#i can’t even skim through this episode without crying

[newpartnerincrime]

It's Lucy.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

De(railed) +18

Summary: The canon episode "Derailed" reimagined where Reader is sent on the solo interview and Spencer, recklessly, decides to save her. Plus, the aftermath.

CW: mommy kink sub! Spencer x dom! female (she/her) reader, cum play, penetrative sex, light degradation, praise kink, light choking (mentioned), edging, calling him a slut (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 6 K (this is the longest thing I've ever written!)

Author's Note: Special thank you to @shemarmooresfedora for reading this for me because I was very nervous about the smut portion. And a very special thank you to @notanotherreidgirl for inspiring this idea! this was my ask so yeah, this is a little out there for me so be kind (*dips into the shadows*). Also I either really hate or really love this title :)

Taglist: You can join the taglist here!

De(railed)

Sitting on the train, headed towards Virginia for the custodial interview, you tried to remind yourself what Spencer said to you the previous night when you dropped him off at his apartment. You had his hands in yours and you could feel him shake with nerves when he spoke.

He told you that he believes in you. Even when you think that Hotch and Gideon are sending you out to the solo interview too early, Spencer believes in you. If only you’d believe a little bit in yourself, then maybe you’d be able to figure out a way off this train, but an armed man and innocent passengers proves that a little challenging.

The man passes the train up and down and you tell yourself to relax. In hindsight, it seems like a horrible series of events that lead to the man shooting the train attendant. You’ve done your best to keep him calm until the police can see him off the train. Looking outside, you see SWAT, local PD, and FBI lined up 50 yards from the train.

Continuing to wave his gun around the train, the unsub rants about wanting to talk to a higher authority. To yourself, to wish that Spencer was here with you. He’d have figured out exactly what was wrong with the man by now. For less than professional reasons, you’re forever grateful that he’s not here- that he’s safe on the other side of the train.

“He’s out of his mind,” the man holding a bottle of whiskey says, “You gotta do something, lady,” he says, taking a swig of his drink. Your eyes dart to him and back up the doctor, the unsub’s psychologist, looking for a way out.

You breathe deeply, hoping that the BAU would come up with a plan. Knowing FBI protocol, you expect them to try to initiate a line of communication. Glancing over at the unsub, you think that he’ll want to talk to someone who looks like they are powerful. That would be either Hotch or Gideon. Selfishly, you’re grateful that Spencer still looks like an underpaid TA with a toy gun attached at his hip.

“No! Please, don’t hurt me!” the young woman screams, trying to release herself from the man, Ted’s, grip. He releases her, throwing her to the ground when his phone rings.

Gideon.

On the phone with Gideon, the man demands for something to be removed. You can’t hear what he’s saying to the unsub, but you place the little faith you have left into hoping your team can save you.

***

His vest is much too big for him.

That’s all you can think of when you realize Spencer is the “technician” that they’re sending in. His tie and shirt stick awkwardly and there is a gap in his shoulders around the vest. The straps are pulled so tight that they nearly fold over. His hands aren’t shaking when he carries the small black box, but his eyes look terrified.

You want to reach out to him, maybe hold his hand or brush the strands of hair that have fallen into his face, but you can’t. You have to sit there and pretend that this is the first time you’ve met him. It’s excruciatingly sick and mildly amusing in an equally twisted way. The first time you’ve come to terms with loving Spencer, you both can very well die.

“I’m here for the chip,” Spencer says, holding his hands up, “the higher authorities sent me,” he claims, feeding into the unsubs delusion. You shield your glance, unable to trust yourself from launching yourself in between Spencer and the man with the gun.

“That’s far enough and drop your weapons,” Ted says, holding the crying woman by her neck, “and take that vest off. I want to see you,”

“I don’t have any weapons. They don’t authorize them for-”

“I said take it off!” the man shouts, throwing the woman to the ground.

Spencer complies, taking off the much too big vest and tossing it to the ground. He holds his hands up, playing the part of the unsuspecting underling well. He reaches out to Ted, showing him the tools that he’ll use to take out the “chip”. You wonder how Spencer will pull it off, but you know he will in the end.

Spencer digs into the man’s skin with the scalpel. You can’t catch the sleight of hand, but you know that’s what he used.

“I have to leave, the higher authorities need the chip-”

“Turn it on,” Ted orders, “Turn it on!” he screams, his voice booming in the small train.

Spencer’s eyes dart to yours thinking of ways that he can get out of here. He looks almost sorry, and you feel a wave of intense regret. The thousands of times you could have said those little words seem so simple now.

“I can’t turn it on,” Spencer says, “I can’t turn it on,” You hate how scared he sounds, and you hate even more how you have to pretend that you don’t know him.

“Why!” the unsub yells, thrashing the gun around, “You’re one of them!”

Thinking quickly when you see him point the gun at Spencer’s face, you jump to your feet. You push Spencer out of the way, terrified that he’ll do something rash. You can’t lose Spencer, not when you’ve hadn’t had the chance to have him yet.

“It needs to be implanted to be activated,” you say, “I know this stuff Ted, I’m a Fed. Only me. Everyone else,Ted is just innocent. Just let them go, Ted,” you plead, “Just let them go,”

“No!” he yells, shooting up into the ceiling of the train, “no!”

The windows are closed, but you suspect that Hotch and Gideon have the train surrounded by now. Spencer moves closer to you, staring at the man as he scratches his upper arm. He drops his hand towards yours and squeezes, like he’s saying sorry and saying goodbye all in one touch. You don’t realize this before it’s too late.

“Doctor Brier,” Spencer says, standing up with his hands near his head, “you’re right, there’s more-”

“Just make it stop!” the desperate man pleas, “Make it stop!”

“I know what it’s like, Ted. The voices, they’ve been talking to you since you were a kid. They don’t stop. I know what it’s like Ted,” Spencer says, inching closer and closer to him, “Leo? Why don’t you let him think for himself?” Spencer says, trying to use the man’s delusion against him.

“Don’t! Stop, you’re trying to trick me!” the man begs, whipping the gun around too close to Spencer’s face, “stop!”

You always listen to Spencer. Whatever he talks about, you listen. From Russian cinema to Star Trek to the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture, you listen to him. It’s not that hard and it’s easy to get lost in his eyes or the way his hands move when he talks. But the seconds leading up to when the gunshot goes off, you’re not listening.

Because without Spencer, there isn’t much worth listening to.

***

Your eyes are squeezed shut so when a large hand hovers over your shoulder you jump at the touch. It takes you all of ten seconds to realize it’s Spencer. You look him over, searching for signs of mortal wounds that will rip him from your clutches, but there isn’t any.

“You’re okay,” you say, wanting nothing more but to kiss him or yell at him, or maybe a mix of the two, “you’re okay,” you repeat, not fully believing it the first time.

“We’re okay,” Spencer says, hugging you tight as you collapse into his arms, not caring if the rest of the team watches.

“I haven’t been fair to you, Spence,” you say, breaking from the hug to caress his face. You stop, holding his face in your hands, soaking him in, “you’re not someone who gets strung along, baby. I fucking love you and you-you mean so much to me. And I hate-I hate that it took you almost dying for me to realize that,” you cry, unable to care anymore.

“You love me?” Spencer whispers, unable, himself to care that they have an audience, “You love me back, but I’m, I-I,”

“Spencer,” you tell him, pausing to kiss him fully, “I,” you plant another kiss, on his right cheek, “love,” left cheek, “you,” forehead.

“You do, don’t you?” he says, looking at you with a proud smirk, “I guess that’s good because, I love you, Y/N. I don’t go risk my life just for everyone,”

“Watch yourself, baby,” you remind him, channeling the surge of pure life that runs through your veins, “you’re in for it later, my darling,” you tell him, whispering into his ear so only he can hear.

***

You didn’t even give him time to breathe before you pushed him up against the wall. Spencer’s hands still held yours, you don’t think that he dropped them since you two safely exited the train. He whimpers through the kiss, his breathy moan only serving to spur you on. His hands broke from yours, clinging to your waist. Spencer tries to peel your clothes from your skin, but he's much too distracted by your lips that travel across his cheekbones and down to his neck. He’s breathless and panting, but you don’t let up. If he’s breathing, he’s alive and that’s all that matters now.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry,” Spencer pleads, the desperation in his voice causing you to pause from your attack on his neck, “I-I, Y/N,” he stutters, feeling empty without your kisses.

“I’m not mad, sweet boy. I’m not mad at you,” you say, laying on a sweet voice as your fingers skim through Spencer’s hair. He’s shaking slightly and closes his eyes, looking like he’s grateful to be alive.

“You’re not, but I wasn’t good,” he whispers, “I wasn’t good for you, Mommy,”

You do everything in your power to keep your composure, but after a day like today, you’re ready to melt into him. He might be the one begging at your feet soon, but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s you who's wrapped around his finger. He looks up at you, with his back leaning against the wall; his face flushed pink and marks littering his neck.

“You scared me, Spence. I thought- I just let me take care of you,” you request, dropping your hands from his hair and grabbing onto his hand as you lead him to your bedroom. You’ve made it a habit to go to your place after cases; Spencer claims that the sunlight that dips into your bedroom in the morning is more pleasant than his view of the street, but you know he just prefers your bed and the attention he gets at your place.

“Please, Y/N,” he begs, following you into the bedroom. He’s at your heels and burrowed deeply in your heart, exactly where you want him.

You drop his hands, guiding him so his knees hit the edge of your plush bed. He kicks off his shoes and starts to undo his tie and shirt, but you stop him before he gets the chance.

“Let me do that for you, baby. I’m taking care of you tonight,” you say, feeling your heart swell as he looks up at you adoringly, “Mommy’s got you, my brave boy,” you tell him, your fingers grazing over his cheekbones, his nose and eyes. His eyes close as you continue to draw shapeless shapes over his skin.

“Thank you,” he mutters, saying it like a pray as he relaxes for the first time today, “thank you, Mommy,”

You smile at the name, enjoying how pliant he is as you unbutton his shirt and loosen his tie. His flushed cheeks lead down his equally flushed chest. You place both your legs over his body, hovering over him as you straddle him. The proximity eggs him on and the minimal friction near his pants causes him to buck up words. Mercilessly, you chuckle at his attempt to get off. You want nothing more than to put him out of his misery, but watching him squirm for the tiniest bit of affection— your affection makes you nearly as desperate as Spencer.

“Patience, sweetheart,” you tell him, harshly pulling off his shirt as you nibble on his ear. He whimpers out in desire, already unable to form coherent thoughts even though you’ve so much as kissed him.

You stop touching him, sinking down to your knees before him. Spencer looks down at you, his pupils blown and his hair messy from being pushed up against the wall. His breathing is erratic and unmeasured, but he’s heart is still beating. You smile, unafraid and not caring that it breaks character as you give his thigh a squeeze. You bring his hands to his buttons, motioning for him to unbutton his pants for you.

“I can’t do all the work now, can I, baby?” You question rhetorically, quite self satisfied that he nods eagerly. He quickly undoes his pants, kicking the heavy corduroy trousers near your bathroom door. If the moment wasn’t so tense and erratic, you probably would have teased him for his excitement.

“I want to touch you, please? Mommy” Spencer starts, his hands holding your face as you kneel. He holds your face so delicately and gently, it’s a contrast to the sinful way he’s squirming above you.

“Not yet,” you tsk, slipping your finger under the waistband of his boxers. The bulge in his underwear looks very uncomfortable, but Spencer clearly tries his best to behave under your strong stare. You peel back the underwear and let it drop to Spencer’s feet. His cock, now exposed, is painfully hard. He concentrates on his breathing and trying to remain composed as your fingers travel up his leg and towards his groin.

“There’s my pretty boy,” you coo, grabbing Spencer’s jaw and making him look down at you. He lets pitiful whine at your words, “Come on, make my fingers nice and wet,” you order, sticking out two fingers that he sucks enthusiastically.

“What a good little slut I have, you’re sucking Mommy’s fingers just as if it’s my strap, aren’t you sweet boy,” you say, gently resting your other palm loosely around his neck. You don’t apply any pressure, but let it serve as a reminder of what could happen.

Happily, Spencer sucks your fingers, moaning around them and bucking his hips up in frustration. Marred by impatience, you remove your fingers from his mouth and kneel back down on the floor. Loosely, you grip his cock with your wet fingers. Spencer whines at the friction that’s nothing close to enough.

“Tell me how that feels,” you demand, “Tell Mommy how I makes you feel,”

“I-I feel,” Spencer starts, concentrating intently, but unable to truly articulate the passion you ignite in him, “Mommy, you make me feel so good,” Spencer says, finally finding the words, even though they barely scratch the surface.

“That’s all I want, baby. You deserve to feel good. So let me take care of you, my love,” you tell him, watching as he simpers at your words.

For a second there you let yourself think that maybe it’s calling him my love that prompted his reaction, not the promise of his cock in your mouth. You know after tonight there’s no tip toeing around it anymore: you’re unequivocally in love with him and you’re a little disappointed that it took the pair of you nearly dying to figure it out finally.

Looking back up at him, you abandon your plans for a moment. You kiss him hard. Normally, you’d hate the way your teeth clash against someone else’s and how the kiss isn’t really a kiss. It’s hard to pace yourself when he’s whimpering below you as you grind down hard on his crotch. The fabric of your pants provides much needed friction, causing Spencer to cry out in a twisted mix of pleasure and pain. He paws at your work short, silently begging for you to shed your layers as well.

“Good boys wait,” you tell him, kissing his forehead and sinking back down for the last time. You’ll never be done teasing him, but for now you intend to put his needs first.

“Such a pretty cock that only I get to see,” you coo, running a finger up his length, relishing in how he shudders at your touch. You’ve touched him so many times, yet he reacts each time as if it’s the first. He’s leaking precum as his breathing becomes more and more strained. This is far from your first time with Spencer and you’re well aware of the signs of his release.

Smiling up at him, you lazily wrap your hand around him, giving him the smallest bit of friction and attention that he needs to come. You drop him once he’s close to the edge, his pleading, begging eyes turning glazed over when he realizes you’re taking off your shirt. By the way he’s looking at you, you’d think you’d be wearing your best lingerie. Quickly, you’ve learned that with Spencer you could be wearing your ratty college tee shirts and he’d still look at you like you were dripping in gold.

“Mommy,” he pleads, “I’m a good boy,” he says, no trying to convince himself to hold back from his release, “please Mommy. I’m gonna-“ Spencer says, the flush on his face deepening as he throws his head back in ecstasy. However, he summons enough energy and will to reach out and palm your boobs. You don’t hide your moans as he rolls a nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger. It only encourages him, but nowhere can you find in yourself to care.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Spencer whimpers, unable to hold himself up anymore and collapsing on the bed. His chest heaves up and down as he tries to collect himself. He comes all over your chest, staining your lavender bralette and looking very proud of himself. Spencer learned quickly as well that coming before you’ve even touched him earns him quite the praise.

“Such a good boy,” you praise, choosing to ignore him coming without permission, “such a messy boy though,” you chastise, squeezing his thigh and crawling your fingers up his chest.

“Mommy, please, I want to make you feel good too. I love you,” Spencer begs, his eyes droopy with exhaustion from the long day and glazed over with his orgasm. His words slur together as if he's drunk off something potent. His eyes meet yours, but flit down quickly. He scans your soiled chest, licking his lips unconsciously as his eyes rank over your breasts covered in the lavender lacy and stained with his cum.

“Do you know what good boys do?” You ask, expecting Spencer to answer the question without hesitation.

“They clean up their mess, Mommy,” he says. In a moment of bravery, he grabs your hand, guiding you to lay down on the bed. He twists his hands around your back, unlatching your bra from your body and tosses it on the ground.

Above you, Spencer lowers his face so his chin barely grazes your chest. His tongue darts out onto your skin, licking up the messy cum that fell on your chest. You place your hands in his hair, gripping firmly. It’s not hard enough to cause any pain, but it’s tight enough to remind him to stay put. Spencer hums contently, lapping up your chest, but keeping his eyes trained on yours. You pull him up by his hair, pieces fall over his blissed out eyes. He smiles up at you, his chin glistening with cum, but looking pleased with himself.

“That’s a good boy,” you praise, pulling him up to kiss him deeply. His tongue swirls around in yours and his large hands cup your face. You can feel him moving in your lap, more and more desperate for attention and friction as you continue to hold him off, “I love you, baby,” you say, hoping that he’ll hear enough times for it to stick and for him to start living his life like he wants to stay alive.

“Just for you, Mommy,” Spencer mumbles, already sucking and marking the valley between your breasts, “Can you? Please?” Spencer asks, still embarrassed, after all these months to put to words his desires.

“What, baby? You need to use your words,” you tell him, scooting up in the bed and smirking to yourself as Spencer practically chases you up the headboard, “You need to tell him what you want me to do, baby,” you say, talking slowly as you rub circles into his skin. He’s still hot to the touch and flushed all over.

“I want to make you feel good,” Spencer begs, licking his fiery red lips that are swollen and bitten from your earlier treatment, “I want you to feel good,” he says, attempting to buck his hips against your legs.

“Are you sure about that, Spence?” you ask, teasing him with your wandering hands. One stays latching in his hair, exposing his criminally bare neck and the other sneaks down to his cock, but hardly satisfies his burning need, “Because it seems like you’re an insolent little slut who only cares if he gets off. Do I need to remind you that I have needs as well,” you chide, increasing your grip on his hair as your lips nip the sensitive skin of his neck. He shudders in response, unable to fully articulate a sentence.

“But you’re lucky, you’re beautiful, Dr. Reid,” you say, dropping his hair and letting his head fall onto your chest. Knowing your expectations, Spencer doesn’t hesitate to kiss and nip along your skin. You feel your panties dampen at the sight of him: his hair wild and messy, his neck marked with evidence of your mouth, and his chest is bright red, somehow still flustered and embarrassed by your affections. You find it bizarre that he still doesn’t fully believe just how head over heels you are for him. He’s too good and pure for this world, and you’ll happily spend the rest of your life reminding him just how deserving of goodness and pureness he is.

“I love you,” Spencer whimpers against your skin, his breath is hot as he pants, “but please fuck me,” he begs, flipping around on his back so you can be on top.

“Don’t worry, sweet boy, Mommy will take care of you,” you remind him, balancing yourself so you can hover over him, “Now, I’d normally want you to be quiet, but I want to hear everything. So use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me how you feel, sweetie,” you instruct, maneuvering yourself so you’re lined up with him.

“Give me a second, please,” Spencer asks, pushing himself up so his back rests against the headboard, “You make me crazy, I just need a moment to think,” he says, quietly, staring off nothing in the bedroom. You take the opportunity to grab his hand, that’s gripping onto your floral patterned sheets, and kiss his scars on his knuckles. Some are new and fresh, while others are old, from longer ago than working at the BAU. You kiss them over, as if your lips are able to help the evidence of his physical pain.

“You make me crazy too, Spencer,” You say, growing more and more unhinged as he moves underneath you, “I love you so much, darling,” you tell him, kissing his eyes, lips, nose, anything you can reach.

Slowly, so slowly, you sink down onto Spencer. You watch his microexpressions, but you know how he’ll react. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s willing himself to hold off. He breathes in and out, teetering on the edge. You wait for his nod, for his sign of approval that you can move. He whines and peeks open his eyes. Spencer’s hands dig into your waist, his strong, large hands searching for any skin to grab onto.

“Please move, Mommy,” Spencer begs, burying his head into the crook of your neck as he starts to plead with you to have mercy on him, “I need it, Mommy,” he moans.

“Don’t be greedy, darling. You’ll take what I give you, but don’t you want to make me feel good too, baby,” you ask, guiding his nimble fingers to your slick core. His thumb and pointer finger begin to rub quick circles around your clit. You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you feel the pressure build. Between the heightened tensions of work and Spencer's hot breath against your neck, you know that you’ll come soon. Spencer’s breathy moans get more and more desperate.

“Are you already going to come again, love?” You ask, increasing your pace. His other hand grips your thigh, drawing shapes into your soft skin. Following suit, you match his sweet movements on his cheek. His breath is his shaky as you stroke his cheek lovingly, “Make me come first and then, maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you come inside me,” you promise, already knowing that you’ll let him come inside you.

“Watch you disappear inside me, baby. Watch your pretty cock slip inside my pussy. It’s just like you were made for me, darling,” you cry, your voice getting slightly breathy yourself. You watch yourself as his cock goes in and out, red with overstimulation. Spencer’s eyes, littered with small tears, looks transfixed.

“Fuck,” Spencer says, “I’m so close, Mommy. I-I, you make me feel so good. You’re so beautiful, I-I-”

“So needy, you’re so fucking needy,” you say to him. You can tell he’s growing more and more impatient by the moment. His hands lurch towards your chest, pawing at your boobs. Spencer’s sloppy movements bring you closer and closer to the edge.

“So good, so good,” he repeats, his sweaty forehead rests on your collarbone. You pull him up again his hair, relishing in the pitiful moan that he lets out. It’s raw and pure sin, it should make you want to fuck him more, but it only makes you want to love him more.

You’re drunk on him. Drunk on his moans and whimpers of pleasure. You’re drunk on the way his skin sticks to yours and how his hands roam around your body, always finding a spot on your torso and legs that makes you approach the edge closer and closer. You wonder, for a second, if you’re being too hard on him. If you should just whisper that little sentence and let Spencer feel the wave of pleasure.

“I need it, Mommy,” Spencer pants, kissing lined up your chest and collarbone. His face is pressed up against your face and moves up and down as you continue your pace, “I-I, Mommy, I want you to-”

“What do you want, baby? Hmm? Tell Mommy?” You ask, your voice sounding sickly sweet. The noise of moans fills the room, Spencer’s moan akin to whimpers and whines and your’s more like praises and words of approval, “you’ve been such a good boy, baby I’ll give you want whatever you want, my love”

“Please, please let me make you come, Mommy. I need you to come, Mommy. I need it,” Spencer whines, looking up into your eyes and latching onto them in the darkness.

It’s sinful how the filthy words contrast with his sweet, shy tones. He looks so innocent, but enthralling with his face between your hands, but his own hands rubbing small circles on your clit. His moans grow more high pitched. You kiss by his ear, ready to whisper the words of approval that you’ve neared your release.

“Oh god, Spencer. God. You have no idea what you do to me. My sweet boy,” you murmur, pressing Spencer’s face further into your chest. You can feel him heave and his breathing grow more and more unsteady, but he still has enough sense to continue rubbing your clit.

You kiss him, wanting to feel him everywhere when you come undone. Kissing him is desperate and full of gasps of air. His skin is so soft as you slide across his mouth, up his cheeks, and over his jaw. His helpless moans spur you on, giving you the strength and energy to thrust down on him another time before you feel yourself come undone.

“It’s your turn, baby. Come on, sweetheart. Come inside me and maybe I’ll have to call you daddy? Hmm?” you chant, halting your movements to torture him a little longer.

“Please, Y/N. Please let me fill you up,” Spencer begs, his voice hoarse and scratchy from being so vocal, “I’m yours. I love you so much,” he calls out, wrapping his arms around you so your chests are pressed up together. He holds you sweetly and you kiss his shoulders and his neck, choosing to leave a large red welt as a reminder for him.

“You like that? Hmm you like if I call you Daddy and let you fill me up? Come on, Spencer. You can come. Don’t you want to be a good boy for Mommy?,” you say, giving him the permission that he’s been desiring all night.

He tightens his grip on your upper half as he meets his release. Spencer’s strangled moans turn into sweet whimpers as he looks down into your laps. Quietly, you ride him through the rest of his orgasm, letting him come down from his high peppered with light pecks along his freckled shoulders and sharp jawline. Spencer smiles into the kisses, his eyes are shut and his cheeks are dusted with a light pink flush. For the first time today, he looks relaxed and safe.

“Thank you, Mommy,” Spencer says quietly, mirroring your motions and kissing your shoulders and neck as you slow your pace, “Can we stay like this. Just for a moment,” Spencer asks, burning for the feeling of being inside you for even a couple more minutes.

“Of course, baby,” you tell him, squeezing him into a tight hug, “you did so wonderful for me. Such a good boy. I love my sweet boy,” you tell him, brushing the stray hairs from his face. His neck is marked by your mouth and his eyes are glazed with sleep and desire.

“I love you,” Spencer says again, his forehead falling against yours and his breath hitching as you move slightly with him inside you, “and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about today,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart and then we’ll talk about it,” you suggest, taking the opportunity to kiss his lips as you pull yourself away from his lap.

Spencer doesn’t say much in response, but nods silently. He groans slightly as you separate your bodies and he tries to chase your lips with his as you climb out of the bed and into your bathroom.

“Please come back,” Spencer says, sounding like he wasn’t sure if you’d keep your promise.

“I’m right here, Spence,” you reassure him, returning from the bathroom dressed in an old tee shirt and carrying a warm, damp washcloth and a pair of clean underwear for Spencer.

“Can you please hold me? Please, Y/N. I need you,” Spencer says, reaching out to you in the dark. That’s one request you know you’d never deny.

“Of course, Spence. Just let me clean you up and I’ll hold you,” you tell him, gently dragging the warm towel over his skin. He’s quiet as you clean him up, but his soulful eyes look lost and sheepish, making him look smaller and more vulnerable than he actually is. You drop the towel to the floor, not caring that the water isn’t good for the floor.

You lay back down on the bed and Spencer, like a magnet to another magnet, crawls in close. He’s still undressed, except for the underwear that you gave him. His eyes are droopy and his breathing is still shaky, but steadies out as your hands draw circles on his back. You pull the covers up to his chin, making sure he’s covered before you start what you know all too well is a difficult conversation.

“Spencer,” you croak, “Why did you do that? Why do you think that’s okay?” you ask, still trying to make sense of why Spencer would risk his life like that so recklessly. You hold him tighter, squeezing his arm as he breathes out, ready to tell you what he’s never told anyone before.

“Bec-, because- I don’t matter,” he says, the words choking out between cries of years and years of pain, “because it doesn’t matter to anyone if I don’t come home. I don’t have anyone to come home to,”

“You’ve always had me,” you say quietly, “I’m your person to come home with, Spence,” you tell him, hoping with all the faith in your body that he’ll believe you. You hold his hand, weaving your fingers in his. Looking at your hands intertwined together, you’d think that your hand was made for it. It’s a little cliche, but Spencer is the kind of man that makes all those cliches seem like wonderful possibilities.

“I-I, I never had someone before,” Spencer says, “I mean, I had my mom, but it’s gotten harder. But then, then, I met you. And I never thought you’d like me like that, Y/N. I never thought you could love me,”

“Spencer,” you say, twisting around so you can hold his face in your hands, “Spencer, I love you. You are so much more than your job. You’re worthy of being loved, Goose. And I’d spend the rest of my life making you realize this”

“You want to spend the rest of your life- the rest of your life with me?” Spencer asks, sounding like he can’t believe the words that you say.

“Spence, I’ve loved you since I’ve known you,” you say, dragging your hands through his curly hair that’s matted against his forehead, “You would have realized that if you weren’t too carried away with making me your future history,”

“I think I have a habit of doing that,” Spencer confesses, kissing your forehead sweetly, “You’re- I’m sorry that I worried you like that, but for so long, for so long this is all I’ve had. And before that it was school. I throw myself into academia or work because it’s all I had,”

“Had,” you repeat, “as in the past tense. You’ve had some much more than too, Spence. We all love you. Elle and Derek. JJ and Hotch. Penny and Gideon. We all love you, but I love you the most,”

“Good,” Spencer replies, turning his head down to kiss you, “because I love you the most,”

His lips glide across yours, moving slowly at first and faster as he grows more urgent. There’s no sense in rushing through. You could kiss him lazily in your bed all night and continue until it gives way to morning. There’s no time limit, no buzzer that’s going to go off and force Spencer to whole himself back up into his past. He smiles through the kiss, knowing well that there’s more to come tomorrow, or maybe even tonight. His lips were warm and soft, maybe still a little tender from before, but still eager to feel your lips against his. Breathing together, savoring that you both are breathing, you smile yourself, fully ready for whatever comes next.

***

Taglist (not my usual taglist because I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable bc this is smut. You can join the taglist here!)

@shemarmooresfedora @just-another-persona123 @folkreid @idonotexiste @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @fandomfriend33 @spencersrose @strawberryspence

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 5

First

Previous

Tim finished up pretty quickly.

After all, all the baby toys seemed to just be different variations of each other. Some crinkle, some make sounds, some squish, some… do nothing at all? Tim had no clue how he used to get by as a kid.

He ended up getting Damian three toys:

A tiny rubber duck. He’s almost completely sure that Marinette would have bought one if Tim hadn’t. At least when he was the one buying it he could opt to get the Darth Vader one (Damian had always been woefully uncultured, this was his one chance to make the kid watch sci-fi without risking getting stabbed).

A plush cow with crinkly ears. He had to hope that this could maybe jog memories of Batcow and, in turn, everything else. Tim had tried to think of something a little more relevant but all he could think of were things related to Batman, to Superboy, to the League of Assassins (did their lives really revolve around vigilante-work that much?)... and, unfortunately, this reality didn’t have merch that he could give the kid.

And a squishy plastic baguette. Because that was all he could think of to get back at Marinette for the duck thing.

When it came to little kid books he hesitated for just a bit before getting the basics -- stuff like animals and the letters and Spot The Dog. He wondered, vaguely, if he’d have to teach the kid numbers since they already used the Arabic numeral system. He got a book on it just in case.

Then he got a couple of books on parenting.

He checked out and then walked back to the sitting area where he was supposed to meet Marinette.

… she was taking forever.

He sighed quietly and skimmed through a book on parenting.

… oops they were supposed to breastfeed until Damian was about two. No clue what to do about that. Maybe the kid was already used to a bottle? He hoped so. He’d watch him more carefully while Marinette was holding him to see. In the meantime, he’d get a bottle and some formula on top of the baby food they’d been getting so far.

Alright so the kid was supposed to learn behaviors and language through observation. Good. That, hopefully, solved that problem. Tim probably would have just given the kid a textbook and said ‘good luck’. Marinette… he didn’t really know what Marinette would have done, but the woman wasn’t a teacher as far as he could tell and asking her to teach the kid properly was a little unfair.

Babies around his age are supposed to speak in something called… protowords? Like… a baby language? Damn, he has a miraculous and it seemingly allows him the power to understand every language but apparently ‘baby-speak’ didn’t count as a language. Tim called bullshit.

He felt a weight settle down on the bench next to him and absently glanced over.

Marinette sent him a slightly tired smile. She was wearing a new, dark red scarf.

He opened his mouth to say something only to have her shake her head and adjust her scarf a little to show him something.

Ah. It looked like Damian had fallen asleep on her shoulder so she’d fashioned the scarf into a makeshift baby sling.

“Could’ve used the stroller,” he whispered, setting his receipt in the book to mark his page.

She snorted. “And risk waking him? He cries every time he wakes up, I’m not dealing with that right now.”

He bit his lip. “You know… this book says he’s supposed to cry for, like, an hour to an hour and a half a day.”

She tipped her head to the side a little. “He’s cried like… three times.”

“Yeah, and he was really easy to shut up. Decidedly not normal.”

They looked back down at Damian, identical frowns on their faces.

“Does it have an explanation for why he’d be like this?” Marinette asked, her voice soft.

Tim hesitated.

“The only reasons I can think of are that he doesn’t think we’d help him if he cried or he thinks crying is something he’d be punished for. Considering how he was raised… it could be either. Or both.”

~

Marinette yawned as she sat back on the hotel bed. She leaned back against Tim, leaving him to bear the weight of both her and Damian.

He, to his credit, barely even blinked. He turned slowly until they were both leaning back against each other.

She tipped her head back to rest on his shoulder.

She could fall asleep like this, she thought. Propped against Tim. Damian, in her arms, watching an episode of something called True and the Rainbow Kingdom… it was nice.

Or, at least, it would be if Tim could stop that infernal tapping.

“Ugh, could you stop that? Some people actually sleep.”

He gave a tiny puff of laughter that acknowledged that he heard her but, alas, he continued typing.

She groaned a little and reached a hand behind herself to give him a tiny bap to his side.

“Hm. This may shock you, but hitting me really hasn’t helped your case.”

She huffed and twisted around to try and see over his shoulder. She’d given up on sleeping, anyway.

“What are you even doing?”

He shrugged just slightly. “Trying to figure out what to do about money.”

She nodded slowly, looking over his shoulder as he scrolled through jobs they could do with zero experience or degrees. That could sustain a family of three and pay for the daycare they would have to take Damian to. The options... weren’t great.

Damian tugged on her shirt for her attention and she looked down as he pointed at his screen with a bright smile. There was a black cat on the screen. She didn’t really know what he wanted until he kept saying ‘ma’ over and over. She nodded and said ‘cat’ in both Arabic and English, which seemed to sate him as he went back to watching… the giant green yeti monster stealing a basket of candy? What the fuck was even going on on this show? Were kids’ shows like this in her own world, too? Or was this one’s shows just especially weird?

A thought occurred to her and she looked back over at Tim.

“You exist in this world, right?”

He nodded absently and opened a tab that, despite its claim that it was an entry level job, apparently required two years of experience and a degree. He closed it quickly.

“Why don't we just mooch off of the other you?”

Tim sighed. “Because that’s illegal?”

“You’re a vigilante. I don’t think that ‘borrowing’ money from your alternate self is where you should draw the line on illegal activities.”

“I draw the line when it harms innocent people.”

She laughed at that. “He’s rich. It’s not like he’s going to miss it. Think of it as… giving the money to people who need it.”

“You’re a regular robin hood,” Tim said sarcastically.

“I know. I’m so kind,” she agreed, grinning.

There were a few moments of silence.

Then, finally, he shook his head. “Even if we could somehow do that -- which I can’t guarantee because I’m not completely sure I could guess my passwords -- the fact that we’re in Texas… he’d notice.”

She shrugged. “Then let’s move back to Gotham.”

He blinked and finally looked up from the computer. “What?”

“We don’t have much of a life here, really, so why not move?”

He considered this for a while before sighing and flopping back on the bed. “Let me see if I can even get into the account. There’s nothing to say that I even have the same social security number here...”

She nodded her understanding and laid back next to him. Damian whined a little at the sudden displacement but just ran a hand up and down his back absently until he was watching his show again, completely silent as he stared at the screen. Now the main girl was reaching into her bag for a weird orb of light that was, apparently, sentient. Was this the Dora of their world? God help their children.

Speaking of helping their children...

She picked up a parenting book to read while Tim tried to guess his otherworldly counterpart’s passwords.

~

Tim managed to get in.

He rested his head in his hands, cursing quietly.

She glanced over and smiled at his slightly flushed face.

“What was the password?”

He grumbled under his breath.

This only seemed to encourage her more because she started nudging his shoulder, the soft smile morphing into a cheeky grin.

He sighed and took a moment to gather himself before looking over at her. “It’s… ‘<3Richard<3graysons<3little<3brother<3’.”

“... I don’t get it.”

“Good. So you can’t tease me about it,” he said, sticking his tongue out at her.

She scoffed. “That’s not fair.”

“Totally is.”

He set the computer down beside himself and stretched his achy old bones. He’d had a baby for approximately two days now and he could already feel the bad back setting in. Tomorrow he would have gray hair.

“I’m going to look it up if you don’t tell me.”

“... he’s a celebrity,” Tim said quietly.

Her grin wavered back towards that genuine smile for just a second before spreading into an even wider grin. She reached out and pinched his cheeks. “Awwww, Tim, that’s so cute --!”

“Shut up,” he complained, batting her hands away.

She snickered. “No. I’m going to write that password on your tombstone.”

“You’re assuming I’m going to die first.”

“I have an extended lifespan. You’re only going to have that for another fifteen years. After that? Unless I’m really stupid you’re gonna die first.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m going to find out how to be immortal now. Purely to spite you.”

She snorted. “Okay. Good luck with that.”

“Thank you.”

With that, he pushed himself up with a groan. “I’m going to get him ready for bed.”

She nodded her understanding and continued with her reading.

Damian whined a little when Tim tried to take him away from where he had curled up next to Marinette but that seemed to be more because he was tired and cranky than genuine distress.

Tim was the one to bathe him. It wasn’t a bubble bath, he wasn’t eager to repeat the previous night’s mistakes, but he did give Damian the rubber duck. This seemed to work for all of them, since Damian now allowed them to take him out of the bath as long as he got to bring his duck.

Marinette grinned when she looked over at where Damian was chewing on his rubber duck as Tim struggled to click the annoyingly difficult buttons of the onesie into place.

“Told you he would love it.”

“We both know that wasn’t why you wanted to get it.”

“And we both know you didn’t get that squishy bread-thing just because you thought he would like it, either.”

He smiled. “Maaaaaybe.”

The onesie finally allowed itself to be buttoned and Tim picked Damian up so he could get into bed.

Marinette frowned. “This book says we shouldn’t let him sleep with us every night. Says it creates a bad habit that’s hard to break.”

Tim raised an eyebrow at her but, reluctantly, carried the kid over to the crib so they could sleep separately.

“Fine. But I’m going to sleep before him so I don’t stress out all night.”

She snickered. “Fine. Fine.��

He climbed into bed, set a pillow between them, and promptly dozed off before he could get woken up by Damian whimpering through the night.

… Tim woke up a few hours later -- his body wasn’t quite used to sleeping through nights just yet -- to find that Marinette had brought the kid into bed with them again.

He smiled a little and moved the pillow out from between them. Even if Damian was currently too trapped in Marinette’s arms to even reach it, it was best to make sure it couldn’t happen.

Damian whimpered a little in his sleep again and Tim tipped his head to the side. He reached over and gently combed his fingers through the fuzzy little tufts of hair that the kid had so far. Damian relaxed.

Tim sighed and shifted in the bed until he was closer to Damian, then maneuvered through Marinette’s mess of limbs to press a tiny kiss to the top of his head. The baby smiled in his sleep and, though the kid couldn’t see it, he returned the smile. He rested an arm around the kid as well in hopes that it would keep the kid feeling safe before allowing himself to drift off.

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff

[chockfullofsecrets]

okay, this is very much a WIP but i am stressed for the finale and needed something fluffy so! wizard reward tickles!

(extremely mild episode 140 spoilers, no specifics)

He’s making his way up to the third floor of the tower, Fjord and Jester floating alongside, when Jester turns with cautious concern writ large on her face. “Essek, have you been crying?”

Essek is enough of a stranger to tears, until recently, that he cannot tell how she knows. “It is all right, Jester, I am…” He pauses, fishing for a suitable word. “Recovered.”

He looks at Fjord over her head, willing him to convey some kind of guidance. The reason for the aforementioned lapse, one he is hardly sure of his reasons for committing in the first place, is sleeping safe and whole just a floor below in this magical tower of Caleb’s - surely there is no reason to keep the matter open? 

Jester beams at him, fangs on full display, and claps her hands together. “I know exactly what will make you feel better, Essek!”

“As do I, I would hope,” he rejoins, gesturing to the vast library that the three of them are currently hovering in the midst of. “I know it is a little late, but I have not had a chance to take the, ah, the full tour, and I am certain I can find something of interest-”

“Essek, no!” Jester interrupts, throwing her arms wide. “You need cheer up tickles!”

At the last word, he instinctively clutches his mantle closer. “Ah - what?”

Fjord snorts. Essek pointedly ignores him. “Jester,” he says weakly, “I am sorry, but frankly I do not think my heart can take any more strenuous activity today.” 

“It’s not strenuous,” Jester insists, arms still brandished to either side. “It’s super gentle and relaxing! Caleb loves them!”

His disbelief must show on his face - Jester pouts, and Fjord shakes his head indulgently and steps up to wind an arm around her waist. “He does, truly,” he reassures. Essek watches Jester tip her head back and grin at him, two synchronized sweethearts, and smiles a little despite himself. “Ask him, if you like, I don’t think you’ve seen us do it to him before.”

Frankly, Essek is more familiar with the brand of tickling that sends Caleb scrambling to Teleport away when the Nein so much as look in his direction with particular intent. He’s particularly proud of that Counterspell. “I - I am not quite sure where he is, at the moment, and I do not wish to disturb him.”

“Are you sure? You don’t want to be in a room alo-one with him?” Jester wriggles her entire body suggestively and promptly returns to pouting when he refuses to blush. “Come on, Essek, we fought an evil flesh city together this morning, can’t you trust us for like five more minutes?”

Perhaps someday trust will stop seeming so new and fragile to him - but today, looking at both of their faces and seeing no trace of deception, he sighs and lowers himself slowly to the ground. “I suppose it cannot hurt.”

“Yes!” Jester cheers. She shakes Fjord’s arm off and digs his out of layers of clothing, towing him into the library and over to a cozy lounging section patterned in Zemnian reds.  “You’re gonna feel so good, Essek, I promise. Take your cloak off!”

There’s little else to do but obey. He drapes it neatly over an adjacent seat, gestures questioningly at his boots and removes them as well when Jester nods authoritatively. “And now your shirt!”

He freezes. “What.”

“Kidding, kidding!” She flops down on the lounge, fluffing out her skirts, and beckons for him. “Come here - Fjord, go away, you’ll make him nervous!”

Fjord glances over at Essek, eyebrows raised in clear amusement. “He’s not a stray cat, Jes.”

“He’s a wizard, it’s practically the same thing!”

“Ah-” Essek starts. Fjord raises his hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine, I’ll be over here.” He backs towards the lounge with Essek’s things strewn over it, mockingly cautious. “If I’m allowed to stay in the room, that is.”

“Of course you can stay!” Jester tells him. “You know, I bet this library has a copy of Tusk Love somewhere-” 

She breaks off into giggles as Fjord grimaces at her. Essek watches the two of them, back and forth, and almost feels glad when Jester turns back to him with more instructions. “Okay, now you lie down in my lap.”

“Jester.”

“Essek.” She pats encouragingly at her knees. 

Essek steps closer and - he doesn’t know how to get in a lap. He frowns, twisting minutely to one side and then the other as he tries to judge the best way of lowering himself-

Jester grabs him around the waist and yanks, pulling his back flush against her, then pushes his chest down with one muscled arm and scoops his legs up with the other.

He stares breathlessly at the ceiling. “Oh.”

A grinning blue face bobs into his field of vision. “I’m gonna tickle you now, okay?”

Essek closes his eyes and braces himself.

Seconds pass without the immediate zinging shock that he’s expecting. He cracks an eye open. “Jester?”

She’s frowning. “You’re so tense, Essek! Just-” She sucks in an exaggerated breath, cheeks ballooning, and whooshes it out. “Breathe.”

He tries. As he’s exhaling, Jester rests one warm palm on his belly and starts to rub gentle circles. 

He sighs despite himself - it is a new feeling, but not an unpleasant one, and he can feel himself relaxing as she widens the circles to climb his chest. “Jester-”

“Shh,” she soothes, and trails her fingertips down his chest and back onto his belly. “Aw, does that tickle?”

His breath hitches as she draws her fingertips slowly from side to side, fluttering at his hips where the fabric of his shirt bunches. “I - hnnnh - nnnn-”

His belly twitches involuntarily as he tries to keep himself from laughing outright. Jester clucks in disapproval and goes back to her circles. “Ess-ek, don’t fight it, just relax!”

She stays at his belly this time for what seems like minutes, smoothing gently over an expanse of skin that warms with each pass. Essek feels his breathing slow, his eyes start to drift shut. The weight of heat and proximity press down on him like a blanket, and he thinks he might fall asleep then and there.

Then she tickles him again, that same light trailing of fingertips, and a laugh slips out before he can think to contain it. 

She doesn’t stop, tracing light swirls of sensation over his belly and sides, and he can’t quite bring himself to try and stop snickering either - it’s pleasant, the waves of warm tingles radiating up into his chest and down to his hips, and all his muscles are loose and pliant enough that he doesn’t even feel the need to squirm away.

Jester coos at him through the haziness. “Aw, you look so comfy, are you having fun?”

“Mm - heh - mmhm,” he manages. 

“Oh, good - I’m glad you like it, Essek. I wanted to do something really nice for you since you did such a good job in Aeor with us, you know?”

There’s a proper response to that, something about how much he owes all of them already and how no amount of good cheer now will see him through his uncertain future, but it’s hard to come up with words at the moment. Instead, he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back even further as Jester starts to skim her gentle touches up to his ribs. “So many cool spells-”

Her fingers creep up into his armpits, a distinctly more ticklish spot, and he’s halfway through humming out a protest when she shushes him again and starts rubbing slow, careful circles in the hollows with her thumbs. “And when you broke that crystal to make sure we could all rest and heal up - that was really good, Essek.”

“Hnnnn,” he manages.

Every muscle in his upper body feels like jelly. He can’t even twitch as she repeats that same skimming swirl under his arms, just giggles a bit harder. “Doesn’t it feel nice to relax and not have to worry about all that anymore?”

Oh, that’s a question - he thinks for a long, liquid moment, trying to string together a sentence. “Hhh - hehe - mhmm, s’nice.”

“It is! You did such a good job, you should get all the tickles.”

“Tickles,” he nearly purrs. He can feel his ears flicking contentedly.

Jester shifts beneath him, whisper-shouting over to where he assumes Fjord is still sitting. “He’s so cute, Fjord.”

“Adorable,” Fjord whispers back. “And - hey, looks like we’re about to have two of them.” 

And then, louder - “Hey, Caleb.”

Caleb? Essek’s eyes snap open.

He’s walking over to them, sans coat and scarf with his hands tucked neatly behind his back. “Ah, I did not expect to find anyone else here.” He turns to regard Essek. “I see they’ve gotten to you too, hm?”

Essek struggles for a moment, trying to wake himself with the realization that Caleb is usually the one receiving Jester’s attentions in this way - and this isn’t a conversation he wants to have while Caleb is standing and he’s flat on his back. 

Jester makes a frustrated sound as he tries to sit up. Caleb looks a little surprised too - even more so, when Fjord walks over and wraps a hand around each of his shoulders. “Oh, don’t be jealous, you’ll get your wizard tickles too.”

Essek blinks. “Caleb, I didn't mean to take anything from you-”

Caleb’s ears go red, but he leaves Fjord’s hands where they are as he crouches down by Essek and pats his shoulder. “I did not mean to tease, my friend - please, relax and enjoy yourself.” He smiles, then, a little flick in the corner of his mouth. “Or Jester will make you, I’m sure.”

He blinks again. “You’re not - upset?”

Caleb shakes his head, sending wisps of red hair flying around his face. “Not one bit.”

Essek lets Caleb press him gently back down into Jester’s lap, watches blankly as she grins down at both of them and reaches out to tap Caleb’s nose.

He stands before she can, quirks a loose smile in her direction. “Not today, Lavorre, I think.”

He turns as if he might walk away, starting to lock his hands behind his back again, and Essek nearly calls him back, offers to let him take his place - but Fjord is just behind him, hands still on his shoulders, and he pins him easily in place. “Oh, I’d love to see you try to avoid this.”

Caleb opens his mouth to reply, snaps it shut again as Fjord’s hands slide off his shoulders and bracket his sides, fingers curling in ever so slightly. 

Fjord’s a little taller than Caleb, enough that when Caleb starts to shrink in on himself he has to stoop to get his mouth next to his ear. “You’ve had a hard day,” he says, low and steady. “Don’t make us watch you hide from a little lightness, after all that.”

Caleb looks all of them over once, frantically, and then looks pointedly away. It’s a sentiment Essek is familiar with - looking for escape, and resigning yourself to none - and he’s surprised when Caleb gives a slight nod.

Fjord’s face splits into a relieved smile, tusks on full display. “Right, then,” he continues, wrapping his arms around Caleb’s waist and lifting him straight off the ground to carry him the few feet to the other lounge.

He sets him down and sits next to him, waiting patiently until Caleb huffs a quiet breath through his nose and leans over to put his head in Fjord’s lap. “Right.”

Jester reaches for Essek’s belly again, but he catches her wrist and looks up at her to shake his head. 

She raises her eyebrows. He tilts his head ever so slightly towards the other lounge.

Jester’s mouth forms a silent O of understanding before pursing into a mischievous smirk. Essek frowns - he’s curious, there’s no need for eyebrow waggling. 

She does draw her hands away, though, so he contents himself with a single stern look before turning his attention towards Caleb. “You’re healed, yes?” Fjord asks.

He starts patting at Caleb’s ribs as if to check them, but the way he starts massaging little circles into them seems distinctly meant to tickle. Essek watches, perplexed, as Caleb doesn’t laugh at all,  just sighs a little and lets his shoulders lay flat. “Ja, Caduceus helped with that.”  

“That’s good. Proud of you,” Fjord says approvingly. 

Caleb looks more flustered at that than he has at anything else said tonight, a reluctant smile working its way over his features. Fjord smirks and bends down to whisper something else to him  - Essek doesn’t catch it, but apparently it’s terrible enough to make him squeak and roll defensively onto his side.

Their eyes meet.

They both stare for a moment, and then Caleb’s eyes narrow - Essek has just barely seen him mischievous enough times to recognize the look. He flicks his fingers in a particular pattern even as Fjord rolls him back over with a series of nibbling little pinches to his ribs that send him squirming, and there’s a slight pop as an illusory feather appears by Essek’s bare feet.

He doesn’t even have time to protest before the damned thing wriggles up against his sole and he’s squealing. He bolts upright, clinging to Jester as he laughs frantically. “HAAA - ahaha - Caleheheb!”

“Cay-leb, stop that!” Jester cries, but she looks absolutely delighted as she cuddles him close with her own fingers wriggling mischievously. “Do you know how long it took us to convince him to let us tickle him?”

Fjord laughs. “ I think someone’s trying to tell me they want their feet tickled. Isn’t that right, Caleb?”

The feather switches to his other foot, and Essek presses his face into Jester’s shoulder and cackles loudly enough that he nearly misses Fjord’s next statement. “Oh, feeling shy? No, no, tell me - do you want feathers or fingers?”

Between one flick and the next, the feather disappears with another pop. 

Essek pries his face up from Jester’s shoulder and turns to strongly protest this treatment, but it looks like Caleb’s been thoroughly distracted from him - Fjord’s taken his chin in one strong hand and tipped it gently back, leaving the thin column of his neck hopelessly vulnerable. He’s already giggling, hiccupy little things, as Fjord runs his fingers gently along a tendon. “Well, speak up - feathers?“

He switches suddenly to the other side of his neck. “Or fingers?” 

Caleb whines, scrunching his shoulders as far as he can against Fjord’s thigh. “Ahaha - nngh - nein, mean! Mean!”

“I’ll be nice just as soon as you tell me what you want.” Fjord tells him. “Come on, you can do it.”

“I - heheheeeeh - I can’t!” Caleb pleads. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have bothered Essek, then,” Fjord scolds lightly. 

Caleb makes a helpless little sound, still giggling. Fjord’s voice softens then, to something cajoling. “This is supposed to be fun for you, Caleb. Let me know how I can do that.”

Caleb whines a little more, squeezing his eyes shut, but he seems to relax a bit at the command. “Feathers,” he says finally. “There’s a writing desk around the corner with some quills.”

“Good boy,” Fjord says, letting go of his chin and patting his cheek. “I’ll be right back, then.”

He helps a heavily blushing Caleb off his lap and lays him back down, smoothing once over his ribs and getting the same blissful giggles Essek remembers himself echoing just a minute ago.

Caleb flops back, catching his breath, and looks wryly across at him. “If you run now, maybe you can get away before they learn too much about you.”

“Nope, too late!” Jester says cheerfully, her arms still wrapped tightly around him. Essek jumps as she starts to tickle his sides. “Aw, Essek, are you going to get all embarrassed if we tell you you’re a good boy?”

Essek scoffs, fighting the laughter and the blush that threatens to climb the back of his neck. “I have received many accolades over the years, I do not think so.”

“A good friend, then? One that we trust completely?” Caleb suggests. It’s more the way Caleb looks at him as he says it, like he already knows how much that means, but Jester still squeals excitedly at the dark purple gathering in his cheeks. 

“Ooh, and what if we tease you about how ticklish you are?” Jester asks, worming her fingers onto his tummy and tapping them there until he’s giggling helplessly at the implied threat. “Cause Essek, you are really, really ticklish.”

“This is not what I was promised,” he manages through his laughter. A few weeks ago, he would have been fearful at this clear intrusion, a transparent search for weakness. Now he mostly wants to calm himself enough to trance in the next few hours.

“Oh, shitballs, you’re right,” Jester rushes out, and stops tickling in favor of rubbing warm circles up his sides. “Okay, okay, lie down and I will give you the best cheer up tickles.”

“I heard that,” Fjord says, rounding the corner with a feather dangling from his fingertips. “You two are going to have to compare notes afterwards and let us know who’s really better.”

“I don’t think-” Caleb starts. He yelps as Fjord pounces on his feet, protests for a moment before dissolving into soft laughter at the introduction of the feather.  

Essek’s busy falling back into dazed, happy snickering as Jester trails her fingertips back up under his arms. 

He feels very cheerful, at the moment.

[leossmoonn]

Confessions [Stefan Salvatore]

masterlist 

pairing - stefan salvatore x fem!reader

type - fluff, lil angst

note / request - “hi i just wanted to say absolutely loved your recent stef imagine🥰🥰can you write more of him? if you’re up for it!! also one where maybe like they’re always teasing and bickering because they like each other <33″ YES AH I LOVE STEFAN. yall are gonna hate me SO MUCH in the ending. enjoy :)

summary - after a little teasing goes to far, you’re forced to tell stefan your real feelings for him

warnings / includes  - mild language, suggestive language. italics are your thoughts 

————

*gif isn’t mine* 

“Stefan!” You exclaimed. 

Stefan rolled his eyes. “I had him!”

“No, you didn’t!” You shouted. “God, why can’t you just let me do my job! Why do you have to be such a control freak.”

“Cause I’m the one who made the plan,” Stefan said. 

“Yeah, and it was literal dog-shit. I was about to stake him!” You said, putting your hands up in the air in exasperation.

Stefan rolled his eyes. “You should be thankful. You would’ve been toast if I didn’t come in.”

You clenched your jaw. “I’ll make you into toast.” You went to lunge at him, but arms pulled your back quickly. You kicked your feet in the air, trying to get out of the hold that Damon had you in. 

“Let me go! I need to kick his ass!” You exclaimed. 

Stefan smirked, “You’re human, you wouldn’t last one second.”

“We’ll see about that,” you said, managing to rustle out of Damon’s grip. 

“Stop it!” Caroline yelled. You looked at the blonde who had her fangs out, ready to get in between you and Stefan. 

“He started it!” You straightened up, pointing at Stefan.

“No, she did!” Stefan exclaimed. 

“You two are act like 5 year olds. Grow up. Y/n, you were about to die if Stefan hadn’t come in,” Caroline said. 

You scoffed, turning to your friend. “Really, Care?”

“See, told you,” Stefan snickered. 

“But,” Caroline started, looking to Stefan. “You should’ve trusted her. She's more than capable of handling herself.”

You smirked. “HA! In your face, Salvatore!”

Stefan rolled his eyes. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt. I can’t live without my best friend.”

You teasing smirk turned to a soft smile. “Aw, Stef, I always knew you cared about me.”

“Barely,” Stefan scoffed. 

“Oh, sure,” you giggled, walking up to him. “You adore me.”

“Only in some aspects,” Stefan said. “Oh, yeah? What are those aspects?” You smiled. 

“Like when you’re quiet,” Stefan smiled at you. 

Ouch.

You frowned, “Wow, so nice.”

“Well, you asked,” Stefan shrugged. 

“Hm, true. Alright well, I’m tired of getting my feelings hurts by a vampires so, I’m gonna go home,” you said, walking over to the door. 

“No, Y/n! Stay for dinner!” Elena begged.  “Nah, I’m okay. I have ice cream at my house,” you shrugged. 

“You sure?” Caroline asked. 

“Yeah. See you guys tomorrow,” you smiled and waved before exiting the Salvatore’s house. You sighed and went to your car, going in and heading home. Once you got home, you put on your pjs and opened a pint of cookies and cream ice cream. You turned on Criminal Minds and cuddled up on the couch. 

15 minutes into the episode, a knock on your door sounded. You paused the tv, getting up. You grabbed pepper spray and a knife you had hiding in a vase, going to the door hesitantly. 

It’s 10:50 PM. Who is at my door?

You peaked through your window, relaxing immediately as you saw Stefan. You put your weapons on a nearby table, opening the door. 

“Hey,” you smiled. 

“Hi,” Stefan smiled back. 

“What’re you, uh, doing here?” You asked. “I came bearing gifts. As an apology for being mean,” Stefan said, holding out a box of chocolates, a box of pizza, and some soda. 

“And I should forgive you, why?” You asked. 

“Because I’m your best friend and you love me?” He smiled. 

You pursed your lips, putting your finger on your chin. “Hm, well, I do love chocolate and pizza and soda. I also kind of consider you as a friend, too, so... sure. I forgive you.”

Stefan smiled. “Awesome. Can I come in and hang out for a bit?” 

“Sure,” you said, moving out of the way so he could step in. He stepped inside, slipping off his shoes and his leather jacket. 

“Whatcha watching?” He asked, walking into the living room. 

“Criminal Minds,” you said, walking in with him. 

“Ah, nice. The show doesn’t scare you?” Stefan asked. 

“Not when you’ve seen a vampire rip a person’s head off right in front of you,” you chuckled, taking your seat on the couch again. Stefan sat next to you, putting his arm on the top ledge of the couch. 

“Right,” he chuckled.

You sat back into him, putting your head on his chest. Stefan put his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. 

This was normal behaviour for you and him. You two had been best friends for the past 3 years since he came here. You two connected instantly. You were witty and teasing, which was something Stefan couldn’t help but be intrigued by and attracted to. After finding out he was a vampire, you two became closer. You learned all his secrets, everything about his childhood, and slowly fell in love with him. It was cliché, you knew, but it was true.

You had always been attracted to him, since day one. He was handsome, no doubt. He was also kind and dedicated to helping his friends and family, which was something you admired. You’re little crush on him stemmed from when he had saved you from Kol Mikaelson. Kol pushed you off the terrace after you tried to stake him, making you fall hundred of feet. You truly thought you were about to die, but Stefan Salvatore swooped in and saved you. From the moment he caught you in his arms, when you looked into his eyes, when your lips almost met, was the exact moment you knew you were starting to like him. The time you realized you were in love with him was when the teasing started. 

You two had been friends for about a good year or so. You two had always had a playful relationship. You two made it that way because you two liked each other and it was easier to be mean to each other than admit your feelings, but you two didn’t know that about each other. Anyways, the moment you fell in love with him was when he was helping you cook for you and your friends. You were trying to have a nice night without all the crazy. Stefan and you were cutting some vegetables up when you sliced your finger. You expected him to go all crazy, but really, he helped you out. When he was cleaning up the cut and wrapping the bandage around your finger, there was a moment when both your eyes met and a little voice in your head that said, ‘he’s the one you love and are gonna marry’.

It had shocked you, at first, and there was a period of time where you shut him out because you couldn’t deal with your feelings. But you soon realized that you couldn’t live without your best friend and that if you weren’t gonna confess your feelings, you would at least keep him as a best friend. So, you two started to tease each other more and would bicker like an old married couple. Everyone seemed to notice your feelings for each other but you two. It was truly amazing, but you two seemed happy this way, so no one every really bothered you guys. 

“Wow, that’s not gross at all,” Stefan said, commenting on what was happening in the show. 

“Yeah. it’s kinda weird, but I’ve been watching this show for 10 seasons so, you know, I’m very used to it,” you shrugged. 

Stefan smiled down at you, admiring how pretty you looked all natural, hair in a bun, and in your pjs. He liked how focused you were on the show, even though mutilated bodies were being shown on the screen, very very up close. 

“I never would’ve pegged you for a criminal show type-of-girl,” Stefan said. 

“I’m full of surprises,” you grinned. 

“Yeah, I know,” Stefan smirked. You looked up at him, your eyes skimming his lips before gazing into his eyes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked. 

“Nothing,” he shrugged. 

You started to yawn, putting your attention back on the tv. 

“You should get some rest. You had a big day,” Stefan said. 

“No, I wanna stay up and be a rebellious teen!” You exclaimed.

“You’re 18. You’re not a teen anymore,” Stefan chuckled. 

You smiled, “True. But hey, you are! Aren’t you, like, 17?” You asked, looking back up at him. 

“Yeah, but I’m also 165 years old,” he said. 

“Haha, you’re still younger than me. I order you to go to your room and sleep. Oh, and you can’t talk back to me,” you giggled, teasing him. 

Stefan rolled his eyes, “Ha-ha, you’re so funny.”

“Stefan Antonio Salvatore! Do not talk back to me!” You exclaimed, getting up from the couch. “Go to you room!”

Stefan stood up with you, towering over you. “How about I take you with me?”

You looked into his deep, green eyes. Your breath hitched, your heart racing to the point where you thought you were going to have a heart attack. Stefan took your hand in his, lighting your skin on fire. Heat rose up to your face, making you hide your face from his view so he didn’t see you blushing. But he put his other hand on your chin, lifting your face up and looking you in the eyes. 

Your eyes went down slowly to his lips, subconsciously licking your own at the thought of kissing him. Your eyes went back up to his, noticing his eyes on your lips, too. Stefan’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you in so your bodies touched. You felt the warmth radiating off of him, wanting to stay there forever. And as much as you wanted to kiss him, you knew you couldn’t. You knew he didn’t like you like that, and this was one of his ways of teasing you. So, you pulled away, turning away from his once more. 

“You should, um, go. We’re both tired and stuff,” you said. 

Stefan frowned, wishing you would follow along with him, but he didn’t try again. He didn’t want to force you into anything, especially since he wasn’t too sure about your feelings for him. 

“Alright. I’ll go. I’ll see you later,” he said. 

You nodded, not looking at him. “Bye.”

You heard the door open, hearing Stefan mutter a ‘goodbye’. Once the door closed, you started to cry. Tears that were forming in your eyes fell, coming down like a waterfall. You put your fist in your mouth, trying to drown out the sound of your cries, not wanting to wake your mom. You went to your room, curling up on your bed and hugging your pillow. 

I wish I would’ve kissed him. 

————

You walked in Elena’s house, your mouth watering at the smell of bacon and eggs. 

“Hm, who’s cooking?” You asked. 

“Me,” Stefan smiled once you came around the corner. 

“Oh, great,” you said.  “Aw, come on, I apologized to you last night. Be nice,” Stefan said. 

“Being nice to do is the last thing on my to-do list,” you snorted. “Give me some eggs and bacon?” “Nope. Say sorry,” Stefan said. 

You rolled your eyes, walking over to Stefan and the stove. “In your dreams. Now, give me food, Stuffy,” you smiled, using a nickname you had made up for him. 

“Not a chance, Y/n/n,” Stefan smirked. 

You sighed and tried to grab the plate of bacon that was in his hand, but he held it up in the air. You huffed, jumping up and trying to get the plate from him. 

“Stefan, I’m hungry! I didn’t have an actual dinner last night. Please,” you begged, jumping up, barely touching the plate. 

Stefan put the plate down to your reach. You smiled, “See, I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Right as you were about to grab the bacon, Stefan swiftly put the plate down, taking both your wrists in his hands. You fought against him, a big smile on your face. 

Caroline, Elena, and Alaric scoffed in the living room. 

“Are they ever gonna get together?” Alaric asked. 

“Sometimes it seems like it,” Caroline says. “And sometimes it doesn’t,” Elena sighed. 

“Why? They’re like, perfect for each other,” Alaric said, smiling a little when seeing Stefan scoop you in, spinning you around. 

“They’re so oblivious to each other’s love, it’s annoying,” Elena said. 

“And weirdly movie-like,” Caroline said. She sighed, looking at the two of you longingly. “I want what they have.”

“More like lack there of,” Alaric snickered. 

Elena hit his shoulder, going over to the kitchen.  “Okay, love birds, let’s eat. I’m starving,” Elena said.

Stefan let you go, your feet landing on the ground. 

“So you’ll listen to Elena and not me?” You asked. 

“Hm... yep,” Stefan smiled sweetly. 

“Rude,” you remarked, making your way to the kitchen table. 

Stefan brought over the food and you dug in. You all talked about a new plan to take out Klaus, which led to you needing to go back to your house to get some vampire-hunting supplies. 

“Mind if I go with you? Might be some heavy lifting I’ll need to do,” Stefan said. 

You rolled your eyes, “I’m strong enough, but sure. I could use someone to make it less boring.” You got up, putting on your shoes and jacket. 

“See you later, guys,” you smiled and waved to the rest of your friends. 

They waved back at you and Stefan followed you out to your car. 

“So, what’s the reason you wanted to go with me?” You asked, getting in your car. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I’m bored.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Okay, yeah, what’s the real reason.”

“I um... I wanted to talk about last night,” Stefan said. 

“Alright, but nothing happened. We did our little friendly-cuddle, you got all up in my personal space, and then you left and I went to bed,” you said. 

Stefan shook his head, “No, Y/n. That’s not what happened.”

You parked your car in your driveway, getting out and going into your house. 

“Then what happened, Stefan. Tell me,” you said, walking into your room and going into your closet. 

“Well, we did do our cuddle thing, but it definitely wasn’t friendly. We also almost kissed,” Stefan said, following you. 

“Sure, Stefan. You have a funny imagination, you know,” you said, getting out your box of weaponry. 

“We did, Y/n. Stop being in denial. I also know that you cried after I left,” he said. 

You looked up at him, scoffing and moving past him. 

He just wants to get under my skin.

“Y/n, this isn’t one of the times where you can just walk away and we forget about it. I’m serious,” Stefan said. 

Shit. 

“How do you know I cried?” You asked. 

“I... I heard you using my super-hearing through the door,” Stefan admitted. 

You shook your head, “Stalker.”

Stefan went up behind you, grabbing your forearm, causing the box you had to drop on the floor. He turned you to him, looking deep and hard into your eyes. 

“Let me go, Stefan,” you muttered through a clenched jaw. 

“No. Why won’t you talk to me about this?” He asked. 

“Be-Because I don’t want to. I have a right to not want to do anything, you know. Let me go!” You exclaimed, fighting against him. 

Stefan shook his head. “No. I want to know why you pulled away. We had a moment, Y/n, and we’ve always been having moments since we met. I... I don’t know if you are in love with me, like I am with you, but I felt something last night. I know you did, too. I saw in your eyes and I know that you were crying because you pulled away and you were upset. So, Y/n, why’d you pull away?”

You looked up at him helplessly. “I... I pulled away because I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” Stefan asked softly. 

“Scared of what would happen. I didn’t know if you loved me back. I was scared that if I kissed you, that I would lose our friendship. And as much as I wanted to kiss you, I can’t risk losing you,” you confessed. 

Stefan’s hands let go of your wrists, going over to your waist. He pulled you closer, your bodies touching once again. Your heart beat against your ribcage, making you more nervous than ever. You looked up at him, leaning in closer. 

“You’re in love with me?” You asked. 

“Yeah. Probably since we became friends,” Stefan said. 

“Me, too,” you smiled. 

“I figured after last night,” Stefan smiled. 

You chuckled, “Yeah.”

“So, are you gonna pull away now?” Stefan asked. He put his hand on your cheek, his hand staying on the small of your back. He looked into your eyes, waiting for your answer.

You shook your head with a smile. “No, not this time.”

————

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[imagine-that]

Gone

Pairing: Alex Karev x reader

Warnings: ANGST! Mentions of abandonment, spoilers for season 16 episode 16

Your heart pounded against your chest as you opened the crisply folded letter with shaking fingers.

You could still remember the last time you spoke to him, the last words you shared. You were so scared he was hurt or dead or something in the past week. The letter was a relief but the idea of getting that instead of his typical lengths of communication like a text or phone call was unnerving.

“Dr y/l/n?” You heard Owen calling to you but your ears were ringing too strongly to focus on his words.

You were on his service for the day but this was immediately trumping any form of work you were supposed to be getting to.

“Y/n,

I’m not good with words. I never have been, as I know you know. So I’m just going to start out with it. I’m not beating around the bush on this one. I am in Kansas with Izzie. I know it may come as a shock or betrayal or something like that but it’s the truth. When I was reaching out to people for Mer’s hearing, I called her. A little girl answered and I had no idea why. It didn’t register at first. But then she gave Izzie the phone. Izzie was shocked to hear from me but she quickly told me about our kids. Ours. I’m a father. I never realized how much I wanted that until it was a reality. I went out here to meet them and I just can’t bring myself to leave them or to come back. The minute I looked at those big brown eyes of my little boy, I was a goner. I will always love you, more than you could possibly ever know. You’re the greatest love of my life and for that I will always thank you. I wish it didn’t have to go like this. It shouldn’t go like this. You’ve been there for me since the Dr Evil Spawn days and I’m a shit guy for not being able to say the same. I’ve left my share of the hospital and my seat on the board in your name. I know that can’t make up for this but it’s the best I’ve got. I love you. But I’m still in love with Izzie. I hope someday you’ll forgive me. I hope someday you’ll be happier than I ever could’ve possibly made you.

Alex.”

You drop the letter on the table, your eyes glistening with unshed tears, your hand covering your open mouth as a small sob escapes.

You felt more naive than ever, thinking he was just visiting his mom. Thinking he was coming back for you, coming back TO you. Your mind swirled with random things you might’ve missed, that he might’ve done or said that could tip you off.

“Y/l/n!” Hunt repeated louder, bringing you back to your senses.

“What?!” You snap, turning your tearful gaze to him.

“Are you ready to prep for our surgery or not goddamnit?” He demands. You jump out of your chair, no longer feeling like you can stay sitting down.

“No I’m not.” You mutter, running your hands through your hair.

“Did you just say you’re unprepared for a surgery we’ve had on the board since yesterday y/l/n?!” He asks, bewildered by your response.

“Yes, yes I did! And before you say anything more on the subject, it isn’t because I didn’t study long and hard or because I got drunk last night and am hungover because I’m not! It’s because I just found out my boyfriend, the absolute love of my fucking life is gone! He left me for his ex and her secret kids! I am officially alone and I can’t bear it, I can’t even breathe! The one person who matters to me is gone, without so much as a proper goodbye! So ask someone else to scrub in just this one time, for the patients sake and my own Hunt.” You cry out, your eyes stinging with tears.

He reaches over to comfort you, unsure what else to do but you hold out your hands to stop him.

“Focus on the patient Hunt. She needs you more than I do.” You instruct, blinking away the tears to try and lower his concern.

He takes a moment but finally he leaves, making sure the door shuts behind him for you.

As you hear the hinges settle, you fall the the floor in an emotional fit. Your hands rest on your head, running through your hair. The room is silent, all except for your loud sobbing.

You hiccup, trying to catch your breath, trying to find the will to get up and get back to anything.

Soon, the door opens and you gasp for air, trying to regain calmness for whoever it was.

“Save the acting job y/l/n, I just read a letter from Alex Karev handing in his resignation and came right down here. Get over here.” Bailey orders, holding her arms wide open.

You scramble to your feet, not wasting any time in getting into her hug. She holds you, rubbing your back soothingly as you cry into her shoulder.

“He-he said he’d never- never leave me.” You stammer between hiccups. “He- he promised me!” You sob, letting all your unsaid words fall out of your mouth for Bailey to hear.

“I know y/n, I know.” She says, patting down your hair.

You start to catch your breath a bit, pulling away from her and crossing your arms over your chest.

“I kind of made a mess of your sweater, I’m so sorry chief Bailey.” You mutter, staring down at your simple white shoes in shame.

“Oh please, it can be washed. You feel free to let it all out if you need to.” She dismisses, smiling sadly at you.

Suddenly your pager buzzed. With a sniffle, you checked it quickly and pulled your hair back, quickly blowing your nose and wiping your eyes afterwards.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Bailey asks, eyeing you.

“That was Dr Hunt, he needs me down in the pit while he’s in surgery.” You explain, sniffling a little more.

“Oh no. Nuh uh. You’ll send an intern for that. I’m calling Wilson up here and she’s going to take you home.” She orders.

“Bailey, I’m fine. Really.” You promise her but you both know you’re lying.

“No.” She says sternly. “Stay here!” She orders, walking out into the hallway.

It doesn’t take her long to spot Jo walking down the hall. She brings her in to the room and shuts the door.

“I trust you’ll be very, VERY discreet with this Wilson.” She warns, walking off to order someone else around.

“What’s happening?” Jo asks, obviously very confused.

Too tired and emotionally distraught to explain, you simply point at the letter laying on the table.

She skims it over and without a word, envelopes you in a strong hug.

“Wilson, I can’t breathe.” You sigh quietly.

“Sorry. It’s just- you two were perfect together. You were the perfect example of a healthy, happy couple. I thought- everyone thought you two were soulmates.” She rambles.

“Well everyone thought wrong, he loves someone else. Would you please drive me ho- to Avery’s? I just- I can’t be at home right now. I can hardly call that place home without him...” You plead, getting teary eyes all over again.

“Of course! Let’s go, I just have to change out of my scrubs. You probably should too.” She suggests but you shake your head.

The clothes you’d worn to work that day held memories. Alex had given you the shirt for your Christmas present a few years ago when he’d been too stupid to think of something meaningful. The shoes were ones you’d worn on your first official date. The jeans were the ones you’d worn the first day of intern year, the first day you’d met him.

There was no possible way you could put any of them on without your entire body aching and longing for his touch.

“Ok, ok. I’ll meet you in the lobby. Just one second.” She orders, leaving the room.

You stand there for a moment, hugging your arms around yourself.

When Jo returns, Avery’s with her.

“What is it y/n, I was about to head into a surgery.” He says impatiently.

You give Jo a tired warning look, to which she responds with a sympathetic, sad smile.

“Alex left. He isn’t coming back.” You sigh hoarsely.

He looks completely shocked, blinking at you for a second.

“Are- are you ok? What do you need?” He asks, rushing to your side.

“I’m fine just- is it ok if I stay at yours?” You ask, biting down on your thumbnail absentmindedly.

“Of course! Stay as long as you need, you have a key right?” He says, looking even more concerned than before. You simply nod.

“I’m gonna give y/n a ride over there then but could you go down to the lobby with him/her/them and just stay there while I change? No one should have to be alone if something like this happens.” Jo explains.

You numbly grab your pager off the table along with the letter and follow Avery down to the lockers where you quickly grab your things, barely glancing at them as you do so.

He leads the way to the lobby wearily, acting far over protective of you.

You stand in silence staring at your shoes, practically enough to burn holes into them. Few people try to stop and ask questions but when they do, Jackson puts a stop to it with a simple look.

Soon Jo rejoins you and takes your arm, leading you to her car in the parking lot. Avery says goodbye but you don’t respond, too scared to speak.

You sit in the passenger seat and stare out the window at the Seattle night scene, feeling more empty than you ever had in your entire life.

——————————————————

6 months later...

You wearily let your knuckle tap the door a few times, fidgeting with your bare right ring finger. Not long ago, a silver ring had a place there. Not long ago, the person who presented you with that ring had his arms around you, smiling softly at you. That smile continued to haunt your dreams, your mind, your everything.

Maybe what you were doing was a bad idea. You knew that. But you needed it. It was like an itch, you couldn’t not scratch it.

A perky looking blonde opened the door and you didn’t even have to look at her to know who it was. Her long hair was in a perfect ponytail, she wore an apron covered in flour and had a little girl attached to her leg.

“Hi, how can I help you?” She asked with a friendly smile.

“Izzie I presume?” You say, gritting your teeth and cursing yourself for your idiotic decision to come out here.

“Yes? Do I know you?” She asks, clearly puzzled.

“No I guess not. I uh... I started at Grey-Sloan the same year as you. As an intern.” You explain vaguely, feeling too cowardly to go any deeper into detail.

The little girl peers up at you, clearly very curious. It’s enough to make you want to run away, never look back.

“Alexis honey, go find daddy and tell him he has a visitor.” She tells the small girl. She nods up to her, running off with a big smile.

The blonde eyes you up and down and you nervously rub your hand up and down your arm, trying to figure out what to do with your hands.

“Izzie who’s at the do-.” A painfully familiar voice starts, his mouth agape as your eyes meet.

“Hi.” You say sheepishly.

“Y/n...” He says, more like a statement than anything else.

“Daddy who’s your friend? She’s/he’s/they’re real pretty.” The little girl says with a shy grin.

You smile at her a bit, trying to keep from crying again.

“Thank you. So are you.” You reply with a forced smile.

“Kids go with your mom and help her with the cookies. Daddy and his friend need to talk.” Alex says, his eyes never leaving your face.

Izzie watches you both for a moment, hesitant to leave you alone until Alex gives her a pleading look and she takes each kid into their extravagant kitchen.

“Let’s um... let’s go and talk outside.” He suggests, rubbing the back of his neck. You don’t say another word and you follow him out to the yard, sitting down with him.

“How did you even find out where I live?” He asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“Well, I first considered paying a PI to track you down. I wanted to make you feel even a fraction of what I felt.” You admit honestly.

He nods but completely avoids all eye contact.

“But then Meredith told me you gave her the address in your letter to her. That you invited her to meet your kids.” You add, kicking your feet around to distract yourself.

“Those letters must’ve arrived pretty late, I sent them over 6 months ago.” He mutters, biting at his index finger.

“No... they got there then. I just- I couldn’t bring myself to come out here and make a damn fool of myself.” You respond, biting your bottom lip. “Kind of like I’m doing now.” You add under your breath.

“Y/n, why are you here?” He asks, finally meeting your eyes with his own.

“Well evil spawn,” you start off and he does the half grin that makes your head spin every time, even now. “I had to see you. I had to see what it was you- you left me for.” You admit with a gulp.

“Y/n-“ he says but you shake your head.

“No. Let me finish. Please.” You whisper, your eyes watering again. He nods for you to proceed. “When I met you, that first day of intern year, you were a complete ass. Charming, funny but a complete ass. I got to know you and I fell for you, fell hard. My heart practically beat just for you. When you left... I was devastated. I didn’t know how I could live. I didn’t know how I could do what I love and work with all these kids, some of which you treated their entire lives.” You explain.

“Y/n I never meant to hurt you.” He promises, gulping down a lump in his throat.

“Don’t you think I know that?” You ask with a sad laugh. “God, I know you would never mean to. But I just- we have this... this story. I loved you. I loved you with everything I had and I just- your shares and your seat don’t make up for those years of love and memories I have. That WE have.” You say, tears streaming down your face.

“I remember the first time we were in the on call room together and you were already asleep and I came in and turned on the lights and you were so angry until you looked up and saw it was me. You started flirting, suggesting we share a bed to keep room for other Doctors. You actually fell off that bunk and said ‘guess I really fell for you huh’. That was the first day you made me smile the way you always did. It was the first time I took any kind of liking to you whatsoever.” You go on, smiling sadly at the past.

“I remember that. I had a bump on my damn head for weeks but it was worth the headache to see you smile like that at me. Because of me.” He chuckles.

“Yeah. I know, you kept trying to tell people it was because I was a freak in bed.” You roll your eyes at the thought that the man in front of you would ever say something like that.

“Anyway, my point is that I have all these great memories and experiences. But they’re all tainted with this one thing.” You sigh, staring at the gravel road.

“I’m not in love with Izzie.” He blurts, making your head shoot up to face him. “I don’t... I don’t know why I said I was in that letter. I think it was just to make it hurt so you wouldn’t hunt me down.” He continues.

“You always have liked keeping people at arms length.” You murmur.

“That’s not fair, you know it isn’t.” He exclaims in defence.

“I don’t even know what fair is anymore Alex! You took that from me too when you left!” You cry back. “You left me! You took off, taking everything of me with you. My dignity included. I cried, no I sobbed in front of Miranda Bailey, my boss! I cried in front of her and all over her scrubs! I can’t even enter my own home! It’s been 6 whole months but I can’t bring myself to go back in that loft because it will drown me and I won’t be able to come up for air Alex!” You shout.

He looks to the ground, keeping his distance and not speaking.

“And Alex? That feeling? It hurts. It hurts so damn much, I ache all over trying to control it, trying to stop it. My body, my heart, everything aches for you even now and I can’t do a thing about it.” You continue, too worked up to stop.

“You left me stranded with not so much as a proper goodbye. THAT is why I am here. I need at least some fraction of myself back.” You say quietly.

“I love you y/n. Like I said in the letter, I always will.” He says sheepishly, pursing his lips as he stares down the ground.

“What, you think that letter of all things helps me or even helps you? It doesn’t.” You mumble.

“What else do I say exactly. That I miss you? Because I do. I miss you like crazy. But I can’t- I cannot leave my kids.” He sighs.

“I’m not asking you to. I’m not asking you to come back either. I’m not asking for anything. I just needed to say SOMETHING to you. I needed this for myself. It might be selfish or stupid considering you didn’t give me permission to come here like you did for Mer but I honestly don’t care.” You rant.

“Y/n, you’re kidding me right? I’m the selfish one here! I’m the one who made an idiot of myself, leaving the people I know, the people I love for this.” He exclaims, hand running down his head. “I mean I love those kids with everything I’ve got but I don’t belong here. I’ve tried to make it work with her but it’s become even more abundantly clear that she and I never have and never will work.” He admits.

You look at him, wide eyes, taking in everything he just said. You could feel yourself trying to resist him, trying to ignore the way he still looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

“I should’ve never left.” He mutters, head in his hands.

“Alex-.” You start, not wanting to hear the words you knew he would say, that you know would make you weak in the knees.

“No y/n, for real. It was stupid of me to think I could just abandon everything I cared about to move here.” He mutters, running his hand down his jawline.

You sit in silence for a moment, trying to process.

“You’re right. It was stupid.” You agree, avoiding his eyes. “But it’s a little late now. You have kids Alex. They... they depend on you. You can’t just leave that.” You say with a sad smile his way.

“I wouldn’t have to! The kids, they would love Seattle. And everyone there would love them! Not to mention, they would absolutely adore you y/n. Just like I do.” He says excitedly.

“Alex... Something tells me that Izzie would never be ok with that. And we both know with your situation she would win a custody battle. Not to mention the fact that you shouldn’t put them through that in the first place.” You argue.

“God, you’re right. You’re always right y/n. It’s annoying how much you’re right about things.” He groans.

You laugh a bit, getting to your feet.

“And it’s funny how wrong but cocky you always are.” You counter, giving him a goofy smile.

“I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed seeing that smile until you were already thoroughly pissed at me.” He laughs.

“I was not THOROUGHLY pissed at you...” You say and he raises an eyebrow.

“That’s not what Mer told me.” He teases and you blush pink.

“Fine I was practically throwing darts at your picture. But I got over it. Eventually.” You grumble

He nods, clearly understanding why you would have been angry. You already knew him well enough to know he would be just as angry at himself as you were.

“You know the reason I didn’t give you the address right?” He asks suddenly, his head bolting up out of his hands. You shake your head no and he starts to chuckle a bit, the half grin spread across his face. “I uh... I already knew that if I did, you would storm your way down here to yell at me and I would’ve taken one look into those big, beautiful y/e/c eyes of yours, I would never be able to stay here. I should’ve known this was a bad idea from just that alone. I’m in love with YOU. Izzie may be the mother of my children but you are the love of my life. I wish I’d never left you.” He reveals.

“I really mean that much to you Karev?” You ask, biting at your lip unsurely.

He looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind. “Of course you do y/n. You always have and I already know you always will. You’re my world, even now. Just the idea of you moving on drives me insane, no matter how selfish it is for me to say.” He rants.

This time, you can’t control your emotions or your movements. You go up to him and grab him gently by the back of his neck, pulling him in and smashing your lips on his. He immediately gives in, grabbing at your back and pulling you even closer, as though he was scared to let go.

You pull away, stopping yourself and him from going any further.

“I’d say that was the most proper our kind of goodbye could get.” You say quietly, touching a finger to your lips as you slowly step backwards, moving away from Alex.

“Y/n!” He tries to stop you but you’re already on a sprint down the driveway, not wanting to mess things up for his family anymore than you felt you already had.

And with that, you ran from the love of your life, not even looking back to see if he was chasing you this time or not.

[yuzukult]

—saccharine

pairing: seokjin x reader word count: 2,319 prompt: seokjin doesn’t believe in love at first sight. so... what’s this feeling that’s churning in the pit of his stomach when he meets you for the first time? warnings: none. minor cursing. fluff attack. a/n: to celebrate my follower milestone! thank you all for supporting and reading my fics, it means a lot to me!

Everyday is a continuous, recurring cycle. 

First, the alarm rings. Then, he slams the snooze button on his phone before resuming into a light sleep for another eight minutes. The annoying horn sings again, and a wash of regret hits from never changing it out of the default, so he finally accepts this by getting up and sliding his feet lazily into a pair of slippers by the side of his bed before making way into the bathroom.

His hair is a mess. But it’s a mess everyday. Life has gone to the point that even brushing his teeth has become a dreadful chore. Shuffling through his bin of hair products, he finds the mousse he consistently loses and finds on repeat and then slaps a boatload of it onto his head.

This is basically a day-in-the-life of Kim Seokjin. Except it’s everyday. It’s never ending. It feels like one of those time loop movies where when he ends his day, it starts back off exactly like it did yesterday. 

To be fair, he can’t complain. He’s got a roof over his head, an apartment all to himself (that means without a roommate), plus a well-paying full time job. It’s hard to whine and cry about how his life seems to have no excitement, other than the occasional meeting with his friends, but contrarily… there’s not much to look forward to.

It’s the same mundane activities. Opening the cabinet above his kitchen counter as he usually does at this time, he grabs his favorite Cheerios. Good starts with happy hearts, as their commercials say, but Seokjin isn’t entirely sure that’s true. 

He’s a “cereal first and milk last” kind of guy. Not that he judges those who do it backwards, but he thinks if anyone does the routine in the opposite order, they might actually be backwards. It’s a condition—he makes it seem, and it’s a rather controversial topic for the guy.

Nonetheless, he enjoys his bowl of breakfast goods. He reads the news on his phone, and when the reminder on his watch dings, Seokjin rushes to put his dishes into the sink and hauls himself down the hall, in direction to his walk-in-closet that evidently is just too big for it being only himself. It’s a constant indication that he’s alone. 

By the time it’s 8:30AM, he’s dressed in his suit and tie, hair slicked back, and has a satchel slung over his shoulder in preparation of yet another day at the office.

But maybe he’d stop by that new place this morning. Change of pace. Maybe it’ll liven up his day and give him something to look forward to. Maybe he’d like it.

The place is around the corner, less than a three minute walk the moment he leaves his apartment building, and if he timed himself, it probably takes longer to leave his home and out of the building. The shop is cute; decor stickers are laid out delicately along the windows, the walls are painted a pretty blush pink, and there’s smiles on all the workers’ faces as if they enjoyed being there.

There’s a smile on your face in particular that captures his attention.

Seokjin is a relatively kind guy, or so he thinks he is. He’s never pinned over girls like those shows he’s seen on TV, but he’s had his fair share of relationships. He’s not shy, but he’s also not outgoing. He has an abundance of friends but only a few are ones he trusts. 

And the girlfriends he had were great but… no one really appreciates his generosity as much as he’d like.

He thinks he’s crazy at this moment, quite frankly, because he doesn’t believe in love at first sight. It’s this theory and idea that writers of a romance genre film and story that people whipped up together to make it seem more appealing to their audiences. But he doesn’t actually think it’s true.

Or is it?

Hair up in a messy bun, there’s a swipe of flour that coats your one cheek, and a smile that dresses your face so beautifully. You’re in a simple outfit that’s a combination of a white tee and blue jeans with the shop’s apron on top, while running around to keep up with all the orders coming through. He has hearts brimming in his pupils and he can’t seem to stop the way his chest tightens the second he lays his eyes on you. Is this what love at first sight is?

Seokjin doesn’t only regret not changing the default ringtone of his alarm this morning. He also regrets not asking for your number.

When he reaches his office, he realizes he forgets to ask for cream and sugar at the bakery. The dark, warm liquid glides down his throat with some difficulty; the bitterness layering his tongue but the memory of you sparks sweetness from within. Who were you? He doesn’t even know you and you’re on his mind like crazy.

Now, Seokjin has seen How I Met Your Mother. He’s watched the nine seasons, totaling out to two-hundred and eight episodes, so needless to say, Seokjin knows what goes on in that show. And ironically, he hates Ted. The guy is a hopeless romantic that thinks every girl he has his eyes on is ‘the one.’ Seokjin refuses to become like Ted, and he would be caught dead replicating those same actions.

Then why the fuck is he caught up on a girl he’s seen once? 

The second time Seokjin comes by the bakery, it’s a hell of a lot less busy. In fact, it’s only three people that man the storefront, rather than the six that he saw the first time he stopped by. He has his fingers crossed behind his back as he waits in the queue patiently, hoping you’d be the one taking his order this time around.

Luck must be on his side because you’re greeting him with those pearly white teeth. “Good morning, nice to see you. What can I get for you today?”

Abort, abort! He can’t talk. He swears that his heart has found its way up into his throat, and he can’t get any words to come out.

You blink. Those gorgeous long lashes brush your cheeks so deftly, and it swells his heart that’s now lodged in the path of his airways. “Sir?”

Seokjin swallows. “Oh—yeah, sorry sorry. Uh, can I get a medium hot coffee? Cream and sugar, please. Forgot to mention that last time and I almost died from the bitterness.” Was that an appropriate comment to make? Did it make you laugh? Or were you offended that he just insulted your workplace’s coffee

He cheers in success on the inside when a soft chuckle escapes from your lips. “Aw, I’m sorry to hear. I guess we should have also done our part and asked if you wanted any. Did you want to order anything else?”

Ah. Was the conversation already ending? But it’s so soon! He barely held the dialogue for a couple seconds, and since he’s got your attention, he can’t let go now. Quickly, his eyes skim the menu and the display case full of baked goods. “Uh, what do you recommend?” He asks, gesturing to the sweets. 

You wave your hand for another coworker to take the next customer’s order. Walking over to the sweets, Seokjin trails over as well, observing your expression. You’ve got your brows furrowed, deep in thought with a quirk of the side of your lips, engrossed with the plentiful of options. “Do you like tarts?”

—

Seokjin is a regular now. 

Whenever the clock strikes 7:30AM, he’s already in his work attire, hair at its best, and has checked his face in the mirror for the fiftieth time. Then, he’s on route to the corner bakery.

He wants to look good before he meets you. Handsome guy for a pretty girl. It’s only right.

The bells at the front door of the shop ring loudly the moment he enters in, and immediately his ears are filled with that beautiful laugh of yours, but you’re not alone. It’s accompanied by someone else’s, a voice that doesn’t match any of your other coworkers and his jaw clenches at the thought. Who is this male that claims to be the purpose of your giggling with a mop he calls hair on the top of his head?

“Oh!” You beam, lifting up the cup of hot coffee in hand. “Seokjin! Come here, I have a new pastry for you to try, and your daily caffeinated beverage to pair it with. Plus, I want you to meet my friend.”

His name is Taehyung. The freaking guy looks like a model, strutting into the café like it’s his runway, and when his gaze meets Seokjin’s, it makes Seokjin feel small.

Seokjin likes you, if the amount of times he comes in a week is evidence for it. He doesn’t just do that either; he often stirs up a conversation, asks how your day is going so far, and even goes out of his way to remember small details so he can bring it up next time. But he can’t help but wonder—do you have a boyfriend? Are you being kind only because Seokjin is a customer? Or are you normally this sweet as those raspberry filled pastries you set him up with? 

And those questions are only emphasized when Taehyung smiles, extends his hands and offers Seokjin a firm shake. “I’m Taehyung.”

Seokjin’s entire work day has gone to shit. All he could think about was who Taehyung was and why you were so adamant about Seokjin meeting him. 

After taking the last bite of the delicious pastry you packed for him (free of charge, too), it hits him. 

If Seokjin liked you, he should just confess his feelings, no matter what the consequences. Instead of sitting here with his shoulders slouched, eating this treat you gave him with a pout upon his lips, he shouldn’t continue waiting around and feeling sorry for himself anymore. Why would he make himself suffer like this when there’s a way to end this vicious cycle? 

Seokjin concludes that he’s going to confess tonight. 

—

What Seokjin learns about you is that you are by far not close to his ideal dream girl. 

You’re the “milk first, cereal last” gal, and he believes you’re ass backwards. You like consistency, and your favorite ringtone is the sound of those stupid horns he has for alarms in the morning. You enjoy the first few hours of your day, basking in the routine that you’ve put together yourself, including the one that had recently involved seeing Seokjin’s face. 

And although you’re not his dream girl, you’ve become it.

“I like you,” He finally confesses, a bouquet of flowers in his hands that match the decor stickers plastered on the shop's windows. “Would you… go out with me?”

Seokjin isn’t here in the mornings like he normally is, opting that since this is definitely a change of pace, he might as well go all out. Maybe this will be different. Maybe he’ll be happier.

Stunned, your mouth drops open. You’re stuttering over your own words, practically malfunctioning like a machine. “Wha—Like—what? Like… you like me as in like… a woman? More than a friend? You want to take me out?”

“Uh,” Seokjin scratches behind his ear anxiously. Was his plan backfiring? “Yes? I… like you. As in, I come here in the mornings for coffee, yeah, but I mostly came to see you. I enjoy hearing your laugh, seeing your smiles, and listening to you talk about these pastries like they’re your world and I—“ He pauses, inhaling a sharp breath, “—then you introduced me to this really good looking guy named Taehyung and I didn’t know what my chances were with you anymore, so here I am. Confessing.”

You’re silent. Truthfully, Seokjin’s not feeling good about this. His palms are sweaty, his heart is racing, and you still haven’t said a word and he’s sure that over thirty seconds have already passed by.

“What—“ You start again, quickly stopping yourself with a shake of your head. “Thank god, really.”

The front of Seokjin’s brows dip in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

You laugh, combing your fingers through your loosened locks. “I’ve been trying to tell my coworkers that I had this stupid crush on you since you first came in. You’re such a great listener, you’re handsome, and fun to talk to. They think you’re too good to be true, so they thought you wanted to be my gay best friend. Hence… the Taehyung test.”

“The Taehyung test?” Seokjin reiterates. 

Chewing on your bottom lip, your eyes are swirls of apologies. “He’s cute, right? Either you’d get jealous that a guy like him has my attention and you like me, or you like him and you’re jealous that he’s making me laugh instead of you.”

Seokjin’s shoulders drop in relief. “So… does that mean you’ll go out with me?”

You smile softly. “Of course, Jin.”

He doesn’t think those mundane activities he identified before are boring anymore. No, not with you, they’re not. He doesn’t mind watching you pour milk instead of cereal first in the mornings because he’s glad he gets to be the one who pinches your side teasingly and call you a weirdo. He doesn’t hate the sound of the horns—okay, a lie, he hates it so much, but they’re bearable when you’re around since you don’t hesitate to shut it off the minute it rings, and immediately hop out the bed, without using the snooze button. Brushing his teeth is a delight, especially when he sees your toothbrush sitting in your own designated cup on your side of the sink.

Everyday is a continuous, recurring cycle. 

But Seokjin doesn’t mind those things if it’s done with you. 

[be-the-spark-flyboy]

Meant To Be [part 1]

A/n: missed last week buT NOT THIS TIME WRITERS BLOCK😤 written for @autumnleaves1991-blog writer wednesday

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Finn (modern au)

Warnings: swearing, pining, BB8 is a snarky 4 yr old, cuteness, some thirty thots, I don’t know how toddlers speak forgive me, barely proofread, age gap (Finn is 25 and Poe is 34)

Word count: 1.4K

—-

Poe was so tired. He could feel the sweat rolling down the back of his neck, the sun beating down on him mercilessly as he slammed the trunk of his car close a tad harder than necessary. A tiny head peaked out from the passenger seat at the noise. Poe grimaced.

He was really looking forward to handing over Beebee to Han and Leia for the evening and get some much needed rest. But now he was practically stranded in the middle of a desert, sand as far as his eyes could see and a flat tire, puncture kit nowhere to be found.

Dragging his feet back to the front, he dropped heavily onto the driver's seat, huffing in frustration. The radio was playing a pop song he may have heard sometime in passing, but hey, at least the air conditioning was unaffected and they had more than enough snacks packed for the trip. The last thing he needed was a hangry kid crying from the punishing heat.

Said toddler turned to look at him and he snorted at her serious expression and his aviators looking comically large on her small face. Beebee smiled back. "Now are you going to call grampa Han?" she asked.

"Looks like I don't have a choice," he sighed, prompting a round of giggles from Bee.

"He's going to be mad,"

"Little lady, do you think it's funny when your dad gets yelled at by that old man?"

"I'm gonna tell him you called him old man," she giggled again.

"No you won't,"

"Yes, I will," she told him with conviction.

"Snitches get stitches," Poe lurched forward tickling her sides making her squeal with laughter.

"I'm gonna tell him!"

---

"You always get the same thing! Try something new," Rey groaned.

Finn smiled pleasantly at her irritation, cheerfully replying, "Nope," as Rey parked her ancient looking pick-up truck outside the ice-cream parlour. "And if you get me anything but butterscotch I'll steal your keys," he threatened.

"And then what? Walk home by yourself?" Rey laughed, slipping out before Finn could issue more stupid threats. He pouted in his seat, watching his roommate happily skip into the shop.

Fridays were Finn's favourite. Classes end early and it was his off day too. More often then not Han lets Rey off earlier at the shop so he gets to spend more time with her as well. It was just perfect.

The phone on the dashboard starts to vibrate not a minute later. Finn recognized the caller ID and picked it up. "Hello, Solo,"

"Rey not there?" came the gruff reply.

"Nice to hear from you too, I've been good, how about you?" He asked cheerfully. Maybe the fact that he wasn’t face to face with Han Solo made him a little more bold than usual. Rey swears he is a teddy bear under all that grumpy personality but Finn was yet to be convinced.

"Not in the mood, big deal," the old man huffed on other side.

"I can take a message," Finn folded. Best not to push him too far.

“My idiot godson got himself stranded out in the desert without a puncture kit. I need Rey to go help him out,”

“Aye aye, captain,”

---

Bee was adorably dancing along to the Peppa pig theme song on her god-knows-how-many episode on the iPad propped up against her knees. Exhaustion was pulling at Poe’s eyelids as he fought to keep them open.

It had been almost an hour since he made that absolutely not fun at all call to Han, who spent fifteen whole minutes lecturing him on the importance of being prepared, especially with a toddler dependent on him. Thankfully Leia had interrupted with an excuse of wanting to talk to Beebee.

Then they had waited and waited. He had already gotten out of the car to stretch his legs about three times, not more than a few minutes at a time, too scared he would melt right into the ground from the heat. One particularly long blink of his eyes later, he noticed a battered looking pickup truck approaching and thought dear lord let them be my savior.

The truck parked on the opposite side of the road and a young woman in a tank top and grease stained jeans hopped out. Must be the one Han called Rey. Poe dropped a kiss on Bee’s forehead, asking to her to stay inside. He pushed the door open and— very nearly tumbled to the ground in his gay panic.

Another person stepped out of the truck, a man maybe a few inches taller than the woman. And goddamn, he was fine. The black band tee stretched just so around his chest and Christ, those biceps.

“You must be Han’s godson,” Rey’s voice snapped him out of his gawking. God, he must have been so obvious. For all he knew, the guy could’ve been Rey’s boyfriend.

Poe slapped on a polite smile before offering his hand. “Poe Dameron. Nice to meet you,”

“I’m Beatrice Dameron, but everyone calls me Beebee,” said a voice in an adorable toddler drawl. When the hell did she get out of the car? Was he really that distracted? “Nice to meet you,” Bee offered her hand mirroring him.

Rey crouched down to take her hand. “That’s a nice name. I’m Rey,”

“I asked you to stay in the car,” Poe hissed after Rey went to get the spare tire.

“I didn’t say yes,” Beebee answered before skipping away after Rey. Are four year olds even supposed to be that sassy? An amused chuckle drew his attention back to the handsome stranger.

“Cute kid,” his smile rivaled sunshine— shut up, inner-monologue.

“You’d think that, but before you know it she would have you wrapped around her little finger and you can’t say no to her,” The handsome stranger laughed again and something fluttered in Poe’s chest at the sound.

“I’m Finn, Rey’s roommate,” Oh goodie, not boyfriend then. “You new to town?” Finn asked. God, even his name was perfect.

“Technically, yeah. But it’s fortunate I got transferred somewhere with people I know, ya know,”

“What do you do?”

“Flight instructor at the airbase,” Poe shrugged nonchalantly. It was a brag, he knew it and judging by the arch of Finn’s eyebrows, he thought it was impressive too. “What about you?”

Before he could hear Finn’s answer, Beebee came barreling into Poe, screaming, “I’m gonna be a mechanic when I grown up!”

“That’s great, honey,” Poe lifted up his kid into his arms. Rey walked up behind her.

“You’re all set,” Poe looked at her on surprise. That was fast. After thanking the her for the help, Rey and Finn departed. He sighed forlornly. If only he still had game or time to date.

“You ready to leave now?” Bee nodded her head vigorously. There’s only so much desert one can tolerate.

—-

Han failed to mention his idiot godson was hot. Quite honestly, ‘hot’ wasn’t even doing justice to the head full of dark, gravity-defying curls either. Finn groaned out loud, tipping his head back into the head rest.

“He’s a pilot, Rey,” Rey straight up laughed at his pathetic whining. But Finn paid her no mind as usual. “Do you think he has those uniforms Air Force officers wear? I bet he looks so sexy in them,”

“I don’t know, you could just ask him,” Rey stated.

“Hell no! He has a kid, what if he’s straight? Or worse, what if he’s married?”

“Don’t say you didn’t see him checking you out! Besides, he wasn’t wearing a ring,” Finn briefly wondered when Rey got so observant.

“He wasn’t checking me out!” Finn spluttered.

“Oh ho ho, yes he was,” Rey exclaimed. “Very nearly drooled, too,”

“It doesn’t matter,” he deflated, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m probably not gonna see him again after this anyways,” he lamented.

“He’s Han and Leia’s godson, of course you’re gonna see him again,” as if on queue, Rey’s phone dinged again. “See who texted?” Finn skimmed through the message Han sent and groaned again. “What?”

“Han invited us to dinner, apparently Poe’s gonna be there too,” Finn swore Rey’s answering cackle could be heard for miles.

—-

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph. Love your blog, it's awesome. Do you know any angsty fics where John is hurt and Sherlock is really scared and thinks that it is his fault but then John comforts him? Thanks!

Hey Lovely!

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm. Ah, you can definitely find those on these lists:

John Whump / Sherlock Takes Care of John

John Whump / Sherlock Takes Care of John Pt. 2

John Whump / Sherlock Takes Care of John Pt. 3

But with that specific topic? Hmm, well, I just quickly skimmed those three posts and pulled the ones I recall with a guilt-ridden Sherlock, so here they are! Feel free to add any I missed, gang!! <3 I just did this up REALLY quick so apologies for missing obvious ones :P

-----

JOHN WHUMP with GUILTY SHERLOCK

Two To Tango (The Cold Hands, Warm Heart Remix) by igrockspock (T, 1,207 w., 1 Ch. || Domestics, John Whump, Worried Sherlock) – When John is wounded while pursuing a suspect, Sherlock refuses to leave his side.

Back in the Saddle by grannysknitting (M, 1,577 w., 1 Ch. || Post TGG AU, Donovan POV, Observation / Introspection, Protective Sherlock, Injured John, Case-ish Fic) – Their first return to solving crime after the pool and the explosion.

The Many Faces of Concern by sdrawkcabemdaer5 (K+, 2,473 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Angsty Fluff, John Whump, Mildly Clueless / Guilty Sherlock) – John is injured on a case, leading to some surprising reactions and discoveries about their friendship.

Domino by Deception's Call (K, 2,689 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Scared / Worried Sherlock, John Whump, Crying Sherlock, Hospital, Implied Caretaker Sherlock) – When John is injured on a case and is admitted to the hospital, those at Scotland Yard come to realize that perhaps Sherlock Holmes has a heart after all.

After the Bombs by VampirePam (T, 3,337 w., 2 Ch. || THoB AU, Drugs, John’s PTSD, Panic Attack, Nightmares, Caring Sherlock, Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) – In which the drugs Sherlock used to dose John trigger a severe episode of PTSD. When terrors old and new cause John to fall apart, Sherlock must rectify his mistake and pick up the pieces.

All That I Have by the_arc5 (M, 3,721 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG Canon Divergence, Pining Sherlock, John Whump, Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Light Angst) – In the aftermath of the Great Game, Sherlock finds himself with a new weakness. John is both the cause and the cure.

Every Step of the Way by Shi_Toyu (G, 3,795 w., 1 Ch. || Car Accident, John Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Pre-Slash) – When John is injured on a case, Sherlock can't forgive himself. Everyone expects him to give up on his flatmate and get bored, but he'll prove them all wrong by sticking with him...every step of the way.

I'll Take Care of You by Lastew (T, 4,123 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick John) – Sherlock doesn't always communicate well and sometimes that leads to problems. What happens if John suffers because of it?

A Moment Changes Everything by CymraegCariad (K+, 4,294 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Angst, John Whump, Friendship) – John gets hurt and Sherlock tries to help.

In Good Hands by Haelia (K+, 4,384 w., 1 Ch. || Adventure, Hurt/Comfort, John Whump) – John and Sherlock are stranded deep in the wilderness with no phones and no foreseeable escape. With John wounded, Sherlock fears they will die here: in the cold, in the damp, in the woods.

Drive by lifeonmars (M, 9,537 w., 1 Ch. || Virginity, Awkward First Times, Minor Injuries) – John and Sherlock are stranded by the roadside, and John is injured. They need to spend the night in the back of a humvee. Sherlock is confused. John is understanding.

We Might Not Make It Home by Ballykissangel (K+, 10,702 w., 4 Ch. || Angst, Hurt/Comfort, No Slash) – A few months later they are on a case that has gone horribly wrong. They find themselves gravely wounded and locked in a cellar. Holding onto to each other and trying their best to stay alive Sherlock can't bring himself to say another goodbye to his dying friend and John can't find the will to live anymore and just wants to stop hurting. Sequel to When Evening Falls So Hard.

The Dying Doctor by Transcendental Starlight (T, 11,258 w., 3 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Sick John / John Whump, ACD Rewrite) – Loosely based off ACD's "The Dying Detective." Sherlock relives a case that should have killed him, but instead resulted in John being hospitalized for a deadly disease. Sherlock endeavors to catch the murderer, while attempting to envision a future without John Watson. No Slash.

Where the Sun Never Shines by teahigh (T, 11,634 w., 1 Ch. || PTSD, Nightmares, H/C, Post-TRF, Implied Sex) – John is a mess. Sherlock can't fix him, but he tries. That's good enough, John thinks.

Equilibrium by augustbird (M, 12,351 w., 1 Ch. || Flowers for Algernon Fusion || Jealous then Worried Sherlock, Sick John) – At Baskerville, John is infected by a virus that turns him into a genius. But when the infection progresses into neurodegeneration, it's a race against time to save himself.

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV, Sherlock’s Freckles, Worried Sherlock, Forgiveness, Love Confessions) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

The dying Doctor by marylouleach (T, 21,168 w., 11 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, John Whump) – Doctor Watson is gunned down in a dark alley after work, Sherlock wont rest until he finds the man responsible. Guilt riddles him when he realizes he could have prevented this.

M Is For Moriarty by ElvendorkInfinity (T, 29,882 w., 12 Ch. || Suspense, Mystery, Case Fic, Worried Sherlock, No Slash, Whump) – A figure at the end of the hospital bed; a needle in the dark...Moriarty has John, and Sherlock must follow the paper trail through London to find him before time runs out. Sequel to BANG.

You Have Drawn Red From My Hands by J_Baillier (T, 67,085 w., 17 Ch. || Three Garridebs, Heavy John Whump, Hurt / Comfort, Pining, Heavy Angst, Case Fic/Adventure, Slow Burn, Sick Fic, Injury, Guilt & Depression, Just Talk Already Please, Medical Realism, PTSD) –  John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sick Fic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,256 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

[totaltrashmammal101]

Betrayal and Love don't mix

Ok, so I don't know if I'm gonna spoil anything because I know that there is a manga, but I've never read it, but I have a feeling (hopeful thinking more) that we're not done with the militant trio, because it was left kind of...like hey maybe and I do know somebody said I guess that Niragi is still alive after the fire, idk...we'll see. No intended spoilers, if I guessed I apologize, if not... well disregard this.

SPOILERS if you haven't finished the season...I hope everyone has, because this skims over the last episodes.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, blood, violence, murder, etc. Normal AIB things

××××××××××××××××××××××××

Ann's heart dropped seeing Hatter's lifeless body on the table. She stepped forward to touch the bullet wound only to have Niragi nudge her with a smirk

"Try not to touch the body too much, we all know you have a love for dissecting things." He winked at her, she sighed and rolled her eyes stepping back. She glanced at Aguni, trying to read him but he showed even less emotion than Chishiya, in public at least. The threats to vote for Aguni filled Ann with rage, how dare he do things like this, let Niragi and Last Boss threaten people. Would he have even stopped them if she or anyone voted against him?

She avoided being alone with him as they signed their names and he gave his speech. Aguni glanced at her a few times trying to read her expression, but all he noticed was her nostrils flare and she looked pissed. His mind was on repeat, kissing Ann before they went their separate ways for their games, shooting Hatter, crying, and sleeping beside her because he knew it'd be the last time she'd ever want to be near him. When Arisu was caught and Niragi and the others were in charge of him, he went to go find Ann. They got into a screaming match about Hatter and everything

"Learn to mind your own damn buisness Ann! Leave this shit alone!" He pointed at her

"This is my job and you don't tell me what to do. Not after today! What is wrong with you?"

"Just drop it!"

"He was your best friend Aguni, wouldn't you want to know who did it?!" He stormed out in a huff. She went back to work and was shocked by the bullet she found, she recognized it as one from the beach. She pushed away the truth that Aguni was the one who shot him. She knew it was him, but accepting that fact raised more questions. She was lost in thought when the tv in the kitchen kicked on, The Beach was now a game arena and to get to the lobby. Her stomach dropped and she walked out to get her phone, ten of hearts, and the game was 'witch hunt'. She yelled at everyone not to touch the knife in Momoka, the questioning began, and Niragi tried to threaten her and Asahi, but thankfully for her she could see through his antics as a scared little boy. When Aguni showed up the two stepped away from each other a bit, he declared everyone a suspect who wasn't his ally, and he could see her eyes narrow at him, her silent questioning of where she stood there. She wanted to yell at Niragi for shooting his gun off, but unaware of where she and Aguni stood she took off with the others. She hid until she could go back for the knife determined to figure it out before the Militants slaughtered the beach.

Watching Aguni hit Arisu for saying that he killed Hatter because of what he became broke Ann. She pitied him more than anything, she was still furious at him for subjecting so many people to death because of Hatter going insane. He looked so broken as he tried to piss people off so they attacked him, claiming to be the witch. They could stop now, end the game and throw Momoka's body in the fire, go their separate ways. Why continue to fight? When he gave up after Asahi revealed herself as a game dealer, there was silence for a moment and then Arisu pleaded with Aguni to stop and that he didn't want anyone else to die (I might have gotten that backwards). Aguni looked at him and then his eyes wandered over to Ann who was being held up by Kuina and he wanted to apologize, plead for her to hold him and to let him die here. He was ok with dying, he was ok with dying for Arisu and Usagi, all of them. He was the one responsible for allowing this to happen. He almost died too, but Ann's laugh woke him up

"You're a dork." She laughed and he started coughing feeling the heat of the flames, flickering closer, he looked around trying to find Niragi's body which he tackled, but the younger man was gone..He took a deep breath before going towards a door, bloody and slightly burnt. He was coughing and hacking, trying to find his way to safety. He got himself into an abandoned drugstore, collapsing against a wall behind the counter not wanting anyone to see him before he passed out again. He woke up to someone cleaning him and he saw Ann over him

"Are you real or just in my head?" He reached out to touch her, but she pulled back and shook her head

"I'm real, don't move you need to rest. I don't know how you got out without anyone seeing you, but you're sneakier than Chishiya." She let out a sigh and helped him drink a bottle of Gatorade before he passed out again. He woke up later smelling her cook food, he looked over at her from his cot seeing her in an oversized button down and shorts with boots

"Good, you're awake. " She said handing him food and he slowly sat up, taking the food reluctantly. The silence was tense on his end, not sure where to start, but when she looked at him he was met with coldness

"Why not just let me die?"

"I don't know...guess I still care." She shruged and looked at her food and continued to eat. He finished his food and walked over near her

"I don't deserve your kindness. I need you to forget about me and get out of this place." He bent down beside her

"Aguni..." He cupped her face and kissed her forehead

"Marry some good young lawyer who can give you everything I can't, make lots of babies.." He looked at her pout and then plopped down defeated, laying down in exhaustion beside her, head on her lap and arms around her waist "I'm a monster."

"You're broken...not a monster...maybe a little psycho yourself." She reluctantly rubbed his back and he sobbed into her quietly.

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

I know we are all discussing the latest episode of Season 16, but I need to wrap up 11 for my own sanity (because there is a LOT to discuss in my Season 12 rewatch already), so without further ado - more rambling for you.

I’m not going to include 11x20: Don’t Call Me Shurley because I think I’d like to do an entire Chuck - arc - series.  Rob Benedict is a gift; that dad mug kills; and I love that the fan theories about Chuck spinning around this fandom for years turned out to be correct after all (WEIRD HOW THAT HAPPENS WITH CHARACTERS EH).  Moving on.

As you will recall, two recaps and many many many crackhead other posts from my corner of super hell ago, I ended the 11x18 recap with this image of Amara realizing...”something” after Dean said Cas’s name (just before she took Casifer with her), Dean/Amara unbreakable connection be damned. Speaking of unbreakable connection this post is partially the AMARA DISSERTATION.  Buckle up.

FF to 11x21: All in the Family; the boys are shooting the shit with Chuck and in the meantime, Amara is torturing Casifer.  Important to note that just recently the actual Cas was enlightened that Dean wants him to cast Lucifer out, so I presume he is a little more active at this point, and that strengthens the following hypothesis.  Look how Amara is looking at Casifer here:

And here, right before she touches him on the chest.

It’s the same look she gave Dean. She’s trying to decipher something; trying to figure something out. 

She appears to Dean in the VERY next scene, to show him how she is torturing Casifer.  But the real point is, of course, to show him how its affecting the physical form of Cas, reminding him its not just Lucifer who is suffering.  It works.  

DEAN 

Amara is – she's in my head. [Sam looks at him sharply] Hey, I didn't ask for it, okay? She just showed up. But she's showing me visions of – of Lucifer. By Lucifer, I mean Cas, and he looks like crap – like she's really doing a number on him.

***Note, yet again, despite the *connection* Amara/Dean supposedly share, all he can think about and talk about is Cas.

And Amara knows it.  That’s the realization she has in 11x18.  Dean loves Cas.  Then, in 11x21 she realizes Cas loves Dean.  So, she uses it to her own ends.  Smart girl.  

Enter Donatello (I love him), prophet of (not) the Lord.  He, Metatron, and Sam set out to rescue Casifer while Dean distracts Amara.  If we start with the presumption she now has the prior additional insight, the following snippets of dialogue hit a little different.

AMARA

This place, this world hasn't been especially easy for you. Why not at least consider my offer?

*********

DEAN

You're right. I am drawn to you. And it bothers the hell out of me, 'cause I can't control it.

AMARA

Then why fight it? What you're feeling is that I am the end of your struggle. 

***AHEM, this was not the FACE CUPPING I requested.

What keeps Dean from having it all?  What is his struggle?  It’s not the monsters or the hunting.  Dean’s repeatedly shown he loves this life; he doesn't want anything else (and the one time he did try it in Season 6, it was half-ass at best, and he left the minute Sam returned to go back to hunting).  Dean’s KEY struggle in the show is internal.  He represses his feelings, pushes his pain aside, resulting in a cycle of self-loathing and anger.  That cycle keeps him from having it all - accepting he can be loved, allowing himself to give his heart to someone else.  And at this point, Amara not only knows that someone else is Cas, she knows that Cas feels the same way.  Girl, welcome to super hell.  Take a damn seat by Sam.

11x22: We Happy Few

I’ll skim through this one so this post doesn’t completely make your eyes bleed due to the sheer length.  

The splicing with the scenes of everyone assembling different factions to form the new “line-up” needed to trap Amara is excellent. I’ve already done a short post on the brilliance of Dean heading to get Crowley and the ex-boyfriend mood of it all (Dean, of all people, telling Crowley to sober up gives me an ENTIRE head canon of the Crowley/demon!Dean unseen dynamic in Season 10).   And of COURSE Dean knows exactly what to say to convince Crowley to get on board. I also enjoy our future Sam-witch as the emissary to Rowena (”three’s a coven” would be a great tattoo, TBH).

BONUS:

I love her.

Big fight scene with Amara ensues, but this isn’t the finale so she cannot be beaten.  However, right before she mortally wounds Chuck, she does this:

[Yelling, LUCIFER charges her from behind again, but AMARA flings him hard against a support pillar across the room.]

AMARA

Goodbye, nephew.

[She banishes LUCIFER. CASTIEL slumps unconscious to the floor.]

DEAN: Cas! 

(He rushes AMARA, but she flings him away without effort.)

***She banishes Lucifer.  She could have just killed him.  Ended him entirely, and Cas along with him.  But she BANISHES LUCIFER.  Because of what she learned in the prior episode.  Because of the pain she saw in both of those idiots.

She does this for Dean.

Anyway, thank you Casifer FOR YOUR SERVICE.  I miss you already.

11x23: Alpha and Omega

There is nothing more precious than Dean sending his brother to check on GOD while he goes to check on his boyfriend:

DEAN: [Grunting]

Check on him.

SAM: [kneels next to Chuck]

Hey. Chuck?

[Dean kneels down next to Cas and puts a hand on his shoulder. Cas stirs and looks up at Dean]

CAS:

Dean.

DEAN:

Cas? Hey, is that you?

***All the heart eyes for the reunion!!

*********ALSO SHOULDERRRRRRRR

Chuck is dying, Rowena bonds with him.  Crowley is gold in this finale.  I MISS YOU MARK.  This line is NOT in the transcript/script I used, and it potentially being ad libbed makes it even better.

Dean decides to deal with the end of the world by drinking ONE beer, then deciding there is “not enough” beer and grabbing Cas for a beer (and....*feelings*) run.

DEAN:

You know what? This isn't gonna be enough. I better make a run.

[Sighs]

No reason to die sober, huh?

[to Sam]

You want to?

SAM: [frustrated] 

No!

*********************

DEAN:

Be right back.

SAM:

I'll stay here, find our Plan B.

DEAN:

Okay. Cas, come on.

Nothing makes me more pleased than the assumption that of COURSE Cas is coming with him.  I mean, he just got him back.  Also, Sam is frustrated because he is back in super hell, obvi ;)   

***Now we have the little “you’re our brother” bit in the Impala beer run dialogue, but to me it’s because Dean doesn’t know how else to express what he’s feeling.  Repression, people.  

The look of literal PAIN on Cas’s face at the “brother” line makes me cackle.  Misha Collins DESERVES AN EMMY; he is doing the Lord’s work with his Acting Choices here.

This little part before is what really gets me though, especially with all of the WORDS OF AFFIRMATION:

[Dean and Cas are driving in the Impala]

DEAN:

How you doing? You good?

I mean, you know, the whole Lucifer thing.

CAS:

I was just... so stupid.

DEAN:

No, no, no. It wasn't stupid.

You were right. You were right to let Lucifer ride shotgun.

Me and Sam wouldn't have done that.

CAS:

Well, it didn't work.

DEAN:

No, but it was our best shot, and you stepped up.

CAS:

I was just trying to help.

DEAN:

Well, and you do help, Cas.

***ITS JUST SO LOVELY.  Dean asking Cas how he is doing (what Cas always asks Dean); telling Cas he wasn’t stupid (throwback to Cas telling Dean he was stupid “for the right reasons”); acknowledging that Cas does HELP.  That he is important and appreciated.  THIS IS SUCH GROWTH.  I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Speak his love language, King.

Anyway, then Dean turns into a human bomb because martyr!dean gonna martyr and be “daddy’s (Chuck filling that role here) blunt little weapon” and we get -

THE DESTIEL GOODBYE. Tell me they didn’t actually go canon for the FIRST time here.  I will fight you.

LOOK at Cas watching him in the background. 

These fucking desolate eyes. I’m crying.

THEY JUST GOT EACH OTHER BACK -  

(I recognize this .gif is meh quality but I love that he turns and walks to him and Cas just GRABS him in this crushing hug)

DEAN [accepts the hug good-naturedly but then looks sad]

Okay, okay.

***”good naturedly??? ok Jensen “Acting Choices” Ackles. That is not “good nature” that is BLISS.

AND THEN THIS -

SOBS IN ENOCHIAN.

***I literally had to remind myself that the reunion hug is coming; it’s just an episode away.  I’ll make y’all feel better too; here it is - A PERFECT PARALLEL. Curse this show.

MORE OF THIS “GOOD NATURED” HUGGING PLEASE.

Anyways, back to depressing subtext.  

DEAN:

Okay, look. I want a big funeral.

All right? I'm talking epic.

Okay? Open bar, choir, Sabbath cover band, and Gary Busey reading the eulogy.

*****This scene lives in my mind rent-free as PROOF 15x20 doesn’t exist.

I can’t skip over further growth in Dean’s goodbye to Sammy.

***He’s being serious. Seasons 1-3 Dean would never have admitted this.  I was a blubbering mess at this point.

So, Dean heads to Amara, and the rest of the gang heads to the bar.

CROWLEY:

Your round, Moose.

***I would love an entire bottle episode of Crowley, Sam, Rowena, and Chuck at that bar TBH.

And then, Dean saves the day.  BUT NOT by dying and sacrificing himself, letting himself be used as a weapon of mass destruction.  No, he fixes the DAMN WORLD by connecting to Amara emotionally, and bringing her and Chuck back together, because he understands that not to be alone is what she really needs; that her own struggle is the same as his - letting in love instead of raging against it and fighting her own need for companionship.   Because that’s where ELDEST SIBLING AMARA AND Dean Winchester CONNECT.  Amara isn’t in love with Dean.  She identifies with Dean.  She sees her own feelings in him, her own pain, and that’s why she exorcises Lucifer and saves Cas - FOR Dean.  Amara’s just a Dean girl, everyone.   And we know Dean girls protect Cas at all costs.

Yup.  Amara Dean Girl Darkness Heller.  

That’s it.  That’s the dissertation.

See you in Season 12, where I will attempt to figure out the reason behind the British Men of Letters, killing Hitler, the brain melt that is Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox, the comedy of errors that is Cas playing Dean hot and cold, and the Mary Winchester of it all. 

[murasaki-murasame]

Thoughts on Higurashi Gou Ep21

Ciconia? In MY Higurashi??? It’s more likely than you’d think :)

Thoughts under the cut. Also apparently Ciconia spoiler stuff because that’s the world we live in now I guess lol

It’s kinda funny how over the course of Gou thus far I’ve seen people go from ‘there’s no way this is even going to reference Umineko, people are just reading into things’ to ‘wow I can’t believe Ryukishi’s going out of his way to tie literally all of his visual novel lore together in Gou :/’. It feels weirdly vindicating to see Gou just go the whole nine yards with bringing up unprecedented levels of When They Cry Lore [tm], lol. 

I know people basically thought [or hoped] that Ryukishi was just going to be trolling people who wanted this kind of lore stuff, but I always felt like it was going to be more straightforward and sincere than that, considering that he seems to genuinely enjoy this kind of writing, and I guess I ended up being right. If anything I underestimated just how explicit he’d be with this stuff.

Considering that they tweaked Featherine’s design a bit to be more Higurashi-y, and they avoided using that name for her, I figured they’d commit to having her fit more into the existing framework of Higurashi to avoid bringing up other When They Cry lore stuff, but then she literally just has the exact same personality as Featherine and immediately started talking about Ciconia stuff, so that was unexpected, lol.

The Umineko stuff is one thing, since we’re more or less dealing with a character who came from Umineko in the first place, but the Ciconia references throw like five different wrenches into things and make this way more confusing and interesting.

At the very least, I guess it cements the idea of Satoko being a Lambda expy, if not literally Lambda herself. It’s kinda hard to tell exactly where they’re going with this, in the grand scheme of things. If we’re going full Ciconia lore with this, then it’s possible that there’s basically just one original person who’s now a brain in a jar, and they’re basically being used as a ‘template’ for characters within simulations, which all end up looking similar to each other. 

It also raises the question of what this implies about how the timelines of the different VNs intersect, if Featherine is bringing up stuff from a story set in the future, but if we go with the whole simulation theory then they probably just all exist at the same time.

And on top of all the over-arching lore stuff that’s now being raised, this episode also gets into confusing time travel logic now that Satoko’s officially starting to do her own loops, and we all have to wrap our heads around how that meshes with Rika’s own powers and her personal timeline of events.

My best interpretation of the timeline here is that after the scene at the start of this episode, Featherine directly reset the timeline to an earlier point, rather than moving Satoko to a different fragment entirely. And because of that, the Matsuribayashi fragment played out like it did originally because Satoko was just sent back to an earlier point in that timeline, and Rika didn’t have her consciousness carry over because only Satoko got sent back, so the Rika in the next loop was basically just Matsuribayashi Rika again, and things just played out exactly the same with her.

We’ll have to see how the next episode goes, but since this loop ended with both Satoko and Rika dying, I think this will be where Rika’s consciousness also starts getting sent through the loops along with Satoko, although we know that until Nekodamashi she can’t remember how she died.

I’m really curious to see if Satoko and Rika immediately get thrown into the Onidamashi loop after that, or if there’ll be a whole series of loops that we haven’t seen yet before that. Satoko’s actions in the earlier arcs seem to imply that she has knowledge of how the original question arcs went that she shouldn’t have by this point in Gou, so maybe she spends some amount of time going through the same types of loops Rika did before Onidamashi happens, but it seems like from Rika’s perspective, she goes straight from this episode’s loop to Onidamashi, since she talked to Hanyuu about how the last thing she remembered was being at St. Lucia’s in 1988, and considering how this episode went, I don’t think Satoko would have allowed any loop after this to get to that point again in the first place. So if there’s any loops that happen between this and Onidamashi, they’d have to be ones that Rika retains no memory of. Or maybe her consciousness doesn’t start getting sent to those loops until Onidamashi.

Either way, it would imply that some sort of change might happen in the mechanics of Satoko’s looping. Which I could see happening, since she clearly doesn’t just keep repeating the same Matsuribayashi loop, so maybe at some point she also starts going to different fragments instead of just resetting the same one over and over again. Or maybe she just goes back early enough in the loop to completely change how things play out, but that’d basically just be the same thing as going to a different fragment.

I still think that Satoko’s exact motives and methods throughout the earlier Gou arcs changed over time, but this episode goes a long way to show how she’s already at the point of being willing to kill Rika. But at this point she’s only done it as a way to reset a failed loop, so I don’t think she’s progressed to the point we see in Nekodamashi where she’s literally torturing Rika as a way to try and convince her to stay in the village in the first place.

With just three episodes left [as far as we know, at least], I think we’re probably going to skim over the earlier Gou arcs to explain their individual mysteries before we go back to the end of Nekodamashi and see how that confrontation played out. One way or another it’d have to be pretty fast-paced to cover four arcs worth of answers, so they might just shove the answers all into the next episode and end it by going back to Nekodamashi.

It’d be kinda anti-climactic to spend such little time going over the answers to the earlier arcs, but at this point there probably isn’t much we need to know. We now know the ‘who’ and the ‘why’ of the mystery, so all that we need to be told is the ‘how’, and I think that’s going to end up being relatively simple. At the very least, I think Satoko used the same methods in basically every arc, so just going over one set of answers would solve most of the mysteries in each arc at the same time, and the individual mysteries in each arc would take less time to go over at that point.

Even at this point I’m still not entirely sure about a lot of this, mainly since there’s still the question of how much Satoko actually knows about the pre-Matsuribayashi loops, but I think the general answer to how she did basically everything in each arc was that she just raided the Irie Clinic to steal the syringe that makes people go L5, and then she just made people go L5 in the background of each arc.

In Onidamashi, I don’t think there’s even that much to answer. She presumably ended up doing a murder suicide with Rika at the end of the arc to reset the loop, and maybe she injected Rena with the syringe, but I still think that Rena could have easily just been doing all that without any interference from Satoko. Since that was the first Gou arc [unless there were other loops between this and Onidamashi], maybe Satoko hadn’t started injecting people yet, and only started doing that in later loops. The only other real mystery in this whole arc is what happened to Takano and Tomitake, and that was probably just them fleeing the village like we ended up seeing in Nekodamashi, which is also something that they might have done without any involvement from Satoko. I guess there’s also the question of what exactly made Takano abandon her goals, but that also might not really be directly caused by Satoko. My best guess is that, on the meta level, Lambda revoked her blessing from Takano, and she got given memories of Matsuribayashi, which ended up making her lose certainty in her goals, and choose to just give up and flee the village.

Watadamashi is still kinda confusing, but this might also just boil down to her having injected either Shion or Mion to trigger the same general scenario as Watanagashi. I don’t think it was her that killed Rika, but I think her suspicion of Keiichi was probably an act. Now that we know that by that point she was in the middle of her loops and knew exactly what was going on, I don’t think she’d genuinely suspect him of that, or that she’d even care that much. The Takano and Tomitake situation was probably just the same as all the other arcs, with them fleeing the village. I think a lot of the background stuff was basically just the same as Watanagashi, except for Mion ending up as more of a culprit this time. My biggest question about this arc is probably just why Satoko even bothered going to the Sonozaki estate at the end of the arc. Now that we know more about her motives and her level of meta knowledge, it just seems really weird that she’d bother doing that. If anything you’d think that she’d just immediately kill herself once she found out about Rika dying, since she’d have no reason to continue the loop after that.

I still like the idea that she ended up making Shion into her accomplice to help carry out a lot of the stuff she did in each loop, so that might play into the whole mystery of this arc. And maybe it’d explain why she bothered going to the Sonozaki estate.

Tataridamashi is still kinda strange and confusing, and more than the other arcs I think it really depends on how much she knows about the pre-Matsuribayashi loops. The whole situation of whether or not she was being abused by Teppei in this arc, and how much of an act she was putting on, is still pretty unclear. The stuff with Ooishi at the end of the arc is also still kinda strange. Maybe it was all intentional and she had basically just given up on that loop and used him to kill Rika, but I’m not sure. I kinda like the idea I’ve seen that maybe she was tempted by the idea of just letting the Tataridamashi timeline continue, and that she had genuinely come to some sort of peace with the events of that loop, but then Ooishi went crazy and forced her to reset the loop. Either way I feel like this arc is a turning point of some kind for Satoko, since it’s immediately after this point that her methods seem to get much more desperate and violent.

So I think that maybe she had basically ‘given up’ in Tataridamashi and was willing to just stay in that loop and let it play out, but Featherine decided that would be boring so she forced the game to keep going by making Ooishi go on a murder spree. And then Satoko realized that she’s just as trapped in this loop as Rika is, and is going to keep going through pain and misery until she can properly succeed with her original goal, and so she becomes much more desperate after that point. There’s also the fact that this is the point where Rika is also given the ability to remember her loops, so that might be another aspect of Featherine meddling with the game in order to keep it interesting.

I get the feeling that Satoko maybe ends up having another meeting with Featherine around this point, where she gets it spelled out to her face that she’s going to have to keep looping until Rika ‘loses’, whether Satoko likes it or not. For one thing, Satoko’s talked about how she became Oyashiro-sama’s new miko, but that didn’t really come up in this episode, so maybe she has another meeting with Featherine later on where that comes up. It’d also make sense if maybe Satoko gets told by Featherine at this point that Rika is also a looper who remembers each timeline, since the way that Satoko straight up starts murdering and torturing Rika seems kinda counter-intuitive to the idea of making her choose to stay in the village, but it’d make sense if she learned about Rika’s looping and changed her methods to ‘I’m going to torture her across multiple loops so that eventually I’ll get to a loop where she’s already chosen to give up and stay in the village’.

Maybe she could have found out about Rika’s looping as early as the end of Onidamashi, though, if Rika talked about it before the murder suicide. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t.

Either way, even once we eventually get back to Nekodamashi, I’m not really sure if we’ll get a happy ending or not, lol. It feels like the only way for this to end peacefully is for Satoko to just give up, but like I said above, I think Featherine is actively interfering with things, and is refusing to let Satoko give up before she wins. So I just don’t see that happening. This is also really feeling like an origin story for both Lambda and Bern, and their violently possessive relationship, so I kinda feel like the story might just commit to them going off the deep end and embracing their unhealthy desires. I wouldn’t be surprised at this point if Featherine gives Satoko the ability to become a witch in order to achieve her goal of staying with Rika forever.

There’s also the hanging plot thread of Satoshi still being alive, but with how singularly focused Satoko seems to be with Rika, I’m not even sure if finding out that he’s alive would go much to sway her if she can’t also get Rika to stay in the village. And, again, there’s the whole potential mess of Featherine wanting to be entertained no matter what.

Of course we also might get a whole second season or something, which would open up it’s own whole list of possibilities, lol. I’m not really convinced about it yet, and I’d rather keep my expectations low, but it really does feel more and more like there’s just not enough time to wrap everything up in just three more episodes. I know they can probably go over the answers for the previous arcs in like one more episode, but this whole extended flashback has been going on for way longer than I expected, and we haven’t even gotten to Onidamashi yet. I know that once we get back to Nekodamashi there might not even be that much more that needs to be done to wrap up the story now that everything’s laid out on the table, but it might still just feel kinda rushed to only get one or two episodes of content after that.

Though on the other hand, even though everything with Satoko is being laid out in a way that makes it feel like there’s not much more we need to do to wrap up the story, it’s possible that the story will just shift to having Featherine herself be the new antagonist, so to say. If I’m right about her not being willing to let Satoko just give up and make peace with Rika, then they might have to work together to stop her, but who knows. Maybe she’ll be willing to go along with a happy ending this time.

There’s also still the possibility that this is setting up for some sort of new Umineko anime, which at this point might have it’s own original story that continues on from Gou’s story in addition to Umineko’s, so that might sort of serve as a sequel to Gou in it’s own way, depending on how they spin it. It still feels like a pipe dream, but considering how bluntly this episode threw out references to WTC lore, it’s possible that this is going to be some kind of multi-part cinematic universe thing that’s going to go all the way with tying everything together across multiple new anime projects.

Also, before I forget, we finally got the visuals for the new ED, and I was right about them choosing to wait until now to show it because it had spoilers, lol. They’re more minor than I expected, but it still spoils the chandelier scene, and I guess it also shows Featherine, but in a very subtle way.

Either way, I think the visuals they went with were extremely good. I’m not sure if I like the song itself more than the first ED song since they’re both great, but I definitely prefer the visuals for this one over the visuals for the first ED. The art for them is both great, and they’re done by the same artist so they’re not that different to begin with, but the visuals for this ED feel way more dynamic in terms of their composition and editing. The first ED’s visuals were basically just a series of still images with some slow panning effects, but this one had way more complex images that were designed to feel like 3D panoramas being spun about. So there’s just a whole lot more going on with this one, so I really liked it.

Anyway, now I’m gonna go back to being sad that Ciconia Phase 2 got delayed, lol.

[kinetic-elaboration]

August 21: 3x04 And the Children Shall Lead

Okay, I’m finally going to write up my thoughts on And the Children Shall Lead. I think I’m (mostly) over all of my excessively-strong emotions about this ep lol. Maybe going through my notes will bring them back. Or maybe not. I’ve felt very tired and uninterested in everything today so it’s hard to tell. So far the process is not going well: tumblr ate my first attempt at a post, like literally I wrote a few lines, clicked to a new tab, and when I clicked back the post was empty so thanks for that, and I keep on just generally not being interested in the task. So, we’ll see.

The tl;dr is that I don’t see why this ep is considered one of the worst. I actually really liked it!

Single-color jumpsuits: the fashion of the future.

Another old Kirk friend! (This isn’t even important lol; it never comes up again or matters that Kirk knew this guy, but we must always be reminded that he is the best networker in Starfleet.)

“He’s dead, Captain.” Not “he’s dead, Jim”?? Sounds wrong.

“The enemy within.” I thought that was a S1 ep?

Ah, another bunch of creepy kids. In pajamas this time, apparently.

Kirk is not having fun being the center of their creepy little rhyme.

RIP to McCoy but my diagnosis is “alien shenanigans.”

“I’m sorry, Captain Kirk.” Such a polite little alien.

McCoy corralling the kids

This sounds a lot like Miri, except purposeful—something targeted all the adults but left the kids, just like the virus in Miri affected all the adults, but not the kids.

…A disturbance in the cave!

Lol at Kirk’s anxiety face. I feel you, man.

Spock’s never experienced anxiety? My first thought is ‘sounds fake’ but actually… maybe he really hasn’t.

“There has to be an explanation.” This is the MOST Jim line.

I like these kids. They’re actually pretty cute. Also love Kirk trying to relate to the kids.

Where are they? Is this Sulu’s greenhouse lol? I love it. They should have used this set more.

“That place is for adults.” Gotta say, I wrote this down but now have no recollection what it actually refers to. The bridge? I think it’s the bridge.

Are they performing witchcraft? Intriguing.

“Friendly angel”—nothing creepy about that at all.

Got a little alien cult going on here. Every time I feel anxiety from now on I’m going to assume it’s an alien cultist nearby.

“We’ll pursue this in my quarters.” Wink wink.

Can’t fool Uhura.

Never mind. Yes you can.

For someone who wanted the kids guarded all the time, Kirk sure was ok with them just traipsing around the bridge. I mean the guards are at the door but like…they’re only at the door.

Never really thought about how there’s apparently an…engineering component... to flying the ship? I don’t know, I don’t really get it but it’s cool.

"Evil does seek to maintain power by suppressing the truth." Damn. Great line.

BAND OF MARAUDES. That’s a cool backstory for the dead alien society. Basically, they’re ghosts. Greedy ghosts. Alien ghost pirates.

Great triumvirate scene. McCoy want to protect the kids and Kirk’s like “…but the ship, though?” Which is fair!!

What does the ghost want? Um, a ship to maraud in, were you not listening to Spock’s exposition of the back story?

No don’t beam anyone down!!

Love any time Spock pushes someone else out of the way so he can man the transporter. He’s somehow the second-best expert on it on the entire ship.

Eeek, low-key gruesome death there. Look, I know that this is one of the scenes that haters love to point out as a reason to despise the episode but I personally don’t think deeply enough into the transporter situation to wonder how much information they have or assume before they beam people anywhere. Also…weird alien stuff is happening, guys. Just attribute it to that. Also also, if you’re gonna nitpick like that, be prepared to hate all of TOS.

THE KIDS STOLE THE CAR.

“Sulu, what did you to do my ship?”

Uhura’s watching this little witchcraft scene from the background like ‘aw, so cute.’

“Call upon their beasts.” Metal.

“Go to your stations.” This little kid is a future Captain in the making.

SPACE KNIVES

Kirk's like "Oh no, my crew is deserting me, I'm gonna have to fly the whole ship by myself AGAIN.”

“Captain, why are we bothering Starfleet?” Et tu, Spock?s

How did they get to Spock? He doesn’t seem scared of anything…more like he’s under the influence of a general hallucination, like the others seeing the planet on the screen even after they left orbit.

I remember this part, with Kirk freaking out. Spock doesn’t like it one bit.

He’s just being a littttle Dramatique.

Cannot believe that all Spock has to do is say “Jim” in a quiet, intimate voice and Kirk is immediately okay. Just let it out of his system, grabbed onto his friend, heard his own name, and the beast is defeated.

“My Vulcan friend”? Lol.

Kirk’s face when he realizes they’ve got Scotty too…

“Go away or we’ll kill you.” That was legitimately creepy. Scotty gone rogue.

Aw, Spock was worried about him again.

“Without followers, evil cannot spread.”

“Where did you hear this order, Chekov?” / “The voices in my head.”

It’s interesting that Kirk and Spock can’t be manipulated—perhaps because they have each other?

Enough of this—fight time!

That guard sounded like he really liked that nerve pinch; he was kinda moaning as he went down.

“Spock, corral them to their rooms.”

Outta the chair, brat.

Is Kirk going to defeat the alien evil using logic?

Summoning the “angel” by using the old recording is very clever.

When did they decide to start calling him the Gorgon?

“It lost its power in the light of reality” = “I looked into Spock’s eyes and knew myself again.”

HE IS GENTLE. It’s true and you should say it.

And he doesn’t even dispute it. “AND we are ALSO very strong.”

"You are full of goodness. Such as you cannot be changed."

So the girl is Jankowski.

This is very Candyman. The alien needs their belief to live. When they cease to follow him, he literally disappears.

Honestly, this whole alien scheme starts to look equal parts silly and sad, trying to call the crying children "generals.” They’re babies!

McCoy loves to see children in tears lol.

Kirk just hands them all off to McCoy, like ‘well, my work here is done.’

Okay, now we reverse course to pick up those stranded security guards still on the planet, right? Right? No? Okay, guess not.

Uhura, immediately ready with the paperwork lol. Now IS the time.

The end!

Now to try to interpret all of my other, more general notes.

The way I interpreted Spock being able to defy the mind control was that he was affected by Kirk. Because he clearly was affected, but then when he saw Kirk starting to freak out, he looked concerned, and then got them both off the bridge—he had a breakthrough of clarity long enough to understand he needed to get off the bridge. Then he’d be away from the kids, and they wouldn’t have as much control, and he could snap Jim out of it, too.

Like I’m sure his Vulcan resilience could easily have been part of it, too, but that resilience wasn’t enough to keep him from being affected at all—and of course they could have easily written it that way—and it seems obvious that his moment of clarity was caused specifically by watching Kirk starting to lose it. There are so many shots of him specifically watching Kirk and the guard.

The K/S vibes were so strong. Spock was so protective, then they get in the lift and Kirk basically clings to him. All he has to do is say Kirk’s name and Kirk is fine, which is basically the power of true love. And then even outside of that scene… for the whole rest of the ep, they’re a duo. It’s not just Kirk against the Evil of the Week, it’s Kirk and Spock, working together at every turn. Neither of them could have done it alone.

it's a pretty classic trope, in fact, especially in s1, to have Kirk all alone, abandoned by all...where he's the last man standing, the one who has to run the whole ship and save the whole day. Naked Time, This Side of Paradise, and Trouble with Tribbles (kinda) all come to mind. But this time he has Spock! You see the progression of their relationship in that.

I really enjoyed this episode in general. Lots of classic tropes: creepy children; surprise alien; old alien society not as dead as we thought; Kirk has to run the whole ship by himself (with Spock); heroic!Kirk saving the day… It has it all. It’s clearly revisiting some older themes and ideas, but in a sufficiently unique way that it doesn’t just seem like a rehash of an older plot. In some ways, it felt like a Classic S1 episode to me. It has some Miri elements, some Charlie X elements, some Naked Time elements…

I literally don’t understand why it’s so disliked.

Skimmed the wiki and the only specific criticism in there is that Kirk shows an “unmistakable hostility to the children.” Well first of all, he doesn’t. He might not have the best manner with them, but why should he? He’s certainly not mean or cruel to them. He recognizes they’re a danger to his ship, and to the whole planet of Marcos-12, which by the way is objectively true, but that’s not being hostile. McCoy is the one who represents ‘exclusive care for the children’s welfare’ in this ep, but he CAN do that, because he’s not the Captain. He represents that perspective, he gives his opinion, which is both his job on the ship and his role on the show, and then Kirk takes that into account while doing HIS job, which is running the ship. McCoy would have literally let the kids take over their ship and conquer the galaxy as part of their grieving process lol. Kirk was right and I should say it. (Also btw he understands that killing the kids might be an option—but he obviously doesn’t actually do it.)

I actually think this ep is a great example of the triumvirate functioning--McCoy reminds Kirk that the children are just traumatized children, and Spock reminds him that he's responsible for 400+ people on the ship, and Kirk makes the decisions that vanquish the evil, save the ship, and free the kids.

And look, even if you don’t like this episode, you’d have to argue very hard to convince me it’s the WORST, as in worse than Spock’s Brain, worse than The Alternative Factor, worse than Assignment Earth (not even a real TOS ep!), worse than The Omega Glory.

Some stuff I actively liked: the concept of the alien taking over the children specifically (both creepy and…kinda makes sense? That they’d be vulnerable); the message that the followers of demagogues can be both truly dangerous and objects of sympathy; the backstory of the evil empire of pirate aliens—and how greed doesn’t die; the witchcraft aesthetic, ESPECIALLY when paired with the kid antagonists, since kids are so into that like chanting, incantations, rituals thing; that the ep used every single main character (when was the last time a TOS ep did that?). Also I thought the kid actors did a good job!

The theme about the authoritarian and the cult followers was actually quite resonant, I thought; inevitably made me think of Tr/ump and his Tr/umpies. Just like in this episode, you must have some kind of… if not sympathy, at least willingness to do the hard work of deprograming and then bringing them back to the fold, or else the country is never going to heal and it’s never going to be able to go forward in a positive way. It might not go forward at all! But fuck it’s hard to have that sympathy; they’re so abhorrent. Here, you see the terrible things the kids do, and yet sympathy isn’t so hard, because they’re kids. You see how much they are victims/pawns also. And so in that sense, Kirk’s ability to deprogram them is comfortingly optimistic—a little bittersweet, as TOS often is, because the kids have done horrible things and seen horrible things and now they’ll have to live with it, but comforting nonetheless.

I can’t even think of that many things I didn’t like in the ep. Mostly just nitpicky things. Like, was McCoy a little inconsistent in what he thought should be done with the kids? Yeah, but we get the general idea. Did Kirk drop the ball when he let them hang out on the bridge? Yes, especially as he knew how dangerous they were at that point, but I actually don’t mind it so much because they’re kids—it’s understandable that their true dangerousness didn’t fully compute to him. I don’t see that as a mistake or sloppy writing tbh. And was it an amateur hour mistake to beam two people into space? Yes, but it made up for it in being creepy and upping the stakes of the ep.

I guess I could see how the fist gesture could be seen as a little silly. But the other option, having them speak rhymes each time, would have been distracting—and probably also looked silly! Also, as my mom pointed out, it looks like a kid’s game (sorta like the start of rock paper scissors) so it fits appropriately with the theme.

I really liked how they wove in the aesthetic of kids’ games, kids’ manners of playing, into the narrative. Kids can be really creepy! They like creepy things! So the ring around the rosy rhyme at the beginning—a quite disturbing chant, of course, about the Plague, that is also very commonly sung by actual kids—foreshadows the summoning chant that brings the alien to them. It’s all of a piece. And just like the rhyme is just a rhyme, and they don’t know the real meaning behind it, they probably also don’t fully understand the meaning of the summoning chant or the alien that comes with it. It’s all one big game to them.

It’s interesting that the alien seemed to play off their desire both to punish their parents for working too much ("they like the planet, they're always busy") and to have freedom from parental rules (how they react to any instructions from adults, the alien's promise that the whole universe will be their playground, etc.). He really picks their sore spots as kids specifically and turns them into his “generals” accordingly. Like all kids, they don’t think too much about the larger consequences of their game because in some ways, it really is all just a game to them.

I liked how the episode characterized Kirk’s ability to interact with kids. He’s not bad with them at all, but he’s not like McCoy or Chapel either. He “wants to communicate with the future adult in the kid,” as my mom put it, which is perfect. He doesn’t exactly treat them as mini-adults—he doesn’t say inappropriate things to them, and he does simplify his language and his ideas for them—but he does treat them very seriously. And he’s probably best at one-on-one interactions like with Tommy. I think this makes total sense for his character: he doesn’t have kids (David aside lol), he doesn’t have younger siblings, he doesn’t work in a place where he’d see other people’s kids, he doesn’t get to see his nephew much, etc.

…Okay those were all my notes. I know I had other thoughts that were a little less scattered later, but… I’m tired. And most of it is probably in here in some form or another. I also found a list of, like, actual critiques of the episode, and I was considering going through them and addressing them all, and I might still do that. But I think that’s for another day.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Yes poor poor mute Chris with sir

CW: Noncon touching (nonsexual), conditioning, sensory deprivation, noise torture, nonverbal episode, Oliver Branch is a fucking creep, emotional manipulation, restraints, blood mentions, conditioned responses, sadistic games. 

Tagging Chris’s crew:  @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions

First, the scent of Sir’s cologne, heady and overpowering as always. In conditioned response that goes deeper than thought, he knows the scent means safe.

But it’s not safe.

But it has to be. The owner is safe.

The owner is safe the owner is safe the owner is safe 

He’s not safe

He’s safe

Sir's fingertips brush along his cheek just under the line of the blindfold's smooth black leather. The sudden touch, after nearly a day with none, makes Baldur flinch back before he whines - or thinks he does - and pushes forward into it.

He can’t hear his own voice over the blaring sounds still in his ears, the heavy headphones locked over them blasting something that might be music, but all Baldur can hear now is a horrible deafening noise. He can only feel the vibration in his throat that tells him he’s trying to speak, the scrape of chapped lips against each other, the press of a dry tongue against his teeth, but he’s not sure if words are coming out.

The noise is too loud, he’s derailed, nothing’s left but sound.

His neck aches from holding up his head with the weight of the headphones, they seem like stones fixed over his ears and not speakers at all. They press so hard it hurts, it throbs, he never wants to hear anything ever again if it has to feel like this.

There’s a sharp, piercing headache lancing through him whenever he tries to turn his head, and he might be whimpering, or begging - how could he know? All he can hear is someone screaming or a guitar or something, he doesn’t even know anymore. He doesn’t know.

His nerves are electric but in the worst way. This isn’t like when your skin lights up from touch, this feels like his whole body’s gone to sleep and woken up again. It’s too much, too overwhelming. He can’t take all this feeling, like spiders crawling but under instead of on top of, like his skin is made of puzzle pieces that are being shaken out on the floor. He can’t rock, something pulls taut and stops him, freezes him. 

Statue boy, puzzle glued down to the table, you can’t pick up the pieces any longer, it’s all so still and so loud and it won’t stop. He has to move he has to move he can’t move.

He used to do puzzles upside down, didn’t he? he remembers staring at the flat brown cardboard and he knew exactly how the pieces would fit together even without looking at the picture even without-

The new spike of pain is sharper, it’s stronger than the pain he already feels, and he knows he cries out, because Sir’s hand pressed against his mouth, a firm push against his jaw forcing his teeth to click together, nearly biting his own tongue in the process. He feels vibration, still along his throat and that means he must be trying to scream, right?

Baby, honey, please, baby, you have to stop screaming, we’re at Target honey you have to stop-

It hurts, it hurts and he can’t stop thinking it but he has to stop, these are the wrong thoughts, the bad thoughts, the ones that hurt too much to think but he can’t stop he can’t-

Just a different way of living in the world

Legs straight spine straight arms up perfect landing

Help me please someone help me please god please, please don’t leave me here alone don’t leave me don’t leave don’t-

He’s full of static, he’s a television that isn’t working he’s the drink inside a cocktail shaker he’s ice and liquor and crushed-up mint all his parts were destroyed so someone else can consume him he can’t stop he can’t think he can’t hear he can’t speak he can’t move he can’t-

please, I’ll do anything, please, whatever y-you want, please unlock the door please take me out of here please just fucking talk to me please-

He’s screaming he has to be screaming he has to be there’s so much noise inside his head but some of it is his own, right? Some of the noise is from him, is from-

I know it hurt, honey, but sometimes things have to hurt for a little bit-

The headphones suddenly lift off and the noise is gone. 

In its absence is a silence that weighs so heavily on him that he slumps forwards, forgetting that his hands are tied tightly with a short line to his ankles until he crashes gracelessly onto the floor chin-first, the impact clicking his teeth together. 

Everything is still dark, but now the dark is quiet, and it’s better, and it’s so much worse. The echoes of sound still rollick around inside his brain, crashing off his skull and back into each other.

A finger runs slowly up the front of his throat, tracing the line of his Adam’s apple, slipping underneath his jaw and to his chin, presses a roughened pad against his lips. There’s a burst of copper in his mouth as the fingertip presses down so hard it breaks open the sore spots and his lips bleed back against the tongue that lolls heavy and like a cotton-covered weight behind his teeth.

"Oh, darlin’. You beautiful boy, you did just fine." 

The voice is low, but it cuts through the noise. He whines again, tears sliding out from under the blindfold to fall against the floor. His sobs are broken and hitched, gasping air into his lungs with desperation. 

“Good thing it’s just us at home today, hm?” A soft, playful press of a bloodied fingertip to his nose, leaving a little spot there. He can’t see it but he can guess when Oliver chuckles and hums the first few bars of a song he doesn’t know but knows, all the same. 

He can hear a little voice (his voice?) high and reedy child-voice, off-key and not caring, a woman’s voice saying that he knows how to make a joyful noise, doesn’t he?

Does he?

Did he used to?

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (reindeer), had a very shiny nose (like a light bulb!)

He flinches as the pain comes again, then whimpers when his movement only pulls the ties at his wrists and ankles tighter. Skin that rubbed raw hours ago is one more agony to add to the rest. 

This game is worse than all the other games have ever been. 

How was he supposed to win? He can’t remember any longer.

Fingers, skimming along the underside of the blindfold over to his ears and behind his head, and the sensation of touch overwhelms, it's too much. Only his training - only the memories of the white room and the white light and the pain - keep him still for it. 

His thoughts have scattered, broken, his ideas are shattered glass on the ground around him. He can't think, not anymore. When the blindfold slides off and his open eyes suddenly see a blurry face too close for comfort and the flash of light against his dilated pupils he winces back and clenches them shut again, shaking his head desperately. 

“Sssshhh... calm down, darlin’. It’s all right. I’m here.”

But you did this to me

Baldur wants to speak but his voice won’t work. There are words but they’re locked inside his head with all the noise. All he can do is moan when his wrists are untied from his ankles and he can flop them, muscles aching, to the cool floor. 

“You did so well.” A hand pets through his hair and after everything else the sensation is too much. He cringes away from it, turning his head away. It’s all too much, too much on his skin and under it and inside his head and it’s too much it’s too much it’s too much-

“Oh, hiding from me, now?” Sir’s voice is teasing, laying his southern drawl on thick as he moves away. Baldur lets out a soft breath of relief, as for just a moment he can lay here with nothing touching him at all, no sound in his ears, only the pain.

A metallic scrape, and he manages to force his eyes open, in tiny little slits, to see the floor lamp being pulled across the floor. He stares at Sir’s leather Oxfords - he’d shined them just this morning before the game. Or was that yesterday? 

He hates the lamp. The light is bright and too white and he remembers, always, the light of the white room that never turns off.

“Just say ‘please’, darlin’, and I won’t turn the light on.” There’s a teasing delight to Sir’s voice. It’s a game, Baldur realizes with a sick lurch inside his stomach. Another game. He just finished the game and there’s another one already.

But this one is easy. It’s one word. Just one word.

He opens his mouth...

Nothing happens.

His mouth stays open for a while, desperate to have the sound create meaning, for tongue to push against teeth in the specific way. But when he tries he can’t remember how, exactly. Only the wordless shrieking noise inside the headphones, the overwhelming weight of the sound inside his head. 

He can’t ask.

He turns tearful eyes, pleading, begging, and Sir only smiles down at him and pushes the light bulb closer and closer down on its adjustable stand, until it’s only a foot away from his head.

Sir flicks the bright white light on and stares fixedly down, smiling and smiling, as Baldur shudders and begins to cry.

Please just turn the light off I’ll do anything I’ll sign your stupid paper please I’m sorry please I don’t know what I did I don’t know

I’m so sorry I won’t be angry anymore I promise I won’t

Please turn the light off

please

He’s never afraid of the dark anymore, but Baldur is terrified of the light.

Sir’s voice runs thick and sweet as molasses, pours over Baldur, suffocates the air right from his lungs. His sobs are airy, breathy, dizzy gasps now. The light is so bright and it never turns off. The light is so bright and it never-

He can think the please until it’s a scream inside his mind but it won’t come out of his mouth. 

“Too bad, darlin’. Guess you lost again after all.”

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Eight - Aftermath

Author’s note: This chapter has graphic descriptions of violence, as Andrea remembers a very specific episode of her abuse. If you sensitive to this kind of things, avoid the third part in italic.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes were hers. They were red and puffy, almost unable to stay open. It was obvious that she had been crying for days. I tried to call for her, but only a raspy sound came out.

“Don’t try to talk just yet.” I heard her instruct. “Your vocal cords must be sore from the tube.”

“She woke up?” I heard my father ask. “Andy, can you hear us?” He bolted to my mother’s side, allowing me to see his face.

“Andy, do you remember what happened to you?” My mother’s eyes shone again with tears.

I lied, shaking my head. I knew exactly what had happened. I wished that I didn’t.

“Do you need a blanket?” I felt Victor’s hand touching my shoulder. I turned my gaze from the jet window to face him, seeing concern in his eyes.

“I’m ok.” I quipped, turning to the window again. I could feel Victor watching me, but he didn’t speak another word.

“The pilot wants to let you know that we will be arriving in Loveland at 3 pm, local time.” We were informed by the flight attendant. “The duration of flight is estimated to be 11 hours. Should I prepare the bed?”

“Maybe for later.” Victor answered. “Put on some extra pillows for my wife as well.”

We sat in silence for a moment, as the flight attendant walked back to the booth.

“You have been very quiet since we left the clinic.” He held my hand. “Are you in pain? I’ll ask for a bottle of water so you can take an analgesic.” Victor motioned to press the CALL button.

“I’m fine, I’m just tired.” I rubbed my forehead. Victor lovingly took my hand, lowering it to my lap.

“That doesn’t mean tired.” He quipped softly. “But maybe you should take a nap. You’ll be more comfortable in bed.”

I laid down beside my husband, letting him wrap a protective arm around me. His hand took mine, drawing soft lines on my skin.

“Are you comfortable?” I heard him whisper.

“Yes.” I closed my eyes, trying to end the conversation.

“Do you need another pillow?”

“I’m sleepy.”

I felt his lips touch my hair.

“Good night.”

I got the pen and paper from my mother’s hand and placed it on my lap, writing furiously on it.

“The baby?” I wrote.

My mother sighed heavily, and took my hand.

“Andy…” She trailed off. I slapped the paper hard with my hand. Why couldn’t she tell me already? I knew he was dead, no embryo would survive that beating. But I needed to hear it.

“It’s incredibly rare, but it can happen to a woman to have a false positive pregnancy test.” My mother explained. “There was no baby. You weren’t pregnant.”

That was simply ridiculous. There was a baby, I was sure there was a baby. I had symptoms, my breasts were swollen, I was late, there was a positive test…

“I have something to tell you, Andrea.” My mother warned me, with tears in her eyes. “But you have to promise me you’ll be strong.”

I nodded, without knowing exactly what I was agreeing to, or what kind of strength would I need.

“You had severe uterine bleeding.”  She held my hand tightly. “They had to perform a hysterectomy.”

I woke up, enjoying the soft sun and the earthy colors of our bedroom for the first time in a week. We were back in Loveland. I had left in Switzerland the dream of giving Victor a biological child.

What exactly does one do when one’s dream is gone? Until our trip to Switzerland, my infertility was a reality, but with the help of science, it could still be overcome. The dream was dormant, but still alive. Now, not even all the fighting in the world could make me have a child of my own. The dream was dead. The only thing left to do was to bury it, and move on.

Without much thought, I got up from bed and did what I did every morning, on a normal day: I went to the kitchen. And predictably enough, Victor was finishing cooking, the scrambled eggs and toast already on the table, a mug with coffee placed by my usual seat.

“Good morning.” He announced, as he added to the table some sliced fruit. “How are you feeling? Any pain?”

“The cramps seem to be gone.” I declared, making an effort to look perky. “ Will you give me a ride today? I need to go to LCG today, see how the remodeling is going. Any interesting news?”

My husband didn’t seem interested in the news, though.

“You’re going to work?” He frowned at me. “You had a procedure two days ago.”

I gently placed my forkful of eggs on my plate, my appetite suddenly gone. I didn’t want to think about Switzerland or my procedure. I just wanted to move on.

“Three days ago.” I corrected. “There’s a time difference. Besides, I’m fine, I’m just going to see the remodel, I’m not going to break any walls myself.”

I needed to sound as normal and healthy as possible if I was going to convince my husband.  But the truth was, I was not only trying to convince Victor, I was also trying to convince myself. Except my body wasn’t in on my lie. I felt a painful cramp in my lower abdomen that almost made me double over, suppressing a whimper.

“I have to find my phone.” I got up from my seat carefully, before Victor could be any wiser. “I must have a hundred emails to return.”

Victor and I didn’t reveal what we were doing in Switzerland, just stating we had meetings with new clients there and would be extremely busy, so we kept communications to a bare minimum. When I went to the clinic for the procedure I turned off my phone, and because of all that happened after, I never remembered to turn it on again. The moment my device came to life, it started beeping non-stop.

I started skimming through the messages, already categorizing the most urgent ones to reply as soon as I got to my computer. My eyes lingered on one sent by Diane.

Aunty Andrea, I have arrived! I was born on August 19th, at 7 pm, weighing 6 pounds. I am a healthy and happy baby and I can’t wait to meet you. Mommy and Daddy say hi! Lots of love, Penny.

Below there was a picture of a sweet baby wrapped in a pink soft blanket, sleeping peacefully. I heard Victor speaking from behind me, leaning against the door frame.

“I was going to tell you after breakfast.”

I took a deep breath, afraid I might start to cry. Clearing my throat, I turned to him, trying to act as perky as possible.

“It’s ok, now I know.” I moved past him to the walking closet. “Penny looks absolutely precious.” I picked a shirt to wear. “I need to call Diane to know when it’s the most convenient to visit. They’re probably too tired to see people right now.”

“Just stop it already.” Victor scolded, making me start to get jittery. “I know you are unwell, you shouldn’t be going to work. You need time to recover.”

“No, what I need is a shower and to get back to my life. I can’t do that staying at home and moping.” I was desperate to get steaming water on my abdomen to ease the pain I was feeling. “Give me 20 minutes and we can leave.”

My wish to pretend everything was ok soon fell apart, as the dull pain I was feeling sharpened and made my knees buckle. The only reason I didn’t fall was Victor’s watchful stance, as he promptly gathered me in his arms.

“You’re not going to work today. Neither am I.” He sat me on the bed. “I’ll help you shower and change into more comfortable clothes, but no one is leaving the house today. You just had surgery, and you are still in pain.”

Despite my protests, Victor undressed me and took me to the bathroom, allowing me to shower by myself under the condition that he would sit outside the stall, waiting for me. I let the hot water dissolve the knots in my body, my mind reeling with thoughts of the recent events.

For the past two years, I had worked hard to get rid of all the marks Daniel left in me. I got my self-esteem back, fell in love, made a career for myself. But I couldn’t erase the mark that hurt me the most, my infertility. I had told everyone that I couldn’t remember what had happened, convincing them that my head injury or maybe shock had erased it from my mind. However, I was trying to spare their feelings. The truth was too cruel, I needed to keep it to myself, so it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. That day at the hospital, I swore to myself that what happened that night would die with me.

First, the memory came in flashes. I did my best to keep it hidden in the dark corner of my mind, but to no avail. It was overpowering me, to the point that I forgot where I was, and simply closed my eyes, finding myself on the cold floor of my old kitchen again.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” Daniel circled me as I sat on the floor, wiping the blood from my nose. “Did you really think I would just let you walk away?”

He removed the belt from his pants and wrapped it around my neck, tightening it as he kneeled behind me.

“Listen carefully, my love. You don’t get a say about your life. You don’t get a say about that baby’s life. You don’t even get to decide where you go.” I fumbled uselessly to get the belt off my neck, almost passing out with the lack of oxygen. I was startled with his mouth whispering in my ear. “I’m the one who decides who stays and who goes, and I decide who gets to live. Let me tell you what I have decided.”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and suddenly smashed my head against the tile. After that, I couldn’t get up. The pain was so unbearable I was paralyzed and temporarily blind, my ears ringing loudly. The only thing I could feel was the blood pouring from my forehead and pooling on my hair and ears, and his voice, far away, like I was under water.

“I will let you live your pathetic miserable life.” He spoke with disdain. “But you will not have that child, or any other child.”

The first kick made the air suddenly leave my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe in anymore, before another kick followed. And another. And another. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t cry, I was helpless. The only thing I could do was hope he was wrong, and death would take me anyway.

The sound of the shower door opening startled me, my mind still somewhat fuzzy, stuck between memory and reality. The water stopped, I felt a towel wrapping around me, arms lifting me from the wet floor.

When I fully came to my senses, I was in Victor’s arms, his face close to mine, whispering. It was then that I realized I was gasping for air.

“Deep breaths.” I heard his voice in my ear, while he rocked me back and forth. “Take deep breaths, Andy.”

I couldn’t stop the sobs that followed, making me shake violently. Victor held on tight to me, and I grabbed the fabric of his shirt like my life depended on it, wanting to escape the memory.

After seeing I was more relaxed, he helped me dress and laid me in bed.

“Talk to me.” He urged, as he pulled the comforter over me. “Tell me how I can help.”

“I just want to sleep.” My voice was weak as raspy, barely audible.

His hand rested on my back and lingered, as he seemed to ponder on what to do. After a moment, I felt the mattress rise as his weight left it, and I heard the sound of the door closing softly behind him. He came to the room numerous times, checking up on me. I pretended to be asleep in every single one of them, until he eventually grew tired of it and woke me up, stroking my curls.

“Your mother is on the phone, she wants to talk to you.” I opened my eyes, and his phone came into my line of sight.

“Tell her I’m sleeping.” I covered my head with the comforter.

“You need to talk to someone.” Victor’s voice had lost all his softness. “If not me, your mother. Take the phone.” He almost ordered.

“I said I don’t want to talk to her.” I turned my back. “Stop pressuring me.”

Victor unmuted his phone, bringing it to his ear.

“I’m sorry, Mariana, she’s asleep. I’ll tell her to call you later.”

I closed my eyes again, waiting for him to leave.

“You’re avoiding your mother now?” He scolded me.

“I’m not avoiding anyone, I just want to be left alone. Is that so difficult to understand?” I buried myself under the comforter.

“Yes, you are. You are avoiding your mother and you are avoiding me. Don’t think I don’t know you were pretending to be asleep every time I came to the room. You can’t deal with this all by yourself Andy, you need to speak up.”

I got up from the bed, running to the door, trying to avoid a discussion. I didn’t have it in me to fight. I was too weak. But before I could reach it, Victor pushed my back against the wall, resting his hands on it, blocking any exit for me. I was trapped.

“Victor, please, just let me go!” I begged, tears already forming in my eyes.

“I will not.” He spoke assertively. “Not until you talk to me.”

I looked down, avoiding his gaze. His forehead pressed on mine.

“Don’t hide from me, Andrea. Please.”

I felt the bad blood rising fast, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. All the frustration and the anguish of the past days came full force in one single wave, and before I could help it, it was spilling all over.

“What do you want me to tell you, Victor?” I felt so enraged I just wanted to scream at his face. “That I’m a horrible person that can’t even be happy for her friend? That I’m consumed by bitterness and jealousy? Or that I feel guilty for having let that piece of shit into my life, and take everything I held dear? Can you possibly understand what that’s like? He won, Victor. You are already paying the price for my bad decisions, I can’t let you pick up the pieces too.”

Victor grabbed my face with his hands, looking at me with piercing eyes.

“You are not a terrible person and you are not responsible for what happened to you. I understand this can be hard for you, but don’t avoid the people that love you. Talk to me.”

“I don’t need to talk!” I yelled, frustrated. “I need normalcy, I need to feel like I’m not about to break, and I need space! I’ll figure it out by myself. Just let me figure it out by myself.”

Victor looked down, seemingly trying to hold himself back. After a moment, he let me go, walking away in frustration.

“What am I supposed to do then, sit idly as I watch you crumble to pieces? Pretend I don’t hear you cry? I will not see you like this and do nothing!“ He lifted his left hand, showing me his wedding ring. “I made a vow I have every intention to keep. In the good times and the bad, remember? It’s my duty as a husband to be at your side at all times, why won’t you let me?” He paused, looking down again. “Am I not good enough?”

His question felt like a bucket of ice dropping on me, freezing me to the core. In my mind’s eye, I could remember all the times I urged him to open up to me, worried about him. I could remember how I felt unwanted every time he pushed me back. Now, I was doing the same. I broke down sobbing, and immediately I felt my husband's arms around me, steadying me. Like they always did.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore!” I pulled him tightly to me, taking the strength he was offering me. “You are more than enough, please don’t think otherwise. You are the man that I love, I need you.” I nudged his chest, letting all my anguish finally out, unrestrained. “I’m so sorry, Victor, please forgive me.”

“I’m here, my light, don’t cry.” He whispered softly in my ear, one hand holding the back of my head, the other running soothingly in my back. “All will be well, I promise. You are safe in my arms.”

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 17: From Protector to Pathetic

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16

Word count: 1580

A/N: 👀😗 I hope you all like angsty cliches as much as I dooooo!

It seemed to Jonathan that Elianna had learned from her first experience with the fear toxin. While she still fell unconscious once it began to wear off, the effects didn't last as long, and in lieu of frightened screaming, she had managed to restrict herself to quieter sounds of terror.

Upon seeing his friend's distress diminish as her eyelids grew heavy, Jonathan unfastened the restraints and took the belt from her mouth. When he turned his attention back to her, he found that El had already curled in on her side; she would twitch every few seconds, each one accompanied by a soft whimper, whether from perceived pain or from fear he couldn't tell.

Even so, he once again felt pride well up in him as her body relaxed more and more. He was surprised to find that she was still barely lucid when he laid down and pulled the blankets over them. Magnet-like, she was suddenly tucked against him, seeking warmth. Once the shock by the speed of her movement wore off, he allowed himself a tiny smile and secured his arms around her as Scarecrow piped up with his usual assortment of vulgar persuasion; easily ignored at this point.

Elianna finally relaxed into a deep, exhausted sleep, the material of Jonathan's shirt bunched up in her hand.  He was very quickly growing reaccustomed to her unconscious insistence for closeness in her sleep. He found his fingertips skimming up and down her arm lightly as his thoughts returned to the execution of the attack on Gotham.

Admittedly, Elianna's insistent reminder of all that he had accomplished in the process took away much of the stress and replaced it with a sense of premature victory, which was very welcome in comparison. Jonathan found himself slipping into sleep more quickly than he had in a long time.

.xXx.

That didn't last for very long, however, as he was tugged back into semi-consciousness after a few short hours by El shifting uncomfortably in her sleep while muttering to herself. Jonathan blinked in the darkness (he had forgotten to turn on the bathroom light, damn), trying to bring her face into focus. He had only barely made out her furrowed brow and defiant frown when her voice began to raise, along with her poorly coordinated movements.

Jonathan had long been accustomed to soothing her back into sleep without waking her up when she had nightmares (which was concerningly often), but this one was clearly escalating faster than he could wake himself up.

That was, until whatever she was experiencing reached a crescendo, and she bolted upright, sucking in a deep, shuddering breath, followed by a short cry of torment. In an instant, Jonathan found himself next to her, his hand on her back. Instinctively, she leaned into the touch, pressing sideways into his chest with another anguished sob as her friend tried desperately to unscramble his tired brain.

This was troubling, to say the least. Generally speaking, El didn't really cry. Not like that, anyway. She hated to cry; she considered it a 'waste of energy,' in her own words. Even when she had occasion to, it was usually just a quiet tear or two and didn't hinder whatever else she may be doing.

But sitting there, listening to his friend actually sob in earnest, Jonathan found himself getting worried. Quietly shushing her (what the hell is that going to do, idiot?), he put a hand on the back of her head to hold her in place as she sucked in another shuddering breath.

"Breathe, El, breathe." She didn't respond, but she did make a second, slightly more successful attempt to take in a normal breath. "That's it; everything is fine." Jonathan cursed the brusqueness of his voice, still barely awake enough to even speak, let alone police his tone. "It's okay," he tried again—better.

Gradually, El's breathing evened out, but she continued to cling to Jonathan like a lifeline, trembling. Once again, he found himself disturbed by the extreme reaction; this was not normal.

Eventually, she sat back up, still shivering and with tear tracks just beginning to dry on her face, which bore no expression as she stared blankly forward at the opposite wall. Jonathan waited patiently for her to speak first; his hand had returned to her back, still uneasy.

However, he was comforted when she finally let out a frustrated sigh, disgusted by her own lack of control. "Round two nightmares are a bitch," she offered flimsily. Caught off guard, he couldn't help an amused scoff.

"Clearly."

"I can't remember the last time I cried like that, ugh," she wiped at her face, all fear replaced with frustration. "That was so annoying. I'm sorry." The apology was punctuated with an awkward half-laugh as she feigned confidence. It wasn't convincing, however, as she wouldn't look at him as she spoke. "Go back to sleep; I'm just going to get some water."

Jonathan considered joining El in the kitchen as she shambled in the direction of the kitchen, but he was just...so tired... Surely a moment to herself would do her some good anyway.

Once in the kitchen, Elianna flicked on the light and took a moment to brace herself against the counter as she scrambled to compose herself. What a stupid situation. She was no stranger to nightmares, having often been plagued by them for her entire life. So why was this one so different?

She knew why. Being in such proximity to Jonathan again had not only stirred up old worries but had given them new form as well. When he had first confessed to her his situation with Granny, many of her dreams had depicted her finding him dead somewhere, pecked to death by crows, or starved to death, or any other horrible possibility.

But their dynamic had shifted so much since they were teenagers. Whereas back then, she had been the protector, their roles had been reversed drastically, and as such, her Jonathan-fueled nightmare had borne a very different image.

Doing her best not to think about it, El finally filled a glass of water and drank it slowly.

In the meantime, Jonathan was facing a dawning realization of guilt. In all of the times that she had been woken by a nightmare when he was around, Elianna had never...snapped like that before. She had blamed it on the toxin, and maybe that was true to an extent, but he was sure that the impending attack on Gotham had played a larger part.

And the only reason she was even in the city was that he had selfishly orchestrated for her to be there. If he had just ignored the application on Warden Sharpe's desk, she was sure to still be in California, bored but safe. As such, he felt a sense of responsibility for her continued wellbeing, and to his mind, this episode made clear what a dismal job he was doing. She was even smoking again, for God's sake.

When she ambled back into the bedroom a few minutes later, Jonathan had resumed a horizontal position, one elbow covering his eyes. Thinking he had fallen back asleep and not wanting to wake him again, El crept back onto her side of the bed carefully.

It was just another nightmare. Just go back to sleep, she commanded herself, shaking off the remaining worry. Just another really intense, very real feeling, vivid, horrible nightmare, she thought grimly as she remembered flashes of what she had seen.

The city in chaos, fire, destruction, screaming, pain; Jonathan standing over her, watching as she begged for help ("please, don't leave me here, you promised!") before he walked off, leaving her alone, injured, and at the mercy of the panicked, violent citizens of what used to be Gotham...

A movement from the other side of the bed startled her out of her thoughts as she released her breath from her tight chest. Blinking through the darkness, she saw that the arm that had been previously thrown over Jonathan's face was now stretched out between them.

"Come on, you know you're going to end up over here anyway," came his tired voice by way of invitation. After a moment's hesitation, El obeyed and once again found herself tucked up against her friend's torso. "So, what happened?" Jonathan asked as his arm wrapped around her and felt a sharp intake of breath from the redhead.

"It doesn't matter." He waited patiently for her to elaborate. "I already know you wouldn't leave me behind." Oh. Almost subconsciously, he squeezed her tighter.

"No, I wouldn't." The finality in his tone did well to reassure El and quell the final remnants of her apprehension.

"No, of course not. Doesn't matter," she murmured to herself, holding him close.

"Doesn't matter," Jonathan repeated affirmatively, clearly drifting back to sleep judging by his voice, and El found herself at last in a similar state. She hummed a response and kissed his shoulder before the pair finally slipped back into slumber.