#wish I’d just written a 500 word fic because that’s all people care about

[babygirlwolverine]

i think today just told me everything I need to know. i won’t be writing longer fics again.

[delfiore]

1000 followers celebration

holy. SHIT.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT. 1000 FOLLOWERS. 1000.

i literally never thought i’d get to 500 much less 1000 guys. thank you so much for this. thank you for reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting on these little stories of mine. when i posted that one fic a little under a year ago, i wasn’t even thinking about any of these, i just posted it because i wanted people to read what i had in my head lol. but THANK YOU for caring about them,

and to celebrate this very special occasion, i have decided, for the first time ever on this blog, to TAKE REQUESTS, for a time. that’s right, send me an ask with any of the characters below and any of the prompts below (max. 2), and i’ll write you a little 500-word (ish) drabble. in true delfiore fashion, the prompts will be angsty, written by the wonderful @a-cure-for-writers-block, and that’s this link right here. just to be clear, none of the prompts are mine, they’re all from the blog i mentioned.

so thank you again and ask away!

characters/actors

wanda maximoff

natasha romanoff

yelena belova

kate bishop

amy march

elizabeth olsen

florence pugh

hailee steinfeld

prompts

“I promise you, just trust me.”

“I thought you were happy, I’m sorry.”

“Please, just stay a little longer.”

“I hope you don’t get your heart broken.”

“Why didn’t you say h-how bad it was?”

“Am I going to die?”

“When will this end. Please can this end.”

“How many times has he told you he doesn’t love you?”

“You need to find happiness without me.”

“I want to help you through this, I really do, just not as your girlfriend.”

“I know exactly how this ends.”

“You don’t have to pretend you care when you already have one foot out the door.”

“You can keep pretending, but you’ll never be happy”

“Why won’t you admit it!”

“When she told you to leave, you should have stayed.”

“I’m not good at this. I never have been.”

“The only person who will end up hurt here is you.”

“Please don’t cry.”

“I was hoping his flight would be cancelled, but miracles don’t happen.”

“How could we have gotten this so wrong?”

“You were never one of us.”

“This is what they warned me of.”

“I would’ve died for you.”

“You almost died! And for what?”

“If I leave now, I won’t come back.”

“There will never be a place for you here anymore.”

“Everything is temporary, this was merely one of those things.”

“You didn’t care, even a little bit?”

“I’m just tired of this. I’m tired of it all.”

“I thought she made it. It was clearly a figment of my imagination.”

“Wishful thinking will always be my downfall.”

“She didn’t even try to save me.”

“I saw it in her eyes. She wanted a different thing to what I wanted.”

“I’m not going to cry, it isn’t worth crying.”

“Don’t look at me like that, I don’t want pity.”

“And then he left.”

“I wish I could fix this.”

“I deserve more than this.”

“You hurt me and I still trusted you.”

“It should never have come to this.”

“Don’t be sorry, it was no ones fault.”

“I’ve spent all this time wondering and worrying about you. You didn’t think of me once?”

“I’m not a lot of people’s favourite person.”

“She quite clearly doesn’t want you.”

“I think that’s enough.”

“I shouldn’t have wasted 3 years on someone when Russia could’ve sold me good vodka.”

“You’re angry with me, I know.”

“Can we have this conversation when you’re not upset.”

“I don’t think I can forgive you.”

“It’s never been as easy as you think.”

“Why would you put so much hope in me? Things have clearly never worked out for me!”

“Oh, I was just another notch in your bedpost?”

“You really had me fooled. I might’ve almost said something I’d regret.”

“You put yourself in that position! That wasn’t my doing!”

“How could I be so blind?”

“Why are you still with me?”

“When was it that you realised that you didn’t love me?”

“I can’t even look at you right now.”

“Don’t put this on me!”

“I really think it’s easier for people when I’m not around.”

“I know, but you didn’t have to use her like that!”

“I’m not someone who breaks easily, but I must commend you on this.”

“There wasn’t even a moment when you smiled at me like that.”

“I’ve never seen that side of you.”

“If you were in my situation what can I do to stop hurting this much?”

“This never would’ve happened if we hadn’t have met!”

“I’m glad I get to see you walk away from me!”

“You really did play me like a goddamn fiddle.”

“There isn’t a way to fix this now.”

“You know I wouldn’t call unless I was in pain.”

“I never thought I’d be the one to hurt you.”

“You really were my first and last.”

“Don’t say anything else, just stay.”

“We can start over. I’ll do anything, everything can be perfect. Just please don’t leave me.”

“I heard the doctors. I know you haven’t got long.”

“You could’ve told me, or helped me! Anything other than what you actually did!”

“Don’t wish me the best, you were my best everything.”

“It was never up to me.”

“I wanted to save you. I wanted to be the hero and save you. How did I miss my chance?”

“The only thing I can do is love you!”

“Why can’t you see that?”

“I hope he will make you happy.”

“You never get what you want. Haven’t you learnt that by now?”

“There hasn’t been a day I didn’t think of you and it’s starting to hurt.”

“You weren’t here when I needed you the most, why now?”

“I should never have trusted you.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“This can’t be how it ends! No, this isn’t how the story goes.”

“Just close your eyes for now. You’ll still be hurting in the morning.”

“This will be a pain you won’t forget, I’ll always be with you.”

“I never thought I’d love you this much.”

“It was always you. No matter how many times I disagreed, it was always you.”

“Your letters never made it to her. She was gone before she even received them.”

“Why does it hurt so much? Why do I feel like she’s broken my soul?”

“I haven’t stopped crying since Thursday. It’s pathetic.”

“It was a mistake and I know I can never fix this.”

“I hope it hurts to think of me.”

“This isn’t over. You always come running back and I always welcome you.”

“Don’t make me fall in love again.”

“I thought I didn’t miss you, but then I saw your photo.”

[writing-in-april]

Occupied

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer and Reader get caught by one of their co workers in a bar bathroom after Reader couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

A/N: This is the 1st of my 7 fics 7 days in a row for my 500 follower celebration! Thanks again for 500! Here’s another smut that’s in a clandestine spot lmao this’ll be my second public smut in a row plus I have one more already written that’s coming in like two weeks😂 Thanks to @imagining-in-the-margins who helped me get the ball rolling early on with dialogue and @definitelynotkatesblog for the original prompt!

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, Public sex, Unintentional edging, Humilation, Getting caught, Derek being Derek, Established relationship

Masterlist Word count: 1.5k

Sneaking off to go fuck your boyfriend in a bathroom at a bar was a little sleazy but, I had been desperate all day to find some alone time. The team had just finished a grueling case and I wanted nothing more than to order Spencer to rail me into next week. However, my plans had been dashed by Emily who had suggested we all go out to a bar to release the tension of the week before flying home in the morning.

We were all sitting in a booth at the bar that was a little too small to fit all of us and as a result I was practically sitting on Spencer’s lap, which was not helping my desperation at all in the slightest. Every so often he’d shift underneath me whether to get more comfortable or to pick up the Arnold Palmer he had been casually drinking. Each time he shifted I felt my panties dampen just a little more. This was tortuous.

My moment of opportunity came to me when Spencer lifted me off of his lap and said he was going to the bathroom. The bathroom doors were just hidden out of view from the table, so if I got up as well to go ‘to the bathroom’ no one would know if I followed in after him or dragged him into the woman’s bathroom. I quickly excused myself from the table as well after waiting a small amount of time to not arouse suspicion.

Normally, I’d choose the latter and pull him into the woman’s bathroom as it's universally known that they’re nicer. But, I had to switch to plan B when I saw that the ladies room was crowded with people.

I quickly checked my surroundings before slipping into the guy restroom. When I entered it was completely deserted besides Spencer, who was washing his hands at the sink. When he looked up into the mirror and spotted me behind him he spun around quickly with his eyebrows raised. I didn’t give him any time to respond before pulling him into the nearest stall.

“Y/N?! What are you doing?” He squeaked loudly as I reached forward to palm him through his slacks while reaching behind me to lock the stall door, I didn’t want to take my eyes off of him.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Now fuck me.” I said before slipping my shirt over my head revealing my bare chest to him. I sensed some hesitation from him, maybe because we had never done something so clandestine this close to our coworkers before. “Please… It’s not like we haven’t done something like this before.��� A switch must have flipped in Spencer at my reference to our last dalliance that we had had in a risky location (That had happened at a park).

“You better keep quiet unless you want our coworkers to hear how desperate you are.” He said with venom in his voice while pulling up my skirt, dipping his hand immediately underneath my panties to run teasing circles on my clit and enveloping me into a harsh kiss. Pleasure started to overtake me, loving the way that he had suddenly ripped any sort of dominance of the situation from out of my fingers, but it wasn’t enough to get me anywhere near the edge of an orgasm. I whined in frustration at his antics so he tried to move his fingers away from my clit to finger me. Instead of letting him I bat his hand away, I was more desperate for something else, “I’m already wet enough I promise- just hurry up.” He looked a little irritated at the fact that I gave him an order but still obliged me by quickly freeing his cock. His pants were only opened just enough to free him but it still gave me a good look at his hard cock that did wonders to me. He hooked one of my legs around my waist and started to tease his cock between my folds. I whined pathetically once it had gone on too long for my tastes which he let out an annoyed grunt in reply.

Then with no warning he pushed into me, filling me swiftly all the way to the hilt. Pure euphoria coursed through my veins when he immediately started thrusting giving me no time to adjust to his considerable size. Even though we slept together quite often and had a healthy sex life, every time his size still took some getting used too.

He started to whisper into my ear about how pretty I looked for him when I was desperate and all I could come up with as a response was a high pitched Yes that was probably way too loud. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth to try and muffle any other sounds that tried to escape while Spencer started to nip at my collarbone to stifle his somewhat now unable to say anything else into my ear because of the pleasure he was receiving.

The way that Spencer then pitched his hips in conjunction with the tight circles he started to rub into my clit again my release was hurtling toward me faster than I ever thought possible. My legs were shaking violently and if he hadn’t been there to partially prop me up I’d have probably melted into a puddle onto the floor. Though, unfortunately the sweet feeling of euphoria I was headed towards was dashed away just by a few words.

“I’m pretty sure the bathroom stall you’re in is supposed to have a maximum occupancy of one.” Suddenly was said loudly cutting right through the breathy moans from the two of us, we both immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Derek. Spencer let out a high pitched squeak and then froze up like a statue as soon as he had heard the voice reverting back to the shy Spencer we were all used to. The both of us hadn’t even heard the door open to caught up in our personal pleasure.

“That’s very ableist of you Derek.” My sudden nonchalant response came after a brief pause to Derek walking in on the two of us seemed to embarrass Spencer as his face had turned a dark shade of red. I moved my hands from Spencer’s shoulders into his hair to try and soothe his embarrassment. Though, I still decided to give Derek one last quip before shooing him out of the bathroom. I had been so close to finishing plus he had embarrassed poor Spencer, he could deal with some embarrassment himself from my words.“Sometimes you need two people. Right now was not one of those times but, you wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t heard me.”

I must have stunned Derek into silence because for a good 30 seconds there was silence on his end. Though, I never really ended up getting a full response from him. Instead, he gave us what could only be described as a mortified slash apologetic grunt; then leaving the room quickly afterwards not even bothering to care if the door slammed hard on the way out. I don’t think he was expecting that response from me.

Getting redressed took almost no time seeing as the only article of clothing either of us had removed was my top. In the hopes of Derek keeping his mouth shut Spencer and I decided to walk out separately. I paced in the small stall as much as I could in the small space while waiting for my turn to leave, hoping that no one would come in here or see me leave, but most importantly that Derek didn’t say anything.

“Well you took a long time.” Emily remarked slyly to me once I had slowly walked back before lowering her voice and continuing.”I’m assuming when Derek went to see where you to had gotten too he got an eyeful”

I flashed Derek a harsh gaze, assuming he had told everyone at the table. Though, I dropped it once Emily quietly pointed out to the hickey that had sprouted on my collarbone. However, my annoyance had not abated, my clit was throbbing, begging for attention after it had been cruelly toyed with

I was sure the teasing would all come tomorrow on the plane once Derek got over his residual embarrassment and everyone wasn’t so buzzed. I gritted my teeth in frustration, if I hadn’t been desperate before I sure was now after having my release stolen from me. Though, I was even more frustrated that Spencer seemed to be doing just fine. Throughout the rest of the night all I could think about was what Spencer could do to me when we finally got back to our hotel room. I wish Hotch had let us take an extra car so I didn’t have to wait. When we finally got in the car to drive back I was vibrating with anticipation all over again I couldn’t wait until we found someplace that was less occupied.

[uponrightful]

So, I love possessive, jealous Crosshair 🥵 Tell me about this scene (please?):

“Trouble doesn’t suit you, doll.” He murmured lowly, soft voice contrasting the slight pressure over her pulse point and the swell of her hip. Crosshair was all-consuming and Dutch was weak to do anything but try to stay silent under his pressing weight and commanding presence at her back.

Also, I’d love to know what Echo was thinking once Cross went to the fresher after Dutch.

You’re the best! 😘

Commentary Track for Coriolis Effect

Copy 500 words -or more- of any of my fics and I'll give you my thoughts/rambles on what was going through my head -or the character's- when I wrote it!

*send one in here anytime!*

My oh my! 😍 What spicy scene we have here. I'll start with what's going on with Crosshair first, then I'll come back for Echo and the rest of the Batch. haha

***

Crosshair is fuming with rage during his conversation with Echo: It's that kind of bodily energy you get after watching a action-movie, where your whole body feels tired, but it's twitching with adrenaline that can't be spent or released. That kind of feeling you can't get rid of no matter what you do to ignore it, or work through it. Your mind feels like it working so fast that it's in slow-motion, overanalyzing the smallest details until your grinding your teeth because there's nothing else that helps relieve the pressure.

But the second he enters the refresher all of that energy snaps from anger and fear for Duchess, into dead calm. His inner voice stops screaming and evens out in tone and his hands stop shaking. His breathing slows and the second Cross sees her standing there, it's like he's been meditating deeply for hours. This kind of concentration is only present in Crosshair one other time... And you guessed it. When he's shooting.

Note: This is the epitome of Crosshair's ability to manage impulse-control in unfamiliar -and stressful- situations. Key-word here being "unfamiliar." I firmly believe that Cross is painfully terrible at monitoring and expressing his emotions. He has so many of them all the time that from a young age he had to learn how to turn them off in a moments notice, simply so he could survive. Think about it... How can a sniper worry about his brothers dying right before his eyes and still make clean shots? Not even Crosshair can do that. So the second he's certain Dutch is safe -by visually proving her health- that well-trained nature takes over to protect him like it always does.

Crosshair -at this point- isn't sure what he wants. He needs to touch her though, remind himself that she's tangible and within reach. Not that he isn't aware of his effect on her, but this moment isn't about sexual appeal or attraction. This is desperation, and Crosshair knows that; He's just banking on the hope that she'll let him, because she's always done so. He feels safe with Duchess, and even though this feels/looks sexy, Crosshair feels completely vulnerable right now.

Note: I will say it now; Once and for all. I have never subscribed to the idea that Crosshair is a typical Dominant/BDSM/Sadisim kind of guy. And the distinction is all to do with motivation. I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out why he acts the way he does, and how that manifests itself. So when I planned this scene, I wanted to focus on just how strong his desire to have security is. Not prowess, or control. It's all to do with the desperate need he has to prove how he feels about her. That kind of vulnerability just comes easier to him physically than it does emotionally. Duchess gives him a sense of stability -in and out of the sexual sense- that makes his characterization insanely complex and difficult to balance.

The moment he finds his words, it's a compulsory need to cover his own jealousy. Crosshair is undoubtedly unhappy knowing she went out with Regs... but what's really bothering him is how easy it is to feel so strongly for Duchess. Every time he speaks, it's intentionally driving attention towards someone else, and away from his own desire to be the focus of her attention. Cross uses his fear of her being unsafe to mask the jealousy that constantly compares himself to the others who can give her attention more freely than he can personally. Duchess sees his calm nature as patience and precision, but it's really Crosshair planning out what he's going to say because he knows one wrong move will reveal just how desperate he is to have her acceptance of him.

Note: I've never struggled to balance possessiveness and love like I have with Crosshair. He's so intense that if I'm not careful, he comes off like a walking red-flag. Word choice is essential when getting Cross' character and reactions right. Whether it be the way he talks to her, or the way he naturally falls into a protector role. That's why when I'm writing for him, it takes double the time it does to write anything else. Every movement, every word he says, needs to be written like he says it in the moment. That's the only way to show his softness... because the love that he gives is best felt in person. You can't describe Crosshair's love with words easily.

Now for sweet, sweet, Echo.

Let me preface this by saying: Echo is his brother's keeper. There is a relationship there that goes far deeper than the ones Crosshair holds for his other brothers. It happened slowly, but it wasn't until the two of them were too far into it that either recognized what had happened. Their personalities are something that wouldn't really mix on first glance, but for some reason or another, they just get each other. It's natural, and they gravitate towards each other.

That being said, Duchess and Echo are their own kind of dynamic. I see them as the "platonic-soulmate" kind. She has an intensity that Echo marvels at, and Dutch knows she could take any problem to him and he would do anything to help her. They both see something in the other that they wish they still had, or could develop. It's probably the purest friendship Duchess has ever had, and Echo can't help but harken back to Fives when he sees her attitude -in future chapters.

Note: From the first moment I created Duchess, I just knew in my heart she was meant to be something special to Echo. To me, it was only right that Crosshair's doll would feel strongly connected to Echo as well. Add in their common feeling of loss for brothers, and that just made their relationship that much stronger. She's such a force, and the ARC trooper can't help but find a enamorment with people who have such a strong will and fiery personality. (See Fives)

The moment Echo sees Crosshair, he's already preparing to do anything necessary to protect Duchess from incurring another possible hit to her bruised emotions. Echo trusts Crosshair, but he's highly attentive to Cross and how raw his emotions are. Their interaction is based in Echo's desire to save the couple from losing the chance to do things the right way. Intuition and experience guide Echo through the whole conversation; He really is flying by the seat of his blacks here... But he's so well-versed in reading Crosshair that none of the other Batcher's even think about offering to be the first one Crosshair faces when he comes in the bunk hall. Echo has unmatched faith in Cross, and this was something both of them knew would happen.

Note: Writing this scene was challenging for a number of reasons. For one, neither Echo or Crosshair really talk a whole lot. They say what they need to, and that's the end of it. So I spent days watching Echo and Crosshair's interactions. Trying to figure out what I could based off the -very little- examples I was given. In that, I found that the two of them hardly ever stand next to each other, but they're constantly sharing glances and looking at each other. Echo and Crosshair have silent conversations all. the. time.

Had Echo not allowed Crosshair to go and see Duchess, their sexy scene would have never happened. (And I played around with that idea very seriously...) Ultimately, Echo's intuition was the deciding factor. That conversation, and Crosshair's attempt at honesty was the reason Echo felt confident in letting him speak to her. And although Echo could sense Crosshair's patience running thin, he'd already told the rest of the Batch to be prepared for any fight. Echo wouldn't put it past Cross to stun him, but a gut-feeling kept him from mentally preparing to do the same thing.

Additionally, it was Echo who made everyone leave the bunk hall. The second Crosshair and himself reached an agreement, Echo was the first to step away. His next move was to shove the rest of the Batch out the doors and give Duchess and Crosshair the privacy needed to work through their shit. And although he expected it to end in sex, the desire to keep their business between them alone was Echo's main motivation to empty the bunk room. Neither Crosshair or Duchess really trust the Batch at this moment -in Echo's mind at least- and risking their privacy wasn't something the ARC would stand for. In the back of his mind though, Echo was terrified that Crosshair would fuck her and leave it at that. He's seen the sniper at his best and his worst, and although his best is wonderful, his worst can be miserable to endure. Echo was praying that Crosshair wouldn't be too harsh -physically and mentally- on Duchess.

When Hunter finally decided enough time had passed, Echo was on edge to see just where the two of them would be. The image of them sleeping in separate bunks: Crosshair pretending to sleep -like always- and Duchess laying quietly and pretending like nothing happened shook Echo to his core. But the second he saw her bunk in a disarray, and her not in it, Echo couldn't help but fucking grin. He was proud of his brother for doing the right thing. For doing something for himself, and not worrying about how it would make him look for once. Add in the way Crosshair reprimanded Tech, and how deathly serious he looked with her sleeping peacefully against him...?

That was the moment Echo knew for certain that Crosshair was never coming back from this. He saw a visible change in his brother, in the way his attitude changed. The way Crosshair wasn't worried about himself, or attempting to hide behind sneers and sarcastic comments. Echo noticed how attuned he was to her in that moment, putting her comfort above all else. For a man who pretended to not care about anything, Crosshair did a terrible job of hiding his true personality when Duchess was curled up into him. And Echo couldn't be happier, knowing that his trust in Crosshair hadn't been for nothing. Not only was his brother experiencing love in a way that all of them desired, but Duchess was never going to live with the question of whether or not someone truly cared for her.

***

I hope this was what you were looking for in-terms of answers 😅. I had a great time writing this for you, and I hope you'll feel comfortable doing this again whenever you feel like it! I love sharing the behind-the-scenes stuff with you! It makes the cuts and editing feel a little less sad knowing I might be able to share some of it with you anyways!

[hughiecampbelle]

War Boy (John Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: John

Word Count: 1,682

Inspired By: Holiday by Dana Williams

Warning/s: abuse mention

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomimagines @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @theshelbyclan

A/N: I think this is the longest fic I've ever written, which is pretty cool :) I never thought I'd be able to write something greater than 500 words. It's not my usual style, which is a little frustrating, but in the end I like how it turned out. I had no idea where it was going until the very end, and if that doesn't explain the writing process, I'm not sure what does! I'm super close to 200 fics/a third part of the fic masterlist and that's really exciting! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

Infidelity. Lust. Greed. Envy. He always wanted what wasn't his. A sin, if he believed in those kinds of things. If all the things he'd done in his lifetime weren't so much worse, he would have been afraid. But he wasn't. He should have been ashamed, guilty, pleading on his hands and knees to a bitter God for forgiveness, for understanding he wasn't deserving of, but he couldn't, he wouldn't, because he didn't feel bad. A man of crime, of impulse, sharing a bed with someone who slipped their ring off for him was the least of his worries. To anyone looking in, it would have seemed wrong, sick. It was. It should have seemed that way to him. But he watched from the inside, he knew what really was going on, the full story behind the locked windows and drawn curtains. There were things the rest of the world thought they knew, that they put their faith into, but only you and John knew what was really going on.

It wasn't about the sneaking, the secrets, it wasn't about revenge, getting back at him for all the things he ever did, all the things he put you through. It was about finally being wanted. It was about bloody fists. A heavy silence blanketed over the dinner table. A shove, a grin, a power dynamic. You loved him most when he wasn't around. Felt the most safe, the most adored when the space between you grew, the soil between you deepening, rotting. A man of war, who'd kissed her cheeks and cried when she fell instead of him. It should have been him in those trenches, in her arms. He'd told you that only once, his eyes restless, crazed, begging for one night of rest, too ashamed to admit in daylight. It should have been him, not the brave men beside him, not the innocent boys thrown into this without a second thought. It should have been his funeral, his shallow grave, his things distributed among friends, desperate for anything they could get their hands on. They'd be sad, of course, mourning another loss, but sad didn't matter when the world was ending.

It should have been him. And sometimes, you wished it was.

Someone you worshiped, someone you would have done anything for. That's what love made you believe. He was the light of your life, the reason of your very existence. A boy, then. Kids, you both were, blinded by something bigger than yourselves, something you thought could escape death herself, last a hundred lifetimes. Young, sweet, with summer in your veins. You were so naive. He was different before the war. Softer, tender, he was affectionate, drunk on the ideas of a future together. Married before he left, a ring around his finger when he stepped on that train. He'd lost it, somewhere along the line, and that should have been the first warning when he came back. They all changed, but not like him. The bombs, the guns, the shock of it settled in his gut, poisoning his blood. The fire of the explosives lived inside him. It slept when he did, but it was always looking for something to set it off.

The smallest spark would be enough.

Then it wasn't just anger, but rage. Wrath. A sea of red. Everything in his path needed to be destroyed regardless of the skin it wore. Shattered glass. Broken furniture. Holes in walls. Fabric ripped, or torn, or punctured. Even when he dreamed he clenched his fists, as if he were ready for a fight, a battle, that would never come. You were his favorite, though. Once a cherished item in his collection, sat on the top shelf for safe keeping, now you were nothing but a rag doll. Thrown around for his own entertainment. Bruised, bleeding, left to clean yourself up, mend your own wounds. Sometimes it was barely noticeable. Sometimes it wasn't. And that's when John came into your life.

An old friend, one he'd witnessed war with.

A visit. Simple, quick, a check up on someone he regretted losing contact with. Heard stories of someone special back home, someone who kept him going. From the second you saw him, though, you knew he was different. Careful eyes, all smiles and a wicked humor. He'd held on to that. With bloody nails, he wouldn't let her take that from him. He took notice of everything, whether or not you realized. The purple fingerprints in your skin. The badges under your sleeves. Your limp. The flinching, the bracing when a glass was set down too fast, too hard. John made a point to find his way in this part of Birmingham more often, knowing not only had the men changed, but their lives and families as well. It wasn't just the soldiers who suffered.

He became a source of comfort. Walking your husband home when he drank too much to remember where he lived, helping him up the stairs when his dead weight was too much to carry. It was his way of coping, his way of control. If he was too far gone to remember his own name, he couldn’t hurt anyone. Drown the demons in booze, forgetting how violent he could be when he was hungover. Passed out, leaving the two of you alone. You found yourself confiding in him, telling him things you never would have told anyone. Admitting to your own exhaustion, your own defeat, raising your white flag. You didn't have to explain the flinching, the hesitation to trust, all the little things he picked up on, all the things he'd seen too often. He was a man of destruction. Smashing his bottles, begging for a fight, starting them when no one else would. A form of self mutilation. Too many nights John spent taking care of the gashes in his face, of his open knuckles.

He was trying to beat the war out of himself. Scare it away. Make it rupture.

Sometimes he was unexpected. Knocking out of nowhere when your husband was at work. You should have known he wasn't looking for him. You should have known, but you didn't. And neither did he, inviting him for dinner, for drinks, any occasion. Before you knew it, you were spending every night together. Over the table, your laughs hushed, your words effortless. Learned more about him than you ever thought. A wife he loved, passed away. A brood of kids he fears he's not good enough for. A complicated family and a business with a license to kill. The thought of him, funny John with his quips and fast wit, with his endless supply of dirty jokes and filthy words, a father. You had a hard time picturing him reading bedtime stories or folding baby clothes. It was something you used to dream of, having kids. Not anymore, not with a man like that. You'd never forgive yourself, ruining an innocent life, raised in a field of landmines. It wouldn't be fair to them. You couldn't do that.

He brought them a few times. Pudgy fingers, toothless giggles, tales about school, about all the things they were learning, all the people they'd become one day. It did something to your home. Turned a lifetime of pain and fear into excitement, into joy. They didn't know what life had in store for them, the possibilities endless. Infinite. All of them wanting a piece of you, sitting on your lap, whispering all the secrets their father told them not to tell. He spoke of you often, or at least, that's what they said. John in his natural state, a child on his hip, another pulling him by the cuff. He was needed. That was more than you could say for yourself. A pain, an ache in your chest, watching your husband. Awkward, anxious, angry. Angry at little fingerprints across every surface. Angry at the noise, at the constant energy, the neediness. You knew he thought that was weak, to need someone. He couldn't stand to be near them.

He couldn't stand anything anymore.

John would have killed the man. If he were anyone else, he would have sliced him in half, make a godless man see heaven for himself. But he wasn't just anyone, they'd seen hell together. Walked through fire, spit in the face of the devil himself and lived to see another day. That was rare. It made a bond unlike any other. But that didn't mean he had to like him, that he had to approve of everything he did. Drunk together, one night, the last two at the bar. He never meant for it to get out. It was the whiskey talking. A single sentence, a threat in passing. If you ever hurt them again, I'll fucking kill ya. His words were slurred, and heavy between his teeth, but there was truth to them. He could have said something a lot worse. He could have told him he was undeserving of you, that he was fucked up to hurt you, to take you for granted. He could have said that he changed, that he wasn't the friend he was anymore, that he couldn't stand the sight of him. John could have admitted that he loved you, from the second he saw you, he loved you and he wanted to protect you, that he thought of you every single day.

But he didn't.

Instead he made a promise, an oath to you, to him. One he never wanted to go to through with. One he'd have to, he knew it. Now he was waiting across the street, ducking in the shadows, watching for him to leave, to go to the bar after another meltdown. The screaming could be heard through the neighborhood. It didn't matter who he used to be, this was him now. This was his fate. He should have listened to John that night, but he didn't, he didn't listen to anyone anymore, and now he'd face the end.

John just hoped you'd forgive him after all this.

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 29)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 3951

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So he’s tracking us,” Rossi concluded, sighing. 

“That wouldn’t be too hard to do, but why’d he leave the victim’s body for us? That’s a first,” Batista noted. 

“Probably didn’t take too kindly to the idea of Olson imitating him,” Debra remarked. 

“You think it’s a message to all the possible copycats?” you inquired.

Batisa nodded. “Yeah, I hate to say it, but I think he kind of did us a favor. Take the law into your own hands and the Bay Harbor Boogeyman’s gonna get you.” 

You bobbed your head. 

“Well, this is the first time we’ve ever been where the unsub has actually been, so let’s get busy,” Rossi ordered.

From there, forensics swept over everything. Dexter was there, taking pictures. There was blood. Rossi had Spencer map out neighborhoods the unsub might live in, he had Luke get with Garcia to check on any connections Olson had. 

Once the investigation was done, Spencer told Dexter that you two were coming over. It wasn’t a request, and Spencer barely kept his anger out of his tone. You were worried someone might’ve seen the tense interaction but both men were moving so quickly towards their cars you didn’t even have time to scold them.

Like always, you three got to Dexter’s apartment, and the instant the door shut, Spencer’s frustration was firing at all cylinders. 

“I said we needed a plan, that didn’t mean you had to kill him,” Spencer said in Dexter’s face before pacing nervously. 

“First of all, I was trying to break in so we could get legitimate evidence on him. Then I found out he’s murdered before. He saw my face, I had to kill him.”

“Or you could’ve still gotten the evidence on him and we could’ve turned him in for the murders! Framing a murderer for other murderers isn’t so bad. Why didn’t you at least tell us where you were? What you were doing? Maybe before you did it? We could’ve at least talked about it--”

"Why didn't you just tell YN about JJ? huh? Maybe it's because you do have feelings for her? While we’re on the topic of not talking to people about things that matter."

Surprised, you glanced at Dexter. You had no idea he’d bring that up ever, let alone right now. 

“That has nothing to do with this right now. That’s between me and Y/N,” Spencer tried to coolly dismiss. 

You were about to step in, but their conversation was flying so fast, you didn’t even know what to say. To be honest, you were angry with Dexter too. 

"That's what it is, isn't it? You were worried if you told Y/N, she'd see through your bullshit and see that you actually do have something to hide about JJ."

"That's not.... That is none of your business," Spencer rebutted once more. 

“It became my business when I had to talk your wife down. Last I checked, between the serial killer in the room and her husband, only one of us was there for her emotionally... and it wasn't you." His eyes were dark on your husband and the entire room’s tension made you incredibly uncomfortable.

“Dex, this is hardly the time or place,” you began. “We need to talk about the fact that you went and killed a suspect, instead of consulting us.” 

“Consulting you? This isn’t a board meeting for a fortune 500, Y/N! This my life. This is me. This is who I am. These are people I need to protect.” 

“So you just killed him? We could’ve framed him! We could’ve talked about it!” Spencer lashed out. “We have people we’re trying to protect too. This isn’t just you, you know.”

“I don’t need anyone’s fucking permission. I’ve been doing this for years, just fine until you came along,” he hissed, pointing at you. “I never should’ve let you in. trusting a fed. What the hell was I thinking?”

“You can’t honestly make this my fault? I’m not the one who killed most of those criminals out there. Your victims were exposed by some scuba divers, not by some slip up I had,” you countered. 

“You’re right. It wasn’t your slip up. It was mine. It was mine when I agreed to teach you. I should’ve just trusted my instincts and told you that you were wrong.” 

“You wanna turn this around on me? Fine. But we said we’d all be in this together. I told Spencer the truth. He’s being good enough to help us and not turn us in. And you’re repaying us by just going out and doing whatever you damn well please? Everything we discuss gets back to you. I keep you updated on every lead, every shred of evidence. I keep Garica off your tail and I cover your tracks. And you want to turn this around and say that it’s my fault your in deep shit? I’m not the one digging up tapes on my dead parents at work.” 

You grabbed your jacket and purse and stormed out, having Spencer follow right behind you. He didn’t say anything, wise to the fact that he needed to let you cool down. 

The two of you got back to the hotel and you were spent. This investigation, Dexter, Spencer… you were beyond tired and exhausted. 

Spencer sighed as he started to get undressed. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked quietly as you began to take your shoes off. 

“Nothing, just tired. This is all… it’s a lot, that’s all,” he softly responded. 

“I know, and I appreciate it,” you said. 

"It's already a lot trying to cover your tracks on this case, but having to fight him every time I go in a room...." He let the tired idea trail off. 

Under your breath, you muttered, "Well it's not like he starts it..."

Spencer stopped getting ready for bed as he looked at you. "Are you seriously taking his side?"

"I'm not taking anyone's side. I'm just pointing out that you aren't making it easier. Any time you see him, you make it very clear you don't like him."

"Well I don't, Y/N."

"You act as if you blame him for the reason I started killing."

"Well he is, isn't he?" he questioned, as if it were the only possible answer. 

"No, if it wasn't him, it would've been anyone else. Any other vigilante." You sighed. 

"That's not how I see it," he confessed.

“I’m sorry if that’s not the way you see it, but it is. It could’ve been any one else,” you informed matter-of-factly.

“I just wish you had come to me first, tell me you were having these feelings, these thoughts. We could’ve gotten you help... “

“Spencer, I don’t want help. I want these people gone and off the streets. No red tape, no year long trials. I just want these scumbags gone, for good. I know you do too, and I know you don’t want me to be the one to do it because of the risk it poses, but it is what it is. I’ve done what I did. I can’t change that.”

“I know, but maybe I could’ve helped you, protected you.”

You took a deep breath. “I know that you think Dexter is a fuck up. I know all you see are about twenty bodies that he didn’t properly dispose of and now we could be caught, but I see a man who has killed way more than twenty people for nearly fifteen years. He’s been stealthy enough to break into homes, abduct people, make people disappear -- all without being caught or suspected of, even from inside a police station. He is good, he is savvy, and he is intelligent. I know you’ve been trained to see criminals as all they are - criminals. But it’s not all black and white, past what Dexter does, he’s a good person. He takes care of Rita and her kids. He worries about Deb. He worried about you when you were taken and he offered to come with me, states away, just so I had a friend because he knew I’d be a mess around JJ. He likes to cook great tasting food, go to the beach, go to barbecues. He isn’t some unfeeling monster that hides in a basement waiting for people to hurt. He’s a good guy, trying to keep Miami safe in a way he was raised to. We were trained to lock them up, he was taught to stop them.”

“It just kills me to see you go through this. I blame him because… if he’d done something different, done it better, we wouldn’t be here.” 

You nodded. This made sense. Dexter was the best and only target for Spencer’s feelings. He probably felt betrayed, confused. 

“I mean, you went to him, a random unsub to ask him how to do this. You could’ve been killed. I could’ve lost you to this. Instead of coming to me with these feelings, you went to him. If you felt anything like this when I told you about JJ, then I’m sorry.” 

You gave a soft half smile, finally understanding where his anger and pain was coming from. It wasn’t so much about what you hid, it was about the fact that you hid it. 

“It was. Ultimately, we’ve both betrayed each other. You’re right. Hindsight says I should’ve gone to you. But I think I knew that you’d either just get me a therapist or talk me down from doing this. This was something I wanted to do, and I knew you wouldn’t approve or even entertain the idea, not that I blame you. You shouldn’t. What I did isn’t normal, but I don’t feel bad. I feel the world is a better place from what I did, what we did, together. You kept the thing with JJ from me, and I kept these dark desires from you. I’m sorry for lying, and I’m still sorry for putting you in this travesty of a situation.”

He nodded, looking down. 

“I just want us to be us again. I can get past the killing, and I understand why you lied and kept it from me. I just want us to know that going forward, we can be honest with each other,” he said softly. 

“Well we’ve faced murder and infidelity, I’m not real sure there’s a whole lot we can’t tell each other,” you teased.

“That’s true. I think any topic is fair game at this point.”

You two gave each other wistful smiles before getting into bed together to face another day of this double agent work. 

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

When you got to the station the next day, Luke and you worked on the report for Olson while Debra helped. They had tons of evidence they wanted to go over and part of you was bursting at the seams to just scream, “Dexter did it! There! Happy? Can we go get lunch now?”

It was mind numbing having to pretend to be this naive about something that you already knew the answer to. 

Dexter did minimal work for the blood work. Masuka mainly gathered the physical evidence and Dexter just ran some blood they’d found, but of course both of you knew he’d find no trace amount of anything leading to the killer. 

At one point, Dexter caught you outside as you grabbed two cold drinks from a food truck for you and Spencer. 

“About last night…” he started and you stood there waiting for the drinks. 

“Yes?” you dragged out, waiting for him to finish it. 

“I didn’t mean to… This is all still… I’m not used to sharing the steering wheel, alright? I’m used to having one on the steering wheel and my Dark Passenger has the other. But now with you and Spencer in the picture, I’m not used to including anyone on my decisions, ever. I’ve been alone and independent for years, ever since Harry died. Things happened quickly the other night. I was there, he confessed things, and I just… I knew I could use him. I didn’t really have time to call you two.”

“As far as apologies go, that’s the worst I’ve ever heard,” you said with a bit of a smile. 

“Come on, don’t make me do this.” 

“Don’t make you do what? Dex,” you sighed, rubbing your head. “I didn’t make you train me. It was very clear what my intentions were. I’m pretty sure I even told you you could tell me no and I’d walk away with no hard feelings. But you didn’t do that. Because we both know you’re desperate to have a friend that knows you for who you are. So I don’t appreciate being the bad guy here. I didn’t pick the dump site. None of the things happening now are due to mistakes I made, they’re ones you made. I don’t hold them against you. Shit happened and we're dealing with it. I just want the same courtesy.”

“You’re right, I know,” he acquiesced. “I am sorry. It’s just all the frustration and tension with this god damn case.” 

“You’re tellin’ me.” 

“Friends?” 

“Always.” 

You two parted ways, smiling before getting back to your work. 

With no new real leads, and the profile very broad and hardly anything to go on except criminal victimology, there wasn’t much else to be done. Dexter left at a reasonable time, and Rossi dismissed Spencer. He still wanted you to finish up the report though, so you didn’t get out until about two hours after they left. 

At this point it was an unspoken agreement that every night would be spent at Dexter’s unless he had to spend time with Rita or his sponsor. So, without you there, Spencer and Dexter were together at his apartment. 

“What do we do next?” Spencer asked while standing near the kitchenette, Dexter sat in his computer chair.

In a casual voice, Dexter answered, “I’m not sure.”

“I was hoping you had a next step after slaughtering that guy.” The venom in his voice was very thinly veiled. Despite not trying to actively start a fight, Spencer couldn’t keep his contempt for Dexter under wraps. 

“Not exactly. It was a spur of the moment thing,” he informed. 

“Great. A meticulous serial killer with compulsions. That’s what we need right now,” he sarcastically responded. 

“I’ve got to ask, do you hate me because of what I do, or who I am?” Dexter finally asked, anger in his voice. 

“What does that even mean?” Spencer fired back, frowning. 

“I mean do you hate me because I’m another criminal in your eyes, I should be locked up, and you shouldn’t be helping me. Or do you hate me because I’m your wife’s friend?” 

“I hate you because without you, she wouldn’t be in this situation. Without you, without your consent, your teachings, and your existence, she wouldn’t be doing all of this. She wouldn’t be in this horrible position,” he angrily said. 

“I keep having to remind you that she came to me.”

“And the word ‘no’ doesn’t exist in your vocabulary?” 

“If I had said no she’d have gone to someone else. And would probably be dead right now. Hell I considered killing her. But I listened to what she had to say, instead. Also, she's innocent. Or… was.”

“Am I supposed to thank you?” he asked incredulously, the ferocity in his face and body evident.

“Yeah, a little. I could’ve turned her in to begin with and been rid of her. I could’ve killed her. I could’ve turned on her when the bodies showed up. But I didn’t, because whether you like it or not, and more importantly whether you believe me or not, I give a shit about her.” He took a deep breath. “If she's discovered, so am I, and vice versa. I don't want to see either of us go down for this. So maybe you could stop being a fucking dick to me, and help me save her life?"

“If you cared about her, you never would've put her in this position," Spencer retorted in a low, firm voice. 

"If I could fix it for her, I would..." 

"You know, she asked me to pretend like I didn't know anything.... if she's.... She begged me to say I didn't know anything about it... maybe you could take the fall for her."

"You want me to take the fall for people I didn't kill? People that aren't part of my victimology? It'll never work. Why would I do that?"

"If you care for her the way you say you do, you'll do this. You'll spare her life. A few victims against your twenty or so is nothing. I'm sure there are some bodies they haven't found, am I right? Just pretend you're taking punishment for the ones they didn't find."

Dexter looked down in thought. It was an idea. He did care for you. In the back of his mind, he’d always prepared for getting caught, but not you. You were just someone who was fed up with seeing good people and animals hurt and you wanted to stop it. Dexter, as he’d been led to believe all his life, felt he was a monster. So if he was arrested and charged for all the killings, it would be punishment fit for the crime. 

In a way, he felt it was right to repay you. You’d set him free from Harry. Making him realize that he was a product of Harry, not himself. You’d shown him he wasn’t evil to the core. You’d been his friend, you’d had beers with him, you sat and ate and talked with him as if you two hadn’t just killed someone. Deb and Rita loved him, but they didn’t know him. You knew him and loved him and he didn’t know the first thing about how to repay this. But perhaps doing this, taking the fall, he could do that. He could give you back your life. Give you back your marriage. He could be a good person, for once, even if it was just to you, his very dear friend. 

Finally, you arrived at the apartment, bracing for whatever was on the other side of the door. 

But you were pleasantly surprised when they were quietly sitting there. “You’ve managed not to kill each other… So what’s our next move? You killed Olson, but now what? The team thinks you did this and we looked into the train car, but now what?”

“I think it’s time we stop waiting for evidence and leads to fall and take action. Steer the investigation instead of it steering us,” Dexter offered.

“What? I don’t know. Where would we even lead it? We don’t have anyone to frame,” you responded.

“Doakes.”

“I know you don’t like him Dex, but that’s too risky. Doakes already suspects you of shit so we can’t do that.” 

“Well, what if we didn’t point it at someone, but in general?” Spence suddenly suggested.

“What do you mean?” Dexter asked.

“Well, it’s been known that killers in the past send something to the police or the media once the victims have been found. Zodiac did it. It creates quite the guessing game for people.”

“He’s right,” you agreed, looking at Dex with a knowing look. 

“You want me to turn in some kind of serial killer note? No. no way. I'm not going to be a cliche.”

“This isn’t about your image right now. This is about protecting both of you. Some kind of letter addressed to no one will have everyone scrambling. We could make it absolutely arbitrary. It won’t point to anyone in particular. It’ll give the BAU and the Miami PD something to dig over for at least a couple of days. It buys us time,” Spencer implored.

“Yeah, and then what happens when someone realizes it is just something to chase our tail? Debra’s smart. She’ll figure it out, or any person on our team could as well,” you stressed. 

“Well, we’ve bought some time then. And it won’t mean anything. It won’t be the first time a unsub has sent in propaganda for the sake of propaganda. It won’t narrow anything down to any one in particular, the teams are no better off than they started, and we’ve bought some time,” Spencer argued. 

“Hate to say it, but he’s right,” Dexter said. “I think we should just do a totally typical serial killer note. Point to politics, environment, daddy issues, mommy issues--”

“Profiling is more than just--” Spencer started, but Dexter cut him off. 

“I know, but let's say for the sake of the run of the mill serial killer, this note is going to hit everything. It’ll seem like it has one seamless, unified message.” 

In seconds, Dexter was hitting up various blogs with different meanings and agendas. Soon, he and Spencer were formulating a well structured essay littered with what appeared to be a higher purpose, but was actually just nonsense. Spence even threw in some literary references. They were sure to include victims names that the press hadn’t released anywhere. They had to be sure this was coming from the real killer or no one would waste their time on it. 

When they had quite a bit and Dexter was polishing the opening lines, you pulled Spencer aside, in the living room. 

“Thank you, for continually doing this, helping me. I know you could’ve turned me in, or at the very least, just let me deal with it on my own. You'll never know how much it means to me that you’re sticking by my side this entire time,” you said earnestly, holding his hand. 

“You’re still my wife, and I still love you. You still love Star Wars, right?” he asked with a bit of a smile.

“Yes.”

“And you still love chocolate chip pancakes, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you were still hell bent on getting me out of prison, right? Still spent day and night either trying to free me or visiting me, right?”

“Yes, but--”

“But nothing. You made a choice that I don’t entirely agree with, you’ve agreed to stop, and now we are doing what we can to protect you. I’m just repaying the favor you gave me.” 

“I don’t deserve you. The two events aren’t exactly the same, either.”

“I did something illegal, made choices that hurt us, and endangered my life and career. It’s no different. I’m not here to quantify or qualify what either of us did. Marriage is being there for the mistakes and rough moments. I made a vow, and I’ve never regretted making those vows to you.”

You peered at him with a tender gaze as he did so with you. You were just about to kiss, your lips touching his, but in a swift second, Dexter broke the spell. 

“Hey, genius, come read this,” he requested. 

Spencer’s jaw set before he walked over. It took him about 10 seconds to read the whole thirty-two page note. “You’ve got three grammatical errors.” Spencer leaned over Dexter and keyed in the corrections. “There. It’s good to be sent in.”

“Newspaper?” Dexter asked.

You and Spencer traded a quick look before nodding and mumbling a verbal confirmation.

“I’ll call it the Manifesto,” Dexter said with a smile. 

Spencer rolled his eyes but you smiled back at Dexter. 

“Well, good night, Dex,” you said sweetly, placing your hand on his arm before leaving. 

As Spencer was walking out, Dexter stopped him and said, “Thanks for helping on this.” 

“I’m doing it for Y/N, not you,” he sharply told him, his tone and gaze steely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[bellamyblake]

Hi Iva! First of all I would like to say - thank you for loving Bellamy so much, it means so much to me to read your posts and feel the same love I have for him. The way I wholheartedly with your every word... about his tragic life, his immense love, everything. On the other hand, you must hurt a lot judging by myself - I honestly cannot stop crying multiple times a day. I do not know how to make the pain stop. I dont know how much more I can handle, its not getting better but actually worse p1

P2 when I think about in details about his life like you did – his life had no happy beginning, or middle, and certainly not the end. Maybe only as a baby boy before O was born. I don’t know how to deal with the fact the character that I genuinely believe had it the worst ended up with the worst possible ending as a reward for honestly trying to do better. Like if he at least experienced love and understanding from O or SOMETHING… but she never got to tell him sorry for beating him up,

P3 that now she understands what he did for her… I am gonna go crazy over this, honestly. I wanna stop crying and enjoy fanfiction with much better ending for him. Where should I find solace? Was his death at least quick, maybe he did not have time to think about what happened? Is there an afterlife where Aurora waited for him? Was that what I can hope for when Aurora was NEVER explained, she was not an alien so what was she? But he also sow Cadogan in the same scene and he was alive then?

P4 Should I watch 5x13 on loop to get in my head this was the ending? Should I teach myself to edit and do some manip for the ending? My only way of coping is seeing other people, blogs like yours that love him just as much. But I keep crying and feeling utterly miserable ☹I am 27 I never spend so much time loving any character (fun fact, It must be around 3 500 hours for me reading ff, watching the show and fan edits and tumblr posts). I know Bellamy will always and forever be the one beloved

P5 one beloved character of mine and no one will ever come close. Bellarke, the same – they were my OTP. The only one. I need to do something about this cause I am loosing my damn mind… I could handle almost anything, I would cry, yes, but I was absolutely sure of one thing - no matter their ending, sad or happy, in some sense they would do it together… and we got THAT. Does anything help you? I am so sorry for dumping this on you but reading your posts - its like hearing my soul.

Hello!

First of all thank you for the kind words and for enjoying my blog so much. 

I really do love Bellamy Blake a whole damn LOT. Like a damn LOT hah. I think that’s pretty obvious by the posts I make even if they’re not as many lately because I’m mentally not doing well right now. But that same love you feel, I feel it too and I’m glad I’m not alone in this.

I also get angry too and I cry a lot still about the way things ended. I also have not spent that much time in my life invested in a fictional character before so this is a lot for me as well and I get how you feel.

You asked me if something helps and for me it helps a lot to write you know? Be it meta or fanfiction, I indulge myself a lot in writing. 

It’s funny that even when I write fics I don’t write happy fics, you’d think that I’d make him absolutely happy in what I write but I don’t. But indulging yourself in a world of your creation with this character helps a lot. And it’s fun too, to do this, to build a world for him, a different one-be it with Clarke or with a family of his own or Idk just with anyone. Giving him love that he never had and joy he never felt. I think that helps me a lot and it helps me forget how he died and how much it hurts (I wanna say that even typing this makes me cry hah, so...).

I also like to rewatch some episodes that were more about him as a character and then meta in my head. That usually gets me sad too but it’s also exciting to think about some of the stuff that happened and dive in the psychologity of his character (which I do a lot) LOL. But that’s mostly painful. I don’t get many asks about him and meta stuff so I mostly do it in my head on my own and dive into the world of direction and how things were done and love making sense of them. 

Headcanons are something I love doing too though I haven’t written (or posted) much lately. In fact I haven’t posted anything lately because Idk...I’m not sure that sharing everything you create is good these days. people got so judgemental over time, the way actors and cast are threated is horrible but it extends to the entire fandom and its participants so it’s ugly and dark and horrible and I think stops a lot of people from posting gifs or fics or anything at all. But that’s another subject.

So yes writing helps me a lot. Reading fics helps me a lot. I’m not sure what the recipe is here because honestly I am in the same boat as you. I love this character more than anything and any other that I’ve loved and been in a fandom before so...this is hard for me too. And it’s fucked up. 

I also love making gifs for him though I don’t make anything good or special. Gifs I think can be lots of fun but also pain too-fun cause when you go to gif a moment you can rewatch half the episode (at least I do) and sad cause it can bring you some pain but at the end giffing is really Idk..rewarding. Except when people don’t reblog shit so that’s discouraging too hah.

I’m sorry I don’t mean to be a debbie downer.

To tell you the truth after years of being on here and in fandoms I realized this-I can create to soothe my soul from the pain, like from losing Bellamy but I don’t have to seek validation from people and post it. I can do it just to heal myself and not share it. When you share it what? You just get disappointed. That’s why I have 230 drafts. Half of them are unpublished headcanons. some of them are published fics with few readers or readers who yelled at me for writing sad stuff. the other half is stories i’ll never post. So I guess my advice is-

find something to get your hands on, to create, be it editing, giffing, writing, something to let the grief out, to soothe the wound inside you. and then you can decide if you want to share it or not. and even if you don’t it was inspired by the best character ever. 

He was loved, he deserved more, he did. But you can create worlds where he has more.

He can be held by his mom as a baby, he can be tucked in, he can be climbing up her leg and reaching for her arms, he can be cranky when he had his first tooth, or sad when he had to go to day care, he can be scared before his first exam and anxious as he grew up. He can be having nightmares and not sleeping when O was born, he can be terrified and feeling alone. He can have friends and be hugged and loved and have a first kiss, he can live in a house by the ocean with clarke with two beautiful kids and a dog and a cat for her cause she loves cats. Or he can be alone curled up in his bed just crying his grief away.

He can be anything that you wished for him, anywhere you wished for. 

Hope I helped some! 

[ripplestitchskein]

You put into words exactly what I feel about how they've written her. To me, all I keep thinking of is mid s4 where she's like "Here's you heart, now I've got to do shots with Regina because she needs me more." It's just bad storytelling. It also makes me hate Regina, because a lot of Emma dealing with these issues is siphoned off into propping up the "Regina and Emma are friends" plot they keep to feed us. I don't even know if they are aware of how Emma comes across to the audience. 1/2

And I'm right with you on the TL thing. If that's what they want to sell, they are not going about it the right way at all. And it's like you said, it doesn't matter what we infer when there is nothing implicitly said in canon. What exactly are we supposed to take away from their relationship at this point? That it's okay for one person to do all the heavy lifting because the other one has "issues"? It just leaves a really bad taste in my mouth. 

This brings up a really interesting point and since a lot of people have talked about Emma's reactions in the context of their own relationship I figured why not explain why I'm so uncomfortable with it in the context of mine. Maybe that will help people understand my personal reaction. In no way am I assigning this to the characters mind you. If they choose not to go this route that's fine, I'm just saying why it bothers me as an individual. Under a cut per king and rambling. Shit, can I go on. 

I always identified with CS and Emma and Killian as characters specifically because there are so many similarities to my own life. I've talked about my teenage years, how I moved out at 16, how I got arrested for a boy who then dropped me immediately afterwards while I was dealing with the consequences. Some of the crazy shit that goes along with being a moderately attractive teen girl on her own. Obviously me and Emma are bros. 

But I identify with CS as well. I loved that Killian was all in it for her. I've written meta after meta about it. But I also keep waiting for the reciprocity, and it just hasn't happened yet. S5 HELPED certainly, I mean homegirl went to the Underworld for him, but it was still very one sided and also implied in her conversation with Neal she would have done it regardless, for anyone, if she had the option not to lose them. 

And they have been so shaky in the True Love thing it's easy to see anti arguments sometimes because the show is so muddled now it's less than clear. 

So me. 

My boyfriend and I have been together for over a decade. He's a special case because I was almost exclusively into girls at the time after my failed marriage at the very wise age of 18 for lower car insurance rates. I was not feeling the menfolk. 

We have a very odd dynamic to most people and to our families. They comment and say stupid shit about it all the time. It's actually very similar to DS and Deckhand Hook in LoAL which might be why I find that fic so easy to write. It's not a Dom/Sub dynamic, but it's similar. That's also why I find the CS dynamic in general so easy to write. There is clearly a power imbalance that allows the characters, and me and my boyfriend, to compliment each other very well by forming up the missing pieces so to speak. 

A few people have commented, both positive and negative about the things I've shared here about my life. Asked how I have so much time to fuck around on fic and meta and twitter data analysis. Or been like "goals!" When I talk about something he said or did. 

And the truth is it's because my boyfriend treats me like a Queen. It's a running joke in our house "Because you're a goddamn queen". And not in a superficial way. His life is very much about taking care of our home and our children so my only responsibilities are my career and my school and playing with and enjoying the kids when I'm home because I don't get to see them all day or for several days, and our time together shouldn't be spent on doing chores. I also handle all outside of the house interactions excepting kid wellcheck or sick visits during my work day. (I handle all school meetings, parent teacher conferences, auto mechanics, appliance shopping etc). 

That's what he likes. He doesn't have career aspirations. He doesn't care about work. He has no desire to go to school. He is uncomfortable dealing with those things and making decisions about them. He's not lazy or unintelligent by any means, he just doesn't care about those things. His favorite job was a clerk at a gas station when he was a teen because he saw interesting people and it was low stress. He's not driven by the need to succeed and do well in a certain career field or academically. Those are not motivating factors in his life. He went to work because he had to, he never wanted to be in management or running anything. Nor would he have been particularly good at it. He's very chill and not very assertive. He genuinely enjoys cleaning and cooking and teaching the kids, and doing stuff to make my life easier so it was a no brainer to have him be a Stay At Home Parent when daycare for 3 children became ridiculous. 

It brings him joy to make food I want and bring me special treats and let me have lazy days in bed where he brings me everything I need. In fact how he asked me out and expressed his intentions was getting my favorite things from several different restaurants. He just likes to do stuff like that. We've had several conversations where I tell him he doesn't have to and he's like "You don't get this at all. I want to" 

To many people it looks like I order him around, like he's a servant, like he has no life of his own. In truth I do it because he genuinely doesn't know what's expected of him in family gathering or public situations. I know this. He usually asks me to beforehand. Those situations are scary for him, where to sit, when to eat, where to go to get certain things etc. 

But in exchange for all the things he does for me he pretty much gets to do whatever he wants, and the things he likes are his games and his streaming community. He likes that he doesn't have the burden of providing an income and worrying about social concerns anymore. He can make bread and clean the house, and play games with the kids and spend hours telling them about the solar system. 

We both have anxiety and issues of our own and they manifest in different ways. His are best served by me making decisions and him doing the "heavy lifting" when it comes to the easier to handle day to day. Mine are best served by having daily life minutiae taken care of because otherwise I get overwhelmed on top of higher level concerns that may be more complex, I'm also extremely flighty and live very much in my own head and forget things like lunch or taking my vitamins. 

It could very well seem to an outsider that I take advantage of him, or that he doesn't have a sense of self outside of our relationship and family. Which at the moment is how I feel about Killian. And why it rankles so much. 

Because the difference is that we've talked about it. I've offered him choices. I spent a whole year once trying to find him a hobby because I have 500 and he has like 2 and it was weird to me. At the end of it he was annoyed and was like "This IS what I like doing. Stop trying to force these things on me. I like this." 

Same thing with the house and the kids. I offer to help and it frustrates him because he wants to do it and because he likes it. We've had many many discussions where we check in with each other and make sure we're not assuming things are okay with the dynamic because it was before. Everything he's given up (job, career, etc) was very much his choice, and he wanted to and knew how important those things are to me. 

With Killian its not his choice, he didn't want to, circumstances forced it, but he was *willing* to for Emma. It's just, he's given up so much? Like all the things, and relationships he has are given up to be the best partner. 

And in my dynamic there are very clear benefits for each of us. I don't see the benefits right now for Killian, other than him have someone to love and a reason to be a a better man. Those are great but it also veers into "at the expense of himself" territory at times. We talked about him getting a family and a home, but he's also potentially losing the JR, he's stuck on land, and the family he's gaining don't ever seem to acknowledge him or outright dismiss him and the people who did support him leave.

 I just wish there was more equity. That he still got to retain some of the things he loves, the sea, his ship, his newfound brother, being a Captain, in addition to being all in for Emma and her family, and attentive to her needs. 

There is no reason he can't have both and I don't understand on a show that is very much about "We are Both" why they strip these elements of him away. 

It would be easier to take if it didn't appear like he was doing all the heavy lifting and changing while Emma gets to keep throwing up her walls the moment something gets tough to handle. If she tried to help him get back some of the things he gave up for her once things are settled. She still could. Season isn't over. But at the moment it's been a lot of Killian giving up and not a lot of Emma, and not a lot of being mindful of his feelings or issues and getting to revert back to her own without consequence. 

That's the difference for me. 

It's fine to have a partner who does more of the "heavy lifting" but only if that arrangement is equalized in other areas. Like clearly Killian is distraught and broken up over these things he's sacrificed, he very much reminds people he's still a pirate, just a good one now. And I'd like those facets of him get to remain. For his sacrifices and his effort to be acknowledged beyond "I give him happy kisses and let him hang around."

I dunno. It just bugs me. I need more from the other side to balance this shit out. Hopefully this clears up WHY it bugs me a bit better though. I know this type of dynamic can work, and what it takes to make it work, and not be somewhat unhealthy in terms of imbalance.