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sweatervest-obsessed · 1 year ago

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Wasteland, Baby

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 3.4k

TW: Mentions of Murders, mentions of suicide, discussion of suicide, trauma, emotional turmoil, death, arguing, abandonment issues, commitment issues, Angst, some fluff

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me as I try to get off the struggle bus y'all. here is the highly anticipated part 2 of Stick Season !

All the fear and the fire of the end of the world Happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl Happens great, happens sweet Happily, I'm unfazed here, too

It had been three years since you left the BAU and you had just turned down a job at the FBI from Erin Strauss. You never heard from her again.

But you did attend her funeral in D.C a week later.

You didn’t alert any of the BAU that you were returning for her funeral, since you could only imagine the pain they were feeling.

The plane ride was filled with thoughts of what life would have been like if you had rejoined the FBI. Maybe she wouldn't have died. Maybe she’d still be calling you and sending you email after email with job offers.

You had quickly stopped by the wake, the day before, to pay your respects, and give Strauss’ family your deepest condolences. It was painful, seeing someone you spoke to last week, stiff, lifeless, in a coffin where they will be for the rest of time.

But the worst part was the burial.

Blending in at a funeral has never been a strong suit of the BAU’s, except for you. You were calm, respectful, and blended in with the rest of the spectators.

Until you looked across the circle and saw Aaron Hotchner looking directly at you. Whatever he had been feeling before, was quickly wiped away when you looked back at him, confirming his suspicions that you were here, in the graveyard. The look on his face was replaced with a more somber one as he redirected his attention back to the priest, but you knew you would be unable to just leave now that you had been spotted.

Once she had been lowered into the ground, Hotch made his way towards you, catching his colleges interested. Where was he going? Who was he looking for?

“Y/n.”

You smiled at him. It didn’t reach your eyes, but it wasn;t fake either.

“It’s good to see you Hotch.”

“I didn’t know you were going to be here today.”

You nodded and looked over as the rest of the people migrated towards their cars to go to the reception afterwards. “I didn’t make it public information, considering I was planning on leaving after the ceremony. I’m just here to pay my respects Hotch.”

“She called you.”

“Yes she did.”

“And she said you turned it down.”

“I did.”

“Why.”

“Hotch, please.”

He took your elbow and pulled you away from the people, giving the two of you some semblance of privacy.

“Will you at least think about it?”

“What is there to think about Hotch? I don’t want to—”

“I wish you wouldn’t lie to me. I know you miss it Y/n. I’m not just some colleague, and you know that.”

You closed your eyes and pinched your brow. You knew coming to this funeral was a mistake. But some part of you, one that you had silenced for a very long time, was starting to break through.

“We can talk later.”

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

“I cannot believe you’re going back.”

You sighed and continued to pack up everything you owned into boxes. You had only broken down the ones from a few years ago–that same part of you had saved them for whenever you had recognized you were ready to be back in Washington D.C.

“Don’t ignore me. I thought you were done with hunting bad guys and certain doctors with glasses.”

You slammed your hands on the table, causing Lucille to jump.

“Sorry.” You muttered and slowly sunk to the ground, deciding it was just easier to sit on the ground and have a breakdown rather than talk it out.

“I’m not going back for him…I’m going back for me. This…” You ran a hand through your hair. “This is n’t what I was meant to do, Luce. I’m not a teacher. I’m okay at it, but…I was meant to be in the field. Teaching is challenging, but not in the way I need. And fuck, I love my kids, you know that I do, but it’s just…”

“It’s not who you are.” She came and sat down next to you, taking your hand in hers. “I’m gonna miss you asshole.”

You rested your head on her shoulder and squeezed her hand. “I’m going to miss you so much.” You whispered back to her.

“You have to visit me. I’ll get lonely up here.”

A smile spread across your face as a tear slowly tracked down your cheek. “ You have my permission to hunt me down and beat the shit out of me if I don’t.”

“Oh don’t worry, I will.”

All the things yet to come are the things that have passed Like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass Like the bonfire that burns That all words in the fight fell to

Your desk stayed pretty empty for the first two weeks you were back—like you were terrified that if you got too comfortable, life would pull the rug right out from under you again and you’d have to leave.

It was Garcia who first noticed this, watching as you’d pack everything up into your tote bag each night before you would go home. She didn’t say anything about it though, since you were not the same girl the BAU had grown to know.

You were different, quieter. You spoke when you had something to add, or to correct somebody, but you never participated in the banter; you never stayed longer than absolutely necessary. If the group had decided to surprise you at your new apartment, they would find it covered in boxes—walls bare, fridge almost empty, only essentials like clothes and toothbrush unpacked.

But you had never been better. Hotch had you start consulting side cases when you came back, a way to get you used to the routine of being back in the office, back in the FBI. You would consult up to three new cases a day, still helping with those that would call back a day or week later for updates or more help. They watched as you easily solved things in minutes, that might have taken the team hours.

The first time Morgan called you ‘Girl Genius’ to your face, you punched him in the arm (admittedly a bit harshly). But he wasn’t wrong. You could feel the continuous excitement flowing through your veins; your muscles flexing as you settled back into the thing you were the best at.

You were different, but better.

Spencer noticed this too. He watched as you confidently answered every question thrown at you. He watched as you consulted on cases and noticed patterns he had missed.

Spencer had missed you, badly. He knew he fucked up when he had left that night, needed to go and he spend the night away, thinking about his life; his future. Panic had flooded his body at the thought of you being the one forced to take care of him, forced to deal with his shit history and addictive personality and his annoying ass rambles. He didn’t want to subject you to that.

But then he remembered the look on your face—the pure excitement and adoration at the thought of being able to spend every single minute of your life calling him yours. And once the panic had subsided, he felt that same joy.

When he got back to the house, you weren’t there.

You weren’t at work either.

You had just vanished, and about a day later, all of your things had disappeared too.

And Spencer was a fucking wreck. He was useless at work, and he spent so much time trying to find you, but Penelope wasn’t able to find a thing, and by the time she did, it had been months later, and you clearly didn’t want to be found.

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

It didn’t help that seeing you again in Vermont made him want to melt on the spot. A great deal of relief washed over him, seeing you were alive and in front of him. But then he felt the anger rise in him. You had abandoned him, you had just disappeared without a second thought.

Then he remembered the look on your face when he panicked about marrying you.

You had thought he didn’t want to marry you.

You had no idea that he felt like he was the the problem, and if he told you know, it would just sound like a fucking excuse.

Watching you walk back into the bullpen and set up at your desk was another slap in the face. It feels like nobody tells him anything, because they don’t. But then he realized that only Hotch knew about it because everyone froze on the spot seeing you sitting at your desk, working.

At his desk, he would just watch you. On the plane, he would watch you. And he tried so hard to be nonchalant about it, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your hair, your legs, your arms, your lips—he wanted to take your hand and never let you go, fusing your skin together so he could be with you always.

He was in love with you. And he thought you would rather die than be seen with him again.

If only he knew that you felt the same way—you loved him right back.

And that day that we'll watch the death of the sun To the cloud and the cold and those jeans you have on And you'll gaze unafraid as they sob from the city roofs

After about three months, infinite pining, a few longing glances passed to one another, and incessant whining from Derek Morgan, you and Spencer Reid found yourselves together at coffee one morning.

After about a month later, you found yourself back in his apartment, lips grazing his, not being able to tell where his body ended and yours started.

Then, the next day, he told you he loved you.

He didn’t see you for a whole week afterwards.

But when he walked into work that monday, and you were sitting at your desk, completely unbothered, he took it upon himself to make you talk to him.

No one else was around, except for Hotch. But his office door was closed, and Morgan wouldn’t be around for another ten minutes anyways.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

You turned around in your chair and glared at him. “Excuse me?”

“You disappeared for a week, no word about where you were going, not even telling me you were leaving.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not now Spence.”

“I love you.”

“What?”

“I still love you.”

Your jaw dropped. “Spencer…”

“I’m dead serious Y/n. When you weren’t here after you spent the night, I lost my fucking mind. I thought I had lost you—again. And I wasn’t about to go through that again. I had fucked up once before and I—I thought you had realized you didn’t want to be with me anymore and you had left again.”

You were silent as he rambled on.

“When you left three years ago, I lost my fucking mind. I sat here, staring at your desk hoping you would materialize out of thin air just so that I could apologize to you. And then when you didn’t show up, I begged Penelope to tell me where you had run off to, so I could go and find you and beg for you to listen to me while I got on my hands and knees to beg for your forgiveness. You thought I didn’t want to marry you, but I was terrified because I thought you wouldn’t want to marry me. I mean I had just gotten sober, and I thought we were doing so well and then you brought up marriage and all I could think about was how it was another way for you to find out how much you could hate me and get sick of me since—”

You had finally snapped out the shock you were feeling and placed your hand over his mouth. “Breathe.”

Spencer shoved your hand off his mouth, but stayed silent, taking an over exaggerated breath to prove to you he did.

“We can talk about this later.”

“No.” Spencer shook his head. “We’re going to talk about this now. I want to talk about this now.”

“Spencer…”

“How do I know that you’re not going to just pack up and disappear again.”

“Spencer seriously? I don’t—-”

“You don’t do that? Because we both know you do. You’ve done it twice now.”

“What do you want me to say Spence?”

“That you still love me.” His voice was low, but his eyes were locked in on yours. “I need to know if you still love me.”

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

The Next Week

Another Day, Another Psychopath Killer.

Another way for you to throw yourself into the line of fire because you have always had a soft spot for teenagers.

Someone was targeting suicidal teens, convincing them to end their own lives, merely making him complicit in their deaths. It had sent you (and JJ) reeling. Both of you had lost someone to suicide, and watching as this person preyed on vulnerable kids who deserved to live and be loved took a lot out of the both of you.

You had a bad feeling about this case when it was first passed onto your desk, but it just got worse and worse as the week went on. If only you had figured out who it was sooner, you might have been able to save this one girl’s life. But sometimes life refuses to relent.

The jet was silent on the way back, none of you wanting to speak and break the silence.

Spencer sat next to you on the couch, offering a comforting presence, and nothing else. He knew you (and it bugged the shit out of you). Years of being with one another meant that he knew when you were upset, and he knew that you despised being touched while you were like this, but you hated being alone.

It bugged you so much, but you weren’t going to say a damn thing because having him next to you while you sat and listened to your music and spiraled was exactly what you needed.

He only offered his hand when the plane hit some turbulence, and your entire body began to shake unconsciously. It was between the two of you, and all he did was flip it, so the palm was upwards. It was an invitation that you could immediately ignore and refuse if you wanted to.

But something in you caused your hand to drop next to his and lace your fingers through his.

God was it so fucking warm, and soft. You wondered if he still used the lotion you had recommended to him all those years ago when he would complain to you about his hands being “gross” and “too dry”. He absolutely did.

He managed to hide his smile when you took his hand, but he did give yours a soft squeeze, and continued to read his book, pretending that his insides weren’t aflame and his mind was anywhere but on the words in front of him.

He didn’t turn a page for over four minutes once your hand was in his.

And I love too that love soon might end Be known in its aching Shown in the shaking Lately of my wasteland, baby Be still, my indelible friend, you are unbreaking Though quaking, though crazy That's wasteland, baby

That Night

“Thank you.”

It was the first thing you had said in over five hours, including the plane ride. Once the plane had landed, you and Spencer went back to his apartment, and the two of you had sat in his living room, in silence. He didn’t mind, as long as he could keep an eye on you.

Your mind was far far away. It was back in college. Thinking about your friend and about the life you could have lived if she was still with you.

Spencer had left a cup of tea next to you, your favorite, and sat on the couch. You were situated in the chair by the window, staring out into the night, watching as the rain drops raced down the window and as the lights blurred together.

He was close enough to provide you with some comfort, but far enough away to let you have whatever space you needed.

“Spence?”

He snapped out of his head, looking towards you. Your eyes were tired, and your body reflected the same type of exhaustion.

“Sorry. What do you need?”

“I—.” You interrupted yourself with a yawn, cursing under your breath. “Shit sorry. I should probably go..”

“It’s okay if you stay.”

You looked out the window then back at him.

“I’m not just saying that to get you into my bed—oh my god that came out wrong, I just mean I don’t want you out in that weather and I don’t really like the idea of you being alone tonight, especially after this case because—”

“Spencer.”

“---yeah?”

“I’ll stay.”

“O-oh. Good. good…” He nodded. “I can uh, take the couch and you can have the bed.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled slightl;y. “You’re a gentleman, Doctor Reid, but I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“But I—”

“Spence.”

He huffed, crossing his arms as you just laughed softly to yourself, amused.

“Why don’t we both go get ready. Together.”

“Together?”

You nodded. “Yeah Spence.”

“Okay.”

Spencer stood up, and offered his hand to you.

And for the second time today, you took it.

When the stench of the sea and the absence of green Are the death of all things that are seen and unseen Are an end but the start of all things that are left to do

And maybe the two of you would never be together ever again. Maybe you would.

But something about the way Spencer would make your favorite tea,

or the way he would save you the crossword puzzle on his morning newspaper since he knew how much you loved to solve as much as you could without his help,

or when he would leave you notes on your desk, making you feel like a giddy high schooler all over again, or when he felt like a good start to something new

or when he would kiss you good morning and good night, promising you he’d be there whenever you woke up

or when he slowly got rid of things in his apartment to create space for your things as you moved in slowly

or whenever a case was particularly rough for the both of you and he wouldn’t pester you to talk to him about it, instead offering his hand for you to take, and squeezing it, letting you know he was there for you

or the way he would take you on small vacations up to Vermont so you could go see all of your friends and escape from the world of the FBI

or the way he would never storm out of the apartment after an argument, but still give you the space you needed so you could both decompress without getting at each other's throats

or when he whispered every thing he would do for you for the rest of your lives so help him god when he thought you were asleep in his arms

or how he would whispered ‘I love you’ to you as you passed by while you both were working

or when he would never let you run off in the middle of the night because you would panic about whether or not this was all a dream, and one day he would wake up and not love you anymore

or when he got down on one knee and proclaimed his undying love for you, hoping you’d promised to love him forever in the same way he loved you, wanting to be with you, wanting to be near you always

made you feel like everything might be okay after all.

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

#x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert

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coraniaid · 5 months ago

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It's true that the Buffy writers' answers to the closely related questions "is there a meaningful distinction between a vampire and the human being who was sired to create them?" and "when you get down to it, are vampires basically people?" clearly undergo something of a shift in the second half of the show.

This is a transformation that starts with Buffy's reluctance to stake Willow's vampire alter ego in Season 3's Doppelgangland and continues at pace with the gang's collective reaction to finding out that Harmony has "become" a vampire in Season 4. It's a process that continues as long as Harmony remains a recurring character on the show, until, by mid-Season 5, Buffy (and Buffy) has essentially undergone a complete switch in its view of vampirism. The later seasons handling of vampires are very hard to square with the speeches made by Buffy in Lie To Me ("you die, and a demon sets up a shop in your old house [...] but it's not you") or Giles to Xander [about the late and largely unlamented Jesse] in The Harvest ("you're not looking at your friend: you're looking at the thing that killed him"). Whether this is a change for the better or not is a matter for debate, but that it is a real change that happens is pretty hard to dispute.

It's also true that the writers are obviously increasingly reluctant to show their show's protagonist, the titular vampire slayer, actually going around killing vampires. At least any vampires who've had a chance to establish some sort of personality. How many of the dozen or so named, recurring vampire characters does Buffy actually kill over the course of the show? Not very many.

I make it two in Season 1 (if you're generous and count Luke as a recurring character), one in Season 2 (if you're similarly generous and count Buffy sending Angel to hell for almost three whole episodes as killing him) and ... that's it, right? Somebody other than Buffy kills Darla [=Angel], and Colin the Anointed One [=Spike], and Dalton [=the Judge], and Mr Trick [=Faith], and vamp!Willow [=wishverse!Oz, twice] and Sunday's only-named-in-the script henchvamp Tom [=the Initiative], and Sandy [=Riley], and Spike[=... well, Spike, ultimately, I guess]. Nobody ever kills Drusilla or Lyle Gorch or Harmony, all of whom make multiple appearances on the show and (un)live to the end of the series. And Angel and Spike (and even Darla, eventually and temporarily) all come back after apparently being killed.

Buffy might have a sacred calling to slay vampires, but the show is very uncomfortable about her killing non-human characters who've had a chance to establish themselves as people. Perhaps that's why the show stops having vampiric Big Bads completely after Season 2, and why Season 7 tries to introduce a whole new category of personality-free, definitely-not-people monsters to replace its existing vampires. (Perhaps not entirely succesfully, if we're being diplomatic.)

It's certainly true that the show does not have a consistent take to offer on vampire lore. Like everything supernatural in Buffy, vampires are essentially walking metaphors: and the things that they exist to represent and comment on change and evolve throughout the show's run. Buffy's worldbuilding is not very deep or rigorous.

But what's not true at all, and what I wish people would stop claiming, is the idea that Angel's awkward "well, actually..." when Buffy assures Willow in Doppelgangland that "a vampire's personality has nothing to do with the person it was" represents some sort of big departure from the show's established or implied lore up to that point. It does not. At all.

In fact, it's Buffy's claim that is at odds with everything that the show has been saying up this point. A vampire's personality has always, always been something that the show wants us to believe is informed by the personality of the person who died to create them, This goes all the way back to Season 1.

In Angel, Giles does tell Buffy flat out that "a vampire isn't a person at all", but he also says that a vampire may have "the memories, even the personality of the person that it took over". In the part of her speech from Lie To Me that I elided earlier, Buffy admits that if you're turned the resulting vampire "walks, and it talks, and it remembers your life" [and the clear implication here is that the vampire walks and talks like the original person did, otherwise what is this supposed to be saying?].

If the show's original position was that a vampire's personality had nothing to do with who they were in life, why would Giles have felt the need to tell Buffy (in Season 1's Never Kill A Boy On The First Date) that Andrew Borba had been on the run for a suspected double murder the night he died and rose as a vampire? Why would he have told her in Season 2's Bad Eggs that the Gorch brothers "massacred a village" before they were vampires? Why would he warn her in Season 3's Helpess that Zachary Kralik was a "criminally insane" serial killer even before being sired as a vampire? If the show -- or even just Giles himself -- really did have the position that a vampire's personality has nothing to do with the person they were before death, as Buffy claims in Doppelgangland (and some fans apparently believe), how would any of this make sense?

If we weren't supposed to think vampires inherited at least some part of their personality from their host then why, in The Harvest, would vampire!Jesse still be obsessed with pursuing Cordelia Chase? Why would Drusilla still be driven mad as a vampire as a result of the pyschological tortures that Angel inflicted on "her" when she was a mortal? In Halloween, why would Buffy be trying to find out more about the sort of person Angel was as a human? Why would Willow and Xander still be together in the world of The Wish?

The idea that a vampire inherits the personality of the person whose body they take over [or who they were before "becoming" a vampire, in the later seasons' parlance] isn't any kind of retcon. It's one of the few consistent takes on vampires the show had from beginning to end. Continuity of self; moral standing as a person; capacity for self-reflection and personal growth, whether or not vampires can breathe ... these are the things about vampires the show changes its stance on. But a vampire's personality was always informed by who they were in life, right from the very first pair of episodes.

(Spike and Drusilla being capable of at least some kind of romantic love and mutual jealousy in Season 2 is also not a retcon, incidentally. We saw that with Darla and Angel in Season 1 as well. And even the Master clearly felt emotions and had some sort of affection for his favorites among the vampires that worked for him. Spike and Dru do represent a significant -- and welcome! --change in the tone of the show, but they aren't somehow a walking refutation of what Giles has been telling Buffy (and through her, us) about vampires for the past year.)

I mean, I don't really have a big point to work to here, it's just that I keep seeing takes on my dash about how this particular scene represents a big change in the show's lore about vampires. And that .. just isn't true?

#btvs

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brbzonedout · 5 months ago

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Dear Lover,

It’s only been a month since you’ve last seen your girlfriend. Fall season had just began and the summer session at camp halfblood had just ended. Regardless of the fact you missed each other dearly after three months straight of practically living together, seeing each other every day, and having all of your meals together being states away was utter torture.

On top of that as a demi-god your access to technology is heavily limited since those stupid monsters found a way to track you through cellular data. Now those late night calls you so desperately wish for are limited to a goodnight text and a heart emoji on the side.

Fortunately one recognizably dull day in the beginning of July the mail was dropped off your house as it does routinely. Although this time something unexpected came. A red envelope with a small hand drawn shield on the front was left in the box and it was addressed to you.

Dear Y/N,

Hey Y/N, I’m writing this i’m the morning so good morning. I know it hasn’t been that long since we’ve seen each other in person but being away from you for this feels unnatural and talking to you through text and dm’s isn’t enough for me. I was talking to one of the year rounders at Aphrodite cabin and he gave me the idea to do this, it feels a lot more intimate than texting and it’s like journaling which reminds me of you. I’ve been missing you a lot during this week, we’re preparing for capture the flag and it’ll be weird being on the field without you regardless of what team you’re on. Speaking of battle field I finally got my spear fixed so that should be fun to have back. I also talked to Chiron about getting in contact with my mortal family like you said and we were able to find my grandparents! They still live in Arizona and said I could visit and stay for as long as I wanted. They thought I was missing this entire time, insane right? With that I was hoping before I went over there I could stop in D.C. and see you for a few days. If your people say no that’s alright but I still wanted to ask just to see. Going back to the Journaling thing I’m still doing it and you’re right it does really help with my temper I haven’t had a write up since the last time we saw each other. That’s still not entirely my fault though it was your idea to go swimming after curfew. You know it’s funny you’re such a good and bad influence on me at the same time. This is my first time writing a real letter to anyone so I hope you like it, you don’t have to write back if you don’t want to or feel like it I just wanted to try something new. I wanted to just call through Iris but you know she’s busy during the other seasons, just in case she’s not I put a few drachmas in the envelope. I love you and I miss you just get back to me some way, any way baby.

Love,

Clarisse La Rue ⚔︎

P.S.- If this is boring to read i’m sorry I didn’t really know what to say. I love you have a good day ♥

After reading the full letter tears began to well up in your eyes. This was truly unexpected of her. Some time into your friendship one of her cabin mates told you about the the letters she’d write to her mother when you found one hanging out of the drawer. But since she didn’t really want to be found the ones that she did send out never got a response, she never added a return address. Once she grew up and did start adding it let’s just say her mother still wasn’t able to write back. To have received one from her is something you never thought would happen no one was ever meant to know about this side of her. The only reason the single bunk mate knew is because she was caught writing once and the only reason she told you is because she knew Clarisse had a crush on you. She did lie about never having written one but you understood.

Suddenly while wiping the tears from your eyes the raindrops on your window and the sun shining in created a small rainbow that cast itself into your bedroom. Without hesitation you carefully reached into the envelope as not to rip it and pulled out a drachma.

“Oh Iris goddess of the rainbow, please accept my offering. Clarisse La Rue Camp Halfblood”.

With a kiss to the coin you threw it into the rainbow and in disappeared into thin air. Suddenly in the blink of an eye a tall girl with long curly brown hair appeared in the rainbow with her back turned.

“Hi..” You said smiling.

Startled she turned around abruptly, noticing who it was she smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. “So you got it huh?”

#clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo clarisse #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #clarisse x female reader #clarisse my beloved #clarisse x you #clarisse la rue blurb

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justmystical · 9 months ago

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The Forgotten-2

Pairing: Lucifer X Butterfly!fem!reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel x Star vs the forces of evil

Warnings: this takes place before Season 1, Alternative Universe,

One| Two |Three |Navigation

A few months has passed since you met a man under a tree, now knowing his name as Lucifer Morningstar. You instantly became friends with him because of some shared interest.

You always sneak out of the Castle because of this.Loving spending time with your new friend.

Always meeting up under the Apple tree and tell stories about your day. Well sometimes there were day's he didn't show up and you never questioned it , after all he didn't say anything about his life and you didn't tell about yours. Only about neutral things.

Another days ,you just got back from the Earth Dimension and still no sign of your Beloved friend Lucifer.

You sighed

"Princess (Name) Butterfly!" You heard someone call out , you turned around to see Glossaryck and felt sweat drip down on your face.

"hey Glossaryck"you smiled awkwardly and did gunfingers to him. You didn't attend your lessons today and ran away to meet up with Lucifer unfortunately he wasn't there.

"running away are we Your Highness? learning magic is important as Princess of Mewni blah blah"he said but the end you felt your ears shut down to see your sister and you heard Glossaryck sigh

"Eclipsa!"you said running and waving hand to her as Glossaryck,She smiled when she spotted you.

"hello (Name)"You smile faltered, Your sister doesn't call you by your name,only your Nickname that was given to you by your Father.

"My Queen"Glossaryck bowed

"ahh Glossaryck can you give some privacy for a moment?"he looked at you with hesitation "Don't worry Glossaryck I won't run off somewhere " you explained and he sighed but nodded.

As Glossaryck left ,you and your sister were alone in the hallway.

"ok,tell me what got you down?"you saw a her having an inner battle in her head.

"what do you mean (Name)?"she asked faking her confusion.

"Eclipse, I'm your Little sister and one of your closest friends . infact your only friend so , i know when something upsets you" You told her and she bit her lip. You waited patiently for answer.

"well umm , it's just that..."she hesitated "as you know our family has the tradition to pass the wand down to an heir and-"

"YOUR PREGNANT?!?"You cut her off and saw her laughed.

"heaven's no! But the people were wondering when will there be introduce to another Princess in the Palace..."

"A new heir...?"you questioned

"wait with Shastacan?"you saw her face pale.

"SHASTACAN?!"

"well who else would be..."

"uhh, he's such a narcissist!" You ranted about how bad her Husband is and Eclipsa face grew paler than before.

You noticed this and stopped "Sorry Eclipse..."you felt bad for her she didn't even want to marry Shastacan but it was your mother's dying wish.

After that, you were about to go Glossaryck for your lessons but you passed a familiar room.

The Rooms of Queen Tapestry.. eh you didn't really know what this was room was called.

You walked in, seeing all of your ancestors and you uncle,your uncle became king when you mother died. Since you and Eclipsa are still very young,he took over for awhile. Next to his was...

Your Mother.. Solaria the Monster Carver.

You did miss you mother Truly, you didn't even felt Keekee transform and now she was comforting you.

"mother, hopefully you had a good reason for Eclipse to marry Shastacan,right?"you told her but no one answered.

You felt bad when you found out about this dying wish of your mother. You knew Eclipsa was inlove with someone else but didn't know who?

You wanted your sister to marry and have children with someone she loves, not someone who she was forced with. You walked around to see your sister's Tapestry about to be begin.

A Lot of people were confused of why it hasn't even begun yet when Eclipsa became Queen. You eyes widened as it as being made.

Does this mean Eclipsa's fate has been written?

Keekee followed you as you meet up with Glossaryck, you were learning some spells and read about a butterfly form.

"i thought we we're done with that mewberty butterfly form ?" You asked.

"that is , well how do i explain this to...ehh basically different from Mewberty and it's more powerful when you are in this form" Glossaryck explained.

More powerful?

Can only unlock in time of need?

You feel like this could help you defend your sister from monsters."I'll keep you safe Eclipse..."you muttered

"huh?"

"nothing!"

After another day you snuck out and went back to earth.

And finally you saw him

"Lucifer Morningstar! Where have you been?!"he heard you and flinched.

"hey n/n"he smiled awkwardly as you walked to him with arms crossed on your chest.

"okay before you kill me..."he said grabbing something from his bag and it was a...

Duck?

"i was making this for you,i made it to looked like you a little also putting some details like the marks on your cheeks-" you cut him off with a hug.

"thanks Luci"he was stunned and now very red.

"y-your w-welcome"he stutter and tried to hides his blushing face from you.

"are you blushing?"

"am not"

"yes you are~"

"stop~"

"hehe"

A/n: sorry if its short , and has little Lucifer content but don't worry in the future 🥹

#hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel keekee #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #svtfoe #eclipsa butterfly #star vs the forces of evil #the forgotten

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invissimp · 11 months ago

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Yule Blues

Draco malfoy x reader

Summary: Confusion during the holiday season wasnt something you wanted to deal with especially with the Yule Ball in a few weeks.

Snow. Thats always how you knew Christmas was around the corner this year the first snow falls just so happened to be on a trip to Hogsmeade.

Although you were walking with Hermione, Ron, and Harry your plan was to meet up with Draco at the three broomsticks halfway through the visit.

Draco usually didn't even bother trying to get you from your house friends mainly because they were overprotective of you since your best friend is their "rival".

So that's why you decided it would just be better meeting him somewhere other than him trying to find you in the small village.

Glancing towards the left seeing Ron looking at Hermione while she was explaining how the Yule ball was going to work. On your right was Harry since he and Ron weren't really on 'talking terms'.

Although you felt bad for Hermione for leaving her alone with Harry and Ron while they weren't talking to each other. The other part of you was happy to finally visit the three broomsticks with Draco since last year you only did once.

Glancing down at your watch almost every 3 minutes to see if it was time to go see Draco. Although there was a good chance he was already there you still didn't want to leave your friends so soon.

"You know we're not stopping you from seeing Malfoy right?" Your red headed friend asked.

Taken aback from his niceness towards Draco even if it was hard to make a comment about Draco mean Ron always found a way to.

"You guys wouldn't mind if I went ahead and left to go see him?" You asked

The two boys just nodded their heads while Hermione let out a simple yes to the question. Before they could even say bye you were gone heading towards the three broomsticks.

Bringing your gold and red scarf up to your nose since it was still a couple minutes walk. Glancing around to see people from different houses and schools walking into each store wanting to see what was in each one, especially the third years.

Smiling to yourself thinking of how last year Draco mentioned in one of his letters towards you during the summer he said that he wanted to be the first one to take you to all the stores. (you both knew that wouldn't happen) He really did enjoy your company.

Ron would always joke that he liked you more than his own housemates and he fancies you.

You had always denied the first part but the second half is something you wished to be true since in all honesty you were completely in love with Draco Malfoy. Would he return your feelings? Most likely not he probably fancies Pansy Parkinson.

Shaking your head to get out of your thoughts only to be met by a Durmstrang student, Steven Bottom. There had been rumors about his plan to ask you to the Yule ball. If worse comes to worse then yeah you would go with him. Although you would prefer to go with a boy from a slytherin house.

“Ah Y/N what a pleasant surprise to see you here.” The Durmstrang student said with a grin.

You always knew you were somewhat short compared to your friends, especially Ron and Draco but Steven was a good 6’4(1.9 meters). Smiling up at him “Nice to see you as well Steven.”

Although his name didn’t get called from the goblet you knew he put it in there. You two had been in the library a couple times so you can explain to him what all happens at Hogwarts and just to hang out with someone new to school.

Although you had been walking by yourself to the three broomsticks, why not walk with Steven. “Care to walk with me?”

Nodding his head to your question already following you.

“So has anyone asked you to the Ball yet, i’m sure their has to be some people that want to go with you?” The Bulgarian asked with just the slightest hint of desperation in his voice.

Now the smile on your face has went down a little but not by a whole lot “Yeah a couple people have but ive said no to all of them I been waiting to be asked by a certain person.”

Now that definitely caught his attention “So no date yet just making sure?”

Shaking your head for a no to his question while glancing up at him just to see him wearing the same grin as he had before when you first ran into him today.

Seeing that you were only about a minute away from your destination was a plus since you really didn't want to keep this conversation going and end up rejecting Steven just to wait for a boy who won't even ask you.

Taking a deep breath of oxygen before asking you “So can I be that certain person to ask you to the Yule ball I mean we can have a great time there and it wont be a waste of your…” Draining out his rambling once the three broomsticks came into sight and thankfully Blasie was outside.

“Bloody hell Y/N your finally here I thought you werent going to show and then I would have to deal with a pissed Draco all night which is NOT on my bucket list.” The slytherin said warning that Draco might be in a bad mood.

Glancing down at your watch to see that Steven had slowed your walk down just by talking to you and now the trip was a little over halfway. Looking up at Steven to see disappointment in his eyes made you feel bad a tad bit, just a tad.

“We can finish this conversations some other time yeah?” you said more like a statement than question before walking into the three broomsticks.

This place has never failed to feel welcoming, hell even the most sad human could walk in here and be cheerful just for the day. Looking around to see Madam Rosmerta had put up the Christmas trees and decorations.

Obviously it was busy since it was the first day, darting your eyes around looking for the boy youve been waiting to see all day. Finding him in the back corner which you couldn't really see because of one of the many Christmas trees.

Smiling softly at him, you knew he had been looking at you since you've walked into pub. Taking in his appearance his gloves and scarf had been on the table corner and your seat across from him had already been pulled out for you to sit in.

Walking over to the table and pulling off you gloves.

“Well look who finally decided to show up only 10 minutes late.” The seeker said sarcastically while moving your gloves over on the table.

Glaring at him “I could just leave right now and never talk to you again.” You said with a serious face on.

Knowing you was just lying to him he rolled his eyes. That was his specialty knowing your humor and personality better than anyone could.

Sitting down finally after almost 2 hours of walking.

—

Talking with Draco made time fly by fast for sure it had only felt like 5 minutes but in reality a hour and half. That means only about a half hour longer to talk to him.

“So what was you and Bottom talking about in the street he seemed pretty happy about it before you walked away?” Draco asked

Confused on how he would know but Draco read your face and pointed towards the window that had a perfect view of where you and Steven were talking.

“Oh he was asking me about the Yule Ball and if I have a date yet to it.” you replied softly, now that was something that caught Dracos attention he doubted he wouldnt know if you were going with someone but you never know.

“So are you?” He asked trying not to seem to interested, shaking your head a no “Just waiting for a certain someone to ask me but if he doesnt then I might go with Steven.”

No way you could ever go with someone but Draco, seeing you even talk to someone else gets him mad enough but dancing would be another level of madness.

Nodding his head to your response. “So have you been asked or ask anyone yet?” You said curiously with just a hint of hopefulness in your eyes.

Draco knew lying was terrible, although hes done it before he hated doing it to people he cared about(even though it was just you and his mom). Draco didnt know why he said what he said it just kinda came out of his mouth. “Im going with Pansy I also asked her.”

Looking at your eyes to see the hopefulness fall out of them and be met with sadness and a weak “Oh.”

Now the converstation had gotten awkward enough to the point you might as well just walk away.

Which is exactly what you did. Before Draco could even realize it, you had gotten up and left the pub leaving him behind with your gloves.

———

Trees. Christmas trees to be exact had been put up all around the school to celebrate the spirit. Each student also got to make a ornament each year to put on a tree.

Some were common like a snowflake, bulbs with intials on it. The weasley twins always did magic on theirs to make it extra special and stand out.

This year Heromione made hers a cat with whiskers that move every few minutes. Ron’s was a simple broomstick that he had Hermione make it where it can fly around to different trees each day.

You never put much thought into your ornament since you’d only see it for a week and a half. But this year you and Draco planned on doing matching ones. His was to be a black swan and yours a white one.

It was your mission to avoid him of course but that didn’t stop you from still fulfilling your part of the plan. It was late at night and Ron requested food from the kitchen, Harry offered to come with you but you denied since it was better for just one person to get caught and not two just in case.

Knowing that the chances of running into anybody were slim and Harry had already checked the Marauders Map before you had gone out to make sure Flich wasn’t anywhere around.

Stepping foot into the kitchen to see just a few elves around. Requesting the food that Ron and Harry wanted along with a few drinks.

Hermione told you to make it quick since their was no warning if any teacher decided to take a stroll around the halls. Getting the food from the elves and responding with a small “thank you” before walking up and out into the hall.

Walking back towards the Common room felt even longer, the longest thing that you’ve experienced even potions or charms. It was bound to happen after all, footsteps were heard from behind you. Here comes detention for a week.

“Y/N.”

You could recognize that voice from anywhere, the one where you heard for weeks but haven’t had a conversation with. Draco Malfoys voice.

The inner gryffindor in you was not coming out, all you wanted to do was run away and not stop to talk to Draco.

Before your plan to run away could happen the slytherin done turned you around to face him.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He stated like it was simple knowledge. If anyone else saw him they would say he looked angry or annoyed which he did. But his eyes had just a hint of sadness in them.

Over the years knowing Draco’s facial expressions have gotten easier, enough where you can see across the great hall with one glance to know if he was going to have a good or bad day. Which was him making fun of Harry or leaving his comments aside.

Deciding to test your luck with him and see if you can get away with it. “No I havent just been busy with the Ball and stuff like that.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth.”

“You know I can read you like a book right?”

Having no comeback to that and just looking at him. It was bound to happen eventually knowing that he would talk to you. This wasn’t one of the ways you pictured him finding you alone.

“Why did you leave out of the blue in hogs meade after I talked about the Yule ball?”

Well he definitely got straight to the point for once, Draco wasn’t known for that usually everyone would have to guess about what was wrong with him or what he was trying to say.

Not right now though, not when you his bestfriend, crush had been avoiding him for weeks now even after he planned on asking you out that same day and just say it was a joke about Pansy.

Lost at words to respond to him, he looked as though he was going to say something. You couldn’t bare to hear it, how he was going to make fun of you about not having a date.

So you ran. Ran as fast as you could, faster than when you pranked Ron. Running down the hallways to stop by the fat lady portrait, you could hear Draco’s faint footsteps in the background.

Saying the password and slamming the portrait shut to be met with Harry, Ron and Hermione all staring at you with wide eyes.

“I like draco Malfoy.”

————

Part 2

#oneshot #x reader #draco malfoy one shot #harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #golden trio era

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suzannahnatters · 2 months ago

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Having shared my RINGS OF POWER s2 eulogy, and while assuring you all that I am also mourning the loss of one of the best things about the show, I would also like to take a moment to defend the decisions being made by the showrunners and writers here.

Before I get started, I just want to acknowledge the members of my writers' group. This post owes much to our discussions. Anyway, when it comes to Adar's death, there are three reasons why I'm not calling his death pointless, or blaming the showrunners for bad writing. The overall reason is this: Adar represents the show's efforts to treat Orcs like people. In this sense, his character was a blazing success. Look at us all, with a hopeless crush on an Orc? Success.

But let's go a bit deeper.

SIMON TOLKIEN'S EXECUTIVE MEDDLING

The fact that Simon Tolkien made an EXCELLENT call in asking the showrunners to keep Adar around for an extra season...still doesn't stop what he did from being executive meddling, or from causing tricky ramifications in the second season. Adar was a first-season antagonist, brilliantly well-written, but ultimately only intended to be a supporting character. The decision to keep him on, suddenly made him more charismatic, more mysterious, and more sympathetic. Given how he'd been set up as a warm-up baddie...season 2 suddenly turned around and made us think he was here to stay. The writers had cornered themselves: on the Tolkien Estate's behest, they had a dark horse who was about to run away with the show. I'm not going to fault them for going ahead with their original plan, because they would have had to retool subsequent seasons massively in order to fit in an Adar redemption arc, and you can't necessarily do that when the whole arc of your story is already planned.

JRR TOLKIEN'S LEGACY

All of us have written things we're not proud of. JRR Tolkien wrote a story world with something problematic hard-baked into the foundations: an entire race of beings for whom genetics determined ethics. Can you even imagine what it must have taken for him to get to the end of a long life spent in the dedicated pursuit of this story world, and to have the courage to admit that he might have been wrong? That really isn't something most authors are capable of. When Peter Jackson went to make LOTR and HOBBIT into movies, he did nothing to scrutinise this issue. His Orcs are flat: monstrous, comic, but never people.

TROP challenged that, and exercised significant skill, care, and wisdom in doing so. But they are still attempting a faithful adaptation of Tolkien's source material. We know where this story is going. Galadriel will end up in Lorien with her elf wifeguy. The Orcs will fall under Sauron's dominion and become his tools, enslaved to his will with the Ring. I did fantasise about Adar being Celeborn, and possibly some of his "children" getting to nope out of Sauron's dominion or even be turned into Elves. But we now know that was never on the table. The Orcs were always meant to fall to the Enemy. But here's the point: for the first time in the history of Tolkien works and adaptations, TROP allowed them the dignity of a fall. Going forward in the show, the Orcs won't be monstrous cannon fodder: they'll be people we knew, people we were pulling for, people whose deaths matter. They are, not a waste, but a tragedy.

TOLKIENIAN TRAGEDY

Look...there's nothing more Tolkienian than a beautiful disaster of a man who dies far too early.

And yes, I know that it's something we've seen before and wish storytellers would move away from - the Moment of Grace that never becomes anything more than a Moment. The villain who has a five minute redemption, then dies conveniently so that the heroes never have to work through the messy business of forgiveness and accountability (although I always did wonder how it would play to see a redeemed Adar, possibly Celeborn, living the rest of his life as a redeemed Uruk among people who hold an undying enmity with his children). It's happened so often that when I, Suzannah Rowntree, sit down to write a six book series where the irredeemable villain has to live and build a new and more accountable life for himself, there's startlingly little template for it, at least in Western media. We live in times that are starved for happy endings and genuine redemption arcs. I wanted so badly for Adar and his "children" to be blessed, and not cursed, by this narrative. So I get the rage. I get the grief.

But tragedy is still a valid art form. Again, all this is a function of the show successfully making the Orcs matter. And the reason the Orcs needed to matter is because they are about to be enslaved to Sauron. They were so close. They genuinely could have been good. Adar could have led them into an alliance with the Elves against their enemy - but instead, just like Celebrimbor, just like Galadriel, they are deceived by him. They turn to him out of fear that their father figure is treating them like cannon fodder, and now they have no one to advocate for them. And that's the tragedy of their situation.

We might all be a little tired of tragedy, but it's still valid, especially insofar as it never, ever forgets to treat its characters like people. Did the writers have to choose tragedy? No. Adar might have lived and undergone a redemption arc.

But the writers didn't have to give Adar a redemption arc, either. Any more than they had to so deeply humanise the Orcs and their father. It's not perfect writing, but it's not bad writing, either. Indeed, for a Tolkien adaptation trying to both honour the author's work and scrutinise his failings, in my opinion it's doing brilliantly.

And...honestly, I'm kind of happy that they left me wanting more, and better, for Adar. Because now I get to write that story myself.

#the rings of power #jrr tolkien #trop spoilers #trop #trop positivity #pro trop #the rings of power spoilers #adar #adariel #galadriel #trop season 2

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sassenach77yle · 9 days ago

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||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 7 EPISODE 05 || SINGAPORE ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

“Will you walk with me?”She hesitated for a moment.

The flame in her eyes had not gone out, but it burned lower now; there were other things there—caution, mild distress, and what he thought was pride. He was surprised that he should see them so clearly. It was as though she were made of glass.“I—the children,” she blurted, half turning toward the house.“It doesna matter,” he said. “I only—” A dribble of blood from one nostril stopped him, and he paused to wipe the back of his hand across his upper lip. He took the two steps necessary to bring them within touching distance, though he was careful not to touch her.“I wished to say to you that I am sorry,” he said formally, in Mohawk. “That I could not give you children. And that I am glad you have them.”A lovely warm flush rose in her cheeks, and he saw the pride in her overcome the distress.“May I see them?” he asked, surprising himself as much as her.She wavered for an instant, but then turned and went into the house. He sat on a stone wall, waiting, and she returned a few moments later with a small boy, maybe five years old, and a girl of three or so in short plaits, who looked gravely at him and sucked her fist.Blood had run down the back of his throat; it felt raw and tasted of iron.

Now and then on his journey, he’d gone carefully over the explanation Auntie Claire had given him. Not with any notion of telling it to Emily; it could mean nothing to her—he barely understood it himself. Only, maybe, as some shield against this moment, seeing her with the children he could not give her.“Call it fate,” Claire had said, looking at him with a hawk’s eye, the one that sees from far above, so far above, maybe, that what seems mercilessness is truly compassion. “Or call it bad luck. But it wasn’t your fault. Or hers.”“Come here,” he said in Mohawk, putting out a hand to the little boy. The boy glanced at his mother, but then came to him, looking up in curiosity to his face.“I see you in his face,” he said softly to her, speaking English. “And in his hands,” he added in Mohawk, taking the child’s hands—so amazingly small—in his own. It was true: the boy had her hands, fine-boned and supple; they curled up like sleeping mice in his palms, then the fingers sprang out like a spider’s legs and the boy giggled. He laughed, too, closed his own hands swiftly on the boy’s, like a bear gulping a pair of trout, making the child shriek, then let go.“Are you happy?” he asked her.“Yes,” she said softly. She looked down, not meeting his eyes, and he knew it was because she would answer honestly but did not wish to see if her answer hurt him. He put a hand under her chin—her skin was so soft!—and lifted her face to him.“Are you happy?” he asked again, and smiled a little as he said it.“Yes,” she said again. But then gave a small sigh, and her own hand touched his face at last, light as a moth’s wing. “But sometimes I miss you, Ian.” There was nothing wrong with her accent, but his Scots name sounded impossibly exotic on her tongue—it always had.He felt a lump in his throat, but kept the faint smile on his face.“I see you dinna ask me whether I’m happy,” he said, and could have kicked himself.She gave him a quick look, direct as a knife point.“I have eyes,” she said, very simply.There was a silence between them. He looked away but could feel her there, breathing. Ripe. Soft. He felt her softening further, opening. She had been wise not to go into the garden with him. Here, with her son playing in the dirt near her feet, it was safe. For her, at least.“Do you mean to stay?” she asked at last, and he shook his head.“I am going to Scotland,” he said.“You will take a wife among your own people.” There was relief in that, but regret, too.“Are your people no longer my own?” he asked, with a flash of fierceness. “They washed the white blood from my body in the river—you were there.”

I was there.”She looked at him for a long time, searching his face. Likely enough that she would never see him again; did she seek to remember him, or was she looking for something in his features, he wondered?The latter. She turned abruptly, raising a hand to him to wait, and disappeared into the house.The little girl ran after her, not wanting to stay with the stranger, but the little boy lingered, interested.

“Are you Wolf’s Brother?”“I am, aye. And you?”“They call me Digger.” It was a child’s sort of name, used for convenience until the person’s real name should declare itself in some way. Ian nodded, and they remained a few minutes, looking each other over with interest, but with no sense of awkwardness between them.“She who is mother’s mother to my mother,” Digger said quite suddenly. “She talked about you. To me.”“She did?” said Ian, startled. That would be Tewaktenyonh. A great woman, head of the Women’s Council at Snaketown—and the person who had sent him away.“Does Tewaktenyonh still live?” he asked, curious.“Oh, yes. She’s older than the mountains,” the little boy answered seriously. “She has only two teeth left, but she still eats.”Ian smiled at that.“Good. What did she say to you of me?”The boy screwed up his face, recollecting the words.“She said I was the child of your spirit but I should not say so to my father.”Ian felt the blow of that, harder than any the child’s father had dealt him, and couldn’t speak for a moment.“Aye, I dinna think ye should say so, either,” he said, when words returned to him. He repeated the sentiment in Mohawk, in case the boy might not have understood English, and the child nodded, tranquil.“Will I be with you, sometime?” he asked, only vaguely interested in the answer.

A lizard had come out onto the stone wall to bask, and his eyes were fixed on it.Ian forced his own words to be casual.“If I live.”The boy’s eyes were narrowed, watching the lizard, and the tiny right hand twitched, just a little. The distance was too far, though; he knew it, and glanced at Ian, who was closer. Ian cut his eyes at the lizard without moving, then looked back at the boy and agreement sprang up between them. Don’t move, his eyes warned, and the boy seemed to cease breathing.

It didn’t do to think in such situations. Without pausing to draw breath, he snatched, and the lizard was in his hand, astonished and thrashing.The little boy chortled and hopped up and down, clapping his hands with glee, then held them out for the lizard, which he received with the greatest concentration, folding his hands about it so that it might not escape.“And what will ye do with him?” Ian asked, smiling.The boy held the lizard up to his face, peering at it intently, and his brow furrowed in thought.“I will name him,” he said at last. “Then he will be mine and bless me when I see him again.” He brought the lizard up, eyeball to eyeball, and each stared unblinking at the other.“Your name is Bob,” the boy declared at last in English, and with great ceremony set the lizard on the ground. Bob leapt from his hands and disappeared under a log.“A verra good name,” Ian said gravely. His bruised ribs hurt with the need not to laugh, but the urge vanished in the next moment, as the distant door opened and Emily came out, a bundle in her arms.She came up to him and presented him with a child, swaddled and bound to a cradleboard, in much the same way he had presented the lizard to Digger.“This is my second daughter,” she said, shyly proud. “Will you choose her name?”He was moved, and touched Emily’s hand, very lightly, before taking the cradleboard onto his knee and looking searchingly into the tiny face. She could not have given him greater honor, this permanent mark of the feeling she had once held for him—still might hold for him.But as he looked at the little girl—she regarded him with round, serious eyes, taking in this new manifestation of her personal landscape—a conviction took root in him. He didn’t question it; it was simply there, and undeniable.“Thank you,” he said, and smiled at Emily with great affection. He laid his hand—huge, and rough with callus and the nicks of living—on the tiny, perfect, soft-haired head.

“I will bless all your children wi’ the blessings of Bride and of Michael.” He lifted his hand then, and reaching out, drew Digger to him. “But this one is mine to name.” Her face went quite blank with astonishment, and she looked quickly from him to her son and back. She swallowed visibly, unsure—but it didn’t matter; he was sure.

“Your name is Swiftest of Lizards,” he said, in Mohawk. The Swiftest of Lizards thought for a minute, then nodded, pleased, and with a laugh of pure delight, darted away.

~ AN ECHO IN THE BONE

#outlander #the frasers #outlander series #outlanderedit #outlander fanart #outlander starz #young ian #john bell #outlander book #outlander books #outlander season 7 #outlander 7x05

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auras-moonstone · 1 year ago

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Hi! Hru? I love your stories. This is my first request ever/ Could you write Ethan Landry x YN, where they used to date like in highschool but one of them moved countries, maybe Ethan for his acting career and when he comes back he has a new girlfriend but never really forgot Y/N, and maybe she’s still waiting for him? I love the idea of first love never forgotten type of fic! :)

hii, i’m doing good, hope you are too! you sent me this request ages ago i’m so sorry😫 but i actually really love this little story, hope you enjoy it too<3

‘tis the damn season — jack champion

word count: 3,225 (i did not realize it was this long i’m so sorry)

pairing: jack champion x fem!reader

summary: jack and y/n broke up before he left for la, and now that he is back in his hometown for the weekend, they decide it to call it even.

based on: dorothea and ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift

WHEN JACK HAD TO MOVE OUT OF TOWN TO PERSUE HIS ACTING CAREER, HE DECIDED TO END THINGS WITH Y/N. His schedule would be too full and there wouldn’t be enough time for a long-distance relationship. Besides, he knew it wouldn’t be fair for Y/N to adjust to his agenda.

Y/N knew she was going to wait for him, and a tiny part of her hoped he would come back to her. So she waited, but the texts and calls stopped coming, and soon she realized it had been wishful thinking.

But even though Y/N was constantly telling herself she needed to move on, she couldn’t find herself to do it. Whenever a boy would ask her out, she would decline every time. She felt her friends’ judging stares throughout every rejection—they knew what she was doing, she was holding onto her hope.

Two years after Jack left, when the pictures of him with his model girlfriend invaded her timeline, she decided she had had enough. She couldn’t be hanging onto a high school relationship, so she started saying yes instead of no.

But truth to be told, she absentmindedly kept comparing every boy to Jack and obviously that was a winless fight because none of them had his shiny smile, or his cute laugh, or perfect hair, or gorgeous deep brown eyes and above all, none made her stomach flush the way the mere thought of Jack did. In short, Y/N was fooling herself into thinking she wasn’t still caught up in Jack, pretending her heart didn’t still belong to the guy she had loved at the age of sixteen.

She wondered if he ever stopped and think about her, about the times they spent together making a lark out of the misery. Y/N didn’t think so, he had new shiny friends now, why would his thoughts be on the girl from the boring town he once used to live in?

Little did she know, his thoughts always lead to her and his hometown. He loved his job, and the people he met were not that bad, but he missed the quietness, the homey feeling that the small town gave, his real friends and Y/N. God knows he tried to get over her, but the memories of him and Y/N lingered like bad perfume and he could ran only so far from them.

As soon as Jack stepped foot in his hometown again, the familiarity embraced him like an old friend. There was this warm feeling in his heart he had missed so much.

“I’m going for a walk by the beach” he told his mom, as he exited the house.

The soft sand tickled his feet and the salt air filled his nostrils as he watched the rough waves hit the shore, making a thunderous sound so pleasing he could fall asleep to it.

He remembered the times when he and Y/N would lay there, taking in the view and letting their bodies be surrounded by the peacefulness as their intertwined hands rested in the space between their bodies.

Jack saw the silhouette of a girl sitting alone and once he was close enough, his heart dropped when he recognized her profile. “Y/N?”

Her shoulders stiffened and her head raised slowly. Three emotions were painted on her face in the span of three seconds—first it was shock, then uncertainty and then realisation.

“Jack?” she asked breathlessly and the sound of her voice sent chills all over his body. It’s been four years since the last time he had heard his name coming from her sweet lips, and it felt as heartwarming as being wrapped in a cozy blanket by the fire.

“Hi… I’m back for the weekend” he smiled widely.

Her eyes dropped to focus on her favorite smile she had missed so much, the one that, even after years, was still so shiny and bright that made her insides melt.

She smiled for a few seconds, and Jack’s world lit up again. But then, something sinked in, and her face turned emotionally void. The eyes that stared back at him were cold, the kind that fogs up glasses. “I have to go to work.” her tone stung like icy skin being touched by hot water.

Jack watched her leave with an ache in his heart, feeling the coldness irradiating off her as she passed by him.

Y/N WAS GLAD THAT THERE WASN’T MUCH ACTIVITY ON THE RECORD SHOP THAT DAY. The scene at the beach left her shocked, she had imagined seeing Jack again so many times in her mind, yet the ache she had felt when he smiled at her was collosal. Did he think he could just melt her heart with that dangerous weapon he carried on his face and everything would suddenly be okay? That his excruciatingly killer grin would amend the fact that he had completely cut her off his life for four years?

What was worse was that she almost felt for it. He had caught her off guard. She never imagined he would actually come back to town. And he looked so dreamy, so Hollywood, so untouchable. The screen in where she was forced to watch his life through didn’t do him any justice. He had gotten taller, he didn’t have his cute curls anymore—instead, he had a mullet haircut that fitted him so well and made his jaw look sharper. And his shoulders and biceps? He shouldn’t be allowed to wear that black tank top he had on that day, because it showed the muscles he had gained with his intense working outs and it was pretty distracting. Unfair.

The drooling stopped when she heard the bell ring, indicating someone had just entered the shop. And in walked the superstar, with his big wide black glasses, looking magnificent. And he had the black tank top that clung to his firm chest as if it was soaked, which made Y/N sigh. You have to be strong, she said to herself.

“What are you doing here?” she asked harshly.

“I’m looking for some vinyls.” he shrugged. “Where are the ABBA albums?”

“Jeez, I don’t know, maybe on the shelf with the big A?” she rested her elbows on the counter she was sitting behind.

Jack held back a laugh “Is this how you always treat your clients? Because if then, it makes sense why this place is deserted.”

“No, this treatment is only reserved for you.” she replied with a fake smile. “And this place is always full of people. Not that you would know, because you don’t live here.”

“And the shots have been finally fired.” Jack said, putting the vinyls back in place. “You’re still mad I left town, that I left you.” he stated, getting close to her and placing his forearms on the counter, making them be eye-level.

Y/N’s eyes softened a bit. “Watching you leave had to be one of the toughest things I ever witnessed, but no. I could never ever be mad at you for following your dreams, I thought you knew that.”

He reminisced the day he told her he was leaving to LA. She had a sad smile on her face, but her eyes showed him nothing but understanding and support.

“That’s amazing, Jack. You have wanted to do this for so long, and you’re so talented. You’re going to be a stellar actor and will have lots of fans, I can picture it.”

“You think so?” he had asked with a hopeful smile, hugging her waist tightly while they sat next to each other in her bed.

“I know so.” she corrected, raising her head to make their lips brush so she could whisper, “I’ll always be your number one fan, though.”

“I love you”

“I love you too, Jack.”

“Are you still my number one fan?” Jack asked, his voice filled with nostalgia and love.

“Always.” Y/N smiled truthfully. She had watched every movie he had done, and may have shed a few tears every time he appeared on the screen. Tears of proudness from how far he had gotten and also of sadness, because she wasn’t a part of his life anymore so she couldn’t celebrate his success with him.

“Then why are you being so cold?” Jack asked, seeming genuinely lost.

“Are you really asking me that, Jack?” Y/N scoffed in disbelief. “Because you fucking stopped talking to me. You kept in touch with everyone but me, and I felt so devastated.”

“Because the more I talked to you, the more homesick I felt.” Jack confessed, looking down at their hands that were only inches away from each other. “I wanted so bad to reply to you when you reached out, I almost did every time, but I just couldn’t. It hurt too much.”

“We were best friends before we started dating, and when you cut me off your life, I lost my best friend and the boy I loved. I couldn’t move on, I felt so lonely without you.”

Jack rounded the counter and stood next to her. He wanted to pulled her into his chest and patch up the wounds with a hug. “Can we call it even for the weekend?”

“I don’t know, Jack. I don’t know if I can say goodbye to you again.” the intensity and curiosity of his eyes made her feel lightweight, and maybe that’s why the words spilled out on their own. “I still love you like the very first day.”

Jack swore he could cry from relief. She still loved him. After all those years away from each other. “God, I still love you too. You have no idea how much.”

Their foreheads were pressed together, and their lips were close enough that if they took one step forward, they would touch. “You have a girlfriend, Jack.”

Jack sighed, and cursed himself. Taking a step back, he looked her in the eyes. “We don’t have feelings for each other, I want you to know that. We are together because… I don’t know, our team says we look good on camera.”

The weight on her heart lifted, and she tried hard not to smile. “Okay, good to know.”

“Do you have a boyfriend? Or are you seeing someone?”

Y/N laughed, remembering all her date failures. “Nope”

“Have you dated someone since we broke up?” as soon as the question left his mouth, he regretted it.

“I have gone on a couple of dates, but no. I haven’t even kissed anyone- quit smiling, jackass” she poked him in the rib, making him squeak. “I’m still mad at you, but I guess we can call it even for the weekend.”

“Yeah? Will you be mine for the weekend?” Jack smirked.

Y/N gazed at his lips, totally hypnotised by them. “Rules!” she blurted out. “We need rules. No flirting, no hugging, no touching, no kissing. We are friends, okay?”

He backed her up against the counter, both arms on each side of her body, caging her in. She threw him a warning glance. “What? I’m not touching” he said innocently. “Either way, this friend thing and your rules won’t work.”

“Why? Enlighten me” Y/N frowned.

“We love each other, and we haven’t kissed in four years. Tension, babe, we can’t fight it for long”

“Those kinds of nicknames are also forbidden” Y/N said. “And speak for yourself, I’m so in control of my actions you don’t even know. I can fight the tension like a pro”

“Challenge accepted. I promise you that by the end of the weekend, when you are begging me to kiss you, I won’t mock you much”

Y/N raised on her toes, their noses almost bumping. “We both know you’ll be the one asking for that kiss first. And you’ll have to leave town defeated, cause I’m not giving in, Jack.”

Holy shit, I’m fucked, Jack thought as he stared open mouthed at the girl in front of him. Confidence was her best look and his newfound weakness.

JACK STOOD LOOKING LIKE A ZOMBIE ON THE PORCH OF HIS HOUSE, AND Y/N WAS EXACTLY HIS JUXTAPOSITION. Her eyes were a bit red, but other than that she glowed way too much for a person who was woken up at 6AM.

“What’s wrong, Hollywood? Too early for you?” Y/N joked when she arrived to the stairs of his house.

“Shut the fuck up.” he growled.

“Oh, someone’s grumpy this morning.” Y/N teased him. “Come on” she said, smiling at him as she extended her hand. “I made you brownies.”

Jack took her hand in an instant, making Y/N laugh, thinking she convinced him with the brownies. But he didn’t care about them, as long as Y/N kept smiling at him like that, he would followed her wherever she strayed.

Y/N drove the Jeep towards the beach, and Jack couldn’t even hide how mesmerised he was by the sight of the wind blowing her hair as she sang her lungs out to I Think He Knows by Taylor Swift.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Jack couldn’t help saying, making her look at him. “I’m not even flirting, I’m just stating a fact—you are so gorgeous.”

She blushed heavily and Jack smiled proudly. The fact that she still loved him felt surreal to him. “So are you, pretty boy.”

When they arrived to the isolated beach, they set a big blanket on the floor. As they ate their breakfast, they watch the sunrise unfold in front of their eyes. Once the daylight embraced them, they looked at each other and smiled softly. It was their last day together, the next day, in the morning, Jack would be going back to LA and leave her behind once again. There was sadness lingering in the air, but none of them dared to acknowledge it and ruin the beautiful mood.

“Can I hug you?” Jack asked, the need to wrap his arms around her frame was so intense that he had caught his limbs absentmindedly reaching towards her more times than he’d like to admit.

“I said no hugging” she answered, trying to sound firm, but Y/N wanted his arms around her as much as he did.

“Yeah, but this is… a friendly hug. Friendly hugs are permitted, right?”

“Sure, whatever” she nodded, and they both let the lie slide.

She tangled her arms around his waist and settled her head on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeats. Jack’s head rested on the crook of her neck, his long eyelashes tickling her skin, and his long arms covered her whole back and squished her more against his frame, making her laugh.

“Look at you, already bending the rules. Next thing you know, you’ll be asking me to kiss you” Jack muttered.

Her heart stuttered, maybe he wasn’t wrong. But she was too proud to give up so she said, “In your dreams, Champion.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely in those.” he said, and Y/N felt the outline of his smile on her naked shoulder. How was she going to go back to being without his presence again?

ON THE AFTERNOON, Y/N WAS READY TO TAKE A MUCH NEEDED NAP WHEN SHE HEARD A TAP ON HER WINDOW. With a scowl, she opened it and met Jack’s brown eyes that gleamed innocently at her.

“What are you doing?” he asked entering the room stealthily. “Stop frowning so much, you’re going to get creases.”

“I would, but some asshole knocked on my window right when I was about to take a nap, which obviously put me in a bad mood.” Y/N crossed her arms on her chest, and Jack wanted to pinch her cheeks.

“Oh, so this asshole arrived on time for a nap, then“ Jack said, plopping himself in her bed.

“Are you out of your mind? You’re not sleeping on my bed, Champion.”

“Um, well, good luck trying to get me off this bed.” he said with a mischievous tone as he laid under the covers. “Come on, we can build a pillow wall if you want.”

Pillow walls never worked with them. Jack, in his sleep, would roll over them and lock his arms around her waist. And maybe that’s exactly why she agreed.

They both slept peacefully in each other’s arms, but then the morning came. Jack woke up happily at the sight of the girl he loved resting on his chest, but then it was like a bucket of ice cold water was dropped on him. He was leaving in a few hours.

He dragged himself out of the bed, left a note on her bedside table and with heavy steps he reached the window. He sneaked one last look, his heart breaking by having to leave the warmest bed he had ever known and the only girl he had truly loved behind.

JACK SCANNED HIS SURROUNDINGS ANXIOUSLY, WAITING FOR HIS GIRL TO ARRIVE TO SAY GOODBYE. He had left her a note saying that he understood if she didn’t want to go farewell him, yet a part of him hoped to see her one last time.

“Jack! Sorry, am I late? I overslept, and when I didn’t see you I started to freak out and just ran out of the house.” she spoke in between pants. Jack grinned, she was still in her pjs and looked extremely flushed.

“You arrived just in time” he assured her. She nodded, and they stayed silent for a few seconds. “I’m going to miss you.”

Y/N jumped into his arms “Me too, Jack. I love you.”

“I love you. And as much as I want to, I won’t ask you to wait.” Jack said, resting his back on the side of the car as he held Y/N in his arms.

“And I won’t ask you to stay.” she said. “But if you are ever tired of being known for who you know, you know you’ll always know me.”

“I’ll text you” Jack said to her. “Seriously, I’m going to text you so much, and I’m going to facetime you to show you the sets I work at, and make you practice lines with me.”

Y/N smiled in relief, and then smirked at him. “Yeah, well, as your number one fan I seriously expect those privileges.”

Jack rolled his eyes in affection before pulling a serious face. “I’m fine with being the loser.”

“What?”

He turned them around, so that she was now between the side of his car and his body. “I said, I’m fine with being the loser. Please kiss me.”

Y/N pushed him down, and years of love presented themselves in one anticipated kiss. Their lips moved as if trying to make up for the lost time, for all those years they had been concealing the overwhelming amount of mutual love they had in their bodies.

“I lost too, I said I wouldn’t give in.” she whispered breathlessly against his lips, her warm breath sent chills all over his body.

“Totally. Worth. It” Jack pecked her lips in between words, leaving her in a complete state of drunkness.

A few minutes later, the car started and Y/N watched him leave for the second time, but she was really optimistic about their relationship this time. You don’t know what you got until it’s gone, and now that they had experienced the loss, they were never letting go again.

#jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion oneshot #jackchampion #jack champion imagine #jack champion fluff #jack champion fanfic #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry fic #ethan landry oneshot

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unseededtoast · 1 year ago

Text

Light As A Feather | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: The gravity of your job begins getting to you, and you come to realize you've forgotten how beautiful life can be. And one tranquil night, it's like Spencer is able to lift the weight and makes you feel light as a feather. Inspired by Hozier's "I, Carrion (Icarian)"

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: General violence, angst, pining. Poorly Edited

a/n: howdy folks. I'm still in my spencer reid/hozier brainrot era and so here's another. I hope you all enjoy it and thank you for all of the support I've received, it means the world!!

His presence is enough to make you forget about the horrors of the world, of your job. Right now, it's just you and him, and you've never felt lighter; so unburdened. You're convinced that if he wasn't there, holding onto you with his magnetic pull, that you may just float away in the breeze like a feather.

You had never been to Colorado before, and now you wish you could be here under different circumstances. It's the beginning of fall and it seems as if the people of Boulder are head over heels in love with the season. Which is understandable, you think you'd love fall this much too if you lived in a place this beautiful. The trees are painted in vibrant shades of yellow, orange, and red and the distant mountains stand proudly in the background with their snow capped tops. Your eyes are glued to the lush landscape as the SUV drives through Boulder to reach your destination.

You, along with the rest of your team, were called by the Park Rangers from the Rocky Mountain National Park about a few bodies they had discovered. Your superior, Hotch, decided their case was odd enough for you all to pay a visit. At first you hadn't wanted to come, convinced that there would be something closer to home to tend to, but now you're glad you agreed to come. Fall time in Quantico just isn't as picturesque.

Eventually, the SUV you're crammed into alongside three of your other team members drives up a long winding driveway to a hidden cabin in the woods. Hotch had booked the place, seeing as how close it is to the National Park and how secluded it is from potential people of interest. Once again, you tried to argue that the cellphone reception would be terrible up here and that it might hinder the case, but you were outvoted, and the rest of the team wanted to stay here. You hadn't understood why, but when the venue comes into view your jaw almost drops and you understand.

The cabin isn't at all what you had been expecting. Instead of some run-down, small, stuffy house, you see a large, sprawling log mansion. There are large windows adorning the front, accompanied by a wraparound porch on the second level. It's very reminiscent of a tasteful ski lodge.

"Wow." You breathe out as the car comes to a stop outside the front door.

"Still think it's a bad idea?" Hotch smarts off as he opens the trunk and starts handing people their bags. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you grab your bag from him and stare up at your home for the next few days.

The rest of the team wastes no time in going inside to claim their room, but you're happy to meander around for a little bit to familiarize yourself with the layout. You'll let them fight over the rooms and take whatever is left. After all, in a place of this size, even the smallest room is bound to be plentiful.

As you go through the halls admiring the artwork on the wall you spot Spencer doing the same, staring at a particular painting on the wall. You take just a second to appreciate the way he looks, standing there and analyzing art. You've always had an appreciation for Spencer, and not just for his good looks, but also his intelligence and his company.

Since your first day at the FBI you've felt drawn to him, he made you feel important, and heard, when others dismissed you. In fact, he's the reason you're on the BAU team in the first place. He was the only one to recognize your abilities and talents. You try not to hold a grudge about the fact the rest of the team was ready to let you transfer out after your internship. But instead of standing there and gawking at him like some braindead fool, you walk up to him, setting your bag on the floor beside your feet.

You look at the painting that's caught his attention and try to see what he does, try to think about how he interprets it. His mind is an amazing, complex thing, and you hope that one day you'll be able to understand just a small portion of it. It's a painting of the Great Rocky National Park, you can tell from the mountain formation and the river running through it. The painting is almost an identical match, as if it's actually a picture rather than painting. However, there's one small spot on the painting that looks like it's been painted over and over, it sticks out to you.

"What do you think happened there?" You point out the flaw and look up to Spencer, whose eyebrows are drawn closely together as he leans in and looks at the spot. After a few moments of quiet reflection, he stands back to his full height.

"I'm not sure. It looks like maybe the painter had difficulties finding the right shade." He says, still staring at the spot. Your eyes linger on his face before tearing them away before he catches on.

"You're probably right. I'm going to go find what room they left me." You say, grabbing your bag from beside you. Spencer bends over to pick up his as well,

"I should probably do the same." A small smile adorns his face, and the two of you begin walking through the cabin to find the empty rooms the team left you. According to the venue's website there should be one room for each agent, and you're thankful for that. You had never been a fan of sharing room with your coworkers, something about it just feels wrong, but when there's no way to avoid it you endure without much fuss.

The two of you check every room on the first floor only to find that they had all been claimed, meaning you two had to climb the stairs for rooms on the second level. Of course the rest of them would all claim the first floor rooms first, nobody likes to bother with stairs first thing in the morning.

You and Spencer find the empty rooms, side by side with direct access to the porch. You suppose there are worse rooms to have. Eager to step out onto the porch, you toss your bag on the bed and open the sliding door. Colorado's crisp air envelopes you as you step out and you take a deep breath. The air out here feels so clean and refreshing. Great Rocky National Park is directly in front of the porch, giving you an eagle's eye view of a portion of it as you lean onto the banister. Might as well enjoy a little bit of peace before you start working the case.

-----

"Three women were found in the same spot days apart from each other. All bludgeoned and stabbed through the heart." The Park Ranger speaks, indicating to the crime scene that's been barricaded with yellow tape. The Ranger stares at the scene, which is now an inconspicuous patch of dirt and grass, as if there weren't several dead women resting here. The scene is right beside a big body of crystal blue water.

You hang back from the rest of the team, opting to look at the surroundings instead of the immediate scene. The team knows now that finding the tiny details is your forte, and they leave you to your own devices in the beginning of investigations. The cold breeze causes you to hold your too-thin jacket closer to your body as you begin your observations.

"They were all found in the same spot?" Hotch asks the Ranger, who confirms that all of the victims were found in the exact same spot. As you examine the landscape, your eyes narrow in an attempt to find even the subtlest detail. Before too long, you see something out of place in the lush grass and walk over to it while pulling on a pair of gloves.

There's a pamphlet laying in the grass and upon further examination you see that it's been marked up like someone gave the traveler directions. Directions right to this spot. The killer lured at least one victim here. This trail is far off the beaten path, it's not marked by the Rangers. Only someone familiar with the area would know about it.

"Look at this." You call out to your team, and soon a few of them join your side to examine what you found. Spencer and Morgan look over your shoulder at the pamphlet, which is in better condition than you would've thought considering it was laying in grass beside a body of water.

"They're familiar with the area, they had this planned." Spencer speaks up and you nod your head, agreeing with him. Morgan holds out an evidence bag once he's done looking at it and you slip it inside, protecting it from any further damage. Morgan walks off with the pamphlet, leaving you and Spencer together, both deep in thought.

"What have you come up with so far?" You ask softly, curious to see if his theories line up with yours. Spencer shifts his weight and sighs, looking back to the crime scene.

"The killer is organized. They lured at least one victim right to this spot, and I'm assuming they did the same with the others. And they had to have brought the weapons with them. While there are branches to bludgeon people with, there's no evidence of anything nearby being cut down recently. If they used a natural object, it's likely they would've tried to blend it back in with nature." He explains and you nod your head along with what he's saying as you observe the scene and the scenery surrounding you.

"Unless they tossed the weapon into the water. They could have easily used a rock to bludgeon the victims." You counter his explanation. Spencer and you always did this with one another when forming theories. Not as to dissuade, or prove the other wrong, but to make your theories and explanations stronger. It's one of the qualities you most like about him. His eyes drift to the water.

"They could have. But they had to have brought the knife, there's no natural substitute that would leave that precise of a wound." He says, and you relent, agreeing with him.

"I want to question the Rangers, get their work schedules, and see the call logs. I also want to know where the victims were staying and if there's any camera footage of them in the welcome center." You shiver with a gust of wind and hold your arms tighter around your body as you walk off to gather the information you want.

Spencer decides to join you in going to the welcome center, claiming that in a huge national forest that none of us should be traveling alone. He has a good point, but you wouldn't have objected to his company either way. The Ranger from the scene escorts you two to the welcome center in his cruiser, the warm air letting your fingers regain their feeling.

"Who found the bodies?" You ask as you hold your hands in front of the vent emitting warm air. The Ranger looks at you through the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again.

"I found one and Birch found the others during his patrols." He answers and you mentally make a note to find Birch.

"Is that area regularly patrolled?" You push further for more information and the Ranger shakes his head.

"No, it wasn't, until I found the first girl. She had to have been out there for at least three days. After that I sent Birch out to keep an eye on the area. He found victim two a couple days after the first, and found the third a single day after the second." He says and you look to Spencer, both noting the decrease in time between kills. A sinking feeling in your stomach tells you that if you don't find the killer soon, then you may be finding a fourth victim any day now.

Once you reach the welcome center, the Rangers are more than happy to provide you with the security camera footage, work schedules, call logs, and anything else you may need. In fact, it's Ranger Birch that hands over the information himself. He's a young man, maybe mid twenties, with meticulously groomed hair and pressed uniform pants.

"Thank you." You tell him with a warm smile, taking the footage and other information off the counter and into your hands. He nods back with a wide, white-toothed smile and tells you and Spencer to come back if you need anything else. The moment you step out of the welcome center you give Spencer a pointed look with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you think?" He asks you before you can ask him. You lick your lips and glance back into the welcome center, Ranger Birch still looking at you. Your eyes find Spencer's and you motion for him to follow you.

"I think he takes pride in both his appearance and work, and he knows the park well." Hotch pulls up in a black SUV to pick you and Spencer up to return you to the cabin, where the entire team will discuss what's been found so far.

-----

The trip up to the cabin only takes about ten minutes. Your mind works to put pieces of the puzzle together the entire trip back, but there's just not enough known information yet, and it bothers you. You like to have answers quickly because the faster you get answers, the less people will die. Your leg bounces up and down the entire way back, eager to begin deciphering the evidence.

The SUV comes to a stop outside the cabin and before Hotch can turn the car off, you're out and making your way to the entrance. A man dressed in a casual flannel shirt hunched over the flowerbeds stops you in your tracks before you get to the front door. He wipes the dirt from his landscaping gloves onto his worn overalls as he greets you.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I hope you enjoy your stay here. I'm James, I do the landscaping work around here and a few other cabins nearby." He offers you a warm smile, which you try your best to return, but your anticipation is causing you to become short.

"Nice meeting you." You go to walk into the cabin, but James' voice stops you once more. Spencer and Hotch approach, engaged in a conversation likely pertaining to what happened at the welcome center.

"Wait, ma'am. I never caught your name." James smile is reminiscent of an old friend, and he looks at you expectedly. Against your best wishes, you answer him, not wanting to be unnecessarily rude to your host.

"We'll, it's been a pleasure to meet you. Maybe I'll catch you around before you head out. Are you here for work?" He continues his conversation as Spencer and Hotch walk into the cabin undeterred by the landscaper. Maybe if you had just slowed down one of them would've been caught instead. James' eyes linger on the items in your hands.

"Yeah, the whole team is here for work." You answer, shuffling some items around in your grasp. James nods his head and tears his gaze away from the items, the warm smile returning to his face.

"Must be some important work if a whole team is here. By the looks of you all I'd say you're some sort of police." He guesses, eyeing the firearm that's strapped to your thigh. Your eyes narrow at the man, and you nod.

"Yeah, something like that. I really have to get going, they're probably waiting for me in there. Have a nice night, James." You find your exit route out of the conversation with the friendly mannered landscaper. As you step through the door you hear his voice call out to you once more.

"If there's anything I can do to help, number's in the guestbook." The door closes, and the conversation finally ends.

Taking a cleansing breath, you join the rest of the team who are all gathered around the rectangular dining table, which has been designated as the investigation headquarters. On the table are a slew of files, photos, and papers. You add the information gathered from the welcome center to that collection and Hotch starts the conversation.

Hotch reviews the known information and circulates photos of the victims. They're all beautiful young women, and according to Garcia, were staying at nearby resorts and cabins for vacation. The photos get passed to you and you look at them intently, committing to memory every detail you can absorb before you pass them along. It's obvious that these victims were chosen because of their physical appearance, they all share the same basic features such as hair color, eye color, and stature. And eerily, you seem to match the profile as well.

"The physical appearance of the victim is important to the unsub. Having three victims with similar features is no mistake, nor is it a coincidence." You add to the conversation, seeing your team members look from you to the photos on the table.

"Maybe the victims represent someone who scorned the unsub? Extracting revenge through them." Spencer suggests, and it's a good theory. You chew on the skin of your bottom lip as your mind races with theories and trying to piece the information together like a puzzle.

After the general briefing, Hotch assigns Morgan and Prentiss to interview the Park Rangers to establish alibis, JJ and Garcia to continue conducting their online investigation, and Spencer and yourself to go over the welcome center footage. Hotch was going to speak to the people running the cabins the victims were staying at to see if there are any leads there.

You and Spencer are on the second hour of footage when your eyes start becoming heavy. Reaching for the remote, you pause the footage and stretch, needing to take a break.

"You want some coffee?" You ask him, needing something to keep yourself awake. He nods his head,

"Yes, please." You stand from your seat and go to the kitchen to prepare the two of you some coffee. You're sure to put an ungodly amount of sugar in Spencer's, knowing that if you don't you'll hear him complain about it. And most times you enjoy the sound of his voice, but you don't know if you can stand hours of CCTV footage and him complaining about a lack of sugar right now.

You return to the table and place his mug in front of him, steam rising from it. You sip your own and resume your position at the table and reach for the remote. Spencer reaches for it at the same time, your hands brushing one another's. His hand is warm and soft, perfect for the chilly autumn air.

"Sorry." You say, pulling your hand away and forcing any other thought than the footage from your mind, knowing that there's already a faint pink adorning your cheeks. No matter how long you've worked with him, even just simple touches is enough to send you spiraling if you let it. You try not to delve into what that might mean; you profile people for a living, the last thing you want to do is profile yourself. Without a word, Spencer just smiles back politely and presses play.

The footage rolls and you two identify the victims who all showed up unaccompanied, which you find odd considering they were on vacation with their families. Your hand jots down quick notes in sloppy handwriting as you critically examine what you do, and don't, see in the footage. Spencer and you replay the footage showing the victims easily five times each, both silently taking notes, knowing you're going to compare soon. After watching the third victim's footage for the last time, you look over to Spencer, who's face is illuminated by the golden glow of the setting sun.

"Do you want to go first?" He asks and you nod, trying not to stare at how the sunlight reflects the amber color in his warm prismatic eyes. You look down to your notes and try to get your thoughts straight before speaking.

"I noted that all three victims walked into the welcome center with a pamphlet already in hand. None of them took the ones provided by the park. They all showed up alone. I can only assume that the unsub gave them the pamphlets with instructions on how to find the scene. Only, I'm willing to bet it was framed as a good-intentioned suggestion. There's no way those women would have gone if they didn't trust the unsub to some degree." Your eyes glance from your horribly written notes up to Spencer, who's leaning on the table, clinging to every word you say. He hums in consideration before he speaks up.

"I would agree. And if the victims were all staying at tourist destinations, those pamphlets were likely already there. So now the question is whether or not the unsub talked to them at their cabins or before they walked into the welcome center." He says, and a lightbulb goes off in your mind.

"Wouldn't it make more sense for the unsub to speak to them at their cabins? I mean, if the unsub caught them in the parking lot there's a chance they might have their families with them. But if the unsub spoke to them at their cabins, the women might be persuaded to leave their families behind for some reason." You say, going with the logical deductions that pop into your mind. Spencer mulls over your words, his eyes narrowing, staring back at you in deep thought.

"You're right. The unsub likely works for the resorts. It would give them access to the victims and it wouldn't be weird for them to give suggestions to guests." He confirms what you thought and you look back to the screen, seeing the third victim frozen in time.

"We should let the team know." You say and Spencer nods. The two of you finish off your coffee and wait for the rest of the team to arrive. You're confident that the two of you have a solid lead on this case. You only hope you can find the unsub before there's a fourth victim.

-----

The sun sets on the scenic landscape and you lean against the banister of the wraparound porch. The rest of the team isn't back yet, and the last thing you want to do is stay inside when it's so beautiful out here. The snowcapped mountain in the distance gleams brilliantly, and it's almost blinding, but you can't look away. Sounds of water rushing and birds chirping fill the air and if you let your mind relax enough it's almost like you're not here to solve murders.

Your head rests atop of your arms on the railing and you breathe in the cool air. The breeze gently blows your hair around, sending a shiver up your spine. You had severely underestimated how cold it would be here, and as a result, you failed to pack adequately because you were basing your packing off of Virginia fall time temperatures, which are noticeably warmer.

The sliding door opens and you turn to see Spencer walking out of his room. He joins your side and leans forward on the railing, looking out at the breathtaking view. His curly brown hair gets blown into his face, and you have to stop yourself from reaching out and tucking it behind his ear. You're also enjoying the breathtaking view.

He looks at peace, which is not something you usually see in him. His mind works overtime almost twenty four hours a day, especially on cases. It has to be torturous sometimes, to never get a reprieve from your own thoughts; and that's something you know all too well. There are some nights where you can't sleep because gruesome memories from the job haunt you.

Noticing that you're staring at him, you turn your gaze back to the colorful trees. The two of you enjoy a moment of tranquility together, a rare moment in the fast-paced career you pursued. A bird flies by, and you can only imagine what that freedom feels like. Most times you feel like your job keeps you cemented in one place, always dealing with death and the most heinous monsters that reside in this world. You often forget just how beautiful and free life can be.

A particularly crisp breeze comes through and you visibly shiver, which Spencer notices. Without a word, he goes into his room and comes back moments later with the throw blanket that was folded at the bottom of the bed. It's burnt orange in color and is made of faux fur, warm and soothing. Spencer drapes it over your shoulders and you hold onto the ends, keeping it secure around you. If you could stay in this moment forever, you would.

Spencer stands so closely beside you that you feel his warmth coming through the blanket, and without much thought, or care, you lean into him just slightly. He makes no effort to move, and the two of you stay like that for what seems like an eternity. His warmth and his smell are so comforting and makes you feel safe. Deep down in your heart you know he makes you feel at home.

The two of you enjoy each other's company in a peaceful silence. There's never been the need to fill the silence with him, like there is the others. While you two are quite talkative in the team dynamic, when you find yourselves alone it's often relaxed with no expectations. You two talk when you want, or is needed, but when there's nothing to say you're more than happy to just be around him. And you hope he feels the same about you, and you think he does, but you're never brave enough to ask for fear of ruining whatever relationship it is that you two share.

Sighing, you cuddle yourself further into the blanket as the sun dips lower and lower, the golden hue turning orange. Spencer moves beside you, and you see his fingers twitch, like he was going to reach out for something but doesn't. Your head turns to look at him above you, and his head lowers, so that your eyes meet one another.

You had always known his eyes were beautiful, but up this close you can truly admire the depth of them. The golden hues remind you of the sunsets, the green in them is like the rich moss that adorns the sides of the rocks; or like the pine needles on the tall trees, and the brown is reminiscent of swirling espresso. Taken aback from his closeness and the heat creeping up your spine, your lips fall open and his eyes glance between them and your eyes. He's so close to you, your bodies practically pressed against one another. You feel yourself being drawn to him, like he has his own magnetic pull.

But whatever was about to happen is cut short by the rest of the team arriving back to the cabin. You and Spencer seem to come back to reality and step away from one another. Flustered, you unwrap the blanket from your shoulders and hand it back to him, already missing the warmth.

"Thank you." Your voice is soft and tender, and his hand brushes your own as he grabs the blanket from you.

"Of course." He smiles softly back, and the two of you part ways to join the rest of your team downstairs to catch up on the latest information. But you can barely pay attention to what is being said, for your mind is drowning with flashes of Spencer out on the porch.

-----

The next morning you wake up as the sun shines in through the windows, illuminating the room beautifully and warmly. Hotch had given everyone the night to mull over the information and said that the investigation will pick right back up in the morning. After you get dressed and ensure your service weapon is properly attached to the harness around your thigh, you make your way down the stairs for a morning cup of coffee. Morgan, Prentiss, and Hotch are already sat at the table, picking at some toast for breakfast as they get the sleep rid from their systems.

You make a cup for yourself and Spencer, knowing he will be up any moment now. As per usual, too much sugar gets put into his and then you pour your own. The warm drink calms your nerves and you close your eyes, trying to get your mind prepared for whatever the day may bring. You know there may very well be a fourth victim found soon and you need to be on the top of your game to find the unsub.

"Good morning." A raspy voice makes your eyes open, and you see Spencer walking into the kitchen, dressed in a button up and tie. It's quite casual for him, but you like it, it looks nice on him.

"Good morning, made yours right here." You say and nod over to the mug on the counter. He looks from you to the mug with a smile on his face.

"Thanks." He says, and the two of you stay in the kitchen, sipping on your coffee and waiting for Hotch to give everyone orders.

"Feeling good about today?" It's something you always ask when an investigation seems to be coming to a close. You think it sets a tone, an expectation that the team will succeed. Spencer sips his drink and nods,

"I feel good about today." He confirms, flashing his bright white smile.

Last night, after the team had arrived, Hotch had shown everyone the list of employees from the neighboring resorts and cabins and today the team will be interviewing those employees. You're convinced the unsub has to be on that list and you intend to find out who it is. The questions have already been sorted in your mind, though you're able to adapt to anyone's personality and are prepared to get answers.

"Same teams as yesterday, we're going to divide and conquer." Hotch says, handing each team a list of names. You look down at the list he handed you and see that there are a total of fifteen employees for the small resort that you and Spencer are covering. It catches your attention that seven of the fifteen are women, and you mentally place them lower on your suspect list. This doesn't seem like a crime women usually commit, no, this seems like the work of a man as evidenced by the brute force used.

Morgan and Prentiss take off in one car, Hotch takes another, leaving you and Spencer with your own SUV. The two of you gather your needed materials, such as photos and notepads, before you head out. Spencer grabs the keys and tells you that he's going to warm up the car as you finish organizing your things, and you're grateful for that. Sitting in a cold car doesn't really appeal to you right now.

Once you're content with the items you've chosen to bring along you head out of the cabin. The bright light almost blinds you, and you squint in order to see. From the corner of your eye you see something move, and when you turn to look you see it's the landscaper from the other day, already flagging you down. Resisting the strong urge to just ignore him, you wait for him to reach you on the porch steps. He looks like he's already been hard at work today, he's covered in dirt and sweat.

"Well good mornin'. Got anything interesting going on today?" He asks, shielding his eyes from the light with his gloved hand. You shift your weight and look to the running SUV, already planning your escape route out of this conversation.

"Uh, yeah, you could say it'll be an interesting day." You reply as politely as you can. James smiles widely at your response.

"What sort of thing you have planned?" He asks and you sigh, not wanting to be part of this conversation any longer.

"I'm not at liberty to say, but I've gotta go, my partner is waiting for me." You excuse yourself from the conversation before he can get another word in. From behind you, you hear him say.

"Well alright then, I'll be around if you need anything." As you slide into the driver's side of the car and hand your bag to Spencer, you see the man heading back to the tool shed.

"That's twice now that he's singled me out." You say, keeping your eye on him for a moment longer, watching his moves. The fact that you match the victim profile is not lost on you, and you think it might be making you just slightly paranoid.

"I noticed that too. Could be that you were the first one there the last time, and the last one out this time, but it's definitely something to keep note of." Spencer says as you drive off to the tiny resort the two of you had been assigned. You know he might be right, but the man went out of his way to flag you down this morning and completely ignored everyone else. An uneasy feeling in your stomach tells you that the landscaper should be looked into more thoroughly.

When you and Spencer reach the resort you waste no time in beginning your investigations. The two of you are laser focused on the task at hand, and agree to split the list equally. Spencer volunteered himself to question the extra person. Luckily, the front desk attendant was more than helpful and secured two rooms for the interviews to be conducted.

The first four interviews go by without incident, all front desk attendants and kitchen workers who have no indication of manipulative traits and answer your questions openly. You've done this enough times to spot exactly what you're looking for, you know what gets under the skin of unsubs, especially the organized ones who think they have it all figured out.

A couple other interviewees give you good information about the victim who stayed here. They tell you how they remember seeing her with her family in the hall, and how nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the room when it was cleaned. Hotch had questioned the families last night, and cleared them from the suspects list.

By the time you reach the end of your list, you know you can safely cross every one of them off. None of them responded to the misinformation you sprinkled in the questions, things the unsub would've been known to be untrue. And none of them had any sort of reaction to you insulting the intelligence of the unsub, something that would have surely set them off in some way. But to your dismay, none of them had any clue of who could be capable of this kind of malice. Typically, there's at least one person who's able to spot something weird about someone, but not this time.

You group back up with Spencer, the two of you comparing notes in the room he used for his questioning. He had the same results as you and you both were hoping someone else on the team was more successful.

"We got all of them except for James Hilton. The others said he bounces around to each place and some days he's not even here." Spencer says, pointing out the only uncrossed name from the list.

"James Hilton. That's the landscaper." You say, barely able to recall his name from yesterday. The uneasy feeling in your stomach grows.

-----

In the afternoon, the team reconvenes in the cabin around the table to compare findings. Every other agent was able to interview everyone but James Hilton. Granted, his job requires him to go from location to location, but it seems like he's been hanging out around this cabin often. However, he was nowhere to be found when everyone came back. But maybe he went to another location to work on their flowerbeds.

"We'll need to get his statement today. Anyone up to track him down?" Usually you volunteer to go after someone like this, but something is telling you not to, and you listen to your instincts. Thankfully Morgan offers to track him down, and Prentiss joins him once more. You pick at a piece of paper on the table as your mind works, mulling over what you know about the case and the overly-friendly landscaper.

Before Morgan and Prentiss leave, Spencer informs the team about the conversations that James has dragged you into. You tell them exactly what happened, and they all agree that it seems suspicious. Hotch goes off to make some calls to JJ and Garcia, leaving you and Spencer at the table.

"Hey, are you okay?" Spencer asks, leaning forward on the table. His voice snaps you out of your trance and you cease to fiddle with the paper.

"Me? Yeah I'm fine, why?" You ask, not sure why he's concerned. He looks conflicted, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he answers.

"Well, it's just that you fit the victim profile and the conversations with the landscaper seem to be suspicious. And you keep playing with the paper which is an indication of anxiety." He says, trying his best to not profile you in front of your face.

"Spencer, I'm okay, promise. I was just thinking." You tell him, and it's the truth. While James makes you feel uneasy, you're confident that nothing will happen to you. Spencer nods and you stand from the table, wanting to inspect the cabin with finer detail and stretch your legs.

After going from room to room looking for the tiniest thing that might be relevant to the case, you find yourself staring at the same photo that caught Spencer's eye when you all first arrived. There's something about it, something about the discolored spot, that you just can't let go of. It's bothering you for some reason. Frustrated, you take it off the wall and bring it to where Spencer is in the main living area, nose in a book. He looks up from the page when he hears you coming, his eyebrows scrunching closely together.

"What are you doing?" He asks, putting the book on a side table. You place the painting on the large coffee table and put your hands on your hips.

"There's something about this that's driving me insane." You say, eyes drifting from Spencer's face to the painting. It takes Spencer all of ten seconds to analyze the painting again.

"It's the same place the bodies were found." He says and your eyes widen, taking in the scene again and realizing he's right.

"Wait. If this is the same place the bodies were found, then that, is the exact spot they were in." You say, pointing to the discolored spot. The discoloration is where the grass meets the water, the mountain in the background. Your eyes drift to the bottom corner of the painting where you see a cursive 'J' painted in white.

"Do you think the killer is the one who painted this?" Spencer asks you, and you nod.

"I'm sure of it. There's a J painted in the corner. It has to be Hilton. Can you call Garcia?" You ask, mind feeling like it's running a marathon. Spencer doesn't hesitate to get Garcia on the phone.

"Hello my beautiful boy genius, what can I do for you today?" Penelope's voice sounds throughout the room and you smirk at her entertaining phone greeting.

"Hello my beautiful computer genius, can you do me a favor?" You speak first and you can hear her laugh through the phone.

"Oh my darling anything for you." Her voice is melodic and you shake your head at her antics. You love Garcia, she's one of your closest friends inside and outside of work.

"Can you find anything on a James Hilton from the Boulder, Colorado area?" You ask her, knowing your answer is about to be served on a silver platter in just a few moments. Garcia's quick typing echoes through the phone.

"James Hilton, born and raised in Boulder. Has been working as a property manager for the last ten years at the property you all are staying at. Has one traffic record from the nineties, but other than that he's clean." She says, but you were hoping for something more incriminating.

"Anything about a wife, or a girlfriend? Maybe even a sister or mother?" You ask her, staring down a the painting.

"It looks like he was in a long term relationship with Valerie Wilson, also of Boulder. But according to her Facebook page, they are over with." She says, Spencer and you looking at each other, knowing you may have just found a potential piece of the puzzle.

"Perfect. Can you tell me what she looks like and how to contact her?" You ask and write down the details Garcia recites. After you get the needed information, Spencer hangs up and calls Hotch to inform him of what the two of you just found out. Hotch tells us that he's on his way back to the cabin after he's done with the last interview.

The painting lays in front of you two, and you take a seat on the arm of the chair Spencer is sitting in, your leg brushing up against his and your arm resting behind his head to keep yourself stable. Your eyes are glued to the discoloration, and you know there's just something about it that's more than just not being able to find the right shade.

"Is there a way to see if something has been painted over?" You ask Spencer rather than Googling it, knowing he can probably get you an answer faster. He clears his throat and nods his head.

"A few years ago it was found that Vincent Van Gogh painted over several of his works due to the cost of canvas. Experts used x-ray to see through the layers, revealing the original painting." His answer is exactly what you were looking for.

"We have to get this thing x-rayed. And someone needs to contact Valerie and ask her about her relationship with James. His tool shed should be examined as well" You jump off the chair's arm, ready to leave immediately, but having to wait for Hotch before you can proceed with anything else.

-----

Hours later, your leg is bouncing up and down, eagerly awaiting the results of the x-ray. The hospital staff had never encountered something quite like this, but you were thankful that they were cooperative. Spencer had come along with you while Hotch stayed back to get in contact with Valerie. You check your phone every ten seconds to see if you have a new message for him, but your screen is blank.

Thankfully, a few minutes later an x-ray technician comes out and beckons you to a dark room where she clips the x-ray images onto a lightboard. While the images aren't in color, you can still see exactly what you need to. The images show that where the discoloration is, there used to be a woman standing and a man on one knee. A gasp leaves your mouth, the pieces finally fitting together in your mind. Without a doubt, James is the unsub.

Spencer and you race back to the cabin and spill the findings to the rest of the team. Hotch informs you that Valerie had confirmed that James recently proposed, but she turned him down. All of the victims match her appearance. He must have been killing to fulfill some sort of revenge he felt was necessary.

The team calls each of the resorts that James is employed at only to find that he's not at any of them. While the others scramble to try and find a way to find him, your eyes land on the guestbook.

"Guys. I can call him. He told me his number is in the guestbook and we know I fit the profile. He won't be able to help himself." You say, and the others don't have any good reason as to why you shouldn't do it. Your hands shake from the adrenaline as you dial the numbers and the phone rings, your heartbeat resounding in your ears. You're so close to catching this depraved man.

"Hello?" He answers finally. You let go of a breath you weren't aware you were holding and speak up.

"Hi James, you told me to call you if I needed help with anything. And, um, I think I might have broken one of the outside lights." You quickly come up with a lie, hoping to lure him out here for the arrest. You hear him moving around on the other end and the start of an engine.

"Of course, I'll be there in just a moment, honey." He says and you hang up the phone, trying not to gag from his pet name.

It takes James all of fifteen minutes to reach the cabin. When he pulls up, the entire team is waiting for him, but you were the one with cuffs in your hands. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Hotch and Morgan were out the door ordering him to the ground. With smug satisfaction, you step over the man and secure his hands in cuffs behind his back.

As the local police show up to take him away, he's spitting every expletive in the book at you. Rage and hatred show themselves very clearly on his face, and you see who he really is. You smile sickly sweet at him as he's shoved into the back of the cop car. Another monster off the street, unable to do harm to another woman. It's like a weight gets lifted from your shoulders.

-----

After the excitement of the arrest, you come down off your adrenaline rush. The rest of the team are packing, getting ready to leave in the morning, but you can't find it within yourself to do it. You're too struck by the beauty in front of you to worry about going back home. You just don't want to part with this yet. So you find yourself out on the wraparound porch once more, the sun retreating far too quickly behind the horizon for your liking.

Despite the waning sun, the landscape looks brighter, more vibrant now that you know that the killer is in custody. Usually, the team gets only a few hours of celebration before you're saddled with paperwork and the next case. A bird flies past again, and you appreciate its freedom again. Its sweet melodies carry in the breeze and soothes your weary soul.

You love your job, you can't imagine doing anything else, but it does wear on you. Both physically and mentally. Before you had started working with the team, you never could have imagined the kind of evil lurking everywhere, even in a place as gorgeous as this. But now, it's like wherever you look, no matter how beautiful the surroundings, you can always spot something amiss. You feel weighted by the knowledge of what reality actually is.

The familiar sound of the sliding door catches your attention, and you see Spencer coming towards you, blanket in hand. A smile finds its way onto your face as he closes the distance between you, securing the blanket around your shoulders. Just like yesterday, he stands right beside you, admiring the view.

"The others are all leaving tonight, they said they want to get a headstart on the papers. But I told them we'd go back in the morning." His voice is raspy, yet soft.

"But what about the plane?" You ask, eyebrows knitting together. He shrugs his shoulders and looks down at you.

"I told them we'd fly back in the morning, already have the tickets arranged." He says, easing some of your anxiousness, but not satisfying your curiosity.

"Why?" You search for the answer on his face.

"Because I saw how much you like it here. You deserve one workless night." He says with sincerity and your heart swells at the sentiment. You fully turn towards him, soft blanket draped lightly across your shoulders. You notice that Spencer has traded his button up for a simple pullover. Something so simple has never looked so good before.

"Thank you, you really didn't have to-" He cuts you off with a smile,

"I know, but I wanted to." He admits, pink coloring his cheeks. You stare up at him in awe, not quite sure what you did to deserve his thoughtfulness. Not being able to hold back your affections, you reach out and engulf him in a hug.

"Thank you, Spencer." You reiterate into his chest, feeling his arms wrap around you. After a few fleeting, precious moments, you let go of him. Staring up into his eyes, you reach a hand up and stroke the soft skin of his cheekbone with your thumb. He doesn't flinch from your touch like he does with others, no, he leans into it as if he's savoring the feeling.

His arm that was around your waist come up to cup your cheek, and he gently brings your face towards his, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. You hold him close, a flurry of warmth spreading from your face down to your body. His other hand finds its way around your waist, securing you to his body.

You break the kiss as your chest begins burning with the need of oxygen, and he rests his forehead against yours. Your hands come up to gently grasp the sides of his face, keeping him in place so that you can admire his beauty. After minutes pass by in silence as you two appreciate each other, Spencer tilts his head up and kisses your forehead.

He turns you around so that you're facing away from him, and he grabs the blanket from around your shoulders. Seconds later, you feel him standing behind you, wrapping the soft blanket around the both of you. His chest is behind you, and he hands you the edges of the blanket so that his hands might find the soft curve of your waist. Spencer pulls you in to him so that you're leaning back on his chest.

Spencer rests his head atop of yours as the two of you relax your minds and bodies, focusing solely on each other and the scene in front of you. Your hands come down to entwine themselves with his with a soft smile on your face.

A lone tear falls from the corner of your eye as you're overcome with emotion. You cannot recall a single time in your life that you've felt this serene, where everything just feels perfect. Your soul is well nourished and full from Spencer alone. All of those cases you worked together, the stolen glances across the office, the simple acts of kindness and thoughtfulness for each other has culminated to this one precious moment in time; and you've never felt more content.

The sun eventually sets behind the horizon, the chilly breeze billowing the blanket around you both. Above you in the sky, the stars shine brightly, and you tip your head back to admire them. You can never admire their true beauty in Quantico, their shine is dulled by light pollution, but you can see them clearly here. You can see everything clearly here.

"You know, scientists estimate that there are about two hundred sextillion stars in the sky within the Milky Way." Spencer whispers in your ear as you two bask in their soft white light. You turn around in his hold and smile up at him,

"And yet none shine as brilliantly or as beautifully as you." You say, and pull him in for another soft, heartfelt kiss. As you pull away, you watch as his eyes flutter open and he smiles endearingly. You've never seen such a beautiful sight, never felt comfort as warm as him, and you know as you lean into his embrace, that you will not bear the weight of this world or this life alone.

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