#following the pattern from the past couple of seasons

[to-be-a-dreamer]

Chandler knows this but I am going to fistfight Samuel Dalton Reich in a Denny's Parking lot if we don't get some kind of Fantasy High: Junior Year promo content soon I am losing my mind please Sam just let me see my favorite losers again I will take a singular screencap to hold me over

[pboogerswbb]

EARNED IT

Paige Bueckers x reader

In which reader wants a pair of shoes but instead of just buying them, Paige makes reader earn them, each orgasm bringing her $200 closer - loosely based on a request @d3arapril got and passed onto me (ty girl ily)

Warnings: SMUT (slight CNC, use of a dildo, overstim, P being a little sadistic), lowkey filthiest thing i've written so beware

Wordcount: 4.9K

A/N: SURPRISE! enjoy this little pre-game treat while I work on the prologue for So It Goes ;)

-

It had been a long day. Work had been killing you and frankly, you missed your girlfriend who had been training tirelessly in the past weeks. It was as if the only times you saw each other were when she was about to leave, coming into your bedroom and kissing you goodbye for the day, or the couple hours after she got home when you ate dinner together and went to bed. 

It was all okay, you understood the stakes, you always knew what it entailed to date the famous Paige Bueckers. That basketball was her life, that it meant a lot of lonely nights, sometimes for weeks during the season. But it was all worth it, because when she was there, you were the most spoiled, pampered girl in the world.

You could hear the shower turn off as you sat on the couch of your apartment, looking for something to spoil yourself with on your phone - you had received a bonus earlier today and thought you deserved something nice to celebrate. So naturally, almost out of habit, your finger was scrolling on the Louboutin homepage, admiring your dream shoes - the shiny leather and bright red sole of the shoe drawing you eye in. Maybe if you saved a little more, you could finally get them.

“You’d look so fine in those,” you’re interrupted by Paige, leaning over your shoulder to see what you were up to. When you turn around you find her shower fresh, wet hair still dripping and a robe tied loosely on her body. She smelled so delicious and clean you just wanted to bask in her. To throw yourself on her and have her hold you for days on end.

Paige kisses the top of your head from behind as she leans down and wraps two arms around you. Heaven is the only way to describe how that felt after days of missing her.

“Well gimme a couple months and I’ll save up,” you chuckle, tilting your head back to look at her. She smiles but scoffs a little at your words.

“I gotchu,” she laughs and yanks the phone out of your hands much too quickly for your reflexes.

“No!!” you yelp, jumping off the couch in a white top and underwear, following her around your apartment, feeble attempts to try and steal back the phone as she dodges you with ease, a smug grin on her face.

“‘S not even that much, relax,” Paige pushes your hands away gently, plopping herself down on the armchair in your living room that the blonde had reclaimed as “hers”. 

“Got that NIL money, can buy my girl whatever she wants,” she brags, leaning back in the robe that’s not doing much to cover her legs up. The sliver of white boxers on her muscular thighs electrify you, and the confident expression on her face doesn’t help when you feel the familiar ache fluttering between your thighs.

“It’s 800 dollars Paige,” you point out, sitting yourself on the blonde’s thigh, like you had so many times before. It was something about this chair that made her want to have you on her constantly. Perhaps it was the way you two fit in it just right, the way you felt small in her arms. Nevertheless, you had spent hours in this chair scrolling Tiktok, sharing a tub of ice cream, reading books or just talking after a long day.

Paige holds you bridal style, your bare legs sprawled across her lap. Her fingertips draw patterns up and down on your thighs, sending goosebumps everywhere. You loved these moments, they almost made up the fact that she was gone most days.

“That’s nothing baby, don’ worry,” Paige murmurs, already putting her card details in. 

“I���m serious P!” you groan, grabbing your phone finally from the blonde’s hands. Truth be told, you felt a little bad. Paige was always showering you with gifts, trips on your birthday, hell she had even convinced she should pay for your groceries since she was over all the time and ate most of them. She paid for every date, for gas, drove you around whenever she could. She spoiled the hell out of you and you let her. You knew she loved to do it. But still, something about it made you feel bad. To have your girl do so much for you without giving anything in return.

“I wanna earn it! I just got a bonus and if I save up some more I can get them,” you explain, the bewildered look on Paige’s face finally softening. A small grin tugs at the corner of her mouth as her blue eyes roam over your face, flickering to your lips. Her fingertips sneak further up your leg as her tongue licks over her pink bottom lip. All that was enough for you to know Paige had something dirty on her mind.

“Oh yeah? You wanna earn it?” she asks menacingly. With a confused look you nod, not quite sure what she meant.

Instead of explaining, she’s pulling you in by the back of your head, kissing you feverishly. The tension grows quickly, each kiss more passionate than the last. She wants you bad. Your hands entangle in her wet hair as you wrap your arms around the blonde. The fresh scent of shampoo, mango and guava, fills your nostrils. Paige moves her hand to your inner thighs, squeezing and caressing the soft skin, making a wet spot grow on your underwear embarrassingly quickly. 

She pulls her lips away with a struggle, attempting to catch her breath. You wince, already missing her mouth. 

“You wanna play a lil game with me baby?” She asks, hooded eyes blinking quickly as she refocuses on your face.

“What game?” Your voice is shaky from how much the ache between your legs had grown.

Paige sits up a little, clearing her throat. “Well, you said you wanna earn it,” she starts, walking her fingers up your thigh slowly. “and I really wanna touch you baby,” she adds. “How about each time you cum for me you get 200 dollars?”

The blush that sets on your cheeks is immediate, making your face red and hot. At first you want to shake your head, immediately turn it down. It felt so wrong. But then Paige’s fingertips inch closer to your core, and you can’t help but consider. She really wants to get you off after all. And if there was one thing about Paige, once she started she didn’t know how to stop.

The blue eyes roam your face, looking for a reaction. With a huff, Paige leans in and kisses on your earlobe. “Been away so much lately, need my girl,” she hums into your ear, chills taking over your body. That’s enough to do it.

“Okay,” you whimper, Paige grinning against your skin.

“Yeah? You not gon’ tap out?” She says with that arrogant lilt in her voice as your gazes meet.

“No.” 

Your tone is much more confident than you are.

“Bet.”

With that Paige’s fingertips press into your clothed core, dragging along your clit as you moan, your head already lulling back.

“You already this wet?” The blonde chuckles irritatingly, but you’re too desperate for her to do anything about it.

“Been missing you,” you whimper as her fingers rub in a circle, her lips returning to your ear as they suck on your earlobe, pulling on it with her teeth.

“Fuck I know baby, haven’t been giving you enough attention huh?” She coos, hot breath on your neck. You nod, agreeing with her, growing wetter, needier for something she wasn’t giving you yet. “Lemme make it up for you,” she whispers, nuzzling her nose against your neck. “Stand up.”

You do as she says as if in some sort of trance, willing to bend every which way for her. Paige looks up at you, spreading her legs further and reaching for your panties. With a swift movement she pulls them down, leaving you only in the tight white tank top in front of her. 

She pats her thigh, flexing the muscle there, inviting you to sit. It’s so tempting you don’t hesitate even for a moment when you straddle it. A gasp leaves your mouth when your wet cunt meets her soft, warm skin. She hisses, feeling your slick on her, licking her lips.

“Oh shit,” you whimper, Paige’s hands moving to your ass, kneading hungrily. You could already feel a fire in your abdomen, making you lightheaded. 

“C’mon,” the blonde urges you to move, her hands beginning to grind your hips back and forth. The way her thigh drags along your clit is making you see stars. Paige’s eyes are locked on the way you’re grinding on her, her cheeks turning red as she lets out loud exhales and hisses at the way your pussy feels on her skin. 

Grabbing onto her shoulders, you fasten the pace, needy for more. 

“That feels so- oh fuck baby,” you moan, feeling Paige flex her thigh underneath you, providing just the correct angle and pressure for you. Your legs are already shaking as her hands guide you, hips moving back and forth.

“Shit,” Paige whimpers as if she’s the one getting off. Leaning forward she begins to kiss your neck, sucking enough to leave a mark and a sting but it only spurs you on. Grabbing the hem of your top, she lifts it just enough to reveal your tits, eyes locked on the way they move with your body as you grind faster.

“Look so fucking good,” she murmurs almost to herself, one hand kneading your ass, the other your breast. “C’mon, you gonna get off on my thigh?” 

You nod desperately, hair falling all over your face as the coil inside you tightens, the pressure on your clit bordering on overwhelming. Your movements were turning sloppy as your orgasm approached you, desperately grinding your hips. To help you Paige’s hands return to your ass, assisting with the movements. 

“Fuck Paige, fuck,” you gasp, the burn in your core so intense it made your eyes roll back. A loud smack is followed with a sharp pain as Paige slaps your ass harshly, spurring you on.

“C’mon baby,” she groans, leaning forward to kiss your chest feverishly. As her warm tongue begins to circle your nipple, you can feel yourself starting to spill over. Hands gripping onto her shoulders, she flexes her muscles one more time, your clit rubbing desperately on her thigh as you come. 

“Oh-” you’re gasping, face scrunched up in pleasure as Paige’s hands guide your hips, soft lips sucking on your nipple to make the pleasure even more intense. Waves of pleasure wash over you as your cunt clenches around nothing, slick spilling out of you.

“That never gets old,” Paige moans as you try to catch your breath, your movements coming to a halt as the blonde keeps kissing along your neck and jaw. Your body already feels tired, worn out. But the night was just beginning.

“That’s 200 bucks for you ma,” she grins, finding your lips in a needy kiss. “You should know tho, you riding my thigh is worth a lot more,” Paige murmurs against your mouth. “Fuck, would pay millions to see that shit.”

Her words make you whimper into her mouth, giving her the opportunity to slide her tongue inside, meeting yours in a wet, sloppy kiss. Grabbing your thighs, Paige stands up from the chair and lifts you with ease, her robe falling open as she walks you to the couch. Placing you on the soft cushions, she watches you with hooded eyes.

“Wait here,” she murmurs before disappearing into your bedroom. When she returns, her robe is hanging off her shoulders loosely, chests and abs completely exposed. In her large hands she’s holding a purple, 7 inch dildo. A gift from the blonde but left unused because of how busy she had been.

You could still feel your core throbbing from your last orgasm, but the heat was quick to grow again when you see Paige holding it with a grin. As you lie on your back, waiting for her to touch you, Paige walks to the opposite end of the couch, leaning back and spreading her legs. 

“C’mere,” she says hoarsely, her fingers curling to invite you closer. Excited, you crawl to her. Paige’s impatient hands grab you and pull you onto her lap until you’re straddling her.

“You wanna put on a show for me?” She asks. Her head is tilted back as she watches you, the blue of her eyes completely blown out.

“Yes,” you whimper and gasp when her hand smacks your ass again, sharp pain following but making your pussy more soaked if possible.

“Such a slut huh?” She asks, making you only needier. Paige looks down between her thighs, holding the toy there in her hand, the plastic pressing against your stomach.

“Ride this shit,” she says, and you can tell it’s not a suggestion with the way she’s looking at you, her jaw suddenly sharper, eyes even darker. Your legs still feel shaky, but the urge to be filled up by her is so overwhelming you can’t help but lift your hips.

The tip of the toy presses against your folds, the blonde sliding it to your entrance teasingly. Your slick is already dripping down its length as you lower yourself on the tip, Paige’s hand on your hip guiding you.

A loud gasp escapes your mouth as Paige pulls you down on the length, making you take all of it. The stretch is too much, overwhelming you quickly, making your eyes roll back. However, Paige’s grounding hand grabs your jaw firmly, bringing your eyes to hers.

“Earn it ma,” she commands, leaning back and holding the toy steady with both hands. You knew exactly what she wanted.

With slow movements you begin to move up and down on the toy, letting it fill you up all the way. It feels so good it’s almost painful, and you can’t help but moan loud when it hits somewhere deep inside you you didn’t even know existed.

“Oh god,” you moan, eyes shutting in ecstasy. Paige is leaning back, watching you with hooded eyes and mouth slightly parted, moaning with you like she’s the one getting fucked.

“You’re so hot,” she groans, licking her lips. “Play with those tits for me.”

Without thinking your hands grab onto your chest, kneading as you pick up the pace, now bouncing on the toy that Paige is holding. The blonde can’t take it anymore, hand snaking around you to grab your ass hard. 

“Paige-” you gasp as she smacks your ass again, hard enough to leave marks to remind you of tonight for the days to come.

“That’s it ma, love it when you ride my shit,” she whimpers, her voice hoarse and deep. Watching you is getting Paige so wet she thinks she might come untouched, watching you bounce on the toy - what might as well be her cock. 

She can’t help it anymore, purely the way you look is getting her close enough to come. Her veiny hand moves off your ass, dragging down her stomach into her boxers where she’s met with her soaked cunt already throbbing. 

“Ah shit,” she moans as her fingers slip inside her, filling her up while you ride the toy for her. 

“C’mon, faster,” Paige commands. Whimpering and writhing, you maneuver from your knees to your feet, squatting on the toy now. Gripping Paige’s muscular shoulders for dear life, you begin to bounce on the toy, your tits in the blonde’s face.

“Such a good girl for me, shit,” she moans, her fingers pumping in and out of herself. She’s struggling not to come before you, her head lulling back and eyes nearly shutting. 

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, the burn in your thighs becoming overwhelming as you ride her, your pussy clenching around the length inside you. Leaning backwards to give Paige an even better view, you reach back to hold her thighs for support, making sure she sees all the inches disappearing inside you, stretching you out.

“Fuck baby you making a mess on my cock huh?” Paige whimpers, trying to sound together but there’s a whine in her voice that’s telling you she’s trying not to roll off the edge.

“Feels so good,” you gasp, the new angle letting the tip of the toy hit the spongy part inside you, making fire spread all over your abdomen. You’re dripping around the toy now, probably all over the couch, but neither of you seem to care.

“You like how my cock feels inside you?” Paige asks, voice breathy.

Nodding desperately, you allow your head to lull back, the squelching sounds coming out of both of you echoing around the living room. “Love riding your cock baby.”

“Aw sh- please tell me you’re close ma,” Paige cries out, her cunt throbbing around her fingers as she watches you.

“N-need to cum,” you mewl, tears filling your eyes.

“Shit- that’s right baby, earn it for me,” Paige rambles, her voice getting whinier as your pussy squeezes the toy tight, your movements on it turning rampant as you chase your high.

“Such a good girl for me, gonna make me cum,” the blonde continues, forcing her eyes to stay open as she spills over the edge so she can watch you come on her cock. All of a sudden intense pleasure takes over you, and your moans turn high pitched and desperate as you release all over the toy, the stretch making your legs shake.

“Aw fuck you look so fucking good, yeah ride that shit,” Paige moans loud as she comes with you. Plenty of high pitched cusses spill from her pink lips but you barely hear her, too focused on the ecstasy running through you. Once the feeling passes you crash onto the blonde underneath you, whole body shaking from the strain.

“That’s it baby,” Paige praises, sliding her fingers out of her cunt and carefully bringing them to your lips. They’re glistening in the light, covered in her slick. Eyes still closed and head resting on the blonde’s chest, you part your lips and swirl your tongue around them, tasting her. You wrap your lips around her fingers and suck on them as Paige pulls the toy out of you, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness behind.

“No more,” you whisper once the blonde’s fingers return to her side. She chuckles, brushing the hairs sticking to your sweaty forehead. 

“C’mon now that’s only 400 bucks,” she laughs but you shake your head. 

“It’s ok, I can save the rest,” you complain, your body sore and tired and way too sensitive to be touched.

“Well I’m not done with you yet ma,” Paige whispers. “So you might as well earn a lil sum.”

With that Paige is pushing you to your back, the robe finally falling off her body leaving her exposed, nipples hard and goosebumps covering her milky skin. Her hands grip your thighs spreading them wide and without warning, she leans down and begins to slowly drag her tongue along your cunt, taking her time.

You’re already squirming, two hands on her head ready to push her off. The two orgasms had left you sensitive and worn out. You’re not sure if you could do more. But Paige seemed to have decided for you.

She grabs your wrists, pulling them to your side against the couch. “Keep ‘em there,” she orders as she begins to lick against your puffy, swollen clit, humming contently as your body begins squirms. 

“‘S too much,” you cry out but she shakes her head, moaning into your pussy. 

“No it’s not, you can take it,” she assures, arms wrapping around your thighs to pull you closer, to hold you down. She’s lapping you up now, desperately trying to taste every inch of you. Her warm tongue swirls in your folds, moaning at your taste. If there was something Paige Bueckers loves it’s eating pussy. “Doin’ so good for me,” she praises.

The sensation is enough to make your legs tremble desperately, your third orgasm quickly building up. Every muscle in your body ached, and all touches and flicks on your clit felt heightened, making your eyes well up. You were a mess, back arching, hands grabbing the couch, the soft pillows thrown all over the floor now. Every part of you was writhing except your hips that Paige was holding down and still for her sake. She was eating you like she had never tasted you before, as if she had been starving for you.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, grabbing onto her blonde locks still wet from the shower. As you yank Paige moans, watching you from underneath her long dark eyelashes. She’s watching for every reaction, blue eyes filled with lust and locked onto every movement, every expression. She can’t look away.

Paige lays her tongue flat against your puffy clit and shakes her head from one side to the other, your cunt beginning to throb immediately. 

“Just like that, shit baby,” you moan, pulling onto the blonde hair. Paige pulls back, buried so deep in your folds she’s gasping for air as she comes up. Her gaze moves from your face to your pussy, a mixture of her spit and your slick dripping out of you onto the couch.

“Aw fuck I can see this pussy throbbing,” Paige gasps and immediately dives back in, the strain in her jaw quickly forgotten by the sight of you. Suddenly she spits onto your folds and urgently leans back in to lap it all up. It was so hot, so dirty that the sight was enough for your muscles to begin to twitch a third time around this evening.

“Oh fuck, Paige-”

“Right there?” She asks, staring up at you from between your thighs, her fingertips digging into the skin of your hips. Her tongue lies flat against your swollen clit, circling against it making all the muscles in your body tremble desperately.

“Yes, yes yes yes yes!” You gasp, real tears spilling from your eyes. You’re teetering right on the edge, only needing permission now from the blonde between your thighs.

“Fuuuuckk ma, cum on my face, please,” she moans, fastening her movements and gripping you harder, her eyes rolling back when you yank on her hair hard. “Please,” Paige cries out, clearly desperate, needing to make you come.

“I’m coming, oh fuck-” you cry out, your whole back arching upwards but Paige’s hand presses you down as her tongue keeps working you, drinking up all of it as you crash over the edge. The sounds coming out of you are muffled from how hard the climax hits you, seeing stars as Paige keeps lapping you up.

“Okay okay okay stop,” you whine pulling her hair, the sensation becoming too much too quickly as you come down. But Paige only grabs your wrists tightly in one of her large hands, pinning them together and holding them against your stomach.

“I’m not fucking done,” Paige says directly into your pussy, not slowing down for a second. You try everything, squirming, pulling your hands free, but it was useless. She was way too strong, and clearly wanted you way too much to give in to your whining.

“Paige please,” you cry, eyes welling up again as the tip of her tongue moves back and forth at an accelerating speed.

“You’re not done till I say so,” Paige commands and from the tone of her voice you know - there’s no fighting if she had decided to have you.

“‘S too much.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Suddenly Paige has you flipped over, pressed against the soft armrest of the couch. Her strong hand quickly wraps around your hair and yanks on it, pulling your back flush against her exposed front.

“You want those shoes huh?” She asks with her lips pressed against your ear, a slight sadistic tone in your voice.

“Yes,” you answer weakly.

“Gotta earn it,” Paige says, kissing your neck before pushing you down by your hair till you’re bent over the armrest, ass high up in the air. Paige’s hands grip onto your ass and spread you wide open before you feel her tongue lick against your folds once, twice, until she dives and begins to lap you up even more hungry than before. 

“Oh fuck!” You gasp, completely forgetting about the thin walls and the poor neighbours next door. Nothing in this moment mattered except you, Paige and her plump lips sucking on your clit, still holding you wide open for her.

“Fucking love this pussy,” Paige groans, lips and mouth working hard, getting covered in a mixture of your mess and her spit. It’s simultaneously too much and so fucking hot, the way she’s eating you from behind, the way her nose is pressing against your entrance, rubbing against it teasingly.

Suddenly your pussy is throbbing around nothing, and it’s like the blonde can tell because next thing you know you feel a sudden stretch inside you. The toy from earlier suddenly pounds into you, making you gasp.

“Ohhhhhh shit P-” you can’t even form full sentences, the sudden sensation and the speed which Paige is fucking the dildo in and out of you with making you let out a cry louder than before.

“Ohh fuck ma, perfect pussy I swear,” Paige groans, pulling herself back to fuck the toy into you with more force, watching the way you’re getting stretched out. 

“‘S too big,” you cry, reaching back to push the blonde’s hands away. She grabs your wrists, holding both in one hand with ease and pinning them against your back.

“Don’t push me away,” she asserts, somehow finding a new angle as you crash flat against the armrest, making you take it even deeper. You could swear she’s in your guts now, and the loud squelching sounds your soaked cunt is making is only making your mind spin more.

Your whole body’s shaking as your front presses against the soft cushions of the couch, Paige pinning you down by your wrists as she keeps fucking into you. Your juices are everywhere, on the couch, on Paige’s face and hands, gushing out of you around the toy. 

“You gonna cum on this cock?” Paige asks, her voice hoarse with arousal. 

“Mmph-” you moan, face buried into the armrest. The blonde lets go of your wrists and smacks your ass, gripping it tight to fuck the toy even deeper, impossibly so.

“Answer me baby,” she groans, increasing her speed, the tip hitting the right spot each time to make you clench and throb so hard you could barely think.

“Yes yes yes ‘m gonna come fuck,” you cry, grabbing the cushions of the couch desperately.

“Yeah, you gonna cum for me just to get some shoes?” Paige sadistically says, kneading your ass. The wet sounds are becoming louder, your mess dripping everywhere.

“Yes Paige, please please please!” 

“Perfect girl, perfect fucking pussy huh? Letting me fuck your shit up just like this?” 

“Yes, please P-”

“Cum for me.”

She’s killing your shit, toy pounding into your guts. The stretch is so intense your eyes roll back involuntarily, and a loud whimper leaves your body as your pussy clenches around the toy, finally releasing and letting your climax wash over.

Paige is talking you through it, you’re pretty sure. But you can’t hear over your own moans, over the sounds coming from your body, over the way you felt like you might black out. Every muscle in your body is on fire, fingers gripping anything they could find. Next thing you’re being carried into your bedroom, Paige laying you down gently on your back and climbing next to you.

Finally your eyes flutter open as the blonde pulls you into her chest.

“What happened?” you murmur, and Paige chuckles.

“Just made you cum a lil too hard I think,” she laughs and kisses your forehead. Her hands are playing with the ends of your hair, stroking your arms and back, grounding you.

“Did so good for me,” the blonde coos, kissing your lips softly. You could still taste yourself on her. “You okay?”

You nod. All your muscles ache and the strain had made you exhausted, but that definitely made up for all the time Paige had spent away from you in the past weeks.

“That was hot,” you admit, which makes the blonde let out a loving giggle.

“Not you saying that, hottest thing we ever did I swear,” Paige praises, pressing kisses on top of your head again. “Let me go run you a bath baby.”

But as she moves you wrap your arms tighter around her waist, pulling her closer with all the strength you had left. 

“A little longer,” you whisper against her sticky skin. Paige couldn’t dream of leaving you alone, not like this, not when you sound like that - all of it makes her bend to your every whim, she couldn’t help it.

“Okay, a little longer,” she repeats. 

“And you’re ordering those shoes now,” you command, a slight shake to your voice from the prior activities.

“Deal.”

-

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @bueckersfive @sierrale8ne @lovegalor333 @xxloveralways14 @vamptizm @jadasogay @paigesbabygirl

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act III, Scene I: The Fake Dating)

It doesn’t occur to you how serious the situation has become until you're forced to sign your fake relationship on paper.

Part warning: none, this might be the slowest burn I have ever written Words: 2.4k A/n: The original plan was to update this series twice a week, but I overestimated myself, so I will be posting each Thursday around this time. I hope you understand <3

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Spencer wasn’t sure how he would go through with this. The idea seemed simple enough on the surface—pretend to date, fool everyone, and finally find peace. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more complex it became, and the more complicated it was, the more crazy it seemed.

This was not what he had signed up for when he joined the BAU. Chasing criminals? Sure. Analyzing behavioral patterns? Absolutely. But pretending to date you to avoid the relentless meddling from his friends? Insane wasn't a strong enough word for it. It was ludicrous.

And even that word wasn’t enough. It was downright preposterous. How had rational, analytical work turned into this bizarre social experiment? Yet, here he was, ready to play his part even when he couldn’t ignore the absurdity of it all.

“Well, well, well.” Spencer looked up to see you walking from the opposite direction, both of you stopping right at the entrance of the bureau’s expansive building. “If it isn’t my new boyfriend.”

He narrowed his eyes. Why did you seem… so normal about this? Weren’t you the one who hated his guts? Weren’t you the one who avoided him every time you had the chance? Were you really that desperate to get the team off your back?

“What? You’re not going to greet your girlfriend?”

He forced a smile, trying to hide his irritation. “Good morning,” he replied curtly, opening the door for you.

You walked past him, and Spencer tried not to stare at you, but it was impossible to ignore the way your hair shone under the morning sun or how your perfume subtly filled the air as you brushed by him. He cleared his throat and followed you inside, wondering how long he could keep up this act without losing his sanity.

“We need some ground rules,” he muttered, nodding towards security as you both passed through the entrance.

You raised an eyebrow. “Ground rules? You mean besides pretending to be madly in love?”

“We are not in love. We just started dating,” Spencer said, pressing the elevator button. “So no spontaneous public displays of affection. We don’t want to overdo it.”

“What’s your definition of overdoing it?”

Spencer waited until the elevator doors slid shut, giving you a little privacy. "No touching. Especially no hand-holding," he stated firmly.

You scoffed. "Who on earth wouldn't want to hold their girlfriend's hand?"

He replied without missing a beat. "Do you know how many germs are transferred when you hold hands? An average of 3,000 bacteria from 150 different species, not to mention the potential viruses.”

“Wow, remind me to never shake hands with you during flu season.”

He shrugged. “I’m just stating the facts.”

“Okay, germaphobe,” you deadpanned, leaning back against the elevator wall. “What’s acceptable then? A nod from across the room? Morse code blinking?”

He considered for a moment, then offered a compromise, “How about an arm around your shoulder when we’re sitting? Or a quick side hug?”

“Side hug,” you echoed, mockingly horrified. “How romantic. Our friends will believe we’re madly in love for sure.”

“We are not in love.”

“So you’ve mentioned,” you replied dryly, standing straight again and turning toward him. “Can we at least try to look like a couple who actually like each other?”

That was the problem. You both didn’t like each other. “Fine,” he sighed. “What do you suggest?”

You paused, considering the best way to make this look believable. “How about you hold onto my waist from behind as we walk? It’s a common gesture, and it looks natural.”

Spencer blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. “Hold your waist? As in, really close?”

“Yes, Reid, that’s generally where the waist is located.”

He frowned at you. “That sounds a bit too… personal, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t that the whole point? To convince them we’re a couple?”

He hesitated, the image of his hands on your waist flashing through his mind. He suddenly imagined the warmth of your body against his, the subtle, pleasant scent of your perfume enveloping him. He could almost feel the way you’d be tucked right to his side, your height fitting perfectly against him, your head nestled just below his chin.

His heart unexpectedly started to race. The idea of holding you that close, feeling the rise and fall of your breath, the slight brush of your hair against his cheek—it was almost too intimate, too real. And he didn’t want to acknowledge that. He wasn’t sure if he could trust himself to play the role convincingly without his emotions betraying him.

“Reid?”

Spencer snapped out of his thoughts, realizing he had been silent for too long. You were watching him impatiently.

“You know what? Do whatever you want.” You turned away, facing the elevator door, clearly frustrated by his hesitation. “Just stand there like a statue for all I care.”

His eyes slowly fell to your waist, considering his options... Maybe it wasn’t that bad. The idea of his hand resting there, guiding you, didn’t seem as unbearable as he initially imagined. The gesture seemed innocent enough. Not too much, not too little. What could possibly go wrong?

Everything, apparently. Because it happened all at once.

One, he reached his hand toward you.

Two, the elevator door swung open.

And three, as you started to move forward, his hand managed to slip before it landed onto your ass.

You shrieked at the top of your lungs.

"Reid!" 

Spencer's face turned red as he quickly retrieved his hand, stammering, "I-I'm sorry! That wasn't—"

But he wasn’t fast enough, because standing on the other side of the elevator door was Derek, witnessing the whole thing. His eyebrows shot up, and a slow grin spread across his face.

"What do we have here?” Derek drawled, crossing his arms. "Spencer Reid, getting a little too friendly?"

Spencer's mortification deepened as he tried to explain, "It's not what it looks like, I swear!"

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. "Sure, pretty boy. Whatever you say." He stepped to the side. “Well, aren’t you two lovebirds going to get to work?”

Trying to recover from the embarrassment, Spencer nodded quickly, his face still burning. He guided you out of the elevator with a brief, cautious touch on your back that stayed strictly in the safe zone.

You both hurried toward the glass doors, leaving Derek laughing behind you. You slightly leaned closer to him. “I could sue you for sexual harassment, you know.”

“It was an accident! You moved too quickly.”

“Sure, blame it on me,” you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you pushed through the glass doors ahead of him.

Spencer quickened his pace to keep up, matching your brisk walk. “I am blaming it on you. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t suddenly decided to move forward.”

“Right, because clearly, I should have anticipated your clumsiness.”

He shot you a sideways glance. “My clumsiness? You’re the one who—”

“There you are!”

You both turned to see JJ walking toward you, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Hotch is looking for you.”

You started to walk away. “Sure, I’ll go see him—”

JJ shook her head, her smile widening. “No, you don’t understand. He’s looking for you,” she pointed a finger at Spencer, then swung it back to you, “And you. Both of you, together.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “Both of us? Why?"

“Something about filling in paperwork?”

He frowned, but as the implication of Hotch calling you both at the same time for paperwork sank in, he snapped his head toward you, his eyes wide with realization. You turned toward him at the same moment, and the gravity of your seemingly innocent lie spiraled down on him, making the whole situation feel alarmingly real. 

The weight of it pressed on Spencer’s chest. How could he possibly forget about the most important thing in all of this? He had an eidetic memory, he was good at recalling even the smallest details, but how could he not remember the need to officially disclose workplace relationships?

The reality of potentially signing official documents to confirm this fake relationship made his palms sweat.

“This is stupid,” you whispered when JJ finally left the two of you. “Maybe we should think this through.”

Spencer looked down at you. You were right, this was stupid. It was getting out of hand. But as he noticed the way you stared up at him, with your wide, doe-like eyes sparkling under the light, something shifted. This whole lie had started as a means to an end, a way to fend off the relentless teasing. But now, standing there with you, it felt like more than just a plan. Maybe it was the thrill of the unknown, or the strange comfort of the lie. Maybe it wasn’t just about fooling the team.

Maybe he was starting to fool himself too.

Spencer took a deep breath. “No,” he said softly, more to himself than to you. “We started this, we should go through with it.”

Before you could respond, he placed his hand on your lower back, feeling the warmth of your body through the thin fabric of your blouse before his palm slid over to your waist. Your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden gesture, but you didn't pull away.

What have you done?

You couldn’t believe you had actually signed the papers. The weight of the pen felt so heavy in your hand, the ink seeming to dry slower than usual as you scrawled your name on the dotted line. This was supposed to be a simple, harmless plan, but now it was documented. Official.

How did it come to this?

You watched as Spencer took the pen from you, his hand brushing yours momentarily. He glanced at you before turning his attention back to the document. The hesitation was brief, but you saw it—the flicker of doubt before he pressed the pen on to the paper and signed his name next to yours.

What the hell are we doing?

“Alright,” Hotch said, taking the papers and giving you both a nod. “This is a bit formal, but it’s necessary under bureau policy. If there are any changes in your relationship status, you should report immediately.”

You nodded, barely hearing his words over the pounding of your heart.

“Again, congratulations.”

Your stomach churned. You were going to be sick.

“Thank you,” Spencer responded. Hotch then dismissed you both, and as you turned to leave, Spencer's hand gently touched your back. You were the one who urged him to act his part, but it felt too intimate, too real at that moment. You quickly increased your pace, putting some distance between you as you walked down into the bullpen.

Penelope was sitting on your chair, chatting animatedly with the rest of the team in the open space. She looked up when you both arrived. “Well, look who’s back!” Penelope called out. “How did it go?"

You weren't surprised everyone understood what being called in, together at that, by Hotch implied.

“It went… as expected,” you replied, forcing a smile. Spencer stood a bit awkwardly beside you, his usual composure slightly ruffled.

"This is amazing,” Penelope sighed. "Oh! you know what we should do?"

You eyed her warily. "What?"

"This totally calls for a celebration!"

Your eyes widened. "Let's not—"

"Are you guys free this weekend?" Penelope turned toward the rest of the team.

Derek leaned back in his chair with a wide grin. "You know I'm always up for a party."

Spencer looked between you and the rest of the team, clearly uncomfortable. "I don't think that’s necessary—"

"He's right, Spencer isn't much of a party freak," JJ chimed in, joining in the conversation from her desk. "We should do something more relaxing."

"No, that's not what I meant—"

"You know what we haven't done in a while?" Emily asked, walking closer with a thoughtful look before she settled onto your desk, leaning slightly against it. "We haven't gone to the pool lately."

Penelope perked up at the idea. "Rossi's villa?"

Emily confirmed her with a nod. "Rossi's villa. He’s always saying we should use it more anyway.”

At any given chance, you would jump at the idea. You loved relaxing by the pool. You loved basking under the sun with a cool drink in your hand, the smell of chlorine in the air, and the refreshing splash of water on your skin. And Rossi’s pool was the perfect place for that.

It was a villa located an hour’s drive away that seemed more suited to a resort than a private residence. It was far from the city, mostly unoccupied, but always welcoming. You had been there before, stayed overnight there too, and all those fun memories were still vivid in your mind. You even recalled the time Emily was caught skinny dipping at night. Or the time Derek kicked Spencer out of the pool after realizing he had been hustling him at basketball the week before.

It had been fun then, but the more you reflected on those memories, the deeper your frown became. They had happened way before everything fell apart, before the tension had strained your friendship. It was a time when everything felt simpler, when Spencer was one of your closest friends. And now, ironically, he was your boyfriend.

Fake boyfriend.

"So it's settled, then?" Penelope’s voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to the present.

Honestly, you didn’t want to go. How were you even going to pull this off? A weekend by the pool, while usually the perfect highlight for your summer, now felt like walking into a scripted play where your every gesture would be scrutinized. Not just by anyone, but by skilled profilers who could sniff out a lie like a shark smells blood in the water.

The fear of being exposed, of embarrassing yourself—or worse, damaging your career—was gnawing at you. It made you increasingly anxious. Yet backing out wasn’t an option either. It would raise too many questions and invite too much speculation.

So you closed the distance between you and Spencer and linked your arm through his, ignoring the slight panic in his eyes. “Sure,” you said, turning to Penelope as you mustered a smile. “Sounds fun.”

Penelope beamed at you. Spencer, on the other hand, felt the exact opposite. The idea of spending an entire weekend pretending to be in a relationship filled him with dread.

And he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was bound to go wrong.

[thatstoomanysausages]

Does anyone ever think really hard about Grian's inability to team? To stick with the same people he'd allied with at first after it shows the slightest hint of going downhill? Or about everyone's knowledge to be weary with teaming with Grian as he's notoriously disloyal with his teammates?

Cause the gutting thing is, he isn't. He isn't disloyal. He doesn't have an inability. In fact, I'd argue he is one of the few people who are tragically loyal to a fault, at least in most cases.

In Last Life, although he killed both Jimmy and Mumbo, he still felt the need to return to his allies after he'd turned red, feeling betrayed when they threw him out for being red. After that, he stuck with Joel and didn't dare betray him.

In Double Life, although he cheated on Scar and constantly complained, he stuck by Scar almost obsessively. His aim to protect him, even if he said it was for his own benefit, was painful. He didn't try to leave Scar behind like Cleo or Scott, he didn't try to sever the bond between him and Scar, nothing. It was almost like he was desperate.

In Limited Life, he was beyond loyal to his boys. He was loyal until the very end. And although he immediately switched to join the Nosy Neighbours, he didn't try to team with anyone permanently until Jimmy and Joel were dead. His silence when he realised he was truly the last Bad Boy was deafening. He hid his grief by saying that he had a backup team, just to save face, even though he built a gravestone for both boys and grieved them meaningfully.

In Secret Life, it wasn't as if he was fine with having no allied, like someone would be if they truly didn't care for loyalty, he was desperate once again. Having no teammates later in the game would hurt him, yes, but his desperation felt lonely, not power hungry. He didn't dare betray Etho nor Cleo, and stuck by them until the end. He was losing his mind on his hill before he teamed with the two, he needed to have close allies to depend on.

Now, in Wild Life, Mumbo is out of the series and Grian goes to say he needs to find some more friends, even with Skizz still around. Now, I don't think this is a power play thing, it's a desperation thing. He's hiding his grief by pretending everything is fine because if it wasn't he'd be vulnerable. For the past couple sessions, he had been working tirelessly to help get Skizz a kill so he could get off of being a red life, even to his own detriment.

Grian doesn't half ass teams. He will not team with everyone. However, he gets vulnerable when the ones that he connects to die.

Because that's how it went about in 3rd Life. He allied with Scar throughout the whole game, it starting simply because Grian felt guilty about what he'd done to Scar. He felt guilty. He stuck with him the whole game, undying loyalty, and all it ended in was him standing at the top with his best friend's blood drying on his hands.

To him, being loyal to someone like he was in 3rd Life ended badly. So, to avoid that, he found a way to still stay teamed with people, but not be left at the top of that mountain again, alone, even if his teammates die.

But so far, the curse keeps following him. He will always outlive his teammates. And this season is following the pattern, again, Mumbo dying right in front of his eyes, so close, yet so far. Always in a distance where he could've done something different, and he'd still have a teammate.

He may move from person to person, but only when they are dead or reject him. He is the forever Widow, cursed to always face his consequences, over and over and over again.

[charliedaltonswife]

My one and only claim about Henry is that he's a yapper. We know it from the books. So why not make it sweet? I would find it endearing (and just so slightly comical) to have Henry, the ever stoic, leaning against the bathtub in which you've planned a relaxing, wine-accompanied bubble bath. To have Henry chat quietly, mindlessly, of whatever topic first reaches his mind, knowing you might not even listen, but nit exactly caring, simply because he wants to be close to you.

Oh, and how even sweeter would it be for him to wash your hair...

A Bath to Ease The Soul

Henry Winter x reader (The Secret History)

nonnie, oh did this get my creative juices flowing, i got so carried away writing this at like 3am after just drinking a coffee. i think this is my longest one yet.

Summary: read the request

Warnings: mother pushing very traditional domestic views

master list found here

You hated - and I mean, hated - visiting your mother. You tried to tell yourself it wouldn’t be so bad this time. Just dinner. Just a few hours. You could handle that. But as the car pulled into the driveway, the sight of your mother’s perfectly manicured front lawn and the pristine wreath hanging on the door filled you with the same quiet panic it always did.

Your mother greeted you with her signature smile, the one that looked genuine to the untrained eye but always carried the sharp undertone of appraisal. She kissed you on the cheek, her perfume clouding around you like a fog, and ushered you inside, where the unmistakable sounds of domestic perfection were already in full swing.

The living room smelled faintly of cinnamon, a carefully curated holiday scent despite it being weeks past the season. Your sister sat on the couch, her newborn cradled in her arms, the picture of serene motherhood. She looked up as you entered, her face lighting up with genuine warmth that made you feel both loved and uncomfortably exposed.

“Sissy” she said, shifting the baby to one arm so she could wave. ��You’re here!”

“Of course,” you said, forcing a smile as you dropped your coat onto the nearest chair. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Your mother appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray of neatly arranged hors d'oeuvres, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood. “You’re late,” she remarked, her tone light but not without its sting.

“Traffic, snow on the road” you said simply, knowing better than to offer any further explanation. 

“Well, come in, come in. Don’t just stand there.”

You followed her into the dining room, where the table was already set with the kind of meticulous care that made you vaguely nervous to sit down. The china on the table was worth more than everything in your kitchen combined. 

The evening started innocuously enough. Your sister talked about the baby, her sleeping patterns, her favorite toys, how she already had your brother-in-law wrapped around her tiny fingers. Your mother listened intently, occasionally chiming in with advice or anecdotes from her own experiences raising the two of you. And you waited, you knew what was coming. 

And then, inevitably, the conversation shifted.

“So,” your mother began, her tone casual but her gaze sharp, “any exciting news from you, Y/N? Any boy special in your life?”

You felt the question land like a stone in the pit of your stomach, your carefully constructed defenses threatening to crack under the weight of her scrutiny.

“No, nothing like that,” you said, trying to keep your tone light. “Just busy with my classes, you know.”

Your mother frowned, a delicate crease appearing between her brows. “Education is fine, but it’s not everything. Don’t you want more than that? A husband?”

You felt sick at her words. Your mothers words felt like you had travelled back a couple centuries. 

Before you could respond, your sister chimed in, her voice annoyingly gentle. “Mom, leave her alone. She’s fine.”

Your mother sighed, clearly unimpressed. “I just worry about her. She’s not getting any younger, you know.” 

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to take a slow sip of your wine instead of responding. It wouldn’t do any good to argue. It never did.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of forced smiles and shallow conversation. Your sister’s baby cooed softly, her tiny fingers grasping at the air, and your mother looked at her with the kind of adoration you’d long since given up trying to earn.

By the time you finally escaped, the night was fully dark, the stars hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. The drive home felt longer than usual, the silence somehow made your mother’s words replay louder in your head.

Your apartment greeted you with silence, that particular stillness that always felt both a blessing and a curse. You dropped your bag by the door, kicked off your shoes without bothering to line them up, and sighed. The wine you’d downed at dinner buzzed faintly in your veins, not enough to soften the edges of the evening but enough to make the ache in your temples feel slightly less personal.

You flicked on the lights and surveyed the mess of your living room with the vague dissatisfaction of someone who’s been out of the house long enough to forget what they left behind. A half-empty mug of tea sat abandoned on the coffee table, its contents now a murky swamp of regret.

Well, you thought to yourself, at least no one’s here to judge.

Not like your mother, who had practically appraised you at dinner like you were a loaf of bread she wasn’t sure was worth buying. Not like your sister, who didn’t have to say anything at all because her glowing, perfect existence spoke volumes louder than words. And she was younger than you. Although, she barely finished high school before she fell pregnant. So, in some ways, you felt you had it better than her. 

It was absurd, really, how the evening had played out exactly as you’d known it would, and yet you’d still come home feeling like you’d been hit by a truck. You were too old to still be doing this, subjecting yourself to their quiet disapproval, hoping against all evidence to the contrary that this time, things would be different.

Maybe next time you should just send a cardboard cutout of yourself you thought, toeing off your socks and heading for the bathroom. The bathroom was blissfully cool, the tiles smooth under your bare feet. You turned the taps, the sound of rushing water filling the small space and drowning out the hum of self-doubt still rattling around in your head.

The steam rose quickly, curling in lazy tendrils, and you reached for the bubble bath you kept stashed in the cabinet, the one you only used when you were feeling particularly indulgent, or particularly wrecked. Either way, you deserved it. 

As the scent of lavender filled the room, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. You paused, studying your reflection with the detached curiosity of someone examining a stranger.

Your hair was a little too messy, your makeup slightly smudged from where you’d rubbed at your eyes during dinner. 

“It’s no wonder,” you said aloud, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “You look exactly like someone who spent the evening being reminded of how woefully unaccomplished they are.”

The bath was nearly full now, the bubbles threatening to spill over the sides. You turned off the taps and leaned against the counter for a moment, letting the heat and the lavender and the soft gurgle of the water settle your nerves.

This was what you needed. Not validation from your mother, not the approval of a sister who had never once doubted herself, but this. A quiet room, a hot bath, and enough time to wash away the feeling of not being quite enough. The lavender in the air was soothing, but the cigarette in your hand did the real heavy lifting. You had perched yourself on the edge of the tub, still in your clothes, holding the cigarette between your fingers like it was the only tether to your sanity after a hellish day. You didn’t particularly care that the bathroom was filling with steam or that the cigarette. This was your time, and that was that.

You exhaled a plume of smoke toward the ceiling, watching it swirl and dissipate into nothing. 

Just as you were leaning back against the counter to savor another drag, the door creaked open. Henry stepped in without so much as a knock, his sharp, calculating presence contrasting with the languid heat of the room.

“You know,” he began, his voice as matter-of-fact as ever, “smoking indoors is a sure way to ruin your walls.”

You didn’t bother looking at him. “So is being condescending, but you keep showing up.”

He huffed softly, a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh but carried the same faint amusement. “At least open a window,” he said, crossing the room to the counter where the small sliding window was barely cracked. With an exasperated look, he shoved it open further and glanced at the cigarette in your hand. “Do you even have an ashtray?”

You gestured vaguely with your free hand. “Does it look like I have an ashtray, Henry?”

He sighed, the sort of sigh that implied he thought you hopeless but didn’t quite mind the fact. “Stay there,” he said, disappearing back into the hallway.

You took another drag, waiting. The bath gurgled softly, the bubbles popping against the surface in tiny, irregular bursts. A full minute passed before Henry returned, balancing a small ashtray and a wooden chair in his hands.

“Improvised, but it’ll do,” he muttered, placing the ashtray on the edge of the counter before setting the chair beside the tub. He sat down without ceremony, his long legs awkwardly folded in the cramped space, and rested his elbows on his knees.

The chair looked absurdly out of place in your bathroom. You snorted, finally turning your attention to him. “Are you planning to stay?”

“That depends,” he said, his expression impassive but his voice just warm enough to undercut the dryness of his words. “Will you allow me to indulge in some company, or are you going to sulk in silence all evening?”

You didn’t answer right away, flicking ash into the tray and watching him out of the corner of your eye. He had his head tilted slightly, studying you with that particular intensity that always felt a little invasive but not entirely unpleasant.

“Fine,” you said at last, leaning back against the counter and exhaling a slow stream of smoke. “But if you start lecturing me, I’m throwing you out.”

Henry smirked faintly, his mouth curving in that small, rare way that made you think he might actually be human beneath all the precision and logic.

“I’ll restrain myself,” he said. “Though, you won't believe what Bunny told me today, he claims someone landed on the moon.”

You stared at him for a beat, and then a laugh escaped before you could stop it. “Yes, and?”

“Word for word,” Henry replied, leaning back in the chair with an ease that didn’t match his usual rigidity. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s ridiculous that you learnt a dead language yet you didn’t know of the moon landing,” you said, your smile lingering as you stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray. “Although I’m not sure what’s more ridiculous, that or you sitting on a kitchen chair in my bathroom.”

Henry’s brow arched slightly. “Would you prefer I left?”

“No,” you admitted, surprising yourself with the honesty of it. “I’d rather you stay.”

He nodded, as if the matter were settled, and leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees again. “You seem off today,” he said, his tone gentler now. “I take it dinner didn’t go well?”

You sighed, your shoulders sagging under the weight of the question. “It went about as well as it always does. Mom asked me when I was getting married, and my sister reminded me that I’m failing at womanhood because I don’t have a baby attached to my hip.”

Henry tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “That seems like an odd metric for success.”

“It’s not odd if you’re them,” you said, running a hand through your hair. “It’s tradition, Henry. Marry young, have kids, spend the rest of your life baking pies and judging your neighbors. I’ve apparently failed on all counts.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on you like he was trying to untangle your words and find the truth hidden beneath them. “And do you care?” he asked finally.

“Not really,” you said, though your tone betrayed a flicker of doubt. “I mean, I care in the sense that it’s exhausting to have them constantly reminding me of what I’m not. But I don’t care enough to change who I am just to make them happy.”

“Good,” he said simply, his voice firm in a way that made your chest ache a little.

You looked at him, surprised. “Good?”

“Yes,” he said, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Because you’d be miserable living a life that wasn’t yours. And, frankly, you’re too interesting to waste on something so banal.”

The words hung in the air between you, unexpected and heavy in their sincerity. You swallowed, unsure how to respond, and finally settled for a quiet, “Thanks.”

Henry leaned back again, his shoulders relaxing as he shifted in the chair. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice softer now. “Though if you’re planning to spend the rest of the evening wallowing, I’d suggest getting in the bath before the water goes cold.”

You blinked at him, startled by the shift in tone. “You’re really going to sit here while I take a bath?”

“Why not?” he said, his lips twitching with the ghost of a smile. “I have plenty to talk about, and you seem in desperate need of distraction.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you stubbed out the remains of your cigarette, watching the faint curl of smoke spiral upward. Henry’s gaze flicked toward the ashtray, then back to you, as if assessing whether you were finished sulking or simply pausing for dramatic effect.

“Fine,” you said, standing with a soft sigh. “But if you’re staying, you’re making yourself useful.”

“I already fetched the chair and ashtray,” he pointed out dryly, standing as well. “What more could you possibly require?”

“I don’t know,” you said, unbuttoning your shirt as you walked toward the bath. “Hand me a towel. Keep me entertained.”

Henry didn’t roll his eyes, you doubted he was capable of anything so undignified, but there was a faint quirk of his brow as he picked up the towel you’d tossed haphazardly onto the sink. He handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly before retreating back to the chair he’d claimed.

As you sank into the steaming water, the tension in your shoulders began to dissolve, though the sight of Henry leaning back in the wooden chair, his legs crossed neatly at the ankle, was a small distraction.

“You’re going to sit there and stare at me the whole time, aren’t you?” you asked, settling against the curve of the tub.

He tilted his head slightly. “It depends. Would it make you uncomfortable?”

“Yes,” you said immediately, though the heat creeping into your cheeks suggested otherwise.

Henry hummed softly, clearly unconvinced. “Then I’ll avert my gaze,” he said, his voice tinged with mockery as he turned his head toward the window. “There. Better?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, instead letting your head fall back against the tub. The warmth of the water soaked into your skin, easing away the frustration of the day, and you closed your eyes, content to let the silence settle.

It didn’t last long.

“You’ve been reading Proust again, haven’t you?” Henry asked, his voice cutting through the stillness.

You cracked one eye open, frowning at him. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you’ve been quoting him under your breath,” he said simply. “And because you always fall into this particular mood after reading Swann’s Way.”

You blinked, caught between annoyance and a begrudging sort of admiration. “Do you keep notes on me or something?”

“Of course not,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his hands clasped between his knees. “But I notice things. Like how you always reread the section about the madeleine whenever you’ve had a bad day. Or how you defend Swann’s obsession with Odette, even though you claim to despise sentimentality.”

You groaned, sinking lower into the water. “Can we not analyze my reading habits right now?”

“Would you rather discuss yours or mine?” Henry countered, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

“I’m not sure I have the energy for either,” you muttered.

He ignored you, leaning back in the chair as he laced his fingers together in his lap. “I’ve been revisiting Montaigne lately,” he said, as though you’d asked. “His essays on friendship, in particular. There’s a passage where he writes about how true friends are mirrors to one another. That their souls are so intertwined that they become one.”

“Very romantic,” you said, your tone laced with sarcasm.

Henry gave a small shrug. “It’s not about romance. Montaigne was writing about companionship, the kind that transcends any notion of love as we understand it. The kind that’s rare and profound, and ultimately irreplaceable.”

You glanced at him, his profile lit softly by the dim light of the bathroom. There was a weight to his words that made your chest tighten, though you weren’t sure if it was the content or the way he said it, with that quiet, almost unintentional reverence that made you wonder if he was speaking about something specific.

“Well,” you said after a pause, “if Montaigne had friends who talked as much as you, he must’ve been a very patient man.”

Henry chuckled softly, the sound rare and fleeting. “Patience,” he said, “is a virtue.”

“Not one of mine,” you replied, shaking your head slightly and letting your eyes drift closed again.

Henry didn’t argue, and for a moment, you thought he might’ve taken the hint and decided to let you relax in peace. But, of course, that was wishful thinking.

“Do you ever think about the way writers immortalize people?” he asked suddenly.

You cracked one eye open, staring at him. “What?”

“Think about it,” he said, leaning forward again. “Proust wrote Odette into eternity because of Swann. Dante canonized Beatrice. Even Montaigne’s essays are filled with reflections of his closest friend. It’s a kind of madness, really, to believe you can preserve someone forever in words.”

You frowned, unsure where he was going with this. “What’s your point?”

He tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “Do you ever wonder,” he said quietly, “what someone might write about you.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unexpected.

“Hopefully something better than ‘she smokes in the bathroom and sulks in the tub,’” you said, trying to mask the sudden tightness in your throat with humor.

Henry’s lips curved slightly, though his eyes remained serious. “I think,” he said, his voice low, “they’d write about how you find humor in the absurd. How you’re more than anyone expects you to be.”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden softness in his tone. “That’s very poetic Henry,” you said finally, your voice quieter now.

“I’ve been told I have my moments,” he replied, settling back in his chair. For once, you didn’t argue.

Henry stood from his chair without a word, his long shadow stretching across the bathroom tiles as he stepped toward the sink. He reached for the bottle of shampoo sitting on the counter, flipping it open and testing the consistency between his fingers. You watched him with a mix of amusement and curiosity, the faintest smile tugging at your lips.

“What are you doing?” you asked, though the question was half-hearted.

“Washing your hair,” he said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“What in God’s name- I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He placed the bottle on the edge of the tub and rolled up his sleeves with deliberate precision, exposing the sharp planes of his forearms. It was such a Henry gesture, that you couldn’t help but laugh softly under your breath.

“Do you even know how?” you teased, tilting your head back to meet his gaze.

He gave you a look, one that was equal parts amused and vaguely condescending. “It’s not that difficult,” he said, crouching beside the tub. “Tilt your head back.”

You obeyed, leaning your head against the curve of the tub as he cupped his hands to gather water, carefully pouring it over your hair. The warmth seeped into your scalp, and you let out a soft sigh, your body sinking deeper into the water.

“This is absurd,” you murmured, though your voice lacked conviction.

“You can thank me later,” he replied, his tone dry as he worked a small amount of shampoo into his palms.

His hands were gentle as they worked through your hair, his fingertips massaging your scalp with a kind of practiced ease that made you wonder if he’d done this before. There was a certain tenderness in the way he handled you. Something that made this feel intimate. You sure wouldn’t want Bunny or Richard barging in. 

“Have you always been this bossy?” you asked, your eyes closed as his fingers traced careful patterns against your skin.

“Only when necessary,” he replied.

“And you think this is necessary?”

“I think you’ve had a long day,” he said simply, his voice softer now. “And I think you’re too stubborn to admit you need someone to take care of you every once in a while.”

Your lips parted to argue, but the words died on your tongue as his fingers moved to the nape of your neck, kneading the tension there with a skill that left you momentarily speechless.

“See?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “You’re already proving my point.”

You groaned softly, though it was more out of reluctant enjoyment than genuine annoyance. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered.

“I’ve been called worse,” he said with a faint smile, rinsing the suds from your hair with another careful pour of water.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the soft lapping of the water against the tub and the rhythmic motion of his hands in your hair. It was... soothing, in a way you hadn’t expected, and you found yourself relaxing in his presence in a way that felt oddly vulnerable.

“You’re quiet,” Henry remarked after a moment, his tone almost teasing. But you didn't respond, slightly scared you were going to wake up from a dream or something. 

He hummed softly, his hands moving to smooth the strands of your hair back from your face. “You know,” he said, his voice thoughtful, “I was reading something the other day about rituals. About how they can make the mundane feel sacred.”

You opened one eye, glancing up at him. “And this is your idea of a ritual?”

“Perhaps,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Though I doubt Montaigne had bubble baths in mind.”

You snorted softly, the sound cutting through the quiet. “You really can’t turn it off, can you?”

“Turn what off?”

“That incessant need to intellectualize everything,” you said, though there was no real bite to your words.

Henry’s smile widened slightly, and he reached for the towel he’d set aside earlier, draping it gently over your shoulders. “Perhaps not,” he admitted. “But I’d argue it’s part of my charm.”

You rolled your eyes, but the gesture was half-hearted. “You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though the faint smile on your lips betrayed your words.

His voice low and amused, “But here you are, letting me wash your hair.”

Henry’s hands stilled, resting lightly on your shoulders as he adjusted the towel, tucking it more securely around you. The air in the room shifted, the playful tension dissipating into something softer, quieter. You leaned back against the curve of the tub, your eyes drifting shut, the warmth of the water lulling you into a pleasant haze.

The silence stretched between you, not uncomfortable but companionable, filled with the faint dripping of water and the occasional rustle as Henry shifted in his seat. He didn’t leave; you’d known he wouldn’t. Instead, you felt him settle against the edge of the tub again, his hand brushing against yours briefly as he adjusted his position.

You opened your eyes just enough to catch him gazing at you, not in the sharp, calculating way he often regarded the world, but with a gentleness you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before. It was disarming, that look, as if he were seeing parts of you that even you didn’t know existed.

“Comfortable?” he asked quietly, his voice low and soft, as if he didn’t want to disturb the stillness.

You nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “More than.”

He gave a small nod, seemingly satisfied, and leaned back slightly, his head tilting against the wall. “Good.”

For a moment, you thought he might lapse into silence again, but then he started talking, quietly, almost absentmindedly, as though the words had been waiting to spill out all along. He spoke of a poem he’d been reading earlier in the day, his voice steady and soothing, weaving the verses into the air between you. He recited a line here and there, translating the meaning, tracing its cadence like a finger over parchment.

And then, as if the poem had unlocked something in him, he moved seamlessly into other topics. He talked about a book he’d been meaning to recommend to you, about a theory he’d read concerning the relationship between mythology and memory. His voice was unhurried, lilting, each word delivered as if he were sharing a secret meant only for you. You listened, not to every word of course, but to the rhythm of his voice, letting it wash over you like the water pooling around you.

Without thinking, you shifted slightly in the tub, your hand brushing against his where it rested on the edge. You expected him to move away, to pull back into himself as he often did, but he didn’t. Instead, his fingers curled around yours briefly, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but one that spoke volumes.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the hum of the heater kicking on.

“For what?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

“For staying,” you said simply, the words carrying a weight you couldn’t quite explain.

He didn’t reply immediately, but his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing against your skin in a gesture that felt almost instinctive. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Always.”

[kyoteugly]

Disclaimer: This may be a bit chaotic (also sorry for my English), I never done this type of post before and I assume you know the show so I don’t go into details of every event - you saw them, you know what they’re about. And it all comes down to Buddie going canon. Here we go, enjoy! (warning 3,6k words)

If we take a look at 911 from a distance some things fall in an interesting pattern. I believe at least part of it is intentional. And if this theory is correct - standing ovations for the creators are in order, because they kept the continuity of the previous seasons while simultaneously re-launching the series. We have introductions of the main characters, we revisit big moments from their lives (sometimes in a more flashy way, sometimes more subtle), and we get a new perspective from them (those big moments) to show the character’s growth.

Ok, what’s the theory?

You should watch seasons 7 and 8 as seasons 1 and 2 on abc.

But Tim isn’t simply retelling the story. He takes the core emotion from a big event and puts it into new scenery with inclusion of how the character had changed over the seasons 1-6. 

Before I jump into Buck and Eddie, let's look at a few examples. 

ATHENA:

Introduction of Athena in season 1 goes with her marriage problems. The same in season 7 (it’s one-sided, because it’s her story, not Bobby’s).

May suicide attempt -> in season 7 there is this unnerving vibe around Bobby’s retiring actions, especially when Athena is talking with him (at least I felt this suicidal vibe and we all thought for a moment Bobby is responsible for their house burning down).

The reason why Athena became a cop, the tragic story of her fiance -> bringing back Jenkins in season 8. This plot could work without him, there could be just some no-name prisoner and Athena could simply get the order to escort him without any deep explanation - but the main core of this plot was to revisit Athena’s past.

She was attacked/in mortal danger on the job -> the whole plane disaster in season 8 (and I’ll get back to that because this is the key moment in Bathena story, this is their core).

BOBBY:

His alcoholism is haunting him and it leads to his house burning down while he’s trying to save his wife (and all of this is the result of his actions). His arc in season 7 covers his past.

And also his relationship with the 118 get’s the familiar spotlight - him being a father figure for the team. Everyone comes to him for advice while he’s forced to be away from his firehouse - and during those conversations he’s in the middle of planning his future with Athena (previously their wedding, now it’s about their new home).

As for them as a couple it’s the plot lines of Athena being attacked and her landing the plane. She is in danger, doing her job, he is the one watching/listening. But while in the past he was powerless, merely an audience to her fight, now he is her partner, he’s in danger with her and it’s his choice (with the cruise ship they both were thrown into the danger, this wasn’t the parallel to the past). And yes, this is their characteristic, but when you’re new to the show, you started watching it with season 7, you may not know this about them… so here, Tim is showing you what Bathena is about, ride or die partners with unwavering faith in each other.

Again, the core element of the big moment and the emotional growth/journey of the characters (introduction while keeping the continuity - revisiting the events, not retelling them).

HEN:

She has a very big plot line that includes a few big events from her life.

The plot with Ortiz’s son reminds me of the girl Hen hit with an ambulance. Back then Hen was a mess, doubtful about herself, and people around her reminded her that she did everything right. Now she doesn’t doubt, she’s sure, even when there is not enough conviction from her team. 

Following this plot we have the whole thing with Ortiz and Mara - which basically is covering the same core aspect we saw with Eva and Denny.

For Hen, family is the most important, actually for her and Karen - and this part also shows their journey as the power couple - because now they’re fighting together for their child (against Ortiz) and not with each other (like it was when Eva was threatening their family). They’re much stronger now, after all those years, family love guiding them through life.

CHIM & MADDIE:

They both have their respective episodes in season 7.

Chimney: Why put Doug there? Why Kevin and karaoke bar (the backstory of how Chim became a firefighter) if not for the introduction of the character, for revisiting his big moments…? 

Maddie and the call with the abducted woman -> we learn later it was her stalker not her husband, but Maddie assumes it’s the husband because of her own trauma. And in the same episode her postpartum depression is also addressed -> the abducted woman is separated from her baby - it’s symbolic but it’s there (like I said, not everything is flashy).

As for Madney - it’s all in the way they’re looking for each other when their mental state is in question (past - Maddie in Boston, present - Chim being sick). Their emotional journey lies in the way of how sure of their love they are. Again, in the past they were taking things slow, finding each other but giving each other space and time, careful “i love you” etc - Now they speed things up by getting married right away, right there in the hospital - because they’re sure.

There are more core things (and revisits) to all characters but I won’t go deeper into this because I want to talk about Buddie (with more details)... so…

All 3 power couples got introduced and redefined anew for the new audience, but the core of what makes them Bathena, Henren, and Madney remained the same - just bigger, bolder, stronger… What remains, in the spectrum of main relationships, waiting to receive the same treatment, is Buddie.

EDDIE:

Through season 7 and 8 so far we got to see main aspects of Eddie - soldier, father, widower, best friend (yes, there are elements of them being more, of some deeper feelings, especially from Eddie’s side - this is the part of the continuity from previous seasons… but because seasons 7 and 8 are new seasons 1 and 2, Buddie is leaning a little more to the “best friends” side - for now… it just started to change with episode 8x05).

We learn about Eddie’s character - he’s caring but also sassy, he works great under pressure, he’s not superstitious, he panics when relationships get too serious (not full blown panic attacks this time, but catholic guilt plays the same role here).

The big moment from Eddie’s past is Shannon’s death. The show can’t tell this story again, can’t kill Shannon again, but they can show the new audience the impact Shannon had (and still has) on Eddie’s life -> and here we have the whole “Kim plot”. 

One more thing worth mentioning about Eddie and parallels is that he left Chris and his wife in the past -> now Chris is the one who left him, and the only relationship his son has to offer to Eddie is a glitching facetime video in a moment of the day when he’s busy (Chris) - sounds familiar.

Yes, there are more big moments in previous seasons, but each of them is intertwined with Buck, ergo can’t be discussed without him. So let’s jump into Buck now.

BUCK:

Just like with Eddie we get the reminder of main characteristic of Buck in form of: infodumping, ingenuity, thinking outside the box, being good/capable on a job, abandonment issues (Eddie spending time with Tommy), craving for approval/affirmation (he hates Gerrard and still seeks that pat on the back and “good boy” comment), his spiraling and believe in supernatural, and he’s like a kid in 118 family.

I feel like we got all of his aspects (and the same with Eddie’s) that we know from previous seasons in an easy to swallow pill, coated with a bit of comedy.

Big moments in Buck’s life include Eddie, but there are few relationships that are very important to this character that are highlighted in seasons 7 and 8). 

Christopher. For now we don’t really see the depth of Buck’s and Chris' relationship. New audience can safely say he is somewhat of a “fun uncle” for Chris (right now Chris is his best friend’s son) - this is because we still haven’t seen the equivalent of what created the bond between them - the tsunami (I believe we will get that when Chris comes back from Texas or his return will include scenes related to their bond and this big event from their lives).

Maddie. This one is simple for now, they’re great siblings, they support each other, the upcoming scene with Maddie should add more.

Best friend Eddie - partners on a job and in crime, knowing each other so well they can read every small signals (it’s mostly visible in 7x01 and 8x01), showing up for each other etc - you all know what I mean - Eddie jumping into idea of bachelor party, Buck confronting Eddie about Kim, Buck’s coming out, Eddie asking for help with Chris (twice) - all of that have (mostly) subtle Buddie themed moments (smiles, looks, wording) but what screams loudly is that they’re best friends (like you’ve never seen better friends than them). Like I said before it started to change in 8x05, and even earlier we see a little bit more of Eddie, like he’s kind of in the background - just remember this, I’ll explain in more details later.

Bobby. This relationship is highlighted the most, and after the first 3 episodes of season 8 nobody has any doubt that Bobby is like a father to Buck (in case somebody missed it in 7x10). In previous seasons we saw how this father-son thing evolved between them (whole season 1, lawsuit, Buck spiraling because of radiation Bobby “absorbed”, coma dream, etc), and now we get the speed run through it to establish how it works.

There is one more very important relationship in Buck’s life that also counts as Buck’s big moment. And it’s Abby, who is represented by Tommy. Older, more experienced love interest, who shows Buck he still has something to learn about relationships, who changes his perspective. It goes further. Remember the guy who was catfishing girls with Buck’s photos? Remember when he was in a meeting with Abby and a girl came up to them? Abby didn’t like what she heard and left Buck cold in that cafe/restaurant. Sounds familiar? Yeah, it should. His first date with Tommy, interrupted by someone, where Tommy didn’t like Buck’s behavior and left him on a curb. What’s important, none of them (not Tommy nor Abby) told him it was over, they were disappointed, of course, but left with the vibe “contact me when you grow up”/”I don’t do dramas”. Again, this is parallel, the revisit to the past event (core of the scenes remains) but the point here is not to tell the same story again but show something new, so Buck’s relationship with Tommy goes in its own way.

I would like to address the lightning strike here, because I believe this event won’t get “the revisit” treatment. It was mentioned in background in season 7 - the locker room scene with Eddie and how Buck tells Tommy the night they met was the best one he had since he died (or something like that). So the lightning strike exists already in season 7 and 8 narrative for the new audience.

Ok. In previous seasons we saw all main couples dating and getting married - basically becoming what they are now. And we saw how Buck’s and Eddie’s relationship grew and evolved throughout the seasons - but they never reached the status of a couple.

So we are now at 8x05, we have all main characters introduced, all power couples redefined by some huge events that made them stronger. We have Buck and Eddie - best friends for life - now is the time to show Buddie of it all.

BUDDIE:

Believe it or not, episode 5 is about Buddie in so many ways, but not in a way you think it is… It’s about retelling their emotional journey, their bonding path and what makes their relationship so special. Yes, I’m using “retelling” here, because the story of their feelings never reached the conclusion, it was always between the lines, and now it can be told anew. Tim already had the perfect recipe for them, so now he is using the core ingredients, to once more reach the point where making them a couple will feel natural. It’s not only about making them canon, it’s about telling beautiful love story - patience is important, their emotional state is the key and has to be set up just right. 

Ok. Masks. This title is a red herring in itself. If we talk about who is wearing a mask the answer is simple - everybody, it’s a Halloween episode. Going deeper we can say - it’s Eddie with his ‘fine’ mask. Let’s go even deeper, it’s not a noun “masks” (in plural), it’s a verb. The whole episode is masking itself, and it’s masking who the story is about. We have two major plot lines here, Buck’s (a comedy) and Henren (drama), both very loud and over the top, making the audience look in one way when in the background another story is unfolding. Red herrings everywhere.

What are the big moments from Buck’s and Eddie’s life that are hidden in this episode? When did Buddie truly start? Firetruck, tsunami, lawsuit, fight club, divorce era… yes, it’s all there… well, tsunami is only mentioned there because it’s Buck and Chis arc, but the important moment for Buddie after the tsunami is still represented in this episode by Karen’s words “You saved him”. Let’s break it down.

BUCK:

Firetruck: the event itself is represented in Denny’s accident. He’s pinned by the vehicle, Karen is holding his hand while others are trying to save him, there is and audience to his tragedy, a lot of people (in this case firefighters) are working together (building the construction) to get him out, the accident was caused by a man who was driven by vengeance/seeking justice, in the end Denny has his leg in cast - the same leg Buck had.

Lawsuit: The whole Buck’s curse plot - injury on a job (to his limb), aftermath of which he ends up with a medical condition (boils = blood thinners), which causes him to focus solely on himself. Buck is so self absorbed in this episode he doesn’t notice his own boyfriend, let alone his best friend (if you want me to write a longer post about Buddie in corelation to Buck and Tommy and why imo Buck is a lame boyfriend in this episode let me know - I won’t do that in this post).

The things above are like playing with the form of what I mentioned before - revisiting previous events. What’s important here is the emotional state of Buck. He learns very quickly he can come back to his job (Eddie is asking about it, because he knows how important it is for Buck) but the boils ultimately send him on a spiral and right back to the self absorbed state of mind - and the reason for it is to make him blind on what’s going on with Eddie.

EDDIE:

Fight club and divorce era are played out here only in Eddie’s emotional state because the show is putting Eddie in the background on purpose so we can’t have big moments played out in a form of parallel scenes. 

But just like with the fight club, Eddie is distancing himself from the firefam. I said already that Eddie is kinda in the background - this is the part where we can see Eddie isolated and alone, in this episode it screams the loudest (compared to the previous ones). 

The haunted house - Hen is terrifying, Chim is scary, even Buck, whose job was to give out candy, managed to freak everybody out (including himself) - only Eddie is this lame and cringe werewolf wannabe. This is a metaphorical, subtle way to show he stands out from the rest of the team. He’s with them but he is alone in the crowd. They have to ask him about Chris, he’s not talking about him himself and he’s keeping his ‘i’m fine’ mask on (pun intended). In fight club era Eddie is grieving after Shannon, now he’s grieving his relationship with Chris. He’s hiding his pain just like he was hiding his bruises.

Divorce era can be seen in a way Eddie interacts with Buck. He’s losing his patience sooner than usual, is meaner in his comments because he’s running on fumes, getting closer to his breaking point (it could escalate, we know he can snap when he can’t deal with his emotions). He doesn’t look at Buck - and I know, it’s because of the things on Buck’s face, hiding behind the magazine, sucking on lollipop… but honestly, do we actually believe that? Or the comedy of those scenes masked that they’re disconnected right now (actually they’re disconnected since Gerrard made them work separately. How they miss each other's eyes in the courtroom - it started there). The episode ends so blatantly showing us Buck talking bullshit with his head so far up his behind he doesn’t think for a second that Eddie needs him. And Eddie, well, he’s fighting alone, just like he was when he stepped into the ring.

WHAT’S NEXT:

If I’m right about all this, and not just insane, we will see 4 more big events - or rather the emotional state those events invoked. 

Kitchen scene - Buck being sorry for not being there for Eddie, when he needed him (the tension aspect of the scene would be nice, but the actual core of this scene is Buck admitting he failed Eddie and Eddie actually listening and accepting Buck’s words).

Well - Eddie has to save himself, deal with something on his own (with only briefly mentioning Buck, mostly Chris).

Will - this has to be addressed at some point. We know about the will but people who started watching from season 7 don’t. This will be clear, no red herrings, no telling story in the background.

Shooting arc - Buck being scared he may lose Eddie. It doesn’t have to be a near death experience, it can be Eddie deciding he’ll move to Texas - the core is fear of losing his… right, what? Best friend? When we reach this point they’ll be more, and “best friends” term won’t be enough, not even to the general audience. 

After that we can start talking about Buddie canon.

Of course there will be more scenes, new scenes, the characters are still growing but in my opinion Tim is trying to set up and show similar emotional journey for them, right up to the point when we should have had Buddie… and he will pick up where he left them, messed up and vulnerable and so in love with each other it’s overwhelming (shooting arc)… then we will go in a straight line to the Buddie canon.

I don’t want to make predictions, I’m bad at it. I prefer to analyze. But in my opinion and what I know about the next episode, I think the well call will serve as a reminder about Eddie Begins, the actual connection between past and present will be in the mustache scene (or right before the mustache scene). 

Final thoughts.

We all see the parallels between different characters and between previous seasons and new ones. We get frustrated about some plot lines and episodes (Bobby episode, Kim plot line)... But if you take a few steps back and look at season 7 as season 1 it makes sense to show these threads again. If you look at all the elements we talk about as a fandom you will see it’s one huge project, not just hints placed here and there. And it’s not just for the benefit of long term fans, it’s for the new audience to get to know these characters, to fall in love with them, to make them curious enough to watch previous seasons.

We all feel it, this carefree vibe from season 1, we’re all falling in love again, saying season 8 has what’s the best in 911, has it all. And I believe it’s because of what I wrote above, these new introductions of characters and relationships. 

One relationship remains to be shown in all its beautiful and unhinged glory - Buddie.

And I believe once we get the equivalent of a shooting arc we will get Buddie canon - this time Tim will tell their story how he wanted - with Buck and Eddie together, as a couple, as soulmates.

Wow, this was long. Sorry for the chaos, I never done this type of post before, but I hope you got the gist of it and enjoyed it. Remember, it’s only my opinion, I could be wrong (honestly, I probably am xP) but I wanted to share my thoughts because I got very hyped up about it. Feel free to contact me if you want.

Tagging some people who may be interested (if you want me to remove you from this post let me know): @buddiebeginz @stagefoureddiediaz @lemotmo @inell @jackwhiteprophetic @lover-of-mine @loveyourownsmiilee

Part 2, episode Confessions - HERE

[the-lone-writer94]

Heartbreaker

Dean Winchester x Female Reader (Virgin)

Summary: Set in early season 11, Sam and Dean return to the bunker trying to figure out what had been released. Having no luck in discovering the truth, they bury themselves in a potential case where several women have disappeared, believing it to be dragons Sam and Dean goes and checks it out.  

Once there, they run into the next potential victim (female reader) a recent college graduate, there’s an instant attraction between Dean and her. Will the dragon get their claws on her, or can Dean save her in time?

Age rating: 18+ Mature (Not super graphic sex)

Warnings: Age gap (Reader is meant to be 22 years old and Dean is 36 years old)

Word count: 3,104

Sam groaned, as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Insomnia had overpowered him last night, and no matter how tired he was he found himself unable to fall into slumber.

He followed the faint glow in the distance, as he entered the library of the bunker. It took his eyes a couple of seconds to adjust to the lights.

Dean was sat at the desk, his eyes glued to his laptop. Piles of books scattered before him, and a pot of coffee that was now empty.

Sam pulled out the chair opposite of Dean and immediately slumped down into it. “Dude, have you been up all night?” He asked.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Dean muttered.

“Yeah, you and me both.” Sam said, as he pushed his hair out of his face. “So, anything on the Darkness?”

Dean shook his head. “Nada.”

“And, how’s Cas?”

“He called couple of hours ago, says he’s fine- but, I don’t know.” Dean paused.

“I’m sure he’s fine. I mean it’s Cas.” Sam added.

“Well,” Dean said, as he changed the topic. He turned the laptop around for it to face Sam. “Think I found ourselves a case.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, well there’s no change in the Darkness situation. Might as well get back out there and do what we do best.”

Sam cocked his head to the side. “Alright, so what are we looking at here?”

“Over the past few days there’s been a bunch of dissappearances. All have been women. But, get this, a couple of eye witnesses have said they swore they saw something in the sky as it snatched up the girls.”

Immediately, something clicked inside of Sam’s head. “Dragons.” He answered.

“Yep.”

He reached towards the laptop, scanning the articles before him on the screen. His eyes narrowed as he absorbed the information from the text. “Hmm, these locations of the abductions,” he began, as he pulled up the digital map. “They’re all happening in a circle, see,” he explained and turned the laptop to Dean. “Based on the first abduction that happened here,” he pointed to the map, “and then, here. There’s a pattern.”

“So naturally, the next possible abduction is there,” Dean said as he leaned towards the laptop, “the college.”

Sam nodded. “Looks like it,” he leaned back and cleared his throat, “well, I say we head down towards the college and stake the place out.”

“Oh man, college chicks.” Dean exclaimed and winked.

Sam stared at him with an unamused expression.

I grabbed my messenger bag and flung it over my shoulder, I hurried out of the library. Time had slipped away from me, and I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. I didn’t necessarily mind working overtime at the library, after all, I loved being in the presence of books, and this was the first time I was doing a job that I actually enjoyed. In fact, it was my first real job after graduating from college several months ago.

The moment I stepped foot out of the campus library, the chill from the night air grazed my skin. I shivered, and wrapped my jacket closer to my body.

I had changed into a black dress and an open toe black heels, which I immediately regretted. I hadn’t anticipated on going to the bar, but it was my friend’s birthday and figured I’d at least make an appearance. Although, I wasn’t sure if there was any point at this rate, considering I’m already several hours late.

I stalked through the empty campus, my footsteps echoed and the eeriness was starting to creep me out.

All of a sudden, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a presence looming over me. Hesitantly, I peered up and to my relief I saw nothing but the night sky.

I spun on my heels, and continued on my way. But it wasn’t long before I once again felt that there was something following me.

Abruptly, a shadow materialized. My eyes fixated on what was being formed before me. For a split second, I had considered if I was going insane, but I was certain that I saw shadowy wings hover above me, and it was charging right me.

Without hesitation, I ran.

I felt something collide into me, I rolled on the ground and saw a man beside me.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

Something clicked in my mind, and I remembered I had seen his face before. He was one of the FBI agents that had come into the library earlier today, investigating the recent dissapearances of the women in the local area.

“Agent Plant?” I asked.

He helped me onto my feet, before the shadowy creature landed onto the ground, transforming into a man.

He glared at me with a venoumous stare, and closed the gap between us. He raised his hand, the razor sharp talons curled and a gleam of firey abalze grew in the palm of its hand.

“What the hell?” I gasped.

The man charged at us, and Agent Plant pulled out a broken sword from his jacket, he immediately lunged towards the mysterious man, but he transformed once again into a shadowy creature. However, Agent Plant managed to slice at it just before it flew away.

“Dammit!” Agent Plant cursed.

Just then, another man joined us, he was much taller than Agent Plant with long hair that bounced as he ran.

“Dean! What happened?” He asked.

“Son of a bitch got away.” Dean responded.

“What the hell kind of FBI agents are you guys?” I questioned.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” I commented. “Dragons? Like, fucking Game of Thrones shit type dragons?”

“Hmm, basically, yeah.” Dean responded. “And, we’re not exactly FBI agents. We hunt these things. I’m Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam.” He gestured.

“Like, Ghostbusters?” I wondered.

They ignored my remark, and Sam cleared his throat.

“Wow,” I said, as I leaned onto Dean’s car, the Impala. “And, you think that thing is what took those women?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, but dragons they tend to favour virgins.” He said, his brows furrowed and a hint of confusion in his expression and tone.

I averted my gaze, and bit my lower lip.

All of a sudden, I watched as something clicked inside of Dean’s mind as his eyes widened. “Oh.” He came to the conclusion.

“It’s not that I haven’t wanted to,” I began and shifted in my position uncomfortably. It certainly wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with these strangers. “So, what now?” I immediately tried to change the subject.

“Well, it could come back. I suggest we bring you somewhere safe, whilst we go and track down it’s liar and gank the thing.” Dean explained.

“We’ve got a bunker, not too far from here. It’s totally safe.” Sam said.

My eyes narrowed. “You want me to go with you?” I questioned, “I don’t even know you guys. And you just outed yourselves as impersonating federal officers, for all I know you could be serial killers, like Michael Myers. If he talked.”

Dean cocked his head to the side. “I know how this all sounds. But you’d be safer with us.”

My gaze locked with Dean’s, as I found myself being lost in his crystal green eyes. Suddenly, I snapped out of it and pulled myself back into reality.

It was no denying that I found Dean incredibly attractive, but dragon or not, it was clearly insane of me to go off with two complete strangers.

Then again, I could sense that the brothers were sincere. I bit my lower lip as I contemplated the decision in my head.

“Alright.” I finally answered.

The Winchesters' bunker was unlike anything I had ever seen before. And I was surprised they had let a stranger like me enter upon such a sacred ground.

The endless amount of books that place had held kept me utterly mesmerized, that I hadn’t even realized so many hours had passed since the Winchesters had left the bunker.

Upon their return, they had informed me that the dragon’s liar was nowhere to be found in where they had hoped, and that I perhaps would have to spend one more night. Something, which I did not mind.

Dean had offered his room up for me, which upon the first inspection I had been slightly disturbed at his idea of decorating. There wasn’t much to his room, except for a bed, a wall filled with guns displayed and a bunch of Led Zeppelin vinyl records.

Whilst in his bed I constantly tossed and turned. The notion that a dragon was out there, and my head was it’s target would be enough to keep anyone awake.

Plus, it was also uncomfortable trying to sleep in a tight cocktail dress.

After some more shuffling, I threw away the blanket and made my way out of the bedroom. I stalked through the hallway and followed the faint light in the distance, if I remembered correctly this would lead the way towards the main library.

As I entered the room, I witnessed Dean slumped over a desk. He remained in his suit with the top button undone and his tie loosened.

Beside him was a bottle of whiskey, Dean stared at the laptop before he sighed, and then closed it. He threw his head back and rubbed his temples.

I cleared my throat as I stalked towards him.

Dean had noticed my presence as he sat up. “Couldn’t sleep?” He asked.

I took the seat opposite him, and gestured to the bottle of whiskey. “Do you mind?” I asked.

“Go ahead.”

I reached for the bottle and took several large gulps before slamming it back down. “Well, it’s not everyday you find out that the supernatural is real, and a dragon is chasing after you just because I’ve never had sex.”

Dean forced out a smile. “When you put it like that-”

Time had certainly slipped by us, all I knew was that the bottle of whiskey was now completely emptied.

I found myself light-headed, and hot. I brushed a strand of my hair away from my face, as my vision tried to focus on Dean.

“I can’t believe you’re a Led Zeppelin fan.” Dean said.

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

He shrugged. “Just you know, you’re from a different generation.”

“Yes, my generation is certainly such a foreign species.” I joked, and leaned back into my chair. “Stop making yourself seem ancient.”

“Aren’t I, though to you? What, you’re like twenty-two.”

I nodded. “Well you’re not ancient- thirties?”

“Thirty-six,” he responded.

My eyes found it’s way upon Dean’s, as I gazed at his handsome face. Suddenly, I imagined what it would be like to caress the side of his face, and have him hold me.

I shifted in my position, and finished off the last gulp of my drink.

As I exhaled, I removed myself from my seat and crossed over to Dean. At first he seemed unaware but then I edged closer towards him, and extended my hand and gently planted it on his broad shoulder.

He turned his head and stared up at me through his eyelashes. “Oh.” He said, then forced out a nervous laugh, “listen, hmm- maybe this isn’t-” he stuttered.

“Dean, it’s alright.” I responded.

“We’ve had a lot to drink.”

“Dean, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” I reasurred.

Dean’s eyes locked with mine, and in that second I tried to guess what it is was he was feeling. Just when, I was about to turn away from him, he removed himself from his seat, towering over me.

He lowered himself down to me. His lips just about touched mine as he paused. “Are you sure?” He asked, his voice low and quiet.

I nodded.

And then, I felt Dean’s lips pressed onto mine. Immediately, I parted my lips for him as I felt his wet tongue enter and pressed my lips harder onto his. My hands caressed his broad shoulders, as I reached up and wrapped them around his neck.

He pulled me closer into him, his hands gripped down onto my waist, before gently pushing me down onto the table.

Then, my fingers found it’s way entwined into Dean’s hair, as I then caressed the side of his face, his stubble tickling me.

I reached to his tie as I tried to undo it, then suddenly he pulled away. “Hang on, not here.” He said.

In one swift motion, Dean hoisted me up. Right away, I wrapped my arms around his neck, as I allowed him to carry me to his room.

Once, we crossed over the threshold he gently placed me down onto the bed, and he climbed on top of me. Dean’s hands cupped my face, as he kissed me again, before leaving a trail of kisses on my neck.

His fingers found it’s way on the strap of my dress, and he gently tugged at the strap, before he repeated the action on the other. His touch lingered, and I felt my breathing quicken.

I nodded, and Dean pulled my dress down revealing my breasts. Almost right away, I felt his large hands cup my breasts, which awakened my senses.

I moaned, and squirmed beneath his touch.

Dean lowered his mouth onto my breasts, his wet tongue caressed over my now hardened nipple as his tongue went in circular motions. I squirmed beneath his touch, and I immediately felt the urgency to want his body.

My hands extended to the collar of his shirt as I hurriedly undid his tie, and began to unbutton his shirt, before ripping it off of him. Immediately, I caressed his bare muscular chest.

He pulled my dress away, as his fingers lingered on the waistband of my underwear. I nodded, and then he gently removed them from me. My legs parted for him, as he gently pressed his fingertips on my entrance.

His index and middle fingers formed into the shape of a V, as he moved them up and down, then down and up again. My wetness grew beneath his touch, and the moans were being released from between my lips.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, as I shifted in my position. Then, my hand cupped on Dean’s bulge, I watched as his jaw clenched. Slowly, I undid his pants as he yanked them away.

Dean leant over as he reached to the top drawer of his nightstand, as he pulled out a rubber and placed it onto him. Our gazes met, as he gently lowered my head onto the pillow.

His lips found mine again, and then I felt him slowly enter inside of me. His fingers entwined with mine as he held tightly onto my hand, as I felt his thrusts into me.

Moments later, Dean and I remained silent as we both laid in bed. I turned onto my side, as I laid my hand on Dean’s chest, feeling his chest rise up and down.

His arm wrapped around my body as he pulled me closer to him, as I listened to the sound of his heartbeat and drifted off into sleep.

The following evening, the Winchesters had informed me that they had found the dragon’s liar, in which I had returned back into my routine.

Melancholy washed over me as it had sunk in that I hadn’t been able to say goodbye to Dean.

Once again, I found myself standing in the very spot where the dragon had appeared. As I fiddled with my messenger bag, I began to make my way home.

A sense of deja vu found me, as I felt a presence looming over me. Knowing that, it was my mind playing tricks on me, I continued onwards.

All of a sudden, I felt a pit form inside my stomach, as I knew that something wasn’t right. It did not take long, before the shadow swooped low and knocked me off of my feet.

The dragon transformed into it’s human form, the venomous glare staring into me.

“What the hell?” I gasped. “But you’re dead?”

The dragon laughed deviously. “There are two of us.”

“Shit.”

“No one here to save you now, huh?” The dragon said, as it stalked towards me. He raised his hand, which gleamed a firey ablaze.

In the distance, I heard the screeching tyres followed by my name being called out. I spun as I watched, the Impala coming to a halt, as Dean and Sam shot out of the car.

The dragon growled, as he immediately turned his attention to me. But all of a sudden, he paused, as he realized something had changed in me.

“Sorry, that ship has kinda sailed now.” I said, as my fist connected with the dragon’s face.

He stumbled backwards, and it wasn’t long before I watched as Dean plunged the remains of the sword into the dragon’s heart.

“You did good back there.” Dean said, as walked me to my apartment.

I chuckled. “Yeah, but I think I’m just going to stick to reading about adventures, instead of actually living it.”

“Fair enough.”

“Thank you again, for everything.” I said. “And, hmm-” I paused.

“I didn’t do it for this.” Dean responded.

“Oh, I know. Just… if you’re ever passing by-” I said, and stopped.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He smirked.

Dean closed the gap between us, as I tip-toed and wrapped my arms around his neck. Immediately, he pressed his lips onto mine, as we embraced. Moments later, I finally pulled away, as I smiled and walked away from Dean.

Dean opened the door to the Impala as he got into the car, as Sam noticed his return he switched off the tablet.

“Everything good?” Sam asked.

“Yep.”

“I still don’t get why the dragon stopped just now, unless-” Sam paused, he watched as Dean cleared his throat and averted his gaze. All of a sudden, something clicked inside of his mind. “Oh my god- seriously dude?”

“What, she wanted to.” Dean argued.

“Dean!” Sam began, and stopped as the ringing emerged from Dean’s pocket.

Dean pulled out his cell phone and pressed it against his ear. “Cas,” he said as he listened intently, “uh-huh. Alright, I’ll see you later.”

“What’s up?” Sam questioned.

“Cas has finished watching Orange is the New Black,” Dean began, as Sam’s brows furrowed. “And, he’s found something about The Darkness.”

“Oh my god.” Sam said.

“Yeah, we got work to do.” Dean announced, as he shifted gear and began driving towards the bunker.

[monzamash]

down under — daniel ricciardo

daniel ricciardo x you | 1.3k summary – daniel receives a gift from a friend on the morning of the aus gp. warnings – 18+ (sex, course language) a/n – just wild, wild thoughts and prompts from @percervall & @estevries — both legends and brilliant writers. thank you for inspiring something so fun x masterlist

A loud yelp followed by a chesty laugh caught your attention as you stood in front of the hotel’s en suite mirror, putting on your face for the day. Daniel had answered the door and received whatever it was concierge had brought to your room. For you, it was too early to be bothered by anyone – the long haul flight that Daniel had warned you about had killed your mood and regret immediately set in while you tossed and turned all night, wishing you had heeded his warnings and flown to Australia earlier in the week with him.

The jet lag alone was bad enough without misty rain sweeping past the large sky-scraping windows, dampening the city and your already miserable spirit. There was no place you would rather be though – supporting and loving on your man for his first grand prix appearance of the season. It had been tough for both of you watching afar, the good and the bad memories flooding back. Recent history.

But Daniel had reassured you that he was at peace with his choices, happy to be a guest on the sidelines and you believed him. His smile was brighter, his painfully lame jokes were funnier and his charming disposition oozing contentment, finally returned. He was free to be who he wanted to be and to do whatever the fuck he wanted, when he wanted. Including annoying the absolute shit out of you every chance he got.

“Oh, honey! You gotta come out here and see these!” Daniel shouted from behind the door separating the two of you, closed by design so you could get through your morning routine without interruption.

“I’m drying my hair! Can you wait?”

He couldn’t. The door sliding open triggered an eye roll; knowing your kind hearted, generous boyfriend was barging in without invitation, giggles still bubbling away behind pursed lips, failing to suppress his little snorts. The whirring echo of your hairdryer diminished as you switched it off and set it down on the countertop, clipping the rest of your hair up before giving Daniel so much as a look – or a death stare.

“What do ya reckon?” He asked, patting your backside a couple of times to get your attention, bare feet tapping on the cold tiles as if he was jumping on the spot behind you. He was.

You sighed softly to yourself, prepared to plaster on a smile through gritted teeth for him as you spun around but you didn’t need to. The quick glance at Daniel’s goofy smile was brief before your eyes instantly trailed down his bare torso and landed on the only piece of material sheathing his toned body.

All that was covering him from being stark naked was a pair of skin tight Australian flag patterned budgy smugglers. Nothing else and truth be told, they weren't full-coverage. Not even a little bit.

“What the fuck are those?!” You gasped, a laugh slipping from your lips before you could clasp your hand over your mouth, shocked by the sight.

“Hot, right?” Of course he loved himself sick in them.

"Is that what concierge just dropped off? Who sent them?" You asked incredulously, reaching out and grabbing the small card hanging from Daniel's fingertips.

"It's a bucks night present from Scotty – apparently he wants all the boys to be matching when we go out on Sunday night," He replied with a raspy chuckle, aware of how strange that sounded and you couldn't help but roll your eyes when you read, 'don't cock it up and let the boys down' as you finished reading the note.

"You two fuckin' worry me sometimes..."

Your eyebrows had a life of their own, quirked so high on your forehead you were certain they had risen off your face entirely as you glanced down again. Yes, Daniel was hot, insanely so, but even you could see past all the abs and sexiness and admit he looked ridiculous, posing in front of you and catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind your head, smiling from ear to ear at how hilarious he looked. Blue steel activated.

“Want me to model these for ya?” He teased, poking his butt out and flexing his muscles like a body builder would.

“Seriously though – yeah or nah?”

“For what exactly?” You scoffed, unsure of what kind of yeah-nah, open-ended question you were dealing with before answering.

Daniel shrugged and bent his knees, eyebrows scrunched with a grimace, “I dunno,” He grunted, hand squeezing between his skin and the seams of the speedos, readjusting his situation in the tight confines. Some would say too tight.

“They are certainly something though…”

“Sexy? Sickening? Extremely flattering? Give me something to stroke my ego with for fucks sake,” He joked but genuinely wanted to know what your true feelings were behind that lip bite and pursed smile.

“Well they make you look massive…”

You threw that line out there for him, hoping he would bite.

“Duh, because I am massive.”

“… well,”

Your pause provoked Daniel, gasping at your insinuation as his hand immediately reached out and grabbed your jutted hips. His calloused fingertips brushing against your exposed, sensitive skin drew a high-pitched scream from your throat before catching you off guard and tickling the opposite side even harder, both watery-eyed from the uncontrollable laugher.

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding! You are! You are massive!”

You shouted loudly, palms pressed to his bare chest that was rising and falling from the dwindling laughter, curls tickling your skin as he kissed your neck softly, panting. Skin sweet from the shower you'd just taken without him, pout no longer lingering from that saga.

Daniel stifled a laugh against your ear at your proclamation, never tiring of hearing how satisfied you were with his attributes.

“I haven’t gotten any complaints so far in life so thank you for clearing that up, honey,” He sarcastically replied as you pushed him back gently, needing to get another peep at the speedos before they disappeared forever.

“They are so bloody tight, Daniel - that's why I can't stop giggling but I guess that's so everything doesn't fall out,” You reasoned, covering your blushing smile and trying not to laugh again. It was just too much, too early for you.

Daniel looked down, tugged on the waistband and glanced back up with a mischievous smirk, eyebrows wiggling as he closed the gap between the two of you again. You knew where this was going.

“Getting tighter by the second too, you know...”

Considering how tight the material was around his manhood to begin with, his voice was lot deeper than you expected in such constricting conditions. Between the seductive brown eyes practically undressing your partially clothed body and his hands roaming your waist again, reaching around to get a grip on your backside before hoisting you up on the counter, you were struggling to think of a reason to stop him.

Really, really struggling.

“Okay, big boy – simmer down. You have a press meeting in an hour so get out of the bathroom,” You ordered meekly, unconvincingly.

Daniel didn’t budge; his smirk flaring when he saw the devious glimmer in his eyes reflected back at him. He had you right where he wanted – fingertips tracing the bold 'of love and life' script inked on his clavicle forever, travelling south.

“I’m always fashionably late – you know this,” He taunted in response to your shallowed demands, peeking down and nudging forward between your thighs that he had spread with his strong hands, chuckling as he closed the inches separating you. Tantalisingly touching through thin material, breathlessly so.

“You are a walking fashion crime right now,” You retorted, pecking his puffy bottom lip and capturing the skin between your sharp teeth, assessing how far he was about to push you with limited time.

“Don’t test me, baby. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

The gruffness in his voice strained his words as he whispered into your lips, the question tumbling down your throat along with your inaudible response. Every whine, every moan was muffled by the deep kiss he was pressing to your lips, tongues searching for one another amongst the desire that was burning within.

“We don’t have time for this,” You whispered and gently knocked Daniel back from between your thighs so you could hop down off the warm marbled counter. You were immediately met by a loud, 'noooo' protest from the man standing practically naked in front of you.

That was until you grabbed a fluffy white towel from the shelf behind him, chucked it on the ground and dropped to your knees with a smirk. You rested your palms on the sides of his muscular thighs, mind wandering until you remembered why you were down here, knees already tender but dulled by the ache between your own.

“I’m feeling particularly patriotic this morning – any idea why?”

Daniel shakily exhaled as your finger traced the white lines of the union jack, his eyes fluttering shut for a split second. He had finally realised what you meant – you didn’t have time for a quickie but the thought of having your warm lips wrapped around him had him throbbing in the tight polyester, large hand cupping your soft cheek as he gazed down into your matching lust-filled pupils.

“Want me to sing the national anthem while you suck me off?”

His crude question made you laugh as your eyes devoured what was being presented to you in a neatly sealed package. He was deliciously stiff when he sprung free, tip glistening – a whole goddamn meal served in red, white a blue. Nature’s gift.

"Go on then."

a//n – this is what you came for, right? 😂 just a little something to get my writing juices flowing again and to those new to the blog – hi! welcome to my mind lol x masterlist | askbox

[notafragilething]

Late Night Buck & Tommy Rambles: Surprise, Bitches. I'm Back!

It has been a very long, chaotic summer but I'm back. Now that we've gotten more than some CGI bees and mustache jokes I'm emerging from hiatus and ready for season eight of 911 to consume far to much of my time.

We have several new quotes from Tim, some stills from the season premiere and my predictions for this season. This is going to be a long one but I hope you'll read and comment. I've missed y'all and need to ramble because I have thoughts!

So let's start with the interviews. There are two that dropped that have caught my attention because they confirm that Tommy will be back and that Buck & Tommy are still together.

So What's New? These Articles! (They include stills from the episode as well)

There is the TVLine interview here from the 9th that gave us the following quote: "On the bright side, Buck’s relationship with Tommy is going strong (“They’re still getting to know each other a little better”), so at least he’ll have someone to complain to after a long day of putting up with his racist, sexist, homophobic boss."

Second, today we got an EW interview here by Patrick Gomez. I bring up the interviewer because you might recognize him as the same one who did an article on the Tommy deleted scene over the summer (which I swear, PR or marketing had to be involved with).

The important Buck & Tommy bit from the EW interview: Minear says not much time has passed between the events of the season 7 finale and the season 8 premiere, so there haven't been many developments in Buck and Tommy's relationship. "But we see that they're more comfortable together," he explains. "We'd definitely call them a couple. Obviously they're comfortable hanging out with Eddie, but when you couple with somebody, it takes up some of your time, so that also leaves Eddie a little bit out in the cold. Well, not out in the cold, but Buck doesn't have as much free time as he did before, let's put it that way."

So what do I think this means? Let's get into my predictions!

I'm going to start out by saying this is 100% speculation. I may be right, I might be wrong. I don't have some secret inside source that is sneaking me information. I'm just going off what we've gotten so far and vibes.

But...I've had the feeling for a while now that the show was going to commit to Buck and Tommy going into season eight. This started with the joint interview, the release of the deleted scene and the following articles about it (which did seem to possibly be influenced by PR/Marketing) and the lack of Buddie we've been getting so far in bts stuff.

Now, I know some buddie shippers have taken the Eddie mention in that EW quote as proof it's happening but truthfully? That seems like a very, very bad sign for them. To me, this seemed like a gentle way of preparing the fanbase that Buck and Eddie weren't going to be spending as much time together in season eight as in the past.

This lines up with what we saw at the end of season eight with Eddie really depending far to much on Buck to handle his issues (something Ryan himself commented on). We saw that didn't work out in the finale when Buck couldn't and wouldn't attempt to make Christopher stay for Eddie. I think this season is going to make Eddie face and handle his own issues without Buck. I predict they'll still be friends but I wouldn't be shocked if the "family" dynamic started to fade away.

The fact that they're also saying Buck and Tommy are comfortable and getting to know each other makes me think that they want to show us their relationship building and getting serious. Which would make narrative sense if you were planning this relationship to be long term.

I'm intrigued to see if this pattern continues with future interviews and promotions that will be dropping over the next two weeks.

I do have a theory of what might play out in the first three episodes but that includes some spoilers (and I like to keep these mostly spoiler-free outside of what is in articles and official promo) so I'll be posting that in a little bit as a separate post.

With all that said. I'm pretty excited for this season and Buck's storyline. How are you all feeling? You getting the same vibes as me?

[leleyenn]

Kagehina as an Autumn Couple and the Symbolism Behind It

So, I recently came across something really cool about symbolic representations of romantic relationships in movies, and out of curiosity, stumbled upon this video about "autumn-type couples": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h584bVKNm4c

Basically, many couples we see in movies follow specific patterns of development tied to the symbolism of each season. This means that couples can represent spring, summer, autumn, or winter types.

The most common types are autumn and spring couples. While watching the video that explains the traits of autumn couples, I couldn't help but think of the entire Kagehina dynamic and how it mirrors other fictional couples with similar contrasts. It's almost inevitable, considering how artistic Haikyuu!! is, not to see the parallel between Kagehina and other iconic fictional pairs.

Autumn symbolizes a couple with opposing personalities, where one character often represents the "trunk" and the other the "leaf," like a tree shedding its orange leaves in this season. The "trunk" character tends to be more grounded, reserved, and even a bit tough or “stubborn,” often carrying past traumas that shape their personality. This is a perfect fit for Kageyama, initially portrayed as hot-headed, "arrogant," isolated, and carrying unresolved past issues. On the other hand, the "leaf" character is typically more spontaneous, extroverted, playful, charismatic, and so on.

In the video, the main traits of an autumn-type couple are listed, which I’ll highlight in the Kagehina dynamic.

Opposite Personalities

It's no surprise that Kageyama and Hinata have clashing personalities in many ways; in fact, this is one of the main reasons for their frequent conflicts early in the series. Kageyama is often portrayed as "Winter," while Hinata is more of a "Summer" (we see this through their birth dates) and the Yin-Yang references in various panels and illustrations.

While Hinata, early on, is shown as sociable, charismatic, communicative, fun, and spontaneous, Kageyama is portrayed as more reserved, introverted, struggling with communication, and having difficulty dealing with his own emotions (like anger or loneliness).

A common element in many stories featuring these types of couples—and present in Haikyuu! as well—is that, despite their opposing personalities, the two end up having a lot in common! This shared ground allows for the development of their relationship. There are many examples of this with Kageyama and Hinata, from small things like their low academic performance to more central aspects of the story, like their mutual passion for volleyball.

Physical Appearance

This type of couple often stands out visually when we look for patterns, and this is where it really clicked for me. The “trunk” character tends to have cooler tones, and an incredibly common pattern is blue eyes and dark hair. Meanwhile, the “leaf” character is almost always a redhead. Remind you of anyone? Hahaha

Other couples with this characteristic (a red-haired character as part of an autumn couple): (taken from the recommended video)

Another interesting detail is that, to emphasize the lively personality of the "leaf" character, some may have messy hair, like Johnny’s, which resembles how Furudate draws Hinata's hair. In fact, in a few interviews, they mention Hinata’s hair being intentionally messy. Meanwhile, the “trunk” character's hair is often neater and more put-together, like Sam and Flint dynamic. Messy hair is also widely used in animation as a symbol of “eccentricity,” often as a nod to Albert Einstein.

"Hinata boke!!!"

Even the famous "Hinata, boke!" fits perfectly as a classic trope in fictional couples. It’s an interesting detail because it highlights the contrast between the characters' personalities. In almost all the films referenced, the "trunk" character calls the "leaf" character things like “crazy,” “weird,” “ridiculous,” or, in Kageyama’s case, “idiot” – a lot of “affectionate” nicknames, in a way. It’s similar to Mavis calling Johnny "clueless" or Gru calling Lucy “weird.” And one of the first things Kageyama says to Hinata when they start playing together is…

Development

The development of an autumn couple's relationship happens as the "trunk" character begins to understand the "leaf" character better, seeing the world from their perspective and allowing both to balance each other’s personalities. In the end, the leaf character becomes more grounded, and the trunk character learns to address their own inner challenges. For Kageyama, Hinata helped him overcome the stigma of being the "King of the Court," while Kageyama helped Hinata become a stronger volleyball player, even encouraging Hinata to adopt better self-care habits and consistently emphasizing the importance of solid passing on the court—skills that later made Hinata one of the most complete players in the V League by the timeskip. Additionally, Hinata starts setting aside his impulsive nature to make more strategic game decisions, which becomes clear during Kageyama’s national training arc.

Typically, the trunk character will challenge the leaf character to take a more serious approach, and when the leaf character does, the trunk character, in turn, takes on a behavior or habit that the leaf character desired, symbolizing trust.

For Kageyama and Hinata’s relationship, this development is seen throughout the series, but the first moment it truly happens is when Kageyama sets up a toss for Hinata. Kageyama insists Hinata improve his passing skills, only then promising to set for him. So, Hinata trains hard and proves he can deliver a solid passing. Recognizing this, Kageyama finally sets up a toss for Hinata to spike, which Hinata had hoped for from the beginning.

Moreover, Kageyama takes on Hinata's impulsive style when they create their first quick attack, with Hinata jumping with his eyes closed.

They’re the kind of pair that matures together, and after finding balance, they end up sharing similar goals with the same intensity and passion. For Kagehina, that means spending as much time as possible on the court to play volleyball (whether on the same or different teams, but always connected).

Conclusion

In conclusion, Hinata and Kageyama embody all the core traits of an "autumn couple." Even though their love is canonically platonic, seeing these details and patterns reflected in other stories is fascinating, helping us appreciate their relationship even more and reinforcing the idea that these two truly love each other! Romantically or platonically—take your pick, haha!

[kenora-pizza]

Musical Musings - TTTE edition, Part 2

ALRIGHT!

My first musical analysis post has been getting a LOT of attention in the past few days or so. So first off, thank you for the love everyone, that was one of my favourite posts to make (besides the crackhead Gordon and Henry shitpost and my "Emily in the middle" rant). Second, since it appears that people like this sorta thing, I figured I'd share a couple more things that I've noticed, one of which I didn't put in the first post cause I figured people had already  noticed it so it didn't need to be said. But I think I'll put it in anyways, just because. So let's get into it!

In pt. 1, I talked about the fact that Henry's theme has an occurrence of "3," in that each of the 4 beats in a bar was a triplet, and how Henry is the number 3 engine. Well, I was listening to his theme again and found two more occurrences of "3" in the introductory bars of the theme. For reference, I am talking about this part:

 Each bar has the following rhythm:

Now, the first occurrence of 3 comes from the fact that the first 3 beats have the same rhythm, as shown in the above image. The second occurrence of 3 comes from the fact that the last beat of the bar is a triplet. 3 notes. Tack on the first occurrence of 3 from the first post, and you're 3 for 3 for NWR no. 3. HMMM........

2. Continuing with the subject of Henry's theme, this observation has probably already been made several times over, but I figured I'd put it in to continue the "Henry's theme" trend. If you take a listen to Henry's sad theme, you'll notice that its repeating motif is part of Henry's main theme in a different, minor, key with a different rhythm and at a slower tempo.

Take a listen.

The opening fragment of Henry's main theme:

The main motif of Henry's sad theme:

And in sheet music:

Henry's theme (Eb major):

Henry's sad theme (B minor):

The numbers indicate the note's position within its scale. As you can see, both themes share the same note pattern. To get Henry's sad theme, you'd transpose the theme down a diminished 4th (i.e, move the notes down by this interval) to B major, and then adjust the D# and G# in the resulting melody to D natural and G natural to fit within the B minor scale so that it sounds sad. Nice job, Mike & Junior, very clever.

Just in case anyone is confused, the notes for the B major & minor scales are shown below:

3. Donald and Douglas' CGI whistles are the notes of C and A respectively. These notes are related in a couple of ways. The first/lowest note on a standard 88-key piano is an A, and the last/highest note is a C. Given the twins' original BR numbers (57646 & 57647 respectively), it appears that Douglas is the younger of the two, so their whistle notes make sense in this context. Additionally, as mentioned in pt. 1, the keys of C major and A minor are related in that they share a key signature of no accidentals (ie, no sharps, flats, double sharps or double flats, yes those last two exist and they gave me hell as a kid). Thus, the whistle notes would make sense in this context.

You'll often see modulation from either C major to A minor or vice versa in classical music. Two contrasting, yet complimentary keys with their own characters and personalities which work well together. Just like Donald and Douglas.

4. I was rewatching some of the season 7 episodes which have Arthur in them. And I think I kinda forgot how fucking huge this guy is. I also noticed just how low his whistle is in comparison to the other tank engines, perhaps emphasizing his bigger size and his more serious attitude in comparison to them.

Whew, this was a long post. I hope you guys enjoy this post as much as you did the last one.

[the-queen-and-the-king]

A little piece of paradise - 6

Summary: After a rough interrogation, Emily and Aaron finally found the little girl abducted by this couple and their son who were following an old ritual. However, Aaron seems disturbed by the way he had to act to win the case.

It follows S04E13 "Bloodline"

Characters: Aaron Hotchner and Emily Prentiss

Contents: talk about abusive relationship, family violence (against spouse and children), drunk parent, and CM murder stuff NSFW/Minors DNI

This text will be an AU with a sudden canon-divergence. I wrote it when I was rewatching the show, so many chapters will be directly related to some episodes of season 4. There will be 28 chapters.

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3

___

Emily looked left and right, then down the deserted corridor to Aaron's room. The investigation they had been following for the previous few days had ended on a sour note. They had captured the suspects and recovered the little girl they had abducted, alive and in one piece; but at the same time, they had discovered that this trio of malefactors was just one among many, and that they were free to move about, ready to perpetrate the same modus operandi again and again. This kind of bitter end always sticks in the throat of profilers, but she also knew that her lover was having an even harder time of it than they were, because of his position of responsibility. Each lost case meant fewer arguments to justify the agency's expenses and obtain an adequate budget to ensure their smooth operation. So, she knocked on his door with the idea of cheering him up, by any means necessary.

As she'd suspected, he wasn't asleep, so it wasn't long before he opened it. He let her close behind her as he slowly retraced his steps. He looked dejected, downcast, and clearly not in the mood to have a good time with her. The young woman took it in her stride and moved towards him to snuggle up against his chest. He was leaning against the desk, facing the bed. He put his arms around her but went no further.

“Are you okay?” she asked, lifting her chin.

“No”, he answered, honest.

If Aaron had so much trouble with the political aspect of his status as director, it was because he didn't know any better than to be frank and sincere. An attitude that offended more than one pride, which he couldn't care less about. At least he had a clear conscience. However, he would sometimes embellish reality or turn a blind eye to what he wished to conceal when faced with people he cared about and didn't want to worry. So, officially, his wife had left him because he'd neglected her, and he could hear perfectly well out of his right ear. Two white lies designed to focus his subordinates' attention away from himself. She was the only exception to his pattern. For some reason he was still unable to explain, he had, one night, told her what had really happened between him and Haley. Part of the fault lay with him, but Jack's mother wasn't innocent either. As for his eardrum, she knew that its acuity had been halved, and reduced further when tired.

He told her everything because he trusted her, and he wanted to be as transparent as possible with her. He hadn't been enough during his previous union, and it had backfired. The lesson had been a bitter one, and he had no intention of repeating the same mistake with his new companion, who was also trying to open up more. Which was no mean feat when you had her past, and it was still a secret she hadn't shared. The closer she got to Aaron and the more attached she became to him, the more she thought about how she would one day broach the subject. But tonight, was not the time. Her lover wasn't well, and she had to help him to be positive.

“Is it because of the investigation?” she went on, her own arms around his chest.

“More or less.”

“More or less? What that’s supposed to mean?”

The giant heaved a long sigh. Since she'd entered, he hadn't looked at her. He stared at the wall in front of him without really seeing it, lost in thought.

“You know, now that we know their M.O., we'll be able to get our hands on the others in no time,” she stressed, to ease the tension she felt behind his back. “We'll get the information out to all the police forces, and they'll do what's necessary.”

This was what she had been repeating to herself since they left the police station, to put her mind at rest. A method that doesn't work very well on her partner.

“It's not that,” he disclosed dully.

“What is it then?”

“It’s…”

His muscles tensed under her fingers. What he was about to say was going to be as difficult to deliver as it was to hear. She remained in position, ready to take it.

“It’s this… bad cop thing…”

He stopped there, his eyes brighter than usual. He was hurt. Mentally hurt.

“Then, what?” she encouraged him. “It’s a role. This isn’t really you.”

“Yes.”

She saw him swallow, increasingly uncomfortable. 

“What? Why do you say that?” she questioned, puzzled.

“… My… my father used to beat my mother,” he said, barely audible.

Emily stiffened, more attentive than ever. No one knew anything about Hotch's past until he began his studies. It was information he was retaining four times over in his memory and which he flatly refused to talk about. Even to her. And what he'd just revealed already explained his silence on the subject. This explained a lot of other things too about his behavior. She answered nothing, letting him develop at his own pace.

“Not… not when he was sober,” he pursued, tightening his embrace around her without being conscious of it. “There, he was content to be abject with her. But... when he'd been drinking... anything would set him off and... he'd go down on her. And... later, when... I was old enough to defend her... he hit me too.”

She saw a tear roll down his cheek but didn't dare intercept it for fear of breaking the spell. A vise was closing around her own chest, even though she had nothing to do with it. The pain he must be feeling at this moment was surely terrible, but he carried on regardless, still without meeting her eyes.

“I… I promise myself not to be like him. To… to never let anger win. But… it’s impossible.”

His voice had broken at this realization. He lowered his nose and closed his eyes, letting two new tears escape. His companion understood that it was her turn to play. She put her hands on his face to make him listen.

“Aaron, you’re not your father. You’ve got nothing to do with him.”

“I’m scaring people.”

“No, not at all.”

“Jordan fears me. You are all fear me. That woman was afraid of me. Like… like my mother.”

She forced him to lean towards her so that he could put his head on her shoulder, and she could comfort him more easily. He didn't struggle and hugged her, crying silently into the hollow of her neck. She stroked his hair tenderly and whispered in his ear:

“Aaron, we're not scared because you're evil. You’re just… impressive. You're head and shoulders above everyone else.”

“Spencer is as tall as me,” he mumbled, sniffing.

“Yes, but he's as thick as a potato chip,” she joked to make him smile. “You're tall, square, well-dressed, well-coiffed and you've got a trailer voice. So, yes, it’s true, you do impress us.”

She couldn't have said otherwise anyway, since they were all clenching their butts when he frowned in their direction.

“Jordan doesn't know you like we do, and she doesn't have our training. She stops at what everyone else sees at first glance, and so doesn't get that behind it all is an absolutely adorable teddy bear.”

He had ceased to cry. He listened intently to what she had to say. She was weighing her words. His companion was intelligent and could easily slip through the cracks in an argument to turn it against the litigant. A remnant of his past as a prosecutor. So, she had to lock everything down so he wouldn't take advantage of it to denigrate himself further.

“As for this woman, that was the whole point. It wouldn't have made sense for me to play you, she asserted in passing. And, once again, it was only a role.”

“But I didn’t need to force myself. I was really mad.”

“Like all of us,” she objected, earnestly. “We were all furious at what they'd done to this little girl. Furious at what they had done to their own child. Not even of age and already a murderer, it's despicable.”

Just thinking about it made her insides contract. This kid would never have a normal life, even if he were entrusted to the hands of good, honest adopters. He had killed two people, assisted in the murders of two others and helped kidnap two young girls. It wasn't something you could erase from your memory as easily as falling off your bike or getting a bad mark on an exam. Worst of all, he had to be convinced he'd done nothing wrong. It was revolting, and it was no aberration to be overcome by rage at this terrible reality.

Aaron calmed down and released the pressure around his companion's chest. Emily took the opportunity to give him a kiss on the cheek before pulling away to press her forehead against his. She tried to capture his gaze and he let himself be caught.

“Feeling better?”

He nodded and smiled shyly.

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

He shook his head.

“The others will wonder.”

“Why? You go down first at breakfast, then they follow and, as usual, I'll be the last to join you.”

The giant pouted, but she was confident. It was the truth. The director was an early riser who was always dressed well before anyone else. On the other hand, she was more the type to leave home at the last minute before being late, with only a cup of coffee in her stomach, and to arrive at the office when everyone else was already on the warpath. A rhythm of life that could have divided them, but which actually suited them in this kind of situation. Everyone could escape from their partner's room without running the risk of crossing paths with their colleagues. It was only on weekends that their rituals harmonized: he'd hang out in bed to enjoy her presence, and she'd accompany him out of the sheets to take the time to relish a real breakfast.

“No one's going to see me leave this place,” she assured him, tranquilizing him.

“... All right,” he agreed, cheerlessly.

“Unless you don't want me to stay...”

“Yes, I do!” he rushed to say, tightening his grip around her.

Her lover may not have been good at verbally expressing his innermost thoughts and emotions – which was hardly surprising given what she now knew about his childhood – but his gestures spoke for him. He really didn't want her to go. She smiled and kissed him.

“We’ll make love tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“Cool!”

His lips stretched more serenely and landed on hers. A few moments later, they were lying under the comforter, he on his back, she curled up against his body, hand and leg wrapped around him. He himself had placed his fingers on hers and his other palm on her shoulder. Eyelids closed, they slept peacefully, reassured by the proximity of their loved one. 

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First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/the-queen-and-the-king/771016298484334592/a-little-piece-of-paradise-1?source=share

Next chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/the-queen-and-the-king/774821373161930752/a-little-piece-of-paradise-7?source=share

[veronicaleighauthor]

The Great Depression

It’s odd to admit that The Great Depression fascinates me, especially since it was a dark period in American history. But it does fascinate me, enough so that I’ve written several short stories and a couple novels (unpublished) based in the era. How people lived, what they ate, how they entertained themselves – most of all how they survived that period – it intrigues me.

Following WWI, during the Roaring Twenties the economy and America thrived. The present and future appeared bright. A few economists predicted that the good times couldn’t last forever, but the world paid little attention. Throughout 1929, there were signs of a slowing economy, and then on October 24th – what is now known as Black Thursday – the stock market crashed. In the following weeks, it was confirmed that the perpetual party of the 1920’s was over and that a new, bleak era was being ushered in.

For the next decade, America and the rest of the world endured the Great Depression. Images of bank closures and people lined up for soup kitchen often crop up in the history books and on the internet. As well as the famous photograph of the careworn mother and her children. My four grandparents lived through the Great Depression and that part of their lives affected their experiences and behavior. Even late in life, they couldn’t shake off those memories. Growing up, I heard countless stories of those days. My grandmother, Margaret, was very candid about the past. She would have just turned twelve when the stock market crashed and she would have been sixteen in 1933, which was considered one of the worst years during the Depression. Her memories were vivid, painting a picture that the history books couldn’t. She was the third of six children – her eldest brother died as a baby – her father was a boiler maker and her mother a housewife. They were a loving Christian family, which is what I believe brought them through the hardest of times. Grandma and her family never went hungry, however, there were many times they didn’t know they’d make ends meet. Yet somehow, they always did.

Hobos would show up on their back porch. A picture of a cat had been drawn on their fence, signaling to other hobos that a kind lady lived there. And my great-grandmother, Edith, was kind, feeding whoever was hungry. If great-grandpa, Charles was present, the visitor would be welcomed in the kitchen to eat and for a nice conversation. Charles always had a job, unfortunately he didn’t always have work and was often sent home. By 1933, his health began to fail and two weeks before Margaret’s sixteenth birthday, he died. Extended family planned to help, by splitting up the family. So-and-So would take Margaret, So-and-So would take Bettie, So-and-So would take Russel…but Edith was adamant: “We may starve together, but we will stay together.” For the remainder of the 1930s, they banded together to survive.

The weather seemed to turn against the country as well. Dust storms struck all over America, costing lives and ruining livelihoods. It soon became known as the Dust Bowl. Lightening accompanied the storms, and folks would hang chains off the bumpers of their cars to prevent them from being stuck. If caught in a dust storm, one would have to cover their face with a cloth and walk backwards against the gusts. Houses had to be shut up tight, windows closed and key holes plugged to prevent the dust from seeping in. But old houses had their crevices and dust would get in somehow. Decades later, Margaret and others who lived through the Dust Bowl, out of habit would place cups and bowls upside down in the cabinets because that is what they did to prevent dust from collecting on their dishes.

Clothing was rarely store bought. Dresses were made from stylishly printed feed sacks, using patterns, and sewn by hand, or by sewing machine. Sweaters and cardigans were knitted or crocheted. Shoes were worn at work and school, but at home if the weather was seasonable, they went barefoot to preserve their shoes. Clothing was patched and mended and passed from one sibling down to another, then onto another family. Like many of that era, Margaret left high school early to work. She was first a maid, then she worked in a number of factories. Her earnings of $4 a week went to the household. Later during WWII, when she earned $16, she was allowed to keep $4 for herself, and felt she was rich.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt was elected president and was eventually voted into office three more terms, holding the position until his death in 1945. After Herbert Hoover, who was oblivious to the suffering of the American people, many trusted Roosevelt would lead the nation through the dark times. His New Deal, his relief programs, his steadiness, his fireside chats were a beacon of hope. His assurances that they had “nothing to fear but fear itself” spoke volumes. Despite his attempts to alleviate the financial woes and troubles of the 1930s, the US didn’t rise out of the Great Depression until the onslaught of WWII.

            Years later, Grandma told me that her life had been a hard one, but it had been good and satisfying. I believe many of that era would say as much. I don’t know if it is the Great Depression that is my favorite era, or if it’s the people who lived during that time. They possessed an indomitable spirit. After the Great Depression, they endured WWII and more or less saved the world. That generation proved to us that whatever trials we may face today, this too shall pass.

[syngoniums]

Amorphophallus (and similar tuberous aroids) incoming!

In past years, I've thrown the corms I've had in a couple of large pots and called it a day. While this is the most convenient way to do it, it causes some cultural problems. Not all species emerge from dormancy at the same time or rate*, and the same is true going into dormancy. This means some corms are at risk of rotting if you water the actively growing plants.

Complicating this further is the fact that amorphophallus can be broadly divided into two groups. Some species, specifically the more cold hardy ones like konjac, paeoniifolius and bulbifer, follow a pretty regular schedule; they begin to emerge from dormancy around March or April, and can be potted up by May or June. They go dormant as days shorten and cool in the autumn, and their corms can be dug up for storage in a cool, dry place until temperatures warm.

Other species, like titanum, don't necessarily follow this seasonal pattern. They may go dormant in response to factors like a change in environmental conditions (e.g., being brought indoors for winter) or being left dry too long. They may not go dormant at all some years, in optimal conditions. Their dormancies are usually significantly shorter too, and they will not tolerate much cold. This means they need more attention throughout the year, and should be left potted when dormant, because they do best with a little water here and there. Some non-amorphophallus like Anchomanes and Gonatopus also require this treatment. There's a more extensive article on this here, but long story short, you need to know which is which.

I have not been mixing the two groups, but having obtained a number of new species recently, I decided it was finally time to get rid of the community pot approach to reduce potential losses overall. Most of the big corms actually lost some mass in last year's extreme heat and drought, so this will hopefully allow me to better control conditions and speed up their recovery. The downside? So many fucking pots. So many smaller pots, too. Time to find some new outdoor shelving.

*This is a callout post for Sauromatum giganteum particularly, forever the kid who sleeps through their 8AM classes

[minniethemoocherda]

Sins of the Past: Brown Eyes

Summery:  A collection of drabbles set in my modern au where the Bad Batch raise Omega after rescuing her from the abusive hands of their mother. In this chapter, Tech finds himself constantly running into the one and only Phee Genoa.

A/N:  I have fallen head over heels for Tech x Phee! Tech deserves some love! And Phee is so cool! I had to write a chapter about them! I hope this fluff makes up for all the previous load of angst as for once this chapter does not contain any warnings! I hope you enjoy! And Happy Bad Batch Finale Eve everyone! I can't believe the season is almost over already! Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck around with this fic since season 1! Or if you started reading in season 2! The amount of support I have gotten from this fic has been unbelievable so again thank you! Xxxxxxxx

Tech had always been good at spotting patterns. Whether that be in art or maths or people. And recently he had begun to notice a pattern emerging in regards to one person in particular.

It all started when he and his brothers were fixing up Cid's bar. Bolo and Ketch had gotten into an argument with another couple which ended up with the two of them getting thrown across the bar into the wall. Cid had brought them in to fix the old wooden panelling.

Whilst they worked, the bar was supposed to be closed. But that didn't stop a woman with dark skin, golden coiled hair and an upturned smile from walking in. Tech was about to inform her that they were currently closed, when Cid brushed him off, saying that the woman was an old friend of hers that had recently moved back into town. Her name was Phee.

Tech hadn't given their first interaction much thought. She had hung around the bar, chatting to his brothers whilst she caught up with Cid but besides calling him Brown Eyes, they didn't talk much.

The bad batch had made a habit of going to Cid's bar for dinner on Thursdays as it was one of its quieter days so Cid gave them a personal discount if they came. Not long after their first meeting, Tech noticed that Phee had also begun to make a habit of appearing on Thursday's, to hang around with Cid and enthral Omega with tales of her exploits as a treasure hunter. At first, Tech assumed that as a close associate of Cid, Phee was also taking advantage of a personal discount.

But then she started making an appearance at their jobs sites as well. Not seemingly on Cid's behalf, just to tell more of her tales whilst they worked. Tech didn't mind her presence as she never distracted him from his work and he had to admit that he did find her stories entertaining if outlandish. At the time his new hypothesis was that she was simply making up for lost time by catching up with Cid after being away for so long.

And then she showed up outside of Omega's school.

Tech was waiting to pick up his little sister when the familiar voice called out across the playground.

"Fancy seeing you here Brown Eyes!"

He turned around and as expected, leaning against the school fence stood Phee.

"Good afternoon. I'm here to pick up Omega. What are you doing here?" He asked, as she made her way over to him.

"Well I'm here for my niece." She replied, "Ain't that a coincidence huh?"

Tech was starting to put the pieces together that their continued meetings were probably more than a coincidence.

But before he could delve deeper into that thought, the school bell rang out across the playground, shortly followed by the hordes of children.

In the past months under their care, Tech had become quite adapt at picking out the blonde head of his younger sister out of a crowd. He soon spotted Omega running across the playground towards him along with a similarly aged girl with familiar coiled hair and dark brown skin who had to be Phee's niece.

The girl leapt into Phee's open arms. Tech was impressed by the treasure hunter's strength. He knew how deceptively heavy growing children could be.

After a spin, Phee settled them back onto the ground.

"Allow me to introduce Lyana!" She said with a dramatic bow. Lyana gave a welcome wave to Tech.

"A please to meet you." Tech said.

Phee, stroked her hand over the Lyana's head. Although her eyes were on Tech, she appeared to be subconsciously detangling some of the girl's curls. Lyana was smiling at her aunts antics like she was the greatest person in the universe.

Until this moment, Tech hadn't fully realised how good Phee was with children. He knew that she was an engaging storyteller with the exploits she would tell Omega about but he hadn't noticed until now all the extra exaggerations and efforts she would put in to make the child laugh. In fact Phee was very good at a lot of things. Tech had seen her off handily complete her brothers' maths without calculator a calculator as she wondered around their building sites. And she was still the only person who gave him a challenge when playing chess at Cid's bar.

And it wasn't until this moment that he found that the rings of gold in her hair, made her eyes shine like amber.

Tech took his glasses off, to ensure that it wasn't just reflections of the glass. But if anything, the lack of glass only made them shine brighter.

He was so distracted by them, that it took him a minute to tell that Phee had continued talking.

"Now we just need to find something to do to until your Daddy is done with his meeting." Phee was saying to Lyana.

"Maybe you could watch a movie?" Omega suggested. "Tech is taking me to the cinema to see the first Pirates of the Caribbean because they're re-releasing it for its tenth anniversary and I've never seen it!"

"Then you are in for a treat!" Phee exclaimed with her usual enthusiasm. "That's my favourite film of all time!"

"Perhaps you would like to join us?"

Tech wasn't aware he had spoken until he found all three sets of eyes turned to him.

Omega was giving him the same look that his brothers often did when they were around Phee that he hadn't quite deciphered the meaning behind yet. So he turned his focus back to Phee who's ever present smile had settled into something softer.

"Oh Brown Eyes, I was starting to think you'd never ask."

[salchat]

Secret Flowers

Next year… Another year and another and another, which Dean had never really let himself think about before, because you didn’t if you were a hunter. You didn’t take those years, or even the next few months, or even the next few weeks for granted. But seasons and apples came every year, rolling around and around into the future, and in the most secret part of Dean’s mind a faint, wavering flame sparked to life, like the tiniest of birthday candles - maybe, just maybe there would be years for him.

But for now, he turned his attention back to the house and carefully climbed the creaking steps to the wrap-around verandah. The steps held and, though some of the boards between them and the front door definitely looked rotted through, there were enough that were sound. Dean pulled the house keys from his jeans pocket, unlocked the door and went in.

And ten minutes later he was out again - decision made. The place was a mess, but it would be his mess to fix. The walls were peeling, the floors scuffed, the wiring lethal, the plumbing outdated to the point of serious lead-poisoning. The kitchen range was rusty, the windows swollen and warped in their frames, and birds had gotten into the bedrooms and left shit everywhere.

But Dean’s mind swept all that away and just saw what he could do with the place. He could change it from a crappy old ruin to a place where you could live - he could make it a home. His hands itched and twitched for the work and his mind craved the satisfaction that would come from fixing and mending and making new, Instead of the fighting and bleeding and killing he’d done all his life.

He locked the door and followed the pattern of safe boards over the verandah and down the steps and back to his Baby, waiting for him patiently on the churned-up, weed-infested driveway. Then his eye was drawn once more to the orchard. Hiding in the trees were a couple or maybe a few boxy, lop-sided shapes, choked all around with weeds, looking like tiny versions of the old house, or maybe - and Dean hoped not - weirdly geometric termite mounds.

He pushed his way through the tall, tangled grasses, swore at the reaching arms of briars that caught on his jeans and ducked beneath the low branches of an apple tree.

They were beehives. Very old, falling to bits and not a bee in sight, but they were definitely beehives. Dean reached out slowly and let his fingertips ghost up a rough, sloping edge and down the other side of one of the little pitched roofs.

And then he was on his knees, his forehead resting against the warm, splintery wood. And his breath was coming in painful, choking sobs and his fists were grasping desperately at bunches of the tough, thigh-high grass.

He cried like a little kid, letting it all come pouring out - all of the pain and confusion and tamped-down despair and agony and black, bleak horror of the past few months. Tears and snot ran down his face. His throat ached and his head pounded and he sobbed and moaned and wanted. He wanted what he couldn’t have, because Dean could never have the things he truly wanted - wanted with soul-deep longing. Because although Cas was back from the Empty, he’d come back broken. He wasn’t the angel who had told Dean he loved him.

Now, Cas hid from him.

Now, Cas didn’t want Dean, or he didn’t want to be back, or he didn’t even believe he was back. Or whatever. Dean just didn’t know. He didn’t know anything anymore and because he was totally alone in this abandoned, unloved place, he could admit to his despair, just this once, and let it take him over, just this once.

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Three chapters posted, one more tomorrow and then more as and when, because I’m having a lot of fun letting this story ramble on!