#she looked spooked from the get-go | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wildwestdean · 2 months

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impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park.

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you.

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait.

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.”

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach.

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together.

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like.

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.”

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.”

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets.

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be.

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo.

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun.

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.”

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.”

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building.

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock.

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?”

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.”

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold.

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you.

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?”

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.”

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.”

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance.

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs.

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker.

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed.

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs.

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall.

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way.

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles.

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you.

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere.

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun.

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!”

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision.

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you.

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!”

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her.

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.”

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent.

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on.

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.”

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up.

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood.

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him.

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.”

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down.

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand.

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?”

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.”

“What?” Dean asked gruffly.

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?”

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.”

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?”

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket.

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress.

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks.

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you.

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat.

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously.

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?”

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink.

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker.

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand.

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall.

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say.

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?”

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion.

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.”

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.”

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink.

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam.

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically.

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer.

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean.

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away.

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table.

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.”

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth.

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you.

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter.

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar.

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly.

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away.

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you.

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head.

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded.

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?”

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car.

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you.

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats.

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?”

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?”

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff.

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.”

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!”

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.”

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets.

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance.

“What, why?” you asked in confusion.

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.”

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off.

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned.

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.”

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy.

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders.

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done.

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom.

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand.

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran.

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you.

He couldn’t save you.

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart.

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him.

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind.

“Dean.”

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came.

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above.

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut.

“God dammit, Dean!”

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer.

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt.

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.”

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice.

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him.

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out.

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current.

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.”

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order.

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone.

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name.

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere.

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order.

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink.

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him.

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake.

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang.

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.”

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?”

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle.

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.”

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice.

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not.

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself.

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration.

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.”

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation.

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.”

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?”

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!”

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.”

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly.

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed.

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief.

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?”

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!”

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.”

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?”

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!”

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?”

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.”

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!”

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?”

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?”

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff.

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-”

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?”

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!”

“Right,” Sam said sceptically. “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised.

“What?”

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!”

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared.

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively.

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.”

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.”

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued.

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.”

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on.

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin.

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction.

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen.

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully.

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge.

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen.

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway.

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly.

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child.

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do.

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything.

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.”

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!”

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him.

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion.

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife.

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?”

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?”

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes.

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily.

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call.

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more.

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered. So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do.

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.”

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late.

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.”

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?”

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.”

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.”

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation.

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.”

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner.

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water.

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water.

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself.

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding.

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant.

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.”

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him.

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.”

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered.

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.”

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you.

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly.

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.”

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again.

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.”

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest.

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him.

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.”

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?”

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.”

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.”

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door.

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out.

“It’s not gonna kill me!”

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?”

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.”

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign.

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.”

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!”

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.”

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.”

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.”

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You know what,” you scolded.

“This is so fucking ridiculous.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly.

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.”

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him.

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.”

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head.

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.”

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed.

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully.

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.”

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.”

“I do,” you agreed quietly.

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.”

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?”

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.”

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly.

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].”

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly.

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle.

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently.

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.”

“Right,” you agreed.

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly.

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.”

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously.

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.”

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off.

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.”

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say.

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.”

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest.

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.”

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while.

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.”

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build.

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.”

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.”

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question.

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat.

“Okay,” he said with a huff.

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly.

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you.

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened.

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked.

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.”

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more.

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair.

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.”

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly.

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?”

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.”

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?”

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” you said honestly.

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed.

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face.

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly.

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more.

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things.

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest.

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares.

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest.

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

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yamujiburo · 10 months

Text

Ketchum vs. Ketchum! Showdown in Cerulean City!

Woo! Finale time! I wanted to make this final battle feel special and give it more substance than I could do with just a comic. So! I got the help of @cyberwulf to write out this ending in fanfic form! Check it out here on AO3 if you prefer! If not, the journey continues below the cut~

prev / END

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / [X]

James Sidestory / Meowth Sidestory

A lot has happened since our Poké Moms began their journey. After a rocky start…

“*SQUAWK*”

…they’ve managed to catch some new Pokémon…

“Run! Run! Run!”

…in their own way.

“What a cute baby! You know, I have a son, too!”

With their month on the road almost up, Delia had just one more thing she wanted to do…

“I want to beat the Cerulean City Gym!”

But little did Delia know, there was a surprise waiting for her in Cerulean City!

“MOM??? JESSIE???”

“Let’s have a double battle! You and Ash versus Jessie and I!”

“You’re on! But I’m not going easy on you just cuz you’re family!”

“…What’s going on?”

Poké Mom Adventures

EP009

Ketchum vs Ketchum! Showdown in Cerulean City!

The water of the Cerulean gym battlefield glistened in the sunshine streaming through its crystal glass roof. Both teams gazed at each other with steely determination (and some lingering confusion, in Misty’s case) as above them, the Drone Rotom announced the rules.

“This will be a double battle between Gym Leader Misty and Champion Ash, and the challengers Delia and Jessie.” It projected a holographic image of both teams. “For today’s battle, each trainer may use two Pokémon. The battle is over when all of one team’s Pokémon can no longer battle.”

“All right!” Misty declared. “This is an official League battle for the Cascade badge!”

“And bragging rights!” Jessie added with a smirk.

“We’ll see about that!” Ash retorted. Misty glanced at him, taking in his clenched fists and gritted teeth. She’d seen Ash determined before, but… there was something here that she was missing. However, with the Drone Rotom hovering expectantly overhead, finding out what that something was would have to wait.

“Come out – Corsola!”

The Coral Pokémon landed on the rock in front of her, eagerly crying its name.

“This is a water-themed gym, so I’ll go with a Water-Type,” Ash remarked. “Oshawott, I choose you!”

“That’s the spirit, Ash!” Misty exclaimed. “It’s the job of a Gym Leader to help trainers learn type advantage and weaknesses by specialising in one kind of Pokémon, and around here that’s Water-Types!”

“Water, huh?” Jessie frowned as she considered the three Pokémon she had on hand. “Well, I don’t want my delicate little Ziggy to get her fur wet.” With a flourish, she tossed a Pokéball high in the air. “Go, Venomoth!”

The Poison Moth Pokémon emerged, hovering over the water.

“It’s a shame we don’t have any Grass or Electric-types,” Delia mused. “I guess we’ll just have to do our best with what we have.” Pushing her bangs out of her face, she called, “I choose you!”

Ash and Misty’s jaws dropped as the light from Delia’s Pokéball coalesced into a very large, very stern-looking Kangaskhan.

“I didn’t know your mom had such a strong Pokémon,” Misty whispered.

“Neither did I,” Ash whispered back. Movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked down at his starter Pokémon. “Something wrong, Pikachu?”

“Pika…”

Pikachu gazed across the water at Kangaskhan, ears and tail up, alert to… something. But before anyone could figure out what had caught his attention, there was a small cry.

“Kangaskhan!”

The baby squirmed, spooked by the glistening water lapping all around the rock. She buried her face in her mother’s belly and cried again. Cradling her young protectively, Kangaskhan gave Delia an apologetic look.

“Oh, of course!” Delia exclaimed. “I’m so sorry. Kangaskhan, return.” Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called across the battlefield. “That doesn’t count as one of my Pokémon, does it?”

“Of course not, Ms. Ketchum!” Misty shouted back. “Please choose another Pokémon!”

“If she’s got one,” Ash said with a confident smirk. “I’m betting she’ll send out Mimey.”

“I choose you… Clefairy!”

“Looks like you bet wrong, Ash,” Misty laughed as Ash stared in surprise at the Fairy Pokémon.

Above them, the Drone Rotom moved into position.

“Begin!”

“All right, Oshawott!” Ash called out. “Open up with an Aqua Jet!”

With a determined cry, Oshawott blasted a jet of water across the field, hitting Clefairy square in the belly and knocking the Fairy Pokémon off the rock and into the water.

“Ash Ketchum!” Delia exclaimed reproachfully. “That wasn’t very nice!”

Thrown off-guard, Ash gulped. “S-sorry!” (Oh man - I can’t believe I’m actually battling my mom!)

On the opposite side of the battlefield, a wet and bedraggled Clefairy clambered back up on the rock ridge, scowling at her attacker.

“Shake it off, Clefairy!” Delia urged as her Pokémon did just that, sending a fine shower of water droplets flying from her pink fur. “Use Disarming Voice!”

With a deep breath, Clefairy shot a vortex of pink hearts towards Oshawott, taking the Sea Otter Pokémon by surprise and knocking him into the water.

“Good work, Deerling!” Jessie shouted triumphantly. “Now it’s my turn!” She pointed at Corsola. “Venomoth, use Poison Sting!”

Venomoth hovered uncertainly for a few moments, then looked back at her.

“It doesn’t look like Venomoth knows that move, honey,” Delia remarked.

“Well, Dustox knew that move!” Jessie protested. “Venomoth should know it too, aren’t they both Bug-types?”

Venomoth just blinked at her.

“You really don’t know what moves your Pokémon knows?” Misty asked incredulously.

“Of course I do, just – just let me think!” Jessie spluttered, clenching her fists. “All right, Venomoth – use Gust!”

Venomoth didn’t move.

“Whirlwind!” Jessie tried. “Psybeam! …Tackle?”

Venomoth looked back and forth between Jessie and the battlefield as it fluttered about agitatedly, utterly confused by the barrage of unfamiliar orders.

“This is just sad,” Misty muttered, getting a nod of agreement from Ash. Raising her voice, she called out, “Corsola! Use Spike Cannon!”

Corsola glowed, and a split second later a shower of glowing white spikes slammed into Venomoth, driving it backwards towards the trainer box.

“Oh, no!” Delia groaned in dismay, wringing her hands. “Maybe we should’ve practiced with our new Pokémon before coming here!”

“We’re not giving up!” Jessie snarled, clenching her fists. “Venomoth! Get back out there!”

With a trill, Venomoth shook off the spikes, and floated towards its opponents again.

“Corsola!” Misty called. “Hit it with another Spike Cannon!”

Corsola began to glow.

“Well don’t just hover there!” Jessie barked out. “It’s about to attack again!” Venomoth looked back at her, and Jessie gestured angrily towards the battlefield. “Just do something! Anything!”

Once more, glowing white spikes shot towards Venomoth. This time, however, Venomoth dove towards the attack, sweeping its wings in front of itself at the last minute. Blue blades of light cut through the barrage of spikes, one hitting Corsola and driving it back.

“That’s Air Slash!” Ash exclaimed.

“Air Slash, eh?” Jessie shot her opponents a triumphant smirk. “Venomoth! Use Air Slash on that pitiful pink Pokémon again!”

“Hang in there, Corsola!” Misty called as her Pokémon was driven back for a second time. “Use Recover!”

“Don’t let it recover, Venomoth!” Jessie yelled. “Air Slash again!”

As her Pokémon geared up for another attack, she noticed Delia gazing at her in rapture.

“You’re so ferocious when you battle, Smoochum,” Delia remarked dreamily. She lowered her voice, waggling her eyebrows. “It’s kinda hot.”

Jessie blushed and giggled. “Baaabe, not in front of the twerps.”

Misty wrinkled her nose in disgust. “…Smoochum?”

“Freak out later, Misty!” Ash yelled. Venomoth was bearing down on Corsola, and the Coral Pokémon didn’t have much left. “Oshawott! Use Hydro Pump on Venomoth to protect Corsola!”

Leaping high into the air, Oshawott sent a powerful jet of water directly at Jessie’s Venomoth. With a cry, the Poison Moth hit the floor between Jessie and Delia, bounced once, and fainted.

“Hey, no fair!” Jessie bellowed, stamping her foot. “I was distracted!” She recalled Venomoth with a scowl. “I ought to ground you for making me look bad!”

“This is really weird,” Misty mumbled.

“You have no idea,” Ash sighed wearily.

“All right, you big blue blob,” Jessie growled to her faithful Patient Pokémon, “get out there and let’s win this thing!”

Saluting, Wobbuffet waddled forward, straight into the water. Jessie pinched the bridge of her nose as Wobbuffet awkwardly clambered up onto the protruding rock.

“Wobbles can’t attack unless he’s attacked first,” Delia murmured to herself. “Oshawott is strong, and Corsola can use Recover to gain back health. That means I’ve got to make this next move count!” She looked to Clefairy, wet and winded but not out of the battle. It was risky, but…

“Clefairy! Use Metronome!”

“Metronome?!” Misty exclaimed as Clefairy began to move her fingers hypnotically back and forth. “Now anything can happen!”

“Hold tight, everybody!” Ash called, just as the Fairy Pokémon’s fingers turned white.

Razor-sharp leaves whipped through the air, striking Oshawott and Corsola. The Grass-Type move was too much for the dual Rock/Water Type, and Corsola collapsed into the water, fainted. Oshawott was driven back against the rock ridge, and Ash held his breath, but the Drone Rotom only counted Corsola out.

“Oshawott! You hanging in there, buddy?”

With a grimace, the Sea Otter Pokémon gave him a determined nod. “Osha!”

“Ha!” Jessie cried triumphantly. “Now we’re even!” She clenched her fists, calling tauntingly across the battlefield. “Who’s next, twerpette? Togepi? Psyduck?”

“She sure is cocky for being down to just Wobbuffet,” Ash muttered.

“Not for long,” Misty replied with a smirk. She plucked her second Pokéball from her hip.

“Go – Gyarados!”

Delia’s eyes widened and Jessie took several steps back as the gigantic Pokémon appeared in the water. It glowered down at both trainers, making Delia swallow hard.

(Now’s not the time to lose my nerve! Gyarados is just a Pokémon like any other. All I have to do is-)

“Hey!” Jessie exclaimed angrily. “No fair using such a powerful Pokémon! What, are Staryu and Starmie at the Pokémon Centre or something?!”

Taken aback, Misty gaped at the former Team Rocket member in disbelief. “Since when do you care about playing fair?”

“Since you decided to use that monstrosity on a first-time trainer!” Jessie retorted with a shake of her fist. “That’s cheating!”

Misty paused, almost second-guessing her choice of Pokémon, when she remembered who she was dealing with. Squaring her shoulders, she shot back, “You’re not a first-time trainer!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Ash muttered.

“I heard that!” Jessie bawled.

“It’s okay, honey,” Delia murmured, placing her hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “We can beat them. We just need to use strategy!”

“Gyarados!” Misty called out. Jessie may not have been the best trainer, and her track record with him was hit or miss, but Wobbuffet could reflect almost any attack. It might just have been luck, but Clefairy’s Metronome had taken out Corsola and left Oshawott just barely hanging on. There was only one choice of target.

“Use Hurricane on Clefairy, now!”

Rearing back, Gyarados shot a powerful blast of air directly at the Fairy Pokémon, sending her flying back to the trainer box.

“Oh no!” Delia cried. She knelt by her stricken Pokémon’s side, but it was obvious even without Drone Rotom saying so that Clefairy couldn’t continue. “You did a wonderful job, Clefairy.” Recalling her Pokémon, she rose, pushed her bangs out of her eyes, and called her second Pokémon.

“Mimey, I choose you!”

Ash clenched his fists. No more surprises – he knew what Mimey was capable of. Oshawott was tough, but he’d taken a lot of damage. If the Sea Otter Pokémon only had one move left, then Ash had to make it count.

“Oshawott! Hit Mimey with Aqua Jet!”

“Mimey, dodge it!” Delia cried out.

The Barrier Pokémon leapt high in the air, leaving Ash to watch, powerless, as Aqua Jet splashed harmlessly on the ground between his mother and Jessie. But before he could call out another attack –

“Now, Mimey, Focus Punch on Oshawott!”

There was no time for Oshawott to get out of the way. Mimey dove straight down, fist outstretched, and scored a direct hit. Both Pokémon vanished underwater. All four trainers held their breath. After a few seconds, Mimey burst out of the water, effortlessly leaping onto the rock. A moment later Oshawott floated to the surface, fainted.

“Good work, Oshawott,” Ash murmured as he recalled his Pokémon. He turned to Pikachu. “Looks like my mom’s a tougher trainer than I thought. You ready, Pikachu?”

The yellow mouse nodded, one tiny fist raised. “Pika!”

“You be nice to us now, Pikachu!” Delia cheered brightly.

Jessie was less optimistic.

“Babe, this isn’t looking good,” she murmured urgently. “I’ve been beaten by that Pikachu a zillion times! And that Gyarados looks strong. And mean! I don’t know if…”

She trailed off as the other woman took her hands.

“Now you listen to me, Jessie Ketchum.” Delia gazed into her eyes, a look of fierce determination on her face. “A zillion battles. A zillion losses. Against that very Pikachu. And you never gave up. So you’re not gonna give up now! Okay?”

Jessie stared back at her. Time seemed to stand still. Delia’s fingers were warm on her own as her words of encouragement hung in the air.

“Jessie… Ketchum?”

With the briefest of nods, Delia turned to face their opponents.

“Ash honey, don’t you hold back just because I’m your mom!” she called. “We’re going to give it our all, even if we lose!”

“She’s a lot like you, Ash,” Misty laughed. As Ash tugged the brim of his hat down to hide his blush, she raised her voice and called to the challengers. “You’re doing great, Ms. Ketchum! I’m really impressed by your abilities as a trainer. Now show me you’re worthy of the Cascade badge!”

“Hey!” Jessie yelled indignantly. “What am I, chopped liver?! My Venomoth pushed your Corsola to the brink!”

Misty grimaced. This was all still too strange – Jessie was a good guy? Jessie and Ash’s mom were… partners? She struggled for something positive to say about Jessie’s performance so far.

“Uh – yeah!” she managed. “It was, uh, really great how you figured out that one move.”

Jessie put her hands on her hips. “Ugh, could you sound any more insincere?!”

With a growl of impatience, Ash cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled across the battlefield. “Hey! Are we gonna battle or what?”

“Oh, we’re battling, twerp,” Jessie shot back. “And we’re gonna win!”

Ash grinned. “You ready, Pikachu?” The yellow Pokémon turned to look at his trainer. Ash pointed. “Quick attack!”

“Ha!” Jessie scoffed as Pikachu zigzagged along the rock ridge. “Wobbuffet, use Counter!”

Pikachu leaped forward…

“On Mimey!”

Delia and Jessie gasped as Pikachu pivoted and went straight for the Barrier Pokémon. Taken by surprise, he took the full brunt of the attack, losing his balance and hitting the water.

“A fake out!” Delia exclaimed. She beamed at her son with pride. “That was so smart of you, honey! You had us completely fooled!”

“Baaabe!” Jessie hissed. “I get that you care about him – I do too – but right now he’s the enemy!”

Delia tapped her fist against her head, grinning nervously. “Oh, right!”

“This is hurting my brain,” Misty groaned.

“How do you think I feel?” Ash grumbled.

Delia took a moment to centre herself and assess the situation. Pikachu didn’t have a Type advantage, but his Electric attacks were powerful – not to mention that Mimey was still wet. Of course, using them ran the risk of electrifying the entire battlefield, including Gyarados, but only one Pokémon needed to be left standing in order for that Pokémon’s team to win.

“Mimey!” she commanded. “Use Psychic on Pikachu!”

“Mr Mime!”

Mimey fixed Pikachu with an intense stare, his eyes and hands glowing blue. Blue light enveloped the yellow mouse as he was lifted into the air. Pikachu strained and struggled, but couldn’t break free.

Ash groaned in exasperation.

“Misty, go for Mimey!” he called. “If you weaken him, maybe Pikachu can break free. Plus, he’s a lot stronger than Wobbuffet!”

Misty nodded. “Right!”

“Hey!” Jessie objected. “Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you have to say it!” She shook her fist at them. “I raised you better than that, Ash Ketchum!”

“Wha – ” Ash took a step back, flabbergasted. “You didn’t raise me at all!”

“The heck I didn’t!” Jessie retorted. “Who kept an eye on you while you twerped your way through eight regions, huh?!”

Misty rubbed her temples. The whole situation was giving her a headache.

“Gyarados!”

The Atrocious Pokémon stirred itself and looked her way.

“Use Crunch on Mr. Mime, now!”

“Oh no, not Crunch!” Delia fretted, as Gyarados reared back, a sinister purple aura swirling around its fangs. “That’s a Dark-Type move!”

“Wobbuffet!” Jessie barked. “Get between Mimey and Gyarados and use Counter!”

Saluting, Wobbuffet leaped in front of Mimey, his body outlined in orange light. Crunch hit, hard, and bounced back twice as hard. Both Gyarados and Wobbuffet recoiled from the damage.

“Wobbles!” Delia cried out, as Mimey caught Wobbuffet in his arms.

“Don’t you quit on me now, Wobbuffet!” Jessie shouted.

Wobbuffet saluted weakly as Mimey pushed him back onto his paws. The distraction worked, and Pikachu dropped back to the rock, freed from Psychic.

“Keep the pressure on, Pikachu!” Ash yelled. “Use Iron Tail on Mimey, now!”

“Quick, Mimey!” Delia shouted as Pikachu somersaulted through the air, tail glowing white. “Use Reflect!”

Pikachu hit the invisible barrier and flew backwards, landing in the water.

“Gyarados!” Misty commanded. “Use Crunch again!”

“Mimey, keep using Reflect!” Delia shouted. “Don’t let them in!” She had to think. Poor Wobbles, he didn’t have much left – one more shot from that big Gyarados and that would be it. Not to mention that if Crunch hit Mimey, the battle would be over! She’d completely forgotten Gyarados could learn that move! Oh, maybe she should’ve used Zaggy instead…

Mimey obediently continued to use Reflect as Gyarados and Pikachu attacked from either side. Slowly the invisible barriers began to box them in, till Mimey and Wobbuffet were crowded together on the rock.

“Babe!” Jessie urged. “We have to do something or we’re gonna lose!”

“I know!” Delia groaned. “I just…” She cupped her face in her hands, pulling down on her cheeks. “…I don’t know!”

“Ms Ketchum!”

Delia lifted her head.

“You can’t let us back you into a corner!” Misty called. “Use your environment to find a way out!”

Ash shot her a glare. “Hey, whose side are you on?!”

“It’s my job as a Gym leader to help trainers to learn,” Misty explained with a smile. “Did you forget?”

“You didn’t help me when I battled you for the first time!” Ash replied indignantly, poking his thumb into his chest.

Misty glowered at him.

“That’s because you still owed me a new bike, Ash Ketchum!”

“Aaagh!” Ash placed both hands on his head, tugging his hat down. “Can’t you let that go already? It got repaired, didn’t it?”

While their opponents bickered, Delia had taken Misty’s words to heart.

“Use the environment…” she mused. There was only one place Mimey and Wobbles could go – but first they had to do something about the double attacks coming their way.

“Jessie!” she hissed, beckoning her partner to come closer. “Can you have Wobbles use Counter?”

Jessie looked at Wobbuffet, sweating nervously as he stood behind Mimey. She nodded.

“Okay,” Delia replied. She whispered quickly in the other woman’s ear. Jessie grinned, then straightened up.

“Wobbuffet! Use Counter on both those attacks!”

Without any hesitation, Wobbuffet moved in front of Mimey, body once more enveloped in an orange glow. Crunch and Iron Tail came back double on Gyarados and Pikachu, sending the two flying backwards. Both Pokémon landed hard on the rock, Gyarados almost wrapping around it with the force of the blow.

“On your feet, Pikachu!” Ash called. “It’s not over yet! …Huh?”

He blinked at the empty battlefield. Mimey and Wobbuffet had both disappeared. Ash tensed as he scoured the water for any sign of the enemy Pokémon, but the surface was still settling from the last bout of attacks. The sunlight streaming through the roof didn’t help either – it made the rippling water glitter.

Misty spotted movement a second too late.

“Look out-”

In tandem, Mimey and Wobbuffet burst through the surface, taking up positions either side of Gyarados and Pikachu, trapping their opponents between them.

“Good work, you two!” Delia cheered. She pointed dramatically. “Now, Mimey – use Psychic on both of them!”

Once more, Mimey’s eyes and hands glowed. Both Gyarados and Pikachu rose into the air, enveloped in blue light.

“Great strategy, Ms. Ketchum!” Misty called, earning a dirty look from Ash which she ignored. “There’s no point going for Wobbuffet – he’ll just Counter our attacks again.”

“Right,” Ash agreed. “We’ve gotta take out Mimey!” He raised his voice. “Pikachu!”

Misty did likewise. “Gyarados!”

Delia grinned. “Just as I thought.” She looked at her partner. “Get ready with Mirror Coat!”

Jessie blinked in confusion. “…Huh?”

“Thunderbolt –”

“Hydro Pump –”

“On Mimey!” both young trainers yelled in unison.

“Mimey!” Delia called, just as both Pokémon charged their attacks. “Drop them, use Light Screen and aim at Wobbles!”

“Aim at WHO?!” Jessie exclaimed.

There was no time to explain. Everything turned on a split second. Pikachu and Gyarados began to fall through the air. Several volts of electricity and a powerful torrent of water hit Mimey’s Light Screen and barrelled towards Wobbuffet.

The diabolical beauty of Delia’s devious plan suddenly caught up with Jessie. That pair of pathetic Pokémon were in for a –

“Now, honey!”

Jessie almost fumbled the command.

“M-Mirror Coat!”

Wobbuffet glowed, shrouded in a reflective aura. Everything seemed to slow down. The attacks hit. They bounced back at Mimey. Pikachu and Gyarados fell. Ash’s mouth opened in a silent noooo.

The timing was perfect.

Gyarados and Pikachu fell in front of Mimey, taking the full brunt of Thunderbolt and Hydro Pump, doubled by Mirror Coat. The sheer force of the attacks drove them along the surface of the water, causing huge plumes of water to rise into the air either side of them. The battlefield disappeared in a shroud of surf and spray.

“Pikachu!” Ash cried out.

All four trainers held their breath as the mist began to clear.

Jessie cried out in dismay on seeing Wobbuffet floating belly-up in the water. Ash groaned on spotting Pikachu doing likewise. Draped over the rock, Gyarados lifted its head weakly, then dropped it again.

Delia scanned the water, a smile spreading across her face as Mimey swam to the rock and clambered up, standing tall with a cry of, “Mr. Mime!”

“Wobbuffet, Pikachu, and Gyarados are unable to battle,” the Drone Rotom declared, as Ash sank to his knees. “The winners are the challengers, Delia and Jessie!”

“I… I can’t believe this…” Ash moaned.

“We…” Jessie couldn’t stop staring at the battlefield, Drone Rotom’s words ringing in her ears. “…we won?” She looked to Delia, and the joyful look on her face confirmed it. “We WON!!!”

Delia shrieked as Jessie caught hold of her and lifted her high in the air, doing a twirl before setting her back on her feet and peppering her face with kisses. “Hahahaha!” She turned to their opponents, pulling down on one eyelid while sticking her tongue out. “Suck it, twe – I mean, Ash and Misty! I knew this day would come sooner or later!”

“Jessica, I know you’re happy, but don’t be a bad winner,” Delia chided gently. “Magnanimity in victory goes a long way.”

“But baaaabe!” Jessie whined. “I’ve never had a victory this magnificent before!”

Delia just smiled and gave her a peck on the lips. “I think poor Wobbles wants you,” she remarked, nodding to the battlefield. “We’ll need to get him to a Pokémon Centre with Venomoth and Clefairy.”

Jessie nodded and went to haul Wobbuffet out of the water.

“Come on, you,” she grunted as she dragged the Patient Pokémon back onto dry land. Briefly she removed her cap and wiped the sweat from her brow. Fine, so she couldn’t taunt the twerps any more. Victory still tasted pretty sweet.

In her arms, Wobbuffet stirred and smiled weakly up at her. Jessie couldn’t help but smile back.

“How about that?” she murmured to him. “You’re a winner, Wobbuffet. I bet you can’t wait to tell the others.”

He managed a salute and a quiet “Wobba…” before Jessie recalled him to his Pokéball.

Ash, meanwhile, remained on his knees in the trainer box. “I can’t believe we lost to my mom.”

“You gotta admit, that last strategy was a thing of beauty,” Misty replied with a smile. She’d made her way out to the rock and was cradling Gyarados’s head, absently rubbing its crest. The big Pokémon opened its eyes and let out a quiet rumble. “I guess now we know where you get your battling skills from, champ!”

Stepping out of her sneakers, Delia carefully negotiated the slippery rock and fished Pikachu out of the water. A couple of vigorous rubs from his head to his tail, and the Electric Mouse Pokémon opened his eyes.

“You were great, Pikachu,” Delia murmured. She tickled him under his chin, getting a weak “Chaaa” in response. She made her way back to the side of the battlefield to find Ash, Misty and Jessie waiting. “You were great too, honey.”

Ash managed a smile as she handed Pikachu to him. “Thanks, Mom.” He gasped as he was pulled into a hug.

“That was such a fun battle!” Delia exclaimed. She loosened her hold just enough to look at him. “I can see why you like this so much.”

“Watch out, Ash,” Misty teased. “You might just have a new rival on your hands!”

Ash let out a distressed yelp.

“Oh no, I don’t have time for that,” Delia assured him with a wave of her hand. As Ash sighed with relief, she cupped his cheek and tilted his head up to look at him. “But travelling around this past month and battling with you today… it’s made me feel a little bit closer to you.”

Ash blushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Aw, Mom,” he mumbled with a grin.

“Ahem.”

Ash and Delia turned to see Misty holding out a Cascade badge.

“This is yours, Ms. Ketchum,” the Gym Leader declared. “You made the battlefield, your Pokémon and their moves work to your advantage. I’m impressed!”

“Oh, you’re too kind, really,” Delia replied, blushing as she accepted the badge. Its blue surface seemed to glitter in the sunlight streaming in from the roof. “I’ll treasure this, always. Thank you.”

“That’s how you win a badge fair and square,” Misty teased, shooting a wink Ash’s way.

The Champion rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

All three turned to see Jessie holding out her hand.

“What about me?” she demanded. “The perfect Pokémon battle partner? Trainer of vicious Venomoth and wild Wobbuffet? Where’s my badge?”

Misty sighed. Jessie had been on the winning team, and she had won a badge fair and square, but the whole situation was still bizarre.

“I’ll give you a badge if you explain what all…” She waved her hand between Jessie and Delia. “…this is about.”

“Delia and I dating,” Jessie scoffed with a shrug. “It’s not that complicated.”

“I got that part,” Misty shot back irritatedly, “I just…” She looked from Jessie, standing with her arms crossed, to Ms. Ketchum, who had one hand on Jessie’s hip, to Ash, who looked like he was hoping the floor would open up and swallow him. “…you know what, never mind.” Reaching into her pocket, she took out a second Cascade badge.

“I can’t believe this is happening, but… you earned this!”

Jessie let out a little cry of joy as Misty put the badge into her hand.

“Oh, Deerling, look how pretty it is!” she gushed. “Do you think maybe we could just get the prettiest Gym badges?”

“I don’t see why not,” Delia replied. “With James to run the restaurant, I can take vacations more often!”

“James is –” Misty glared at Ash, who pulled the brim of his cap down and giggled nervously. “We’re going to the Pokémon Centre and then you’re telling me what’s been going on, Ash Ketchum!”

“Let’s all go to the Pokémon Centre,” Delia suggested. “Our Pokémon battled hard today, they deserve a good rest.”

It wasn’t long before Nurse Joy’s tender care had Venomoth, Corsola, Oshawott, Clefairy, Wobbuffet, Gyarados and Pikachu feeling like their old selves again. Delia squeezed Jessie’s hand, murmuring “that’ll be you one day, Smoochum” as they watched Joy work.

“Well, we should get going,” Delia declared once they had their Pokémon back.

“We were going to stay and have dinner, Ms. Ketchum,” Misty said. She eyed Jessie reluctantly, but made the offer anyway. “…You’re welcome to join us.”

“That’s sweet of you, Misty, but we’ve been away long enough,” Delia replied, to both kids’ relief. “It’s time we headed home. Thank you both so much for such an amazing battle.” She hugged Ash tightly. “Don’t stay away too long, honey.”

“You know I won’t, Mom,” Ash replied, blushing. He shot Misty a grin. “I’ll be home right after I kick Misty’s butt in our rematch!”

“Then I’ll see you soon,” Delia murmured. She let go of her son and gave Misty a quick hug and a wink. “Try not to beat him too badly!”

“Hey!” Ash exclaimed indignantly.

Delia stepped back, joining her girlfriend near the door of the Pokémon Centre. She gave her a look and nodded to both kids. With a sigh, Jessie trudged up to Ash and gave him a stiff hug.

“See you at home, kid,” she mumbled. Letting go, she turned to Misty. “Thanks for the battle and the badge, I guess...?”

The two gazed at each other for a few awkward moments, then Jessie took a step closer, slowly lifting her arms.

“Aah!” Misty hurriedly moved back, holding her hands up in front of her. “I don’t think I’m there yet.”

Jessie dropped her arms with a huge sigh of relief. “Great! Me neither.” She offered her hand instead, and the Gym Leader shook it.

Ash and Misty stepped outside the Pokémon Centre to see them off, their goodbyes ringing in the air as Delia and Jessie got on the road. Jessie slung her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Happy, babe?”

“Yes and no,” Delia sighed. “I’m sad my journey’s over, but I couldn’t be happier about how it went. I made three wonderful new friends, foiled a nasty poacher, and that battle today –” She clenched her fists in front of her. “ – I never felt so alive! I can’t wait to tell Professor Oak and James and Meowth all about it!” She slipped an arm around Jessie’s waist. “I’m so glad you talked me into this.”

Jessie preened. “Oh it was nothing, babe, I –”

She broke off as Delia took hold of her hands.

“Thank you for making my dreams come true,” the other woman whispered. Jessie’s heart caught in her throat as she saw tears shining in Delia’s eyes. “Not just today, but every day we’re together.”

Jessie smiled, warmth blooming in her chest.

“It’s the least I could do,” she replied. Delia deserved more, so much more, for putting up with her, believing in her, loving her. Not to mention all she’d done for James and Meowth too. Maybe one day –

- but before Jessie could continue the thought, Delia leaned up and pulled her into a tender kiss.

THE END

“Oh, I can’t wait to get home to our nice comfy bed!”

��Ugh, me too. I hate sleeping on the ground.”

“…who said anything about sleeping?”

#hanamusa comic #hanamusashipping #hanamusa #fanfiction #jessie #delia ketchum #ash ketchum #misty #my art

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soarrenbluejay · 6 months

Text

Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;

Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.

Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.

So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)

He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.

See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.

And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.

He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.

And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?

But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.

Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.

Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.

Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.

#basically I want a fic where it’s not the Batfam but Gotham itself latching onto Danny #also more angy lil baby man Dan in big puffy coats being protective #dp x dc #dc x dp #gotham

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hello-eden · 2 months

Text

In Plan Sight

Jason didn't know what he expected when he woke up but it wasn't this.

that was a small dark-haired girl that looked to be about 4 years old sitting on his couch. Jason has a vague memory of her being there last night but he was very tired and assumed it was one of the street kids that he lets crash in the safe house sometimes.

Jason slowly walks up to her trying to get into her line of sight so he doesn't spook her. she looks up at him with green eyes he feels like he recognizes but can't quite place.

“you need to help me find my mom,” the young girl says with a conviction that you don't usually find on four-year-old's voice.

“Did you get lost or are you in danger” Jason wants the kid to have just got lost.

“Mom said to run and to go to vigilantes in Gotham and they take me to my dad. I don't care about my dad, I want my mom.” so dangerous it was than. Jason really hopes the mom is alive

“Do you know anything about your dad” Jason questioned.

“Mom says he's nice and smart and that he would love me if he got to know me but he also is a little bit stupid sometimes so don't hold that against him.” The girls stumbled over some words like she was trying to remember what her mother said.

Jason suddenly remembers he does not know her name. “What's your name kid.”

“ Eleanor Danielle Nightingale,” the kids sounded so excited to be able to say their full name.

Honestly Jason was expecting the kid to say a nickname but having her full name is probably better.

“How about I make you some breakfast? Have you been sitting on the couch all night?” Jason said as he looked over the couch. There was a smaller bag that was probably full of her stuff on the side of the couch closest to the window.

“I took a nap,” Eleanor says in her tone making it seem like she thought it was obvious. “and I want pancakes.”

“ Well lucky for you I have just the stuff “Jason turns around and heads to the kitchen to start making the pancakes.

—-------------------------------------

Jason got Eleanor set up into his guest room.

Jason looked her up while she was in the bathroom after breakfast. He didn't find anything other than a birth certificate with her full name under a Dahlia Nightingale.

Dahlia Nightingale is even more of a mystery; her age was about 17 when she gave birth with a look similar to her kid which is unsurprising but any history is entirely unknown. All Jason is getting from this file is what her allergies are and her blood type.

Eleanor or Ellie as she insisted on being called has only been to about two doctors appointments both having to do with getting her shots. no information on this mysterious father and absolutely nothing on Dahlia Nightingale. The family is very obviously hiding which means there's a higher chance of her mom being dead. Jason hopes at least one family member is alive at lest to take care of the kid.

#It is not fem danny #It is easier to fly under the radar as a soon to be teen mom than as a trans pregnant runaway #Jason is not the father by the way #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #dc x dp crossover #batfam #dpxdc #batfamily #dcxdp #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc crossover

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moonstruckme · 1 month

Note

mae my lovely, can i possibly request emt!marauders and reader who hasn’t replied to any texts in a few days/a week? pre-established relationship but not quite living together, and reader struggles with her mental health and has holed herself up in her apartment which worries the boys greatly? please don’t write if you feel uncomfortable (and if you’ve already written it but i’ve devoured emt!marauders today and i don’t think you have) obviously!! love you

Thank you for requesting my love! And thanks to @ellecdc for helping me figure out the emt stuff <3

cw: mental health struggles, self isolation

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Sirius’ knuckles rap loudly on your door.

“Fuck, ease up.” James winces. “She’s gonna think we’re the cops.”

“Good. Maybe she’ll answer for them.”

“You need to calm down.” Remus’ voice is patience with a firm edge. “We don’t know what’s going on. If we go in angry with her, it’s not going to help anything.”

“I think I have the right to be somewhat miffed,” Sirius argues. “You ghost someone after a first date, not once you’re in a relationship. It’s fucked.”

“She’s not ghosting us,” James says certainly. Sirius’ mouth pinches in response.

James knows that, truly, his boyfriend is as worried as any of them. You’re well past the point in your relationship where you feel the need to establish the next time you’re going to meet before parting, but after your date last week it took the boys a few days to put it together that none of them had heard from you.

At first, James presumed you’d simply gotten busy. Remus was convinced he’d done something to upset you. Sirius, secretly the most prone to worry, would rather believe he’s been slighted than consider the possibility that something might be keeping you from responding to their calls. Now that it’s been nearly a week, James is convinced something’s happened. You’ve had to take an emergency trip out of town or something’s spooked you and made you avoid them or—worst case scenario—you’re ill and have been holed up here with no one to check in on you for almost a week.

Once he brought up that idea, it wasn’t difficult to convince his boyfriends to do a wellness check during their shift.

“Just don’t be harsh with her,” Remus says gently.

Sirius huffs. He knocks again, albeit somewhat softer.

“NHS,” he calls.

James holds his breath when he hears some shuffling from inside. Gradually, it gets closer and louder, until the door is creaking open and you’re peering through the crack.

Your voice is scratchy, like you haven’t used it in a while. “What’re you doing here?”

James expects Sirius to snipe at you, is already prepared to smooth it over himself with kinder words and a gentler tone, but something seems to shift in the other boy at the sight of you. He pushes through the crack in your door, hugging you fiercely.

“We…” Remus seems as thrown by this deviation as James is. “We thought we ought to check up on you.”

Your hand migrates up, touching Sirius’ back tentatively. “Why?”

“It’s a wellness check.” Sirius’ voice is bitter, but the effect is somewhat muddled by how he’s speaking into your neck. “We had reason to believe you could be harmed or deceased.”

“Oh,” you murmur.

James takes a moment to look you over. You’re in pajamas, visibly rumpled, and yet you look as tired as if you’ve not slept in some time. There’s something off about your expression, something missing that he can’t put his finger on. It’s unsettling in a way that makes him want to wrap you up in a tight cuddle and not let go.

“Are you okay?” he asks, perhaps more brash than he means to be. Normally he’d expect more tact from himself, but he’s shocked Sirius hasn’t asked yet, and someone has to.

“Can we come in?” Remus asks at the same time.

You look between them like you’re not sure what to do with them. Like you’re questioning whether you’re still in some sort of dream.

“Yeah,” you say after a moment. James gets the sense you mean it to answer both of them. You step back from the door to make room for them, and Sirius moves with you. “Um, forewarning, it’s really bad in here.”

Really bad by your standards isn’t the same as James’. If he hadn’t seen the way you normally keep things, he’d never notice anything was amiss. Your place smells a bit stale, like when you leave for a weekend and then come home. There’s a laundry basket on the floor with a few balled socks like you’d started to fold them and given up, and if he peers into your bedroom he can see a small trash pile on your floor and the covers of your bed all twisted up. It’s no worse than his side of the dorm he’d shared with Remus and Sirius in school.

“What happened?” Sirius asks you. His voice sounds clearer now, and James focuses back in to find that he’s let you go enough to press his forehead to yours. His brow and lips are pinched. “Why have you been avoiding us?”

James is nearly overcome by the desire to kiss him and rub his back, but he decides to let you have the honor, if you want it.

You look unsure whether you do.

“I’m sorry.” The words seem scraped out from some aching part of you. “I wasn’t trying to.”

“Then why didn’t you answer our calls?” Sirius’ tone matches yours for desperation. Remus’ expression twinges compassionately.

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Sirius,” Remus chides softly.

Your shoulders are slumped, but when Sirius moves away you seem to droop further. He’s only giving you space, his expression far from unkind.

“Why couldn’t you pick up, dove?” Remus asks gently.

“I…” Your eyes meander the floor. “I didn’t know what to talk about. And then my phone died, and it was just easier. I’m really sorry.”

“Is talking to us really that bad?” Sirius is clearly making an attempt at joking, but the heartache underlying his words is unmissable.

“No,” you sigh. “I’m just not really fit for the world right now. I didn’t want you to worry.”

James’ ribs hurt at your admission, but he feels himself nodding. Even if he doesn’t know exactly what it is you’re dealing with, he’s familiar with people who think they’re somehow so damaged they don’t deserve to engage with anyone or anything. Sirius was like that once. Remus even more often. He sees the recognition on both of their faces now, pity and love and regret all tangled up into one messy thing.

“Well, it was a noble effort,” says James, giving you a small smile, “but you can’t stop us worrying. Can I hug you?”

You nod, making an effort towards returning his smile. It’s a half-hearted, flickering thing, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

He kisses your forehead as he folds you into his arms, starting gentle and tightening when you hug him back. Your grip feels a bit weak, if ardent. James pushes his palm up your spine.

“Have you eaten today, sweetheart?”

Your hum in the negative vibrates against his skin.

“I’ll make us something.” Remus starts toward the kitchen, passing a hand over James’ curls as he goes by. “A sandwich alright, dovey?”

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” His voice raises as he enters the kitchen, and James knows he wants you to hear. To understand that this is something he would happily do for you.

“Let’s sit down,” James suggests. “Pads, would you mind opening the curtains some?”

Sirius complies with vigor, whipping open your drapes while James gets you situated on the couch. In the light, the shadows under your eyes are more evident, as is the redness in them.

James squishes you up against his side. Rubs up and down your arm. “It’s okay,” he murmurs.

You make a tiny, stymied sound, and turn your head down.

“Hey.” Sirius sits on your other side. He kisses your shoulder, worry hewn into the lines of his face. “What’s wrong?”

Your shoulders give a little shake. It’s small, defeated. You curl further in on yourself.

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to explain,” James tells you, continuing to drag his hand up your arm. “It’s okay. You’re alright.”

“I wanted—” You take in a wet inhale. He feels close to tears himself. “I wanted to be better when I saw you. I’m sorry.”

“We don’t need you to be any sort of way, sweetheart.” Sirius’ voice is soft but fervent. “We just want to be with you.”

“As much as you’ll let us,” James agrees. His own voice is thick, and Sirius slides his arm around you to rub between his shoulders.

You don’t say much after that. James holds you tight until your trembling stops, and even then he only loosens his grip to let you eat the grilled cheese Remus has made for you. From the wrappers he saw in your room, it’s likely the closest thing to a prepared meal you’ve had in some time.

When you’re done eating, Sirius insists on kissing the saltiness from your cheeks even though your tears have dried. Remus coaxes you into a bath while James and Sirius tidy your room and change your sheets, and then Remus enlists Sirius to shampoo your hair while he tucks your sheets in more effectively. They put your phone on the charger. James makes dinner and puts it in the fridge for you to have later. None of it fixes anything, but he hopes it makes you feel less alone.

When they have to go out for another call, Remus gives you a long hug, James makes you agree to go on a walk with him the next day, and Sirius threatens to pester you with calls until you block his number if you ignore them ever again.

Your eye roll at his antics makes James’ heart sing.

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strang3lov3 · 2 months

Text

The Real Deal

Frankie uses his tongue to demonstrate why he’s less than impressed with your rose toy. (3.7k)

Tags - 18+ smut, oral sex (f receiving) , sex toys, kissing, nipple stimulation, me popping my Frankie cherry so forgive me for being a little shaky on this. I wrote him to be a little smug and cocky pussy eating expert, but i think he's quite nice also. Fic help - @noxturnalpascal and @endlessthxxghts thank you for your editing, your Frankie guidance, and your endless encouragement, and also @beefrobeefcal I wasn’t supposed to ask you for help on the fic I wrote for you but I did anyway and you were gracious as always. I love you. A/N - as mentioned above, this is my first time writing Frankie so please give me some grace. And it's also rather indulgent despite it being a late birthday gift for @beefrobeefcal, I love you forever and I hope I do Frankie justice for you my beautiful, sweet, generous, thoughtful, caring, intelligent, and wonderful friend. I'm lucky to have you 🩷

The smell of your bedroom comforts you as you take your bra off and hang it on the doorknob. There’s nothing more satisfying than that at the end of a long day. You also remove your pants and panties, swapping them out for a comfortable pair of pajama shorts. You’ve just gotten off of work, it’s Friday night, and you have a date with your phone.

You lay in your unmade bed in a spot that’s already warmed for you, probably by your cat, Dr. Waffles. You must have spooked him when you entered your apartment. The first app you open is UberEats, and you know exactly what you want: a tuna poke bowl from Cactus Club. You’re about to pay when the app alerts you that your wait time will be about an hour and a half. Fuck. You buy it anyway and open Tumblr, because you know exactly how you’ll kill time.

You got an alert earlier that one of your favorite writers updated her series Devotion, a story about Joel from The Last of Us where Joel acts as a cult leader. It’s such a hot and thrilling story. You also saw that the writer of the series put in her author’s note that this chapter gets smutty, that Joel will go down on the main character. It’s addled your brain all day, the thought of getting it on with Cult Leader Joel.

You read through the story and as things between the characters begin to get heated, so do you. The writer describes the way Joel eats pussy with such detail that you can almost feel it, can almost hear the noises he makes and the way he dirty talks. You’ve been absentmindedly playing with your clit, feeling your arousal grow as you read on, but you decide to switch masturbation methods as you have just the tool for the occasion - your trusty rose toy. One of your best friends, Kiki, gifted it to you last year after she caught you reading smut on your phone. She said the sex toy shop was having a buy one, get one free deal and she knew just the friend to share the sweet deal with.

The toy seemed gimmicky when you went home and opened it, what with that almost cartoonish-looking tongue right in the center of the petals. And it smelled strongly of isopropyl alcohol. But for shits and giggles, you washed it and charged it anyway and that night with the silicone rose between your thighs, your life was changed. That little tongue worked magic on your clit and had you coming more times than you could count, endless orgasms that had you seeing stars.

With your phone in your left hand, you can’t peel your eyes away from the screen as you reach for the drawer of your nightstand. With your hand on the knob, you pull the drawer but it doesn’t open. Odd. You tug the drawer again, and then again, and then you’re turning on your side to really yank that goddamn drawer. Each time you pull, you rock the nightstand against the wall, no doubt denting it but you don’t give a shit. Waffles made sure you’re not getting your security deposit back anyway, that much is evident in the shredded carpets and scratched up door frames.

A pounding at your door has you stopping what you’re doing. “I know, I’m coming,” you say, more to yourself than whoever’s slamming on your door at the ungodly hour of 7pm. You open the door to one annoyed Frankie Morales glaring at you with his arms crossed.

Frankie’s your criminally handsome next door neighbor who lives in the apartment to the left of you. All it took from him was one look at his sparkly, chocolatey brown eyes, his aquiline nose, and those curls peeking out from under his baseball cap and you knew you were in trouble.

You moved into the complex shortly after he did a couple of years ago, and Frankie took pity on you when he saw your brother leave halfway through the job. Frankie, already sore from moving all of his furniture just two days prior, decided to help you move in the rest of your stuff. The next day after grocery shopping, you made him a lasagna and a pan of brownies to thank him for his generosity, and thus began a system of sorts. Frankie enjoyed your food thoroughly, and you enjoyed having someone to share meals with, especially since you never could get the hang of cooking for just one. So you’d make dinner and share it with him a couple of nights every week, and in turn Frankie would take care of the maintenance in your apartment so your landlord wouldn’t find out about Waffles, the cat you’re not supposed to have. Frankie quickly became one of your best friends.

“Hi, Frankie,” you said. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, sweetheart. Yes, you can help by telling me what your reason is for beating the shit out of that wall we share,” he says. “What are you even doing?”

“Sorry, the drawer to my nightstand was stuck and I was trying to open it,” you stated.

“Did you get it?”

“Did I get what?”

“Did you get the door open,” he clarifies.

“No,” you answer.

“So if I leave, are you gonna keep banging on the wall?” Frankie asks. You shrug. “That’s a yes,” he says. “Would you like me to help you open it?”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I insist. Need to sleep, I got an early morning.”

You open the door wider to let Frankie inside. Waffles makes his appearance at that moment and meows at Frankie. “Yeah, yeah,” he says to the cat. “Hello to you too, pancake.”

“Waffles,” you correct. “That’s such a dumb joke.”

Frankie snickers, “Funny to me,” he smirks.

You lead him to your bedroom and point at the nightstand. “That one,” you tell him. It’s an old nightstand, and it might’ve been nice at one point, but it was handed down to you by your brother who no doubt absolutely wrecked the poor piece of furniture. It’s a little crooked now, and the drawer’s tracks are bent so it never opens and closes nicely.

Frankie tries opening the drawer but struggles just as you did. You don’t mind though, because from where you’re standing, you’ve got a perfect view of his ass that’s definitely filled out some since you began feeding the man. “You weren’t lying. Damn thing really is fucking stuck, huh?” Frankie grunts as he tries wriggling it open again, “What’s even in here that you need so urgently anyway?”

Oh, fuck. You didn’t even think about that, that he’d be seeing your rose toy and only your rose toy in that drawer. “Umm,” you think, “My phone charger.” Which is a dumb lie, because right next to Frankie is the outlet your charger is plugged into. Quietly, you pull it out and toss it under your bed so he doesn’t see.

“It’s really jammed,” Frankie says. “Fuck.”

“I know, just be careful, please,” you tell him. “You don’t need to open it all the way. Actually, you don’t even have to open it at all, if it’s too much.”

That was the wrong thing to say to deter Frankie from opening your drawer. He’s got quite the competitive streak in him, so your comment only fuels him to pull the drawer harder. He pulls the nightstand away from the wall and gives it one good and strong tug and the drawer flies open, and with it your rose toy, right into Frankie. He catches it with ease, and you could die right then and there.

“I know what this is,” Frankie murmurs quietly, turning around to face you. “So that’s your treasure chest, huh?”

With your face and your neck on fire, you try to swipe the toy out of Frankie’s hand but he pulls it out of reach. “Frankie, give it,” you snap.

“No, no,” he smiles. “I gotta see this thing.”

Frankie swats you away as you try to take the toy back from him. He uses one hand and fumbles with it until it whizzes to life, the tongue flicking up and down in his hand. “Oh, wow,” he says. “Quite the motor in this baby.” Frankie holds the toy away from you as you try and try to grab it from him, but his grip is too strong. Finally, you give up and let him entertain himself with the thing. It’ll be an uncomfortable five minutes, but it’ll be over eventually. He’ll lose interest, just like a toddler.

You sit on the bed and Frankie sits next to you as he messes with the toy. He hums as he holds the flicking tongue against the palm of his hand. “This can’t be fun,” he comments. “But if it works for you, who am I to judge?”

“It is fun,” you defend. “It…yeah. It’s fun.”

“But it’s so cold. And stiff,” Frankie argues. “No finesse, either.”

His comment has you intrigued, “Frankie, what do you mean, ‘no finesse’?”

“Well, look here,” Frankie shows you the toy, “Look at the tongue. It just goes up and down. It’s mechanical, you know? There’s no fluidity,” he explains. “And it sounds like those tools they use on you at the dentist’s office.”

“Oh.”

“But, you know. If you’re happy with it, then more power to ya, I guess.” You nod as you take in the words Frankie speaks, staring at that whirring toy in his big hands your mind starts to wander. “Are you happy with it?” he asks.

“Yeah, I guess,” you reply. “It’s fine.”

“Fine, huh? How’s it compare?”

“Compare to what?”

“You know,” Frankie says. “The real deal.”

“Well, I don’t really receive ‘the real deal’,” you admit quietly. “So…”

“Ohhh. I get it. No frame of reference, then,” Frankie replies. A beat passes as he shuts off the toy. “Would you like the real deal?”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, who wouldn’t. But–”

Frankie interrupts, “No, I’m askin’ you. Right now, would you like the real deal? Feel what it’s supposed to feel like from a real man?”

You understand what Frankie’s asking now. Your mouth drops open and you feel that exciting sort of lurch in your stomach.

“Feel a real man, with real lips, a real tongue. Real hands. We’ll broaden your horizons. What do you say?”

It almost doesn’t feel real. You laugh, uncomfortably, but Frankie looks at you with all seriousness. You can’t believe you’re gonna say yes. Of course you’re gonna say yes. Looking at Frankie, you nod quickly.

“Words, baby,” he says. “How about a yes?”

It’s the way he calls you baby, with no hesitation. “Yes. Yes, definitely. I need that.”

“Need, huh? Poor thing,” Frankie places the toy on your nightstand and moves up your bed, inviting you to join him. He notices your shaky legs as you crawl to meet him, your movements unsure. “Relax,” he whispers, smiling at you. “Relax.” You nod and your nerves ignite as Frankie touches you, his big hand holding your face. “I’m just gonna kiss you. That’s all for now.”

“Okay.”

And then he does. He kisses you gently at first, taking mental notes of how you react. You’re rigid at first, but he just kisses you. Nothing more, nothing less. When he feels your muscles relax and you let go a little bit, let yourself fall back and relax into your bed, Frankie takes initiative and kisses you deeper. He smiles when you moan quietly into his mouth, then kisses down your jaw and your neck. “Your toy can’t kiss you like I can, huh?”

“No, Frankie,” you sigh.

“So that’s another point Frankie, then,” he mumbles against your skin. You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t enjoying yourself so much. “May I lift your shirt?”

“Mhm,” you nod, loving the way he asks permission. Frankie pushes the fabric up your chest and he wears a smirk on his face, and he’s got a certain sparkle to his dark eyes as he takes in your body, all of your soft, creamy flesh, your pebbled nipples. “And actually,” he says, reaching for your rose toy and turning it back on. “Since we’re comparing - experimenting, really, we should test both variables. Scientific method and all that.”

“This doesn’t feel very scientific,” you tell him, giggling as you speak.

“Sure it is, I’m a professional at this. Been studying for years. Watch - Do you prefer…” Frankie begins, he brings the toy to one of your nipples and lets the tongue flick back and forth over it. “One…” he whispers, though you can hardly hear him over your own gasps and moans. “Or two?” he licks the nipple not being teased by your toy, first swirling his tongue in circles around your areola and then gently sucks the sensitive skin. Your noises are music to his ears as your moans become louder.

“Two,” you answer, “Two.”

“You know why that is?” he asks, moving to lick and tease your other nipple. “Because your toy can’t go in circles, can’t suck. Can’t really tease you , either. Can’t do most of the things you’re supposed to do to a pair of tits as pretty as yours, sweetheart.” Frankie watches your reaction to his words, smirking as your cheeks heat up and you turn your face from him. “It’s true. You’re beautiful.”

After a few more moments of Frankie kissing and licking your nipples, he presses sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your torso, over your tummy. “Would you lift those hips for me, sweetheart?”

You lift your hips like he asks and Frankie hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down your legs. His hand brushes over a damp spot of the fabric, and he rubs his thumb over it, admiring. “Good god, you made a mess. This all for me? Just from a little kissing?”

You nod bashfully, unsure of what to say to him. Frankie doesn’t mind, he knows that this is the part where a woman is likely to feel a little shy, vulnerable. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s working with here with you, whether you’ve received head before or not. Maybe you have, but it’s been a long time. Or maybe it was bad. He thinks about your answer to one of his questions, how you told him you’re not really receiving ‘the real deal’ and he doesn’t need to know why, he just needs to change that and eat you like his life depends on it.

Eating pussy is Frankie’s passion. Nothing compares to it, being buried in that soft, warm, wet space between a woman’s thighs. Simultaneously, it makes him feel both submissive and powerful. He loves the way some become shy when he eats them, he loves the way others shove his face between their legs. He loves the feeling of having his hair pulled as he licks, when thighs squeeze his head and he has to ease them back open. He loves the way her whole body quivers when she comes, he loves the taste, the smell, the feel and the intimacy of it all.

Frankie places both hands on your knees and spreads your legs wide so he has space for himself between them. He begins by kissing your inner thighs, the wiry hairs of his patchy, graying beard and his mustache tickle you. “We’re gonna compare again. Are you ready, beautiful?”

“Yes,” you answer. “I’m ready.”

Frankie brings the rose to your core and allows it to do its thing. He chuckles as you reach for his hand and adjust the way he holds the toy against your pussy to your needs. “Gotta hold it like that, huh?”

“Yeah, like that.”

“Duly noted.”

Frankie rests the side of his head against one of your thighs and watches you as the toy works its magic. You’re moaning nicely, but he’ll make you moan louder. He loves the way your brows knit together, he loves the steady rise and fall of your chest with your panting breaths.

It feels so foreign, having Frankie hold the toy instead of your own hands. It still feels good, though. You rock your hips into it, chasing your quickly building orgasm.

And then Frankie shuts it off. “Frankie,” you whine. “You–”

“I know, I know. You were having so much fun. But I’ve got a fucking bone to pick.”

“What?”

“Your toy’s blocking the view. I don’t wanna see that, I wanna see you.”

Frankie tosses the toy to the side of the bed and once more spreads your legs wide. He admires your pussy, the glistening wetness dripping from your hole, the ribbons of creamy arousal on your folds. And your bush, he loves the dampened curls framing your beautiful cunt. “Such a pretty pussy,” he praises. “You gonna let me show you what you’ve been missing?”

“Please, Frankie,” you beg. “I want that.”

“You’re so sweet t’me,” he whispers. Frankie situates himself, adjusts your hips into position. He licks one long stripe up your seam, slowly and with a flat tongue, from the bottom all the way to the top.

“Frankie,” you moan. “Oh, fuck.”

“Oh, I know,” Frankie coos. “That felt good, didn’t it? That piece of plastic can’t lick you like that, can it?”

“No,” you agree. “Again, Frankie, please.”

“It’d be my pleasure, sweetheart.”

He licks another long stripe up you, then down. He focuses on just tasting you, getting you used to the feeling of his tongue in your folds. “Your toy doesn’t go in circles down here either, that's what the tongue is supposed to do.” Frankie demonstrates this by drawing circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue, first clockwise, then counter clockwise. Interestingly, your loudening moans indicate you prefer counter clockwise. Frankie takes note of this, files it away in his head.

“And it doesn’t suck your clit,” he adds, “Like this –” he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it between them, causing your legs to clamp around his head, just like he loves. And though he loves it, that uncontrollable, mindless reflex, he whispers to you, “Nuh-uh, sweetheart. You spread those legs nice and wide. That’s it, good girl.”

It’s such an intense feeling, your clit between his lips and the pressure of his mouth sucking. He switches back to gentle but consistent licks on the sensitive part of you. “And you can correct me if I’m wrong, but you can’t really finger yourself while usin’ your toy, can you?”

“Haven’t - haven’t tried, I don’t think - fuck, Frankie - I don’t –”

“Mm. I understand.”

Frankie pulls away from you and dips two fingers into your cunt, pumping them in and out for a moment before he curls them rhythmically inside you. He finds that special, sensitive spot that intensifies all of it and moves his mouth to your clit yet again.

He eats you ravenously, losing himself in your pussy yet manages to maintain focus on you. He feels you coming close, that slow build of your orgasm quickening in time, and he wants to drag it out. “The other thing –” he begins, “About your little toy. It takes all the hard work away, makes it less satisfying for us both, don’t you think?” he says in between pleasuring you with his tongue and his fingers. “Takes all the fun away.”

Frankie reaches for your clit with his free hand and pulls your hood back. He flicks his tongue over you and you respond to the intensified feeling by reaching for his head, tugging his soft curls between your fingers. “Frankie, oh my god. Frankie,” you cry.

“Listen to yourself,” he says. “You moan so pretty when I’m tasting you, don’t you think?”

It’s unclear whether Frankie expects you to answer his question or not, but you do in your own way, with his name falling from your lips in broken syllables. Your orgasm builds slowly, more intensely, in a more gratifying way than you’ve ever felt. You don’t just feel it in your core, between your thighs, but you feel it in your tummy and the bottom of your spine, the backs of your thighs and all down your legs. You come with a melody of curses and praises as pleasure washes over you in seemingly never ending waves, Frankie using his tongue to fuck you through it until the very end, when you’re shuddering and your body is twitching.

You’ve never seen such a cocky, satisfied smile before. When you open your eyes, Frankie’s smirking between your thighs, absolutely pleased with himself as he sucks his fingers clean. “So what’s the verdict?”

You smile and roll your eyes. “You know what the verdict is.”

“Mhm. I do, but I gotta hear you say it anyway.”

“It’s you,” you mumble, a grin on your lips. “You win.”

Frankie beams proudly, and the moment passes quickly. It ends with a knock on your door as your UberEats is delivered. “Who’s that?” Frankie asks.

“Dinner,” you answer. You sit up in bed and find your pajama shorts, put them on and leave your bedroom to get your food. Frankie follows you as you open your front door and bend over to get your order. You put the bag in your fridge.

“You’re not gonna eat?”

“I need to return the favor,” you tell him. “It’s your turn.”

“I’m flattered, but what you need to do is eat, my darling. Enjoy your meal. I enjoyed mine.” You roll your eyes at the way Frankie winks at you. “We can worry about returning the favor later,” he presses a chaste kiss to your lips, your taste and smell lingers on his skin and in his mustache. You hum in surprise. “You taste that? Tastes good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you murmur.

“Tastes good to me too. Nice reminder of what we were just doing, hm? You looked so pretty underneath me.” Frankie kisses you again, “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he says, and with that, he leaves.

If you enjoyed, please tell me so 🩷 reblogs, comments, and asks are so appreciated and keep me motivated to write

THIS IS WAFFLES! @beefrobeefcal’s cat!! One of them at least. I love this guy. Mr President. He’s the mayor

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #Pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction

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6esiree · 4 months

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Lending Them Your Hello Kitty Pajamas

Imagine lending Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Vox, and Adam a pair of your Hello Kitty pajamas for Movie Night? Everyone else is dressed so snugly, but when they come into the room in their usual getups you’re just like, yeah no, that’s not going to work buddy.

Alastor:

It took a lot of convincing to get Alastor to join in on Movie Night, so the fact that he came down in his suit was no surprise to you. He was your partner, though, and he had a soft spot for you. Convincing him to put on some pajamas wouldn’t be a hard task, the only issue being that he didn’t have any. You hooked your arm in his and dragged him to your room, trying not to giggle as you had something specifically in mind for him.

“Darling, do you perhaps have…anything else?” Alastor asked you, eyeing your drawer.

“Nope,” You said, pushing the drawer shut with a tight smile.

Yeah, you were lying. You definitely had another pair that would better suit Alastor’s taste, but he looked so cute in a simple t-shirt and your Hello Kitty pajama pants. Sure, you felt a little guilty for making him wear something outside of his comfort zone, but Movie Night was only so long.

“Very well, then,” Alastor said, unconvinced but ready to go. “Let us join the others, hm?”

He gingerly placed his hand on the small of your back, escorting you out of your room. As you headed downstairs, you felt everybody’s stares settle on the two of you, their eyes widening upon noticing what Alastor was wearing. You could tell he was doing his best to ignore them as Charlie started the movie, your ears filled with the familiar sound of radio static.

But his eyes remained glued to the television screen in front of you, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you at his side. Alastor would do anything for you, even if it meant suffering a little teasing from the other residents to make you happy, adoring the sight of your cheek smooshed against his chest. The man wasn’t big on PDA, but he dipped his head and planted a kiss on your forehead, smiling as you sighed in content.

Lucifer:

When you heard Charlie mention that Lucifer was joining in on Movie Night, you were excited. You showered and even made sure to wash your pajamas that same night, hoping to get the man’s attention. When you walked out of your room, you squeaked, surprised to see him waiting on the other side of your door with a sheepish look on his face.

“Shit, I’m so sorry! Didn’t mean to spook you,” Lucifer chuckled, his hands behind his back as he bounced on his toes.

“No, that’s alright, just didn’t expect to see you…here, y’know?” You said, quickly adding the next part, “Did you need something?”

You watched as Lucifer chewed his lip, seemingly debating whether he should go ahead with whatever he had come to you for. He shook his head, turning around and lifting a foot to walk away, but then he sighed and turned back to you.

“I was wondering if you had, uh, an extra pair of pajama pants on you?” Lucifer asked as he tugged at the collar of his shirt. “I don’t have anything…casual, so I was asking around to see if anybody had anything to lend me. So far not good.”

Oh, yeah. You had something casual for him alright. You nodded, disappearing into your room and handing him a pair of pajamas that you had decided not to wear. Lucifer’s eyes practically bugged out of his head when he saw the Hello Kitty pattern on it, but he didn’t complain, smiling at you and telling you ‘Thank you,’ before scampering off to his room.

When Lucifer came downstairs and sat on the spot next to you, which you had purposely saved for him, everybody looked at him in confusion. Charlie offered her dad a smile as she started the movie, but Alastor? He made sure to look him up and down, offering him a snide remark disguised as a compliment.

Lucifer brought his knees to his chest, hugging himself, clearly embarrassed. You started to feel bad, so you swallowed your pride and decided to be a little honest with him. “I think you look cute in them,” You whispered, bumping your shoulder against his. “Really?” He said, his cheeks growing redder than they already were when you nodded. Ignoring everybody’s stares and comments became an easy task for Lucifer after that, too busy stealing glances at you to care.

Husk:

The first time you slept in Husk’s room, you realized he didn’t have any pajamas. He’d basically jump out of his clothes and sleep in his underwear, which was totally fine. It was his room—he could do whatever he pleased. But he had nothing snug to wear when it came to Movie Night, so you decided to lend Husk a pair of pajamas, and oh, he was not happy about your choice.

“I ain’t wearin’ this shit,” Husk grumbled as he stood in front of you, wearing your Hello Kitty pajamas.

“Come on, Husk! You look cute—“ You started, watching his ears fall against his head at the word ‘cute.’

“Cute? Yeah, fuck no, lemme go change.”

But when he noticed how downcast you looked, Husk sighed. You were so kind and patient with him, comforting him at his lowest, so wearing something as silly as your Hello Kitty pajamas was the least he could do. Husk snatched your hand with a ‘Let’s get goin,’ the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as you gasped in delight.

It’s safe to say that Husk regretted his decision when you went downstairs, the way Angel pointed and laughed at him making him growl. He didn’t turn around and change, though, taking a seat on the ground and patting the space between his legs instead. Charlie kindly asked the spider to quiet down, but it wasn’t until Vaggie threatened to shut him up that he finally did so.

As the movie played, you leaned into Husk’s embrace, feeling his chest vibrate against your back. You sighed in content as he nuzzled his face into your neck and wrapped his wings around you, allowing you to hear the old man’s purrs in privacy. But of course the moment had to be ruined, Husk’s eyes flying open when he heard a camera shuttering. Angel was so screwed.

Vox:

When you suggested dedicating a day in the week to watching movies—Movie Night—the Vees shrugged and said, ‘Why not?’ especially as bonding was something all of you needed to work on. As you left your room, you bumped into Vox, your face falling as you noticed that he was in his usual getup. He didn’t have his coat on, sure, but that was still disappointing.

“Do you not, like, own a pair of pajamas?” You asked him.

“Didn’t know there was a dress code,” Vox said, his hands behind his back as he turned to you with his signature grin.

“Yeah, there is, but I guess you didn’t catch that,” You said, grabbing his arm and dragging him into your room. “As per fucking usual.”

Vox huffed, but he didn’t protest, watching you dig through your drawer in curiosity. “A-Ha!” You said, his eyes widening when you held up a pair of Hello Kitty pajamas. “Yeah, no, I am not wearing that,” Vox said, but you threw it at his face. “Come on! Don’t be a baby,” You laughed as it hung over the edge of his screen, shielding half of his scowl.

The two of you went back and forth with the pajamas for a while, but you managed to wear Vox down eventually. That and the fact that Velvette started calling him, her contact popping up on his screen. “Fucking fine!” Vox said, putting them on. Before you knew it, he snatched your hand and teleported you to the Vees shared living space, a smug look on your face as you hopped over the couch, taking up the space between Vox and Velvette.

You laid your head on Vox’s lap, tangling your legs with Velvette’s in the process. She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief when she realized why the two of you had taken so long, Valentino chuckling from his armchair. Halfway into the movie, you felt Vox settle his hand on your head, his claws mindlessly combing through your hair. As ridiculous as he looked in Hello Kitty pajamas, he thought as he tucked your hair behind your ear, he couldn’t be mad at a doll like you.

Adam:

Your relationship with Adam was complicated, to say the least, but he somehow made it work. He snuck out of Heaven for your first monthly Movie Night, your window rudely flying open as he welcomed himself into your room. “Hey, babe,” Adam said, wearing his mask, robe, and all. You sighed—he was supposed to come in pajamas, but of course he didn’t listen.

“Yeah, no, you’re not laying in my bed in all…that,” You said, watching Adam’s face light up. “Come on, take it off.”

“Oh? Well, shit, if you say so!” Adam said, tossing his mask aside and removing his robes, obviously thinking that you were going to do something else.

When he had dressed down to just his underwear, you got up from your bed, rolling your eyes as he looked at you in confusion. “Hey, where the fuck are you going?” Adam asked, answering his question by tossing him a pair of pajamas from across the room. “Put those on,” You told him, sitting down on your bed, chuckling as he sputtered in disbelief.

“Oh, come on! I’m not putting this shit on,” Adam said, holding out the pajamas in front of you and pointing out the Hello Kitty pattern. “Look at this! It has fucking—what is this? Cats? Cats with bows? Yeah, no, I can’t wear this, babe.”

Adam tried to give them back to you, but you folded your arms and shook your head, telling him that Movie Night couldn’t proceed without pajamas. He tossed his head back and groaned, mumbling ‘Fine! Whatever,’ as he put them on, a displeased look on his face as you moved back onto your bed and lifted the blanket for him.

You placed your head on Adam’s bare chest when he laid down, your leg over his lower half. When your eyes flitted up to the man, he looked everything but happy, giggling as he told you to start the movie. You did just that, sighing in content when he draped a wing over you, pulling you impossibly closer to him. It wasn’t often when you two got to do something together, so Adam swallowed his pride for once.

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luveline · 4 months

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Hey Jade!!! I was just wondering if you could do a soulmate au with Spencer please? Maybe something along the lines of those cheesy ones like the first words are tattooed on or they have the same tattoo idk, whatever you u feel like 😊

—Spencer meets his soulmate. You’re as lovely as he’s always pictured. fem, 1.3k

Someone will love me one day.

Spencer must think it a thousand times. When he has to put his mom in the sanitarium and he feels more alone than he ever has in his life, he knows one day someone will love him anyways. When he gets called ugly, too skinny, nerd, dork, and a handful of words that are even worse, he knows one day someone will say the opposite. He won’t be alone forever.

He was two when they appeared, dark black cursive words tucked against his pulse. Spencer felt ugly nearly every day of his life, wrong and weird, but the words on his wrist have never changed, ‘You’re so handsome I can’t believe it’s you.’

One day someone’s gonna look at him and see handsome.

Today, he feels pretty good. He’s back home in Washington, D.C., the grocery store he loves is open again after a long reconstruction, and they had a bunch of fruit from South America that he’s never tried before. He carries a white plastic bag full of fruit, bread and cheese back to his apartment, each step in the sunshine, the kiss of it warming his cheeks. A busker plays music near the mouth of the subway station. Nobody has yet to scowl at him for being in the way.

He’s wondering what he forgot when he sees you. You’re smiling, the sun on your face and arms, which are strangely full. Books slide against your chest, but besides a little huff and a shift of your elbow, you don’t seem to notice the slim paperback working its way through the crowd in your arms. It drops down onto the sidewalk but you keep walking. You must be in a hurry.

Spencer darts forward to your dropped book, thumb under the title. Charlotte’s Web by E. B White. The spine is flaking and soft from use.

He should call out for you. You’re already getting too far away.

Spencer crosses the road and dives deeper into the city with you. Washington, D.C. isn’t without grandeur —it’s the capital of the USA— and so he finds himself surrounded by potted trees and stretches of well tended grass. School’s broken for the day, children weaving around on bikes and scooters or holding hands with their parents taking up altogether too much space. He loses you in the crowd.

Spencer stops in defeat.

Maybe if he puts the book back in your path you’ll see it on the way back.

He’s not sure why he doesn’t. Spencer keeps your book and starts to walk home. This isn’t how he’d usually get there, but he can manoeuvre around the park.

He keeps an eye out for you. Ridiculously, he’d thought about giving the book back to you and making you smile. He hasn’t talked to anyone who wasn’t a cashier in two days.

“Hi.”

Spencer looks down. “Hi,” he says, spooked by the little girl in front of him.

“Is that for the library?”

He shakes his head regretfully. “No, I– I found it. I’m trying to give it back.”

“Okie dokie. I never read that one before.”

“I’m sorry, it’s not my book to give away… Where’s your mom?”

The little girl points at a mom and a younger child playing on the grass near a circle of benches. There’s a huge dark cabinet with its doors skewed open in the middle, and when he squints he realises it’s full of books. “Oh, is that the library?” he asks.

“Yes!” the little girl insists.

“Okay, well, here’s what we’ll do,” he says, looking desperately for you, disappointed when he can’t see a sign of your nice blue shirt or your sunny smile, “let me go see if I can find the lady who dropped this book, and if she says it’s okay, I’ll keep it for you to have. But you can’t run off from your mom again. Deal?”

The girl grins, thick hair shiny in the sun. “Deal!” she says, running in a burst toward her mother, who startles when she realises she’d left in the first place.

Spencer creeps toward the library. He can’t leave the book here now, he’s promised he’ll try to find you.

You come around the back of the library cabinet with a smile. Free Library, the sign says. Take one if you want, leave one if you can.

You stop in your path when you see him. You smile again, you’re prettier for it, lovely with the sun on half your face, your slight squint. You open your mouth to speak.

Spencer beats you to it. “Hi, I’ve been trying to catch up to you,” he says, raising your copy of Charlotte’s Web to his chest. “You dropped one of your books.”

You take a half step back.

Spencer grimaces. “I promised a little girl I’d ask if she can have it, I’m so sorry. I get stuck and I don’t know how to say no.”

Your eyes flash down to your hands. “You’re so handsome,” you say, and Spencer’s heart stops dead in his chest, your lips shaping each word without measure and somehow the prettiest anyone’s ever looked as they move, “I can’t believe it’s you.”

His shoulders sag with a deep breath.

You raise your arm to show him the contrasting font laid against your pulse. Hi, I’ve been trying to catch up to you.

Spencer shows you his. You’re so handsome, I can’t believe it’s you.

“It’s you,” he says.

You press your hand to your mouth. “I was walking too fast, right? When I was a kid I thought if I made everybody chase me that eventually somebody would have to say it, but then it stuck, and I rush everywhere I go.” Your voice turns breathless. “But you’re the person who was supposed to catch up to me.”

He smiles softly. “I think so.”

“And I just told you you’re handsome. I’m sorry, I bet that was embarrassing to… carry around, all this time.”

“It’s the best gift anyone’s ever given me,” he says honestly.

“I didn’t think you’d be so pretty,” you explain.

“I knew you would be.”

You hold your hand out. He’s about to tell you he doesn’t shake but he finds he really wants to, and you’re not shaking his hand anyways, you’re holding it, looking at the cursive on his arm with a disbelief he echoes in his own smile. You rub the tip of your thumb over the word handsome.

“Do you like books?” he asks.

You nod distractedly. “I love them,” you murmur, looking up.

His entire arm is alive with tingles.

“Do you read much?” you ask.

Every word you trade with one another has this shy longing he’s never felt, like you’re desperate to know about one another but worried you aren’t allowed to ask. Spencer’s about to tell you all about it, how he’s always reading, how books have been with him through everything, but there’s a tug on his shirt that stops him.

“Hi,” the little girl says.

Spencer laughs. “Hi.”

“What did she say?” the little girl whispers.

Spencer looks to you for guidance.

“Of course you can have it. It’s an amazing book,” you say.

“Thank you!” she says, holding out her hands.

Spencer doesn’t mind handing it over. If she didn’t ask him for it earlier, he might’ve never had the courage to look for you. He could’ve left the book in the cabinet and turned around, but he didn’t. And now he’s met you.

You step into his side. “Did you– do you want to get coffee?” You peer down at the bag now slipped from his elbow down to his wrist. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Do you want to have a picnic with me?” he asks.

You nod for so long he has to laugh. “I’d love to,” you say, offering your open hand.

Spencer threads your fingers together. That one day he always dreamed of seems a lot closer than it did before.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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bootlegspiders · 5 months

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Hey, so for Watcher fans who may not wanna pay for another subscription or just wanna watch something new here are some other youtubers you should take a look at if you want to get a spook or learn some history

(* = potentially triggering topics covered usually associated with crimes, so be careful)

Ghost Hunting and general spooky vibes:

AmysCrypt - Your typical ghost hunting show with two Australians traveling the world, though I will say they do go to places I've never heard of before and they do very good research. And there are some goofs along with the spooks.

The Ouija Brothers - Two British dudes finding ghosts in England. The vibes are generally pretty chill and it's a good time

The Paranormal Scholar - A mixed bag of all paranormal happenings from ghosts to demons to cryptids and aliens. Sort of an overview to deepdives on various paranormal occurrences. The research is immaculate and their voice is very soothing in my opinion.

Paranormal Quest - Ghost hunting in the US, sometimes goofy sometimes serious, but they do go to some interesting places and some familiar ones too

Weird History:

ObsoleteOddity* - This guy is great, like 80% of the things he covers I've never heard of before. Very atmospheric, fun little visuals, and a large variety of weird events and people for topics.

Georgia Marie* - A little bit of everything, but she focuses on strange things that have happened, lgbt history, true crime, and historical disasters. She covers enough of everything that I'm sure you'll find something

Stefanie Valentine* - I'm not sure if she even posts anymore, but I thought what she was doing was great. Think Vampira or Elvira but for older true crime and ghost stories, I think the latest covered would have been like early 1900s. Idk I just thought it was like a cute spooky lil storytime

Caitlin Doughty or Ask A Mortician* - Pretty sure y'all would know who she is but just in case, she's a mortician who covers topics relating to death! From odd ways people have died, or odd things that have happened to people after they've died. And just odd or tragic things that have happened through history. It's silly, but done with levity and care and respect the topics deserve.

General History:

Part-Time Explorer - Mostly history on ships and ghost towns with the occasional train. Lots of research and interviews, very well done and worth checking out even if it may not be your thing.

History's Forgotten People - Talks about sometimes obscure, or sometimes not, historical individuals. Even if you've heard of the person in the topic, they'll talk on something obscure about that person.

History Tea Time with Lindsay Holiday - A heavy focus on royalty around the world, a generally upbeat dive into historic individuals.

(Or you could always go watch time team, that's an option and it's my guilty pleasure love me some archeology)

True Crime:

There are so many out there, so I'll just recommend two of my favorites

Gabulosis* - She focuses on vintage cases 20 years or older (literally in her opener) and is well researched and respectful. Another one that talks on cases I've never heard of that deserve to be heard.

Mysterious WV* - True crime and missing persons based in the West Virginia area and neighboring states. Idk how to even explain the vibes. This guy is just great please watch him trust me you won't be disappointed.

That's all for now, feel free to add your own recs out there!

#or you can just go watch night mind lol #watcher #ghost files #mystery files #puppet history #too many spirits #youtube recommendations #youtube recs #ghost hunting #history #true crime #let me know if you want any more

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starryeyedjanai · 5 months

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Steve and Eddie meet through their local buy-nothing-sell-nothing group when Steve’s getting ready to move in with Robin and he realizes he can't keep everything he owns while trying to merge households with her.

The first time they meet, Steve hadn't even been meaning to actually meet the person picking up the free toaster oven he’s giving away.

He’s setting his toaster oven outside his house on the porch when Eddie hops out of his van to pick it up and it would be rude to duck back inside without saying anything since he obviously sees him coming up, so they make small talk for a minute and Steve has to keep his eyeballs in check because they keep wanting to rake all the way down this guy’s body.

He’s covered in tattoos and so extremely Steve's type, but he knows better than to hit on someone who lives in his neighborhood and is not here for that reason.

He laments to Robin about it the next day, about the hot guy who’s probably using Steve's toaster oven as they speak, who he’ll probably never see again.

Robin rolls her eyes fondly at him and tells him that maybe if he puts more stuff up for grabs on the facebook group, he might see him again, but Steve suspects she just wants him to get rid of more of his stuff so it doesn't overcrowd their new apartment.

The set of items he puts up in the group next is an old blender and a butcher block that has three of the knives missing—seriously where did those knives go? He has yet to find them.

He tries to pretend he isn't secretly hoping Eddie will comment under his post that he wants the items, but he isn't fooling himself when his heart literally skips a beat when the first comment is from Eddie. He messages him and tells him to stop by later that day.

When Eddie shows up, they talk for longer than last time, Eddie asking why Steve needs to get rid of so much stuff and Steve asking why Eddie needs all this stuff—especially considering Steve snooped through the group and saw that Eddie joined over a year ago and hadn't once commented before now (he doesn't mention that thought, but he is thinking it real hard).

Eddie laughs and says he was in the market for a toaster oven when Steve posted one and wouldn't you know it? He also needs a blender—the knife set is just a bonus, he says.

Steve tries not to read too much into it, but his brain is spinning the interaction around in his head for the next week.

He puts up a space heater in the group and within minutes, Eddie has claimed it.

“I should just get your number and text you directly when I find something I want to get rid of next time,” Steve says flippantly when Eddie comes by to grab it that night. “Instead of clogging up the facebook group.”

Eddie smirks at him and steps a little closer. He says, “Maybe you should.”

His neighbor’s car alarm decides to go off right at that moment, ruining the flirty atmosphere with its incessant shrill. They can barely hear each other over the drone of it, so Eddie leaves without giving Steve his number and Steve is left feeling like he keeps having these missed connection moments with Eddie.

In a fit of desperation to see Eddie again, Steve puts up a bunch of random stuff in the group the next day—a shoe rack that’s missing a piece, a step stool, a cheap side table he got from Ikea—and Eddie is still the first person to comment like he’s been refreshing the page, just waiting for Steve to post.

“I left without giving you my number last time and I didn't want to be creepy and message you unprompted,” Eddie says as they load the side table into his van. “I think I was overthinking things and then got kind of spooked.”

“It doesn't look like anything could spook you,” Steve says.

When they get the side table inside the back of the van, Eddie turns to him and admits, “A very pretty boy could.”

Steve can feel his face getting hot. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Why do you think I keep coming here? There's no way a person who’s lived here for as long as I have would need all this stuff.”

“Did you need any of it?” Steve asks in a teasing voice. “Or were you just so blown away by how cute my profile picture is that you just had to meet me?”

“Oh, I needed the toaster oven, but everything after that was just to see you again,” Eddie says before biting his lip.

There’s an entire swarm of butterflies in his stomach when Eddie's hand brushes his, when Steve takes Eddie's hand in his and leads him inside his box-filled house.

Later, when they’re making out on Steve's couch—when Steve really should still be packing since he has to move in less than a week—he pulls back to ask, “Wait, so are you gonna put the rest of the stuff you don't need back up for grabs in the group? I feel like that would start so much neighborhood gossip.”

Eddie grins wide and Steve wants to kiss him again, wants to feel his smile against his mouth.

“Oh, we’ll be the talk of the town, baby,” Eddie says, pulling him back in.

#steddie #stranger things #janai.doc

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ellecdc · 7 months

Note

PART 2 PLSSSSSSSSSSS

I need the comfort

ok ok ok ok ok mother's here - I've fixed it for you. Don't say I never did anything for ya 😉

part two of Mistake: poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

CW: angst, hurt and COMFORT read part one here

Remus felt like he’d just been slapped. In fact, he was sure that if he looked in a mirror, he would see a red welt in the shape of your hand across his cheek.

Lupin?

You haven’t called him that since...well since you started dating. As a matter of fact, he can’t remember the last time you referred to him in any way other than some sickly-sweet pet name that he pretended embarrassed him, but he secretly preened at.

I’ll see you around.

What the hell did that mean? What just happened?

He felt stuck...perhaps he should go after you? But you told him to go check on Sirius: make sure he’s okay for me, yeah? And he meant what he had said – the three of you would be back to normal in no time. They’d catch up with you tomorrow.

Remus tried to replay every interaction you had tonight. You had asked how their days were...he replied and asked how yours was. Should he have asked you first?

He should have asked you first.

You tried making conversation, but Remus was so hyper focused on Sirius’ mood – afraid that he’d do or say something out of pocket that would hurt your feelings – that each attempt sort of fell flat. Remus had been there before – he’s witnessed Sirius’ tendency to self-sabotage and ruin a good thing once he finally has it, and he didn’t want that to happen again. Not with you.

He knew what Sirius really needed was some quiet; a chance to ponder and lament angrily inside his own head without outside influence.

Maybe they should have cancelled – rescheduled your study date for another time. Clearly his effort to protect you from any negativity was in vain.

But it was just a bad day, a blip, a one-off. You would all get some good sleep tonight and reconvene tomorrow.

Right?

Maybe he should have followed you.

But by the time he could manage to pry his feet from the floor of the library that he felt cemented to, you were gone.

He would just have to talk it out with you tomorrow.

Remus entered his dorm to find Peter already asleep on his bed, James finishing the Transfiguration essay that was due tomorrow morning on his own bed, and both Remus and Sirius’ beds empty.

“Pads around?” Remus asked James quietly as he began to shuck off his uniform. The quiet tone was mostly for courtesy’s sake knowing Peter could sleep through a stampede of hippogriffs.

James peered at Remus from above his glasses before nodding his head towards the bathroom door.

Sure enough, Remus found Sirius leaning against the shower stall with his eyes closed as the water cascaded around his form.

“You almost done, love?” Remus asked gently. Sirius spooked slightly as he turned to look at Remus; his eyes were red and glossy...he had been crying.

“You didn’t stay with her?”

Remus fought the urge to grimace, to heave, to turn around and run. He opted to gently shake his head. “No, she... said she got most of what she needed to do done.”

Sirius seemed to consider that as he sighed. “Was she terribly upset? I didn’t...I didn’t mean to be an ass. I know James always says I’m quick to take it out on others – I tried really hard not to, honest. I swear it, Rem I-”

Remus began shaking his head as he moved towards Sirius. He could tell by the smell in the bathroom that Sirius had already washed his hair and there were no more suds on his body, so he turned the water off and handed Sirius a towel.

“You were fine, Sirius. She’s – she’s fine.” He lied.

He lied. He lied to Sirius. About you.

But how could he look Sirius in the eye right now – Sirius who was currently standing naked, soaking wet, nearly hyperventilating, not over his disgusting parents but because he was afraid that he may have upset you – and tell him that between the maybe seven minutes since Sirius had left the library and now, Remus had completely mucked it all up?

The answer was: he couldn’t. He couldn’t look Sirius in the eye and admit that he may have just sabotaged your relationship.

It’s going to be fine. He tried to tell himself. We’ll fix this all tomorrow.

You felt beyond childish, hiding in your dorm room like some toddler throwing a temper tantrum. But you had decided last night that what you really needed was space. Some breathing room. A chance to see this from a different lens. A different perspective.

And you couldn’t do that when your heart was breaking. And being around Remus and Sirius felt like that right now.

It felt heart breaking.

And perhaps that was your answer right there. If this was causing you heart ache, why were you doing it to yourself? To them? You didn’t deserve that, and neither did they.

But it wasn’t just this you were worried about. It was more than just this relationship – it was the friendship that preceded it. It was the meshing of you into their circle of friends. You were their friend long before you were ever their girlfriend. You wouldn’t just be losing Remus and Sirius: your boyfriend’s; you’d also be losing Remus and Sirius: your friend’s.

Maybe you should have thought about that before you said yes.

Suddenly, you were a little angry: they had asked you to be their girlfriend – not the other way around! Why would they put you through all of this for, what? For...

Was it really for nothing?

“Are you coming to breakfast?” Shelby asked you quietly from the door. You shifted your head on the pillow to make eye contact with her. “No, I’ve got some things to work on. I think I’ll hang out up here today.”

She seemed to consider you, eyes squinting and mouth pursing before she offered a curt nod. “I’ll bring something back for you then.”

You smiled gratefully at her. At least you knew if you did lose Remus and Sirius, you would still have friends who cared about you.

Sirius spent most of his life believing he’d never be worthy of nice things. He was raised by monsters which meant he was a product of monsters; he was basically a monster.

He knew that the Black Darkness was always simmering just below the surface. It was archetypal of Black’s to explode; to lace their words with venom and strike at their victim, always aiming for the jugular. It had been Sirius’ own M.O. for his whole life. He had nearly lost everyone who ever meant anything to him on account of it. He had almost lost Moony.

Which is why it was so important to him that you never end up the latest victim of his Black Darkness. He was so afraid of disappointing you, letting you down, making you feel unloved. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to live with himself if he slipped – if he said something or did something to make you hate him.

And it wasn’t just you he was worried about hurting; he knew if he hurt you, Remus would likely never forgive him.

Remus may have forgiven Sirius for his Darkness once; he didn’t want to risk trying for a second time. Sirius felt he’d hit his threshold for forgiveness – one more sin and he’d be on his own, surely.

So, he walked away. He tried to do it nicely – to excuse himself politely, assure you he’d be back in no time.

But he still left.

It was cowardly.

He needed to talk to you.

Which is why Sirius could be found that morning sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, knee bouncing frantically under the table and his body turned towards the entrance – waiting for you to make an appearance.

Except, you never came.

“Wait, Shelby just walked in without her. Where is she?” He asked despondently, turning towards Remus.

Remus watched as Shelby and a few of your other friends sat at their usual places without you. “Come on.” He said quickly as the two of them stood and made their way over.

“Hey Shelby. Do you know where Y/N is?” Remus asked quietly, hoping his guilt didn’t permeate his tone. Unfortunately, under Shelby’s scrutinizing glance, he was sure he had been found out.

“She’s in the dorm.” She said flatly, looking between the two boys.

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus before continuing. “Erm, do you...do you know why?”

Shelby furrowed her brows “all she said was she had ‘some things to work on’ and that she’d be in the room today.”

Remus hissed under his breath and pulled Sirius aside.

“Pads, I’m sorry, but I think-”

“What is going on?” Sirius interrupted.

“Last night, I... I think Y/N was upset?”

“Upset? With me?” Sirius asked, shame worming its way through every cell in his body.

“I don’t know. I... I don’t think so. But she...she said she’d ‘see me around’ and then called me Lupin.”

All blood drained from Sirius’ face as he considered Remus’ words.

See him around...see him around!? What the hell did that mean? Did you not plan on seeing them again? Oh gods...you never planned on seeing them again.

“Rem...” Sirius breathed out, leaning against a pillar for support.

“I know, I don’t-”

“Good grief, what’s gotten into you two?” James commented as he walked into the Great Hall with Lily, who opted to carry on in her search for Regulus as James took in the state of his two friends.

“Well? What’s got you in such a twist?” He pressed when neither boy offered an explanation.

“It’s Y/N.” Remus admitted.

“She’s leaving us.” Sirius blurted.

“Okay, we don’t know that.” Remus conceded.

Sirius scoffed. “Well, she basically told you to go fuck yourself last night and now she’s avoiding us; what do you call that?”

“She didn’t tell me to go fuck myself!”

James groaned and rolled his eyes before grabbing Remus and Sirius’ shirts and dragging them over to the Slytherin table.

“That’s it. You guys need to talk to Regulus.” James muttered.

“Regulus?!” Sirius sputtered, looking at James incredulously. “I’m not asking my baby brother for relationship advice.”

“You’re not asking for relationship advice. You’re asking for his perspective on his own relationship.”

“Ew! That’s worse! I don’t want to hear about my baby brother’s relationship with my adoptive brother.”

“Oh for- you are going to listen to Regulus’ perspective on what it’s like being added to a polyamorous relationship last.” James pressed, tone implying no nonsense.

Sirius (unwillingly) and Remus (placidly) were dragged to the dark side (read: the Slytherin table) to be read their Miranda Rights have their asses handed to them by one Regulus Arcturus Black.

“Reg, dear. I’m begging, pleading, on my hands and knees: put the poor sods out of their misery.” James said as he bodily sat Remus and Sirius on the bench across from Regulus.

Lily snickered and poked her nose into Regulus’ cheek, causing the youngest Black to blush, though the rest of his face remained stoic as he sized Sirius and Remus up.

“What have the two of you done now?” He drawled. “I can’t help but notice one third – arguably the better third - of your little trio is missing.”

Sirius scoffed, though he didn’t argue – Regulus wasn’t wrong per se; he loved Moony, but you were indeed the best of the bunch.

James cleared his throat pointedly as he shot Remus and Sirius a look.

“Right, er” Remus started awkwardly. “We seem to have, uhm. I mean to say that-”

“Why does Y/N hate us?” Sirius spat, slapping a hand over his mouth immediately afterwards as if those words had fallen from his mouth without his consent.

“Y/N? As in your girlfriend, Y/N?” Regulus asked, moving his eyes between his brother and his brother’s boyfriend.

“Yes, as in our girlfriend.” Remus muttered.

“What did you say to offend her?” James asked unhelpfully.

“Do you think if we knew that, we’d be here right now?” Sirius spat back.

“No, I don’t think that.” Regulus answered for him. “What I think has probably happened is she’s feeling terribly insecure in your relationship and neither of you have done anything to help her.”

Well that shut Sirius up... Sirius noticed that Remus was pretty quiet too.

“Were...” Sirius asked, grimacing when he looked over at Lily and James knowing this was teetering slightly into the realm of things-he-doesn’t-really-want-to-know-about-his-brother’s-relationship-with-his-best-friend territory. But damnit, Sirius was as desperate man. And desperate times called for desperate measures. “Were you terribly insecure when you started dating...these two?” Sirius sneered the end of his sentence earning him a ‘hey!’ from Lily and a solid whack up the back of the head from James.

“Yes.” Regulus answered simply.

“Why?” Remus asked, looking desperately close to pulling out his notebook to take notes. Scratch that, Sirius watched as James swallowed a teasing remark when Remus actually pulled out a notebook to take notes.

“It’s hard coming after. There’s a part of your brain that convinces you that you are second best; that you’ve somehow come in second place. If that’s not bad enough, then you begin spending time with two people who already have history, already have a connection, and already have a rhythm that doesn’t leave much room to pull you into the mix. And if it does pull you into the mix, you end up feeling terribly guilty for disrupting that rhythm. It’s all quite difficult.”

Sirius’ mouth hung open at Regulus’ demure tone on what sounded like a really heartbreaking situation.

“Let me ask you this,” Regulus continued, unawares of Sirius’ inner dialogue (which consisted mostly of panicked ‘oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods). “How has your relationship – between the two of you – changed since you added a third?”

Remus and Sirius exchanged a glance before looking back at Regulus. “Uhm...not, really?”

“Not much at all.” Remus admitted more clearly.

“I see...” Regulus said, narrowing his gaze. “And how much time have each of you spent with her individually without the other present?”

Regulus got his answer in the form of awkward silence.

“How did either of you expect your relationship to work if neither of you were willing to change the nature of yours in order to help it grow?” Regulus spat.

“Well...” Remus started, but his sentence died when he realized there was nothing to say.

“But...you stayed? Why?” Sirius asked his brother.

At this, Regulus’s face fell as he gave Sirius a sad smile. “Because of how we were raised, Sirius. I was so excited to be wanted, even for a moment, that I was willing to beg for scraps of whatever I could sink my claws into. She doesn’t strike me as that kind of girl.”

James and Lily looked forlorn as the latter placed her hand on Regulus’ shoulder consolingly.

“It didn’t hurt to have the walking definition of unconditional love and the smartest, most intuitive witch I know to notice any discontent on my part.” He admitted shyly, earning him a smack of a kiss on the cheek from James.

“Gross. You guys are sickening.” Sirius muttered petulantly.

“So?” Lily interrupted what was close to becoming a squabble between the two Black brothers. “What are you guys going to do?”

Remus sported a determined expression as he looked to Sirius. “We’re going to make it right.”

Shelby stood by her word and brought your breakfast. She also brought you lunch, and then dinner. But by the following morning, she was tired of playing the role of house elf.

“Alright, are you going to tell me why you’re avoiding Lupin and Black?” She asked plainly, plopping herself down uninvited onto your bed.

“Wha-? I’m ... I’m not avoiding them.” You lied poorly.

“Please; don’t spit on my muffin and call it frosting, Y/N. You’re obviously avoiding them.”

“I...ew?”

She groaned and fell onto her back in defeat. “Please, for all that is holy, tell me why they’ve been following me around like kicked puppies hoping I’ll take them to their master?”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your book that you held open but had never been reading. “Yeah, I’m sure they’re real upset.” You muttered.

“That’s it.” She spat and plucked your book out of your hands, throwing it over her shoulder unceremoniously. You cringed to think about how Remus would feel seeing a book treated in such a way.

“I was reading that!”

“Don’t lie to me again.” She said, levelling you with a ‘no nonsense’ look. “Spill.”

You sighed deeply, looking toward the window to try and find the words you’d spent the last 24 hours trying to formulate. She never rushed you for your answer, giving you all the time you needed.

“I feel insignificant.” You admitted finally.

“And?”

You turned to face her, bemusement painting your features. “What do you mean, and?”

“And... have you spoken to them about it?”

You felt a little embarrassed to admit that no, you hadn’t.

“Why not?”

And that simple question seemed to set off all the emotions (mostly frustration) that simmered beneath your surface.

“Because Shelby. Because I don’t want to have to beg for love and affection. I don’t want to have to tell people how to love me; they should just already love me. I don’t want to feel like I’m intruding in someone else’s relationship. I don’t want to have to point out that I’m here and I’m hurting. It’s mortifying. I... I think I’m just done.”

Shelby nodded in understanding before she stood from your bed. “Then you need to finish this today. No more hiding in your room being angry by yourself, and no more letting them sniff around the castle like dejected little runts. Put all three of you out of your misery.”

It was your turn to nod as you too stood from your bed, ready to face possibly one of the most heartbreaking days of your life.

But Shelby was right; it was time.

The worst part was that Shelby had been telling the truth; Remus and Sirius did look like kicked puppies.

The second you had entered the Great Hall you heard a crash of knees against benches and cutlery clashing as Sirius clumsily tried to vacate his seat in record time to make it over to you.

“Y/N!” He called, as if you could have missed the racket he made just prior.

He looked gaunt – like he hadn’t eaten or slept enough (in the only less than 48 hours) since you’d seen him last. His eyes were red and a little swollen, like he’d been rubbing at them.

You immediately felt sick with guilt; if he really was struggling with things with his family, the last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. But Sirius was looking after himself, and Remus was looking after him too; someone needed to think about you. You had to look after yourself.

Remus didn’t look much better, approaching the two of you much more slowly, hardly making eye contact with you as if you’d lash out at any moment. You had to admit that it annoyed you a little bit.

“Hi Sirius.” You offered, voice grating over the sudden tightness. “Remus.”

Some of the tension seemed to leave Remus’ shoulders as he made an effort to make eye contact with you.

“Can we talk?” He asked timidly.

You knew what was coming, what was happening, what you yourself had come here planning to do.

But it broke your heart nonetheless.

“Sure.” You whispered, and exited the Great Hall without waiting to see if they were following you.

You walked into an empty classroom and leaned against one of the walls as Remus and Sirius closed the door behind them. They shared another look and stood opposite of you.

More secret conversations. You thought bitterly. And doesn’t this just paint a lovely picture; them versus you.

“Y/N. We, uhm...we’ve been talking, and we realized that...that maybe we haven’t gone about this the right way.” Sirius started, looking at Remus continuously as he addressed you.

We’ve made a terrible mistake.

“We didn’t take into account the ways in which our relationship would have to change in order to make the three of us work” Remus added.

We didn’t realize how much you’d take away from us, you heard

“We feel like we’ve been unfair to you, and... we’re really sorry.” Sirius concluded, looking like his heart had been ripped out of his rib cage. You supposed that would make sense, considering that’s how you currently felt yourself.

It probably hurt all the same to them – they’d be losing the friendships the three of you had created too; the friendship you had with Remus, the friendship you had with Sirius, and the fun the three of you had all together. But you still loved them, and the last thing you wanted to do was to interfere in their relationship.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.” You admitted finally. “It was just a mistake.”

Remus’ head cocked to the side like a confused puppy whilst Sirius’ eyebrows furrowed. “Well...I, I’m not sure-” Remus started but was cut off by Sirius.

“Wait, Y/N, what exactly do you think the mistake was?”

You looked between the two of them as you lifted your shoulder. “I... I guess including me?” You stated as a question.

Sirius actually sputtered as Remus stepped towards you, stopping himself seemingly before he made to grab you.

“No! No, Dove. That’s not a mistake!” He insisted.

“Are you kidding? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us – no, no. This...wow, okay. Can we start from the beginning, please? Why do you think this was a mistake?” Sirius managed to (barely) get out.

You looked to the ceiling, eyes stinging at the reality of having to voice your hurt. “Because” your voice came out embarrassingly high. “Because it-it felt...better when we were friends. I didn’t feel...in the way. And it felt easier. Just - I didn’t mean to come in between you, and I never...” you cut yourself off, quickly moving into hyperventilating territory.

“But-”

“It’s not a mistake!” Sirius shouted, cutting Remus off. “This wasn’t a mistake! You weren’t a mistake. I... okay. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, that’s true. But I don’t consider that a mistake. Not you, never you.”

“It was a surprise; a happy accident.” Remus added hopefully shy.

You felt drunk...dizzy...beyond confused. Weren’t they breaking up with you? Weren’t you supposed to be breaking up with them!?

“I think it was easier when we were friends because we weren’t putting so much pressure on ourselves to get this right.” Sirius explained.

Remus nodded and continued. “Sirius used to get so jealous if I got to hang out with you without him if he was at practice – took us a while to figure out that it was because he wished he was the one hanging out with you. When we started dating, I guess Sirius and I figured we’d just make sure to always hangout with you together so that neither of us felt left out. But we never even thought about how that must’ve been making you feel, dove. I’m so sorry.”

“Regulus read us our rights.” Sirius admitted abashedly. “He pointed out that the relationship between the three of us will only work if our relationships with each other are strong. And we didn’t make our individual relationships with you a priority – that was our mistake, Y/N. Not you.”

“Our mistake was believing you would just ‘catch up’ to where we are – which is years in the making – and also expecting you to somehow do that on your own. It was selfish and thoughtless.” Remus stressed

The things they were saying made sense and spoke to your very soul, but you couldn’t shake off this lingering feeling of dread.

“I... I should have said something... about how I was feeling.”

Sirius sighed, but it was Remus who spoke. “I think all of us could have done a better job communicating, that’s true. But we should have been more considerate. We asked you to join us, dove; we should have made that easy for you to do.”

“To think how much grief we’ve caused ourselves, when we could have just solved this all with a conversation.” Sirius mumbled dejectedly.

“We’re not too late, are we? To solve this?” Remus asked quietly. Sirius’ eyes looked like they were close to popping out of his skull as he stood and made for you, grabbing your hands pleadingly.

“Oh gods, Y/N. You... you were breaking up with us, weren’t you? You thought we were breaking up with you?” His voice sounded very close to a sob.

“Please...please dove I- I don’t know that we deserve it, but please give us a chance to make this right, to do this properly. Give us a chance to love you the way you deserve.” Remus begged, moving to stand in front of you with Sirius, though he controlled his urge to grab your hands.

You looked between the two boys; the two boys who you’ve been basically in love with for so long – the two boys who have proclaimed to feel the same way about you - and wondered to yourself again:

Have we made a terrible mistake?

Remus’ golden eyes shimmered with compassion and warmth, and Sirius burned fiercely in devotion and promises.

Had you made a mistake? Falling in love with them?

No.

Perhaps Remus was right. Perhaps this was a happy accident.

“Okay.” You whispered. Remus exhaled the breath he’d been holding while Sirius’ face morphed into a small, hopeful kind of smile – far shyer than you were used to seeing from the boy.

“Okay?” He asked, moving his hands up from your wrists to your shoulders.

“Yeah... I-I don’t want to lose you guys.” You admitted wetly, a tear betraying you as it fell down your cheek. Sirius was quick to catch it with his thumb.

“Never, dove. Not if I can help it.” Remus promised.

You believed him.

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lovifie · 8 months

Text

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 4: Midnight Snack

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

3.5K words

Warning/Notes: Soap x Reader, oral sex (m receiving), hair pulling, messy make out

This is the video from where the photo is, if you haven't seen it, You have to and if you have already, you are welcome.

The drive back to base seems neverending.

Once Price and Ghost managed to get you to stop crying and to breathe normally. The three of you pack the essentials, and by that, I mean you were hugged to Ghost like a koala while Price got what he could save from your house into a bag pack.

Most of your clothes were ripped or cut, so in the end, only some pieces of underwear, a couple of shirts, some pants and the pyjamas you were wearing were safe. Plus your jacket and shoes that were behind the door.

And that is how you found yourself now. Sobbing, sitting in the middle of the back seat, bag pack on your lap, Simon’s hand on your knee from the passenger seat as Price drives.

“Tomorrow morning, you are going to call your job, and tell them that you are going to take a couple of days off, okay?” Price asks looking at you through the rearview mirror. “And we will take everything you need, we will buy clothes, find you a better place to stay, anything you need.”

You shake your head feeling the tears come back and you hide your face behind your hands as you start to cry again. “I can't.” You cry. “What can't you do?” Simon asks turning his head to look at you.

“Miss more work days, I have already taken too many. I can't afford to lose more.” You mumble whining out of mental exhaustion.

“Hey, stop. Don't get carried away, alright?” Simon says rubbing your thigh. “Let's not think about that right now, tomorrow tell your boss the situation. Tell them that your house was broken into, that you need a couple of days to get everything in order. Depending on what your boss says, we'll work from there. Alright, birdie?”

You nod weakly as you focus on taking deep breaths. When you finally arrive, both men get out of the car and Price opens the door for you. You step out still holding your bag tight, either men try to take it from your hands and walk along between both men.

Their hands find their way to your back, Price to the bottom and Simon to the top, reassuring shielding you from the chilly breeze of the night.

“How about a cuppa?” Simon asks looking at you, a smile visible in his eyes, and you can't help it but to give him a weak smile back nodding. “Then, we will find you a room so you can sleep as much as you want.”

Sleep does sound amazing, taking into consideration that last night you had little sleep and you have been on the move ever since.

Price and Simon walk you to a lousy room, many recruits sitting together. The mess hall, you figure. In the middle of the room, there are a couple of sofas, and you quickly recognise Soap and Gaz, sprawled together in one of them looking at Gaz's phone.

Most of the soldiers that are finishing their dinner, or just enjoying each other company before going to bed look up when they hear the door opening. Their gazes linger for a second too long on you until you can feel Ghost throwing them a warning sign in the form of a look and they peel their eyes away.

Gaz and Soap look up when they hear the door open, and just for a second, they smile at you before they furrow their browns when they see everyone's expression.

“What happened? How come the wee lass so spooked?” Soap asks sitting straight and patting the seat between him and Kyle.

Price’s hand on your lower back softly pushes you forward to sit down before he answers: “She’s still a bit in shock, Soap. We’ll talk about it later.”

You sit down between Soap and Gaz, backpack still in your hands, and pull your knees up hugging your legs. Gaz points to your backpack and asks: “You sleeping over tonight? You should definitely sleep in Soap’s and my room. Ghost and Price have their own individual ones, but they snore.” He whispers the last part pulling a little smile from you.

You lean your head on Soap's shoulder when he lays his arm on the couch behind your back. The man is a living furnace and shortly after you find yourself seeking more contact.

Price sits on the second sofa in front of you and just a second later Ghost appears back, cup of tea on hand, as he gives it to you. You take it from his hands, yours still shaking just a little bit as you do, and you rest it on top of your knee for support.

Kyle's hand find its way to your other knee giving it a light squeeze. “How's your arm, luv?” You look at your elbow and shrug your shoulder. “I haven't even had time to check it, good I think, it hasn't bothered me.”

“You didn't get hurt today, did you?” Price asks focusing on your face after doing a quick check-up of you. You shake your head: “No, a headbutt on the ceiling if anything.”

Price nods, satisfied with your answer and shakes his head at the sergeant's questioning look. You look down to the tea, thoughts getting to you. You saw your neighbour get arrested, and if he had gotten free they would have told you. So it must have been someone who works for them, and if he wasn't arrested already is because they didn't really know who works for them.

“What are you thinking about, birdie?” Ghost brings you back to reality with just a question. “Am I safe here?” You ask, with a shake in your voice.

“Yes.” Price's answer is concise, full of trust in his own word, leaving no room for doubt. “As long as you are with us, nothing and nobody is getting to you.”

You look at his face, almost as if expecting him to burst laughing at you for trusting them. A voice in your head screams at you not to do it, you barely know them. But you thought you knew your neighbour and now he's trying to kill you, so.

You nod and take a sip of the tea. Warming you inside and letting you relax just a bit.

“How about a distraction?” Soap asks smiling at you. “Have we told ye aboot the time Gaz fell from a helo and was hangin’ from a rope like a yo-yo?”

“Fucking hell, Johnny. Shut up!” Gaz complains laughing next to you.

The time went a bit more smoothly when Soap decided to talk about everyone's embarrassing stories, you could still tell he wasn't telling everything, keeping the classified information for himself, but still telling enough to have you laughing, gasping and asking with interest as he told.

By the time you finished your tea, you were already in a greater mood, the attack from today moved to the back of your head. Price lends you a hand to help you stand up while Ghost takes the empty cup from you. Gaz and Soap keep their word to share the room for the night against Price and Ghost's complaint that they should let you rest alone. Until the words “I don't really want to be alone.” leave your mouth and that's the end of the bickering.

Soap and Gaz barracks are quite simple, two single beds against opposite walls, two desks, two little bookshelves and two closets. Almost as if there was a mirror in the middle of the room if it wasn't for the little trinkets and details on each side letting you know the right bed was Soap's and the one on the left was Gaz's.

After a quick rock, paper, scissor championship, it is decided you will be sharing Soap's bed. And since you are already in your pyjamas, you get inside the bed quickly, ready to be done with the day. Soap lays behind you, hugging your middle and dropping a kiss to your temple. “Sleep tight, bonnie.”

A ray of light erupts from the bathroom door that is practically closed, almost as if whoever closed was afraid the click of the door closing would wake you up. At first, you don't think most of it, Soap must have gotten up to pee. But then you listen, and it doesn't sound like that's what he is doing in the bathroom.

Little grunts can be heard as well as the sound of skin hitting skin. You stand up from the bed, curiosity taking control of your body and walking you to peak at the door. You shouldn't, you really shouldn't. But once you lay your eyes on him, you know you are fucked.

Soap is barechested, leaning against the sink with a hand supporting him while the other strokes his dick. He has his eyes closed, head low with his mouth open slightly, and small grunts and whines leave his lips.

The grey sweatpants slightly lowered, allowing you to see the curve of his lower back as well as what you trust is the girthiest dick you have ever laid your eyes onto. The tip looks red, hungry for release, pearls of precum dripping from it making your mouth water.

There is a turmoil of thoughts in your head, you keep repeating to yourself that you need to place some distance between yourself and these men. But the moment any of them show any skin or any emotion of want towards you, you throw yourself at them.

Three times have you gone through this, your mind telling you is a bad idea and your pussy pushing you at their arms. This time is not different, and before you know it, you are inside the bathroom locking the door making Soap jump.

“Steamin’ jesus, bonnie.” He says shoving his dick inside his pants and turning his back at you to hide his tent. “Knock before entering, lass.”

“Sorry.” You mutter, not feeling sorry and you slowly walk to him. “I just wanted to help…”

“What? What you me-” He gets cut mid-question when he feels your hand grazing his tip, pressing your chest to his back and surrounding his waist with your arm. You use a hand to feel his abdomen and the other to softly caress the length of his dick inside his pants.

“But I can go back to bed if you don't want…” You say looking at the back of his head. “Don't you dare.” He answers grabbing your wrist when you try to take it back and he looks at you over his shoulder.

“Ye dinnae have to do it if ye dinnae want… but if you want, I'll take anythin’ ye throw at me, bonnie.” He says turning around and cupping your face after lowering his pants again to free his erection. “I had to run to the bathroom cause ye were rubbing yer arse against me on yer sleep, I was about to explode.”

“Well then, I think it's only fair I fix it, right?” You ask looking at him cheekly. He leans down and kisses you smiling into the kiss. Little groans slide into your mouth as you stroke him and you can feel his hips thrust softly into your hand as well.

For the last two days these men have only but given to you, and as much as you have enjoyed every single second of it, it is about time you give back.

You pick Soap's hand from your cheek and push it up to your hair. “Make sure to keep my hair away from my face, all right?”

He looks at you confused but quickly gets the idea when you kneel before him. He quickly brushes your hair back with his finger, doing a ponytail at the back of your head and groans deeply when you give a kitty lick to his tip.

You pop his tip inside your mouth sucking softly as you circle it with your tongue. Stroke the rest with both your hands, unable to reach your thumb with your index because of the girth and slowly bobbing your head up and down.

Soap stays mumbling curse words under his breath, low enough to not be able to hear him and you wish you were not hiding in the bathroom and could hear him scream. You think back to when Price ate you out, did he get as turn-on satisfying you as you are getting doing it to Soap?

He opens his eyes to lock into yours and you look up to him through your lashes as you start to get more inside your mouth.

“Fokin’ hell, bonnie. Keep looking at me like that and I'm not gonna last a second.” He says struggling to keep his eyes open.

You chuckle inside your head, and keep getting closer and closer to his hipbone. You must praise Soap's self-commitment to not cum, even though you can feel the grip on your hair getting tighter. When you feel his pubes brush against your nose you pull back taking a breath and look at him. When you lock eyes with each other, you smile and say before opening your mouth: “Fuck my throat, Johnny.”

For a second you get scared that Soap will just cum as you speak when you physically see the shudder that goes through him. But then he grips your hair back making you look up to him and he kisses your mouth in a sloppy kiss. Spit, drool and precum all mixing between your tongues and when he draws back to talk a threat of spit connect your lips. “You are going to fucking kill me, lass.” He mumbles and stands up to full height.

He doesn't let go of your hair and when you stick your tongue out he slaps it with his cock. “Gonna fuck yer throat raw, bonnie. Bite if it gets too much.” He smirks before shoving his dick down your throat in a single thrust and beginning to fulfil his word.

“Fuck, bonnie.” He says slurring his words between moans. “Taking my cock so well, such a good fucking lass, so, so good, fuck.”

Your visions get blurry with the tears from fighting your gag reflex, your hands rest on Soap's thighs and you can feel them flex with each thrust. If it wasn't for your pants you know you would be literally dripping on the floor, never did you though it could turn you on this much. But seeing Soap becoming such a mess, not being even able to speak, just mumbles and curses leaving his mouth.

“Let me cum inside, bonnie, please. I wanna see you drink it, please, please, bonnie, please.” He begs looking at your face with a pained expression, and almost as if he was waiting for your answer when you slightly nod he grunts and you feel his spent travel down your throat. He stays like that for another second and finally pulls out, you open your mouth showing him your work and he smiles as he bends down to kiss you again. “Fucking beautiful, love.”

The next morning you are woken up by an alarm and just a second later a door slamming shut. “I call dibs on the bathroom!” Kyle shouts making you jump.

You turn around on Soap's arms, nuzzling your face on his chest and sighing satisfied. “Eejit” Soap mumbles with his chin resting on top of your head.

“Do we have to share the bathroom the three of us?” You ask against his chest.

“Ye didnae seem to mind sharing it with me last night.” He mumbles back and you feel his chest tumble with a laugh.

“Aw, shut up, Johnny.” You say chuckling and yawning. “What time is it, anyway? I feel like I slept just two hours.”

“0540, not too far off to be honest.” He answers and when your half-sleep brain processes what time it is you look at him as if he has just insulted you. “What?”

“Why the fuck are we up before 6 in the morning? Like, seriously, the fuck?” You ask grumpy as you sit up pulling your legs over Soap's torso. He caresses one of your calves and flexes his arm resting his head on his hand. If you were not so bothered to be awakened so early, you would admire his physique.

“This is the military, love.” He says smiling. “Ye look like an angry kitty.”

You pull the pillow from under his head and hit him with it making him laugh. “Do we need to be ready before six?”

“Yeah, actually, that's when we are supposed to have breakfast. We are meeting Lt. and Price there.” He says taking the pillow from his face. “Ye should get dressed.”

You groan standing up and picking your bag from the side of the bed. You pull your clothes out, and notice that you can barely form a full outfit; you sigh and sit on the floor looking at Soap who is now on his side, elbow on the bed and head resting on his hand. He looks at you with a confused expression and says: “That's all ye packed, lassie? I thought ye were staying more time.”

He stands up, walks to his closet and picks something from inside just to throw it to your head. An uf sound leaves your throat and you pick it up to see it, it is a sweatshirt with MacTavish written on the back. “It is cold this early in the morning, we don't want ye freezing up. Get dressed.”

He bends down to drop a kiss on your lips leaving you a bit stunned and enters the bathroom without knocking making Gaz protest from the inside. “Stop screaming, it's me. I'm just giving the wee lass some privacy, Gaz.”

You chuckle to yourself and quickly get dressed, putting on the only pair of jeans you have, and a weird t-shirt from some kind of ad you used to wear to sleep, feeling really grateful it is covered with Soap's sweatshirt.

“What are you doing here, luv?” Price asks standing up when he sees you enter the mess hall following Soap and Gaz. “Everything alright?”

The expression on your face must be portrait-worth because you can see even Simon's eyes twirl with a smile.

“What do you mean what I'm doing here?” You ask looking at Price, until you hear a little snickering coming from both Gaz and Soap and you finally put two and two together. You turn to Soap and when you finally make eye contact with him, he burst out laughing.

“I'm sorry, bonnie. It was just too perfect of an opportunity to waste it.” He says raising his hand in false innocence. He tries to side-hug you, but you move quickly raising your chin offended and walking up to Price. “I'll fetch ye breakfast as a peace offering, all right, love?”

“That's the minimum you can do!” You exclaim still offended and stick your tongue out to him as you sit between where Ghost is sitting and where Price was sitting, him following you.

“Sorry about that, love.” Price says rubbing your tight. “I told them muppets to let you sleep in today. Did you at rest good?”

Gaz sits in front of you with a smirk, and you don't know if he knows, but you are sure that if he does he will snitch on you so stay on edge making sure not to break eye contact with him.

“Yeah, I did. The bed was surprisingly comforting, and Soap was a weighted blanket so.” You answer still looking at Gaz. You can feel Price's questioning look and Ghost's smirk.

“So Soap was comfortable?” Gaz asks smiling.

“Yeah, quite comfortable.” You answer.

He knows.

He fucking knows.

You don't know how, but he knows.

“Is that why you followed him to the bathroom when he went in the middle of the night?” He asks.

Fucking Garrick.

“I don't know what you are talking about.” You respond looking at your nails.

“I'm talking about when you into the bathroom and helped-”

CLANK

Soap puts the tray of food in front of you just in time, cutting Gaz's claim and starts to enunciate the food he bought. “I got ye coffee cause it's obvious yer not a morning person, I brought ye toast, some fruits and a little cereal cause I didn't really know what ye wanted. And I bought ye chocolate pudding.” He says putting the little cup on your hands, giving you a kiss on your head. “For sucking my dick so good last night.”

Gaz bursts out laughing, happy that he didn't even need to tell anything, while Ghost chuckles under his breath and Price sighs rubbing his forehead.

“I think there is a conversation that we definitely need to have.” Price announces. “For everyone's sake.”

Hiii 💗

Hope you liked the new chapter, please please drop a comment if you like it or if there is any scenarios you would like me to include 💗

Thank you again for all the support, you guys are the best

Taglist:@pagesfalling @thevoidwriting @darkangel4121 @tf141glory @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @ghostlythots @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra @xinyiline @shadowtfpcod @infpt-zylith @renabear88 @lolliepopsicle @reap3erslov3

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greenglowinspooks · 11 months

Text

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent

—

Tw: vivisection mention (not in detail), bad Fenton parents

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 2 here) (Pt. 3 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was a dark, cold, miserable night, and Scarecrow, Jonathan Crane, wanted nothing more than to be home, covered in blankets with the heater set to max as he worked on his most recent strain of fear toxin.

Instead he was at the docks, standing in as backup for the Penguin as he made a deal with some sleaze-bag smugglers. Something about some sort of body armor for his hired help. Crane hadn’t really paid much attention to the Penguin’s words, only caring enough to show up because of the reward.

But honestly, he couldn’t care less about the money at this point.

He was cold, and miserable, and his leg hurt something fierce (he’d had chronic pains ever since being mauled by Killer Croc some time ago), and he was so, so close to a breakthrough with his new toxin, and he really couldn’t stand the Penguin anyways. The only thing keeping him there was his reputation as a rogue.

Just as Crane was deciding that the whole ordeal wasn’t worth it, he heard the sound of a chase a few blocks down. With a deep, heavy sigh, he moved from the wall he had been leaning against, looming in the alleyway as he waited for the potential threat to reveal itself.

A few moments later, a boy came careening into the alleyway, sliding to a stop when he noticed the Scarecrow, his eyes growing impossibly wide. Beneath the mask, Jonathan grinned.

The boy swore, loudly, glancing between Scarecrow and the exit of the alleyway. As the echoing sound of footsteps grew closer, he chose to face the way he came, turning his back to Scarecrow.

What an idiotic way to get killed. Either the boy was a complete and utter fool, or there was something out there worse (to him, at least) than the Scarecrow.

Jonathan Crane tilted his head slowly, considering. He could just cut his losses and leave, Penguin be damned, or he could stay and see what had the boy so spooked.

Eventually, unfortunately enough, his curiosity won out. He shifted, bringing a hand to his side where he kept several canisters of fear toxin.

Crane had to bite back a groan when the boy’s pursuers entered the alleyway.

It was those damned idiots in white suits.

They had been tailing him for weeks now. They were easy enough to fight, but they were annoyingly persistent, and always seemed to have a way to find him. (Not to mention, the Riddler had strong opinions on their outfits, and if he had to hear the white-suit-in-Gotham rant one more time he was going to throttle him.)

Led by the men in white was a woman in a teal hazmat suit. Jonathan had seen her around, too, though less frequently than the others. He had honestly assumed that she was just a new C-tier rogue and avoided her like the plague.

Her eyes went wide as saucers when she saw Jonathan standing a few feet from the boy. No one moved a muscle.

“Danny,” the woman spoke softly. The boy, Danny, flinched, glancing between her and Scarecrow, “come on, we can talk about this. Your father and I only want to help you.”

He was running from his mother?

Scarecrow paused after that revelation, choosing to fully take in the boy’s appearance.

He was lean, almost gaunt, and wearing clothes several sizes too big for him, probably stolen. His entire body shook, from fear and cold both, and he clutched his stomach with one hand. At first, Scarecrow assumed that it was due to being out of breath, but as he looked closer he could see blood staining the dark fabric of the boy’s shirt.

He was injured, underweight, and running from his parents.

Something that felt a lot like rage swelled in Jonathan’s heart.

“Danny, you don’t get it! We’re so close now. We can fix you, and then we can go home, and everything can go back to normal,” she said, smiling in a way that was clearly supposed to be reassuring. She took a few steps forward, the men behind her clearly readying their weapons.

The boy backed away from his mother, inadvertently coming closer to Scarecrow.

He glanced up at Crane again, his blue eyes shining in fear, but not of him.

Sickening. Sickening.

In one fluid motion, Jonathan grabbed the boy by the wrist, pulling him behind him, and threw a large canister of fear gas into the group who had been chasing him.

The liquid in the container turned to gas as soon as it broke open, billowing out and filling half of the alleyway with a thick yellow smog.

The boy gasped, pulling his shirt over his face in a pathetic attempt to filter out the toxin. It would have to do, though, Scarecrow thought, rushing forward to force the boy’s aggressors to breathe in the gas.

The fight that the men put up was pitiful. The few individuals who didn’t breathe in the toxin immediately were clearly unused to fighting hand-to-hand, and dropped like flies in Scarecrow’s wake.

Just as the men began to spasm and shout in their terror, as if on cue, the familiar wail of police sirens reached the Scarecrow’s ears.

He heaved a heavy, irritated sigh, fingers twitching for a cigarette. He was trying to quit as of late, but he felt that after today, he might deserve one.

Though now was not the time to be thinking of cigarettes.

Jonathan approached the boy, mindful of any signs he might run off.

The boy didn’t seem to notice his approach in the slightest, just staring at the woman in the jumpsuit as she writhed on the ground.

Right. That would most likely be traumatic for a child to see, wouldn’t it?

Scarecrow moved in front of the boy, blocking his line of sight. The boy looked up at him now, his face completely blank.

“The police are on their way,” Scarecrow spoke, his voice low. The boy didn’t acknowledge him in any way.

“You don’t want to be here when they arrive, do you?”

After several moments pause, the boy shook his head slowly. He looked numb.

Dissociation, most likely.

“You’ll come with me, then.”

It was a statement, not a question, but he waited for the boy’s response regardless. As soon as he nodded in agreement, Jonathan lifted him up, carrying him out of the cold, miserable alleyway.

Scarecrow paused briefly to warn the Penguin of the incoming officers through the comm he had been given, and then he was off, weaving through the streets and alleyways towards his getaway car.

…

The drive back to his safe house was quiet. The boy didn’t look over at him once, instead opting to stare out ahead of him.

…

Luckily, they were able to make it back without detection. Jonathan ushered the boy into his small apartment, sitting him down on the dingy couch that had come with the lease.

“Wait here, alright?” Jonathan said, the boy nodding once in response.

With that, he retreated into the small kitchen, looking for some sort of warm beverage.

It was nearly three in the morning now, so coffee was out of the question. He was completely out of the hot chocolate he had bought for whenever Eddie or Harley came over for a visit, so that was out too.

He supposed the only option was his chamomile tea. Did teenagers like tea? He supposed it didn’t really matter, the kid was on the run from his parents in the house of a Gotham rogue. Surely he had bigger things to worry about.

Jonathan made the drinks quickly, leaving the kitchen with two mugs in hand. He gave one to the boy, who looked up at him in surprise, before settling into his own seat.

It was an incredibly comfortable old leather armchair that he had gotten some years ago and stubbornly held onto ever since. He usually had one of the rogues he was at least somewhat friendly with pick it up when he entered Arkham.

Whenever Eddie and Harley were over, they would call it his old man chair, and he would tell them to leave.

The two of them sat quietly for a while, drinking their tea slowly. It was clear that the boy was leaving whatever headspace he had slipped into, becoming more alert (and uncomfortable) by the second.

“So,” Crane began, pausing before speaking more quietly when he saw the boy flinch, “you knew them.”

It was not a question.

The boy nodded, curling in on himself. He held the mug close to his chest, no doubt soothed by the warmth.

“They’ve been following me around for some time now,” Crane continued, “and you’re going to tell me why.”

The boy looked up at him, a pained expression written all over his face.

“You won’t believe me,” he murmured, curling up even further.

His clothes were soaked. Jonathan should have put down a towel before letting him sit down.

“Sure I will,” he said, ignoring the blood and water seeping into his furniture.

The landlord would not be happy.

“It’s gonna sound crazy.”

“I’ve been to Arkham.”

The boy paused, before mumbling something quietly.

“Again? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said,” the boy huffed, quickly changing his tone when he remembered who he was talking to, “they…think you’re a ghost.”

“A ghost,” Crane repeated flatly.

“I told you it was gonna sound crazy!” The boy protested, before wrapping his arms around himself.

“Well,” Jonathan hummed, “it’s not the strangest thing I’ve heard in Gotham. Explain it to me.”

The boy paused, glancing up at his face, no doubt looking for some sign of mockery. He found none.

Then, he opened his mouth, and explained everything he could.

Ghosts, the portal to another world, the GiW, his parents. It was all incredibly far-fetched, but also far too consistent to be made up on the spot, and Crane could tell that the boy genuinely believed what he was saying.

“…but, if you don’t believe me, fine. I know it probably sounds stupid and fake,” he mumbled, looking away.

“I’ll believe you for now,” Crane said. The boy whipped his head up, staring at him in shock.

“If I do trust that what you’re saying is true, though, then why do I show up on their equipment as a ghost? I’m not dead, and never have been.”

“Um,” the boy hummed, looking somewhat nervous. Understandable, really.

“Well, have you by any chance been involved in any lab accidents recently..?”

Jonathan Crane froze, his face dropping. The boy noticed his change in demeanor, flinching slightly.

“Penguin,” he hissed out, his voice slightly inhuman. “Cobblepot, that motherfucker.”

“Wait—calm down! The angrier you get, the easier you’ll show up on the radar!”

Crane glared down at the boy, seething with rage. He once again flinched, looking away from him. With an extraordinary amount of effort, Jonathan slumped back down in his chair, breathing deeply in an effort to calm himself.

When he cracked his eyes back open, the boy was openly staring at him, curiosity written all over his face.

As soon as he noticed Crane looking back at him, he glanced away, straightening in his seat.

“Well, you’ve given me a lot to think about. In the morning, we’re going to discuss this in a lot more detail,” he said, standing up with slow movements. The boy stood as well, hands clasped together.

“For now, though, you’re going to let me take a look at that wound of yours, and then you’re going to take a shower and go to bed.”

The rest of the night went rather quickly.

The boy was rather hesitant to show him his wound, instead assuring him that it had been properly sewn up and that he was fine. Crane was having none of it, though, and gave him a once-over just in case.

It was, very clearly, the kind of cut used during an autopsy. Danny didn’t offer any information, so Crane had to assume that he was either back from the dead, or he had been vivisected. Either was possible in Gotham.

At the very least, Danny hadn’t lied about the stitches, and the wound was already beginning to heal.

With that, Danny showered quickly (he leapt out with a shriek the moment the hot water ran out), and went to bed in borrowed clothes without much complaint.

Thus, Jonathan was left with cold water for his shower, and slept on the still-damp couch so that the boy could have a bed to sleep in. Somehow, he found that he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would.

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp fic #liminal scarecrow #AWWAWAW IM DONE #FINALLY #this was super fun to write btw #edited while I was sick in bed so if the paving’s still bad there’s not much I can do about it HDKFNSJDJF #*pacing

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waywardxrhea · 1 month

Text

loml - a Spencer Reid one shot

pairing: Spencer Reid x former BAU!fem!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: ~15k (this one's a beast whoops)

You left behind the BAU years ago and have been working as the captain of the police force in small town Montana when a string of murder-suicides catch your attention and you start looking into them. The BAU is called in and you become overwhelmed by feelings surrounding your ex-boyfriend Spencer Reid as you attempt to investigate this case and clear the air between the two of you.

content: canon-level violence, blood, swearing, anxiety, idiots in love

now playing: loml by taylor swift

not my gif, dividers by @firefly-graphics, and once again shoutout to my bestie @westernbitch for helping to come up with case details for this one!

A sharp knock broke the silence of your office and you looked up to see one of your reporting officers at the door with a look on her face that told you something terrible happened. “What's going on, Kate?” you asked, placing the file you were holding down onto the desk to give her your full attention.

She sat down in the chair across from you and taking a shaky breath, she whispered, “There’s been another murder-suicide… It was Natasha and Hayden…”

“Oh my God I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do for you or your family right now?” you asked, getting up and making your way around the desk to give the younger officer a hug.

Kate’s sister and her boyfriend had taken off nearly two months ago for their freshman year at UCLA and weren’t due back until Thanksgiving. Maybe the pair didn’t agree on their majors like they originally decided or got spooked by the big life changes and decided that this was the best course of action. He did have a history of prior juvenile battery charges… Nonetheless it just wasn’t sitting right with you… Not after two other murder-suicides within the last four months. So after sending Kate home to be with her parents and remaining sibling, you went to investigate the crime scene.

When you got back and had some time to do some thinking, you called one of your detectives into the office. “You wanted to see me?” came his voice as he stepped into the office a few minutes later.

You stopped your fast-paced writing of theories to offer a polite smile as he sat down across from you after closing the office door. “I wanna see if you can connect the same dots that I am, Josh.”

“Okay, shoot,” he says, leaning forward with an eager smile. Josh had joined your squad a few months ago as a rookie detective and he was always ready to look into anything that came across your desk.

“Six months ago the Fenways went away to mourn his cousin’s death in Florida. Then before anyone even knew they were back home, they both turn up dead in what was ruled a murder-suicide,” you started, tapping your pen along the paper sitting on the desk in front of you. “Then the Greenwoods turned up in the same situation a couple months later after going away on an Alaskan cruise.”

“Maybe that was the breaking point for both men. Everyone knew their marriages were on the rocks for months before that happened,” Josh said in a contemplative voice as he leaned back into his chair. “Losing a relative and driving all the way down to Florida and back could have caused some tension that made him snap. Same with being stuck on a boat for a few weeks. I heard they weren’t allowed to dock and were stranded on board for a week or so because of a conservationist protest. That would make anyone’s temper short.”

“That’s what I thought too,” you agreed. “However, Natasha Quinn and Hayden Welkins just turned up dead in another apparent murder-suicide.”

“No way!” Josh said, his eyes widening in shock at the news. He ran a hand over his chin and asked, “Is Kate okay?”

“She’s at home mourning with her family. She’ll be off for the next few days but I’m taking her off of this investigation,” you replied.

“Investigation? Why is it a-?” he said, but then paused in the middle of his sentence. “Wait, you think there’s someone behind this, don’t you?”

“That I do,” you affirmed with a nod. “One was a tragedy, two could be a coincidence, but three? I think someone’s behind this. It could be someone manipulating them into killing.” You looked at the pictures of the dead bodies in the file you began creating in front of you and sighed. You scrunched your eyebrows together and shook your head as you said, “There’s so far been no signs of physical torture on the victims. They were all found days post-mortem in wooded areas off of trails though, so their bodies were worse for wear so we can’t exactly rule it out. Even then, psychological torture is a viable option.”

“So maybe the trips away weren’t even real… Maybe whoever is doing this created fake letters to send to all of the victims to make everyone in town aware that they would be gone so suspicion wasn’t raised…” Josh said as dots began to connect in his mind. “And as much as I hate to say this, Natasha and Hayden may have been a crime of opportunity. They could have been driving home exhausted when something happened and they were grabbed.”

A proud smile made its way onto your face at his theory and you nodded, telling him, “Exactly what I was thinking. Whoever this unsub is is getting sloppy and we’re going to get to the bottom of it.”

“W-wait, us? You want me on this?”

“As a rookie detective you just deduced what I did as a former FBI agent with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You’ve got what it takes, Josh. So yes, I’m asking you to help me out with this case,” you said with an encouraging nod. “This is a small town and people talk, so let’s get out there and see what anyone knows.”

“Yes ma’am!” he said, jumping up from his chair and turning toward the door with a spring in his step.

“And Josh?”

“Yes ma’am?”

“This case is on a need to know basis so it stays between us unless I tell you someone else is allowed to know about it. Got it?”

“Got it!” he said while giving you a two-finger salute and a sideways smile.

“So be subtle!” you shouted with a laugh as he exited the office and set out to begin his investigation while you conducted yours.

A few weeks later you were making some headway in the investigation on the murder-suicide case. One crisp November morning when you and Josh were talking with someone over coffee about what they knew of the Greenwoods and their supposed vacation, you heard a scream outside of the diner. With your eyebrows scrunching together, you looked outside only to see a man holding a woman in a chokehold with a gun pointed to her head.

Rushing out of the diner, you made your way to the area near the fountain where he was at and held up your empty hands to show that you meant no harm. When you got closer you finally recognized the man and woman standing in front of you. They were a married couple that had moved to the town a couple of years ago after vacationing in the area. From the outside they were a happy couple, but you had heard around the rumor mill that she had cheated on him on occasion when she was drunk.

“Hey,” you began in a soft voice, one you would use if you were approaching a skittish animal so you didn’t spook it off. “Hunter, can you please put the gun down? We can talk okay? Just let Hanna go and we can talk things out.”

“No!” he shouted, pointing the gun in your direction to fend you off. “She deserves this! He told me so!”

“What did she do to deserve this, Hunter?” you asked softly as you creeped closer slowly. All the while, the emaciated woman just stood there catatonically in his hold. There was no hint of light in her eyes and if you didn’t see her breathing you would have guessed she was already dead. “Who told you this?”

“All you women are the same! He told me that all you do is lie! All you do is take advantage of us and then leave when it’s convenient for you!” he shouted, voice strained and eyes with a wild look in them. It was a look you had seen too many times during your time in the BAU, but before you could take further action to try and talk the man down, the first shot already rang out followed in quick succession by the second.

A whirlwind of emotions filled your body in response to the event and they paralyzed you as you stared at the pair of bodies on the ground in front of you. Shock, disbelief, horror, confusion. A roaring sound filled your ears as your mind flashed to the day you decided to leave the BAU, but your thoughts were torn away from that time when you felt hands on your shoulders gently shaking you back to reality. “Captain. Captain! Are you all right?” came Josh’s voice through the cotton feeling in your ears.

“I need to call Emily…” you whispered in reply, the back of your hand going to wipe away some of the blood that had spattered onto your face and was starting to slowly drip down. It hurt your pride to call in your former team and you have always dreaded the day you needed to, but you knew that you were in over your head trying to solve this on your own anymore…

“Okay, will everyone gather around? We’ve got a case,” Emily Prentiss announced to her team as she strode into the bullpen of the offices of the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

“What’ve we got this time?” Tara Lewis asked as she looked up from the paperwork she was finishing up at her desk.

“It appears to be a string of manipulated murder-suicides up in Montana. I have it on good authority that the latest victim was implying that someone convinced him that his wife deserved to die and then he took his own life shortly after hers,” Emily informed the team as they gathered in the area. “The other acts were not witnessed but I’m sure if we did a deep dive into their personal lives we would find evidence that the other male victims believed the same of their partners. This is the fourth murder-suicide in the town in five months and the unsub seems to be getting more brazen with his acts so we’re wheels up in thirty.”

“Fourth in five months? Why did the locals wait so long to contact someone?” Luke Alvez asked, the corners of his mouth turning down into a frown at the thought of someone letting this go on for so long.

“Because the captain is a former one of ours,” she replied, shooting Luke a look that said to not reprimand the actions of the officer. “She was working the case herself and was beginning to make headway when the unsub set the latest two out to commit the act in the middle of downtown. Happened right in front of her. This case is escalating and it’ll take more than one set of trained eyes on it to catch this guy.”

“A former one of our own? Who is she talking about?” JJ asked quietly to no one in particular.

“Oh I know exactly who she’s talking about…” Penelope Garcia said quietly with a glance in the direction of Spencer Reid who seemed none the wiser about who their unit chief was talking about.

JJ followed Garcia’s glance and quietly gasped as she asked, “You don’t mean-?”

“Yes I do mean!” Penelope said conspiratorially as she leaned in closer to the blonde. “When she left, Spencer never contacted her because he was so broken up over Maeve’s death that by the time he was finally in a headspace to process the breakup and her leaving the team it was far too late to try and make amends so he just never did! He doesn’t know where she went and she cut off all contact with the team except for me and it’s been a secret that I have hated keeping for so long because I know we all loved her so very much!” Penelope took a deep breath and let it out as she slouched back in her chair as if keeping that in all these years was a heavy weight that had finally been taken off of her shoulders. “You can’t tell him though!”

“Why not? He deserves to know that he’s going to be walking into his ex-girlfriend's police station!” JJ whispered back.

“If you had a nasty breakup with someone would you want to know you were heading to meet with them and have to stew in that anxiety and uncertainty for hours on the plane ride there?” Penelope asked, a stern look in her eye as she once more straightened up in her chair. “That big brain of his would work overtime trying to figure out what to say so that you would make zero headway on the case!”

“Fine…” JJ relented. A small smirk graced her lips as she added, “I’ll keep you in the loop with how awkward he gets.”

“You better!” Penelope said. An air of seriousness washed over her for a moment as she added, “I know this case may dredge up a lot of old memories for Spencer so can you just keep an eye on him?”

“Of course,” JJ replied. Penelope smiled in return before heading off to her office with a file of information to look into on the victims.

Time went by paradoxically during the wait for the BAU to show up at your station. It went slowly because you dreaded the looks on everyone’s faces upon seeing you after nearly four years with no contact. As you showered the blood off of yourself in the staff locker room, your mind once more flashed back to the day you decided to leave the BAU.

It had been months of feeling distant from Spencer as he got closer and closer with the geneticist you pushed him to go to in order to get to the bottom of the headaches that had been plaguing him on and off for some time. Maeve Donovan. May she rest in peace, but she was the reason your relationship with Spencer fell apart… As their talks got deeper and he opened up to her more, you felt like you were sloughed away from Spencer’s life, brushed off so he could take calls with her and discuss what for the most part never even sounded like his could-be battle with schizophrenia like his mother…

You remembered the day he had wrapped a book to give her when they decided to first meet. You couldn’t even remember the name of the book, but the returning feeling of heartbreak made a quiet sob escape your mouth as you scrubbed the shampoo into your hair harshly. The dam finally broke as you remembered the day that you and the whole team took time off of the clock to help Spencer out with getting to the bottom of who was stalking Maeve and making her fear for her life. Tears flowed freely from your eyes and dripped down into the soapy water swirling into the drain as you pictured Spencer sobbing over Maeve’s body as she too was killed in a murder-suicide. Hearing him whisper the words that you hadn’t heard in weeks of “I love you,” to her as he cried was what sealed the deal because in your heart you knew Spencer didn’t love you anymore.

It took a few more days to make the final decision but in a whirlwind of anxiety you had made many phone calls back home to your parents and they encouraged you to take some time away from the BAU to come home to Montana and figure things out. So you put your notice with Hotch in and quietly broke things off to a catatonic Spencer who was so bereft following Maeve’s death that he didn’t even react to the breakup.

Once back home you spent a few months piecing yourself together before moving for a job offer you felt like you couldn’t refuse and since then had been promoted to Captain after a year. It wasn’t ever what you planned for your career, but life has a funny way of guiding you in the direction you’re meant to go.

Turning to face the shower stream once again, you scrubbed your face with your face wash one more time to ensure you got all of the blood off before turning off the shower and beginning to dry yourself. You wiped away the steam from the mirror in front of you and looked at your reflection, squeezing your eyes shut as you pictured the blood on your face again. When you looked back up at yourself again, it was obvious that you had been crying so you made quick work of getting dried off and into a fresh set of clothes that Josh brought from your house before heading to your office to try and freshen up with the meager set of makeup you had in there.

You were surprised to see your entire makeup collection on the desk and as you sat down to begin working the makeup on, Josh popped his head into your office, saying, “Hey Cap! Lindsey went with me to get your stuff and we grabbed all of that for you. Said something about seeing your ex-”

“I told you not to tell her that!” came the voice of another one of your officers as she made her appearance in the doorframe. She shot you an apologetic look and said, “I’m sorry I knew I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s just that-”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” you said before forcing a cheery smile on your face at the pair in front of you. “Thank you two for getting the clothes and makeup from my place, I appreciate it.” You resumed your makeup with slightly shaking hands as you asked, “Now can you go make sure the work area is in the order I requested? Whiteboards and markers ready, corkboard cleared of the meme wars, desks available, coffee brewing with plenty of sugar because I know we were almost out earlier this morning.”

“Yes ma’am,” they chorused before taking off to get the space ready for the team’s arrival which would be… in less than an hour.

The hour flew by as you went over the case file once again and you jumped as you heard a knock on your door that pulled you out of your concentration. Looking up, you couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto your face as you said with quiet enthusiasm, “Emily! It’s been a while. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well. As you know I got promoted to Unit Chief after Hotch left. I see you’ve been getting some promotions too,” she said warmly as you stood up and offered your arms out for a hug which she accepted. “Garcia?” she asked simply and you knew she was asking how you had kept up with things in your absence, so you nodded. When you pulled away, she glanced at the notes on your desk and asked, “Are you ready for the brief with the team?”

The question made your heart jump in its cage. “Who all is left from my days on the team? What new faces can I expect?” you asked, trying to tiptoe around the elephant in the room.

“Spencer’s here if that’s what you’re getting at,” she replied softly as she reached down and gave your arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Damn profilers,” you said jokingly before taking a deep breath and gathering up your files to take to the main area of the station to meet with the team.

Your heart hammered in your chest so hard you could practically feel it jumping up in your throat as you approached the meeting area. You busied yourself with your papers as you and Emily made your way over, sweat beginning to dampen your hands the closer you got. You practically stopped breathing when your eyes looked up and met Spencer’s. He looked as handsome as ever, maybe even more, and all at once you felt everything rushing back, waves of emotions threatening to engulf you as you struggled to breathe under his gaze.

Spencer looked like a deer in headlights when he spotted you and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking at that moment. The look on his face suggested that no one told him that the case was being manned by you and while it made you happy that Penelope kept her word, you weren’t sure if the look of shock he was sporting was a good or bad thing…

You were ripped away from your anxious thoughts and Spencer’s eyes as a cheer in a distinctive accent broke through the chatter of the office. Your name was called enthusiastically and you turned in the direction of the sound to see David Rossi sporting a wide grin as he held his arms out to embrace you. “How’ve you been kiddo?” David asked as he embraced you quickly before holding you at arms length to survey your features that had no doubt matured since he last saw you.

“The last 24 hours or the last four years?” you asked with a quiet laugh. “I’ve been making it though. Can’t complain.”

“That’s good to hear,” he said before turning you toward the rest of the team and telling you, “That’s Tara Lewis and Luke Alvez, they’ve joined the team since your departure. I’m sure you’ll love them!”

You offered the two of them a smile before suddenly you were being pulled into a hug by JJ and when she pulled away you couldn’t help but wonder how the hell you were supposed to greet Spencer. You were always a hugger, everyone knew it, and you actually shocked the office when Spencer let you hug him just a few days after you joined the BAU. But that time felt like a distant memory and your eyes turned to the ground instead of looking back at the man who used to bring you so much comfort but at the same time, more than ever you wanted so desperately to be in his arms…

Thankfully you didn’t have to make a decision on the matter because Emily’s voice cut through the quiet roaring in your ears as she said, “Yes, yes we all missed her, but we can get back to the reunion later. Right now we’ve got an unsub to track down.” She called your name before asking, “What do we know?”

You cleared your throat and went into work mode, telling the team, “So far we have eight victims.” You began placing pictures of the scenes on the table as you listed off their names, “First was Nora and Henry Fenway who we as a town thought went off to Florida after Henry got the news that his cousin passed away. Big Catholic family who wanted to perform a lot of traditional stuff for the funeral. They were found over a month later by some tourists hiking through the trails on the outskirts of town.

“Next was Theresa and Harry Greenwood who were set to embark on an Alaskan cruise and got stuck in the water due to some conservationist protest. The protest story checks out, but when we called the cruise line a week or so ago, there was never a record of the couple on board, so we think that the cruise package they were boasting about winning was a ruse to make sure that the rest of us knew they were expected to be away for a while. They were found dead near a river off of a popular hiking trail.

“Third was the sister of one of my officers. Natasha Quinn and her boyfriend Hayden Welkins were thought to be off at UCLA for college but were found dead in an abandoned cabin that has been a known squatting location. Kate told us that there wasn’t too much contact from her sister during the time, but they all put it off to her being busy with school.”

You took a deep breath and tried to push the memory of the latest shooting out of your mind, but you could tell that your voice was distant as you detailed the latest pairing. “And just this morning it was Hanna and Hunter Newberry. He came out into the middle of downtown with Hanna in a chokehold and shot both her and himself but not before saying that ‘he’ told him that she deserved it.”

“Do we know anything about who ‘he’ might be?” JJ asked.

“No idea,” you replied. “Josh and I have been doing some digging to see who started the rumors about the protest with the cruise, but it became a dead end when the first person who heard it said they just heard someone on the phone talking about it but they didn’t remember when it was or where they were.”

“You said that Kate’s sister didn’t have frequent contact. Does that mean she still texted occasionally?” Luke asked.

“Kate and her family were getting occasional check-ins from Natasha, yes,” you confirmed. “Kate told me that the texts were pretty short for the most part though and that they didn’t really seem like her usual style of texting. She put it off to being busy between classes and trying to get into sororities though.”

“I’ll have Penelope look into that,” Emily commented, taking down another note on the notepad she had in her hand.

Your heart skipped a beat once more as Spencer’s voice cut through the air as he said, “All of the men’s names start with an H. I wonder if it could be the first initial of the unsub and he’s expressing himself through these killings. Maybe this is some twisted fantasy of his and he’s acting it out.”

“So you’re saying he might have an endgame?” David asked thoughtfully.

“Yes, and I don’t think he’s going to stop until he gets her,” Spencer confirmed as he pondered over the photographs you left on the table before stepping away.

“Then let’s get to work,” Emily said. She called your name to get your attention and informed you, “Tara and I will interview you about what you saw this morning. Spencer get started on the geographical profile. David head to the medical examiner’s office to see if there’s anything you can find on the bodies. Luke go see if you can get CCTV footage from the businesses around the crime scene. JJ start working with Josh to interview the other witness from this morning to see if she knows where the couple came from. I’ll patch Penelope in so she can get started on a list of men whose names start with an H that live in the area.”

“So can you walk me through exactly what happened this morning?” Tara asked you as you sat across from her and Emily in an interrogation room half an hour later. There was a part of you that for some reason felt like you were in trouble, but you understood the reason behind it. It was the easiest way to record the conversation and keep distractions from factoring into your memories of your encounter.

“Josh and I were speaking with a cousin of the Greenways to see if they could give us some insight into how their marriage was when I heard a scream outside of the diner,” you replied quietly, eyes focused on the metal table between the three of you as you tried to remember everything. “When I got out, there was a bystander. She was the one that screamed and Josh took her away to make sure she didn’t get hurt.” You began picking at the sleeve of your sweatshirt as you continued, “I didn’t recognize the couple at first, they both looked worse for wear. Hunter is usually clean shaven but he had a wild beard that clearly hadn’t been taken care of and Hanna looked like her hair hadn’t been brushed in days… He had this wild look in his eyes and she just…she looked practically dead already.”

“How do you mean?” Tara asked curiously.

“Well…there was no light in her eyes. Her cheeks were sunken in and she wasn’t even fighting. She just stood there,” you replied. “Even when Hunter was shouting and waving the gun there was no reaction whatsoever.”

“And what was Hunter shouting?” Emily asked.

You paused for a moment and thought before replying, “He said, ‘She deserves this! He told me so!’ and then when I asked what he meant and who told him that he said something like, all women are the same and that he was told all we do is lie and take advantage of men and then leave when it’s convenient for us. And then…” you let out a sharp breath and closed your eyes as you remembered what happened next, “then he shot her and then himself.” You dabbed a tear away from the corner of your eye before adding, “I was so close to him when it happened… I… I just froze. Their blood was all over me and I just…” you didn’t even know how to finish your sentence as you let out a shaky breath, trying to hold your tears back and keep your hands occupied by messing with the hem of your sweatshirt.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve been so close to something like that,” Emily offered quietly.

“Exactly…” you whispered. “It reminded me why I left the BAU. When my anxiety and depression got so bad and I just couldn’t take it anymore… The job, life, everything was just too much. It broke me.”

“And that’s completely understandable,” Tara said empathetically, giving you a warm smile. There were a few moments of silence that were filled with her taking notes before she offered, “If you need a minute alone we can cover for you until you’re ready to go back out there.”

“Thank you,” you replied with a nod, leaning your head down onto your arms and feeling the cool metal of the table on your cheek to try and ground yourself before you slipped off into another breakdown.

Meanwhile outside of the interrogation room, Spencer stood there with his heart breaking. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even hear JJ approach until she asked, “What are you doing? I thought you were supposed to work on the geographical profile.”

Spencer startled a bit before sighing and telling her, “I don’t know… I guess I just needed to know where her headspace was on everything.” He ran a hand through his messy hair and mumbled, “I really messed up with her, didn’t I? She said that this reminded her of when she left and that life was making her anxious before she even decided to go… That was because of me.”

JJ sighed and gave him a quick pat on the back as she replied, “Yeah, there’s no denying that you messed up big time…” She felt Spencer tense before she finished with, “But maybe you can at least ask for forgiveness. Take her to dinner and try to make amends.” Spencer nodded and threw you another glance before turning away and going to work on the geographical profile.

When you emerged from the interrogation room, the team was either out on their assigned tasks or grabbing lunch, so you decided to get some quiet time with your files in your office while you tried to get some food down. You were pushing salad greens around in your tupperware when your phone began to ring and you picked it up with a, “Hello?”

“My sweet, sweet friend, oh how I missed your voice!” came Penelope’s cheerful voice through the speaker as her way of greeting you.

“I’m sorry I don’t call Penny, I just… I was afraid of-” You cut yourself off and scoffed before finishing with, “Forget it, it’s dumb. You probably called about the case and I’m getting off track. What can I help you with?”

“No, no, tell me!” Penelope protested. “It is lunchtime there and no one is calling for anything so this has officially turned into a ‘tell Penelope all of your woes’ time!”

You laughed quietly before asking, “And there’s no getting out of it?”

“Unless there is literally another death while we’re on the phone then no,” she replied chipperly.

Letting out a deep sigh, you decided that this wasn’t a battle you were going to win, so you told her, “I never called because I was afraid I would just open up old wounds. The thought of if we were on the phone and Spencer came in…it terrified me.” And suddenly, without even thinking about what you were saying, you blurted out, “And now here we are with him in the breakroom of my precinct drinking coffee that I made sure we had enough sugar for because I have never been able to fall out of love with Spencer Reid!” You covered your mouth to attempt to prevent the words from coming out but it was entirely too late for that. The truth was out there and Penelope had heard every word of it.

“Oh honey…” she said in a quiet voice.

You knew she didn’t mean it in a condescending way, but the building tightness in your chest after she said it was making it hard to breathe. You filled your lungs as much as they would allow before whispering, “I-I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, no, no! Don’t feel bad about your feelings!” she protested from her side of the line.

“I-it’s just…” You took a slightly deeper breath before you began rambling again, telling her, “I’ve tried over and over and over again to find someone out here but it just never works. There was even this one guy back in April that was so sweet! Penelope, he picked me wildflowers while out on his guided hiking tours and arranged them into the most beautiful bouquets! He ordered me edible arrangements and had them sent to my office! He bought me coffee every morning in the diner when I was there picking up breakfast before coming into work! Hell, on our one and only date we had a candlelit picnic and he bought my favorite wine! That shit’s expensive! But I just couldn’t commit to him knowing that someone else still has my heart…and I don’t think there’s a way to get it back.”

By the end of your rant, your tears were falling once more and you dabbed them away with a tissue or two as Penelope sighed and said, “I wish I could give you a hug right now… I had no idea you were still feeling that way.”

You scoffed quietly before asking, “Why would you? I should hate Spencer for what happened. He fell in love with someone else while still dating me and didn’t even flinch when I broke up with him because he was so torn up about her death. But…” You shook your head and finished quietly, “He’s the love of my life and it hurts so damn bad knowing that I’m not his.”

Before Penelope could offer anything else, there was a knock at your door and you looked up to see it cracking open to reveal Spencer’s handsome face with that awkward-as-ever smile crossing his lips. “Spencer, hey,” you whispered, your breath being knocked out of your lungs at his sudden appearance as you hoped that he didn’t hear anything you just said.

“I think that’s my queue to go…” Penelope said quietly and in quick succession you heard the tell-tale sound of the call ending.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” Spencer asked timidly as he opened the door a bit more to fully reveal himself.

“O-of course,” you replied, hoping that it wasn’t too obvious that you had been crying. “Everything going okay out there? You holding up okay after…everything?”

“I’m doing fine, yes,” He said with a quick nod. “I got the geographical profile down, but it’s in a weird pattern that I’m still trying to make sense of. All of the locations are in a strange arc sort of line without a centralized location that indicates a familiar area that the unsub is comfortable in. The first three sites were more so out in hiking areas in the woods so I thought it could be an avid hiker, but the latest one was so out in the open that it makes me wonder why the unsub chose that location. He isn’t escalating because there was still time for him to psychologically torment the victims before sending them out to commit the act so I’m trying to determine if maybe this was an outlier or if it’s a part of his endgame to have used that specific spot for that couple…”

Your heart fluttered in your chest upon hearing him rant on about the profile he had created and you hoped he didn’t notice that your eyes were practically heart-shaped as you listened to his soothing voice ramble on about the case. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight from foot to foot before adding, “But uh…that’s not what I came to talk to you about.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and said quietly, “I was actually coming in here to ask if I could take you to dinner tonight. There’s a lot I feel like needs to be cleared up between us after…everything that happened. I know it may be wrong to ask for your forgiveness after so long but-”

“Yes,” you replied instantly, unable to fight the smile working its way onto your lips at the offer.

“Y-yes?” he asked with an undeniable sparkle in his eyes as he too gave into his emotions and let his smile light up the room.

You nodded and were about to say something more when Emily popped her head into the office after giving a short knock on the door, informing you both, “Garcia got us a list of possible suspects, let’s get to work.”

“Yes ma’am,” you and Spencer replied in unison, and you had to fight back the giddy giggle that threatened to bubble out of your mouth at the statement in stereo.

That evening you took a quick trip to your house to freshen up before meeting Spencer. Even though you knew it wasn’t a date situation, you still took the time to make your hair look nice and put on a dose of perfume that you remembered Spencer liking. When you pulled into the parking lot of the cafe you and Spencer agreed to meet at and stepped out into the chilly November air, you pulled your coat close as you started toward the door.

Before you could reach out to grab the handle though, another hand reached out and pulled it for you. Expecting to see Spencer holding the door open for you, your heart gave a stutter in your chest as suddenly the reality of the situation hit you. You would likely be discussing what happened back in Virginia, and that would mean talking about Maeve and the reason your relationship ended and that scared you. Sure, you had attempted to process everything yourself, but facing it head on would be an entirely different experience in which you would have to hear what made him fall out of love with you…

Your anxiety spiked for a completely different reason though when you looked up because when you did, your eyes met the very man you turned down because you still weren’t over Spencer. “Hartley, hey. Thanks,” you said quietly as you slipped through the door and into the warm building.

“Looking for some company?” he asked as he walked in behind you and began attempting to help you take off your coat.

Before you could respond, the hostess greeted you by name and asked how many were in your party. “There’ll be two, Rose,” you told her with a smile and she began reaching down to grab a couple of menus from behind the counter. While you were telling her this, you pulled away a comfortable distance from Hartley and began taking off your coat and gloves on your own. “I’m meeting someone actually,” you told him simply, tucking the gloves into a pocket and hanging the coat on the rack by the door.

“Oh, okay,” he said slowly. “Are they late? I can get you an appetizer and drink while you wait,” he offered and you noticed his eyes moving around the restaurant in search of your intended partner.

As he said this, the small bell above the door chimed and your eyes gravitated that way to see who was entering. Raising a hand in a wave, you greeted Spencer with a smile as he joined you at the hostess counter. He quickly took off his coat and racked it before running a hand through his messy hair and saying, “Sorry I’m a few minutes late, I was wrapping up something with Prentiss at the station!”

“It’s no problem, Spence. Rose was just about to take me to the table,” you assured him as you nodded your head toward the kind woman.

“Great,” he said as the pair of you began following Rose to the table in the back corner she knew you preferred to dine at.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” you said quietly to Hartley who was escorted to his usual spot at the bar by another hostess.

“Who was that?” Spencer asked curiously after the two of you placed your drink orders.

“Something that I assume will be addressed when we talk,” you admitted, feeling heat begin to crawl up your neck. Spencer nodded stiffly and remained silent in response to the comment, the tension only breaking when Rose came back with the drinks and said she would give Spencer a few minutes with the menu.

“So what’s good to eat here?” Spencer asked timidly after a few more moments of silence as his eyes quickly scanned the menu.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief at the fact that he wasn’t diving into the serious talk you needed to have and relaxed a little in your seat as you began raving over the menu items that you preferred and which ones you thought should be avoided. “And we have to get dessert, the pie here is to die for!” you gushed as you pointed out the dessert menu on the back.

“Let me guess, the coconut cream is your go to?” Spencer asked, a small smile lining his lips.

“Always,” you affirmed, a smile breaking out on your lips. “Remember that time when I-?” you tried to start, but couldn't even get through half of the sentence before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“When you were bringing a pie to the office and you tripped as you were putting it on the counter and tried to play it off as a pie eating contest with Morgan?” Spencer asked with a laugh and a sparkle in his eye at the memory.

“Yes!” you said, more laughter spilling out of you as you remembered Derek’s reaction. “I still can’t believe he actually went along with it!”

So that was how the two of you spent the next little while - reminiscing on the better times you two had at the BAU before your abrupt departure. That was, until Spencer’s eyes drifted slightly left over your shoulder as he asked once more, “Who did you say that guy was from earlier? He’s been glaring daggers this way the whole time we’ve been here…”

You sighed and nodded. It was time to face the music. So you took a deep breath and told him, “That’s Hartley. He flirted with me for months before I finally agreed to a date with him, but… Things just didn’t work out between us. Ever since then, he’s tried to get with me again, but I always turn him down.”

“Why’s that?” Spencer asked, his posture straightening the slightest bit at your words which you tried not to overanalyze as you instinctively studied his body language.

“I… It felt disingenuous to be with someone when my heart was still back in Virginia with you…” you admitted quietly as you pushed around some of the food on your plate to distract yourself and to avoid looking into Spencer’s eyes. When he didn’t say anything in response, your heart rate kicked up and you felt your palms start to sweat as you began rambling. “And I know that may sound crazy because it’s been so long but I just never got any sort of closure with you after everything that happened so I never really closed that part of my life away and so those feelings just…never left… I know you fell out of love with me, but it just isn’t that easy on my part…”

You wiped away a stray tear that escaped during your ranting and were about to open your mouth to apologize when Spencer whispered your name in a broken voice as he reached across the table to request your hand to hold. When you tentatively gave it to him, Spencer’s large hand wrapped around yours as he said in a quiet voice, “I know that saying this now doesn’t make up for all these years of silence, but I really am so sorry for what happened.” He cleared his throat and told you, “When you found Maeve for me and I started speaking with her about my headaches I finally felt seen. I thought I loved her because she was able to help me get through something that had been plaguing me for years. I was so excited to finally understand what was happening with me that I didn’t even realize that I had started to put you on the backburner. By the time I did, Maeve was dead and you had left and I didn’t know what to do so I just never reached out…”

“Oh… I-I’m sorry I-” you started to say after a few moments.

“No!” he exclaimed a little louder than he probably intended because you could see a tint of red creep onto his cheeks and he slouched into himself to try and make himself smaller. He squeezed your hand before saying in a quieter voice, “Please don’t blame yourself for anything that happened. Looking back I know that you were trying to be there for me, but I got hyper focused on what Maeve was doing for me that I started to prioritize you less and that wasn’t fair to you.”

You cleared your tightening throat and told him, “Everyone makes mistakes, Spence.”

“But not everyone’s mistakes make them lose the love of their life like mine did,” he told you, a serious tone in his voice as he held your eye contact unwaveringly. “I messed up and I know I don’t deserve it but I would like to try and make amends so I can eventually earn your forgiveness.”

“I think you’re already on your way there, Doctor,” you told him, a shy smile on your lips as your eyes darted toward your intertwined hands.

“So explain to me again what the ME’s findings tell us?” you asked as you flipped through a file the next evening.

“The brains of all the victims had densities and lesions in certain portions that have to deal with the capacity to have rational thoughts and feel emotions properly. We think that this happened because they were exposed to emotional and psychological torture for an extended period of time which is how the unsub manipulated them into performing a murder-suicide,” Spencer informed you quickly.

David ran a hand over his chin before asking, “So then what did the unsub have on all of these people that made them so easy to manipulate into snapping?”

“Well we know that he said that all women are the same and just use men, so-” you started to say but were interrupted by JJ coming up with her phone on speaker and Penelope’s enthusiastic voice coming through the speakers.

“All of the women in these couples were wanting an out from their relationship in one way or another!” Penelope informed the group. “There were some cases of cheating or wanting a divorce or breakup or just getting out of an abusive partnership. Poor Natasha was being abused by Hayden and just wanted out…”

There were a few moments of silence before Spencer suggested, “If all of these women were trying to leave their relationships in some way then maybe that was the unsub’s stressor.”

“Maybe he was cheated on or recently divorced then,” Luke offered.

“Right,” Emily agreed. “Garcia, can you start looking into recently divorced men in the area and cross match that with your list of men whose names start with H?” Emily asked.

“I am on it!” the blonde replied as you all heard her fingers typing away on her keyboard. After a few moments she said, “There are a handful of recent divorcees in the area. A Harold Fenton, Herschel Brunswick, and Hester Lincoln.”

“Right, so then we start with those men and see if they have anything to do with these cases,” Emily informed the group. “It’s getting late and I doubt anyone is going to be awake at this hour for questioning, so we start in the morning and I’ll assign teams for the interrogations then. Be smart people, it isn’t going to be enough to just get an alibi for the time of the killings. We need to know where he was roughly when the couples were abducted and if he’s got other properties or a room in his house where he could have done the torturing.”

Before there could be any more discussion on the matter, Josh came into the precinct with a shocked looking woman on his arm. JJ and Tara rushed over to retrieve the woman from him and you asked quietly, “What happened?”

“She said she was out for an evening walk when she came across two recently shot bodies. Jessica Stevenson and Hendrix Jordan. Both shot in the head presumably with a pistol that was found beside his body,” Josh replied grimly. “While EMS was looking over her to make sure she wasn’t hurt, I asked around and turns out a neighbor had heard them fighting pretty loudly before she stormed out. He followed pretty soon after, but the neighbor said they didn’t see him with a gun.”

“Did you take any pictures of the scene?” you asked, your mind beginning to run a million miles an hour to try and work a way in front of this lunatic.

“Yeah,” Josh said as he pulled out his phone and pulled up the picture.

The team gathered around the phone and each studied the photo before David asked, “Is anyone else seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Yeah, the placement of that gun isn’t consistent with someone who just shot himself,” Luke said, his eyebrows coming together in confusion as he studied the picture. “And I’m sure once we get the ME report, it’ll show that the gun wasn’t flush with his head either.”

“So you’re suggesting that this one was a double murder?” JJ asked.

“We don’t know for sure, so let’s not get lost in the weeds, people,” Emily told her team. “The unsub is escalating. He didn’t even take time to torture this couple. This may mean that he was triggered recently and felt the need to kill. We need to get to him before he gets to another couple.”

By the next afternoon the unsub had already struck again.

You and Spencer had just gotten back from speaking with Herschel Brunswick at the cafe when you were informed of the killings. Kaitlyn Grant and Harley Dixon, a young couple who the whole town loved, but knew he was drifting away because he was so committed to his job just outside of town and would spend long hours there.

“Damnit!” you shouted in frustration, your fists clenching as you could feel your blood begin to boil when it started to feel like rage was consuming your entire being.

You brought your hands to your face in an attempt to cover up the anger but they were coaxed down and held gently by Spencer’s as he mumbled in his soothing voice, “Hey, we’re gonna figure this out.”

Ignoring Spencer’s words, you whispered, “This is my fault…” With the rage taking over once more, you snapped, “This town trusts me and the sheriff to keep them safe, but in the last five months twelve people have died! Twelve!” Your tears began to fall and you practically collapsed into Spencer’s arms as you whispered, “I can’t do anything right…”

Instinctively, Spencer caught you and started running a hand up and down your back to try and comfort you. Forgetting he was in front of the whole team and your officers, Spencer kissed the top of your head before trying to calm you down. When your breathing had finally slowed and your tears subsided enough for you to feel comfortable showing your face again, you untangled yourself from Spencer’s arms and gave him a quiet ‘thank you’ before turning to face the team and your officers who had all migrated toward the other side of the room in order to give you and Spencer space.

You were about to try and make a speech toward the team to attempt to motivate not just them but yourself too when Tara came up and placed a hand on your forearm, giving you a warm smile. “I think you need a break,” she told you gently. “This case is getting to you and I think you need to clear your mind for a little while.”

“But-” you tried to protest, but were stopped by Spencer.

“Significant stress has been shown to measurably affect neuronal properties and cognitive functioning of the hippocampus. It’s also been found to impair memory function and the ability to recall information of which could be crucial in a case like this. Did you know that in some theories about the effects of stress on the body, the individual actually loses the ability to function in the presence of excessive stress which leads to exhaustion and potentially death?”

“Okay, not what she needed to hear at this moment, but I agree with Reid that it may be best for you to go home and take a breather for a while. Details in this case are really important and I know that you want to nail this one,” Tara told you and began walking you to your office to grab your things and help you to your vehicle while assuring you that the team had it under control.

Back in the precinct, Emily cleared her throat and announced, “Okay everyone! We know from forensics that the gun was in fact not up against Jordan’s head when he was killed and that it was actually from a distance away so we can confirm that he was killed and did not commit suicide. I bet we’ll get the same result from today’s victims. This unsub is working overtime to get our attention so we need to give it to him.”

Spencer nodded and added, “Brunswick wasn’t our guy because we were with him all morning. What did we find out about the other men Garcia identified as recently divorced?”

“Fenton is clean too, we just got back a few minutes before you two,” Luke informed him.

Tara nodded in agreement. “Lincoln too. He isn’t our guy.”

“So what are we missing?” David asked.

“I don’t think we’re missing something. Maybe we’re just thinking too narrowly,” Spencer offered as he turned to look at the new report Josh had filed on the new crime scene.

“Well then let’s widen our thinking. We can’t let this guy kill anyone else,” Emily said finally before assigning groups to tasks.

After finding out that of course there weren’t any trail cameras in the area of the latest scene, Spencer was once more going over files in search of something he must have somehow missed. “Why don’t you go over the geographical profile again now that we have more victims?” Emily suggested.

So he did, taking stray pins from the cork board and placing them in the places of the latest two crimes. What was revealed in front of his eyes was the shape of a heart. “Son of a bitch…” he whispered, looking over to Emily with wide eyes. “He’s plotted out where he wants all of these people to die in order to make a heart on a map, so it could stand to be assumed that-”

“His real target lives in the middle of that heart,” Emily finished with a grim look on her face.

“That’s a large area to cover that doesn’t seem like it’s heavily populated, we’ll need a few teams to fan out and search the area,” Spencer said, grabbing a pair of keys from the rented SUVs they had been using to get around town.

“Right.” Emily looked around and started giving orders to those who were back at the station, “Luke, go with Spencer in the first SUV. Josh you’re with JJ and David in the second. Tara and I will go with Lindsey in a patrol car. We have a lot of ground to cover so let’s get moving!”

Spencer calculated the coordinates to the exact center of the heart and began driving that way with Luke in the passenger seat. On the way there, Luke broke the silence of the vehicle by asking with a smirk, “So what was going on with you and the captain earlier?”

“Old habits die hard I guess. We used to date back when she worked at the BAU,” Spencer told him. “There were a lot of cases where she needed some mental help afterward and that’s how we ended up together. She found my facts and statistics comforting because at least there was some form of guarantee to her safety.”

“That’s cute, I didn’t know-” Luke began to say but stopped short when at the same time he and Spencer noticed the vehicle in the driveway of the house they were approaching. “Reid-” Before Luke could finish his sentence though, Spencer had thrown the SUV in park and was getting out with his gun pulled from his holster. “Reid, think rationally here! Just because her house is the one you think may be in the middle doesn’t mean-”

With his gun drawn in one hand and his phone in the other, Spencer dialed Penelope as he and Luke made their way up the winding driveway, keeping to the tree line and in the shadows of the fading sunlight. “How may I be of assistance Doctor? I-” Penelope started chipperly.

“Did she ever talk to you about her relationships since leaving?” Spencer asked quickly.

“She? Who do you-?” she tried, but was quickly interrupted by Spencer blurting out your name to hurry her along. “Oh! Just one she told me about the other day! She said that back in April this guy tried to get with her but they just went on one date.”

“Hartley…” Spencer muttered under his breath. “Garcia, try to find anything on a man named Hartley in the area, that’s the last man she dated. Call Emily with whatever you find and send her to my location.”

“Got it!” she said before ending the call.

“Reid, what's going on?” Luke asked urgently.

“The first couple was abducted back in late April, after she rejected a man named Hartley. He was at the restaurant we went to the night before last and was glaring daggers at me the whole time. I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that those two couples were killed so close together after that night…” Spencer told Luke quietly as they approached the house.

Spencer just about reached for the doorknob of the house before Luke snatched his arm away and sharply whispered, “Don’t! You’re smarter than that! What’s gotten into you man?”

“It took me two days to figure out that she was the target of the unsub when it should have taken me two minutes after dinner that night! If she gets killed then that’s on my shoulders since she rejected him because of me!” Spencer whisper-shouted at him.

“Then we need to do this right and take him down quickly and quietly. We can’t just go in guns blazing,” Luke said before releasing the grip he had on Spencer’s arm. He listened for a moment and motioned toward the back of the house, telling Spencer, “I hear two voices coming from that direction of the house. Let’s start there.”

When they got to the back of the house, your voice and a male’s voice could be heard from inside having a conversation about dinner and flowers. Luke’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he whispered to Spencer, “It doesn’t sound like she’s in danger…”

Spencer peered around the corner and risked a glance into a window, noticing how your eyes flicked in his direction before taking the conversation into the next room, making sure the man who was with you followed. So Spencer motioned for Luke to follow behind him and he noticed that this room was near a backdoor that the pair of them could use to get into the house if needed.

That time came when, straining his ears to hear, Spencer heard you say, “Do you like literature? I think my favorite line is from Macbeth. Act one, scene five, lines 64-65.”

And with that, Spencer kicked in the door to the house and pointed his gun toward Hartley as he announced, “FBI, don’t move!”

Luke came in shortly after Spencer, also with his gun raised as Hartley grabbed you around the waist and held the gun loosely near your head as he let out an almost maniacal laugh. When he took in the two men across the room from him, he shook his head and said, “How fitting that it’s you who came to her rescue? You two really had a connection the other night at the cafe and it made me realize that it was you this whole time! You’re the asshole who made her turn me down! You’re the reason my heart got shattered into a million pieces! It isn’t fair that someone can break a heart so easily! So she doesn’t deserve to live and neither do I because I destroyed all those families lives by killing their sons and daughters, mothers and fathers!”

“You don’t have to do this!” Luke warned the man sternly as he trained his gun on the man’s head.

Spencer noticed Hartley’s loose grip on your waist and said your name to get your attention. Hartley warned him to shut up, but Spencer ignored him and instead locked his eyes with your terrified ones. A small reminiscent smile made its way onto his lips as he asked softly, “Remember what you told me your favorite movie was when we went on our first date?” You thought for a moment and then nodded almost frantically as Spencer said, “I want you to do the opposite of that for me, okay? Now!”

And just as he planned, you dropped to your knees, allowing Spencer to get a clean shot on Hartley that took him down in an instant. The second that he went down, Spencer holstered his gun and ran to your side, sitting himself on the ground and against the wall as he pulled you into his chest to comfort you. While he did this, Luke kicked the gun away from Hartley’s hand and checked his pulse before quietly nodding to Spencer.

“He’s gone, he can’t hurt anyone anymore,” Spencer whispered into your hair before kissing your head and letting you burrow into his embrace as you cried. “Breathe with me sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Spencer mumbled as he tried to calm you down, running a soothing hand up and down your back at the same pace as he wanted you to breathe.

Minutes passed as Spencer attempted to calm you down and he was mildly successful, enough to get you out of the dining area and onto the back of the ambulance that arrived with the rest of the team. As Spencer hesitantly left your side in order to go locate any anxiety medications you may have in your medicine cabinet, Luke followed him and asked, “Dude, how did you know she was in danger?”

As Spencer pulled out a bottle and read the label, he told Luke, “Act one, scene five, lines 64-65 of Macbeth says ‘Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under't.’ That was her way of saying that what looked like an innocent conversation between partners was actually a dangerous situation.” A huff of a laugh left his lips before he added, “She studied Shakespeare for fun in college and would analyze his work with me when we were together. Don’t try and get into a debate with that woman about Shakespeare, you’ll lose every time.”

“Wow… You two must have been a force when you were both at the BAU,” Luke mumbled, seemingly in awe of how easily the pair of you were able to communicate without giving anything away.

“Hotch thought that we could somehow read each other’s minds sometimes,” Spencer confirmed with a quiet laugh as he pulled the right bottle from the shelf.

“So what was the movie?” Luke asked curiously as he followed Spencer through the house once more, weaving through the BAU team members and your officers who were investigating the scene.

“Up,” he replied. “I told her to do the opposite so she went down.” Luke chuckled in response before being whisked away by Emily to recount his version of what happened while Spencer went back to the ambulance to give you your anxiolytic to help you calm down.

The next morning came after a sleepless night pacing a motel room that the sheriff had booked for you so your house could be processed and cleaned up after the events of Hartley’s takedown. When you drove up to the station there was a decent sized crowd near the door, presumably to get a sneak peek as to what happened at your house the night before. A light knock on your window made you jump and clutch at your heart as you looked over your left shoulder to see Spencer there with a small smile on his face.

“Want some company to head inside?” he asked as he offered you a hand to help you out of the vehicle.

“Stay close?” you asked quietly, afraid that perhaps the people in that crowd had already figured out that you were in fact the target of Hartley’s killing spree and were there because they wanted you gone…

“Of course,” Spencer replied as he hooked your arm in his and the two of you made your way through the crowd and to the front door, ignoring all of the questions being thrown your way.

When you got inside, you almost breathed a sigh of relief before you were approached by Tara and Emily who told you once more that they would need you in the interrogation room, but this time for an actual questioning. At the request your body stiffened as you realized that you would have to relive the situation again and without missing a beat, Spencer said, “As long as I can be in there with her.”

“Spence, you know that-” Emily started but was interrupted by Tara.

“Let him,” she told Emily with a shake of her head. “As long as Reid doesn’t say anything to her it won’t matter if he’s in there or not, but if she needs his presence for comfort we at least should allow that.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, your muscles relaxing the slightest bit as you and Spencer began following the pair to the interrogation room.

Once inside the cold space, you pulled your cardigan close and made sure that Spencer’s hand was held in yours before you nodded to signal that you were okay to begin. “So can you tell me what happened yesterday from your point of view?” Emily asked.

“I left the station to clear my head after being informed that another couple had been found dead. I grabbed a few groceries and headed to my home where inside I found Hartley Rivers standing in the kitchen of my previously locked house,” you told her quietly, your voice wobbly as you spoke.

“Did he do or say anything when you got there?” Tara asked.

“He was…oddly calm at first. Asked what I got from the store and said that I should make the two of us a meal. Said that it was the least I could do for him after all the work he’d been doing lately,” you replied.

“Did he elaborate on that statement?” Emily asked.

“Not at first,” you said, “but I got him talking and he confessed to staging all of the murder-suicides in the last few months. He…he said…he said…” you trailed off as your breathing began to pick up and your leg began to bounce anxiously.

“Take your time,” Tara said.

“He said it was my fault…” you whispered. “He said that if I just didn’t reject him then all of those people would be alive…” The grip Spencer had on your hand tightened the slightest bit and it brought your turbulent thoughts to that feeling alone and you used it to ground yourself back to reality before clearing your throat and adding, “He told me that I was the loss of his life and that I didn’t deserve to live for what I did and neither did he. But he thought that if he got my attention in a way that wasn’t romantic gestures it would get the point across better…”

“So you're saying that he confessed to orchestrating the killings?” Emily asked.

You nodded. “Yes. He didn’t tell me where, but…”

“Then what happened?” Tara asked gently when you didn't elaborate more.

“I…I saw Spencer sneaking around outside so I brought the conversation to a room near an outside door and informed him that I was in danger by referencing a line from Macbeth,” you said, which earned a small smile from Emily. “When Luke and Spencer got in, Hartley grabbed me and held me at gunpoint. From there things get fuzzy because I was so scared. All I remember is Spencer asking me something so I took a knee and heard a gunshot and Hartley let go of me. I thought I got shot until I felt Spencer pull me into his lap and then my anxiety got the better of me…”

“Thank you, you did well,” Tara informed you, standing up and coming around the table to give you a squeeze on the shoulder.

“We’ll get all of that into the right hands and then we’ll have to be on our way soon,” Emily said hesitantly as she made her way to the door.

“I’d like to stay behind for another day or two. I’ll use vacation days,” Spencer told her immediately. “I can book myself a flight back to Virginia and do my paperwork on the way.” Emily opened her mouth for a moment and then closed it, simply nodding in response before making her way out of the room with Tara behind her.

“You didn’t have to do that, Spence…” you whispered.

“No, but I wanted to. I need to make sure you’re okay at least through the hardest part of this,” he informed you as he helped you stand up on your unsteady legs to leave the room.

“Thank you,” you told him graciously, turning into him and throwing your arms around his frame in a tight embrace.

“Of course,” he told you, the smile evident in his voice.

After a few moments, you took a deep breath and said, “I need to make an announcement, would you mind staying with me for it?”

“I don’t mind,” he replied, following you out into the main office area where the BAU team and your officers were milling around filing away papers.

You cleared your throat and said just loud enough to be heard over the noise, “I have an announcement I’d like to make.” When all eyes were on you, you took a deep breath and said, “I would like to thank everyone for their work on this case, both my locals and the BAU team. You all worked long and hard hours to close this case and I am very appreciative of that. Unfortunately before we could solve it, twelve people died in this town at the hands of Hartley Rivers under my watch. So with that being said I’m announcing that I will be stepping down from my position as Captain of the police division here. I made a promise to serve and protect the people of this town and after the events of this case I feel like I failed at that because I couldn’t solve it sooner and because I was the reason Hartley felt the need to do what he did. It’s been an honor to serve this town while I did, but it wouldn’t be right to continue on from here. Thank you.”

There was a stunned silence that filled the room and you quickly ducked your head and started toward your office after making eye contact with the sheriff who gave you a nod and a sad smile in response. When you got there, you grabbed a box and began slowly placing your belongings inside when you heard footsteps enter the room. “So you’re really going?” Josh asked quietly, his sadness evident in his voice.

You nodded, which earned a sigh from Lindsey and her saying, “Man this sucks…”

“I know but… I feel like I failed this town. And once word gets out about what happened, I would be driven out of the position and the town anyway and I’d rather end it on my terms.”

The two agreed and began helping you pack up your belongings while reminiscing on some of the better days in this office. Once you seemed to run out of things to talk about, Josh asked with a smirk evident in his voice, “So…you and agent Reid huh?”

“Doctor Reid,” you informed him sternly with a quiet laugh escaping your lips. “He didn’t earn three PhDs for nothing.”

“So you’re into the smart ones,” Lindsey said teasingly as she landed an elbow into your ribs lightly.

“I suppose so,” you said as you looked up and saw Spencer himself in the doorway. The four of you made quick work of packing up your office and before you knew it, you were being escorted out to your vehicle with Spencer’s protective arm around you as you made your way through the crowd of people who still thankfully didn’t know the truth behind everything yet.

When you and Spencer got to your house, he helped you unload the boxes of your office items and then sat beside you on the couch after you put on a quiet instrumental record to keep there from being a deafening silence in the room. You couldn’t help your mind from wandering back to the events of not only yesterday, but of the last five months. As you did, a roaring filled your ears that was interrupted by Spencer’s voice as he asked, “Hey, what’s on your mind?”

“Too much,” you replied quietly.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really, but…” You sighed and in defeat relented, saying, “I guess it’s best if I do.”

“It is. And I’m right here with you,” he told you as he tentatively scooched closer on the couch and put his arm around you. Your muscles relaxed as he did this and the flood gates opened once more as you burrowed into Spencer’s side.

“I just feel like such a screw up… Twelve people with lives and families and dreams for the future are all dead because of me…” you whispered, trying to muffle the sob that escaped at the end of your statement.

Spencer ran his hand up and down your arm for a moment before quietly asking, “If it were anyone else in your position what would you tell them?”

“What?” you asked after a few seconds, pulling away for a moment to look up at Spencer with furrowed eyebrows.

“As the victim advocate specialist that you are, what would you say to someone else in your position?” Spencer asked and you began to see his point. “Say it was Lindsey in the center of this instead of you? You wouldn’t tell her that those people died because of her would you?”

“No…” you whispered, sagging back into his embrace with a sigh. You were quiet for a moment before replying thoughtfully, “I would tell them that they can’t control other people’s actions and feelings. That they couldn’t have known that something so simple as rejecting someone could cause such disaster. That they shouldn’t have to live in fear of this happening again so they’ll go out and live their life and not seclude themselves. That even though in the heat of the moment if the families of the victims find out the reason behind the crime that it still isn’t their fault no matter what nasty things are said to them. I would remind them that they’re a victim in this too and they deserve treatment and counseling services just like the other victims’ families…”

Spencer leaned down and kissed the crown of your head before mumbling, “Exactly. So what is making you feel like you don’t deserve to hear those things too?”

“Because I was supposed to protect all of those people and I couldn’t do my job. They shouldn’t have died in the first place. Pair that with the fact that Hartley was doing this because of me and…it makes me feel like I don’t deserve to be handled gently after everything that happened,” you told him sadly.

“I think that just proves that you should be given more grace than anyone in this situation,” Spencer says.

“I just don’t feel like I’m deserving to be cared for after everything…”

“Well I guess I’m just going to have to prove your anxiety wrong,” Spencer said and you could hear the smile in his voice as he pulled you impossibly closer in what seemed like an attempt to bring all of your broken pieces back together.

Later that day after finally getting through all of your emotions about your now totally uprooted life and watching your comfort movie with Spencer, you started to feel a bit lighter. So as you made dinner for the two of you, you sang quietly to the music coming from your record player as Spencer helped where he could with the meal. While you were standing at the stovetop stirring the food, he came up behind you and gently wrapped his arms around your waist and swayed to the music playing. “I missed this…” he admitted quietly, his voice and body relaxed.

“Me too,” you replied, a small smile on your face and tears prickling the backs of your eyes.

You were afraid to ask Spencer what happened next after he left back to Virginia and you went…where? You still hadn’t decided what you wanted to do for work after you just resigned and where would that land you in the country? You weren’t sure how well- “Hey,” he said, squeezing you slightly to bring you back to reality. “You’re getting lost again.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you replied, going back to stirring the nearly complete stir fry. “I just have a lot on my mind still is all…”

“Like what?” he asked, stopping his swaying to focus on your conversation.

“What do I do for work now? There’s no way I’ll get a job in any of the surrounding counties and I’m afraid of even getting into that position again because that is so much responsibility I don’t feel ready to handle again after what happened here…”

“Have you thought about coming back to the FBI?” Spencer asked. “I know that the BAU was a cause for a lot of stress on you, so maybe you could see if there are any victim advocate positions available in other departments? Or maybe go back to your SVU department?”

“I have enough in the bank to take a month or so off from work to sort things out mentally but… I think once I figure myself out again, being an advocate again would be rewarding and now that I have a unique perspective on things…” Maybe it was time to move back to Virginia…

“I think you would do great,” Spencer replied, releasing you from his arms before reaching for the plates you had been warming to place the food on. You still had a faraway look in your eyes, even you could tell, so you weren’t surprised when he asked, “What else is on your mind?”

You didn’t reply as you plated the food and made your way to the table, trying to figure out the best way to discuss the topic at hand. You couldn’t figure out a graceful way to ask, so you let out a heavy sigh as you gestured between yourself and Spencer and asked quietly, “Spence… What is this? What is going on between us right now? The hugs, the kisses, the comforting touches. Is it just because of the case? Is it because you feel bad for me?” Guilt at the last bit began to crawl its way up your spine and you felt your throat closing up slightly as you said, barely above a whisper, “I’m sorry I’m just scared right now…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assured you, reaching over and grabbing your hand gently and rubbing comforting circles onto it with his thumb. Clearing his throat, Spencer admitted, “At first it was habitual. It felt like an instinct to comfort you because that’s what I did all those years, but…but then I realized that I didn’t just want to provide you with physical comfort. I wanted to protect you. I wanted to hold you until all of your fears and doubts went away. I just…I want you back.” At those last words, your eyes darted up to meet Spencer’s hopeful ones. A smile fell onto his face as he finished, “Please. I want you back in my life and if that can’t be as your boyfriend right now I understand that, but I just want to be in your life somehow. It took me a while to realize that I never stopped loving you and it took me seeing you to realize that if I want you back I need to fight for it and prove to you that taking me back won’t be a mistake.”

“Taking you back would never be a mistake,” you mumbled, a smile making its way onto your face as you scooted closer to Spencer on the dining table’s bench.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Spencer whispered as his hand ghosted its way up your arm, landing on your cheek to hold you for a moment before asking, “May I kiss you?”

“Of course,” you replied with a slight nod before your lips were enveloped into the most tender kiss Spencer had ever given you. A feeling of warmth ran up your spine as you relaxed into the kiss, your hands wandering up to hook around the back of Spencer’s neck to pull him closer.

All too soon, the kiss was over and Spencer pulled away to rest his forehead on yours before telling you, “I love you. And I never want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” you promised before leaning back in for another kiss, the stir fry going forgotten on the table as you lost yourself in Spencer’s love and affection.

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