#and maybe i am jumping to the wrong conclusion and reasoning but because the book just moves on i don’t have any other choice

[multi-fandom-lunatic]

Aside from Harry Potter, is there any other media you are strict about NOBODY being allowed to enjoy in ANY capacity EVER?

Oop- Anon, you've exposed me. I am in fact three Disney villains in a trench coat, stroking my chin and plotting to take down the princess. You're right, anon, every single day, I sit in my Evil Lair and strike out all the media in the world I want to ban with an evil red pen. Oooh, anon, you got me.

Or maybe - and hear me out here - maybe I'm just engaging critically in a piece of media? Maybe I'm just aware and critical about a piece of media where the creator of it is actively a piece of dogshit and harming people?

I honestly thought about ignoring/deleting your ask entirely, but you've given me a perfect opportunity to neatly compile exactly what's wrong with the Harry Potter.

"So, NOBODY can enjoy HP?"

Wow, what a what a way to completely misunderstand my point! If you'd taken the time to read my posts from a neutral point of view, you'd realise I'm not saying no one can enjoy HP, but rather I'm questioning why they are. I think people can do whatever the fuck they want - that's the beauty of free will! But equally, I am allowed to criticise people for enjoying it as well. Media consumption isn't an isolate action; nothing is. We do not exist in a vacuum and neither does Harry Potter. There are consequences, both good and bad, to engaging with media. And in engaging with Harry Potter, directly and actively tied to JK Rowling, known transphobe who's actively using her money and influence to harm people, I think questioning the reasons why people still actively are in the fandom is completely valid.

Rowling is still alive and well and hurting people, and I happen to care a lot about that. I'm not telling you that you can't read HP, you very obviously can. Go to bookstore, buy a HP book set and read it, if that's what you wish to do. But understand, I will criticise your choices. Being a HP fan knowing what JKR has done is fully about comfort - not wanting to confront things that might shatter your view of being a good person. I'm always going to criticise that.

"Oh, so I can't enjoy anything, ever, then?"

Woooow anon, look at you! Jumping to conclusions, leaning hard on the slippery slope argument. Way to go, extrapolating and taking my words out of context and twisting them. Ha, no.

JKR is active and hurting people. Let that sink in, in case it hasn't already. Her money and influence (which is what you are giving her by engaging with the fandom) is what hurts people. She's a billionaire with far too much money and power for you to sit back and decide you'd rather have comfort. She's not just someone with "bad opinions" or "hot takes"; she's not a random person on the internet. She is using her power to hurt people.

I'm not going to sit here and let you spout the "separate the art from the artist" argument, which this is just another flavour of. Reading HP isn't reading the works of someone who is long dead and who's fame and fortune is being used to harm people, it's supporting a billionaire who is actively hurting people. No author is completely perfect; no person is. But reading HP is not neutral by any means, no matter how much you want it to be.

"But I love the books so much!"

Nostalgia is powerful, isn't it? The only reason HP is still thriving is because of nostalgia. But, again, I will ask you, why? Why is it so special that you're reading this particular book series. Are you a reader, who speeds through books (because, there is no way you're criticising media with this attitude)? If so, why not just read other books, by other authors who are not raging transphobes constantly putting their money and influence to harm people? There are so many good books by POC, queer people, literally any marginalised group. Why are you hung up on HP? Are you a HP fan, looking to spite anyone who doesn't like it when people bring up the harm in what they're doing? I've detailed why my stance is so above and in other rants, which I have links to in my intro post. But seriously, there are so many other books that could fill in the gap HP has clearly left in you, but need to be willing to let it go first.

Genuinely, I'm begging people to move on. HP is not irreplaceable, it is just another middlegrade-YA fantasy book, with a transphobic, influential author. If you want books by queer people, try any Aiden Thomas book (The Sunbearer duology is awesome). But really, anyone who isn't as powerful and horrible as JKR will do.

"You're policing people's media!"

Ironically enough, it's HP fans policing what people should read and how they should read it. You, anon, with this passive aggressive ask have confirmed that ultimately, while you pretend to care about freedom of speech and to read whatever you want to read, you refuse to allow people to engage with it in a way they want to. I'm not lying here when I'm making my points; the fact that you haven't pointed out any fallacies in the reasoning of my stance, but rather that it makes you uncomfortable by highlighting your ignorance is proof.

"Let people enjoy things!" you say, but what you really mean is, "let me enjoy things without the consequences!" and that literally does not exist.

I'm firmly against censorship; I don't want HP to be banned. Not because I think JKR is a good person or anything, but because censorship is evil. All works should be allowed to exist, and all of them are and should be susceptible to criticism. In the fandom's inability to accept any criticism that makes them uncomfortable, they're really the ones banning discussion and engagement.

Anon, you are entitled and privileged if you honestly can sit back and ignore what's been going on in the world to favour your a kids book series. I'm sick of HP fans tagging their posts with "anti JKR" or "fuck JKR" while posting about HP. I'm tired of HP fans writing queer fanfics of HP characters and act as if that's a "gotcha". I'm done with HP fans who try to act like it's so unreasonable to not want to support a transphobe's work and dare to criticise fans for doing so.

Conclusion

As long as HP lives and thrives, I will criticise the fandom for it. I will criticise JKR. I will criticise anyone who justifies this. It's from a place of privilege. Anyone who reads my points and gets angry at them is only so because it's inconvenient for them to challenge their views.

Anon, I laugh when I read your ask because it literally does not offer any criticism whatsoever. You aren't presenting an argument for me to rebut; you aren't rebutting any of my arguments. What is seems like is that you're a HP fan who saw a post presenting their reasons for why the HP fandom is inherently problematic, and decided to send a passive aggressive anon ask/hate with no real argument. Personally, I'm of the belief that the best way to dismantle this is to respond critically to it. I was also well within my rights to delete this ask, by the way. But this is funnier. Come back with an actual argument (or don't. Either way I'm good).

So yes, it's really nice over here in my lair, with the ACs blowing and an army of guards lining the door, finding new books to cross out with red ink. Tough job but someone's gotta do it.

[golbrocklovely]

I got to say this, because i am so mad:

People who say that people who support Malia and Colby are not their real fans, cause “Malia is using Colby” get on my nerves soo bad. Like wtf you want from us. Cause let’s be real:

Even IF Malia is not a good person and is using Colby. It was Colby’s decision to be with her. Even if he ends up heartbroken, it is his life and he deserves to live it the way he wants. Wtf you want us fans to do about their relationship? Like let’s think logically! Even if Malia wouldn’t be a nice person… how tf would we know that, like seriously? She didn’t do anything that would make us think “oh she is a bad person” and Colby chose her for some reason, so ofc in our eyes she is a nice person, cause we want her to be a nice person, cause that is something that a normal fan would do, when they find out that their idol is dating someone. Nobody normal wants to believe that a person our fav is dating is ass. But even if Malia would do smth publicly that would make majority of fans question her being nice (which till now,she never did) . Then again, what power over Colby’s life we got that you think that we can change smth? We got none and that is the way it should be. Colby is an adult capable of making decisions, so even if Malia wouldn’t be a nice person, it’s still his decision to be with her and hating on her constantly wouldn’t change a thing. If anything, it can make colby stop interacting with us, but if you think that by sending Malia hate, acting like you know her better than Colby, who knows her personally, will change his mind and heart and be like “hmm, yk they are right”, then you are fucking delusional and need a therapy session booked.

You are obligated to your opinions and if believing that Malia is not a good person makes you sleep better at night, then so be it, go for it! But leave her and Colby alone, stop hating on them online 24/7 and let them just be. Even if that relationship would end up breaking up in the future, let them be. It’s their business, not ours. The way they handle their private life has absolutely nothing to do with us.

sorry for the delayed response. totally forgot i didn't answer this lol

i agree with you 100%

i think what's odd is how many fans jump to the conclusion that every girl colby fucks with over the years is somehow bad. like, i get that maybe some of his track record is… questionable??? if that, but let the man choose who he wants.

also at this point i truly don't think anymore actually hates malia. i think a majority of those hating on her are trolls who have nothing better to do and they like the attention they get from other fans, whether good or bad. they don't care that they look crazy, they just want engagement. bc i seriously cannot believe that there are ppl that genuinely dislike her. she has done literally nothing to deserve hate, and even if she did something wrong, hating her is not gonna make colby change his mind.

i think certain fans have just the deepest levels of internet brainrot and the only way to fix that is to ignore them bc it's basically unfixable any other way. i'd have a better conversation with a wall than with those ppl lol

then of course there is also the fans that are saying all of this mean shit bc they are bitter and hateful towards the world since their lives suck so bad. seeing someone actively act that way is honestly more sad than annoying to me at this point.

[ofmiceandpeace]

Okay, so does anyone else have an affinity for Gene Forrester or is it just me? Like on a deep psychological level, and qualities as well…

In the tags of a reblog of a post I can't find, I mentioned this a little bit, but I don't know if I said it directly in a post. But anyway, it's actually kind of bizarre. (I'll get a little personal here so if you find that cringey then I wouldn't read this. It sounds a little venty at times, which was not the intention, but to explain the way my mind negatively works.)

On a shallow level, I'm introverted and I get good grades like him. I like my subjects; is that being an intellectual? I'm also not an athletic person—I’m not participating in a sport, and most likely wouldn't in the future. All of my friends do sports and some, partly due to that, are actually perfect citizens and human beings. Here I thought it gets meta.

There are people so much better than me, and I have always felt some twinge of jealousy or a deep rooted loathing for their superiority, and after analyzing that moral at the end of A Separate Peace, I realized that it totally applied to me. My whole thing is insecurity. My emotions often get the better of me, especially when I overthink, which is equally as often. Sometimes I (used to) feel like my head is just crowded from anxieties and such, leading to the aforementioned bad actions. I've actually pushed people away in the past due to this.

Onto a side point of overthinking, a lot of it is being introspective like Gene was in his narration, albeit some being his reflections from 15 years in the future. I analyze my own thoughts and motives like they're of another person (or so I think) and that just uses a lot of time and brain power, probably for no good reason. For example, I spend a lot of time mulling over events in the past that embarrassed me, or things that still make me angry months or years after its happening; things I just regret, like ruining friendships with people in the past because of my own insecurities. I don't know if I've come to terms with them yet. We'll see in 15 years.

But anyway, yeah, I don't know, most of the people around me have just amazing qualities which make my own faults more apparent to me. Relating this to A Separate Peace’s moral may have made my overthinking worse, actually, because now I just tell myself, whenever I suspect wrongdoing, “Am I jumping to conclusions because I hate them for some reason?” thus perpetuating the cycle… and I can never tell if it is this way or that.

So in conclusion I relate to Gene with his traits and the way he thinks and acts. Which is kind of cringey to write, but this is partially for myself just to put these thoughts out there which have been floating around in my head for a while. It's really strange, because it's almost a perfect fit. I haven't come across any protagonist that I've related this closely to. Maybe this is another reason why I love A Separate Peace so much? Am I secretly rooting for myself? No, but Gene’s character is just so real. It's not overly dramatized, just a boy with a tortured conscience over an incident that was caused by a realistic mental conflict.

Comparing this to another Knowles book, Peace Breaks Out features characters that act very dramatically with interesting motives and lines and whatnot. More of the plot is action in comparison to A Separate Peace; so the story is not as “believable.” This lack of action in the predecessor makes it seem boring to a lot of people—we can all agree on that. People say nothing happens. But even though they're objectively wrong, I'll say that that's what makes it interesting to me.

You spend so much time with these characters in their everyday lives, listening to the inside of the narrator’s head, or to his friend’s monologues that now and then reveal a key part of his philosophy, that you almost feel connected to them, that they are, in the most figurative way possible, real people. And in my case you may even identify with a character since they are so realistic that their traits coincidentally lined up with your own.

Extreme plot points aren't needed for an interesting story. This tiny fandom can advocate this, right? We're passionate about a 60s book that takes place in a boarding school during World War II which like no one else cares about. It's crazy…

Anyway sorry this was all over the place. I wrote what I was thinking and things probably don't make sense. Thanks for reading if you made it to the end!!

[therubyreader]

My Review of Foul Heart Huntsman by Chloe Gong

See a full list of my book reviews here

*Disclaimer: there will be spoilers later on in the review*

Review Word Count, non-spoiler: 697 Review Word Count Total: 1,480

After a year of waiting, we finally got the sequel to Foul Lady Fortune, and of course I need to scream about it in a long form way even though I’ve been screaming about it all week through various posts. I preordered the book on Apple Books (not sponsored), so I got it at exactly 12:00 a.m. EDT and I read it in a little over day because I have no self-control. Did it cause me to get behind in work? Yes, but that’s neither here nor there. 

Moving on! Foul Heart Huntsman picks back up after the plot twisty events of Foul Lady Fortune with Rosalind dealing with not only her identity as the nationalist spy Fortune being exposed and Orion’s absence after he was captured by his mother and his memories wiped. She grapples with how to get him back after her identity is exposed, a task that is near impossible, but under the guise of a national tour meant to inspire unity in the countryside, she manages to make it out of Shanghai to try and find Orion. But when the tour goes wrong, she must rely on old adversaries to save Orion and all of China from his mother’s chemical invention and potential foreign invasion. 

I will admit I am a little (or maybe a lot) biased since the entire Secret Shanghai series has become one of my favorites in this last year, especially the Foul Lady Fortune duology, so my thoughts on this book are mostly positive. I love Chloe Gong’s writing style so much so that I, someone that doesn’t highlight or annotate books, started highlighting my favorite quotes. There were tons of truly poetic lines in the book as well as its fair share of humor and just strong emotions in general. I was honestly amazed as to how one person could capture so many distinct genres in one book so beautifully and also tell such a compelling story at the same time.  

One of my favorite parts of this book was that despite Rosalind being the main character we get to see story arcs for pretty much every other relevant character, they all change in different ways during the events of the book which was super entertaining to read. Without spoiling anything I will say Pheobe’s arcs was one of my favorites as she grows up quite a bit throughout the course of the book and it probably near the top of the list when it comes to trauma and internal issues resolved.  

My main complaint with this book is just how quickly we jump from one plot point to another. I understand it was something that had to happen as there was a lot to cover but not enough material for a third book, which I’m grateful that isn’t the direction that Chloe took us, but it still was a bit intense. There were multiple times I had to just put down the book since I got overwhelmed with the sheer number of things happening at once, but I would rather have this than a drawn-out book just to create a third one. Because of this there were multiple points in the book where things were too coincidental, and I get that this has to happen to a certain extent in fiction, but it did feel like it was happening a lot just to advance the plot quicker.  

Despite that I had a great time reading the book and it was a beautiful conclusion to one of my favorite series of all time. I will let you all know that we had the happy ending we were promised, and it was honestly much better than I could’ve ever imagined, which I will scream about in the spoiler section. I really couldn’t have asked for a better conclusion to this series, I was screaming and crying for various reasons throughout my entire read through and was very emotional about the whole thing for at least two days afterwards. I’d give this book an “I cried about it for days but in a good way” out of ten and really recommend you all go read it if you haven’t already. 

Spoilers Below!!

As per usual I have a lot of thoughts, but because I have been very emotional about this book over the course of the past week (please scroll through my Foul Heart Huntsman tag if you want to see more nonsense) so I’m going to try and talk about new and cool things.  

First I just want to expand a little on the whole “things were too coincidental” point I made earlier. The one thing I have more of a gripe about, the rest I’ll excuse since they can be played off, but when Orion was dying, and Rosalind just so happened to take him to Lourens’ lab, and he just was there. I mean I guess you can say he wanted to see his lab one last time or whatever which is why he left Roma and Juliette’s house, but it just felt a little too plot convenient for me. I mean, I’m glad everything worked out for them, but the everything surrounding it just rubbed me the wrong way. Just a minor complaint but I’ll get over it.  

I already had my cry about Roma and Juliette being reunited with Alisa and Rosalind, which was a great moment for me, but seeing the whole gang back together (including Celia, Marshall, and Benedikt) plus Orion was one of my favorite parts of the whole series, it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Another thing that made me feel all warm and fuzzy was just all the couples. We finally saw Oliver and Celia get together, Rosalind and Orion reunion, Pheobe and Silas! I think I was most emotional about Pheobe and Silas’ kiss scene; it tore me apart just as much as Celia and Oliver’s first kiss but for some reason Pheobe and Silas hit.  

Another thing that really tore me up was how much Rosalind and Orion love each other. Despite the fact that Orion lost his memories he still loved Rosalind and while she had a bit of a struggle since he wasn’t her Orion, she still loved him a lot. They have one of my favorite couple dynamics, I love how Orion is just a giant sap and Rosalind isn’t having any of it but is secretly loving it. Also, just how they gave up their abilities and became normal people for each other was so touching. Rosalind had accepted her fate that she was going to live like that for the rest of her life, and then eventually die from it after Lourens told her that the serum he used was unstable, but the way Orion was literally dying and chose to save her. Like Rosalind said, she had wanted someone to choose her, and Orion did, he was willing to die for her and I’m getting emotional typing this.  Maybe I cried when he proposed in the epilogue, who knows.  

I also need to talk about the exclusive Barnes and Noble epilogue (there are links to read it in the notes of this post I made if you haven’t read it already). I need to scream about Roma and Juliette having a whole entire child, I cried a little when Rosalind showed Orion the little card in the first epilogue and cried even more when we were introduced to Katherina. Another thing that made me cry was just how Pheobe and Silas were together and in love and happy and when she asked him for a kiss, tears. Of course, Oliver and Celia being married made me so beyond happy, I love that for them so much. The whole wedding also made me cry because Rosalind and Orion are in love and of course there was an incident at their wedding because that’s the kind of people they are and the daffodils and the amount of love they have for each other. The whole thing was so sweet I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better ending for the series and if I think about it too hard, I’ll cry again.  

I’m going to keep this ending in my brain and not think about how like four years later China gets invaded by Japan and all of World War II, Chloe mentioned this in her authors note and now I won’t stop thinking about it. Everyone survives the war and they’re all happy, that’s cannon, I said it, I make the rules. Anyways I was, and will continue to be, super emotional about this book until the end of time. I encourage you all to please come into my inbox to scream about literally anything in this book, I love talking about it and will continue to talk about it forever so please join me!  

[empty-pizza]

thoughts on harrow the ninth chapter thirty-seven

this conversation about what happens when G man dies is pretty relevant in the context of the text that appears underneath some of the chapter numbers

you know, one of the things i really want more detail on is how and why people hate this empire. i mean, it's definitely an empire of some form. lots of reasons to hate that kind of thing from the outside (or inside), i just want to know more about that perspective. blood of eden's issue seems more personal though.

okay i gotta say. if you have a problem with the memes in the narration and all like... you're a clown sorry. it's so infrequent and when it does happen i really can't say it's tone breaking. and like. it's god. the guy who loves saying goofy things because he can say whatever the hell he wants, and who's really old. it is entirely in character for him to say none house with left grief. if you wanted this series to have more normal narration and humor you're asking for this man to be unrealistically chill with his overly long life. let this man cope.

i love his response to being asked about A.L. "neither are we romantic—neither are we, frankly, platonic—" lmaooo. can't believe god assumed that they'd be fucking just because they're the same age, when harrow is like, twenty years younger than ianthe.

love when the red herring is just the author lying to our faces lmao. so it's not really annabel lee, or it doesn't have to be. meaning it can still very well be alecto, which i know is the titular name for book four.

or that could be completely wrong. like, i don't want to jump to conclusions. a mysterious girl who is gone, that god once had at his side. and a girl trapped in a locked tomb since long ago. it would be jumping to conclusions to assume they could be the same. that's exactly what the author wants you to do, maybe. but god could very well be lying about a lot of this story. like i said early on, he's the kind of person who, if he's a liar, would be a very dangerous one.

NO

HARROW DON'T ADMIT TO HIM WHAT YOU DID

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

FUCK FATHER FIGURES AND PARENTAL ACCEPTANCE AND ALL THAT YOU CAN'T JUST GIVE SOMETHING LIKE THAT UP

welp let's see how this goes. either she's fucked, or it seems okay until she's fucked later.

and he's gaslighting

this is all fuckery and like OBVIOUSLY multiple things are possible, but i am 100% going to say that no, harrow made it in. that he doesn't understand everything, or can't let her know what she really did. i'm all in on this one. this, its place in the structure, the tone. it's not a twist, it's a red herring.

and he figures out her brain has been fucked with. is he interpreting that as connected to how he thinks she only thinks she made it into the tomb? or does he know it's unrelated? because we should know that she's the one who did it but we have to be careful.

it reads like harrow programmed her body to make like a tree and get out of there when questioned on this

he seems mad at himself. maybe he won't pursue this line of questioning further

i have no idea where this book goes next

[blueopinions49]

Nancy Wheeler’s MBTI

Introduction 

Hello there this is gonna be kinda of a rant post because I want to start making another series of character breakdowns however im very torn in which one I want to start however I am currently in a dilemma over Nancy’s MBTI. So id like to pose the 2 most likely types of hers and try to map it out. Please let me know of your opinions and your thoughts on all of this. 

the most likely types for Nancy are: ESTJ or ENTJ. However I think its important to look at her enneagram since it affects her functions and such. I personally I believe Nancy’s enneagram is 1w2 sp/so Being an enneagram 1 can give her the look of an Si user too sometimes. Ive seen some people type her as an 3w2 sp/so however I am not fully sure about this since I think it only applies to S1 Nancy rather then her character all throughout the show. 

Small Break down of Each Type 

ESTJ (Te-Si-Ne-Fi)

Im currently leaning the most towards ESTJ I think Nancy displays quite allot of Te all throughout the show and people who type her as an ESFJ are conflating kind behavior with Fe. But thats just a stereotype I get that in media there is this idea of high Te users being incredibly mean and irritable  but not every character is like this and using that metric to type is just bad. Now to her axis I think I can see a bit of Si in Nancy she is very usually very careful and sticks to maintaining step by step solutions. Also she doesn't seem to be working towards long term goals (or maybe im wrong about this) However couldn't everything I just said be traits of enneagram 1? Since I've seen people conflate these two allot look at Princess Leia Organa (ENTJ 8w9 or 1w2) who isn't interested in meticulous processes and details but for some reason we see her get typed as an ESTJ allot. I genuinely don't remember if Nancy was ever interested in details which leads me to another thing about details Se is also a detail oriented function; extroverted sensing details and introverted sensing details are different. One Is based on prior examining things through a subjective sense and the other one is based on objective observation. For example an Si user could understand every part of a clock while an Se user would look at the physical traits of it (color, material, temp etc...) Ive seen people debate that Nancy having a develop Ne is what makes people confuse her Si-Ne with Ni which I guess? However look at Sokka from ATLA (ESTJ 6w7) Even when he fully develops his Ne in Book 3 he still uses his Si allot and constantly narrows solutions with those by exploring those and I personally don't see Nancy interested in exploring all of those solutions in any capacity. Maybe the use of external pattern seeking?? but then again that could be Se? IDK guys let me know. 

ENTJ (Te-Ni-Se-Fi)

Allot of people use the “I know something happen to Barb” line in S1 as an explanation for her Ni however couldn't that just her going to Ne in stress trying to explore a possibility?. Also I do think I see more Ni than Ne I think Nancy does jump to conclusions a bit too fast sometimes. However I also see her step by step process (something an Ni user wouldn't be very fond of) Also she tends to be a bit too careful (but again E1). Also she doesn't seem to be quite as impulsive as an ENTJ would be even some E1 can be quite impulsive such as Light Yagami from death note (but I think thats quite debatable since Light kinda borders the line between impulsive and careful quite allot in the show). Also next to Se I don't see much Se in Nancy she doesn't seem to be that interested in Te-Se processes like other ENTJ would (unless again I missed something) she seems to be quite careful and sturdy with her processes rather than rushing head on like allot of ENTJ do allot the time. However again I could be assuming her Se is well develop same with her Ne. I could see how she tunnel visions allot in the show and how she tends to hyper focused on goals allot of the times making her struggle with her Se but I don't think thats quite enough to type her as an ENTJ how many other charcaters with other types have focused on goals too hard and ended up losing track of themselves?. 

Idk guys sorry for the long rant post I am just very curious to map this out I usually am very certain of a charcaters typing however this one Is just weird maybe I missed something's so please let me know your thoughts below 

[littleforgottenlibrary]

also what is this why did she write it like this??

i’m just shy of being halfway through the dictionary of lost words (which i would like to finish) and while i don’t think it’s bad, i can’t help but find myself kind of annoyed? frustrated? underwhelmed? with this book. like it has very clear themes about who’s lives and narratives (and words) get left out and seen as less important but it all just feels so hollow. i constantly am having this issue where the author is pointing out examples of this but not actually fostering an actual discussions on these topics instead putting more attention on writing out esme’s whole life. and maybe that wouldn’t bother me as much if that’s what the book pitched itself as but it doesn’t. for a book that wants to be about those disregarded by the ones making the dictionary it sure doesn’t spend any time on them

[red-doll-face]

Here is a request for slashers if they're open. My brain does a thing where I am affectionate w a person but if I get nudged away (even if it's just to readjust the position), it goes "oh no. They don't want u to touch them. Do not touch ever again or they will get mad at u. U disgust them." Even tho touch is my love language & it hurts, I just won't touch. If confronted, I will get confused & panicky cuz "u didn't want me to touch? Im respecting ur wishes? Did I miss something?" Its a mess.

Requests are indeed open, I’m sorry I take foreverrr to do these but i hope u enjoy! I don’t know what to call this tho. For simplicity’s sake I’m calling this nervous reader lmao, idk what else to call these.

Slashers x gn nervous Reader

Jason Voorhees:

Jason can very much relate to the feeling. When he first meets you, he’s sure that you’re frightened. He restrains from being too close to avoid coming off as overbearing, doesn't want to touch you because if you flinch he’ll be so hurt. He just assumes he disgusts you. Based on the reaction all of his other victims have when they see him, he’s sure you’ll probably be the same.

Once Jason is sure that you don't feel that way, he’s a cuddle monster. He wants to be close all of the time, holding hands, letting you sit in his lap, you name it. He’s so starved and quickly decides that touch is his love language too. He’s not even sure how he’s lived this long without it.

The only time I can see Jason maybe gently sort of setting you down elsewhere and walking off is when he senses strangers on the property of what once was Crystal Lake. He’s out the door before he can even see your hurt expression, Which is worse because this might lead you to jump to conclusions.

If you distance yourself from Jason, he immediately is thrown off. He can’t directly ask you if he’s done something wrong and when he tries to initiate affection with you and you don’t reciprocate whole heartedly, he’s at a loss.

He’ll get on one knee while you sulk on the couch and give you a silent plea to tell him what's wrong. You can panic and try and avoid it but he is certain there's something going on and he wants so badly to know what he’s done to put you off. You tell him and he immediately is shaking his head no, he could never be mad at you, never be disgusted with you. You’re the most breathtaking person he’s ever had the pleasure of holding, the first, most likely.

Jason nods because he understands how you feel. In the future, he’s persistent about how you feel when he untangles himself from you, making sure you’re ok.

Michael Myers:

In the later stages of your relationship, Michael is insatiable when it comes to being in contact with you. For a long time, towards the start of your relationship, he didn’t like it. It felt weird. All of the touch he's experienced prior was so clinical and sterile that he doesn’t quite know how good touch is supposed to feel. He’s so touch starved that he’s almost positive he doesn't even need it.

Slowly, he builds a tolerance for it, much like one does with alcohol, constantly checking his boundaries and letting him control the situation and he’s all for movie night, huddled up on the couch, or waking up with his head on your chest. His own personal pillow.

There are, however, moments when his need to make someone tremble with fear and then blodgeon them to death with a can opener from their own kitchen becomes too strong, so he tries to keep away from you. In the past, he might have used you to satisfy similar desires of a sexual nature and may have really hurt you but he knows that it’s not always enjoyable to you.

Then, you stop touching him. Much like Jason, he starts to think you’ve become sick of him. Sick of his coldness, his muteness, his withdrawn demeanor. Maybe you’ve moved on and he tries to tell himself he doesn’t care but he doesn't think he can see himself touching anyone but you now.

It gets to the point where he comes home one day and you look heavily troubled, expressions he’s seen on your face before, only in the event that something terrible has happened. You ask to speak to him and he obliges.

You explain that you don’t think this relationship is working, that you’re pretty sure he’s disgusted with you and how difficult this event is because you didn't even want to talk about it but it's been hurting you for too long.

His response is to stand up very slowly, pick you up and lay down with you over him, simply laying there. Hopefully, knowing you’re the one person he would ever allow to participate in this intimacy is enough to show you that you mean more than you think you do to him.

RZ Michael Myers:

This Michael is more perceptive to your touch than his counterpart, your touch sends little shivers down his spine and as soon as he gets pretty used to it, he’s eager for more. This also takes some time but significantly less. He’s enamored with the idea of returning to a somewhat normal life. Your affection grounds him in that fantasy as much as being a murderer might take him out of it.

As he establishes a relationship with you, he may even be the one to start touching you instead of the other way around. He’s read books and always wondered what it might feel like to have someone genuinely touch him without fear in their eyes. Without malice.

An unsuccessful ‘day at work’ might have Michael feeling a little het up though. He can be moody and more rageful. Neither you nor his hobbies can calm him. He seems colder than usual in these states and can come off as very standoffish.

So when you try and touch him and he shrugs your hand off his shoulder, he can’t or isn't in the state of mind to address your frown and worried look. Michael, instead stomps off somewhere to be alone for a while; maybe take his anger out on something else. Some unsuspecting soul or maybe even a poor animal in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After he’s calmed down some, he returns and almost forgot about that sad little gleam in your eye before he left. Michael remembers when he sees you blankly staring at the TV, pointedly avoiding his gaze even as you utter a weak welcome home. It’s not very welcoming. He sits stiffly beside you, watching you from the corner of his eye. You’re closed off from him and he doesn't like it at all.

Migrating towards you slowly, he eases you into a familiar hug, his big bear hugs that are a little tight but inviting all the same. His huge torso and long arms seem to swallow you in his warmth. You hardly reciprocate. You look a little surprised. Though he never addresses it verbally, (which is probably better for you) Michael offers a single glance that communicates everything he needs to say. Don't ever think that again.

Thomas B. Hewitt:

Thomas’ self esteem issues and self image are not good. He honestly doesn’t like to imagine what he looks like to other people unless it can be as a threatening man you don’t fuck with. Meeting you, he realizes that it’s good to protect his family but he’d rather you not see him as someone only capable of harm. Tries his best to get the point across that while Hoyt may be adamant that horrible things happen to you, he’s not going to let them.

Thomas has received affection but always a familial affection. A pat on the back from Monty, proud claps to his shoulders from uncle Charlie, and hugs and kisses from his dear Mother. Nothing so foreign as a strangers touch over his arm or a soft embrace.

Unfortunately, Thomas can get reactive when you attempt to touch him without his mask on. He’s absolutely settled on the false reality that you’ll see his face and immediately decide that you never want to touch him again. Interacting with you with his bare face? That's a no for Thomas.

He puts on his mask that covers the scarred skin over his face and you look dejected. He was preparing for you to pressure him but instead finds himself trying to find out why you won’t touch him now. It’s not his face, is it? You respond with your reasoning. Thomas is so confused. How could you think that you disgust him? That he doesn’t want you to touch him?

He’s quicker than the others and immediately sweeps you up into his arms and holds you as close as humanly possible. Feeling disgusting and like some sort of burden is a feeling he’s so familiar with and if he can take it away from you, he will.

Will aggressively initiate touch with you for the next week or so just to solidify the fact that he cares about you and won't reject you just as you didn’t reject him.

Bubba Sawyer:

Bubba is a great cuddle buddy and partner. Hugs are his favorite and he hugs his brother all the time, lifting both Nubbins and Chop Top into the air for some brotherly love. If you’re smaller than them he’s all about picking you up and perhaps a little rough housing with you. He’s careful though or at least there are attempts made to be careful

Bubba, though he could easily spend the whole day doing nothing and everything with you, has work. Chores, butchering. Cooking, and tending livestock. Plenty to do at the sawyer house and he does most of it. Suffice to say there are times when you want to lather attention all over him yet he has to go back to work.

So caught up in work that he doesn't get what's going on til way later, when you’ve had time to stew in your emotions, firmly telling yourself that Bubba is annoyed by you probably. He’s baffled and confused at your silence, your crossed arms. The little furrow in your brow. He can already tell there’s something upsetting you.

Honestly, Bubba is so affectionate I can’t see him being the kind of person even capable of alluding to the fact he might be disgusted by you. How, if all he wants to do is love you? You may bring it up as a joke that you thought he didn’t like you and he almost seems offended. Not like you?

Bubba can squash any feelings you may have about that and then some. He will not let you drown in insecurities, not on his watch. This man will do everything in his power to make you feel beautiful because you really are.

I’m sorry these are super long but thanks for requesting!

[alltooreid]

Clean

As Spencer struggles to overcome his dilaudid addiction, Y/N is dealing with an addiction of her own, to her toxic, manipulative boyfriend. This is an account of a full year, following their joint journeys to sobriety and new love.

A/N: Hi!! I have another Taylor Swift inspired Spencer Reid one shot (but of course you do not need to know the song to understand the one shot). Although originally I was going to write something more fluffy, I switched to this song to write something more angsty and interesting. However, to change pace from my last one shot, this one has a much happier, hopeful ending. However, it is very triggering so please read the trigger warnings before you start. Also, if you have any songs you want to read please let me know!! Also, if you just have a general request please send it my way! Thank you so much for the love on my All Too Well one shot, I never thought my first fanfic on here would be so well received!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: Angst, but hopeful angst

Word Count: 7.6K

Content Warnings: Cursing, mentally and physically abusive relationship, relationship cheating (ie, reader is being cheated on), blood and cuts description, drug addiction (these parts are kept short purposefully), lots of fighting and yelling both in reader’s relationship and between Spencer and reader, however, there is a happy and hopeful ending. Reader is struggling to get out of her toxic relationship, please no comments about her being stupid. If you are in a situation like Y/N, please don’t use this fic as a guide. Get help immediately. https://www.thehotline.org/

Things to Know: Italics and bold are flashback moments, the time and date headers serve as time skips :) let me know what you think! Please request any songs you would like to see be made one shots!

“You're still all over me Like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore Hung my head as I lost the war And the sky turned black like a perfect storm”

3:27 AM, April 16th, 2007.

You have known Spencer for a long time. In fact, you’ve known him longer than you’ve known Randall, and you’ve felt like you’ve known Randall your entire life.

Maybe that’s because you let him become your entire life.

Still, although you had known Spencer for 7 years, 2 years longer than the entirety of your on again, off again relationship with Randall. You still felt weird calling him. He was going through a lot right now, not that he wasn’t normally. Spencer had one of the most difficult jobs you could think of. You know Spencer has shot and killed people before, and you know every time he did it ate him up inside.

And every time he did he called you.

You also knew that Spencer is one of the kindest people you have ever met, you struggle to imagine him wielding a gun on a daily basis. He just seems too sweet, too perfect.

Yet there was a lot you didn’t know about the young genius.

You have no idea that as you stand in the street, contemplating whether you should call Spencer to come and get you, Spencer is making a difficult decision of his own. As you worry about the possibility of waking Spencer up this early in the morning, Spencer sits wide awake and ponders if he has enough time to get high before he has to leave for work in 3 hours.

As you sit on the side of the road, debating between your very few options, Spencer leads up against the side of his bathtub tears pouring down his cheeks, tears that he doesn’t even register as being there.

Fortunately for the both of you, at the same time Spencer reaches into his bag to search for that tiny glass bottle, his phone begins to ring.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You sigh, “He kicked me out again Spencer, is there anyway you can come get me?”

Spencer looks around his apartment, frantically hiding the belt and the needles he had gotten out for the events he was anticipating. “Yeah, of course I can come get you, um, just give me a couple minutes and send me your location.”

3:52 AM, April 16th, 2007.

You’re in the passenger’s seat of Spencer’s car, both of you sitting in silence. This situation isn’t new to either of you, Spencer has picked you up plenty of times before, in fact he’s done it for years now. One time, about 3 years into your relationship with Randall, you were permitted to go out by yourself with Spencer’s team, they wanted to meet you, apparently Spencer talked about you all the time. While you were at dinner with them, Morgan asked you if you had a car of your own. You explained that you did, but that your boyfriend had it a majority of the time, and that when he didn’t he hated you using it because you always had to mess with everything. He hates you touching his stuff. Morgan made a weird face about that answer, so you quickly followed up, explaining that you didn’t mind.

You do mind though. You hate how he never lets you touch anything or go anywhere, and you hate how much he despises your only form of transportation.

Spencer.

Randall hates everything about Spencer Reid, and he especially hates seeing his car pull into your driveway. That’s why after the 8th time he kicked you out, you started walking half a mile to the nearest gas station before calling Spencer.

The first time Spencer came to get you Randall came out to talk to you before you left.

“What are you doing? Who is this?”

“It’s Spencer, he’s gonna take me to his apartment.” you explained, confused why Randall was so angry you were leaving when he was the one who had kicked you out.

“Oh so just because I don’t want to look at your bitchass all night that means you can go sleep with another man? I knew you were a whore Y/N. You know him and his stupid fucking car aren’t going to be able to deal with you the way I can. How old is that thing anyway?”

“Randall, calm down, I’m not sleeping with Spencer. I love you, I don’t want to sleep with anyone else. But I’m not gonna sit out here all night, where else should I go?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so quick to whore yourself out to the easiest man you could find I would invite you back inside,” he said before slamming the door in your face.

So you got in Spencer’s car, the one Randall would grow to hate so much.

“Are you okay Y/N? He didn’t hit you did he? You know you can come live with me, you should really get out of that house, I can get Morgan tomorrow and we can go get your belongings. I have plenty of-”

You snapped at him, “No Spencer he’s not hitting me! Why do you always jump to that conclusion, Randall is a great guy! I would’ve never called you if you were going to jump to conclusions like this. You’re supposed to be a genius, yet you’re acting like such a dumb ass right now.”

Spencer looked at you, and immediately you regretted your words. You knew Spencer was just worried about you and with his line of work he had reason to be. However before you could apologize he spoke again.

“I’m sorry Y/N, forget I said anything.”

You both sat in silence for a few moments before you even knew what to say, and yet all you could think of was, “Hey Spence, what kind of car do you drive?”

He smiled, “It’s a 1965 Volvo Amazon P130 122S, it’s horizon blue, that’s the color they refer to it as. Did you know they’re known as so reliable that the 4 door models are still used as police vehicles in some places. This one’s a two door, but still runs great. . . “

You smiled, how fitting a man as reliable as Spencer Reid had the perfect car to match.

When you get to Spencer’s apartment something seems off. Spencer has always lived in organized chaos, but this just feels different. Unlike his normal mess, this one feels like a blatant disregard for his things, even some of his most prized possessions. His books are strewn across the floors, his clothes overflowing from his laundry basket, which was a mix of both folded, clean, yet to be put away things and worn items. Weirdly, the one place that looks untouched is his kitchen, as if he hasn’t used it in months. And you mean that in the most literal interpretation, his counters are covered in visible, undisturbed dust.

“Thank you so much Spencer, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He smiles, but his eyes look so tired. “Don’t worry about it Y/N.”

And at 4:47, you finally fall asleep in Spencer’s bedroom, which he insists you take, and he stays awake until he leaves for work just a few hours later.

9:33 PM, April 17th, 2007.

You leave Spencer’s apartment the following night, after an unfortunate screaming match with him. You have never seen him so angry, so easily ticked off. Yet as soon as Randall called you Spencer became aggressive.

“Yeah babe, I’ll be home as soon as I can. I’ll take a cab and be home within the hour. Of course I’m not mad at you sweetheart, I know you didn’t mean it. I love you, see you soon.”

Spencer exitted his kitchen in a huff, and opened his mouth to start talking before you spoke up.

“I’m sure you’ve overheard already, but Randall’s letting me back in the house. Thank you so much Spence. I really appreciate everything you do to help me. Call me soon please, I definitely owe you lunch,” you said, grabbing your coat and your phone, the only things you had managed to grab from your home before your unplanned eviction.

“Why do you even stay with him Y/N? Why do you keep going back there?” Spencer yelled. You had never seen him like this before, so livid and irritable.

“I love him Spence, and he loves me,” you explained, and you were telling the truth. You do love Randall, and you know that in his heart he loves you too, even if he got a little angry sometimes.

“If he loved you he wouldn’t treat you like this Y/N! Don’t you think I would know? I see this everyday! It’s my job! And yet my best friend is too stupid to realize she’s been in an abusive relationship for almost 6 years!”

You were just as angry now, “You’re wrong Spencer, I don’t wanna hear this okay? I love Randall and he loves me. We deserve each other.”

Spencer’s face softened before growing angry once more, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Fuck you Spencer, I’m going home. I don’t need you and I don't need your help,” you said, grabbing your things and slamming the door open. You were lying, you need Spencer and you need his help more than anything, but you didn’t want to admit that while he was being such a dick.

“Fine!” he yelled, “Go run back to him then, but you better not call me when he kicks you out again. I don’t care anymore!”

And so you left, Spencer slammed the door behind you as you stormed out of his apartment. You didn’t stop to think about the fact that Spencer never acts like this. He has never lashed out at you, never questioned your relationship with Randall to your face, let alone scream at you and insult you because of it. You didn’t stop and think about what Spencer was on, or not on, that was making his act like this.

But you thought about it now.

You want to get home before Randall starts to get upset and suspicious, but now after your fight with Spencer you have to walk home. You couldn’t ask him to borrow cash for a cab, let alone ask him to drive you there. You were stuck walking, which also meant you were stuck with Randall’s wrath when you returned.

You already feel terrible about the way you treated Spencer. You think about going to apologize, and stand in front of the door for a second, weighing the pros and cons of doing so. Eventually, you go to turn away, ultimately deciding that you both needed to calm down before speaking to each other again.

Yet as you turn, the door opens. Spencer stands right there, strangely calm, seemingly out of it. All fury and anger you had seen just minutes before gone. In this moment he resembles Randall, and it's the first time you’ve ever been able to draw any comparison to the two.

It’s scary.

“Spencer I-” but you get cut off, not by words, but by an object. Before you can even register what was just thrown in your face the door is closed again. You duck down to grab what was thrown.

Twenty dollars.

For the cab ride home.

1:34 AM, April 23rd, 2007.

You light the final candle on your dining room table, before stepping back to admire your work. Randall always came home so late from work, so you rarely ate dinner together. But today was your anniversary, so you stayed up late, prepared his favorite meal and set up all of your fancy dinnerware so that you could have a very late dinner together before he goes to bed and you go to work. He should be home any minute now.

Yet 3 hours later Randall is not back. You’re just about to cut your losses and call it a night, and start to clean up the melted down candles and cold steak dinner as you hear your front door open.

“Y/N! What are you doing still awake?”

“Do you know what day it is Randall? Because I do.”

He looks down at his watch, checks the time, and looks back up at you, “Well it is now 3:57 AM, meaning it is now Monday. Which is why I’m curious as to what you’re still doing up sweetheart, you have to be at work in 3 hours.” “There’s something special about THIS Monday Randall,” you sigh, you’re disappointed but not surprised, this has happened for the past 3 years.

“Do you have a project going on at work baby? You know I can’t keep track of all that crap, your job is so silly and easy to lose track of. You have to remind me of these things if you actually want me to care about them.”

“It’s our anniversary Randall.”

He stops, but instead of looking guilty or remorseful (like you secretly hoped), he gets livid, “No it’s not, are you stupid or something?”

“Randall, baby it’s okay, it’s not a big deal.”

“No! You stupid fucking bitch, are you trying to make me look bad, cooking this stupid fancy dinner and staying up late. Trying to lie and act like I forgot our five year anniversary?! Stop playing the victim Y/N. So tell me, are you lying to make me feel bad, or is your brain really that fucking empty?”

“It’s our six year anniversary,” you whisper.

“What did you just say?”

“I said I was just being stupid Randall. You’re right baby, I forgot the date of our anniversary.”

He snarls. “I don’t think so Y/N, I think, actually I know that not only are you stupid, but that you’re a liar. I know that you just want to make me look bad by preparing our anniversary dinner a week early. And you have to push it by claiming we’ve been together for six years. I know it’s five. I’m not stupid.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” you cry.

“NO YOU’RE NOT!” he yells, pushing his plate of steak and mashed potatoes, letting your parent’s wedding china shatter on the ground. You cry harder. “You’re a stupid, waste of my time Y/N. Five wasted years I’ve spent on you. Do you know why I do it, huh. Do you know why I stay with you when I could have one of the beautiful, rich, successful, truthful women I’m fucking?”

You shake your head.

“It’s because I feel pity for you. No other man would want you. I’m the only one that will ever love you. You know that right Y/N?” He picks up a piece of your hair, gently tucking it behind your ear. “Tell me that I’m the only one who will love you, you know it’s the truth right?” You nod your head. In a swift motion Randall turns, grabs a glass full of red wine and chucks it at the wall, narrowly avoiding your left ear.

“I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT.”

“You’re the only one who will ever love me Randall,” you croak out in between sobs.

He closes the distance between you two once more, gripping your chin and jerking your face so that your eyes meant his. It hurts, and makes you cry more, but you don’t say anything.

“Don’t you know it sweetness,” he lets go, delivers a sharp slap to your check and grips your wrist. “Now clean your mess up, and then I think it’s best if you get out of the house for a little bit, don’t you agree?”

You nod quickly. He smiles.

“Good girl, now I would normally be worried about you going to hook up with that string bean you’re always all over, but according to the last time I went through your phone, he isn’t in your recent calls. Glad to know he’s finally done with your bullshit. I’m sure a nice long walk alone will do you good. You can think about what led you to lying tonight, and then maybe you can come back in time for our real anniversary.”

He slips upstairs, so you clean up the rest of the uneaten meal and the broken wine class, cutting up your hands severely in the process. You spend at least an hour in a futile attempt to get red wine stains off of your wallpaper, before grabbing your phone and purse and running out the door.

Even after what Randall says, you still think about calling Spencer. Your thumb hovers over the call button for a minute until you switch the contact, phoning your boss instead. You inform her you need a personal day, and that it’s a family emergency.

You check the time, 6:53. Spencer is almost definitely on his way to work right now. You want to call him so bad, but the things he said you ring through your mind. You can’t ask for his help anymore.

For the first time, you are truly on your own.

Until a familiar horizon blue Volvo pulls up next to the curb you’re sitting on, and Spencer Reid sticks his head out the window.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? Get it the car, come on I’ll drive you to work with me.”

Confused as you are, this is your best option right now. So you climb into the passenger seat of his car, refusing to make eye contact with him, instead looking at your bleeding hands. “Oh my god, Y/N. You’re bleeding. Did Randall do this to you? Why didn’t you call me?”

“No, Spencer, Randall didn’t do this to me. He dropped a wine glass and I helped him pick it up. Now just drive.” And he does, drive that is. But you can feel his stares, on your cut up hands, and you forming bruises. You can feel him profiling the signs of abuse on your body.

But more than that you hate that you can feel he’s upset with you. Upset because you didn’t call him. Does he not remember screaming at you not too?

He pulls into the parking lot, parks the car and finally turns to make eye contact with you. He has tears in his, “I really wish you would’ve called me Y/N. If it’s getting this bad I want you to stay with me.”

“Spencer am I going insane?”

“Of course not, what do you mean?” he looks so gentle, so kind and you’re so confused.

“Do you remember what day me and Randall started dating?”

“Yes, it was April 23rd, 2001. 6 years ago today actually. Is that why he did this to you? Does it have anything to do with that?”

“How can you remember that but not our screaming match a week ago?” you laughed, your hands burned now, there’s definitely glass in there, you swear you can feel the tiny little shards in your blood.

“What do you mean, Y/N? We didn’t scream at each other? I haven’t even seen you in weeks. How long has he been hitting you? Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“Spencer, on the 16th you picked me up and took me back to your apartment because Randall kicked me out. On the evening of the 17th I went to leave because Randall told me I could come home. You said I was being abused and called me stupid for going back to him. When we fought about it I stormed out and you told me not to call you if he kicked me out again because you didn’t care anymore. That’s why I didn’t call you.”

You look up at Spencer, and nearly start crying yourself when you see his crumpled face. Tears are freely spilling down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I don’t remember that,” he pushes his long hair out of his face, clearly frazzled, “I- I can’t believe I don’t remember that.”

Before you can say anything, Spencer pulls out his phone. “Hey Hotch, it’s me. I can’t come in today. I need to use a personal day. . . I’ll tell you later. Okay, thank you” He angrily pulls out of the parking lot, and you can tell he’s headed back to his apartment.

“Spencer it’s okay, I’m not upset with you.”

“No Y/N, it’s not okay. I said all those terrible things to you, of course you were scared to call me after them. The worst part is I was too high to even remember it all. I- I just can’t believe I helped him do this to you,” tears still freely flowing down his face.

“Spencer what are you talking about? I was with you all day, you weren’t high. You don’t even drink, how could you be high?”

He sighs, “do you remember when I was kidnapped by that unsub, Tobias Hankel? About 2 months ago?” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Well, I told you about his multiple personalities, how one beat me to death and then Tobias resurrected me, how  I had to kill Tobias in order to survive, even though Tobias himself did nothing to me. Well when I was in the barn, Tobias would give me drugs, dilaudid, in order to cut the pain of his other personalities’ abuse. When I killed him, I took the drugs he had one him with me, and I can’t stop Y/N. It’s affecting my life, my work, and now it’s affecting you.” He parks his car in his apartment complex’s lot and turns to look at you. “Hotch has never said anything about it, so even though the team knows I have no reason to quit, I think I do now. Y/N, I think we need to get clean together.”

Suddenly that night made sense, Spencer was irritable and strange, he wasn’t high, he was going through withdrawal. But when he threw the money at you, so loopy and out of it, he was on it. He was so high he didn’t remember the moments before.

“Spencer, I don't know what to say. I want to help you get sober, I want that more than anything, but I’m not addicted to drugs, I rarely even drink.”

“I know Y/N, you don’t have a drug problem like me, but you are an addict. You need to leave Randall. You know it, I know it, but you can’t.” You open your mouth to defend yourself, but Spencer continues to speak, “It’s okay, I understand why. But we both need to quit, and I think it’s best if we do it together.”

“Well how are we supposed to do that,” you whisper.

“Come on, let’s get started,” you and Spencer exit his car, he loops your hands together, leading you up to his apartment. When you get there, he digs through his messenger bag and grabs a couple of tiny glass bottles and a syringe. He throws them into his garbage can, and turns to look at you.

“Pull out your phone.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re going to block Randall’s number.”

You want to fight him on it, but you know he’s right. You need to leave Randall, and now’s as good of a time as any. Yet, you can’t forget the things he’s said to you. “I can’t Spencer, he’s my boyfriend, he loves me.”

“Y/N, please, please do this with me.” You shake your head, he sighs. “Okay, I get it, this is going to take time. Just, um, stay with me for a couple days. Please. We can go get your stuff tomorrow night.”

You think about rejecting Spencer’s offer, but you really don’t want to go back there. More than anything, you want to stay right here. You try to tell yourself it’s because you’re worried about Spencer, but deep down you know it’s more than that. So you nod, and Spencer wraps you in a hug, burying his head into your shoulder.

“Thank you, Y/N. Now let’s go get your hands wrapped up.”

9:21 PM, May 2nd, 2007.

You’ve been staying at Spencer’s for just over a week now. You haven’t seen Randall since your anniversary, and Spencer hasn’t taken dilaudid while you’ve been here. Things are going well. You’re watching a lot of bad reality TV, and Spencer has gone through about 7 packs of Gatorade, but you’re both doing okay.

Now you were just waiting for him to come back from his case in Idaho, you knew this one was pretty bad. They were searching for a woman in the middle of a huge forest, as she was being hunted and chased down. Spencer called you right before getting on the jet, and told you he would be home soon, so now you were just waiting for him.

While doing so however, you found something. A lump on Spencer’s side of the mattress. Under it, were two small glass bottles and a syringe. The same ones you had seen Spencer throw into the garbage days prior.

Now you need to talk to Spencer, so you sit on his couch, and wait for him to come home. When he comes through the door, he immediately sees you and smiles. “Y/N! I’ve missed you.” He hugs you, and for a second you forget why you’re even mad at him in the first place.

“Spencer, I need to talk to you. I found your bottles.” The mood in the room instantly shifts, but you don’t care, you need to get your words out. “You told me you were quitting, I watched you throw them away.”

He brushes his hairs through his hair, and begins to mess with his hands. “I am quitting Y/N, I haven't taken any, but. . .  I just need them to be there.”

“Spencer, please, throw them away. I’m trying to help you here.” Suddenly he grows very angry, and you can tell you said the wrong thing.

“Well I’m trying too. To me it seems the only one not trying is you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you still haven’t blocked Randall, he still calls all the time! Why do I have to throw my addiction away if you can’t even do the same to yours?”

“That's not fair.”

“How so?” he yells. “How is it that you can’t block your abusive, no good piece of shit boyfriend but I have to throw away the things I enjoy? That doesn’t feel like trying to me.”

“I’m not addicted to Randall Spencer, I just love him. I don’t want or need to quit him.”

“Oh really? Then why are you even still here? Why haven’t you answered his calls? Or gone to see him? I think you know exactly why.”

And you do. You don’t want to go back there, but what Randall says is true. He is the only one who will love you, and you’re not ready to lose that yet. You’re not ready to cut off all contact with him.

“I can leave if that’s what you want Spencer.”

His face softened, “no, that’s not what I want. That’s the last thing I want.” He stops and thinks for a moment. “If you block Randall I’ll throw away my dilaudid.”

You ponder it, “Okay.”

He breaks into a wide smile. “Really? You’ll do it?”

You smile at him.

“Yeah, I promise. I’ll block Randall.”

6:56 PM, May 30th, 2007.

You did not block Randall.

Even after watching Spencer pour out his bottles, breaking up the glass and tossing it away for a second time, you couldn’t. Even after seeing him snap his syringes in half, and feeling him kiss your forehead, after seeing how happy and excited he was for your fresh start together, you just couldn’t do it.

Spencer thought you did, and it was easy to hide the truth from him. Randall hadn’t called since then, so you and Spencer continue to spend time together, last week you celebrated one month of sobriety. You got an ice cream cake and little, silly party hats and exchanged gifts.

And it made you feel like shit.

Spencer was so happy, so proud that you had both been clean for a month, but you still couldn’t decide if you wanted to be clean at all.

You still can’t decide if you should block Randall’s number.  

You try not to think about it, instead focusing the energy into making you and Spencer virgin pina coladas, he was currently out picking up burgers from your favorite restaurant. When he returns, you were going to watch one of your crappy reality TV reruns, and then an episode of Doctor Who. It was Spencer’s idea a couple days ago, and quickly it became a regular occurrence.

Faintly over the loud whir of the blender you can hear your phone ringing. You run  quickly to go grab it, just in case Spencer needed your help with something, but your heart drops when you see the caller ID. It’s Randall, trying once again to contact you.

Your thumb hovers over the accept button, but before you can make a decision, the call times out and sends Randall to voicemail. You let out a breath and set your phone down.

But then something possesses you, and you snatch your phone and dial Randall’s number. He picks up on the 3rd ring.

“Baby, oh my god baby is that really you?”

He sounds so excited to hear from you, how could you have stayed mad at him for so long?

“Yes baby, it’s me. I’m sorry I haven’t answered your calls at all. I’ve been busy.”

“Don’t worry sweetness, I’m so so sorry for the things I said to you, I need you to come home. You missed our anniversary you know? But it’s okay! We can celebrate now! I got you a really beautiful gift, one we can definitely experiment with tonight.” You could hear his smirk over the phone.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to come back right now, maybe later baby, but not right now.”

You hear his breathing pick up, and tense. You can tell he’s getting agitated. He wasn’t expecting you to answer like that, you always come home as soon as he tells you you can come back. “What do you mean? You’re being ridiculous, I want to see my girlfriend. I’m sure you want to get off of the streets too, you’ve been squatting for over a month now.”

“I’m not squatting Randall, I’m living with Spencer.”

“What!?” he yells. “I thought I told you not to stay with him. I hate that guy, you know that.”

“Would you rather me be on the streets Randall? Spencer’s a great guy, and I want to stay here.”

“Frankly, yes I would. But don’t worry, you can still come home. Just send me the prick’s address and I’ll come pick you up. We can enjoy tonight together.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not going to send you Spencer’s address. I’m staying here. I don’t want to see you anymore. Leave me alone Randall. I’m done.”

Before he could say anything, you hung up. As you did so you heard the front door open, and Spencer made his way to the bedroom.

“Hey! I got burgers! Ready to eat?” he looks down to see your phone still resting in your hand, stuck on the phone app. “Who were you talking to?”

“Just an old friend,” you say.

“Think you’ll be talking to them again anytime soon?” you can tell he knows, and you’re surprised he isn’t lashing out at you. You’re so used to how Randall reacts when you go against his wishes, Spencer’s calm, understanding presence is like a breath of fresh air.

“No, I think I’m ready to leave them behind,” you smile at each other. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a sec okay?”

He nods, and goes to set up the food and TV.

It takes you seven seconds to block Randall.

1:12 AM, June 10th, 2007.

You haven’t gone out with your coworkers in months, you forgot how good it feels to just be present with people. You didn’t even drink tonight, wanting to remember every second of this time out with friends. You were beaming when you unlocked the front door.

Yet your smile slips when you enter what had become you and Spencer’s shared bedroom.

He isn’t there.

You pull out your phone to call him when you hear a thud coming from the bathroom door. You hesitate, scared of what you know you’ll likely find. When you finally throw the door open you’re already teary eyed, and these sobs escalate as soon as you see Spencer, tipped over, lying on the bathroom floor, the needle still sticking out of his arm.

You’re sobbing as you rip it out, hastily undoing the belt wrapped around his upper forearm. He looks up, even in his groggy haze you can see the guilty look in his eyes when they made contact with yours.

“Y/N. . . I- I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me but I just couldn’t stop myself . . . I-”

“Shhh, It’s okay, just breathe,” you whisper through your tears. “It’s going to be okay Spencer, I’m here, and it’s going to be okay. I’m staying right here.” You pull his head into your lap, stroking your shaking hands through his hair.

His head begins to shake, and you can feel his tears on your dress. You rest your head on his, and for a few seconds you just sit there, crying together.

“You’re going to be okay Spencer.”

8:09 AM, June 11th, 2007.

Your head is buried in his chest, you need to be able to hear him breathe. You need to hear his heart beating. You need to be as close to him as possible right now. He stirs as he wakes up, and wraps his arms around you. 

“I’m so sorry Y/N.”

“Don’t apologize Spencer, this is a part of recovery okay? You’re still in recovery, just because you relapsed doesn’t mean we have to start over. You’re so much stronger than you were before. So much braver. So much better. You can do this.”

He smiles at you, “thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course, now withdrawal is going to be even harder this time. I’m going to the store. We’re going to need plenty of Gatorade and water. We have to flush everything out of your system. Do you mind if I take your car to the store?”

He beams, even in his groggy state he manages to look so perfect, “You know my car is always yours to use Y/N.”

“I’ll be back soon okay? Don’t move a muscle,” you grab his keys and head out the door. And you really do mean it, you fully intend this to be the shortest grocery trip of your life. You’re terrified of leaving Spencer alone long enough to get high again, even though you spent all day yesterday searching for drugs and throwing anything you found in the garbage, taking it out the main apartment dumpster that night. 

You get to the store, grab everything you need, 3 packs of blue Gatorade, 6 cases of water bottles, and the store’s entire stock of Jell-O and rush back to Spencer’s car. You were only in the store for 17 minutes, the majority of which was just check-out time. You smile, thinking of how excited Spencer will be when he sees all the Jell-O in the fridge, but feel your stomach drop when you see a familiar face examining Spencer’s car.

Randall. 

Before you can decide what to do, he turns and sees you. 

“Y/N! I was expecting Spencer, but this is even sweeter. I knew I recognized this hunk of junk. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been around, I’m kind of on a tight schedule here. I really need to get going,” you say as you load up your groceries into Spencer’s trunk. 

“That’s a lot of Jell-O sweetheart, you hate Jell-O.” That’s not even true. You hate pudding, you love Jell-O.

As much as you wanted to yell at him for calling you sweetheart, you couldn’t deny that it felt good. You still missed him. Blocking him helped, but you still felt strong urges to call him sometimes. “It’s not for me, it’s for Spencer.”

“I thought I told you not to stay with him anymore.”

“What part of that conversation would make you think I would listen to you?” you say.

“You should always listen to me Y/N, I’m your boyfriend.”

“I haven’t seen you in months, we’re not dating anymore. I’m done.”

“You don’t mean that you’re just being irrational. Are you on your period? I bet that’s it. Come get breakfast with me. You probably just need chocolate, and the place down the block has incredible chocolate waffles.”

You open your mouth to reject him, but you can’t. Part of it is because you know if you do then he’ll follow you back to your apartment and the last thing you want is for him to know where you’re living right now. But the other part is much worse. A big part of you wants to let him try again. You can’t explain why, but you really want for him to redeem himself as your first love.

“Ok, you have 20 minutes, let’s go get breakfast.”

The walk there is silent and awkward. Randall grabs your hand, too tight for you to do anything about it, and keeps this grip until you sit down in your booth. 

You don’t get chocolate waffles. You really don’t even like chocolate all that much. Randall knows that, or at least you thought he did. Instead you get cinnamon french toast, and within minutes it’s at the table. 

“You know baby, Spencer doesn’t love you.” He says halfway through your french toast.

“We aren’t dating Randall.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve been with him in that apartment for a while now. I’m surprised he hasn’t given you the boot.”

You sit in silence, Randall takes this as a sign to continue. “We’ve been together for five years, sweetness. No one can love you the way I do. That’s just a fact. Spencer fucking Reid can not replace me, no one can replace me.”

“I hate that you’re right. I hate that I can’t breathe when I’m not with you Randall. I hate that you’re stuck to me. You’re this god awful stain on my life. I hate looking at it but no matter what I do I can’t wash it off.”

He smirks. “You’re not gonna get rid of me Y/N.” He pays the check, and gets up from the table. You go to get up too, but notice he didn’t tip your waitress, so you leave another five bucks on the table. 

When you get outside he grasps your shoulders. “I knew you would come around Y/N, I knew you would get it. Now come on, we can go collect your stuff from that prick’s apartment and get you home. I know exactly how you can make it up to me.”

You pause, “I don’t think so Randall. I’m not ready quite yet, but I promise I’ll call you.” You meant it, you had already unblocked him from your phone.

“Oh absolutely not, you’re going home with me now.”

“No I’m not.” As you were yelling at each other you notice a strangely familiar face standing nearby, just in ear shot. You can’t place him, but you know you’ve met before.

“Yes you are! We’re happy together and you’re coming to live with me again!”

“We don’t love each other, Randall! Not right now at least!” 

He’s livid, and once again you feel that scared, indescribable feeling in the pit of your stomach. “That’s not true! I’ll prove it to you.” He grabs your chin and pulls your face to his.

You feel as if water is filling your lungs, you’re drowning and no one is around to save you. Randall is physically stronger than you, you’re stuck in his grasp. It’s like you’re screaming and no one can hear you. 

And yet, this flood of emotions you’re feeling is the first time you realize something. 

You’re addicted to Randall.

You need to get out.

You need to get back to Spencer.

After what feels like minutes (but is actually about 3 seconds) of being unseen and vulnerable, you discover you’ve been protected the whole time. The man you can't place rips Randall off of you, “What’s wrong with you? Get off of her!”

It’s his voice that lets you place him. Derek Morgan, Spencer’s closest friend and coworker, punches Randall in the face. “Get out of here!”

“What the fuck is wrong with YOU? That’s my girlfriend! Sweetheart, tell him to leave us alone!”

They both turn and look at you, with tears in your eyes you look at Morgan and shake your head. “Please, get him to leave.”

And Morgan does just that, with a little yelling and a flash of his FBI badge, Randall is running for the hills.

“Come on baby girl, let’s get you back home. Did you walk here?”

You shake your head, “No, I drove Spencer’s car here.”

“Well, how bout I drive you home, and then afterwards I swing back and get Spencer’s car and drop it off?”

So you do just that. After profusely thanking Morgan, and him insisting that it was nothing, and also insisting to carry your groceries in from the car, you and Spencer are together once again. 

“I’m so sorry Spencer, I didn’t believe you before. I was going to go back to him. How could I be so stupid?”

“Don’t talk like that Y/N, you said it best yourself. Just because you relapse doesn’t mean you aren’t trying, and it most certainly doesn’t mean you’re stupid.”

“I think it’s time we get clean Spencer. Both of us, once and for all.”

“I think so too Y/N.”

He pulls you into a hug and in between sniffles you manage to choke out what you’ve been wanting to say since you got into Morgan’s car. “I love you.”

He looks at you, and the look in his eyes almost makes you cry out of pure joy. He looks so happy, as if he’s been waiting for you to say that for years. 

Maybe he has.

“I love you too.”

7:29 AM, April 16th, 2008.

You press your lips to Spencer’s, you know he has just woken up, but you know it’s a big day for him. 

You both have been sober for over ten months now. Today is the day of his first group meeting. He found Beltway Clean Cops recently, and has been so excited to go. You’re excited for him. You know how proud he is of you, and you want to show him in every way possible that you’re proud of him.

He opens his eyes and smiles up at you. “What did I deserve to get a wake up like that?”

“What kind of question is that? You’re incredible, and an incredible boyfriend deserves an incredible morning. Do you know what else he deserves?”

He hums and waits for the answer.

“An incredible breakfast! That’s why I made blueberry pancakes. Now hurry up and come eat. You should  leave soon if you want to make it to your meeting on time. Have I told you yet how incredibly proud I am of you?”

He smiles, “Only an average of 15.6 times a day since I told you I was going.”

“Well that’s not nearly enough, now come on, get up. It’s pancake time,” you say. “Oh, and Spencer?”

“Yes flower?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

He smiles, “I love you flower.”

“I love you more.”

You ate breakfast together and then forced Spencer out the door, making sure he had plenty of time to get to his meeting. You knew he would regret it if he was late. 

You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you still thought about Randall a lot. You still missed him. You still love him in a way. But now that you had Spencer, now that you were clean together, you would never risk going back to him. 

That day where you agreed to go to breakfast with him, Derek asked you if you wanted to press charges. You didn’t, you don’t regret that either.

You’re even more proud of yourself this way, because you know he’s still there, still accessible and available to you, and still didn’t run to him. You know that any trace of Randall in your future is gone. 

You know you and Spencer are finally clean.

“Ten months sober, I must admit Just because you're clean don't mean you don't miss it Ten months older I won't give in Now that I'm clean I'm never gonna risk it”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

[partywithgyu]

TXT REACTION.

S/O being insecure about her body / looks.

Warning: Suggestive stuff for Choi line. Mention of bad eating habits.

Choi Yeonjun.

The heated make out session was bound to lead to things, you knew. Yeonjun had his arms around your waist as he kissed you, greedily. You were greedy too. You wanted more, he could tell. Pulling away, he asked, "Do you want to go ahead?" You looked at the man before you. This was the first time you two were going to do this act, so a little nervousness was bound to get you. Not letting ir get in the way, you decided that you wanted to do it. "Yes, please," you said.

The edges of his lips curved a little, as his fingers held the end of your t shirt. He lifted it, taking it off. Maybe it was the fact that he himself was a very beautiful person, that made you feel rather conscious about your body. You found yourself wondering if he had formed an opinion on it.

Now that he had access to more of your skin, he started kissing you neck. The kisses trailed down to your collar, his hand softly pressed your still clothed thighs. The insecurity took your attention away from the kisses. When you seemed to move a little far from him, Yeonjun stopped. He looked at you clueless.

"Are you fine? You don't have to do this," he started to say. You shook your head feeling a little bad about how you must've made him feel as you stepped back. "I want to do it. It's just that," you started to say. To admit your insecurities was a tough thing to do. So your gaze wandered around. "I am worried that you won't find me very beautiful," you added.

Yeonjun's eyebrows furrowed. "You're beautiful. I find you very very beautiful," he confessed. "Not like that. I was talking about my body," you let him know. You couldn't look him in the eyes so you stared down at the floor. "I just don't want to be less beautiful than you'd expect." Yeonjun felt bad for not noticing this earlier. "Look at me, please," he said softly. You did that only because of how comforting his voice was. "Don't feel like that. All bodies are beautiful because they all hold their uniqueness. You don't have to look a certain way to be beautiful to me, I swear."

"Really?," you asked. "Really," he assured making you feel a lot better. He raised an eyebrow. "If you want me to, I could always prove how much I meant that."

Choi Soobin.

Soobin had noticed how you had been avoiding situations that would lead to things. He was observant like that. It made him worry a little. He was afraid that he had done something wrong the last time you two had sex. It was a thought that stayed in his head for a long time. There was a reason you did this. The change in you weight made you feel bad about your body. You didn't want him to notice it too. You believed, if you yourself didn't like the way your body was looking , he wouldn't like it either.

On this very night when you two were watching a movie, he noticed how you didn't sit as close to him as you usually did. You yourself were worried about him noticing it. He paused the movie. You looked over at him. His expression was a little serious. "Babe, is everything fine?," he asked you. You faked a smile. "Yes. Does something seem wrong?," you asked nervously.

He could tell you were hiding something. He knew you well. "I think you have been acting a little weird," he said to you. All you could do was act clueless. The man on the other end of the couch wouldn't buy it but you could try. "What do you mean?" Soobins didn't want to force you into confessing the truth. So, he decided to talk you in a softer tone. "Listen. If there's anything wrong that I did, you can tell me," he went on. "You've not done anything wrong," you said immediately. You knew there was a possibility that your actions could lead to him thinking that about himself. So, you decided to tell him.

"It's just my weight." You could not leave tell him just that so you went on. "I have a hard time maintaining the same weight. Whenever I look in the mirror now a days, I feel really ugly." Your tone only became sadder as you went on. His heart sunk on hearing that. He felt bad for not noticing it before. "Ugly? You aren't ugly. How can you even think that?," he said to you as he moved closer. He cupped your face. "You can lose or gain a lot of weight and I won't find you ugly. Gaining or losing weight doesn't make someone ugly. Don't think so much about it, okay?" You just looked at him in silence because you were a little surprised at the confidence behind his words. "Okay?," he asked again. "Okay."

Choi Beomgyu.

Beomgyu and you were shopping online for some lingerie. It was an idea you had come up with a while ago. He sure would like to pick the lingerie you would wear for him. However, things weren't going as well as you expected them to. As the two of you scrolled through the images, you found yourself wondering if the lingerie would look as good on you as it did on the models.

The thought of Beomgyu thinking that you looked underwhelming in them, now that he had seen them on the models, scared you. "Look. This red one will look nice on you," said the man excitedly. You gave him a small awkward smile. "What if it doesn't?" You immediately regretted asking him that. You didn't mean to share to him about your insecurities. "Red looks good on you. Why? You like something else?," he asked not really getting the hint. You sighed. "Not what I meant. Add it to the cart though," you said as you turned your attention to the screen.

"What did you mean?" Beomgyu could be stubborn about such stuff you knew. There was no way he was going to let go of the topic. So you found yourself telling him the truth. "I meant that, will anything look good on me? I have to have a good body for anything to look nice on me," you said to him. He spoke against that immediately. "You have a great body."

You sighed. "You're saying that to make me feel nice." He clicked his tongue. "Wow. How can you be so clueless? You really don't know how hot you are?," he asked you. You still didn't seem to believe him but he wasn't going to shut up until you believed him. He wouldn't be able to go by his day knowing that you are insecure about yourself. The fact that to believe that about yourself, made him feel bad. Like he had done a bad job of not hyping you up.

"Come here," he said to you. Holding onto your hand, he lead you to a mirror. In front of the mirror, you two stood. "Look at that! That's one hot person!" His animated tone made you chuckle. It was cute to watch him try his best to cheer you up like that. "And you are there too," he added making you low key cringe. You didn't hide it. Your expression said it all. Beomgyu just gave you a big apologetic smile for the lame joke. "Okay. I was joking. Look at you! You are so hot!" "Yeah. Yeah." "Say it."

You looking at yourself in the mirror you said what he expected you to, "I am hot." "Louder." "I am hot." He chuckled. "One more time," he said to you. "What's your name?," he added. "Y/N." "What are you?" "Hot."

From that day on he would randomly ask you those questions often. Many times a day, you would have to call yourself hot.

Kang Taehyun.

When he had asked you to come to the gym regularly with him, he just wanted your company. You found yourself wondering if you had gained enough weight for him to say that. He was being subtle about it, you thought. You jumped to a conclusion and found yourself being dedicated to your goal of losing weight.

You'd be measuring your weight more than once a day. Often Taehyun would find you wrapping a measuring tape around your body. The measurements you'd take, would be noted in a book by you. Soon, you found yourself questioning if even fruits were worth eating. They would just add to the calorie you believed. Skipping a meal or two wasn't a big deal to you.

Taehyun felt bad when he noticed how strict you were being with your meals. The portions were small. You wouldn't even binge on snacks during movie night. He had lost your company for midnight snacking too. Instead you would sit by yourself in the room, reading a book or playing a mobile game. He didn't like it.

He decided to talk to you about it, so he sat you down one day. In front of you, he placed a plate of chocolate chip cookies you liked. You looked at the plate and then at him. Your lips curved into a small apologetic smile. "You love these," he said to you. "I know. It's just that I am trying to lose weight," you said to him. "By skipping meals?," he asked. You couldn't exactly agree with him. You were aware you weren't doing the nicest thing. Yet, you found yourself doing it.

"You need to take care of your health. Now will you get any nutrition if you skips meals," he started to say as he picked up a cookie. He started eating it. "Honestly, I know skipping meals isn't the best thing to do. But I find myself doing it. The thought of losing weight makes me do it. I have started counting calories and it's making me too paranoid," you confessed to him. You needed his help to break this bad habit. Taehyun could help you, you believed.

"Your metabolism will be a mess," he said to you. "I know." He sighed softly. "Being healthy isn't being skinny. It's about staying active, eating a good amount of food and having a good mental health," he continued explaining. It was sad how you knew all this. You felt like a fool for forgetting it. "You go too hard on yourself," he added. "I am just like you, aren't I?"

He rolled his eyes at your comment, smiling a little. "I know it's difficult to be confident. Please try though," he said genuinely. "I wish you'd see yourself the way I do. You're beautiful, just in case you don't know," he added. "Oh. I know."

Huening Kai.

It was a beautiful day. On a day like this it made sense to put on cute outfits and head to a café and then a park. It was when you guys were at the café, you pulled out your phone to take a picture of beautiful boy. Showering him with compliments as you clicked the pictures. He returned the favor of course. He took your pictures only to notice a small frown on your face as you saw it. You didn't seem to like it. Perhaps, it didn't turn out that well, he thought and took down a mental note to do a better job next time.

In the park you refused to get your photos taken. "It's alright. I'll take your pictures instead," you said to him. You clicked a lot of beautiful pictures of him. As you two went through them, you spoke about how pretty the scenery looked. You loved the flowers too. "Are you sure you don't want to take pictures in this beautiful place?," he asked you. You shrugged. "What's the point? I don't look good in any of them anyway," you said to him.

"I'll do a better job than I did at the café," he said to you making you chuckle. "I didn't mean that, you dummy. I meant my face. We need more than good lightings and angles for it," you said in a casual tone. It was surprising to him how you seemed to have accepted the false idea as the truth. He didn't want to turn the mood all serious. So, he decided to handle the situation in a light and casual way. "It was my bad skills I swear. You have the most beautiful face. I will do a better job. Go pose."

You did end up posing for photos. Huening Kai was dedicated to taking really good pictures of you to prove a point. After clicking a few, you headed to him. You stood beside the tall boy, ready to face disappointment again. He wasn't going to let you feel bad about the photos no matter what. "Wow. I did such a good job here! You look so good!" Bright compliments left his mouth as you two went through the photos. "Wow. I can't even tell who's the flower!" You laughed at his comments. He only kept going. "How can someone be so beautiful?!"

‹•.•›

a/n: Hey! I wanted to take a moment to say idealization of impractical beauty standards can leave us all feeling bad about ourselves. Let's remember that our bodies are more than props for insta pictures and be easy on ourselves. ♡

To head to my masterlist click here.

[rainydayhogwartsimagines]

Fred x Y/N request: could you do one where they have been like friends w/ benefits or like together but not together where the reader really thinks he doesn’t like them but then they get sick/injured and have to go to the medical wing and is confused when Fred shows up? Like a little angst a little fluff!

P.s. love your work!!!!

THIS. IS. PERFECT.

Warnings: because of the fact that I cannot write about a penis to save my life and only been able to like once, there will only be implications that you have had sex. I apologize for being a pansexual disaster.

You and Fred. My God you were complex. Fred was your best friend. You loved spending time with the boy and hanging out with him. But you weren't just his best friend though. You were a friend with... Benefits. You two had some... Fun ways to pass the time and before you ask: Yes, George was WELL aware of the situation. However there was a slight hitch in this wonderful little set up. One of you formed feelings. That was you.

You never said anything because... Well there's a reason why you're friends with benefits right? Not his girlfriend. Although, you are the only girl in his life when it comes to... That. You'd never say a word though. To be honest right now you were trying to weasel your way out of the predicament you were in. You were absolutely positive that if you remained friends with benefits with Fred while you had feelings you'd be wrecked.

You were walking down the hall, books in arms when you felt an arm around you. "Hi Fred." You said walking. "I will never be able to figure out how you are able to tell me apart from my brother." Fred chuckled. "to be fair: you're the goofier one." You said making him laugh. "what are you doing this afternoon? " Fred asked. "quidditch? remember today is the big game?" You said. "Right! Right! Are you... Ready?" He asked. "To kick Slytherin into the dirt? Yes Fred I am." You chuckled. "Well after the game maybe we can... Find some ways to celebrate." He suggested. You chuckled. "If that includes studying for exams, then sure." You said. "Oh come on Y/n, we haven't hung out in a while." He said. "Hang out as in... That. I know." You sighed. "No, we actually haven't hung out in general and it's like you've been avoiding me lately." Fred said. "I'm not avoiding you, my dad has been riding my ass about my grades." You lied. "Well maybe I can help you study." He suggested. You looked at him with a brow raised. "promise no distractions?" You said. "...I promise. Ish." He said. "Fred." You sighed. "I promise!" He said. You held out your pinkie and he groaned before making a pinkie promise.

Three hours later you were in the changing rooms. Quidditch. Your favorite sport. For some reason Harry was unable to participate today so you were the seeker. You cracked your knuckles grabbing your broom and walking out. "Ready to do this Love?" Fred asked in your ear making you jump. "Wait what did you just--" "MATCH. START!" the announcer yelled and Fred flew off. You were watching the others play for a while, waiting to see that gold glint when your broom shifted forward. "Uh... What the--" your broom tilted and you screamed, catching Fred's attention. Someone was hexing your broom. "SHIT!" you gasped as you narrowly missed the crowd. That's when you noticed Pansy. That bitch. You gripped the broom trying to gain more control to get it away from the stands when it launched straight up. Well at least now you were away from the crowd. You growled, gritting your teeth when your broom went ballistic. You screamed, holding on for dear life before you saw the gold glint beneath you. You had to come up with a plan and fast. So you did the most logical thing you possibly could.

You let go. You fell down, releasing a loud thud in response. Fred's heart dropped seeing this as the game came to screeching halt. He sprinted to you lifting you into his arms before you spit something out of your mouth. Grass mostly... And the golden snitch. Fred let out a relieved laugh and you chuckled before wincing. "Ow. Ow ow ow." You whined. "Where does it hurt dear?" Madame Pomfrey asked. "is everywhere a conclusive answer?" You asked. "Oh dear, we should get her to the medical wing." Mcgonagall said.

Just like that you were hauled off the team all cheering as you left. "That was one hell of a way to win a match!" George laughed. "Yeah... I suppose.. but she shouldn't have been so reckless, what the hell was she thinking!?" Fred asked. "Careful there. I'm beginning to think you've got feelings for Y/n." George teased. "....." Fred's silence made George raise a brow. "...You actually do have feelings for Y/n--" "KEEP IT DOWN GEORGE!" Fred said. "sorry! But seriously? I thought you two were just.... Uhm... Not involved. Romantically?" George said. "We're not....." Fred said. "I'm sorry how does this arrangement of yours work?" George asked. "....We sleep together platonically and then spend time together as friends." Fred explained. "....And by sleep together you mean--" "Sex George. I mean sex." He sighed. "Okay. And you have feelings for her?" George said. "For the 100th time, yes." Fred groaned. "when did you start feeling this way?" George asked. "Last month. After she..." He shook his head with a laugh. "She smacked me with a book after I made a joke and I just looked at her... And I knew I wanted to be with her." Fred said. ".... Well tell her then!" George said. "What?" Fred asked. "Tell her! Come on Fred we're always saying to live like we're dying! You're going to regret not saying anything later, so just tell her." George encouraged. "I don't think you know how absolutely terrifying that is." Fred said. "Sure I do. How do you think I felt when I asked Angelina out?" George said making Fred's eyes wide. "You crazy bastard-- you finally did it!?" He asked. "Yeah. Just tell her Fred." George said. He sighed and looked in the direction of the medical wing. "I can do this!"

"I can't do this." He whined to George in front of the medical wing. "Yes you can." George said. "No I can't George, my legs won't move!" Fred said. "Oh! Alright then." George said. Thank god. This was over-- George kicked Fred forward into your view and you rose a brow. "Fred?" You asked. "Uhhhhhh.... Hi." He waved making George snort. "Sorry for worrying you out there. I think Pansy Parkinson hexed my broom." You shrugged. "Did you find anything wrong?" He asked. "Broke my arm. From the fall. Ironically my arm was what broke my fall." You said. "Here you go dear." Madame Pomfrey said handing you a glass of Skelegrow. You drank it and coughed, wheezing as you did. "Christ that is disgusting!" You whined. "It's not butterbeer Y/n, it's medicine." Pomfrey sighed walking away. Fred pulled up a seat and you rose a brow. "You're staying?" You asked. "My best friend is hurt, yes I'm staying." Fred said. You smiled and sighed looking out the window. "Something wrong?" Fred asked. "....This is really cutting into my study time." You groaned. "....Wow." Fred laughed. "I swear Hermione is really beginning to rub off on me." You sighed. You looked at Fred. "uh I did have a question though." You said. "Hmm?" Fred asked. "Before the game... Did you call me 'love'?" You asked. Oh fuck. "uhm... Maybe, it probably just slipped out." Fred said. George facepalmed. "Fred you fucking idiot." George muttered to himself. "Alright. Just threw me off guard you've never really called me... Anything like that" You shrugged. "Sure I do. Gorgeous, darling, sweetheart." Fred listed. "No, I mean those are usually used sarcastically or when we're...." You cleared your throat. "I'm reading too much into this." You said. Oh. Oh! OH. SHE'S LAYING DOWN THE GROUND WORK! "Maybe... You're not reading too much into it?" Fred suggested. "...What are you saying Fred?" You asked. "Maybe... During all of the.. fun, someone started liking the other one?" He said. "You knew!?" You gaped. Fred rose a brow. "What!?" He asked. "You've known this entire time!? Christ how obvious was I being here!?" You said. "Wait you like me!?" He asked. "Wait-- I thought you were-- YOU LIKE ME!?" You said surprised. "Yes!" Fred said. George snorted and you blinked. "I don't believe this-- You and I like each other." Fred said. "I guess we do!" You laughed. "So... Does that mean we're... A thing?" He asked. "Only if you want to be." You said. "Of course I do Y/n." Fred said. You smiled and George finally popped out scaring the both of you. "FINALLY." He said. Wood emerged from behind him. "You made me lose a bet." He said sighing. "What bet?" You asked. "we thought Fred wouldn't say anything until next year!" Wood groaned handing George some galleons. Fred rose a brow. "You were betting on my love life?" Fred asked. Uh oh. "....George you are so dead--" "RUN"

[cybernaght]

Guardian rewatch: episode 4

While patrolling at night in civvies, Shen Wei gets caught by Zhao Yunlan and his merry band of misfits. You’d think that he would maybe quickly morph into his black-cloaked persona, because we know that the can just transform into Hei Pao Shi, magical girl style. Instead of summoning that disguise however, he dons his glasses (a very different kind of mask, but a mask nonetheless), and turns around, bracing himself for what’s to come. 

This is going to be fun. 

(Spoilers for the future episodes)

Let’s look at the situation from Zhao Yunlan’s perspective. What does he really know about Shen Wei? The man is polite, but strangely intense. He is undeniably intelligent, both learned and perceptive, but he is also way too knowledgable on the topic of alien-mutant-demihuman/supernatural for a civilian. He also, as far as Zhao Yunlan knows, walked away unscathed from at least three fights, two of which should have definitely been lethal. He could fall off the roof, and not even look disheveled afterwards. After being connected with two cases, he has now been lurking at a different crime scene entirely. And with all that, Shen Wei is also courageous, kind, compassionate, and understanding. He pushes back when Yunlan gets into his space. I don’t think there is a single moment, not even in this, very soft, episode, when Zhao Yunlan does not know that there is more to Shen Wei than meets the eye. He just doesn’t want professor Shen to be the big bad, and thinking he might be one is making chief Zhao worried and confused. 

Back at the SID interrogation room, Shen Wei is preparing to evade enough so that he does not have to lie too much. Thankfully, he is good at this sort of thing.

Part 1. Zhu Hong.

Zhu Hong is the first to interrogate Shen Wei, and her approach is by the book. She is impassive, but not unfriendly. She asks reasonable questions, such as “why were you so far away from your place of work and your abode in the middle of a night?” and “aren’t you a little bit too composed in face of death and spooky things for a professor?” Those are technically right things to ask. It’s exactly what should he asked in this scenario. Shen Wei, being much more of a sly bastard than he was letting on, turns it around completely and instead of answering anything plainly, talks about the Snake Tribe, implying that Zhu Hong must be a disappointment to her people. 

Zhu Hong storms off. Instead of being concerned, this time Zhao Yunlan is... endeared at the power move of cosmic proportions. It’s almost like he enjoys this man’s ability to use people’s weaknesses against them.

Part 2: Chu Shuzhi

Lao Chu approached the problem of Shen Wei by trying to scare him: he brings in his brother/puppet, and pretty much ignores the man. For Shen Wei this is an easy one, which is extremely unfair. He knows Chu Shuzhi and his past, which means does not need to find an opening; he just pounces right away, commenting on how Chu’s puppet seems alive, even trying to grab at it. His willingness to exploit his knowledge of his colleague’s dark past is kind of eerie.

“You confidence and composure remind me of someone I know”, comments Chu Shuzhi. And now, now Shen Wei purses his lips. He thinks, as do the viewers, that he must be speaking of Hei Pao Shi. But then Chu Shuzhi states that that other man is much more worthy than Shen Wei, we are to understand that he is talking is about Zhao Yunlan. Shen Wei stares at the chief through the mirrored glass, noting that whoever that person is, they must be truly righteous. 

Lao Chu very rarely speaks highly of his chief, so it’s nice to see some of that admiration here. If you squint, his comment could even be read as protective: he is neither deaf, nor stupid, and Zhao Yunlan must talk about Shen Wei a lot. 

Part 3: Zhao Yunlan

Zhao Yunlan does not try to intimidate, pressure, or follow any reasonable protocol. Instead, he just asks Shen Wei to be honest with him, and say whether there is a connection between him and the cases. Shen Wei startles at this, his eyes going big and vulnerable, and does, in fact, tell him the truth. Well. Sort of the truth. It’s closer to the truth than it is to a lie. It’s complicated. 

It’s hard to say for sure whether this perfect kicked puppy expression is an act. I, for one, choose to believe that he just sometimes cannot control his face when he’s in the vicinity of the man who will become his Kunlun. 

Zhao Yunlan counts his eyelashes, and lets him go. Just like that. No surveillance, no further questions. Shen Wei is just free to leave. 

The following day marks Guo Changcheng and Chu Shizhu being on the case together for the first time. 

It’s not remarkable, apart from being the first very tiny step from the least likely working duo to the most important people in each other’s lives. They would not get along for a while, however. It will take time for Guo Changcheng to find resilience through his weaknesses, and for Chu Shizhu to start admiring this young man’s ability to throw himself into danger he cannot possible handle. 

As this happens, we get to meet a righteous youth which is Lin Yusen. He lost the girl he likes to the face snatcher, and is prepared to do a lot of stupid things to avenge her. He’s noble, brave, extremely reckless, and a bit of an idiot, all of which are characteristics which should actually make him very suitable for the SID. I believe Zhao Yunlan when he agrees to take the boy on board after graduation. It’s a shame that he needed to die to create a plot device. 

Zhao Yunlan and Lin Yusen run into Shen Wei. Or rather, Shen Wei plants himself right next to SID, in order to calmly ask to tag along. He does not actually have a good reason to do so, I don’t think. It makes more sense to get involved as Hei Pao Shi than as Shen Wei, especially if he wants to keep pretending that he is a normal human. 

What Zhao Yunlan should so is keep the man he arrested the night before very far away from the case. What Zhao Yunlan does do is express vague concern for Shen Wei’s well-being, and then agree for him to join in, because, apparently, when Shen Wei is determined, there is no way to refuse him. Yunlan’s got it really really bad for this man, and it shows. He is rewarded with one of Shen Wei’s little secret smiles. 

Okay, now, can we talk about how they are literally touching as they walk by each other? 

I thought maybe this was a forced perspective thing, but no, they walk perfectly side by side, and so close their arms are rubbing together as they do so. It’s been a very long time since I have walked with anyone closely side by side (2021 feels), but I’m pretty certain you can’t achieve this accidentally. 

They find the victim who is not the victim, and Shen Wei is jumped by the perpetrator who is not the victim’s boyfriend, getting scratched hard enough to draw blood. Unfortunately, by the time Zhao Yunlan shows up, his skin has already repaired itself, leaving Shen Wei to pretend like the blood, crusting over what clearly used to be scratches, is not his. 

You’d think that while spending several decades pretending to be human you would learn to not accidentally heal yourself. 

The perfect “what the hell are you?” face. 

Instead of addressing it, Zhao Yunlan moves to shout his head off at Lin Yusen for getting involved, even though he was not the one who got attacked. I love the double standards at play. Shen Wei, in his mild, compassionate way, references the youth of his own name, reminding him to rely on other people for strength. I am sure this is a literary reference, incomprehensible to a foreign viewer; it sounds insightful and beautiful. 

As with many things, Shen Wei will learn a wrong lesson from this in the end, hyper focusing on his name, rather than remembering that going at it alone can get you killed. Shen Wei’s special power is learning, apart from when he is learning the wrong thing.*

As the two men proceed to interrogate the woman, and Zhao Yunlan figures out that the victim is not the victim via the misogyny: he does not think that a young woman could fend off an attack, or that she would be comfortable strolling around the day after. He makes his conclusions in front of slender Shen Wei, who has been attacked by things and people seemingly stronger than him and shook them off with ease. 

The thing is, Zhao Yunlan is not an idiot, he remembers that Shen Wei should have died on him at least twice, and is staring intently at where blood should definitely be soaking Shen Wei’s jumper. He is not really letting him off the hook for this. But he must see as plainly as we do that they work well together, and he makes a clear, deliberate decision to trust the man either way. He proceeds to discuss the case with Shen Wei, who also concludes that the victim is not the victim.

It’s lovely to see SID squad in action, staking out the perpetrators. Zhu Hong is set up as bait, with Da Qing and Chu Shuzhi having her back, and Lin Jing being their eye in the sky. There is a strange anti-yashou thing happening with the team however, which I find quite hard to understand. Lin Jing is giggling at her applying makeup, Da Qing saying that he is excited to see her pretending to be a lady. Come on now, guys, I know she is probably eating raw meet in her spare time, but she is also a beautiful, elegant young woman. I mean, look at her! 

While the team is staking out the Undergrounder perpetrator, their boss is having a lovely evening stroll through the park with Shen Wei, talking about merits of intimate friendship. We can assume that they spent the rest of the day together.

“Does Wei in your name have a deeper meaning?”

“It does. Someone very important gave me that name.”

I assume Zhao Yunlan hears the same thing in this as every sane person would: “my parents gave this name to me when I was born”, as opposed to “the love of my life who looks like you, sounds like you, acts like you, and has a thing for candy, gave me this name ten thousand years ago”. So, Yunlan starts talking about his family, makes a comment that his mom would have loved Shen Wei. The conversation is quiet and honest. There is some flirting, naturally, but there is no digging and no games; just the two men getting to know each other. 

Zhu Jiu ruins their stroll, and at the same time the face stealer and her boyfriend, Jia Hui, walk around the surveillance, capturing Zhu Hong. The team then does not call their Chief, presumably because they don’t want to disrupt his date. 

Shen Wei’s solution to throwing Zhao Yunlan off his scent is pretending to be hurt once more: this time drawing blood by prickling his finger on one of Lin Yusen’s trap. While it will not work in the long run, Shen Wei breathes a sigh of relief at Yunlan’s overreaction, and agrees to go to A&E with him to get a tetanus shot, as if it’s a thing people do every time they have a minor cut. 

We then meet Wang Xianyang pre-evil, and his pregnant wife pre-dead. Good times.

Guardian’s insistence on making Zhu Hong a damsel in distress is slightly grating. She should not need help to be rescued: she is not a human, and she shown to have a number of powers in this very episode. I almost wish her reliance one Zhao Yunlan could be read as an excuse to be close: I would prefer that to her being side-lined because she happens to be a woman.

If those recaps continue, I will start focusing more on fight sequences when they happen, because one of my jobs is in stage violence. This episode, we only get one fight, however, and it’s only four moves long. It’s more of a capture, really: Chu Shuzhi blocks a left hook and puts Jia Hui’s arm in a lock, then does the same thing on the other side. We are to understand that Jia Hui never stood a chance here. This lock would have looked better and more vicious if the elbow was more bent, putting the hand higher on the back. Also, continuity, what continuity? 

Shen Wei, who probably teleported out of the A&E, goes back to patrol the streets against Zhu Jiu, still in civvies, because being caught once was not enough for him. After a brief stand-off, he fails to capture the baby goth villain, who taunts Shen Wei with his only visible weakness: Zhao Yunlan.

Being distracted thus, Hei Pao Shi does not arrive in time to save Lin Yunsen, who runs in to save the SID team from the face stealer about to take them all out. On top of that, Hei Pao Shi also informs Zhao Yunlan that he’s taking the young man’s body away with the perpetrators, citing the peace treaty violation on his part. Needless to say, Yunlan is actually incredibly angry and upset at this turn of events, even though he probably could have summoned Hei Pao Shi if he wanted to; and must know that the Envoy is just doing his literal job. As he is storming off, Shen Wei stares at his back with naked longing. 

Zhao Yunlan does not know that Shen Wei took Lin Yunsen away to spare his feelings as the young man was forcefully turned into a mixed-energy bomb. This episode is when we discover that being mixing dark and light energies together leads to adverse effects for the carrier, resulting in a spectacular explosion. Shen Wei will use this knowledge in the future in ways I don’t care to remind myself of. That said, I do like is well-structured narratives, with a decent amount of foreshadowing, and elements are set-up in good time, so it’s satisfying - in an abstract, detached, sort of way -  to see that that particular plot device is already present in the story. 

At the end, we are treated to another sneak preview of the past: this time with the naming scene. Shen Wei vouches to keep his promise he once gave Kunlun to bravely march onwards, despite everything, and chooses to step aside. For now. 

(By which I mean while he will temporarily stop inviting himself along to solve cases with Zhao Yunlan, he will still get an apartment across the hall from the other man to better stalk him.)

I would also like to note with a hint of sadness that the first onslaught of dubbing glitches happens this episode. I thought those would not start until later in the show. 

Next up, Episode 5: The Butler Did Not Do It

*I don’t actually remember if his special power being learning is something explicitly stated in the show canon, or if I have just absorbed this through fandom osmosis. 

[songsformonkeys]

Digging Up Bones (whiskey x f!reader) - chapter 3

[Banner by the lovely @yespolkadotkitty ]

Summary: You work for the Statesmen as the head of their medical department. It’s your job to patch up anyone who gets back wounded and to work on ways to prevent them from getting badly wounded in the first place.

Agent Whiskey, in particular, seems to be more accident-prone than the rest and he never passes up a reason to come see you, whether for real injuries or imaginary ones. The two of you form a close friendship, which slowly turns into something more.

Then a British man with a headshot wound and a fascination with butterflies shows up in your emergency room and in the events that follow you’re forced to reevaluate just about everything you thought you knew about your partner.

Warnings: canon typical violence

Masterlist

Chapter 3

The following three days passed in a slow fashion. Not just because Whiskey was gone but the rest of the agents seemed to be staying out of harm's way as well. It was a bit boring, but that was something Tonic had taught you not to complain about out loud since it apparently made it sound like you longed for injuries and carnage.

On the bright side, the slow days gave you, Ginger, and Tonic time to begin interviewing the agents on base for their emergency folders for the Alpha-gel.

The three of you had realized that while the gel and the nanites healed the brain perfectly fine they still needed something to counter the retrograde amnesia, which seemed to be a standard side effect. The sample of agents that had needed to use the gel was still small and so you couldn't draw too many sure conclusions from it, but every single one of them so far had suffered memory loss. It had been Tonic's idea that reminders of a past trauma might jump-start the memory again. The results had been good but guessing and digging up past traumas had been painstakingly difficult and had taken up more time than ideal. So you had collectively decided that each agent should have a file or a folder containing their very worst memory and ways it could be triggered.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 On Wednesday evening, you curled up in your armchair and called Whiskey. He picked up after three rings.

“Moonshine, “ he drawled, voice sounding a little tired.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you asked, suddenly feeling a little bad. It wasn't that late in the evening but maybe Whiskey had needed to tuck in early.

“No no, I was awake,” Whiskey assured you, “Just got home from a looong day at an art auction. I'm not sure if you've ever been but it is possibly the most boring thing I have ever done.”

“Yeah? What was so bad about it?” you asked, smiling to yourself. You would be caught dead before admitting it out loud but you had actually missed him these past few days.

Whiskey began describing his day. A soon as he began talking, his voice relaxed you. You pictured him walking around in a swanky hotel room, with a view of the big city, probably still wearing his hat. You were half convinced he even slept in that thing.

Whiskey told you about the auction and the few stuck-up people who had pretended not to understand his southern accent just to make him feel less than. Then he told you about the way he'd later wiped the smug smiles off their faces by actually bidding home the small painting they had been ogling.

“Champ might kill me for it, 'cause it cost a small fortune, but it was worth it!”

“What will you do with the painting?” you asked.

“Hm,” Whiskey said and you didn't need to see him to know that he was shrugging, “Dunno. Might hang it in my apartment. It's a beautiful painting, reminded me of someone special... Speaking of my apartment, have you finished the cake yet?”

You nodded, before remembering that he couldn't see you.

“Yes, Ginger and Tonic helped me eat the rest of it.”

You had been over to Whiskey's apartment the day after he'd left. When you'd gotten to work, his key had been in a white envelope on your desk and you hadn't been able to keep your curiosity at bay for longer than a workday.

The apartment hadn't been quite what you thought Whiskey's home would look like. It had been much neater and cleaner than you had expected, for starters. You had expected more of a bachelor pad but Whiskey's apartment was quite nice. It looked lived in but not messy. Each thing seemed to have its own designated spot. As you had walked around the living room towards the kitchen you had taken in the big, comfortable-looking couch and multi-colored knitted blanket that looked like it was homemade.

There had been a couple of books on art history resting on the wooden coffee table. You had stopped, slightly in awe, in front of the big bookshelves that covered a whole wall of the room. You'd never pictured Whiskey to be the reading type, but here was clear proof otherwise. You had scanned the titles of the books and the exceptionally wide array of subjects made you suspect that a lot of these had been read for previous missions. But there had been a whole shelf of fiction too and you smiled a little as you noted that a lot of them seemed to be old western classics.

You had found the cake in the fridge in the equally clean kitchen. The cake had been in a plastic container and Whiskey had stuck a post-it note with a smiley on the lid.

“I liked your bookshelf. And I borrowed a book from you,“ you confessed over the phone and Whiskey chuckled in response.

“Is that so? Which one, if I may ask, was it that caught your fancy?”

“Lonesome Dove.”

“Ah, a classic! Didn't have you pegged as a western girl, Moonshine.”

“I'm not sure if I am, I've never read any. But you had a lot of them and I thought...” You cut yourself off, glancing over at the book on your bed, “You had a book on human anatomy as well that looked interesting and one on make-shift medical treatment when you don't have access to a hospital. I didn't take those, though. It felt wrong to take so many books without asking...”

Whiskey chuckled again and the sound did weird things to your insides, or maybe it was the nerves of having just admitted to raiding his bookshelf.

“Darlin', if it makes you happy, you are more than welcome to help yourself to any book in that apartment”

“Really? But what if it's a book that you suddenly need?”

“Then I'll know perfectly well where to find it.”

You couldn't really argue with that logic, didn't really want to either because the prospect of getting to read all those books almost made you giddy.

“So besides ogling my books, what else have you been up to while I've been gone?” Whiskey asked and you proceeded to tell him about the work with the Trauma Folders, which Tonic so affectionately called them.

“You still haven't submitted yours either, by the way,” you told him. Whiskey didn't immediately answer. The line was dead silent for a few seconds and just when you were about to ask if he was still there, he cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I know. I promise to get right on that as soon as I'm back, okay?” He sounded a little odd and your brow furrowed slightly. Whiskey cleared his throat again.

“Look, darlin', I'm pretty dead on my feet right now and as lovely as your voice is to listen to, I think unfortunately we gotta hang up before I start snoring on you.”

“Oh, of course! Sorry, I've talked too much.”

“Hardly,” Whiskey replied and his voice was warm and soft again, which eased the nervous knots that had begun forming in your stomach at his abrupt attempt to end the call. Usually, that was your role to try and say goodnight and his to try and linger. “I cherish every word, which is why I prefer to be awake for them. Call me tomorrow again?”

“Sure. Good night, Whiskey.”

“Good night, darlin'”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 If the previous days had been slow, the following day was anything but, at least when the afternoon rolled around.

Ginger had called you about some very strange low-frequency readings coming from a church nearby in Kentucky. She told you that she and Tequila were gonna go check it out but that you should be on standby, just in case.

You told her to be careful. Ginger was excellent at her job but she was also one of your closest friends and you couldn't help but worry.

After you'd ended the call, you immediately set about preparing the emergency room and double-checking to make sure everything was there. Seeing as neither of you knew what the strange readings had been about, it was difficult to prepare for every possible scenario, and while you knew that the health effects of exposure to extremely low frequencies were being discussed in the medical community, no one knew exactly what the effects were.

It seemed like a lifetime had passed before Ginder called you again. You heard the sound of the helicopter in the background. She told you that they'd be there in thirty and that they were bringing someone in with a headshot.

“I'll get the chamber ready for him!” you told her

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Thirty minutes later, on the dot, you watched as the helicopter landed and Tequila emerged, carrying a man in a suit. The man's face was obscured by the balloon containing the Alpha-gel but his clothes looked expensive.

“Entry point?” you yelled, over the sound of the helicopter as you waved for Tequila and Ginger to hurry inside.

“Straight through the left eye,” Ginger replied and you winced. The left temporal lobe would be damaged, for sure, maybe part of the occipital one too. You were confident that the nanites would be able to rebuild the brain matter but with the temporal lobe damaged you worried that the memory loss might be even more extensive than what you'd seen before and you wondered if it would affect his speech.

“Exit point or is the bullet still in there?” you asked.

“The bullet went all the way through as far as I could tell. Not sure what he was shot with though so we'll have to scan to make sure there's nothing left in there.”

Said and done. When you got down to the medical rooms you first put the man through a thorough scan of his skull. Just like Ginger suspected, the bullet had gone straight through and it luckily hadn't left anything but damaged tissue in its wake. Tequila helped move him over to the nanite chamber. Carefully, you removed the Alpha-gel balloon and quickly closed the chamber around his head.

“What happened?” you asked as you sat down in front of the computer and began tapping away at the keyboard, starting the machine and readying it for the healing and rebuilding process.

“We have no idea,” Ginger said. “We found him like this outside the church, no sign of who had shot him. Inside the church, however...”

“What?” you asked.

“Inside was a total fuckin' bloodbath,” Tequila supplied, “Whole congregation just...slaughtered.”

You looked over at the strange man.

“You think he did it?”

Both Ginger and Tequila shrugged.

“We don't know. But he's got blood on him that isn't his own and there was no gun in his hand so he clearly didn't shoot himself, which means someone got away from that Church alive.” Ginger reasoned, “And there's one more thing..”

She pulled a pair of glasses from the pocket of her jacket. The left glass was shattered.

“He was wearing these. These aren't normal glasses, which means he's not a civilian. And his watch... he's some sort of intelligence. I'll dig around and see if I can find out whom he belongs to.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 You called Whiskey again that evening. He sounded more awake today but you could practically hear the frown on his face when you told him about your strange new guest. He was not happy.

“He's an agent?” he asked.

“We think so. Ginger is running some tests on his glasses and his watch to see what we can figure out but so far we have no idea whom he's working for. So we just have to wait for him to wake up and see how much he remembers.”

“I don't like this,” Whiskey stated. “Not one bit. If he's intelligence, he's dangerous, Moonshine. You shouldn't be alone with him, not under any circumstances!”

“I won't,” you reassured him while rolling your eyes. “Agent Tequila also has an over-protective streak and has, therefore, put himself on guard duty until further notice. I've had him looking over my shoulder all evening.”

You had found it somewhat annoying but Whiskey had instantly calmed down upon hearing that bit of information. He told you to promise to listen to Tequila on this, which you reluctantly did. You didn't tell Whiskey that if the arrangement continued, you would have to come to some sort of agreement with Tequila on how close was close enough for protection. You couldn't have him reading over your shoulder all day long or you'd go stir crazy.

Whiskey continued to ask you a bunch of questions about the strange man and you couldn't answer a single one. He asked you about the signal too and you couldn't give him any answers to that either. It was all Ginger's area of expertise and you told him as much.

“Sorry, darlin', just wanna make sure my favorite girl is safe until I get back.”

Whiskey's words made you smile stupidly, despite the slightly patronizing undertone of them. You would like to think you knew how to take care of yourself, especially around your patients. But you did enjoy it when Whiskey called you his favorite. No one else had called you their favorite before.

After a few more minutes of chit-chat, you both said good night.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 The next day, your patient woke up.

It had been decided the day before that Tonic and Tequila would be the first ones to greet him. Tequila because of the whole bodyguard business and Tonic because he was by far the one who had the most experience with calming people in shock and panic. You had only sulked a little when you'd sat down the desk on the other side of the one-way mirror showing you the stranger's cell. You turned on the cameras in the other room to record the interaction before leaning forward over the desk to watch.

As anticipated, the man was more than a little freaked out by waking up in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces around him.

“Where am I? Who are you?” he immediately asked and you raised your eyebrows as you noted his British accent. The stranger tried to scramble off the bed where he'd been lying. Tequila took a step forward but Tonic quickly held up a hand to stop him.

“You are in a hospital,” Tonic told the frightened man and gave him a calm smile, “My name is To...Tom.”

“A hospital? What happened?” the stranger asked.

“We were hoping you would be able to tell us. You were in some sort of accident and when we found you, you were unconscious.”

Unconscious... that was definitely an understatement to describing having had one's brains blown out through the back of their head.

“Do you remember anything of what happened?” Tonic continued.

The British man looked around the room with wild eyes but he was already calming down a bit. While you were a bit jealous that Tonic, or Tom apparently, was the first one to get to talk to your new patient you had to admit that it was a privilege to get to watch him work. Tonic continued talking to the man and answering his questions by saying just enough to calm him but not enough to confuse him.

You found out that his name was Harry, but he couldn't remember his last name. He was from England and he thought he was 23 years old, which he most definitely was not. You caught Tonic and Tequila exchange a look as Harry told them his age. If Harry couldn't remember anything beyond his 23rd year then you estimated that he had forgotten more than half of his life. And since he wasn't one of your agents, you had no idea how to bring those memories back again...

Tonic and Harry spoke for a while longer and Tonic told him about his injuries. He also told harry about the memory loss. Harry didn't believe him until Tonic guided him over to the one-way mirror separating you from them and let Harry have a look at himself. You stood on the other side of the mirror and could watch as realization dawned on Harry. His breathing immediately sped up again and he was beginning to panic.

“Harry,” Tonic said calmly, “Harry, I'm gonna need you to breathe slower with me, okay? We've seen this kind of memory loss before and we will do our very best to help you recover the memories you can't remember right now”

“Think of it as one hell of a hangover,” Tequila supplied and Harry gave him an incredulous look.

“Hangover?” he asked in a weak voice “I look old enough to be a grandfather and I don't remember any of it... I don't think anyone has ever been drunk enough for that kind of hangover.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Tonic and Tequila handled the whole ordeal in a way that made you proud to call yourself their colleague and they stayed with Harry for most of the day, talking and explaining. Harry listened patiently and you had to give him credit for taking the situation a whole lot better than some of the Statesmen who had gone through the same thing. He was scared and worried, sure, but he managed to keep his panic in check and asked Tonic a whole bunch of relevant questions.

You wished you could have stayed and watched all afternoon but eventually you had to go back to your own office and begin typing up your report.

You had barely gotten two paragraphs in when your phone started ringing.

“Moonshine?” Whiskey said as soon as you picked up and you could immediately tell that something was wrong. He sounded scared. There were car horns blaring and loud crashes in the background.

“Yes. Whiskey what's...”

Whiskey cut you off before you could finish your question.

“Where are you?” he asked and when it took you a fraction of a second too long to answer, he repeated the question, “Moonshine! Where are you?”

“I'm in the office. Whiskey what's wrong?”

“Good! Whatever you do, stay where you are! There's something in the air! People are killing each other!”

“What?” Before you could say anything further, your door burst open and you screamed from surprise.

“Moonshine!” Whiskey yelled, panicked, as Ginger stormed into the office and pushed you out of her way to get to the computer. She began tapping on the keyboard and you watched as she pulled up live feeds from several cameras around the country. Your mouth fell open as you watched the chaos that filled the screen.

“MOONSHINE!” Whiskey yelled again and you realized you hadn't answered him.

“I'm fine!” you quickly assured him and you heard him exhale loudly. “Ginger just showed up. What the hell is going on?” The last question was aimed at them both. The quality of the feeds wasn't the best but there was no mistaking what was going on. All over the country, people were killing each other.

“The fuck if I know,” Whiskey said at the same time as Ginger supplied the slightly more helpful “It's the same signal! It's the same low frequency as we picked up from the church. But this is all over...well the world”

She turned and looked at the phone in your hand.

“Is that agent Whiskey?”

You nodded but then froze as you heard a banging noise on the other end of the line, which sounded much closer than the previous ones. You heard Whiskey curse.

“Whiskey?”

There was another crash and he cursed again.

“I'm sorry, darlin', I seem to have a visitor. I gotta go.”

“Whiskey,” you begged and you heard your own voice break as you spoke his name.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll deal with this and then I promise I'll come right home to you. You just promise to stay inside and stay safe, okay?”

What about you? you wanted to ask, but Whiskey had already hung up.

“He'll be fine,” said Ginger, who must have seen the expression change on your face. You nodded. She was right. Whiskey was an excellent agent. He would be fine.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 He would be fine. You managed to convince yourself of that up until about an hour later when the office phone called. You were too busy clutching your own phone, waiting for Whiskey to call back, to pay any attention to the other phone so Ginger picked it up and answered. She exchanged a few cryptic comments with the person on the other line before ending the call by saying:

“We'll be ready for him.”

After she'd hung up the phone she turned towards you.

“Whiskey's on his way back. He's been stabbed but according to the pilot, he's stable. They're flying him back now. “

[aesthbaby]

Her Secret

Summary: We’re all aware of Emily’s untold secrets that she took to the grave with her but what about Lauren? The one thing both woman have in common is you, and the memories they took with them in both of their deaths

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x Reader

Prompt/request: None, just an idea I’ve had in my head for a while.

Warnings: Cursing | Death

Wordcount: Almost 4k

Master List

AN: Time line might be a little spotty because the show did not give many details but I promise its still comprehensible.

Its beautiful for a sad event. The white flowers are such a stark contrast to her personality. The color reminds you of a time before, before they knew her and before all of this happened. One of your eyes feels kind of funny so you reach for it, pulling back to examine the small drop of water on your finger. You compose yourself and push the large, black, sunglasses up your nose. Maybe you shouldn’t be here. You were dressed in all black with a black umbrella. Despite it being a sad day, it was unnecessarily sunny.

You spot her team making their way down the walk way. Three men carrying the dark coffin with one Caned man in the front and the women in tow. You take a step back into the shadows as they near the podium. As the service progresses the amount of speeches and tears are--overwhelming. Images of Emily, once known to you as Lauren, flash across your mind as you hold back any and all emotions associated with this event. 

You knew she wasn't really "dead," she couldn’t be. Emily Prentiss is invincible and would never go like that. You saw the woman known as "JJ" glances your way but she says nothing about it. Probably assuming you were another one of Emily's secrets taken to the grave.

Emily’s not dead. Emily wouldn’t die like that. 

You kept repeating it in your head.

Italy - 2004

The violets surround the mansion like a protective field. Their peaceful existence mocking your volunteer imprisonment. You only took this job because you and this other agent were the only ones who spoke fluent Italian. She was supposed to take it and you were the understudy or whatever but then she got knocked up so here you are. Being mocked by fucking flowers. Your thoughts are interrupted by Doyle approaching you with his brunette arm dealer on his arm. You turn away from the balcony upon his approach.

“Lauren deve restare qui mentre scappo. Per favore, tienila d'occhio.” Lauren has to stay here while I run out. Please keep an eye on her.  He’s always been so bossy, and for what? To make himself seem more powerful than he actually is? We’re all aware of the danger working for him provides.

“Si signore.” Yes sir. You turn to acknowledge the woman in front of you but she speaks first.

“Perché? Non posso venire con te?” Why is that? Can't I come with you? She whines.

He gives her a look and she backs down. The Captain heads out with his guards behind him, leaving you alone with his lover.

You’re not sure what to do with her. Is this a form of  babysitting?

She clears her throat. “I know.”

Hearing her speak English was a surprise but it makes sense, there was always something different about her. You arch an eyebrow and reply, “Sai...che cosa?” You know....what?

She holds up a finger for you to give her a moment. She turns around and sticks her head out the door; then closes and locks it. “You’re not really from Tirana, are you?” Who is this woman? You maintain a neutral face while she continues. “The fact that you never eat with us was a dead give away. You’re always held up in this room.” She gestures to the large room filled with files, records, and books. “Like you’re trying to avoid something. I’d also like to point out how you rarely present any Albanian customs.” Where are you going with this Reynolds... “At first I thought, ‘Maybe they’re one of Doyle’s assassins that I’m not supposed to know about.’ But then I started paying attention and realized you’re nothing like that.” You let out a sharp breath. “Its okay.” She takes one of your hands. “I won’t tell Ian. There’s already enough death in his life and I wouldn’t want to see you be one of his next victims.”

You’re stuck in the moment and words are hard to form. All of your training is slipping through your fingers. For all you know she could be bluffing, trying to get you killed. You go with your safest option because you don’t know this woman at all. You pull your hand from her and take a step closer. Peering into her eyes for any sign of fear and when you find none, you proceed. Leaning in as close as possible to her. “Non farei acquisizioni così pericolose se fossi in te.” I wouldn't make such dangerous acquisitions if I were you. You whisper. You could never be sure if your suspicions were correct but this, this was all the confirmation you needed. What’s that old saying? Takes one to know one. “Agente.” Finishing off that last word you brush past her.

Virginia - present

 Being back in The States with Doyle still running around is unnecessarily risking. Emily’s defeat is the only reason you’ve come back. To watch her team grieve over the coffin is saddening but having to hide is the shadows is unfair. Am I not allowed to publicly grieve? Are my tears not worthy? The grip on your umbrella tightens. She’s not dead. Emily doesn’t loose. Emotions are running high and the speeches are getting long. Last time you talked, she claimed to be alone. No family and no fiends but clearly she was wrong. What you’d give to be laying under a plum tree on a wool woven blanket with her head in your lap. Eating pastries you raided from the kitchen and telling the Captain that you needed her to help analyze costs. What a fool.

You were so entranced with the memory that you didn’t notice when the pale, dark haired agent approached you. Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief if I’m not mistaken. “Agent.” He acknowledges.

“Sir?” You mumble.

“Your profession was easy enough to guess, though I’m not sure of your name.” Those knitted brown sweaters and golden, dainty necklaces. The short chestnut hair with soft curls that smelled of honey shampoo. The way she’d nudge your foot during dinner while casting discreet glances. Its all gone. “Agent?” He calls again. “Are you alright?”

Before you say anything you make sure your voice is clear. “Tell me Agent Hotchner, did she suffer?” That question didn’t need to be answered but you just had to know. A favor was called in on your behalf by Lieutenant Parks, he gave very few details about her death but you’ll take that over nothing at all. This was the one question you didn’t have an answer for. With nothing but silence from the man, you have your answer.

Reaching for your pocket there’s a small clear box; inside of the plastic is a handful of pressed violets. Without looking you hold the slim box out to him. “Please, make sure she gets them.” After he takes them you make one last note of the sight in front of you. All of her friends, family, and coworkers gathered in one place with Emily’s grave as the centerpiece. You turn to finally face the man, tilting your shades so he can see a bit of your eyes. “Dead or alive.” And then disappearing in to the back of the cemetary.

Italy - Spring of 04′

Two months ago you were staring off of Doyle’s Spanish-styled balcony thinking, “What would happen if I called it quits?” You had enough evidence and entail for him to never see freedom again. So what was stopping you?

Her. She was making you second guess.

After having her call you out for being a spy, you were very careful about what you did and said around her. Its not like she had any definitive proof but at the same time neither did you. What you said that day was a total bluff. Its a miracle you’re still alive. You were left with only two conclusions: one was that she herself is a spy, or two, she’s one of the smartest people Ian has ever brought home.

Then came a day where the boys went out to wherever and it was just you, her, and the maids. Most of them are Russian and speak poor Italian so they usually keep to themselves. You’re at the dining room table pretending to run numbers since that’s literally your job- well that and vetting backgrounds of sellers and buyers. Essentially a secretary with dangerous patrons. The position is mind numbingly boring but it does allow you to remain invisible while observing the operation. Think about it, who’s going to notice the secretary while discussing millions? They’re idiots. They allow you to sit in on every single meeting because you’re just the person who runs numbers. A debatable perk to this job is the amount of free time you posses. Usually its spent digging around the operation, sending information back to HQ, or actually enjoying small aspects of the city. That brings you to right now where you’re doodling random shapes on the bottom corner of the paper.

Lauren is on the couch wearing a button up satin dress, quite short for Ian’s taste so you’re surprised to see her wearing it. She’s read something you’ve never heard of, not that it matters. With no idea why she’s in here with you, you retreat back into your own mind.

“The maids have left.” You suddenly hear beside you, nearly jumping out of your skin.

“You scared me!” At the realization of your chosen language you gasp and watch as Lauren smiles widely. You shoot to your feet repeating no over and over. Actively trying to take back your words while she looks rather amused.

“I knew it!” She points at you all accusingly and shit. You keep shaking your head no and trying to get her to be quiet. “I was right about you!” And here’s the perfect time to have a maid to walk in. Lauren says something to her but you’re too wrapped up in your head to translate. All your years of training, expierence, undercover work has just been thrown away over your stupid mistake.

They’re going to kill me. They’re going to have my head on a stake in the middle of the garden for the world to see- or worse! I’ll be tortured for my crimes by one of Doyle’s men.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the brunette waving her hand in front of your face. “Don’t worry,” She say softly as you notice the house keeper is no longer with you. “I told her they could take a break...” At your confused face she continues. “So now we can talk.”

Virginia - present

To say you had no idea where you were going, was an understatement.

You hadn’t been to Virginia in years so everything felt unfamiliar. You took quick peaks at your surroundings as the rented porshe pushed through the traffic. Everything hurt, not the traditional pain you experience over a broken toe but the emotional kind that coursed through your entire body.

Is this what a broken heart feels like?

You kept telling yourself she wasn’t dead; couldn’t be. Not your Emily, the woman you know is a fighter. She’s fucking invincible and would never let herself die at the hand of that monster. If she was really dead, wouldn’t you feel it? Wouldn’t you feel your connection to her sever?

At the reorganization of the build ahead of you, you pull the car into the left lane.

Italy - Spring of 04′

She is so fucking clingy. Always starring at me when no one is watching and going on less missions with Doyle. Speaking of him, the man likes to take her everywhere; calls her “Ho il mio portafortuna” his good luck charm. She usual goes out with him whenever he’s traveling but lately she’s been making little excuses on why she wants to stay for the day. Instead of spending the day recuperating from a headache (like she’s told him) she’ll bother you.

That accent and the way she pronounces her R’s makes you wanna melt, but then she starts asking you a million and one questions. What’s your favorite food? When’s your birthday? Have you ever broken a bone? Do you enjoy reading? Its always something with her. I think she’s trying to annoy me. So far you’ve been answering her questions in Italian to insure that you don’t fuck up again.

Doyle is none the wiser, he still sees you as a secretary and her as arm candy.

But you must admit that Lauren is growing on you. She hasn’t said anything in English to you lately or exposed you to Doyle. You’re rarely ever alone but when you are, she gives you one of her finished books and sits in the room quietly. Its comforting. Today she’s given you Niccolo Ammaniti with a note scribbled in pencil on the 5th page, “Hang in there.” Smart woman, writing it in light pencil so I can easily erase it without leaving a trace...also paranoid woman but rightfully so.

Virginia - present

You adjust your shoe so as not to slip before going into the building and suck the shades into your pocket. The giant letters, I. O. D. S. stare back at you in Ariel font.

Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this. Just accept her death and move on.

Inside of Investigations of Death Services you nod to the secretary, an ex of yours, and continue on to your destination. While in the elevatored your vision feels blurry but now isn’t the time for tears. Arriving at your floor, you spot his office and walk in without so much as a knock or invitation.

“One second,” he speaks into the phone. “Can I help you?” His dark eyes look angry, like he doesn’t recognize you. You take a step forward, offering your closed palm to him. “What? What is this? A fucking magic trick?” You slowly open your palm towards him, revealing the silver clover pin. The suited man looks like he’s just seen a ghost. “Shane, I’ll have to call you back.” He hangs up the phone, then reaches from you hand. “Where did you get this?”

Snatching you hand back and putting the silver back in your pocket. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

He narrows his eyes on you before answering. “Can’t say I do.”

“Back in 03′ you knocked up Carin and proposed I go on assignment. Granted I was the only person who was fluent in Italian--or so I thought. Come to find out there were five other agents who could’ve been assigned there. You chose me because I was up for your job.” Your anger is boiling over quickly. “You were a shitty employee and they were ready to fire you.” You take a daring step forward. “Until you proposed infiltrating Valhalla with one of the foreign operative agents. You told them there were only two fluent agents. Back then we had never met but I knew who you were, Hell, we all knew how much of a screw up you were. Guess you don’t recognize me anymore? I mean in your defense its been years and I’ve lost a few pounds due to the stress you caused me but that’s for another day. How about we go back to 2003.” For a man with toxic masculinity issues, he looks pretty scared. “You couldn’t just out right suggest me so you have to offer up someone else. Coincidently Carin got pregnant right around the time she was starting her training, by you I might add, and could no longer go.” A wide smile starts to grow on your face. “Bet you were counting on my death, huh?” Awe poor baby seems to be shaking. “No...you’re too much of a pussy for that. I bet you were hoping I’d go to Italy and screw things up for the whole operation.” Now you’re toe-to-toe with him. “Mess up so bad that they’d have pull me out and demote me. Or! Reveal myself and hope Doyle’s men killed me or I’d go sprinting home with my tail between my legs.” His silence is starting to irritate you. “So which is it, Mark? Hmm? Cat got your tongue?”

“I’m sorry!” He yells with a reddened face. Out of the corner of your eye you see his co-works looking through his glass walls but you couldn’t care less. “I’m sorry, y/n. What do you want from me? I’ll do anything!” Now we’re getting somewhere.

You push the pin into his face “Where is she, Mark?”

“Where is who?” He’s still fucking shaking.

“Asking me another stupid question and there will be hell to pay.” You’re not really going to hurt him but considering the circumstances, this is justified. The man put your life on the line over some stupid position, a bit of threatening wouldn’t hurt.

“Okay okay. All I know is that after you left she was taken by ALPHA and later faked her death. When Lauren Reynolds died, Emily Prentiss got to go home and Ian Doyle went to a North Korean prison.”

“And now...”

“Last I heard she was working for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI but was recently killed under suspicious circumstances.” At your expression, he continues. “We know she died during a scuffle with Doyle and there was a funeral but we are yet to have a death certificate on record. Sometimes it take anywhere from a week to a month for us to receive proper records on agent deaths. I thought that-”

“Stop, talking.” You cut him off through gritted teath.

Italy - Autumn 04′

“What is your problem, Lauren?” You’re out on the patio in front of the pool on a warm day. Lauren has a four course meal on the table, courtesy of the chefs.

“Nothing...” She shrugs with a mouthful of strawberry.

“You want me to leave.”

Another fucking shrug.  

“Be serious.” You’re trying to stop yourself from stomping your foot.

She puts down her food and clasps her hands together. “Yes I want you to leave.” You watch as she gets up and smooths her skirt; taking your hands in hers. “Your time is thinning and you’ve been her a lot longer than me.”

“And leave you here alone? No way, I know you’re invincible but even Superman had his down fall.”

“Superman?” She loops you in closer. “Why not superwoman? Awfully sexist of you.”

“Oh, shut up.” You nudge her back a bit. “But wouldn’t you miss me?”

She gives you one of her wide smiles. “Let me show how much I’d miss you.” She leans in for a light kiss against your lips.  You pull away quickly so as not to be seen. El, like the letter, picked out a blind spot that’s covered partially in shadows. “I have to leave in 15 minutes but until then...” She trails with a very telling expression.

“Where?” You laugh. “Not in the second floor bathroom again because that was...tight.”

Her perfectly plucked eyebrow arches upward,  “And you were loud!”

You hop past her to sneak a grape. “Hey! You do know that was mine, right?”

“What are you going to do about it, Superwoman?” You turn to grab another grape, while doing so you feel her presence behind you. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, L.”

“Oh why not?” She lightly trails down your backside. “It’ll be so much fun.”

You turn back to her. “Ten minutes?”

“In the library?” She smirks and you nod along.

Virginia - present

This four hundred dollar airplane ticket is going to serve its purpose but paying it back is going to suck. Your government salary was nice and all but $400 is still a lot.

Just two days before, you rushed around you place to pack all of the essentials for a quick flight to Paris; charger, hygiene, two outfits, and the pin all tucked into a stylish backpack.

That brings us here, standing in the streets of downtown Paris alongside the buzzing mopeds weaving through the streets. In front of you is the little café Elle would go on and on about, naturally this is the first place you could think to look.

You didn’t even know what you were looking for. The woman you fell for was a brunette with light curls and bangs.

You were looking for Emily. The woman Lauren introduced you to. The woman you grew to love in the same way you love Lauren, but Lauren is dead. Has been for awhile, now its time to find Emily. Your Emily.

You find nothing, no one who even slightly revels Emily on your first day there. So you find a hostel to lay your head in and continue on the next day. Again and again with the same routine for five days straight.

You wasted all of your time here for what? A memory? A dream? Two woman who no longer exist on the same astral plane as you?

That’s when you see it, a head of dark brown hair a few tables ahead of where you’re standing. With all hope lost you almost think its a mirage. 

You sit a few tables ahead of her, careful to keep your face hidden. When the waiter comes around to take your order you give him very specific instructions.

Emily’s POV

Being a dead woman is lonely and isolating...at least the coffee is good. The waiter who dropped off the hot beverage not too long ago has circled back with a cheese croissant in hand. That’s odd, I hate cheese croissants. “Cette personne là-bas m'a demandé de te livrer ça.” That person over there has asked me to deliver this to you. He points over his shoulder to a person who’s face I can’t quite make out. “Ils m'ont également demandé de vous donner ceci.” They also asked me to give this to you. He reaches from his front pocket and softly places a silver clover pin that I haven’t seen in years, and a pressed Violet. I can feel the air drain out of my lungs at the objects in front of me. “Merci beaucoup.” The only person who knows what these objects mean are Doyle and-

At the sense of being watched my head shoots up at the source. At first there’s nothing there but then I spot the familiar figure. Its been weeks since I’ve actually seen them, it can’t be. I must be seeing things. Closing my eyes and taking in a deep breathe, I open them to see that they’re gone.

“Boo.” I hear in my right ear; looking up to see y/n standing beside me with a bright smile.

“You scared me!” Realizing how loud I am, I take a breath.

“Miss me Elle?” I left you behind, twice. I died twice without letting you know. You’ve had to start over too many times and its not far.

“Y/n, how did you find me?”

“Really, Elle. Did you really think I’d fall for that party trick you pulled at the BAU? I’m not dull, and besides,” Y/n/n gently puts their hand over mine on the coffee mug. “You’re my Superwoman, you’ll never die.”

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･**･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*˚✧₊⁎ ⁎⁺˳✧༚ ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟ･*:.

@beyondprincess @confused-and-really-hungry @millipop18 @supercorp8388 @groovygoob  @emilyprentisswife@covetedcoven @justaghostmonument @rabid-wild-misfits @nomit16 @afuckingshituniverse @mys2425  @fanfictionfangirl04  @aaron-hotchner187 @lisztomaniacalice @thestrawberrygirl  @miidguardian-exe @criminalmindsmoodrn @ssacandice-ray @davidrossiismydad @garcias-batcave @ssaemxlyprentxss @andreaxxg13 @emilyprentissistoocute @mortallythoughtfulgurl @iamyouknow-yours @aesthbaby​

[beautifulterriblequeen]

B2:S - Chapter 6

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be angsty Soren things, more angsty Soren things, Silence in the Library, Lujanne being Lujanne, moonfam thoughts, and a new headcanon that Katolis has its own version of Vegas now, for crack Reasons

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

Omg it just jumps into Soren angst, nooooo! He still isn't sure what Viren was asking him to do to the princes, and he literally turns around to avoid endangering Ezran before he ever says a word about the slidey-sling go-fast rope

He does call Ezran a little runt, in his own head, but in a "he's weak and must be protected" kind of way

And then we get to the angst: he's so far under Viren's influence that just picturing the sight of his father's face as he says "failure" is enough to turn him back around to go set up some "accidental" regicide

it's a step downward, but that's all the faster anyone descends isn't it, one downward step at a time, and here he's thinking very small, just about his father's approval rating, and he's deliberately avoiding thinking about any other consequences because they're not as scary as his dad

I wonder if the way Viren saved his life when he was little involved his lungs somehow, the way Soren feels about never being out of breath since he's in great shape, like maybe he had bad asthma or got pneumonia or both. When someone survives a weakness, it's pretty common to work hard to strengthen that part of them so it won't fail them and endanger them again. Soren even has a little mantra to help get him through the stress of prolonged physical effort: "there's always more breath where that came from." It's a paraphrase of "this isn't going to kill me, I'm going to be okay" and that's very survivor of him

Soren's interaction with Rayla is so interesting! He doesn't challenge her at all, and he does what she says, risking his own life on his rope creation. It makes him hate her, because he knows what he's doing is wrong, and he hates getting caught doing bad things, but he can't hate his dad, so he transfers those feelings to Rayla instead. He sees her as "mean" and "scary" - but again, those are feelings he really has for his dad, and he can't look at those yet

Rayla visits Lujanne to ask for advice on whether or not to tell Callum what she's always known about King Harrow. In the novel, she doesn't go banging on Lujanne's metal moon sculpture, alas. That's one of the funniest parts of the Moon Nexus scenes for me. But I suppose it's really disrespectful, and Moonshadow society does like respectability

Rayla feels like she's in more of a hurry in the book than in the show, thinking to herself that she doesn't have time for illusions or for puzzles either. She still comes to her own conclusion after hearing and rejecting Lujanne's advice, like when you flip a coin to help you decide something and then you don't like the decision it made. What else is asking during a half moon but flipping a coin?

I still like the implication that Rayla has learned that strong relationships need truth from growing up in Ruthari's tree house. The book doesn't say anything to challenge or change that. I hope we get glimpses of what that looks like in BH - even if it's a bit angsty and the lesson is "we should have told each other more of the truth earlier than this." Rayla's an observant kid, and she studies Runaan like her life depends on it, because it does, so if she watches Ruthari fumble some trust and then fix it, she'll learn in real time the ups and downs of how trust can and should work. That said, she's still copying some of the angsty things Runaan does, like "protecting" a loved one by tricking them and yeeting into danger alone. If he hasn't learned it, then she won't have, either - HOW AM I BACK AT ANGST AGAIN

okay, ending with some good crack

ALERT: LUJANNE HAS AN EXTRA HUSBAND! In the show, she tells Rayla that her protestations about trust needing the full truth "sound like my first three husbands." But in the book, it's FOUR HUSBANDS. Lujanne ran off to Katolian Vegas, got married, and then got divorced during the gap between show and novel, lmao

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Shirtsleeves ~ Enoch O'Connor (part 2)(final)

A/n: @nektotersh here's the last part! Hope you so enjoy

Word Count: 3200+

Masterlist

Y/n kind of expected things to get weird again after he and Enoch fell asleep outside together and woke up cuddling. But they didn't. Instead, Enoch seemed to hover around him more. He was more talkative and easily distracted by Y/n, even if he was trying to focus on something that had always easily held his attention, like his dolls.

Enoch would be mid-insertion when he'd spot Y/n staring at him, watching with fascination. He would stop altogether and just stare at Y/n. Y/n would look up eventually and blush. "Sorry, am I bothering you with my staring?"

"No," Enoch would reassure. Then he'd go back to the doll without further explanation, but it seemed he was fighting off a smile for... some reason.

It was weird and new and... kind of wonderful. On top of the sudden change in how Enoch treated Y/n, he also began to show up more and more into Y/n's room and in the morning they'd wake up cuddling or at least with Enoch's face pressed into the side of Y/n's arm. It was then Enoch began to steal Y/n's shirts that Y/n started to not be able to handle it anymore.

One day Enoch just came to breakfast in one of the shirts Jake had gotten Y/n during his quest to return to them. When he sat down next to Y/n and smiled at him, Y/n nearly choked. His face was so red it looked like he was about to explode, and his mouth kept moving but noise refused to come out. Any noise at all. He just looked at his food for a second before he felt eyes on him and he looked up to see Bronwyn and Emma smirking at him. Y/n ducked his head and began shoveling food as fast as he could, booking it the second his plate was clean. He grabbed his plate once he was done and raced to the kitchen to clean it off and then outside o catch some air- he was in such a rush he forgot to ask to be excused, but Miss Peregrine hadn't seemed to even think about stopping him.

What was going on?!

He felt trapped again like he had in those spaces of darkness, trying to get to Miss Peregrine's Loop before he died. Racing against time and becoming more and more reckless and praying that he was lucky enough to get away with it. But now he felt trapped not by shadows and walls that locked him in his bad decisions - even if they payed off in the end - but by his emotions. His stupid heart which yearned and twisted and begged and demanded. This felt like so much more than friendship. It almost felt like Enoch was... flirting.

But that was impossible! Enoch had made it very clear that he didn't feel that way about Y/n. Or, at least, that flirting had made him uncomfortable. Maybe... I mean was it possible that Enoch had stopped him not because he wasn't interested, but because he was interested and didn't know how to handle it? The fact that he, a guy, liked and wanted to be with another guy, when he grew up in a time where that was not in any way okay?

Oh god he was doing it again.

Enoch didn't feel that way about him. He needed to get over these emotions or they were going to actually destroy him. Pain like the kind heart break wracked on someone so young and impressionable was not worth it. Worth the split second moments of happiness when he almost had what he so wanted just within his grasp, but could never act on it or grasp it firmly because if he did then Enoch would shake him out of his fantasy, and then hurt like no other would be all he was left with. He had spent far too long ruining friendships with his feelings to do it again with Enoch. The only best friend he had ever had.

No, there HAD to be an explanation for this. Y/n could not get his heart broken again. He couldn't lose Enoch's friendship. It wasn't an option. So instead of jumping to conclusions that would lead to delusions and ruin everything, Y/n had to figure out why Enoch was actually doing this?

Maybe this was how Enoch expressed friendship. He'd been closed up in the past, only now really opening up and relaxing. Sine becoming friends with Y/n, Enoch had gotten better and better at being social and all around pleasant to be around, even if he still was quiet and reserved and Y/n had to give him warning looks when he went to do something that wasn't ideal. Like messing with Victor. Or Jake. The harmless, safe pranks had helped him blow off steam without scarring the other children and getting into real trouble. Everyone had appreciated them, even if it meant they usually ended up messy before the sun had even begun to go down. Enoch and Y/n had never really had really close friends before, and both of them were really bad with people. Maybe this is what Enoch did when all his guard was down. I mean, Y/n's bed was a little bigger and Enoch seemed to take comfort in being around him, even if he liked to be alone when it came to the others. And his t-shirts were more comfortable than the clothes Enoch was used to wearing. More breathable and easier to put on. Maybe Enoch had seen Jake and Y/n "sharing" shirts since some of them were the same and they were all from the same places, and had assumed that was another thing friends did. Share shirts. You know what that actually made sense. If Jake and Y/n did it, why couldn't Enoch? He'd never been one to ask permission after all. Maybe he hadn't thought about the message it would accidentally send.

Just friends. They were just friends.

"You okay?" Y/n turned around to the sound of Enoch's voice. At first Y/n had only been fixated on the fact that Enoch was wearing his shirt. He had not, until now, realized how very good Enoch looked in it.

The boy swallowed, trying to keep himself under control. "Yeah." His voice sounded steady enough, even as he had to wet his lips to keep his mouth from going totally dry. "Sorry I had a kind of rough night," he lied. "Needed some fresh air."

Enoch nodded slowly. "Have I done anything to... bother you?"

"Bother me? How could you ever do that now?" Y/n chuckled, brushing it off. "No Enoch you didn't bother me at all. You don't, ever." He didn't want to lose Enoch to his emotions. He didn't want Enoch to withdraw and close up again. He was happy that Enoch finally felt comfortable enough to be acting like this. Taking liberties. He had smiled at breakfast. Enoch NEVER smiled around the others. This was really great! He was happy. Y/n should be too.

"Okay." Enoch's voice was soft. He seemed unsure. Hesitant.

Y/n rose an eyebrow. "Are you okay?" His question was a soft prodding. Concerned.

Enoch scoffed in amusement. "I'm always okay."

It was then that Y/n realized just how different Enoch was from when they first met. His hair was a little messier. His shoulders were relaxed. He seemed more shy than that he hated being around other people. Nervous, instead of irritated. It was adorable. Stop it, he chided himself. "So, what do you wanna do today? The usual?"

Enoch seemed to think for a second. "Yeah," he finally settled on. "Come on, we've got a lot to do." He seemed to pause only a second in hesitation before he looped his arm around Y/n's shoulders. Despite being just a little younger, Enoch was tall enough to pull it off without any issue. When was the last time Enoch had even touched Y/n, let alone like this?

It wasn't until much later that day that something occurred to Y/n to make sense of it all.

"You're acting like Jake."

Enoch almost stabbed himself before putting his tools down, looking like he was a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar as his eyes met Y/n’s. “What do you mean?"

"I was trying to figure out why you've been acting so odd. I mean don't get me wrong I don't mind you sleeping with me or taking my shirts, but you're also touchier and you smile more and it just felt very not-you." Y/n tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. "Why are you acting like Jake?"

There was a second of silence as Enoch swallowed, trying to collect his courage. He'd looked at Jake and saw how everyone liked him. How even in the short few days he'd been there, he'd been able to get Emma to like him despite her hate of relationships after Abe had left them. Jake, who had won over each and every person at the house and had saved them all. He'd thought if he was more like Jake, Y/n would maybe like Enoch like Emma liked Jake. "He's... cool." Enoch shrugged, trying not to choke on the words. There was nothing he hated more than complimenting Jake. This was getting ridiculous.

Y/n looked like Enoch had slapped him. "Enoch what the fuck?" It was the first time Y/n had ever cussed and it made Enoch's eyes go wide. "What is going on with you?" He grabbed Enoch's face, forcing the younger boy to look at him. "You know that you are amazing, right? Just you. You, Enoch O'Connor. YOU are my best friend. YOU are the one who found me and has since learned how to battle my power. You're the one who wakes up at all hours to comfort me when I'm struggling, or who has my back when people press on matters I don't wanna go into. Not Jake. You're enough for me, Enoch. You know that don't you?"

Enoch was knocked breathless. Y/n's expression was intense and insistent, driving home how honest and sincere his words were. Enoch felt them in his core. "Why do you like me? I mean... everyone else hates me. Why don't you?"

Y/n smiled. "You chose me first Enoch. I just chose you back."

Maybe it was the way Y/n was looking at him. Enoch wanted to blame what he did on the feeling of Y/n's hands against his skin. Or maybe that stupid smell that always hovered around Y/n, soothing and familiar and nice. Maybe it was the way that Y/n knew Enoch so well that he had called Enoch out on acting like someone else immediately. Maybe it was that Y/n hated seeing someone else in Enoch's face. That Y/n liked ENOCH, just Enoch, as himself. Maybe it was the pile up of everything that had happened since that very first time they'd met when Enoch had been struck by how pretty Y/n was and how much he wanted to be around the older boy who's rare smile was more beautiful than anything else. Maybe it was how close they were or how warm he felt or the soft feeling of Y/n's shirt that he wore.

Maybe it was just that he was in love with Y/n.

Whatever it was, Enoch leaned forward, pressing his lips to Y/n's very quickly and kind of awkwardly. He didn't know what he was doing and panicked directly after the millisecond moment had passed. But Y/n was pulling him back before he could go too far and kissing him back. Enoch's head spun and he felt his body lock up.

Y/n leaned back, eyes shut tight. "Wh- you- I'm sorry."

Enoch panicked even more. "No! I kissed you first, I should be the one apologizing."

Y/n ran his hands through his hair and Enoch realized they weren't on his face anymore. His skin felt suddenly cold. "Wh-why did you kiss me?"

"I... don't know." Enoch stepped forward and Y/n stepped back again. Enoch frowned. "Did you... not want me to?"

"Yes," Y/n grunted. "God I wanted you to so much." Y/n rubbed his eyes as Enoch stood there, stunned. Opening his eyes, Y/n looked at Enoch with terror. "Do you like me?"

Taking a second to order his thoughts and swallow the lump in his throat, Enoch was quiet at first. Then he nodded, slowly. "I do. Is that bad? Do you not want me to?"

Y/n looked ready to throw up. "Don't get me wrong, I like you too, I just... I spent my entire life waiting for someone to look at me like you're looking at me right now." Enoch tried to collect himself. He found that the walls he'd so easily hid himself in before had come down for Y/n and he felt exposed. Like he was naked in front of a crowd of strangers. He wasn't sure what to even do from here. "I got rejected... so many times. Got approached by girl after girl and I had to come up with some reason that made sense as to why I didn't want them like that, even when we were really chill with each other. Without telling them that I'm... I'm..." Y/n swallowed. "Gay." His face set and a weight seemed to lift off of him. "I've never said it out loud before."

Enoch gave a small smile. "Honestly, when you first told us that you liked guys I didn't know what to think." Y/n looked at him with wide eyes and he found himself just going off. Once he began he couldn't stop and it all came out at hyper speed. "When I first saw you, I felt... different. Different than I felt with anyone else. I used to have friends in my old town, before I came here. Before I started exploring my talent as you call it." Y/n gave a short laugh and Enoch almost smiled, if he hadn't been too nervous to do so. "I mean, it's been ages but I know generally how friendship works. I think. But you, you changed everything. I remembered thinking you were a girl with short hair at first. Your face was dirty but your eyes were wide and bright and beautiful. I remember feeling breathless and drawn to you. Then you talked and I pushed it all out of my head because you were a boy and boys couldn't be attracted to boys. I'd just thought you were a girl. Obviously." Enoch shook his head. "But then you said... and it didn't go away. It just got worse and worse until I felt like... addicted to you, I don't know." He shifted, obviously awkward about sharing his feelings so plainly.

"I know what you mean." Y/n rubbed the back of his neck. "You know they're never going to let this down if we tell them, right?"

Enoch actually laughed. "They've been telling us for, what, three years now?"

Y/n shrugged. "Something like that." He smiled and Enoch felt warmth bloom in his chest. That smile wavered as Y/n got visibly nervous. "What... what now? I mean, are we...? Are you...?" He blushed furiously, struggling to find the words he wanted to say but had told himself since childhood he would always be denied.

Wringing his wrists, Enoch shrugged. His eyes trained on his feet, suddenly very interested in the grass. "I dont know how to... do this. Not even with a girl, let alone another guy."

Thinking, Y/n went quiet. Enoch finally looked up at the older boy before Y/n spoke again. "What if we just tried things? One thing at a time? I mean, we're already comfortable enough to slip into each other's rooms and you're already stealing my shirts." Y/n smirked and Enoch tugged on the bottom of the shirt he was wearing, blushing almost as much as Y/n had. "Maybe we could..." Y/n shrugged, moving closer. Enoch thought Y/n was going to kiss him again until the older boy reached down, taking Enoch's hand before interlacing their fingers. "Is this okay?"

Y/n's hand was warm just like the rest of him. It was soft too. "That's okay." He spoke quietly, staring at their hands in awe.

Brushing his thumb across Enoch's knuckles, Y/n continued, "And this?"

"That's fine too," Enoch confirmed.

Slowly, Y/n brought the back of Enoch's hand to Y/n's lips. "And that?" Enoch could feel Y/n's lips moving against his skin and it made his stomach twist.

Swallowing again, Enoch tried to collect himself. "I like that."

Y/n grinned. "Okay then. If we want to do something new, make sure the other person is okay with it and then if we're both okay with it, we can add it to the list of things we do."

"That's what boyfriends do?" Y/n's eyes widened a little and Enoch felt his breath stop for just a second. "I-is that okay?" He cleared his throat. "If I call you that?"

A smile slowly grew on Y/n's face. "Yeah. That's okay with me."

For a while, Y/n and Enoch thought that they'd gotten away with keeping their relationship a secret. The girls didn't bother them and even Jake seemed oblivious of it. They started to get bolder, with Enoch resting his head on Y/n's shoulder in front of the others or stealing longer looks at each other when they thought no one else was looking. They sat closer together and Enoch's arm made a home across Y/n's shoulders.

Finally Emma had had enough. "Just because you guys are dating doesn't mean you need to stare at each other that long in front of the rest of us."

Both boys looked away with flaming faces as Claire and Olive cracked up into fits of giggles. Horace rolled his eyes. "Just because you weren't there to witness how affectionate you and Jake were until you got used to each other doesn't mean the rest of us didn't have to deal with it. You have no room to talk." More laughter, this time with Fiona and Bronwyn joining in.

Jake leaned over and kissed Emma's cheek, setting her face matching Enoch and Y/n's. "She hasn't quite gotten used to me yet." He was smirking and Emma shoved him, toppling him over, sending Millard and Hugh laughing as well. Miss Peregrine grinned from the doorway, watching her kids all having a good time.

They deserved it after all they've been through.

No reason to tell Y/n and Enoch that the only reason the others had left the two boys alone was because the second they'd finally gotten together she had taken aside all the other kids and made sure they'd leave the boys alone to figure things out before they got pushed. They both needed time to adjust and find comfort in the relationship before getting called out fully. It was better they thought that they weren’t just obvious... It's not like they weren't.