#twelve year old kind of behavior

[keinti]

si hay algo en los fandoms que siempre me va a parecer de lo más pelotudo son las guerras por SHIPS I mean how can you be so stupid to be pressed about people liking a couple from a FICTIONAL show/book/etc 😭 tipo cuanto tiempo al pedo tenes que tener¿¿.

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Honestly something that people tend to leave out of the whole Mabel debate is how her haters will be like 'She acts so immature for her age! Dipper doesn't act like that!'

Which is dead wrong. Dipper not only does act like that, but he can be JUST as much of a selfish little stinker than his sister, if not more.

[neverendingford]

.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Your Loyal Servant

Yandere Villainess/ Maid x Isekai Princess Fem Reader

TW: obsession, reader is trapped in the girl love/ GL book, DARK CONTENT, horror, yandere themes, cannibalism (reader consumes blood), SOMNIAPHILIA/ NONCON (nipple play), creepy behavior, abuse of power, betrayal, sapphic yearning, etc.

Della was once a princess of the shadow kingdom before she became your servant. A princess with dreams of ruling her kingdom until your kingdom invaded and decimated her home when she was eight. Your family’s knights easily seized her throne since her father had been greedy and tried to conquer your kingdom first. She could never forget the fire and death she saw that day… the day she was dragged up by her black locks and thrown into a cage on a cart to be sold off as a slave. The day her emotions died and left her an empty vessel.

Yet you were her saving grace. You were at the auction that day and you insisted to your butler that you had to buy her. “She’s my age! She can’t possibly become a slave, she’ll die!”

At first, Della was weary of you. Her small body curled up in her cage as she cowered in a fetal position. Did you purchase her to satiate some sort of sick sadistic tendency of yours? To rub in your family’s victory in her face? Della despised you… until you innocently smiled at her. Your hand outstretched to her dirty ones when your purchase was a success. “My name is (your name), what’s yours?”

And despite her current status of being a commoner, you never treated Della like one. You let her take baths with you and held her hand. You always requested her to lay beside you at night for a ‘sleepover.’ Della thought you were strange.

You often invited her for walks in your garden with you and shared your woes with her. Sometimes you’d even sneak her sweets from the tea parties you had to attend. If Della didn’t know any better, she’d say the two of you were friends. Best friends. Yet she never saw you as such. Your conversations were typically one sided.

“Della, I want you to be by my side until I’m old. Can you do that?” You were twelve when you made that request to her. Your maid smiled softly at you.

“Of course, mistress.” You puffed out your cheeks and pouted at her.

“It’s (your name)! You don’t have to be so formal with me all the time. Aren’t we friends?” Della just hummed which only made you sigh. All these years together and Della was still as stiff as a board. It would take years to tear down the walls around Della’s heart despite your attempts to be close to her… it made you terribly sad that you couldn’t tell Della your true secret. The secret that you were from another world trapped in the body of the original heroine, but you doubted she’d believe you. After all, you made it your goal to not die at the hands of this GL novel’s ice cold villainess. You did your absolute best not to let Della fall into depravity and turn to dark magic like she was supposed to in this doomed Yuri novel. You were on a mission to insure her happiness! At least not until you were ready to free her from servitude once you were married off with a nice sum of money. You didn’t want her to suffer…“I will always have your best interest in mind, Della. I just wished you’d see that…”

Even when the two of you grew older, you still insisted on spending time with Della. It often gave the poor maid a headache but she never complained. You were her mistress no matter how much she wanted to ring your pretty little neck with her hands. No matter how much your kindness secretly touched her heart. She was your loyal servant.

Della often found her cheeks flushed when the two of you became teenagers. She couldn’t believe you’d still try to get her to bathe you or lay beside you in bed. You two were practically adults now! That was indecent! Had you no shame as a lady?! Yet another thought couldn’t help but crawl into the back of Della’s mind. Was there a possibility you were attracted to her? The thought didn’t entirely bother Della. Most of the women in the empire were with other women so it wouldn’t be strange… right?

You often rained down compliments on Della but she hardly responded to them. She was still taciturn and stoic. You often felt as if you were conversing with a rock rather than your self-appointed ‘best friend.’ It made you feel even more lonely as the years went on. Were you doing this all for naught? Would Della still murder you like she would in the book? You hoped not! You still haven’t met your favorite character! The female lead! Except you weren’t the original, naive female lead that would be offed by the villainess…

As the two of you approached adulthood, you promoted her to head maid. Yet she still remained close to your side. You no longer asked her to bathe you or asked for ‘sleepovers,’ you were more lady like now. You also ceased with your compliments to her and her work, a small fact that bothered Della a bit. Didn’t you like her still? Why were you being so different?

Meanwhile you were antsy. The ball was coming up and you’d soon meet the female lead! She was a holy knight and she’d be the one to save the empire from the forces of evil… she was so cool and muscular! A butch from your sapphic dreams! You felt yourself internally fan girl out of excitement. Yet you didn’t want to express that to Della. No, you’d still remain civil with your maid since she didn’t seem to care much for your companionship…

Della brushed your hair as you sat on your stool, your hands in your lap as you hummed a soft tune to yourself.

And that’s when you dropped a bomb on Della. “I really enjoyed Stephanie’s cooking yesterday. Could you ask her to make me food again?” Stephanie? The new cook? What was so great about her cooking that made you praise her? Della was the one who doted on you. Della was the one who always took care of you.

“Ouch!” You jumped when Della accidentally tugged on your hair. “Della, that hurt-“ Your heart stopped in your chest when you glanced up at the look on Della’s face. Her eyes held a murderous glint in them which made you shudder. Oh god… was she going to hurt you?

Della snapped out of it the instant she heard your voice, she quickly bent down to make sure you were okay, but you swatted her hands away. “I’m sorry, Della… I can finish getting ready by myself.”

Della felt her world crash around her. She hadn’t meant to pull your hair… don’t kick her out. Please don’t do this… yet she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She instead, bit her lips and bowed her head to you. She then rushed out of your room in haste. It wasn’t until Della rounded the corner of the hall that one of the other maids pointed out that her lips were bleeding.

Della absentmindedly touched her lips and frowned. Never had she been so emotional… yet all these feelings were brought out by you. Her princess… her princess that she wanted to serve forever.

“Where is Stephanie?” Della softly asked the maid who quirked a brow. The maid told Della the location of the cook in a confused tone, “oh, she’s in the kitchen. Why?” Della just gave the maid a smile. “I just have a message for her is all.”

Yes… she was the head maid so she could use that to her advantage. She’d get the ginger bitch fired. You should only compliment Della. No one else mattered.

You were surprised when a plate was placed in front of you by Della. This wasn’t Stephanie’s cooking… this looked like Della’s. “Oh? What’s this?”

“Your favorite.” Della replied in her usual stiff tone. The maid poured you a cup of your favorite tea as well. Della wasn’t wrong but you couldn’t help but feel a bit suspicious of her. Where was Stephanie? Oh well… you’d eat your meal.

Della’s green eyes studied you as she watched you eat the meal without complaint. Your face scrunched up when the meat had a bit of a strong iron taste to it, but you kept eating. Della played with the bloody bandages on her fingers as her smile grew wide. She hoped you liked the way she tasted. What better way to stay with you forever than to give you some of her blood?

When you retired for the night, Della snuck into your room to lay beside you. Her olive hands snuck under your dress to cup your chest. Her fingers pinched your nipples to see your cute reactions. She hadn’t realized how sensitive you were… did you need her to take care of your body’s needs? She’d do it. Della would do anything you asked of her… just don’t throw her away. Della pushed your dress up as she licked her lips at the sight of your bare body. What a dirty girl you were to not wear undergarments… perhaps she’d teach you a thing or two about being indecent?

You woke up the next day with sore nipples. They were a bit swollen and red and you couldn’t figure out why. You nearly cried when you accidentally touched one. Did you have an allergic reaction to your meal yesterday? No… this was just so odd.

Della dutifully entered your room and began to help you get dressed. Her green eyes filled with satisfaction from her handiwork on your nipples. You seemed so confused… like a little lamb. Della thought it was so cute.

Della began to order the other maids to work far away from you. She needed to get you to alone so she could express her feelings for you properly… so none of the other servants knew she was going to fuck you. She didn’t want any rumors to spread about her darling princess! Della would be a horrible maid if she did that…

You were a bit shocked with how touchy Della was throughout the week. She was stuck to you like a shadow now. And you had yet to see another servant other than Della attend to your needs. You found it so odd…

“Della? Where are all my personal maids?” You asked as you sat on your stool. Della scowled for a brief second before she recovered to her usual icy exterior.

“You only need me, my princess. They’re all inferior.” You froze and turned your body around to look at your maid.

“Pardon?” You’re shocked when Della’s hands grab your face. “D-Della-“

Della presses her lips to yours in a passionate kiss. Her large chest pressed against yours as she pushed you against your vanity. You’re absolutely mind boggled at this development. What was happening?! You thought Della hated you.

“Princess… my princess.” Della whispered against your lips as she reached a hand to undo her bun. Her black curls now cascaded down her back like a cape. “I’m your forever servant and only I can properly fulfill your needs. And I mean all of your needs.”

You gasped when she yanked your legs up onto her shoulders. Your eyes widened in confusion until your face flushed in realization. Della didn’t hate you… Della was obsessed with you.

“So let me please you properly, princess. I swear I won’t disappoint you.”

[love-toxin]

billy brainrot🤭 xxxi. "You're mine. Get that through your dense little brain." with him after a breakup!! pretty please

took me 1001 years to finish this but here i am babey

(cws: violent behavior, jealousy, toxic relationship, gn pronouns + fem nickname, possessiveness, post-breakup sex, needy billy, vaguely dubcon, shower sex, pet names, gaslighting)

Billy broke it off with you, not the other way around. He should not be the one banging on your front door, waiting by your car to catch you on the way to work, bothering you at your job to try and talk to you--and he especially should not be sabotaging your dates with other guys by showing up and causing a scene.

Punching your car window and dragging your date out to get into a fistfight with him? It's about as mature as a twelve year old's attitude. It was a first date too, not even that serious.

But that's just Billy. Just like it's quintessential for him to act all offended afterwards, like he's the one that's been put out cause you got mad at him. Then he starts up with the sweet talking, the "c'mon, mama", the kissing on your neck and telling you he missed you when you know he was messing with at least three other girls just this week. There's no reasoning with him, nor any point in entertaining his immature frame of mind. He's messed up and violent--a dangerous and unlikely-to-last cocktail for a partner.

Yet it's no surprise that you ended up in the showers with him, the pool empty and the parking lot dark since it's well close to midnight. You shouldn't have forced him to sit down with the first aid kit when he refused to go to the hospital for his cuts and that sprained shoulder--"'m not a pussy"--he said. It's different once the hot water hits his body, when he's got his hands bracing the wall behind you and his eyes burning a hole through your skull.

"You're mine." He growls over the hail of thudding water on linoleum. His skin burns as it slides over yours. "Get that through your dense little brain."

His muscles pin you like a brick wall against the shower, too broad and too strong for you to possibly resist. He slides your thigh up his hip to hook your leg around it, using the leverage to bump the tip of his rock-solid cock against you. That kiss he gives you is searing.

"Billy," You moan between kisses, your sentence finishing in a gasp as he slides in with a smirk. "You're an ass."

"You love me."

Thump. "No I don't." Thump. Each thrust knocks your head back against the tile, but Billy's hand creeps up to cushion it on the third time onward.

"You'd bite my dick off right now if you didn't."

"Nnh. I might still do it," Your warning comes with absolutely no venom, not nearly enough to wipe that grin from Billy's face as he gets exactly what he wants. Your answer makes him chuckle while he repositions you, hikes your other leg up with a grunt to hold you up against the shower wall. With both hands free you can cup his face as he makes out with you, adding to his perception that this is really what you wanted all along as your touches reminisce on a time not so long ago. When fucking in the pool room showers was a daily occurrence, tending his wounds was a kindness, and hearing him say 'I love you' felt like it actually had some meaning. Now it just feels like it's meant to placate you.

"Put on a condom, at least, you animal." You mutter amongst the sounds of skin slapping, tongues meeting teeth, and your back hitting the wet tile.

"I love you." He murmurs back. His voice rumbles against your throat, preceeding a soft but stinging bite that leaves a mark behind. You've got no idea what that answer means, but maybe it, too, means nothing. He could just be ignoring you for all you know.

"I'll pull out, baby. Y'know I will." Billy nips at your lower lip when he finally raises his head from your neck, having not had enough of using his teeth, evidently. "C'mon, mama. Love you."

"Quit it." That nickname hits you in the chest like a hammer on cloth, more than even those promises of love. He liked to tease you with that, then it became a term of endearment. You've always cared for him; reassuring his difficult emotions, cooling his anger, tending his wounds, even cooking for him and giving him affection in the simplest ways. Maybe that's why he's not letting you go. He can't do any better, but he can't let go of the only comfort he can find.

"That's it, baby..." He's losing himself now. His thrusts are aggravated, growing more aggressive as he reaches the finish line. His eyes squeeze shut and his grip tightens on your hair as his hips buck faster. "Squeeze down on it. That's it--that's, there--oh, fuck!"

The end comes as a surprise, a sudden moment of pleasure that overwhelms his ability to hold out. Billy's weight presses into you and you know--you just know by that distinct pulse inside you--that he's not pulling out like he said. Your nails dig deep scratches up his back as he closes in on it, harshly pressing your hips completely still as he forces himself past that one, last boundary that could've still allowed him an out. Now there's no choice but to drain himself inside you; cum splattering in thick drops down the drain as your legs tremble with pleasure. He always manages to get it on the last try--triggering your orgasm like it's a switch at the last possible moment. But he never misses, not even once.

Now it's sinking in. You're floating off your feet, barely able to stand when he finally lowers you down, and you have to let him hold you just so you don't fall. As much as you want to push him away, he made it so you need him to rely on. Again. And you don't feel as bad about it as you should.

"Break up with that dickhead." Billy growls into your ear, suddenly riled up again--probably over his own thoughts more than anything else. The way he has to tilt his head down just to reach your ear is a new level of intimidating...and regrettably, incredibly hot. "We need to get back together."

"You'll change your mind once your brain evicts itself from your dick." You mumble dismissively, nudging his arm down so you can grab a towel. But he stops you--he blocks you back under the water, his mouth barely a hair's width from yours as he whispers.

"I want you back, baby."

"This was a mistake. It was a first date anyways, weren't even 'together' in the first place...and I still don't want you back."

"Doesn't change the fact that I love you. We fit together." He murmurs into another kiss that you less than reluctantly accept. A lock of your hair curls around his bronzed skin as he twirls it round his finger. "Think about it, at least. I know you want it."

"Why the hell would I?"

"Cause you can't last a week without fucking me." That, at least, is true. But that doesn't...mean anything. Plenty of people backslide, it doesn't mean you're still in love with him. You turn your head in a pout and he smirks at the idea that he's right.

"I like your dick. Not you."

"Then take it every day." He grabs your hand and moves it over his crotch, just to laugh when you yank it away and slap him. It's not hard. Much less hard enough to make him feel anything but affection at how feisty you still are. "You're still mine. My pretty little slut-"

As he whispers low in your ear you finally break away from him, just barely stepping out of the shower when he grabs your ass on the way out. You have to wrench his wrist off to get him to let go and that's fortunately enough for him, but it doesn't change the downright predatory stare he gives you as he watches you dry off and get your clothes back on in a hurry.

"Come by the quarry later. Tomorrow. Let's have some fun in our old spot."

"Don't count on it."

You're done up and out the door before he knows it. Your car revs up in the parking lot outside before peeling out like a madwoman--and he can only imagine the way you're yelling and hitting your steering wheel as you drive, trying and failing to force your thoughts of him out of your head and the way that orgasm felt rippling through you, just as good as he always makes it feel.

He'll definitely be seeing you at the quarry tomorrow night.

[incognit0slut]

Lock your door

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

All y/n wanted was for her coworker to pay attention to her. Spencer was more than happy to oblige. Based on;

cw: 18+ explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), face sitting

wc: 3,9k (I'm a very descriptive writer you have been warned)

a/n: (reposted because of some error) I’m currently doing an ongoing series but once in a while, I like to write random plots, thus begins another series in which will all be one-shots based on songs i currently enjoy listening to… so yeah, this will be fun.

requests are open if you have a song in mind!

MASTERLIST

“…you better lock your door, and look at me a little more…”

Y/N WASN'T A SENTIMENTAL PERSON, but there was something about the way he looked tonight.

The fluorescent light coming from the hotel room danced across his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw. His eyes were in deep concentration as they scanned the document in his hand, his brows furrowed every time he came across something he couldn't comprehend.

Her eyes slowly raked down toward his Adam's apples, moving further across his chest, before they glided along the length of his arm. She couldn't help but notice the mesmerizing way his long fingers trailed along the words underneath his palm.

She always knew Spencer had nice, well-kept hands, but as she continued to observe them, she noticed how enticing they truly were. The size of them always surprised her, as well as the length of his fingers. But it was the veins running through the backs of his hands that really made her dry at the mouth, especially when the sleeves of his button-down shirt were folded above his wrists, showing off firm arms that didn't leave much to her imagination.

How long had she been staring at him? Gawking at him? It was hard to keep her eyes off of him when it was all she had been doing ever since she was introduced to the awkward twenty-four-year-old nerd that he was twelve years ago.

Twelve fucking years.

There should be some kind of reward for pining over your best friend for more than a decade. Y/n should be growing out of this yearning a long time ago yet somehow the more they worked together, the more it became hard for her to act as if every time his fingers innocently touched her skin there wasn’t this immense desire taking over her body, leaving her in a state of being completely swept away by the intensity of it.

Granted, Y/n knew she wasn't the only one attached to this infatuation. Words were never exchanged, although observing and analyzing people's behavior for a job helped her notice the exact same desire reflected in his eyes. She could tell in the way he looked at her, the way his pupils dilated every time he focused on her mouth.

But things between her and Spencer had always been complicated. Her early interest came unnoticed when the person he preferred to ask on a date was another one of their colleagues, and when he grew out of that brief crush and had the courage to finally ask her out, she was already in a relationship.

When that relationship ended begrudgingly and she needed a shoulder to cry on, Spencer's heart was already taken for a mysterious girl he guarded to himself. But that love affair only became a heartbreaking tragedy as it ended before it even began.

It was ever since then that Y/n made a mental note to never indulge her feelings toward one of the closest people in her life. She deemed it inappropriate after everything he'd been through, especially when he made it clear that getting involved with the opposite sex was the very last thing on his mind.

Until something shifted a few days ago.

She wasn't sure what it was. Perhaps it was the traveling into yet another foreign part of the country that made everything seem different, or maybe it was being in close proximity for more than forty-eight hours that had her watching him so earnestly.

But whatever it was, the sudden shift had her looking at the adorable young man he once was into this attractive, irresistible man she viewed as more than a mere friend. A man whose eyes glazed over her mouth this morning yet managed to be oblivious to how she was the one gawking at him now.

Maybe it was time to end their flirtatious dance. Maybe it was time to stop skirting along the what-ifs flowing in her mind. Y/n glanced at the man in front of her, watching the way his back hunched over the table as he buried himself further into deep concentration.

“Spence."

He hummed a soft response, his eyes still trailing the words printed on the document.

"Spencer."

He slightly tilted his head, an indication he was listening but kept himself busy as he continued his reading.

"Dr. Reid."

There was a certain cadence in her voice that sounded oddly pleasing. Spencer reacted to the low timbre of her voice with a glance, his eyes skimming along her leg which rested on top of the other, a glimpse of soft skin teasing his senses as the material of her dress lay softly against her thighs. His eyes snapped back to her face, noticing the lopsided smirk on her lips.

"What is it?"

"Aren't you going to take a break?" Her eyes shot toward the document in his hand. "You've been reading nonstop ever since I got here."

The latter statement was the one that caught his attention. "What's the reason you're here again?"

Y/n wondered whether explaining how she wanted to run her hands through his disheveled hair while he buried his face along her neck would be deemed appropriate. But she had too much pride to admit that. Instead, she uncrossed her legs with a satisfied glint in her eyes as she caught him staring.

She might not want to convey her attraction through words, but carrying out the art of seduction was a very different matter. Temptation had this alluring appeal that drew people in, a certain type of feeling that could often lead a person to do things they usually wouldn't do. And it was what she had in mind as she leaned over the table, the collar of her dress gracefully dropping with her movement, publicly displaying her cleavage.

"I thought you might need company," she simply said. "But I've been sitting here for almost an hour and you haven't engaged me in a conversation."

His eyes flared on the sensual way her breasts were pressed against her clothes before he quickly looked away. "Well, these documents aren't going to read for themselves."

She almost rolled her eyes at his response. "But aren't your eyes tired? Don't you want to take a break?"

He glanced at the stack of papers sitting on his side of the table. "I don't think that would be the wisest thing to do."

"Not even a five-minute break?"

"Especially a five-minute break."

She slumped in her chair as he diverted his attention back to his task, already engrossing himself in another document while ignoring the baffled look on her face. Was she looking at this differently? Was she wrong to think that some untold infatuation lingered between them all these years?

Y/n couldn't help but feel disappointed. Disheartened by the lack of attention, she abruptly stood up and moved along the carpet floor of his room. Her sudden movement caught him by surprise. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere that might actually appreciate my presence."

She heard him heave out a sigh as he got up from his seat. "You know you're welcome here."

"Am I though?" She taunted, her hand already on the doorknob as she threw him a look over her shoulder. "You barely glanced at me, Spence."

"I was working. You know I need to find any potential evidence from all these files."

A sense of guilt washed over her as she watched him take a tentative step forward. "I know. I just... all I wanted was for you to look at me." Her guilt-ridden concern was replaced by embarrassment when he didn't respond. She quickly shook her head. "You know what? Never mind."

An immense feeling of shame and embarrassment traveled through her body as she turned around. What else was there to do than to flee from his scrutinizing gaze? Her hand gripped the doorknob before she pulled it, ready to fly out the room when a hand suddenly hovered over the edge of the door, softly pushing it back into place.

The sudden silence unnerved her, picking the pace of her heart when she realized she was very much flushed against his body. She could feel herself trembling as her grip slipped off the doorknob. She watched the way his long fingers glided down the hard surface of the door in intense interest.

His rough hand engulfed the lock on the door and she felt his other hand grasp her hair, slightly moving it away for better access to whatever he had in mind. His tone was quiet but undeniably gruff when he mumbled, “It's not that I don't want to look at you, Y/n.”

This was not how she had expected the night would go. Well, maybe it was what she had hoped for, but now that it was actually happening, she completely froze on the spot. She didn't know what to do, the gears in her head were moving to initiate a proper reaction but immediately came to a halt when his other hand banded around her waist as he pressed himself to her back, murmuring into the slope of her shoulders.

"But a five-minute break is not enough for me…”

His breath was hot on her neck.

“…to do..."

Her head lulled back as he pressed a kiss.

"…the things..."

Her skin shivered as he flicked his tongue.

"…I want to do to you."

She watched as he turned the lock back to its place, the sound a distinct echo in the room.

Everything went completely still. The air charged with an electric sense of excitement and nervousness, the type of charge that lead to anticipation. Spencer could feel the erratic pace of his heart as a surge of arousal rippled through his blood. It was definitely not a feeling he was used to, but it was very powerful and overwhelming in its intensity as he swiftly grabbed her arm.

Y/n let out an inaudible gasp when he turned her around, not because of the way her legs were stumbling by the impulsive contact, but by the sudden grip of his hand on her waist, steadying her momentarily in the midst of her trying to register what was happening.

"Spencer," his name a sigh from her lip. A hot spike raced through her body as if she had been struck by some force. Y/n took a shuddering breath, already knowing she would be helpless against the tingling wave he was building within her.

"What happened to your confidence?" He whispered with a coy smile.

She was growing dizzy, overwhelmed with the feeling of him everywhere, with how clear his intentions had become and how much she welcomed them. "I guess you've rendered me speechless."

And then his large hand cupped her whole face, tilting her up. His fingertips felt electric, for wherever they touched her skin tingled in a frenzy of static. She was mesmerized, captured by the spell he had on her.

There was a warm gust of air over her nose as he breathed out, "Are you sure?" His nose gently brushed against hers. "I'll stop if you tell me to."

Her fluttering eyes shot up at him. "Don't you fucking dare."

A satisfied smile curled on his lips as she waited for the moment to come, to explore every inch of his mouth. He finally pressed his parted lips on hers—and true to her imagination, his kiss was divine.

His lips felt soft and her mind went hazy when he started to move them. The push and pull of lips were exhilarating, the lazy mapping of their mouths molding together ascended the desire inside her. She exhaled a moan the moment he nibbled her bottom lip with a gentle brush of his tongue, her body burning with a new sense of need.

He gripped the base of her neck, keeping her locked to his mouth in their exchange of breaths, their tongues grazing, dancing, colliding with one another. And between her breathless moan of pleasure, he was making his own delightful noises, the various groans and growls coming from deep within his chest only made her beg for more.

Spencer slowly pulled away, eyes slamming shut as his forehead met hers, gasping for the much-needed air. "You," he growled under his ragged breath. "Taste better than I imagined."

Her head was spinning. How could he consume her so much? They were practically pressed against each other like hot glue yet she wondered whether there was any possible way to crawl under his skin. It wasn't enough, she craved more. More than his kiss. More than his tongue—she wanted more of him.

Y/n slightly pulled away, her hands skimming along his arms before they grasped onto the bottom hem of her dress, and without warning, she managed to pull the piece of clothing over her head with one swift motion.

Spencer stood there, utterly impressed and furthermore aroused. His eyes raked over her half-naked body with absolute adoration. "I see you've gained your confidence back."

She threw her dress to the floor. "Most of it anyway."

There was nothing more bewitching than her half-naked form, yet he wanted more of her, he needed to have her fully undressed in his arms. Spencer carefully grabbed her hand and guided her further into the room. He slowly dropped himself on the edge of his bed and parted his legs, gently slipping her between them.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his hands gliding along her skin. "Gorgeous, just absolutely gorgeous."

Her hands skimmed along his shoulders before she ran them through his tousled hair as she stood between the firmness of his legs, enjoying the pure admiration in his eyes. There was something mesmerizing in those hazel orbs, tantalizing her self-confidence as her fingers moved over to the front of her bra, unhooking the clasp before it slipped over her shoulders so effortlessly.

When she was finally free from the confinement of her undergarment, Spencer let out a satisfied sigh, because right in front of him were the most perfect breasts he could ever possibly imagine. His hand danced across her skin, feeling her body tremble underneath his palm as he let a thumb graze over her already hard nipple. The moan she let out was unbelievably exotic and there was nothing else he wanted to do than to hear more of it.

So he let his finger trail down her stomach before he grabbed the edges of her underwear and finally, but oh so slowly, pulled them down her smooth legs. Once they were off, he leisurely observed her nudity, his eyes sweeping over her wet flesh, flushed and swollen, the warmth radiating from her core made every part of him swell. He slowly guided a hand up her leg.

"Spencer," she breathed, clutching onto him even tighter. "Please."

His fingers brushed her inner thigh, so close to where she burned but not close enough for her to feel the satisfaction she desired. "Please what?"

She whimpered desperately. "Touch me."

"And where do you want me to touch you?"

"Everywhere."

What was a man to do when he was asked with such urgency? Such fervor? Spencer looked up at her and smiled, placing a gentle kiss between her breast before motioning her toward the bed. "Lay on your back."

She did as she was told and when she was finally on her back with him pressed to her side, Y/n shuddered at the touch of fabric from his clothes. There was something vulnerable about being the only one naked, yet somehow the roughness grazing her skin merely intensified her arousal.

She inhaled a sharp breath as she was met with a pair of hooded eyes looking down at her with undeniable lust. She felt electricity in her body, hormones shutting down her higher brain, and from there on in it was all passion, intense, intoxicating. He leaned forward, a hand unhesitatingly pushing her locks out of the way to expose her slender neck. His rapid breathing sent shivers down her spine, his lips almost brushing her ear as she closed her eyes.

Spencer trailed small kisses along her jawline, down to her throat, and pressed another kiss on the spot below her ear. She let out a satisfied moan as he sucked the spot leisurely, feeling herself shudder at his touch, sending her into another trance of delight.

She writhed at the electrifying touch of his fingertips and the thread of control that seemed to remain in him snapped as he lunged at her, pressing into her mouth. She gasped at the force and like the man he grew to be, he took that opportunity to slip his tongue, tasting every corner of her mouth. Her taste overwhelmed his senses as he devoured her, hands sliding in her hair, tugging at her, twisting and moving her to his liking.

Her scent was filling his nostrils, her delicate fragrance intoxicating his brain, pulling him even deeper into the spell she was casting on him. His smile was wicked against her lips as his hand engulfed her breast, feeling her shiver underneath him, her breath becoming rapid as she felt his thumb stroking her nipple.

Her aroused nub tightened at his touch, screaming, begging for his utmost attention. He gladly obliged her desire, his mouth trailing down her collarbone, letting his tongue brush along the curve of her breast before his lips hovered above her swollen peak, ravishing it into his mouth.

She arched her back, a moan escaping her lips as the sensation shot through her body, a thrill of arousal pooling in the heat of her core. He pulled away for a moment before ravishing her other peak, gently tugging it with his teeth before sinking in her flesh with the heat of his mouth.

"Beautiful," he murmured to no one but himself as his eyes took in the sight of her naked chest. His tongue flickered out teasingly on her hardening nub before he looked straight into her eyes. "You're so beautiful."

Then his finger continued its teasing brush, gliding along her skin as she writhed uncontrollably, waiting for him to touch the place she desired the most. It was torture. Evil, wicked torture as he leisurely took his time into taunting her that she let out a frustrated sigh.

"Spencer..."

He smiled amusedly, feigning innocence. "What?"

Y/n was never one to beg. Her job taught her to stand her ground and to be resilient whenever she had to face any type of obstacle. But right now, as his touch burned her skin in ways she never thought possible, she really didn't care.

"Baby, please..."

The unexpected term of endearment sent a sensational thrill along his body before a satisfied grin stretched across his lips. "Now how can I say no to that?"

This time when his hand slipped lower, she slowly suck in an anticipatory breath through her teeth that she held until his fingers swiped achingly light over her slit. She let out an audible gasp when she felt the pressure of his fingers over her, teasing her ever so slightly as her eyes rolled at the back of her head. He ran his fingers between her folds, making her flinch at the sensitivity and without warning, without mercy, they plunge into her.

A heavy tide of delight hit her, tension snapping inside. Strong waves emanate from her core, ecstasy racing through every inch of her body as his fingers swelled inside her wetness, moving at a rapid yet lazy pace. Her hips bucked against his fingers, following every movement they made as they stretched inside her, building the most sensational feeling throughout her body.

She closed her eyes, ready to simply enjoy the thrilling pleasure he was bringing to her when he suddenly pulled his fingers out and she whimpered at the loss. He dragged his tongue along his lips before lying on his back, pulling her along with me. "Come here."

She followed him, her legs on either of his side when he motioned her to move forward. "No," he hissed. There was a sudden shyness in his demeanor but his eyes reflected an immense amount of determination. "Sit on my face."

She gaped at him.

Never in a million years did she ever imagine those words to come out from his lips. If anyone told her that Spencer Reid, a certified genius with an IQ of 187, would ask her to sit on his face, she would've laughed. Yet here she was, crawling over him as he proved to her how lewd he could actually be.

Y/n felt the heat creeping along her cheeks as she settled on top of him, but his reassuring smile threw away any doubt she had in mind. He softly kissed her inner thigh before she lowered herself. She gripped the bed frame in front of her while his tongue flickered between her slit, and hooked his arms around her thighs, holding her in place as he devoured her hot flesh like a man starved.

Oh, fuck.

She must have said that out loud as she felt the vibration of his laughter on her skin. She faintly looked down at him and found his eyes boring into hers, watching her intently as he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked hungrily. The view was making her dizzy. The way his eyes bore into her own as his tongue wrapped around her wetness made her grind her hips, seeking more of the fraction.

He gave a long, languorous stroke with the flat of his tongue and sucked her into his mouth, tugging ever so slightly she could feel the pull in her throbbing clit. Then he spread his mouth wide over that sensitive nub and sucked even harder, a sudden stabbing sensation making her cry in pleasure. Her whimpers and moans grew louder as the coil in her stomach tightened, his tongue moving faster while he felt her clenching around his mouth. 

Y/n could hear how wet she was as he worked her sex relentlessly. The cadence of his tongue was making her delirious. The warm, delicious tingle radiating from his touch was flooding over her that she knew she was approaching the end. His growl rumbled against her wetness as she spasmed, her face a mess of sweat and tears as he lapped up her folds, his tongue sliding into her and pressing on the walls.

And then she shattered—breathlessly, tiredly, heavenly. Her toes curled as she screamed out his name, releasing her grip on the bed frame before burying them in his tousled hair; pulling, grabbing, then throwing herself back as the intensity of the feeling rushed in her blood. She let out a sob as he eased her through her orgasm, rubbing her thighs while they shook around his head.

Her mind went completely blank a few minutes later. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t speak. She merely notice her body shaking with satisfaction as he carefully helped her down, settling her naked body on top of his. The gentle sound of his breathing filled her ears as she felt soothing hands running over her.

They stayed like that, drenched in her sweat with her head on his chest and her legs draped over him. Then after a moment of relishing each other's presence, his deep voice cut through the silence. "You're amazing."

She finally had the will to lift her head up and laughed. "Shouldn't I be the one saying that?"

The indicated compliment made him smile. Silence engulfed them and at that moment it seemed as if there were a lot of things to be said, but somehow neither wanted to initiate the conversation. He pulled her closer and she leaned in his embrace—then his phone rang suddenly before she could even relax.

She groaned. "How much do you want to bet that that's Garcia?"

"Or Hotch." Spencer's hand glided down her back. "We should probably see what they want."

"We should."

But they didn't move and his phone suddenly stopped its chime. Their peace was once again interrupted by another call that came from her phone this time. Y/n let out a sigh. "We should really go."

He nodded, but before she peeled herself off, her eyes cautiously narrowed on him. She could practically feel the blood and adrenaline pumping and coursing through her vein as a rush of hesitation enveloped her. "Can we... finish this later?"

But then her heart brimmed with affection at how his smile lit up, a wide, radiant grin that pierced her skin and traveled straight to her soul. And there he was, underneath the mature lines swept across his handsome face was the adorable man her heart had always ached for.

"Oh, absolutely," he spoke, his fingers trailing over her naked flesh. "We'll definitely finish this later."

[atopvisenyashill]

patterns of abuse with jaehaerys

this post made me deeply depressed and i reread f&b which was my first mistake.

tldr i’m making the argument that jaehaerys definitely sexually abused saera and alysanne, and likely viserra and gael, and also i hate this man. if you disagree and want to say so *nicely* that’s cool but if you hardcore love jae and don’t want to hear criticism, maybe just scroll past bc i’m not nice to him at all (obviously, i’m accusing him of csa lol).

breaking this down by each woman, so there’s 6 sections: saera, viserra, daella, gael, alysanne, and alicent.

saera targaryen

If she were the king’s firstborn, or better still his only child, she would be well content. Instead she finds herself the ninthborn, with six living siblings who are older than her and even more adored. Aemon is to be king, Baelon most like will be his Hand, Alyssa may be all her mother is and more, Vaegon is more learned than she is, Maegelle is holier, and Daella…when does a day go by when Daella is not in need of comfort? And whilst she is being soothed, Saera is being ignored. Such a fierce little thing she is, they say, she has no need of comfort. They are wrong in that, I fear. All men need comfort.

that’s septon barth’s opinion on her and barth is always right. simply put, she’s a deeply neglected child who acts like a brat to get her parents attention because she’s learned the only way they’ll pay attention to her is if she’s causing a problem.

Before she was eleven, she was stealing wine and ale instead. By twelve, she was like as not to arrive drunk when summoned to the sept for prayer.

The king’s half-witted fool, Tom Turnip, was the victim of many of her japes, and her unwitting catspaw for others. Once, before a great feast where many lords and ladies were to be in attendance, she persuaded Tom that it would be much funnier if he performed naked. It was not well received.

stealing alcohol at 10 and being a committed alcoholic at 12 is not normal behavior. it is a sign of something deeply at wrong at home. also, the way she kind of, sexually humiliated tom, someone who is too “innocent” to even realize she’s sexually humiliating him…gives me the ick re: how she views sex.

Saera had learned the art of getting anything she wanted from her father: a kitten, a hound, a pony, a hawk, a horse (Jaehaerys did draw a firm line at the elephant). Queen Alysanne was far less gullible, however, and Septon Barth tells us that Saera’s sisters all misliked her to various degrees.

i don’t like this. nothing wrong with giving your child gifts (see ned going above and beyond to get arya not just instruction on how to fight but also a specific style that would gel with being smaller than your average opponent) but in conjunction with “jaehaerys ignores saera unless she’s pressing him for an expensive gift which he immediately gives her and alysanne doesn’t get why he caved so quickly” its an alarming dynamic.

also speaks to how isolated saera specifically was, that the only siblings that like her (aemon and baelon) are usually out and about, and there’s a clear wedge between saera and her sisters, even viserra.

The screams were coming from Tom Turnip, who was lurching helplessly in circles trying to escape from half a dozen naked whores, whilst the patrons of the house laughed uproariously and shouted on the harlots. Jonah Mooton, Red Roy Connington, and Stinger Beesbury were amongst those patrons, each one drunker than the last. They had thought it would be funny to see old Turnip do the deed, Red Roy admitted. Then Jonah Mooton laughed and said the jape had all been Saera’s notion, and what a funny girl she was.

again with sexually humiliating tom.

it continues with her friends. it’s not unusual for a 15 year old girl to want to fool around with other 15 year olds but alys and perri are all guilt ridden and upset and alys is with child. it reminds me a lot of cersei sexually abusing taena in affc. when she’s caught (now, mind you, she’s been marched in front of her parents sitting on the throne and not brought to them in their private rooms. she’s being treated right off the bat as if she’s guilty of a crime and not guilty of being a shitty teenager):

“She went from denial to dismissal to quibbling to contrition to accusation to justification to defiance in the space of an hour, with stops at giggling and weeping along the way,” Septon Barth would write. “She never did it, they were lying, it never happened, how could they believe that, it was just a game, it was just a jape, who said that, that was not how it happened, everyone likes kissing, she was sorry, Peri started it, it was such fun, no one was hurt, no one ever told her kissing was bad, Sweetberry had dared her, she was so ashamed, Baelon used to kiss Alyssa all the time, once she started she did not know how to stop, she was afraid of Stinger, the Mother Above had forgiven her, all the girls were doing it, the first time she was drunk, she had never wanted to, it was what men wanted, Maegelle said the gods forgave all sins, Jonah said he loved her, the gods had made her pretty, it was not her fault, she would be good from now on, it will be as if it never happened, she would marry Red Roy Connington, they had to forgive her, she would never kiss a man again or do any of those other things, it wasn’t her who was with child, she was their daughter, she was their little girl, she was a princess, if she were queen she would do as she liked, why wouldn’t they believe her, they never loved her, she hated them, they could whip her if they wanted but she would never be their slave. She took my breath away, this girl. There was never a mummer in all the land who gave such a performance, but by the end she was exhausted and afraid, and her mask slipped.”

What does Jaehaerys ask after all of this? “Have you given any of these boys your maidenhead?” Her response:

“True?” said Saera. It was in that moment, with that word, that the contempt came out. “No. I gave it to all three. They all think they were the first. Boys are such silly fools.”

Now mind you, Alyssa and Daella have both died of childbirth recently and her parents are mad she had sex as a 16 year old bordering on 17 year old, and not the fact that she like, at best peer pressured her besties into having sex and now one of them is pregnant. jaehaerys has only asked if she’s still a virgin.

“I will be married,” the princess said. “Why shouldn’t I be? You were married at my age. I shall be wedded and bedded, but to whom? Jonah and Roy both love me, I could take one of them, but they are both such boys. Stinger does not love me, but he makes me laugh and sometimes makes me scream. I could marry all three of them, why not? Why should I have just one husband? The Conqueror had two wives, and Maegor had six or eight.”

i keep trying not to give my opinion and just lay it all out but the thing is i’d just be reposting the whole scene because it’s just filled with so much weird sex stuff. if you don’t remember it, go reread it. it doesn’t feel (to me) like regular “george is bad at writing sex” vibes but “george is purposefully trying to skeeve you out” vibes but i am willing to admit i could be wrong and he really just doesn’t understand what he wrote.

anyways remember how i said saera acts out to get attention from her parents? all she’s done here is act out, her “crimes” are basically nonexistent; beyond how alys feels about being pregnant, saera consensually had sex with boys around her age who aren’t married, and then blithely compared herself to some asshole relatives. if your teenager idolizes dick cheney that’s probably worrying but not a crime! this is not how jae treats it however.

When the princess heard his words, she rushed toward him, crying, “Father, Father!” but Jaehaerys turned his back on her, and Gyles Morrigen caught her by the arm and wrenched her away. She would not go of her own accord, so the guards were forced to drag her from the hall, wailing and sobbing and calling for her father.

The king was angry and unyielding, for his shame was deeply felt, and he could not forget Saera’s taunting words about his uncle’s wives. “She is no longer my daughter,” he said more than once. Queen Alysanne could not find it in her heart to be so harsh, however. “

saera tries to escape.

This time the princess was not allowed to return to her own chambers. She was confined to a tower cell instead, with Jonquil Darke guarding her day and night, even in the privy.

Princess Saera watched from the window of her cell. Jonquil Darke, her gaoler, made certain that she did not turn away.

that’s as her dad is murdering stinger btw. is he a creepy 19 year old? yeah. but like, making your 15 year old watch you murder her 19 year old trust fund baby stoner boyfriend sure is something.

so then they sent her to the silent sisters where she’s beaten all the time and has to pray all the time and she runs away, becomes a sex worker and literally never looks back.

The truth did not come out until a year later, when the former princess was seen in a Lysene pleasure garden, still clad as a novice. Queen Alysanne wept to hear it. “They have made our daughter into a whore,” she said. “She always was,” the king replied.

“You need her as a Dornishman needs a pit viper,” Jaehaerys said. “I am sorry. King’s Landing has sufficient whores. I do not wish to hear her name again.”

but before we move on, let’s look at one more related ick, when saera’s sons show up to the great council:

From Essos came three rival competitors, grandsons of King Jaehaerys through his daughter Saera, each sired by a different father. One was said to be the very image of his grandsire in his youth.

after her drinking, acting out, and jaehaerys’ focus on calling her a whore, explicitly pointing out that one of her grandsons looks just like jae is a choice. i know they’re super inbred. it’s still uncomfortable in context.

viserra targaryen

alysanne makes no sense here but i’m just gonna quickly explain instead of lay it out or we will be here all day bc viserra’s engagement is completely nonsensical. theomore manderly is old, ugly, has a shitton of heirs, and viserra clearly doesn’t want to marry him. also if she wanted to be queen, why is she going after baelon, aemon is still alive. anyways jaehaerys is no help here, then she goes to baelon for help, but she’s also super drunk.

Frustrated, Viserra next turned to her brother Baelon in hopes of rescue, if court gossip can be believed. Slipping past his guards into his bedchamber one night, she disrobed and waited for him, making free with the prince’s wine whilst she lingered. When Prince Baelon finally appeared, he found her drunk and naked in his bed and sent her on her way. The princess was so unsteady that she required the help of two maids and a knight of the Kingsguard to get her safely back to her own apartments.

she gets drunk with some friends again, goes riding, breaks her neck. i wanted to point out this pattern of drinking and acting out at a young age. as well as this pattern of targaryen daughters who aren’t “meant” for a brother and are promised to men who are old and with heirs

daella targaryen

i wanted to add daella because her getting married at 15 makes as little sense as viserra, and her match to a old man with several heirs is equally nonsensical. but also this:

“I would never marry her,” the boy said, in front of half the court. “She can barely read. She should find some lord in need of stupid children, for that’s the only sort he will ever have of her.”

where did vaegon get that mouth.

Daella was not clever, even her septa had to admit. She learned to read after a fashion, but haltingly, and without full comprehension. She could not seem to commit even the simplest prayers to memory. She had a sweet voice, but was afraid to sing; she always got the words wrong. She loved flowers, but was frightened of gardens; a bee had almost stung her once.

Jaehaerys, even more than Alysanne, despaired of her. “She will not even speak to a boy. How is she to marry? We could entrust her to the Faith, but she does not know her prayers, and her septa says that she cries when asked to read aloud from The Seven-Pointed Star.”

The queen always rose to her defense. “Daella is sweet and kind and gentle. She has such a tender heart. Give me time, and I will find a lord to cherish her. Not every Targaryen needs to wield a sword and ride a dragon.”

so daella is 12 at this point.

Her sixteenth nameday was fast approaching, and with it her womanhood. Queen Alysanne was at her wit’s end, and the king had lost his patience. On the first day of the 80th year since Aegon’s Conquest, he told the queen he wanted Daella wed before the year’s end. “If she wants I can find a hundred men and line them up before her naked, and she can pick the one she likes,” he said. “I would sooner she wed a lord, but if she prefers a hedge knight or a merchant or Pate the Pig Boy, I am past the point of caring, so long as she picks someone.”

i just don’t like this. other “simple” targs are not required to marry, like vaella and aelora, two of daeron ii’s grandfaughters so i don’t get why daella is pressured into marrying before she’s even of age. at least jae 2 forced rhaella and aerys because of a prophecy? what is jae’s reasoning for so sexualizing his daughter?

gael targaryen

this one is definitely a reach but i’d like to point out that this is basically all we know about gael:

Princess Gael, a sweet, shy child of seven, became the queen’s constant shadow and support, even sharing her bed at night.

and our information on how she dies is so shady:

A sweet-natured girl, but frail and somewhat simpleminded, she remained with the queen long after her other children had grown and gone, but in 99 AC she vanished from court, and soon afterward it was announced that she had died of a summer fever. Only after both her parents were gone did the true tale come out. Seduced and abandoned by a traveling singer, the princess had given birth to a stillborn son, then, overwhelmed by grief, walked into the waters of Blackwater Bay and drowned.

how does gael get pregnant by a traveling singer when she never leaves her mother’s side? why doesn’t anyone in court know gael got pregnant and killed herself until after aly and jae both die and how was this even found out?

am i implying that jaehaerys sexually abused all four of his daughters? yes because he literally sexually abuses his own wife.

alysanne targaryen

“I am forty-two years old,” she told the king. “You must be content with the children I have given you. I am more suited to be a grandmother than a mother now, I fear.”

King Jaehaerys did not share her certainty. “Our mother, Queen Alyssa, was forty-six when she gave birth to Jocelyn,” he pointed out to Grand Maester Elysar. “The gods may not be done with us.” He was not wrong. The very next year, the Grand Maester informed Queen Alysanne that she was once more with child, to her surprise and dismay.

he uses the birth that killed their mother and that is condemned by rhaena and alysanne as reckless and cruel of rogar to force on her. that birth.

at this point as well, he had abused saera and daella, then they’re gone, then viserra starts drinking and dies, then jae marital rapes aly into having gael, giving him access to another young girl to abuse…i’m aware this is a very uncharitable reading of him but…

alicent hightower (and kind of alyssa targaryen)

Ser Otto’s precocious fifteen-year-old daughter, Alicent, became his constant companion, fetching His Grace his meals, reading to him, helping him to bathe and dress himself. The Old King sometimes mistook her for one of his daughters, calling her by their names; near the end, he grew certain she was his daughter Saera, returned to him from beyond the narrow sea.

saera is the one he fixated on yet again but notable that he’s fixated on his daughters as he dies and not his sons, despite jaehaerys turning to drink after aemon died bc he was so upset.

He announced his intention to wed Lady Alicent of House Hightower, the clever and lovely eighteen-year-old daughter of the King’s Hand, the girl who had read to King Jaehaerys as he lay dying.

The Hightowers of Oldtown were an ancient and noble family, of impeccable lineage; there could be no possible objection to the king’s choice of bride. Even so, there were those who murmured that the Hand had risen above himself, that he had brought his daughter to court with this in mind. A few even cast doubt on Lady Alicent’s virtue, suggesting she had welcomed King Viserys into her bed even before Queen Aemma’s death. (These calumnies were never proved, though Mushroom repeats them in his Testimony and goes so far as to claim that reading was not the only service Lady Alicent performed for the Old King in his bedchamber.)

i know it’s just mushroom being a perv but a rumor that 15 year old alicent “serviced” jaehaerys existing besides rumors that he mistook 15 year old alicent for the daughter he last saw when she was 17 - and viserra was 15, gael 19, and daella 15, all around alicent’s age and all died before age 20. all the targaryen girls that weren’t born “for” a brother exit the narrative after some sort of sexual abuse that centers around jae, as teenagers; daenerys was born for aemon, alyssa for baelon, and maegelle for vaegon before they both fucked off and maegelle was too pious (and too old). this idea of being “for” a brother leads directly to alyssa’s death before 30:

“You were made for battles, and I was made for this. Viserys and Daemon and Aegon, that’s three. As soon as I am well, let’s make another. I want to give you twenty sons. An army of your own!” It was not to be. Alyssa Targaryen had a warrior’s heart in a woman’s body, and her strength failed her. She never fully recovered from Aegon’s birth, and died within the year at only four-and-twenty.

and alysanne being “for” jaehaerys is how he excusing sexually abusing her into a risky pregnancy. essentially what i fear is that because saera, daella, viserra, and gael aren’t “for” someone, jaehaerys gets it into his mind that that are for him. even without him raping them tho, that subtext is there! he is entitled to saera’s virginity and calls her a whore multiple times, even decades after she’s left, and murders her boyfriend in front of her. he claims a weird sexual ownership over his neurodivergent daughter daella and his alcoholic, depressed daughter viserra, and we get zero information on gael’s pregnancy or his reaction to it. but jaehaerys deciding his daughters are “for” him certainly has a basis in canon just judging from the erratic and worrying behavior of his younger daughters.

jaehaerys is a creep and i hate him and i don’t know how much of this is on purpose (like, will aegon vi or dany find out jaehaerys was a shady pedo and it shatters their world? will dunk and egg find it out and it affects their plot somehow? did george just put it in there to make a comment on power and monarchy and misogyny, similar to aegon iv raping the bracken women? or is just there for window dressing creepiness, like “i will pepper in the fact that jaehaerys is sexually obsessed with his daughters” thing?) or if george just made jaehaerys sexually obsessed with his daughters on accident?

on the one hand, it seems out of character for george. he romanticizes drogo thru dany’s eyes but it’s clear he’s meant to be seen as a creep (dany talking about being pregnant followed by “she had just turned 14” is sickeningly jarring for a reason) and also, drogo dies bc of his own pride. sansa doesn’t like any of the old dudes touching her; she is at least marginally freaked out by her wedding night, the unkiss, and lf & dontos taking liberties with her, and rightly. the story that’s told about the mountain raping a girl and making the father pay him is meant to disgust us. the walk of shame is a harrowing chapter to read, because whatever cersei’s crimes, this sexual humiliation is not something she deserves. on and on. yes, we all hate the way arya is sexualized in the mercy chapter, but crucially, she’s not blithely and happily seducing these pervs, she’s going hard candy on their asses. is this just messy set up for something like that?? i think, given how little dany knows about her family’s crimes that somehow learning jae sexually abused (and maybe even impregnated) his own daughters after she herself experiences sexual abuse would be huge. the same goes for aegon vi learning that sexual abuse runs rampant in his family tree; would he empathize with saera hiding out in essos to escape the sexual abuse of her father, see some of elia and his own plight in her? in gael?

or did george really just. not realize how sexually obsessed jaehaerys was with his daughters?

idk how to end this. where’s the winds of winter george i need answers.

[wildestdreamsblog]

Hiraeth: 1

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Summary: You had always been his, and no one could take you away from him. Idol!AU

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Slight age gap, Murder intention, Mention of death, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: I’m in my Jin-I-miss-you era and I’m taking u all with me. Idk yet if this will be two-shot. Do tell me your thoughts 💜

Masterlist

“I’m going to marry you.”

The nine-year old Seokjin lost his concentration upon hearing your declaration. He blinked, and all of a sudden, the game signaled that he lost. His hold on the game controller slackened. It gently hit the carpeted floor. He hated losing. It was game over all because of you.

“I’m never gonna marry you,” he said so meanly that he was sure you would finally stop following him around. But the five year-old you merely grinned, several teeth missing and announced that he would marry you. You were sure of it.

“Will you stop following me?!” Jin seethed, glaring at your small form as you didn’t mind his anger and continued walking behind him eagerly. Jin was at the stage where all he wanted was to move, to burn the excess energy. He was into sports lately. And because he was fond of it, you were, too. Wherever he went, you’d follow. It was like he had another shadow besides his own.

It was annoying.

But it was also comforting.

On times when he’d fall, knees and hands bruised or bloodied, there you were, quietly telling him it was going to be fine, gently washing the blood off of him. You were always there to help him stand up again. You always carried around cute bandaids. He liked to think that you carried it for him.

He was twelve now, and you still followed him around. He even told his mother about you, but she merely giggled and told him that you were the cutest little girl she had ever seen. He should have known she wouldn’t side with him. After all, your father was his father’s best friend. This was why you were always around…and he was used to your presence that when you couldn’t attend some of his family’s event, he would sulked. But the young Seokjin couldn’t wrap his head around the reason why he hated when you were gone.

Yet, he was irritated by your presence.

He saw you as a nuisance, but you saw him as someone who was larger than life. In your young mind, he was the epitome of perfect. He looked like a prince, and his family treated him as such. You wanted nothing but to be his princess. And so, you spent your younger days following him around. You saw him through all the stages in his life, until he became that lanky, yet sporty teenager.

He was fifteen and you were eleven. You knew he was even more irritated with you than glad that you were with his family during their vacations. His mom treated you like her own daughter, saying that you were the daughter she never had, and you were only too glad to have a mother figure. On some vacations, Jin would be kind and played with you with the sand. On some vacations, he would watch out for you whenever you strayed too far on the sea.

On some days though, he scoffed at your presence.

Like right now.

You looked at the entrance of your school with mild confusion, your strides faltering as you realized it was Jin who was waiting for you outside the school premises. He was cooly leaning against their car, their driver sitting on the car, waving at you with a smile on his face. But Jin looked angry.

“Who’s that?” Your close friend and classmate, Chan, asked you. “Why does he look mad?”

Yes. Why was Jin mad?

Perhaps, Jin was too impatient to wait for you because not a moment later, his legs that you noticed were becoming longer as the years passed by brought him faster to you. He stood in front of you, towering over you and Chan. And was he glaring at him?

“Jin!” You gushed in excitement, your adoration to him apparent that you were sure your eyes were gleaming with unrestrained happiness. “Why are you here?”

He turned to you after scaring the poor boy, “Your father asked me to pick you up from school. Our families are going to have dinner together,” he replied in a tense voice. He didn’t even let you speak when he grabbed the backpack that you were wearing, and dragged it to the waiting car.

You didn’t get the chance to say your goodbye to your friend.

Inside the car, his eyes were trained on the window, watching the passing cars. He was pouting, his lips protruding adorably. And there you were, sitting beside him as you nonchalantly ate your candy whilst talking animatedly to their driver.

“Does your father know you have a boyfriend?”

You blinked owlishly, confused with what he suddenly said. The driver only shook his head lightly and smiled. He was watching the young sir sulked until Jin couldn’t keep his silence anymore.

“W-what boyfriend?”

“That boy you were walking with.”

“He’s a friend!”

Jin turned his head to look at you, his eyes appeared darker as he took you in. You were ridiculous in his eyes.

“Sure he is. I’m going to tell your father about this,” he promised in a monotonous voice. His jaw was clenched as he remembered clear as day how the two of you walked so near each other. He knew how other boys thought, especially on that age with their silly crushes.

But if he thought you would be mad, he could not be anymore mistaken. You instantaneously slid across the sit, almost plastering your side to his as you looked up at his eyes.

“Oppa, are you jealous?” You asked with a wide grin on your face, your lips the color of the sweet candy you were eating.

He blinked repeatedly. He could not believe he came across as that! He was just…looking for you. Right?! He was just somehow protective of you.

As gently as he could, he pushed you away. “Don’t be delusional! I’m just worried for uncle! He works so hard only for you to be with boys when you’re so young!” he explained in an annoyed voice, the volume of his voice rising like the way his ears reddened.

“So I should not be with another boy?”

“Yes.”

“So if I stay away from them, will you marry me when we grow up?”

“No.”

You only rolled your eyes at him, unbelieving that the two of you would not end up getting married. Your young self was sure that you would end up with him. A year later, your father transferred you to an all-girl’s school. You didn’t have to know that it was him who influenced your father to do so. At such a young age, Jin was starting to become darker, perhaps a little bit more manipulative. He had done it so underhanded by using his charms and well-placed words that no one would think of him as anything but a sweet, young man.

You were thirteen when girls started being mean to you. Why did kids have to be so mean? Why did kids have to find someone else’s weak spot and attacked it?

You were walking to an alley, a shortcut to your home, minding your own business when the mean girls from school saw you. You learned hate because of them. Your steps faltered when one of the mean girls noticed you.

“Look who’s here,” she sneered, looking at you up and down. Her other two friends paused their chats to look and you and laughed.

“What’s with your messy hair?” One of them asked in disbelief, circling you as she lifted some strands of your hair. You would admit you were bad at combing your hair. You were used to being one of the boys that you didn’t put special care to your appearance. “Do you look like that because you have no mother?”

“You looked like a rat that came from the sewage,” she mocked you. And then the three of them laughed in that annoying way of theirs.

It was not even funny.

You shook your head before attempting to walk past them. But apparently, they weren’t done with you. A scream erupted from your mouth when someone grabbed your hair, tugging it with enough force to bend your neck.

“Where are you going? You think we’re done with you?”

“Yes, freak. We’re done when we say we’re done!”

Even though you fought with all your might, you stood no chance. Three outnumbered one.

Until he came, like a hero you always thought he was.

Jin was in your house, his parents eating dinner with your father. He repeatedly looked at the clock, wondering where could you be. You should be home by now. His knee wouldn’t stop moving as he watched the clock. His parents were laughing with your father when he asked them where you were.

“Oh, she’s on her way home. She’s probably around the alley. You know that girl, she has no patience walking around the block.”

And that was when he left. He politely excused himself, telling them that he would just buy something from the convenience store. Yet, he found himself walking to the mentioned alley.

And he was glad he did.

You were so close to crying, something you didn’t like doing because it always took you forever to stop when someone roughly and carelessly pushed the mean girl away from you. She landed on the ground harshly and you heard her pained whimper. The other two went to their friend, pulling her away from the angry boy. You felt a gentle hand pulling you to stand. You felt Jin brushing the disheveled hair from your face. And then he flashed you a reassuring smile, yet his eyes remained angry.

You were limping as he walked with you. Up until now, he didn’t say anything. And you were all too glad he didn’t. That day, he pulled you to a convenience store, brought medical supplies, and cleaned your wounds quietly. He was bent down as he placed the final bandaid on your knee.

“What are their names?” He asked with an air of nonchalance, but what you didn’t know was his mind was brewing something unpleasant. He was going to unleash hell on those girls.

Without any thought, you told him.

And come morning, you never saw those girls again. Apparently, they were reported to the school and had to transfer.

He was seventeen when he saved you.

You were fourteen and he was eighteen. You were waiting for him outside the university he wanted to enter, in your hand was the placard you spent the whole night making. You were waiting to congratulate him on his entrance exam. There was a crowd outside the school, waiting for their sons or daughters to finish the exam. You were so sure that he was going to pass. Your Jin was the smartest man you knew.

You were grinning and waving wildly when you finally saw him. The years had only made him taller and more handsome. You sighed as his perfect face became more apparent as he neared you. You were so entranced by him that you didn’t notice his other friends and some girls trailing behind him. And they only teased him further when they saw your placard, snickering about how some young girl was pining over Jin.

As if he would be with you.

As if the Jin they knew would be with someone lower than him.

He was so embarrassed that he told you to go home.

“B-but-“

“Go home, Y/N.”

But you meant to ride home with him…

That day, it rained so hard and you were only too pitiful as you walked to the bus stop. You were shivering as you arrived home. And it didn’t come as a surprise that you caught a fever that night. For the first time, you ignored his text asking you if you arrived home safely. You had barely woken up when you noticed his form sitting beside your bed. Your father trusted him so much that he let him in your bedroom. He was silently watching you. On the bedside table was a basin of water and a cloth he used on your forehead. Jin might have appeared stoic in front of you, but inside he was dying from worry when he didn’t hear from you last night.

In fact, he was so worried that he came to your house, knocking on the door sheepishly when he woke up your father and asked if you were home.

He had been here for hours now.

“Are you mad at me?”

You smiled at him weakly. “Never, oppa,” you whispered.

“I’m sorry for leaving you. You should have not came alone, princess,” he lectured gently, still worried that you went on your own for more than an hour travel to cheer for him.

“I wanted to support you,” you pouting defended yourself.

“I know. But next time, don’t. I know you support me even without you going there.”

“W-were you worried for me?”

“Yes.”

“Then,” you said, sitting up slowly before flashing him your cheeky smile. “Will you marry me?”

Seokjin only shook his head.

He was eighteen when he didn’t outrightly said no. He was eighteen when he realized you meant the world to him.

Yet, he was nineteen when he hurt you the most.

It was Christmas. It was the first year he went to college, while you were still in high school. It was the first Christmas he looked forward to because your family and his were spending it together on a cabin near a frozen lake. He was the last one to arrive at the cabin, and he didn’t anticipate the traffic rush from people scrambling to enjoy their holidays that he arrived at a much later night. He didn’t know why, but he spent his first year away from home messaging you daily. He even went as far as demanded you to tell him when you would get home, or when you would go out with your friends, or when you needed someone to pick you up because he would. He would go to you regardless of how far he was. He would drive for hours for you.

Jin parked his car and entered the cabin. He knew you were probably sleeping already, but when he passed the dining room, he could hear conversations that turned something in his brain, something so horrible.

It planted something vile and poisonous in his twisted mind.

“Are you sure about this?” He heard his father’s voice resounding over the quietness of the night. He didn’t know why, but he stayed silent. He was always the polite one, always the one to greet his elders. But right now, he opted to forget his manners.

He opted to eavesdrop.

Your father sighed before putting the glass of whiskey on the table. “I am sure about this. I think it will be good for Y/N and I to move to America. I think it’s an offer I cannot refuse.”

Jin felt a stabbing pain in his heart. No. You would leave him. Your father would take you from him. He didn’t want you gone. He couldn’t have you gone. He would lose it if you weren’t around.

“When will you leave?” His mother asked gently. And Jin dreaded the answer.

“Next week.”

Not if Jin had anything to do with it. No one would take you from him.

“Oppa!”

He snapped out of his dark thoughts when he heard your angelic voice calling to him. You were running full speed to him, and before he knew it you were jumping in his arms. The blunt force of your body slamming to his brought him back to life, to his sanity that was slipping from his grasp.

“You’re here!” You grinned at him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He was silent. He probably hated your embrace. He probably found you annoying, still.

You were about to step back when he wrapped his muscular arms around you.

“Y/N! Let Jin go. He’s tired from driving all night,” your father nudged you gently, his smile comforting as he greeted Jin. But to Jin, your father lost all his charm the moment he decided to take you away from him.

The lake was frozen.

It was the perfect time to skate. You were giddy as you and your father skated in the early morning of the Christmas eve. It had always been the two of you since you could remember. Your mother died when you were barely walking. To you, your father was your whole world. Your laughters resounded over the whole cabin, and Jin’s parents’ were happy just listening to you. Jin’s mother was preparing hot chocolate, and his father was putting gifts under the tree.

It smelled like Christmas.

“Jin! My boy, come join us!” Your father called when he noticed from a distance Jin who was standing statue like near the lake. His black coat was in perfect contrast of the whiteness of the snow. His cheeks and lips were almost red from the cold temperature.

You thought he looked like a prince.

You waved at him before twirling around the ice. You landed perfectly on your feet. Your father beckoned you to him, and you were only too eager to skate to him when you heard a cracking sound.

You threaded on the thin ice.

And before you knew it, you were falling in the deep, cold water. The unforgiving temperature of the water swallowed your screams. It swallowed your resistance. You managed to get your head above water only to see you own father fell down, the very ground he was skating on cracked under his weight.

It was merely a second but you saw the horror that flashed in his eyes, the despair of his situation, and the anxiety that he would not get to you on time.

The second time you managed to get your head above the freezing water, you saw Jin running to you, shedding his black coat on the ground.

“My father! Save him!” You screamed, even as your voice shook.

But Jin still ran to you. Without any thought for his own safety, he dove down to the harsh water. He dove down like an angel you thought he was as you sank further down, only the light from the cracked lake shone through. He thought he wouldn’t get to you, but by his strong, sheer will, he managed to grab your wrist.

Pulling you up was harder. But Jin was a determined man.

He swam up with one hand, while the other was secured around your body. He managed to drag you up, noticing how blue your lips were. His parents were screaming as they ran to the lake.

“Stay there!” He shouted, knowing how unstable the ice were.

“M-my father. S-save h-him,” you pleaded your hero, gripping his sleeve with weak hand as he wrapped his coat around your shivering body. It was a though he didn’t hear you, only focused on your well-being.

He could save him.

He still had the energy, the adrenaline rush still strong in his veins.

He could technically save him.

But your father was going to take you away from him.

“Jin, p-please save him,” you whispered frantically, looking up to his dark eyes with your pleading ones.

And so, Jin stood up slower, ran slower, and dove a little slower to save your father. No one would technically call him on his bullshit. After all, his parents saw him dove after their friend. You saw him with his own eyes how he dragged your unconscious, pale father from the pits of the cold lake.

You saw him.

“She’s so young to be an orphan. What a tragedy,” you heard them say as you stood stoically on the side. You had not said a word since your father was pronounced dead. They said you were in shocked. They said you were still processing what happened. They said you would be better in time.

But how would they know that?

You were grateful for the Kim family for taking care of everything; from the funeral to the papers, to taking you in. Even Seokjin filed a leave from the university to stay with you.

And he did stay with you. Right now, he was standing beside you, accepting condolences in behalf of you. He was a rock, just a rock that you didn’t want right now. A rock that you somehow selfishly associated with your father’s death.

He stayed with you even when you didn’t want him to.

You had not even looked at him since that tragedy. You knew it was wrong, you knew it was unfair for you to blame him. But were you wrong to blame him when you felt him hesitate? Had he moved a second sooner, would your father still be here? Would he be lying on the hospital bed instead of his coffin?

It was a month later and you still hadn’t said a word despite you going to therapy. It was a month of silence and of you acting like he wasn’t there, like he wasn’t waiting for you to look at him.

“Dear,” his mother called you one night, sitting you down on their living room. “We were thinking…we want to adopt you.”

If you were shocked, Jin was even more surprised. He didn’t know about this. How could his parents decided to do this? To do this to him?!

Your widened eyes looked up from your hands to them. Did they really mean that? Did that mean you weren’t going to be alone anymore? Were you going to have a family again?

“But only if you want to. There’s no rush, dear. Either way,” Mrs. Kim said gently, clasping your hands in hers, tears brimming in her eyes as she took in the pitiful you. “Either way, you’re already a daughter to me.”

“Thank you.” That was the first thing you said in a month. You were so happy. You were so thankful. You were about to hug her when Jin slammed his hand on the table.

“No!”

“Jin! Watch your tone-“

“No, father. I don’t want to be her brother! I don’t want her to be my sister!” He shouted, his voice extremely loud. And for the first time in a month, you looked at his eyes with your hurt ones. He couldn’t even bring himself to regret this. You didn’t know this now, you probably didn’t realize this right now but he was fighting for the future of the two of you. Why would you say thank you to his mother?! Weren’t you the one who kept on bugging him to marry him? Did you now change your mind? No. No, he wouldn’t let you. He didn’t do all of those things for you to change your mind now.

“I’ll never treat you like a sister, Y/N.”

You were turning sixteen when he let you go.

It was already way past your curfew when you arrived at Kim’s home. You were silently walking in the darkened room, certain that no one would catch you creeping in when all of a sudden, light from a lampshade flooded the room.

And there he was, sitting with his legs crossed, his face void of any emotion as he watched you.

“Princess,” he called you in a slurred voice. It was his voice that finally made you looked at him, to look at the boy you used to adore. It was apparent that he was drunk. His cheeks were tinted with redness, and his eyes were somehow unfocused.

You blinked as you took him in. “You’re drunk.”

“And you hate me. And it’s killing me,” he replied back softly, tears were quickly filling his eyes. He could not go on like this. You were killing him. He could not live another day with you being so close yet so far. At that point, he would do anything to get back the young girl who used to adore and support him. Jin stood up, shadows following his form as he neared you.

Had you not let him touched you that night, he would not agree with you leaving him.

But you did not step back when he caressed your face. You did not step back when he hugged you, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed.

“How can I make you love me again?”

“Let me go to America,” you replied calmly. You did want to go abroad, to leave all this mess behind. Had you father not died horribly, the two of you would have lived there by now. But Jin was preventing you from leaving with all his might. The influence he had in his parents was powerful, something that you did not consider. In your young mind, you knew leaving was the best course of action for you. South Korea was killing you. Living with him was killing you. Remembering that he saved you instead of your father despite your endless begging was killing you.

And you hating him because of that was killing him.

Jin towered over you as he leaned back to look at you, his eyes tired and sad. “And if I let you leave me, will you love me again?”

Your heart was beating fast. At that point, you would say anything to get away from him and the memories he represented.

“If I let you leave, my princess,” he whispered as he looked down at your lips. “If I let you leave me, do you promise to marry me when you get back?”

“Yes. I promise, Jin.”

It was your lie that cemented your future.

You were now twenty-five. Years passed by so fast. It was true was they said, time could heal wounds. The promise you made before was long gone from your mind. Your then young mind rationalized that Jin only acted that way because of guilt, that he only asked you to love him again because he was so used to you loving him that once you stopped, you shifted the orbit of his world. You hadn’t personally heard from him in almost nine years. As soon as you turned eighteen and no longer needed the Kim family as guardians, you cut off all communications from him. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to distance yourself from Mrs. Kim. She was the mother you never had. But every time you called, Jin would even be more desperate for you. Even his mother was worried for her son, claiming that ever since you stopped communicating with the young man, he started becoming closed off. Every time you called his mother, Jin would snatch the phone away from her, yearning to just hear your voice so badly.

Seokjin was miserable. But his misery was not without anger. He resented the fact that he let you go, that he believed you when you said you would come back to him…that you would marry him.

He regretted letting you leave him. He swore that once he got you back, he would tie you to him so fast you wouldn’t be able to leave him again.

It had been almost a decade.

You weren’t living under the rock, no. To him, it was as though you disappeared from the face of the earth. It was difficult to find you in a foreign country even with his wealth and power. He didn’t know how you were right now. He didn’t know what you look like. He missed the years he could have spent with you. He missed you.

To you though, you could not escape him. His face was everywhere you looked, his life out there for everyone to see. It didn’t come as a surprise to you that he made something more out of himself. After all, ever since you were younger you thought he was larger than life. You were scared to see him in person, though.

You thought seeing him would bring back the pain you so desperately wanted to forget. Your therapist encouraged you to face your fears slowly, saying that you could see him without him seeing you.

You saw him once during their concert in America. Seokjin looked like a prince when you were a child. But now, he was like a king. His persona screamed elegance. He looked happier too as he danced and sang with his bandmates. It was apparent that life had been kind to him. You thought you could finish the whole concert without panicking, but Jin looked a little too long at your direction. And that was when you ran away.

“Do I really have to?” You asked you boss sheepishly, borderline on begging him not to send you back to that place.

He looked at you with an exasperated face, “Do you want to keep your job or not?”

“Right now…” you trailed off, your utter aversion of going back to South Korea was somehow outweighing your desire to eat and afford a roof on your head. “I’m not sure I want to.”

You sighed as you stepped out of the airport. Your company prepared ahead of time, arranging hotel for the whole month you would be staying in this country. You crafted a well-planned schedule which would take you around the pertinent parts of South Korea. You promised yourselves that you would be smart with your time so you could leave as soon as possible with the finished project your company sent you for.

You were expecting a calm and quiet first day.

You really were.

You were praying for that, in fact.

“I apologize, but our system cannot find your name.”

You flashed the hotel receptionist a tight smile, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm yourself. “Can you try one last time?”

She nodded reluctantly, but the result was the same. No room was booked under your name. You thanked her for her time before you attempted to call your boss to no avail. You knew it was probably due to timezone difference, but you couldn’t help but curse him in your head. You would so demand a raise once you get back. You tried booking at another hotel but weirdly enough, all of the rooms were already booked. You even tried booking for an airbnb but the ending was the same.

It was eventually seven in the evening when you swallowed your pride and called her. Mrs. Kim was elated that you were finally back, her motherly warmth could be felt despite her being out of the country at the moment for their anniversary. She did instruct you to go to a house that was an hour away from Seoul. She gave you the passcode and said she would see you as soon as she arrived back to South Korea. By the time you arrived at the white, modern house, it was already almost midnight. The jet lag and the timezone difference were starting to get to you that you decided to shower then sleep rather than touring the house. You would do that tomorrow.

But tomorrow was different.

For the first time in years, you slept so deeply. You had never felt rested since the day of the accident. But today, you felt so serene, so rested. It must have been the wondrous bed that lured you to sleep, or it must have been the extreme weariness from your travel. And probably, it must have been the warmth beside you, your cheek resting on a beating heart.

Wait.

What?

You opened your eyes in sudden alertness, all traces of sleep now gone from your body. The first thing you saw was a plain, white shirt and a pair of black shorts of whomever you were sleeping on top of. The shirt stretched out over a muscular chest and your mind was hopelessly telling you that he smelled familiar…

Slowly, as to not alert whoever this strange man was, you pushed your body away from the man you unknowingly made your bed. You felt his hand resting on the small of your back fell on the bed. With wide eyes and shallow breaths, you looked up at the face of the man you never thought you’d see again- only to find him already looking at you with hooded eyes.

Seokjin gazed at you with warmth, his plump lips lifting on the sides.

“Miss me, princess?”

Hiraeth II

[yuurivoice]

you need to know about your mod sandrockskaterpaladin (dusty). he's rude and hates your fans. i asked a simple question and he mocked me in his answer. you need to remove him as a mod and kick him out of your community immediately

I'll preface this by saying that you're receiving no benefit of the doubt or grace because of your behavior that I personally have been alerted to and been watching as you not so subtly whine in the YuuriVoice tag.

You're out of you're goddamn mind thinking you can treat my mods like shit, get treated with more respect than deserved of your presumptuous and petulant behavior, then come running to me. Me? Because you thought THAT was rude? Oh honey. You don't know me very well at all.

Talking reckless about my people like that isn't going to fly. I don't know what kind of asinine troll job you think this is, but I can't tell if you're stupid, twelve years old, or just painfully unfunny. Whatever the case may be, that's your problem and you shouldn't be making it anyone else's.

For onlookers, this person tried to scold Dusty for *checks notes* not posting about YuuriVoice...because he's a mod. Mind you, it was on his personal blog, where he has shared his love and interest for things well beyond my content since forever. Because...that's normal? That's standard?

Literally no one who moderates for anyone is somehow supposed to turn in their fandom and dedicate their lives to their creator like they're Jesus.

Christ forgives. Unfortunately, I do not in a case like this.

You don't need to be anywhere near me, my community, or anyone even in the same ballpark as us until you get fuckin real.

Gobble my nuts and go fuck yourself. ✌️

[learnastrowallura]

💜The 8th House in Astrology💜

The source if this information is The Astrology Podcast (Chris Brennan) on Youtube and from the book The Twelve Houses: Exploring the Houses of the Horoscope by Howard Sasportas and I will add a personal example as well

8th house: the occult, loss, taxes, loans, debt, inheritance, banking, accounting, investment expertise, others' finances, others's values, shared assets/values, merging, sexual intimacy, transformation, regeneration, the hidden, the unconscious, mediums, spirits, ancestral work, shadow work, trauma, fear, death, giving things, succedent

What we inherit (money, knowledge, family heirlooms, businesses, assets etc), our relationship with other people's money, how well off financially or in terms of value systems are our partners, how we set boundaries in terms of intimate relationships, our sexual nature, the themes that trigger transformations in our lifetime and how we handle that type of chaos and regenerative process, how we process and handle our fears particularly relating to loss, what kind of destructive thoughts/behaviors we might have or face sometimes, our relationship with our shadow self etc

Personal example: Gemini in an empty 8th house

I have an empty 8th house so it seems that the topics mentioned at the start are not so significant for me, however I am a Scorpio rising so my whole life is "transformative" lol it is just less emphasized like this I suppose

As for Gemini in my 8th house for me, it could indicate an innate ability to advise people on what to do with their money? This was purely an intuitive interpretation tho and since there is no emphasis on my natal 8th house I will let it go for now

What I have witnessed in the past as well is that I've always had a talent for helping people have breakthroughs; however with my Sagittarius energy and Mercury conjunct Pluto I may have come accross as too blunt and intense, and so this has only worked in situations in which the person knew me kind of well/trusted me and/or for some reason was not fazed by my intense energy and demeanor (Note: I have an Aries moon too lol)

With introspection and communicating my thoughts to others I can trigger transformative phases in my life whether good or bad but the main point is my relationships dictate a lot whether it is a start, end, break etc it always affects me and somehow feels like a shedding of my old self which very much aligns with the concept of death and rebirth in my opinion

Another thing to note is that the conjunction between my Mercury (8th house ruler) and Pluto (my chart ruler) takes place in my 2nd house of finances which makes me think that this theme in particular is quite important for me

Oh and rn I'm 19 so I am in my 8th house profection year and I'm healing from past connections that kept me stuck in life as well holding myself accountable for everything which has been cool like lots of ups and downs for sure but I do feel reborn and close friends have noticed and have been talking to me about the transformation as well haha I am receiving a lot of recognition, affection and praise <3

I might make a post resuming profection years in my own style/perspective soon but @lilacstro has posted about in detail already so check that out here x

Thank you for reading <3

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Paid readings available

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[gatheringbones]

[“Those of us who stay in gaslighting relationships have decided—usually unconsiciously—that we need to be able to tolerate anything, and that we have the power to fix anything.

Melanie, for example, needed to believe that she was a kind, nurturing person whose all-encompassing love would create—single-handedly if necessary—a happy marriage. No matter how badly Jordan behaved, she should, she could, and she would be loving enough to make things work. Facing how unhappy she was with Jordan meant giving up this idealized version of herself and accepting that she couldn’t overcome her husband’s difficult ways solely through the power of her love.

Likewise, Jill needed to see herself as so strong and so talented that no boss could ever bring her down. She wanted to believe that she could do good work in even the most difficult situation and that, by the sheer force of her abilities, she could transform a bad job into a good one. Acknowledging that her boss didn’t care how good she was felt like giving up her very self.

As you can see, these are fantasies of power. We’ve made up a vision of ourselves as able to transform any situation if only we do things right. Instead of giving up on our gaslighter and moving on, we try desperately to prove that we can change him. Failing that, we try to convince ourselves that his bad behavior doesn’t really matter because we are so strong.

The roots of this effort reach back to childhood. Parents who are disappointing and unreliable put their children in an emotional corner. To face the truth about them—that they sometimes behaved like self-absorbed children—would be overwhelming. What two-year-old, four-year-old, or even twelve-year-old can bear to realize that her mommy can’t protect her, that her daddy may not come through? How terrifying to be a child with unreliable, unloving parents! We know we’re not old enough or strong enough to take care of ourselves, so if they won’t do it, who will? And if even Mommy or Daddy won’t love us, we must be so unworthy and unlovable that no one else will. So instead of seeing things with such terrible clarity—instead of realizing that our parents can’t take care of us or love us the way we’d like because of their own limits—we begin to blame ourselves (“It must be my fault”), just as we’ll later do with our gaslighter.

But we don’t stop there. We make up fantasies to compensate for the reality of neglect and disappointment, fantasies that seem to give us more control. If we are strong enough and powerful enough, maybe it won’t matter that our parents can’t come through for us—we can take care of them, instead! “No matter what Mommy does, I’ll be okay,” the little girl might say to herself. Or “No matter how much Daddy disappoints me, it doesn’t matter.” We try to see ourselves as strong, tolerant, understanding, forgiving—anything to make our parents’ failings irrelevant.”]

robin stern, the gaslight effect

[suzukiblu]

Excerpt from an omegaverse Superfam fic featuring omega!Clark and nursing in pack dynamics, a low-key canon-smash with the Reign of the Supermen movie, and alllll of Kon's self-esteem issues.

Also, a read-more for length.

Clark is in the living room nest with Jon, curled up in the corner of the room with his overshirt unbuttoned and his undershirt pulled up to let Jon nurse while he cradles him in his arms. He's ten now, and Clark knows he's only got a few more years of this at best before Jon goes down the same path every pup does and decides he's too old to nurse from his dam on the regular anymore.

Fortunately, he hasn't decided that yet.

Unfortunately . . .

The front door of the apartment opens and Kon walks in. Clark glances towards him and gives him a reflexive smile. Jon is too distracted nursing to pay attention to anything else; he gets a bit hyper-focused that way, usually.

"Welcome home," Clark greets with cautious optimism, and Kon immediately stiffens.

Kon's . . . maybe twelve or thirteen, physiologically, but not all that much bigger than Jon. Really, not any bigger at all–strangers tend to assume that they're littermates. He's a skinny kid, especially for one with Kryptonian genes who's living under a yellow sun, and just the sight of him standing there in his battered jeans and cheap flannel and the too-loose leather jacket he found in some random downtown thrift shop makes Clark want to feed him up 'til he gains at least a good two pants sizes.

And Kon will eat anything he cooks–even anything Lois cooks, no matter how badly it came out this time–but . . .

Jon huffs out a little milk-scented breath against Clark's chest and shifts in his lap, readjusting to get more comfortable before latching on again to resume nursing.

Kon gets a weird, near-pained expression on his face and just for a second looks like he's going to be sick. Then he beelines for his room without a word.

Clark feels a little nauseous himself, and barely represses a wince. That's the third time this week, so . . .

Well, it's pretty safe to say something about the scent of his milk is putting Kon off. Every time Clark's seen the kid catching it, he's immediately made an excuse to get out of the room. Usually a bad excuse that was very clearly just the first thing he'd thought to blurt out.

Clark doesn't even know if Lex ever gave Kon milk. He doubts he nursed him himself, for a whole lot of very obvious reasons but also the fact that Clark's just never once smelled even the slightest trace of milk on Lex, but if he even provided any kind of formula or a wet nurse or just . . . anything, really? Well, who even knows?

He could ask Kon, obviously, except Kon gets visibly anxious and agitated whenever nursing comes up in even the vaguest terms. Which is understandable, if just the scent of Clark's milk is putting him off enough that he has to keep leaving the room over it. The kid so clearly still thinks they're going to get rid of him at the first given opportunity, and there's no way that he wants to address the elephant in the room that is how very badly he wants away from something that a pup and dam with a more typical relationship would do together all the time–would've been doing together for years.

Kon hasn't even been alive for a year, physiology and education aside.

Clark doesn't know how to tell the kid that he doesn't care if he doesn't want to nurse from him. That it doesn't matter; that it's not a big deal or any kind of a problem.

Mostly because it'd be a lie.

He doesn't love Kon any less. He doesn't begrudge his behavior or hold the very blatant rejection against him. It's not Kon's fault, especially after getting grown in a cloning tube and "raised" by someone like Lex Luthor.

But Clark's still an omega, and one of his pups is still rejecting his milk. And not because he thinks he's too grown-up for it or anything like that, but because it very literally repulses him. So Kon has never even once nursed from Clark; has never even tried to.

So it's not Kon's fault, and Kon isn't doing anything wrong, but Clark still feels, well . . .

Rejected.

The polite thing to do is probably to just keep ignoring it and keep letting Kon avoid the discussion that he so clearly doesn't feel safe or secure enough to have. Clark's tried to broach the subject exactly twice, doing his best to be delicate about the whole thing.

He has very literally seen Kon flee a murderous cyborg slower than he fled those attempted conversations.

Jon drinks his fill and then falls asleep curled up in Clark's lap, which is normal. Jon always gets sleepy when he nurses. Clark fixes his undershirt and tries not to think too much about the fact that he has no idea how Kon gets when he nurses.

Kon might not even know how he'd get, if he had a dam whose milk actually appealed to him. It's entirely possible the kid really never has nursed. Or maybe, well . . .

Clark has the unfair and ugly thought that maybe Lex did nurse Kon at some point, and therefore the reason that Kon doesn't like the scent of his milk is because it's different from Lex's. The thought that maybe every time that Clark looks at the kid and has to resist a let-down reflex, Kon's craving someone else's milk.

Specifically, a "someone else" like Lex Luthor.

And Clark is Superman, and tries to be the best person that he can figure out how to be, and desperately tries not to resent that possibility.

But he's also still an omega. Still a mother. Still . . .

The front door opens again and Lois walks in, and her intensely spicy alpha scent immediately fills up the whole apartment. It's a bit of a relief, since hopefully it'll mean Kon coming back out of his room sooner. Lois's pheromones are one of the few things Clark's encountered that can overpower the scent of an omega's milk without even trying, even to his own enhanced senses.

He never realized that was going to be necessary one day, but he's grateful for it all the same.

"How'd the interview go?" he asks.

"Terribly but illuminatingly," Lois replies cryptically as she strips off her jacket and kicks off her heels, which means someone's probably going to try to murder her later but also she thinks she's on the right track. "Kon home yet?"

"He's in his room," Clark says, wishing he could just call it the kid's den. Kon's still never once scented it like a den, though, and he doesn't want to pressure him about it.

There's a lot of things he doesn't want to pressure Kon about.

"Guess he would be," Lois says, glancing down at Jon's contentedly sleeping face. Given their current position, the fact that they were nursing isn't subtle. "Have you tried talking to him again?"

"Not since the last time," Clark answers with a resigned shake of his head. "I just . . . I don't know how to have the conversation, and he doesn't want to have it, and I . . ."

He trails off, trying not to grimace.

"I feel like I should be helping," Lois sighs, coming over to pet Jon's hair for a few moments, her face softening as he starts to purr sweetly in his sleep. "I know it's not my place to get in the middle of this, you're the omega here, but it's driving me nuts. He's just so damn skinny, Clark!"

"I know," Clark says, trying to ignore the ache in his heart. He was definitely bigger at Kon's age, and Lex isn't built like he was a skinny kid either. That Kon's so small himself, well . . .

It just makes all of Clark's omega instincts rankle, because to those instincts? Kon looks underfed. Malnourished.

Hungry.

Clark's produced more milk than he's ever produced in his life since Kon showed up out of nowhere wearing the El crest and grinned down at him bright and expectant and called him–

Well, he'd called him "Dad", actually, because Clark wears scent blockers with fake pheromones when he's being Superman, and those fake pheromones are specifically fake beta pheromones, because he's long-since decided that Superman should be as calming and neutral a presence as possible. And Kon is still too young to have differentiated himself, so even being partially cloned from him, how would he have known better about Clark's sex or gender?

Kon only called him "Dad" that one time, and he's never once called him "Mom". He's never shown any interest in nursing from him and in fact actively avoids the possibility and will very literally leave the room and sometimes even the apartment to escape the scent of his milk.

And yet, months after that first meeting, Clark is still producing enough of it to feed a damn litter.

His chest has been getting embarrassingly sore, actually. He knows he could pump, and probably should pump, but he doesn't want to make the apartment smell too much like his milk and make Kon have to put up with something he hates so much like that. Not if he can avoid it, at least.

Did Lex ever have this problem, the bastard? Probably not. Probably Kon liked his milk. Probably Kon misses his milk, the poor kid, and Clark can't even give him that much because that would very literally entail asking a supervillain to nurse his pup. And yes, Lex made Kon to begin with, but also Lex can go to hell for how he treated him once he did. As far as Clark is concerned, Kon is his pup. Lois's pup. Jon's brother.

Lex hadn't even named the kid, for god's sake.

That does not make Clark feel better about the possibility of Kon missing the bastard's milk.

[lythea-creation]

The Honor Of A Slytherin - Platonic Hermione Granger x fem reader

summary: Hermione is surprised to say the least when a Slytherin suddenly stands up for her

warnings: bullying

word count: 848

Author's note: Feel free to check out my Masterlists and make requests. No reposting please! Reblogging, comments and requests are always appreciated <3 If you like the story/my writing, please don't be shy to say it via comments or asks! It takes you a few seconds and might make my day. It's the best appreciation you can show to a writer you like.

Requested? Yes

----------------

I was on my way to class when I heard the rustle. Another fight between Slytherins and Gryffindors.

Honestly I did not get it. Why did people have to be so narrow-minded?

As Slytherins prefect it felt like my duty to intervene. So I made my way over to the students fighting. Or rather Draco Malfoy bullying a Gryffindor girl.

I did not really know what this was about, but I did know Draco Malfoy. It was hard not to know him actually as he was behaving like a prince.

“What's going on here?”, I inquired when I arrived.

The girl looked up at me with spite in her eyes. I raised my eyebrow at that.

“That little mudblood just got on our nerves”, Draco declared.

I sighed at his choice of wording. “You really shouldn't talk like that”, I scolded him.

“Who do you think you are?”, he challenged me with a glare, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

How could a twelve-year-old be so cocky?

I smirked down at him, being easily a head taller than him. “Who do you think you are, talking to anyone like that? Do you seriously think you're better than her just because your family consists of wizards and witches? Could you beat her in a fair fight then? Or in an exam?”, I questioned.

I had no idea who that girl was, but the huge book she was carrying with her told me that she was hard-working.

The death glare he was sending me was kinda cute actually. I had put up with a lot of bullies before. My best friends were muggleborn and had therefore received many snarky remarks and even more. But this was just hilarious.

“Just go and leave her alone, Draco”, I advised him.

“You dare talk to me like that? Do you know who my father is?”, he threatened me.

“Of course I know”, I noted with a scoff. “He's a weak man who can only handle himself through connections, just like you.”

I could almost see the steam coming out of his ears at my comments.

From the corner of my eyes I could see the Gryffindor girl chuckling.

“If you don't mind I would like to head to class now. So do all of us a favor and just cut this childish behavior”, I requested.

Now he was furious, relying on his friends to stand a chance against me. But he had no idea who I was.

Their pathetic attempt at a spell was quickly deflected by me. Their wands were in my hand before they could even think of another spell.

“Hey! Give them back!”, Draco protested.

“I'll let Professor McGonagall deal with this. So if you don't want to get into any more trouble than you already are, you should leave now and go to class”, I considered.

They cursed as they walked away, but I could not care less. They were like little puppies making a scene, thinking they were a grown-up shepherd dog.

“Thanks for helping me out”, the Gryffindor girl proposed.

“No big deal”, I brushed it off. “I'm (f/n) by the way. If they make any more trouble you can always come to me. I'm the Slytherin prefect anyway.”

“I'm Hermione. Honestly I didn't know there were kind Slytherins as well”, she admitted.

“You shouldn't judge too quickly”, I remarked. “Our reputation is way ahead of most of us.”

“Yeah, I see that now. Are you a muggleborn as well?”, she wondered.

“No. Actually I'm a pureblood, but I don't really care about this whole blood status nonsense. It doesn't mean anything”, I pointed out.

“Doesn't feel like it sometimes”, Hermione mumbled.

I placed my hand on her shoulder to comfort her. “Don't let them drag you down! I'm sure you'll become a great witch. It doesn't matter what they think. As long as you have people who love you the way you are, that's all you need. You're a Gryffindor, right? Hold your head up high.”

She was beaming at my words as if I had just ignited a new fire inside her.

“I will”, she promised. “Thanks again.”

With those words she walked away to class.

I was going to be late. Great …

I hurried through the corridors until I arrived and opened the door.

“You're late, Miss (l/n)”, Professor McGonagall noted.

“I'm sorry, Professor. There was a fight between the second years and I couldn't just walk by. Draco Malfoy and his friends attacked me by the way. So I took their wands with me”, I explained and handed her their wands.

My professor smiled proudly at me. I was one of her best students. So she knew I was not just messing around.

“Alright then. Take your seat and try this new spell then. You can tell me more about this incident after class”, she suggested.

In the end I got the house points back we lost thanks to Malfoy.

[mixelation]

i found a part of reborn au that's just like "here's how i justify team 7 still existing"

Minato was having a conundrum. 

He had the files of twelve of the current academy students lined up in front of him. These were the twelve their teachers had deemed reasonably likely to graduate; the rest would be given their fair shot at graduation, but were likely to need further training. He’d already sorted the bottom of the class into teams he thought were reasonable. 

Of the top twelve, some could still fail. It was his job for the day to finalize their proposed genin teams, with the goal of maximizing their success for graduation and also the beginning of their genin careers. The Academy liked to lie to its students and pretend the teams were all composed to be evenly matched, but this was only partially true. It would be detrimental to both the students’ development and Konoha’s interests if an unworthy candidate graduated simply because they were put on a team with more all-around skilled classmates, or if an otherwise promising student was barred from graduating because their teammates bungled their Jounin’s test. 

At the same time, Minato understood better than anyone how this sort of system stacked the deck in favor of clan-born students. If you stuck all the best students together, then you ended up with a lot of teams of all clan kids who’d had access to more training opportunities than students without large shinobi families to rely on. 

This year was especially annoying to balance, in that it had five clan heirs graduating, plus the second children of two clan heads and Minato’s own son. This meant the top portion of the class was all especially heavy-hitters in terms of current skills. 

He wanted to spread these eight students out with the other, more “normal” kids, but… well, he couldn’t split up the latest iteration of Ino-Shika-Cho, and his analysis team had made an incredibly good case for a Hyuuga-Aburame-Inuzuka tracking team. 

Hyuu-Abu-Inu? Abu-Inu-Hyuu? Excellent Tracking Combo Team: All-seeing Bug Dog?

He pondered this title for a few moments. Well, it was a work in progress. 

So that was two teams that were basically guaranteed to pass, and he now had to arrange another two teams. This is where things got tricky. 

The analysis team had identified that Naruto and Sasuke had the potential to make an incredibly effective combat duo. Minato agreed with this. He also understood that they… ah, didn’t really get along, and suggested the third member be someone who could balance them out. His analysis team had suggested Haruno Sakura. 

He stared down at her class photo, right at the center of his desk. He’d talked to Sakura maybe twice. She was the only student without at least one Jounin parent to make it into the top twelve. Between her near-perfect written scores, excellent classroom behavior, high chakra proficiency, and acceptable scores in physical tests, she probably would be a stand-out in a less competitive year. Compared to other students in this year, however, she wasn’t really anything to write home about. Minato only recognized her because Naruto happened to have a giant crush on her. 

Through Naruto’s mooning, he also knew she had her own crush on Sasuke. He knew more about the intricacies of this little preteen love triangle than he wanted to, really. It was very dramatic. 

Maybe Sakura would be a good balance. Or maybe her presence would make the team one highly flammable tinderbox. His analysis team promised the former, but they seemed inexperienced with the nature of insane pre-teen crushes. 

Minato leaned back in his chair and swiveled it around to stare out the window. 

They were twelve years old. Maybe they’d just get over their wild feelings. 

Then again, he’d never gotten over his first crush… 

But wasn’t it important for young shinobi to work with different kinds of people despite their previous feelings about them? Or was this just him trying to justify favoritism towards Naruto, wanting him to be friends with Sasuke? 

He turned back to his desk, to see if he could figure out another way to arrange the teams. 

Actually, the three remaining students would make an excellent infiltration team. It would be stupid to break them up. 

He went back to pondering a team title for the Hyuuga-Aburame-Inuzuka team. 

xXx

Minato finished his speech with, “...so you see, choosing the right sensei for a team is imperative, and you’re the only man for the job.”

He smiled nervously at Kakashi, who looked like he’d aged about ten years over the course of the last five minutes. 

Kakashi’s shoulders slumped. He looked up at Minato from the file on his new team with incredibly tired eyes. 

“Why would you do this to me?” Kakashi asked. 

“Er, well,” Minato tried again. 

He’d been much more assertive with the other jounin sensei. But the other jounin sensei weren’t his personal students he was maybe possibly screwing over in a very personal way. 

“Shouldn’t Naruto be exposed to other people?” Kakashi asked. “I heard you gave Asuma a team. Wouldn’t he be a better fit?”

Asuma was Minato’s top pick for Naruto’s jounin sensei, actually. Asuma had wind chakra and also intimately understood what being the son of a Hokage was like, and he was also someone Naruto hadn’t grown up with. Minato was originally going to hand Kakashi the tracking team. 

(Dog Bug Eyes. The Legendary Eyes Guiding Dog Fang Insect Symbiosis.)

Unfortunately, Team 7 would eat Asuma alive. Also…

“It’s not about just Naruto,” Minato said. “I need someone who can handle the whole team.”

It would undoubtedly be weird for Naruto to have his former babysitter as a sensei, but that type of conditional role swapping was something clan kids navigated every day. Importantly, Kakashi was someone Naruto would trust not to give him special treatment for being the Hokage’s kid. Kakashi was also a rare Jounin who could help Sasuke with lightning jutsu, which he wouldn’t necessarily be able to get from his clan. 

“And Sakura is a wildcard,” Minato continued his pitch. “She’s been identified as a genjutsu-type, but her chakra control could lead her to many different specialties, and she has no familial connections to help her explore them. A jack-of-all-trades like you is an ideal teacher for her.”

Kakashi’s eyes drifted back down to the file in his hands. 

“Isn’t she that girl Naruto likes?” he asked. 

“Well,” Minato said levelly. “Naruto does like her, but you shouldn’t think of your new student that way.”

“Doesn’t Naruto keep fighting Sasuke over her?” Kakashi asked, ignoring this statement. “Sensei, you’ve somehow made something worse than Team 4.”

Wrong, Minato thought. Nothing is worse than Team 4. 

“I have full confidence you can handle it,” he said. 

Kakashi met his eyes. “Why would you do this to me?” he repeated. 

“If only you’d taken one of the four other teams I tried to give you,” Minato replied dryly. 

Kakashi straightened his shoulders, exposed eye gleaming. “I’ll just fail them too,” he said.

Minato smiled tightly back at him. “I have full confidence in them.”

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Memoriam | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: depictions of abuse, pedophilia, talk of murder, panic attacks...

Author's note: This is a rewrite of S04E07 Memoriam because I'd had this idea of reader/OC being Spencer's best friend from Las Vegas and that they'd grown up together and were geniuses together, so when I saw this episode, it kind fit...

Words: 13,947

“Detective Y/L/N,” the captain of the North Las Vegas Police Department approached the Y/H/C woman at her desk. The woman swiveled in her chair, looking up at the man she called her boss. “Can you get the file of that petty arson on my desk by noon?” 

“Sure thing, boss,” she nodded and swiveled back, returning to the very file she was just finishing up. 

Y/N Y/L/N was the youngest detective at the Las Vegas Police Department. At just 22 years old, the girl had joined the department with three doctorates on her name and a BA in Sociology. Now, at 27 years of age, she was the most trusted, the most vetted detective in the department. Her co-workers trusted her more than anyone, all except Detective Hyde. 

The man had known her since she was just a little girl. She was best friends with the son of one of his best friends. Maybe he didn’t like her because he still thought of her as the little girl she used to be. Or maybe he didn’t like her because she was a girl.

Just as she began focusing on her file again, a voice she knew all-too-well snapped her back out of that focus. 

“Hi. I’m Special Agent Spencer Reid with the FBI,” the voice sounded. 

Y/N turned around in the span of a nanosecond, her eyes locking on the source of said sound. There he was. Tall and beautiful as ever. The boy she had grown up with. Her non-biological-twin. Her best friend. 

Slowly, she got up and approached the man she hadn’t seen in a couple of years. He was talking to one of her co-workers, but quickly got distracted when she spoke up. “Dr. Spencer Reid, as I live and breathe.” 

His eyes snapped up, surprise and amazement written all over his face as he saw her. “Detective Y/N Y/L/N,” he scoffed in surprise. “Wow, it’s been–” 

“Six years and forty-five days?” she cut him off with the exact number of years and days she had gone without seeing him. “Not that I’m counting, or anything.” She let out a small chuckle as he did the same. 

Y/N Y/L/N and Spencer Reid had met when they were still in nappies. Their mothers had become fast friends when they were in labor together and gave birth to their kids on the exact same day, at the exact same time. Ever since that day, the two women have been inseparable, as did their kids. Both of them grew up to be geniuses with IQ’s through the roof. They went to school together, graduated high school at twelve years old and went on to graduate from the academy together. 

While both of them applied for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI, only one of them got hired while the other settled for a life in Vegas with the Police Department there. 

“Wh-what are you doing here?” she then asked when he didn’t move or say anything. 

Spencer seemingly snapped out of a daze as he made a beeline for his oldest friend. “Do you remember Riley Jenkins?” he asked. 

“Wasn’t he your imaginary friend?” she asked, but he quickly shook his head. 

“That’s what I thought, but he actually existed. Can you maybe get everything the LVPD has on the 1984 murder of Riley?” 

Y/N’s eyes widened. “He was murdered?” 

“Yeah… And I think I know who might’ve done it.” 

With a nod of her head, Y/N got to work. She researched every inch of the department until she finally came up with the files from the case in a cardboard box, along with Detective Hyde, who apparently worked the case. 

“That was a rough one,” he sighed as he set the box down on Y/N’s desk. 

“Did you work the case?” Spencer asked while his best friend started looking through some of the files. Memories flashed before her eyes from the time she went to Spencer’s little leagues games and practices. 

“Yeah,” Detective Hyde replied. “I was three of four blocks away when the call came in on the radio. My first kid. You don’t forget those.” 

Y/N looked up to notice Spencer’s sad expression, telling her he’d had his own ‘first kid’ at some point in his career. 

Instead of pressing further on the sentiment, Spencer continued by asking another question. “Let me ask you this, were there any suspects?” 

Something told Y/N he was fishing for a specific answer, something he hadn’t told her yet. 

“We looked at the family initially. The dad, older brother,” Hyde explained. 

“Makes sense. The boy was found in his own basement, right?” Spencer asked. 

Hyde sighed. “Yeah. After a while the family got defensive, stopped cooperating…” 

“Like the JonBenét case?” Y/N chimed in as the thought popped into her head. 

The older man nodded his head in agreement. “I never liked them for it anyway,” he added. “I always figured it was somebody outside the home.” That seemed to elicit some kind of emotion from Spencer, though Y/N couldn’t decipher what it was just yet. 

“What’s the Bureau’s interest in the case?” Y/N then asked. 

Spencer’s eyes flitted to hers before focusing on the box in front of him. “Uh, research.” There was something he wasn’t telling them. Something important. He wasn’t here with the FBI, Y/N figured quickly. He was here of his own volition. 

“Is this everything?” he then asked, diverting the subject. 

“There might be another box down in Records,” Hyde responded, his confused eyes darting from the young agent to the young detective. 

Spencer nodded his head. “I’d like to see it all, if you don’t mind.” 

Nodding his head, Hyde left the two young adults alone to go and get the files they requested. As soon as the man was out of earshot, Y/N turned to the man she once knew as a kid. “What are you hiding from me, Dr. Reid?” she asked in a soft whisper. 

Spencer didn’t answer and opened one of the files, showing a picture of the young boy to Y/N. “Don’t you remember him?” he asked. The kid in the picture gave the camera a soft smile. He was wearing a red Rovers T-Shirt and a red cap that hid his brown curls. 

“From your little leagues games,” she stated as she grabbed the picture. “He was a little older than us, wasn’t he?” 

Humming, Spencer nodded his head. “Yeah, he was six. Dad was his coach. He figured playing ball would make me normal.” 

“But you aren’t normal,” Y/N said with a soft smile. “You’re extraordinary.” She tucked a strand of his hair that had fallen on his forehead behind his ear, but then quickly pulled away when she realized what she had done. 

Spencer’s smile mirrored hers and he opened his mouth to say something, but Detecitve Hyde returned with the rest of the files, stopping the twenty-seven year old from doing so. Instead, he grabbed the files from Hyde, placed them inside the box in front of him and shut it before picking it up. 

“It was nice seeing you again, Y/N/N,” he said with a smile and turned. 

It hurt watching him walk away yet again. It had hurt not seeing or hearing from him for almost seven years. Having him here, close to her, felt right. Watching him walk into the precinct felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders. 

“Wait!” she called, stopping him in his tracks. “You need any help?” 

Spencer turned back around and shook his head slightly. “No, that’s okay.” 

As he turned back around, Y/N sighed and rushed forward, stepping in front of him so he couldn’t move. “You’re really just gonna walk out here and not talk to me again for the next seven years? Because that’s not something I can handle. I can tell you’re stressed. I can tell something’s bugging you about this case and I wanna help. I’m your best friend, Spence.” The entire time she talked, she looked at him, trying to gauge any reaction from his face. “And I don’t know if you remember, but I did also almost get into the BAU if another genius hadn’t rightfully taken the spot instead.” 

Spencer sighed. “Y/N/N…” 

“Don’t ‘Y/N/N’ me, Spence. I wanna help. So let me help.” 

Another sigh elicited from the boy in front of her. “Fine. When do you get off?” 

“Now,” she smiled, lying through her teeth. “Lemme get changed and I’ll join you, yeah?”

With a nod of approval from her best friend, Y/N went back to her desk and grabbed the finished file from her desk, dropping it off at the captain’s desk before making it into the locker room where she quickly changed into jeans and a top. 

The two of them headed down to Fountainview, the hotel Spencer was staying at. The whole car ride down there, the two friends filled one another in on their lives. It was a pleasant conversation as though no time had passed. Spencer was still the one person she would feel safest with. He’d been her solace for the past twenty-seven years. Seven years apart didn’t change that. 

“And then I just kicked him in the balls and left the club,” Y/N finished her story with a giggle as she and Spencer walked down the hallway on the fourth floor to his room. “It was–” she cut herself off when she heard a sound coming from the door they’d just stopped at. Judging from the look Spencer gave her, this was not supposed to be happening. 

Slowly but surely, Spencer unlocked the door and walked in first, Y/N following closely behind, just in case she’d have to protect him. Inside the room, the tv was playing reruns of some sort of soap opera Y/N didn’t know the name of, and in front of said tv were two men, both older than Spencer and herself. One of them had to be in his mid-thirties while the other seemed a good twenty years older than them. 

“What are you guys doing here?” Spencer asked, telling Y/N that he did know them. 

“Hey,” the younger one greeted as Y/N and Spencer both moved further into the room. “What’s it look like we’re doing?” he asked, pointing at the tv. 

Spencer moved to set down the box of files on the high stool next to him. “Breaking into my room and watching Days of Our Lives?” 

“Young and the Restless,” the older man corrected before turning the tv off. 

As Spencer put his messenger bag down, the two men looked up at the younger adults in the room. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane back to D.C.?” Spencer asked. 

“And you’re supposed to be hanging out with your mom,” the older said before his eyes darted over to Y/N. “And I don’t think that’s your mom…” 

Spencer looked back at Y/N, who gave the guys a shy wave. “That’s Detective Y/N Y/L/N. She’s my childhood best friend, we went to school together.” 

“Didn’t you graduate at age twelve?” the younger one of the men asked. 

With a grin, Y/N replied, “So did I.” 

“Y/N/N, these are Derek Morgan and David Rossi, my co-workers,” Spencer quickly introduced them, pointing at each of them as he said their respective names. 

“Nice to meet you, agents,” Y/N said politely, smiling. 

Derek smiled back at Y/N, “You too, sweetheart.” The man had a flirty demeanor about him. The way he said the words, the way he looked at her, … All of it just told her that she shouldn’t take the words to heart. It was just how he was. 

Then, Derek’s eyes moved over to the box on the chair to which he pointed. “Riley Jenkins?” he asked. 

Spencer sniffled before stuffing his hands in his pockets, something he did to keep himself from fidgeting too much, Y/N knew. “Uh, no. That’s not… That’s actually not why I’m here. I–” 

“He wanted to see me,” Y/N chimed in, noticing how the man was trying to talk himself out of it. 

Whatever this Riley Jenkins case was to him, his co-workers couldn’t know. 

Derek’s eyes flitted from Y/N to Spencer and back. “You don’t have to lie for him, sweetheart.” 

“She’s not lying. That-that’s why I’m–” 

“Reid,” Derek quickly interrupted as he placed his soda can down on the table between him and David. “Come on, man, who do you think you’re talking to?” He got up from the chair and approached Spencer and Y/N. “I know what this has been doing to you.” 

David was next to get up from his spot. “Let us help,” he said. 

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. His co-workers only wanted what was best for him, she could tell. The fact that they stayed behind in Las Vegas, knowing their co-worker needed their help, was very telling to her. 

“Maybe together we can find out who killed him,” David added. 

“I think I might already know,” Spencer responded with a fearful tremor in his voice that only Y/N caught onto. Her eyebrows furrowed the more she heard him talk about it and the more she watched him and his behavior. 

“So, tell us about the suspect,” Derek encouraged. 

Y/N watched his shoulder tense ever so slightly. “The truth is, I don’t know anything about him.” 

The puzzle pieces clicked in Y/N’s mind. His sudden interest in the case, the lie about the bureau’s interest in the case, the tension in his shoulders… She knew everything about Spencer’s life and the one thing neither of them knew very much about was the reason why he was doing this in the first place. “Your dad…” Y/N whispered. 

The agents exchanged some glances before Spencer started unloading the case files from the box and spreading them out on the bed with Y/N helping him out. 

“Before we go down this road, you need to be sure,” David pointed out, worry evident in his voice. 

“He’s right,” Derek chimed in. “Some rocks don’t need looking under.” 

Y/N looked up at Spencer as he sighed. “My mind is sending me signals. I can’t ignore them any more.” 

“Mixed signals,” Y/N muttered, capturing everyone’s attention. “That’s what the subconscious is all about, you know that better than anyone, Spence.” 

Nodding, Derek continued, “Reid, your dad left you.” Y/N noticed Spencer’s shoulders tensing ever so slightly. “You take it to the Freudian extreme, you could say that he killed your childhood.” 

Y/N’s heart broke a little at the memory of Spencer’s dad leaving. Though he never really talked about it with her, she knew how much it had hurt. She was there for it all. She was there to pick up the pieces of his broken heart and glue them back together in any way she could. 

“It could explain a dream in which you see him as a murderer,” David noted. 

Spencer shook his head. “I’ve come this far, I’m not going back.” 

His two co-workers exchanged glances once more before the four of them got to work. As each of them grabbed a file to look over, they gathered in the living area to go over the case together. While Spencer and David occupied each of the lounge chairs, Derek paced the length between it and Y/N was perched on the armrest of the chair Spencer was sitting on. 

“Riley was six at the time. His father, Lou Jenkins, was supposed to pick him up from T-ball practice at four, but he got delayed at work, prompting Riley to walk the three blocks home,” Spencer started to explain the case. 

Y/N nodded her head, already pretty familiar with the case. “When his mother got home in the early evening, she found him dead in the basement,” she continued. 

“So the offender came to the house after the boy arrived home,” Rossi noted, his eyes flicking up to the younger agent and his best friend. 

“Or picked him up on the way there,” Spencer offered his two cents. 

Derek stopped pacing for a moment as he spoke up. “Coaxes Riley into the basement, where he sexually assaults him.” 

A shiver ran down Y/N’s back as she thought of the boy she once knew. 

“The boy’s mouth was taped shut,” David read from his file. 

“Symbolic,” Y/N answered. “The perp fears Riley will talk, panics, weighs his options, …” 

“Decides to make certain that he’ll never talk,” Derek finished her thought before sitting down on one of the chairs to her right. 

David then continued, “He finds a knife in the fishing gear under the stairs, stabs Riley nine times in the chest. Stuffs him behind the washing machine.” The older man closed the file with a sigh. 

“So, the UnSub’s a white male in his late twenties to early thirties,” Spencer pondered. 

Y/N turned to him for a moment. “UnSub?” 

“Unknown Subject,” he quickly whispered, reminding her of the theory they had seen when they were in the academy together. Having not used the term in over seven years, a girl can sometimes forget. Unlike Spencer, she didn’t have an eidetic memory. 

“So that means we’re looking for someone in his fifties,” David spitballed. 

“And he likely knew the boy, maybe even been to his house,” Derek went on. 

“Neighbor,” David finished, having Derek nod his head in agreement. 

Finding her best friend a little too quiet for his own good, Y/N looked down to find him looking at a map of North Las Vegas. It was clear his brain was picking up on something but the thought hadn’t quite finished processing yet. 

“Spence?” she asked, capturing his attention. “What is it?” 

“My family lived less than a half mile from the Jenkinses,” he said, then pointed at a house a couple squares away from his. “And so did yours.” 

“Do you think your dad knew the boy?” Rossi questioned, brows furrowed before he glanced over to Y/N. “What about yours?” 

The girl shook her head. “Mine’s been dead since before I was born. Died in combat while my mother was pregnant with me.” 

“I don’t know,” Spencer then answered his co-worker’s question. “My memory is…” he rubbed his eye in frustration. “The lack of recall just reinforces how little I knew about him.” 

A sigh heaved Derek’s chest as he turned to his youngest colleague. “Reid, we’re gonna have to track him down. You do know that.” 

“We should talk to my mother first, neighbors, get their impressions,” Spencer suggested instead, clearly not ready for a reunion with his father just yet. Noticing the tension in his shoulders, Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly to let him know she was there for him. 

“Reid, I don’t need to tell you that this signature was need-based and sexual in nature,” Rossi sounded almost reassuring. “The man we’re looking for is a pedophile.” Spencer’s jaw tensed. “So, I’ll ask you again, are you sure you want to go down this road?” 

Derek and Y/N glanced over to Spencer before the guy got up with slight hesitation in his movements. “I’m gonna talk to my mother first.” He turned to the Y/H/C girl next to him. “You wanna come?” 

Nodding her head, Y/N followed behind Spencer as the two of them made their way to the sanitarium where his mother was a patient. Y/N had been there a few times to visit Diana without Spencer knowing. After all, she’d been the one to push Spencer to send his mother there when they were eighteen. 

“Oh, Y/N/N!” Diana greeted in excitement, seemingly happier to see the girl than her own son. “I’m so happy to see you again. Did you read the book I gave you last time?” 

Spencer turned his head towards his best friend in confusion. “Last time?” he asked. 

Decidedly ignoring him, Y/N nodded her head in response to Diana’s question. “I did. I absolutely loved it. Just like you told me I would,” she told her with a soft smile, placing a hand on her arm. “Hey, how about a game of scrabble, huh?” She motioned to the board game in front of them. 

Diana offered her a smile as the three of them started playing. The young woman could feel her best friend shifting in his seat, his brain whirring at thousands of miles per hour. He was spiraling, anxious to ask his questions. 

“Mom…” he then finally started as Y/N was placing her letters on the board to form a word. “Can I ask you some questions about Dad? I’m having trouble remembering.” 

“Quixotry,” Diana read Y/N’s word. “That’s a great word, Y/N/N.” The woman beamed at the girl before turning to her son. “What do you wanna know?” She was now focused on her turn, trying to find a good word. 

“Did he like to be around children?” Spencer asked carefully. 

Diana looked up from the board. “Children? Well, yes.” She returned her gaze to the game a little too quickly. Something was telling Y/N that the woman she had called her second mom was hiding something. “If it were up to him, you’d have a house full of brothers and sisters.” 

“You didn’t want more kids?” Y/N then asked, genuinely interested. 

With a proud smile, Diana looked from the girl to her son. “Why mess with perfection?” She winked at Y/N with a smirk on her face. The young woman looked up at her best friend, who was gazing at his mother in admiration. 

“Yeah, it was pretty perfect on the first go,” Y/N agreed. Her admission caused Spencer to tear his eyes away from his mother to land on her instead. The sparkle in his eyes still remained the same, even after seven years. Even after all these years, she still had to deny the butterflies in her stomach she got whenever he looked at her like that. 

Shaking himself away from his thoughts, Spencer turned back to his mother. “What about other people’s children? How was he around them?” 

“He was good with kids, I guess,” Diana responded. “He coached your Little League team.” 

Y/N nodded her head. “I remember that, always trying to put him into normal activities.” 

“I tried to tell him you’re not normal, you were exceptional,” Diana added to this, smiling up at her son. It was nice to hear the words she thought of Spencer come from his own mother. Though Spencer himself wasn’t really hearing it. 

“Let me ask you this, Mom,” he said, shifting in his chair and pushing his hair back. “Did you ever get the feeling like, on his part, the marriage was just for show?” 

“Spence,” Y/N hissed, wanting to keep him from hurting his own mother’s feelings. 

However, Diana wasn’t too phased about the question. “These questions are very strange, Spencer. What is this about?” she asked instead. 

“It’s about Riley Jenkins,” he said, almost tearfully. 

“Riley Jenkins?” Diana asked. “I told you he was someone you made up.” 

“He’s not, though, Diana,” Y/N told her softly, reaching for her hand. The woman looked at her with confusion in her eyes, begging her to explain what was going on. 

“He was a real boy who lived in our neighborhood, and somebody killed him, and…” Spencer continued as his mother looked at him, allowing the words to simmer in her mind. “I don’t know, I think that Dad might have had something to do with it.” 

Diana’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened. “He was real?” 

“Yeah,” Y/N answered in a whisper, squeezing right back. “He was on that Little League team, too. With Spence. I-I remember going to the games and the practices with my mom to cheer him on.” 

Y/N could hear Spencer sniffle, so with the hand she wasn’t holding Diana’s, she reached out for Spencer’s, holding both Reid’s hands tightly. There was nothing else they were going to get out of Diana and Y/N knew that. So, after a few moments of holding mother and son, Y/N let their hands go. 

“We’ll let you get some rest, mama,” she told Diana with a soft smile before turning to Spencer, urging him to get up, too. “We’ll be back to visit soon, okay?” She kissed the woman’s cheek before taking a few steps back to let Spencer say goodbye to his mother. Once he did, the two of them fell into step together. 

“You visit her?” he asked when they were outside.

Y/N shrugged. “One of us has to,” she simply replied before getting in the car again. 

After informing the two other agents of the information they got from Diana, Derek, Spencer and Y/N headed into town to find Lou Jenkins, Riley’s father. They explained everything to Lou about their theory of William Reid being the one who killed his son. 

“It’s just a theory, Mr. Jenkins,” Spencer reassured him. 

The man threw something in the back of his truck, Y/N couldn’t see what it was, before he turned to the agents and detective. “You must be out of your damn minds,” he said. 

“We’re just trying to get some new facts,” Y/N stated. 

Lou turned to the Y/H/C, trying to appear intimidating towards her, but none of that ever worked on Y/N. Unlike Spencer, Y/N had actually grown a spine to stand up against bullies and men who tried to overpower her. 

“Well, you’re hell and gone from facts if you think Will Reid killed my son,” he said, nearly spitting in the girl’s face. Derek placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, pushing him back from Y/N. 

“So, you were friends?” Spencer asked instead. 

Glancing between the agents and detective, Lou recoiled a little. “Who the hell are you to come here asking this?” 

“I’m his son,” Spencer answered, stopping the man dead in his tracks. Lou looked at the young man in front of him. 

“Spencer?” he asked and the boy she once knew made a reappearance with the expression on his face. “Spencer, a G-man.” He then turned to Y/N. “And the Y/H/C never too far from ya, hey?” A blush fanned across Y/N’s cheeks. She had always been Spencer’s shadow to everyone else but to Spencer and their moms. “I still don’t understand.” 

“Was William around your house often?” Derek questioned. 

“Yeah, the occasional barbecue, that sort of thing.”

“Was Riley around on those occasions?” Y/N continued. 

Lou’s eyes flitted from the girl to the two men flanking her. “Why are you doing this?” 

“I need to know,” Spencer replied and pressed his lips together. 

Noticing the tension in his shoulders returning, Y/N reached for the balled-up fist on his side and unfurled his fingers, placing her palm against his and intertwining their fingers. It was something she used to do whenever he was panicking about something in school or when the bullies would get to him again. 

He visibly relaxed as she hid their intertwined hands behind her back. 

“Take it from someone who does know. He was a good man,” Lou reassured them, but something about the way he said it struck Y/N. Neither of the agents noticed it as Derek turned and patted Spencer on the stomach, his arm grazing Y/N’s chest as she stood between the two men. 

“Thanks for your time,” Derek said as he walked away. 

Y/N began to let go of Spencer’s hand to follow behind Derek when Spencer’s grip on her tightened as he stayed put. “Where is he these days?” he asked Lou. “My dad?” 

“It’s been years, but he’s probably still at that same firm in Summerlin,” Lou answered. 

Spencer’s grip loosened on Y/N’s hand as he slumped. “He’s been in town this whole time?” Her heart broke at the sight of him. Once again, Spencer’s dad broke the boy’s heart and Y/N was there to pick up the pieces. 

That was never going to end, was it? 

“As far as I know,” Lou replied before Spencer let go of Y/N and turned on his heel. 

Y/N shot one last smile at Lou before falling into step with the two agents. 

“You know Summerlin?” Derek asked both of them. 

“Yeah, it’s like nine miles east of here,” Spencer replied. 

“Off the 95,” Y/N finished his sentence. 

“He was ten minutes away and he never let me know.” 

Rossi joined the three of them at the company William Reid worked at. As they entered what seemed to be the lobby of the law firm, Y/N started to look around to take in her surroundings. Before she could take anything in, an unfamiliar voice sounded. 

“Can I help you, gentleman?” The woman behind the desk got up and walked towards the front desk. One glance at the small board on her table told Y/N her name was Ms. Cahill. “And lady,” she added when her eyes fell on the Y/H/C. 

“Yeah,” Spencer replied and then fell silent. He inhaled a couple of times, opening his mouth to say anything, but nothing came out. 

“We’d like to speak with William Reid,” Y/N said in his place. 

“Is he expecting you?” Ms. Cahill asked. 

“I don’t think so,” Rossi said before flashing the woman his FBI badge. 

While the woman told them Will was in a meeting, Y/N’s eyes landed on Spencer. He was having difficulty breathing, like he was on the verge of a panic attack, something Y/N knew all-too-well. The boy used to have them all the time when they were kids and Y/N was always the one to help him out of it. 

“Are you okay?” Derek asked before Y/N could. 

Spencer nodded his head. “Yeah. No. Yeah, I’m going to go to the bathroom.” Before either of them could say anything, he sped off towards the bathroom, leaving Y/N with his co-workers. 

“I’ve never seen him like this,” Derek pointed out. 

A heavy sigh heaved Y/N’s chest. “I have,” she said. “Excuse me.” 

She pushed past Derek and followed Spencer to the bathroom, not even caring she was entering the boys’ bathroom. Her heart and mind were set out on helping her best friend. She didn’t care much about bathroom etiquette. 

“Spence?” she called out just before one of the stalls slowly opened. The man walked out of the cubicle, hands shaking and lip trembling. “Hey, you okay?” He simply shook his head before placing empty vials of something on the sink. Y/N reached for one, inspecting the label. Her heart sank. “Dilaudid, seriously, Spence?” Her voice contained more anger than she had intended to. 

He splashed a bit of water in his face and blindly reached for the paper towels. Quickly jumping to his aide, Y/N handed him two. “Don’t, Y/N/N. You weren’t there,” he told her calmly as he dried his face. 

“For what? For you to get hopped up on some drug?” She held the vial up for emphasis. 

“For me being kidnapped and tortured!” The volume of his voice went up ever so slightly. 

The anger that resided on Y/N’s chest washed away as her heart plummeted into her stomach. “What?” she whispered, her eyes filling up with tears. “Spencer…” 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he said and pushed past her before she could even say anything else. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Y/N followed behind him and joined the other agents and Spencer’s father. 

“Did something happen?” Y/N heard William ask. 

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Spencer responded in a cool, toned-down manner, much different from how he was moments before. The dilaudid seemed to be working quickly, Y/N thought. “Hello, Dad.” 

William Reid looked at his son as if he’d seen the ghost of Christmas past. Y/N was suddenly reminded of all the times she had spent at the Reids’ and every time William picked them both up from school because her mother was working overtime and couldn’t pick her up. 

“Spencer…” William whispered before his eyes landed on the girl next to him. “I’m glad you two are still together.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but scoff at his comment. There had been so much in the last seven years she didn’t even know about. So much had happened. So much for which she should’ve been there for him. Too much, it seemed. 

“Let’s talk in my office.” William invited the four of them into his office. While he himself took a seat on the armchair, Rossi opted for the couch opposite of him. After what happened in the bathroom, Y/N felt withdrawn from her best friend and opted to lean against the bookshelves, Derek joining her quickly, while Spencer stayed put near the door. 

“You don’t look like me any more,” William told his son. “You used to. Everybody said so.” 

Y/N’s eyes flicked towards Spencer, who was exhibiting a cool stance towards his father. “They say some people look like their dogs, too,” he started. “It’s attributed to prolonged mutual exposure. Elderly couples, also. They unconsciously mimic the expressions of people they’ve been around their whole life. It’s why we’ve been called non-biological twins our whole life,” he said, motioning towards Y/N at the end. “So it kind of makes sense that I wouldn’t really look like you. I haven’t seen you in twenty years.” 

No one else noticed it, but Spencer’s bottom lip quivered. He was keeping up a strong facade, but it didn’t fool Y/N.  

“So, are you in town on work?” William asked. 

“We’re just wrapping up a case,” Rossi intervened smoothly. Maybe Y/N wasn’t the only one who noticed Spencer’s lip quivering. They were profilers after all, studying everyone’s behavior. 

“A five-year-old boy was abducted and murdered,” Derek chimed in. 

William looked up at Derek and Y/N. “I read about that. Ethan Hayes, right?” Glancing over at Y/N, Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed at his father’s behavior and he knew she had taken note, too. “That’s terrible.” 

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed. “That case got me thinking about Riley Jenkins.” 

“You remember Riley Jenkins, Mr. Reid?” Y/N questioned. 

William nodded. “Of course.” 

“I’ve been having dreams about him for a really long time,” Spencer explained. “But when I came back here for this case, it jogged something and the dream changed. I saw his killer and it was you.” 

Along with Spencer’s co-workers, Y/N paid close attention to William to see if anything in his behavior or reaction would tip them off. 

“Interesting dream,” William said, oddly calmly. 

Y/N’s head tilted slightly. “You don’t seem that surprised.” 

Turning back to his son, William smiled ever so slightly. “I stopped being surprised by Spencer’s mind a long time ago.” The man almost sounded proud. 

“There are certain criteria we consider when looking at this type of suspect,” Rossi continued, ignoring the pride in William’s face. “You fit parts of that profile.” 

William glanced at Y/N, a familiar face for guidance. When she didn’t offer any, he turned back to Rossi. “Me?” 

“We just want your cooperation,” said Rossi. 

“My cooper–” William chuckled in disbelief as he glanced at every person in the room. Neither of them were giving him any satisfactory answer, all four of them glaring at him to gauge his reaction. “You’re not actually saying you think I killed Riley Jenkins.” 

Spencer shook his head ever so slightly. “We didn’t say that.” 

“Good. Because that’s absurd.” 

“We’d just like permission to look through your computer, access your records,” Derek stated. 

William leaned forward in his chair. “And what would you be looking for, exactly?” No answer came forth, telling the hot-shot lawyer enough. “You want access to my files, get a warrant.” 

Having asked him enough questions, the team of four returned to the hotel. Rossi and Derek got their own rooms while Y/N joined Spencer in his. She wanted to help him on the case a little more, see if they could come up with something together. Plus, if it gave her the chance to ask him some questions about what had happened to him, it would be even better. 

As the two of them turned the corner in the hallway, Spencer dialed another co-worker’s number. Penelope Garcia, he’d explained to her. Tech analyst at the BAU. Computer wizard. “Yeah, we’re not gonna get a warrant so we’re going to have to go under the radar on this one, Garcia.” 

“You want me to hack your father’s network,” Y/N could hear Penelope’s voice from the other side of the line. “You’re sure about this?” 

The two of them stopped in front of room number 419. “I really wish people would stop asking me that,” he said to Penelope as he reached into his pocket for his keycard. He hung up the phone as he opened the door, stopping in his tracks as his foot stepped on something that wasn’t the carpet. His sudden halting caused Y/N to bump into him. 

With confusion written in her eyes, she watched as Spencer bent down to require the folder that was on the floor. It was a brown envelope with a post-it stuck on the flap. “You’re looking at the wrong guy”, it read. 

Spencer glanced over his shoulder at his best friend. “Do you know about this?” 

She shook her head in response before he opened the envelope and fished out the files inside. At the very top of the bundle was a picture attached. More accurately, a mugshot from someone named Gary B Michaels. 

Spencer glanced at Y/N before leaving the room again, this time, with the file in hand. Slightly frustrated by his lack of communication, Y/N followed behind, closing the door behind her but not before checking if Spencer had taken the roomkey with him. 

Rossi and Morgan were in the downstairs bar, nursing a drink when the two younger ones joined them, Y/N a mere half a minute later. Spencer handed them the envelope without a word. 

“Was the envelope dropped off at the front desk first?” Rossi asked. 

“Nope, I asked the front desk. No one dropped anything off for Spencer,” Y/N replied. 

Rossi nodded his head in thought. “So, they know what room you were in.” 

“I do have to admit, the timing of this seems a little suspicious,” Derek agreed. 

“Yeah, an hour after I see my father, we’re handed another suspect.” 

Rossi looked up from the file. “You think you knew this guy?” 

“I don’t know,” Spencer replied. “I think so but I’m not sure. I … No, I don’t know.” He was stuttering and chaotically jumping from one thought to the other. 

Nodding at Y/N, Derek asked, “What about you? Have you seen him before?” 

“Can’t say that I have… Or…” she reached for the picture again, looking at the man properly and in a more lit-up room. The dark eyes pierced through Y/N’s Y/E/C ones as if he could reach through the photo and just grab her like that, transporting her to her childhood. 

“That’s a pretty dress.” 

Before she could go any further in that memory, Rossi’s voice stopped her. “‘Exposed himself to a minor.’ That’s a precursor to molestation,” he said and his words threw Y/N right back. 

She was at the playground, waving her ribbon around while Spencer was playing chess by himself, when a man stopped her in her tracks. 

“That’s a pretty dress,” he complimented her cherry-patterned dress her mother had put her in that morning, even though she wanted to wear pants and a T-shirt. Y/N looked up at him. He was tall and his hair was smoothed back by gel, leaving it sticky and greasy-looking. 

“Thank you,” innocent, unknowing Y/N responded. “Mommy picked it out for me.” 

“Are those real cherries?” he asked and crouched to her level, reaching for the dress, feeling its fabric between his fingers. 

Young Y/N frowned at him. “Of course not, silly.” 

“I think it is,” he replied and tickled her belly before pretending to eat a handful of cherries, causing the young girl to laugh. “You like cherries?” Y/N nodded her head eagerly. “So do I.” 

“Y/N/N?” Spencer’s voice brought her right back to the present day. She blinked rapidly, adjusting to the bright light of the hotel’s lobby. “You okay?” he asked. Before she could say anything, Derek’s phone rang, cutting the men’s worry for the young woman away. 

“It’s Garcia,” Derek said before picking up and putting the phone on speaker. “Talk to me, baby girl.” 

Y/N gave the man an intrigued look, but decided not to say anything. 

“I’m not interrupting boy time at Crazy Horse Too, am I?” the peppy-sounding woman asked. 

“You know that’s not my thing. I’m more for in-room entertainment.” 

“I can’t help you there, but I do give good phone.” 

Y/N looked over at Spencer who gave her a look that told her this was how they always interacted with one another. 

“Let me hear what you’ve got.” 

“Reid, we’ve been all up in your father’s business,” Garcia started. 

“What did you find?” 

“Well, let me tell you first what I did not find. No kiddie porn, no membership to illicit websites, no dubious e-mails, no chat room history.”

“What about his finances?” Spencer asked, his shoulders tensing a little again. 

Another voice came through the speaker now, one Y/N didn’t recognize. He sounded like a strong male, very authoritative voice. “We went back ten years. No questionable transactions that we could find.”

“Well, he did buy a ticket to see Céline Dion six months ago,” another woman’s voice came next. “But I think we can overlook that.” 

Y/N couldn’t help but smile ever so slightly. Céline Dion was very often playing in their house. Both at Spencer’s and at her own. The two families were pretty crazy about the French-Canadian singer. 

“He’s smart. Is it possible he kept things under the table?” Spencer wanted to know next. 

The man’s voice sounded through again. “Well, of course. But from what we can tell, Reid, he doesn’t fit the profile.” 

“We can tell you other things about him, if you want to know,” the female voice that wasn’t Garcia’s said. 

Spencer looked down at Y/N as if to find his footing again. “I’m listening.” 

“Uh, he’s a workaholic. He actually logs more hours than we do,” the woman said. “He makes decent money, but he doesn’t spend a lot of it. He has a modest house, he drives a hybrid. He doesn’t travel much, he stays away from the casinos. And according to his veterinary bills, he has a very sick cat.”

The man spoke next. “He appears to spend most of his free time alone, and goes to the movies a lot, and he reads. And from his collection of first editions, it seems his favorite author is…” 

“Isaac Asimov. I remember that one,” Spencer cut him off. He was agitated, doubting every single belief he had about his father. Though she was still kind of upset with him, Y/N reached for his hand again and intertwined their fingers, hoping that would ground him again. 

“He does have one other major interest. On his home computer he’s archived a gajillion things on one common subject,” Garcia took over again. 

A smile spread on Y/N’s face, knowing what she was going to say. 

“What?” Spencer asked. 

“You, kiddo.” Y/N could hear the smile in Garcia’s voice and she squeezed Spencer’s hand. “He’s got like everything that’s been published online. Every article you’ve been quoted in, pieces you’ve written for behavioral science journals. He even has a copy of your dissertation.” 

“He’s keeping tabs on you,” Y/N told him, beaming. “That’s saying something.” 

“Yeah, and he Googled me. That makes up for everything,” he said before pushing past his colleagues, letting go of the one hand that could ground him. “I need some air.” 

“Spence!” Y/N called, but he was already gone. 

Derek sighed as he spoke into the phone again. “You guys still there?” 

“I thought we were giving him good news,” Garcia sighed, too. “Also, who else is there? I swore I heard a woman’s voice.” 

“Oh, that would be me,” Y/N answered. “I’m Detective Y/N Y/L/N. Spencer’s childhood best friend. I’m trying to help out here, wherever I can.” 

“Didn’t you apply for the spot at the BAU, too?” the male voice sounded again. “I remember seeing your resume on my desk.” 

Y/N let out an awkward chuckle. “Yeah, I did. But, uh, you chose Spencer over me. Which is totally valid. He’s a great guy and I bet he’s a great asset to your team.”  

“I’m sorry we didn’t pick you, Detective Y/L/N,” the man said. 

“It’s fine. I’m proud of Spencer for getting in anyway and I’m happy in my job, so. Hey, no resentment, all right?” 

“Glad to hear that. Can we do anything else for you guys there?” 

Derek held the phone up to his mouth. “Yeah, look up a name for us, if you would. Gary Brandan Michaels.” 

The name alone sent shivers down Y/N’s spine, bringing her right back to that day on the playground. 

His hand moved from her belly down to her short legs, placing one on the back of her knee. “Could you do a twirl for me, pretty girl?” 

She quickly snapped herself back out of it and looked up at the two men in front of her. “I need some air,” she whispered and took off the same way Spencer did. Trying to find her breathing again, she stopped around the corner and focused on her respiration. It wasn’t until she heard his familiar voice that she looked up again to take in her surroundings. She found herself on the other side of the lobby where they had some of those casino machines. One of which was manned by her best friend. 

He was accompanied by a blonde girl in a sparkly purple dress. She was sitting a bit too close to her best friend for Y/N’s liking. 

“Normally video poker odds are slightly worse, at point-seven percent in your favor, but if you employ optimal strategy and always draw for the royal flush, you can push those odds to point-two percent,” Spencer explained to the woman. 

“Hmm,” the woman hummed. “Smart and handsome.” 

Spencer looked up at this, but his eyes weren’t on the woman for more than a second as they caught something behind her. Or rather someone. 

“So are you in town for the convention?” she asked while reaching for a cigarette. 

Spencer slightly shook his head to force himself to pry his eyes away from the beautiful Y/H/C in the corner who was looking at him, too. “Um, there are twelve conventions in town this week, which one are you talking about?” 

“Take your pick,” she said, laughing, before lighting the cigarette. 

Upon seeing this, Y/N walked over. “Six minutes,” she mumbled. The woman’s eyes landed on the newest addition to their conversation as she blew out her smoke, though Y/N couldn’t but focus on how Spencer’s lips twitched up into a smile. 

“Excuse me?” the woman asked, clearly offended. 

Spencer shook his head slightly with a smile. “I-it was something I used to say to my mom to try to get her to quit smoking. A cigarette takes six minutes off your life. So every time she’d light one, I’d say, ‘that’s six minutes less that I get to spend with you’.”

“Aw! Did it work?” 

If Y/N hated how the woman was so charmed by her best friend, she was very much showing it, though neither of them noticed. 

“No,” Spencer replied chuckling. 

“Because I’ve tried it all. The gum, the patch, nothing works.” 

The Y/H/C let out a chuckle. “You should try hypnosis, they’ve had a lot of success in the–” Just as the idea popped into Y/N’s head, it seemingly did in Spencer’s, too, as his head snapped up at her with wide eyes. 

“Tell you what, I’ll put mine out if you buy me a drink,” the woman tried, but Spencer wasn’t even listening anymore. 

Grimacing at the woman, Y/N placed her hands on Spencer’s shoulders. “Not today, sweetheart.” 

Just as Spencer turned in his chair, Derek and David joined Y/N’s side. “We’ve been looking all over the place for both of you. Come on,” said Derek with a serious expression on his face. 

Spencer got up from his chair and took Y/N’s hand in his, entwining their fingers to give her the support and calmth she needed after her near-panic attack just mere moments earlier. 

“Hey! You won like two-thousand dollars here,” the woman called. 

“Keep it,” Spencer told her over his shoulder. 

“You do realize you just gave two grand to a hooker,” Rossi pointed out. 

Derek’s eyes glanced from the woman in the purple dress to Spencer to Y/N. “Must’ve been quite a conversation. What was it about?” 

“How to stop smoking,” Spencer replied before walking off, dragging Y/N with him. 

Outside, Spencer explained his plan. Derek and Rossi weren’t entirely in on the plan, but Y/N convinced them that it could help. 

“I could sit in,” Y/N suggested, but Rossi shook his head. 

“No, I’ll sit in, make sure everything’s going well.” 

Furrowing her eyebrows, Y/N looked at him. “Why not? We’re practically soulmates, we–I can help.” 

“That’s just it, Y/N,” Derek chimed in. “You’re too close. Let Rossi do it. We’ll wait out here.” 

After a reassuring nod from Spencer, Y/N sat down next to Derek, allowing Rossi to go in with him. She didn’t love this. Her best friend might get hurt and she wouldn’t even be there to patch up the breakage. 

“You and Spencer…” Derek started once the silence settled over them in the waiting room. “You’ve been more than friends?” 

“No,” Y/N shook her head. 

“But you wanted to?” 

Y/N’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. Never had she even admitted to herself that what she felt for Spencer was more than platonic. She didn’t want to admit it, scared that it was true and it was going to ruin what they had going on. 

“I–How do you know?” she asked, her voice quiet and vulnerable. 

A soft laugh erupted from Derek’s throat. “I’m a profiler, Y/L/N. Besides, it’s blatantly obvious.” 

“How so?” 

“Come on, the way you look at each other, the way you hold each other’s hands…”

Y/N’s brows furrowed. “Wait,” she said, confusion laced in her voice. “You’re not saying ‘you’. You’re not talking about the way I look at him, but the way we look at each other…” 

“Pretty Boy’s blatantly in love with you, too, genius.” 

Scoffing, Y/N shook her head. “Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England.” 

Derek wetted his lips as he chuckled. “All right, Your Majesty. Whatever you wanna believe…” 

“Y/N/N!” the sudden scream of her name caused her to jolt from her chair and rush into the practice where she found Spencer on the couch, panting and frantically looking around the room. 

“Spence,” she whispered and rushed to his side, relieving Rossi from his protective duty. “Spence, you’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.” She soothed him, allowing him to grab onto her hand as she smoothed his hair back and pressed kisses to his head. “You’re okay.”   

Once Spencer had calmed down and explained to his co-workers and Y/N what he had seen, he had decided to go back to his mother to confront her and ask her about that day. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Y/N asked, her voice soft and fragile. 

Spencer looked down at her and nodded her head. “Please,” he whispered. 

Derek dropped them off at Bennington Sanitarium, wanting to wait for the couple in the car until they were ready. The whole way to her room, Spencer held Y/N’s hand tightly, power walking through the familiar hallways. They found her in her room where Spencer explained what he had seen in his vision. Y/N watched from the sidelines and noticed how Diana became more and more agitated. 

“Try to remember, Mom,” said Spencer, needing to push her a little. 

“No, I can’t.” 

“You were there. You watched Dad burn the bloody clothes.” 

Diana shook her head. “You had a dream.” 

“Mom, this was not a dream,” Spencer pressed, causing his mother to turn around to face him. “This was a memory. It was a memory and I saw you.” 

She walked up to him and grabbed his face in her hands lovingly. “Your mind. Such a treasure. Even as a baby you knew about things you weren’t supposed to know.” 

“This is not about me. This is about Riley Jenkins.” 

“It was always about you,” Diana said in a whisper, matching her son’s tone of voice. 

“Please, Mom. Please. Please just try to remember,” Spencer tried again as he grabbed her hands and guided her over to her bed where they sat down. “Remember Riley. Riley.”

“Riley… Riley,” she mimed as she let the name simmer in her brain. “Riley was real. Poor Riley.” 

“Yes,” Spencer whispered. “Poor Riley. Poor Riley. Did Dad do something to him?” 

Diana looked up at her son in surprise. “Dad? No.” 

“Think, think, think,” Spencer pressed. 

“No, no, no, no. That’s– No, no. Now you’re confusing me, Spencer. No.” She placed her hands over her face. It was stressing her out. He was pressing and pushing her too far. 

“Spence,” Y/N tried softly, but he didn’t hear her. 

“You knew, Mom. You knew about Dad and you didn’t do anything.” 

“No, you don’t know. No! No, no, you don’t know! You don’t…” Then, she started to yell out her ‘no’s before getting up and starting to hit herself. 

“Mama,” Y/N walked up to her and tried to keep her from hurting herself, but Spencer quickly pulled her away and let the nurses push past them to get Diana in control. As the two of them watched the nurses put something in her arm to calm her down, they held onto one another tightly. Spencer’s lips were pressed against Y/N’s hair, the scent of her shampoo calming him down. 

“He got to Y/N/N,” Diana whispered once the medicine started working. 

Y/N and Spencer exchanged glances before Spencer let go of the girl. “What? What did you say?” 

“He got to Y/N/N and it could’ve been you, too.” 

The flashbacks she’d been having were real. They were actual memories from her childhood. From the guy that touched her and asked her to twirl. The guy that killed Riley Jenkins was the same guy that played with her with her ribbon. 

It could’ve been either of them, instead of Riley. 

The following day, Y/N went back to work, not entirely ready to face her captain’s wrath about missing a few days, but she had to go through it. He wasn’t entirely happy, but the girl didn’t get fired either. A warning, Hyde had said. Another one and she’d be out. 

For as long as she could, she tried to focus on her work. It was a simple filing day, so there didn’t need to be too many brain cells involved in this activity. Lucky for her, because most of her brain cells were focusing on the Riley Jenkins case, her conversation with Derek about Spencer and Spencer himself. 

Y/N knew she had a crush on her best friend. She had since they were sixteen but she couldn’t admit that to anyone else. Not even herself. 

“What was Lou Jenkins doing here?” The familiar and normally soothing voice of Spencer Reid made her jump out of her thoughts. 

Sighing, Y/N smiled her fakest smile. “Good morning, Y/N/N. Good morning, Spence. What can I do ya for?” She held the whole conversation by herself, earning an annoyed glare from her best friend. “I don’t know what he was doing here, I didn’t even notice him.” 

“I thought you were a good detective,” Spencer quipped, and though Y/N knew he was only teasing, it actually stung a bit. 

“What are you doing here, Dr. Reid?” she asked, allowing her tone to showcase just how pissed off she was. 

Spencer’s features softened. “Can you come with us? We gotta convince Detective Hyde that we wanna arrest my dad.” 

“Don’t you need a good detective for that?” she shot back and swiveled in her chair, away from him. 

She heard him sigh before he turned her chair around again. His eyes glazed over ever so slightly as he crouched down to her level. The flashbacks from her childhood returned for a quick second. “I’m sorry, Y/N/N. That was uncalled for. Please, will you help me?” 

“Get up,” she whispered, not wanting to be reminded of the guy in the playground again. “Please, Spence. Get up.” Confused, Spencer stood up straight again before Y/N took a breath and got up, too. 

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Derek asked, worry laced in his eyes. 

She offered them a smile. “Fine. Let’s go.” 

Allowing Spencer to sit down in front of Detective Hyde, Y/N and Derek remained by the door. Spencer explained the entire case to the detective, handing over the file they had compiled. 

“You’ve got no evidence,” Hyde concluded. 

“A suspect can be detained for questioning for forty-eight hours, regardless of evidence,” Spencer told him. 

Hyde glanced up to Y/N and Derek before turning his focus back on Spencer. “I’m not in the habit of ruining people’s reputations on a whim.” 

“Where’s your Captain? I want to talk to your Captain,” Spencer stated. 

“Talk all you want,” Hyde chided. “This was a local murder and your authority ends at the state line.” 

Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Y/N said, “Mine doesn’t.” 

Detective Hyde glared at his co-worker before getting up and taking a seat on the edge of his desk. “Look, why don’t you just head back over to the Fountainview, and have a couple of drinks by the pool, and think about this?” 

“I have thought about this,” Spencer stated determinedly. 

“The guy’s your father.”

“What’s your point, Detective?” 

“Maybe you’re here to work out some other issues…” Spencer got up just as Derek approached the two of them, pushing past his co-worker. 

“Listen, Detective–” 

Derek started, but Y/N was quick to cut him off. “Give us twenty-four hours, Hyde. Consider it a personal favor to the FBI, huh? Don’t you want to be in these guys’ good books? Don’t you wanna be the grand local hero?” 

Y/N and Hyde had a stand-down for a good minute. Her Y/E/C eyes didn’t defer from his for even a split second. She was going to get to him, even if it cost her her job. 

“Fine. You’ve got twenty-four hours.” 

Smiling, Y/N patted his shoulder. “Thank you, good Detective.” 

“I appreciate that,” said Derek before turning on his heel and following after Spencer, who quickly burst out of the office. “Reid, you’ve got to keep your head, man,” Derek said to the young agent just as Y/N joined them. 

“He could’ve just agreed to it, it happens all the time.” 

“They just want to feel like they’re the ones in control,” Derek assured him right before his phone rang. Spencer took this as an opportunity to walk away, only for his best friend to follow right after him. 

“You okay, Spence?” she asked, worry laced in her voice. 

He smiled at her. “Yeah. Could ask you the same thing. What was that earlier?” 

“You pissed me off,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as if that would protect her from the truth. 

Shaking his head, he stepped closer towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “No, not that. When I crouched down in front of you. You flinched. You-your eyes glazed over as though you were gonna cry and you tensed up.” 

“I-I guess I’ve been having some–flashbacks from our childhood?” she stuttered and stumbled over her words, not even sure what to make of it herself. 

Spencer’s head tilted. “From our childhood? And it’s making you scared of me?” 

“No, I–” before she could say anything, Rossi walked into the hallway they were in, intervening in their conversation. 

“Your dad’s here,” he said. 

The two of them joined Rossi and Derek when they had William Reid in the interrogation room. “You still think he did it, don’t you?” Derek asked Spencer. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” 

“Well, for one thing, Gary Michaels fits the profile,” Derek answered. Hearing the name caused Y/N to shiver ever so slightly. “You okay, mama?” Y/N simply nodded her head in response, allowing Derek to continue. “For another, he fled town after Riley’s murder. He’s a better suspect than your dad, Reid.” 

Spencer’s nose scrunched. “He’s a convenient one. Someone slipped the file under my door, Morgan. What am I supposed to think?” 

“Maybe they’re trying to help,” Rossi chimed in. 

“Or maybe they’re trying to protect him,” Spencer suggested. 

Rossi stepped closer to Spencer. “You’re talking about someone helping to cover up the murder of a child. Who would do that?” 

Something clicked inside Y/N’s mind as she watched her best friend’s father through the glass. He didn’t strike her to be someone who would murder a child. He was the one person she hated most when she was a kid, but he didn’t seem to be the one to do the hating. Along with the flashbacks she’d been having and the things Hyde was saying mere moments ago, it didn’t make sense to her that Spencer’s dad would be behind this. 

“Didn’t it seem a little odd how resistant Hyde was when you asked him to bring in your father?” she asked Spencer, voicing her thoughts. 

Derek looked at her. “I know you hate the guy, but are you seriously accusing a cop right now?” 

“It was a police file,” Spencer said, agreeing with his best friend. 

“A very old one. Anybody could’ve accessed it. You too, Y/N/N.” 

Y/N scoffed. “Aside from that…” she turned back to Spencer. “He told you to go back to the Fountainview, have a drink by the pool, and think about things. Have you told them you were staying at the Fountainview, Spence?” 

Her best friend looked at her in thought. “No, I haven’t. Have you?” 

“Uh-uh,” she shook her head and watched as the gears behind his eyes began working him up. “How bad of a detective am I now, huh?” 

“You’re brilliant,” he whispered before walking past her and entering the interrogation room where his dad was. 

Beaming, Y/N turned to Derek. “I’m brilliant,” she cooed, proudly. 

“And you’re still trying to convince me you’re not in love with him?” Derek asked, smug smirk on his face. 

Not really having a retort to that, Y/N pulled a face before turning to the window to listen to Spencer interviewing his father. 

“The question is simple. How did the blood get on the clothes?” 

William looked up at his son. “I told you, I’m not going to talk without counsel.” 

“You don’t have anything to hide, you don’t need a lawyer.” 

As Y/N watched Spencer interview his father, she felt weird. Something didn’t add up. William was hiding something from them. Detective Hyde was not trying to help them but protecting someone else and Lou Jenkins had been at the precinct for God-knows what reason. Diana told them he’d gotten to her and that he could’ve gotten Spencer, but William had never laid a hand on Y/N, which meant she wasn’t talking about William. 

“Did you hear from Garcia on Michaels’ whereabouts?” Y/N asked Derek. 

He shook his head. “No, why?” 

“I have a weird feeling about this,” she murmured. 

Nodding his head, Derek reached for his phone. “I’ll check up on them now,” he said and walked out of the room. It didn’t take very many minutes for him to return and call Spencer away from his interview. 

“Gary Michaels is dead,” Derek told them what his boss, Hotch, had told him. 

Y/N felt weak in her knees upon hearing the news. The hairs on the back of her neck raised while the feeling of fingertips grazing her skin left her feeling nauseous. 

“Y/N/N, you okay?” Spencer asked as he guided her into a chair. 

Y/N shook her head as tears lined her eyes. “Your mother said he’d gotten to me, Spence. It was Gary… He’s the guy that –” A sob shook her entire body, keeping the words from coming out of her. “He’s– He–” she tried over and over again, failing every time. 

“Hey, hey, Y/N/N, look at me,” Spencer placed both hands on her face, forcing her to look at him. “You’re gonna be okay. Tell us what happened.” 

She sniffled. “I can’t. I-I can’t.” 

“Okay, that’s okay,” Spencer whispered before looking up at his co-workers. “Let’s bring her home–”

“No,” she quickly interrupted and grasped his hands from her face. “I don’t wanna go home. I don’t wanna be alone.” 

Spencer’s thumb caressed her hands. “You got to rest, Y/N/N. Where do you wanna go?” 

“I wanna come with you.” 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” said Derek. “Where else does she feel safe?” 

With one glance at his best friend, Spencer knew where to bring her. “With my mom.” 

As simple as that answer was, it was even simpler bringing her there. Y/N found Diana on the couch in the communal living room, leafing through an old photo book. 

“Hi, mama,” Y/N greeted, hoping she wouldn’t see how puffy her eyes were or how scared she was. Diana looked up and smiled at the girl she considered her own daughter. “Can I sit with you?” 

She nodded and patted the spot beside her, showing the pictures in the book on her lap. “Do you remember this?” she asked, showing her a picture of her and Spencer at the beach, sharing an ice cream. “It was the first time the two of you were allowed to have big-kids ice creams. You were so excited about it, you got most of it on your face and body.” 

Smiling at the memory, Y/N traced a finger across the laminated photo. Immediately, she felt a hundred times better. Coming here, visiting Diana, always made her feel better, no matter how shitty her day had been. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” the doctor spoke as he joined the two. “Can I talk to Diana?” 

“Sure,” Y/N whispered and got up, but Diana quickly stopped her. 

“Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of her.” Y/N looked at the woman in surprise as she plopped back down. “She’s family.” 

The doctor sighed and took a seat on the coffee table so he was in front of Diana. “I’m told you’re refusing medication.” Y/N blinked at Diana in surprise. 

“I’m just holding off for a little while, if you don’t mind,” Diana told her doctor. 

“You know what will happen,” the Doctor warned her calmly. 

Diana nodded her head. “Tremors, panic, and the voices,” she summed up, having memorized it all. “But before that, when the fog lifts, a window of clarity. And I really need that right now.”

“I can give you some latitude here. Just tell me why,” said the Doctor. 

Bowing her head down, Diana sighed. “I wanna remember,” she said solemnly, reaching for Y/N’s hand to squeeze it as she looked at the picture of her son, his best friend, her mother and herself. All four of them. Happy as Larry. 

“Diana, does this have anything to do with Spencer and what we’ve been asking you about?” Y/N asked, squeezing her hand. 

She looked at Y/N, her eyes softening with tears in her eyes. “I need to remember, Y/N/N. I need to remember who it was that got to you.” Her free hand went up to the young woman’s cheek, cupping it. Melting into the familiar touch, Y/N leaned into her hand, allowing her own tears to flow. 

“Shall I stay here with you until you remember?” Diana simply nodded her head in response and Y/N smiled before the two of them returned to the picture book after having thanked Diana’s doctor. 

It took a couple of hours, but the window of Diana’s memory started widening and brightening. She told Y/N it was time and, along with the doctor, she brought the woman she considered her second mother to the precinct where she told Hyde to bring them to Spencer. 

“Agent Reid,” Detective Hyde said as soon as he opened the door. 

Spencer turned and with a booming voice, he yelled, “Do not interfere with this interrogation, Detective. This is not your case anymore.”

“Spence,” Y/N murmured softly, appearing from behind Hyde with his mother’s hand in hers. 

“Spencer, it was me,” Diana told him. Spencer's eyes flitted from his mother to his father to his best friend before he finally made the decision to hear his mother out first. They headed into Detective Hyde’s office where his father perched against the desk and Spencer grabbed two chairs. One for his mother and one for Y/N. He himself took a seat on the sofa. 

“I’d seen him around,” Diana started. “At your ball games. At the park. You used to play chess there, do you remember?” Spencer softly nodded his head. “You played with him once.” 

“With Gary Michaels?” A shiver went down Y/N’s spine. 

Diana’s hand squeezed Y/N’s in reassurance. “I didn’t know that was his name back then,” Diana admitted. “But it wasn’t unusual for you to play with adults. And you’d win, too. I’d only started to grow concerned when I noticed him around Y/N/N. He – uhm,” Diana halted, unable to get the words across her lips. 

“Did he do something to us?” Spencer asked, worried eyes flitting over towards the Y/H/C girl with the tears streaming down her face. 

“Not to you, no,” Diana whimpered, squeezing Y/N’s hand tighter. 

Spencer leaned forward, wanting to crouch in front of his best friend, but then refrained and returned back to his seat, remembering how she reacted to that the other day. “Y/N/N… You remember what happened to you, don’t you?” 

Nodding her head, Y/N cried out. “He touched me, Spence. I-I suppressed the memory for as long as I could remember, but-but when I saw his mugshot, I just… I suppose the memory just flooded back into my mind.”

“He was inappropriate with Y/N/N, he looked at you like he wanted to do the same thing to you. I just couldn’t let it happen…” Diana continued, holding onto Y/N’s hand. 

“A mother knows,” Spencer recited something Diana had told him mere days ago. Diana nodded her head. “So, you told Riley’s dad?” 

Diana heaved in a deep breath. “Two nights later, Lou called the house. He was agitated. He said he needed me to meet him. We went to stake out his house, Gary’s. He was bringing out the garbage when Lou asked me if that was him. He told me that that was Gary Michaels and that he had a history with kids… I-He then told me to go, but I didn’t listen. He got out and I-I sat there, I couldn’t move. It was like a dream, that paralysis in the face of something terrible.”

“What happened after that?” Spencer asked. 

Clearing her throat, Diana bowed her head. “It’s okay, Diana,” William encouraged, placing a hand over Y/N’s and Diana’s locked hands. “Go on.” 

“At some point I found myself walking towards the house. I found Lou hovering over Gary’s bloodied body… And the rest… It’s all dark after that.” 

“You came home,” William continued for her and turned to his son. “She couldn’t talk at first, but eventually I came to understand what had happened, and I knew that nobody could ever know.”

“So you never told anyone?” Y/N asked, voice meek and fragile. 

William shook his head. “No, she could have been implicated. And I had to protect her.”

With teary eyes, Spencer looked up at Y/N before moving to his father. “You were burning her bloody clothes,” he stated. 

Both Diana and Will nodded their heads. “But the knowing, you can’t burn that away,” William said. “It changed everything.”

“Is that why you left?” Spencer asked his dad. 

“I tried to keep us together, Spencer, I swear to you, but the weight of that knowledge was… It was too much.” 

Y/N looked at Spencer. His bottom lip was quivering whilst the gears behind his eyes were working overtime. “You could’ve come back,” he eventually told his dad. “We could have started over.” 

“I didn’t know how to take care of you any more,” he said to Spencer before turning to Y/N. “And I didn’t know how to approach you, knowing –” Will quickly stopped himself before he could burst into tears. “When I lost that confidence, there was no going back.”

“What’s done is done,” said Diana without a single ounce of resentment before turning back to her son. “At least now you know the truth… Both of you.” She squeezed Y/N’s hand again. 

Spencer stared down at his hands for a couple of seconds and Y/N knew he was fighting back tears. “I was wrong about everything. I’m sorry,” he squeeked. 

Getting up from his spot against the desk, William went to sit next to Spencer. “Me too, Spencer.” 

A small smile spread across Y/N’s lips as she sniffled. After everything that had happened, she was glad Spencer got some kind of closure with his dad. And, above all, she felt the hatred she’d harbored for William Reid all these years, lift from her heart. Everything he did was to protect his family. 

“So,” Diana then said, lifting Y/N’s hand and placing a kiss on it. “I believe these two have a couple of things they need to discuss.” She motioned to the youngest ones in the room. “Plus, I need to be back in my room before curfew.” 

With a smile, Y/N blew the woman a kiss. “I’ll visit you tomorrow, mama.” 

“See you next time, mom,” said Spencer as he got up and kissed his mother goodbye. 

With that, Diana and William left the office, leaving Y/N and Spencer to their own devices. Y/N was watching the two leave with a smile on her face, not even noticing Spencer staring at her until he captured her attention. 

“Hey,” he said in a whisper. Y/N looked up at him. “Come here.” He patted the spot beside him. 

Y/N moved from her spot on the chair to the couch where Spencer grabbed her hands and kissed her knuckles. “Are you okay?” she asked, cupping his face with her hands right after he kissed them. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m gonna be,” he replied. “Are you?” 

Heaving in a deep breath, she let go of his face and dropped her hands in his lap where he grasped them again. “I suppressed those memories for so long and now I have to digest them all over again… It’s gonna be a lot of therapy.” 

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked, lifting her hands again to kiss them. 

Y/N shook her head. “No, I think they might need you in Quantico,” she said with a smile and wriggled one hand out of his grip to push back a strand of hair. This time, she didn’t feel too awkward doing it. 

“Actually, I was thinking you could come with me to D.C.?” Y/N perked up at this news. “I-I talked to Hotch earlier and he, uhm, he’d like you to come in for a few, like, trial days at the BAU… Only if you want to, of course. I-I don’t expect you to give your life up here to fly with me to Virginia and just throw your life upside down. I just–” 

“Spence,” Y/N interrupted him with a chuckle. “I’d love to go with you. With you gone, there’s nothing keeping me here.” 

Spencer let out an amused scoff as he looked at her. For a moment, it was just that; him looking at her, her looking right back. His eyes glimmered the way they always did when he looked at her. After all these years, it still made her feel like she was the only girl in the world. 

“Spence,” she started in a whisper, “I–” Before she could even begin her sentence, a pair of soft lips shut her right up. At first, she was surprised, but she quickly melted into the kiss and let it completely overtake her senses. 

“I know,” he whispered when he pulled back. “Me too.” With a smile on her face, she kissed him again, only for him to pull back after a few seconds. “You did wanna tell me you’re in love with me right? Otherwise I probably read this situation very wrong.” 

Giggling, Y/N kissed him again. “I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen, Spence. You can be so dumb sometimes,” she told him between kisses, some of the words getting lost in his mouth. 

“Actually, it’s just that I–” Before the man could go off on a rant about statistics and scientific facts, Y/N quickly shut him up by kissing him again. 

After everything that had happened, this was not the ending Y/N had expected for her and Spencer, but she was happy that it was. 

“Are you sure they’re gonna like me?” Y/N mumbled as Spencer dragged her down the hospital corridors on the way to his co-worker, JJ’s room. He’d told her she had just given birth to a baby boy while they were in Vegas and it was the first thing they were going to do when they landed back in Virginia. 

It also meant it was the first time his co-workers, and Y/N’s new co-workers, were going to meet her in real life. 

Spencer chuckled and pulled at her hand so that she’d fall into his chest and he could kiss her passionately. “Yes, I am sure,” he told her when he pulled away. “Oh, we’re here,” he said, pointing at the room number. 

He rapped two times on the doorpost, capturing everyone’s attention in the room. “You guys have room for two more in here?” he asked, smiling at his colleagues, especially as they looked at him with confusion in their eyes. 

Pulling Y/N with him, he entered the room with a smile. 

“Spence, hi,” the blonde in the hospital bed greeted with a smile. 

“Welcome back,” the tall guy they had landed next to said to Spencer before his eyes landed on Y/N. “You must be Y/N Y/L/N,” he said, holding out his hand for her to shake, which she did by letting Spencer go for a second. “Aaron Hotchner, but everyone calls me Hotch.” 

“Nice to meet you, Hotch,” Y/N said, grinning from ear to ear. 

Spencer then turned to the little one in the room. “Wow,” he said before his eyes landed on the father. “Congratulations.” He reached out his hand to shake. 

“How is it that I just went through fifteen hours of labor and you look worse than I do?” JJ asked, a hint of worry in her voice. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Spencer muttered. “You look beautiful.” 

Y/N simply nodded her head in agreement at the sentiment. With one glance at her boyfriend, JJ wordlessly told him something the rest of the visitors didn’t quite catch onto. 

“Well, I could sure use some coffee. Anyone else?” he asked. 

Everyone agreed and filed out of the room, one by one. When Y/N made a move to follow, catching onto JJ wanting to be alone with Spencer, he pulled her back to his side. “You better not think about leaving my side.” 

Y/N shot a fleeting glance at JJ to check if she was okay with it. Judging by the smile on her face, the Y/H/C stayed put. 

“Are you okay?” JJ asked as Y/N nudged him to move a little closer. 

“Yeah, yeah. You?” 

“Yeah, yeah. You sure? Because there’s something I wanted to ask you, but it can wait.” 

Feeling her heart leaping in her throat, Y/N tried her hardest to contain her excitement. She already knew where this was going. 

“What is it?” he asked, brows furrowing ever so slightly. 

JJ smiled and looked down at the baby in her arms. “Will and I were talking, and uh, we want you to be Henry’s godfather.” 

An excited squeal erupted from Y/N’s throat, causing Spencer to look back at her in surprise. “I don’t even know. I don’t know…” he stuttered and stumbled, his eyes flicking back and forth from JJ to Y/N and back. 

“Here, do you want to hold him?” she asked, already holding out the newborn for him to take. “It’s okay, here you go.” 

A little hesitantly, Spencer took the baby from his friend. “Oh, hi, Henry,” he cooed.

“If something were to happen to us, it’s up to you and Garcia to make sure this boy gets into Yale,” JJ joked. 

Spencer puffed. “Yale. Yale. Do you wanna go to Yale, Henry?” he asked the baby as though he could answer. 

With a chuffed smile, Y/N joined Spencer’s side again. “That was your godfather’s safety school.” Spencer’s honey eyes met her Y/E/C ones in surprise before he turned back to the baby. 

“Don’t worry, I can get you into CalTech with one phone call,” he whispered to him like it was a secret. 

As Spencer looked at the baby in his arms, he couldn’t help but forget the stress he had felt in the past couple of days. If something so small and fragile could be in his arms without breaking, something JJ trusted him with, he was certain nothing else could touch him anymore. 

Especially not with his best friend by his side. 

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty@littlemissaddict@n0wornever@wanniiieeee@unnowhatthisistbh

[kradogsrats]

Here’s another question, what are your thoughts on Ezran? Since the fandom and I think he comes across as the least developed character of the main cast and no matter how hard he tries, it seems like he constantly has to learn that word won’t be enough to fully persuade an opposing side

I mean... Ezran's twelve. He decides what kind of king he wants to be when he's ten. When I was ten, I was reading a lot about historical atrocities because I couldn't quite wrap my head around the idea that people weren't all inherently good, deep down. Even if they were huge jerks on the surface, surely they'd do the right thing when it was really important, right? So I think he's sometimes just... thinking like a child. Because he literally is one.

We don't know what Harrow may have written to Ezran for after his death, but if we assume it's essentially the same as what he wrote to Callum (minus the cube stuff)—it's a lot of regret for Ezran to take on all at once. You can see in every word that Harrow wasn't proud of the king he had been, even though he started with the best intentions. He wanted to be a different king than his own father, to change Katolis and the world for the better, but he got caught up in the trap of history and its false narrative of strength. Ezran's obviously going to look to his father as his example for how to be king, and here's Harrow confessing that he wasn't the king he wanted to be, and wished he'd known the things he reveals in the letter earlier. So Ezran's takeaways are basically:

True strength is in vulnerability, forgiveness, and love

Reject the past and do not allow it to rule you

It's on you to make a brighter future

From before he's crowned, Ezran is struggling with how he will be king relative to Harrow. In The Royal Council, he literally worries that his choices are to reject and forget the father he loved, or doom himself to making all the same mistakes. As a result, he winds up going all-in on his interpretation of what Harrow wished he would have done.

Harrow wants him to create a brighter future, so not taking the throne at ten years old in the middle of an escalating inter-kingdom crisis would be "letting everyone down." As Soren later points out, this is kind of fucked up. ("If you spend all your time doing adult stuff now, you'll grow up weird, like your brother and Rayla," he says, while cheerfully engaging in the child-like attitude and behavior that his father denied him during his own childhood.)

True strength is vulnerability, so he never carries a weapon. Instead of accepting Harrow's sword to begin his rule, he has it forged into a new crown—something to honor both his father and his own commitment to strength not being about weapons and war.

Freedom is not letting the past define the future, so he holds a ceremony honoring Zubeia practically right next to the memorial to his own mother, who was killed by Zubeia's mate. He fully believes everyone wants the same thing that he does, deep down—a future of peace, free from old grudges and strife—and will join him in putting aside their grief and anger to achieve it.

He's essentially a product of having to mature too quickly in some areas, and having built his version of maturity on his father's example, while also holding on to a few developmentally-appropriate immature ways of seeing the world.

(In terms of development, I think they kind of shot themselves in the foot as far as making Ezran as relatable as Callum or Rayla, because he doesn't actually have anyone who's all that close to him. Soren, Corvus, and Opeli are much older than he is, and are really there for The King(tm), not scared or angry or grieving Ezran. He's literally never had a friend his own age. The only characters he could conceivably play off of in the deep and vulnerable way Callum and Rayla do with each other are Bait and Zym, neither of whom speak in a way the audience can comprehend. It's possible that they're finally setting up Aanya to fill that role with him, whether romantically or not. I definitely think she'll definitely be the one he can be conflicted and vulnerable about Runaan with in s7, since she's been in a very similar place. But yeah, because of all that he comes across as kind of removed from both the main cast and the audience.)