart, this guy you’ve trusted, this relationship you put so much energy and effort in came crashing into pieces in front of you.

You didn’t know how to react nor what you were feeling, he was definitely a bastard for doing things that way and it let you, frustrated, devasted maybe angry if you dig enough under the layers of sorrow.

Anyways, there weren’t a lot of solution, you could lock yourself up in your room and exhaust you to the bones after hours of crying OR, you could relay on one of your friends and share the news with them..

Eijiro Kirishima - Physical comfort

- By the time you focused on what to do, a knock on your door was heard, you got up and as soon as you opened it, you fell face to face with a smiling Kirishima

- He caught you off guard, you weren’t prepared for a verbal exchange at that moment, and when his red hues stopped on your sad face, a wave of panic shook him.

- «Heeeey what’s wrong?» Oh Boi. The sound of his concern voice was enough to open the bag of your emotions and you weren’t able to hold it together, so you just hid your face in your hands and cried like a river

- He would push you inside, he hates to see you cry, slightly distraught, were you okay, obviously not, but, what happened, are you hurt, have you learn some really bad news, can he does something?

- He would give you the best comforting hug ever, letting you damp his shoulder for as long as you need to, he won’t ask anything, only passing his hand on your hair with some reassuring «Sshhhhh it’s okay, it’s okay»

- You would finally fall asleep against him from exhaustion, both of you on your bed, and he can't help but think how beautiful you look with a slight feeling of guilt to be ‘happy’ to have you in his arms even because of a situation like this.

Hanta Sero - Earful comfort

- His room is not far from yours, so maybe, you could just stop by and see if he isn't busy? That was the better thing to do. Yes.

- Hanta is a sweet perfection when it comes to listen and comfort people. He’s the one who would be the most mature and honest about the situation.

- He’s composed, thoughtful, patient and he would let you rant for hours if you feel the need to.

- He inspires trust, he’s that kind of people you tell your deepest secrets or someone you easily confy what’s wrong in your life, he doesn’t do anything to, but it’s just his reassuring nature.

- So, here you were, explaining every single details of the relationship and problems encountered, why, how, when, it took litteraly hours.

- It’s almost as if you were about to take some papers and highlighter to organize everything and try to understand what happened, discovering new stuff as if you were playing Cluedo.

- In the end, you saw the situation with a new eyes, and you distanced yourself from it helped you streamline the whole thing.

- Thanks to Hanta, who was smiling confidently at you, even if, in his head, he just wanted to hug you thight and sequester the guy for making you so sad.

Denki Kaminari - Silly comfort

- You were supposed to revise with Kaminari, but hell no it would not be possible in that state, the guy could understand, or so you thought.

- After a text saying you weren’t feeling well enough to come over, you’ll receive a plethora of messages and don’t ignore them, because he’ll reach you on every possible platforms.

- He tried a call/visio or two, but he got that you weren’t feeling like talking in person, he kept the texting to keep you company though’, he’s a lazy buns so he answered with vocals instead.

- A lot of puns to lighten the mood were used and you were grateful for the good laugh and positive energy (no pun intended) that guy conveys around him.

- You’ll both end far away from the principal topic, almost forgetting about the ache, sending silly tik toks to each other or Epic Fails compilations.

- By the end of the conversation, you would feel way better, and, sorry but, he would win. You capitulate and accept to turn on your webcam.

- He keeps a broad smile on his lips, but he doesn't ignore the pang in his chest at the sight of your puffy and dark circled eyes. Because, he would have never made you cry that way.

Mina Ashido - High Level comfort

- Best girl in the world, it’s like a mix between all of the guys above without any awkwardness.

- As soon as she heard that bastard made you cry she knocked on your door in the next fifteen minutes.

- Comfort food in hands, your favorite ones, how does she..? In the middle of the night? Neverminds.

- She wants to hear every details about it and would comments every single thing, she’ll help you write a dreadful, final message to send him that will make him cry and crawl in front of you.

- Then, If you want to talk about it, she’ll listen, if you want her to say he's a fucking asshole, she’ll, if you just feel like chilling and don’t think about it, no problem!

- You’ll spend the night together, gossiping, with silly movies you both know by heart playing in the background.

- Wanna scream and dance on the bed like crazy? She puts on the radio ignoring the complaints of the neighbourgs.

- Wanna go out and took a midnight bath in the U.A swimming pool? Say no more.

- She won’t leave your side for the next two weeks, keeing you busy to change your mind. Mina would do everything in her power to cheer you up because it’s what friends do.

Katsuki Bakugo - What is comfort for fuck sake.

- No. Staying in your room crying your heart out wasn’t the good solution, but you didn’t wanted to disturb you friends with your stupid story.

- For what after all ? Hear ‘I told you so’ or ‘I always knew this guy wasn’t good’. They weren’t backbiting, but to comfort you, they could have been and you didn’t need that right now.

- The migraine was harassing your head and eyes and a boiling shower was the best thing you could think of, you hadn’t eat anything in the day neither so.. maybe a quick stop by the kitchen to grab even if only a cup of tea would be good?

- You bumped into Bakugo, of all people, and as he was about to lash onto you with a «watch your steps», he stopped mid-sentence when he saw your red eyes.

- You apologized head down and left toward the kitchen, him, he didn’t budge, watching your moves. He’s not a specialist when it comes to feelings or comfort, but he couldn’t just let you walk away in that state.

- You probably had a good reason for being like this, it was none of his buisness and he didn't care (or so he thought), but something was screaming inside of him to move.

- He hailed you, and casually asked you to join him in his room because he was about to begin a movie (a movie you really wanted to see, oh convenient.)

- He would pull out a bag of chips when he heard your stomach growl, only because HE wanted to eat some (yeah, sure.)

- He won’t ask anything, the silence was comfortable and you realized that a bit of company, his company, was really appreciable.

- When he learnt what had happen, he would keep it a secret, but confront the guy and threatened him to blow his head off if he ever talk to you again. He meant it, he would make all of the guys run away from you if it could prevent you from crying.