#in this case they didn't change from one day to the other | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

calitears · 10 hours ago

Text

Guitar Hero

“well my boyfriend’s in a band…

…he plays guitar while i sing lou reed”

Megumi Fushiguro x FEM!Reader

9.32 k words (oopsies)

Summary: Megumi Fushiguro finds himself at the local arcade a few hours before his band's show. However what was supposed to be just a one time game of guitar hero with a stranger might develop into something more.

warnings/notes ~ alcohol consumption/implied sexual themes/fluff/cursing/no directly written smut but implied/might be corny in sum parts but i promise it’s cutesy!

optional playlist: 🎧 (listen in any order you’d like, it just has the songs refrenced and a few extra!!)

{non-curse au}

masterlist

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

His hands were gradually getting colder as the soft thumping of his fingers against his chilled phone screen slowed, looking over the latest message sent in his band’s group chat. He could only find himself able to sigh at yet another schedule change, having their set pushed back another hour.

He could have chosen to head back to meet with his bandmates, they were all just piled up near the backstage entrance anyway, and it’s not like he didn't enjoy watching other bands play. Yet as he shut off his phone, the tinted blue light that illuminated his face faded, only leaving the vibrant colors of the arcade in front to cast different shades of neon lights over him. He looked up, the three fourths of his face showing that was left uncovered by his scarf the most vibrant under the iridescent lights. With a sigh he stood up, and walked the few feet of distance between the previous bench he sat on and the glass doors of the front arcade entrance.

Megumi would never admit it, but it was in fact the nerves that pushed him to avoid heading directly to the concert area. It was far from his first time performing in front of a public, however this was the largest crowd they’d gathered, and he’d be trying something new tonight. He wasn't doubtful of his skills, he had been playing guitar since elementary, it would be stupid of him to feel unprepared. But insecurity came at strange times for him, at least that’s what he thought to himself. It wasn't necessarily rare for people to feel nervous before performing, and still the world would have to end first before Megumi would ever admit out loud that he was growing anxious.

He wandered around the arcade for a bit, taking a glance at the variety of games. He’d concluded it was always a hit or miss with arcades nowadays, they’d either be packed with an assortment of machines, or have a few lonely boring games, whose only purpose would be to continue making whoever was behind the establishment a quick buck. In this case, he would consider himself lucky. As he looked around he was met with a few arcade classics, like the variations of ball rolling games, mock “gambling” machines (as he’d refer to them in his head, he found it funny), air hockey, and whatever versions of racing games were available. The place itself wasn’t packed, but did seem to have a decent clientele. What really made him come to the conclusion that this place was on the higher end of his arcade spectrum would be the games such as DDR, an actual vintage pacman game, Street fighter, Tetris, and the one that really caught his eye, Guitar Hero.

It brought back memories of his earlier elementary days and early middle school, when instead of going home he’d wander into some corner store establishment with Tsumiki that existed right before reaching their street. They’d grab some snacks, Tsumiki would glance around at the magazines, and he’d walk over to what looked to be an old large storage closet, turned into a makeshift ‘arcade’ (if you could call it that). When Gojo finally took them in a year later, he’d join them in their afterschool stop. When he saw a pattern of Megumi always picking up that plastic guitar to entertain himself, he made sure to make a mental note of that.

That year, Megumi found his first ever birthday present from Gojo to be an acoustic guitar, poorly wrapped in some shiny candy cane pattern wrapping paper. After that, the stop on the way home became shorter.

Could be a good form of practice, he excused, and with one more second of contemplation, he gave in and went over to some machine to buy himself tokens. Classic. Mindlessly walking over and reaching for the plastic guitar, he was getting ready to play solo, that is until he saw the ‘player 2’ control guitar be picked up out of the corner of his eye.

“Would you mind if I played?”

Would he mind? He processed the words, as if they were waking him up from a nap. In truth he hadn’t really been all there anyway.

“That’s fine…”

He observed the person next to him, watching as she flashed him a small smile then turned her attention to the screen. She was pretty, he could say that much.

“What song?”

He blinked, he knew what song he wanted after he had seen the machine had already had some customes added. So why was he just staring at her? He’d seen pretty girls, boys, people before, so why was he staring like some dumb dog right now? Well truth be told, it had nothing to do with her looks, just the fact that she was wearing one of his band’s cheap shirts. He thought they sold thrown away them at their last show. Unless she had been there. Was she a fan-

“Hey?”

Oh god he was really out of it tonight.

“Today… the Smashing Pumpkins.” he mumbled. She just smiled and looked back at the game, ready whenever he was. He needed to get it together. Turning back to the screen himself, he pressed a few buttons on the controller, and after getting through the start menu, he heard music play through the, surprisingly, decent quality speakers.

The sound of clacking from pressing down on the plastic keys kept going the longer the song went on, and it was the last vibrant memory he had that night, before they slowly quieted down in his mind and transitioned to the sound of sheets shuffling next to him. Megumi glanced over, and saw the same girl from before, except this time instead of being slightly exhausted after a game of Guitar Hero, it had been a much more intense activity.

How the hell did he get here?

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

“You’re… really good…” you had said while placing the guitar back in its holder. You never thought an arcade game would ever work you out. Then again, it had been a few rounds with this handsome stranger. Megumi copied your actions, not looking at you again yet, but nodded. “Thanks… lots of practice.”

“Yeah no, I can tell. You play right? Like… real guitar?”

Oh he played, but were you just acting dumb, or did you actually not recognize him?

“Yeah, in a band.” To that you just hummed in response, before continuing, wanting to keep the conversation flowing. “Same one Nobara used to be in, right?”

Nobara? You know Nobara? That makes sense, and the shirt… Megumi ran through his thoughts, searching in his collection of memories if he had ever heard the girl mention anything about you.

“Yeah, that band… is that why you’re wearing the shirt?”

“Oh- oh yeah… I went with her to go watch your guys’ last show, said she still wanted to cheer you guys on.” Megumi listened, glancing over to meet your eyes again. “Yeah, glad she could put that much effort in after ditching us.”

It was supposed to be sarcastic, an attempt at humor. Yet you still had to examine his face, trying to figure out if he was serious or not. There was a few seconds of awkward silence, before you choose to try and just go along with him, sharing a slight polite smile. Megumi noticed, yet he knew it wasn’t in response to his comment. You were just being nice. He really needed to work on his execution of things.

“...So you recognized me?” he questioned, hoping to brush over his last failed attempt at a joke.

“Well yeah, I mean not at first, but you seemed familiar... Originally I just assumed you were someone I had met at a show before or something.” He studied your way of talking, the expression you made, looking at you almost fascinated.

Don’t take it the wrong way though, that glimpse in his eye he gives to anyone he’s curious about, it’s just his nature. He focuses on the details of your words, committing any piece of conversation you shared with him to his memory, again, not something unique to you, just part of having a good memory. Or at least he told himself that when he realized he had been almost captivated by you.

And yet he found himself walking backstage with you.

After your encounter in the arcade, Megumi found out you were heading to the same show. He figured out you had basically been there all day, watching any band that caught your interest. That is, until you needed a break from the constant energetic and emotional atmosphere rock concerts brought. You had ended up leaving and getting something to eat, going to the arcade after to waste more time.

He got that out of you while sharing nothing about himself in return, other than the fact he played guitar and used to do back up vocals. Now he was stuck basically being the new frontman, contrary to his own belief that he was not marketable as one.

He had the looks, he knew he wasn't ugly. His singing and playing were more than fine, he would end up as one of the best if he continued playing with this much emotion (the same emotion he seemed to lack in literally anything else), and yet he wasn’t social off or on stage. He wasn’t a performer, he told himself. He could write, he could create art, but the last thing he ever thought himself possible of would be executing it in the way that would capture a crowd. His voice had emotion, his actions filled with meaning and an actual want to be there, but he couldn’t get himself to be anything even close to extravagant. Not like Nobara used to anyway.

“She was… definitely something, it’s like she was made to perform, which is why I totally understand why she chose to take up this acting gig… but I think you’re being too hard on yourself too.”

What. What were you saying? You were responding to his thoughts? No. Megumi blinked, realizing he actually had been talking to you. He had ended up sharing his own insecurities with you. The reason he had been so anxious for this show. He should shut himself up now before he slips up even more, but the truth is, he couldn’t find himself to care.

“You actually think I could take on being the frontman?” He continued walking by your side. At this point you both were back in the venue area, now just wandering around before the next set of shows started, the one including his band.

“Yeah, just loosen up a bit… but if you really don’t wanna be the face of it, why not let Itadori or Maki takeover?”

“Neither of them sing, god especially not Itadori.” You laughed at that, and it made him feel redemption from his earlier failed try at humor. “Why not get a new member then?” He thought about it, letting out a quiet hum in response. “I don’t wanna scout around for one… energetic people like that don’t usually stick to me, if anything I got the chance to even be in this band because Maki dragged me in…”

“You’re really crushing on yourself dude, have some faith in yourself!”

Megumi watched you smile, and you in return watched his dark blue eyes travel over your face.

“You’ve seen me play then, be honest and sincerely tell me you think I could pull through.”

You only blinked at him in response, racking your brain for memory of his previous performance. Maybe he wasn’t nearly as bold as Nobara, but oh he was talented. More than any other guitar player you’d seen that night. His vocals were nothing short of impressive either, you wanted him to know that-

“And I’m not a girl.” You were caught off guard by his statement. He’s worried about… not being a girl? But you couldn’t see the relation between those two at all. Before you could scavenge your mind for another explanation, Megumi went ahead and answered your confusion. “People were excited to see Nobara’s image. She was a girl leading a noisy rock band, she was spontaneous and out there, if I was the band’s image it wouldn’t have the same effect, we’d just be like almost every other semi-popular band…”

He took a breath, before adding on, “It was her voice and character that distinguished us. Anyone could name at least ten different bands with guys like me leading them, but barely any with the same vibe she brought.”

You lingered over his explanation. He was an artist, he wanted to make something new, and besides his rather stoic outside you’d notice so far, he was more than happy to be part of something different.

If only he had enough confidence to make himself into the character he wanted to be, because he definitely wasn’t shy either.

“...Just get up there and do it, at least for tonight. Try it.”

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

You could only watch in awe from the crowd. Megumi was majestic. His voice was hypnotizing, the way his bangs fell over his face, the light causing small reflections in his eyes, his hands moved gracefully over his black, beaten up guitar.

The instrument was something that could easily be overlooked, like a spare tossed back stage for an emergency. Yet in Megumi’s arms, he made it seem like the thing was a precious relic, capable of much more than it led on. The colored stage lights caused a halo glow around his silhouette, almost as if he was a saint.

It could be an in the moment thing, the emotion of the crowd, the fact you were so close to him. Maybe it was the whiplash you got from seeing him just half an hour before as a quiet, mostly reserved guy, to a model worthy shot currently in front of you. But oh, he was the most handsome rockstar you’d ever seen.

And still, you sadly understood what he meant earlier about the band. Megumi was special to you right now because you knew he was different on stage then off it. He was nowhere near bad, but also such a contrast from the atmosphere the band previously brought. His vocals ringing through your ears produced by the speakers was enough proof he was an insanely talented person, but it wasn’t as heavenly as it had been paired with a raspier, yet higher and emotion filled tone Nobara had brought.

Megumi still stood out in other ways though. Instead of the ‘basic’ look most guys wore around this scene, which consisted of baggy jeans or japanese denim paired with an ironic graphic tee or vintage band one, Megumi took on more of a V-kei style inspiration. You could guess he probably put more effort into it when he had shows, but if someone showed you a picture of him and told you he was a member of a band like Luna Sea or X Japan before you had properly met him, you wouldn’t have doubted it.

He couldn’t be overlooked on stage, not in appearance at least, but besides that, what really made them stand out more than the other band that had previously gone up before? Even bands with other female leads lacked what they used to have. Loud, bold, mean lead singer, even if it was just a stage personality. A true diva you could say.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

“That was ass…” Megumi mumbled, tossing his guitar case into the back of Maki’s black SUV. “What are you saying man? For a three person band we played great live!” Itadori announced, wrapping his arm around his friend’s shoulders. Maki was already sitting in the driver's seat, clearly just wanting to go home at this point, considering Nobara wasn’t the only one that recently left the band. Their old fifth member had left a week ago for some exchange program. And now she was stuck around her strangely close to her age nephew and his chattery best friend. Megumi just scoffed and shut the trunk, dragging Itadori along to the car’s side door. “I missed a shit ton of notes because I focused too much on singing, my voice cracked like a hundred times-”

“Shut up! You were great, we were great!” Yuji cheered, just happy he had fun honestly. But he didn’t get it. As emo as it sounded, Megumi knew he was being a prick and just nitpicking, nonetheless, he couldn’t let go of the closest thing to perfect he had had. Music was more than just a stress reliever for him, he’d give up anything to be able to make this his career instead of working whatever lame corporate job he could settle for. Since he was little, even through his motivation loss of anything (and almost everything), he never let go of playing music, he never once left the house without his worn down red headphones, and he never planned on quitting his art. He never considered himself as a perfect person, that role belonged to his sister and his overly cheery best friend.

Megumi knew he could be a selfish man, and meeting you again that night proved it in more ways than one.

He and Maki let Yuji drag them to a bar to meet up with Nobara as a celebration. Apparently it had karaoke, a detail he picked up when he walked through the front entrance. When they entered he wasn’t surprised to see Nobara up there already singing, she probably got bored of waiting even if it was just for a few minutes and wanted to have fun. What did catch him off guard however, was you.

There you were, next to your friend on the bar’s makeshift stage, both of you performing some improvised cover of Celebrity Skin by Hole. The way you moved, your expressions, your voice. It was like he was starstruck.

He never would have guessed he’d really run into you again after tonight, but he suddenly remembered what you had said earlier about finding another member to become the frontman of his band. He knew he needed to make sure he stayed in contact with you, convince you his band needed you. Feeling the waves of his insecurity still lingering, the desperation to achieve his band’s perfect form again, it drove him to stick by you the rest of the night after that. You took a shot, he followed. You chatted with a group and he’d stand silently by your side. Ask him a question and he’d answer. He kept the conversation rolling with you, easier now in comparison to earlier (most likely because of the alcohol) until he finally ‘popped’ the question. Would you be in his band? And he couldn’t swallow the slight irritation that rose in him when you just laughed.

“You’re not serious right? You want me- not just in your band… but as the front of it?” He huffed almost silently, a hurt to his ego that you weren’t taking him seriously. “What’s so hard to believe? I saw you up there with Nobara earlier-“

“Fushiguro, listen I haven’t been in a band since highschool. Even then it was some crappy thing a guy I was dating had created, it was never serious…” He leaned more towards you, shifting slightly in the booth you had both cornered yourselves in. “So why’d you quit playing then? You clearly still love the scene, you watch all these bands play, but you don’t get involved?”

You sighed before taking a sip of whatever tropical drink you had spontaneously let his other bandmate, Itadori, pick out before he wandered off. “Just other stuff… i’m going to college now, part time job to help pay for it and stuff, there’s no time, even if I wanted-”

“I’ll pay you for it- just be in the band”

What?

“How much does your current job pay you? It’s not a… a real commitment right? I’ll pay you to be in the band- and don’t worry, I can afford it.”

Was this guy you just barely met seriously telling you he’d pay you to be in his band? You considered ditching him and leaving to go find Nobara, but before you could excuse yourself, he continued.

“You’re talented- really talented… I don’t wanna sound desperate, but you really seem like you could be great at this… tell me what your current job pays you, i’ll give you more than that, alright?”

You just stared at him shocked, you didn’t know if you just fell in love or grew more scared of him.

“You’re insane.”

Megumi just huffed and slightly squinted his eyes at you, while you came to the conclusion he must be more drunk than you. “You said the last time you were in a band was because of your boyfriend right? Was that really it? Didn’t you enjoy it or even… want to do it?” You thought over his words, searching your brain for an answer that you already knew.

“He taught me guitar and… well I was in choir at the time, but I've always loved being in this scene, when he started a band… I was actually the one that offered to sing for it, I just wanted to be part of something different than what I was used to, like boring choir performances and getting yelled at by our teacher for wearing the wrong uniform, as if we were some professionals instead of just a shitty highschool choir. Honestly it’s probably why he ended up being my longest relationship, why I stayed with him even though he was lowkey one of those wanna be indie guys who are actually hidden misogynists. He gave me something I needed at the time.”

Megumi listened to you ramble on about how your highschool ex and his bandmates were kind of terrible guys to be around, all while reaching his own messy conclusion in his head. He sat there next to you, letting you get it all out while he worked through his own thoughts about what you had shared. If he was able to make you feel the same way your boyfriend had back then, by showing you something you wanted to be a part of, something to make your life more interesting, if he presented himself to you like something you needed then maybe you’d join in. He needed to convince you, prove why you wanted to be a part of his band.

Megumi was about to speak up again, when suddenly a tray of shots was practically thrown onto the table. Megumi looked up, only to find a cheeky and halfway drunk Nobara looking down at them. She narrowed her eyes at him, before she slid the tray a bit closer to the two of you before she spoke up.

“Watch these- I bought them but we can’t finish them… I'll be back, just don’t let some drunk steal them.”

With that she walked off, most likely heading towards Maki to cling to her.

He just sighed as his eyes followed after her, knowing she wasn’t going to come back for the drinks, and instead just picked one up for himself, downing it in just a few seconds. You copied his action, then set the glass down before speaking up again.

“Listen… I just… don’t think it’s for me, thanks for the offer though.”

Megumi could only observe you, he watched you mess with the shot glass you had placed down, taking in how the club’s lighting made certain aspects of your makeup stick out. The highlighter on your nose hadn’t really been noticeable before to him, but now he saw the small sparkles show in the lighting. Your eyeshadow seemed to grow faded under the tinted colored lights, although he couldn’t figure out if it was due to it being this late into the night or just some color theory gimmick.

“...Just try it out with us at least, I won’t force you into this, if you really don’t want to… but seriously, think about it.” You exhaled, and let the exhaustion and alcohol take over you for a moment, just laying your head down on his shoulder. It was almost cute how he immediately tensed up, seeming to grow stiff at the unexpected physical contact. If he had pushed you off you wouldn’t be offended, but it surprised you when instead he hesitantly wrapped his arm around your shoulders, letting his hand hold onto your upper arm.

You reached for another shot glass in front of you, sitting up slightly but still being in his embrace. You drank the alcohol, before turning your head to face him again.

“Why do you even want me in your band so badly?” you questioned him. Megumi held eye contact with you, tilting his head only slightly. “You’ve just... you have talent, it’s not hard to understand why. I want this band to go far, I wanna make something of my music... that includes trying to do what’s best for the band.”

“Does doing ‘what’s best for the band’ include cuddling up with some girl to try and persuade her to join your band?”

To that, he just gave you a pointed look, seeming almost offended you’d accuse him of that. You let out a small laugh at his reaction, taking one of the few remaining shot glasses on the table, and in a state of tipsy braveness, putting it up to his lips. He understood the gesture, softening his expression and parting his lips, letting you tilt the drink into his mouth. You watched almost hypnotized as neither of you ever broke away from the other’s gaze.

Megumi didn’t understand why he was letting you be so close to him, why he wasn’t pulling away. He chose to believe it was because he was desperate to have some sort of approval from you, the kind that would help you agree to his proposal, but another part of him couldn’t deny that he was attracted to you beyond that. So as the night played on, he let himself loosen up for the first time in a while. You were easy to get along with, at least in his eyes. You tried to understand his weird sarcastic jokes, even making him laugh with your own when you started to match his humor. And maybe it was the fact that he had been severely lacking any intimate form of affection that led him to so easily make such an out there decision.

He soon found himself exhausted, laying next to you in his own bed, between his black silk sheets and cotton navy blue bed covers. Yet he didn’t regret any of it as he slowly let his memory catch up to his thoughts. Megumi turned on his side, glancing over your shoulder to watch what you were doing, the light on your phone illuminating your face, letting him clearly see your screen as well in the almost pitch black room. He almost let out a laugh when he saw you feeding and caring for some sort of digital pet you had on your phone.

When Megumi felt comfortable enough with someone, he stopped overthinking his actions and just went with whatever his brain told him too in the moment. For him, what you had just done was not something meaningless and superficial, but if it happened with someone he wasn’t official with, he still believed there was an emotional connection there. And so he didn’t hesitate to drape an arm over your body, and tuck you in close, kissing the side of your neck. You didn’t dare push him away, even if it had only been less than half a day you’d spent with him, you could understand so far that he wasn’t the type to do something without any feeling behind it. You let him cuddle with you, let him hold you, because at the end of the day, you didn’t mind it at all either.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

Megumi sat with you in his apartment’s living room. His taste for decor was definitely more vintage, most of the furniture seeming antique, most likely thrifted or bought from garage sales. Through lazy morning conversations he had convinced you to try playing at their next show with the band, he said he’d bring you to the practices if you needed a ride, and give you copies of their songs along with any videos of live performances he had saved. Now you just sat next to him on the couch, reading over lyrics of his band’s songs while he mindlessly tuned his guitar, trying to get it to his preferences after wearing it out last night. Some random cheesy drama playing on his TV on low volume became background noise after the movie you had both been previously watching on the channel ended.

Taking a break from reading lyrics, you turned your attention to watch his movements, seeing as he fidgeted with the strings in his guitar.

“…How long have you been playing?”

Megumi took his attention off the strings as he replied to you, “…Since I was still in grade school… my… guardian… gave me my first years ago, and I just kept playing from there.”

You noticed his slight hesitation when he mentioned who he had received his first instrument from, and so you chose to not focus on that. You figured he probably didn’t want to talk about that right now, and so you chose to ask a different question.

“When did you know you wanted to go into music, as a career I mean?”

He strung the E string on his guitar one more time, before he sighed and just moved to gently lay it down on the empty spot next to him.

“Since I saw the college application requirements sophomore year of Highschool.”

You smiled at his comment, just slightly shaking your head.

“Seriously?”

“No, well kind of… community college was always a choice, not a bad option either… but I never liked the idea of working on someone else’s schedule… I wanted to do something I actually enjoyed… not just because everyone else was doing it.” He took a pause and picked up his black coffee he had made earlier that morning with you.

“Truth is, I wasn’t even bad at school, but nothing really gave me a calling… and then one day Maki asked me to join the band she was in… well that seemed interesting enough, then we needed a drummer, so I hesitantly got Yuji involved… and it just went from there.” He took a sip out of his drink, before placing it back down. You just hummed in response to his explanation, while Megumi directed his look towards you. “What are you in college for anyway?”

“Like why did I go to college?”

He blinked, before shaking his head slightly. “No… I mean your major.”

“Oh, well I’m actually double majoring… in English and Visual Arts.” He gave you a short nod in reply.

“Cool…”

“Yeah cool…”

There was a brief moment of silence while you returned back to reading the lyrics, however you both noticed how Megumi hadn’t taken his eyes off you. You were about to look back up, before being surprised when he moved to try and cuddle you into his side. He was an awkward guy, you could tell he wasn’t quite used to this type of ‘relationship’, but you didn’t pull away, maybe if you let him unwind in his own way he’d get the hang of it.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

“He looks like a dead dog that had been thrown overboard, oh god, get him out of the pit now.”

You laughed at Maki’s insults of Nobara’s latest talking stage, having already had a fit after just seeing the picture of some scrawny guy with thick eyebrows trying to crawl his way out of a crowd at a show apparently. Megumi who was sitting next to you just cocked an eyebrow at the picture, observing how this guy had apparently gotten his limbs tangled with the people around him.

“Have you ever seen a rat king?” And his statement only caused you more laughter. Nobara just sighed and put her head in her hands, having given up on defending this guy.

“Okay whatever, how about you guys just focus on training y/n again!”

Maki let out a scoff, while Megumi just rolled his eyes. Nobara sighed and looked at you, “How are you feeling by the way? One week before the next show… you think you’re ready?” You blinked, before letting a small smile form on your expression. “Yeah… I think so, I’ve got the setlist memorized, you and Maki helped me pick the cutest outfit yesterday… that’s everything right?”

She smirked and leaned back a bit, clapping her hands together. “It’s perf, just remember to be extra, people wanna see a performance, get them in the mood.” You nodded, feeling excitement bubbling at the thought of Friday night this week.

Just then you all turned your attention to the front door of Maki’s house opening, seeing Yuji happily walk in with boba and smoothies in a drink carrier along with bags full of carryout hanging from both his arms.

“Food’s here!”

Nobara was the first to jump up, helping him carry it all quicker to the kitchen table, not out of courtesy, but actual hunger. Maki let out a quiet laugh at her reaction, before moving with you and Megumi towards the kitchen.

Soon enough practice had come to a break as you all ate the food you’d ordered from the nearby Tawainese place. And while you busied yourself finishing up your side, you saw Nobara lean in from her seat next to you, a suspicious smile on her face. You could already guess what she was going to say.

“So… you and Fushiguro?” You sighed and rolled your eyes, but couldn’t hold back the smile spreading on your face. “What about it?” She still looked at you with that same teasing smile, “Was he that good, it converted you into a prototype of Nana Osaki?” You just slapped her shoulder and shook your head. “Shut up… don’t even manifest that life on me, and he also had nothing to do with my decision… it seemed fun, and I wanted to try it.” She just giggled and stole a bite of your food, before sighing. “He’s too quiet to be attractive in my eyes… oh and he can definitely come off as pretentious at times, but… I guess he’s good enough for you.”

“Good enough?” You looked up at her statement. After finishing his food, he and Yuji wandered back into the living room, and based off his current flushed and annoyed expression, you figured they were having their version of you and Nobara’s conversation.

“Well, we’ll just see where it goes…”

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

Oh, this was exciting. You had forgotten how freeing it felt to be up here, to be performing on stage.

You weren’t going to lie, just an hour earlier you had been basically clinging to Megumi from nerves. What if you blanked and forgot all the lyrics? What if you sounded terrible? What if you were boring to watch? What if-

But your thoughts were soon cut off, when Megumi chose to gently kiss you, distracting you from the doubts plaguing your head. He pulled away only less than a centimeter, mumbling against your lips, “You’ll be great… you practiced enough for this, don’t stress.” You hummed in understanding, before giving him a chaste peck again, and then fully pulling away this time. “Thanks Megs…”

And you swore to always believe Megumi after that. It was so freeing. When you had been in a band back in highschool, it was exciting, made you feel like you could be this daring persona, even if you only played at packed basement and underground shows. This was like that, except multiplied by ten.

Between the music, the movement and personality of the crowd, you had forgotten how much you enjoyed singing, until now.

You felt as if you owed Megumi half of your soul, after all, he was the reason you were up here right now. So as a sign of thank you, during the outro of the last song on your guys’ set, you ran over to him, slamming your lips against his, the action motivated by a wave of confidence the crowd's atmosphere had brought you. To say this was definitely the right move to finish would be an understatement.

When the sounds around you faded, you found yourself backstage with Megumi after. Sheepishly apologizing to him for catching him so off guard. It was quite the contrast to how you carried yourself not even twenty minutes earlier, but all he did was shake his head and smile.

“It’s fine… not like it was bad… actually, I had something to ask you.” You met his eyes, feeling your face cool down from the slight embarrassment you just faced.

“Yeah?”

Megumi let there be another second of silence between you two, before finally asking it.

“We’ve been… hanging around each other a lot… and done some… stuff… together, so… I know this might not be the most romantic or correct setting to do this in but, would you wanna go on an actual date? Not just band practice or me taking you home… like… actually go out?”

Your eyes widened slightly, the flush that had previously left your face now returned, but you couldn’t deny the excitement that had risen up in you.

“...Yes- I mean really… that’d be great Megs…” He let out a small breath of relief, and gave you a shy smile.

“Cool… thank you.”

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

You sat at your vanity, checking your makeup one more time before sighing and moving back, satisfied with the look. Currently wearing one of your favorite more ‘fancier’ outfits, your choice of music playing in the background. You mentally went over the list in your head, making sure you had everything done while grabbing your purse and throwing the last few extra items in. Letting out a sigh, you glanced at the time and sat down in the living room of your apartment, reading over Megumi’s last text, letting you know he was on his way.

Maybe it was a bad idea to start dating the guitarist of the band you were now a part of, most stories don’t end well when they go like this, but that was just the cliche way things went. Screw the movies, they all lied about highschool, they’re probably lying about this.

And besides, it wasn’t like Megumi was anything like the romance interests in the movies. He was an awkward, silent guy, and the more you thought about his way of being, the more you felt honored he had actually taken his focus onto trying to pursue you and off his music, which seemed to be his decided on life’s purpose.

Lost in thought, you almost missed the knock on your door, you guessed signaling your date’s arrival. You made your way over, smiling when you had seen him standing awkwardly on the other side of your door through the peephole. He looked handsome, wearing a black button up and black denim, which just looked expensive on him. You could see the small bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand.

“Hey… you look great.”

You saw the smile form on Megumi’s face at the small compliment. “Thanks… I like.. The color of your dress, you look very pretty.” He looked over to the side, before stepping back from the door a bit, and finally handing you the flowers. “Nobara said these were your favorites… so if she got them wrong blame her, but i’ll get you the right ones next time.”

You felt a sense of fondness as you watched him there, knowing he had made an effort to find and bring them to you, this was definitely earning him some sort of brownie points.

“Thank you Megs, really… don’t worry, these are my favorites,” you said as you took them from him, observing the petals and color for another second before moving to find a place to set them down, making a note to put them in a vase when you came back.

After making sure to properly lock your door, you took his hand on the way out. Leading him to the elevator, letting him press the button to the lobby.

“You’re still okay trying the place I told you about? It’s a new teppanyaki style place, and after that there's still that Jazz bar we can go to.” A ding of the elevator interrupts, and you hear the doors open at the second floor of the building. A girl walked in and you saw her look over you and Megumi, her gaze lingering on him for an extra moment before she just silently fits herself into the other corner of the elevator when she sees the lobby button had already been pressed. You just return to your conversation with Megumi, choosing not to ponder on her presence.

“I would’ve just taken you straight to the bar, but besides their music, their food’s not that good…” he scrunched his nose a bit just at the reminder of it, and you just let out a short giggle. “Sounds perfect. I’m excited.” He seemed happy with your reassurance, and just tightened his hold on your hand, lightly rubbing his thumb in a circle on your skin.

Soon enough you were both making your way outside of your apartment building and to where his car had been parked. With how alternative his image had been, you weren’t surprised to see him driving an older car. In fact you kind of predicted his personal car would’ve been more on the vintage side, but to find the gorgeous 1960’s impala almost made you go into shock. You knew he took good care of it just based on its exterior condition, and as he led you to the passenger seat’s door and opened it for you, you came to the conclusion this man was not real, and in fact a figment of your imagination. You gave his hand a tight squeeze as if to confirm his existence, before moving completely into the seat, and he only gave you a small questioning look, before shrugging it off and moving to get into his driver’s seat.

Based on the lyrics he wrote and ideals he discussed in his songs, you could tell he didn’t really care for tradition, but even then he was a gentleman.

Megumi started the car and moved out of his previous parking spot, glancing over to make sure you seemed comfortable still, before speaking up, “I’ve got an aux cord… and some CD’s put away in front of you… whatever you're into.” Nodding in response you moved to turn on the radio, scared to leave even the smallest scratch or insignificant imprint anywhere. When you pressed the button, his previous CD that he had left in there started playing, and you decided not to remove it, liking the sound of whatever he had been playing before. He of course noticed, and took the opportunity to ask. “You're not gonna change it?” You looked over to him softly smiling, before returning your gaze back to the front of the road, watching the streetlights pass you by. “I like it, think I've heard it before…”

He hummed in response, keeping his eyes on the road, “It’s Depeche Mode.”

“They’re… Goth?”

There was a slight tug at his lips, before nodding, yet still not removing his eyes from the road.

“Something like that…”

The rest of the way went by with the radio on, and Megumi occasionally breaking the silence by asking you small talk questions. Spending time with Megumi had made you realize he was more of a ‘silent type’. He would ask you questions and answer you whenever you spoke to him, but he never said more than he had too. It’s like he ‘enjoyed the silence’, and preferred to show his emotions through actions rather than words. Physical touch and quality time were definitely more of his love language, and you didn’t mind that at all, because one way or another, he showed he cared, and showed he had genuine interest in you. You’d rather have evidence of that than empty words afterall.

Finally arriving at the restaurant, Megumi parked and got out of the car, and you didn’t miss the fast paced walk he did to get over to your side of the door to open it for you before you beat him to it.

He took your hand again after you had gotten out of the car, leading you inside the restaurant, and all the way to your table. Megumi, besides his stoic and sort of intimidating exterior, was gentle when he wanted to be. When you both sat at the large table with a few other separate parties, he didn’t let go of your hand, not until the drinks had been set at the table. And even then he chose to push his chair in closer to yours than the stranger that set to the left of him.

There were small signs he gave, actions of attraction, but it did catch you off guard when he suddenly became more protective of you the minute your table’s chef seemed to take a liking towards you. You could assume that part of his job was to be charismatic, complimenting the women that sat at their table and picking fun or joking with the men, but a specific compliment thrown towards you made Megumi tense up. Then when he ‘jokingly’ made a small heart with the cooking oil and fire and dedicated it to you, no one missed the glare Megumi threw at him. You didn’t ponder too much on it, but it oh so amused you how your previously quiet date suddenly became more interested in verbal interaction with you. When the chef made another glance towards you, Megumi quickly acted to suddenly have something to tell you. You became even more surprised when he seemed to run out of quick comments to spout out and started telling you short stories of his life.

Soon his distraction had worked, and the two of you fell into your own conversations, not missing the few tricks the chef did while preparing the rice and your other choice of food, but definitely more submerged in your own world than whatever the rest of the table was up to.

Even after Megumi’s… passive aggressiveness, the chef still smiled at the two of you, and you gave him a thank you, while Megumi only gave him a quick nod. The food having been served in front of the two of you still hot from just recently coming off the grill, you turned to Megumi when he started talking again.

“Have you ever eaten at places like this before?”

Thinking for a moment, before you responded to him, “Once or twice, with some friends… but this one’s different, the aesthetic of the place looks fancier…”

“Really?”

“Yeah… think it’s the lighting honestly… it’s more… I don’t know, romantic almost.”

“Well… that would be the point.”

You huffed and nudged him, before finally trying the food in front of you. You savored the taste, before making your opinion on it. “Oh… it’s really good, honestly, the cook did a good job.”

Megumi just hummed in response, looking over your plate after taking a bite of his own meal. “It’s alright… nothing special…” You heard him mutter that last part, and almost giggled at his lingering jealousy.

“Could you cook like this?”

He continued eating, before pausing for a moment.

“Definitely… Gojo couldn’t cook growing up, and no offense to Tsumiki, she could definitely cook, but I think I was the best chef to come out of that household.”

“Oh, cocky are we?”

Megumi gave you a look at your sentence, he saw the teasing smile on your face, and it couldn’t help but be contagious.

“...It’s the truth, her food wasn’t bad, but it was always sweet in some way…”

“Not a fan of sweets?”

He shook his head a bit, finishing the food in his mouth before speaking. “Not really… it over-stimulates my mouth, I don’t know how anyone handles overly sweet stuff, like cotton candy or those giant cookies… it’s just unhealthy too, and expensive. It’s a waste of money.”

“Well yeah… but when you're in the mood, some money spent on a little sweet treat never hurts anyone…”

“A gambling addict has said some variation of that sentence before too, and look at those guys…”

You scoffed and shook your head, yet your smile still hadn’t disappeared. “Those are nowhere near the same thing…”

“If you like them, I won’t judge you, but I’m letting you know now.” You watched as he then took another bite of his food, clearly enjoying it despite his earlier one sided beef with the chef.

“If I got one after this would you share it with me?”

He thought about it for a moment, before sighing. “Well… I guess it’d be rude to deny my date’s request…”

And he almost regretted his decision the moment he took his third bite of the overly sweet cake you had decided to order after your dinner. You laughed at his expression, as he let the spoon fall a little too dramatically on the plate, while he turned his face away. He knew he wouldn’t like it on the first bite, he pushed down the second bite, and just gave up on the last one.

“Didn’t like it ‘gumi?”

“...You can finish it.”

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

The atmosphere of the romantically lit, elegant Jazz bar offered a much warmer ambience than what the chilly sidewalk you and Megumi had previously been walking down had. You loosely held onto his arm while Megumi led you to a small table with only two seats. A simple but darling candlelit centerpiece decorated your table, along with a cotton tablecloth.

Once you had situated yourself at the table, Megumi hesitated for a second before moving to sit down, you looked up at him, wondering what he was doing.

“...Do you want a drink?”

You glanced at the bar along one side of the room, before nodding and telling him your drink order. He then made his way over to the bar, and you observed his familiarity with the place, the way he spoke more casually to the bartender as if he knew him, which he probably did. However you noticed the way the bartender seemed surprised when he looked over and saw you at a table. He turned his attention back to Megumi and it looked like he made a teasing comment, to which your date just rolled his eyes at.

After a few more minutes, he made his way back to you holding both your drinks. Placing them down in front of you, he settled into the chair next to you.

“Do you often come watch people play here?”

Megumi trailed his gaze to the front of the room, the small and stylish stage lit up with a warm toned spotlight, along with its polished wood floor.

“I’m not just a rockstar… what’s the point of liking music if you only limit yourself to one genre?”

“That’s true… I mean, there's something good from every type of music…”

Megumi hummed in agreement, his eyes focused on one of the instruments propped on the back wall of the stage. “Exactly…”

You’d guess around ten minutes passed by, before you saw a beautifully dressed woman make herself on stage, she carried herself with an atmosphere of elegance yet friendliness, and introduced the first performer of the night. A few seconds after she walked off and you saw a man behind her start to play.

You were immediately mesmerized, and the enchantment only intensified as he continued playing. His music was beautiful, you could say he had a bit of modern influence, but still much respect for the classics. There were a few other people in the background helping create background instrumentals, but the saxophone the main performer played really stole the show.

You and Megumi continued watching the whole performance, and at the end when the man said his goodbye’s to the crowd, Megumi turned to you.

“...What would you think of adding any sort of Jazz influence to rock music?”

You blinked in response, trailing your eyes over his face, noticing a glimmer in his eyes that seemed to contain inspiration.

“Like.. a rock-jazz band?”

He shook his head slightly, before answering, “No… not really but, a few musical influences from it, there’s a possibility there for a few great songs…”

You hummed in response, “Well, I think there’s definitely a way to turn it into something, switch some guitar harmonics…”

He tilted his head slightly, picking up his drink and sipping from it, “Definitely…”

You smiled and shook your head. “You’re such a music nerd…”

He only gave you a playful glare at your comment.

It amused you how he seemed to relate everything back to the band if you let him. but you knew better than anyone you admired his dedication and passion.

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

After the performances had ended at the bar, Megumi had offered you to come over, and the last thing you’d consider was to turn him down. You walked into his place, already being familiar with the atmosphere of his apartment. A movie had originally been put on, but after the main plot had wandered off so far from the original story, you both concluded it wasn’t worth watching anymore. But instead of turning it off, the two of you had ended up getting distracted with short kisses, which had now escalated into a full on makeout session.

Megumi held you close to him, letting you lean onto him, as he tilted his back on the couch to some degree, letting you slowly slip more and more onto his lap. He had run one of his hands up your collarbone, and was now teasingly tugging on your bra strap under the clothes. Just when he was about to make another move, you were both interrupted by a sudden weight pouncing on him, and startled, you pulled away from feeling fur suddenly rub against you, only to laugh when realizing what had happened.

Megumi groaned when he was caught off guard by his dog, the large white husky lapping at his face excitedly. Unbeknowningly just having ‘cockblocked’ his owner.

“You just chose to wake up now huh?” he grumbled out, and although his expression was annoyed, the way he petted and ruffled the dog's fur gave away his true feelings. About to express your surprise, it was just added onto when you saw and felt another black husky wander past your legs.

“You didn’t tell me you had dogs!” you announced, excited by the revelation of his pets. The white dog which had previously nudged himself between the two of you, now excitedly turned to you, smelling your face before starting to happily try to lick at your face, only to be pulled back by Megumi.

“Why didn’t I see them last time I was over?”

Successfully getting his white dog to stay back, he sighed and looked at you again. “They were asleep… like they should be right now.” Besides his obviously pointed look at the pair, they only seemed to joyfully watch their owner, clearly just happy to see him.

“There’s not a thought behind those eyes…” He muttered out, watching as the black dog now attempted to jump up on the couch and make space for himself too.

You didn’t mind the dogs at all really, running your hands over their furs, and at the first hint of affection from you, they both focused on your presence.

“Don’t do that… they won’t leave you alone after.” You ignored his warning and just laughed at the dogs’ clear playfulness with you. “That doesn’t sound bad at all…”

“...Yeah, until they're suffocating you in your sleep.”

Megumi watched you interact with his pets, and although he was trying to act annoyed, he couldn’t hold back the soft smile that eventually formed on his face.

“Y’know… it’s cruel if you let them get attached if you don’t come over often…”

You glanced up at Megumi, looking at him with an intrigued look. “...Are you… bribing me Megumi?” He just shrugged in response.

“I mean… if you’re not actually gonna… make anything official… it’s cruel to lead them on no?”

You scoffed playfully, “...Are we still just talking about the dogs?” He pretended to ponder for a second, before shrugging again. “...I know we’ve only been on one official date but… we’ve spent enough time together… for me to not be considered a weirdo if I asked you out... right?

“Like… to officially be your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, officially…”

You thought it over for a moment, watching the hopeful yet nervous look in his eyes. Megumi wanted you, more than he had thought he’d end up so. Your mind tracked back over the past month and a half since you had met him, and besides his original motive for approaching you, you couldn’t deny his clear genuine romantic interest in you.

“That’s fine… I'd… really love that.”

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

author’s notes

HIII GUYS!!! this is my first ever fan fic im sorry it’s like humongous, but i really hoped you enjoyed!!!

tysm so much if you read the whole thing it means so muchhhh

i’m thinking about tuning this one into a series and just writing more story as the band continues to grow, so if you guys are interested pls pls pls let me know!!

did u guys catch the depche mode pun 😇

anyways, again tysm for reading, ily so much truly and please like & reblog if you enjoyed it!!

besos mwah 😽

63 notes · View notes

darkmatilda · 2 days ago

Text

╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper

part 3: the last day of investigation

previous part here

epilogue here

in which you and the BAU are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town.

tw: decapitation, description of a crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mentall illness

contents: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn

words: 9 k....i'm insane, i'm aware

Your dad was the one who managed to explain everything to you.

Once, you hated the coldness he exuded. Everything he said seemed so devoid of emotion, as if he didn't have any at all. Probably, if he had ever tried to say "I love you," those words would have gotten stuck in his throat, causing choking and death.

At that moment, you appreciated it for the first time. He told you how your mom had found Jeremy in the bathtub, the water completely stained with blood. If an outsider had heard it, they would have thought he was talking about some stranger's child, not his own son, so composed he sounded. But you heard all the tiny breaks in his voice, the pauses to swallow saliva that slowly dripped down his throat.

You stood with your back against the door, the phone slipping from your numb hand.

For a moment, you felt simply empty. Without feelings or thoughts. What was this room you were in — the bathroom? A bathroom, what even is that? Syllables joined into a longer sound that should have some specific meaning. What meaning? You didn’t know. A loud ringing filled your ears, driving everything out of your mind.

The phone call had ended. The device was still pressed against your cheek, slipping further and further from your grip. After a while — you couldn’t tell how long — it simply fell to the floor, onto the simple black-and-white tiles. You didn’t even hear the sound it made.

You might have stayed frozen there for hours if not for the soft tapping on the other side of the door. You were only just returning to reality, so you couldn’t respond. Then someone spoke your name in a questioning tone. You ignored that too, though not intentionally. For a moment, you had simply forgotten your own name. This unsettled the person in the next room; after a few seconds, they grasped the handle and pushed the door. It met the barrier of your back, and that gentle jolt was what began to pull you out of your trance.

The first breath hurt; the first thought nearly brought you to your knees.

Jeremy. Your little brother.

Moving as if on autopilot, you turned toward the door and opened it. At first, Spencer seemed to exhale with relief, but then he saw the expression on your face, and his slightly hunched posture straightened, shifting to one of concern.

You’d taken over the bathroom as soon as you returned to the hotel, so he hadn’t had a chance to change. He’d only hung up his jacket by the door, taken off his vest, and remained in his shirt with a loosened tie and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out.

“W-what happened? I thought I heard something fall…”

“It was...um...the phone,” you managed to choke out.

“I-I was talking to my dad, my dad, but first with my mom, and…and she was mad at me because of…because of…wait, what did you ask?” The words spilling from you were one big jumble. You pressed a cool hand to your forehead, burning as if with fever, your brain throbbing with effort, as if you were delivering a university lecture on nuclear physics.

Spencer was no longer just concerned — he was terrified. Seeing how you were barely standing on legs that refused to cooperate, he caught you just before you fell. You collapsed face-first onto his shoulder, surrendering entirely to gravity.

“Oh…okay, okay, it’s okay now,” he whispered, resting one hand on the back of your head and the other on your back, offering support.

You closed your eyes, only now realizing they were filled with tears. The shock was fading, the barrier that had held back every other emotion finally breaking down. They began to overwhelm you, resulting in a muffled sob against his body.

“He tried to kill himself,” you finally managed to say, the meaning of the words slowly sinking in. You repeated it several times, each time quieter but with more awareness. “He tried…he tried…”

“No, you don’t have to... just... oh god, I’m so sorry...” He stammered. He realized that no words would be enough, none would help you. Instead of wasting energy on them, he poured it all into the embrace, holding you even tighter.

You simply stayed in that position, as time passed by.

"What's with him?" he asked when your breathing finally returned to a steady rhythm, and the pain wasn't as sharp. His voice was so soft, soothing like a lullaby. "Your brother?"

You realized that, because of your secrecy, you had never even casually mentioned Jeremy to him. This was the first time you were talking about him. Under these circumstances

"Dad said his condition is stable." You raised your head, and your eyes met by accident. You quickly looked back down at your hands. You felt exposed in a way you never had before with anyone else, and it was strange, unfamiliar. But you couldn’t say it was entirely negative. "He’s under observation now; he lost a lot of blood. If my mom hadn’t found him..."

You shook your head, trying to chase away the dark visions and scenarios.

"Spencer," you sighed, struggling to put into words what had been tormenting you from the very beginning. "I... I can’t stop thinking about how much of this is my fault."

"I left him with our parents. Fully aware of what they’re like. I told him he could rely on me but I was in another city, only keeping in touch by phone. Irregulary. Since we started working on this case, I’ve spoken to him once…"

Until now, you hadn’t maintained strong eye contact; each time it happened, you pulled away. But in that moment, there was something in his gaze that wouldn’t let you look away. Reid was definitely not one to offer empty words of comfort or general platitudes. Seeing him remain silent, you were certain he was about to say something entirely his own.

“Blaming yourself is a very common, I’d even say natural, part of grief, and I’m afraid that nothing I say will make you stop feeling this way, but I’ll try anyway. You didn’t abandon Jeremy. Even if there was distance between you, you still tried to be there for him, you cared for him like no one else did. You know, even if you usually avoided talking about it, it was still very clear. Sometimes I’d see you from a distance talking to him on the phone. I couldn’t hear a word, but… I wondered a lot who that person was. The one who makes you so happy” He looked slightly flustered, blushing as he realized what he had mentioned, but continued nonetheless. “You seemed so happy and genuinely invested. I can tell that you didn’t stay in touch with him out of guilt or obligation alone. He truly meant the world to you. And… what I’m trying to say is that… sometimes, no matter how much we try, there are things we just can’t control. This is incredibly hard for you, and you blame yourself for all of it, but I hope that someday you’ll see that not everything depended on you, and none of this is your fault."

You stared at him in silence, not knowing what to say. His words… they touched you, pierced your skin, and lodged deeply within your body. They soothed you, like a lullaby sung to a child before sleep. You realized just how incredibly grateful you were that you both shared this room.

"I don't know what I would do if you weren't here," you answered softly, feeling the area around your eyes tighten, signaling the tears that were about to come.

Without hesitation, he simply embraced you.

With his chin resting on the top of your head and your forehead pressed against his collarbone.

"You would manage. You’re strong. But you deserve to have someone by your side in a moment like this."

You whispered that you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. He offered you one of the sleeping pills he had mentioned in the car, though it would take a little while for them to take effect. You lay on your side, with your knees curled up. It wasn’t until the morning that you realized you were on his bed, surprised to find yourself so far from the window. That was your first thought, still not fully sober.

The room was drowning in darkness, the only sources of light being the faint glow of the moon sneaking in like a thief through the imperfectly drawn curtain, and the alarm clock on the nightstand between your beds, showing the time as 4:47.

You stretched your sleepy eyelids open and rubbed them with your hand, not moving from your spot. You felt a little embarrassed that you had fallen asleep in Spencer’s bed, but then you noticed his silhouette in yours. It turned out you had simply swapped places. Since it was only your second night in this hotel, it hadn’t yet absorbed his scent. Not that you were looking for it. You were just curious, which is why you pressed your face so firmly into the pillow.

Spencer was lying with his face turned toward you. However, he didn’t seem completely relaxed, almost as if even the sound of dust floating in the air could wake him. This turned out to be a very accurate observation, as the moment you opened your eyes, he did the same.

"Hey, how do you feel?" he asked. His voice was quiet, hoarse.

"I'm too awake to go back to sleep for another week. Unfortunately," you muttered, turning onto your back. Of course, it was sarcasm. You couldn’t sleep for too long, you had to... you weren’t even sure what you had to do. You urgently needed to find out what had happened with Jeremy over the past few hours. Was his condition still stable, or had it improved significantly overnight, or…

The thought of another conversation with your father drained you. Or, worse yet, your mother. They were, however, your only source of information about your unconscious brother.

So yes, you needed to make a call, then get up, pull yourself together, maybe eat something… it all sounded more than overwhelming.

"I'll talk to Hotch, if you want. He’ll let you go back, even today."

The mention of the boss’s name hit you like an ice cube dropped under your shirt. Despite everything that had happened yesterday, you were still at work. In the middle of hunting down a seven-time murderer who had discarded his last two victims just yesterday. A murderer who, from the very beginning, had stirred your intuition, suggesting that the answer to this puzzle lay somewhere at the back of your mind.

On the other hand, you felt obligated to be by Jeremy’s side when he woke up. Who else would be there for him? A nurse? An emotionally absent father? An unstable, bipolar mother who had probably stopped taking her meds again?

As if against your own will, you lifted yourself into a sitting position, a certain thought suddenly entering your mind.

"I'll stay," you decided.

"Are you sure? If you don't want to talk about it with the others, I’ll do it for you," he offered, propping himself up on his elbows. His hair was a mess, eyes gleaming with worry. "You know Hotch, he may not seem like it, but he's very understanding..."

"Really, I can handle it," you reassured him, but he didn’t seem convinced. "Reid, I need to finish this case. I think I’ve realized something."

He sat on the bed, furrowing his brow. The sudden change in the tone of your voice must have intrigued him; you sounded almost determined.

"What is it?"

You opened your mouth, ready to rush out a chaotic response, but stopped yourself at the last moment. It was so early in the morning, and your mind wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders — how could it be, when you’d only just woken up? It made more sense to wait, to go over the latest findings with the team; maybe they would fit perfectly with your newest theory.

And that’s exactly what happened.

“The victims found on the pumpkin farm have been identified,” Hotch announced instead of a greeting when you met just an hour and a half later. Everyone looked slightly dazed; the coffee they were sipping hadn’t yet kicked in. Likely, only you and Reid had been up this early—physically, you seemed the most alert, yet it was plain to see that your thoughts were still rooted in the previous day, struggling to keep up with everything happening around you. You sat close together, shoulder to shoulder, entirely on instinct, as if an invisible thread connected you, tightening painfully around your wrists whenever you tried to drift too far apart.

From time to time, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, as if checking to see if you were okay. Twice, he gave a slight nod in Hotch’s direction, reminding you that you could still talk to him, ask for permission to go back home. You silently reassured him that you were feeling relatively fine and didn’t want to bring it up with the boss. Just as you broke eye contact, ending the wordless conversation, you noticed Morgan and Prentiss watching the two of you, their heads tilted at the same angle in an almost eerily synchronized way.

You took a breath, feeling slightly embarrassed. Your sudden closeness with Reid must have seemed at the very least… suspicious to them.

“Their names were Denise Grant and Alexa Miller, and listen to this,” Garcia began, her voice quickening as her face appeared on the laptop screen. “Both of them worked at the same orphanage. And what's more — it's the very same orphanage where one of the earlier victims worked.”

The atmosphere thickened as everyone absorbed the significance of the information.

"What are the chances this could be a coincidence?" JJ asked rhetorically.

"Well..." Reid began. His friend raised an eyebrow. "I get it, no large numbers. But small ones. Smaller than the chance that the asteroid..."

"Were the remaining body parts of these women found?" Rossi asked matter-of-factly.

Hotch shook his head.

"Unfortunately, no. The forest is so heavily guarded by the police that it's unlikely the unsub managed to dump them there."

"But he has to be doing something with them," Prentiss said, biting the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "Doesn't it make you wonder where he's committing all these crimes? He gets rid of the bodies quickly, and there were no signs on the victims suggesting they were held captive. Do you think he could be killing them in his own house?"

"That's possible," Morgan replied. "He wouldn't be the first. And unfortunately, he won't be the last."

"If that's the case, they're going to start smelling awful soon. He'll have to get rid of them, and with so much police presence around, it won't be that easy."

"Let's hope he makes a mistake in the process," Hotch summarized, scanning your faces carefully. Finally, his gaze landed on yours. "You’ll go to the orphanage with..." He swept his eyes over everyone around you, finally settling on Derek. Reid, sitting next to you, shifted uncomfortably.

"I'll go with her," he offered a bit too abruptly.

This shifted the focus of everyone’s attention onto you. You tried to act as if it didn’t matter who would go with you, but deep down, you were hoping it would be him.

You stared at your boss, waiting for his decision. Finally, he nodded and began assigning other tasks to the rest of the team. You couldn't help but smile, barely perceptibly, feeling grateful to Spencer.

It wasn’t that you minded the company of the others; it was simply that none of them had any idea what had happened the day before. They might ask questions about your more withdrawn-than-usual behavior or your subdued mood, and you didn’t want to talk about what had happened with your brother. You knew that with Reid, you would feel the most comfortable.

For a while, you continued discussing the farm workers, who turned out to be employed without contracts, and of course the owner who was hiring them off the books. But with each new statement from your colleagues, you became more and more detached. Your thoughts kept drifting to Jeremy and his behavior over the past few weeks. He had seemed down during your conversations, but you had chalked it up to just the usual busy period at school. On top of that, there was the family situation. Living alone, you'd almost forgotten what a typical day with your mother used to look like. You started to berate yourself, feeling guilty for not being more concerned about his state.

Eventually, everyone dispersed, ready to get back to their tasks.

You went to the car alone, as Reid had been stopped by Derek, who had asked him something with an unreadable expression. His eyebrow had raised suggestively, and you could have sworn you saw it even from several meters away. You stared at the two of them, leaning against the open passenger-side door, intrigued about what the conversation might be about. Normally, you weren’t the curious type; you didn’t like it when people asked you too many questions, and you avoided prying into others’ affairs. But this time, you couldn’t take your eyes off Spencer’s face, clearly embarrassed—maybe even… blushing?

Derek laughed at his reaction and gave him a pat on the back before walking away. Your companion sat in the driver's seat without a word, avoiding your gaze.

"Where is the orphanage?" he asked.

You turned toward him, brow furrowed.

"You remembered the whole map," you reminded him.

"Oh, right..."

You fell silent for several minutes, but your curiosity grew so much that you thought you might not be able to hold it in any longer.

"What were you two talking about? With Morgan?"

"Oh... just some stuff," he replied evasively, overly focused on the road. As if you were in the middle of a busy city during rush hour, rather than on a nearly empty road in the morning.

"You know Morgan and his... sense of humor."

"Yes, I know. Did he tell some great joke?"

"Not really."

"Go ahead. I'm curious."

"I’m telling you, nothing worth repeating... Besides, I've already forgotten it myself..."

"Reid, for God's sake, you literally have a photographic memory...!"

"Okay, fine!" he finally blurted out, removing one hand from the steering wheel and raising it in a defensive gesture. His voice went up a quarter of an octave. He then took a deep breath and put on a seemingly calm expression. "Morgan wanted to know if our... well, unusual... peculiar... definitely different from the previous days... behavior means that..."

"That what?" you asked encouragingly.

"That we slept with each other”

You blinked in slow motion, too shocked to respond. Spencer couldn't resist glancing at you, trying to gauge your reaction. For a moment, you sat frozen, then you burst into laughter.

"And what did you tell him?"

"What did I tell him?" he repeated in disbelief. "The truth, what else was I supposed to say?"

You realized how stupid your question was.

"Anyway, even if it were true... you know, that we... slept together... I wouldn't have mentioned it to him. I mean, don’t get me wrong” He quickly added the last part.“It's not that I’d be ashamed to admit it or... anything like that, I just would’ve preferred to sort it out with you first..."

You watched his growing embarrassment and... simply smiled.

"Sorry," you explained your reaction, letting out a slight chuckle. "I just thought... Well nevermind. Or…Fine, I was thinking about how strangely Emily was looking at me and how Derek probably wasn’t the only one who came to that conclusion. Look, we share a room with each other for the very first time and then suddenly we become so close... and then there's the fact that you asked to come with me..."

"That's because I wanted... I wanted to keep an eye on you after what happened yesterday."

"I understand that, and... I’m incredibly grateful to you for it. Really, Spence. But to others, it might look really suspicious."

He paused for a moment, thinking about your words. Ahead of you, the orphanage building came into view. Made of a mix of red and cream bricks, it resembled a small private school. Behind the fence, there was a small playground with a pink slide, its surface now covered in brown leaves.

"Wait," Reid asked with a slightly hoarse voice as you were about to get out of the car. "Does this mean that... you’d prefer we saw each other less?"

You were momentarily speechless.

"What? Of course not. Let them think what they want. Especially those two…lacherours, Morgan and Prentiss. It doesn’t change anything between us."

The air hit your face in waves, occasionally accompanied by a stray raindrop, but overall, the weather that day wasn’t terrible.

You made your way to the orphanage doors, trying to adopt serious, professional expressions fitting for your line of work. However, you couldn’t help but let those fleeting, secret smiles slip through. You felt a tight knot in your stomach loosen.

But back to business, no staff member at the orphanage wants to see two FBI agents on their doorstep at eight in the morning. Well, no one wants to see FBI agents on their doorstep. Regardless of the time. The woman who opened the door greeted you with a slight look of confusion. She was shorter than both of you, with thick blonde hair, wearing a fluffy lavender sweater. At first glance, she seemed friendly, but… incredibly downhearted.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked, clearly forcing a smile.

You looked at Reid and took a small breath, holding back a sigh. It dawned on both of you that… she probably didn’t know yet that the heads found on the farm belonged to her two coworkers.

Everyone in the town knew about the discovery, that was beyond doubt. The fact that these two women hadn’t shown up for work in several days should have made her realize it. But sometimes, as people, we prefer to deceive ourselves right until the very end.

You hated informing people that their loved ones had died, especially in such a horrific way. However, you knew you had to do what was required of you, reaching into your pocket for your badge.

"We're from the FBI," you said after introducing yourselves, trying to keep a gentle expression to spare some nerves for the already frightened woman. "Do you work here? We’d like to have a word with all the staff and the director."

The woman took a deep, nervous breath.

“Yes, I work here. Florence Terry. I’m… I’m a psychologist.”

She opened the door wider, letting you both inside. You quickly glanced around, immediately noticing how well-kept the place was. In your line of work, you’d surprisingly often found yourself visiting orphanages, and many — even in larger cities — were in far worse condition. In the spacious hallway stood a staircase made of light wood, leading to the upper floors. On one of the steps, someone had placed a teddy bear so that it looked like it was gazing down.

“Do you think it’s afraid of heights?” you whispered to Reid, careful that the psychologist couldn’t hear.

“I think it’s an inanimate object and therefore incapable of having fears,” he whispered back, leaning slightly toward you.

“I think you’re —”

“We’re just having breakfast,” Florence interrupted, leading you into the dining room, where a long table stood at the center. At the sight of you both, the adults seated there — likely other caregivers — put their utensils aside. There weren’t that many kids here; they could almost pass for an unusually large family, if not for the fact that nearly all of them were around the same age. There were no little ones — you noticed mostly teenagers. One boy spilled his tea on the table and wiped it up with his sleeve, his black bangs brushing against the glasses perched on his narrow nose. You weren’t sure if it was his appearance or his mannerisms, but he immediately reminded you of Jeremy.

Reid immediately noticed you staring. Of course he did. You gave a slight smile, reassuring him that everything was fine.

Your arrival didn’t cause much of a stir; most of the children didn’t even look up. It probably would have been different if they knew you were from the FBI. The expression on the psychologist's face, however, alarmed the adults. They exchanged tense glances, but tried to maintain appearances in front of the children.

The woman with the tight black ponytail stood up, introducing herself as the director.

“We can talk in my office,” she offered, shaking your hand.

“We’d like to speak with all the staff,” Reid informed her.

“Oh, of course. Then please, follow me…”

She led you to a small room on the ground floor, with the word "DIRECTOR" written on the door in colorful crayons. Three more people followed you, including the psychologist.

"Not everyone is here today," the director noted. "Some employees simply work different hours, while others..."

"That’s something we wanted to discuss," you said slowly.

The women and one man exchanged glances. They knew.

"Is… is this about Denise and Alexa?" Florence dared to ask.

To their horror, you had to confirm it. It was incredibly difficult to watch someone take in the news of not only the death of colleagues, but likely close friends as well. You lowered your gaze, staring at your shoes, giving them a moment before they were ready to continue with the questioning. Together with Reid, you had to ask them countless questions, probing to understand why these particular orphanage employees had become the killer’s victims. Or perhaps, whether they remembered any former resident who had long since left but whose behavior had raised suspicions. There was a strong likelihood that the unsub had come from there.

But before you began the questioning, the doorbell rang.

"That’s probably the volunteer. A teenager from town who comes by to help from time to time, sometimes she brings friends along," the director explained, her trembling hands pressed against her chest. "Their help has been especially valuable these past few days since… since Denise and Alexa… disappeared."

"I’ll let them in," you offered, glancing at Reid. It would be worth asking these teenagers a few questions as well.

He nodded, and you headed toward the entrance of the building. One girl pulled back quickly into the dining hall at the sight of you; she must have been eavesdropping. At first, you felt like smiling, but then sadness took over. These kids didn’t know yet about the death of their caretakers. How would the staff tell them? How would they react?

Worried by this thought, you opened the door and raised your eyebrows in surprise at the sight of… Charlotte.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted you, equally surprised. She wore the same white jacket you’d seen her in yesterday, with a colorful scarf covering half her face, her pale cheeks flushed from the cold. You glanced toward the parking lot, where the sheriff's car was just pulling away beside yours. He must have dropped off his daughter before heading straight back to his duties. The town needed him more than ever. “Dad told me who those women were… the ones I found yesterday. Is that why you’re here?”

You confirmed, lips pressed tightly together. She stepped inside, unzipping her jacket.

"My partner is talking with the staff right now," you said, stopping with her by the stairs, not wanting the children in the dining hall to overhear. "I had no idea you volunteered here. That’s really, really kind of you. How long have you been doing this?"

She hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly.

"Just a few months," she replied, but there was something incomplete in her tone. As if she wanted to say more but held back. You replayed your conversation from the day before in your mind, analyzing it moment by moment, trying to deduce what might be behind her behavior.

"My dad, surprisingly, isn’t too thrilled about it. I live on the other side of town, so he has to drive me here, and he also says I should be studying instead…” She lowered her voice to an embarrassed whisper. “…wandering around with the poor."

You were taken aback, even outraged, by the sheriff’s behavior. As a parent, he should be proud that his daughter took the initiative to get involved in charity work! Yet, as you looked at the girl, who was avoiding your gaze, you felt there was something she wasn’t telling you.

“I’m glad that despite his… forgive me for saying it, but rudeness, you’re still determined to help here,” you said, choosing your words carefully. Charlotte gave a shy smile at the compliment. “Out of curiosity, was it your idea? Or maybe your friends’, and you just got… drawn into it?”

The girl hesitated before finally sighing in surrender.

"My boyfriend grew up here," she admitted. "He told me a bit about this place, and… hearing his stories, I felt a need to help these kids. I started coming here, tutoring them, playing with them, teaching them to draw. You know, typical volunteer stuff."

Her answer didn’t surprise you much. Since she’d mentioned her boyfriend yesterday—describing him as someone who opposed rules and was the complete opposite of her father—you’d subconsciously known this topic would come up again. You didn’t hide the fact that the way she described him had raised concerns, making you question whether he was truly a good match for such a sensitive young girl.

"Does he know about this? Does he come help with you?"

"N-no. He doesn't have the best memories of this place... but he's really happy that I decided to do this."

You didn’t want to turn the conversation into an interrogation, but you felt you needed to ask these questions to get the full picture.

“How long ago did he leave the orphanage?”

Charlotte seemed increasingly tense during the conversation, glancing around as if expecting someone to come and rescue her. You couldn’t help but cross your arms over your chest, a gesture that may have seemed threatening or stern. Quickly realizing that you’d frightened her, you softened your posture, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

You were almost certain that this was a similar case. Charlotte was only sixteen, struggling with the death of her mother, a sensitive soul with an incredibly strict father—who also happened to be a cop. An older boyfriend might have given her a sense of escape from the heavy hand of her father’s authority, a feeling of freedom.

"Sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t mean to be so intrusive. Just a professional habit," you joked. She smiled faintly, still clearly on edge.

The way she spoke about him—the hint of fear, her earlier request for you not to mention him to her father, and her avoidance of answering how long ago he left the orphanage—made you start to seriously suspect that he was older than her. It wasn’t unusual for teenage girls to seek out older partners, and in most cases, it wasn’t a bad thing... but sometimes, those older partners turned out to be much older men. Manipulators.

Before you could say anything more, Reid appeared in the doorway of the office, casting a curious glance between you and the girl, whom he surely remembered from yesterday.

"Uh...Can I have a word with you?" he called you. Charlotte greeted him so quietly that he probably didn’t even hear it. "I think I’ve found something interesting."

"Oh, sure," you replied, remembering you shouldn’t leave him alone with the work for too long. Before leaving, you smiled at the sheriff’s daughter. The topic of her and her boyfriend was still nagging at you. "I’d like to talk to you later, okay? Either after we finish talking to the staff, or... you have my number, right?"

The girl nodded, murmuring a quick goodbye before disappearing into the dining hall, where a child squealed with delight at the sight of her.

"Did you find anything out?" you asked Reid. He had been watching the girl with obvious interest, which was piqued by your almost agitated stance. However, you didn’t have time to explain everything to him yet; you needed to get back to the main investigation.

You both returned to the office. The staff were standing in the same spots, looking as if they hadn’t moved an inch since you left.

"I asked a few questions that might help us figure out why the unsub chose three people who worked at this particular orphanage," he began. You noticed he was starting to speak faster, which meant a breakthrough had occurred, at least in his reasoning. You watched him, holding your breath. "And I found out that none of the people here have worked here for more than eight years. Just like the victims."

You furrowed your brow, not sure what that meant. The director quickly offered an explanation.

"Eight years ago, there was a huge scandal involving this orphanage," she explained, swallowing hard. "It came to light that the caretakers and the director at the time were abusing the children. Seriously abusing them. What’s worse, the case was reported multiple times, but no one in the town’s leadership did anything about it. The mayor stayed silent... They say he was afraid to do anything, so as not to lose the funding the orphanage was receiving. It wasn’t until eight years ago that the truth finally came out, the staff was convicted, and they were replaced by us."

"The town’s leadership didn’t react," you repeated her words, your mind working at full speed. "The earlier victims were part of the town’s leadership. This is the connection we’ve been looking for, Reid. The unsub must have been a victim of abuse right here in this orphanage."

"We need to tell the others," Reid decided. You both headed toward the exit, and then you remembered that you hadn’t even said goodbye to the orphanage staff.

"Thank you for your help, these are really useful pieces of information..." you said quickly as you passed them.

In the car, everything felt like it was spinning.

"Look, the unsub isn’t directly killing the people who abused him. If that were the case, the old staff would be the ones dying, not the current one. Remember, one of his victims was a teacher, completely unrelated to the orphanage. I think it’s not about punishing those people, but more about a symbolic revenge, one that doesn’t have to be logical. It doesn’t have to make sense to us, but it seems logical to him," Reid shared his thoughts as you drove toward the police station, where you expected to find the rest of your team. "He’s struggling with trauma. He’s been managing it somehow over the years, but now he’s unable to control the rage building up inside him. Decapitation is another symbol. It strips these people of the power they once had over him when he was a child or a teenager, and no one listened to his cries for help."

You straightened up in your seat, all the information starting to fall into place.

"Do you remember this morning when I mentioned that something came to my mind? That’s why I didn’t want to leave?" you asked. "At first, we were puzzled that some of the victims were treated with a different level of cruelty, specifically the women. Others, the ones from the city council, only had their heads cut off, with no other injuries. The unsub believes these innocent people are directly responsible for hurting him, he’s delusional. Sometimes he blames the city authorities for not reacting. The anger he feels toward them isn’t as intense as for the orphanage staff, which is why he harms them to a lesser extent. I think... he’s experiencing manic episodes, where all his feelings and paranoia are stronger. That’s when he kills with much greater cruelty."

“Mania?” Reid repeated, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “You mean borderline?” You nodded. For a moment, he thought over your words, then his eyes lit up. “That... that’s very possible. There have been cases where borderline murderers nearly changed their modus operandi. During a manic episode, when someone with borderline personality disorder experiences heightened energy, a sense of grandeur, and excessive impulsivity, they may act more aggressively, brutally, and ruthlessly. In a depressive episode, on the other hand, the person may act more coldly, with calculated precision, focusing on their goal without emotional outbursts, but carrying a heavy load of negative emotions. It all fits.”

You nodded eagerly, feeling that familiar rush that came whenever you were close to solving a case. Your heart raced, and warmth crept over your neck, like a fever. You and Reid burst into the station, practically supporting each other like two converging whirlwinds, nearly colliding with Hotch in the process. He was initially startled, then his eyes narrowed as he took in both your faces, his expression becoming more focused as you explained everything.

For a moment, he was silent.

“Let’s call Garcia,” he finally said. “Have her find all the men who lived in that orphanage eight years ago.”

You took a deep breath. This was really happening. You were so close to catching the killer...

After filling Garcia in on everything you knew, she immediately set to work compiling a list of men who might fit the profile. Meanwhile, you and Reid headed to the coffee and snack machine. You bought yourself a drink and a chocolate bar, feeling the rush of adrenaline start to subside.

Taking advantage of the brief moment of calm, you checked your phone for any missed calls.

“Neither my mother nor my father called,” you said, slipping the phone back into your pocket. Sharing personal details with anyone on the team still felt strange—especially when it came to your family. You wondered if it would ever feel normal. You noticed Spencer giving you a concerned look. “It’s a good thing,” you added quickly. “It means Jeremy’s condition is stable. Or maybe even improving. If it were bad, I’d have twenty missed calls from my mom—and one from my dad.”

You tried to turn that last line into a joke, but it came out sounding more bleak than funny.

“I hope everything will be okay with him,” Reid said, as his cup filled with coffee from the machine. He reached for it, his gaze fixed on you. “You remember that you can come to me if things get tough, right?”

“I try not to forget,” you admitted, hugging your arms around yourself. “But it’s not something I’m used to.”

For a moment, he looked at you silently, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. His eyes seemed so gentle and understanding that it was hard for you to look away.

"Hey, lovers!"

Spencer jumped and cursed as coffee spilled onto his hand. Startled, you both turned to see Morgan grinning at you with a playful smile.

"Come over here for a sec."

You felt the urge to cover your face at the sight of the entire team, who had all heard what he'd called you.

Some unknown force held you back from nudging Emily when she shot you an amused sidelong glance. But soon, your focus shifted to Garcia's face on the laptop screen, ready to share her findings.

"Tell us what you found, babygirl."

"So, I managed to pull up quite a long list of former orphanage residents. Surprisingly long, for such a small town. Hotch helped narrow it down a bit… I found twelve men who would now be between twenty and forty years old. Five of them still live in town, but one of them caught my eye. Well, actually, his story did. He was placed in the orphanage at ten years old after his mother, struggling with bipolar disorder, attempted suicide."

You already knew it was him.

"His name is Logan Osborne, currently twenty-four years old. He has one minor offense on record for selling weed, oddly enough, in another town. Here’s where it gets interesting—though not in a good way. His mother actually survived but passed away less than two years ago, and he inherited her house and apparently moved back into it."

"Returning to the town where he was abused must have been the trigger that pushed him to murder," said Reid.

"That would fit with my theory about bipolar personality disorder," you summarized. "Genetics alone doesn’t determine the disorder, but the fact is that in families with cases of this disorder, the likelihood of it appearing in other individuals is higher."

At one point, you had read a lot about it due to your own mother. An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine. Reid looked at you intently, surely noticing the sudden shift in the tone of your voice. God, he must have been that observant?

"What's the address of his house?" Hotch asked.

You waited in readiness as Garcia provided the information. Once she did, you all gathered and headed out.

If you had found him there, everything would have been so simple. Almost too simple.

But there was no sign of Logan Osborne at the house, nor any indication that it was inhabited by a serial killer who decapitated his victims. Instead of immediately securing the building, Hotch ordered a stakeout. Inside, several agents, including Morgan and Prentiss, waited for the moment he might show up.

The rest of the team had no tasks assigned. You waited at the precinct, hoping something would happen. Meanwhile, Garcia sifted through thousands of bits of information about the man. Some were more important than others, but unfortunately, it only seemed to fuel a growing sense of dread among you all.

Since inheriting his mother’s house, he hadn’t paid taxes or most of his bills. He didn’t have a steady job, though he picked up odd jobs here and there. You checked with the local police, but most didn’t recognize his name. One officer who did recall him said he didn’t have the best relations with the authorities. With anyone, really.

"A little anarchist, huh?" Rossi muttered.

You felt the vibration of your phone in your pocket. Reaching for it, you saw a message from an unknown number.

hey it’s charlotte. you said we could meet and talk when i needed to please can we meet? i can’t handle what i saw on the farm yesterday and my dad isn’t helping with his behavior either

A few hours had already passed since the ambush was set, and still nothing had happened, though the darkness outside was settling in.

“Would it be alright if I disappear for a quarter?” you asked. “I promised something to the sheriff’s daughter, and it looks like I’ll need to meet with her.”

You didn’t receive any opposition. If anything happened, you would be immediately informed by phone. Reid offered to go with you, but Hotch needed him for something. You wouldn’t have minded his company—on the contrary, you would have been glad for it—but on the other hand, Charlotte might not feel too comfortable with it. After all, she had arranged to meet only with you.

As you drove toward her house, you spent a lot of time reflecting on your earlier conversation. It was the first time you really had the chance to think about it seriously. Her mysterious boyfriend, whom she had been so reluctant to talk about and with whom there was probably an age gap. And who also grew up in that orphanage...

You didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to you earlier. Maybe because of how well-behaved Charlotte seemed? Her big, bright eyes full of kindness. She herself seemed like the perfect teenager—sensitive and eager to help. Plus, she was the sheriff's daughter. For God's sake, you were about to go to the house of another cop.

You only realized how foolish you had been when, as soon as you stepped out of the car, something hit you in the back of the head.

You were woken up by nothing but the pain in the back of your head.

You opened your eyes, struggling to hold back a groan. Everything around you was blurry, as if you had a terrible vision problem and were forced to go somewhere without your glasses. The image, however, began to sharpen with each passing second, causing your heart to beat faster.

You were in…

It was hard to say what kind of place this was. Incredibly dark, the only weak light source was somewhere behind your back. It was possible it was a battery-powered lamp. You couldn’t confirm your suspicions, however… because you couldn’t move. You realized this with horror.

You were tied to the chair with rope. It wrapped tightly around your body, making it hard to breathe and pressing painfully on your ribs. Some of them might even be broken.

Wherever you were, the whole situation looked far from promising. Fragments of memories swirled around your head, randomly flying into your mind and helping you recall what had actually happened.

Of course, working for the FBI, you knew how to behave in the event of a kidnapping. The most important rule was: don’t panic. The problem was, it was damn hard to follow that.

Inhale, exhale, something jabbed at your ribs. You couldn’t stop another soft groan from escaping.

As if drawn by the sound, a young man appeared in your line of sight.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” he asked, leaning over you as if you were an infant. After a second, he straightened up, the smile completely replaced by a serious expression. “I don’t like killing people when they’re asleep.”

Garcia had sent you his pictures, and even with the poor lighting, you were able to recognize your unsub in them.

"Logan Osborne?"

"I see you've done your homework."

"Where’s Charlotte?" you asked, a sudden rush of panic flooding through you. Maybe she was behind you, somewhere you couldn’t see? Was she involved in your abduction? After all, it was her who sent the message...

"You think I know where she is every moment of every day?" he sneered, suddenly angry. The room was small, but to your left, there was a rotting bench with metal objects arranged on it. You had to turn your head sharply to confirm your worst suspicion. Knives.

It was getting harder and harder not to panic.

"Knowing her, she's probably painting. My work on the farm really inspired her."

There was a sound. Like a drop falling from the ceiling.

"Where are we?" you asked.

"None of your business."

"Is this a bunker?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"What difference does it make if I find out? I'm tied up," you shrugged meaningfully, emphasizing your position. This caused a wave of pain to course through your chest.

For a moment, there was silence. The man was wandering around the surroundings, and all you could do was watch as he wiped each blade on his flannel shirt. The bile began to rise in your throat with every move he made. Pessimistic thoughts started flooding your mind, so tragic that you barely managed to hold back the tears.

First, everyone on your team thought you went to meet Charlotte. Meaning, it would likely be your prolonged absence that would eventually seem suspicious.

Second, you were in such a mysterious place that everything pointed to the fact that no one would find you, even by accident. Well, alive.

You knew you couldn’t give up, even though there was little you could do in such a situation. The only real solution in such a hopeless scenario was… convincing him to let you go. A scenario that was damn unlikely, but since death was already threatening you, why not give it a try?

"Logan," you said, your voice trembling. In your mind, you replayed his profile, reminding yourself of facts that could give you an edge in your conversation with him. "Killing me won't help you. It's not me you want to hurt, it's those who hurt you in the orphanage. And those who didn’t react."

"Fine, it’s a bunker," he replied, as if he hadn’t even heard most of what you said. "Back in the Cold War, people built them by the dozen. They didn’t even inform the authorities. We found this one once with the kids from the orphanage, and we didn’t tell anyone, you know what that means, agent?"

You were painfully aware of it.

"Logan," you tried again. "My people know you killed those people. They'll find you the moment you step out into the open. Killing me won’t change anything..."

"Not killing me won’t either."

"They’ll look at you more favorably..."

"Favorably?" he exploded in a manic laugh, suddenly right in front of you. You flinched at the sight of his crazed face so close to yours. "They’ll look favorably on a seven-time murderer? Are you joking? Since I’m already screwed, I might as well cut off your head too..."

Fuck the fake calm, you were terrified.

You trembled, the pain in your ribs intensified, and the first tears began to fall from your eyes. You thought about how you’d never see Jeremy again. How he’d wake up and your death would probably be one of the first things he’d find out. What would he do then? God, your team would think you were an idiot. Of course, no one would say it out loud, but that’s what you were. You got yourself into this situation. Under these circumstances, they shouldn’t even particularly mourn, though they probably would, just a little.

Spencer would probably grieve a little more than the others. Those two nights in one room had brought you closer, you couldn’t deny that. Before, you had thought of him as just a regular coworker, the genius boy, sometimes amusing in his awkwardness. The way he supported you at the worst possible moment made you realize just how valuable he was.

Wherever you end up after death, you’ll miss him.

You didn’t know what motivated you to speak up again. Was it the thought of Jeremy and Spencer, or perhaps the sound of Logan sharpening some kind of weapon, probably an ax?

“Please," you pleaded simply, no longer knowing what else might reach him.

"Don’t cry. I hate it when girls cry. Charlotte does it all the time."

"Charlotte," you repeated. "Did she... know?"

You wanted to know if the girl you had tried so hard to help had played an active role in your murder.

"Of course not," he sneered. "She didn’t help me with anything, if that’s what you’re asking. But she told me about you, the nice FBI agent who snoops around a lot. She thought I was just some rebellious guy, attractive to a teenager like her. You know, with a tough cop dad. I won't lie, it turned me on, sleeping with the sheriff's daughter, knowing I was being hunted by him. And not just by him. Even by the damn FBI."

He seemed proud of himself. Maybe that’s what you should do? Appeal to his ego?

"You were really a tough case," you said, pretending to be impressed. "Seriously. Hours spent analyzing, we sat in silence, none of my colleagues knew what to say..."

“Spare me, I see what you're doing. You're trying to manipulate me... because... you feel superior." After saying those words, a sudden fury ignited in him. He knocked over the rotting table, the knives on it scattering to the floor. You took a breath, clenching your fists tightly in pure panic. "Just like they did. They thought they could hurt little kids, abuse them... because their position allowed it. After all, they were older, their word against a child's word. They say children have too vivid an imagination, have you ever heard that?!”

You closed your eyes, he was screaming it right in your face.

"No, Logan, that's not true... they were monsters, but I would have helped you if I... if I could."

"Then why didn't you?!"

"I... I... I..." Tears tore through you, and you got lost in your own words.

Logan opened his mouth again, but suddenly fell silent. His earlier screams were completely drowned out by a sound from above. You stiffened, recognizing it. Footsteps.

"They're here," you whispered, like a prayer. Tears began to flow down your cheeks.

The man, jaw clenched, stared at the entrance to the bunker. He suppressed a scream of rage, turned around, and grabbed his head, not knowing what to do. But suddenly, he bent down to pick something up from the floor, one of the knives he had knocked over when he flipped the table.

"W-what are you doing?" you asked. Something urged you to struggle, even though you knew it was pointless, the ropes were too tight. "What are you doing?!"

The footsteps mixed with voices, even a shout, and the room was soon flooded with a tsunami of daylight.

"Since they’ve got me anyway, I might as well slit your throat..."

You couldn’t stop the scream as he approached you with the knife. A firm grip on your shoulder, keeping you from squirming. The cold metal on your neck, grazing the thin skin.

And then a shot.

NOTE:

I HATE THE ENDING THE READER IS SO STUPID....!

but in my defence i got kind of lost in my plans and i had to change many things in the last moment

but i want to say that im very grateful for reading 2 previos parts and all the notes under<3 i didn't expect so many likes and comments

epilogue for this story will be posted tomorrow!

taglist: @nightfullofparadox @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

#criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x oc #derek morgan #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #jennifer jareau #jj #emily prentiss #david rossi #jason gideon #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal mind

62 notes · View notes

gelu-the-babosa-multiversal · 15 hours ago

Text

The idea of Heatwave being a Wavewave sparkling but mainly from Soundwave tears me up. So I'll submit you all to my PAIN!!!

The idea of Soundwave growing up in the pits, fighting for his life, becoming a top gladiator but still being seen as the lowest of the lowest, but then, this Sparkling appears in his life. A little red bot who seemingly was abandoned or was not picked when it emerged from the All Spark.

That being their first meeting, Soundwave was not yet the Soundwave we know so he didn't know what to do. His best hope was that the little bot would end just like him, surviving on its own... or just die with no pain. After all, there was no one else but him, just him, and Ravage too ofc but really no one else...

So, imagine how stupid must he have felt as he took the sparkling from the ground and was unable to put it down. Ravage in the background wheezing as she realizes what has happened ¨Oh yea, that's how I adopted you too HAHAHAHAH¨

And things well get hard. Why did he do it? Was it some left kindness on him? Did he lose his mind? or maybe, he just compasioned...?

Time passes, he keeps fighting, Ravage keeps being annoying but is still there for him, and the Sparkling now going by the name Heatwave, was there too looking from afar. Soundwave had decided that the little Bot would not participate in the arena, he would just watch and learn.

Heatwave was amazed at the way his ¨creator¨ fought other bots who were bigger than him and much more robust in comparison. Tho he didn't wish to become a gladiator just like his creator, but he still wanted to show how strong he was helping others.

Time passes, they're a small ¨family¨ for all they can say, but they are very strong and united. In every fight, Soundwave participates in the entertainment of the upper classes, he kept in reserve credits so that one day Heatwave can leave the pits and form a real life outside the misery. It would of course be a slow process, but Soundwave knew that he could do it.

A big surprise was when Heatwave shared with him that he wanted to become a Rescue Bot, a particular job that didn't really fit in any of the class rankings that Cybertron had been using... it was a job that came with intense training that if failed, all the blame would go to the bot who failed and not to the institution who trained them. A job that was more chosen to do for the pure of one spark than the want to win something. Such was that it was known that the High Council would prefer losing 5 Rescue Bot units than one Council member.

The job was clearly going to be a dead sentence, but after a long discussion, there were not many options like the Rescue recruit institutions offered to give a semi-normal life to low-class citizens... at least, for the time Heatwave would be trained he would have a home with basic needs, and once out of training and to the practice, the payment would be enough to even feed Ravage.

Soundwave still didn't want to say yes. to give Heatwave permission, but, Heatwave was just hotheaded, he was promising that with this he would be able to give Soundwave the life he could not grow up with... the life he gave to Heatwave...

Soundwave still saved credits as he kept participating in the arena, just in case.

Time seemed to fly through this change. Heatwave met his assigned team and close friends, Soundwave met new bots too, aspiring and strong allies for both of them. Yet, their ideals seemed to change as their lives grow appart.

They still saw each other, they kept communicating, and Ravage always reminded one or the other to call. But things just can't stay calm forever. The pits and many parts of Cybertron considered for the lower cast were being destroyed, homes and families being displeased so the upper class could take those areas. Slowly, a revolution was being armed with strong bots taking the lead. One in particular, Megatronus, wanted Soundwave as his second in command as he saw potential in him.

Soundwave wanted to decline at first. This could endanger Heatwave in many levels if it was known that they both were family. Megatronus seemed to understand, and it seemed that someone else would take Soundwave's place as SIC... is it wasn't for that one call...

The call that changed forever Soundwave's perspective on life and on his own decisions. It was from the Rescue recruitment system that chose Heatwave informing him of... the red bot dead, with the rest of his team...

Rescue Sigma-17 had been deployed to help another unit very far away, and as it seemed that the job was being completed, the communication began to cut. In short, all signals were lost and no vital was detected. Both units had been gone enough time to be declared deceased...

There was not going to be any effort on further location or send a 3 unit with more equipment to help or to at least know what happened. There was not going to be any effort on finding Heatwave's body for a proper funeral, his stuff as the stuff of his team would be tossed or given to their creators. That being said, Soundwave and Ravage received nothing but a big box full of credits, enough to live a luxurious life in the middle class...

It had a note from Heatwave. Just like Soundwave was saving for an emergency, Heatwave had been doing the same. Probably not eating or working extra to have this amount of credits...

... Soundwave tossed all that in their faces not accepting a damn. As fast as he could he went to Megatronus and began their plan to attack...

...

At light years far away, after more tragedy had occurred. A small ship floating in the middle of nothing received a message that redirected t it to a planet called Earth.

Landing, four bots from stasis had awakened to see the beauty of an organic planet and to encounter a figure not many would be able to talk to, Optimus Prime.

52 notes · View notes

tolik-pawlusz · 2 days ago

Text

Some time ago i said i was working on the little art project on saraph 23. So here we go. I already stated that saraphs are creatures of the Night Pomel, the first layer of reality. They are powerful creatures made by Ancient Gods for serving their needs. Saraphs don't have names, their own ego nor free will. 23 was a project initiated by Witsichillinoah, the god of destruction. The purpose of their existence was to see the core of everything in this universe and destroy it in few moments. And this was fine till in their universe appeared something from another world. It was the human named Kazimir Fintou, who became the favourite creature of the oldest god Enmaru. 23 could hear Kazimir, but couldn't see or touch him. So when Enmaru asked 23 to imitate human appearance to not scare Kazimir, the appearance 23 took was some abstract mess based on what 23 heard of Kazimir.

When 23 was in the process of developing, gods already thought that this creature would be too powerful that it could kill a god or destroy the whole universe. The ancient gods once saw a catastrophe that almost caused the collapse of their world. Even though they never witnessed death, they were afraid of it, except for Witsichillinoah, the youngest of them, and Enmaru, who was almost killed then and don't remember much about these events. So gods heavily edited the project of saraph 23, to make it more controllable and less pleasant in communication so nobody would feel pity to 23 if something would go wrong and the only option would be to kill this saraph.

At first there were thousands of 23s. Gods found them pretty usefull for cleaning big areas in universe. But they still thought that even one of these things could kill them. And once they tested it. Witslichillinoah violated the rules of the ancient gods and attacked one of them. 23 was used to wipe existence of the young god out of their reality. After this gods decided to eliminate all 23s and put data of existence of every 23 in one of them. But since 23s didn't feel anything they were ok with it.

When the Day Pomel, the second reality, was created by Kazimir Fintou (or Dievas), the Night Guard was established to control the movement between the two realities. 23 was the head of this organisation cause it was loyal to gods as a saraph, had the ability to see when someone is affected by Distortion and could punish those who violated the contract between Invure (the oldest god after Enmaru's death) and Dievas. And again 23 needed to change their appearance to look less intimidating to rare humans accidently getting into the Night Pomel.

Once the Night Guard arrested someone called Witimur Forvardo. It was a man who turned himself into an immortal monster and performed a murder of a village with about 50 citizens. 23 usually dealt with spirits who lost their mind because of Distortion. So the human affected by Distortion was something new to them. Other problem was that Witimur was indestructible even for 23. The following events shew that Witimur left notes someone on Pomel started using for creating things similar to Witimur.

23 tried to investigate that case and something was off. They went to the second reality too often. But the case was becoming more and more weird so 23 decided to let Witimur help in solving it. And 23 let Witimur go. Even though after this Witimur didn't kill anyone, Invure gathered a meeting with other ancient gods to judge if 23 was acting under the affect of Distortion. They decided that even if 23 didn't act because of Distortion, it is poisoned by it quite enough, so it needs to reset the saraph's settings. And it was the first time 23 felt something. They wanted to solve the case. So they didn't want their memory to be erased. They asked Invure to seal their power of destruction so if they would be completely distorted they could not harm the universe. Invure agreed on this terms and 23 left the Night Pomel.

23 spent 70 years in the human world. Even though they didn't have their ego in their past life the speed of human world was too fast for someone who existed for 132 millions of years. Another problem was that 23's vision wasn't made for the second reality so they could see only silhouettes of things around them. Most of these 70 years 23 spent on the witch base, helping them to make the plan on defeating Dievas and to communicate to the first reality. Even though witches could help 23 to manage Distortion, it was slowly consuming them. So after the fall of Dievas 23 almost never left the bathtube with alchemic concentrate.

And then someone found out that there's something on pomel that reminds the remainings of an ancient god but they weren't Enmaru and it's weirdly to active. 23 knew it should be Witsichillinoah, the god they once killed. Saraph felt guilt because of murder of their creator even though they were just an instrument of ancient gods. So 23 started searching for the remainings of Witslie. In the process they met Nina, who accidently got involved in this story. 23 never thought that a human would be so useful in their adventure (since Nina had a normal human vision she could get 23 where they needed)

The time was running. 23 met what remained of Witslie few times. Surprisingly, ego of the god was still alive. But something was happening to the world around. The Distortion was becoming stronger and though 23 thought they had few years more, it affected them too much and the saraph couldn't keep their human appearance anymore. Nina refused to leave 23 even though it was dangerous to stay near them.

The next part isn't written well yet. But these two managed to get rid of Distortion and in the process 23 couldn't survive in the form of distorted being from first reality.

So they got turned into a human. I guess they kept the name Twenty Three, but it would be funny if they would choose something like Steve or Lily (or the pomelian equivalent). Well, in any case, they're gonna have the greatest 60 or something years of human life. Twenty Three's sight wasn't formed normally and they see only the colorful areas around them. But they found out they don't like the black color. So them and Nina needed to find a lot of new clothes, cause their previous wardrobe was full of identical black costumes and blue sweaters (also Twenty Three got a bunch of tinted glasses of all colors cause they are funny to look through).

Well. That's all. Uphh. It was easier to draw the pictures than writing this post. I didn't tell a lot of details but i hope you could understand this mess, 23 is one of the most important figures in stories about pomel. Without them the plot would not be the same (lol they literally left a mark on Pomel surface). So there's a lot of more information about them left.

So. if you like it, reblog, if you can. I really put a lot of effort in this little project.

ah yeah. here there are all of them lol

30 notes · View notes

vryfmi · 1 day ago

Text

there's one major thing that's been nagging on me about l&co adaptation ever since my first watch: if we were to get season 2, how would they set up the conflict of THB?

i can get behind some of reinterpretation of characters and their mannerisms, character traits (i.e. Lockwood dressing less formal and not being a know-it-all, Lucy being less hateful towards George, seeing Kipps as he's actively losing his talent, George Karim being iranian and being very close to his culture in a form of cuisine), some are good, as a fan of books i'd be eager to get to know these characters along side their book counterparts.

but alas, i can't see these characters as the same characters in both medias because too much of their characterisation was changed, and it's really hard to blame on pacing or the lack of screen time. it's the writing. some changes going as far as making me question, what were they supposed to do with this groundwork in the second season.

how would runners set up a conflict of L&Co overworking themselves after gaining fame over solving the bone glass case and accepting all calls they were getting, if show!Lockwood out right says in episode 4 that he's not interested in boring cases? not only does it get rid off of a major characterisation of Lockwood as someone who's, yes, in it for fame, but most importantly he became an agent to "avenge" his family. avenge isn't even the right word, i think. he doesn't want others to be fallen victims to a visitor, doesn't want to see other people lose their loved ones, lose their family to ghosts. not only does it make show!Lockwood rather vain and only fame driven, instead of someone dealing with deep personal trauma, but also loses one of the key points of Holly's introduction to the team. (i also love the reading of LW naming his agency Lockwood&Co as something less selfish and more about him paying a tribute to his family, that without them and visitors taking them away from him, he wouldn't start his agency and wouldn't be able to help other people.)

speaking of Holly's introduction, what exactly would have been her role at the start in the show? L&Co don't seem overworked from the 4 cases they had (2 related to TSS out of 4 in the book, Wimbledon gallows + Bickerstaff's, not counting Wilberforce's ghost and a bunch of not mentioned in dialogue cases i. e. Mrs Barrett's tomb). that already solves the problem of trio not having free time to do chores around the house. but say show says "and now they're overworked" instead of showing, sure, but it doesn't get rid of George's stress cleaning habit.

Holly was introduced as a help, as a support to the way L&Co was already running and over the books she became more than just an assistant but a beloved part of the team. without proper reasoning as to why Lockwood & Co had to get an assistant, Holly's introduction could be messy and unprompted, something like checking a box in the list of what has to happen instead of making it story driven. something like what happened to skull's character.

and a final thing that im iffy about is the ending of the first season. somehow show rushed through and speedran Lockwood's suicidal arc as well as managed to call it out by the end of show's TWS storyline, where books didn't show any progress even by the end of TEG.

but im saying call it out, not resolve. i'd actually appreciate it if show made an effort of showing that such tendencies and lack of self-preservation aren't just resolved in a second, someone saying "stop being suicidal" doesn't magically fix everything. and yet, show still speedran things, especially given that events of the show happen in only 10 days instead of a year, and Lockwood's already made very aware of his reckless behaviour aka throwing himself in danger for people, and, what's even more questionable, for people he barely knows. which, again, contradicts his character and the way he navigates trauma.

these character and plot deviations and inconsistencies may not seem critical at first, but they might build over the course of the series and lead to a complete shift in overall narrative and spirit of L&Co as a story. which i wouldn't want to see as a fan.

to put it simply, i can see why fans want for show to be picked up for a second season, but i can't see how writers could make it coherent because they wrote themselves into a corner.

#if someone has something to add please feel free to do so!#l&co #lockwood and co #l&co. netflix #anthony lockwood #holly munro #the hollow boy #complete fiction #analysis #blogposting

27 notes · View notes

leosficlist · 2 days ago

Text

Post S4 Getting Together Pt3

Here we go again, gang, since I am a fiend. Again, parentlock is not the focus, but is a lovely bonus

Post S4 pt1, Post S4 pt2

Shift by Stopthat 48.5k words

“I’m tired, John,” He murmurs. Barely a whisper. John swallows, feeling irrationally helpless.

“I can see that,” He responds quietly, tracing an eyebrow with the pad of his thumb. “Sleep, then,” He can hear the crack in his own voice—a perfect match for the one in his chest. He hopes that Sherlock won’t notice, won’t try to pick it all apart.

“Not what I meant,” He rumbles, as he drifts off and away, leaving John alone in wakefulness to wonder what the hell had just happened.

notes: buying a house, misunderstandings, promises of forever, honeymoons

Tapestry by stopthat 15k words

“People would talk,” he tries, repurposing an old line, a shortcut to a recurring theme in their lives.

“They do little else.” John dutifully completes the circuit with a sigh. “Sherlock,” he continues haltingly, eyes falling back to his hands as he considers his words. “Would they be wrong, though, really?”

notes: getting together, going to harry/clara's wedding, first kiss, John adores Sherlock openly

Without Complexities or Pride by Raina_at 1.6k words

Love is what happens when you look and look and finally see.

notes: sweet, warm, a sliding together of finally

more than you could ever know by subtext-is-my-division (Quill_A) 7.6k words

Suddenly, Sherlock’s hand curls around his bicep. Warm and grounding, over the wool of his jumper. He fixes him with his impossible, multi-coloured gaze, and asks, “Are you happy?”

Is he-

Sherlock cocks his head, and his flushed cheeks glow in the darkness. (Sherlock always looks unfairly pretty when he’s drunk.)

notes: christmas fluff, convincing John to come back to baker st, Sherlock decorating for John and Rosie

coming home by disc0inferno 2k words

John keeps falling asleep in Baker Street, and Sherlock decides to finally call him out on it.

notes: soft, sweet, accidental cuddling, love confessions

When All Else Fails by ClueingForLooks_221B 6.7k

John laughed. “Well, I already poured you some, but no. I was going to ask, why don’t you ever correct anyone when they assume you and I are together?”

“We are together,” he replied simply, still typing away at his laptop.

John stiffened a bit at that. “What?”

“You and me. We’re together a lot, John. Why would I correct someone who points out a fact?”

John rolled his eyes as he headed back toward the kitchen. “That’s not what I meant,” he called as he put the wine back on the counter.

notes: soft and lovely, flirty but with a splash of insecure Sherlock

Home by aquileaofthelonelymountain 3.9k words

Suddenly, Sherlock couldn’t get his suitcase fast enough. Impatiently, he grabbed it and hurried through the masses toward the exit. A month abroad had been far too long.

After being away for a case, Sherlock is welcomed home.

In case you didn't know by TheKatlocker (TheKat79) 18.2k words

Sherlock loves John, John loves Sherlock... Are they ever going to tell each other? Spoiler: they will, but it's not that simple. As if it ever is.

notes: parentlock, misunderstandings. they suck at talking. fluffy sweet and lovely though, covers the events from both their povs, Sherlock has a book of things he loves about John

Move in by Strange_johnlock 3k words

Sherlock wants John and Rosie to move out. At least that's what John thinks.

notes: Sherlock starts looking for new apartments, John's insecurities cause him to fear the worst, sweet

More Than Okay by DissociativeSilence 9k words

Time has passed and Sherlock and John are settling back into their life of solving crimes. In the midst of a case, they both reflect on what they've been through and where they are now, what's survived, what's healing, and what's changed, for better or for worse. Day by day, they're learning more about how to live in the present, and on this day, they might just achieve that.

notes: little parentlock, Sherlock kisses John first, love confessions

'Almost' or 'Home is where the Heart is' by Strange_johnlock 7.9k words

"Where Sherlock enjoyed every second together and counted the minutes to see John again, his (former) best friend kept his distance, even when they sat on a bench together and watched Rosie run around the park. To Sherlock John was home, and John had found a different one."

Sherlock wants John to come home. John wants the space to cure his broken heart.

notes: Sherlock is so desperate to convince John that they should live together again, he starts staying at John's house for a bit.

Our Hands by Salambo06 4k words

Sherlock and John are in a cafe, gathering clues. The only problem is, Sherlock, socially unaware as he is, starts mouthing his observations louder and louder until eventually, he’s spinning around and rattling off at full speed and a fuller volume in the middle of the floor. Everyone is staring, and John is starting to become aware of this. When he realises what is happening, Sherlock hangs his head, his cheekbones colouring a light crimson. So John takes his hand boldly, even though they’ve never done this, even though he isn’t sure he can do this. And soon, Sherlock’s blush takes on a new meaning entirely.

notes: light, warm, full of sweet tension, yearning

#johnlock fanfic #bbc johnlock #johnlock post s4 #post series 4 #getting together

22 notes · View notes

melanieph321 · 3 days ago

Note

Do you have any Josko Gvardiol fanfic coming soon

Of course!

10 DAYS OF REQUESTS

(DAY 5)

Joško Gvardiol - Not Romantic

+18

Summary - Reader wants Joško to be more romantic. Unfortunately, he listens to her.

Enjoy 💞

He wasn't the date night kind. Nor the surprise you with flowers kind. Joško was simply the hug you from behind kind while whispering filthy promises in your ear. But would it really kill him to be a tad more romantic?

"Yes." He answered.

"It would?"

The two of you were just about to go to bed after yet another hectic day, making the timing of your question utterly bizarre to Joško.

"Y/N, what does it even mean to be romantic? Am I not romantic?"

"No Joško, you are not. Slapping me in the ass in the grocery store a mids the dry goods, does not count for romance. I want flowers and perhaps a more gentle approach to our love and affection for one another. Is that too much to ask for?"

Joško seemed puzzled, his bushy eyebrows low on his forhead. "So you want me to be gentle....in bed?"

"Ugh!" You sighed, roughly uncovering the duvet, tucking yourself into bed.

"Oh, come on baby. Don't be like that." Joško went on to dim the lights in your room before joining you in bed. He reached for you under the covers, however you refused him by shifting to lay on your side.

"If romance is too much of an ask and effort for you, I don't really see the point with us being together."

Joško stiffened with your words, the silence that followed a bit nerve-wracking. However, you stood your ground and fell asleep convinced that this was the necessary change that would sustain your relationship.

The next morning you woke up in bed alone. Joško had left for an early training session, however, his early endearments still tickled your ear. "I'm sorry that I'm not enough for you. But don't worry, I'll show you."

It broke your heart that your argument last night resulted in Joško feeling like he wasn't enough for you. That was never your case in point. You were just demanding a bit more sensual awareness from your boyfriend. What else could you have said that would've made him understand?

"Babe, I'm home."

"Joško?"

A whole day had gone by since you last saw your boyfriend, and being off from work definitely didn't mend your anxious mind. You spent the day cleaning your apartment while waiting for him to come home. Seeing Joško standing in the door, flowers in one hand and takeout in the other, instantly melted your heart.

"Oh, baby. Are those for me?" You approached him where he stood, accepting the flowers that were handed to you.

"You told me to be more romantic, didn't you?" He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. However, a deep growl escaped his mouth as the kiss naturally deepend.

It took Joško everything not to escalate the situation by stripping you of your clothes right then and there.

"Dinner." He drunkenly rumbled, dragging his nose along the skin of your collarbone. "It might get cold."

"Right, dinner." You were slurring on your words, perhaps as infatuated by your boyfriend, who set his pride aside to give you what you wanted.

It turned you on.

Extremely.

"So, how was your day?" You asked, happy to sit across from him, the man of your dreams, sharing takeout dinner from that Croatian restaurant that you both loved.

"It was good baby. How was yours?"

"Good, just good."

"Great." Joško chuckled, returning to the plate on his food.

It dawned on you as silence fell, that your heart was beating fast and your palms were turning clammy with sweat. A fever, first came to your mind. However, as Joško got up to clear your plates, you sat back and watched how his muscles worked when he gloved up to scrub the dishes. His biceps swelled with every movement, slowly fueling your not so romantic thoughts.

"Baby?"

Strucked by how horny you were, you shook your head in hopes of calming your filthy mind that told you to fall down onto your knees and please your man. "Yes, honey?"

"I'm gonna take a quick shower. Do you wanna watch a movie when I return?"

"Erm, sure. Yes. A movie sounds great."

"Great. Pick whatever movie you want." He winked, disappearing into the bathroom.

You fanned yourself at the thought of him naked in a shower. Without you. "God, Y/N. Get yourself together." You were acting like a timid school girl. After the arguments of last night, here you were ready to beg Joško to run you over like a locomotive.

No.

You had to remain resolute. If Joško could make tonight about romance, so could you.

While your boyfriend kept busy in the bathroom you took it upon yourself to light some candles, pop some popcorn and set up the living room for a cozy movie night.

Just as you returned from the kitchen, Joško stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, rubbing his wet hair with a towel.

"Good, you're ready." You said, setting down the bowl of popcorn.

"I am." He smiled. "Are you?"

"Me?" You followed his gaze set on your body, realizing that Joško was referring to your not so cozy clothes. "Oh, right. I'll be right back."

By the time you returned to the living room, wearing a sweater and shorts, Joško lay on the couch, legs spread and the remote weighing in his hand.

"Are you ready for a movie night?" You smiled.

Joško's arm slumped at the sight of you, his eyes wondering freely to your braless chest and your low cut shorts. By now he should have commented on how hot you looked, or how he wanted you to sit on is lap. Face, if he was feeling kinky. However, Joško said nothing, innocently beaming at you with those dark eyes. "Ready." He smiled, inviting you to join him on the couch. You did so, snuggling up to his warm body where you eventually fell asleep as Batman fought the Joker on TV.

You woke up towards the end of the movie, however, Joško's grainy voice whispering in your ear. "I hope you liked the flowers."

"Mmm. I did baby. I really did." You hymnd. "Remind me to put them in water before we go to bed."

"No need." He said, his hand slowly traveling up and down your back. "I already did it for you."

Your eyes peered open, meeting your boyfriend's loving eyes. His gentle gaze that had no desire to fuck you sensless on this very couch.

God, what have you done to your man.

"Joško?" You raised your head from his shoulder.

"Yes, baby?"

You were lost for words. He was perfect. The man of your dreams. A curly haired beast. He was perfect just the way he was, romantic or not. "I love you." You squealed.

Joško's gaze softened, his eyes searching your face. "I love you too."

"Please, fuck me." You sighed. "Hard, not gentle."

He grinned. "As you wish baby. As you..."

He didn't get to finish that sentence. You were all over his ass before he could open his mouth and utter another word.

You got flipped to lay on your back, Joško's hands roaming freely under your sweater. Your chest arched into his open palms. A loud moan escaping your mouth as Joško went to nibble your ear with a nip of his tounge, the smell of him uncovering your desire for his body, his cock, that should be deep in your mouth by now.

"Calm down baby." He chuckled roughly. "Don't you want me to take my time with you? To be gentle?"

"Fuck, no."

Joško's laughter drummed in your ear. He then lowered himself so that his head was set between your legs.

Your body stirred below him, eager for his hands to get rid of your shorts. Joško did so with the most taunting of smiles, licking his lips once he discovered that you weren't anything underneath, making this so called romance easy for him.

"Fuck Y/N, you taste amazing."

"I do?"

You watched him dip his head back between your legs, tasting you in a way that contracted every muscle in your belly. Your head fell back with the way his tounge circle your clit, playfully yet eager.

"Mmm. So fucking delicious." He groaned, his hands squeezing your ass, raising your hips towards his gaping mouth.

"God, Joško."

It was unbearable.

He was unbearable.

Unbearably romantic in his own way.

As Joško continued to drain you of your senses of the world, you came to the conclusion that romance was indeed an important part of a healthy and sustainable relationship. Your relationship, however, was fine just the way it was, with your boyfriend knowing just the right way to please you.

DON'T MISS - 10 DAYS OF REQUESTS

(DAY 1)

(DAY 2)

(DAY 3)

(DAY 4)

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #football angst #josko gvardiol imagine #josko gvardiol x reader #josko gvardiol #man city #manchester city #10 days of requests #day 5

22 notes · View notes

reneesghostinthelivingroom · 3 days ago

Note

I'd like to request a fic where Chappell and Reneé both comfort because dysphoria during their period... lots of praise, and maybe some light fluffy smut? thanks <3

Absolute Train Wreck

|| Chappell Roan x Reneé Rapp x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; smut, reader on their period, heavy dysphoria descriptions, comfort, period sex, reader receiving, breast play, orgasms, light choking, praise kink, light swearing, use of 'good boy'

|| Summary; when Chappell and Reneé get home, they make sure to take care of reader.

Requests open!

Started; November 7th

Finished; November 8th

~~~

A groan left your lips as you clung to the sheets wrapped tightly around you. Bucket by the side of your bed; just in case. Because your periods? Left you an absolute train wreck. Not just from the physical/emotional pain, but the mental too. It took a pretty big toll on your mental health. A constant reminder that your body wasn't what you wanted it to be. Biting you lip, a small whimper escaped your throat just as the front door opened. Chappell and Reneé were home.

You tried to sit up, call out to them, but immediately felt a wave of nausea. So you made the smart choice and laid back down. Waiting for them to come to you. It certainly didn't take long for them to figure out where you were. Finding you exactly where they'd left you that morning. Curled up as deep in your sheets as you could be, with a heating pad sprawled across your midriff.

Their eyes softened as they shared a look with one another and then joined you in bed. Chappell to your right, Reneé to your left and pressed up against your back. Her arm wrapped around you, resting just above the heating pad while Chappell kissed your forehead.

"How you feeling, baby?" Reneé whispered, lips brushing the back of your neck as she kissed the skin there. You simply whined in response, finding yourself feeling needy with your girls against you the way they were.

Chappell laughed a bit at your whine and her hand cupped your cheek as she propped herself on her elbow. Eyes locking with yours," have you had water? Food?" She asked. You could see the concern in her eyes grow as you shook your head. You haven't been able to leave your bed all day. "Wait here." She gave your cheek a small squeeze then left the bed for the kitchen. You tried making a grabby hand towards her, but Reneé's hand came up and intertwined with your fingers. Bringing your hand back down to rest on your stomach with hers.

"Let her do this for you." She murmured, moving herself just a little bit closer. As her other hand moved along your body, Reneé could feel the tension. It was more than just you being on your period. She could just tell. Something else was bothering you," you feeling okay? Besides your period." She asked and she could feel as your shoulders grew tenser.

"I... I'm fine." You whispered, lying through your teeth knowing damn well you weren't. As previously mentioned, your period took a big toll on your mental health. Feeling little tiny little stabs to your mind and heart. The questions plaguing your mind. Why did I have to be born this way? Why can't I be who I want to be? Why must I suffer through this?

You closed your eyes as each one flooded to the surface. Trapping you in an endless void of the prison that was your body. Your jaw clenched, Reneé noticed. She knew you lied to her. That much was obvious even without the tension in your body. "Baby, talk to me. You'll feel worse keeping it all in."

You turned to face her, heating pad sliding down between the two of you. You opened your eyes and were met with the concern that glazed hers. Just as you were about to speak, Chappell returned. Holding a plate of your favourite comfort snack and a glass of water. She sat down with you, holding the glass to your lips as she helped you drink. You were grateful for the break in conversation. The change of topic. Even if it only lasted for a minute. As the glass left your lips and was placed on the counter, Reneé looked to you expectantly. Silently urging you to continue whatever you had been about to say.

Chappell noticed the tension in the room and raised an eyebrow," I was gone a minute or two. What the hell happened?" Reneé glanced to her, then back to you. Chappell saw how vulnerable you seemed. It registered to her that more was going on. Something you weren't telling them.

"It's just... the dysphoria." You finally mumbled out. After what left like the longest minute of their lives. Both girls frowned and Chappell turned your chin up, so your eyes met with hers.

"Y/N... I wish I could take that feeling away from you. But I know no matter what we say the thoughts will always be there, won't they?" She started to say and you gave a gentle nod, making her sigh. It pained them both to see you so down on yourself," is there something we can do to help?"

You thought about it. Wondering if there was anything that would make it even the slightest bit better, or at least distract you from how you're feeling. And then you thought of it," praise and sex..?" You asked slowly. The two shared a glance and then mirrored smirks. Before looking back to you.

"Of course, baby." Reneé smiled, gently turning you from your side to your back. "You look so fucking handsome..." She murmured, Chappell nodded in agreement. Placing a soft kiss to your lips. Your lips moved against each other with a slow ease.

As the kiss parted, Chappell whispered against your lips. "So... so handsome and such a good boy, aren't you?" She practically purred, her hand gently cupping your neck. Fingers playing with the back of your hair.

You melted under her touch and words, nodding your head. Mouth slightly open as if to speak, but whatever words were there died in your throat. Feeling as Reneé's hands moved up to cup your breasts. "Can I?" She asked, gently toying with your shirt buttons. Wanting to take it off but worried about making the wrong move. When she heard a quiet yes from you, she smiled and kissed the corner of your mouth. Before getting your shirt off and away. You weren't wearing anything under, so your chest was exposed to her. Her mouth gently latched to your nipple as she played with your chest. Earning soft moans from you.

Chappell watched for a moment. Just admiring the sounds you were making. Then her hand moved your neck, cupping your jaw instead as she pulled you into another kiss. A little more passionate than the last but still soft. Being cautious about how rough they were with you. They knew that on when your period you liked things softer.

As she kissed you, her hand slid down to your clothed clit. Pushing aside the fabric until her fingers brushed your pussy. Feeling the wetness between your folds as well as the thicker substance of blood. Not that she minded. She could always clean her hands after. Chappell's fingers worked until she brought you to an orgasm. Helping you through your high before removing her fingers. "Good boy.." She praised. Your chest was rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. Reneé let go of your nipple, bringing her lips to your neck and leaving a hickie.

"So good.." She agreed with Chappell. A small whimper left your lips. Feeling yourself grow tired as Reneé made sure you had some of your snack that Chappell had brought earlier. As for Chappell, she gave you a quick kiss then went and washed up her hands in the bathroom.

You cuddled up with Reneé, who held you close and moved the heating pad back over your stomach. It felt even better against the bare flesh. You let out a sigh as your eyes closed. Sleeping taking you over.

20 notes · View notes

mad-hunts · 15 hours ago

Text

in response to the other's answer in regards to what jervis would prefer on his toast, jack simply nodded. he'd found himself at a loss for what else to say even though that was actually quite rare for him. maybe it was the idea that barton could be outside at that very moment, listening in, that made jack suddenly feel like a fog had rolled into his mind; making it so that he could protect himself without even knowing for sure that there was a threat in the first place.

barton didn't like talking about julien - he'd pretty much stowed away every single picture but one the family had with him in it, in fact. for it still hurt him too much to look at them. therefore, especially considering his father's history of not being able to regulate his moods well, jack might have to perform 'damage control' if that were the case. but crossing the bridge if he were to get there seemed to apply quite well here. so, the farceur chose to move on and it turned out to be wisely, too.

jervis did look very tense lying there with jack visibly appearing to want to curl up into himself and never come out. after going to the nearby trunk in the room, he opened it. this was done as a means to distract the both of them from succumbing to the weight of their own differing circumstances. though there was certainly a good cover reason for jack to, ❝ oh, wow. ahh... i almost forgot that its supposed to get down into the forties tonight so you might need this. its going to be cold, after all, ❞ it was also hitting sundown at that moment as well.

jack could tell by just looking through the crack in the curtains of the one window in the room. while gnawing on his bottom lip, he pulled out the plush blanket inside of the chest only to shake it out a bit. now, as jack tossed the blanket up just enough to cover jervis's body without touching him? something matilda told him a few years ago echoed in his mind during a conversation they had late at night: 'you know, i know you'd like nothing more than to get rid of all your feelings sometimes - but i hope you never change.'

jack just remembered looking up at the tent he was in that day of camping afterward, as he decided he should probably get to sleep. but it felt validating in a way he couldn't explain as well even now. because jack's first instinct upon seeing jervis was that he was struggling, so he should help him; though one could definitely say that sense of responsibility had made him suffer in the past. thank goodness sucking in a deep breath through his nostrils and exhaling could allow jack to quiet his mind then.

he tilted his head at the other's words and squinting his eyes, deep in thought. of course if jervis didn't believe in one, that was fine, but it appeared like he might. these sorts of concepts could trigger whole debates for a reason, however, as spirituality was something that jack affiliated himself with. but religion? he wasn't so sure, so he more than understood when jervis settled for saying his loved ones being at peace was simply something he wanted to believe in. with jack's sudden exit came the arrival of a much less benevolent figure, to say the least, and barton couldn't say he blamed jervis for seemingly somewhat disappointed that his son left.

jack was easy to get along with, and with just a little bit of time spent with him, he might just win someone over with his compassionate nature. barton knew this well along with the reality he had to learn other people's behaviors throughout the years to appear at least 'semi-normal.' how that was going for the doctor would often depend on who you asked, though. barton could only snort derisively at that, ❝ funny. just remember, you'd be in arkham right now if it weren't for me and my daughter. ❞ he pointed a sharpened nail in the direction of jervis as he proceeded into the room.

the same crack in the curtains jack had once looked through was soon closed with a quick 'swishing' motion. barton was personally raised with a very limited exposure to faith, as neither wesley nor winslow were particularly religious father figures. but barton could admire those who participate in it regardless of their level of involvement in it. though it could be used as a force of evil as much as it could be used for good, a lot of humanity existed in shades of gray.

so even if they were under the treat of suffering through something like eternal damnation after death... in barton's mind, it was only a matter of time before someone used a widespread thing like faith to their own advantage. and maybe this was bad of him but thinking about wesley being in such a place somewhat brought him a sense of twisted satisfaction; because at least barton would be getting a form of justice for every fearful moment wesley put him through that way. barton only blinked as his eyes trailed from jervis's face, to the teacup that jack had presumably brought him.

shockingly enough, all he felt when he discovered that marty's father was a powerful figure was an incredible amount of disbelief for a moment before it fizzled away. barton was used to things getting worse even if he couldn't have seen this coming. plus, he'd gotten frighteningly good at treating human lives like this police captain's more as obstacles than actual beings. it remained to be seen which one jervis was to barton. he squinted his eyes before standing up and ultimately finding out that, yeah, he had done that too quickly.

barton felt like he was green around the gills all over again, ❝ that is one way to put it, jervis. but don't worry. you just reminded me that, although we're going to have to get creative, there are ways of getting away with it. i'd say pinning his murder on someone else might be the best. ❞ he uttered after swallowing thickly, making a 'turn around' gesture with his finger towards the other. barton talking about murder as if it was light dinner conversation said everything that needed to be said about how he felt about their current predicament.

maybe it was because he was still feeling a lot of malaise, but no part of it bothered him in particular. the doctor was more worried about jervis becoming queasy because he accidentally saw the scars where he'd stitched on yves's arm to his own body, ❝ uhh, just in case you didn't get that, turn around. i'm going to change my shirt. ❞ once that was done, barton slipped his current bloodied one over his head only to replace it with the other. he slumped down in the chair to the table opposite of jervis and looked over the tarot cards laid out before him.

barton, too, knew how to interpret them. ❝ what were you two planning on doing with these? a 'past, present, and future' reading? because i can do it while my son's gone for you. ❞

Jervis gave the barest of shrugs as he glanced at Jack through his bangs, the quiet rhythm of their breathing, the slow drip of the IV, and the faint shifting of the cards against the tabletop the only sounds piercing the air. "Either one sounds perfectly agreeable. I defer to your good judgment." A ghost of a smile, pale and wan, tugged at his mouth for an infinitesimal moment.

Call it the lingering pangs of paternal instinct or projection, whatever you felt was most appropriate, but some flicker of warmth—worry mingling with concern—stirred within Jervis' breast; softening the veneer of exhaustion and discomfort that clothed him like a second skin. Like an invisible cancer that had latched onto him, draining his vitality—a slow-acting poison decades in the making; only this time, the source was external, a reflection of Jack's own unease radiating across the space between them.

Jervis drew in a shallow breath, feeling the tightness in his chest not as his own, but as if their nerves had blurred and grown entangled. He tried to focus, willing his own breath to steady, his hands to unclench. A low chuckle escaped Jervis' chapped lips at Jack's query. The medications in his IV coursed through him, cold and prickling, sending a frisson over his skin as goosebumps rose in response. And yet, somehow, it eased the deep ache within him, dulling the edges of both pain and nausea. He could feel the weight of his discomfort receding, just slightly, as though the medicine were smoothing his raw nerves; coaxing him toward a delicate, unfamiliar calm.

Not quite like ketamine.... not like the cozy, blithesome feeling that coursed through his veins with each dose. Even when most of his prior consumption of the drug hadn't been consensual—thick enough to cut his teeth on, it ensured small pockets of blissful ignorance hardening into a dissociative shell, like callus. (God bless those poor, ministering angels at Arkham... only a trace of spite and animosity there, rage bleeding with sorrow at how his autonomy and consent was completely ignored, snatched... one wrong move, and he was left cowering in a crumpled heap, or otherwise dead to the world... but now? Would the scales be tipped, if they managed to drag him back there? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know that answer.) If Odysseus and his crew had been desperate to escape the Lotus Eaters only to stumble unwittingly into the clutches of Polyphemus, Jervis felt quite the opposite.

For better or worse, the ketamine had left him numb to everything.

The pain, the grief, the anguish that tore gouges in his heart and mind; lacerated his psyche to shreds, in conjunction with the ECT. Somehow, he compartmentalized it... gravitated to the cannabis as an alternative upon his discharge, once he'd regained his center of gravity and emerged from his self-immurement; the fractures left by his losses and lessons grinding him to the bone. Everything it cost him and what he'd earned in exchange. Simon. Arabella. His time in Ireland. Sylvie. The flood. Alice.

The lengths he had gone...

And so Jervis chuckled; the sound dry and hollow, barely touching his eyes. He met Jack’s gaze, his expression tightening as he mulled over the question, tasting the irony in it.

“An afterlife…” he murmured, his eyes drifting. Thoughts and memories broke the surface like apples bobbing in a bucket: Simon and Stephen putting aside their differences over the blessing at Passover; his and Arabella's quiet, but spirited discussions of Heaven and the saints and catechism, the differences between the Old and New Testaments as they strolled along the shoreline. Stories of the witch trials in Ireland, of John Calvin and his legacy in Scotland.

All the old beliefs he’d grown up with circled back and hit like a tidal wave, tied as much to memories of family as to the concept of religious faith itself, all its beauty and diverse forms, yet it left him feeling frigid now. For a little over three decades, he'd told himself that he could appreciate the mythology of it all, even found it strangely comforting at times, but belief? That had always been a different thing entirely.

Jervis' mind tugged him back to reality. He could sense Jack’s curiosity pressing at the edge of his own awareness, a secondary presence so strong it was almost rendered a physical form. "That's.... a complicated notion, from where I'm standing.” He let out a slow, careful breath; curled his fingers back around his necklace as he dissected the question. “But... yes. I'd like to think our loved ones are at peace."

He could map it all in a dozen lines, right down to his own lived experiences, the rules he tried so hard to follow, the ideals that always seemed to warp and fray. There was karma, consequence, perhaps even the lingering shadows of what people might call a curse. But the idea of any higher being calling the shots? It gnawed at him like an old wound. And so Jervis looked back at Jack, almost apologetic, the faint sting of an old ache flickering beneath his words.

He was spared from elaborating with Barton's sudden appearance; lurking on the threshold like a wraith. Poor Jack's confidence and ease withered like a hapless petunia caught in the dead of winter. A few quiet words of dismissal and a pat to the shoulder were all that heralded the reluctant, leery departure of his one potential ally in the wolf's den.

'As phantoms frighten beasts when shadows fall.' Jervis sighed, slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, looked Barton in the eye; as well as he could, anyway, with the lingering gray spots and his missing glasses still impeding his line of sight. “Maybe we each make our own heaven—or our own hell.”

Perhaps that was petty or harsh of him to say out loud... though that was the truth of the matter. Jervis didn’t need religious belief to drive him, after all; he needed only his own peculiar code, that precarious balance between curiosity and cynicism, and the sense of duty he still felt for a daughter who had deserved something far more stable, more secure; safer than the patchwork life he had known. Whatever his flaws, his faults, some small part of him still respected the right to believe—what faith meant to others; its power to inspire, to build, to destroy. The cause and effect of human history, the double-edged promises of faith. And maybe that was the root of it: faith could be a tool, a guide, a balm.

But then the stark, often bitter truths he’d learned through survival would come rushing back. Besides, he reckoned, Barton likely wouldn't give a damn about any of his prior train of thought. In any case, on the topic of hell, Jervis never pictured the vast, cavernous expanse of fire and brimstone that Jonathan Edwards had once preached about in the summer of 1741. No. Hell always conjured up fevered images of a frozen lake in the deepest, darkest part of the center of the earth, untouched by light and warmth and life—the last of Dante Alighieri's nine circles.

'I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake to sanity in strait-waistcoats.'

He was torn from the thick mire of his thoughts, yanked back outside his mind as if caught in a sudden hurricane at Barton’s next revelation. Jervis shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, then reached for the cup of tea Jack had brought him. The liquid within was a warm, golden amber—like sea glass he’d once collected as a child in Bermuda, or the bits Alice would gather along Gotham’s coastline on their rare visits when she was little.

How simple those days were...

"Well." Jervis' voice was completely flat, his brow creasing with incredulity and disgust. Barton’s outline weaved and blurred before his eyes like a will-o’-the-wisp. No more, no more… no room, no room. He felt completely hollow. "Trading one problem for another, are we?" His scarred knuckles bulged as his fingers curled around the delicate porcelain; his grip hard enough to produce a faint, foreboding crack.

He would weep, if he had anymore tears left to shed over their predicament. For Marty and his partner, for the trouble Jack and Matilda had been brought into by association… but none for himself or Barton. He wasn’t certain he was worthy of it; and Barton had no qualms over their actions, he’d freely admitted it at that bistro earlier. Jervis’ hands tingled, as if they were still covered by the bloodied gloves he wore when he dispatched the driver in order to retrieve Alice’s rabbit, wielding his hatpins on pure impulse; there was no premeditation involved, but there was no discounting how surgical his actions had been in their efficacy with each targeted nerve cluster and artery. He wasn’t indulging in self-pity, oh no… nothing so shallow or solipsistic. Not like that at all. Just a pure ant mill of growing dread and horror and regret, one that couldn’t be encompassed by words alone.

His teeth sought the gouges in the corner of his mouth from where he’d previously bit himself in the throes of his nightmares, worrying at the cuts till they began to sting anew.

‘Despair has its own calms.’

#divingdownthehole #tw: religion.#tw: unhealthy family dynamics.#tw: mentions of child abuse.#tw: illness.#tw: mentions of murder.#AHH i mean it took me a bit to reply to this one as well so you're all good LOL #and ooh gosh i remember hearing about the food poisoning you'd gotten but i'm so sorry that that happened to you again ):#though aww well i sometimes wonder what i did to deserve you myself but you did so by just being you okok <33 #but GAHHH you are too freaking sweet for words! ILY2 and you're so welcome!! but yesss you haven't hit a roadblock at all or anything #like that i promise you!!! your replies have been just as if not even more top-tier than they usually are in my humble opinion but PLSSS #you're about to make me cry in the club right now ;u; TYSMMM it makes me so happy that you like my portrayal of barton and my writing!#but omg... i was about to say like 'oh do i need to tone it down with everything going on in the RP? because i can if you need me to' but #its good to know that you meant that in a positive light haha though same here if i'm being honest (': like i know i could technically #make it less suspenseful right now but where's the fun in that am i right / hj LMAO i kid i kid... well halfway anyway but that is such a-#good comparison of them. like i truly couldn't have said it better myself and AHH trust me when i say after inserting some of the things #that i did in this reply i'm even more hyped than i was before for what's to come but i'm also kind of UHHH. concerned for barton-#though i know i'm the one writing him OFC i just... man's has some serious issues that he needs to address and they kind of came through #here more than a little. but i loveee how you inserted quotes from dracula and dante's inferno here?#like you big-brained that FR and ohhh okay. that's interesting as i didn't know that was a thing until now. the brain really is fascinating #in its complexity but jervis having schizophrenia cannot be easy. i know that it can be severely debilitating when left untreated but-#i'm not an expert either of course. that is just based on my own research as well but nahhh don't worry! i didn't take it that way at all #the muse doesn't equal the mun after all so its all good haha. i know that barton is being a bit SICK and TWISTED here but that ain't me

41 notes · View notes