#fanfiction garbage

[emperorsfoot]

A tired wildlife rescue worker, coffee in hand, walks out in the morning and finds Superman hovering outside, holding a struggling badger in his arms. Superman is uninjured, but his costume is all torn up, his hair is messy, and Superman looks like (even though he's invulnerable and can't be hurt) he lost this fight.

The tired wildlife rescuer has to wonder where and how Superman crossed paths with a badger.

-cut away, several hours earlier-

Bruce is having his Alfred-mandated 'normal' bonding time with his kids, tossing a ball around the backyard. Bruce is 37-hours without sleep and running off energy drinks that would be outlawed anywhere else besides America, he fumbles the ball and has to go get it.

He finds a badger on his property instead.

Batman is very good at sizing up an opponent. He recognizes that this is a fight he should not pick.

He pulls out his phone. "Hey, Clark, you're good with animals, right?"

[gothhabiba]

when people point out that "90% of fanfiction is garbage" as though this is something that reflects on fanfiction in particular and not something that is true of literally any kind of content in any medium and genre

[chronically-ghosted]

day before a 5 day holiday weekend. office empty. got me thinking thoughts.

[valehour]

been idly discussing this with a friend, and generally just kind of ruminating on the DLC's final boss and end story and how mad it made me. so consider this significant rewrite to make the story more like I think I now want it to be because my opinions are obviously important """fix""" to the story.

What if the Miquella's lord was just- the player character, not Radahn?

(Full (and Extremely Long) justification under the cutoff)

this is born from my previous thought/rant on the fact that the player isn't given a motivation to actually oppose Miquella within the game itself.

By contrast, the player being the potential Consort of Miquella necessarily helps solidify the conflict around Miquella's Age of Compassion, and the player's place in it.

the Fundamental nature of Miquella in this DLC is that, ultimately, Miquella's love is amoral, stretching the full range from compassion to overtly abusive manipulation. one of the most evocative descriptors of Miquella's love is that it is "Terrifying". That feels like it's a fundamentally punchy, heavy thing for the player to wrestle with. The Age of Compassion is something that the War-torn Lands Between so clearly needs, it needs peace, and love, a more gentle place to cope with the trauma and the suffering and the Ruin, not merely from the Shattering, but the world that preceded it. but it's being created and enforced by a "terrifying", manipulative Cult leader (for want of a better term) who's channeling a very "All Shall Love Me And Despair!" energy.

There's a familiar throughline created by this- the player (both as the Tarnished, and as the Player has a particular impression and idea of Miquella, one who ultimately promises and provides salvation. As we advance through the story of the DLC, we increasingly learn the truth behind what that means- who Miquella is and the full extents of the implications presented.

The biggest moment in regards to this, is, of course, the Approach and descent into the Fissure, and the one of the most important parts of the story.

"I abandon here my doubt and vacilation"

"I abandon here my love"

"Kindly Miquella. I see you've thrown away... Something you should not have. Under any circumstances. How will you salvation Offer... to those who cannot be saved? When you could not even save your other self?"

Miquella's pursuit of godhood has excised St Trina, who appears to have fundamentally dissented Miquella's deification, as it's her, delivered through sleep, who tells us that we shouldn't side with him, but kill him, instead.

This Feels spiritually adjacent to something like encountering Darkstalker Kaathe for the first time, and hearing his side of the story, an argument for The Age of Dark. but, as far as I can tell, this doesn't actually matter. Knowing that St Trina values preventing Miquella's Age of Compassion means nothing in the game, it's just an explanation as to why she was ditched halfway across the realm of shadow in a pit . But the argument St Trina raises, the doubting of Miquella's agenda means nothing because the final confrontation with Miquella is not born from the player's decision to reject the Age of Compassion, it's born from someone on the Fromsoft Dev team needing to put a final bossfight into the DLC.

it's this that forms the main Issue with the ending. The Player is forced into a passive role- the story happens To them, not Because Of them. the "choice" given by the game mechanics is to "Fight Radahn", or quit the DLC. but while the second one is technically a valid resolution to not opposing the Age of Compassion. It really isn't in any practical metrics because, well, That's not actually narrative resolution- putting a book down halfway through does technically end the story, but it doesn't resolve any of the plot threads or conflicts that the audience is expected to engage with- it stops abruptly and unsatisfyingly, told that we're not supposed to care about those plot details- Literally just the "it was all a dream" ending, but punching through the fourth wall. Simply Stopping Engaging with it isn't narratively satisfying for any work who's resolution isn't designed around the idea of putting the story down. and SOTE quite unambiguously isn't designed around that. So even if we view it as "an" ending, it's still fundamentally a bad ending.

but fighting Radahn is also narratively unsatisfying as an ending simply because of the fact that it's DLC- there was no space or time to establish or set up this plot thread or idea that Miquella and Radahn had any relationship or meaningful interactions in the base game (which, fair enough, it'd've bloated the main game which already has a lot to say and discuss in regards to it's own story). but without the idea that Miquella and Radahn actually interacted, this "reveal" is unsatisfying because like. Why should we care? Why Radahn? many other people have commented that Godwyn would be a better fit, but regardless, I think it still doesn't really address the underlying problem- The Player is a passive actor in this story.

So then 9+ paragraphs later, we get to the actual proposal of this unhinged rant essay:

What if the player, due to being tarnished, became the Consort of Miquella, much like one becomes the Consort of Marika and thus Elden lord in the age of fracture. Tarnishedness is a status that can apparently be conferred and withdrawn, and is not, in fact, a limiting factor in lordship (given you can become Elden lord regardless). Not to mention that being opposed to the present order, why should Miquella care as to whether or not the Golden Order values tarnishedness or not? Additionally, Miquelladahn already has an attack where he bewitches you (his grab attack), and should he successfully accomplish it twice, provides an instant game over due to your newfound love and affection for your new God.

This confers the advantage that now the player an active participant of the story, allowing them to choose, for themselves, whether they embrace or reject the Age of Compassion. it's the question posed by the ghost in the Fissure: "How will you salvation Offer... to those who cannot be saved?" Opposition is largely fronted by Ansbach (who resents the use of Mohg in this ritual. Which like. Me Too Buddy.) and St Trina, who fears that Miquella will become "trapped" by godhood, much like Marika was. but now the player can also decide for themselves whether or not to Oppose Miquella. maintaining a Hard-as-fuck bossfight as a result of refusal also creates a rather fascinating ludonarrative tinge to the amorality of his love, and it's most villainous side- after all, if he valued a gentle place, why does he support Radahn ultimately destroying you? Clearly, his world order is at least founded on the same violence that everyone else's is. it's a Fascinating argument against pacifism, calling out it's hypocrisy- that in truth, peace is violent, born from crushing those who ultimately oppose it- the police- The State's armed body do not enforce "The peace" by beating bankrobbers in a debate, only by beating bankrobbers. It's a strong argument against meekly accepting the shape of the world and one's part to play in it- that one ought to stand up for themselves against someone else's will, that one should fight for one's own world.

It's an argument, effectively, in favour of the worldview supposed by Ranni The Witch, who is arguably one of Miquella's strongest narrative foils. She used a shocking act of violence (the assassination of Godwyn) as a tool of liberation, to overthrow the order imposed by another. the shape of society shall not be determined by militarist-Faith, or a cult of adoration, but by self determination, the power to pursue one's own ends. Ranni and Miquella both have love play a part of their quest, but whereas Ranni spurns and fears love, maintains a cold exterior in favour of her duty- keeping the power of the Greater Will distant from the world- that the player must actively pursue and be willing to share the burdens of the thousand year journey into the chill night- a choice and a sacrifice you have no obligation to actually make- but you choose to do out of love, a willingness for, just a moment, Ranni to be truly vulnerable, share her past and her beliefs. But, Ranni's world, for all it's freedom, guarantees none of them, guarantees no true success, that people would actually be free, only that they be free to choose. what stops great warriors from simply founding a new kingdom, a new empire? Are Crowns not warranted by strength, after all?

Miquella, by contrast would build that peace, build it so intensely, that it feels obsessive, maddening. You drown you in it- drown in his Peace, his Love. You can choose to agree with him- because the world should be more gentle, more kind, more loving. This war has gone on too long, the cities in Liurnia are sinking into the ground, Leyndell partly buried into the ash of a failing world order. Stormveil suffers under a mad tyrant-king, the Albinaurics oppressed for the "sin" of their birth. Where are the people? Where is harvest and harvesthome? Miquella's peace, Miquella's love can give it to you.

but if you refuse to serve leally, if you refuse to submit, refuse to build his peace. Well, you join the corpses scattered about the divine gate. you walk in again. Godling Miquella asks you once, again, in a voice polite, courteous, filled with love and civility. to join him. You refuse, and he and his servants, be it the resurrected Radahn or some original boss crushes you again. And Again. it hurts. the pain of asserting your boundaries, your body, to refuse to give in to the world he'd build. it'd be so easy to submit.

Miquella would love you, to the best he was capable. and after all, what's the alternative? marrying Marika into an Age of Fracture? perpetuating the age of an obviously flawed Golden Order as it continues to decline? Or is it a more inclusive order- that welcomes those who live in death? It's reactionary principles jolted forward in a moment of tolerance. But Fia's hallowbrand doesn't save the Albinaurics, though- only Those Who Live In Death. It's still a bigoted, reactionary order, making a concession to what is explicitly framed as a social minority only because it's literally written into the laws of reality.

Is the failure of the Order that the gods were not held accountable to it's principles? But Ranni didn't want to be an Empyrean. Didn't want to be someone with explicit fertility-childbearing metaphors. her freedom is in many ways a story of fighting that selfsame Order, the literal Laws Of Reality in the name of her bodily autonomy and her self expression. but that was only because she was not held accountable to The Order, because she could dissent. Don't you see Tarnished? Is this pursuit Not Flawed? But he could fix it. and He would, he would save people To the best of his ability. Miquella loves you and he suffered Apotheosis to save you. But what happens to those who Cannot be saved because they Refuse to be saved. For Miquella Loves you and Suffered Apotheosis to Save You. But only if you submit to his shape of "Being Saved". and If you don't? Well, the Swords of the Haligtree will sever parts of you until you can.

Or I guess we could have what we actually got where we show up and Radahn immediately throws hands for unclear reasons with someone he's seen for like 3 seconds, in a game that fails to like, explain a motivation as to why the player is fighting Miquella aside from "Because the DLC needs a final boss" with his admittedly sick as fuck wrestler intro for a plot thread that has left at least a few fans with more than a sour taste in their mouths. Myself included. Hence the essay. Anyway, if you finished reading this, congratulations. :D

[manikas-whims]

me writing my own fanfics and Headcanons

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

cup runneth over

Rating: Explicit

Category: F/F

Fandom: Game of Thrones (TV)

Relationship: Cersei Lannister/Brienne of Tarth

Additional Tags: #dubious consent, #rough sex, #lesbian sex, #grief/mourning, #using sex to self-harm, #gender feelings, #degradation, #humiliation, #wine, #i guess it sorta counts as food play, #dom/sub undertones, #insults, #vaginal fingering, #not much plot lol

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈ ♡︎ ◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

Since he’s been gone, Brienne hasn’t been herself.

Cersei looks so much like him. Brienne finds herself craving her presence, following her around like a lost puppy. Cersei taunts her, calls her a big, dumb cow. And perhaps she’s right — no person in her right mind would let anyone what Cersei does to her.

It began weeks ago — and it continues, with no end in sight. Tonight, it’s no different. 

“I know you would take anything I give you,” Cersei taunts her, her tone cold and mocking. Brienne averts her eyes. Her stomach fills with hot shame and her cheeks burn, but her heart beats fast in a twisted excitement. It’s sick and she knows it — and yet she keeps coming back for more. She craves the sick and twisted pleasure. It makes her feel alive in a way nothing else does.

Not since he’s been gone.

Cersei gazes down at Brienne as she pours the wine into her cup. She keeps pouring and pouring, and the cup is going to run over, Brienne can tell. The wine reaches the brim. Brienne opens her mouth, wanting to say something, but she doesn’t.

(Stupid, spineless cow. Can’t even speak.)

The wine spills over the glass and all over the table. Brienne watches, unable to move. It slowly trickles down the table and onto her legs. She glances down at her sticky, wine stained thighs.

“Drink,” Cersei commands. 

Brienne takes the cup and drinks. She never particularly cared for the taste of wine, nor did she ever find solace or fun in drinking. She wants to lower the cup after a few sips, but Cersei grabs it and holds it to Brienne’s face. She tilts it and holds it pressed to Brienne’s mouth. Sweet wine drips down Brienne’s chin, glides onto her neck, reaching her shirt, staining it. Only when she drinks it all does Cersei lower the cup back onto the table. 

“Do you want more?” Cersei asks. Brienne is silent. She is sticky and wet from the sweet wine, stained and humiliated, filled with hot shame — but somehow the shame is even sweeter than the red wine. 

She does want more.

to read more, please go on ao3, and please consider leaving me a little comment if you've liked it! here is the link -> ♡︎ cup runneth over ♡︎

[lowaltitude]

Oblivious | Spencer Reid

- Criminal Minds - x Reader, Rossi’s daughter. (Y/N Baker-Rossi)

❪ FEM! ❫ ❪ adult aroace virgin attempts to write smut Altitude

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Spencer Reid x AFAB+FEM!reader, in which SSA Dr Spencer Reid is dating his coworker. OR in which SSA David Rossi’s daughter is has been sneaking around with the smartest man in the FBI for months.

𖥻 established relationships. Not directly connected to Criminal Minds series timeline but an estimated place in the timeline around season 5. 8.2k words

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

───── ❝ backstory ❞ ─────

Carolyn Baker-Rossi, first wife of SSA David Rossi. After the loss of their son James, the couple began to drift apart and eventually filed for divorce after a case made him miss their anniversary in 1983 and he came home in time to see Carolyn packing his things.  A few months later, and with no complications, a daughter was born. Y/N Baker-Rossi.

Y/N was always a gifted student, deciding when she was 7 that she wanted to “catch the boogie monsters that daddy does” and following through.  Eventually, a few book releases and divorces later, Rossi’s 22 year old daughter completed her degree, resulting Rossi using his connections to get her allowed into the BAU as a liaison.

Y/N was spending 85% of her time at the BAU following around Penelope Garcia, 10% getting everyone coffee, and the other 5% staring at Dr Spencer Reid. The boy genius who joined the BAU 2 years prior as a Supervisory Special Agent.

2 years passed and Y/N— Agent Baker, affectionately nicknamed ‘Cupcake’ by Derek Morgan— was promoted, officially joining the team. And although she loved him, she refused to use her father’s last name while at work.

───── ❝ Oblivious ❞ ─────

Rossi‘s chair scraped along the floor as he pulled it out, and I groaned. Morgan called and woke me up at 6am, how much more murdering could happen if we waited just 1 more hour?

I wasn’t angry, but It was my first official case. I was no longer a liaison I was an SSA. My seat at the table meant something, but I didn’t expect them to drag me into work while it was still dark outside.

“Wheels up in 30” Hotch said, ending the briefing and giving us time to get what we needed from our desks.

Spencer was sat across from me like always, his hair messy and shirt collar a little messed up, and he pushed his chair out from the table before getting up.

I walked behind him as he went to his desk, and I went to mine. “Rough night?” I yawned.

“No, no. I’m fine.” Reid put his bag over his shoulder, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand.

I hummed in response and walked up to him, noticing that he tensed up as I got close to him. I put my hands on his collar, fixing it and his tie as he just watched me with his lips slightly parted.

“Uh, New collared shirts often come with stiff collars; however, after a number of washes and wears, the material that keep the collar stiff begins to soften, causing the shirt collar to lose its shape.” I nodded, enjoying the seemingly pointless information that he would often share. Everyone had left, the space around us now empty. “This leads to shirt collars curling and folding.”

When I was done, I went to step back and gave him some space, but Reid put a hand on my waist stopping me.

“Are you aware of how hard it is to avoid touching you while we’re at work?”

“You’re touching me now”

“But i’m stopping myself from… More”

“Nobody’s around” I kept my voice no more than a whisper, putting my hand on Reid’s chest and pushing myself up to reach him. 

“Ready to go, Cupcake?” Morgan entered, back over his shoulder and eyes down as he looked at his phone. Reid and I jumped away from each other before Morgan had the chance to look up and tuck his phone in his back pocket. “Kid?”

Both of us nodded and he turned towards the doors, Reid following a few steps behind him. I slung my bag over my shoulder, jogging to catch up.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“How was your first case?” Garcia asked, rushing towards me with an open container of cookies in her hands as we entered the BAU. Returning from the long trip to Florida.

“I might be a little traumatised but that’s part of the job” I looked in the plastic container, happily taking one and almost melting at how good the warm cookie was.

Morgan patted my shoulder as he stopped beside me, swiftly taking a cookie and earning a shocked gasp from Garcia.

“Those are not for you”

“Thanks, baby girl” He smiled. “You look like you need a drink after that.”

“I do, I really do” I sighed wiping the cookie crumbs on my pants. “Garcia?”

She nodded enthusiastically, putting the lid on the container. “Yes.”

“Drinks?” Morgan asked the other members of the team, clapping his hands together. He earned a few responses as the team packed the extra things from their desks.

The team conversed as they left the building, leaving Garcia, my dad and I a little behind.

“You did real good, kid. Make sure you call your mum later”

“Got it.” I nodded, watching him hurry to catch up with Hotch.

“So…” Garcia started.

I shook my head at her. “Don’t” Garcia and I had spent so much time together over the past few years that she was practically my sister at this point.

She claimed knew about my crush on Reid before I did, noting that ‘22 year old Y/N came in to see her dad and immediately took notice of the 24 year old who’d just joined the team.’ But i’d managed to keep it from her that we had progressed our relationship.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

With my FBI visitor pass— Which honestly seemed like a bad idea in retrospect, I walked into the bullpen and was barely noticed. Agents passing by without so much as a quick glance in my direction.

I spotted my Dad in a glass office, along with Hotch, and who I know knew was Garcia. He waved my direction, Hotch doing his best to smile at me before going back to their conversation.

Walking further into the room, I narrowly dodged someone with their head down looking at an open file as the walked and bumped into someone’s desk.

“Oh shit, i’m sorry” I muttered, the boy at his desk seemed barely older than I was.

“No, it’s perfectly fine. Young adults fall more frequently than expected, most falls even occur during everyday activities such walking and talking.” The boy looked up from the open book and papers scattered on his desk and It felt like I got slapped in the face by emotions that made no sense.

I couldn’t think of anything to say, I just forced my mouth closed so I could stop gawking at him. “Totally”

“Uh…” He stared at me for a second before quickly blinking a few times. “Each— Each year slips, trips and falls cause thousands of preventable injuries. In most cases, people trip on low obstacles that are hard to spot.”

I laughed, not really understanding what the boy was rambling about. Just nodding and smiling like a fool.

“Y/N” Hotch called my name, I turned to face the 2 men and the blonde. “Hey, I see you’ve met our newest SSA.”

“You’re an agent? I wouldn’t have guessed” I gave the boy another once over.

“Boy genius.” Rossi sighed “IQ of 180, photographic memory—”

“187, actually, and I have an eidetic memory. Eidetic memory refers to the ability to retain visual information with extreme precision while in contrast, photographic memory refers to the ability to remember everything in a scene, not just the visual elements.” The boy pushed his chair back from his desk, playing with the pen in his hand.

Woah.

Hotch cleared his throat. “Y/N Baker-Rossi, this is our technical analyst Penelope Garcia , and doctor Spencer Reid.”

“Baker-Rossi? As in, you, Rossi?” Garcia’s eyes widened, looking between us quickly.

“Yes.” I laughed. “From his first marriage.”

“Wow, I didn’t even know you had spawn. It’s great to meet you”

Rossi put his hand on my shoulder, taking my bag from my hands. “She’s actually here to see you, Garcia.”

“Me?”

“Y/N just completed her advanced degree in behavioral science, and while her application is pending I got permission for her to be a temporary liaison, somewhat of an assistant for you”

“Oh, assistant wow. Yes, yes. Come my child, I will be your seeing eye dog for the BAU.” Penelope linked my arm, taking the bag from my fathers hands and wishing me away. Hotch and Rossi already making their way back to the office.

I was flabbergasted to say the least, looking around as Garcia began to explain her position here. I looked back at the boy sitting at his desk and smiled. “Uh, bye Spencer”

“Yeah— Yeah, bye Y/N.” He spun his chair, watching Garcia and I as we disappeared down the hall.

When he was gone from sight, I took a deep breath. Spencer Reid.

When he spoke there was something eerily calming and familiar about him. Something in the pit of my stomach told me that this guy was special. Special in different way than being a young genius working for the FBI.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

As we entered the bar and found somewhere to sit, JJ and I sat beside each other so she could show me pictures of her son, Henry, on her phone. Spencer at the other end of the table across from Garcia.

I finished my drink and sighed, moving away from the table taking my glass with me to the bar. Rossi passing me his empty glass with a smile as he engaged in conversation with Morgan.

“Hey” I tiredly smiled at the bartender “Can I just get another Vodka and Coke, and 3 fingers of Whiskey please.”

The bartender got to work on the drinks and I found ed my attention on my shoes.

“Y/N?” I looked up at the person calling my name. “Oh my god, it is you.” I stared at the man in utter confusion as he walked up to me, leaving his friends chatting at their table behind him. “George. We went to High School together.”

“Whoa, George Maddison?” It finally clicked, he chuckled, nodding that it was in fact him. He was a handsome sight but in my memory I can still see him wearing his Harry Potter-esque glasses in his brown coat and black beanie.

“You look amazing. And I heard you work for the FBI now, isn’t that what your dad did?”

“Thank you, I really don’t feel amazing right now so it’s much appreciated.” I laughed, thanking the bartender as he put the drinks on the counter for me. “My dad actually still works for the BAU, he’s right over there. The team is just celebrating my first case.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“Spence” Garcia whispered, the boy practically grunting in response. “You’re going to burn a hole in the back of her head if you don’t stop staring.”

“I’m not staring” Reid snapped his attention to Garcia, keeping his voice low to avoid drawing attention from the other agents. He was staring, and he knew it. But of course he was there was someone else talking to Y/N, and he knew that when men go to a bar, they are typically looking for a good time, to catch a buzz, to let off steam, and maybe find someone to take home for a one night stand.

Garcia hummed, finishing the rest of her cocktail and pushing the glass towards Reid. “Here. Get me another, there’s your excuse to go interrupt.”

“Why would I interrupt, I’m sure Y/N is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She’s a highly trained federal agent and although studies suggest drink spiking may be more widespread than previously believed, on average—”

Garcia wasn’t listening, instead looking across the crowded bar at the tall blonde making Y/N smile. “He’s like Derek Morgan levels of hotness.” She muttered, Reid immediately shutting his mouth.

After a moment of silent contemplation, the 26 year old took Garcia’s empty glass and walked to the bar. Swallowing the lump in his throat and leaving Garcia smiling to herself as she thought about adding ‘Matchmaker’ to her resume.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“Another one of… Whatever this is” I heard Spencer’s voice behind me and turned my head to look at him.

“Hey” I smiled, my heart almost skipping a beat at the sight of my coworker.

Reid licked his lips quickly before smiling back at me. “Hey, sorry to interrupt.”

“Not a problem”

“Hi” George stuck his hand out for the lanky brunette to shake. “I’m George”

Spencer ignored his offer and instead chose to just nod at him in acknowledgment. “SSA, Dr Spencer Reid. Do— Do you two know each other?”

“Yeah, High School. We even dated for a while.”

“I wouldn’t really call going to the mall and a few kisses during spin the bottle ‘dating’.” I awkwardly laughed, swirling the straw around in my drink.

“Dating is a term coined in America to signify that stage of romantic relationships in which two individuals engage in an activity together, most often with the intention of evaluating each other's suitability as a partner in a future intimate relationship. Most couples go on 5 to 6 dates before discussing a relationship, and some take even longer.”

George momentarily seemed frozen, letting Reid’s words sink in. “See! We were dating, and I guess technically we never broke up. Thanks dude.”

“Uh, you’re welcome, dude”

I laughed at how unnatural it seemed for Spencer to say ‘dude’. My smile even beginning to hurt my cheeks. He turned to the bartender, taking the drink they had just put down and I raised an eyebrow at him.

“What the hell are you drinking?”

“This is Garcia’s actually, she wanted me to come get it for her.”

“Oh” He didn’t want to come be my knight in shining armour, rescuing me from the mystery man that could swoop me away from him.

“What is taking the two of you so long?” Rossi asked, reaching past me to grab his drink from the bar. “You’re young, aren’t you meant to be fast? Don’t answer that Reid it wasn’t a real question”

Spencer shut his mouth quickly. Rossi sipping his drink and noticing George standing with a smile on his face.

“Mr Rossi” He put his hand out to shake again. “How are you?”

“Have we met?”

“No” I answered, I didn’t want to hear another remark about us ‘technically’ never having broken up. “We did a play together in High School but, you were on a case.”

“I’m sure you want to get back to celebrating, but i’d really like to see you again Y/N.”

I raised an eyebrow at the blonde “You would?”

“Really?” Rossi and Reid said almost simultaneously.

“Definitely. Can I have your number?”

“Uh” I thought for a minute, I didn’t want to give some guy at a bar my number and lead him on in front of my boyfriend. But on the other hand my dad was standing right there. “This job doesn’t give me a lot of time to myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll work something out” Rossi smiled, gesturing for me to put my number into his contacts. Reid’s eyes widened and for self preservation he turned and went back to the table.

“Okay.” I forced a smile, keying in my number and passing the phone back him.

George left, my dad and I waving as I went back to the table and I took my seat beside JJ again. Sipping my drink and raising an eyebrow at the stares I was receiving. “What?”

“Who was that?” Emily asked, a slightly suggestive look on her face.

“Just someone from high school.”

Rossi hummed, looking over to where George was laughing with his friends

“He’s cute” JJ commented

“Yeah.” Reid said, catching my attention. “Dude seems great”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

We were lucky to have 2 days off before being sent on our next case, Reid and I sitting beside one another on the plane and enjoying what little intimacy we could have on the trip; Our arms touching on the arm rest.

The jet ride consisted of Rossi making popcorn, me and Morgan trying to sleep, Garcia calling us with more information and everyone doing their own thing.

As we left the airport terminal, Reid walked a few steps ahead of me, and I watched as the wind blew his hair into his face. The boy stopping and looking at me when my phone started to ring.

“Hello…?” I said cautiously

“Hey! Y/N, it’s George”

“Oh, hi. I didn’t actually expect you to call this soon, isn’t there some men’s unspoken rule to wait 3 days?”

“I’m just really excited to talk to you I guess.”

“I actually can’t talk, we just landed in North Carolina for a case.”

“Already? Wow, serial killers work fast.” He laughed on the other end of the line. “I’ll call you back some other time then”

My phone beeped and I took a second to look at it before putting the cell back to my ear “That would be great. I have to go, work call.” I hung up, not hearing whatever he tried to say before I cut him off and answering the other call. “Garcia?”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Hotch had split us up for the case, him, Prentiss and Rossi at the latest crime scene. JJ and Morgan at the house interviewing the family. Leaving Reid and I at the police precinct trying to find the MO, and looking for potential UnSubs.

Reid and I were professional, apart from lingering when our hands touched and the occasional longing stare. But we made it through the case without a hitch, and as soon as Morgan called to tell us they’d caught the guy we began to pack our things.

“I think it was pretty, uh, pretty hot how you worked out that the UnSub was taunting the victims.”

I scoffed, putting the photos from the whiteboard into a manila folder. “Replicating murders from famous movies isn’t that difficult to realise”

“There’s a number of generally agreed elements comprising popular culture. These aspects are often subject to rapid change, due to omnipresent media. It encompasses the most immediate and contemporary aspects of our lives.” He paused for a second to breathe and I leaned against the table to look at him. “Considering my circumvention for most aspects of modern technology or media, I show a fair amount animosity against popular culture, the likelihood that I would have figured that MO is only about 3%”

“I’m taking this as I need to educate you on horror movies”

“I’m well educated on classic horror films. In fact, I think my favourite would be Anita. The 1920 Austrian film that depicts a societal lady trapped under the spell of an unskilled hypnotist.”

“Have you ever watched anything that wasn’t a foreign black and white silent film?”

The door to the precinct briefing room opened before Reid could respond. The team walking in, exhausted from working without a moments peace.

Hotch put his phone down on the table. “Unfortunately theres thunderstorms coming in and we won’t be able to get a flight out until some time tomorrow. Garcia’s booked us into a hotel in the meantime, we can all hopefully get a good nights rest”

“I doubt that.” Emily said, a disgusted look on her face as she pushed the picture from one of the crime scenes across the table away from her. “This one was some real nightmare fuel.”

The photo made my stomach turn as well, a recreation of a scene from 1976 film The Omen. The victims face sewn into a Joker-esque smile and hung from the room of her house.

I quickly put the photo in the envelope and closed it so i’d never have to see it again.

“That gives you some time to call George.” Rossi smiled, helping pack up what was left scattered across the table.

“Dad” I groaned, earning a puzzled look from the officers nearby. Morgan and JJ chuckled at my annoyance I shot them both a glare.

“Reid, tell her she should be putting herself out there. I want grandkids eventually”

Spencer choked on air, his eyes wide as he tried to stop coughing and everyone looked at him in concern.

“Are you okay?” Emily asked, Reid nodding and putting his hand up to stop anyone from helping him.

“Um” He finally caught his breath. “Single men are far more likely than single women to be looking for a relationship or dates – around 61% compared to 38%. While looking both men and women report equal levels of dissatisfaction with their dating lives and the ease of finding people to date, women are more likely to say they have had some particularly negative experiences.“

Rossi stared at him for a moment, dissatisfied with his response. “Don’t listen to him. Call the boy.”

I rolled my eyes and Rossi picked up the case files, heading out of the precinct with the rest of the team and leaving Reid and I behind.

“That was… Uncomfortable” I laughed, combing a hand through my hair and picking up my bag.

“I was actually thinking how we could possibly utilise this whole George situation.” 

“Yeah?”

Reid put his hands either side of me, pinning me against the table and putting his face a few inches away from mine. “You can tell Rossi you’re going out with him and then we’ll actually be able to spend some time together”

“And after a few ‘dates’ with George, or multiple nights where I don’t come home, how do you suppose he’ll react if I don’t start bringing George around as my boyfriend?”

“Just a few dates, not enough to be considered a relationship but enough so he’ll believe you’re trying.”

I hummed in response, my lips just about to press against Reid’s— The feeling i’d craved for the past 3 days that we’d been running around on this case—

“Agents?” One of the local officers stood in the doorway, Reid taking a large step back with his bright red face. “Sorry to interrupt, but Agent Hotchner is waiting outside.”

Clearing my throat and smiling, I moved off the table. “Thanks.”

She smiled briefly, taking one step away before turning back. “You two are a really cute couple.”

Reid put his bag on his shoulder, looking down to try and hide the smile on his face. “Thank you.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Completely exhausted from the case, I didn’t even bother to change once I’d walked into my hotel room. Instead just collapsed face first on the the plush bed, the TV on at a low volume and the heavy rainfall outside lulling me to sleep.

Of course, as my mind finally went blank and eyes fluttered shut, a knock came at my door and I had to force myself up.

“Reid?” I muttered, the boy standing in the hall rocking back and forth on his heels. And nodding at me as I opened the door, eh just stepped inside and closed it behind him.

“I need you”

“Couldn’t it wait? I’m so tired.” He titled his head slightly to the side, a tuft of hair sliding down his forehead and breaking me. “Fine, what is it? Chemistry? Math? Missing sock?”

“No, no.”

“Then what?”

“I need you.”

I sighed, a ghost of a smile playing on my lips. “Spencer”

“Don’t say my name like that if you’re going to say no and send me away” His voice was so soft, breathy and faint. It set goosebumps up my arms.

Hotch’s room was beside mine, at least when Spencer snuck into my bedroom he had no chance of running in to Rossi since it was on the entirety opposite side of the house. I reached for the door handle, intent on sending Reid away, it wasn’t worth the risk even if I really wanted him right now too.

My arm brushed against his warm skin and I looked up at him, eyes locking on one other and drowning out everything around me.

I find life seldom follows the plans you've made.

Turning the lock on the door, Spencer waited for the click before hisface coming close to mine, sleepy eyes closing, medicine-sweet lips puckering up, and all the other sounds of the world going silent— The thunderstorm, whatever had been running on the television, the sound the rain made on the small balcony as it made a small puddle— all silent, as Spencer’s lips finally met mine and I couldn’t get enough of him.

I was tired and sore but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted him, all the time. His weight on top of me. I wanted feel his warm breath on my skin. I wanted his sweat to drop onto me.

Reid took a step forward, his hands sliding down my body and stopping at my hips, cold fingers sitting on the exposed skin where my shirt had ridden up. Our breathing became heavy, more desperate as we gave in to our urges.

He took another step, forcing me to take one backwards and kept doing so until I felt the hotel bed mattress behind me. I slid my hand down his chest, Reid groaning as I reached his waistband, hurriedly unbuckling his belt. I grabbed the zipper of his fly and he pulled away from me.

“You’re going to have to be really quiet” He had a painful expression on his face, eyes shifting between my lips and eyes as if it truly hurt him to pull away from me. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, I can be quiet.”

He didn’t waste another second, letting me fall back on the mattress so he could hover over me. Soft open mouth kisses along my kneel as he carefully undid the buttons on my shirt and I tugged at his zipper.

He shifted his weight, using one hand to hold himself up as he dug though his back pocket. Putting the shiny plastic wrapper in his teeth before pushing his jeans the rest of the way down before moving to undo mine.

I take the wrapper from Reid. allow him to take his own shirt off as I open it, watching as he rushes to get back to smothering me in kisses.

My hand touches his chest and begins to fall in excruciating slow designs, the boy almost whining against my lips.

Gripping a pillow in my fists as he breathes against me, hot air down my exposed him. 

Reid flips, me now straddling him and allowing me to playfully tug at the ends of his hair.

My phone vibrated on the bedside table, Reid groaning in frustration and pulling away from me.

“Ignore it” I muttered, using my index finger to turn his face so he was looking at me again. The phone stopped and he smiled into the kiss until the phone started again. He pulled away. Making me the one to whine this time.

“Hello?” He said into the phone “She’s busy.”

He hung up, putting the phone back on the bedside table and gripping his hands on my thighs to pull me closer to him. Skin to skin.

I moaned and Reid laughed, moving to place a kiss under my ear and whisper. “Quiet, remember?”

I wanted nothing more in that moment than to be with him. Feeling I was about to crumble like sand as the bed creaks beneath us.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

We all arranged to meet in the lobby, Emily and I were talking, entertaining the possibility of a ‘girls night out’ soon.

JJ walked back towards us with coffee cups in her hands, offering us each one. “Where the hell is Reid?”

“Maybe we should send someone to check on him.” Morgan walked towards the elevato, pressing the button and the doors opening instantaneously.

“Hey” Reid greeted. “Ready to go?”

“What took you so long?” Rossi asked

“I didn’t get a very good nights rest.” He walked off the elevator, heading towards the exit. “Poor sleep habits often include an irregular schedule, more than 90 percent of law enforcement officers report being routinely fatigued.”

Reid and I were in seperate cars, unintentionally splitting into women in one and men in the other. I spent the entire drive wondering what they were talking about.

“You alright, Baker?” Emily asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror

“Yeah, i’m fine.” She raised an eyebrow and I sighed. Working with profilers sucks. “I’m just trying to work out why my dad is suddenly so pushy about me dating someone.”

“Maybe he knows you have a crush on Reid.” JJ shrugged

“JENNIFER!” Emily gasped

“You guys think I have a crush on Reid? Did you hit your head or something?”

Prentiss sighed, parking the black SUV “We may have realised a long time ago. It’s not a very kept secret. I think everyone except Reid knows.”

“I’m pretty sure Morgan and Hotch are oblivious too.“ JJ laughed. Climbing out of the car.

We boarded the jet, JJ and Prentiss sharing a knowing look as I took my seat next to Spencer.

“Shut up” I mouthed, the pair of them shaking their head as Reid gave me a confused look.

As the jet started to take off, I listened to everyone’s conversations, checking my phone when it beeped to a new message from Garcia. I looked up through my eyelashes, Prentiss and JJ both looking at their phones and telling me we all just got the message.

Girls Night. Please. Tuesday. - P.G

Emily put her phone down first, mine and JJ’s buzzing again and Hotch noticing. “Are you three messaging each other?”

“Maybe” JJ smiled, putting her phone down after pressing send.

Morgan raised his eyebrow as mine and Emily’s phones buzzed again. “What are you talking about?”

Yes. We need to talk about Y/N and Reid. - E.P

Tuesday’s perfect, and I agree we need to talk about it. Code name: Romeo and Juliette. - J.J

“It’s girl talk, Morgan. And no matter how smooth you are, it’s just not for you.” I sighed, clicking send and making a point to turn my phone off.

“Come on, Cupcake, don’t do me like that.”

There’s nothing to talk about! … but I prefer Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy actually. - /.BR

We had small conversations until we landed, all heading to put away files and clean up our things before heading home.

“So?” Garcia smiled, taking a seat in my desk chair “Anything happen this time?”

“It’s a work trip, G.”

“But Em and JJ know now, so something must have happened!”

“They just worked it out, profilers notice everything.” Apart from that we’d been in an exclusive relationship for a while now.

“You two are totally smitten, just ask Reid on a date. Rossi doesn’t have to know, I can keep a secret. Swear.”

I looked at Reid talking to Morgan across the room, nobody else knowing about the purple marks hidden just beneath his collar.

“See!” Garcia signed “You’re even blushing just looking at him.”

“Nothings going to happen between us.”

“Ready to go home?” Rossi smiled as he walked up to Garcia and I, oblivious to the conversation he had just interrupted. I nodded and he adjusted his bag strap. “Did you call, George?”

Garcia’s eyes snapped to look at my face. I had to focus on how I would answer, he’d know if I was panicked or lying.

“Yeah he called last night.” Truthfully he did, it’s just I didn’t answer, Reid did.

“And?” Penelope urged

I shrugged. “I’m very busy.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Girls Night Out. Usually we’d be out at a bar getting insanely drunk, but the night started at JJ’s house waiting for Will to come home.

“He’s asleep” She sighed, returning in the 3rd outfit she’d tried on since Henry had decided to throw up on her 1st dress and pee on the 2nd.

“Finally. Now we can discuss.” Garcia smiled, shifting in her spot on the sofa to look at me on the armchair. “Go on, Y/N.”

I laughed, having hoped they would have forgotten this topic over our luxurious 3 days off of work. “Discuss what?”

“Tell them how long you’ve been in love with Reid.”

“I’ve never been in love with Reid!” I protested

“First day she arrived at the BAU, the both of them, practically drooling.”

“Really?” Emily smiled, looking at me with a glint in her eye.

“Hey, well don’t you all look pretty.” Will draped his coat over the back of the couch, everyone greeting him and standing ready to leave.

“Henry‘s asleep, we’ll hopefully only be out for a few hours.” JJ kissed her partner and he gave her a warm loving smile. Maybe I could tell them about Reid and I, but we had a very different situation to others.

Most people don’t work with both their boyfriend and father.

As we left JJ’s the topic shifted and I was immediately relieved, enjoying listening to everyone’s funny anecdotes much more.

The bar we went to was busy, full of people out celebrating. Any time my glass was empty, a new one seemed to appear in front of me until I was viewing everything in a slight haze.

“I think we should go!” JJ announced loudly, pushing herself up from the table and knocking over Emily’s drink.

“At least it’s the weekend” Garcia groaned, picking up her back and adjusting her glasses.

Emily snorted “It’s Tuesday”

“Oh god”

As we managed to make our way outside, JJ’s phone rang and I whined. “Please don’t tell me someone’s murdered again”

JJ answers the call “It’s Will”

“Will!” I cheered, flagging down a taxi for us. I told the man Garcia’s address first since her apartment building was the closest, and we drove off as soon as JJ was done on the phone telling Will we were all safe.

Emily, as the most sober. was in the front telling the driver addresses and making sure we all got to the door safely.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” Prentiss sighed, knocking on the front door as I attempted to find my keys at the bottom of my bag.

Rossi opened the door, pyjamas on and sleep in his eyes.

“Dad, what’s up?” I snapped my fingers, finding my keys. I wasn’t completely drunk but I was buzzed enough that I needed a babysitter.

Rossi looked at Emily as he let me inside “Thank you” Shutting the door behind me, he put his hands on my shoulders to guide me to my bedroom. “Don’t throw up on my carpet”

“I won’t” I groaned, pulling my jacket off and throwing it on the end of my bed with my bag. Rossi turned the light on in my bathroom, walking off and returning with a large glass of water and some snacks.

“Get some rest.” He said softly, pushing a loose strand of hair from my face.

After he was gone, I yawned and pulled my phone from my bag, keying in Reid’s number.

“Spencer” I coo’d when he answered, dragging his name out.

“How much did you drink?”

“Not enough.”

“It’s been stated that to reduce the risk of harm from alcohol-related disease or injury, a healthy limit is to have no more than 10 standard drinks a week and no more than 4 standard drinks on any one day.”

I stayed silent for a few seconds, mentally trying to count how many drinks i’d had. “Then I had way too many.” Reid chuckled on the other side. “Come over.”

“Alcohol primarily affects areas of the brain associated with behavior regulation, this impairment in judgment makes people much more prone to saying the they normally wouldn’t sober.”

“But I would invite you over sober”

“A sober brain helps weigh the good and bad consequences of any decision, therefore I know that it’s probably a bad idea.”

“I hate sleeping alone”

“I believe this is what Morgan’s called a, uh, a ‘booty call’. Human nature to be monogamous but humans quite frequently engage in short-term sexual relationships as well. Evolutionary psychologists resolve this paradox by proposing that men and women employ both long-term and short-term mating strategies, depending on the circumstances. It’s important to note that—”

“Spence. Please.” There was a long pause, a few rustles coming from his end. “Spencer?”

“Hold on, I’m putting my shoes on”

By the time I heard the knocking on my window, i’d already changed into an oversized FBI t-shirt and pair or shorts. I pulled the curtains open, smiling at Reid and letting him in. Much more sober than I had been when I got home.

“Hi”

“Hi” He smiled.

He took a seat on the edge of my bed, taking his shoes off and I looked over the outfit he had on. Plaid pyjama pants, a grey shirt.

He dropped his dirty old converse and stood, stepping towards me slowly and embracing me in a warm hug. I practically melted into his arms, Reid pushing the hair from my face so he could gently kiss my forehead.

“Prentiss and JJ think I have a crush on you and you’re oblivious” I muttered, feeling his chest rise and fall as he laughed.

Moving away from him, I laid on my bed and waited for him to join me. The bed dipped and I reached for the remote on my bedside table.

Spencer raised an eyebrow “Really?”

“You need a horror movie education, i’m thinking The Shining. Morgan and I were talking the other day about how it was a revolutionary film for its time since it explored horror conventions such as isolation, fear, mental illness, and duality—”

Reid cuts me off by rolling over so that he's laying on top of me, parting my legs with one hand. "I get jealous when you talk about Derek like that," he says in a low voice, surprised that he's admitting this to her. "It gives me the wrong idea."

I can already feel my heart beginning to beat faster. "You know he’s just a friend" she whispers, my mind going wild when he leans down, pulling the neckline of my shirt and kissing my collarbone. 

"But he gets to call you nicknames, and I don’t" Reid whispers back and looks down at me again.

Before I can even think about her response the words, "But i’m all yours" spill from my lips and he smirks. 

Our lips become one and Reid grinds his hips against mine, groaning as he does so. He keeps moving his hips, creating a friction that make my breathing shallow— makes me want more. 

He pulls away, slipping the shirt over my head and kissing around my chest. "You know how crazy this all is?" He asks, hands reaching down for the button and zipper of his jeans as I nod. Our romantic situation was our secret but we knew it was crazy since we should have just told people from the start.

He stands so that he can pull his shirt off and motions for me to get up with a finger. "Can we try something?" he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling her down with him. 

He positions me so that my crotch is on his thigh and places his hands on my hips. Spencer's eyes take every single inch of my body. Never once had I felt bad about myself when with him. Whispering in my ear what he hoped to do with me tonight.

Normally, the idea of dry humping someone to the point of orgasm would sound like a ridiculous and odd suggestion, but with Spencer it was different.

We kiss again and I nod, willing to do practically anything that he could ever want to do together.

Reid’s hold on my hips tightens as he presses me down on to his thigh and, slowly, he begins to rock me back and forth. 

I try to think of how many other ways he could make each other feel. Not just physically. 

Placing my hands on his shoulders as he begins to move me faster, and pressing his mouth to my neck.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“Y/N” Rossi called out, wrapping his knuckles on the bedroom door. “Are you awake, Hotch said he tried to call.”

I shot up in bed, Reid still peacefully asleep beside me and I shook him awake. The boy blinked slowly, smiling at me like I was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

“Y/N?”

The smile disappeared and Reid threw the blanket off of him. Rushing around the room as quietly as possible to grab his clothes.

“One second dad” I picked Reid’s boxers off the floor, throwing them at him. He pulled them, and his pants, on as I opened the window for him to climb out.

Reid put his arms in his shirt, climbing out the window and pulling his head through the hole. He rushed away and I cautiously opened the door, pretending to rub my eyes. “Good morning”

Rossi smiled, cup of coffee in hand. “Your cell must be off, Hotch called asking you to come in.”

“I’m not meant to start until 12” I sighed, looking at the clock on my bedside. 9:30am.

“Better get moving” He brought his cup to his lips, turning and walking away as I closed the door and went to close the window.

“Hey” Reid reappeared outside, startling me.

“Jesus” I put my hand to my chest. “What are you still doing here?”

“I forgot something”

“You never forget anything”

Reid kissed me quickly, his lips warm and soft. “I love you”

He left before I had the chance to say anything back, leaving me dazed at the window for a minute until I managed to force myself to get dressed for the day.

Hotch smiled as he sat me, Garcia, Prentiss and JJ at the table. “Have a fun night last night?”

“The volume is up here” Garcia held her hand above her head, moving it down to the table height. “It needs to be here”

“You still have paperwork to fill out, need it done before the rest of the team gets here.”

Sitting at my desk, I mindlessly filled out the paper. Garcia got to sit in the quiet darkness of her office, meanwhile Prentiss, JJ and I were in the open bullpen. People walking buy constantly, and since JJ had the worst hangover she was constantly complaining  I looked over my desk, groaning when I couldn’t find what I was looking for and picking up my phone.

“Hey, Rossi.” I sighed, rubbing my head with my thumb and forefinger. “I must have accidentally taken one of my files home last night, do you mind grabbing it from my room?”

I could practically feel the sarcasm radiating off of him through the phone. “Oh yes my darling daughter, your wish is my command.”

“See you when you get here.” I yawned, ending the call knowing he’d grab the file from my room for me. Spencer pulled his chair out, sitting at his desk across from me. “Good morning, Reid.”

“Morning, Baker.” He greeted, glancing around before leaning forward and lowering his voice to a whisper. “Coincidentally, I found myself walking home in my socks this morning.”

He nodded to his foot, poking his leg out from the desk and I held back a laugh. “You’ll have to collect them later.”

“I guess so”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Rossi put his phone and keys down, closing the front door again so he could go and grab what Y/N had forgotten.

He walked into her room, spotting the folder on her dresser and picking it up.

Feeling the cold breeze coming in through the open window and walking to close it, Rossi almost tripped in the sneakers by the window.

David Rossi picked up the shoes, intent on moving them to the shoe rack in the open closet but stopped. He’d seen these shoes before, but he knew what his daughter wore.

It hit him.

Rossi knew who these shoes belonged to. And he was angry.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

We were waiting in the briefing room, all of us chatting at the table when Rossi walked in, smacking the file down in front of me. I looked up with a smile, about to thank him when I saw the look etched on his face.

A moment later, Reid looked up at me noticing the tension and then looking up at my dad.

Rossi ran his tongue along his teeth. “Why haven’t you called George?”

“We’ve been busy, but I’ll— I’ll do it” I tried to smile but the look on his face didn’t change, instead, taking his hand from behind his back and revealing none other than Reid’s shoes.

“Crap” Spencer whispered. Everyone silencing as they tried to understand what was happening now.

“Dave?” Hotch asked “You alright?”

“Spencer? Anything you want to say?” Rossi urged

I swallowed the lump in my throat “Dad”

Rossi slammed the shoes down on the desk “He’s messing around with my kid!”

“Technically, uh, I think ‘messing around’ implies that we’re frequently having unprotected sex” All eyes went to Reid, nobody knowing what to say exactly.

“Kid—” Morgan started

“Which We’re— We’re not.” Reid held his hands up in defence. “Well, we are, uh, active just not an impractical—”

“Spencer!” I shouted, trying to get the man to stop talking all together.

“—Amount. Once a week is a common baseline, although that statistic depends slightly on age: 40 to 50 year olds tend to fall around that baseline, while 20 to 30 year olds tend to average around twice a week.”

“Spencer!”

“Right.” The boy finally stopped talking. Everyone at the table was silent, eyes shifting between Spencer and I.

“Are you really mad?” I asked quietly, Rossi pulling out his seat and putting his head in his hands.

“No” He sighed. “Disappointed.”

“Why?” He’d already walked in here and slammed shoes on the table, making it everyone’s business. They’d find out eventually so we may as well have this conversation now.

“You kept it from me. I’m your father and you were sneaking around behind my back, don’t you trust me?”

“Can I say something?” Reid asked, Rossi pointing a finger at him.

“No.”

Spencer ignored this. “In our field everyone is at constant risk. We all know someone who’s been effected by our job, it was a lot safer for us to not tell anyone when we started dating. We actually discussed telling you around month 2 but it was—”

“How long has this been going on?”

“228 days” Everyone looked at Reid. “7 months”

“Rossi, it’s not that bad.” Hotch tired to make his friend see the bright side. “Albeit I didn’t know how far it had gone, I thought it was obvious they had some sort of attractive to one another”

Rossi looked at him with wide eyes. “You knew?”

“How did you not know? They always sit next to each other, long stares and awkward glances.” Morgan practically scoffed.

“Oh shut up, none of you really knew.” I laughed, feeling the mood change in the room.

Everyone laughed, agreeing and talking about how they only thought it was a meaningless crush that we’d never pursue.

“So” Rossi started once the laughter had died down, a small smile on his face. “7 months it’s serious? You’re not going to hurt my daughter?”

Spencer tensed. “No— No sir.”

“Good, because you know I have a gun and can use it.” Rossi leaned back in his chair. “Please just knocknext time you come to my house.”

“Oh my god you would not believe how big the bucket load of crazy in this case is I—” Garcia walked into the room, ready to present us with our new case when she stopped. “What did I miss?”

“Everyone knows that Y/N likes Reid.” Emily informed her. “And that Reid likes her.”

God it sounded so much like some school yard drama.

“Everyone? Oh… So what now?”

After Penelope was caught up, and celebrated that she was right— Noting “Penelope Garcia will always notice a blooming office romance. Always. Especially if it’s love at first sight.”— We were sent to pack for our case, Reid and I staying behind in the briefing room as he put his shoes on.

“No exactly how I wanted everything to go but I’m assuming it’s been accepted. We’ll have to fill out an Employee Relationship Management in HR.” Reid stood and I grinned up at him. “What?”

“I forgot something”

He looked at the table. “No, there’s nothing—” I cut him off by kissing him, waiting until he kissed me back before pulling away. “One more, one more.” Our lips met again, full of emotion. Gentle, loving and romantic. The perfect kiss.

“I love you, too” I whispered as I pulled back, Spencer staring at me in silence, slowly sliding his hands across my body to rest in the small of my back and resting his forehead against mine.

“Hey!” Rossi knocked on the glass. “None of that. Hands where I can see them Reid, you’re a smart boy you should know better.”

Copyright © 2023 Altitude. All rights reserved.

[disgracefulthings]

There are plenty of fics of Wei Wuxian being adopted by different characters, even from different MXTX stories, but what if that happened someone else?

I'm saying I want a fic where Shen Jiu adopts Meng Yao

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

ALRIGHTY I FINALLY BUCKED UP AND FINISHED IT!!!

That’s right my dudes pce actually cursed ao3! And with a WLW BALLERINA STYLE AU NO LESS!!! Yep, here’s the shit I’ve been posting about for like a week instead of writing,

She’s The Smoke

[firstclassthot]

Otp prompt #77

Person A is attending a family wedding. The only issue is that they RSVP’d with a plus one in hopes of avoiding another year of being asked about their non-existent dating life.

Person A needs to find someone to be their fake date, and quick. Lucky for them, person B is all too willing to step in.

[chaosjedimasterk]

Bad Batch with ill Reader Head-cannon

I finally caught a cold this season so since I’m laying around just trying to kick it I have some head cannons about how the bad batch would treat you while you were sick

No warnings just fluff. Only gross thing is a human just having a cold.

Gender neutral reader

Hunter:

~ he would know you’re getting sick before you do because he just pays close attention to you. You’ve been sneezing more and are looking a tad more tired than usual

~ you’d refuse to admit you’re sick and try to keep helping around the Maurader and he would have NO TIME for that

~ he would march you straight to his bunk, tuck you in with every possible blanket he could find and make sure you had water, medicine, and tissues and anything else you needed

~ he’d make everyone get off the ship so you could sleep in peace and quiet

~ as a bonus I really feel like Hunter would be the only one of the bad batch who would learn how to cook and would make a mean soup that he claims could cure any illness

“Here drink this - it’s a recipe I came up with - careful it’s extra spicy it helps clear your sinuses right up!”

Wrecker:

~ He would be trying to goof around with you like normal and you’re trying to play back but you’re too tired and too achy he immediately picks you up, tossed you over his shoulder and brings you to bed

~ he wouldn’t be worried about getting sick and would lend you one of the few civvie shirts he has laying around so you could be extra comfy and he would snuggle in bed with you

~ I feel like he would switch into super tender mode and he would run hot like a furnace and keep you toasty warm

~ if you couldn’t sleep he’d find really easy games for you two to play together on Tech’s data pad he secretly stole

“Don’t worry sweetheart I ain’t goin nowhere you just rest okay?”

Tech:

~ would be similar to hunter in that he also notices you starting to get sick well before you would admit it- mainly because he has your patterns and routines memorized and you slept in 30 minutes too long past your normal sleeping in time

~ you would try to help him with repairs or mods on the ship and he would simply tisk at you and turn you right back around and watch to make sure you actually got into bed

~ would immediately start looking up your symptoms on the holonet to see if he could find the best remedies even after you protest that it just needs to run its course

~ so worried that he tries ever old wives tale remedy on you even after you tell him your own tricks

“My dear you simply cannot work in this state. Back to bed it is for you, you will not be able to recover properly without adequate rest and fluids!”

Echo:

~ he remembers Kix’s tricks from when the 501st had a bad cold rip through the unit. It 100% looks like a mystery drink and the look you give him when he hands it to you is one of absolute suspicion

~ Echo is the mom of the group but knows that you probably know your body best and asks you how you like to recover - he would immediately get anything and everything you asked for

~ would also shoo the rest of the batch off the ship so he could take over your duties and chores and make sure you could have some peace and quiet

~ he’d go all princess bride on you and tell you as many stories as he could from his time with Rex and the batch before you’re arrival until you fell asleep

“Look I know it looks weird but Kix created this and we were all feeling great in 1 day flat. Yes, it looks awful but let me tell you about the time Fives wandered into a Gundark cave….”

Crosshair:

~ he would notice when he went out to practice with his rifle that you kept sniffling and sneezing and almost ALMOST made him miss a shot

~ you tried to brush it off and say it was allergies but he saw straight through you , you thought he was annoyed but he used some of his personal stash of credits to find you two a hotel for the night with a big bath tub

~ while you napped he found some soup and bath supplies for you and when you woke up he already had the bathroom as steamy as it could get and a full bubble bath waiting, he would gently wash your hair and body for you

~ and when you were ready he would silently curl up with you in the big bed and turn on your favorite holoflick

“Sweetheart you’re not feelin’ well don’t try to hide it. Let’s go I can practice another day”

Bonus: ✨

Omega absolutely draws you little cards and pictures while you’re sick or sends you funny videos she saw of tooka cats

Omega absolutely draws you a get well card and makes up her own stories for you

[uneryx]

A little idea that's been rattling around in my head for... a while. Then I saw this art https://www.tumblr.com/nephiieatsuranium/762425589705670656/tw-dead-body-in-the-bleak-midwinter?source=share by @nephiieatsuranium and got motivated to actually write it.

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

wip whenever ♥

thank you @allaganexarch for the tag!!! i exit the Void(TM) to shove my horny larissa content at the general public :)))

if anyone's interested in my jane murdstone dominatrix fic and would like to read about larissa weems getting caned, i guess this wip is for you!

tagging: @dianneking @notinmyvocab @the-frankenman-writes + whoever wants to do this consider yourself tagged!

“Are you ashamed of yourself, Miss Weems?” she asks as she walks around the desk. Larissa keeps stealing glances at her as she walks, unsure and shaking with the thrill of it all. 

Jane stands in front of her. “Well?” she asks again, coldly. “Do answer me.”

Larissa closes her eyes, swallows, then opens them again. “Yes,” she utters softly, staring in front of herself.

Jane sighs and tuts. She puts one finger under Larissa’s chin, urging her to tilt her head and look at her. “Miss Weems,” she starts, almost gentle now. “I’m aware girls your age are wont to… experiment. However, the school simply cannot encourage such inappropriate behaviour. You ought to know better.”

Larissa’s voice is but a whisper. “Yes, Miss.” 

“You were always such a well behaved pupil. I must say, I’m very disappointed in you.”

Tears well up in Larissa’s big, blue eyes. She nods. “Yes, Miss.”

“I can tell you’re very remorseful about it – but you’ll still have to receive a punishment. It is a grave offence, after all. That will be seven strokes of the cane.”

“Yes, Miss,” she says, unable to hide the thrill in her voice, despite the tears. Jane fights the urge to snicker at her – she shouldn’t do that just yet. There will be time for it.

“But before I give out the punishment, I want you to tell me what compelled you to even think of doing something like that. Have you seen it somewhere?”

Larissa swallows thickly. “I saw… I have a…a magazine,” she stutters. “And we saw… pictures of… women… doing things. And we wanted… We wanted to try them.”

Jane makes a sound of fake surprise. “A magazine! And however did you come in possession of such an inappropriate item?”

“I bought it,” whispers Larissa, turning her gaze to the floor. 

“That is how you spend your parents’ money? My, my, Miss Weems. I never suspected you’d be such a dirty girl.”

“I’m sorry, Miss,” she mumbles, her face red with shame, but her eyes glaze over at what Jane just called her. 

“You should be sorry, alright. Honestly, who’d think such dirty thoughts could live in such a seemingly nice, polite girl’s head. I do worry about you, Miss Weems. I’m afraid I’ll have to change your punishment to match the severity of your misdemeanours. I want to make sure the idea of buying lesbian pornography never crosses your mind again.”

“Yes, Miss,” Larissa says, voice breathy and pupils dilated, her cheeks still red.

“That will be two weeks in detention, and no off-campus weekend this month,” says Jane matter-of-factly. “And I’m upping it to twenty strokes. Ten for the act, ten for possession of pornography.”

“Twenty?” exclaims Larissa. “But Miss–”

“There will be no arguing, Miss Weems,” she interrupts her sternly. “Skirt up. Bend over the desk.”

Larissa takes a step forward and slowly bends over the desk, lifting her skirt up, then leaning forward on her elbows. Jane can’t help but feel a pang of excitement when she sees her pale, round arse. She imagines how lovely it’ll look with red stripes all across it, how it’ll jiggle when the cane hits. She wonders if she should make Larissa remove the lovely, teal, lacy knickers she’s wearing. 

She decides she should.

“What’s that?” she asks harshly. 

“What, Miss?” asks Larissa, with her arse in the air, worry lacing her voice. 

“Those aren’t regulation knickers.”

Larissa’s breath hitches. “No, Miss.”

“Remove them. It’ll be a bare bottom caning. Not that that flimsy thing would provide much of a barrier anyway.”

Larissa quickly pulls her underwear down, eager to please.

“I want them fully off, not just out of the way. I’ll be confiscating those. A respectable girl has no business wearing such a thing.”

Larissa obediently slides the knickers down her long legs, and steps out of them. She leaves them on the floor and returns to her previous position on the desk. Jane bends down and takes them, inspecting them. 

“There’s a wet spot,” she says. “What am I supposed to make of that, hm?”

Larissa doesn’t respond.

“Do you find your punishment arousing, Miss Weems?”

Larissa shakes her head, gazing down into the desk.. “No, Miss.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“I don’t know, Miss.”

Jane scoffs and crumbles the knickers in her fist. “Of course you don’t. I didn’t know you were such a perverted girl. I do hope you’re ashamed of yourself.” She pauses. “Well, I can assure you you won’t enjoy the cane in the slightest. I hope it’ll make you reflect on your actions.”

“Yes, Miss.”

There is complete silence in the room as Jane goes to fetch the cane. She makes a show of it, walking slowly and deliberately, heels clacking with each step. She circles around the desk, lays out the soaked knickers on it, then walks over to the shelf, from which she takes a long cane with a curved handle – old school style, as she knows Larissa will appreciate the attention to detail. She turns around, and catches Larissa quickly bow her head down again – she’s clearly been staring at her as she walked. 

She caresses the cane as she walks back to Larissa. “I could see you staring at my backside, Miss Weems. Shameful, really. I hope to cane those sick thoughts out of your head for good. Maybe I should do more than twenty strikes.” 

“I’m sorry, Miss.”

Jane stands behind Larissa, caressing the cane, playing with it in her hands. She looks at Larissa’s cunt, bare and swollen, peeking between her buttocks as she leans forward. She enjoys the visual a lot. She briefly wonders if she could interest Larissa in pussy canings, and makes a mental note of it. She thinks Larissa would enjoy it – but she’ll save that for a different scene.

“Perhaps I should cane you all afternoon. How many sick thoughts must go through your head each day, I wonder. Do you stare at other girls in gym class? Clearly you go out of your way to corrupt your friends with sick ideas you got from looking at your lesbian magazines. What else do you do?”

She pauses, trying to think of how else to taunt her. “You know, I ought to call your parents. Wouldn't that be shameful? For everyone to know you sit in your dorm room at night, rubbing your soaked knickers to lesbian pornography?”

Larissa whimpers. Jane smiles. She seems to have hit a spot. 

“Depraved girl,” she tuts, and then, in one swift and expert move, she strikes her with the cane. Larissa yelps in surprise and pain. Before Larissa can recover, she strikes her another time. This time, Larissa only inhales sharply. Jane isn’t being very forceful, for Larissa isn’t warmed up yet – but even a light strike is enough to make her arse sting quite a bit. 

She lazily drags the cane along her stinging buttocks, letting her sweat in anticipation. She lightly taps, and Larissa flinches. Jane laughs at her, and Larissa whimpers. 

“That’s only two, Miss Weems. I want to make this last. You need time to reflect on your actions,” she says and strikes her quite a bit harder before she finishes the sentence. Larissa makes a strained sound and flinches. She’s breathing heavily and pressing her thighs firmly together. 

“Three,” says Jane nonchalantly. 

Silence, only filled with the sound of Larissa’s shaky breaths. She squirms, anticipating the next strike. Jane lets her stew.

After a minute or so, she strikes her again, hard. Larissa cries out and her muscles convulse, but she doesn’t move. 

“You’re taking it so well – one would think you were caned before,” says Jane with amusement in her voice. “Did your parents spank you a lot as a child?”

“Yes, Miss,” Larissa breathes out. 

“And what for? Were you often a naughty girl?”

“I don’t know, Miss. I often didn’t understand why they did it.”

“Well, that won’t do,” says Jane, dragging the cane over the two red stripes on her buttocks. Larissa sucks in a breath. “In order for the punishment to be effective, the offender must know what they did so they can correct the behaviour. Repeat it to me, Miss Weems; why are you being spanked?”

“Because I… I was caught–”

Jane strikes her again and Larissa yelps. “No, no, Miss Weems. You aren’t being punished because you got caught. You’re being punished because you did something you shouldn’t have done. Try again,” she says and strikes her another time. Larissa whimpers.

“I… I’m being punished because I kissed another girl, and I… we… we touched each other… inappropriately.”

“That’s it,” says Jane and strikes her hard. Larissa flinches and squeaks. “That’s six. What else have you done? You did earn twenty strikes, after all.”

“I… I bought p–” she tries saying it and fails.

“Come on,” Jane taunts her. “If you could look at it you can say it.”

Larissa takes a deep breath. Jane strikes her. She yelps. “I bought pornography,” she spits quickly and breathlessly, as if the whole sentence was one word. “With my parents’ money.”

“You did, you dirty girl.” Jane’s voice is flat and void of emotion as she says it, almost disinterested, for she knows that makes Larissa wild – how impersonal Jane can get. She strikes her one more time, harder than any of the previous strikes. Larissa lets out an embarrassing squeak. 

“Eight,” she says, and decides to make a longer pause before nine. She lazily drags the tip of the cane along Larissa’s long legs, starting above the ankles and going up. When she reaches the sweet spot where her thighs meet her buttocks, she – seemingly accidentally, but very much on purpose – lightly grazes the cane over her soaked cunt. Larissa whimpers and shudders. 

Jane finds it truly fascinating how wet a bit of humiliation and a few strikes of the cane can make her. She’s literally dripping down her thighs.

“Oh my,” she fakes a gasp. “What’s that?”

She lightly taps at her cunt, and Larissa whines. 

“Tsk, tsk, Miss Weems,” she tuts, “The situation appears to be graver than I imagined. I don’t think your punishment is working. In fact, I think you’re enjoying it. Am I right?”

Larissa shakes her head. “No, Miss.”

“You get another five strikes for lying.”

“Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss,” Larissa whimpers into the desk, head buried in her elbows.

“It’s pathetic how depraved and sick you are, getting off to your Headmistress caning you. Perhaps I’ve been too gentle with you. Perhaps a more forceful caning will teach you a lesson.”

“Yes, Miss,” says Larissa breathlessly. “Forgive me, Miss.”

“You disgust me,” sneers Jane and swings the cane forcefully, hitting hard over the already glaring red stripes, making Larissa convulse and cry out. She strikes again, and then again, with the same amount of force, and Larissa cries out each time. 

She strikes her four more times. 

“Fifteen,” she says coldly. “I can’t believe you, Miss Weems. I thought you were a good, respectable girl. Your nice and wealthy parents sent you to a prestigious private school – and this is how you repay them? By being a perverted freak? By being found by a prefect with your head between another girl’s legs? By getting aroused by your punishment?”

Larissa presses her thighs together more firmly. “I’m really sorry, Miss. I’ve been so bad,” she whispers.

“I wonder, is it the punishment that arouses you… or is it the fact that I’m the one giving it to you? I saw you look at me, Miss Weems. It’s quite pathetic how attracted you are to a woman old enough to be your mother.”

Larissa whines and rubs her thighs together. “I’m sorry, Miss.”

Jane strikes her – hard – and Larissa keens. 

“I’m afraid sorry won’t cut it, Miss Weems. You deserve a caning after which you won’t be able to sit for weeks,” she says and strikes her again, and again and again, starting to get into a rhythm. Larissa twitches and whines pathetically with each strike, squirming and squeezing her thighs together. Her cunt is clenching along with her arsecheeks. Jane keeps striking her, and doesn’t stop when she reaches twenty-five strikes. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” she announces flatly as she keeps caning her. “It’ll be however many strikes I see fit for you.”

“Yes, Miss,” Larissa all but moans. She keeps squirming and twitching, but doesn’t move in a significant enough manner for Jane to reprimand her for it. 

Jane, however, notices the way she shudders, then relaxes, moaning quite a bit louder than before and pressing her forehead into the desk somewhere around number thirty-five. 

Jane scoffs incredulously. She knew Larissa needed little to come, but this was new even for her. 

“Did you just come from this?” she asks, trying her best to hide the amusement in her voice. 

Larissa whimpers pathetically into the desk. 

Jane strikes her. “I asked you something, Miss Weems,” she says sternly. 

Larissa nods into the desk, hiding her face between her elbows.

“I want words, girl.”

“Y-yes, Miss. I’m sorry, Miss,” she whispers barely audibly. 

Jane laughs. “You’re truly incorrigible. I’ve never had such a depraved girl bent over my desk. It seems like no matter what I do, you enjoy it. I could kick you in the face with my shoe and you’d thank me.”

“Yes, Miss. Sorry, Miss,” Larissa sobs. 

“In any case, I don’t think you’re learning a lesson. Perhaps the punishment didn’t go on for long enough. Or perhaps I’ve been too gentle.”

“Please, Miss, I– ah!” Larissa cries out when Jane strikes her quite hard just where her buttocks meet her thighs. 

“Do you lie in bed at night in your dorm room with your hand between your legs, thinking about your Headmistress? Have you imagined being caned like this for your own sick pleasure? Perhaps all of this has been a ploy to get yourself in this position?”

“No, Miss, please, please, ah! I’ll do better, I’m sorry!”

“You’re a disgrace. I’ll give you such a whipping you won’t even think about coming again. Dirty little dyke.”

Larissa whines at the insult. “Yes, Miss.”

“Say it. Say you’re a perverted dyke that rubs her pussy thinking about her Headmistress caning her.”

“I-I’m a perverted dyke that – ah! – rubs my p-pussy… ah! Thinking about my Headmistress caning me.”

“That’s right. And what are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for being a dirty girl, Miss. I’m sorry my pussy gets wet when you cane me – ugh, fuck!” she cries out after a particularly well-aimed, hard strike. 

“Language, Miss Weems, or I’ll wash your dirty mouth with soap.”

“Yes, Miss! Ah! I’m sorry, Miss!”

Jane keeps striking her, relentlessly and without pause. She can tell when Larissa enters a blissful state of being. Her eyes are closed and she’s no longer able to utter coherent words. A soft cry escapes her every time her muscles convulse when the cane touches her skin, a barely perceptive smile on her face. Jane admires the neat, angry red marks across her buttocks as gradually slows down her rhythm, decreasing the intensity of her swings, bringing Larissa down from her high. Soon, she is only lightly snapping the cane against her skin, dragging it along her buttocks, lightly tapping, until she eventually stops completely. 

Larissa’s eyes are still closed and she is breathing heavily. Jane lets her have a moment of silence. Eventually, Larissa opens her eyes and lifts her head a bit higher up, but she’s still supporting herself on the desk.

“I still feel floaty,” she breathes out.

[epickiya722]

There's nothing more disappointing to see someone write how they'll read a fanfic so good and then the fanfics they read after that one are trash or whatever and it's like...

So fucking harmful to say.

Can we move past holding something, especially fanworks, with high expectations and expect everyone's work to be just as good and if it's not it's "Oh my gosh, this fanfic is so disappointing"?

Honestly, it's comes off judgmental and does nothing for writers and artists. But make us feel like our work isn't good enough. Not here to be judged. Just here to post our creations we wanted to share, to have fun!

Like, even for that writer who you say has a great fanfic and it should be the fanfic everyone should aim for... don't do that. That writer is still a human and don't need to be put on a pedestal because then they'll feel pressured and scared that they won't write another fic just as good as that one again.

If you're reading for a very popular ship, I am sure you will come across some great fics. Not every single one you read after JUST ONE FANFIC is total garbage.

Other than that, start writing your own damn five-star rates fanfiction then!

[doublejango]

Invitation to Blitz (Guest of Dishonor)

Hey Blitz, It’s that time of year again! You’re cordially (or should we say “reluctantly”) invited to be the guest of honor at the Annual Anti-Blitz Party on Earth. Yes, you read that right.

The event will be held on 31 October, and it’s going to be an absolute roast fest—literally. Your exes have RSVPed, and they’re ready to, um, "celebrate" all things Blitz. Expect lots of sarcasm, brutal jokes, and a few sharp-tongued jabs.

Body armor is strongly recommended, and maybe even a helmet this year. We don’t want you running away after the first burn!

Time: Whenever you stop avoiding us Location: Earth (The spot where your ego will be publicly fried)

So, bring your thickest skin, your snarky comebacks, and get ready to face the fire. Who knows? You might just survive the night!

Sincerely, Everyone who’s ever been annoyed by you

P.S. There will be cake—but it’s probably poisoned.

And just like that, the entire year of trying to heal since seeing Stolas at Verosika's last party evaporated. The months that had felt like fucking ages, the work he'd been so proud of himself for doing, it all went up in smoke as that same feeling returned--the dark, ugly reminder of what he really was to people, of all he was ever going to be to them.

Blitz was growling by the time he made it to the end of the invitation; anger felt safer than letting this keep on breaking him down. Before he could bite the paper though, a gentle hand touched his. Startled, Blitz blinked and looked up--Demetri had come out of the bedroom. A year ago, he'd been wearing that Better than Blitzo tee, and now here the two of them were, shacked up in a fucking hotel room like it hadn't happened... but only because it had. All of it had. Wordlessly, he handed Demetri the invitation, then went over to get a pot of coffee going.

The incubus wrapped a sheet around himself--loosely, prettily--and settled down onto the couch to read the card. When he tossed it aside and looked at Blitz again, he snuggled down into the corner of the couch, his eyes soft.

"How do you feel about being invited?"

"I don't--fuck, I don't know. Worse?" There were no filters. Of course there weren't any filters. Sulking, really not in the mood to chew his coffee, Blitz went to join him on the couch. He had only planned on sitting next to him, but when Demetri held the sheet open, Blitz sighed and crawled into it with him, letting himself be held. "Guessing you got yours."

"Yeah. There's a whole Fangbook group for it, and it's been a trending tag on HellTok for a few weeks now."

Blitz sighed and closed his eyes. I miss Stolas. Fuck, I miss him so bad. But that ship had sailed, and rightly so. Stolas deserved so much better--and for all Blitz knew, because he sure as fuck hadn't asked, Stolas had had better, probably with this guy right here.

"What the fuck do they want me to do? They're fucking stalkers. Yeah, great, they care, but that's the fucking thing--they think I owe them my caring back. They think I owe them my, what, my whole life? All of my fucking happiness? That they're all entitled to my fucking suffering or some shit, because they want me and I don't want them? Just because you can fucking stalk someone doesn't mean that person owes you shit. And yeah, maybe some of 'em... some of you," he amended, and could feel Demetri wince a bit at the word, but he didn't contradict it, "had a legit fucking grievance. But just wanting someone isn't... it's not reason enough to do all of this. Dennis is one of the bros because he's sulking he didn't get to fuck me when I couldn't have consented even if I wanted to. Half the people there, I never even shared a drink with or flirted with, I just... I'm fucking..." Anger abruptly dissipating, Blitz could hear the tears threatening in his own voice. A year of trying to heal, and what had he accomplished? Closing his eyes, he turned to press his face against Demetri's neck.

"I know, man. I've always known." Demetri sighed and rubbed his chin against Blitz's little head-spines, in between his horns, then closed his eyes and just settled in to hold him. "Can I give you some advice?"

Blitz didn't respond, but the little thwap of his spade splatting against Demetri's leg was answer enough.

Smiling sweetly, since Blitz couldn't see his face right now, he went on. "Don't go. Don't let them break you. They are stalkers. And they are obsessed. It's predatory. People like to feel justified--and there's no cheaper thrill than feeling justified in harassing someone they deem undesirable. It's a human impulse, one that unfortunately is pretty pervasive among our kind. I went... and until Stolas sang, I was hating being there. What you and I shared before--it was worth it," he said softly. "Or at least, I thought it was. I didn't realize how serious the party was going to be, or how many people were buying into the mob-mentality and the hate, or refusing to work on their own healing 'cause they thought, whatever, it's all his fault, and there's nothing I can do. And that's bullshit.

"I like Verosika. She's a lot of fun. But she's also an alcoholic. She's not over you and she never will be at this rate. She hasn't hit her rock bottom yet, and doesn't want to change. She stalks you. She whips this furor up every year... and yeah, some of her points? Are legit. You did fuck you. You've fucked up with a lot of people. But that doesn't mean you need to turn yourself over to them. if you go, these people aren't going to use that as healing. It's not going to help them. Even if you go and laugh and dance on the tables and it feels like everyone is having a good time--babe, I really don't think it's going to help anyone. And I know it's not going to help you, exposing yourself to all of that imagery and violence. If they wanted to heal, they'd be trying by now. They'll just get worked up all over again, and someone's going to get hurt. Physically hurt. Probably not you," he admitted, smiling fondly again, although a little sadly. "But you'll have every right to defend yourself.

"Don't go, Blitz. And don't talk to anyone who does--not unless they come to you, wanting to work on healing whatever rift is between you." Which was something he'd seen Blitz doing with people over recent months, and what had ultimately convinced Demetri that Blitz was safe to be with again. This idiotic imp was trying, he was hearing people, and being genuine with them, and Demetri felt good waking up next to him now, on the rare occasion he got to. "Yeah, it sucks. But you're allowed to live your life. Like you said. You don't owe them your suffering or entitlement. If people want to talk to you, they can reach out, right? I mean--I did," he added, laughing softly, but with a trace of pain in the sound. The last few months had been rocky for them--a lot of conversations that ached, not even because of their history, but just because of who they both were, where they were in their lives... Demetri sighed and nuzzled one of Blitz's horns, silently asking permission. When he felt a little nudge from it, he knew that was a yes, so he raised a hand and wrapped it around one of the horns, stroking in slow, soothing motions.

"Besides. If you go to that party, how are you going to go to the BDSM Club Crawl?"

That made Blitz laugh and sigh, his breath warm against Demetri's chest. After a moment, Blitz came out from the cuddle, moving both of them so he could sit on Demetri's lap and straddle him.

"You really don't think I should go? Let them get their fucking hits in? Cause, listen, just because they're assholes for the stalking and shit, doesn't mean they deserve to be like, completely written off."

"No. But the party is not the right way to engage with them, baby. I think that some people are... a little too impulsive these days," Demetri said, trying to soften his tone, feeling a little guilty for speaking badly of people, but believing it all the same. "Anger feels good. Being part of a club feels good, even if they have to hold on to their anger to stay in it. They like to believe that anyone imperfect is inherently evil and deserves to be harassed and shamed. It's their issue, man. It's not yours. You've been trying to do better with people, I know that. Just because someone decided to stalk you? Doesn't mean any of these people own you. Stalking does not magically give someone the right to own you."

Blitz cupped Demetri's face in both hands, studying his eyes. "You still in love with Stolas?"

Demetri laughed. "Yeah. A little. Or a lot. He's... pretty great. You?"

"Completely."

"You gonna tell him?" Demetri slid a hand up one of Blitz's thighs. It hurt a little whenever the two of them talked about Stolas, but it hurt in a good way, a way that felt right. Demetri considered Stolas his friend, he had ever since meeting him, and he wanted so badly for the idiots to get back together once they were both ready. His own love for Stolas was genuine, but it was something Demetri didn't necessarily need to follow through on--no matter what his heart claimed to want--because he knew he himself wasn't ready for anything serious yet. Besides, seeing two people who were maybe meant to be together? It felt kind of beautiful, kind of precious. He shipped the idiots.

"Yeah," Blitz promised. "Whenever he's ready to talk." Words that had felt easier to say last year--but a year of silence, a year of nothing? Holding onto hope was starting to fucking ache. And deep down, Blitz wasn't sure Stolas would ever... no. Fuck that. Those were thoughts for later. Right now, he had a beautiful guy in his arms, and Demetri needed love just as much as anyone else did.

He took Demetri's hand and looked at it, looked at his wrist. "You guys really never scar, do you?"

"Not on the outside," Demetri whispered, sudden anxiety making his stomach drop. "Blitz, that wasn't your--" but his words went quiet as the imp pressed a tender kiss to the place he'd used to need to keep bandaged. Sudden tears blurred his vision. "I know I can't keep you," he whispered, "but I'm happy to have you right now, Blitz... I'm..."

Blitz hugged him tightly, and when Demetri abruptly clung to him and burst into very quiet tears--quiet because the incubus had learned it was better never to sob aloud, because that was one of his traumas, something he hadn't yet overcome--he just held him, stroked his back, and let him cry it out.

"Come to the club crawl with me," Blitz suggested, when the crying ended.

"You sure? I don't--I'm not trying to get in the middle of--"

Blitz kissed him on the forehead, soft as could be, then kissed his lips, even if they tasted like tears. "I'm sure," he promised. "And you're not. Come with me... and I can show you pictures from my cult."

"Your what?"

"Yeah! I didn't tell you? Some sweet goat started a cult because I put the Mark of the Beast on him and chose him as my companion. I'm actually gonna stop by and check in on them all later today, if you want to--"

This time, it was Blitz who couldn't finish his statement. The incubus was laughing in delight as he practically flung Blitz down, kissing and kissing and kissing him, saying yes in between those kisses, laughing so freely that it left Blitz aching with delight.

Stolas might always be there with the two of them, in different ways and for different reasons, but it felt good, it felt so good, to have rebuilt their friendship, to have this.

Fuck Verosika indeed, and fuck her party. Blitz didn't want to live in their past. He wanted to live in his life--and right now, that life had wonderful company in it, wonderful friends, and family he adored more than anything.

It was a life worth living.

[cherrynojutsu]

Chapters: 19/? Fandom: Naruto Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke Characters: Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura, Uzumaki Naruto, Hatake Kakashi, Sai (Naruto) Additional Tags: Uchiha Sasuke Returns to Konoha, Romance, Friendship, Fluff, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Dreams and Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Introspection, Slice of Life, Masturbation, Anxiety, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Uchiha Sasuke Needs a Hug, Sakura is a Sweetie, Sasuke is an emotionally stunted potato whose thoughts are a jumbled mess of poetic run-on sentences, Also yes he does think 'she is so pretty' all the time, it's canon I don't make the rules, Canon is Newspaper And I'm Making A Paper-Mache Pinata, Uchiha Sasuke is in Love with Haruno Sakura Summary:

Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.