#i liked writing this but i am mostly relieved that its done so i can write something else

[inbabylontheywept]

All that remains: Part I

In the land just past the Decapolis, by the tombs of the city's most ancient forebears, there lived a man called Legion. Some days, he howled like a beast, laughing as he savaged his own flesh with the jagged edges of stones. Other days he wept like a child, teeth chattering even as the sun blazed overhead. But more days still, he lingered in the quiet spaces, haunted but lucid: A stranger to the land and a stranger to himself.

He called himself Legion because he was made of many parts. Memories without attachments, stories without endings. Fragments. Worse, he felt like he could only hold a few of the pieces at a time. Trying to assemble himself felt like an endless effort of cupping his hands together tight, filling them with details, reaching up to his mouth, and realizing they had already slipped through his fingers. An endless thirst for which he had no cure. 

The town called him Legion, because they remembered what he often forgot: That he was a Roman, as well as a former soldier. If he’d been anything less, they’d have driven him away. Instead, they fussed over him endlessly, all too aware that to harm a single hair upon his head was to invoke the wrath of the largest army the world had ever seen.

(Which was a problem, because he was all too willing to harm himself.)

On Legion’s good days they simply gave him space. He’d tried describing once, all the things that could bring his demons out: The clash of metal, the twang of a bowstring. A scream of pain. Those were easy enough to remember and avoid, but others were not. Certain phrases in Latin, ones related to marching, used for giving directions. Certain smells - the roasting of pork, the burning of sulfur. The way some men from distant lands braided their hair. 

So many little things. 

They were a lot to keep track of, and the cost of failure was high. It seemed easier for the people of the town to simply avoid him altogether. That it let them ignore his suffering was simply a pleasant side effect. 

On his bad days, they had to intervene more directly. He was strong when he was well, but his sickness could make him almost invincible. Whole teams of men would be sent into the tombs while he screamed and roared, and it could take them hours to tie him down and pry the rocks from his trembling fingers. To put a rolled up rag into his mouth and silence the phrase he shouted over and over, summoning more demons into himself with each incantation: TORNA MIRA, TALIS EST COMODUM MILES BARBATI. 

Sometimes, it took more than a day of being restrained that way for him to find himself again. They’d send children out to the edge of the town to listen, and when he finally went silent they’d travel back to free him from his chains. It was a beastly, shameful task every time, and Legion made it worse by never being angry. Without fail, the first thing he said every time the rag was removed was:

Συγγν��μη, δεν ήθελα να σε τρομάξω.

Forgive me, I did not mean to scare you. 

Everyone knew that the way things were being handled wasn’t enough. Everyone, even Legion, knew how things would end. They just weren’t sure when. 

It turned out that it was longer than six years.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 1

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: non-sexual nudity, swearing, some sexual-ish thoughts

series masterlist │my masterlist

you had been baking a pie, rolling out the homemade dough for the crust, humming along with the soft music playing through the house, when through the open window you’d seen him. a large man, as naked as the day he was born, running towards your farm. you could only watch in numb shock as he went into your barn, now hidden from view.

what the fuck.

you haven’t been inside that barn in over a year. the farm belonged to your grandparents, and you’d inherited the property after they died. while you love the peace and quiet that came from living in the middle of nowhere, you aren’t a farm girl, so the barn went largely unused.

you think about just leaving the man alone, hoping that he’ll leave eventually.

you keep rolling out the dough, soothing repetitive motions, while you stare at the barn, expecting something else to happen. but nothing does. you almost think you made the man up in a moment of insanity.

it’s this that gets you to finally exit the house, anxiously heading towards the old barn with its creaking wood and chipped paint. you take a deep breath to prepare yourself before stepping inside, every nerve in your body screaming at you that this is a very bad idea. 

you’re both relieved and not when you see the man curled up in a corner. relieved, because you weren’t going insane, and not because, well, now you’re going to have to deal with this strange situation.

you take a step closer when he doesn’t lunge at you to attack, then immediately jump back at the gleaming metal claws that appear from between his knuckles. one second he seems mostly harmless - or at least as harmless as a buff, six foot tall man could be - and the next he’s growling at you, face twisted into a snarl, body tense and ready to pounce at the slightest wrong move.

“hi,” you say, softly, the way you were taught to speak to distressed animals. the man cocks his head to the side but doesn’t lunge at you, which you take as a good sign. “i won’t hurt you, promise. but i am curious to know what led you here.”

by here, you mean both the physical location of your house in the middle of nowhere but also whatever reason he has for running through said middle of nowhere naked. there’s some kind of story there, likely not a good one judging by the way he watches you distrustfully. you have a feeling he hasn’t had a good or easy life.

the man doesn’t answer, not that you really expected him to, but slowly his claws retreat back into his skin. he’s marginally less threatening like this, though you know the smallest thing could bring the sharp blades back out.

despite this, you don’t believe he’s a danger to you. he just seems scared and confused.

“are you hungry?” you ask him. again, he doesn’t answer, and you wonder if he’s able to speak. “okay, how about this, i’ll bring you food and you don’t have to eat it but you can. i’ll be right back.”

you don’t turn your back on the barn, on him, as you jog back into your house. it’s much warmer inside than it is in the barn - you were so distracted that you hadn’t been feeling the full effect of the early winter cold. you think of the man, he must be freezing, but you hadn’t seen any sign of it, no shivering, not even goosebumps raising on his skin.

one thing at a time, you tell yourself.

your half-finished pie is sitting discarded on the kitchen counter and you look at it mournfully. you’ll finish it later, and maybe you’ll actually have someone to enjoy it with you.

(it gets lonely sometimes, so far from any cities or towns. usually, you don’t mind it, but apparently there’s some small part of you that still desperately craves human contact and interaction, since you’re jumping at the chance to take care of a random stranger.)

you have leftovers in the fridge that you suppose will have to do, since making him a fresh, home-cooked meal would take time, and you’d promised to return hastily. you heat it up quickly, the warmth emanating from the food another reminder of the frigid temperature outside as you bring the plate into the barn. 

he looks up when you enter, sniffing the air like a dog. it’s cute, and you smile as you put the plate down, careful not to get too close to him, letting him make the first move.

whether he trusts you or he’s just starving you don’t know, but he rushes to your side and starts eating like he hasn’t had food in a month. with him distracted and closer to you, you can get a better look at him. 

he doesn’t look malnourished. he’s buff, muscular and hairy, and you have to stop your eyes from going lower as you stare at his chest.

you look away despite the man being too distracted to notice your shameless ogling. he might be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life - or you’ve just been away from men for too long and have become pathetic.

he eats quickly, and looks up expectantly at you when he finishes, like a dog at their owner. you giggle at the comparison you’ve made in your head - it’s quite accurate, you find, with the way he immediately seems to trust you now that you’ve fed him.

“do you wanna go inside? it’s pretty cold out here, and inside i have more food.” you say, and when you go to stand up so does he. you explicitly do not look down.

he follows you into your house, and you’re so glad you live alone so there’s no one to question whatever is happening.

it’s easy to find extra clothes in the guest room, less easy to find any that you think will fit him. eventually, you give up, hoping the sweatpants you found will do for now, and grab one of your own shirts, thankful for your habit of buying oversized men’s t-shirts. it goes down to your thighs, surely it’ll fit him.

you turn to head back into the living room where you left him, and your soul nearly leaves your body when you spot him standing at the door. you yelp, your hand flying to your chest and the clothes falling to the ground.

he startles at the noise, tensing and looking around like he expects danger. 

“shit,” you swear, “how are you so quiet?”

he frowns, and you could swear that he seems apologetic, though you aren’t sure how accurate your interpretations of his facial expressions are given that you’ve only known him for about an hour. it makes you feel a little guilty, though really you shouldn’t be since he snuck up on you.

you’re about to offer him the clothes when you pause, gaze locked on his chest. “you should shower.”

he follows you when you lead him to the bathroom, which you take as agreement on his part. he’s dirty, covered everywhere by a thin layer of dirt. a shower will feel good. it would also give you time to process this without him watching you. his eyes are quite intense, and he keeps them directed at you. you need the privacy to freak out.

it’s only after you place the clothes down on the countertop and show him how the knobs in your shower work that you realise he’s not making any moves to enter the shower. you start to leave the bathroom and he takes a step to follow you.

you stop, thinking about how he doesn’t seem to know how to speak, how he looked so scared and confused when you’d found him, and you sigh when you realise it’s likely he doesn’t know how to use a shower either.

what is your story? you think to yourself.

“do you want help?” is what you ask instead.

he nods slowly, which is the closest you’ve gotten to a response from him so far. you look up at the ceiling, inhaling deeply and bracing yourself when you realise this means you’re going to have to touch the hot, naked man.

you turn on the shower, waiting for it to warm up before you motion for the man to get in. you are absolutely not willing to get naked in the shower with a stranger whose name you don’t even know, so you step in fully clothed, already regretting it when you feel the fabric growing wet and sticking to your skin.

it’s as you’re helping rinse the dirt off him that you spot the writing on his dog tags. you’d noticed them previously but hadn’t been able to get a good look. 

you take the metal chain in your hand, turning it to read the name stamped into the metal.

“logan,” you read, and the man in front of you purrs, a low rumble in his throat. you smile. “i’m going to guess that’s your name. logan.”

this seems to relax the last dredges of tension that he holds. he practically melts into you, and the feeling of being trusted so fully by someone who seems so broken warms your heart in a way that you haven’t felt in years.

you finish washing him up in silence, only interrupted by occasional soft purrs and hums from logan. he quite enjoys it when you wash his hair, hands reaching up to scrub shampoo into the strands, nails scratching at his scalp. you switch your earlier comparison from a dog to a cat, the purring reminding you of the kitten you had growing up.

he shakes his head when he gets out of the shower, water flying everywhere, and you laugh as you hand him a towel. you once again have to help him when he just stares at it like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

he gets dressed on his own, thankfully, since you already feel like you might implode from being in such close quarters with an extremely attractive, wet, nude man for so long. 

you leave him for a minute to dry yourself off and change into dry clothes. it’s nice to have a moment of reprieve, where you can simply breathe and process and question what the fuck you just got yourself into. you finally allow yourself to freak out a tiny bit, muttering to yourself in the mirror, tugging at your hair.

you just manage to pull a shirt over your head when you hear quiet whimpering at the door and the sound of loud banging against it.

your heart breaks at the sound, reminded of the wounded animals your grandparents would nurse back to health, and you rush to pull some pants on so you can open the door. logan looks at you with the most devastated eyes and then falls into you, face nudging into your neck, inhaling deeply. you stumble back, thankful for the wall that catches you. he’s heavier than he looks, which is saying something, given his size.

you’re shocked for a moment, frozen, but quickly come back to yourself and place your hands on his firm back.

“i’m sorry,” you say, “i didn’t mean to scare you. i wasn’t going to leave you, i just needed privacy for a moment.”

you don’t know if he understands anything you’re saying but it makes you feel better to explain yourself. you’re shocked that this is the same man who was snarling at you, claws out and ready to rip your throat out not so long ago, shocked at how quickly he’s grown attached to you.

shocked at how quickly you’ve grown attached to him, too. then again, you’ve always been this way. you like to help people, and logan seems like a man who needs a lot of help.

“i was baking a pie, when i saw you,” you tell him, “how about we go finish that? you don’t have to leave my side. you can watch me and i’ll teach you all my secrets.”

and as you expected, he follows you into the kitchen, trailing after you like a lost puppy. normally, you hate having anyone else in the kitchen with you, getting in your way when you’re in the zone, but his presence is nice. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t distract you or get in your way, just stands and watches you intently.

you’re already used to having him here with you, comfortable enough to turn your back to him. it’s crazy, and a (big) part of you knows that this isn’t exactly a smart thing to do, but you’re already planning on letting him stay for as long as he needs, maybe even forever.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams

[starrylevi]

hi! I’m new to your page but your writing is so skilled! So here I am requesting a Levi x reader post war, where the reader insist on taking Levi stargazing? And at some point the reader’s hand get cold and Levi insists on warming her up? Thank youuu! 🧡

Hi!! And welcome!!! You’re so very sweet, I truly don’t think so but thank you! This is such a cute request it kinda got away from me (in a good way) 😅 I hope it’s okay.

🌟 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

“Y’know this can be considered kidnapping,” Levi jokes from the passenger seat.

You place one hand over your chest, feigning shock as the other still grips the steering wheel. “I would never,” you continue before placing both hands back on the wheel. “Besides,” you briefly glance at him with a grin. “You came willingly.”

Levi saved you from a terrible fate, slicing the fingers off a titan before it had the chance to swallow you whole. After, you insisted that he come over to your place so you can make him a cup of tea. It’s the least you could do is what you told him. Levi’s not one to accept a gracious offer like this from a civilian but there was something about you that was inviting to him, and he couldn’t help but give in to his curiosity. You two spent the next hour talking. Well, it was mostly you doing the talking but you asked Levi questions and surprisingly he answered. After that initial meeting, you checked in on him from time to time. He got used to you popping in. Your visits became so frequent his squad knew you by name.

The rumbling followed shortly after and you didn’t hear from him for a little while. Of course you were worried. You surprised yourself, and him, by practically jumping on him the day he got back. Since then, you two have been closer than ever.

“Come on, you’re not even going give me the slightest hint?”

You fight back a chuckle as you answer. “Weren’t you a captain? Aren’t captains supposed to be patient?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten anything done as a captain if I were always patient now, would I?”

“Fair enough.” You look ahead at the road in front of you, appreciating the sight. It’s a nice evening, the sky has transitioned from a deep blue to an almost black. Sparkles of light are start to peek out.

“Stars.”

“What about them?”

“We’re going to see them.”

“I see them every night.”

“Not like this. We’re stargazing tonight.”

You drive down a deserted road; the light pollution fades away as you approach a lake. You see the brilliant shine of its water and smile.

“Okay, this should be fine.” You say before stopping the car. You don’t turn off the headlights so you can see what you’re doing. You grab Levi’s wheelchair from the bed of your truck and help him onto it before you wheel him right in front of the lake.

“Trying to drown me?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I would never drown Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.” You say with a little more admiration than you mean to. Levi hums in response and you take it as your cue to get your seat. “Be right back!”

You feel a steady breeze hit you as you walk to and from the truck. You approach Levi with your chair in tow. His head is tilted upwards, towards the sky.

“So…what do you think?” You ask him as you take your place next to him.

“Not bad.” He nods to himself, seemingly admiring the stars scattered above him.

“Right?” You smile, gently nudging him with your elbow as you take in the view yourself. Your eyes jump from star to star. “Can you spot any of the constellations?”

You glance at Levi and you can see him scanning over the pattern of the stars for a moment before finding a familiar sight. “Orion.”

“Good eye.” You smile but it quickly drops when you realize what you just said, not wanting Levi to think you’re making fun of him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“It’s alright.” Levi cuts you off with a small chuckle. “I only have the one. I’m grateful it can still do its job.”

You sigh, relieved, and go back to admiring the stars. You both sit there in comforting silence for a while. The breeze starts to pick up and you feel the uncomfortable chill prickle at your skin. You don’t want to be the reason you two back up and go home so you try to subtly blow warm air into your hands. That, of course, does not go unnoticed by Levi.

“Cold?”

“A little but it’s okay -“

As if by reflex, Levi places a gentle hand over your cold one.

“Does that help?” He asks you, his eyes seemingly say they hope it does and it’s hard for you to answer because he’s so warm?

Levi interprets your lack of response for you not wanting his hand on yours so he ends up quickly pulling back. “Sorry.” He says quietly, the lightest pink coloring his cheeks. However, that doesn’t stop him from trying to help you. “We can also share my jacket if that’s better.” He tries to drape it over both yours and his knees but it isn’t long enough.

“Levi-“

“I don’t need it, it’s fine. You can stick your hands under it.” He drapes it just over your knees.

“Levi…” You start slowly, a smile in your voice. “How about we just,” You pick up his wrist, creating an opening so you can lean into him. Levi looks a bit startled but he follows your lead and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “And now the jacket can cover both of us. Is that okay?”

“T-that works.” He breathes out before he covers the both of you with his jacket.

There’s another moment of silence before Levi speaks once again. “Thank you.” He utters quietly.

“For what?” You ask him as you stare up at the sky.

“Showing me the stars.” ✨

[being-of-rain]

I wasn’t really a big fan of The Giggle by the time I finished watching it, and I liked it less the more that I thought about it. Which is a real shame, because I think it was full of a lot of great ideas that were squandered with poor execution. I didn’t really want to just post pages of negativity, so I’ll quickly skim through a list of things I think could’ve been done better, and maybe I’ll expand on some of them later or if I’m asked about them. Still, this is your warning for negativity.

The whole 'screens are evil and making everyone think they're right' felt so shallow and cheap, especially because it was set up as the main obstacle and then largely ignored. A lot of the characters at UNIT really didn't do much (I totally forgot about The Vlinx after my first watchthrough) but I think that didn't bother me much while watching because I was used to Chibnall regularly ignoring characters like that. It was nice to see Mel again, but she didn’t really serve much purpose.

RTD’s take on the Toymaker is quite similar to his take on the Master, which was sometimes fun and sometimes annoying (specifically the German accent, which lost its appeal pretty quickly for me). But he felt pretty hollow and full of wasted potential beyond that, feeling like he was there just to give the episode a villain. Although speaking of the Master, his brief inclusion was hilarious and an easy way to write him back into the show later, nicely done.

The last third of the episode had some many intriguing and potentially awesome ideas behind it. The new Doctor turning up partway through a story? Cool! The Doctor defeating his final villain alongside the next star of the show? Fun! The Doctor getting self-care and words of wisdom from his next self? So heartwarming! One Doctor retiring to be happy while his next incarnation travels off to continue the adventures? A fun use of the show's format!

But for me these ideas just didn’t work or didn’t fulfill their potential, and it’s mostly because there’s no narrative justification for them. No cause and effect. There’s no given reason for the Doctor to bigenerate, it just happens. There’s no particular reason that it was the Doctors rather than the Toymaker who won the game of catch to save the world, it just happens. Without any narrative reason the third act feels so unsatisfying, like spectacle for the sake of spectacle, and (I don’t say this lightly) incredibly lazily written.

That lack of story reason also undermines the ending, clearly the thing RTD was most interested in, by making it feel unearned. Like a first draft script that worked backwards to make it happen. The retirement ending itself I have mixed feelings about, which I’m not sure I can fully articulate. One thing I love to see is that RTD can actually do a genuinely happy ending rather than making every ending a tragedy. But said happy ending feels a little too ‘married-with-kids-and-a-white-picket-fence’ to me – though obviously I can’t stress enough how relieved I am that romance didn’t factor into it. It just felt like it wasn’t set up well enough. I’d probably like it a lot more if they made clear if Tennant’s Doctor was going to turn into Gatwa’s Doctor or if they’re just separate people now. It was sweet of RTD to try and bring a conclusion to the ‘Doctor is traumatised’ thing that he introduced to the show 18 years ago, but he did it poorly. At least it offers interesting new possibilities for the show going forward!

With all that said, in the end The Giggle felt to me like RTD retreading some of his biggest flaws as a writer, and throwing in a few borrowed from other showrunners for good measure. It was a disappointment both because of the good ideas just below the surface, and because it came after a very fun first episode and an incredible follow-up.

But like I said, I’m excited to see what the show does next! I saw talk that there’ll be lots of mythical and unnatural creatures turn up due to the Doctor’s salt thing, which is super cool. And obviously I’m excited for more Gatwa! I haven’t really felt a lot of reason to be excited about Ruby yet, but as always I’m ready to fall in love with the new companion quickly!

[ohwell-itsme-but-danganronpa]

Co-parenting Found Family

[Miu (has a baby), Rantaro, Tsumugi & Kokichi friend group, Saiouma]

Me: you ever read a crackfic one-shot and realize you'd want to read a serious longfic with the same premise? cause now I am thinking of this stupid.. pregnant Miu shows up to saiou's apartament, asking Kokichi for help but instead of going with the crap about her not realizing she's pregnant for this long, I would like it to be angst inspired by her lhs

Clown: Yessss!!! I read that one!!! Absolutely loved it, mostly because I'm a sucker for them navigating something like this so ridiculously

Me: I liked it too, the joke about her not being able to tell rubbed me the wrong way, but it was actually nice after that, I would read more of it if they write a continuation

Me: basically, Miu ghosts everyone for a few months, not that unusual, she can disappear in her projects, she pops back up to brag about the prize she got for it when she's done, but not this time, this time she shows up to saiou's apartment, severely pregnant and devastated turns out she jumped headfirst into a relationship with some guy, tried to go through with her baby-trapping idea from LHS, because, hello abandonment issues, and for a bit it looks like she's exactly where she wants to be, but then, only weeks before she's due the guy ditches, leaves some note about realizing he's too young to be a father, and he's gone also, I'd add https://archiveofourown.org/series/976308 friend group to the mix, so while Ouma is the first person she comes to, the whole gang unites to help her

Clown: The friend group coming together instead of another potential partner is clenches fist so good. Miu is someone who is pretty fixated on relationships, it's almost as though in her mind she won't really be completely until someone loves her that way. So to give her a chance to move past that in this situation is just so interesting AND ITS JUST SO GOOD! In my mind for her to come to ouma of all people. Because he provided some familiarity to her, some safe space where she can in her own way step back into her usual. And Ouma would low-key go "shit. I'd jump shit too" and shuichi sends him a look but doesn't dare say anything because he kinda agrees. And it's a complete wreck but it's good

Me: yeah, if it's platonic relationships being as important as romantic ones, if not put first (actually, love Kokichi kicking Shu out so he can focus on comforting Miu), I am an insane person unapologetically I just think. found family coming together to raise a child. like if you agree I've done it before with DICE adopting a kid and I'll do it again

Me: Kokichi would agree with being the father, he's going to use it to gaslit their other ex-classmates (I imagine this is a few years post-HPA) into thinking he's the one who ended up with a kid their friend group + Shuichi know the truth of the arrangement, but that's it she might have been in a state of shock when she suggested it to him, but he's embraced it he Will be "the ultimate dad", (she regrets coming to him instead of Rantaro or Tsumugi when she sees all the custom print tees he got) he's telling Kaito about His pregnancy and childbirth experience the next time he comes over, he's preparing stories when it's aliens that got him pregnant, but no it was actually one of those dinosaur foam pills he swallowed, unless… Kaito, who just wanted to eat lunch with Shuichi: Shuichi, who is a simp: [relieved emoji] he won't help you, Kaito

Aalliyah: He swallowed a watermelon seed

Clown: He's taking this so seriously jagdjdhs He laid an egg [pensive emoji] I love shuichi just going along with it. Everyone expects some sort of something from him and he's just "We planted him in our garden from a toe nail and-"

Ves: this is gonna be the most spoilt baby

Me: on some bigger (as in just about the whole class is there) reunion, (probably a regular event organized by Kaede, like a movie or boardgame night) they look to Rantaro, who's always been the most reasonable of their group, and he's just mentally in the hehe hoho I'm an uncle and doesn't have more to add, he's zeroed-in on the baby, will get back to you later, maybe. [replying to Ves] oh, absolutely Tsumugi is part of the problem, always making something but. there is always somebody who wants to carry the baby never left out of sight

Clown: How do the squad [sunglasses emoji] , eventually find out??

Me: I think after Miu cries herself to sleep Kokichi texts their group chat using their emergency code (sacred, extempt from lies) to get Rantaro & Mugi to come over the next morning so they can tackle it together because in reality, he's a little overwhelmed too, and in the moment doesn't know yet if Shuichi will adjust to this with him so they all eat breakfast together, reassure Miu that they'll be there for her no matter what, start making a plan, a shopping list, beginning of a schedule, then Kokichi has to take the first scary step of the plan - talk to Shuichi about it; but Shuichi is like: yeah, of course because how could he expect his boyfriend not to help out? this is literally why he loves him, of course he will go a little overboard when it's for his found family he knew he had to prepare himself for Something when he saw Miu crying on his couch, at least it doesn't involve committing crimes against whoever hurt her, for now.

Clown: It's a big step!! (And very sudden) Even if it'll be a shared responsibility It's an entire new person! One that ouma is already in his mind accepted he'll be there for. He wouldn't immeadiately expect Shuichi to agree to something like that on a whim, but to know Shuichi is willing to look for solutions, to stay and work through it with him without question because of course. Sobs. Yeah. They've GROWN!!! Planning would be hellish though. Oumas filling the table with hundreds of scribbled papers and everything. Yes absolutely we need to sign this bitch up for maternity classes. Fuck it, Rantaro you go too, check in with us later. Tsumugi!! Need 3 months of baby clothes STAT! SHUICHI!! you just sit there and look pretty…SIKE ERRAND BOY GET THIS FOR ME

Me: let's be real, he's the first to sign up for those parenting classes and buying books about it but yeah, he does make Miu go too, for sure

Clown: Yeah he would!! He wants to be prepared

Me: also not to take from egg's family au directly but https://eggs-can-draw.tumblr.com/post/711383943783579648/omg-i-just-thought-so-byakuya-would-be-like Togami's motherhenning = Kokichi here and, while this is all sweet, I think Miu also needs to get mental health help, get that girl some therapy, she needs to work out the flaw with her logic, because, while it was already proven wrong when the guy left her, she needs to be given alternatives and you know, I think she would struggle with her feelings about the kid, it was supposed to be her ticket to being loved, and the kid is certainly getting a lot of love, but… maybe she would want more attention for herself? how is she meant to score a relationship now? she's going to need help understanding that those people are her family and that she's already loved

Ves: yeah!!! i think kokichi would b pretty blunt abt it too he tells her to shape tf up

Clown: YEEEAHHH. Honestly having a lot of people helping her out, some who give out reassurance easier than others, is a good start. But she is in that place where she's looking for something else to latch on. Usually that's the kid. I feel like had she gone through this alone she'd be one of those mothers constantly flipping through "You ruined my life" and "your the only thing in my life that loves me unconditionally" towards her kid. Ouma definitely helps in the way that he doesn't sugarcoat a thing.

Ves: local cluster b morons try to make a child well-adjusted baby'll be ok tho i think

Clown: Yeah baby will be ok! Everyone gets therapy [gun emoji] by law

Ves: praying that includes whatever poor man miu fucked up RIP king the kid is gonna be FUNNY when it grows up tho

Clown: [2 sob emojis] they'll be the ultimate comedian

Ves: saihara please pretend to be normal they need a balancing influence

Apollo: That kid is gonna commit crimes and use the skills Shuichi teaches them to get away with it

Clown: Somehow they pick up only on saiharas ingrained need to find the answer to questions The question is what would happen if a fork goes into an outlet

Apollo: They manage to somehow get the baby proof thing off the outlet and Kokichi fucking dives to stop them

Clown: Miu is just "let it happen. This is how I learned!"

Apollo: Kokichi just looks at her, blood dripping from the cut in his forehead and mumbles about how 'That explains a lot' Kokichi acts like kids will be kids and thus they get injured so there's no need to panic but the kid trips and he freaks the fuck out Like the kid doesn't even fall over. They stumble slightly and Kokichi is instantly there

Clown: He's the doting one. He's sobbing going, "my god. Your going to hate me one day. I'll be cool!! You can do a drug!"

Apollo: Poor Shuichi wakes up to Kokichi sitting up in the middle of the night because he's stressing over if he's cool or not and Shuichi has to remind him that the kid isn't even a year old yet and thus, has no idea what cool even means

Beez: smh shuichi just lie to him and say he is

Clown: Shuichi for real he needs to know, is he the lamest guy at the daycare?

Apollo: He's too tired to lie right now. Kokichi bursts into tears because is this his way of saying he isn't cool?

Clown: The pure betrayal!! From the one he trusted most!!!

Apollo: It's 2 in the morning [sob emoji] Kokichi has to have his devices taken away because he's staying up searching up how to be the cool guardian Ves: miu and him fight over who's the cool one when the kid is older (it;s neither of them)

Me: I can see Miu and Kokichi arguing about which one of them is cooler, but it's definitely Miu who lets the kid get away with things (like not brushing teeth) to be cool, and would likely mean the letting them do drugs thing, Kokichi would scold her for that and then his version of cool is teaching them lockpicking and making the scary faces, which in turn, she tells him off for

Apollo: Kid says it's Rantaro and both of them decide that he must go /silly Rantaro is riding the high while running away from Miu and Kokichi

springbug: it [rising the baby] surprisingly goes well too sure the kid might pick up on swearing at the age of 5 BUT THAT'S OKAY

Apollo: I mean, kid's gotta learn at some point Okay but father's day at daycare and just Shuichi, Rantaro, Kiibo and Kokichi all show up [idek why Apollo added Kiibo to the mix, he wasn't mentioned before, I didn't skip anything like that]

springbug: "i'm the father" "no i am" "what are you guys talking about? i look just like them" "sorry ma'am, im actually the father"

Me: nah, daycare, kindergarten etc. people think Miu and Kokichi are divorced or something if they come together they probably have some of their barely censored banter; sometimes Kokichi comes in with Shuichi, or it's Shuichi who drops the kid off on his own while he's on the way to work, kid refers to him by his name and calls him "dad's boyfriend"; sometimes uncle Rantaro or aunt Tsumugi come to pick them up; both Miu and Kokichi love to act like they're a single mom, works three jobs when other kids' parents try to ask them about life, and sometimes complain about each other

springbug: imagine gonta taking them to the park and showing him all the cool bugs [smiling face with tear emoji]

Me: once the kid is a bit older they let Rantaro and Gonta organize a camping trip for them and their friends, Kokichi is crying when letting them go because he's a motherhen and his baby is growing up and not scared to sleep away from home and him because the bugs will kill them

Clown: Miu and Kokichi giving their all to be divorcecore so true Everyone has ideas of the outrageous affair that ended their marriage that never happened

Beez: u just know the tea is PIPING among the staff

Clown: They're picking sides for sure

Me: imagine someone on the staff is homophobic so one of those days when it's Shuichi's turn, he gets told that his gay agenda is the reason the kid has to live in a broken family he's so confused the asshole is dealt with, but the anecdote lives forever also, I think Kokichi is the parent that always takes the chance to help out at school when they ask for a volunteer to join the trip or some event at school idk, if it's an universal thing, but here it's common practice that when little kiddos go on trips around town one or two of the class moms are asked to join after the first time the teacher is like "does anyone other than mr. Ouma wants to join? [sweat smile emoji]" but he persists he's just a little to prepared for anything to happen and kids feed into that energy and it becomes entirely beyond the teacher's control

Clown: OUMA BECOMES A PTA MOM AKSHJDHD The children are the next in line to be a part of his criminal organization so he needs to see them regularly, duh

[space-bee3s]

I’M WRITING A BOOK???

This House

By Tyler Bridges

What does it mean to be haunted? Can a home be haunted by a ghost who never had the common decency to die there? Or can this home- no, that's too familiar, too implicit of love.

Can this *house* be haunted by its own longing?

No one dies in this house. Plenty have lived in it. Though not for long. Divorced lovers who married too young, tenants of landlords who couldn't feed the pigs pockets, families who grew too old too soon, and moved to a sunny climate. Whatever the case, the house was never loved, owned or lived in.

I say this house wasn't a home, for to be a home it must be cared for. A means of not just shelter but connection. But for all the people who lived in it, stepped through its hallways and corridors, ate in it, slept in it, relieved themselves within it, not once has this house given people a “bond”.

This structure is a ruin in its own right. The legends and lore it once held, drifting away with the ghosts of joy, it never had the wherewithal to feel.

Within this house's anatomy, lay old possessions, holding the stories of past lovers and happy families, but nothing of substance to be considered enough to stand on the pedestal of sentimentality.

Old furniture, too old or heavy to be carried, dusty and scratched cups, so plain and basic as to be forgotten about even in the thrift store they were bought in, old vases, chipped and cracked right on the cusp of being unusable.

Just as the house has been long forgotten, the inanimate residence of its innards lay…just as unremembered in the cracks of their previous owners' minds, to be forgotten, just as the house has been.

The house stares out into its surroundings, not thinking of the other houses it cannot see.

It lacks the capability to wonder how the other houses don’t feel.

How the other houses don't feel loved.

How the other house’s don't feel cared for.

How the other houses are homes.

This house, if it could feel, would feel pain in knowing that it will likely never be a home. It would feel rejection at this fact, and in its heart, a lump would form. It would grow with such mass that the lump would prove too much for the houses old, old unheart. And that core, that proof of whatever monocom of love the house would have had, if any-

Would shatter.

The house creaks a long shuddering groan that to the paranoid ear would almost be considered a sigh.

This- complaint. A lonely depressing sigh echoes within itself and rings in the ears of no one in particular.

If this house were aware. If it could feel. It would feel guilt. The house would ask "am i enough. Do I drive others away" but the house isn't the problem. Afterall, how could it be?

The house is nothing more than a building. An old, rotting, lesion infected home. Decaying white walls that look more like the orange that comes from dust and dirt. Windows that stare out into its world through blurry, tired eyes. Or what would be eyes, if the house could see. And a porch of splintered wood. Banisters that are barely holding the jaws of the house open.

Though these aren't jaws. The house can't chew. It can't eat. But the house-

Is so hungry

AND IF YOU LIKED THAT LITTLE SNEAK PEAK !!!!!!

GET READY!!!!!!

BECAUSE WE (I) ARE SO CLOSE TO BEING DONE!!!

this is an entirely independent project i’ve been working on for a few months now! It’s mostly for fun but it’s gotten to the point where I’m sort of falling in love with it!

I hope this book comes out well and i hope yall enjoyed that little snippet!

[the1975attheirverybest]

I know its silly and been done before but could you write something short about Matty and the reader having an argument and she leaves his house and he is running after and trying to apologize

Not silly at all! Here’s a little something! Hope you like it :-)

——

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this, Matty. You’ve clearly been drinking.” She turned her back to him, walking out of the living room and into the kitchen to get a sip of water.

“Was at a party. Of course I’ve been drinkin.’ Why does that matter, though? What I’m sayin’ still stands!” He puffed his chest, clearly irritated. “Where’ve you gone. We’re havin’ a conversation, come back here.”

She took a sip out of her glass, feeling the water run down her throat and relieve the dryness she’d felt since this ridiculous argument started.

“Doesn’t feel like much of a conversation when you’re steam rolling me and raising your voice. Can we, just, do this later?”

“I don’t wanna do it later. I wanna do this now.” He stomped his foot dramatically.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re being petulant.”

“I am not. You just have nothin’ of substance to say and you know I’m right. Just admit it!”

“Matty-“

“Admit it! Go on! You know me, I’ll throw my hands up and say ‘I’m wrong; you’re right,’ if you can convince me that I’m actually wrong. I’m not without integrity. But, when I’m right, and you’ve got nothin’ else to say, I’d like the same respect paid to my perspective, as well. Is that such a fuckin’ crime? Hmm?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head repeatedly in shock. “What? What’re you even saying? Do you hear the words coming out of your mouth right now? That’s what I mean about steam rolling! Why’re you on about fuckin ‘integrity’ and ‘perspectives.’ That was a shitty thing you did. Just say you’re sorry, don’t make it a thing!”

“You’re not listening to me!” He ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the roots and sighing loudly. “Listen- let’s start from the beginning. When I said-“

“No! You’re the one whose not listening! I said I didn’t want to talk about it right now. Not while you’re tipsy and getting aggressive and in my face about it. You know what? Fuck this, I’m out of here.”

She dumped the rest of her glass in the sink, setting it down with a loud thud and walking out of the kitchen.

“Where the fuck are you goin’ now! We’re not finished discussing-“

Matty watched her grab her bag from the hanger by the door, unlock the gate, and sprint right out. Not paying him any attention.

“Babe, wait! It’s late! You can’t-“

The door slammed shut behind her, shutting him the hell up.

The echoes of the door closing died down quickly, complete silence descending on the room in an instant. It made him uncomfortable. There was a finality to it that felt forceful. Mostly because it forced him to replay the whole interaction in his admittedly hazy, unfocused mind.

He walked back into the living room, throwing himself down on the couch. He fished his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. 13 minutes past midnight. He’d driven her to his place earlier in the day, so he knew she didn’t have her car. Which meant she was probably walking out in the streets alone. In the pitch darkness. He went into his phone log and pulled up her name and contact info, his finger hovering over the “call” button.

“Oh for fucks sakes” he muttered to himself and sprung to his feet, grabbing his keys and rushing out the door to catch up to her.

“Baby! Please wait!! Hold onnnn” he jogged up the street once he’d spotted her.

The sound of his voice startled her. She turned around, stunned. “What the fuck, Matty! Go away.”

“No- wait- fuck!” He was starting to run out of breath. “Hold on. Don’t say shit like that, if someone sees us they’ll think I’m some creep trying to harass you on the street.” He bent forward to catch his breath, resting his hands on his knees.

“Baby, please, listen-“

“Matty, all I’ve been doing is listening. I said i wasn’t interested in your-“

He interrupted her with a finger on her lips. “Wait- let me just catch a - a breath. Fuckin hell.” He took a deep breath, his heart rate beginning to even out. “Okay, look, I’m sorry. You’re right. I was being a dick. It’s not right. Please, okay? You don’t wanna accept my apology right now, that’s okay. I’ll wait and tell you, again, how sorry I am, in the mornin’ once I’m sober. But- please don’t go. Don’t leave like this! And certainly don’t walk alone at night.”

He straightened his posture and extended his hand out to her. “Take my hand? Please? Walk back inside with me?”

She hesitated briefly, watching him with doubtful eyes. She could see, from the look on his face, that he was being genuine. Besides, Matty was never the type to simply apologize just to end an argument. If anything, he was the exact opposite. Sometimes stubbornly refusing to accept his mistake, unless one could prove to him, without a shadow of a doubt, that what he did or said was objectively wrong. She took his hand in hers, relenting to his pleas.

“Thank you! Yes, thank you!” He squealed and kissed her forehead, taking her under his arm protectively. “Never do that again! storm out at night. Scared me shitless, alright?”

She simply giggled and rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t get you out of apologizing in the morning.”

“No, I know. Just- hate thinking I sent you into danger by being an asshole…”

“You do realize you like in a pretty fancy neighborhood.”

“Even so! No walking alone in the dark. Ever!”

“Yes, sir.”

[karkkidoeswriting]

leaves, ghost, and rain for the October asks!

Thank you for the very fun questions!!

🍂 leaves: what does your editing process look like? how does your wip typically change as you work on it?

It looks like pure chaos :'D I have a bad habit of editing and rewriting before I'm done with drafting and it has let to me restarting BCC (my oldest wip) for too many times to count. I have so many half finished drafts. And it has changed a lot. My writing process in general is very chaotic. I tend to outline and draft at the same time because I can't write without any outline, but I can't fully outline without writing. So as I continue to outline while writing, the story changes and I start to edit the draft also at the same time :'D

👻 ghost: can you tease some wip ideas that have been haunting you/something you want to write in the future?

It's been a while since I had this idea, but it's been on the back-burner and it's very much vague vibes mostly. But the pitch in the shortest form is: assassin nuns. The setting I had in mind was post-apocalyptic ancient Mediterranean, especially ancient Eqypt, inspired world, with some futuristic solar punk elements. The nuns are retired from being assassins (they were like assassins for the theocratic religious order) and are trying to atone for their past by helping people. And it would be kind of an anthology, or episodic in structure, with each part telling the story of one nun.

🌧️ rain: share a sad or emotional scene from your wip!

I will put this under the cut, it's fairly long. I've shared a small part of this in a last line tag game :D

Faerathos knocked the door and waited for a moment before entering, dreading what he might find. He was not sure what exactly he had expected but he was relieved to see Marcus relatively intact, sitting against a wall, wrapping a cigarette. His hands were shaking too much. He cursed under his breath as tobacco leaves fell out of the paper.

“Allow me”, Faerathos said quietly and squatted before him.

He didn’t protest as Faerathos took them out of his hands. He just turned his face away and wiped it on his sleeve. After Faerathos gave back the now wrapped cigarette, he took the gas lamp from the dresser and offered its burning heart for lighting. Fingers shaking Marcus placed the cigarette on his lips and leaned to the burning lamp heart. There were heavier shadows than usual under his red and puffy eyes. A little knot twisted in Faerathos’ insides. Marcus took a first breath from the cigarette and leaned on his knees.

“I didn’t have the pipe with me…” he muttered as if it needed some explanation.

Faerathos shifted uncomfortably. He was not sure if he should get up or sit down.

“Are you… okay?” What a stupid question. Of course he was not okay. He was a mess. “We were getting a bit worried since it’s been two hours.”

It somehow felt a little wrong to see Marcus like this. It didn’t feel the same as the many times he had cried in front of Marcus. Marcus was his uncle. Or stepfather by his own logic. He suppressed the amused chuckle. He wasn't supposed to see this.

Marcus turned his face away again. His lips trembled before he took another puff of tobacco. “No need to worry…” he said, voice coarse.

It was not very convincing.

After a silence, he rubbed his face with his palm. “I was not expecting that after fourteen years I would miss him this much”, he muttered. “It feels like I can’t live without him. But I have. For fourteen years.” A strain in his voice stretched until it broke. His hands were shaking again as he placed the cigarette on his lips.

Faerathos understood then. It had seemed like he hadn’t grieved for dad like someone who was his lover - not just a lover, the love of his life - because he hadn’t done that. He wasn’t afforded that, not even the acknowledgement of his grief. There was a heavy weight on Faerathos' chest as he took a deep breath.

“I truly am so sorry for your loss”, he said quietly.

Marcus raised his wet eye to Faerathos for the first time, but quickly turned away again and wiped his cheeks. “Why – I don’t – He was your father.”

“He was yours to lose too.”

Marcus covered his face and didn't answer. His shoulders trembled. He was sobbing quietly. Faerathos couldn't swallow the lump in his throat. He wanted to hug Marcus, but repressed the urge. Marcus wouldn't like it. Instead he leaned forward and placed his forehead on Marcus’ shoulder. A wave of grief for Marcus and for himself washed over him. Marcus sighted and wrapped his arms around Faerathos. His body shook with each sob. Slowly his sobs died down. He let go of Faerathos and wiped his face before smoking his almost done cigarette. Faerathos wiped his eyes too.

Great. Now he was also crying.

Once Marcus was done with his cigarette, he slowly got up, leaning on the wall. “Sorry…” he muttered as he placed his eyepatch back on his cut eye.

Faerathos shook his head, not really finding words anymore.

Marcus turned to look at him and made a weary chuckle. “You’re a good kid.”

“I’m neither”, Faerathos said, amused.

“You are.” He turned to look away. “To me, you are.”

A weight, Faerathos had forgot after so long, lifted from his chest. He tried to fight back tears, but they were already flowing down his cheeks. He wiped them quickly.

“You remind me of him more every day. He was quite like you at your age.” The corners of his lips curved to a small smile. “Though a little less messed up.”

As he looked at Faerathos again, there was something unusually soft and warm in his piercing gaze.

“Thanks a lot…” Faerathos said dryly and chuckled as he wiped his eyes.

"Only a little though."

[bettimbellis]

A Collage (of Yelling)

I saw someone do something like this to advertise their fic- they linked the fic, and then put in a little collage of various comment snippets. I can’t find the post to show off- someone please do let me know if you’ve seen that, I want to credit them. 

Either way, my Hollow Knight post-Black-Egg-Temple fic (linked here) has 209 comment threads on it. I’ve gone through and found some bits. These bits were mostly chosen for entertainment/intrigue value out of context- a lot of my favorite comments didn’t get in. 

Got some good reviews there, I think. Anyone wanna see the collection I have of Discord screenshots from folks yelling at me about this fic?  (Seriously though, thank all of y’all who comment, yell in the tags, whatever- I love it. Really helps keep the writing muse going, too.)

Image descriptions below the cut. 

[Image ID: a collection of bits of text placed on a light green background, in several groups. Text is as follows. 

Excuse me who gave you the right to hit me with this line at seven in the morning”, with an arrow pointing to the left. also it feels like there are many things to be concerned about lmao  God, Hollow is such a poor baby. A lanky wet cat left in the rain. Hollow, that feeling is love, dear, no need to feel so confused about it. Hornet, my sad dumb little spider baby, go to bed. in summary holy shit this is fucked sounds like stressTM can these characters stop being so relatable good Lird *smacks my face* Hornet. Hornet. the fuck HOLY FUCKING SHIT [all caps] It was so soft!!!! And then it became *so goddamn angsty-* *squints harder*  Wet rag is my new favorite character. *thunks my head on a wall* Gosh darn it Oro course you had to have integrity But also OW MY HEART?! SHATTERED?1 POOR BABY HOLLOW IM GONNA CRY Gosh dang. The last chapter was a little lighter, but apparently you were just holding back for this one.  (Chp. 3) I stg this whole chapter made my emotions whip back and forth between “awww :)” and “awwh :(” and “oh. Oh no baby do not think like that”.  Augh. just, augh. / ...except that bit at the end. ...except that last sentence, ‘cause, yeah. / *hides face in hands* this has been exhausting for everyone, apparently. Hollow knight or: when you are so touch starved that your standards for touch that you want are somewhere in the abyss that has spawned you.  Whatever the FUCK happened in the last section is Oh Lord Oh God What The Heeeeeellll Ohhhh My Goood No Waaayyyy... Will be waiting for the next chapter STARING at ao3...

i was so relieved to read this that i accidentally put my phone in airplane mode trying to respond “it is startled out of its pleasant memory-” pLEASANT???? PLEASANT!?! Hollow no. HOLLOW NO- / why does this for some reason almost feel like fluff.  My urge to keysmash at you is strong Just. God. Everything about this is so fucked in so many ways.

Something about this line just makes me want to. Maybe stab the king in the chest. Repeatedly. And then throw them off a bridge. Idk Actually many things about this chapter make me want to stab the king in the chest repeatedly and then throw them off a bridge. Because *holy shit* Hollow, honey, you have so much trauma. OMG ghost, what have you done [stressed emoji] Okay then. Well. Um. That’s a lot to happen.  God it’s such a mess Ah yes, the eldritch nonsense trying to approximate a living creature, my beloved PK you ass. PK you absolute ASS get over here I wanna hit you with something heavy-  oh / im immediately punched in the face okay thank you for that Right off the bat I am mildly excited about this chapter solely because you played with text formatting and that makes my serotonin levels rise. I don’t know why but thank you for that.  CONFUSION SOUP I’M FHDHDJFKFKGH I wanna join the cuddle pile :<<< let me in [holding Hollow gently in both hands] / I will get you all the fresh-dirt-scented soap Fucking superb you funky little vessels. Oh boy! Spiraling!

Oh this chapter hurts ‘specially bad. Because it wasn’t enough to be possessed and neglected and quite literally tortured and driven insane, now we gotta have more medical issues and amnesia-  I fuckign cried at this one, oh my god. Pain is always a tearjerker, but it’s nothing compared to someone who’s been in pain so long finally getting that first big moment of *realizing they’re wanted* and *heard* and *healing*  And I gotta say, (this is gonna sound bad) I really do love Hollow’s victim blaming. Or how it’s written. I love how you write characters in pain <333 “Oh, just a quick chapter to read before bed,” I thought to myself. “I will enjoy it and feel a normal and manageable level of emotions about it.” / ...Thanks for making me all teary in the wee hours, now I’ll never get to sleep! (...I mean this as praise.) Oh. Oh Hollow. So wrapped up in the need to be useful. So incapable still of seeing that their own gut-wrenching familial love might be returned in kind, whether they have some designated purpose for their existence or not.  Yeah. Relieved. / Oh, Hollow... You have already left kudos here :) [three times] / Have I ever been told the definition of insanity?  honestly the body horror was the /least/ disturbing thing in this chapter. not to say! that it was not disturbing - even then, less the horror and more the. context. i want to punch TPK. into a lake. that is on fire.

First comment of my first reread, and MAN. This opening hits just as hard the second time.  Keep in mind Hollow Knight was made by Australian people Hollow 100% deserves a nice date at the palace if they so wish. anyway, I feel very emo about Hollow, all the time.  HOLLOW IS LETTING THEMSELVES HAVE WILL, LET’S GOOOOOO Ghost is doing Fine:tm:, Hornet is doing Fine:tm:, Hollow is *actually* doing pretty well Good news! Hollow is an emotional wreck!  Hornet is doing sooo normal right now (lying).

TLDR; amazing story, glorious update, poor Grimm, I Am Desperate For Shield Lore, someone please tell Ghost it isn’t their fault, the entire gaggle of siblings needs a group hug, I Am Going To Put The Pale King’s Corpse Through A Shredder, and Hornet needs another good cry. 

anyways fuck you for writing this keep it up

[theevilmaninyourcomputer]

Goooood morning everyone, unfortunately, it's that time again. What time, you ask? Well, as you may or may not know I find blogging on my phone much easier than sitting down with a computer, so when I have to write a book report, I draft something up on the ol' tumblr alt (and I shave HOURS off of what would be a day long process, because I am a ridiculously slow writer). This paper is due in a week, so in the interest of getting it done before the 11th hour, I'll be posting it here for the whole world (5 people) to see. It's funny, everytime I do this I'm struck by how short the post looks. Doing this helps me overcome the creative roadblock that is MLA formatting. Okay, fuck, *cracking all my bones*-let's a-go.

In Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston tackles intersectionality. Janie struggles to exist as a free-spirited, independent black woman, fighting against the stringent societal expectations of the Jim Crow South. Men police her appearance, dictating how she is allowed to present herself-when she can speak, what she can say. Janie's intelligence is undermined, and she is treated like an incompetent object by every man in her life. Her first two husbands, for example, refuse to acknowledge her as an equal. Joe "Jody" Starks, Janie's second partner, constantly puts Janie down, "he wanted her submission and he'd keep on fighting until he felt he had it" (Hurston 71). Janie assumes the roll of the quiet, devoted wife, but she silently resents Jody. When he dies of kidney failure, she runs off with a 20-something boy named "Tea Cake." While Tea Cake does legitimately respect her, there's still an unbalanced power dynamic in their relationship. When Tea Cake grows jealous of another man, "He whip(s) Janie. Not because her behavior justified his jealousy, but it relieved that awful fear inside of him. Being able to whip her reassured him of his posession" (Hurston 17). Tea Cake does feel that, on some level, he owns Janie, albeit less than Jody.

This brings me to my next point (it doesn't, but there's no way for me to naturally transition into talking about this), which is the thematic importance of Janie's hair. Janie's primary struggle is one of freedom-financial freedom, sexual liberation; freedom to live on her terms, go where she pleases, wear what she wants. Janie's hair is her most striking, beautiful feature. It's symbolic of her autonomy, and a means of self-expression . As Janie ages, she is (as so many women are) waved off as an old biddy, undesirable, like a carton of milk past its expiration date. People are appalled when she continues to behave like a young woman, when she doesn't immediately tie her hair up and trade her overalls for a mumu (or whatever the early 20th century equivalent to a granny dress is). Janie is unconventional, in the sense that she does not 'act her age.'

I referenced the theme of 'sexual liberation,' (which is arguably one of the most important themes of the novel, although it's mostly subtextual), often when Janie speaks of "marriage" she is referring to, I believe, marital relations. This is intruiging, and adds another layer of complexity to an already rich story. Sexual liberation, as it pertains to women's rights, is directly relevent to the subject matter in TEWWG. It's heavily stigmatised, yet simultaneously such a pure, adolescent thing to desire. Janie spends the latter half of the novel as a middle aged women, making up for her lost youth with Tea Cake. When she finally does, you know, pollinate his flower, it isn't framed as being sinful or wrong, as her grandmother led her to believe. This brings the story full circle, in a sense. TEWWG begins with Janie, "getting her womanhood" and being thrust, unwillingly, into the adult world at the ripe old age of 17. After years of repressing her sexual desire, it is ultimately very empowering for her to, not just take part in, but initiate the sexual act. Especially considering the horrible circumstances under which she was concieved. When she has intercourse with Tea Cake, it's beautiful. Tea Cake is springtime, he is the peach tree, and the bees. At long last, Janie really does have her womanhood about her, and in the end-it isn't so bad.

Ugh my head hurts.

[outlustings]

pregnant Reader where she and the Walrider are nesting while Miles is just as nervous but handles the situation and them (mostly the former) pretty well.

(do i know what the fuck i'm doing when i'm writing the walrider? no. am i going to just slap this here because i thought it was cute? yeh.

also lmk if i got this prompt wrong, my reading comprehension level rn is a solid negative five. uni has been kicking my ass ever since the holidays ended lol.)

×

To say that Miles feels nervous about the baby at first is an understatement.

While you both escaped Mt. Massive somewhat alive, Miles is host to the Walrider, and that is a wild and dangerous little occupation. Especially when you're being hunted by Murkoff and have to rely on the Walrider's strength to even stay alive, in his case.

You reached Miles' house after a few days of driving. You alerted the neighbor's dogs, but other than that, you slipped in pretty much unnoticed. At least Miles hoped no one noticed.

You're very far along, over eight months pregnant and living basically a squatter's life, living off of grocery deliveries and Chinese takeout with Miles and some swarm of nanites - Miles is actually fucking terrified for your life.

His leg is fucked. Even if the Walrider is making him feel little to no pain, his shin still juts out at an angle that makes his very human stomach churn.

But you seem to be fine. You keep humming to yourself, folding up old towels and rearranging the pantry as the swarm whirls about your arms and waist. It seems to be curious. It knows you're doing something, and it knows you're with child. So it watches, whirring around you, looking over your shoulder as you rearrange Miles' bathroom cabinet for the fifth time that day.

Sometimes the swarm reaches down, materialises into a pair of strong, masculine arms that cup the bottom of your heavy belly, lifting it slightly, very slightly up, stroking the tender, stretched skin as you sigh and lean into the invisible mass behind you. You can almost hear something that sounds like a purr. Or a growl. Something behind you embraces you as you let it lift up your burden, just for a while as it cradles the child inside you. Sweetly.

Miles thinks it's fucking weird but he doesn't dare to speak up. Not when he can see your face spread into a genuine, relieved smile.

The swarm fetches you stuff. You and Miles wonder why, but it does. Maybe it senses that Miles doesn't want to leave the bed and you can't really bend down. It tries to help, is your best guess.

Things go missing. It drives you insane. It hides chemicals from you so you'd stop your incessant scrubbing of Miles' old bathtub. You found the chlorine behind the armchair once.

As the days go by, Miles doesn't even bother to be in awe of the kind of symbiotic relationship you have with the Walrider. It's both inside of him and inside of you at the same time. Everywhere and nowhere. He just sleeps most days, appreciates you changing his bandages, gives your hand a gentle kiss as the swarm whirls around your legs like an obnoxiously curious puppy.

He slowly gains his old sarcastic self back. He doesn't feel as burdened. He has to look after you.

Weeks tick by and you're just itching to give birth. Just be done with it. Hold your child as the Walrider holds you - feel the swarm welcome your child and protect it. It drove you insane. An animalistic need to protect and guard your little one and its new home. Protect your little fucked up family.

You make a little bed. Not a real bed, it was just a pile of blankets and towels molded into a little cushion with a shallow dip in the center. But you look at it with tears in your eyes and the swarm engulfs you in unnatural heat as you feel yourself lift a couple of inches off the ground as the force squeezes you and cradles you. You wish you could hear its little words of consolation. Maybe you do. The hum inside your brain grows louder every day, and you don't really mind it.

You're just glad to have it. Feel it.

Miles is a bit worried. You'd have to go to a hospital to give birth, right?

×

"Well, what if we get like one of those home birth midwives or something off of Craigslist?" you said and stabbed another piece of lukewarm bok choy with a plastic fork, the styrofoam container screeching in protest as you straightened your legs on the bed, leaning back against the headboard.

Miles shook his head, black eyes glinting in the dim light of the bedroom. He didn't like light these days. Not anymore.

"No way," he gave a weak sigh, "I'm not letting some nut inside my house. No way."

You furrowed your brows, adjusting yourself on your cushions as the invisible weight of the Walrider settled gently on your shoulders. Watching.

"They're not nuts - I mean. Not all of them, right?" you chewed on the white plastic spikes, little pangs of worry soothed by the weight on your upper back that moved down in little whirlpools, massaging you, "And you don't want me to go to a hospital, right?" you huff.

"I'm not scrubbing off the afterbirth in the tub, love."

"So that's your reason?"

"I don't want Murkoff to find you."

"I know, but - Miles, really, do you think they'd be there?"

"Yes!" Miles grunted and rolled over to his side to take a better look, wincing, clutching his ribs before stilling, "They're everywhere."

"But we have..." you gestured towards the air in the room. The presence. Miles sighed, reaching up and settling his palm on your thigh. Cold. Clammy.

"I know, but... I don't know. I don't think it's a good idea to leave. Listen, maybe the midwife is a good idea. If it makes you feel safer."

You nodded slowly, feeling Miles' thumb rub your skin in tender little circles as the Walrider sagged its weight on you, filling your ears with a pleasant buzz.

"D'you think they'd accept cash?" you bit your lip to stifle a giggle as you gestured towards the nightstand, which held the contents of Miles Upshur's drained bank account. He gave a weak chuckle.

"Maybe. We also need a kiddie pool, I'm not scrubbing the tub after the little thing pops out."

"Little thing," you repeated with a grin, "Maybe the Big Guy -..." you nudged your head back against the presence behind you, and it seemed to stir with anticipation, "... - could steal the kiddie pool from the neighbor. I saw it on the lawn once."

"Hell no," Miles frowned, "We're not stealing her pool, she's always been so nice. Hasn't even called the cops."

You laughed.

"Alright then, loverboy, looks like you're going to be on your knees scrubbing away," you tossed the styrofoam container to the side and heard a soft rustle as the Walrider caught it mid-flight and settled it on top of the dresser.

Miles flashed you a wide grin, the harsh, abyss-like black of his sclerae melting into little wrinkles, laugh lines, as he chuckled and reached up to grip your waist. Darkness swirling around his limbs.

"Come here," he smirked, tugging on your stretchy shirt as you scooted closer to him with a giggle as he wrestled you into his lap, his hands caressing your bump as you sighed contentedly, feeling the buzz enclose you in a tight embrace.

[frankiekatt]

Wowy hii, saw that you're writing for slasher, so here I am!

Can I plz have some hcs about any slashers with s/o, but their s/o is a literal gremlin, like they're not serious at all, always joking and annoying people around, but sometimes might be quite soft and quiet.

Thank you and have a nice day! ❤️

This was fun to write lmao

Warnings: Sexual harassment, NSFW, murder, blood, canabilism

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Billy Lenz, Stu Macher, Michal Myers

Slashers With An S/O That Never Takes Anything Seriously:

Thomas Hewitt:

Thomas is a little overwhelmed by your personality at first.

He’s a quiet and reserved man who’s never had any kind of friends, so goofiness and jokes can make him feel uneasy at first.

But!! He gets used to everything very quickly!!!

Thomas loves everything about you and he finds you to be incredibly charming.

He can get a little anxious when he sees you annoying Hoyt because he doesn’t want his uncle to do anything bad to you in irritation/retaliation.

Your jokes are always a stress reliever for him, since he spends most of his days in a dark basement, surrounded by blood and gore. Your humor just shines a little bit of light on his day, and he loves you for that!

While Luda Mae and Hoyt might not like the fact that you never take anything seriously, Thomas finds it relieving. At the beginning of your relationship, Thomas was terrified of losing you because he thought you would be terrified of all screams, murder, and cannabilism, but he was pleasantly surprised to see that you didn’t pay much mind to it.

Thomas’ family mostly saw you as a clown, but Thomas could only ever look at you as the brightest ray of sunshine that has ever graced his life.

After all, he was the only one that saw your softer side.

Your soft and quiet side mostly shone through during the evening. Something about the sunset and cicada chirping calmed your heart.

You would often take Thomas by the hand and lead him outside to sit on the front porch with you, so the two of you could cuddle and watch the sunset together.

Thomas was always so used to your voice, because you loved to talk about anything and everything, so your temporary quiet nature was new, yet comforting.

During these moments, there didn’t need to be any talking between the two of you. You deep emotional bond allowed you both to communicate through actions.

You would lay your head on Thomas shoulder, stroking his chest, and Thomas would wrap his big arms around your smaller frame, resting his masked cheek against the top of your head.

This was Thomas’ way of saying, “I love you, you’re the best thing in my life,” and your way of saying “I could never live without you.”

Bo Sinclair:

:|

You’re gonna annoy the fuck out of this boy

Sometimes you both wonder how the two of you even got together, but the nights you and Bo spent pleasuring each other, going round after round, reminded you both how. (Your both just sexy okay its that simple)

Bo was a serious guy, so he was a little miffed that he was always the one having to take the lead in everything since you just couldn’t stop making a joke out of everything.

Sometimes you would actually make him really irritated due to your tendency to irk people endlessly, so he would have to step away to cool off and blow off some steam.

Sometimes he would yell at you in anger, which always made him feel like shit after, so he tended to stalk off to his shop to calm down before speaking to you.

You would have to go see him a couple hours later to wrap your arms around him from behind and shyly apologize to him.

He favored these moments the most.

Your voice quieter than usual, focusing on just him, touching him gently.

He would always accept your apologies, of course, and would let you know by kissing your lips softly.

Bo liked to take advantage of your softer side by lifting you up by your waist and setting you on the hood of whatever car he had been working on and kissing down your neck.

As revenge, Bo liked to draw out his teasing as long as possible. Kissing down your neck, chest, stomach, massaging your pussy through your skirt, palming your breast roughly.

It gets to a point where you just have to tell him, “Bo, I need you to fuck me.”

And he would oblige.

He would take you right then and there, on the hood of the car.

The metal beneath you was always shockingly cold, making you shiver against Bo’s chest.

“You cold, Darlin,” Bo would ask teasingly as he pulled your panties off. “Don’t worry, I’ll warm you right up.”

He would spend hours licking your pretty pink pussy if he could. He licks and sucks and kisses your most intimate part until you're shaking and crying above him, begging him to fuck you sensless.

After he’s satisfied with your helplessness, he’ll lean back up and ram himself inside of you. There have been many nights where he has taken you gently and slowly in his garage, holding your hand with every thrust, kissing your sweet lips to quiet your whimpers, but tonight was different. There was a primal need shared between you two. Bo wanted to let his frustrations on through loving you, and you wanted to be taken hard and fast.

When the two of you are done, you lounge around inside the car to catch your breath, holding hands. Everything seems so perfect.

Until-

“Hey, Bo? What did the toaster say to the slice of bread?”

“.....”

“I want you inside me! Eh ha ha..”

:////

Lester Sinclair:

!!!!!

You like constantly joking and never taking things seriously? He does too!!

Lester would find you absolutely hilarious. Every joke you cracked would have him doubling over in laughter. Which would make you double over in laughter. Which would make Lester laugh harder, because now you both have the giggles and both of your laughs are just too infectious.

Everytime the two of you would go to Ambrose to visit his brothers, you guys would annoy the hell out of Bo and Vincent. Bo just wants to be left alone to work in his shop but instead he’s stuck listening to you tell a 40 minutes story about how you burnt dinner last night.

And Vincent just wants to be left alone to paint and sculpt but instead he’s here listening to Lester crack jokes that are a.) not funny and b.) don’t make any sense. -_-

Your and Lester’s trailer is always filled with so much love and laughter and the two of you could not be any happier.

You both have your own soft and quiet moments that hit at random times.

Sometimes it happens when the two of you are play fighting in the living room, howling with laughter. You both fall to the floor, wrestling and giggling until the both of you run out of breath and just gaze at each other as you lay on the carpet.

“You look so cute,” he giggles.

“No, YOU look so cute!”

“W-well!!! I love you!!”

“Uhm...well...I love you MORE.”

And it just turns into an argument about who adores the other more.

Billy Lenz (1974):

The perfect couple.

Literally.

The two of you are always joking around, cackling and goofing about every little thing.

Billy has finally found his soulmate and he could not be happier.

He two of you prank the sorority girls together, making sex sounds in unison to sound even more vulgar.

Everytime you crack a joke, you get worried Billy is joking because of how hard he’s laughing.

“Umm Billy you okay? It wasn’t even that funny.”

“HA haha...piggy makes me laugh...Billy loves your jokes.”

Needless to say, your relationship is filled with smiles, laughter, and praise.

Billy will tell you you’re the funniest person he’s ever met and he wants to keep you forever.

You tell Billy you love how much he laughs at your antics and that you can’t live without him.

It’s impossible to annoy Billy. It’s just not feasible.

Any time you try, he’ll just giggle and pat your head, telling you you’re his ‘favorite piggy ever.’

He LOVES when you annoy the sorority girls thoug!

Hearing you moan and squeal and speak so sexily vulgarly to Barb and Jess makes Billy so proud. And horny.

Almost all of your sexual encounters are filled with complete silliness.

Sometimes, however, the joking and cackling subside. The two of you will just be chilling, nothing else to do, and you just feel the need to profess your love for your boyfriend.

“I love you so much Billy.”

Billy will look startled at your sudden outburst, before he breaks out in a huge grin, launching across the room to tackle you into a hug.

“Billy loves you too! Billy loves you more than anything!!!”

Now the rest of your day will be spent in Billy’s arms, whispering sweet nothings to each other.

Stu Macher:

Match made in Heaven!

Stu loves to joke around.

He hardly ever takes anything seriously.

He annoys everyone.

And once he meets you? It's love at first sight.

The two of you are always in detention because you guys just cannot shut up in class. You are always disrupting something.

But you know what that means!

Detention dates <3

As long as the two of you together, Stu couldn't care less about where he was.

He and Billy appreciate your habit of not taking anything seriously because once the murders start occuring, you don't think too much about it, never asking questions or arousing suspicion around your boyfriend and his bestie.

When Billy had told Stu his plan to kill Sydney, and asked him if he was going to kill you as well, Stu’s heart sank.

He remembers when he was dating Tatum, just a few months ago, before he broke up with her for you, he had no qualms about killing her,

But you?

He loved you. You were his other half. The one person who understood him, who accepted him. He could never hurt you.

“Nah dude. I’m leaving her out of this.”

That night, he sneaks through your bedroom window to see you.

“Stu! (where the hell have you been loca) What’re you doing here?”

The sparkling smile you flash at him and the love swimming in your big, beautiful eyes makes him feel even guitler.

He feels bad that you’re dating a serial killer. He thinks you deserve better, but he would never let you go.

“Hey babe! I just missed you!”

You rushed over to him, dressed in kitty cat pajamas, and hugged him tight. He had only snuck through your bedroom window a couple of times before, and they had all been planned. Seeing him in your room as a surprise made your heart burst with happiness.

Stu led you to your bed and pulled you up onto his chest to cuddle you. It was late, and the both of you were tired. Stu just wanted to lay with you in silence, appreciating your presence.

You didn’t feel like releasing your usual high energy at the moment. Right now, you just wanted to fall asleep on your boyfriend’s chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

Michael Myers:

Girl

Michael does not appreciate your antics.

Annoying him is easy, but you would never know that.

He keeps his emotions very private, so when he is annoyed he’ll just stalk away from you.

He does not think you’re funny :(

He does enjoy your quiet moments. He likes to come home when your energy is low.

He’s usually covered in blood when this happens, so you clean him up without cracking a joke which he appreciates.

You’ll turn on a movie for the both of you, and Michael lets you cuddle up with him.

He does like you, he just doesn’t want you to know that...

[summercurial]

extremely long emotional bullshit under the cut. woops

i used to get really bent out of shape about how i have depression but im not like....nothing *happened* to me! i mean, my childhood wasnt amazing or anything, i was lonely and angry, but its not like i was like...traumatized, yknow? and that felt like it made it worse, like i didnt have...an excuse? idk. like it was just me sucking in some sort of inherent way, that because id never been broken i couldnt be "healed", yknow? i could be...improved, but thats a different act! fixing a broken feature and adding a new one are fundamentally different acts

anyway i mostly got over that by 1) acknowledging that even tho my parents were by no means abusive, their specific neuroticism scarred me in ways that are like, real and significant (when i noticed myself flinching when i heard yelled voices from another room, when i realized that i grew up with this terror of my mom exploding because even though 95% of the time she was way nicer than most moms, her outbursts were totally random so i couldnt predict them so i was always scared of them, i felt...relieved! like...oh, something i can point to, some cause!) and 2) recognizing that i probably have genetic/natal/developmental predispositions to depression and anxiety, it doesnt need to be "caused" by anything thats psychoanalytic bullshit, my brain can jsut be...built wrong, and probably is, and thats probably the truth and i sort of have to deal with that. anyway

so my point is that i got over the need to have a cause for depression and stuff but my recent uh...development? acknowledgement? of my weird sex leanings, i mean i was always a sub but it wasnt really real til the past couple years yknow? and the stuff i used to watch/read was like, idk less real? less grounded? yknow, silly abstract fantasy dungeon stuff. cuz i hadnt done much stuff irl, yknow. anyway so now i have this urge to have a cause for that. especially cuz im reading serious weakness, and its like...everybodys got all these causes yknow, its part of a coherent character, you ask "why are they this way" but like why am i this way, idk! im... i mean i guess these days i have some cause to point to. the consent violation, and the longer list of boundary violation. but idk, thats a bummer of a reason cuz i sort of did that to myself. i mean like it wasnt my fault, or whatever, theres a moral responsibility, to not hurt people, but i did yknow. i got myself into stupid risky situations, repeatedly, and then the result of getting yourself into stupid risky situations, as a person who has trouble saying no when something unpleasant is done to you, happened.

so idk, i have Trauma or whatever now, but its trauma i indirectly caused, so like. that sucks

fuck writing this post made me really emotional. or like, i dont really feel emotional but i can feel myself tearing up. man i gotta finish serious weakness, get this out of my system. i dont go to therapy anymore. so. i guess thats why im posting this

ANYWAY uh. i think thats part of why i like "pain sluts are natures candy" so much, the idea of being valued for being the weird messed up thing i sort of turned myself into

[moon-light-jukebox]

Don’t Go - [Reid x Reader]

masterlist

Summary: After being tortured by Tobias Hankel, Dr. Spencer Reid is struggling and everyone can see it. Reader can’t bear his pain and tries to comfort him...only to be heartbroken when he says their night meant nothing.  

Pairing: Spencer Reid / Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 10.6k

Genre: Angst. Angst. Angst. But fluff at the end cause I’m not a monster. 

Content Warning: Talk of drug use, language, penetrative sex, oral sex (female receiving), and just angst. All the angst. Get tissue. 

A/n: This is set over the arc of episodes  2x16 - 2x18. A special thank you to @imjusthereformggcontent and @catsadams for reading through the beginning of this in its first form. You’re both angels.  I hope this is everything y’all wanted it to be, my doves. Thank you for sticking with me. 

Request prompt: Can you write a fic where Spencer is high on dilaudid and tells you that your night together was nothing and that you're nothing to him. Then the next day he can't rember telling you and and he can't figure out why you are avoiding him.

-- Don’t Go -- 

The first indication I got that today wasn’t going to be normal came when Special Agent Grant Anderson shuffled into my office just after 9:30 am. He didn’t knock before he entered and then shut the door quickly behind him.

I glanced up from the paperwork in front of me, my eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Something on your mind, Special Agent?” I teased.

Ever since Anderson made a mistake that led to SSA Elle Greenaway being shot a few months ago, a lot of people on this floor had been giving him the cold shoulder, despite the fact that Greenaway had forgiven him before she left the BAU.

When I first joined the bureau and was assigned to this unit, Anderson had been my first friend. He was there for me when I felt nervous and like I was a complete imposter. He’s the reason I was still a member of this team; I’d never turn my back on him.

“Something’s up with Reid.”

I propped both of my elbows on the desk, my chin resting on my folded hands. “Well, he was just abducted and tortured. That’s gonna have an effect on someone.”

Anderson was already shaking his head before I got done speaking. “This is different. I just tried to talk to him while he was getting some coffee. I asked him about David Tennant taking over as The Doctor and he…he snapped at me, y/l/n.”

Okay, that’s odd. “Maybe he just didn’t feel like talking,” I defended. “He was tortured, Grant.”

“I’ve known him since I started here. He’s…something is wrong.”

I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. “It can’t be anything too bad. I mean, he’s surrounded by profilers. His mentor is Jason Gideon for god’s sake. If something was wrong, they’d know.”

Anderson walked forward and braced his palms on my desk, his eyes boring into mine.

“Dr. Spencer Reid is also one of the best profilers in the world. I’m telling you, y/n, something is wrong.”

I conceded with a sigh. “What do we do?”

“I think you should talk to him.”

My spine stiffened. “Me? Why?” But I knew why.

Anderson scoffed. “You know how he looks at you. And I know how you look at him.”

Dr. Spencer Reid’s nervousness around me could have been blamed on many things, Anderson insisted it meant he liked me. I wasn’t convinced…because I saw how he looked at JJ.

How I looked at Reid was obvious. He was the most brilliant man I had ever met, he was kind, sweet, and his eyes sparkled when he talked about something he loved. My heart fluttered when he realized he was rambling and he blushed, and my day was made whenever he would seek me out to talk to me.

I had a crush on Spencer Reid.

“Alright,” I said. “I’ll talk to him.”

He shot me a relieved smile and backed away from the desk. “Sooner than later, please.”

Such a sassy bitch, I thought as he shut the door.

--

It was well after 6 pm when I gathered my things to leave the office that day. I had been hired as one of the many, many agents that worked under JJ. Media liaison wasn't her only role; she also fielded hundreds of requests for FBI assistance every week. It was my job to go through those requests, make initial judgments, and then send out responses.

I had always been happier working behind the scenes, so a job filled with paperwork suited me just fine. All I wanted to do was help catch bad guys, and with the BAU I felt like I was making a difference.

Speaking to Reid had been on my mind all day, but I had expected that I'd have the night to think up a plan of attack then talk to him first thing in the morning, but when I walked past the bullpen I saw him at his desk.

The entire floor appeared to be empty apart from him. His shoulders were hunched, his head resting in his hands.

I was opening the doors before I realized what was happening. I had crossed the distance until I was standing in front of him before I even knew what I was going to say.

“Reid,” I said softly. I almost touched him, but I didn’t think he’d like that. He didn’t seem to like to be touched.

His head snapped up; the circles under his eyes were darker than normal, his hair was messier than usual, and his clothing was in disarray. He cleared his throat, his tongue running over his dry lips.

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.

"I can't imagine what you're going through," I began, standing at the end of his desk. "I don't even know how to begin to think about it. So, I won't ask you to talk about it. I won't ask you to talk at all. I just…I just want you to know that I'm here if you just want a friend. If you want to grab some coffee and talk about nothing…whatever."

Those warm brown eyes were duller than I’d ever seen them, but they ran over my entire body quizzically, like he wasn’t sure I was even there.

After a beat, I decided it was best to leave him to it. I couldn't force him to accept my offer…not that I would force him even if I could. "Goodnight, Reid."

I turned and made my way back to the double glass doors of the bullpen. I hadn’t heard him move, so I was completely thrown off guard when his hand wrapped around my wrist. My eyes looked up to meet his, confusion plain on my face.

His eyes weren't dull anymore, they were shimmering but not in any way I ever wanted to see. He swiped at his cheek angrily when the first tear fell. "Don't go," he rasped.

I won’t.  

--

We didn’t speak as we took the elevator down to the lobby. It was only when we reached the front doors of the building that I spoke. “Where do you want to go?”

He scratched at his forearm, his eyes moving over the room behind us like he was expecting someone to run out from any direction. I wasn't a profiler, but I recognized hypervigilance when I saw it.

“I don’t know. Not here.”

I nodded. “Alright. Do you want to go…get food? Coffee?” He shook his head, his hands now picking at the threads of the cardigan he wore. “We could go for a walk?”

“I…” He cleared his throat, his eyes rising to meet mine. “I don’t want to be around a lot of people right now.”

“Okay, we can-“

“But,” he interrupted. “I…I’m afraid to be alone, y/n. I’m…I’m so fucking afraid.”

I reached for him only to still my hand at the last second, millimeters away from touching him. “I won’t leave you alone, Reid.” My teeth dug into my lower lip as I thought. “We could go to your apartment. Or mine.” I quickly added when I saw how his eyes widened at the mention of his place.

“I…I don’t want to go home.” He licked his lips again, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Then you don’t have to go home right now. We’ll go to my place. We can order dinner, watch a movie, or we can do nothing. It’s up to you.”

The look of relief on his face, combined with the smile he sent me warmed up a part of my heart I didn’t even know was cold.

--

The ride to my apartment was mostly silent; I had turned the radio on for background noise. Spencer’s eyes kept staring out of my passenger side window while his hands twisted in his lap.

He followed behind me quietly when we entered my building, then took the elevator up to my apartment. Spencer’s eyes glided over my apartment, taking in the photos of my friends and family on the walls, the throw pillows on my couch, and the titles on my bookshelf.

I went into the kitchen to get us both a bottle of water only to find him standing in the same spot when I returned.

“Are you hungry?”

He shook his head.

“Okay, do you want to sit down?”

He nodded, following me over to my couch. I curled my feet up under myself, my hands folded in my lap. “Spencer…I know I said you don’t have to talk, and you don’t. But…I want to help. I just…I want to do anything I can to help you.” I let out a breath, embarrassed that my voice was already thick with tears. “If that means sitting here beside you and just staring at the wall that’s fine. I…I just want to help.”

Reid’s head swiveled over to face me, those beautiful brown eyes were frightened. “Tobias…he…he hurt me. And I can still feel it,” he whispered, his voice raw even in that hushed volume. “It’s all I feel. I just…I don’t want to hurt anymore, y/n. I can’t stand it.”

I couldn’t stop myself from rising up on my knees and moving towards him. “Can I hug you? Is that okay?”

The words weren’t out of my mouth before he wrapped his arms around my middle, laying his head against my chest. When the first sob wracked through his body, I felt something inside of me crack. The second sob triggered my own.

I didn't know what had happened to him, and if I did know, I don't think I would ever truly understand. But the agony he was in affected me more than any pain I had ever felt myself.

My fingers ran through his hair, tugging at the soft tangles. His hair is curly, I thought absentmindedly. He always wore it slicked down…but it was curly.

Spencer finally quieted after a few moments, his sobs turning into sniffles. “Thank you.”

I gave a broken chuckle. “Don’t thank me for caring about you, Spencer.”

He pulled his head back to look at me, his eyes moving over my cheeks. “You cried for me.”

I nodded.

“Why?”

The question was so unexpected that I wasn’t prepared to do anything but tell the truth. “It hurts me to see you hurt.”

Spencer looked at me for a moment longer, absorbing my words before his palm came up and cupped my jaw, his thumb wiping my left-over tears away. He gentled pulled my head down until my lips pressed against his. Our first kiss was tender, his lips were slightly chapped but still unbelievably soft. Something about this kiss broke my heart more than his tears did.

My hands had come up to cup his face, my actions a mirror of his own. “I…I don’t want to take advantage of you, Spencer,” I mumbled out when we had pulled apart.

He chuckled softly. “You’re worried about that?” His mood became somber when I nodded. “Y/n…you know how I look at you. Everyone does. I don’t…I don’t want this if you don’t. I don’t want you to do this out of pity-“

“Spencer,” I gasped. “I would never…I’d never touch you out of pity. I-I want to touch you. I have for a long time.”

you. I have for a long time.”

Tears started to shine in his eyes again at my words. “Then please touch me, y/n. I don’t want to feel this pain anymore. I just…I just want to feel how I feel when you hold me. It-It doesn’t hurt when you touch me.”

Our lips came together the second time in understanding and hope. My mouth brushed against his with a promise that I was touching him because I wanted to. He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth nibbling on it while his hands wove into my hair.

I moved to straddle his lap, my knees on either side of him, while my hands started working on the buttons of his shirt.

Spencer’s tongue ghosted against my lips; the groan he gave when I immediately let him inside made my core throb.

He froze when I started to push his shirt off his shoulders. “What is it?”

“It’s…I don’t want you to see…what he did to me. Please?”

I moved off of him quickly, extending my hand to pull him from the couch. I led him down the hall to my bedroom, not turning on the overhead light when we entered; the only source of light was a sliver of moonlight through the curtains.

“You don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to,” I whispered. “Do you…”

His lips crushed against mine, his hands grabbing my hips to pull me against his body. Those long fingers started working my shirt up my body, breaking away momentarily to pull it over my head.

Once my pants were down my thighs, he pushed me back onto the bed. He had removed his cardigan but left his button-up shirt on. I reached behind myself to unhook my bra, feeling a sudden nervousness rise up in my chest.

His fingers were warm when they brushed over my collarbones, drifting down over my breasts. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

I pulled him on top of me when I leaned back on the bed, our lips meeting in a heated frenzy. He palmed my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple, causing me to arch up against him.

Spencer’s lips moved down until he was mouthing my neck, his teeth nipping at the skin, all the while his hand ghosted down my body until his fingers hooked on the top of my panties.

His head lifted, his eyes searching mine. “Can I touch you?”

I nodded, my hand moving atop his, guiding him inside my panties; I couldn’t control my gasp when his fingers parted my folds to brush against me.

My hands went to his belt. “I-is this okay?”

He nodded, his mouth coming down to cover the tip of my breast, his tongue teasing my nipple to a point. Those long fingers gathered wetness from my opening to bring it up to circle my clit. Ever the scientist, Spencer paid attention to every reaction I had, he wanted to learn how to touch me.

When his middle and ring finger entered me, his palm grinding against my clit, I finally got his pants open. My hand snacked inside to palm his cock, pulling a grown from him.

“Can I push these down a bit?”

“Please,” he breathed, his lips coming over mine.

His pants were down to his mid-thighs before I wrapped my hand around him. He was bigger than I expected, not overly thick, but longer than anyone I had been with before.

“Y/n,” he whimpered against my lips, his fingers speeding up inside of me.

I gave a few pumps, my movements uncoordinated. “I want to feel you inside me, Spence. Please?”

Reid groaned, removing his fingers from my heat. “Do you have a condom?”

I turned to my bedside table, fumbling in the darkness. When I turned back to face him, I saw two of his fingers in his mouth. The same two fingers that had just been inside of me.

“Jesus,” I breathed out, finding the sight of him sucking my arousal off his fingers incredibly erotic.

He took the condom from me, his lips quirking up in a smile. "I've…I've never done that before." His eyes moved down to my still covered pussy. "I want to…but I-I don't want this time to be worse for you than it has to be," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Hey," I muttered, my hands cupping that well-defined jaw. "This isn't going to be bad for me, Spencer. Just being with you is wonderful."

My words felt heavy in the air. Because they were true.

Spencer swallowed thickly, rolling the condom down over his length. I tugged my panties off, leaving me totally bare to him, while he still had most of his clothing on.

Even with that weird detail, this was still wonderful; being with Spencer like this was…everything.

I gripped him, lining him up at my entrance. His forehead dropped against mine when he started to push inside of me.

“Spence,” I breathed, my hands clutching at his hips.

“Are you okay?” he panted.

“Better than okay. You feel so good.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think anything could feel better than…fuck.” His slim hips pressed against mine when he was fully sheathed inside of me.

I felt my pussy flutter at his words. I’d never heard Spencer curse like that before.

We started a steady pace; his thrusts were even, and my hips rose to meet them. His arms were braced on either side of my head, his lips brushing against mine while he fucked me.

Calling it fucking seemed wrong. It was so much more.

“Y/n,” he groaned. “I’m close.”

My hand squeezed down between our bodies to rub my clit. “Hold on. I’m almost there.” I whined out.

His moan seemed to tingle across my skin when he dropped his head against my shoulder. “I want to feel you cum, baby.”

I whimpered at his words. “Spencer, harder. I need it harder.”

His hips snapped against mine as he slammed into me, I felt his teeth on the tender skin where my neck and shoulder met for a second before he bit down.

The mix of pain with pleasure sent me over the edge. My pussy clamped down on him as I found my own orgasm, pulling him over the edge with me.

My fingers ran over his back, scratching at the material of his shirt. I breathed his name out over and over while I floated back down from my high.

I felt his tongue soothe over the bite mark he had just given me as he gave a few more jerks inside of me before pulling out. He placed the sweetest kiss against my lips and when he pulled back, his eyes were shining, but not with tears this time.

--

After we cleaned up, we ordered take out and watched some sci-fi movie that was on cable. I couldn’t tell you a thing about it; I was too busy watching Spencer’s face when he told me all about it. I was enraptured by his voice, the way his hands moved.

He was so beautiful.

Before I was ready, I realized that it was already approaching midnight. “It’s late,” I said.

He nodded. “I should go.”

It was childish, but I couldn’t stop my lip from jutting out in a pout, causing him to laugh.

“What is it, beautiful?” he questioned, his voice teasing.

I shoved his shoulder. “Don’t ‘beautiful’ me, Spencer Reid,” I scolded, delighted when he laughed. “I just…I’m not ready for you to go.”

Something in Spencer’s eyes changed. He seemed almost relieved at my words. “I’m not ready to go either.”

I leaned over, placing a soft kiss in the center of his lips. “Then don’t go.”

--

Spending the night with Spence was worth how early I had to wake up the following morning to drive him by his apartment before work. I had offered to wait and give him a ride to work, but he had gotten a text from Garcia. They had gotten called to Houston for a case; Morgan was going to swing by and get him.

“I’ll call you when I can,” he promised, cupping my face when he kissed me goodbye.

The circles under his eyes this morning weren’t as dark as they had been before.

--

I could barely contain my excitement when we got the notification that the team was headed back. Part of me felt silly for being so excited. I mean, it was just one night; but it hadn’t felt like just one night.

Spencer hadn’t called me during the few days he’d been in Texas, but I hadn’t really expected him to. If anyone understood his job, it was someone who worked with his team. The BAU was such an elite unit within the FBI for a reason; they would stop at nothing to solve a case.

When the glass doors of the bullpen opened and I saw Hotch stride in, heading for his office, I couldn’t contain my smile.

“I saw that,” Anderson muttered.

I reached out and smack his arm. “You wanted me to talk to Reid.”

He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. “And judging by that mark on your neck you did more than talk.”

I scowled at him. “See if I’m on your side the next time you fuck up,” I teased, knowing he wouldn’t take my words to heart.

He just offered me a wide smile. That’s how Anderson had lasted so long here, he never really held onto anything.

“Your man doesn’t look so good,” he said suddenly.

I turned, my eyes seeking out Spencer. He was right, the dark circles were back under his eyes, his clothes were wrinkled, his hair sticking up in every direction.

He never turned his head in my direction.

--

I had wanted to give Spencer some space when he first arrived back. What if something about this case had affected him? I thought that maybe that was the reason he had been avoiding me.

My department always had more paperwork than usual when the team came back from a case, so I wasn’t able to leave until after 7. While I gathered up my things I debated about calling Reid, thinking he was already gone. When I went to take Hotch some files about 20 minutes earlier Spencer was rushing out of the bullpen with his bag clutched in his hands.

Even though I wasn’t expecting to see him, I couldn’t stop myself from looking in the glass doors when I passed by out of habit.

He was sitting at his desk. His head was tilted back, and it looked like his eyes were closed. Even in a position that most people would appear relaxed in, he still seemed incredibly tense.  

I can just pop in and tell him hi, I reasoned. Let him know I’m not expecting anything, but I’m here for him.

I had given a lot of thought to my relationship with Spencer over the days he was gone. He was still healing from what happened with Tobias, it wasn’t fair of me to put unreasonable expectations on him right now. I was his friend before anything else. I could put my personal feelings aside if I needed to.

Squaring my shoulders, I pushed the doors open and headed towards his desk. The only person still at their desk was the newest member of the team, SSA Prentiss.

“Hey, y/n,” she greeted.

I had intended to return her greeting, but Spencer’s eyes snapped open and zeroed in on me. The look in his eyes made my blood freeze in my veins. He looked at me like he’d never seen me before, like my presence in this space was annoying to him.

Reid stood abruptly, pulling the strap of his messenger back up on his shoulder before he brushed past me. I had barely processed his actions before he was already leaving the bullpen.

“Spence!” I called. “Hang on!”

He just kept walking. I all but sprinted in my attempt to catch up to him. “Spencer, what the fuck,” I whispered. I knew he had seen me. Once I was closer to him, I reached out and gripped his elbow in an attempt to get his attention.

His entire body jerked as he spun around to face me. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he hissed, venom dripping from his words.

My body recoiled from him like he’d slapped me. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I thought…I just…”

Just then a pair of agents walked past us and they did not bother hiding the curiosity in their eyes.

Spencer’s hand shot out and gripped my forearm, pulling me along behind him. The hold he had on my arm was almost painful, but I couldn’t focus on anything. My brain was still playing his words over and over again.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

He didn’t stop until we reached the copy room; he jerked the door open and shoved me inside.

“Spencer!” I yanked my arm out of his grip, rubbing the skin with my other hand. “What the fuck is going on?!”

“You thought what?” he snarled taking a step closer to me. “You thought that because I fucked you that means you’re my girlfriend now or something?”

My eyes widened at his words. Something cold and heavy settled in the pit of my stomach while some unnamable feeling made me throat constrict. “N-no, I didn’t think that. I just-“

I had heard Spencer’s laugh so many times before, it used to make me smile every time I heard it. People who hadn’t heard him laugh before might have thought the sound that he made when he heard my words was a laugh. But it wasn’t. It was harsh and brittle. His face was pulled into a smile that was condescending.

“Are you sure, y/l/n? Because you’ve sure been fucking acting like it all day. I feel your pathetic little looks everywhere I turn. Like I kicked your dog or something.”

I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes because…this wasn’t Spencer. This wasn’t my Spencer. My Spencer couldn’t use chopsticks and held my face when he kissed me.

“Oh, my fucking god,” he groaned in disgust. “Are you going to cry, y/n? Are you kidding me right now?”

People always say terrible things happen so fast, it’s what I read in witness statements all the time. This was a terrible thing, but time seemed to slow down for it. I saw everything in perfect detail, I heard every single syllable that came out of this mouth.

When the first tear slid down my cheek that dark, brittle laugh left his mouth again. “If you weren’t being so pathetic, I might feel bad for you.”

“Why are you doing this?” I whispered, wiping at my cheeks.

“Why am I doing what, y/n?” His voice was so much louder than it was before. It didn’t make sense that he brought me to a more private place to avoid attention but now he was…yelling at me. “We fucked, do you get that? That is all! I don’t know what sad little schoolgirl fantasy you built up in your mind, but that night wasn’t special to me.”

Oh. I swallowed down my emotion, my eyes moving away from him to stare down at the floor. I wished I was the sort of person that could lash out whenever I was hurt, to hurt that person back as badly as they hurt me; but it’s just not who I was.

Like a shark that smelled blood in the water, Spencer moved closer to me. His fingers brushed over the strands of hair that hung near my shoulder. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, y/n. You’re not special. You were just a desperate girl that wanted attention. You were a pussy to use.”

I jerked back violently at his words, putting as much distance as I could between us. My entire body felt so cold, my face frozen in a mask of confusion.

Reid scoffed once more before he turned and left the room.

He never looked back at me.

I’m not sure how long I stayed in the copy room after he’d left. It may have been seconds; it could have been hours. I think I was in some sort of shock; my body just autopiloted to a place I felt safe.

I don’t remember unlocking my office door. I don’t remember collapsing in my chair and burying my head in my hands while sobs tore out of my chest.

All I remember is hearing my name a moment before I felt someone standing beside me.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called softly. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

I lifted my head and looked into the worried face of one of my best friends.

Anderson didn’t say anything further, he just pulled me up from my chair and wrapped his arms around me while I cried.

--

Pain is a universal experience, but everyone feels it differently. Everyone heals differently.

My grandmother used to say, “Everything will be different in the morning.” I was never sure if that was true or not, but today I chose to believe it was. The pain and humiliation that burned in my gut when I remembered Spencer’s words yesterday wouldn’t last forever.

I had made a mistake. I had let someone use my body only to find out that person wasn’t who I thought they were. I wasn’t the first person to make that mistake, and I’m sure I wouldn’t be the last.

Anderson had stayed with me in my office last night while I pulled myself together enough to go home. He didn’t ask what had happened, but he wasn’t stupid, I’m sure he suspected what had broken my heart.

In a perfect world, I would have fallen for someone like Grant Anderson. He was kind, funny, and a constant source of comfort when I felt my world breaking apart.

I had always tried to think of each painful moment as a lesson in some way, and lessons can teach you both good and bad things. Even my worst moments of pain, I couldn’t regret the choices that lead me to them. Every single experience shapes us into who we grow to be.

One day, when this pain in my heart wasn't so sharp, I think I might be able to look back on my night with Spencer Reid without feeling regret. He had been my friend, he was hurting. How I tried to help his suffering was a mark of who I was.

How he caused me pain was a mark of who he was.

Grant had sent me a text around 6 am, asking me if I was going to take some personal time. The BAU wasn't assigned to an active case today, but I had sent some files over to JJ that looked promising. My money was they'd be headed out to New Orleans tomorrow to catch a serial killer once she had reviewed those files.

A very large part of myself wanted to stay home; I wanted to hide from my pain and tend to my wounded heart in private. But no matter how big that part of me was, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t let this pain consume me.

I wouldn’t let it.

With that thought in mind, I squared my shoulders and walked into the headquarters of the FBI.

--

The hardest moments after a tragedy are the moments after; after the first wave of pain has passed and you’re expected to go back to your normal life. The world never slowed down just because you were in agony.

JJ came by and told me she thought New Orleans looked promising and asked if I could contact the lead detective for any updates then forward those to her.

She wasn’t a profiler but even she knew something was wrong. Right before she walked out of my office she said, “Hey, are you okay?”

It's always so much worse when they ask you if you're okay because they never want an honest answer. So, on top of all the agony, you feel you have to pull off a convincing lie.

“Just tired, JJ.”

I don’t think she quite believed me, but she was kind enough not to push me any further.

A few hours later JJ was on the phone the detective heading up the investigation into the murders happening in the French Quarter. It looked like the team was heading out to New Orleans sometime tomorrow morning.

My job mostly had me working with JJ, but SSA Hotchner was the unit chief. It wasn’t uncommon that I had to get his signature of approval on something JJ needed. So, when it was time to stop by Hotch’s office, I made my way there with no outward reluctance.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Spencer standing around the cluster of desks that housed his teammates. They all called out in greeting after I dropped the files off, but I had only waved over my shoulder and rushed out of the room.

Anderson had been popping in and out of my office all morning. First, he had made excuses for coming by, but much to my amusement he had dropped the façade after he came to ask me if he could borrow a pen…while he was holding a pen.

The biggest dilemma of my day was over coffee. Of course, I hadn’t gotten any sleep last night and I was dragging. Caffeine was obviously the answer.

But if you knew Spencer Reid, you know he was always at the coffee machine in the BAU bullpen.

I could just go downstairs to counterterrorism, I thought idly. But if I’m already in the elevator I could just run down the block and get coffee. JJ wouldn’t mind.

I was still debating my options when I heard a tentative knock on my door.

I am not proud of my actions, I’m truly not. But there is only one person in this whole building who would knock on a door that hesitantly.

The blinds in my office were closed…but I had left the door unlocked.

On instinct, I slid out of my chair, knees hitting the floor, and hid under my desk.

What the fuck are you doing, y/n? I mentally scolded myself. This is a new low, even for you.

It turned out to be pointless anyway.

He didn’t open the door.

--

“You don’t have to tell me,” Anderson began. “But…”

“I have to tell you?” I supplied after a beat.

He flopped down in the chair on the other side of my desk. “Exactly.”

The small smile that curled up on my face was the first real smile I’d had in almost 24 hours.

How had it only been 24 hours?

“Listen,” he said, bringing my attention back to him. “I know it’s about Reid. I’m not a profiler, but it’s all that makes sense.”

“How’s that?”

One of his dark brown eyebrows raised at the question. “I mean, even if we ignored everything else, the fact that he keeps walking past your office door is a dead giveaway.”

I rubbed my temples with my fingers. “Grant, I can’t right now.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t,” I whispered out. “I don’t…I need to hold it together. Just for a while longer.”

Grant reclined his back against the chair, his eyes surveying me. “Fine. But I don’t like seeing you like this.”

I don’t like feeling like this.

“Alright,” he sighed, rising to his feet. “I have to go run some sort of errand for Garcia.”

I didn’t bother asking, he’d say it was “classified.”

All the air seemed to leave the room when he opened the door.

Spencer was standing on the other side, his hand up like he had been about to knock.

Grant’s entire body jerked while Spencer’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here?” my friend demanded.

The most startling thing was how surprised Spencer looked at Grant’s tone; like it was some oddity that one of my closest friends would have been angry on my behalf.

“C-can I talk to you?” he asked, his voice squeaking on the last word.

I licked my lips, weighing my options. How could he hurt me any worse? I gave Grant a nod, signaling that I was okay. He moved out of the way, granting Spencer entry, but I knew my friend; he wouldn’t be far.

The man in front of me waited until the door was shut before he spoke. “Did I do something?”

My eyes had dropped down to my hands only to shoot up to his face at those words. What?

“To make you upset?” he clarified. “I…you’ve been avoiding me all day. And I know you were in here earlier when I knocked.”

His words tore at the bandages I had wrapped my heart in, ripping my wound open again. All I could do was wrap my arms around my middle in an attempt to physically hold myself together. “W-why would I want to talk to you?”

If possible, he looked even more confused than I felt. “What is going on?” He took a step towards me. “Baby-“

My reaction to hearing that word come out of his mouth was visceral. I shot to my feet, almost stumbling over my chair in an attempt to put more distance between us.

Spencer froze. “I…I don’t understand,” he pleaded. “Please, y/n, you have to talk to me. It…it hurts me to see you hurt.”

Any work I had done to repair my heart was destroyed at his words. I never should have let him inside. The look on his face twisted a knife in my stomach. He had the audacity to look distraught over my tears like he wasn’t the cause of them.

“I know I said I’d call but I was just so busy with the case…I thought…you’d understand.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth while my eyes blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear the tears that were clouding my vision. If I couldn’t remember everything about yesterday so clearly, I would doubt that the man standing before me now was the same monster that spewed venom at me yesterday.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Reid.”

He flinched at my use of his last name. “I want you to tell me what happened.”

“Why?” I rasped out. “Do you want it to hurt more? Why are you doing this to me?”

Spencer took another step towards me, his hands were outstretched. "I don't-"

"Don't fucking touch me." I tried to fill my words with the same venom his words had yesterday when he told me the same thing, but my words came out as a broken plea.

He blinked and dropped his hands to his sides. “I deserve to know why you’re treating me like this.”

A sad sort of laugh came out of my mouth at his words.

Somehow the non-acknowledgment of my pain hurt worse than anything. “Do I mean so little to you that you forgot our conversation yesterday?”

Spencer shook his head, his hair flopping around his ears. “No, I didn’t talk to you yesterday.”

What? “Yes, you did.” My voice shook but my words still tumbled out of my mouth. “You pulled me into the copy room and told me…you told me that our night together was nothing…you told me that I was nothing.”

His brows knit together, his mouth popping open. “What are you talking about? You’re…you’re everything, y/n.”

“Reid, please…I know I’m pathetic, but I can’t take this. I can’t…” My shoulders started to shake. “Please don’t make me feel this again.”

“Pathetic?” he questioned. “What are you talking about? Is this…is this some sort of game? You don’t want to be with me…so you do this? Did Anderson tell you about my mom?”

“What?”

“My mom has schizophrenia. Is that why you’re trying to make me feel crazy?”

My brows knitted together. “I…Nobody told me about your mom. I’m not trying to make you feel crazy. And I wanted to be with you. But you told me you didn’t want to be with me.”

He still denied my words. “No, I haven’t talked to you. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“You avoided me all day yesterday. When I finally came to talk to you in the bullpen you walked past me like I wasn't there. Then I went after you." I held up my arm, pushing my sleeve up to show him the finger-shaped bruises. "You dragged me into the copy room. You told me I was pathetic. You mocked me. You told me I was just some girl…some pussy for you to use."

He kept flinching at my words like they were whips leaving lashes all over his body.

“You told me I was nothing. You told me our night together was nothing.”

“No.” He continued to shake his head. “I…I wouldn’t say that. But I especially wouldn’t say that to you. You’re wrong.”

I just shrugged. “Ask Prentiss. She saw me follow you out of the bullpen yesterday. Ask Garcia to pull the security footage. There’s probably a recording of you breaking my heart.”

“No, no, no,” he muttered over and over again.

“I don’t know why you’re pretending you don’t remember, Spencer.”

He didn’t say anything else; he just turned and left my office, slamming the door behind him.

--

JJ was suspicious when I called her from my office phone instead of just walking over to see her, but she didn’t ask any questions about the mysterious illness I told her had hit me. She just told me that she hoped I felt better and to take all the time I needed.

I knew that the team was set to fly out after JJ presented the case at 10 am in the morning, meaning that going back to work tomorrow wouldn’t be too hard. No matter how badly I hurt now, I couldn’t lay down and cry about it.

Part of me was afraid if I laid down, I wouldn’t be able to get back up.

With that in mind, I would give myself today to feel the full force of my heartbreak. I would cry when I wanted to, I’d watch sad movies and make myself cry more, I’d eat junk food that ultimately only made me feel worse. I would feel this pain for one day.

I told myself Spencer Reid didn’t deserve more of my tears than that. I told myself that over and over again until I almost believed it.

Anderson had been texting me all day to check-in, I had even gotten a nice call from Penelope Garcia asking me if I needed anything.

The most unexpected call came at 8 pm that night from a number I didn’t recognize.

“Y/n?” the voice asked. “This is Prentiss.”

Oh. “Oh. Hi, Emily.”

“Listen, I called for two reasons. The first is that I wanted to check in on you, and the second is…the second is a bit more personal.”

Oh. I cleared my throat. “I’m as good as I can be, Emily.”

She sighed. "I figured. Which brings me to my second question. Did something happen between you and Reid?" After a few moments of my silence, Prentiss hurried on. "You don't have to tell me. It's just that…Reid came up to me this afternoon and demanded to know if I had seen you come into the bullpen to talk to him yesterday."

“What did you say?”

“Um, I told him yes. Because I did. What is going on?”

My fingers picked at the edges of the blanket in my lap. “I don’t know. Anderson thinks something is up with him.”

“We all think something is up with him.”

Her confirmation didn’t make me feel any better.

--

I arrived to work the following morning at 9 am, a full thirty minutes later than usual. JJ had stopped by my office to see how I was doing, followed by a visit from Prentiss. Garcia had teetered into the room about 15 minutes after Emily left, giving me a frosted cookie that was bigger than my hand.

“Cookies help,” she had said confidently.  

I hoped she was right.

Anderson popped in last. "Hey, ooh." He skidded to a stop. "You look terrible."

I shot him a withering look. “Thank you so much, Grant.”

“You know what I mean.”

“…That I look terrible?”

He nodded, his lips twitching at the corners. “Anyway, Hotch needs the mileage forms for the SUVs. I can run it over to him.”

My teasing tone vanished. “I’ve got it, Grant.”

I wasn’t sure if that was true, but I had to believe it was. Or at the very least it would be soon.

It took every ounce of will power I had not to let my eyes wander over to his desk when I entered the bullpen. I could almost feel him looking at me. It went against every natural instinct I had to ignore him…but what else could I do?

Hotch wasn’t in his office when I knocked but the door was unlocked. He never minded if we walked in when he was out if we just had something to drop off. I tried to find an open space on his desk to set the forms when I heard the door squeak on its hinges behind me.

I spun around, my startled eyes connecting with a pair of sharp brown eyes.

“Oh!” I exclaimed. “I’m sorry, Agent Gideon. I didn’t see you there.”

He gave me a small smile, but that sharp look didn’t leave his eyes. “No, I don’t suppose you would have,” he said simply. “It’s hard to notice anyone else when you’re trying so hard to not notice someone.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Gideon just nodded. “I’m going to tell you something. Now, you can take these words to heart, and I hope you do, or you can take them as the ramblings of…a sentimental old man.”

I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “Okay.”

"A lot of people think that the most important thing you can have in a relationship is love," he began, his eyes never wavering from mine. "In my not so humble opinion, they are incorrect. You see, y/l/n, love fades. Love isn't a thing that can stay in one form forever. It's always changing… its fluid."

“Sir, I don’t-“

“You know what the most important thing is?” he asked as if I hadn’t spoken. “Mercy.”

I just blinked at him. “I…I don’t think I understand.”

He just smiled at me, his hands moving into the pockets of his jeans. “Maybe not yet, but I think you will.” Gideon’s gaze broke from mine, looking through the windows of Hotch’s office to settle on Reid. His head was bent over his desk while his fingers ran over the pages in front of him. “He’ll need mercy, y/n. More than anything else.”

Agent Gideon turned back to look at me. “He’ll need it from all of us, but I don’t think he’ll need it from anyone more than you.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say in response. I truly didn’t understand what he was talking about.

With one final smile, he turned and left the office, leaving me with my thoughts.

--

Agent Gideon’s words were still swirling through my mind the following afternoon when I got another odd call from Agent Prentiss.

“Hey, y/l/n,” she began, her tone annoyed. “Listen, have you heard from Reid?”

My entire body stilled. “No, I haven’t. Why?”

“He was supposed to meet us at the plane. Morgan and I are waiting for him but he isn’t answering his cell.”

I hated the worry that wormed its way through my heart at her words. “I’m sorry, Em. I haven’t talked to him.”

She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “It was a long shot. Thanks, y/n.”

For several minutes after she hung up, I just stared at my phone. Don’t, I told myself firmly. He’s not your problem.

Spencer Reid wasn't my problem…but I couldn't just stop caring about him overnight. That's not the sort of person I was.

I kept telling myself I was calling to check on him for me, because I was the sort of person who checked on their friends.

It didn’t make it easier when he didn’t answer my calls either.

--

The need to silence the shrill ringing of my phone pulled me from my sleep the following night. I still hadn't heard from Spencer, but Prentiss had called me this morning to tell me Reid had gone to see one of his friends and "didn't have a signal." Her tone indicated she thought he was full of shit.

My eyes cracked open to look at the caller ID. When I read the name of the person calling me, my fingers frantically pushed “accept.”

“Spencer?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

I sat up in my bed, my eyes looking at the clock on my nightstand. “It’s after 3 am. Did something happen with the case?”

He cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. The unsub is a woman. We tried to catch her tonight…but we can try again tomorrow.”

“You’ll get her.”

The only sound I heard was his uneven breathing. “That’s not why I called.”

My tongue ran over my lips while I pulled the blankets further up my chest like they would be able to protect me in some way. "Why did you call?"

“Do you think people deserve forgiveness?”

“I…I think it depends.”

“On what?” he asked desperately.

“On what they did…on if they’re sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Did you do something, Spencer?”

“I made a mistake.”

Somehow, I knew he wasn’t just talking about what had happened between us. He sounded just like I remembered him sounding when I wrapped my arms around him that night he came to my house.

His voice broke when he spoke again. “I’m so lost, y/n,” he sobbed. “I’m so lost and I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

I fought to control my own emotions when he spoke. No matter what happened my heart still ached at the pain in his voice. “You might be lost, Spencer. But you’re not alone. Your team…your family found you. They brought you home. They’re still here for you. They’ll bring you home again.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, both of us lost in our own dark sea of pain.

“I don’t deserve to ask you to forgive me,” he said at last. “So, I won’t ask. I don’t even…I don’t even remember what I said.”

I think my subconscious mind had been connecting these pieces together for a while because in the darkness of my bedroom at almost 4 am, things finally began to take shape. The darkness that hung over Spencer was finally starting to take form.

“Just focus on the case, Spencer. We can talk when you get home.”

“Wait,” he called out. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

I don’t think I ever will.

--

The clock on my wall said it was just after 7 pm the following night when there was a knock on my door. Frowning, I made my way across the room, pressing my eye to the peephole, slightly surprised at who I saw.

I had figured he would come for me at some point, but I hadn’t expected it to be the very moment he got back into town.

…but it isn’t the very moment, I reminded myself. JJ had texted saying their plane was landing at 5 pm this afternoon.

He didn’t knock again but he didn’t move away from the door either. I think he knew I was there, just out of his reach, debating my options.

Opening yourself up to something that might hurt you is one of the most foolish and brave things a person can do. When someone you cared about broke your trust, how could you put your heart back into those very same hands?

I remembered Gideon’s words from that afternoon before they had left for New Orleans.

Over the past several days I had realized that that day in the copy room it wasn’t actually my Spencer that said those things. Something dark and painful had clawed its way into him and was trying to hollow him out.

That dark thing didn’t deserve my mercy…but I think Spencer did.

With a deep breath, I started to unlock my front door, grateful he couldn’t see that my hands were shaking. He looked tired but a different sort of tired than I was used to seeing. Weariness had crawled underneath his skin and was draining him slowly, but he didn’t look as defeated as he did the last time I saw him.

No matter how many times I had thought about this moment, I still wasn’t sure what to say

“I came…I came to explain.” He said at last.

I was still frozen in place watching him shift uncomfortably. I knew he wanted me to invite him in…but, how could I? Trusting him enough to talk to him was one thing but how could I allow him into the only place I felt safe?

Gideon’s words played through my mind again. Mercy.

Taking a step back from the door, I waved him inside. I moved to sit on the couch, but Spencer just stood in front of me.

"When Tobias abducted me…" he trailed off, balling his hands into fists. "He had dissociative identity disorder. It's much more rare than people think. Whenever it's been observed under clinical settings, the most that has been observed is 2. Tobias had three.

The first was him, the next was his father, and the last was the Archangel, Raphael. Tobias’s father abused him horribly… Charles broke something inside of him, he fractured him. The only way he could survive was to start abusing drugs. He took them intravenously.”

Gideon's words had started to weave the pieces together, but it was actually Spencer's words from our night together that cemented everything in place. “I don’t want you to see what he did to me.”

"He thought he was being kind when he injected me." Spencer crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his tongue against his upper lip. "You hear about addiction; I could tell you the statistics on people who suffer from opioid addiction. But I never in a million years thought it would be me.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear fell from my face and hit the back of my hand.

“I’m not the person who gets addicted to things. I’m not the stereotypical picture of an addict…but that’s what I am, y/n. I’m an addict.” He reached into his front pocket, pulling out a small coin. “This is a newcomer’s chip…from narcotics anonymous. You get it at your very first meeting. I got this an hour ago.”

“Spencer,” I rasped out. “I’m so sorry.”

He came to sit beside me on the couch then, his hand covering one of mine. "I thought I could handle it. I convinced myself it wasn't that bad, but it was. What I did to you was reprehensible, y/n. And I am so sorry." Spencer's voice broke, his shoulders shaking with repressed emotion. "I will be sorry about that day for the rest of my life. I don't deserve any sort of second chance."

I turned completely towards him, throwing my arms around him. “Yes, you do, Spencer,” I whispered into his hair. “You do.”

This night felt so much different than the first night I held him like this while he cried. I didn't know the cause of his pain that night, but it broke my heart nevertheless; now that I knew the pain inside this beautiful man…I think the pain I had been feeling was tearing at my soul.

Addiction doesn’t discriminate. It’s a disease that will sink its hooks into anyone and refuse to let go. Spencer had made a mistake; his actions had gutted me. But…was it really him? Or was it the monster that has hold of him? It was in these thoughts that I finally began to understand the weight of Agent Gideon's words. "He’ll need mercy from everyone…but from no one more than you.”

I wasn’t in love with Spencer…at least not yet, but I did love him. In those moments when loving someone felt impossible mercy was the most important thing you could offer. I had to show him my mercy while he moved through this…because I knew love would come later.

“I’m here for you, Spencer. I want to help you in any way I can.”

He pulled back, his wide brown eyes meeting mine. “I can’t ask you to battle my addiction for me, y/n. I wouldn’t even if I could.” His voice was earnest when he spoke, his hands coming up to cup my face with a touch that seemed so familiar. “I promise that I’m going to try. I’m going to mess up at some point, some moments will be harder than others. I can’t…I can’t be perfect at this. But I promise I will never stop trying.”

“You don’t have to be perfect, Spencer. You’re not worthy because you’re perfect. You’re worthy because you’re…you.”

His eyes were soft when they ran over my face, his hands coming up to cup my jaw again. “I can leave, if you want…I know you’ll need time…I can’t expect-“

I leaned forward to brush my lips against his. “Don’t go,” I whispered. “Just be with me. Be here with me, Spence.”

I'm not sure who moved first. It was like all the pain in my body gave way to such a burning need that it almost consumed me. Our lips barely broke apart when I pulled him from the couch, guiding him to my bedroom; our actions were so similar to what they had been on that first night that felt like a lifetime ago.

But everything was different.

My bedroom was lit only by the dusky orange glow from the setting sun. I didn’t get to question Spencer about anything. His hands moved urgently against my body, ridding me of my shirt and bra. I unbuttoned his shirt, careful not to push it off of his shoulders. My nails scored his chest while his mouth moved down to kiss the column of my throat.

Spencer’s knee was wedged between my thighs when his mouth closed over my nipple. My hands tried to move down to undo his pants but when his teeth tugged at the tip of my breast all I could do was whimper.

“Spencer. Please.”

His eyes opened and lifted to meet mine. He looked nervous for a moment before he started to kiss down my body. I lifted my hips to help him remove my pants. When his fingers hooked into the waistband of my panties, I realized he had never seen me in the light before.

I felt his index finger trace down my slit, spreading me open under his gaze. He swallowed thickly when one of his fingers entered me, pulling a moan from my throat.

“Can I?”

“Yes. Yes.” I wasn’t sure what he was asking, but I would have given him anything in that moment.

I wasn’t ready when I felt his tongue tentatively lick my pussy. My hips bucked off the bed causing him to chuckle.

“Hold still,” he whispered as he spread me wider. He inserted another finger into my heat while his tongue fluttered around my clit.

“I’m trying,” I whined. “Fuck. I thought you said you hadn’t done this before.”

Spencer lifted his head to press a kiss to my inner thigh. “I haven’t,” he replied, his voice needlessly smug. Before I could comment his lips closed around my clit again.

My fingers were tangled in his soft brown hair while my hips rocked against his mouth. “Spencer, I’m close. I want-fuck! I want to cum when you’re inside me.”

He rose up on his knees, his hands moving to his belt. He had looked reluctant to leave his current position, but I needed him now. "You can eat my pussy to your heart's content later."

Spencer’s hand froze, his eyes snapping up to meet mine.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. You just…you said later.” The confusion must have been plain on my face because he clarified, “I can have you later too.”

My arousal was still pulsing in my body but now something else was too. I knew he didn’t mean sex when he said he could have me; Spencer meant he could have me, he could be with me.

With that thought, I urged him up my body so I could press my lips to his again. We were still kissing when I felt the blunt tip of his cock brush against me before he slowly pushed inside of me.

“You…I didn’t know something could feel like this,” he said when his hips settled against mine,

I didn’t either.

I think he must have felt the same frantic need I did. His thrusts were forceful as he drove into me. I was already so close that I could feel myself approaching my peak.

“Spence,” I whimpered out.

“I know, I feel you. You’re right there.” He reached between our bodies and rubbed his thumb across my clit.

My back arched as my orgasm washed over me, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. After a few more thrusts, I felt Spencer find his release too. He whispered my name against my hair while he slowly came down, pressing soft kisses all over any part of my skin he could reach.

--

The frantic mood from before had lifted, but something still felt urgent. Spencer had gotten up a few moments ago to dispose of the condom in the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

He hadn’t removed his clothes again, and something about the energy in the room made me put my clothes back on too.

I was sitting at the end of my bed when he came out of the bathroom a few moments later. He looked resigned and…almost defeated.

“Spence,” I started but he just shook his head.

He came to stand in front of me before he spoke. “I have to…I can’t hide from you.”

I stood up before he could move. “You’re not hiding anything, Spencer. Not anymore.”

He pressed his lips against mine again. I think he understood the gravity of my words and what revealing his body meant. He knew I’d see him; I’d see all of him. But whenever I looked into his eyes when he started to open his shirt, I felt like I saw more of him than I ever had.

Everything he felt was floating through his amber-colored eyes. His hands shook and a few tears leaked out of his eyes when he pulled his shirt from his body.

The bend of his left elbow was covered in bruises in all different phases of healing. It looked like one of his veins might even have blown.

When I brought my eyes back up to his, I found them shut tight.

“Hey,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his middle, careful of his arm. “Spencer, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he breathed out.

I only held him tighter. “It will be. One day it will be.” I let out a shaky breath of my own before I spoke again. “You know I’m going to fall in love with you one day, right?”

His body jerked at my words, a tiny sob leaving his mouth.

“It’s true, Spencer. You have to know that. You’re worthy of love. You’re worthy of my love.”

He pulled back from me, his hands cradling my face while his eyes searched mine. “I’m not. I’m not worthy…but I’m going to try to be.”

The slashes and cracks in my heart didn’t feel so painful when I kissed him again. It wasn’t my job to fix him. It wasn’t his job to fix me.

But I could show him mercy while he fought his battle. He deserved that.

Everyone deserves that.

--

Taglist: @rachelxwayne @pinkdiamond1016 @sickeninglyshoujo @justagirllookingforherplace @nanocoool @andiebeaword @imjusthereformggcontent @rainsong01 @violentvulgarvolatile @mys2425 @al3xmnd @imfalling-inlove @cielo1984 @shadyladyperfection @kissingvalentino @goofygubler14​ @hopebaker​

[randomshyperson]

hi! hope you're alright! love your writing!! ~

can you do a fluffy sexy one where R and wanda are really close friends (not those secret crushs kind of friend - neither has realized that they are too close to be just friends) until one-day the avengers find out about fanfics and shipps and loose their mind over it cause they are all grown up and didn't know this was a thing, they are all reunited at the living room looking online what are the shipps and, let's say Tony is the one looking while they are all gathered listening, he says like "oh apparently everybody thinks Wanda and R are a couple" and someone -thor, bucky or Sam of course- gets surprise like "they are not dating???" (Wanda is even sitting on R lap and playing with her hair!!) the girls deny and the turns out all team thought they were together, later they are reading some fic about them cause they're curious and its a smut, R gets shy and wanda gets a little turn on about it and says "you know if I was to date anyone here it would be you" so R realizes the same and they eventually get together

I think it has way too much details, sorry

Hello anon! Hope you’re well. This took me long enough i know, but i hope you like it. It’s really short, but it’s all you asked. 

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - The fandom knows best

Summary: Prompt based “Reader and Wanda are best friends who are one of the popular ships from the Avengers, but they have no clue. It takes one fan fiction for things to work out.”

Warnings: Fluff, humor, brief hint of smut (it’s nothing really), (brief) kissing.

Words:  1.400 k (Drabble i think)  // Read on AO3

Marks:   @mionemymind @abimess

Wanda Maximoff is your favorite person in the world.

You are colleagues on the Avengers team, and clicked together the very moment you first saw each other.

Everyone on the team knows that you are inseparable and if someone is looking for you and can't find you anywhere, it's because you are sleeping in Wanda's room.

You never really thought about what this implied, so during the Halloween party that Tony planned, you were very surprised when this subject came up.

The avengers were gathered around the table, a few hours had passed since the party had ended, and Tony was beginning to feel bored. So he grabbed the tablet on the table and announced it to everyone:

- I made a very interesting discovery this weekend! - he says with a mischievous smile. - Tell me Avengers, have you had a look at the work of our dear fans?

The team let out a chorus of apprehension. Tony laughed.

- God I'm surrounded by old people. - He comments as he activates the hologram playback function on the tablet on the table. - I found some interesting content about the Avengers. Say, folks, have you ever heard of fanfiction?

The group let out a chorus of excitement, and Tony giggled.

- I should have known you would eventually make us watch porn. - Natasha laughed, making everyone laugh. And then Tony was running through some files, mostly innocent artwork, of the team on adventures or facing supervillains, and you all looked excited. Then Tony let out a little laugh.

- Whoa, I found something interesting. - he says with a mischievous smile. - It has the hashtag "NSFW”.

- What does this mean? - Steve asked curiously.

- You're going to love it, Cap. - Tony retorted, and then there is a not-so-innocent artwork of Steve in the hologram. The shield being the only item he is wearing.

The team lets out a mixed exclamation of surprise and laughter, and Steve turns bright red.

For the next few minutes you laugh and are embarrassed by various more adult art that people have done, and then Tony lets out a wry chuckle.

- Look, this is interesting. - He starts.  - The best couples from the Avengers.

- This is going to be good. - Nat mocked, crossing her legs and taking a sip of her beer. 

- I am surprised that Potts and I don't come first, it is disappointing to know that people don't recognize a love as amazing as ours. - Declares Tony and everyone laughs lightly. He moves his fingers again, reading something on the screen. - Check it out, Romanoff. Your affair with Banner is in fourth place.

Nat laughs, and Bruce gets a little embarrassed, but he doesn't say anything. Tony continues.

- That is funny. - Tony says with a chuckle. - Apparently all the fans think that Wanda and Y/N are a couple. They are the most popular.

You let out a short laugh, surprised at the insinuation. Wanda follows you, settling better on your lap as she laughs.

- Wait, Tony, what do you mean they think? - Bucky asked with a confused expression. - Aren't you two dating?

You and Wanda frown confusedly in his direction, and you notice that Thor has the same confused expression as Bucky. And then you look around and everyone, except Tony, has the same look on their faces.

- Who else thought we were dating? - Wanda asks and the whole team choruses in agreement. Tony says "I thought you were playing along".

You and Wanda laugh awkwardly.

- Where did you get that from? - you ask in surprise. Then the team shares a wry laugh and you frown.

- Really Y/N? - Bucky replies. - Wanda is literally on your lap! And you've been playing with her hair all night!

You and Wanda shake your heads in denial, laughing lightly.

When you return to your room however, you are thinking about it.

- Hey, stop overthinking it. - Wanda jokes as you walk together down the hall toward your room, and you laugh weakly.

- Stop reading my mind. - You retort without any hint of aggressiveness. You loved to provoke Wanda, and you had no problem if she used her powers on you.

When you arrived at your room, Wanda threw herself on your bed, and you went to find something comfortable to wear.

- Lie down here, I got curious. - She says as you are putting on your pajama pants. When you are finished, you lie down next to her on the bed, stomach down on the mattress, mimicking her position. Wanda is on her cell phone, and holds it out a little to the side so that you can see it. She starts typing something next, and you laugh lightly.

- Why are you researching this? - you ask as you read "fanfic Wanda Maximoff and Y/N".

She shrugs, smiling.

- I want to know what people think we do. 

- Wanda. 

- Shh, look at that. - She says, holding her cell phone up to her face. She laughs lightly, and then pulls it away showing you a text. 

- "Wanda and Y/N have always been in love with each other." - You start reading and Wanda lets out a giggle. - Wow, that is a surprise.

- "In the Avengers tower, they have always gotten along much better than any other member of the team." - Wanda continues reading and you make a noise of agreement with your mouth. 

- Technically, I get along with everyone. - You comment and Wanda laughs, pushing her shoulders against you lightly.

- "However, the nature of their relationship changed during a particularly physical training session." - Wanda continues reading and you raise an eyebrow. - That sounds promising. - You laugh half-heartedly, but Wanda continues reading. - "The redhead had been assigned to train with her friend, and during that training she realized the undeniable attraction she felt for the other girl”.

- Oh my god. - You mumbled in embarrassment, trying to snatch the cell phone from Wanda's hands, but she just laughed, moving away. When you insisted, she stood up, laughing lightly as she continued reading.

- "When Y/N made a move that knocked Wanda to the ground, the witch couldn't help but kiss her passionately."- She read aloud and you let out a grumble, getting up. - "Their tongues fought together as Wanda let her hands go up the inside of her shirt to her breasts, making Y/N moan"

Wanda's reading died in a laugh as you tickled her to reach for the cell phone. She threw her body at you next, but you didn't return the device, laughing lightly.

- Stop it, this is embarrassing. - You say with flushed cheeks, dodging the girl's hands as you get back into bed. Wanda grumbles, but follows you.

You sit side by side, and you only hand the phone back to her when you close the page.

- You know what? - She says after a moment, her cheeks slightly pink. You look at her curiously. - If I were going to date anyone here, it would be you.

You blink in surprise, feeling your heart race at the phrase, and look away from Wanda quickly. 

It takes a moment, but you finally speak.

- Yeah, I... I would date you too. - You confess, looking forward. To try to relieve the tension, you quickly add. - Maybe Bucky or Nat too, but my first choice would be you.

Wanda laughs, turning to you and ruffling your hair. Your natural instinct is to grab her by the wrists, and throw her on the bed. You laugh for a few seconds, but something has changed. The closeness of your faces makes your breath catch.

- Wanda... I...

- Are you trying to figure out the ending to that fic? - She teases breathlessly, and you laugh, letting go of her wrists. But Wanda uses her freedom to pull your face against her, kissing you softly, and making you sigh in surprise.

- Wow. - You say as you walk away, feeling your lips tingling.

- I know. - she whispers. - Why did it take us so long to do this?

You smiled, kissing her again, properly this time.

When you two parted again, completely out of breath, and with your clothes crumpled, you threw yourself next to Wanda on the bed, laughing lightly.

- I can't believe that the fans knew that you were in love with me before I did! - Wanda then announced.

- And you call yourself a telepath.

You scoffed next, and she laughed as she slapped you on the shoulder. It didn't take long before you were laughing together.

[startanewdream]

Quidditch prodigy

Banner by awesome @the-dream-team​.

Summary: This time, when she tells Harry he will be the new Seeker, Minerva McGonagall says: “Your father will be proud. He is an excellent player himself” (and Harry knows it’s true because he spent years watching his father fly).

For @alec-lightwood-bane, who asked for a bit of James getting to be proud with his Quidditch prodigy. The only plot here is fulfilling your request :)

Now on AO3.

________________

From the first time that Harry mounted the little broomstick that Sirius gave him for his first anniversary, James knew his son would be a Quidditch player (sometimes he’d tell Lily that he knew that ever since he felt Harry kicking inside her, but Lily tells him all babies kick; it was not a signal, no matter how at that moment James was talking about Quidditch).

He is not surprised when brooms are Harry’s favourite gifts and, as his godfather, Sirius is more than willing to replace his brooms as Harry grows up, until, finally, for his eleventh birthday, Harry gets a Nimbus 2000. It is his first professional broomstick and Harry can’t stop talking about it all day, promising he will be a Gryffindor player in no time, discussing with Sirius how unfair it is that First Years don’t get to have their own broom nor play in their house team.

That afternoon, after the sunset when the temperature gets milder, they play a kind of five-person Quidditch, which makes no sense and have no rules other than Sirius and Lily are a team, James and Harry is another, and everyone needs to score a goal against Remus, who is a moderately good Keeper.

Harry spends most of the time trying to learn how to ride the broom, so very different from the juvenile models he trained before, mostly intercepting the passes between his mother and Sirius than actually scoring goals. It’s not his son’s best performance, but James says nothing, only ruffling Harry’s hair and making it even more messy than flying already did it.

Harry flies well, naturally, but as a Chaser he always seemed to lack something. He works twice because of it, and James supports him.

The next morning, James awakes at dawn for no good reason. He plans to go downstairs only to drink some water before going back to bed and just laying there, but when he arrives at the kitchen, he finds the backdoor opened.

His wand is at ready at once, but it’s only Harry flying at dawn. He stops at the doorway, watching his son. He really flies perfectly — and boldly, he notices, training movements that James is sure he didn’t teach him and that Lily would have a fit if she saw, long dives that end with him recovering from it at the least possible moment, loops in the air that make him stand thirty feet in the air hanging on his broom only with one hand.

It is like watching him doing an extremely dangerous dance, and James makes sure his wand is ready, just in case, though he feels it’s not the first time Harry is doing this. It looks too well practiced for it. 

And it’s not the usual Chaser movements either.

This thought comes for him at the same time that Harry picks up a Golden Snitch from his pocket. He closes his eyes and lets the Snitch fly away, waiting a few seconds until he opens his eyes and flies upward, standing very still fifty feet up, only his eyes moving, concentrated. James can’t see anything different, but after one minute, Harry dives suddenly. When he recovers from the flight, the Golden Snitch is secure in his hand, its wings flying pointless in his closed hand.

His laugh fills the silence of the morning.

When James starts applauding, Harry’s laugh dies. He turns to his father’s direction, his face reddening and a mortified expression arising there.

‘Dad — I — I can explain —’

It feels as if his son is confessing a sin, rather than showing his talents, and James doesn’t understand.

‘What?’

‘This, I —’

‘Well, I must admit I’m upset’, James says, his voice teasingly, but Harry doesn’t seem to notice this. ‘Next time, you should tell me’.

‘I didn’t want — I mean, this is just for fun, I don’t really —’

‘Flying without inviting me? I am so disappointed’.

Harry pauses, dismounting his broom and holding it unsurely. ‘You are not mad because I was playing Seeker?’

James blinks, confused. ‘Why should I? You are natural!’

Harry looks at his feet. ‘We always trained chasing. You are a Chaser’.

‘Yeah, I was, so?’

‘So I should be one. Like you. Everyone tells me I fly like you, and... I didn’t want to disappoint you’.

James shakes his head, baffled that Harry could come up with that conclusion. Well, there is only way to show him. ‘Mount your broom. Go on’. 

Harry’s eyes are big, not understanding him, but he does as his father says. James keeps motioning for him to go up in the air and, when Harry is fairly high, he transforms the basket of apples in the kitchen into a basket of golf balls, going to the middle of their backyard.

Then he starts throwing one golf ball in the air after another, and Harry understands at once, flying around and catching each one before they fall in the ground, even when James throws more than one at a time. His son is rather breathless when he lands next to his father.

James can only beam. ‘See? You could never disappoint me’.

‘Even if I don’t try for a spot at the team as a Chaser?’

‘Any team will miss much more if you don’t play as Seeker’. Harry lets out a laugh that is undeniably relieved. James watches his son as they sit in the middle of the garden. ‘I mean it, Harry. Even if you didn’t play at all, I would never be disappointed with you’.

Harry raises his eyebrows, eyes glinting with mischief. ‘Even if I hated Quidditch?’

‘Well, you are right, then I would have to disinherit you’, he says seriously, but Harry’s chuckles in answer tells him that Harry understands his father is only joking. ‘Since when do you practice as a Seeker?’

Harry throws him a sideway look. ‘Two years now’, he says, smirking when James looks surprised. It’s not easy to hide anything from his parents, and yet Harry seemed to have perfected that. ‘Ever since I found this old Snitch in the attic’.

He picks up the Snitch again from his pocket. The Snitch tries to fly away, but when Harry hands it to James, the wings calm suddenly, the Snitch resting peacefully on his father’s hand.

‘Oh, what’s that?’

‘Flesh memories’, James explains, smiling. ‘This is the Snitch I nicked a long time ago at Hogwarts. It was never used before, so since I was the first to catch it…’

‘It remembers you’, Harry finishes, amazed.

‘And I remember it’, James murmurs, letting the Snitch fly and grabbing it easily. Even after all these years, his reflexes are still good, he thinks smugly. ‘I used to try to impress your mother with it, you know’.

‘Did it work?’

James runs his hand through his hair. ‘None at all. I hope you have better luck showing off with the Snitch than I did’.

______________________

Harry writes home twice a week at least, and every one of his letters mention how he misses flying and then that he at least is counting the days for the first flying lesson, so he can be in the air even for a little.

James expects his letter as usual the day after the flying lesson is scheduled, but instead he wakes up to find a grey owl waiting for him at breakfast, watching him severely. Only Minerva McGonagall would have an owl that looks as stern as her, but then again James always remembers how McGonagall’s patronus is herself, so he shouldn’t be so surprised.

What surprises him is her request that he comes to meet her as soon as possible that morning, informing the Floo Network to her office will be opened.

It seems serious and he can’t help but think of something happening to Harry. His son’s owl is nowhere at sight, though.

He scribbles a note to Lily informing he will be out for a chat with McGonagall — it shouldn’t be news to her since they met at least once a month to talk about the updates in the Transfigurations field — and quickly vanishes inside the green flames.

She is expecting him when he arrives, looking over a few scrolls.

‘James’, she says, the weirdest of the expressions on her face. She seems satisfied. ‘Have a seat’.

‘Hello, Professor’, he says, slipping into the old formality without even noticing. He usually meets her at the Three Broomsticks, rarely coming into her office. It always brings him memories of his years at school, and he almost expects to find the Head Boy badge pinned to his clothes.

‘You seem tense’, she notes, watching him over her glasses. ‘Take a biscuit’.

He does. Her biscuits are really tasty, but sitting in front of her, waiting for her to talk, makes him feel like he has just done a prank and is about to get a detention.

‘You must be wondering why I called you here’.

That makes him grin. Jokes were always his remedy to diffuse any situation. ‘I reckon you missed me’.

‘Hardly, when I see a copy of you everyday in the halls’, she replies easily, almost smiling. ‘Your son is less loud, though’.

‘Well, he did get a lot of Lily’.

‘Unfortunately not her disposition to follow rules’, Minerva notes, sipping her tea calmly.

‘Uh’, James hesitates, unsure. It’s not normal to call a parent for any misconduct (or else his parents would never leave McGonagall’s office), so if she called him here… ‘What happened?’

‘You know we have some rules that are stricter than others. For instance, this year the third floor corridor is absolutely forbidden’.

Years of ignoring rules make James want to ask what’s there, or else go discover for himself, but he just nods.

‘And one of the rules we always follow is to expressly forbid First Years of owning a broom’.

‘Hum’, he mumbles, still unsure. Harry knows that rule (he certainly complained a lot), and James is sure he saw the Nimbus 2000 waiting patiently in their broomshed, so he doesn’t get what’s her point.

‘Your son is bound to break that rule this year’.

‘He brought his broom?’, James asks before he can think through it, his mind trying to understand how Harry got to replace his broom with a fake copy so he could smuggle it to the castle. There is a mild impression, but if Harry did it, he would be in serious trouble…

‘No, not yet, I was hoping you could send it. He told me has a Nimbus 2000, is that correct?’

Feeling like he is missing the point still, James nods.

‘Good. If you could send it next week, it would be perfect. I am still getting the board’s signature of approval, but it’s only a formality, Albus already authorized it’.

‘Minerva’, he interrupts her. ‘What is happening?’

‘Oh’, she stops, looking simply delighted. ‘Yesterday during his first flying lesson, your son took to the skies after some silly gibbering with the Malfoy boy. As you may know, Rolanda is quite loud about how any First Year that flies unsupervised gets expelled. Or, well, a detention at least, but we don’t tell them that. First Years are so inclined to follow the rules… present company excepted, of course’.

James smiles guiltily now. But even he, desperate as he was to join the team, followed that rule at least. Madame Hooch really imposed fear.

‘What happened then?’

‘I saw him through my window’, Minerva tells him, pointing to the window next to her, that provides a nice view of the grounds. ‘Fifty-foot dive, recovered without a single scratch. Did you teach him that?’

James raises his eyebrows. ‘No, actually, he taught himself’.

‘Well, he is a natural, that I can’t deny. So I made him the new Seeker’.

‘Hum, what?’

‘Seeker’, she replies, not bothering to hide her smirk now. ‘I know you’ve been long gone from the Quidditch field, but you do remember what a Seeker is, I am sure’.

Later he will appreciate the fact that Minerva McGonagall is teasing him. For now there is only bewilderment.

‘But — seeker — no First Year — he must be the youngest Quidditch player in decades —’

‘A century, actually’, she corrects him. ‘I checked the records’.

‘That’s — that’s amazing! I am so —’, he stops, staring at her. ‘He broke a rule and you are awarding him?’

Minerva looks moderately embarrassed. ‘It’s not an award. I expect him to train harder to compensate for the years the other Seekers have of advantage, and if he doesn’t seem to take this seriously, I will reconsider not punishing him — oh, stop smirking, Potter’.

She looks suddenly stern again, but James can’t help himself.

‘You have a soft spot for him!’, he declares, grinning. 

‘I certainly do not play favourites’, she answers, voice full of dignity. ‘I only think of what’s best for Gryffindor and —’, she drops all pretenses suddenly. ‘— you should have seen the try outs! Wood, that’s the captain, Oliver Wood, was crying at the end because no one was able to even find the Golden Snitch. And after last year…’ She shakes her head. ‘If it means we won’t get flatten out by Slytherin ever again — that annoying smirk on Snape’s face —, oh, well, I would buy your son a broom myself!’

James smiles proudly now. There was always a fanatical Quidditch enthusiast in Minerva and he adores when it shows. And from all he knows of Snape, he will hate the fact that James Potter’s son is in the team in his First Year, which is only a bonus (though that is a thing he won’t admit out loud).

‘No need. I will make sure he is dedicating himself, but knowing Harry, he is just too marvelled at being part of the team. It’s what he most wanted’.

She sighs, somberer now.

‘And that’s why I called you, actually. Considering your long history of disregarding rules, this Seeker position is not to mean that your son will get away with everything. I’d rather have him go through his school years without too many detentions’.

‘Only a few?’, James teases.

‘Let’s aim for one third of yours and I will call it a success. He is a Potter after all’.

James nods, trying for a serious expression that’s broken by the fact he can’t stop beaming. His son. First Year Seeker! He can’t wait until he tells Sirius.

‘Oh, I will talk to him’, he assures her. ‘We can’t let detentions get in the way of Quidditch’.

____________________