#i couldn't do that to Doyle!

[darkaac]

Finished ACSyndicate after quite a long time (forgot i had it installed teehee) and it's good!! love zipping across London

[idiopathicsmile]

you know what really grinds my gears?

okay, bear with me: so as you may know, harry houdini and arthur conan doyle were friends, at least for a while.

by the early 1920s, both arthur conan doyle and acd's wife jean, aka lady doyle, believed whole-heartedly in spiritualism, talking to ghosts and all of that. (sidenote: this was of course right on the heels of a devastating world war and a devastating pandemic, both of which had created a huge population of grieving people, so spiritualism was having a moment.)

lady doyle sincerely thought she had the ability to go into a trance state and pass along messages in writing from the dead. she offered to do this for houdini. houdini agreed.

lady doyle attempted to channel houdini's late mother. she basically drew a cross at the top of the paper and filled it with generic platitudes addressed to "harry." houdini's mom was jewish and didn't talk like that, so houdini knew the jig was up, even if lady doyle didn't. but not wanting to make the situation awkward, he kind of went along with it to their faces.

then acd decided to publish a glowing account of the seance, and since both he and houdini were super famous, it got a lot of attention, and letters started pouring in for houdini, asking if this was true. ultimately, houdini couldn't lie about it. so he essentially said, like, "yeah, i think lady doyle THINKS she can talk to ghosts but she absolutely can't." and it ruined his friendship with acd forever.

and then of course a lot of the people running seances weren't even well-intentioned like lady doyle, they were just simple charlatans taking advantage of traumatized people mourning loved ones. in houdini's youth, he and his wife had traveled the carnival circuit where he did an act pretending to commune with spirits, so he knew all the tricks of the trade AND he had lingering guilt over having done this, AND he was infuriated by this increasingly popular wave of con artists so he decided to assemble a team of anti-grifting grifters and together they went on the road exposing whichever spiritualists were preying on the locals.

houdini's best agent was a young woman named rose mackenberg, who donned disguises to visit the fraud de jour and then importantly sussed out what non-supernatural thing was actually happening, and then houdini would demonstrate the techniques onstage to packed audiences.

(if you want to know more, check out episode 175, "ghost racket crusade" of the podcast Criminal or read Tony Wolf's book The Real-Life Ghostbusting Adventures of Rose Mackenberg.)

but yeah, what really gets my goat is that all this happened and as far as i know, we still don't have like four seasons of a Leverage-style historical procedural about rose mackenberg and the rest of the crew having adventures in the 1920s as they unmask craven hucksters all over the united states. (what we do have, apparently, is one season of a show called "houdini and doyle" which is about the oddball friendship of two contrasting men solving sometimes-actually-supernatural mysteries, and whose premise does i think at the very least a real disservice to houdini's whole quest and also totally erases rose, who is arguably the most interesting part of this story to me.)

i am just steamed about this. steamed.

[wordsarelife]

—mine

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: your’s and theo's relationship throughout the years

warnings: canon typical violence near the end, mentions of the war, blood and death

note: feel free to request stuff for the christmas calender!!

theo was startled by a sudden voice who called out his name, he turned around, the book he was about to push into the empty space still in his hand. 

"nott" you had muttered, arms crossed and the surprised expression on his face when he turned around had almost made you lose it. you quirked a brow at the missing reaction. "i guess you don't even know my name?" 

"sorry" theo winced and you could see how umcomfortable he was simply because he knew nothing about the person standing in front of him. 

"don't feel too bad" you shrugged. "didn't know yours until you borrowed my favorite book for four weeks and i had to beg madam pince to tell me the name of the person who had it" 

"well, sorry again" theo held the book in your direction. "you can have it now, if you still want it" 

you completely ignored the book, until theo sighed and put it back in the empty space on the shelf where it belonged. "guess not" he muttered to himself. 

"so, tell me, theodore nott" you followed him back to the table with his things. "what tempts a guy like you to borrow a book like that?" 

"well, without meaning to insult you, i'd say it is more male literature than female isn't it?"

"you're a moron if you really think something like female or male literature exists" you sat down in the chair across from him. "i wouldn't declare sherlock holmes as male literature, more preciously i would say that most boys are too daft to even understand half the things arthur conan doyle mentions and to your information i'm taking great insult to whatever the hell you just said"

"geez" theo's eyes had widened, he found you a bit odd, annoying even, but he couldn't help but feel all the same intrigued. "like what you just said isn't an insult. most boys are too daft, huh?" 

"maybe daft is a bit too harsh, i admit that" you rolled your eyes, a smile on your lips, "but i'd say most are too impatient to read those books, yes"

"well, you're not wrong about that" theo nodded "i can't remember the last time one of my friends touched a book that wasn't part of a class" 

"that's quiet sad, i'd say"

"i agree" theo smiled. "so, now that we're on the same page, do you mind telling me your name? i feel like i deserve to know it"

"no" you grinned just as the smile vanished from his face. "i decide when you deserve to know, theodore nott" you left him sitting there, speechless about the sudden rejection. 

you never actually told theo your name. he only found out when you managed to borrow the memoirs of sherlock holmes for two months straight. 

the next time that the two of you talked was a few months later, at the beginning of december. snow had fallen and the hogwarts grounds had turned into a beautiful white landscape. 

the snow was poudry, but you managed not to slip as you made your way through it. your body tightly wrapped in layers of clothing, the thick ravenclaw scarf almost reaching up to your eyes as the falling snow hit your face. 

"not the right weather for a stroll, is it?" theodore nott had caught up to you, not exactly spotting the right outfit for the wuthering cold. 

"well, i know there's a reason you're a slytherin and not a ravenclaw, but i would've expected you to be just a little smarter, nott" 

theo looked down on his clothes just as you did. "i was actually just going for a smoke"

"in the middle of a mild snowstorm?" you quirked a brow. "i'd say it's not the right weather to be doing that either"

"you're a real know-it-all" 

"tell me something new, nott" you rolled your eyes "it's exhausting to always be right, you know?"

"i bet it is" theo shrugged sarcastically. "there had to have been a reason you got sorted into ravenclaw"

"well, as said before, i can see why you weren't" you shrugged with a grin. 

theo sighed. "another dig at the outfit, really?" 

"well, considering you're standing here discussing with me and getting yourself wet, i'd say i'm allowed to keep judging your outfit" 

"fair point" theo nodded and you were surprised he gave up so easily. "are you coming or what?" he asked, ready to walk back inside.

"no" you shook your head "you go ahead though, wouldn't want you catching a cold, who would faint during potions then and entertain the rest of the class?"

"hey, that was one time" he called, as you walked away "how did you even hear about that, we're not in the same potions class?"

you just shrugged and send him a smile over your shoulder. he was standing in front of the doors to the castle, soaked from head to toe and you had to admit, theodore nott was a (beautiful) sight for sore eyes. 

it wasn't like you minded theo's company, but you noticed how he started hanging around the places you frequently visited during the weeks to come. 

theo had it especially easy when he realized that you stuck to your routines during the week, making it impossible for him to miss you once he had figured it out. 

monday and wednesdays after class were spent in the library, doing homework or reading a book from your list. tuesdays you helped madam pomfrey in the infirmary, healing minor injuries or filling up medicine cabinets. thursdays were reserved for your friends, playing card games or just spending time together in the common room, you always found something to do. 

fridays were flexible and you often decided what to do spontaneously. sometimes you did a little tutoring, on other fridays you helped madam pince sort through books and put them back where they belonged or you continued reading the book you had begun reading that week. saturdays and sundays were for remaining homework, hogsmeade visits and drafting letters to send back to your family on the start of the next week. 

"you're not being slick, you know that?"

it was a friday and you were putting away books, when theo kept lingering around you, like he had done that past week. 

"what?" he asked, looking up from the book in front of him, a confused tone to his voice, clearly trying to mask that he knew exactly what you were talking about.

"well, i was sure you knew stalking was considered a legal offence" you noted.

"stalking?" he repeated. "i'm not stalking you"

"now, you're not not stalking me, are you?" you send a tight-lipped smile in his direction. "i do admit that it might be a question of definition, though" 

"aren't you a bit full of yourself if you think i would be stalking you"

"that was offensive" you rolled your eyes "and i'm pretty sure i'm not imaging you turning up everywhere i went this past week. and considering i didn't know you until a few months ago, i'd say that you only started doing that recently"

"well, i didn't"

"okay, you didn't" your shrugged and turned back to the shelf, reaching for another row of books from the trolley beside you, before you pushed them in a row one after the other. 

theo furrowed his brows, surprised by you just letting him get away like that. he knew he wasn't being slick, hell, he even knew that he was behaving like a stalker. you weren't wrong in the slightest and theo felt a bit called out by your words. but on the other hand, you hadn't said anything about being opposed to the idea that he really did go everywhere you did.

you waved at him, before you pushed the trolley into the next row of shelves. it didn't take long for him to follow, already making a decision in his mind. 

"go out with me" 

if he had startled you, you didn't show it. you didn't even blink at his suggestion, rather ignoring him like he was a fly on the wall, as you continued reaching for books on the trolley.

theo pushed the trolley to the side and stepped into the empty space. the next time you tried to reach for a stack of books, you touched his chest instead. 

"you're still here, nott" you noted the obvious. 

theo had to admit that he was a tad bit unsettled by your ignorance. he wasn't sure if you really hadn't heard him or if you just ignored the question, because he had made you uncomfortable. 

"you know, normally stalkers don't look so scared" you smiled mischievously. 

"i'm not stalking you, but i can understand if my company made you uncomfortable and i apologize if i have gone too far"

"you're a bit weird, you know that?"

"this is a serious topic, y/n" 

you smiled at the honesty in his voice and sighed. "do you really think if you were making me uncomfortable or i was scared of you i would continue to speak to you?" 

"well, no—"

"i'm not a child, theodore nott, i can voice when i'm annoyed, but i respect your manners" you smiled "and if anyone follows me around like a lost puppy, i'm glad it's someone with at least a little intellect"

"little intellect?" theo repeated offended. 

"you might be smarter than i thought, but you're really bad at this" 

"i know" 

"well, would you now let me sort in the rest of these books? you're kind of in the way"

theo, nodded, the disappointment flashing over his features just like a wave of water. "i guess that's a no" 

you waited until he had stepped aside and pushed the trolley back in it's original position. your hands reached for the row of sherlock holmes books and you held them up at him like a trophy. "that means yes, obviously" 

theo spent exactly three days brainstroming what to do for your date. his friends tried their best at helping him, more than interested to finally hear something about the mysterious girl theo had been infuriated with these past weeks. 

"is she that hideous?" blaise asked on the third day of theo's hard thinking.

"what?" theo raised his brows, he had been too deep in thought to even hear his friend.

"blaise just asked if your girlfriend was hideous, i'd hit him if i were you" mattheo shrugged, stiring the pot. it had been a particular slow morning and he had to admit that it would be quiet entertaining to see blaise and theo fight each other. 

"five galleons on blaise" enzo added, before theo was able to say something. 

"have a little faith in him" pansy said next to theo. "he might not look like it, but the boy has a wicked right hook"

"this is just embarrassing" draco threw the newspaper down in front of him. 

"what?" pansy giggled "the newspaper or that theo and blaise are going to slap each other even more stupid"

"take a guess"

"guys" theo sighed, annoyance already taking over the worry that was bubbling inside him. "i'm not going to fight blaise and y/n is not my girlfriend"

"no yet" enzo wiggled his brows.

"y/n, huh?" mattheo said with a mischievous smile.

"oh god" all colour drained from theo's face. "please tell me the two of you didn't hook up with each other"

"close to it" mattheo shrugged. "she tended to my wounds in the infirmary once and i could tell she had the hots for me"

"wasn't she the one who said you had the charm of a troll and the brains to match?" blaise offered with a smirk.

enzo's mouth almost hit the table infront of him by how fast it flew open. "that was y/n?" he giggled.

theo had to smile. "that does sound like something she'd say"

"she sounds lovely" draco nodded sarcastically "but at least she never saw mattheo naked. that does make her at least a little likable"

"i already love her" pansy quickly said, before draco could continue his judging. "seems like she knows how to handle little annoyances" 

"i'm not a little annoyance"

"yeah" theo nodded "you're a quite big one, actually" 

theo couldn't tell what had led him to the idea for your date, but he had known in that moment what the both of you should do. 

"so hot chocolate was your huge idea?" you smiled as you sat down in the booth across from him, the server already putting down two mugs with steaming hot drinks in front of you. 

"i saw how your friends gave you their hot chocolate packages after dinner and figured this might be something you liked" he shrugged "and before you call me a stalker again, i'm just very attentive to those around me"

you giggled as the grandma at the table next to you send you a worried glance at theo's words.

"he's harmless" you laughed in a way to assure her. 

theo managed an awkward wave and the woman turned away quickly.

"well, it seems those around you are very attentive too" you giggled. 

"i'm sorry" theo tried to hide behind his mug, feeling a tad bit ashamed at the awkward encounter, but having to laugh at the same time. 

"don't be" you smiled honestly "rather tell me something i didn't already find out by snooping around"

"you snooped around?" theo exclaimed surprised. 

"i had to get even, after you found out everything about me" you shrugged "i met this lovely boy, i think he goes by the name enzo, who told me a whole lot about you"

"oh god, no" 

"quite interesting to hear about all those things from someone who has no interest in sleeping with me"

"what? i don't—“

"so you don't intend to sleep with me?" you smiled. "don't be ridiculous, theodore nott"

"i'm just not used to being this straightforward, admittedly"

you completely ignored the surprise swinging in his voice and went on with your story. "enzo did give me some exciting information and i wanted to talk about one thing in particular"

theo was ready to close his eyes and open them back up after you had screamed and left him sitting alone at the table. he had to admit that he wasn't particularly proud of his dating history (or lack of) before he met you and he was sure you weren't happy about that either. 

"before you say something" he interrupted you, before you were able to let the words slip past your lips. "i'm not like that anymore, i was young and not interested in a relationship and just wanted a bit of fun—"

"what are you talking about exactly?" you asked, a susprised smile on your face. 

"that wasn't what you wanted to talk about, was it?" theo asked and you shook your head giggling. 

"i mean, don't let me tell you what to talk about" you managed to say between your laughter. "we can talk about your previous hookups if that's something you'd like to discuss"

"i'd rather not" theo shook his head and his cheeks turned rosy. 

"fine" you smiled "now back to my question: how did you manage to play out that prank on professor binns in our third year?"

theo's features relaxed at the simple question and he smiled, recalling the memory. "so it all started with a ridiculous idea from mattheo and me getting roped into something stupid again"

you spent the rest of the night talking and ordering one hot chocolate after the other. there was not one second of awkward silence, even as theo brought you back to your common room. 

"i had a lot of fun tonight" theo smiled, hands sinking into the pockets of his trousers. 

you had admired how well dressed he was when he had come to get you in the afternoon. 

"me too" you said honestly. "i can't wait for the next one"

"so there will be a next one?" 

"don't be ridiculous, theodore nott" you smiled, before telling the password to the eagle ontop of the door. "of course there will a next one" you slipped into the common room and away from the smiling boy in front of it. 

"are they weirder than you?" 

the voice startled theo, as he was standing in front of the shelf in the library. he turned around, not surprised that it was you who had asked that question. you mostly started your conversations in the middle, without so much as a hello or some kind of warning. 

"what?" theo wasn't sure what else to ask.

"you friends of course" you shrugged, like that had been obvious "we've been together for a month and i've never even met them" 

"well, you have met them" theo corrected. "like in the hallways or during dinner" 

"you know what i mean, theodore" you rolled your eyes. "i don't think a grunting sound could be classified as me meeting someone"

"that's just blaise, honestly" theo muttered "but pansy waved to you during dinner more than three times now"

"theo" you pushed "either something is completely wrong with them or me and i'd like to know what it is, now" you sighed, before you added "just say if you're ashamed of me or something, i know i can be a bit rude to people i don't know"

"tesoro" theo sighed "i'm sorry that i let you think that. they're just annoying, that's all"

"and you thought they would scare me away?" you smiled, touching his cheeks with your hands. "you stalked me for weeks and i'm still dating you, aren't i?"

"that's never gonna be funny" he called after you, as you walked out of the library. "fine, breakfast at the slytherin table for you tomorrow" 

"aye, aye" 

"she's not hideous" was the first thing you heard when you sat down at the table the next morning. 

"well, you aren't either, zabini" you smiled, not even fazed by his assumption. "even though theo warned me about you" 

"burn!" enzo called, exchanging a high five with pansy. 

"i'm so glad we finally get to meet" pansy smiled. "i've just been waiting to have another girl around, it sometimes gets to much with all the testosterone"

"i don't know how you manage, honestly" you smiled.

to say theo's friends and you hit it off immediately would be an understatement. it took approximately ten minutes for you to become part of the group. enzo and you had been friends before, unlikely study partners, after you had helped him on a potions assignment once. pansy was ready to keep you by her side for the rest of the year and even blaise took a quick liking to you.

mattheo and draco were harder to break. mattheo, still having a pretty hurt ego about you turning him down the year before, was sure that you were just dating theo to get back at him for whatever reason and draco was just not interested to have any relationship past a simple hello and goodbye. 

you didn't mind their antics, even if theo repeatedly apologized for it. 

yours and theo’s relationship lasted for exactly two years. theo broke up with you one day after your anniversary.

the break up was painful, the fight that followed even more and still, you held him that evening, both of you understanding the severity of your situation and the war that was waiting to happen.

“theo” you cried, rushing through the ruins of the courtyard just months later. 

you had been on different sides after all. you had followed harry potter into the war and theo had been bound to his father and to the promise the man had given to the dark lord. just like draco, mattheo, pansy, blaise and enzo. 

your friends had gotten lost in the fight and despite not being supposed to, you were desperately screaming for them. 

you ran back into the castle, not having found theo outside. you send curses at the death eaters that tried approaching you, having more luck than an actual plan. you were simply determined to find him. 

you were thrown down to the ground as the doors of the room of requirement suddenly appeared and flew open. just as quickly as they had opened, they closed again, spitting out people in the procress, before the fire was tamed behind the doors. 

harry potter, hermione granger and ron weasley were standing up from the ground slowly, black powder darkening their cheeks and clothes. 

it took a moment for you to realize who the other two people were, as you quickly got up from the ground. 

draco was breathing just as heavily as blaise was, both trying to fill their lungs with air. 

“oh god” you mumbled, before you finally started moving, your legs guiding you into the direction of your friends, falling into their arms and pressing them close to you. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry” you cried. 

blaise and draco held onto you just as tight, not being able to let you go as they cried into your hair.

“be honest, draco” you said when you broke the hug, completely ignoring the trio next to you. 

“theo” draco muttered, knowing what you were talking about immediately. blaise and him exchanged a look. 

“is he dead?” you asked, heartbreak already burning in your limbs and throat. you were ready to mourn, ready to lose your life just like him. he had died for the wrong cause, but you hoped, heart heavy in your chest, that death was more forgiving than his life had been. 

“we don’t know” blaise finally said. “we got seperated in the halls, theo—he was looking for you i think”

“i have to find him” you muttered, touching each hand of the boys in front of you. “stay safe” you kissed both of their cheeks, before you turned on your heel, running down the corridor opposite of where you had come from. 

“theo!” you called once more, running up the stairs and through various hallways, hopeless to ever receive an answer.

“y/n” a voice called and you almost crumbled from the surprise it reached you with. hope was hard to keep and you had thought, really thought, that he was dead. 

theo wasn’t dead, but close to it. he was laying on the ground, his back against the wall, while the rest of his body was bathing in his own blood. his cheeks were empty of any colour, lips dry and almost blue as he looked up at you with tired eyes. 

“oh god” you muttered in shock, slipping onto the ground beside him, your uniform soaking up the blood like it was water in the lake. your hands touched his chest and the big glass shard that was stuck inside of it. theo hissed in pain. “sorry, sorry” you whispered. 

“they surprised me as i came down the corridor” he explained. “i was looking for you”

“you found me now” you whispered once more. 

“i don’t think they meant to do this” sweat dripped from his forehead. “they were kids, not older than fourteen, but they left and they took my wand”

“oh god” you repeated as you shook your head, holding his face in your blood soaked hands and kissing his lips softly.

“i thought you were dead” tears slipped over his cheeks and you shook your head crying. 

“i’m gonna help you” you said quickly, before reaching for your wand and using it’s magic to extract the glass from theo’s body. he was winding on the ground, the pain probably unbearable. but you had to do this in order to help him. he would heal, he would survive and that was all that mattered to you in this moment. 

“i don’t want to fight” theo cried “not for them, not against you” 

“i know, my love, i know”

the healing had begun, slowly but surely his wound closed up, only leaving behind the blood around you and the worry on your face.

“come on” you said, as soon as he looked less pale. you took his hand and he followed you through the corridors of the castle, standing next to you when you had to fight death eaters, even beginning to send curses himself. 

“you don’t have to fight, theo” you called over the loudness of the fight. “confringo! i don’t want you to fight against him” 

“i’m not leaving you” theo called back, his voice nearly drowned out by the deatheater across from him, who was screaming curses and uttering threats about theo’s betrayal at the same time. “he doesn’t mean anything to me”

“what?” you send the deatheater flying against the wall, effectively knocking him out. your wand was now facing theo's death eater too.

“i don’t care for my father” theo said, before he too send the man flying. “i only care for you and your well being”

you made sure it was safe, before you pulled him in and kissed him so passionately that you almost forgot you had ever been apart. “don’t ever let me go again, theodore nott” 

“i wouldn’t dare, y/n l/n” 

you took his hand, walking back into the entrance hall, looking if you were needed anywhere. that’s when you saw them coming over the bridge. 

“he’s here” you said, pushing theo behind you if there was really anything you could do to save him. “he’s—“ you paused, as the both of you walked closer up behind the rows of people already standing in the courtyard.

“harry…?” your voice was quiet, as you adressed the boy you had put all your hope in. someone you hadn’t known well, not well enough to be on first name basis, but what did it matter now that he was. what was he?

“harry potter is dead!” voldemort announced loudly, while the deatheaters broke into laughter. 

ginny weasley dashed forward with a heartbreaking scream. “no! no!”

“stupid girl! harry potter is dead, from this day forth you put your faith in me” you looked down onto the ground in front of you and then back at theo, who looked like he was being painfully tortured by voldemorts words. he too had set his hope into harry.

“it’s done” you said softly. “the war is over”

“we lost”

“harry potter is dead!” voldemort repeated once more “and now is the time to declare youself. come forward and join us.. or die”

your ears were drenched out by the wailing sound in your head. it was loud that you missed everything neville said. you pressed your eyes close, wishing to be anywhere else. to be free from this destiny, but you knew you could never just leave. you wouldn’t be able to leave all these people behind. 

it was theo‘s voice that woke you from your half sleeping state. the word he muttered was foreign on his tongue, but ignited a flame inside of you immediately. 

“harry”

your eyes snapped open like a gun shot had rung through the air. but it wasn’t the sound of a gun. it was harry potter, who was running and firing spells at voldemort. you just had seconds to react, before the fight broke out again, no end in sight. 

you had never thought to be happy that a war continued.

but continuation meant that you hadn’t lost yet. there was a chance to win as long as harry potter was alive. 

when voldemort finally dies, it’s nothing like you ever imagined. he bursts into the air, pieces by pieces disappearing until only his wand is left. 

the deatheater in front of you let’s his wand fall to the ground and you don’t have any interest to finish the job as you sank into theo‘s arms. content is flashing through your body and immediate tiredness is dragging you down. theo holds you as all your weight crashes against him. 

you‘re tired of fighting and of war and death and fear. there is nothing in your head, apart from the thought that you will never have to endure all of that again.

theo and you went away after the war.

you travelled europe for a year, before you came back to hogwarts to finish the school year you were still missing. 

theo got a job at the ministry, you started working at hogwarts. he proposed to you the day that you signed the contract. 

your wedding was beautiful. pansy and luna were your bridesmaids. draco and mattheo were theo‘s groomsmen. all of your friends were there. you had even invited the golden trio, it was only thanks to them that the both of you were still alive and able to celebrate your connection.

“you lost your bow again, robin!” theo picked up the little pink bow and clipped it to his suit, knowing that your daughter was way too busy to even hear him call for her. 

“maybe you should just give up” you suggested, picking up luke who was softly hitting your leg, seemingly tired of walking. 

“but she looks so cute with it!” theo protested, the disappointment sipping from his voice as he pushed the trolley through the wall. 

“it‘s no use if she always loses them” you shrugged. “what is it? like the tenth one you’ve gotten her in the past month alone? just wait until she’s older, love”

theo sighed, but nodded at your suggestion. 

“grace, robin” you called, looking around the people in front of you to spot your girls. 

“well, lucky you’ve got me” mattheo popped up next to you, robin in his arms, as he threw a wink in your direction. 

“why are you even here, mate?” theo asked annoyed “you didn’t have any children the last time i checked”

“well, theres still a few women we’re not a hundred percent sure about yet” pansy joked as she appeared in front of you. “hey sweetheart” she kissed your cheek, before she took luke out of your arms. 

“haha” mattheo rolled his eyes. “i was just accompanying my nieces and nephew’s like a good godfather and uncle should do”

“nope” theo shook his head. “you’re still not grace’s godfather, one daughter of mine has to be enough, riddle” 

“yeah, yeah” mattheo shook his head, clearly not caring about anything theo said “we’ll get there eventually”

“no, we won’t, that’s the point—“ 

“hello nott” blaise greeted, draco following, scorpius and grace behind him. you sighed in relief, glad you daughter had not gotten lost.

“blaise” theo nodded, while you went around the trolley, hugging both men. 

“amazing style choice” blaise pointed against his chest and theo's eyes fell down on his own chest, having completely forgotten about the bow he had pinned there. “looks great on you, mate”

“it’s robin’s”

“sure, keep telling yourself that” blaise said with a sarcastic smile “i heard denial is a river in egypt, y/n”

you giggled, but promptly stopped when theo elbowed you. “you’re my wife. mine” he muttered between clenched teeth, but clearly joking. 

draco took a look on his watch. “there are places we have to be, aren’t there?” he set a hand on both scorpius’ and grace’s shoulder, who were talking to each other excitedly.

“of course” you nodded, following your friends to the platform and hugging your daughter so close, as if that might make her leaving a little less hard. “stay with scorpius, sweetheart. stick together, the both of you” you advised. 

“i think isaac was trying to safe a department for the three of you” blaise told you daughter, who smiled gratefully. 

“yes, mum” grace nodded, before you swapped places with theo, who was already crying. 

“write to me every week, honey!” he declared. “stay far away from professor trewlaney and close to your mother as soon as she’s back at work”

“theo” you shook your head “she should have space to develop” you watched grace and scorpius board the train, waving as it slowly left the station.

“i’ve seen people develop at hogwarts!” he shook his head “it lead to a pregnancy in your case, tesoro”

blaise and draco choked on their spit simultaneously.

“that was after i became a teacher and you know it, dear husband”

mattheo held robin away from him, to take her in fully. “were you made there too?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone in particular.

“mattheo!” draco, pansy and you scolded loudly. 

“hey guys!” enzo appeared behind you suddenly, startling all of you. “oh no, they’re already off, aren’t they?” 

you nodded sadly, feeling sorry for the poor bloke who couldn’t arrive on time if his life depended on it.

“half an hour too late” draco exclaimed with a look at his watch. “as always”

“well you know the traffic is being a bitch” enzo slapped a hand to his mouth, before he took a quick look at evie next to him. “sorry, love. well everything’s been a b-word since jacky started forcing me to use muggle transportation.”

“i do not envy you one bit” mattheo shrugged.

“well, evie” enzo shrugged “the train is gone, but i hear that the weasleys have this super cool car, that—“

“no!” you shook your head, taking the little girls hand in yours. “i’ll take her!” 

“so get-together at yours or what, nott?” mattheo asked “gonna have to know which of your kids were conceived in hogwarts” 

“mattheo!” all of you scolded at the same time.

[contact-guy]

Hi! What order would you recommend reading the Sherlock Holmes books in. I began reading the books in order of publication a few years back, but never finished. I wanted to start reading them again but was wondering if I should just read them in order of publication again or if there is a better order, in terms of something like the order of when the books were set.

There are entire scholars who devote years of their lives to the question of 'what order did the stories occur in', shattering their minds against the cold, simple fact that Arthur Conan Doyle did not like Sherlock Holmes very much and couldn't be bothered to make the stories consistent.

THAT BEING SAID, one of the better known scholars is Baring-Gould, whose chronology is here. He tries his best to date the stories based on historical weather records, references, tone, etc. He also postulates that Watson had three wives, which I just don't buy; Watson married once and Holmes faked his own death for two years and he's NOT going to do it again.

I'm doing my own annotated chronology here if you wanna read along with Watson's Sketchbook! I'm trying to place stories where they occurred when there is an actual date attached, but I'm prioritizing a narrative arc for their relationship ;)

[sl33paholics]

Good day to you <3 !!! Can you please write to headcanon about the antagonists of season 3 of "Baki" (Spec , Yanagi , Dorian , Sikorsky and Doyle) where they kiss S/O (like: forehead, cheeks, etc..) ??? I will be very grateful if you notice >3< ❤

Death Row Inmates Kissing Their s/o Headcannons!

Warning(s): errrrrrr the death row inmates themselves are a warning enough. Mentions of their crimes and a hint of spice (if you squint) a hint of crack on Spec's end

also sweethearts my requests are now closed I have 7 more that I've been neglecting I'm sorrY

Ryuukou Yanagi

Can't Let You Go Just Yet Kiss (on da lipz)

For Yanagi, you're his spouse before he got sent to prison, then becoming a death row inmate (bc he couldn't keep his hands to himself 🙄)

You'd occasionally come whenever you had the chance, although you couldn't bring gifts for him to keep in his square type of cell, the two of you would always exchange letters resulting in scheduled meetings with one another with HEAVY surper vision from the guards

Due to his poisonous hand, Yanagi carefully tries not to do anything out of line whenever his mind is on autopilot. The two of you would catch up on things. How's the outside life been treating you? Are you adjusting to living alone without him home? Is work going well? You know, the usual questions

As time ticks, the two of you begin to reminisce of your lives before it was struck because of Yanagi's stupid actions, sure, you don't agree with his murderous behavior but you'd stick by his side regardless

Yanagi would grab your forearm and pull you towards him. You were just looking so good. The short king couldn't resist kissing your beautiful ass

What felt like an eternity, you felt his hot lips making contact with yours as he had a firm grip on you, holding you close and deepening the kiss, sending frictions down your spine

Hell, the two of you were so lost in thought that the guards finally had to step in and SEPARATE you two as they put the man back in handcuffs.

Safe to say you'd be making more scheduled visits in the near future 😛

Hector Doyle

Unbreakable Snuggle Up Kisses (on the neck)

You're the man's fiancé.

You would've thought that after him being responsible for many killings as an assassin, now being on death row, he expected you to leave. Leave, move on with your life, not being tied to a monster who wishes to finally taste defeat.

But you didn't. And that's what confused him.

With someone with his stature and nature, the thought of his one love finally leaving him did cross his mind a lot when he was in that cell. Only for the guards to bang on his sell and tell him he has a visitor.

To see you at the visitors' longue patiently sitting waiting for him as you analyzed the room, it made him let out a sigh of relief (but not loud enough for the guards to hear 🤫🧏‍♀️)

Doyle IMMEDIATELY sat next to you (although security clearly stated to sit across but bffr they don't want that smoke) getting all up in your personal space, staring down at you with intensity. The man starts to interrogate you. How's life doing? Have you seen anyone ever since he got locked up? Are you doing well on your own? Did anyone know you were coming to see him today?

Without a single thought, he wrapped his arms around you. His one and only, resting his head on your neck and feeling his hot breath on your skin. It felt nice. The man you've been separated for months is now here showering you with affection.

The silence between you two is nice, but it came to a halt when you felt short and wet kisses from Doyle. You quietly tried to move him away, but the red-haired man didn't care.

With his large arms around your body and his kisses becoming more sloppy to the point where he was damn near bitting you to mark your neck up, you couldn't help but to enjoy the fact that getting caught sent a shuddering thrill down your spine.

It only stopped when a few guards had to drag him away from you and cuff Doyle up again. Only for that sly dog to look back at you with a smug grin and him mouthing, "I expect to get another visit from you soon~" while getting escorted back to his cell.

Dorian

A quick, goodbye kiss (on your cheek cheeks)

A longtime partner of his. It was honestly sad to see him delve into his murderous ways, resulting in him being on death row and awaiting his fate.

No letters. No gifts. No nothing from you, surprisingly.

You couldn't fathom the fact that this could either break your marriage completely. It was only until then a serge of letters flowing through your mailbox that Dorian was egar to see you.

So why not make a schedule to see him? It can't be that bad.

Man, as soon as the day came, his big self hugged you so tightly you thought your eyes were gonna pop out.

Somehow, seeing him in this state really made you feel happy. His heavy belly laugh, alongside Dorian sharing his experiences on prison, it really made you two become close again just within a short amount of time.

Hell, he looks like Santa (if he didn't go on the deep end) if you squint hard enough 🤷🏾‍♀️

Dorian would also share short stories that he would remember during his time in the military many many MANY years ago to you.

For the first time, that lost spark that faded all those moons ago finally came back to bring life to your stale marriage.

But when it was time to leave, you didn't want to. Much to Dorian's surpise, you wanted to extend the visit since it's been forever since you've felt this way.

However, it wasn't up to you to decide.

Before he was escorted out, Dorian gave you a big fat kiss on the cheek, and one on the other. It made you cheese up, for your grown age

You're DEFINITELY going back to see him more often.

Sikorsky

A Distracting Kiss (on your forehead)

You were originally a fling turned partner

The thought that you slept with a killer before finding out his true ways definitely shocked you to your core

So it was a surpise when you received a letter to come visit him. You really didn't want to go but hell, you had nothing to do and decided to go anyway

Gosh. The wait and anticipation sent you over the edge while waiting for his arrival, making your hands sweaty. So, seeing his big build stomping towards you as the guards removed the cuffs was pretty intimidating and low key terrifying

The two of you sat in silence. The prison smells. Not the cleanest tables and chairs. Dirty ass walls. Without a single thought, you commented on how this building looks, only for Sikorsky to let out a loud chuckle at what you had to say

The two of you made small talk. It was awkward. You'd thought he'd be the one initiating conversation, but nooo it was YOU

Time was ticking, and the two of you were getting nowhere. You were getting upset. He invited you over only for him to just sit there and stare.

It wasn't until you mentioned that you planned on moving overseas. It's like he had a shift of attitude and wanted to be involved jn what you had to say 🙄

The two of you got so lost in conversation you didn't even keep track of time until the guards began to walk up and ruffled Sikorsky to stand up, but you kept talking

It was only then you felt his huge hands cup your face and bringing you up towards him, giving you a rough smooch on your forehead before you sat back down on the hard metal chair as the men were taking Sikorsky back into confinement

Safe to say that you will be coming back again

Spec

What do I even put for this guy??? (All types of kisses)

Ever since that man escaped from underwater, it's been nothing but hell

But you weren't expecting him to immediately crash at YOUR place

WTF??

You woke up to your face being smothered in kisses from the big bald man with your doors being busted open from the brute force

You wanted to scream out but really, being tied to this man as a middle-aged person was very difficult

You had to deal with the torment of SPEC. The guy doesn't understand the meaning of "personal space" or wanting to be alone just for a good hour

While lounging on the couch, he's there pecking your cheeks with small kisses until you get sick of it

Spec the type of guy to give really, really rough kisses on the lips. He doesn't know when to control himself, often leaving your lips swollen or bruised but will pamper you for being able to handle him

If you just so happened to be in the shower, his tall ass is towering over you while giving you neck kisses, you warned him not to get out of control. This is Spec we're talking about, you're going to have hickeys on your neck and throat

The only time I see Spec being gentle with you whenever you're back from your job, sore and exhausted, he would give your forehead the best kisses ever. Even if you have to deal with them sometimes being sloppy

You love the guy. Even if he's psychotic, an asshole, and many other things combined, you can't deny you love when he spoils you with affection ❤️

[aperrywilliams]

More Than You Know (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credit to the creator)

——————

Author Masterlist

——————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: You’re Spencer's best friend. You have gone through many things together, but after Spencer is incarcerated, things turn different for both of you. Not to mention you have been in love with him for a long time too. How much will you endure until you can’t take it anymore?

Word Count: 5.9k

TW: ANGST. Strong language. Mention of abduction, drug use, getting shot, death of relatives and loved ones, jail, pregnancy, unsafe sex, and potential cheating. All the deal!

A/N: Not a happy ending, at least for Spencer and Reader. Do you think they could have a chance in the future? (I wrote it as a one-shot, but it makes me kind of sad). Let me know what you think.

Part 2: More Than You Say

Part 3: More Than You Expect (the end)

——————

I don’t have the habit of arriving early at work. I only do it when it is strictly required. I’m not a morning person. I have never been. So you can guess how my mood turns dark when people push me to let go of some minutes of my precious morning sleep, even when Spencer is the one who asks me to.

He called me this morning at 6 am, telling me he needed to talk to me in person. So we agreed to grab a coffee in our usual place before work.

"Thanks for coming," Spencer greets me when I arrive. A harsh expression adorns his features while I sit in the booth before him.

I can’t help the yawn escaping my lips.

“Did I have a choice?” I ask, gesturing to the barista for my regular order.

“I need to talk to you,” he prefaces, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He looks distressed. I narrow my eyes, thinking about what could be causing it.

“Yeah, that’s what you said by phone when you woke me up this morning. Why you didn’t tell me there what’s going on?”

“I couldn't tell you by phone,” he excuses himself as the barista approaches and hands me my coffee. I thank her, returning my gaze to my friend.

My mind starts racing with possibilities, and my heartbeat picks up its rate.

“Something happened to your mom?” I ask cautiously. Spencer shakes his head immediately.

“No. My mom is okay.”

Well, that discards a big issue so that I can breathe a little.

“Nightmares again?”

I can recall how bad nightmares could be for Spencer. Since Hankel and passing by Emily’s dead, Maeve, and then prison, Spencer is a lightning rod for nightmares.

“No. Not in a while.”

Good. Another bad thing out of the list.

“Headaches?”

A big issue that worsened after Doyle stabbed Emily and led Spencer to Maeve.

“No. I’m good with that.”

Okay, I’m running out of options here. Is it the job?

“The bureau wants you to take longer sabbaticals?”

“No! Not that either.”

I give up. I don’t think anything is important enough to make me be here before 7 am.

“Spencer, I’m lost. Just tell me what’s going on,” I urge, running out of patience and dying to know what this is about.

"It's about Alison," he clarifies, and I can’t help but groan.

Seriously? The problem is a girl?

"Alison?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, the girl I'm seeing lately?" He adds to help my recall. I know Alison, but I won't waste a chance to mess with Spencer, especially considering he made me up early for this.

"I'm sorry. I don't remember that one. I lost track after Lonna," I shrug. Spencer rolls his eyes, knowing what I’m doing.

"Not now, (Y/N). This is important,” he scolds.

I look at him incredulously. What could be so important about a girl he's seeing?

"Okay, okay. Don't be so dense. What happens with the gorgeous Alison?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

"She may be pregnant," he suddenly says with a grimace.

"What?!" I squeal, almost choking on the coffee in my mouth. Spencer looks around us to see if someone is listening to our conversation.

"Shush! You wanna me repeat what I just said?" he whisper-shouts.

"Come on, Spencer. You must be kidding me.”

I take a napkin to clean the mess I made with my coffee.

“I’m afraid I’m not.”

“How come you, from all the people, don't know what birth control and condoms are?"

Spencer's cheeks flush. He is embarrassed, but his need to confide in someone is greater.

This is eating him alive.

"May I forget to use one a while ago? I mean, we were in a rush, and-" I cut him off.

"No. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to know the details of your sex life. I'm just concerned about how reckless you have become, honestly.”

The last part isn’t intended to sound that rough. Spencer is a grown man who can do whatever he pleases with his life, but I‘m worried about him. Since prison happened, he has been stumbling and making poor decisions, including fooling around with women.

Spencer's gaze drops to the floor, just like a child being scolded by his parents. I hate to see him like this. I hate to see him hurting and lost. So I recant my grown-up role this time.

"Spencer, look at me." I pause until his eyes meet mine. "I'm sorry if it was harsh; I'm just worried, okay? Now tell me, Alison told you?"

He shakes his head.

"Not directly. But she told me she's been feeling sick, and this morning I - I heard her throwing up. And I am almost sure she didn't have her period last month," Spencer recounts each fact as his breathing picks up.

Great. A panic attack is what I needed now.

"Hey, hey. Just breathe, okay?" I urge, calling his attention. He nods and slowly does what I say.

After a minute, he starts to feel better to speak.

"What should I do?" Spencer groans, with both hands grabbing his head.

In a twisted way, I found the scene comical.

Spencer is asking me what to do. To me.

I mean, what could I even tell him? He's my friend, but this is far ahead of what I could advise someone for.

Let alone someone who I have feelings for.

Yeah. That's the hard truth.

Cliche as it sounds, I have feelings for my best friend. A man who will never reciprocate those feelings. That's how fuck up the situation is.

But after years of keeping that secret, I learned how to mask everything for the sake of our friendship and our jobs.

"For starters, we don't know if she is pregnant. Maybe it is just your paranoia. We must be sure, so you must ask her," I instruct. Spencer looks at me in horror as if I just said he needed to jump from the 20th floor.

"What? No! I can't do that!"

"You can, and you will. You can't keep stressing out about something you don't even know!"

"And what if she is? I should marry her?" My eyes widened at that.

And the people call him a genius.

"Spencer, don't rush to the next town when you haven't stepped in this one first. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You both need to talk and decide if things turn that way, okay?"

He lets out a deep exhale.

"Okay. Okay. You're right."

Even if I want to slap him right now, I know I will never do it. Squeezing his shoulder affectionately, I let out my following words.

"You'll figure it out. Whatever it is, you'll know what to do, and I'll be by your side, okay? You're not alone."

Spencer looks at me with gratitude and a hint of relief. He knows I’m genuine in my statement. He knows I’ll be by his side no matter what.

It always has been that way.

We joined the team almost at the same time. While Jason Gideon recruited Spencer, Aaron Hotchner recruited me. Gideon insisted that Spencer’s brain and knowledge about everything would be an enormous asset to the team. Hotch did the same with me, pointing out how my interpersonal skills and impressive field experience would be valuable to the job. Different reasons, same outcome: being the newest made us closer. And not a long time after, we became best friends.

I was there when Spencer got abducted by Tobias Hankel. I was there when he struggled with his drug addiction. I consoled him when Gideon left and then when he died years later. I cared for him when he got shot in the knee and neck. We cried together when Emily ‘died.’ And after what happened to Maeve, I was there for all steps on the way. The last straw was Mexico and the three months in Millburn. I never missed a visit, and I was by his side when he had to talk to Cat Adams.

And the same way I have been for him, he has been for me. A few months after I joined the team, I got shot in the shoulder, and Spencer helped me a lot. He rode the ambulance with me when I got shot again in the abdomen three years later. He was with me when my dad passed away. Spencer comforted me when one of my long-term boyfriends dumped me. He took a serious role in rooting for me whenever I doubted myself in the job and life.

We know each other like the palm of our hands.

Everybody would have thought our friendship was forged to everlast. And I‘m still adamant about making it that way, even if after a few years of knowing each other, I realized I‘m in love with Spencer. How could I not?

Even at some point, those feelings could have been reciprocal. I noticed things between us changed after Hotch and Morgan left the team.

The stolen glances, the little touches, the overprotectiveness, the subtle flirting. I indulged myself with the idea that it was a natural turn to us be more than friends.

But then Mexico happened.

And things changed for Spencer and me.

The moment we understood what happened and that Spencer would be locked until we could find who did this to him, I didn't rest. I didn't sleep. I barely eat. But I put a brave face on him. I knew he was having the worst time there, so I was who encouraged him every chance I got.

But it didn't matter how hard we tried, how hard I tried. Spencer locked himself and didn't let anyone in. The day he was released, I hugged him first and felt some normalcy. He said how much he missed me, how much he missed us all.

Things went well for a while, but I could tell Spencer wasn't okay. He talked less; he looked distant and disaffected. Sure, Spencer was trying to cope with everything. And as before, I tended my hand to him to hold. And in a way, he took it, but not how it would help him heal.

Our relationship turned instrumental, at least for him.

He started failing in the job, lying to Emily about his whereabouts when he ran late. His mind was distracted more often. If he was reckless at the job before, now it was worse. He snapped more too. And for every time, I was there to cover him up. That's how everyone assumed he was still finding his balance, but I wasn't so sure.

Things worsened when Spencer discovered sex was an excellent way to release frustration. At first, I didn't think it could be a big deal. Getting laid wasn't a big deal. Not ideal for me, but I suppressed my jealousy for his sake. I would choose his well-being ten thousand times before my stupid love for him.

Still, things have not improved. Almost a year after Millburn, Spencer keeps stumbling, getting into trouble, and does not act as he should. I know I have my responsibility quote, but I'm too involved in this cycle to break it.

I want to say at least I have my friend, but that isn’t entirely true. Every time I have needed him in the past year, he hasn't been there. I could tell he hadn’t even noticed I had been losing weight or the doctor’s appointment I had to attend for feeling sick.

I’m alone by myself. It's sad, but I can��t force him. I’m not like that. I would never beg for affection from anyone who doesn’t want to give it, even if I needed it. People would say it is the wrong way, but I cannot be otherwise.

Some days after our coffee shop conversation, Spencer rushes to my desk to tell me the ‘good news.’ False alarm. Alison isn’t pregnant.

Spencer looks relaxed and relieved. Maybe it’s the wake-up call he needs to slow down. My hope is short-lived, though, because while he tells me everything, his phone ding. A smirk appears on his face when he sees the incoming text.

“What is it?” I ask, and Spencer bites his lower lip.

“I have a date,” he answers, typing on his phone.

“With Alison?” I narrow my eyes. He looks at me when he’s done sending the message.

“No! Of course not. I’m not going to make the same mistake again. I told her I needed time to think,” he explains like he’s talking about the weather.

“So you’re going to meet another girl without breaking up with Alison?”

“You can’t break up with someone you’re not officially involved with,” Spencer shrugs.

I want to kill him right now.

“God, Spencer. What are you doing?”

The question is primarily rhetorical, but Spencer answers nonetheless.

“Living, (Y/N). I’m living for the first time in my life.”

Can I argue with that logic? Sure. There is so much I can tell him. But I’m tired. Spencer doesn't see or hear reasons. Not even from me. It seems I have lost the privilege of being listened to by him.

Since that talk, I can’t stop thinking about what I am doing. Am I clasping onto something it doesn't exist anymore?

I don’t know the answer, and I don’t know if I want to get one. I’m just holding until I can’t do it anymore.

And that's how time flies. Things look relatively the same, and I'm just trying to float so I don't drown.

We just ended a gruesome case in Arizona. Our jet landed an hour ago, and everyone is in the mood for a drink. Rossi and Matt are the only ones with excuses to go home early.

Once there, Penelope grabs Luke’s hands and drags him to the dance floor. JJ offers to get us some drinks. Emily volunteers to help her.

Spencer is quiet, looking at me, but I barely notice. My mind is elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” He asks. The question takes me by surprise. In the past weeks, we haven’t talked that much.

“Yeah. Good. The case, you know?”

Spencer nods, but I see the worry lingering.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

I want to say I believe him, but I don’t. It’s been months since I felt that close to him. But even if I don’t believe him, I may voice my concern again.

“I don’t know,” I preface, and Spencer’s attention is full on me. It's weird, to say the least, but I will take the chance. “There is this thing bugging me. About our-” I can’t end my idea before the sound of someone squealing ‘Spencer!’ reach our ears.

The man in question snaps his head up. It's Alison. Before I can say anything, he stands, and after mumbling a ‘sorry,’ he goes to the girl calling his name.

There it goes. Nothing. Again.

I sigh before sipping my drink. What was I hoping, anyway?

JJ and Emily return to our table and ask for Spencer. Not even looking behind, I gesture to my back. They understand.

We set for drinking and complaining about whatever comes to mind. I know they know, but they are respectful enough not to push me.

The night is progressing, and I enroll in conversation with Luke and Penelope when they return from their dancing. After they leave, Emily cracks jokes to make me laugh, and JJ does her best to lose a little.

The sound of glass crushing gets our attention to the bar. There he was. Spencer is between two girls who are arguing about something. I recognize Alison, but not the other one.

“Ups. Someone is in trouble,” Emily mused. JJ shakes her head in a disapproving mood. I see Spencer’s eyes darting between the girls and trying to soothe the argument, failing miserably.

I ponder my options. I can leave him to deal with his mess for once or give him a hand. Emily reads my mind.

“Are you sure?” she asks. I shrug, standing from my spot.

“I wouldn’t like to see him complaining because one of those girls broke a bottle on his head.”

I stroll to where the action is happening, morphing my annoyed look into a confident one.

"Hey baby, I was looking for you!” I chirp, using the most loving voice as my arms wrap around Spencer’s torso.

The girls don’t look happy with my intrusion.

"We were talking with Spencer," Alison says as if I don't know that.

"Yeah, he was about to explain who he’ll choose between us," the other girl adds.

If I could have rolled my eyes, I would do it. Are they that naive? But they have a point: maybe Spencer would do what they want under pressure, even if he doesn't like it. That's why I‘m here. I know him.

"I'm so sorry, girls, but you got it wrong. This man is mine, and believe me when I tell you, you should be walking away right now. You don't want to mess with me, his wife, and the mother of his child waiting for us at home, right baby?" Now I talk to him.

Spencer's mouth goes agape, even more than Alison's and the other girl's.

"Your what?!" Alison yells. Her eyes are a few inches to pop out of their sockets.

"You have a child?!" The other looks as shocked as Alison.

Spencer only stutters incoherent words. They aren’t needed, though. After cursing him and letting out a bunch of expletives, both girls stomp out of the bar.

That’s when I notice I still have my arms around him. I pull away and clear my throat.

"You're welcome," I say before turning into my heels.

Spencer wraps my wrist to stop me. His eyes are curious, examining my features as if reading me. I return an annoyed look.

"What?"

"Why did you do it?" He asks as if he is really intrigued by my actions. It may feel more natural for me than for him.

"To save your ass? Come on, Reid. They would have eaten you alive," I scoff. Spencer chuckles, knowing that it is what could have happened.

"Yeah. But why you saved my ass? You could have feasted with the scandal."

I shrug. For a second, it crossed my mind just to be honest and give him a piece of my mind. But it‘s dangerous territory, so I opt for the safer way.

"That's what the friends are for. Even if you deserve being kicked in your ass sometimes," I try to sound light like it isn’t a big deal.

"Friends, uh?" Spencer points, mulling my words. I don't know why that specific word interests him, but I don’t read into it. "Well, thank you, then."

Now he is grinning as if a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

"You're going home?" I ask, thinking Spencer only wants to disappear from the bar after the recent events. He narrows his eyes and shakes his head like I’m talking nonsense.

"No. Not when I'm free to have a good time, at last."

"What?"

"Do you see those girls over there?" He points with his look to a group of women giggling and drinking on the opposite side of the bar.

My stomach drops to my feet as I look at him in disbelief.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"To you? I would never. You're my best friend. Thanks again," Spencer says warmly before kissing my cheek and strolling to the group he has spotted.

And here I am, standing in the middle of the bar, with words stuck in my throat and the feeling that the last 10 minutes hadn't even happened. The bartender stares at me with that empathetic look that reflects more pity than anything else. I look back at him and ask for a drink. Since I’m there, I won’t waste the chance of alcohol replacing the burning I already feel in my stomach.

"Don't tell me. You saved his ass just to let him have the chance to screw it up again," Emily summarizes when I return to the table with my drink. Both have seen all the action in the bar that transpired a while ago.

"That's what the friends are for, right?" I mockingly parrot my own words. JJ scoffs.

"I don't doubt your loyalty to Spence. But don't you think it's too much? I mean, you cover him in all your capacities, and he's not taking any responsibility for his actions," she proffers. Emily nods in agreement.

"He has been through a lot. He's lost and needs help," I argue, sipping my vodka.

"We know that. But it's time Spencer takes the reign of his life. Also, it's time you focus on your own," Emily says, pointing her index finger at me.

"What do you mean?" I ask defensively.

And there are again the pity looks.

"We know you have feelings for him. That's more than friendship, we can tell. But it's not going anywhere, and you know it. When was the last time you dated, uh?" JJ questions. Her words stab me right in my chest. I let out a deep sigh.

"Exactly." Emily seconds. "You need to think about what's healthy for you. That doesn't mean you don't care about Spencer, but he must figure it out himself."

As a cue, I turn to look at the bar direction. Spencer wraps his arm around a girl's waist, his lips ghosting her ear, whispering God knows what but making the girl giggle.

JJ and Emily are right. I’m not genuinely helping him. It is just the faint hope that I could make him see me. Really see me.

After another drink with the girls, I decide to go home.

And I decide it is time to let him go.

But honestly speaking, what does that mean? It's not that feelings can disappear overnight. It's not that one day you wake up and say, "That's enough." At the end of the day - feelings aside - Spencer is my friend, and he trusts me even in his darkest moments. But the girls are right when they say friendship goes both ways. It doesn't work if he can't respect my boundaries.

So I went over my limits. What am I willing to tolerate, and what am I not? In the first place, I won’t cover him up in lies in front of the team anymore. If he has to take a scolding from Emily for being irresponsible, so be it. Second, I won’t put up with being the go-to person for any of his mess with women. And finally, I’m not going to justify his behavior to anyone. If anyone has a problem with him, they should tell him directly. I would no longer be an interlocutor between Spencer Reid and the rest of the world.

It didn’t pass long before those limits were tested again.

Some days after what happened at the bar, I arrived at the BAU for a new case. We scheduled the meeting in the conference room at 9:00.

It’s 9:05, and Spencer still has yet to arrive. As expected, everyone is asking me what happened to Reid. I shrug. At the same time, Spencer texts me, saying he is running late and asking me to say he had a problem on the subway. I know it isn’t true, so I pretend I never got the message. That brought him explaining himself to Emily when he arrived all disheveled at 9:30.

Things like that keep happening. Spencer keeps showing up late for work and lies about the reasons. Sometimes he is nowhere to see in the bullpen, only to reappear with his hair untamed and his shirt partially untucked. Those times, opposite to the previous ones, I don’t tell him to fix himself.

Not to mention the number of calls and texts he has sent me in unholy hours to ask me what he should do about his new conquers. Calls and texts I start to ignore. That last behavior is what he resented the most, I could tell.

One morning he shows up at the conference room where I’m checking a stack of files scattered over the table. The rest of the team minding their own business downstairs.

"Are you mad at me?" He bluntly asks. I raise an eyebrow, looking at him from my manila folder.

"No. I'm not,” I reply, unbothered. But if I know Spencer enough, he will not be satisfied with my answer.

"Yes, you are. You have been avoiding me. Last night I called you, and you didn't answer."

He is the one mad at me. Or at least upset. Which one was it? It doesn’t matter; he feels ignored, and he hates it.

"I was sleeping,” I answer with the same flat tone. That spurs more of his anger.

"That's not true. You don't hit the pillow before 1 am!"

Well, Spencer does pay attention, at least for that kind of thing. Months ago, I would have felt flattered. Now? It feels void and just to his service.

"Maybe last night I did."

Spencer scoffs this time.

"I don't think so. I know you (Y/N),” he defies. Maybe he thought I would bite the bullet and apologize for ignoring him.

"Whatever. Why you called me, anyway? Did you want to tell me how your new girl screamed your name in bed?" I deadpan.

Spencer’s eyes widened.

"What?! No! I- I just,” he pauses. “I just wanted to talk to you!"

“Why?” I interject.

I’m so tired of this. I’m tired of the real reasons why Spencer needs me.

His face flushes, thinking of his following words.

“I - uh. We haven’t talked in a long time. Our last movie night was a month ago. And you haven’t called me either. I miss you,” he mumbles.

I huff a laugh. Does he really think I would believe that?

“You see me every day here, Reid,” I say with the same monotonous tone, returning my gaze to the file I’m reading.

Reid. That should have been the sign he searches for, even if his mind isn’t clear enough to put two and two together.

He scoots closer, softly bending down the file in my hands.

“(Y/N), hey. Please, talk to me. Don’t let me in the dark,” he pleads. I turn my gaze away from him. The sadness and the anger boil inside. It’s exhausting.

“I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. I want to fix it. Tell me what it is,” Spencer insists, this time with a hand over mine.

I glance at him in silence. Could a look be enough to convey everything stuck in my chest? Years ago, it could have worked with Spencer. The friendship we had back then was stronger enough to make that happen. Just a look, and each one knew what the other was thinking. Now it is just noise that could or not mean something.

How he looks at me now, lost in the signs I‘m giving him and eager for me to say something, tells me what I already know. I wonder if I would let it out this time or bottle it up again.

“I’m just tired, you know?”

My mouth works on its own accord. My brain isn’t able to stop it. Spencer examines my face looking for something to anticipate what could be coming. His clueless is irritating.

“I’m tired of hoping you can realize how badly you hurt yourself—and waiting for you to do something about it,” I blurt, knowing this is not what he wants to hear.

“What do you mean?” He asks, leaning back in a defensive mode.

“You know exactly what I mean. You are failing yourself, Spencer. You still can’t stand your ground. And you keep ignoring it!”

I punctuate my statement by shoving the file over the table. Spencer gets startled by my action.

“If you are talking about what happened the other night in the bar. It doesn't -” He explains, but I cut him off.

“No! It's everything! Can’t you see it? It's the way you lie to your teammates, the way you do your job, like it doesn't matter to you. The way you turn everything into something meaningless. The relationships you have, your job, your friends. Everything!”

Spencer’s face steels. I know he doesn't like being called out. He hates that. But I wouldn’t spare him the trouble this time.

“You are being unfair (Y/N),” he says with gritted teeth, standing to put some distance from me.

“Am I? Oh, no. If something I’m sure of is the unfairness doesn't fall on me.”

I spit back, standing as well to show him I wouldn’t back off. After running his hands through his hair, he turns to me. He has a look of betrayal on him.

Betrayal? The audacity of this man.

"Yes! You are! You, better than anyone, know it hasn't been easy for me! Life - life in Millburn changed me, and it has been so difficult to settle it down. You know that! Those were the worst three months of my life!"

Millburn. It was like a prohibited word for us. He didn't like to say it or hear it from me.

"So that gives you the right to ruin the good things in your life, uh? Because you are a lost soul in this world?” I try to reason, but that only gives me a burlesque laugh from him.

"And what if it were so? It's not like I have much to lose, right?"

And there it is—the broken man. The guy who still believes no one loves him and he doesn't deserve to be loved. All the years of work to put those walls down returned to zero after he got imprisoned.

"Do you really believe that? Do you really believe your self-destructive behavior only affects you? I didn't think you were so selfish, Spencer."

Although I know the answer, I ask nonetheless. And even though I know that selfishness isn’t something Spencer deliberately wants, maybe voicing it could help me to bring him back.

“Selfish? Says the person I trusted with my life, and now it’s throwing everything back to me?”

Or not.

“Stop doing that! Stop assuming everyone is attacking you! If we need to blame someone, of course, we can blame Cat Adams. But now she’s dead, Spencer! And what about you? For God’s sake! You had endured so much in your life, and now you’re going to let that bitch keep destroying you from the grave?”

My voice gets hoarse from the yelling, and for the first time during this conversation, Spencer doesn't spit something back immediately.

The hurt expression on his face morphs into defeat. He doesn't want to fight back. He doesn’t want to get out of the hole.

We keep looking at each other silently, daring the other to say anything.

Spencer tries to mask his glassy eyes, breaking eye contact and looking at the ceiling. And seeing him like this spurs the desire to run and hug him, holding him. But I can’t. I swore not to back down.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). But this is who I am now,” he mumbles after a few minutes.

I exhale sharply. Why is it so difficult for him to understand?

“Keep telling yourself that, but deep down, you know it's not true,” I argue, but with no energy to keep yelling. But it's like fuel to Spencer’s anger.

“Why do you care anyway? Is it because you are my friend?” He mockingly air quotes the word ‘friend.’ “Well, it seems my friendship doesn't satisfy you anymore, does it?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? You are not comfortable with the person I am. You don't want my company anymore. You don’t trust me. It's very clear to me.”

I need to get out of here before I say something I may regret or Spencer does it burying any chance of us being okay again.

“Where are you going? Doesn’t feel okay hearing the truth, (Y/N)?”

“You are angry, and we can’t keep talking like this,” I mumbled, trying to pass to the exit door.

“Are you chicken out now? That's how you understand loyalty?” Spencer calls me out this time. He’s testing me, and I can’t take it anymore.

“Don’t question my loyalty. If anything, loyalty is what you have been getting from me since always! Don’t you dare to doubt it!”

My voice is going to break at any minute, and I don’t know what to do to push away this suffocating feeling.

”Let me have suspicions about that,” he scoffs, and I want to cry.

How unfair. How painful.

“Oh no, no, no. Not that. You know what? I’m done. Fuck you, Spencer! Fuck you and your fucking cluelessness and self-loathing. I have been by your side in thick and thin. I have given you everything!”

I bet my screaming is being heard throughout the entire floor right now, but I don’t fucking care. I’m not going to stop right now. “God! Even I would have died for you! But you don’t deserve anything of it. You don’t deserve my loyalty and much less my love.”

I notice how Spencer’s eyes widen with my last sentence.

“Your what,” he barely mumbles.

The secret is out. But it's too late. I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath.

“Yes. You heard right. I said, ‘My love.’ Because I fucking love you. I have been in love with you for ages! But I chose our friendship above all, and what I got? A friend who can’t see beyond his shit. Hell, everyone’s right. I deserve better!”

I can’t stop the tears from springing, and I hate myself for not being stronger to endure this.

“(Y/N)… why you didn't tell me?”

He's being cautious and slowly tries to approach, reaching for my hand.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

“(Y/N),” he tries again. “We can talk about this, please.”

I hate this. I don't want his pity. Honestly, I don't want anything at all. I thought saying the truth would help me to lift a weight from my shoulders. Now I just want to run anywhere in the world where nobody knows me. I’m sick, and being by his side, in any capacity, would no do better to me.

“No. We can’t. Too little too late, Spencer. I’m done. I really hope you can find whatever you're looking for. I hope you do. You deserve to be happy. And so do I. Take care, okay? And I’m sorry for lying to you. I told you I’ll always be by your side, but I can’t. Not like this.”

I look at him for the last time, patting his shoulder and giving him a sad smile. He doesn't say anything; he only stands there, following my steps with his gaze until I reach the door and shut it behind me.

——————

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine​ @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic​ @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

[anyon-else]

I Am Your Lover and I Am Your Jailor (The Red Room pt.16) | You're finally free from Orochimaru and the Red Room; however, things have become more complicated now that SHIELD knows of your existence. (Marvel AU) – spotify playlist | read on ao3

Pairings | Kakashi Hatake x Black Widow!Reader + Sakura Haruno, Sasuke Uchiha, Naturo Uzumaki, Tsunade Senju, Genma Shiranui, Danzo Shimura

Warnings | female!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, violence, this is a lore-heavy chapter (if anyone wants to know more about my sources for marvel-related lore, leave a comment!)

Word count | 11k

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"The cage is open. You can walk out anytime you want. Why are you still in there?"

Glennon Doyle, Untamed

"I thought you weren't allowed to come here."

You hoped you didn't sound like you were complaining. You were more than used to spending time behind iron bars, but that didn't make it any less unpleasant each time you wound up in a cell.

"I'm not," Kakashi shrugged from where he sat on the other side of the bars. He had come in quietly, putting a finger to his lips until he'd gotten to your cell in the middle of the long corridor. Now you sat side by side against the metal, trying to ignore your proximity to him in favor of staring intently at the cracks in the opposite wall, "but I'm one of the Director's favorites. She's...turning a blind eye, at the moment."

"Sounds like an abuse of power."

He laughed. The sound surrounded you like a warm blanket that you felt desperate to keep wrapped around your shoulders. You wished you had the strength to push it off and leave that warmth behind for his sake.

"Probably," he said quietly, glancing at the cameras on either side of the corridor, then at the one in the corner of your cell, "but I'm cashing in some favors."

Why?

The question was on the tip of your tongue, and while you restrained yourself from voicing it, Kakashi seemed to sense your worry from your expression.

He shifted before you could come up with a better response, and you held your breath when he lifted a hand and slipped it between the bars. He rested it next to yours with a casualness that you envied.

"I thought Sakura was going to level the building when I told her she couldn't come with me to see you," he smiled, "Sasuke and Naruto didn't do much to help me talk her down."

You pictured the three of them with a fondness that made your heart ache. You missed Sakura often, but recently you'd realized that you missed Sasuke and Naruto nearly as much. You missed their bickering and their fierce protectiveness of one another. You missed feeling like you were a part of the family they'd built for themselves.

You hadn't even known what you'd been missing until a few days ago, but your memories had returned to you in a wave of sorrow and longing and desperation. Part of you wished you were still ignorant to what you'd lost.

"How are they?" you whispered, the memory of Sakura's angry shouts as you were led through SHIELD's headquarters in handcuffs still fresh in your mind. She'd been held back by Sasuke and Naruto and swiftly blocked from your view by an older agent you didn't recognize, but her demands had been audible until you'd reached the cell block.

"They're worried about you," he said lowly. "Sakura is refusing to leave headquarters until Tsunade lets her see you. She's furious."

You hummed. Despite your desire to see her too, you felt yourself relaxing at the confirmation that she was safe.

"Naruto and Sasuke are worried too," he said softly. You glanced at him, trying to hide your surprise. "They've been trying to convince Tsunade to let you out, even if it's just for a short time. They want to make sure you're okay."

Again, the general question of why floated through your mind, but one look at Kakashi told you that he knew what you were thinking. You scowled at him, shaking your head and ignoring the infuriating look on his face. Eyebrows raised and lips titled upwards just enough to be noticeable, his expression seemed to be daring you to speak the question aloud.

"Don't look at me like that," you grumbled.

"Then stop thinking so hard," he retorted, shifting his hand just enough that his finger was resting over yours. You swallowed, closing your eyes and trying very hard to do as he said.

He's not making it very easy...

"What else am I supposed to think about?" you asked quietly, bringing your knees to your chest and resting your chin against them. Kakashi studied you for a long moment, and you closed your eyes to try and block his stare from your view.

"If you could travel to one place, anywhere in the world, where would you go?"

You glanced at him. The question itself was innocent enough—an attempt to distraction, perhaps—but it still made your chest sink. To think of the future now, when it was still so uncertain, only made anxiety bubble in your chest.

"I've been enough places to last a lifetime."

The Siberian mountains where you felt the first sting of betrayal and the painful slice of a blade across your face. Deep beneath German soil where some of HYDRA's first compounds were built. In Japanese training facilities where Orochimaru worked. In the American suburbs where you went on your first and only mission with Sakura.

"Maa," he huffed, shifting closer to you and leaning his head against the bars, "there has to be somewhere."

You sighed, closing yours eyes again and attempting to picture yourself at peace. You tried to visualize it and identify what you'd come up with.

You weren't entirely surprised by the image that came to mind

In your thoughts wasn't a specific location, but a memory of talking to Sakura without fearing punishment from Orochimaru. Of sparring with Sasuke without life and death on the line. Of listening to Naruto's stories about when the three of them were younger and free of their burdens.

Of laying next to Kakashi and finally being free of your own.

You wanted that feeling back. It didn't matter where you found it as long as it was there with you.

Impossible, you shook the thought away, I've tried to hold onto that life once already. I know better now.

"Somewhere peaceful," you finally answered, swallowing down the lump in your throat, "near the water. I'd want to just...sit and watch the sky for hours. That would make me happy, I think."

You wanted to tell him that it would only make you happy if he was there with you. You wanted and wanted and wanted.

It was too much. You felt like unfulfilled desire was consuming you, feasting on your rotten soul when it found nothing else to satiate its hunger.

"Hm," Kakashi smiled, satisfied enough with your answer to pull his eyes away, "that sounds nice."

It did. It sounded wonderful.

"Beg me for your life."

You squeezed your eyes shut, pulling your hand from Kakashi's and ignoring the question in his gentle gaze.

"Why do you think you deserve to live?"

Peace was a lovely thing to imagine. But a dream was all it would ever be.

Someone like you was not meant for peace. After what you'd done, you finally understood that.

"You should go check on the others," you whispered, throat drying as the words left your lips. You wished you were strong enough to let him stay—to be with him when he was here, wanting to spend his time with you despite the bars separating you.

But if he knew how cruel you'd been—how similar you'd become to Orochimaru...it was a difficult thought to accept, but you couldn't ignore the truth of it.

You would not allow him to be tainted by the same darkness that had begun to consume you. It was an evil that you'd been exposed to your whole life, and now it was finally seeping into you, becoming one with your blood and bones. You felt it like hard steel in your veins, making your limbs heavier than ever before.

You had already allowed yourself to succumb to it once. You'd given in to your selfish desire for revenge and treated Orochimaru with the same cruelty that he'd shown you your whole life. You alone knew the nature of your crime, and you alone had to bear its weight.

You would not allow it to spread to Kakashi and the others. You would not allow them to see it consume you like it had consumed Orochimaru.

That darkness was yours to contain. You were nothing but a reminder of a past that they would surely want to let go of. You had played your role, and they had played theirs. Despite how much it would hurt, there was nothing left to do but let them go.

"Are you sure?" Kakashi asked quietly.

You swallowed. You both knew that the answer was no. Really, you had never been less sure of anything. All your life, you'd been told how to act and speak and behave. You'd been told how to feel.

You'd never fully appreciated how complex deciding those things could be when you were left to manage them on your own.

Still, you steeled yourself. This wasn't about what you wanted. Just as it had been when Sakura's life was on the line, this was about what needed to be done.

"Yes," you said, meeting his eyes and ignoring the painful throbbing in your chest and the bitter taste of a lie on your tongue, "I'm sure."

"We'll start easy. What's your name?"

"Y/N Y/L/N."

There were two desks cramping your interrogation room. At the first, you and the Director of SHIELD—Tsunade Senju—sat facing one another. The second was smaller with a polygraph machine positioned in the middle. Tsunade glanced over your shoulder at the man sitting behind it for confirmation. First a question to make sure the machine is calibrated, she'd said, and then we can start.

Your skin had crawled as Tsunade adjusted each of the components of the machine on your body just minutes earlier. She'd insisted upon doing it herself, declining the male agent's offer to do the menial task for her.

You knew she could feel your glare as she worked, and her indifference to your hostility was commendable. Your hands twitched each time she touched them with the urge to wrap them around her throat, but she never once took a break or even paused to ensure you weren't moments away from acting on your violent reflexes.

It inspired enough respect for her that you'd cooperated until she had taken her seat across from you.

"Good," she said after a moment, opening a file with your picture in the top corner and your name typed out next to it. You swallowed as you stared at the girl in the photo, wondering if you'd really changed so much since leaving with Orochimaru all those months ago.

Her eyes weren't gaunt like yours were now. You'd lost weight since the photo was taken—it looked like it was from before you'd even met Kakashi. She'd likely found it deep within HYDRA's databases. The eyes of the girl in that photo, while hardened by the Red Room, weren't lifeless.

Looking in the mirror now, you felt like a completely different person.

Had the others noticed it too?

You shook the thought away. That didn't matter now.

"I'm going to ask you some questions about the Red Room," she told you, "if you're willing to talk about it."

You blinked at her. You weren't under the impression that you had a choice, but this could very well be a farce to gain your trust. She glanced down at your file with interest, unfazed by your silence.

"Kakashi has filled me in on your time with him and his students," she said, "but I'm rather in the dark when it comes to your life before that."

She paused, and you quirked a brow at the expectant look on her face.

"What parts are you interested in?"

"Whichever parts you're willing to share."

You almost barked out a laugh. This was too easy. Too...balanced. You knew what an interrogation looked like. You knew what one felt like. Everything about this room told you that the questions to come would be interspersed with violence and punishment, but Tsunade was treating you like an equal. Like you had value to her.

Orochimaru had treated you like that, once. He'd very nearly convinced you that you were worth more to him than a mindless, robotic assassin.

You would not make the same mistake twice.

"I don't have any reason to talk to you," you sneered.

Old lessons about this woman and her efforts to destroy HYDRA—and with it, you—flared to life in the back of your mind. You tried to push them back, but the voice pleading with you to give this woman anything but the truth was far more powerful than your tired attempts at ignoring it.

"Alright," Tsunade responded lightly, tapping her fingers against the table. Mercifully, the drumming kept you distracted enough that you could focus on the steady beat rather than the anger slowly building in your chest. The sound kept you from slipping too far into the depths of your tempestuous thoughts. Your mind was an unstable place. You did not want to be alone with it for too long. "Then I'm prepared to negotiate."

Hesitantly, you met her eyes, becoming increasingly wary of her intentions. This was not the same woman who had been called evil over and over again in the Red Room. She almost reminded you of Sakura.

You scowled. That realization was doing nothing to aid in your attempts to appear indifferent.

"Agent Hatake's students have been fighting for your immediate release into their custody. In fact, they've refused to leave this building until their demands are fulfilled."

This information was still just as surprising as it had been when Kakashi gave it to you. You tried not to let it show on your face, and if Tsunade saw any changes in your expression, she ignored them.

"There are also those—myself included—who are wary about releasing you for the foreseeable future. I'm sure you understand the liability you would become to us if you are still loyal to HYDRA. Some within SHIELD are even calling for your immediate imprisonment. Of course, in any case you would stand trial, but you know how these things go."

You didn't, but you remained silent. Tsunade sighed, resting her chin in her palm as her other hand continued to drum against the table.

"Your cooperation could be a deciding factor in what your future looks like. I'm inclined to trust Kakashi and his students' account of your actions in the past year, but their word alone will not be enough. Loyalty, as I'm sure you know, is earned."

"What makes you think I'd want to be loyal to you?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at Tsunade. Her fingers paused, and the room fell silent.

"I'd suggest treading very carefully," she warned, voice low. You paused when she glanced at the one-sided glass behind you and wondered who was listening on the other side. You wondered if the people watching were the ones who wanted to see you put behind bars, "I'm doing my best to help you."

Why? Why would you help me? You don't even know me. You don't know who I am or what I've done. Am I not your enemy?

Which means, you thought, eyes hardening at the placating expression on the Director's face, that this must be a trick.

"I understand your hesitation, but your cooperation is very important."

You watched Tsunade for a very long moment, letting the silence stretch between you once again. What could you have that could possibly be of any value to her? How much were you really worth to her?

"I'll cooperate if you can guarantee that Kakashi won't be punished for any of this."

Tsunade paused, hesitation making a split-second appearance on her face for the first time since she'd sat down. She glanced at the glass again.

"I can't give you any guarantees," she finally conceded. You narrowed your eyes. Of course. Nothing could ever be that easy. No promises would be made because no promises would be fulfilled. She would try to keep them safe. She'd do everything she could, but all that meant was that you were giving yourself up for free. She had no intentions of delivering on her word, promise or otherwise, "but maybe we can come to a compromise."

"I'm not interested in anything else," you sneered, "and I don't believe in compromise."

If she was frustrated with how uncooperative you were being, she was doing a good job of hiding it. Her fingers continued to drum against the table, and the rhythm of it was beginning to lull you into a false sense of security.

"Fine."

You weren't sure how to respond to her dismissal, but she was turning from you before you got the chance. You remained seated, handcuffed to the table and left to watch as Tsunade moved towards the door. The agent you'd come to know as Genma stood waiting for her when she opened it, key in hand. He bowed to Tsunade as she passed, then slumped into the room with a deep scowl.

You pushed your hands towards him, ignoring the glare he shot your way as the cuffs fell from your wrists and the attachments from the polygraph were tugged crudely from your hands and waist.

You glared at the man's hands as they detached you from your seat, then took a step back to let you stand of your own accord. With little decorum, but tugged your hands behind your back once again and attached the same handcuffs that had locked you to the table to your wrists once again, guiding you forward with a nudge to your shoulder.

"She's insolent," you heard as you stepped through the door behind Genma. Danzo met your eyes with a scowl, and you stared back at him blankly. Genma halted, tugging on your arm hard enough that you stopped as well. Both of you faced Danzo, while Tsunade stood immovably in between.

"Agent Danzo," you said lightly, bowing your head to the older man. He scoffed.

"This is absurd," he huffed, "Tsunade, if you continue with this...this ridiculous idea of yours, then–"

"Careful, Danzo," Tsunade cut him off, face the picture of composure. You studied her curiously, comparing her expression to the rage beginning to overtake Danzo's. "I'm still your Director."

Danzo stilled, and several emotions crossed over his face before he settled back on practiced frustration.

"Even you have your superiors," Danzo grumbled, giving her one last glare before he shoved past you, shoulder connecting hard with yours. You watched him go until he had turned a corner, then faced forward as Genma continued to lead you in the opposite direction.

"Hold on," Tsunade said behind you. You paused, glancing back at her

"Thank you for taking the time to speak to me," she said, her neutral expression giving away nothing of the true intention behind her words. You watched her with suspicion—prisoners weren't generally thanked for speaking with their captors.

Who is this woman?

Tsunade held a hand out for you to take, tilted downwards ever-so-slightly. You narrowed your eyes at the offering—you were beginning to see a certain danger in falling for this woman's placating words.

You nearly jumped when your hand met hers. Rather than the meeting of palms that you'd expected, cold metal sent a shock through your system. The metal was small enough that it was covered by your palm, and Tsunade slid her hand away carefully, leaving whatever she'd given you pressed firmly against your palm. You swallowed, watching her unchanging expression as she turned away for the final time.

You took a steadying breath, slipping the metal into your pocket and continuing forward, keeping your eyes locked on the floor in front of you. Genma led you silently through the back halls of the building until you reached the cell block. It was empty save for you, and your footsteps echoed against the concrete in the deep silence consuming the room.

"Your meal will be ready in an hour," he told you when he'd reached your cell. It let out a soft beep as he pressed a card against the keypad, then the door unlatched and creaked open. "Need anything?"

You shook your head. It didn't take long for him to turn and stride from the hall after giving your cell a quick scan. The door to the cell block fell shut behind him and locked with a click. Still, you sat in silence on your firm mattress for at least ten minutes before you felt safe enough to move.

You laid back on your bed, picking up one of the untouched books that had been left for you and opening it to the first page. The first sentence read, "It was a pleasure to burn."

Funny, you thought, closing the book and studying the bold Fahrenheit 51 on the cover.

"Interesting choice for a jail cell," you muttered.

Another few minutes passed. You'd flipped to the fifth page by the time you decided that you looked inconspicuous enough that you could inspect the object in your pocket.

There was a camera in the front left corner of the cell, mounted on the concrete and keeping a watchful eye on you throughout the day, As always, a green light glowed steadily on the lense's rim, telling you that it was on and recording your movements. You didn't risk a glance in its direction, but turned on your side, one hand holding the book and the other bent behind you, out of sight from the camera. You slipped it into your pocket, relieved to feel the metal still safely tucked away, and continued to shift. As you lifted your other hand up to hold the book, the metal held carefully between your fingers, you turned back towards the camera so that the book blocked both your face and the card that you'd slipped between the pages.

Pressed against the paper now was a sleek, silver card with a small note taped to it. Its upper edge underlined Clarisse McClellan's declaration, "You know, I'm not afraid of you at all."

You slid the card further down the page and, from the corner of your eye, saw her continued, "You're just a man, after all..."

You swallowed, heart pounding as you stared at what was in your hand.

This was the same type of card that Genma had been using to let you in and out of your cell. It was the card that most agents had on their person at all times.

It was the same type of card that Kakashi had used the day you met him. During that first meeting, you'd been separated by bars just like these.

The note was the size of the card, and you thumbed at one side of the tape carefully until it was hanging precariously from the bottom edge. The paper opened enough that you could press a finger in its fold, opening it flat against the book

You'd begun to relax after your interrogation with Tsunade. The tension had melted from your sore limbs, and your heart had finally begun beating at a normal pace. However, when you looked at the words on the page, it nearly stopped beating altogether.

The card will work on your cell door and the door to the cell block. After your meal, you will see the light on the security camera turn off. Come back to the room we spoke in earlier.

I trust that you won't use it for any other purpose.

You stared at the note for a long time after reading it. Eventually, the letters began to blur on the page, so you blinked away the haze and studied the page again.

This couldn't have been real. It must've been some sort of trick—perhaps none of this was real, and you were still with Orochimaru. The thought was visceral enough that phantom shocks of electricity flowed through your veins.

No, you thought with certainty as the feeling faded, I can't keep tricking myself. This is real. And I have to face it.

You almost forgot what the actual contents of the note were in your shock, and you forced yourself to read it again and again until you could finally digest what it was that you were looking at.

The request Tsunade was making was inconsequential compared to what the letters themselves revealed.

The words, written carefully and meticulously in straight lines across the paper, were encrypted using the code known only to Black Widows.

You and Tsuande had been staring at one another in silence for at least two minutes.

Tsunade couldn't help but feel slightly amused as you studied her; you were clearly trying to decide whether or not she looked like she'd been raised in the Red Room. Whether her scars were consistent with your own. Whether the hardness of her gaze was the product of the same machine that had created you.

It's typical, she thought, for a Widow to think that way.

"I'm glad you were able to decode my note," she finally began, meeting you at the door of her office. You took a step back at her approach, and she paused. "I wasn't sure if the cipher would be the same."

You didn't move from the doorway, continuing your careful inspection of her as if she was a ticking bomb.

She, in turn, did the same. She hadn't seen you standing at your full height before, and she took a moment to study your physique. If you were going to attack her, she'd prefer to know what she was up against.

She wasn't entirely concerned by what she saw.

At full strength, you would've been a problem for her, but you were clearly exhausted. Your eyes were sunken and framed by deep, dark bags. You were tense, but not standing fully upright. You were focused, but there was a tiredness in your eyes that assured Tsunade that you would not get very far in a physical confrontation in your current state.

"Come inside," she finally said, slipping into the room before you could offer any form of protest, "we'll speak in my office."

There was a momentary silence save for the quiet tapping of her shoes on the tiled floor. Then, behind her, a second, quieter tapping began as you followed her deeper into her office.

She sat in the tall chair behind her desk with a labored sigh, feeling your suspicious eyes on her even as she relaxed into the cushioned seat. Then, with little decorum and no warning, she held an expectant hand towards you. You continued to stare, eyes hardening at the seemingly unthreatening gesture.

"The gun," she ordered, tone leaving no room for deception or refusal. Your eyes widened just slightly, jaw clenching and frustrated gaze focused on her outstretched hand. You were looking at her as if she'd planted the gun on you herself.

You reached into your waistband slowly and pulled a handgun from it—one that she could only assume was loaded. She recognized it as one of the standard-issued guns carried by most field agents and wondered if you'd found it by itself, or if you'd found its owner. She made a mental note to check the hall for unconscious bodies, refusing to consider the alternative.

You clicked the safety off, finger far from the trigger, but kept a tight grip on the weapon's handle.

"Fine," Tsunade sighed, taking a seat behind her desk. "Do what you want. Shoot me, and Danzo takes my place. He won't be as kind to you as I've been."

"Who are you?"

"Tsunade Senju," she responded easily, "Director of SHIELD's Japanese branch."

"You're lying," you spit between clenched teeth, "you're HYDRA."

She'd expected such an accusation. After all, her message had been intentionally vague. Part of her had hoped that you would've put a bit more faith in her than that, but she supposed you had no reason to do so. You didn't know that she'd known Kakashi since he was just a boy. You didn't know that she'd helped raise Sakura.

"One thing you should know about me," Tsunade responded coolly, interrupting your clearly spiraling thoughts, "is that I have never served HYDRA, and I do not plan to do so in the future. So you can put that gun away before you decide to become a real problem for me."

You scowled, clearly frustrated by the upper hand she had over you, She tried not to look surprised when you slid the gun across her desk towards her and took a seat in the chair on the opposite side.

"If you're not HYDRA, then what are you?"

She's nearly as bad at conversation as Sasuke, Tsunade thought, already exasperated.

"It's like you said before," she shrugged, ignoring your steady, ever-consistent glare, "'I have no reason to talk to you.'"

You began to stand, but she held a hand up. You froze, staring at her outstretched palm as if she'd picked the gun up from the table and pointed it at you.

"Sit down," she ordered calmly. You hesitated, but eventually did as she said, slumping back into the chair with a scowl.

"Kakashi is one of my best agents," she said. You perked up at the name, eyes flicking up to hers and back straightening just enough to be noticeable. She had to fight a smile, covering her mouth and clearing her throat. You were also about as obvious as Kakashi was whenever she mentioned you to him. You both looked like lovesick puppies, which was ironic considering you were likely two of the deadliest people she knew, "and I've put my life in his hands more than once. He hasn't broken my trust yet, so I've chosen to believe that he had Sakura's best interest in mind when he chose to give you asylum."

Kakashi's explanation of the events that led up to that decision had been deceptively emotionless. He'd told her about Sakura's resistance to her rescue and refusal to leave the Red Room without you. About your hostility towards him until you saw that Sakura was safe, and about your decision to leave to make sure she stayed that way.

All things considered, she knew she would've done the same thing. But that didn't make her position any less difficult.

"However, SHIELD is not a dictatorship. My decision will carry weight, but I've tried to bring us back to a place of cooperation compared to previous leadership."

The confusion that flashed very briefly across your expression should not have been surprising, but it was still disappointing to see how deeply HYDRA had their claws in the Widows.

"HYDRA is a fascist organization. It operates based on discipline and punishment. Theoretically, SHIELD is different. We run based on trust."

"'Theoretically,'" you echoed, eyes narrowed.

"Nothing really ever runs like it's supposed to, does it?" she asked. "Orochimaru knew that. It's why he left SHIELD."

Tsunade watched with only slight amusement as a myriad of emotions appeared on your face. She'd expected that he wouldn't have mentioned his past with SHIELD to the people he was attempting to indoctrinate.

She noted with only slight concern that you looked moments away from keeling over.

"What are you talking about?" you whispered.

"Ah, see, this is what I meant when I asked for compromise. I've given you valuable information. If you want more of it, you're going to have to return the favor."

"I..." you began, though you quickly closed your mouth and looked away from her with a deep scowl. "What could I possibly know that would be valuable to you?"

"Plenty," she responded easily. "You can get me closer to HYDRA. You can tell me about their operations and their leadership. You can tell me what they did to Sakura so I know how to help her."

You glanced up at the mention of the girl, curiosity breaking through your carefully built defenses.

"Kakashi may have primary responsibility for her care and training, but everything she knows about medicine, she learned from me."

That's right, Tsunade thought as you processed this, Kakashi trusts me. Sakura trusts me. It's not only in your best interest that you cooperate. It's in theirs.

"And," she continued cautiously, "you're a highly trained covert-operative. You could be very useful to SHIELD if you chose to be."

You glanced at her, a glimmer of hope lighting your eyes for the first time since she'd met you. She smiled.

"Fine," you relented, arms crossed tightly over your chest, "but only if I get answers too."

"Of course," she nodded, a small, triumphant smile on her face. You let out an exasperated sigh, but relaxed slightly into your chair, indicating with a wave of your hand for her to begin.

"Do you know where the Red Room is currently located?"

You looked amused by the question. This was likely going to be a very long night for her,

"No. It's location moves frequently, and we were always transported blind. HYDRA wanted to ensure that their investments were protected."

"So this was HYDRA's protocol?"

You nodded, "Orochimaru thought that the constant shifting was counterproductive and wasted time, but he didn't exactly have a choice. It was a system put into place long before he took control, and he could never convince the...the Akatsuki to change it. It always worked well enough that you've never been able to find it."

Tsunade's jaw ticked.

"Was Orochimaru loyal to HYDRA?"

"Not in a way that mattered. He didn't care about their mission or ideals. He followed their orders to stay in power, but all he really cared about were his own goals. He was interested in innovation, and HYDRA gave him the resources to do what he wanted."

"And what was it he wanted?"

You paused. Tsunade saw the moment you began to close off again, but it was too late to backtrack now. The question had been asked. All she could do was hope for a helpful answer.

"That was three questions," you said instead, ignoring Tsunade's glower, "tell me what you meant."

Tsunade's exasperated glare only made your expression harden further.

"Before I was an agent, I trained under a man called Sarutobi."

Tsunade should have expected your violent reaction. She supposed she was getting old, as your immediate leap towards the gun still sitting on her desk startled her more than it should have and more than she'd ever admit.

You were quick. You'd lifted the gun and turned the safety off before she could get out of her chair. Yours was knocked over behind you, and your eyes were alight with fury. The grin on your face did little to mask your terror, and the laugh you let out almost sounded like a sob.

"You are HYDRA," you muttered. She wondered if you were even seeing her. It seemed like you were looking straight through her to something far, far away from where she stood, "you're tricking me. You...you're lying to Kakashi and Sakura."

"Just sit down," Tsunade said carefully, "and listen. You wanted answers, didn't you?"

"Not from scum," you spat.

"Sit," she said again, rising from her chair and glaring down at you, a pinprick of guilt nearly making her wince when you cowered away from her authoritative gaze, "down."

Your breath hitched, and you glanced behind you at the chair you'd knocked over, then back at Tsunade cautiously. You took a careful step backwards, keeping your eyes locked on Tsunade as you bent down to pick the chair up and right it. The gun was steady in your hand, and you looked unwilling to even consider giving it back to her.

"You must think I'm an idiot," you sneered, "I thought you said you aren't a Black Widow."

"I'm not."

"Hiruzen Sarutobi," you said venomously, eyes alight with fury and panic, "created the Red Room."

"Based on what we know, that might be true."

You looked seconds from launching over the table towards her. She understood your frustration—she knew that she was being cryptic, but HYDRA had a messy past. Even she didn't fully understand the Red Room's history.

"The Red Room was not originally HYDRA's program. It began at a time when SHIELD and HYDRA were very deeply intertwined—though SHIELD wasn't aware of that. Both organizations had their role in its development, and its original mission was simply to train women in the art of espionage.

"This was during the Cold War. Spies were in high demand, and SHIELD was starting to realize that female spies were particularly useful at a time when women were severely underestimated and overlooked. Sarutobi was at the front of the project, along with a few other high-profile agents. Some of whom were later exposed as HDYRA loyalists. I was Sarutobi's student before he began working on the program. He created the code that the Red Room still uses, and he taught it to all of his students before it was ever adapted for the Red Room, myself and Orochimaru included."

Your stare was impressive—she was almost intimidated by it. She knew that you likely didn't believe half of what she was saying, but she'd expected as much. No matter how much you hated Orochimaru, HYDRA's conditioning ran far too deep for it to dissolve in just over a year.

"After World War II, SHIELD thought it had destroyed HYDRA. They let their guard down, because they believed they had fulfilled their purpose. SHIELD was only created because HYDRA began gaining power. In the years following the end of the war. HYDRA had ample opportunity to replant its roots at the heart of SHIELD, where it could use its resources and recruit its people."

"How could they have known that they would take control of The Red Room from within SHIELD?" you asked, skepticism blatant in your tone. "Are you people really so incompetent that you couldn't stop them from taking the Widows from right under your noses."

"They didn't take it," Tsunade said, unable to keep some bitterness from her tone, "they destroyed it. After Sarutobi was killed, they took the few women who were willing to go with them, killed all the others, and fled. We didn't know they were HYDRA at the time—at first we thought they were Soviets."

It was a very crude explanation of what had happened—there were quite a few details that she did not feel she had time to delve into. If what Kakashi had told her about what Orochimaru had done to you over the past seven months, an overload of information was probably the last thing you needed.

"You still haven't explained what you meant," you said finally, eyes boring into her like you could extract the information from her by willpower alone.

"I gave you quite a bit of information," she retorted, folding her hands on the cluttered surface of her desk, "answer another one of my questions, and I'll tell you about Orochimaru."

The irritated look you were giving her was far more frustrating than it should've been. Earning some semblance of trust from you was likely not something she was going to accomplish as quickly as she'd hoped.

"Fine," you bit out.

She smiled, though she knew from your perspective it probably looked far more forced than it actually was.

"The night of September 27, we recovered Orochimaru's body in a room that you were found in," she began as gently as she could manage. Though it was barely noticeable, she didn't miss the shift in your expression. Your face went blank, all emotion draining from it in an instant. "Can you tell me what happened?"

The look in your eyes was...unsettling. She couldn't quite place the emotion, but it seemed far more detached than she'd seen you since the night they brought you in. Part of her wondered if it was a mask to gain her sympathy, but she dismissed the thought easily.

She'd gotten a brief glimpse of your face when she found you and Kakashi. The terror in your expression was as real then as the faraway look in your eyes was now.

"That's a complicated question," you finally muttered.

"We've got plenty of time."

Your jaw clenched, eyes falling shut. Tsunade thought back to Kakashi's exact words about the night you killed Orochimaru.

She had her memories back, he'd told her, but it was like holding a ghost.

"I'm—" you began, cutting yourself off with a wince, "I wasn't...in my right mind that night."

You looked up at her, and her heart sank at the look in your eyes. You were afraid. You were doing a good job of hiding it, but she had practice in seeing through masks like yours. This one was clear as day: you were afraid of what she would do if you told her the truth.

She guessed that your biggest fear was that you wouldn't see Kakashi or Sakura again. That she would lock you up and throw away the key.

"Kakashi told me that you gave yourself up to Orochimaru to save Sakura," she said, relieving you from having to say more for another few moments, "that couldn't have been easy."

"It was the easiest decisions I've ever made," you corrected, the haze clearing from your eyes. "Sakura was in danger. What else would I have done?"

Despite her frustration, Tsunade was having a very hard time not appreciating the sacrifices you'd made for her people.

"The past seven months are hazy. The clearest moments are of Kakashi—at least, Orochimaru's disguise of Kakashi. That night, when I came to, I was in a room with Orochimaru and..."

You glanced at her, pausing for long enough that suspicion grew in the back of her mind. She noted the hesitance and filed it away as an observation to return to later.

"And another HYDRA agent. When I saw Orochimaru, it was like...I don't know. It's hard to describe. It almost felt like waking up from a nightmare."

Tsunade could almost picture the scene you were describing. She thought back to the moment she'd found you, your eyes determinedly avoiding Orochimaru's corpse and your body wrapped up in Kakashi's.

Orochimaru must've seen the same thing she had that night. That was why he assumed that Kakashi would be your weak spot—that the idea of his betrayal would break you.

Clearly he underestimated the Widows. You were the one sitting in front of her.

"I shot Orochimaru, and then Kakashi found me."

The simplicity of that explanation was almost comical. Almost.

"That's all?"

You nodded, though you both knew she didn't believe you.

"That's all that matters."

You must've thought she was a fool.

Even Kakashi had seemed off since that night. He was clearly worried about you, but this seemed like something deeper. He had been just as closed off about the topic as you were, much to Tsunade's frustration. She almost threatened to cut him off from his visits to your cell, but she didn't think she'd be able to stand seeing him sulk.

"I grew up with Orochimaru," she said after a pause, "I know how cruel he could be. It was like he couldn't help himself—there was something in him that fed off of controlling others."

You blinked at her, that practiced mask still firmly in place.

"I don't blame you for anything might've done, both in the Red Room and outside of it. I'll be honest, you won't get a lot of support from other agents unless you can convince them that you're not loyal to HYDRA, but I'm your ally here. And an important one to have, at that. I want to help you, but you have to be honest with me."

You looked pained at the thought, and she couldn't say she blamed you. She knew she was asking a lot from you—to open up about things that you hadn't even told Kakashi to a complete stranger should not have been your only path to freedom.

But she needed you to cooperate with her. If you wanted to stay out of prison, she needed you to trust that, at the very least, she had your best interest in mind.

"I'm just like him."

Tsunade tried not to let her surprise show in her expression. She'd barely heard your whispered words, but they knocked the wind from her lungs none-the-less.

You and Orochimaru are two sides of the same coin. He chose darkness, but you are far more similar than you realize.

She'd buried Sarutobi's words a long time ago, and she cursed the man for coming to mind now of all times. But she couldn't help but see herself in you.

"What do you mean?" she finally managed, unsure where the steadiness in her voice had come from.

He's dead, Tsunade thought as she waited for an answer, he's been gone for decades. I shouldn't let him effect me like this.

"Have you ever wanted to make someone hurt so badly that you didn't care if you died so long as you brought them pain?"

The agony on your face was nearly unbearable to look at. She gripped the arm of her chair, forcing her expression to remain neutral. Though she supposed it wouldn't matter—you hadn't looked at her in so long that she wondered if you even remembered she was there with you.

She supposed she could give you some reprieve. If only to see your expression return back to neutrality.

"Sarutobi trained a three-person team. On it was me, a man named Jiraiya, and Orochimaru," she began. Your eyes shot towards her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Before he created the Red Room, Sarutobi was working on a project called Rebirth. The goal was to create an enhanced soldier with superhuman capabilities. He and Danzo approached Orochimaru about the serum they would use to do this, and Orochimaru volunteered to be the first subject."

Tsunade swallowed, remembering her conversation with Orochimaru the night before the test. She often looked back on that night as the last time she ever spoke to the man she knew.

"The project failed. The serum caused irreparable muscle damage that Orochimaru spent the next five years trying to reverse. He begged Sarutobi to give him the formula to the serum so he could try to recreate it, but Sarutobi wouldn't let him take the risk.

"Nearly a decade later, Danzo decided to revive the project. Orochimaru wanted to be the subject again, but they wouldn't take the risk after the damage that had already been done to his body. Instead, they chose Jiraiya, and this time the experiment was a success."

Your emotionless expression was far more unsettling than your anger had been. Tsunade almost wished you would pick the gun up again, if only to show her that you hadn't shut down completely.

"That was Orochimaru's breaking point, I think. There had always been a sense of competition between he and Jiraiya, but...I don't think he could handle seeing Jiraiya come out unscathed after his trial had failed so monumentally. He resented Jiraiya for being the success story, and he resented Sarutobi for continuing to keep the serum from him. Soon after, he tried to steal what remained of it, but Sarutobi found him. No one knows exactly what happened that night. Sarutobi's body was found, and the vials with the rest of the serum had been shattered, presumably by Sarutobi to keep Orochimaru from getting his hands on them. It wouldn't have mattered though. I believe Orochimaru had already made the decision to leave SHIELD.

"After Orochimaru fled, The Red Room broke down. HYDRA had already begun to recruit some of the women, and they took the opportunity to retreat from SHIELD in the chaos after Sarutobi's death. Four of them defected to HYDRA."

Tsunade closed her eyes, remembering the horror that had washed over her at the sight of so many women—women she'd known and trained with—killed in cold blood. They'd been ambushed in their sleep by the women who had decided to betray them long before that night.

She'd been the one to lead the effort to track them down and end them.

"The Red Room as we knew it died. The Black Widow program was HYDRA's invention—only the Red Room's name attached it to what Sarutobi had created. It was unrecognizable, and after all of its ties to SHIELD had been cut, it became impossible to find."

"I've been searching for the Red Room since before I became Director," she began, fingers woven together on her desk, "and I have made little progress on my own. I try not to allocate SHIELD resources to something that we knew so little about. Of course, these past five years have given me an excuse to take more direct action, but there was still frustratingly little we could find out. HYDRA has had a long time to learn how to protect their secrets."

Up until very recently, you had been one of those secrets.

She hadn't known what to expect from you when she first began thinking about this conversation. She'd initially assumed that you'd be useless to her—that Orochimaru had broken you beyond repair with his experiments. She wouldn't have blamed you for becoming the next victim to his cruelty.

But there was something in your eyes. Something that gave her hope.

"I want you to join SHIELD," she finally offered, "and help me destroy the Red Room."

Your walk to Tsunade's office had been purposeful, your stride swift and quiet. It had been the gait of a Black Widow.

The walk back was more of a trudge. You felt the energy slowly seeping from you with each step you took, all of it used up in processing everything Tsunade had told you.

A Black Widow joining SHIELD shouldn't have been possible. It couldn't have been. Yet the Director herself had been the one to make the offer. Who, if not her, had the authority to make such a bold request?

Danzo won't be happy, you thought with a scowl, he'll probably do everything he can to stop it. He's angry just having me here instead of shipping me off to some prison on the other side of the world.

Your interaction with Danzo had been limited, but each time you saw him left a sour taste in your mouth. He hated you, that much was clear. But there was something...different about the way he looked at you. The other agents you'd seen had been wary. Some even looked visibly angry because of your affiliation with HYDRA. But Danzo...there was something unsettling about how he looked at you. Almost as if he was stripping you down to your very core in an attempt to reveal your weaknesses. As if he could find all of the answers he needed to rid SHIELD of you once and for all if he simply searched hard enough for them.

His goal had been clear from the very beginning: he wanted you gone, but to do that, he needed to go over Tsunade's head. You weren't exactly sure what that entailed, but Tsunade didn't seem particularly concerned about it.

"I want you to join SHIELD and help me destroy the Red Room."

Her words still rang in your ears, keeping you from thinking about anything else for very long. She hadn't demanded that you join her cause, but the implication was still there: it would be far easier for her to get you out of your cell if you cooperated.

Destroying the Red Room, you thought as you shuffled across the floor, trusting that Tsunade would keep you from being seen by the security cameras for long enough that you could be slow in getting back.

It's impossible. Now that Orochimaru is gone, they've probably hidden somewhere far beyond my reach. Somewhere completely new. I'd be no help.

You would disappoint Tsunade. Your information was useless with Orochimaru dead. Yet, she'd seemed so certain that you would be a valuable piece to fulfilling her goal. Her determination had struck you—it had even made you consider, for a moment, that her earnestness was more than just wishful thinking.

She was just charismatic, You had believed in Orochimaru too, once. This was no different—just a new master to give you orders.

Your thoughts were a whirlwind by the time you reached the cell block. Absentmindedly, you pressed the silver card against the sensor at the door, pulling it open at the answering beep. You kept your eyes glued to the floor, still completely lost in thought as you made your way to your cell in the middle of the long corridor.

"Yo."

Your hand froze against the lock of your cell. You looked up at the same time that it beeped and clicked open, though you remained frozen on the other side of the bars.

Kakashi gave you a casual wave, Fahrenheit 451 open on his chest.

"What..." you began, blinking a few times to make sure you were seeing clearly.

He was laying on your small futon like it was his own, one arm behind his head and the other resting against the abandoned book.

It took you a moment to move past your shock, but once you did, panic hit you like a train, making you rush into the cell to get him out.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, glancing at the corner of the room to make sure the green light was still off. You felt only slightly relieved at the confirmation that it was, though that didn't mean it wasn't moments from turning on again. "You can't be in here!"

"Why no–" he began, though he cut himself off when you took his hand and began pulling him to his feet. The book on his chest fell uselessly to the side, and he nearly slipped on it as you pulled him towards the exit. You kept glancing at the camera, sure that once Tsunade had given you enough to time to make your way back to your cell, she'd have it turned back on. And Kakashi—

Kakashi had the nerve to look amused.

"What were you thinking?" you hissed, "it's one thing to be outside of the cell, but..."

This was enough to give Danzo reason to have him terminated. He was risking too much to be here already by just coming to see you. You had to put a stop to it. You had to make sure he didn't risk his position just so he could come on these stupid visits to your cell. You'd indulged in him too much already. You had to—

Hands fell on your shoulders, stilling your frantic attempts to erase his presence from the cell and silencing your spiraling thoughts.

"Tsunade knows I'm here," he said lightly, "she asked me to meet you once you were finished."

"You...you knew?"

He nodded. You swallowed, running an exhausted hand over your face and slumping back on your mattress, feeling the strong and sudden urge to just lay down and sleep for the next week.

But with Kakashi here, part of you wanted to savor this time. Despite your weak efforts to push him away, you still yearned for his presence. You'd forgotten how peaceful it was to simply be near him, and you almost felt as if you'd become addicted to that feeling.

Even after what you'd done, you wanted to be selfish.

"You're thinking too hard again."

You huffed, head falling into your hands as you took in a deep, trembling breath.

How were you supposed to do what Tsunade had asked? There was no world in which SHIELD accepted you as one of their own. You'd create a rift between Kakashi and the other agents. Sakura, Naruto, and Sasuke all had friends they cared for here. Would associating with you cause them problems too?

"I can't stay here, Kakashi."

His eyes seemed to pierce through you, leaving your thoughts and feelings exposed to his soft, inquisitive gaze. Rather than being intrusive, however, it was almost a relief. It felt like he'd taken some of the burden of your emotions, willing and able to understand them.

But how were you supposed to tell him that?

I told you to beg.

You were beginning to recognize the cycle that you'd become trapped in. Once, it had been Orochimaru's voice that haunted you. His words would repeat over and over in your head to a point that it became debilitating.

Now your own words had taken their place, reminding you of how little you belonged here, with people like Kakashi and Sakura. You were reminded of the darkness that had always been inside you—the darkness that was finally spreading into your words and actions.

You would not let them see it. It would not be exposed to them like it had been to you.

Next to you, Kakashi shifted, and you lifted your head from your hands and met his eyes. He'd pulled his mask down, a sight that was becoming far more comforting to you than you should have let it. He took your hand gently in his, fingers lacing through yours until your palms pressed together.

"I can tell that you've been trying to pull away from me," he said after a long silence. You looked up from your joined hands, and you hated the way your traitorous heart skipped when you met his eyes, "And if leaving is what will let you heal, I understand. I'm not going to try and stop you if that's what you need. But I–"

You swallowed against your dry throat when at the crack in his voice, your hand betraying your warring emotions as it rose to cup his cheek. He closed his eyes when your palm met his face, leaning over-so-slightly into your touch and releasing the air that he'd trapped in his lungs.

You'd forgotten, albeit briefly, what it was that you'd been so concerned about. You were beginning to regain your bearings after being so consumed by trying to comfort him and realized that you'd just done the opposite of what you'd intended by declaring your intention to leave, but the slate was wiped clean again when he covered your hand with his own, then turned his head just enough that he could press his lips to your palm.

His lips were soft against your skin, and so unbelievably gentle that you almost wondered if he had even touched you at all. Still, it felt as if warmth spread from his lips to every part of you, melting away your fear and hesitation and any motivation that you'd felt to leave.

"You can be free here. Tsunade will do everything she can to make sure of that," he finally continued, recovering his voice, "and I want you to stay. There's nothing you could do to change that."

Selfish, someone whispered in your mind. You'd expected it to be Orochimaru's voice, as it always had been in the past, trying to convince you that you were nothing but a parasite to Kakashi. Instead, the familiar voice of the Widow hissed in your ear, craving the solitude that she had always known. You'll only put them in danger if you stay. You've become the monster that you killed.

"You don't understand," you croaked, hating the way your voice broke. You squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at Kakashi any longer without breaking. "I'm not...good. I'm not good enough for this."

You had no idea how to explain it to him in a way that made sense. The Widow understood, and she'd convinced you that the only thing you could do for Kakashi was to let him go, but you found that you couldn't articulate the logic of it to him.

Why won't he just understand? you thought, desperate for him to push you away too. Desperate for any easier way out than leaving him of your own accord, why won't he...

Kakashi's hand fell to your shoulder, where your bullet wound was slowly beginning to heal again. He blinked, fingers tracing over the spot where the stitches were beneath the layers of fabric and bandages.

"I did this to you," he finally murmured, eyes falling shut, "and I'll never forgive myself for it. What makes me any more worthy than you?"

"You were protecting Naruto."

"You wouldn't have hurt him," Kakashi shook his head. "I was afraid, and I took the cowards way out."

He was right to have been afraid. You had been lost, completely and utterly so. You still weren't sure what would have happened if Kakashi hadn't stopped you that night.

"Help me understand what you're thinking," he said quietly, fingers tightening around yours, "it's okay to share your burden with me."

You opened your mouth to tell him that you couldn't—that your burden wasn't his to bear—but a choked sob escaped you instead. You pulled your hand from his face to cover your mouth, eyes wide as you stared at your lap.

This would be so much easier if you'd seen what I did, you thought desperately, and hated me for it.

"When I...killed him," you finally whispered. Kakashi's hand tightened on your own, and you wanted to hate the strength that you found in his steadying grip, "I made him suffer. I...I made him beg.

"I was cruel, just like he'd raised me to be," you continued, afraid to meet Kakashi's eyes and see the softness of his gaze shift to revulsion. You're just like him, the Widow whispered, you are not the protector now. You will be feared, just like him. You will be what others are protected from.

"He was kneeling at my feet, bleeding and bargaining for his life, and for a moment I understood his addiction to it. I relished in the sight of him so weak. He was defenseless at the end, and injured enough that I could have left him alive, but I wanted to see him dead. I wanted to feel what he'd always felt. To finally understand his desperation to keep control. And I did. I felt it. And I hate myself for enjoying that feeling."

Looking at Kakashi now felt impossible. You were almost certain of what you'd see. Hatred. Disgust. Revulsion.

He'd never want to see you again. He'd never let you near Sakura again.

You wanted him to go without another word, leaving you and your pollution behind. If he went now, maybe it would be a less painful than if he told you how disgusting you were for becoming just like Orochimaru.

You were jolted from your thoughts when gentle fingers lifted your head by your chin, raising it until you were facing him again.

"You deserved justice," he said firmly, "and you left his cruelty behind with him. It died with him."

You wanted to believe him. You wished more than anything that the Widow would leave you behind and retreat back to her cage.

You knew Kakashi could see the warring emotions on your face. The hesitation clashing with the desperation. The guilt clawing at the desire. Finally, he released your hand and took your face between both palms, looking between your eyes with renewed intensity.

"You are good," he said firmly, "and you deserve so much more than he ever gave to you. You deserve to choose how you want to live."

You couldn't. You couldn't. Why was he refusing to understand that?

You were so desperate for the peace that you'd once felt with him and the kids. It was a life you desperately craved after it had already been ripped away from you once.

But it was fragile.

"What if..." you choked, terrified that voicing the fear that you'd buried deep within you would make Kakashi see how selfish you truly were.

It would expose the scared little girl that Orochimaru had always seen you as. She would be stripped to her core and left to crumble into dust.

"What if I come back, and then everything is taken away again," you finally croaked. "What if this darkness consumes me, and I have to leave you behind."

Selfish coward, the Widow hissed.

"I wish you could see yourself through my eyes," he muttered, close enough that you could feel how addictively warm he was. His hands fell from your face, resting around your waist and tracing down your spine. You fought a shiver, too comfortable in his presence to be frustrated by how easily he was abating your fears and making you forget how desperately you needed him to leave before he convinced you to stay.

"It's not selfish to choose how you life," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

He must've seen the pained look on your face. He looked so desperate to convince you of what he was saying that part of you wanted to give in just to make that expression lift. Another part warned you that you'd only make things worse for him in the long run if you took the easy way out.

But that voice was getting quieter, drowned out by something entirely new. It was a stranger's voice, though she sounded like you, and she wanted more for you than the Widow ever had.

You'd hurt him. You'd brought him and Sakura and the others so much pain, yet he was here, trying to convince you to stay. Sakura, Sasuke, and Naruto were waiting for you despite what you'd done.

Would it change things if they knew what you'd done? If they knew what you'd become, even if it had only been for a moment?

"Sakura is safe. Naruto and Sasuke are safe. I'm safe," Kakashi said firmly, "You're free."

HIs eyes shone in the fluorescent above you, filled with a desperate kind of hope that made your chest ache.

"What do you want?"

I want to be safe. I want to free. I want to be happy. I want to be with Sakura and Naruto and Sasuke. I want to help them learn and grow. I want to see them succeed. I want to see Sakura heal. I want to heal with her.

You wanted to be honest. For once, you wanted to be honest with yourself. He knew what you were. He knew what you were capable of, and he was choosing to stay.

Maybe that was enough. Maybe, for the first time, this happiness didn't have to be temporary.

"This," you finally breathed, the word a soothing balm against your throat, "you."

Peace.

Kakashi had always had an uncanny ability to make you feel weightless. Even when you'd barely trusted him, his voice had kept you anchored in safer waters.

Now, as your lips met, you felt like you were drowning.

The debilitating fear and self-hatred that had taken root in your chest were ripped apart by a wave of euphoria. Kakashi's lips were just as soft as they had been against your palm. You were so used to rough, unforgiving hands that his touch felt like a breath of fresh air. Butterflies exploded in your stomach as his hand slipped around your waist, pulling closer until there was no space left between you.

His lips moved slowly against yours, parting for gasps of air between intoxicating clashes of lips and and hands and skin.

Yes, you were drowning. Drowning in the soft press of his lips against yours. In the firm hands that held your waist. In the feel of his skin against your palms.

He was a bottomless sea, and you were sinking willingly into its depths.

You pulled back with a gasp, eyes barely opening before he was pressing another kiss to your swollen lips, chasing after you as you attempted to catch your breath.

"Kakashi..." you whispered into his lips.

"Hm?"

"The cameras," you muttered breathlessly, "they might turn on soon."

"Tsunade gave me an hour."

You let out a muffled laugh against his lips, and he parted from you long enough to meet your eyes.

I could stay in this moment forever, you thought. Soft puffs of air hit your cheeks as he caught his breath, though his gaze was shifting between your eyes and your lips, grip on your waist anchoring you to his chest. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your own, certain that yours was no different. I want to hold on to this feeling.

You brushed your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, an unfamiliar weightlessness consuming you as you took in the look in his eyes. They were filled with a tenderness that you had seen before—on the balcony the night before you left with Orochimaru. During the nights you spent together, both of you finding solace in simply being close to one another.

Even when you'd feared him—despised him—that softness had remained.

"Is this what being human feels like?" you asked quietly, wondering if this was a feeling that everyone experienced. If this kind of peace was universal.

Kakashi pulled back just enough that you could meet his eyes, face flushed and lips swollen. You nearly stopped breathing at the sight of him, but his hands on your waist gently reminded you of to take in a deep, shaking breath.

His smile was soft and small, but still full enough to drown in.

"I hope so."

(previous chapter) | (next chapter) | (series masterlist)

Author's note | omg this one took so long, i'm sorry for the wait! i started grad school, so i've been kinda swamped in work. i hope it was worth the wait though! i've been so excited to release this chapter. there's a lot that happens and i've read it so many times at this point, so if there are things that don't make sense don't hesitate to let me know!

i'm currently going back and editing this fic to make sure there's plot coherence since i'm starting to work on the second series (i've already written some!). i'd also love to write one-shots in between the two series, so if y'all have any requests or things you'd like to see feel free to send an ask on tumblr or leave a comment with some suggestions!

see y'all in the last chapter (for now), and don’t forget to leave me some love!

title is from “Spiracle” by Flower Face

[autumnrory]

it's hilarious that people say rory never received criticism until mitchum it's like okay idk why y'all think criticism in school doesn't count but that very much did happen for her multiple times before that point and it's like. of course she hadn't received criticism wrt her career at that point because why would she have?? (though i guess it depends if you consider writing for the yale daily news to be school or career-related because she received criticism of her work there too and she got better lol that's like a whole arc where she writes a boring story and then follows her gut to the life and death brigade and doyle approves but people love to ignore canon when talking about rory)

but it's just like okay you can argue she hadn't been criticized as a journalist, sure, but 1. mitchum wasn't criticizing, he was outright saying she can't do it and 2. what else was she supposed to be doing as an intern i mean HONESTLY she wasn't being assigned stories or anything, she was doing what she was supposed to while seeing how a newspaper works. that's what internships are for, they're supposed to teach you, and he certainly never gave her any advice or mentorship which is what HE was supposed to do

it's just so annoying when people say she proved him right by giving up like. she had always had this dream and never had reason to believe it couldn't happen. it's what she always planned for, no one told her it wasn't realistic, not because they "coddled" her, but because anyone who knew rory, knew how driven she was, and that if she wants something, she will put in the work to get there. there might be struggles, roadblocks, she might doubt herself, but she always gets back on track. which is the whole thing like. sorry how did she prove him right? because she was temporarily set back after he essentially crushed her lifelong dream AND REMEMBER SHE'S 20 YEARS OLD I MEAN CHRIST of course she's vulnerable to a guy who's been in this for decades telling her, someone who's barely an adult, that she doesn't have what it takes to achieve her dreams. but anyway like, how do you say that when she did in fact follow through with her dream?? people point at her dropping out of yale like "see!! he's right!! she can't do it!! she's not special!!" and it's like yeah okay she lost a semester, went back, fit two years into a year and a half, graduated on time and immediately got a job working on the campaign trail LIKE the whole point was realizing he was wrong about her and everything that followed in the next two seasons proves that

[elderberries-and-honey]

After Lawrence joined The O' Doyles in his office, they gave him the details about their being there. It seemed their youngest and only daughter, May, had been sick for sometime now, and her body already frail, couldn't withstand the bitter frost winter had brought.

Normally, Lawrence took the time to practise keeping his composure in the mirror before meeting with families, but in this particular instance, he hadn't the time. And the more he listened, the more he'd wished he'd had.

Up until that moment, Lawrence and Winifred had never worked with a child before - May O'Doyle being the first. Lawrence wanted to remain professional, and hoped the elder couple didn't notice his struggling to do so.

As they began to discuss the financial piece of things, Lawrence felt terribly uncomfortable. After all, this was a child for Christ's sake!

While reluctant to do so, they came to an agreement on pricing; Mr. O'Doyle noting he'd spare no expense for his dearly departed daughter. Just as they were about to finalise their plans, Mrs. O'Doyle burst into tears.

"Oh, I can't do it! I can't bury our daughter! I won't!" Mrs. O'Dolye, who up until that moment had remained silent, cried as she rose from her seat.

Both men sat motionless in their seats for a moment, too stunned to speak as Mrs. O'Doyle rose from her chair. Neither of them knew what to do, or what to say, and watched in blinking horror as tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

Mr. O'Doyle apologised for his wife's outburst, seeming more embarrassed than heartbroken, truth be told. To which Lawrence reminded him there was no need, and promised to come retrieve little May as soon as the snow let up.

With nothing else to do, Mr. O'Doyle headed out into the cold to find his grieving wife, and left Lawrence to do the part he was dreading the most - telling his wife.

[aziraphales-library]

You have no idea how happy I am rn- your blog is an absolute treasure trove. Thank you for doing God's work, lol.

Anyway, I was wondering if you knew any fics where there's a crossover with sherlock holmes?

Preferably the Victorian Arthur Conan Doyle version, but the newer incarnations will do, too

Thanks again, have a great day!

Here are some Sherlock Holmes crossover fics for you...

The Adventure Of The Bereft Bookseller by CopperBeech (G)

Established in his career, Sherlock Holmes accepts a client who's more than he seems, and who presents him with a very cold case.

Occult Forces by BarbaraKaterina (T)

Sherlock Holmes remembers a mystery from his younger years, and takes Watson to investigate a bookshop in Soho. Just a little something for Halloween.

On the revolutions of the heavenly spheres by HolRose (G)

The year is 1890, and Aziraphale has been accused of stealing a book from the British Museum Library. Fearing censure from both the human and Heavenly authorities, he goes to seek help from London’s most famous consulting detective at 221b Baker Street.

The Case of Immortal Identity by MissLauraBarrow (T)

When Holmes first moved to London, he met a curious Mr. Fell. After almost twenty years, he and his beloved companion should solve a mystery surrounding the unusual collector of the books.

Wings in the Window by Sonnet23 (G)

Crowley and Aziraphale are the suspects in a Sherlock Holmes-esque criminal case. A detective story set in the 19th century. Written by Dr John Watson, who promised not to publish it.

The angel, the demon and the detective by Musyque (G)

In 6000 of living on Earth, the angel Aziraphale and the demon Crowley have met quite a few people. But when Aziraphale became friend with Charles Dickens in the 1850s, he couldn't know that it would change his life in a way no other friendships had ever done. The only souvenir he has kept of that time is a book, Dickens' most personal one: David Copperfield. In another part of London, a famous detective is struggling to find a present for his best friend's birthay. Hopefully, Mrs Hudson is here to save the day.

- Mod D

[sternenschaukler]

List/ Collage with A-Spec Characters: canon confirmed, and popular headcanons

Colours:

Canon confirmed: blue

popular headcanon/ speculation: orange

Alastor, Hazbin Hotel: ace, aro

Senku Ishigami, Dr. Stone: ace, aro

Vi Moradi, Star Wars: ace, aro

Victor Vale, Vicious: ace, biromantic

Spongebob: ace

Kirby: ace, aro, non-binary

the Knight, Hollow Knight: agender, ace, aro

Todd Chavez, BoJack Horseman: ace

Georgia Warr, Loveless: ace, aro, aego?

Jughead Jones, Archie: ace

Doomguy/ Dooomslayer: ace

Seiji Maki, Bloom into you: ace, aro, aegoromantic?

Monkey D. Luffy, One Piece: ace, aro

Connor Hawke, DC Comics: ace, alloromantic

Perry the platypus: ace, aro

Kusuo Saiki, Disastrous life of Saiki K.: ace, aro

Yelena Belova, Marvel: ace, aro

Izaya Orihara, Durara: ace, aro

Daryl Dixon, the Walking Dead: ace

Keyleth, Critical Role: demisexual

Neil Josten, Foxhole Court: demisexual, demiromantic

Isaac Henderson, Heartstopper: ace, aro

Vernestra Rwoh, Star Wars: ace, aro

Light Yagami, Death Note: ace, aro

Caduceus Clay, Critical Role: ace, aro

Murderbot, Murderbot Diaries: ace, aro, genderless

Jonathan "Jon" Simms, Magnus Archives: ace, biromantic

Shouto Todoroki, Boku no Hero Academia: ace, aro

Lilith Clawthorne, Owl House: ace, aro

Bill Cypher, Gravity Falls: ace, aro, agender

Ezperanza "Spooner" Cruz, Legends of Tomorrow: ace

Nadia Van Dyne/ the Wasp, Marvel: ace, aro, quoiromantic

Peridot, Stephen Universe: ace, aro

Gwenpool, Marvel: ace, aro

Frieren: a-spec, ace, aro

Joffrey Baratheon, Game of Thrones: ace, aro

Sherlock Holmes, Arthur Conan Doyle: ace, aro

Lord Varys, Game of Thrones: ace, aro

Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano, Percy Jackson: ace, aro

Son Goku, Dragonball: ace

10th Doctor, Doctor Who (David Tennant): ace, panromantic

11th Doctor, Doctor Who (Matt Smith): ace

Sakuko Kodama, Koisenu Futari: ace, aro

Satoru Takahashi, Koisenu Futari: ace, aro

Felicity Montague, Lady's guide to petticoats and piracy: ace, aro

Jasnah Kholin, Stormlight Archive: ace, heteroromantic

Loth, Priory of the Orange Tree: grey-ace

Tané, Priory of the Orange Tree: ace, aro

Adèle, Baker Thief: demisexual, bi

Claire/ Claude, Baker Thief: aro (aroallo!), genderfluid

Sandry, Circle of Magic: ace

Ling Chan, the Diviners: ace, lesbian

Nancy Whitman, Every Heart a Doorway: ace, alloromantic

Kel, Protector of the Small: ace, aro

Natalie, Natural History of Dragons: ace, aro

Raphael Santiago, Shadowhunters: Cassandra Clare: ace, aro (In the show only ace)

Please note that I took most of my information from online, and I didn't personally read/ watch everything, so there may be some mistakes. Also, some of the not-canon characters are very likely aspec, but just not confirmed. And especially if they say/ do really obviously aro/ ace stuff, I wasn't sure if it's enough to put them in the "confirmed" category. (e.g. Saiki literally said he isn't attracted to anyone regardless of gender, and never wants to be in a relationship. But there are still people who doubt his aroace-ness. (And at this point I don't see how it could be anything but aphobia, to deny the mere possibility of him being aroace so vehemently lol.) ) Also: Sadly, I couldn't find good aro-allo characters except Claire/ Claude from "baker thief". There is tons of good a-spec representation in that book (also more side characters that I didn't mention here), but I couldn't really find any fan-art. So then I just slapped the entire book cover on the collage.

[baratiddyappreciator]

I was so upset that your NSFW cuddling scenarios got flagged 😭

But I have to ask, what would spicy cuddling with musashi, spec, and Doyle be like?

you’ve reawoken my old man thirst

omg wait it did?! SKskks I didn't even notice- But yes, if the beloved moot asks, they shall receive! Spec was the hardest to write for by far because I couldn't figure out if this man would actually cuddle but fuck it we ball(s deep in this bitch someone please throw me a rope to climb out it's wet in here) Kids: get bent lmfao

Musashi: His stare was intense enough to make you feel naked normally, but now that you were actually naked, his eyes locking on yours in the mirror only made you feel hot, his hips meeting yours from behind, slow and methodical, but not gentle. No, anything but gentle as he grabbed your throat, leaving you to make choked noises as his hips met yours over and over again in a slow, powerful grind that had your eyes rolling back into your skull with little to no effort on his part. Mean? Oh absolutely, he was so cruel, driving you insane by moving so slowly, and god you regretted asking him to cuddle you within view of a mirror, because you really should have known that he was going to make you watch him watching you taking him. And you could see him perfectly, each forward thrust of his hips making his shaft disappear deep within you, before it would be slowly dragged out only to slam back into you with dizzying force. Trying to turn your head to the side to nuzzle into the blankets only had him snatching your face to turn you to face the mirror again.

"Don't look away, I want to watch you come undone."

Spec: He didn't really cuddle, no, he was too tough for that. But him lounging around the place only to have you plop down on top of him to join him? Yeah, that was about as close as you'd get. Though if you were hoping for a peaceful nap with him, then you were sorely mistaken, since most of the time you did this there was a 50/50 split that he would wind up fucking you right then and there, and this was a gamble you'd lost (or won) as he bounced you up and down on his thick shaft, smugly chuckling as you were winded time and time again as his thick head kissed your insides, making room for itself so he could nestle deep inside of you. It was like he was trying to stab you to death with his dick, but instead of killing you, all he manged to do was succeeding in having you shaking and crying on top of him as an orgasm was forced out of you, one so powerful almost all your upper body strength vanished, leaving you slumped against his chest as he kept fucking you through it, pressing a sloppy kiss to your forehead with a breathy chuckle.

"That's right darlin', just like the perfect fuck toy fer me."

Doyle: It had been perfectly peaceful until you'd moved your hips an inch. A singular inch, not even, and he'd pounced on you. No more peace and quiet for you, the couch repeatedly slamming into your wall (god your neighbours would hate you if they didn't already) to the rhythm of Doyle's harsh thrusts. Fast but deep, there was no mercy as he left your head spinning from the pleasure and slight sting that it brought along, his hand sealed around your throat teasingly as he loomed over you smugly. He didn't need to say anything to get his point across, he knew how turned on you already were from him using you like a pliant and obedient doll, and honestly, for him? That's what you would be. Each snap of his hips was driving you closer and closer to your climax, and almost like he could taste it, he grinned, licking his teeth, and leaned over you, staring right into your eyes.

"So needy, you're behaving so well for me. Let's see if you can keep it up for just a bit longer, hm?"

[jawnscoffee]

hiiii

after AGES, i‘ve finally gotten back into writing *yayyy*

this is a sequel to the oneshot Serenity After the Turmoil by @lisbeth-kk (go read it!!! It‘s such a lovely idea) aaaand yeah :) it would mean the world to me if you checked it out!! (also, hope you like it 🙉)

Serenity After the Turmoil (part 2)

Even though the living room light was dimmed, John had to squint his eyes as he walked towards the door, which revealed what lay behind it with a small gap. Luckily, he'd oiled the door pins a few weeks ago, because it would have been really unfortunate if its loud squeak had interrupted the gentle melody Sherlock was playing.

John carefully opened the door a little further and then stopped. Sherlock was standing in his usual place when he played the violin, with his back turned to him. John had often wondered why he always played in front of the window - if people saw him showing off his double chin, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on any notes. Not that he could read sheet music - he was about as musically gifted as a whining dog. And double chins weren't a bad thing - actually, most people had them. Except Sherlock. He didn't have a double chin, as John knew, even though he couldn't see his face right now. And his musical talents more than surpassed his own. His blue dressing gown swayed gently with the soft movements he made as he played, seemingly absorbed in the music. Until he suddenly stopped moving, put the bow between his teeth (or at least that's what it looked like from behind) and pulled a pencil out of his pocket with his free hand and scribbled something on the sheet of paper on the music stand.

"You don't have to stand so stiffly in the doorway, John."

Of course Sherlock had noticed that John had come. What else.

John cleared his throat, ignoring the warmth slowly rising up the back of his neck.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you," he said, taking a few awkward steps into the living room.

Sherlock just shrugged and mumbled something unintelligible before slipping the pen back into his coat pocket and turning round. His dark curls looked a little more messy than normal, indicating that he had been in bed, but his eyes were wide awake.

"Did I wake you?" John asked, guilt creeping up inside him. Maybe he should just get some sleeping pills. Or wait, he was a doctor himself. Maybe he should just prescribe-

"No, I couldn't sleep either," Sherlock replied, shaking his head. "And then I heard you...", he seemed to search for the right word for a moment, "...making noises from your room that didn't sound like you were having a good dream."

John lowered his eyes, unable to stop the heat from rising in his cheeks, but Sherlock didn't seem to mind the obvious reference to sex dreams.

"Since it calmed you down the last time I played the violin, I figured I might as well use a sleepless night to do it again," he continued unaffected, shrugging again.

John had now raised his gaze again and didn't know what to say for a moment. So Sherlock had actually heard him and played the violin for him. To calm him down. Wow.

"I, um..." John put a hand on the back of his neck and cleared his throat again. "Thank you," he then said. "What you played was really nice. Did you write that?"

Suddenly it was Sherlock who seemed a little uncomfortable in his own skin, because he lowered his eyes and placed his violin and bow beneath his armchair.

"Yes. In a way," he then said. "It's inspired by…someone."

"Someone?" John asked in surprise, raising his eyebrows. "Are you going out with someone?"

[sillypenguinwitch]

isaac's books in heartstopper s2

episode 1:

Tillie Walden: I Love This Part

Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé: Ace of Spades

episode 2:

Nina LaCour: We Are Okay

Oscar Wilde: The Importance of Being Earnest

episode 3:

Ocean Vuong: Night Sky with Exit Wounds (the one he is carrying under his arm, I'm assuming that's his and not for the display?)

has read: Ritch C. Savin-Williams: Bi: Bisexual, Pansexual, Fluid, and Nonbinary Youth

Emily Henry: Book Lovers

episode 4:

Victor Hugo: Les Misérables

Antoine De Saint-Exupéry: The Little Prince

Kate Chopin: The Awakening

Nina LaCour: We Are Okay (again)

episode 5:

Albert Camus: The Outsider

episode 6:

Martin Handford: Where's Wally? The Great Picture Hunt

Meredith Russo: Birthday

Jules Verne: Around the World in Eighty Days

Sara Pennypacker: Pax Anne Berest, Audrey Diwan, Caroline de Maigret, Sophie Mas: How to Be Parisian Wherever You Are ? ? ? Damian Dibben: The Color Storm Alice Oseman: Loveless Susan Stokes-Chapman: Pandora Katy Hessel: The Story of Art Without Men ? Evelyn Waugh: Rossetti Arthur Conan Doyle: The Hound of the Baskervilles A.O. Scott: Better Living Through Criticism ?: Then We Came to an End (?) Ruth Millington: Muse Dr. Jaqui Lewis: Fierce Love Charlotte Van Den Broek: Bold Ventures - Thirteen Tales of Architectural Tragedy ?

Richard Siken: Crush

episode 7:

Garrard Conley: Boy Erased

George Matthew Johnson: All Boys Aren't Blue

Samra Habib: We Have Always Been Here

episode 8:

Akemi Dawn Bowman: Summer Bird Blue

Angela Chen: Ace

bonus:

Truham school library pride display (seen in ep. 3 and 8):

top to bottom, left to right: Angela Chen: Ace Andrew Holleran: The Kingdom of Sand Mary Jean Chan and Andrew McMillan: 100 Queer Poems Scott Stuart: My Shadow Is Pink Lotte Jeffs: My Magic Family Tucker Shaw: When You Call My Name Ritch C. Savin-Williams: Bi - Pansexual, Fluid, Nonbinary and Fluid Youth Alok Vaid-Menon: Beyond the Gender Binary George M. Johnson: All Boys Aren’t Blue Mason Deaver: I Wish You All the Best Alex Gino: George Melissa

on top of shelves (left to right): Kevin Van Whye: Nate Plus One Xixi Tian: This Place is Still Beautiful Becky Albertalli: Leah on the Offbeat Mya-Rose Craig: Birdgirl Bernardine Evaristo: Girl, Woman, Other Connie Glynn: Princess Ever After Saundra Mitchell: The Prom

Charlie's choice at Shakespeare and Co (ep. 6): Allan Hollinghurst: The Swimming Pool Library

That's it for now.

Sorry about the ones i couldn't identify and sorry if i missed any! Might try and do some of the ones in Isaac's room later but that'll take a minute

[xxsycamore]

A Soulmate That Wasn’t Meant to Be

╰┈➤ 🩷 While rare, there are some instances of a soulmate clock appearing to be broken, showing a negative countdown or one that you cannot outlive. Or both. You were just born under an unlucky star. One that destined you to not only fail to experience such a major event of your life as knowing when you've met your soulmate, but also for Arthur Conan Doyle to find out about it when you've successfully kept it a secret from almost everyone so far.

Arthur Conan Doyle x Gender Neutral Reader • rating: G • tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting; Alternate Universe - College/University; Alternate Universe - Reincarnation; Alternate Universe - Soulmates; Soulmate-Identifying Timers; Denial of Feelings; Feelings Realization; Fake/Pretend Relationship; Pet Names; Drinking; Time Travel; First Kiss • wordcount: 2,641 • masterlist

a/n: This is my gift for @oigimi, for the Secret Santa event hosted by @lemeowade ! I saw your preferences for AUs and I couldn't help myself searching for a connection...then I remembered soulmate clock AU is a thing, and then I remembered ikevamp deals with timetravel and I went "hmmm this can turn into something interesting!" and it spiraled out of control after that point 😭 i sincerely hope this isn't too big of a mess and that it's your type of fic! Hope you enjoy, I had a lot of fun!! 🥺🥺❤❤ Namesake song by Jess Benko. Take a look at the end notes for clarification on some parts of this fic!

"Remind me again why do I have to spend the whole day being your pretend partner. The party doesn't start until 10PM tonight!"

"Here you go, luv. Be careful, it's hot!" Arthur hands the freshly baked pastry to you, resuming your slow stroll in Jardin du Carrousel, the garden of the Louvre museum. You hurriedly take it from his hands if that would make him finally pay attention to your question. Of course it would be hot, he doesn't need to remind you - it only annoys you further, as he so obviously does it to look like a good boyfriend more than anything.

"Do you want to taste mine? I can taste yours too."

"No thank you."

You suppose it's partly your own fault finding yourself in your current situation, considering the recent events. In a world where everyone is busy chasing after time, enjoying the dating scene before their soulmate countdown turns to zero, or trying to rush in and see the countdown speeding up as they try to play with fate and meet with their designated soulmate faster, you're an outcast. An outcast with a broken soulmate clock on your wrist, condemning you to a lifetime of long sleeves and wide bracelets and false modesty to trick people's curiosity. You should be used to them by now, their comments about you not being interested in relationships. And even though you do feel fed up with it, the thought of lying about dating someone just so they can shut up never crossed your mind.

But it crossed that of Arthur Conan Doyle. The college's infamous frivolous playboy, a firm believer of the 'hook up as much as you can before you find your soulmate!' ideology. Now, you didn't want to have anything to do with a guy like him, but on one of those college parties you were dragged to, he decided to pick you for the lead role in his biggest, stupidest drunken decision yet. And you were equally as drunk to play along with it, nodding in the face of his ex-girlfriend as she looked at the both of you in disbelief. For a playboy like Arthur, you thought he was managing to control his dating life better than this. But you guess he just got bored of being surrounded by love.

Straightening the lapels of his grey coat, Arthur fetches the brochure handed earlier to him out of his inner pocket and takes a quick look at it to make sure you checked out everything of interest in the area before entering the museum itself.

The guy has a whole checklist of activities for the day. You've seen it. He purposely taped another page underneath just to scare you with its sheer length, but you're seeing right through his tricks, the page is full of gibberish written just to take space. You've got your best frown on to keep the illusion of ignorance, hoping that you'd get bonus points for agreeing to go through the full contents of the list, both the real and the fake ones.

But is it really an act? The occasional tidbits of satisfaction coming from beating Arthur's brilliant mind - not that you'd ever give him the credit for it - are hardly enough to keep you entertained throughout the day. When the activities you take on today are meant to be just that, entertaining. And romantic too.

Now, were you a normal couple, a true couple, then maybe you'd be having fun now.

"Arthur, I think partners are supposed to listen to each other and answer each other's questions. At the very least."

"But you see, dear…" Arthur wraps his arm over your shoulder, gently nudging you into taking a turn away from the crowded path ahead and into a more secluded walk. "By asking that question out loud with people around us, you've already answered yourself. We clearly have more training to do, or we won't appear as a genuine couple."

Ah. He's right, damn it.

"I only lowered my guard because these people don't know us, stupid… Let's get inside already!"

Getting ahead of him, you think that as long as you appear excited to see the exponates, you can get away with keeping a few steps distance from Arthur. Hearing his low, annoying chuckle triggers the sensory neurons in your brain until a neat little image of his smirk is produced with near-perfect accuracy. Have you simply seen it too many times? There's no escape even when you turn your back to him, great.

The Louvre is magnificent to explore with the many pieces of art it houses, instantly changing your infatuation with the slow passage of time into wishes it would stop altogether. There's so much to see that you'd frankly not mind getting lost in here just to have an excuse to spend more time surrounded by art.

You have to admit, Arthur chose the perfect dating spot. You're not sure if it was based on your own preferences - surely not - but you find yourself not minding it suddenly.

"Picture!"

Hearing the signal, you instantly turn in the direction of the raised-up phone, smiling for the camera as Arthur presses his face closer to yours.

"Oh, this is a good one, I'm definitely posting it. You look so inlove."

"I'm in love with Da Vinci's work, that's it."

"Uh-uh. That works for me too." Arthur replies while his fingers dance across the screen, likely typing some cheesy caption for the picture. A second later your own phone vibrates in your pocket, signaling that he posted the picture and tagged you in it, and you don't even bother looking.

"At least you're a natural, Arthur."

"What, in masking an expression? How are you so sure?"

You blink, meeting his gaze as some child holding a balloon separates the two of you for a mere second. Instinctively, you shorten the distance so you don't lose Arthur, looking for his hand to take hold of. You've already been through that today, linking hands in the crowds. And while there was no real need to do that right now, you just did that…

To the question in your eyes evoked from his last words, he smirks and adds, "There are pieces of art here that I look at with fondness just like you do."

Your heart sinks for a moment, only to create palpitations that mess with your head. You have no idea where they came from or what evoked this feeling in your chest, but while looking anywhere but at Arthur, your gaze falls on other couples passing by. It's because you were instructed to watch them if you're having trouble recreating the subtle romantic gestures that indicate dating. An advice from a writer no doubt, one that you wish you could forget because it's too late telling your brain to forget what it's been taught. But the question is, why the sudden turning of stomach at the sight of them?

While failing to watch your step, you lose your balance and stumble on your own feet, meeting the hard ground hands-first. You feel eyes on you for a short moment; just a mere second any stranger might spare to witness the unfortunate event before moving on with their tour.

That's it, except for Arthur - who is there to pull you up in a manner of utmost care, dusting off your clothes, taking you to a more secluded area with benches to rest on and asking you at least three times if you're alright before you can snap out of your surprised state and let out a murmur of affirmation.

In the whirlwind of emotions rushing through your slightly clouded mind, you put the embarrassment of your fall aside and realize you still feel hot. As Arthur turns your hand around to inspect it, you realize that no amount of hand-holding numbed your reaction to the touch of his warm hands.

And no amount of his exaggerated lovey-dovey gestures of affection could prepare you for the look of genuine worry over something so insignificant on his face.

"You fell on your hands, they must be scrapped… let's get them under cold water, it would wash away the dirt too."

"Wait, don't look!-"

With the distraction slowing down your reactions, you fail to stop Arthur on time before he can roll up your sleeve.

Your soulmate clock instantly makes him adopt an expression of perplexion, as the quick look he gave it was enough for him to notice the bizarre sight of one too many numbers aligned on the width of your wrist.

-46 750 days, 9 hours, 17 minutes, 35 seconds

"Your countdown is…"

"Screwed up. I'm one of those people."

While rare, there are some instances of a soulmate clock appearing to be broken, showing a negative countdown or one that you cannot outlive. Or both. You were just born under an unlucky star.

One that destined you to not only fail to experience such a major event of your life as knowing when you've met your soulmate, but also for Arthur Conan Doyle to find out about it when you've successfully kept it a secret from almost everyone so far.

It has to be some kind of irony, being here with him today for these reasons. He who made up this whole plan because he needs an escape from love, while you on the other hand-

"Now that I've seen yours, it would only be fair I showed you mine."

"It's nothing, you really don't have to-"

You try to avert your gaze as Arthur extends his hand and rolls up his sleeve, turning it so you can see the inside of his wrist.

-12 616 days, 9 hours, 16 minutes, 51 seconds

"Huh…" You freeze for a moment, not believing your eyes. The guy you secretly envied for having the privilege of being sure about meeting true love to the point he'd chase ephemeral trysts just to kill time. Turns out he also won't be able to…

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't think I'm all that sad, luv. I was never destined to have a soulmate, but that's fine by me. Maybe that's what I deserve."

Your head spins with emotion once more, and this time it's guilt. And it weighs down on you heavier than all else there is, and you suddenly want to disappear.

It's probably not wise to turn your back on Arthur without saying a word, but you'll be regretting this later. You start running, and he calls out your name but it never approaches you. He's not even chasing after you, but you're glad - you've already started thinking of the apology you're going to drop in his direct messages before blocking his number.

Just as you halt your step and check behind your back, you spot his tall frame amidst the crowd, trying to push his way toward you. Without much time to think, you open the nearest door and pray that he'll lose you from his sight and continue ahead on the corridor.

This section of the museum appears different somehow, ontop of being strangely devoid of visitors, with the exponates carrying an air of extra antiquity to them. The path ahead is quite narrower in contrast to the other hallways too, the lightning more sparse, and the feeling of unease tells you to wait out Arthur's chase attempt and then go back where you came from.

Except, he finds you.

You hate it that he read your mind about entering that door, and you hate that you're now practically given the privacy to talk. Not wanting to face him now, you simply continue ahead, hoping to blend with the crowd at the other side of that corridor and escape him then.

Arthur follows behind you, continuing to call out your name, and your mind becomes dizzy out of a sudden. You're ready to blame it on one too many things and you don't pay much attention, until something odd happens. A blinding light flashes before you, making you unable to advance further. Arthur catches up with you just in time to put his hand on your arm.

The light is gone in the next moment, and you slowly open your eyes to find yourself in a different hallway, together with Arthur.

Sinking to your knees, you try to make something out of the bizarre situation, and Arthur follows you on the ground to soothingly massage your back, simultaneously checking for injury. A tiny part of you remains sane and warm, and it's glad that he's here.

"A-Arthur! Look at my-"

Moving his gaze from your shocked expression to your outstretched hand, he gasps as he sees your soulmate clock suddenly speed up, losing years upon years, seemingly not planning on stopping anytime soon. Another portion of shock hits you as you notice his own clock doing the same, and you drag up his hand to get his attention to it.

At a pace slower than yours, Arthur's clock reduces its countdown. The two of you can only watch in alert silence, everything else becoming irrelevant in the face of the miracle happening to those who accepted their deprived-of-love fate long, long ago. In the lone hallway, two sets of eyes search for a third person who does not exist, as one might do when that moment approaches.

The days on the counters reduce to what at most adds up to a few years, then a few months, then finally they turn to zero; followed by the minutes, and at last, followed by the seconds as well.

The rows of zeros align on both of your wrists, signaling that…

"My soulmate is…"

"It's been you the whole time?"

***

After being found by the residents of what you came to know is the mansion of Comte de Saint-German, you were introduced to the lord of the house himself. His explanation eased some of your concerns while still being bizarre enough to be hardly believable.

Being trapped here for a month surely sounds like you'll have enough time on your hands to unpack everything that happened today. But you're glad you're not going through this on your own.

Once you find yourself alone in the company of Arthur again, the butterflies in your belly are revived, stubbornly refusing to let anything overshadow the realization you came to just awhile ago.

Arthur seems to be able to tell what's on your mind. His deep sea-blue eyes lock into yours, and you don't know what to say. Luckily, he takes the initiative.

"We traveled back in time. The clocks were never broken… we were meant to meet here."

An echo of his words reverberates in your head as you try and let them sink in, absurd as they sound…there's no other explanation.

He starts laughing, much to your dismay.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just…" He casually puts his hands in his pockets, admiring a painting hanging on the hallway's wall as he picks his words. "Seeing as we won't be showing up to that party… I guess we don't need the pretend couple lessons anymore."

It's a laugh you didn't know you needed. You aren't sure what is it about human nature that nudges you to seek the solace of a smile no matter how sobering and hostile a situation is, such as finding yourself in an unfamiliar place, in an unfamiliar age. But you're thankful.

"It's a shame." Arthur turns to you. "I was looking forward to kissing you as our grand final lesson."

Your eyes widen, and Arthur has that stupid smirk plastered on his face. Without taking his hands out of his pockets, he leans into your frame and shortens the distance.

"It's a shame indeed…" is all you can muster before sealing those damned alluring smiling lips of Arthur with your own.

a/n: The soulmate clock AU normally uses the countdown for the couple's meeting but here they've clearly met before, so I wondered if I could instead make it count down to their first meeting in the place they're destined to fall in love at, Comte's mansion in 19th century Paris.

Arthur's countdown differs from that of the reader because his clock is synced with the timeline of his previous life - practically, he was born in 1859, lived through the year 1895 when they were destined to meet with the reader - but because it wasn't the right timeline, his clock began to run backwards. Arthur then dies in 1930 and gets reborn into 21st century Arthur, with a clock that still counts down to the year 1895, but the countdown picks up from the moment he died in his previous life - july 7th 1930 (his death day). This is why his and the reader's clocks aren't synced and they can't see it coming that they're each other's soulmate LMAO get doomed by the narrative

"mo are you alright why is this a 4 different AUs at once, 2600 word fic without any planned squeals" yes I think it's perfect as it and I had fun!

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[maochira]

could you do Hector Doyle finding out he has a child? Like from age 7-8 or smth. Maybe he receives a letter when he leaves jail or the mother sends the child to him?

ANON. I LOVE YOU. This is my first time writing for Doyle so I hope it doesn't turn out ooc!!

Tags: gn!child!reader, reader is elementary school age, dad!Hector Doyle, this is before and during what happens in the anime/manga

-while he was in jail, Doyle got a letter from your mother. At first, he didn't really believe that you exist because he couldn't really grasp the reality of the fact that he has a child

-he kept thinking about that letter every day and re-read it every now and then, but despite knowing about you, it took a bit until he truly realized the fact that you're real

-and then he was unsure how to feel about you. Sure, you're his child but he never met you and all he got was a letter, without a photo so he didn't even know what you looked like. All he got to know was your name

-sometimes he also wondered if you really are his child. He often doubted if the letter was real or fake

-he always tried to not give it too much thought because he got sentenced to death anyways, so he figures it wouldn't matter much if you really are his child or not, since he didn't think he'd ever get to meet you

-when he broke out of prison, he decided to visit you before he went to Japan (he knew your address from the letter)

-your mother was obviously horrified when Doyle was at the door, but she was too afraid to do anything to stop him from seeing you

-when he got to see you, Doyle finally got to connect the name he's known for a while to the real person you are

-when he first saw you, he immediately knew you really were his child. The doubts he had immediately vanished away because there's no way you're not his child

-he didn't stay that long, though. But he mentioned something about going to Japan so you kept begging your mother to go to Japan so you could meet him again

-even now after he met you, Doyle feels unsure how he should feel about you. He doesn't know if he loves you or if what he feels for you is even close to anything fatherly in general, but he feels some sort of responsibility for you

-but he also knows there's no way he could be anything close to a "normal" father even if he tried, so he tries to not think about you too much

-but he wants to do at least something, so while he's in Japan he writes letters to you every now and then. You can't write back to him though, since he uses fake addresses to send the letters

-most letters are intended for you to read immediately, but there are also some he addresses to your mother for her to keep and only give you at special points in your life (for example when you turn 18)

-the letters make him feel kind of connected to you, but not completely. There's always a bit of uncertainty in him, even while he writes all those letters