#and still a few pretty bad ones after that too of course. it's star trek after all

[hooved]

Wrt your poll, I follow you for aesthetic posts, funny posts, and your art! I orginally followed for tf2 posting too but I think both of us have shifted focuses away from that fandom? But the quark posting is endearing to me and it's interesting reading all the little details you notice about him. I haven't watched DS9 at all but I'm becoming progressively more tempted to cuz of your posting 👍

[electronickingdomfox]

"Yesterday's Son" review

Novel from 1983 by Ann C. Crispin. The author would continue the story in a sequel, a few years later. This one is somewhat different than the average Star Trek novel. For starters, it presents an interesting premise: what if Zarabeth had a son after her encounter with Spock (in the episode "All Our Yesterdays")? And what kind of dad would be Spock? (spoiler: a pretty bad one, at least at first). Thus, the main plot is not about battles in space or encounters with new civilizations, but about the relationship between Spock and his son, and how they overcome their emotional barriers. Of course, there's also a subplot involving Romulans to spice things up, but that's not the meat of the story. And the Romulan threat is there, above all, to strengthen the father-son relationship.

I liked this novel overall. Poignant at times, and with a rather bittersweet (yet satisfying) ending, it offers good character drama. Zar, the son of Spock with Zarabeth, is well developed and sympathetic, and his failed attempts at reaching out to Spock are pretty moving. It's also funny to meet another secret, emotional relative of Spock, years before Sybok appeared in canon.

Spoilers under the cut:

During a casual conversation about Sarpeidon (the now destroyed planet that Zarabeth lived in 5000 years ago), Spock comes across some disturbing photographs of paintings, taken from a cave in the planet before its destruction. The paintings depict a Vulcan face very similar to his own, but with basic differences. So Spock puts two and two together, and realizes how badly he screwed up; some fathers may forget their son in a car, but he forgot his own in an ice cave, five milleniums in the past! Spock decides that it's not fair to abandon his child like this, and convinces Kirk to bring him to the Guardian of Forever, so he can rescue the kid (and Zarabeth if possible).

Since Spock can't get rid of Kirk and McCoy to attend to his family business, the three of them are sent to Sarpeidon's past, around the time when his son was still a kid. The weather is frigid, and after a few days of pointless search and avoiding dangerous beasts, they finally find a trail. Just then, a hooded figure attacks them, but they subdue him, discovering it's actually Zar. They miscalculated while travelling through the Guardian, so instead of a kid, they find a grown-up man in his late twenties (thus too old to pass as Spock's son). Back in the cave, Zar explains that his mother died seven years ago. So completely alone now, and thrilled at the prospect of meeting his father and exploring new worlds, Zar agrees to go to the present with them (it's not like he needs a lot of convincing, anyway).

In the Enterprise, Zar makes some new friends and starts adapting to the modern way of life. However, once the rescue's done, Spock retracts behind his Vulcan wall, and starts being really cold toward his son. He barely shows interest in him, other than giving him lessons in science and teaching him how to control his telepathy (and you thought that Sarek was bad...). Things get even worse when Zar discovers that the warm, passionate Vulcan that his mother talked about, was just the result of Spock suffering a regression in his trip to the past, and that he probably never loved her. Unlike his father, Zar is a much more emotional Vulcan, due in part to his greater human heritage, and he shows a different empathetic ability. He can sense other people's feelings, and he can also project his own feelings on others. Under these conditions, Zar becomes much closer to his other dad McCoy, instead of his own father.

Meanwhile, some Romulan ships have been sighted around the Guardian of Forever's planet. The secret of time-travelling through the Guardian is only known by a few in the Federation, but the Romulans suspect something, and if they learn how to tamper with time, it could be disastrous. Zar starts feeling sick, and finally faints, a feeling he later recognizes as an omen of impending death. He also realizes something while looking at pictures of Sarpeidon's paintings (though we don't know what at this point). Effectively, upon reaching the Guardian's planet, the Enterprise finds the archeological personnel and the first landing party massacred by the Romulans. The intruders have also set a cloaking device around the Guardian, so they can't see how many Romulan soldiers are deployed.

Given his ability to sense the enemies' feelings at a distance, and his survival skills, Zar volunteers to infiltrate the Romulan camp. Spock goes with him, to install a force-field around the Guardian, so the Romulans can't use the portal. However, more Romulan ships are approaching, and Kirk gives them a deadline. If they fail to keep the situation under control, the Enterprise will have to destroy the whole planet, whether Spock and Zar are still there or not (WTF Kirk!!?). During the mission, Spock grows closer to his son, and Zar comes to understand his father's true feelings for him, and why he has such difficulty expressing them.

In the end, the usual status quo has to be restored, so Zar needs to return to his own time. It turns out the painting from Sarpeidon's past that alarmed him so much, was his own drawing of the Enterprise. He's thus the one who brought many technical and scientific developments to his planet, after his experience in the starship. And time-travelling shenanigans are confusing, but I think that an apparent plot hole was properly explained: why did Zar speak English? Of course, it was him who teached the language to the other inhabitants upon returning. So many generations later, Zarabeth would speak it (remember she came from the future in the episode), and would in turn teach it to her son in the past. It's... complicated, but the circle is closed. On the downside, I feel that Zar's departure was a bit rushed. I would have expected a greater resistance from Spock, and definitely from McCoy.

Spirk Meter: 7/10*. They're brief moments, but pretty powerful. First, and despite the statement that Spock can block other people from intruding into his mind, it seems that Kirk has developed the ability to read his thoughts, even at a distance. Kirk also insists on going with Spock through the Guardian, to the point of blackmailing him if he refuses. Later, Zar complains to McCoy that "there's only one person that Commander Spock cares deeply for, and that's... [...]Not me." In the end, and before departing, Zar asks Kirk to "take care of him" (meaning his father). And when Spock hesitates and attempts to follow his son through the portal, Kirk grabs him, and this happens:

"Spock. He doesn't need you." And he wondered if the Vulcan caught the unvoiced addition, "And I... we... do."

At least, poor Zar seems to take well the fact that his dad didn't love his mom, because he has this weird thing going on with his Captain...

More subtle, yet perhaps more interesting, are the Spones elements, even if they seem one-sided on McCoy's part. McCoy joins Spock in his trip to the Guardian in an even more forceful way than Kirk. Basically, he bursts into the turbolift uninvited and with all gear ready, and blackmails both Spock AND the Captain so they bring him along. Then he's pretty worried about Spock's feelings upon meeting his son for the first time. Once back in the ship, McCoy develops a close relationship with Zar, calling him "son" all the time. Which makes Kirk wonder why he acts as if he was his father, instead of Spock. And the doctor argues with Spock about Zar's education, and also reprimands Zar for rebelling against Spock. So it's easy to see a parallel here between Sarek and Amanda, and Spock and McCoy, as a "distant father/loving mother" pair. And it's noteworthy that the author of this novel was in contact with Howard Weinstein (who writes the intro here), since the latter's novel "The Covenant of the Crown" has also Spock and McCoy acting a bit like parents to a young girl. Besides this, Spock wonders about all the people that have tried to be physically close to him. Those include his mother and now his son, of course, but also Leila and... McCoy.

*A 10 in this scale is the most obvious spirk moments in TOS. Think of the back massage, "You make me believe in miracles", or "Amok Time" for example.

[stitching-in-time]

Voyager rewatch s3 ep13: Fair Trade

This is an episode that I actually don't think I'd ever seen from start to finish before this. I know I saw the beginning of it on a rerun at some point, but I got bored and didn't finish it. I can't say I blame myself, since it went pretty predictably, and I'm not a huge Neelix fan.

I can still appreciate Neelix when they give him good material, but I don't really feel that this was. Whenever Star Trek deals with anything concerning illicit drugs, it always ends up feeling like a preachy after school special. Of course narcotics are bad, the drug trade is bad, we already know. It's low hanging fruit for a show that's supposed to take on controversial topics, and I don't think I've ever seen them actually address it at any more than surface level- never anything about how hopeless conditions lead people to drug abuse, or the political forces that push them onto vulnerable populations. And this one is no different, it's just a long cautionary tale about the dangers of not telling the truth, all told through the lens of a very black and white sort of morality, that's predicated on a certain level of privilege on the part of both the Starfleet characters and the people who write them.

To have Neelix encounter his former criminal partner who tries to draw him into one last scheme may be a classic trope, but it feels a bit out of character. Neelix seems too squeaky clean at this point to have ever been involved in deliberately shady dealings. I suppose he did lie to Janeway and the crew to get them to help him rescue Kes in the pilot episode, but they were still basically strangers then, and he was always more of a 'lovably scrappy' type character than a hardened, morally grey criminal. By now, in season 3, he's so indoctrinated into Starfleet ways that I don't think it would even occur to him to do anything sneaky without asking the Captain and getting her permission first. Plus, if he'd been involved in smuggling schemes before, he'd know that 'one last job, what could go wrong' is always a precurser to the scheme going very wrong.

He could have and should have just told the truth from the beginning, and the crew probably would have done what they could to help. It's a valid idea to explore how he might have been feeling insecure and useless knowing they were leaving the part of space he knows, but I think it could have been a b-plot that didn't need so much screentime. Honestly it reminded me of an episode of Tangled: The Series, where Eugene encounters his old partner in crime and has to hide it from Rapunzel when he gets pulled into one last heist. Even characters from a Disney princess movie could figure out the importance of telling the truth and sticking to your newfound principals in half the time it took Neelix here.

Things I did enjoy in this one were the first introduction of adorable Vulcan engineering officer Ensign Vorik, and seeing Voyager's little supply room where they keep all their containers they use on missions. Between this and the last ep, where we saw the environmental control room for the first, and I think only, time, we're seeing more little nooks and crannies of the ship than we have in the past few seasons, and I really adore little things like that that fill out the world of the ship. I love knowing that they have to use certain containers for certain types of materials, and that the have to go look through the piles of them by hand like they're looking for the right lid in a messy tupperware cabinet, lol. (Part of me feels like that's a Voyager thing, too- like the Enterprise would have it all neatly organized, but the Voyager crew are all such a mess that they let their store room just get like that, and don't talk about it to the Captain in the hope she never notices.)

We get a nice scene with Tom leveling with Neelix about regretting his lack of honesty in his past, and another frustratingly oblique reference to Tom's totally-not-Nick-Locarno accident. I know they had to keep it legally distinct for copyright purposes, so they just avoided it all together by only talking about it in vague terms, but I do wish they'd have actually just settled on a different story and used it on the show. When I was a teenager, I read Jeri Taylor's novel with all the Voyager character's backstories, where she did actually explain what happened with Tom, and I think that should have been something that was explored on the show, at some point, since it was a huge deal for his character, and definitely informed how I thought of him when I watched the show after reading it. But alas, I can't think of a single episode where it was even mentioned, let alone given it's due, so we have to make do with crumbs like this.

Anyway, despite this episode being extremely formulaic, I did appreciate the very last scene, where Captain Janeway, despite being angry, tells Neelix he's part of a family now, and he has a responsibility to them all. She sends him to scrub exhaust conduits for a punishment, but Neelix couldn't be happier to hear from the Captain that he's an integral part of the Voyager family, and that she wouldn't even think of letting him go. It's a lovely moment, and makes me a little emotional to hear Janeway literally call the crew a family. I love my little Voyager space fam.

Tl;dr: A rather predictible storyline that feels like an after school special. Not one of my favorites, but has a few good moments, especially for anyone who likes Neelix a lot.

[cockadoodlebumtits]

Mentioned all the renewed Goncharov (1973) hype to my mum and she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, your aunt was really excited about that film when it came out, she got all the girls at the office to watch it. They even made little leaflets for each other and made copies when the boss wasn’t looking.” I couldn’t believe it. My Auntie Pat, making what sounded like early Goncharov zines? Was Mum sure it was Goncharov? “Trust me, I remember. I used to call it ‘God, Shut Up!’ to annoy her.”

So obviously I have never rung my aunt so fast in my life. I hardly dared to hope she’d still have some bits of paper from her first job kicking around 49 years later (she did not appreciate me phrasing it like that, for the record) but she loved the film so much... Here’s what she could dig out for me without completely turning the house upside down. Apparently they were in her ‘important documents’ folder along with less essential things such as her kids’ birth certificates, vaccination records, etc. Full transcript below the cut.

[Image 1: A scan of a photocopy of the first page of an old typewritten zine. It's quite legible, considering. A hand-drawn title at the top of the page reads 'THE WEDNESDAY CHIMES' in capitals. The 'C' of 'CHIMES' has a little clock face drawn in it.

The typewritten portion of the page reads as follows (titles were originally in red, but are just in a slightly paler grey on the photocopy).]

A GONCHAROV ZINE INSPIRED BY STAR TREK ZINES – 7TH OF NOVEMBER, 1973, BRIGHTON

Joan Chipperfield, Nancy O'Reilly, Linda McGregor, Susan Armitage, Maggie Williams, Mary Coleman, Pat Hutchinson.

Thank you to all you ladies for contributing, please don't forget to put a few pence in the petty cash (new pence, Mags) to cover reproduction costs. -LM

THE CLOCKTOWER. The scene at the clocktower was one of our favourites, of course, but one thing we haven't really discussed is the use of colour in this part of the film. This was the turning point for the red-blue colour motifs, in my opinion, so it has a lot of both colours in the way it's lit and the various characters' [deleted word] palettes. I'm pretty sure this was when the Goncharovs' colour palette first diverged, with the first appearance of Goncharov's red tie replacing his blue one, and Katya still wearing only cool colours like her trademark grey/silver and her blue brooch. Obviously they're in two different physical places at this point but as the film cuts between them these colours show that they're also not on the same page emotionally. I think Andrey is actually [misspelt 'actualy'] wearing less red than in some of the previous scenes (even excluding the opening, which is in the future, where everything is red) showing how tired he is at this point. If anyone remembers exactly what Andrey was wearing please let me know – I'm honestly not certain. Did he still have his wrist-watch at this point or had he already lost it? -SA

KATYA. I just think it's really sad that Katya is trying so hard to make her life work even though everything is against her – Goncharov himself, her guilt over her father and what happened to him, even sometimes Sofia – but she keeps going and she is doing her best, but then it all comes crashing down around her anyway. -MC

GONCHAROV AND ANDREY. I don't know if this makes any sense, but it sort of feels as though Andrey is more like Goncharov's wife than Katya is. Whenever he has a bad day in the film, he turns to Andrey instead of Katya. And then, to a certain extent, this is mirrored by Katya's relationship with Sofia. She's protective of her and she's trying to help her make her way in the world, but she also relies on her far more than she ever does on Goncharov. I just think that's really interesting. -PH

MUSICAL SCORE. I don't know how you all remember so much about the film so long after we went to the pictures. All I remember is that the tickets were too expensive for how many times in a row we saw it, and I can't believe I let you talk me into it oh and also the music was very good, I enjoyed that immensely. I wish the orchestra would visit for a concert so we could all appreciate it again. -JC

APPLE FRIEND. I want to know more about the 'old friend' who gave Katya the apple in the market. There are so many unanswered questions about their relationship in the past and what that friend is doing there now, because aren't they in Italy? I don't remember if they were there to try to take over Naples or if they moved to get away from their old lives and events overwhelmed them to the point where they tried to take over Naples but either way it seems very far away to bump into an old friend unless that old friend was there for a reason. What was apple friend doing there? I think maybe it's a bit like the apple in Snow White, and Katya was right not to eat it. What do you all think? -MW

ICE PICK MAN. What was his name? Joe? I would have watched a whole film about him, to be honest. He was a very exciting character and in many ways he went on almost the same journey as Goncharov, only faster. I wonder if he had a Katya somewhere, waiting for him to come home. -NOR

[The page is signed with the typewritten initials LM, next to the page number 1. Both of these details are in the paler grey that was originally red.]

[Image 2: A scan of a photocopy of the first page of an old typewritten zine. It's quite legible, considering. A hand-drawn picture sits in the top-left of the page, incorporating the word 'CHIMES'. It is a scene featuring a small town with a church in the foreground, a river, and a small copse of trees with a flower. The river runs over the 'M' of the word 'CHIMES', which is incorporated into the drawing to resemble a bridge. The 'C' has a pair of clock hands in it, and in the top of the M is a little platform with two figures on it.

The typewritten portion of the page reads as follows (titles were originally in red, but are just in a slightly paler grey on the photocopy).]

A GONCHAROV ZINE – 23RD OF JANUARY, 1974.

Joan Chipperfield, Nancy O'Reilly, Linda McGregor, Susan Armitage, Maggie Williams, Mary Coleman, Pat Hutchinson.

Thank you to all contributors, money in the petty cash please. -NOR

SOMEONE WHO LOVES YOU. “Katya.” She turned in the doorway of the room, meeting Sofia's eyes in the mirror of the vanity. “I hope, more than anything, that one day you find someone who loves you. Someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved.” What could Katya say to that? It was all she had ever wanted for herself, but it was forever out of reach. Once, she had hoped that her husband would be that person. But the time for such dreams was long past. She was silent for too long, and Sofia spoke again. “Well? Aren't you going to say it back?” But Katya couldn't. -LM

THE BATH. I keep coming back to the bath scene – I know you're all sick of hearing about it. But given Goncharov's fear of drowning and the unease and distrust in this scene in general, the fact that the bath was so full, too full, to the point where Goncharov can't even move without water slopping over the side onto the floor, so he just sits there and barely moves except to shiver... I don't know, I feel like that means something, and I'm going to work it out. -PH

A KINDER FAREWELL. Goncharov could see nothing but the gun, for a moment, his very breath catching in his throat. Then he forced his gaze upwards, to Andrey's face. “Must it end this way?” Andrey swallowed hard. “All things end this way, Goncharov.” “But must they? Can't we make some time to find a better way? Can't we just... go away from all this? You and I? Where they will never find us?” Andrey's hand, holding the gun, shook. He lowered it slowly. “Where could we go?” “Anywhere you like,” said Goncharov, and they walked away together. They found a little house in France and lived happily ever after, and nobody from their old lives ever found them. -JC

JUST A FEW NOTES. The opening scene of the film really sticks in my mind, because even though none of the other characters appear in that opening scene, the piece of music that plays every time Andrey is on screen is underscored by all those little tunes that go with the other characters. I noticed it on the second or third night we went – to begin with Andrey's theme is alone, but then it's joined by little pieces of Goncharov's, Katya's, and Sofia's. I think the little two-note sting from Ice Pick Joe's final scene even appears, but very slowly and gently. Very clever! -SA

NOBODY EVER SLEEPS. None of these characters seem to stop for a moment! Even when we see Katya and Goncharov in their dressing gowns, getting ready to go to bed, it turns into an argument and Goncharov leaves. (I do think it's funny to imagine him out wandering through Naples in his dressing gown, being angry. Scary Mafia man that he is.) And when Sofia appears to be asleep that time, she opens her eyes at the end of the scene, revealing that she's been listening all along. It's a wonderful film but I get tired just thinking about how exhausted they must be. -MW

THEY CALLED ME JOE. Disappearing had been a gruesome business. Joe hadn't enjoyed carefully staging his own death, arranging for a witness, manipulating events so he would appear to be violently killed. But there had been no other way. Joe had been trapped in a cycle of brutality, known by the weapon he wielded and not the name that meant family or home. Escaping from the mess he'd got into – the mess he'd made – in Naples meant leaving it all behind, both the good and the bad. It semed seemed to Joe that most of the people he knew there who weren't already dead would be soon. So he staged his death, and he fled everything that he knew, and he got himself a nice job selling ice creams on Brighton beach. He met a nice girl one day, and she said, “well, what do your friends call you?” “They called me Joe,” he said. -MC

[The page is signed with the typewritten initials NOR, next to the page number 1. Both of these details are in the paler grey that was originally red. End ID.]

(Also, credits: the paper background is by Annie Sprat on Unsplash and the font is Remington Noiseless, via dafont.)

[boldlyvoid]

Wheels Up

Characters: Spencer Reid, Reader (Y/N), Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Savannah Hayes, Emily Prentiss, Elle Greenaway, Tara Lewis, Jennifer Jareau, Matt Simmons, Luke Alvez

Summary: JJ goes on maternity leave, Spencer falls in love with her replacement that he's supposed to be mentoring, Emily Prentiss and Elle Greenaway work a case together that brings Simmons and Alvez in for help...

Warnings: Genius!Reader, mutual pining, idiots in love, drinking, star gazing, lots of fluff, mentions of past assault, grooming, drug addiction, spencer's trauma, Abductions, Rape, Murder (typical canon violence)

word count: 9.4K

a/n: this is for @starry-eyed-spence and @simmonsmilf CM fanfiction week, Day One: Favorite Character... only I couldn't pick just one.

To say Spencer fell in love at the least opportune time was a bit of an understatement. Everyone he’s ever come close to admitting his love to has either left him or died. Now he’s stuck with loving someone in secret, keeping it to himself and hoping that one day she’ll love him back.

He fell in love with a co-worker once again… which wasn’t the worst thing, office romances happen and it’s quite frankly all Rossi’s fault that they even had to worry about fraternization policies. The part that makes liking Y/N so difficult is that he’s supposed to be her mentor, he’s 5 years older than her, and if he was to ever make a move she would feel inclined to reciprocate in order to keep her job because that’s the unfortunate truth behind office relationships with significant differences in positions.

And worst of all… she doesn’t like him that way at all. She’s called him the brother she always needed, a best friend, the best mentor ever. She wasn’t interested in him in the slightest.

“And why would she be?” He’s said this to everyone who knew about his crush on her. “I’m old and boring and she’s so cool?”

But he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand that every time she asked him to hang back to help her file something, or when they would buddy up in hotel rooms to discuss cases all night and end up down some star trek rabbit hole instead, every time he talked to her she was falling in love with him right back.

It once again all circles back to Rossi, if it wasn’t for him, Spencer wouldn’t even know her. She wouldn’t have ever been introduced to the unit, he wouldn’t be attached to her at the hip and he probably wouldn’t be as happy as he is with her in his life. Even if she wasn’t his girlfriend.

He’ll never forget the day Rossi asked him to meet her, to help her settle in…

“Spencer, can I talk to you for a minute?” Rossi called him into his office.

He sighed, putting his book down and walking up the stairs to his office. He closed the door behind himself and smiled awkwardly, “what’s up?”

“Sit,” he gestures to the chairs in front of his desk, where Spencer pulls one out and proceeds to sit down, anxiously. “As you know, both Kate and JJ will be out of the field in the next few months to have their babies and we need to bring someone in to fill the void until they return, so I reached out to the academy to see if they have any up and coming Dr. Reid like agents that they could loan us.”

“Why?” Spencer laughs at the choice of words.

“Well, honestly, why get new 2 agents when we could have two Reid’s? JJ will be back after a month or 2, it’s better to have more brains than brawn.”

“So they found someone and you want me to be their chaperone?” Spencer clues in. “Who are they?”

“Y/N Y/L/N, she’s a wonderful agent, but she’s pretty quiet, I don’t know much about her personally.” Rossi prefaces. “She’s a genius, high IQ like yours and just a plethora of knowledge inside that mind of hers. You’ll like her.”

“Alright,” he nods. “When do they start?”

“When JJ’s water breaks, but I’d like you to meet them and maybe even have them shadow you for a day?” Rossi asks, “I’ve actually arranged for you both to get dinner at a friend's restaurant?”

“Is this an arranged date or purely business? Don’t send me in there blind,” he worries. “I need at least a week's prep before I go on a date again.”

“It’s not a date, kid,” Rossi laughs. “She's just a lot like you were when I met you, and I know from watching you all these years that it’s not easy to do it alone, so can you just walk them through it?”

“Of course.”

That first dinner Rossi set up for them was more exquisite than either of them prepared for.

They spent the whole night discussing dissertations and their independent journeys through becoming a genius. He understood perfectly why Rossi and the Academy would think she was a lot like him, she was a genius, but she was awkward. It took a while for her to break out of her shell and open up, but by the end of the night, he already knew they were going to be friends.

“So,” she smirks, “would you mind telling me honestly how hard this job is?”

“Why?”

She sighs, “I’ve heard a lot about Thee Doctor Reid and how you were the youngest hired to the BAU and all the shit you’ve been through.”

“What are the rumours these days?” He awkwardly smiles back, rolling his eyes slightly.

“That you were brain dead in a cemetery from an overdose and yet you’re so smart you came back from the dead to kill the unsub and escape…” she looks more and more disappointed in the rumour as she tells it.

His tongue hits the roof of his mouth as he opens it to speak, making a tsk noise as he shakes his head. “Well, I did OD but it was the unsubs main personality that resuscitated me.”

“Holy shit,” she whispers.

He nods, “what about you? I’m sure you have a reputation based on a rumour?”

She presses her lips together the way he always did, just as awkward. She sighs, huffing the air out of her nose and looking fed up. “I was groomed and assaulted by an older boy who then told kids I had a stalkerish crush on him so if I was to ever tell anyone what happened, then no one would believe me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer knows the words don’t make up for what happened. “I’m guessing that’s why you wanted to get into profiling?”

She nods, “I got away with some PTSD and trust issues, most girls go through much worse… they deserve someone who gets it to look into their cases.”

Spencer nods. “That’s how I felt after my kidnapping too. It took a while for me to look at crime scene photos and not think about how they felt, and wonder why I lived when so many die?”

“I’ve never been a religious person,” she prefaces. “But I do believe we are here for a reason. Whether you choseto be here after your last life or this is some learning opportunity, or God is actually real? And you’re supposed to do good.”

“In narcotics anonymous, they reference god a lot, it’s helpful for the addicts, but I never get into it,” he opens up with her more than he’s ever opened up with any friend. “If my Devine purpose is to suffer in order to relate to those I’m supposed to help that’s a load of bullshit… honestly, I can get pretty angry thinking about why I’ve gone through what I’ve gone through doing this job, but it’s not as bad as what happened to me growing up, and it leads me to believe that I probably wouldn’t have had an easy time no matter how I live.”

She nods, “I know, I get that.”

“Sorry,” he snaps out of it. “I didn’t mean to trauma dump on you.”

“It’s exactly what I asked for actually,” she reminds him with a soft smile. “If you can still come to work every day, after all that, you must be incredibly strong— and if I’m anything like you the way people say I am, I guess I can do it too.”

He had no idea she would end up being his best friend.

She shadowed him just once in the office, picked up everything right off the bat and immediately made a name for herself in the unit. Derek tried multiple names on her before one stuck, and they knew it stuck when even Hotch called her Baby Genius.

She brought a different knowledge base to the team, similar to Spencers but visibly younger. She fit in with the crowds of kids they had to interview, she understood why kids reacted the way they did to trauma and abuse, and she was still a kid at heart. It was the reason Spencer fell for her.

She allowed him to feel free again. They went out together outside of work, going to events he always wanted to go to with a partner but never had a chance. She loved all the same things as him, and she takes him to places he’d never imagine enjoying before her.

Like laser tag… that was an afternoon he’ll never forget with her.

When JJ went into labour, that’s when Y/N started full time and Hotch hired Tara Lewis in the same week. The team barely had time to adjust to being undermanned before they were restocked.

Joining Spencer every morning for every case, she waited out front of her apartment for him to pick her up most mornings, sticking to his side throughout the long days and nights until he drove her home again. Even at work, they were partnered up for everything: heading to the M.E. together, bouncing facts back and forth at the precinct, playing good cop bad cop with perverts, and her personal favourite… Making the geoprofile.

And Spencer liked doing that part with her as well. Because it typically meant they were completely alone in a room, spreading out a map and leaning in close to each other as they placed every sticker and marker. Brushing hands, bumping shoulders, longing glances as they made connections… he also just liked to watch her hands move.

She was delicate and careful and precise… and he was falling in love with everything about her as the days went by.

Everyone on the team had noticed. It was really hard not to when they’ve all known Spencer for almost 11 years now. He was so different with her in his life, he was happy and giddy and dressing even better than before. His hair was perfect and he was glued to Y/N’s side. Or she was glued to his.

Even though they were mentally similar, physically they were polar opposites. Y/N wore all black and was a lot more outgoing than they expected. Rossi thought she’d be quiet… But she was constantly talking. To Spencer, to other officers, to witnesses, she never stopped talking and starting conversations, and thank god she did because she’s cracked 4 cases that way.

The biggest surprise the team learned about her happened on a case in Florida, a shooting in a local park in broad daylight with lots of witnesses meant the whole team was on the boardwalk asking questions. She went out to do her thing, talking to the local skaters, asking them if they knew anything but they didn’t want to cooperate.

They were too cool for the feds.

“Can I see your board?” She asks, “if I do some tricks will you answer some questions for me and Doctor Reid?”

“Knock yourself out,” one of the boys laughs as he hands her his board.

She hands Spencer her gun and shoots him a wink before taking off to do a few tricks. The whole team watches in awe then as Y/N showed off. Cruising along the halfpipe effortlessly like she was a professional.

“Okay Tony Hawk,” Morgan teases her, “where did that come from?”

“Skateboarding is easy, it’s just physics,” she shrugs. “I can figure skate too…”

“What do you want to know?” The boy takes his board back. “We always see some sketchy guys around here.”

Morgan pats Y/N on the back with a smile, applauding her ability to get anyone to open up before leaving her to take the statement.

“Agent?” One of the girls pulls her aside just before they are about to leave, “how did you do that kickflip? I’ve been trying to learn and the boys won't help me.”

“Sure thing,” she takes the girl's board and demonstrates a kickflip first.

“So, you see as I start the kickflip I bend my knees?” She shows her another kickflip all while explaining it. “Much like the with an ollie, I’m building pressure so I can apply it to the tail, making the board pop. The one thing that makes this trick different from the ollie is that instead of sliding my foot up, I just flick my toe out to the right of the board, by doing this, the board flips in a 360-degree motion.

She demonstrates again and it’s another flawless kickflip, and a huge smile on her face as Spencer watches her.

“How fast the board spins depends on how much force I put into it when I flick it out. As soon as the board flips in a full 360, your feet should connect and drive the board back to the ground.”

She hands the board back to the girl, “your turn.”

She takes a deep breath and shakes her nerves out before taking off on her board, looping around and carefully bending her knees, she follows every step and it’s a flawless kickflip.

“Flawless!!” Y/N claps. “Those boys better watch out, you’re a natural.”

“Thank you,” she wraps her arms around Y/N and gives her a hug, “it’s taken me so long to be able to do that, you’re so cool.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles. “Good luck out there.”

She waves as she takes off on her board, leaving Y/N with a smile as she turns to Spencer. “I miss being that age and thinking everything is so cool.”

“You are really cool,” he agrees. Smiling softly as a blush fills his cheeks. “You’re always surprising me. Is there anything you can’t do?”

She laughs, “yeah the one thing I want to do the most.”

“Which is?”

She sighs, “maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

—

He’s sitting beside Penelope and Savannah, watching Derek and Y/N get drinks for what’s left of the group as the night drags on.

“When are you going to tell her?” Savannah asks.

“What?” Spencer pretends he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“You have a crush on the new girl…” she pokes his cheek as he blushes and gives it away. “Tell her, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“She could feel forced to say yes because I’m a supervisory special agent and she isn’t and she wants to keep her job so she feels like she needs to,” Spencer worries. “I want her to like me back because she fell for me and I want her to initiate it because then I’ll know it’s not just a power dynamic issue.”

“Have you tried asking her, genius?” Penelope teases. “Because if you asked her then you’d know she has a crush on you and she’s afraid you’ll turn her down because you’re an SSA and she isn’t.”

“When did you hear that?”

Penelope pretends to lock up her lips and throw away the key, making Savannah laugh loud enough to get Derek's attention at the bar. When he and Y/N return, that’s when the questions start.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Spencer gets up and leaves the booth, walking out towards the smokers' exit at the back of the bar, getting a moment of semi-fresh air to think about what Penelope said.

“Spence?” She calls to him from the door, “are you okay? Can I come out here?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Sorry, I needed some air, it’s nothing.”

“Do you need a hug? I read it helps the most when people are stressed out,” she plays it off with a shrug.

“So you do have a crush on me?”

“She told you?” Her face lights with fury, “what the fuck, Penelope?”

“She didn’t mean to,” he tries to cover it up. “It was only brought up because I have feelings for you as well.”

Her eyes widen, her brows raise and her mouth slowly opens as she freezes.

“Y/N?”

She blinks a few times and shakes her head, “impossible. There’s no way.”

He laughs, “I’ll take that hug now?”

She lunges for him and wraps her arms around him so tight. Breathing him in, her hands wander his back as she takes in every second if it and he does the same. He can’t believe she’s that close to him, her hair smells nice and she’s so soft in his arms.

It’s quiet outside, they can hear the music behind the door, the people in the ally talking and the crickets in the night. It’s just them outside, holding each other in the smoking section with smiles on their faces, amazed that it’s finally happening.

“Can we keep this between us?” She whispers into his ear. “Just for a bit? I don’t want to go through all the paperwork and have to separate in the field if it doesn’t work out?”

“Wait,” Spencer pulls back. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

She nods, “well yeah isn’t that what happens when two people have a mutual crush? They date?”

“Okay,” he smiles, staring at her lips and then flicking his gaze back to hers with a blush. “I have more than a crush on you, I really, really like you.”

“Prove it,” she teases, “let's go on a real date soon?”

“You know what, let’s get out of here. I have something I want to show you,” he takes her hand and waits for her to nod.

“Take my lead okay? You don’t feel good and you’re going to wait outside while I say goodbye,” she has a plan right away

“After you,” he holds the door open for her and lets her inside first.

—

“I’m taking Spencer home, he’s not doing well,” she’s a much better actress than Spencer expected, patting his back and watching him leave the bar before her like she asked him to do. “He’s really anxious?”

Penelope looks worried, “oh no, I fucked up. I told him you like him.”

She just shrugs, “if he didn’t know that already then I guess he’s not as smart as he pretends to be.”

“See,” Derek looks at Savannah. “I told you everyone else also thinks he’s faking being that smart.”

“Shut up,” she shoves him and turns her attention back to Y/N. “Go make him feel better, he’ll like your company.”

“I’ll see you guys at work on Monday,” she waves them goodbye, surprised they bought it as she rushes her way back outside to Spencer.

He’s already in his car, engine running and waiting for her with a smile. “Come on,” he hurries her inside and is taking off down the road before she even has her seatbelt on yet.

“What’s the rush, Spence? It’s only 1 in the morning I’m sure tones of places are open still?” She teases.

“You’re going to like this, I used to go here all the time when I started with the bureau,” he explains, leaving the main road to take a back root, and eventually they’re driving on gravel.

“If you’re taking me here to murder me this is a dumb way to do it because they all know I left with you,” she teases. “At least when you go to get rid of me, do yourself a favour and dig 6 one-foot holes instead of one 6 foot hole…”

He laughs, “would you really give your murderer tips?”

She nods, “my goal would be to piss him off so much he either lets me go or murders me quickly. I don’t want to go through all the pain.”

“It’s not fun, that’s for sure,” he shrugs it off but she knows it hits too hard.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, reaching her hand out for his to hold by the gear shift. “I think you’re like the strongest guy in the world, you know that, right?”

“Why?” He asks as if that's a preposterous thing to say.

“I think if I got kidnapped and tortured at 24 I wouldn’t still be working in the FBI,” she admits. “I barely made it through the academy, I know this job is intense but I don’t think I could handle being in that situation.”

“If it’s up to me,” Spencer squeezes her hand tighter and brings it to his lips for a kiss. “You’ll never experience anything like that.”

He’s so good at making her feel safe that she almost believes he has the power to do that. He would do anything and everything to move fate for her safety.

He turns down another back road then, around the edge of a lake and towards a clearing. He follows old tire tracks and parks by the dock. “I found this spot one night on a random drive to clear my head.”

“I thought you hated driving?” She quizzes him.

He shrugs, “I like to drive at night when no one else is on the road because then I don’t really have to worry about anyone else. I hate driving because I can’t always anticipate other drivers' movements. If I could read minds, then I’d drive more.”

“Valid,” she nods, “now why is this such a special spot that you needed to show me right away?”

“Well, I have a telescope and it’s been in my trunk for the last 13 years so that every time I come here, I can look up at the moon…”

“You brought me here to look at the moon with you?” She swoons, “that’s so cute.”

“You think?” He looks like his heart is doing the same swelling as hers.

She gets out of the car before she can lean over and kiss him the way she wants to. In his trunk, he does have a telescope, and a blanket, which they set out on the dock and sit upon.

The sound of the lake, the loons in the distance, frogs and crickets and music travelling from somewhere down the lake. The moon was big, the stars were amazing, and this was the closest she has ever seen them. It's amazing, and of course, it was Spencer showing her everything.

He was everything to her.

And it didn’t take long for him to become everything to her either.

Joining the BAU was a dream to many at the academy, but Y/N never thought that she would get the job, overjoyed that she did. They were a family unit; they got the job done, they protected each other, and it was a wonderful environment to be a part of. She obviously liked Spencer the most out of everyone. He took her in, he made her feel comfortable and safe and she opened up more with him than she has with anyone she’s labelled a “best friend” in the past.

She liked everything about him. The way he talked with his hands, how his sweater, vest, shirt and tie always match, his gun looks a little out of place on his belt, like it’s too big for him, but it’s cute. His hair’s been getting longer too, sometimes he wears glasses and sometimes if she’s lucky, he doesn’t shave every day.

She can’t take her eyes off him when he’s busy and won't notice, just to then move her focus away when he stared at her. She only wishes she could see the way he stares at her in awe, because if it’s anything like how she looks at him, he must love her.

She keeps her hand in his, trading the telescope back and forth in turns, her face was close to his every time they switched and she kept getting bolder with each exchange. Letting Spencer look, she kept her face close to his, kissing his cheek softly as soon as he was busy peering up at the moon.

He turned to her with a gasp, “what was that for?”

“You’re cute,” she shrugs. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while.”

“How long?” He teases, leaning in closer and kissing her nose to make her laugh.

“Since you dropped me off at my house after that first dinner…”

“So this is me,” she nods out the window, “thank you for the ride, I appreciate not having to be in an Uber all by myself.”

“Anytime you need a ride, you can give me a call?” He asks. “Seeing as we’ll be going to the same place anyway.”

She nods with a smile, “I’d love that, do you live close to here?”

“Just up the street,” he nods. “So we could carpool?”

“I can drive some days if you want?” She asks, “I know you mostly take the subway, and I know that because I’ve seen you reading on there before.”

He can’t help but smile, “so you never thought to say hello?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “you looked peaceful, and I’m sure you don’t get many moments like that in your line of work.”

He sighed, knowing she was right. “If it ever gets to be too much for you, please never feel like you have to pretend to be okay? None of us expect you to be stone cold, none of us are either. The job gets to us, just tell me if it gets to be too much?”

She looks from his lips back to his eyes and over again, “thanks, Spencer.”

He does the same to her, “anytime. Should I walk you to your door?”

She shakes her head, “that’s okay you’ve done enough for me tonight.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs. “Have a good night Y/N.”

“You too, Spencer,” she smiles before she exits his car, smiling at him from her porch before he drives away.

“So it’s been mutual this whole time?” He shakes his head at the absurdity. “I’ve been so lonely for so long and then I found you and you make me feel like I don’t need to be alone anymore.”

“You complete me too,” she makes one more comment before connecting their lips.

It’s like the world stops then. It’s silent and serene and everything she thought kissing Spencer Reid would be.

She pulls back with a smirk, “oh no.”

“What?” He worries.

“I’m going to want to kiss you all the time now…”

“Good,” he mumbles the words against her lips before reconnecting them.

—

At work on Monday, it’s very hard for them to look at each other without remembering that they’ve kissed. Spencer’s practically glowing with admiration for her that he gives it all away. He’s overly happy, offering to do things for others, standing way too close to her and bringing her coffee all morning.

“Okay, pretty boy,” Derek takes him by the scruff of the neck and redirects him into his office. “What’s going on with you today, I know you’re not this happy for JJ’s return?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you get laid or something?”

Spencer laughs, “no, you know I don’t get laid. You actually remind me of that fact quite often.”

“You’re so happy I’m worried you’ve moved to crack,” he says it. “Okay, you were acting weird on Friday, you missed brunch on Sunday and now you’re waaay too happy.”

“I’m not on drugs again,” Spencer assures him. “I’m just letting myself enjoy my time with Y/N, if she falls in love with me in the meantime that would also be nice.”

“Oh, so you’re doing this to get laid,” Derek teases him again. “That’s good, I’m sorry if I triggered you by asking, but I had to make sure you’re okay.”

“No, no,” he places his hands on Derek's shoulders, “thank you for caring.”

“Always—“

“Guys!” They hear Hotch yelling from the bullpen, cutting the tender moment short, saving Spencer from spilling the truth.

Rushing back, he sits beside Y/N at the briefing room table. “We have a bad one,” Emily Prentiss of all people walks in the door, followed by Elle Greenaway.

“We’ll have time to mingle in a minute, right now there is a woman who needs our help,” he announces.

Spencer quickly reads over the case files, recognizing Elles handwritten notes, she was a private investigator now. “With Penelope’s help, I’ve been able to set up alerts in College chatrooms in the area so that I can help to missing and assaulted women right away.”

“She’s alerted when someone reports a missing woman and she has advertisements for people to reach out to her for help,” Penelope explained.

“I’ve been working on these cases for the last 9 years,” Elle announces. “This morning Aasia Desai called me saying her sister Bahni never showed up for lunch and it’s not like her, we know she went clubbing last night and so far Penelope’s tracked her down an ally and then she’s gone.”

“Her parents are British diplomats so Interpol has asked me to join, luckily I was just in Ontario so it was a short trip over,” Emily adds. “JJ will be here in half an hour for her first day back, and we will celebrate when we can, but I see we have some new faces here?”

“Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N,” she waves, still glued to Spencer’s side. “I’ve heard a lot about you both from Doctor Reid.”

“Doctor Tara Lewis,” she stands and shakes Emily’s hand, and then Elles.

“So it says here that the first missing case was in 2006 just after you left the BAU?” Spencer changes the subject before anyone can pry into why he would be telling her about the women who worked there before her.

“I did,” Elle nods. “I was too late for her, by the time her parents realized she was missing and called me in the case was cold. I started this as a way to get ahead of it.”

“How long has she been missing?” Tara asks.

“She was last seen at 1:07 this morning,” Elle confirms. “We have 25 hours, maybe, to beat the odds.”

“Reid,” Hotch cuts in, “I would like you and Elle to go check out the street she was last seen on, find any private cameras or anyone who might have seen something.”

He turns to Y/N who just shrugs in silence; “it’s fine.”

“Tara and Derek, I’d like you to interview Aasia when she and JJ get here, Garcia can you do a deep dive into Bahni’s spending and academic records?”

“Sure thing,” she starts clicking away on her computer immediately.

“And Y/N,” Elle looks at her. “I need you to go over the footage of the man who followed her to the alley and get familiar with his face. We’re using you as the face of the investigation to hopefully draw the unsub out.”

“How would she be able to do that alone?” Spencer gets defensive, a way he used to with JJ when she was the media liaison.

“If she goes on the news and makes Bahni seem like a person while describing the unsub as someone who can help solve the case, it will draw him out,” Emily explains for Hotch, who is glaring at Spencer for second-guessing the plan already.

“And she’s college-age,” Elle adds. “If that’s who he’s been going after all this time he will want to come in and talk IF he can talk to her.”

She places her hand on his leg under the table, “it’s a good plan.”

“It is,” Hotch agrees.

“What do you not have a saying to replace wheels up when they stay in town?” Elle teases him.

“Wheels away?” Emily joins her, “that works?”

“just get to work,” Hotch tries not to smirk at them.

Spencer stands up to leave with Elle, “can I just talk to Spencer before he leaves?” She carefully asks Hotch.

“Make it quick,” he agrees reluctantly and lets her follow him down to his desk.

Spencer rests his hands on the back of his desk chair, holding it tightly in an attempt to calm himself down.

“I’m going to be fine,” she assures him. “I don’t think the guy on the tape took her, we’d see him leave if he did.”

“Unless he lives in the alley,” Spencer combats. “Can you ask Penelope to do a background check on all the cars coming in and out of the campus and that street between midnight at 2 am?”

She nods, placing her hand on his gently. “Good luck out there, okay?”

He nods, “it’s been 2 days they’re going to know by the end of the week.”

She laughs, “so be it.”

He says fuck it right then and there, wrapping her up in a hug and kissing the top of her head as the team watches in the briefing room. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yes you will,” she smacks his side as he lets her go. “If you’re going to make a scene at least give me a real kiss.”

“Hmm,” he teases. “No cause then I’d have to sign some paperwork and I’ve got to go…” he starts to back away.

“Coward,” she teases.

He just shrugs, meeting Elle by the door and heading towards the elevators in silence.

She doesn’t ask, not even when they get to the garage or inside the SUV. They’re driving down the road for maybe 2 minutes when Elle finally brings it up. “So—”

“What do you want to know?”

“It's that easy now? What happened to you?” She teases. “You’re so different from the baby Spence I left.”

“Well you missed my drug problem, my dad being a possible child molester, getting shot in the knee, getting shot in the neck, my girlfriend dying, and now my mom might have Alzheimer's so you know… I had to grow up a bit,” he lays it all out for her to ask any question she wants.

“Why don’t you ever call me? I would have been there for you through anything,” she reminds him.

“I know that,” he reaches over for her hand, “thank you. But I was a big fan of suffering in silence… and now I have Y/N and she makes me feel normal?”

“That’s good, you deserve some fraction of normal in your life and she’s really cute,” Elle smiles back at him before returning her focus to the road. “How old is she?”

“27,” he smiles. “She’s the best.”

“You love her,” Elle notices it.

He presses his lips together to fend off a smile as he nods, “I think I do.”

“Tell her, you deserve to hear that someone loves you back.”

—

She’s anxiously tapping her foot as she waits for the elevator to arrive with the suspect, Rossi standing just behind her. Only 15 minutes after being on the news, the man that was in the security footage contacted them. Making his way over for a voluntary interview.

He looks Y/N up and down with a smile, “I heard you were looking for me.”

“I sure was,” she plays along with it, smiling and making him think she’s interested as well. “I knew you’d get the message, we just need all the help we can get right now.”

“Of course,” he has his ego stroked so well that they can roll with it.

“Would you mind coming with me and Agent Rossi to talk about everything you saw?” She batts her lashes at him, really selling it.

“Sure,” he follows them down the hall.

Rossi opens the door and lets them in first, letting her get him settled and a glass of water. “So you can tell me everything from that night?”

“Sure,” he nods, explaining his taxi job, his run for the night and his alibi.

“So why did you step back into the doorway?” She asks as she sits in front of him. Straight-faced as she catches him off guard.

“Excuse me?”

“You stepped out of the way to let her pass and then followed her, she made no motion to say she wanted your services, so I’m just wondering why you would follow her before she disappeared?”

“Huh,” he suddenly feels played and his personality switches. “I thought this was just a chat?”

“I’m simply asking you questions? If you don’t have answers that makes you suspicious. An innocent person would have given me an answer,” she fights back.

“She’s right, you got very defensive very fast,” Rossi finally speaks up.

He shakes his head with a huff. “I was going to ask if she needed a ride, she looked pretty messed up. And then some guy came over and wrapped his arm around her and they walked off. They seemed to know one another. I thought she was safe in his hands.”

Only his tone doesn’t match the words. He sounds jealous— It’s not like she would have been a large tab, he wasn’t jealous because he lost a customer. No, he’s jealous like someone stepped in and prevented him from snatching an easy victim.

“Fair enough,” she pretends to believe him. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“I can go now?” He changes right back to confused.

She nods, “I’ll escort you down if you’d like?”

“Thanks,” he stands and follows her to the door where Rossi stops her.

“Are you sure?”

She nods, “I’ll be back up shortly.”

She catches up with him by the elevators, “did you have to drive far to get here?” She makes small talk.

“Not really,” he shakes it off. “I like your necklace.”

She touches her necklace and her face drops, “thanks.”

“Necklaces are my favourite.”

“You don’t wear any?” She notices in the form of a question.

He shakes his head as the elevator opens at the ground level. “I think they’re nice gifts.”

She nods along, pretending that didn’t set off every ret alert and alarm in her mind, “well here you are. Thanks again for all the help.”

“No problem,” he goes to leave, turning to stop and block the doors from closing. “If you want, later tonight I can show you everything I saw at the alley?”

“Yeah, sure,” she agrees with no plan to go.

“8 pm? At Cafe Linda?”

“See you then,” she agrees and he steps back letting the door close and then she loses her cool.

Feverishly smashing the floor 6 button, and begging to make it back up to Hotch to tell him everything. But she also just wants to cry but she holds it in as she makes it to their floor matching past Rossi and right into the briefing room.

“He may not be our unsub but that man is a creep,” she announces. “He not only complimented my necklace but he asked me to come to the alley tonight so he can walk me through what he saw.”

“You’re not going,” Hotch announces.

“I didn’t plan to,” she snaps. “I think we need to look into him because he’s either giving little girls necklaces to keep them quiet or he’s taking necklaces after he kills women.”

“Kathy’s parents said she was in a necklace when she went missing,” Emily adds. “His connection to this case and being at NYU right before she went missing gives us enough probable cause for a search warrant.”

Hotch sighs, “fine. I’ll call a judge, you and Y/N can go and search his place.”

“So shouldn’t we arrest him before he leaves the building?” Morgan asks.

“He’s still in the garage, I’ve let the security know to stop him and arrest him at the gate,” Garcia adds, listening in and planning in advance.

“Thank you,” Hotch smiles at her, “you’re always reading my mind.”

Garcia smiles back at him, “always, sir.”

“Okay, let’s go,” she looks at Emily and waiting for her to turn to leave the room.

“Let’s,” she motions for Y/N to take the lead and follows.

The drive to his house is so weird… she doesn’t quite know how to talk to Emily, knowing only slightly about her and her knowing nothing about Y/N.

“So how long have you and Spencer been dating?” Her first question just gets right to the point.

She laughs awkwardly, “3 days…”

“Oh…”

She hums as she nods along, looking out the window and avoiding Emily’s eye contact. “It’s new, we’re both pretty infatuated with each other but we’re taking it slower than most people because I’m afraid to let my feelings change how I do the job.”

“Makes sense,” Emily replies. Her voice is so sweet, she has an aura of calm that follows her and lets Y/N feel safe. She gets why Spencer said she was his best friend on the team before her.

“The necklace comment… why did it make you so wary of this guy?”

“When I was in middle school a guy gave me a necklace while he was grooming me,” she whispers. Looking out the window and pretending it doesn’t bother her now. “It’s fine, I don’t have it anymore, but I knew this guy had that same vibe.”

Emily put her hand out, letting Y/N interlock their fingers and hold it. “I know I just met you, but you’re family now. I’m here if you’re ever suddenly not fine with it anymore…”

“Thanks,” she smiles. “Let’s get this fucker.”

—

By the time the warrant went through, Spencer and Elle had joined them to search the first suspect's house while Emily left to help the rest of the team with suspect two. Tracking all the license plates in the area like Spencer suggested lead them to a Chinese food delivery driver in the area.

That didn’t stop Y/N from destroying her suspect's house. They tore the house apart, searching every nook and cranny for any answer that would make sense. She was tempted to lift the floorboards up, call in SCSI to run ground-penetrating radar and search the fucking walls if they had to.

But then she found it.

A small metal box in the laundry room contained some tools and when she lifted up the fake bottom, she found 5 necklaces.

“Elle!!” She yelled through the house.

They both came running down the hall to her, “is this Kathy’s necklace?”

“Oh my god,” she whispered with a nod.

“I want to kill this guy,” she mumbles under her breath as she places the necklaces back in the box and closes it up.

“Spencer doesn’t need another girl he has a crush on to murder someone and get kicked out of the bureau,” Elle teases.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“Way to go,” Spencer nudges her.

Y/N stands up with the box and slides it into a large evidence bag before taping it up. “I guess he has a type then.”

“I don’t,” Spencer tries to cover up. “I mean, if I do then it’s people who are nice to me…”

She smiles at him, unable to even pretend to be jealous or mad. “It’s hard to be mean to you when you’re so cute.”

“Ew,” Elle announces her disgust as she leaves the room.

“Let’s get out of here before I end up kissing you in a murderer's laundry room,” Spencer teases, taking her hand and leading her out of the house as the rest of the forensics team takes over the bagging of evidence.

“Guys,” Elle rushes back to them with her phone pressed to her ear. “We have a bigger problem than we thought with Bahni.”

They rush into the SUV, putting the team on the speaker to hear the most unthinkable. “So I did what Y/N suggested and searched every single driver coming in and off-campus and the last street she was seen on,” Penelope explains back. “And I came across a man who was delivering Chinese food under the name Tom Larson… and it’s ironic his name is tom because he has a plethora of peeping offences and general creepiness alongside a metric shit-ton of abuse from his dad and dead mother.”

“Okay?” Elle follows.

“Tom Larson lives near Bahni,” Emily explains, “I was just at his house where I found him and his father had been murdered.”

“So we have not 1 but 3 creeps in this case, and none of them are who took Bahni?” Spencer rubs his eyes. “Please tell me we know who was in Tom’s car last night.”

“That’s where it gets tricky,” Penelope says with the doles tones of keys clicking behind her words. “We were just contacted by the fugitive Taskforce because they believe one of the murderers they’ve been tracking took Bahni… but he has ties to a much larger scale global sex trafficking ring.”

Elle flies through the streets with their lights on, pulling back into headquarters and right up to the security check. “So who is this guy?”

“Once you get back up here, Agent Simmons and Alvez will explain everything,” Hotch confirms. “I’m taking Derek to see Cruze, we need to tell him what’s going on.”

“Sounds good,” Elle hangs up and throws the SUV in park.

Y/N hesitates, staying put and taking a few breaths as Spencer watches. Elle’s left the car and is already on her way to the elevator. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I just have a hug real quick?”

“Yeah,” he wraps his arms around her and holds her close. “Are you okay?”

She nods against him, “yeah it’s just good to have at least 8 hugs a day.”

“Hug me whenever you need to,” he whispers against her hair, kissing the side of her head before she pulls back.

“Kisses are helpful too?”

He smiles, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers, mumbling against them, “how many?”

She hums, “10?”

He pecks her lips 10 times and counts each one, making her giggle, it takes so much effort to hold her smile back to keep kissing him but she feels much better.

“Thank you,” she beams and she can swear Spencer's eyes sparkle as he smiles back.

She pulls him into another hug, “I hate that we have to go catch a killer right now.”

“Come on then, as soon as we get him we can go on another date somewhere?”

She shakes her head, “after this case I think we should take a nap together… I’m exhausted and I don’t want to let you go.”

Spencer shakes his head in amazement, “you really like me?”

“Yeah, maybe I do,” she teases him. “You should get used to it because it’s only going to get more intense and I will smother you with love.”

He just shrugs, “it’s about time—“

They’re startled with a knock on the window, “we get it you’re in love, can we go now?”

“Sorry!” Y/N calls back with a giggle, pulling him in for one last kiss before getting out. Spencer follows with a deep blush that everyone will see when they get back upstairs, but it looks cute on him.

Luke Alvez has been trying to catch one criminal for the last 2 years. Simon Garrett has been a pain in the ass for the FBI, the CIA and DEA. He first showed up on their radar when his DNA was found on 14 women’s remains, all of who had been missing for at least 5 years.

His DNA was then traced to his son in the foster system, who’s been off the radar for the last 10 years. Everette Garrett.

“Now he’s interesting because I’ve been investigating his sex trafficking ring between Canada and the United States,” Matt adds. “All 14 women his father's DNA was found on were thought to be in his ring, which means when they get too old he hands them to his father to take care of.”

Y/N shakes her head as she listens, “so if you’ve been looking for them for this long what makes you think we can find them in time to save Bahni?”

“We’ve been tracking him for a while, we knew that he had a new girl on his radar and when we heard it was Bahni Desai we knew it was time to get you guys,” Matt explains.

“So far we know that she has to be taken to this warehouse in Alexandria before she goes any further, we’re going to intercept them before they make it to the warehouse and then use their car to gain access to take the whole thing down,” Luke rolls out a map of the facility then.

“We need to have the place surrounded for any runners, SWAT is getting prepped, we’re going tonight at 3 am,” Matt adds. “Morgan, Hotch, Prentiss, Alvez and Myself will be running a team at each of the 5 exits. Once inside, each team's swat unit will deploy gas to carefully knock everyone out, from there we need someone to cuff everyone at least until we know who is a victim and who is working there.”

“We’re taking everyone alive?” Spencer makes sure he hears them right.

“We need to know what the step after this warehouse is if we want to rescue more victims,” Luke’s voice is gentle yet stern as he explains. “I’ve seen this man take too many women from good homes and ruin their lives, I’m not letting him slip out of my fingers.”

“We’ve had this planned for months, we just needed to wait for the next confirmed drop-off.”

“Who’s driving?” Y/N asks, having a feeling it was her and Spencer.

“He’s Reids age,” Hotch announces from the door as he walks in with Cruze, “so we’ll replace Everette with Reid and Bahni with Y/L/N.”

“Rossi and Elle will be there to apprehend Everette, we’re setting up a fake traffic spot to irritate him and inhibit him from running. You two will be in a duplicate car arriving at the warehouse at the arranged time,” Emily confirms. “We just have to prep SWAT and then we can leave.”

“Alright, let’s get ready.”

—

Pretending to be kidnapped in the back of a car driven by her boyfriend was possibly the weirdest way to spend a Tuesday morning. Driving the exact make and model as their unsub, her heartbeat was loud enough to cover the sound of the engine and distract her from the long drive. She was overly anxious, and rightly so, it was her first sting.

And she was doing it all without coffee. Tired but full of adrenaline, she wanted to close her eyes and drift off but she knew she needed to be ready to apprehend the men at the gate with Spencer.

She feels the large bump, indicating they just went over a speed bump and she knows what that means. The car slows and she can hear the muffled talking before swat steps in, soon enough Spencer is cracking the trunk open and reaching in for her.

“Are you okay?” He helps her to her feet and makes sure her bulletproof vest is on right before handing her, her gun and watching her clip it on.

“Yeah, what happened?”

“The guards are down, Swat moved in as soon as we arrived, now we have to stand here and wait for them to clear the building,” Spencer explains as they walk to the front of her car.

She draws her gun and keeps it pointed low, guarded as they watch the front entrance for anyone to escape. “Do you know if Bahni is okay?” She whispers towards him.

He nods, “they radioed in that they got her, she’s being airlifted to the hospital with JJ right now.”

She nods with a deep breath, “okay good.”

“It’s going to be fine, we have enough SWAT here to take the government,” he tries to joke, getting a laugh from one of the officers… very strange to see someone laugh while holding an assault rifle.

One of the swat side steps towards Spencer, “I’m hearing on the line that they’ve cleared every room. They’re cuffing everyone, you’re free to enter.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replies.

The high-pitched screech rubber gripping asphalt in an attempt to stop draws their attention backwards. Elle and Rossi jumping out with their guns drawn, ready to join even though the exciting part is long over.

“No runners?” Elle asks, holstering her weapon. “Aw man, I was excited.”

“Not a one,” Y/N adds, watching the front entrance for the rest of the team to start funnelling out with the unsubs.

Luke exits first with a big smile on his face, Simon Garrett cuffed and barely stumbling out the door in front of him. He finally got him.

“well done,” Elle congratulates him. “Let me help you get him in SWAT van.”

“I think she has a thing for Luke,” Rossi leans into Y/N to gossip. “she wouldn’t stop asking about him on the drive…”

“Ooo,” Y/N teases, getting more and more tired as her adrenaline drops. Her eyes are heavy and Rossi can tell.

“Why don’t I bring you and the good doctor home, I don’t think they need all of us for the wrap-up,” Rossi pats her back. “You’ve had a long night, kid.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, holstering her gun and turning with him towards the SUV. “I’m so exhausted.”

“Well you’ve been on the job for almost 24 hours now, you’ve officially made it through your first overnight sting op,” Rossi congratulates her like he’s her grandpa.

She turns back when she doesn’t hear Spencer following her, “Spence? Are you coming?”

“Um,” he has something to ask as he follows then but he doesn’t say it. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s okay, come sit with me in the back?” She asks, sliding in beside him and resting her head on his shoulder as soon as their seatbelts are on.

“Did you still want to have a nap together?” He whispers, feeling her nod against his shoulder before she pulls back.

“Come here,” she tugs him in against her chest, snuggling in as best as she could in their sitting position. Holding him close and feeling him drift off in her arms. She has no problem following suit.

When she wakes, Rossi is parked outside of her apartment, “here you go, Y/N.”

She hums as she comes to, shaking Spencer awake too, “Spence, come on, let’s get to bed.”

“He’s going with you?”

She nods, “don’t tell Penelope. She’ll have a field day, I just want a nap.”

“You better get more than a nap,” Rossi orders. “You guys need to actually rest before you come back to work on Wednesday.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she teases him. “We will.”

“Bye Dave,” Spencer whispers as he gets out of the car. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Anytime kid,” Rossi waves them off, waiting for them to enter the building before driving away.

“Finally,” she sighs, dragging Spencer down the hall and towards her apartment. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“me too,” he barely says.

He follows her inside like a lost puppy, taking off his vest and shirt, slipping out of his pants until he’s in an undershirt, boxers and his mismatched socks. She’s amazed by how comfortable he is with her, but she has known him for 3 months, it’s enough time to fall in love with someone… right?

She’s loved him since she started working with him. When she realized he valued her opinions, he looked at her as a person and he genuinely loved her company. She felt a real connection with him, not just childish infatuation. He was everything to her.

She slides into bed beside him and snuggles in, wrapping an arm around his middle and resting her head on his chest.

“I guess I really can do everything,” she smirks.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She pokes his chest and giggles away the awkwardness, “the thing I wanted to do most, the thing that I couldn’t do… that was to fall in love with you, but I did it anyway.”

“Well, then I guess I can do everything too.”

She pulls away to look at him, “I love you, Spencer. I don’t know if it’s too soon, but I’ve loved you for a while.”

He pulls her in for a kiss, shocking her as he breathes her in and holds her there. “I love you, more Y/N.”

Permanent tag list

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[spacedancer1701]

Teenage Crush

Fandom: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series (TOS), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (AOS) Pairing: McCoy x Reader (platonic)  Rating: Gen Word Count: 3,248

Or read it on AO3: Teenage Crush        

Summary: You have a huge crush on Dr. McCoy, who handles this delicate situation with thoughtful kindness. 

********************

Dr. McCoy had asked you to come by his office after your shift, because he wanted to talk to you, and now your heart wouldn’t stop fluttering. He’d been smiling when he’d asked, so you didn’t seem to be in trouble. No, it had to be something good, something pleasant even. Maybe he was finally going to tell you how he felt about you. You’d been waiting for that day forever.

You’d come aboard the Enterprise two years ago, when you were barely 17, before you’d even graduated from nursing school. Since your dad had been one of the higher-ranking engineers aboard, and friends with Scotty, he’d been able to pull a few strings after your mum’s death, and they’d made an exception for you, allowing you to finish your training on site. In space. Right here on the Enterprise. You’d been so excited.

Then you’d met the CMO, who hadn’t been too happy to have you aboard – not happy at all, in fact – and excitement had quickly turned to trepidation. Apparently, Dr. McCoy had already been struggling with Starfleet’s ongoing cutbacks on trained medical personnel as it was. So, your taking away one more spot that could have been filled with someone “actually useful”, didn’t sit well with him.

The doctor wasn’t one for holding back, either, letting you know exactly what he thought of this training-on-site idea. He certainly wasn’t a man who kept his thoughts and misgivings to himself. God, you’d been scared witless of Dr. McCoy in those first few days.

Things had got a bit easier, when he’d recognized you for what you were, a diligent and hard worker. He’d softened a little around you then, even praised you for your good work from time to time. And after a while, you’d started to think that he wasn’t really that bad, was actually quite fun to be around.

That was after you’d realized that most of his bluster was just that. Bluster. Serving as a kind of shield. And that underneath, there was a hidden gentleness, a caring tenderness, a soft heart, that only ever seemed to show when someone was in distress or in pain. You remembered growing rather fond of the doctor pretty soon, once you’d discovered this.

Then your dad had been killed in a battle with the Klingons. They’d boarded the Enterprise and just randomly ‘neutralised’ people with their disruptors. There hadn’t even been any remains for you to bury. All of a sudden, you’d become an orphan. Just like that. Even at the age of 18, it was still way too soon. You’d been devastated. You hadn’t even quite finished your training yet, and with no siblings or other relatives to speak of, you’d felt all alone in the world.

Scotty had tried to be there for you. He was a kind man, but not particularly father material. That’s when Dr. McCoy had stepped in. Not in any official capacity, of course. At 18 you didn’t need a legal guardian or anything. But subtly, in so many little ways and kindnesses, starting with thoughtfully helping you sort out the host of administrative, legal, and financial issues after your father’s death.

In his unassuming way, he’d been quietly there for you through it all, and ever since. He’d talked to you, listened to you, worried about you, comforted and encouraged you, and just generally kept an eye out for you. And sometimes, he’d even opened his arms for you, let you cry on his shoulder, or, more precisely, on his chest. Just held you, offering warmth, and comfort, and tenderness, humming, and whispering, and grunting little reassurances. In those moments, you’d felt safe and protected. And not alone at all. And when you’d recalled them late at night, you’d even felt loved.

Now you were 19, an adult, and this feeling of security McCoy gave you had turned into a major crush, and, most recently, into love. Yes, you loved that man. With all your heart. He was the reason you got up in the mornings, the dream that kept you up at night, the warmth that filled every space in your heart and made your body tingle from your head down to your toes.

You wanted to be around him, near him, all the time. In fact, you couldn’t be close enough to him. He was all you could think about, day and night, and it took all your determination to stay focused on your work during your shifts. Even more so when he was around. But of course, you’d never be negligent in your duties. Just the thought of disappointing him made you sick to your stomach.

You were totally crazy about the doctor, to the point where you knew at the back of your mind that it wasn’t healthy. But you were helpless to do anything about it. Helplessly in love. You’d pretended to stumble and fall in sickbay twice this week - twice! - just so that he could catch you, which he’d reflexively done both times, allowing you a heavenly fraction of a second in his arms each time.

But the strange look he’d given you after it had ‘happened’ the second time, had been gnawing away at you since. He hadn’t been angry. Not at all. It had been a kind and affectionate look, no question there. But worried, too. In an uncomfortable way. And certainly not the ‘utterly in love with you’ look you’d been hoping to see in his eyes for some time now. His gorgeous, observant, compassionate eyes. Ahhhhh…

********************

McCoy was sitting in his office in sickbay, deep in thought. As a matter of fact, he was thinking about you, albeit not in the way you’d have liked him to, mentally preparing himself for a conversation he’d rather not have, but which was unavoidable and couldn't be delayed.

About a week ago, he’d started suspecting that you might have a crush on him. Something you’d said, the tone of your voice, a number of little things that had alerted him. And immediately made him feel terribly guilty for having let it come this far in the first place. Much as he’d come to love you like a daughter, and had felt compelled to take care of you ever since your own father had died so suddenly, he’d never thought about you in a romantic way. And he’d certainly never expected you to see him as anything other than a father figure, either.

He knew he had to do something about it quickly, before you got seriously hurt, or it got too embarrassing for the both of you. He’d hate to have to stop being there for you as a friend, a mentor. You were still barely more than a child and needed an adult in your life to have your back. To give you guidance and stability, a sense of home and family, at least as far as that was possible in your situation.

But before jumping to conclusions, let alone into action, he’d had to be one hundred percent sure of your newly discovered romantic feelings for him. Although your starting to wear makeup and put a lot of effort into your hair style for your shifts in sickbay certainly fit the bill. But then, you could just as well have been doing it for someone else, couldn't you? Or even just for yourself. He couldn't risk ‘having that talk’ with you on a hunch. It would be beyond mortifying for both of you, if he’d got it all wrong.

So he’d gone and put his theory to the test, like the thorough scientist and researcher he was. He’d casually mentioned a few things, like how he always preferred a natural look to makeup, and sure enough, you’d shown up in sickbay ‘au naturel’ again the next day. In kind, every single one of his little ‘experiments’ had come up with the same result.

Apart from that, you’d been uncharacteristically down lately, which had him worried even before the other pieces of the puzzle had come together. Because you were usually one of the most cheerful people he knew. Except for the time you’d been devastated after your father’s death, of course. But even then, with some gentle support from him and your other friends, you’d bounced back pretty fast.  

When you’d first come aboard, you’d reminded the doctor a lot of young Chekov, when he’d first met him. You had that same puppy energy. And just like Pavel, you were brilliant at your job, keen, and dutiful. Qualities he’d come to appreciate, once he’d got over himself and given you a chance, after being a crabby old grump for the first week or so. But Starfleet dumping a trainee on him on top of leaving him to deal with a sorely understaffed sickbay, had felt like they were laughing in his face.

He’d grown really fond of you over the years, holding you in high regard, privately as well as professionally. And, of course, he should have anticipated that this might happen. Teenagers developing romantic feelings for their teachers, coaches, mentors, father figures in general, wasn’t that uncommon. In theory. He’d just somehow never expected it happening to him. How stupid of him not to have seen it sooner! But that couldn't be helped now.

What he could do – had to do – now, however, was address the subject openly and nip any hopes and ideas you might have for a romantic future for the two of you in the bud. As gently as possible, but without leaving any room for interpretation. Not a conversation he was looking forward to, there was no way this wasn’t going to be awkward, but putting it off would just let you get in even deeper and add to your hurt, and that was the last thing he wanted. No, it was time to talk.

The moment you entered, however, he almost lost his nerve, seeing the hopeful eagerness on your face. Dammit! What a fool he’d been! Asking you to come by his office to talk had only served to get your hopes up, of course. But he’d needed to get you alone, yet not too private for this conversation. Well, no going back now. All he could do was jump right in.

So, after asking you to take a seat across the desk from him, McCoy got straight to the point.

“Y/N, I’ve asked you here because of a delicate matter I feel we need to discuss,” he began. And when you just gazed at him expectantly, he continued, “We’ve known each other for quite a while now, and I’d like to think of us as friends, but lately, I’ve got the impression that you’ve developed certain … uh … feelings that are … uh … not exactly appropriate in a friendship.”

The doctor paused to give you time to process his words and gauge your reaction, which was to blush a deep crimson and look anywhere but him, confirming his suspicions yet again. You’d never been exactly shy, and he knew you well enough to be sure that, if it weren’t true, you’d have burst out laughing and accused him of being hilarious and pulling your leg by now. But he’d obviously hit the bull’s eye.

“You’re a lovely person, Y/N!” he went on softly, “I’m very fond of you, and I’ll always be there for you. But if your feelings for me have grown into anything even remotely romantic, I’m afraid I can’t be what you want me to be.”

Totally embarrassed now, you whispered, “I’m sorry! I really thought you liked me.”

“And I do like you, Y/N! Of course, I do. I care for you very much! But you’re like a second daughter to me, and I’m awfully sorry, if I ever gave the impression that it might be anything else.”

You finally raised your eyes to look at him again, and the dismay on your face broke his heart.

“I’m not the one for you, sweetheart,” he sighed, itching to pull you into his arms and comfort you, but knowing, of course, that this was not the time.

“You sound very sure. Just like I’m sure that my deep feelings for you are true.”

“And I’d never question the depth of your feelings, Y/N. But I am sure. Even if it’s not what you’d like to hear. I’m not the one for you.”

“How can you say that?” you sounded like a petulant child now. “You don’t know how I feel about you!”

God, this was even harder than he’d thought. But at least you hadn’t just run off, mortified, never to speak to him again. You were still here, prepared to talk things through with him.

“True, I don’t know that,” he conceded. “But I believe I do know what you need. Think about it! What started those feelings? You suddenly found yourself all alone, with no family, maybe a little lost and probably more than a bit scared out here in space. You were so young, still are, and you needed someone to look out for you, care for you, be there for you. And I was. Your go-to person for practical and emotional support at a time when you were most vulnerable.”

“I was just a charity case,” you muttered softly, more to yourself.

“Not at all,” the doctor returned kindly, “I was happy to be that person for you, and I’d love to think that I still am. I’ll always want to be there for you. Just not in a romantic way.”

McCoy fell silent, patiently waiting for you to say something, and glad to see the embarrassment on your face slowly give way to acceptance, if not quite yet understanding. But when you didn’t offer a response in a while, he felt the need to explain further.

“And although I’m flattered, I don’t think that you actually have any romantic interest in me, either. Not if you’re honest with yourself. I mean, just look at me! Really look at me. At my saggy eyes, all the lines and wrinkles. I’m an old man, and that’s not what you want.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes, and the doctor was grateful that his attempt at humour had helped to lift the awkwardness between you a little.

“What you do want, and need, though, is warmth, protection, security. I don’t doubt that your feelings for me are strong – we’ve grown close, and I feel deep affection for you, too. So it’s only natural for you to look to me for those things. After all, you felt safe in my arms when you were grieving, afraid, and touch-starved. And sometimes it’s easy to confuse that with romantic love.”

McCoy let the idea sink in for a minute, watching a myriad of emotions playing across your face while choosing his next words carefully.

“You don’t want me to kiss you,” he said bluntly, satisfied at the shocked surprise on your face. “A comforting hug, a gentle touch to your cheek, yes. Nothing wrong with that. But be honest! If I were to suddenly kiss you right now, or touch you inappropriately, you’d be scared out of your mind. You’d feel violated. The reason you feel so safe with me is because deep down you know I’d never do that. That’s why you trust me. That’s what you need from me. And that’s what you’ll get from me.”

Feeling a warm surge of tenderness for you, as you were visibly struggling with the truth of his words, McCoy reached across the desk and gently covered your hand with his.

“This,” he smiled fondly, making a point of giving your fingers an affectionate squeeze and tenderly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb, “is what we’re both comfortable with. And don’t get me wrong, Y/N, you’re beautiful and attractive, I can see that, I’m not blind. But I see you through a father’s eyes. You’ll always be like a daughter to me. And I’m convinced that, at the end of the day, that’s the relationship you want us to have, too. Anything else, you’re going to share with someone special one day. Some young man who adores you. Like that handsome ensign in the transporter room, for instance. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Maybe give him a chance! Or don’t. Choose anyone else. Or just wait until Mr. Right comes along. You have plenty of time and a whole galaxy to choose from.”

After he’d finished, his thumb still drawing gentle circles on the back of your hand, the doctor searched your face closely while you were considering his words, eyes cast down and cheeks slightly flushed.

“I feel so silly now!” you mumbled after a while, refusing to meet his eye, the humiliation you clearly felt pulling at McCoy’s heartstrings.

He’d really tried, but obviously failed, to make this as little embarrassing as possible for you.

“Don’t!” he said softly, placing a gentle hand under your chin, trying to get you to look at him. “There’s absolutely no reason for you to feel silly or ashamed. You’ve done nothing wrong. And if you do some soul-searching and think about what I’ve said, I believe you’ll agree that our friendship is perfectly enough, exactly as it is.”

“But why does it still feel like love?” you asked, questioning eyes boring into the doctor’s, as you leaned into his touch.

“Because it is, sweetheart,” he replied gently, holding your gaze, his hand caressing your cheek now. “Love has many faces. It comes in all different shapes and sizes, sometimes difficult to tell apart. If I didn’t care for you as much as I do, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now. Just understand that the love between us is in no way inferior to romantic love, or any less beautiful. It’s simply a different kind of love.”

“Then why does it hurt so much?” you whispered, your eyes welling up, tearing at the doctor’s heart.

“Oh, Y/N,” he sighed, getting up to walk around his desk and open his arms, smiling softly as you unhesitatingly stepped into his embrace and promptly burst into tears. “This might be your first, if almost certainly not your last heartache. We’ve all been there. But the hurt will pass, I promise. And when it does, I’ll still be here.”

Feeling the tension gradually leave your shoulders as his words started to sink in, McCoy was confident that the two of you would be all right. You might need some time to sort out your feelings and accept that some dreams didn’t come true. But once you’d overcome the embarrassment of what certainly felt like rejection right now, despite the doctor’s best efforts to the contrary, you might even find that it was for the best.

“I need you to know that I’ll always be there for you, Y/N,” he said, tenderly rubbing your back and burying his face in your hair, like he’d done many times before. “To help and to hug, to share good news and bad, to lend an ear, a shoulder to cry on, to comfort or offer the odd piece of advice. And remember that while I won’t be the one waiting for you at the altar, should you ever decide to get married, I’d sure as hell love to be the one walking you down the aisle.”

******************** Disclaimer: Nothing of or associated with Star Trek is mine – it all belongs to Paramount / ViacomCBS (or whoever else is currently holding the rights). This is a work of fanfiction, no infringement intended.

[spacedikut]

spooky scary skeletons ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: spencer has the prettiest face you’ve ever painted on. 1626 words

a/n: a poorly edited, poorly written and late halloween thing! inspired by idmakeitbehave (go read everything theyve ever written ever) because they have the BEST meet cutes and every time i think of them i :-)

masterlist

The haunted mansion of the fair, overflowing with screams, the sound of chainsaws and the evil cackle your friend has been rehearsing in the mirror all month, stands tall behind you like the looming presence it is. It’s brought great entertainment for you, watching and hearing the reactions of those that dare enter.

You’re set up not far from the exit of the house with your array of face paint around you, paintbrush in hand. Most of your customers are children – this year’s most popular request is pumpkin, last year was skeleton – and as much as you love spookiness and gore and everything in between, the rush of pride you feel when a little girl gasps and thanks you with the sweetest voice when you show her your finished work is unmatched.

You’re not the least surprised that your clientele is mainly children. There’s the odd parent here and there that is persuaded to get a black cat on their cheek, or some fake blood coming from their eyes and mouths, but they never venture beyond the small request.

Until him.

He’s marched up to you by his friend who, wearing a dress covered in fake spiders and cobwebs, pushes him by the shoulders right up to the foldable chair that’s placed opposite you. You’re drying off a wet paintbrush, glancing up when you hear the crunch of leaves beneath their feet.

“My friend would like his face painted.” She tells you.

“Of course,” You gesture for him to take the seat in front of you, the compliment slipping out after giving them both a once-over. “I like your outfits.”

“Oh!” The girl grins. “Thank you. I’ve been waiting all year to wear it. And he,” She points to the still-silent customer who hasn’t taken his eyes off you once, “Is more obsessed with Halloween than anyone I know.”

Looking at the bright orange pumpkin-covered sweater he’s wearing, you’re overcome by the urge to touch it – and his hair, with the way it’s all squiggles and curls and seems so soft. “What can I do for you?”

The first time he speaks, it’s after he takes a deep breath and rubs his palms on his trousers. “A skeleton, please.”

You’re already arranging the colours you’ll need, missing how the girl slips away, too busy asking the usual questions, “How big?”

“My entire face.”

That’s a new one. For an adult, at least. Usually all they want is an easy to clean, easy to hide image on their cheek.

It’s only then you really take in his appearance. In the dark, dusty light of the fair, he looks like a real life Tim Burton character – shallow eyes, sharp cheekbones, a general gauntness that you’ve only seen in fiction. He’s the perfect skeleton, if that isn’t weird to think.

“All over?” Your hand moves to gesture over your face, as if miming to him what all over really means.

“Yeah,” He nods, “I’m not that good of an artist, and my mask makes it kind of hard to see. So a skeleton is spooky enough but not a lot of work, right?”

“Right.” You smile at him. “Right, okay, let’s do it.”

The second the cold bristles dip into the paint before you, you’re absorbed in ensuring you do a good job. You’re used to working on children, so you naturally take hold of his chin to move his face this way and that way to apply a firm coat and get your lines right.

“I’m Spencer, by the way,” He mumbles.

You huff a laugh. He feels your breath on his lips. “Hi, Spencer, I’m Y/N.”

The customer – Spencer – wiggles his lips in a way that tells you he’s holding back a smile. You’re not sure what it is about him, but you like him. You like how still he sits, patiently letting you do your work, you like how much he seems to like Halloween (you refer to the sweater and the fact he’s about to cover his entire face in paint to look like a skeleton), and you like how his eyes on you make you feel. Because it doesn’t feel gross, or weird, like it normally does; it’s like his gaze is complimenting you silently, the intensity of it making you bite the inside of your cheek.

Small-talk comes naturally after hours of doing this job. “You mentioned a mask? What was it a mask of?”

“Michael Myers.”

“Oh,” You shiver, “I hate that guy.”

“The iconic mask is actually a William Shatner mask that’s painted white and changed to blur the resemblance to Shatner. Specifically, it’s a Captain Kirk death mask created for Star Trek.” Spencer tells you, giving a tight lipped smile when you pause for a second to take in the information.

“How does William Shatner feel about that?”

“Not great, probably. But, can you imagine being considered one of the stars of the Halloween franchise?” He’s giddy, almost wiggling in excitement. “I’d love to see people wearing my face every Halloween.”

You laugh at that.

A few more facts are spewed out while you mix black with a little bit of white to make grey, some you already know and some you don’t, but he’s still chattering on when you turn back to face him, ready to paint again.

The words die in his throat, however, when your hand finds home on the back of his neck, thumb hooking around to lift his jaw up. “Still, please.”

Even if he wanted to give an unnecessary apology, he wouldn’t be able to, as if his throat is full of sand.

It’s silent for a while, Spencer’s eyes trained on the twinkling night sky that sits calmly compared to the thundering of his heart, the scramble of thoughts in his head. When your hand moves away a few minutes later, his disappointed eyes fall back to your face, where he finds himself thinking, please do that again.

“Do you want the black on your eyelids, too, or just around your eye?” You ask over your shoulder, oblivious to the new slump in Spencer’s back.

“Eyelids, too, please.”

You smile to yourself at how polite he is. Spencer might be the sweetest person you’ve ever met and you’ve known him for twenty minutes.

By the time you’re done, you’ve decided Spencer is the best customer you’ve ever had and you’d give anything to replay this interaction again and again. He’s polite, listens when you ask him to turn a certain way or sit up (a surprising amount of adults simply do not listen), and brings the most interesting conversation.

Did you know the use of OMG can be traced back to 1917? Cause Spencer does, and he bestowed you with the same knowledge.

You’re impressed with yourself and Spencer’s brain when you finally lean back, checking for any spots you missed or parts you can fix.

Before you even reach for the mirror, Spencer’s interrupting you.

“Um… do I-do I look spooky?”

You face him, a pretty smirk on your lips, “Terrifying.”

When you hold the mirror up to his face, he barely spares himself glance (but it’s enough of a glance for him to think holy crap, you’re talented) and there’s a look in his eye – he’s hesitant. About what, you’re not sure.

You wonder if he can tell you don’t want him to go. You enjoy his company, you enjoy him, and you’ve never wanted to wipe your work off someone’s face so quickly just for an excuse to do it again until now.

“How much do I owe you?” He asks, reaching for his wallet but not leaving the chair.

Your eyes narrow for a split second as you weight your option. Then you think fuck it, and say, “Nothing. It’s on the house.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You can, and you will.” You stand. “Consider it thanks for all the cool facts you gave me.”

He lights up when you say cool facts, and opens his mouth to again offer to pay when he’s cut off by a group of laughing teenagers flying out of the haunted house, the exit door slamming against the wood with a startling bang.

Spencer gets an idea.

Seeing you look at the house, he asks, “Have you been in yet?”

You shake your head. “No. Not yet. If I have time later, maybe-“

“Come in with me.”

His grip on his wallet is tight, channelling all worry into his fingers so he doesn’t stumble or say something stupid.

“It’s the least I can do, and it’ll be too scary on my own.”

He’s lying – the idea of going through a haunted house by himself sounds exhilarating, but he’s found an opportunity to not leave you just yet and he’s going to take it.

You consider him for a moment. It’s late, you’ve been painting faces all day, and the sweetest, most attractive person you’ve ever seen is asking you to join them in a haunted house on Halloween. What kind of person would say no?

“Okay,” You happily concede, “But don’t blame me if I end up clinging to you.”

The two of you join the line into the house, giggling when someone dramatically falls through the exit and gasps for air like he’s barely made it out alive. And when the next people to leave the house are a couple who hold eachother close and tight, hands intertwined and one with their head buried in the neck of the other, Spencer steps a little closer to you, hoping you get the memo that having you cling to him doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @roses-and-grasses @fandommonium3267 @ta-ka-shi-ma @ogmilkis @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @jasongideonapologist @gublertoon @bitchyreids

[bordeleaubeau]

idk you yet - luke hughes (part one)

wc: 2830

warnings: probably a few curses, i honestly can’t really remember:)

inspired by idk you yet by alexander 23.

---

how can you miss someone you’ve never met?

the words forming on luke’s arm startle him at first. there’s a tingling tickle-like feeling as each letter appears, but luke can barely believe his eyes. he was just about to turn seventeen and until that moment he had no sign of his soulmate whatsoever. but now? now he had proof on his arm that his soulmate was out there somewhere. that meant the boys could finally stop teasing him in the locker room about possibly not having a soulmate. 

it felt like everyone around luke knew their soulmate was out there. it was such a rare possibility that someone didn’t have a soulmate - if their soulmate passed away, chances are they would too due to the pain from the loss. and, well, luke hadn’t died yet, so that was his only hope of his soulmate being out there.

the initial shock is soon replaced by pure adrenaline. luke can barely pay attention to what ever mrs. clemmens is writing on the board; all he can focus on is writing back to his soulmate. whoever she might be. 

i don’t know you yet, but i need you. do you know how long i’ve waited to hear from you?

you’re smiling down at your arm - it was always a game whenever you’d finally be able to contact your soulmate. some were able to as soon as their fifteenth birthday, some couldn’t until their eighteenth. and well, if you hadn’t contacted them by then, there was some bad news to be delivered. but it was all a waiting game. the day you were able to contact them was supposed to be one of the happiest days of your life, but there was only one catch: your soulmate could be thousands of miles from you.

and what about me with you?

“mr. hughes!” 

luke’s attention snaps to the front of the classroom, where the middle aged woman now has her hands on her hips staring at one of her best pupils. luke’s eyes are wide, the color draining from his face as each head of his classmates turn to look at him.

“care to share what’s gotten you so smiley, luke? or will you pay attention to my lesson for at least three seconds?” luke sputters for a few seconds, causing the woman’s eyebrows to spike up in question. “out with it.”

“i’ll, i’ll pay attention, mrs. clemmens.” the brunette finally manages to get out, sinking back in his seat. the color returns to his face, but this time it’s the same shade of red as the apple on mrs. clemmen’s desk. he didn’t want to leave her hanging, but he wasn’t going to risk getting in trouble again. he wasn’t going to out himself for finally finding his soulmate - and being one of the last in his grade to do so.

luke feels his phone vibrate in his sweatshirt pocket, and upon just the right moment he pulls his phone out to see tyler had messaged him.

tyler b: were you finally able to talk to her? 

luke isn’t able to respond to tyler in fear that mrs. clemmens will have a few words for him, and surely enough he didn’t need to get into any more trouble with one of his teachers. one more write up and he was going to be benched for an entire month. so against his better judgement, he sticks his hands in his pockets and pays attention to the lesson going on. all while trying to ignore the tickle feeling on his hand.

“i can’t believe you were finally able to talk to him!” mal gushes, her eyes glued to your arm that had a mix of jet black and purple ink scrawled on it. there was game @7 written on your hand in purple ink, along with a star next to it. “how do you think tyler is going to react?” 

your heart nearly drops in your chest. tyler. your boyfriend - of almost a year, in fact. in the midst of it all you seemed to of forgotten about him, your mind elsewhere, and it was on your soulmate. your soulmate that wasn’t him. 

“i have to tell him, don’t i?” you look up at your best friend, eyes glossier than they had been seconds before. “mal, i dunno, i dunno if i can do that. tyler is- he’s so sweet. he’s gonna be crushed.”

“who’s gonna be crushed?” 

speak of the devil. 

tyler drops his bag on the floor, sitting down in the seat next to you like he always did in english class. mal notices the slight tension, turning back to face forward in her seat as she waits for class to begin. you take a quick breath, turning to your boyfriend, you grasp both of his hands in yours. “ty, i have to tell you something.”

tyler’s eyes glance down to your wrist, and only the slightest bit is showing from the sleeves of your sweater riding up, but he sees it. the black ink. “anything, y/n.” he clears his throat, pretending like he hadn’t seen anything at all.

“you’re not my soulmate.”

“i know.”

your eyes widen ever so slightly, and you watch as tyler slides up the sleeve of his hoodie. there are a few little sentences scrawled on his skin, ones that were clearly not on yours. you can’t quite find the words to say. your mouth opens and closes a few times before finally, you’re stumped, and you sit back in your seat with your eyebrows furrowed. you let go of his hands, your own falling into your lap. 

“how long?” you finally manage to muster out, meeting his regretful eyes. he had reassured you multiple times that he hadn’t heard from his soulmate yet, but you should’ve gone against your better judgement when he was suddenly wearing long sleeves all the time. and it wasn't just for the winter, you now realized. 

“about, about three months.” he notices the look on your face, and just like moments before he takes your hands in his. “y/n, just because you aren’t my soulmate doesn’t mean i never loved you. i still do love you. i just-”

“it’s okay, i get it.” you cut him off, pulling your hands away from his. “it’s okay, ty. i just wish you would have told me sooner, that’s all.” your voice trails off to a whisper. tyler grabs your hand once more, and he presses a kiss to the back of it. 

“friends?” he asks, and when you nod your head, he presses another kiss to your skin before releasing his hold on your hand. you have to swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat. of course you were upset - you had every reason to be. but you weren’t expecting to be this upset, and you also weren’t expecting tyler to say he already knew the two of you weren’t soulmates.

the english period seems to drag on and on, and after what feels like two hours the bell rings. “walk with me to lunch?” you hear the brunette next to you speak, and you find yourself nodding. “y/n/n, please, talk to me. i hate when you’re mad a me.”

“i’m not mad at you, ty. i promise you that. i just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.” tyler gives you a tight lipped smile, and before the two of you can start to walk to the cafeteria, tyler pulls his hoodie off, revealing his inked arm. it’s a pang to the heart, but you know that you’ll get over it eventually. “what’s she like?” you ask quietly, the two of you starting the few minute trek across the school.

“she’s, she’s really nice. she’s pretty, too. i follow her on instagram, actually. her name is gabby.” tyler glances over at you a few times as he speaks, and you can only find yourself to be nodding along to his words. “i know she’s my soulmate and all, y/n, but she isn’t you.”

you stop in your tracks, causing tyler to turn around to look at you. “don’t. don’t say that. she’s your soulmate, and i’m not, for a reason, tyler boucher. don’t say that about her. i’m sure she’s lovely, and she’s everything that i can’t be for you.”

“i’m sorry i just-” tyler cuts himself off with a sigh, going to reach for your hand but he stops halfway. “i wanted it to be you. i thought it was you. and then one day, i had writing on my wrist, and i looked at yours and it wasn’t there. i know that’s supposed to be one of the happiest days of our life, but it was one of the worst for me. because i wanted it to be you, y/n. so bad.”

to say the least, the two of you were pretty much the ‘it’ couple. your entire friend group adored you both, and you were the first girl that the boys allowed over when they all hung out - but only occasionally. it was never an all the time thing, which you understood. but still, you and tyler had been through a lot together for not even being together a year. 

“it all happens for a reason,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes as your feet start moving again, and tyler is following after you, quickly matching your pace. “i just, i don’t know, tyler. there’s not much we can do about it and that’s fine.”

“you’re right.” the brunette mumbles, head hanging in despair as you walked down the steps to go into the cafeteria. the rest of the walk between the two of you is silent, but a comfortable one.

the lunch table you, tyler, all of the boys, mal, and a few other girls came into view. and as soon as they realized tyler wasn’t wearing his sweatshirt and his arms were fully exposed, along with the pen ink and the looks on your faces, they all knew. they knew that you finally knew.

the conversations going on didn’t completely stop, but they quieted down for a few brief moments when you and tyler took your usual seats. you try to avoid the eyes of your friends, but it’s nearly impossible. your eyes catch luke’s, and he’s giving you the puppy dog eyes from the other side of the table.

“are you okay?” he asks quietly, and all you can do is shake your head ever so slightly. “oh, y/n.”

luke wants to reach across the table and grab your hands, but he wants to save himself from the teasing he’s sure he would get from the boys if they saw the girly handwriting on the back of his hand. “i’ll be alright, lu. promise.” you give him a reassuring smile, but of course he doesn’t believe it. not in the slightest.

“are you still gonna come to our game tonight?” tyler asks quietly from your right side, and when you turn to look at him he’s already looking down at you. if this was yesterday, you would’ve leaned up the three inches and kissed him.

“of course i’m gonna.” you say, eyes glancing down to his lips but you quickly turn away to look down at your hands. “there’s no where else i’d rather be, ty. besides, luke is still my best friend and i still have to support him.”

luke sends you a smile from across the table, one that makes you smile right back at him. for majority of the lunch period, everyone leaves you alone to wallow in your own sadness. even luke couldn’t cheer you up, and that was something. you know you shouldn’t be this upset - this happened to like, every couple that dated before finding their soulmate. but for some reason you thought you and tyler were the exception. 

another period drags on, and after what feels like forever you find yourself getting up from your designated lunch spot. luke stands, waiting for you to walk to the other side of the table so the two of you can go to art class together. “see you boys tonight,” you call over your shoulder, tearing your eyes away from tyler, and walking away hearing the boys responding saying they’ll see you later that night. 

“rant. cry. do whatever you have to do.” luke says, glancing over at his best friend that looks like she could burst into tears at any moment. luke had been waiting all day to tell you that he had finally heard from his soulmate - but as soon as he saw the look on your face he held back. he didn’t want to rub it in when you had just found out about tyler. the biggest secret he had ever kept from you.

“i just,” you purse your lips, eyes locked straight forward to avoid looking at him. “i just wish he would’ve told me. the last few months of our relationship feel like a complete lie.”

“y/n, tyler absolutely adored you. he still adores you. he never even stopped. and i can tell you for a fact that he still loves you. he’s always talking about you - he was talking about you when we were in second period today!” luke exclaims, and finally you look over at him. “i can promise you, y/n, it was not a lie, it never was.”

you can only shake your head, bottom lip between your teeth as the tears well up in your eyes. “it was supposed to be him, lu. ty and i have talked about our entire future together because we swore we were gonna end up being soulmates.”

“maybe you are soulmates,” luke says, holding open the door of the art room for you. “it’s just, not in the way you’d prefer. ty and you are soulmates, but just not romantically. do you get what i’m saying?”

“i guess.” you sigh, luke following into the classroom after you walk in. his heart yearns for you - he wants to lift up his sleeve and show you the purple ink, but he can’t bring himself to do that. 

later that night you find yourself getting ready for tyler and luke’s game, trying to decide between the 13 or the 6 jersey - jerseys the two boys had fought numerous times over which one you would wear. once tyler found out luke had given you one of his old jerseys he had outgrown, he was immediately giving you one of his as well. that was even before you and tyler were dating - he always had the biggest crush on you.

which was why he was sitting in his stall, head in his hands wondering where he had went wrong.

“ty, buddy, what’s going on?” dylan asks, noticing the brunette that has his head hung. immediately, tyler lifts his head and dylan’s eyes widen. “you look like shit, dude.”

“i feel like shit,” tyler grumbles, slowly moving to tie the laces of his skates that he always saved until the very end of gearing up. he catches a glimpse of the ink on his arm and he grimaces, wishing he could just wiped away at his skin and everything would disappear. that everything would be okay.

luke catches the eyes of his best friend and he frowns seeing the hurt in his eyes. “are you still upset about y/n?” he asks cautiously, fingers working at his laces, eyes barely glancing back up to tyler.

“yeah, i am actually. i know i don’t really have a right to be upset and all, but it still feels wrong. we went through a lot together, it just doesn’t feel real that we aren’t really soulmates. that the .  girl i was practically in love with since i got here isn’t my soulmate.” tyler shakes his head as he spills his feelings for the day out. he couldn’t wait until he got to step onto the ice and forget about the day’s events.

until he saw you sitting in your normal seat, and instead of the number 13 jersey, you were wearing the one with the 6, and the seven letter last name on the back was now one letter shorter. 

“oh fuck me,” tyler grumbles, and you’d be lying if you said your heart strings didn’t tug seeing him step out onto the ice. if the two of you had only been dating for two months rather than almost a year, maybe you would’ve felt different about the situation. but that was tyler. your tyler. or rather, gabby’s tyler now.

“y/n?” bella asks from besides you, trying to tear your sad eyes away from the brunette. when you finally do and look over at one of your best friends, she sees your teary eyes and her face softens. “oh, y/n/n. you’re taking this hard, aren’t you?”

“i don’t want my soulmate if it isn’t tyler.”

[moonbeamwritings]

Imagine a scenario based off a dream I had, modern AU where DIO is like 28 a single father, Lawyer to the Stars on the Coast of California with little 7 year old Giorno.

The Reader, Tired- maybe coming off an over night shift, half asleep is casually walking down the busy sidewalk, catches sight of a distracted Giorno not waiting at the cross walk (on his Gameboy or something) and in an instantly the reader pulls Giogio out of the way of an on passing car.

Boom. Dio saw it all and starts scolding Gio. I woke up after that bit.

Point is... I wonder what would have happened next 🤔😕😳

this is cool as hell, anon. cool. as. hell. i’m here for it and i will definitely try to deliver !! it got very out of hand, but i hope you enjoy!! 

part 2

Your day had been long, having worked open to close at the coffee shop down the street from your apartment. As your shift came to an end, you blearily worked through the closer checklist, puttering around the store as you cleaned and closed everything down. With one last turn of a key, you finally, finally, began your trek home.

As you came up to the crosswalk, you noticed a little boy toddling along, gaming system in hand as he went. He was so wrapped up in his game that he barely gave the busy street a second thought as he stepped a foot off the curb.

It was like you were watching the situation in slow motion, his foot moving at a snail’s pace right in front of a moving car. Acting on adrenaline alone, suddenly far more awake than you’d ever felt in your life, you gripped the handle of his backpack to yank him up and into your arms.

With him back on the sidewalk, you placed him back on his feet as you knelt in front of him. “Jeez kiddo, you alright? You have to pay better attention around here.”

As the small boy opened his mouth to say something, a man with a thick british accent came hustling over. “Giorno! How many times do I have to tell you to put that thing away when you’re walking?”

The man, who you could only assume was his father, pulled the device from the boy’s hand before lifting him up into his arms. “Don’t do that again.”

His son nodded meekly, eyes shifting down to his father’s shoes.

“I’m sorry about him. I thought he was right next to me.”

You waved the man off as your gaze finally moved to meet his. He was handsome, like something out of a fairytale, all muscle with perfectly styled blond hair and an impeccable, no doubt expensive, suit. In the back of your mind, you felt as if you’d seen him before, but, being unable to place it, you brushed the thought away.

Saving yourself the embarrassment of ogling at the man for too much longer, you excused yourself. “It’s no problem. Have a nice night you two.”

With the situation over with, you continued your walk home.

Upon your arrival, you did everything you could to decompress: showering, changing, and situating yourself on your couch to watch mindless television. As you flicked through channel after channel, you finally landed on a celebrity gossip station, half listening as the host worked through this week’s hot topics.

You rolled your eyes.

She went on to describe yet another celebrity’s messy divorce, among other criminal charges apparently. Your attention was quickly piqued, though, when a familiar face flashed onto your screen. There he was a perfect combination of muscle, confidence, and style.

Dio Brando.

The man whose child you’d saved, who you’d embarrassingly checked out in a tired stupor, was Dio Brando. It took everything in you not to bring a hand up to smack at your own forehead. No wonder you’d recognized him, he was any celebrity’s dream lawyer and had his own fair share of scandals and nonsense. 

Yikes.

With one final look at the man in question, you changed the channel, hardly able to bear the gritty details of a court case you didn’t care about.

The whole incident with him and his son became nothing more than a blip in your day-to-day life, telling a few work friends and leaving it at that. Did you sometimes check Dio’s Instagram out of what you explained away as genuine curiosity? Well, yeah, but you were only human after all.

The weekend after your run-in with the famous lawyer, you were tasked with another long shift slaving over coffee orders and dealing with rude customers. The moment the morning rush ended, you jumped at the chance to take your lunch break, situating yourself in a corner of the café. You watched as only a few customers filtered in and out, thankful that the worst of the day was now over.

Losing yourself in your Twitter feed, you mindlessly sipped at a cup of tea as the remaining time of your break ticked away, only snapping back to reality at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Mind if I join you?” Looking up from your phone, you locked eyes with Dio. 

“Oh! Uh, sure!”

You watched as he delicately sat himself in the chair across from you, ankle perched on his knee as he shot you an unwavering smirk. As he got situated, he stuck a hand in your direction.

“Dio Brando.”

Biting back a snarky quip about how narcissistic his introduction alone made him seem, you gently placed your hand in his as you gave him your name.

“I wanted to thank you again for what you did for my son.”

“It’s really no problem. I think anyone would have done the same.”

He eyed you carefully, fingers dancing against the mug in front of him. “So, what do you want?”

“Excuse me?”

“As repayment.” He explained like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you want money?” Dio leaned across the table to mumble, “Sex, maybe? I don’t like leaving debts unpaid.”

A look of disgust crossed your face as you put both your phone and drink down on the table, moving to sit on your hands to resist the urge to smack him upside the head. “What are you talking about? I don’t want anything. I was being nice. You don’t need to pay anyone off for being nice.”

“Hmm,” He seemed deep in thought, eyes drifting up and down your face, lingering on your lips for only a split second, “nothing at all? You do know who I am, don’t you?”

With your break coming to an end and your patience wearing thin, you started to collect your things. “Look, pretty boy, I don’t really care who you are. You’re honestly kind of insufferable. I helped your son because he was in trouble. I don’t want your money and I don’t want to have sex with you.”

You hadn’t meant to be quite that biting, but you couldn’t help yourself. How dare he come into your work, assume that he owed you something, and then have the audacity to tease you about it? What the fuck?

“Pretty boy?”

“I need to get back to work. I’d really appreciate it if you didn't come back in here if you’re just going to pull more of this shit.”

Without sparing him a second glance, you made your way back behind the counter, placing your stuff in the back before returning to your place at the register. By the time you returned, he was gone. Good riddance.

You could only assume how warped his worldview was if he genuinely thought he needed to pay you off for helping his son. A creeping feeling of sympathy worked its way into your brain, but was quickly swatted away by the image of his smug smile.

You didn’t see him again for another week, this time armed with a grin that was a little less playful and a little more genuine, almost sheepish.

Taking his order with little fuss, you got to work pouring his coffee and adding specific ingredients. He attempted to make idle conversation with you, asking about your day and how you’d been doing with work. You humored him, if only to be polite, answering his questions with little enthusiasm.

Days passed much the same way. Dio would come in, make small talk, and then leave. No further incidents like that first meeting, no more overt attempts at getting in your pants. Nothing.

It was all… strange, to put it simply. It was like dealing with two different people: the overconfident, well-dressed Dio Brando versus the charming single dad Dio. You were left conflicted, wrestling the two images in your mind to decide how you truly saw Dio.

One night, he’d offered to walk you home after another of your late shifts with the promise that he’d get up to no funny business, as you’d put it. The conversation had lulled as you both became enraptured with the noises of the city, your faces bathed in warm neon lights. The silence was nice, welcomed even, as you thought about how to phrase your feelings.

You’d come to like Dio, in your own silly little way. You had memorized his order, knew more about his job and his son, knew him more intimately than you had ever expected to, but one question remained. One question loomed in your brain, clouding any positive thoughts you may otherwise have: Why? Why did he suddenly come into your work? Why did he take such a liking to you? Was it all a ruse, a sick way of finally repaying you?

“You look like you’re about to throw up.” He commented lightly, watching as a crease formed between your eyebrows, as your face twisted in discomfort.

“I-” You took a deep breath, looking anywhere but at him in order to actually get the question out. “Dio, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He spoke earnestly, eyes still tracing over your side profile.

“Why?”

“Why what? You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“Why would you keep coming into the store after I told you off? I just can’t shake this feeling that you’re still… ugh,” you groaned as the words left your mouth, deciding that this was actually a very bad idea, “I don’t know, buttering me up. Like this is all some dream where I’ll wake up to you laughing in my face, telling me that you were only being nice to me to repay me or sleep with me or something.”

Wordlessly, Dio grasped your arm and led you under the awning of a nearby business, not really wanting to stop sidewalk traffic with whatever confession he may find himself making. He looked deathly serious, like you’d just promised to ruin his entire life. Maybe, with all of your questioning, you had.

“Look,” he sighed, “Did I initially come in with the intention of repaying you by whatever means necessary? Yes and I think we both know that, but it’s different now.”

He paused, clearly choosing his next words very carefully. “You’re one of the only people to actually try to put me in my place, to show me that I was being an asshole. It’s different with you. Hell, you kept me up that night. I couldn’t get you out of my head. It was like you were haunting me, driving me crazy. I had to get to the bottom of why I was so taken with you.”

You felt your mouth drop open at his admission, feeling as though your feet were swept right out from under you, sending you tumbling, “Oh.”

“Oh.” Dio mimicked, his voice lilting up to tease you. “Does that answer your question?”

“Uh, I-... Yeah, I guess it does.”

“Good then let’s go.” He tugged you along, guiding you back out onto the sidewalk and towards your apartment. Dio’s hand didn’t leave yours until you arrived at your doorstep.

“Goodnight.” It was quick, uttered as soon as his hand left yours as he moved to turn around and make his own way home.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Home. I have a kid, remember?”

“Well, of course I remember, but don’t you want to hear what I have to say?”

The smile that graced his face was nothing short of teasing, a small quirk of his lips as he looked you up and down. “Only if it’s interesting.”

“Ugh,” you grumbled, stomping down the stairs of your apartment complex to come face-to-face with Dio, “you’re relentless.”

“So I’ve been told.” He watches as your lip twitches in annoyance. God, did he love to push your buttons. “Spit it out, then. What’s still on your mind? Eager to ask me more questions?”

In lieu of a verbal retort, you took his face in your hands and all but yanked him down to connect your lips with his, eager to finally shut him up. His response was immediate, moving his lips against yours as a hand weaved around your waist, another resting just above your ass.

As you moved to break away, his lips followed yours, pressing another needy kiss to your mouth. Finally satiated, he pulled back to take in the dazed expression on your face.

“I do have one question.”

Dio let out a barking laugh that had him pulling you closer, gripping at your waist, “What is it?”

“Is sex off the table now that you’re not trying to repay me or-?”

He rolled his eyes, leaning in so his lips barely touched yours as he spoke. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

[captainsophiestark]

Birthmark

Kol Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Requested: Yes (From Wattpad; the request was super long, so I’m just putting the summary for the fic.)

Summary: Y/N finds out she is pregnant, and her boyfriend dumps her over it, so she runs to her best friend Rebekah for comfort. Throughout the process of Rebekah trying to cheer her up, Y/N makes an incredibly discovery about her relationship with a Mikaelson brother she didn't even know existed.

Word Count: 4,139

Category: Little angst at the beginning, mostly fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy?

A/N: Last one before Fictober! Starting tomorrow, I’m posting a fic a day for the entire month of October. Including some Marvel, Harry Potter, TVD/TO, Star Wars, and Star Trek. Wish me luck!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Just get out. I don't want you or this kid.

The words echoed in my mind as I stumbled down the streets of New Orleans. It was raining, because of course it was, and I could barely think straight.

My boyfriend, whom I'd been seriously dating and living with for the past year and a half, had kicked me out. Because of an accident.

I thought he loved me, but apparently not. I was pregnant, and the moment I'd told him he broke it off and kicked me out. I was still reeling, too shocked to be angry or hurt or sad. It just didn't seem real somehow.

I wandered through the pouring rain, letting my feet take me through the city on autopilot. I had no idea where I was going until a familiar voice spoke up from behind me.

"Y/N? What are you doing?"

I turned to see Rebekah Mikaelson, my best friend in the entire world, staring at me like I was insane.

"He broke up with me, Bex," I managed to choke out. As soon as I said the words it started to hit me, reality crashing down with one wave after another. "I told him I was pregnant, and he kicked me out."

Rebekah's eyes flashed, and I could tell she wanted to go deal with my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—personally, right then and there. Fortunately for him, my knees buckled, and Rebekah had to rush forward to catch me instead. She sank to the street with me and held me close as I cried and screamed until my throat was raw. We stayed like that for a long time, until I was too exhausted to carry on.

****************

Once I'd cried myself out, Rebekah brought me back to her family's house. We didn't stop once as she brought me upstairs and found me a room to stay in, and I let her tuck me into bed before passing out almost instantly. It had been a long, horrible day, and I just hoped I'd feel better in the morning.

I didn't feel better in the morning, or the morning after that. Days passed, and I still didn't feel better. Rebekah was there for me the whole time, which made it a lot easier. Still, it hurt to have the man I was planning to spend the rest of my life with turn his back on me. That wasn't something I was going to get over in a few days.

After doing pretty much nothing but sulking in bed for a week, Rebekah took it upon herself to get me up and moving. She said some activities would make me feel better, and she turned out to be right. It helped to go for walks in the sun, and to spend time with my best friend in the whole world. With her help things finally started to get a little better, one day at a time.

"Y/N!" I woke up to Rebekah strutting into my room, throwing the curtains wide and letting the sun in. "Come on, we're going through things in the attic today."

"Why?" I groaned, rolling over and burying my head in the pillows. Rebekah just scoffed and physically dragged me out of bed.

"Because it needs to be done, and it'll be fun, and we have to do it before you get too pregnant for the activity."

I rolled my eyes, but Rebekah kept going.

"Come on, I promise it won't be that bad! I'll make you pancakes afterwards!"

I stopped struggling, standing up and grinning at Rebekah. "I'm sold."

"Excellent! Then let's go."

I followed Rebekah up to the attic, not exactly excited to be sitting among all the dust and ancient artifacts. Still, as far as attics went, the attic of a bunch of thousand year old vampires was definitely more interesting than most others.

Rebekah started by opening the nearest box, but I decided to find the most interesting thing I could and open that. I wandered into the deepest parts of the attic, looking for the oldest stuff I could find, eventually coming to a trunk that looked truly ancient. I sat carefully in front of it and cracked the lid cautiously, avoiding a dust cloud as I revealed the contents. It was a bunch of old clothes, and they seemed to be holding together alright, so I pulled out the first one on top.

I almost started crying as soon as I held it up. It was an old baby onesie, from who knows how many hundreds of years ago. I tossed it back in the trunk and turned away, trying to keep myself from losing it right then and there.

Unfortunately for me, vampires have super hearing, and Rebekah noticed something was up the minute my breathing changed. She was at my side in an instant, and I couldn't keep it together anymore.

"Y/N? Y/N, what's wrong?" she asked, wrapping her arms around me and holding me close as I sobbed into her shoulder.

"I can't do this Rebekah!" I yelled. All the panic and hurt and pain from the last few weeks came rushing over me, and I couldn't fight it off anymore. "I can't be a mom! I don't know how! And I don't even have somebody to help me! I'm gonna be alone, and-"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on a minute. Y/N, you are not going to be alone. I'm going to be right here for you, no matter what! I promise! I thought you knew that..."

I sniffled a little as I met the eyes of my best friend. She looked dead serious, but I felt bad.

"Rebekah, I couldn't ask you to do that..."

"Are you joking? I've wanted a baby for so long, Y/N. And I wish this had never happened to you at all, and that you didn't have to deal with all this heartbreak, but now that you do, I am going to be the best damned aunt this world has ever seen."

She had a firey determination in her eyes, and I couldn't help laughing a little. Nobody could ever say Rebekah wasn't passionate.

"You have the same look in your eyes that you get right before you kill someone," I noted, sitting back against the trunk now that I was a little calmer. I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve as Rebekah just smiled.

"Take it as a promise of what I'll do to anyone that hurts you or this wonderful baby."

I smiled, finally starting to really feel better. I wouldn't have to do this alone, and knowing that gave me a lot more strength to get through everything.

"Thanks, Bex."

"Of course."

She pulled me in for a tight hug, and we stayed like that for a long time. When we finally pulled away, I sighed heavily.

"Well damn, now I still have to figure out who the godfather is going to be."

"What?"

"I need to find somebody that I want to be the godfather. You're gonna be the baby's godmother, obviously, but now I have to find a godfather..."

"Y/N..." Rebekah's voice was barely above a whisper, and when I looked over I saw her eyes glistening with tears. We were trading emotional moments, apparently. "Are you serious?"

"As the plague," I said, holding up a hand to swear and grinning. The Princess and the Frog was one of mine and Rebekah's favorite movies, and we quoted it at each other at every opporunity.

Rebekah let out a breathy, relieved laugh, and then she was across the room in a flash of vampire speed, her arms around me as she hugged me tightly again.

"Thank you," she breathed, so quietly I could barely hear it.

"Thank you. I love you Bex, seriously."

"I love you too, Y/N. You're the best friend I could've ever asked for." We rocked back and forth for another few moments, and then we pulled apart, both of us still smiling giddily.

"Alright, now that we got all the crying out of the way, let's actually do the task we came up here to do," I teased, looking around at the expansive attic.

"You're right." Rebekah wiped away the last traces of tears then put her hands on her hips and scanned the area. "Let's start as far away from this box as we can get."

Rebekah and I spent the rest of the morning going through boxes. We took a break and she made me pancakes, as promised, but I was actually having fun, so we went back to the attic after brunch and kept looking through boxes. I found a bunch of Rebekah's old dresses, along with the many different clothes her brothers had worn throughout the years, and then finally we stumbled on a gold mine: a box of old pictures.

"Oh my God," I said, holding up a photo triumphantly and grinning as I looked at it. "Look at this picture of Klaus and Elijah with mutton chops. They look ridiculous."

"That was the style back then," said Rebekah with a shrug. I pulled out my phone to take a picture of it, for future blackmail or embarrassment with the twenty-first century women they were both interested in, and then I set it aside to pull another one out of the box. It was old but not ancient, and for once I didn't recognize the man in it.

He was handsome, and seemed to be tall. He had dark hair and he was wearing a top hat, smiling broadly at the camera. I was about to ask Rebekah who he might be, when I felt a hot burning sensation on my arm.

"Ah!" I yelled and dropped the picture, lifting my forearm to see if there was a problem. The three-pronged birthmark I'd had there since forever was changing, filling in a mirror image of the mark to make a star on my arm.

"Y/N? What's wrong?"

"Bex, what the hell just happened?" I asked, still shouting as I stared down at the newly-changed mark on my arm. "Birthmarks aren't supposed to do that!"

Rebekah came over to see for herself, and she gasped when she saw the star. She grabbed my forearm to get a better look, then met my eyes urgently.

"When did this happen?" she demanded.

"Just now! Do you know something about this? I just felt this burning in my arm-"

"What were you looking at?" she asked frantically, dropping my arm to search around the piles of pictures on the floor and in the trunk. I picked up the one I'd dropped, finding it easily and handing it over. Rebekah took it and her face froze in shock. She just stared at it, not bothering to explain anything.

"Bex, seriously, what is going on? Who is that guy?"

"That's my brother Kol... We have to go talk to Elijah, right now."

"Hold on, hold on. Your brother Kol? YOU HAVE ANOTHER BROTHER?"

"Yes, I do, now come on!" Rebekah grabbed my wrist and pulled me up, giving me no option but to follow her. She still had the picture of Kol in her other hand, and she didn't pause for a second as she dragged me through the entire house, until we finally found Elijah in the living room.

"Elijah, you have to look at this," she started, leaving me standing in the door, completely confused and increasingly irritated. "She looked at this picture and the birthmark on her arm completed itself. Elijah, it was a soulmark."

"A soulmark?" asked Elijah. He took the picture from Rebekah and looked between it and me, still not offering a single explanation.

"Does somebody want to explain what the hell is going on?" I yelled, waving my arms around in exasperation. "One second Rebekah and I are going through boxes in the attic, and then I feel like my arm is being set on fire, and now you're all yelling about something called a soulmark without giving me any damn context!"

Rebekah shot me an apologetic look, but Elijah ignored my complaint completely. He came over to me and took my forearm, holding it up so he could look at it. I gave him a little over a second, and then I ripped my arm out of his grip before he could stop me.

"Answers. Now."

Elijah glanced between me and Rebekah, then he held out the picture for me to take. Cautiously, I did, and he put his hands in his pockets as he started explaining.

"Centuries ago, before our mother took our lives into her hands and turned us into the first vampires, she did another spell with good intentions that ultimately failed," he started. "She used her magic to give us each a soulmark, hoping it would help Niklaus and I settle our... differences, when we were both interested in the same woman. Nothing came of it, and nothing has come of it in the centuries since."

"But something's come of it now!" Rebekah protested, gesturing towards me.

"Yes, it does seem that way, doesn't it..."

"Okay, I need one of you to tell me what a soulmark is supposed to do right now. And if you could also explain why I, a human who never knew your mother, has one, that would be awesome too."

"The soulmark was designed to tell each of us, without a doubt, when we'd met our soulmate," said Rebekah. "My brothers and I each have an incomplete mark, and when we had an encounter with our soulmate, the mark would burn and complete itself with their half."

"But that hasn't happened to any of us in a thousand years," said Elijah. "I find it hard to believe that I haven't- that none of the people any of has met in that entire time has been our soulmates."

Rebekah just shrugged. "Well, there's an easy way to check, isn't there? Let's go see if Kol's soulmark changed."

Elijah considered the idea, and apparently decided he liked it because he started nodding. I was the only one who still had questions, and I was getting tired of that.

"Alright, let's say I believe this whole soulmark thing," I started. "Which, honestly, I do. If all the other crazy things I've seen since I met you people didn't convince me, then that burning on my arm sure did. But who is Kol? Where is he? And why haven't I met him before, even after all the time I've spent with your family?"

"Kol is in a coffin," Elijah said simply. "In the basement. With a dagger in his chest. Unless his soulmark has changed, he is also going to stay that way. Now, if that's it for questions, I think we have just one big one left to be answered."

With that, Elijah strode out of the room, presumably towards the basement. He clearly expected Rebekah and I to follow, but I was still trying to process.

"Come on, Y/N," Rebekah said gently, grabbing my hand and pulling me along. "Let's go find out."

I shook my head, but I followed her anyway. Fortunately for me, the Mikaelsons' house was insanely big, so I had time to process everything on the way to the basement. I worked myself around to acceptance of the idea of the soulmark, and I even managed a little excitement as we descended the basement steps.

I usually avoided the basement, because all the coffins creeped me out to no end. Rebekah's and Elijah's were sitting off to one side, along with a few others, leaving a single closed coffin in the middle of the room. Elijah was already there, lifting the lid and pulling out his brother's arm to check for the mark.

I approached the coffin slowly, Rebekah staying by me the whole time. Even desiccated, I couldn't deny that Kol Mikaelson was attractive. He had a small smile on his face too, like he'd been in the middle of a joke when he got daggered and was still laughing about it.

My heart swelled for someone I didn't even know. I told myself it was stupid, that I shouldn't start feeling things just because of some magic that might not even be real, but then Elijah spoke up.

"His mark has completed. Just like Y/N's."

Rebekah looked at me with a massive smile on her face, and I looked nervously between her, Elijah, and Kol.

"Alright, well... what does that mean?" I asked. "What... what do we do now?"

Elijah sighed, and he got my full attention as soon as he did. He stared at Kol for a long minute before looking back at me.

"We undagger him," he said. "That is, if you want to."

I blinked a few times and tried to figure out what to do. I had to undagger him, right? He was supposed to be my soulmate. I couldn't just ignore that.

"Y/N?" Rebekah snapped me out of my thoughts with a hand on my shoulder. "What do you want to do."

"I don't know... I-" I cut off and glanced at Elijah, not wanting him to hear what I had to say. He turned away politely and started humming, apparently getting the idea. I dropped my voice to a whisper as I answered Rebekah, fighting the rising panic I was starting to feel. "What if he doesn't like me? What if I don't like him? What if... What if he's not okay with the baby?"

Rebekah pulled me in for a tight hug as soon as I managed to voice my last question. I focused on calming my breathing as she spoke, trying to comfort me.

"Y/N, if he doesn't like you or isn't okay with you having your baby, then brother or not I will redagger him myself. And you can go on living your life like nothing ever happened."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

I pulled back, nodding slowly as I turned back to the coffin. Elijah noticed the movement and came back over.

"Well, alright then... let's do it."

Before I could change my mind, I wrapped both hands around the dagger and pulled with all my strength, until it finally came out. I knew Kol wouldn't wake up immediately, but I was still a little disappointed when nothing happened.

"I suppose all that's left to do now is wait," said Elijah. "Rebekah, I think it might be best if we gave Kol and Y/N some space."

"Are you alright with that, Y/N?" asked Rebekah, turning to me. I was a little nervous, but I nodded anyway.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I think it might be good if I get to talk to him alone, anyway."

"Alright then, if you're sure." Rebekah gave my shoulder a final squeeze, then she and Elijah walked back up the stairs while I sat down against the wall to wait. I wasn't sure how long it actually took, but it felt like a million years before I finally heard a gasp from the coffin. Kol sat up right away, the mischievous smile on his face looking exactly the way I'd imagined it.

"Well well, someone finally got bored enough to wake me up, eh?"

He hopped out of his coffin and scanned the room, stopping short when he saw me. I'd managed to push myself up off the wall, and now I took time to get a better look at Kol. He was tall, just like I thought he'd be based on the photo, and handsome as hell. I met his eyes and realized he'd just caught me checking him out, and I felt a blush rise to my face instantly. Kol just gave me a wolfish grin.

"Hello there. And who might you be?"

"Uh, this might be a bit of a long explanation, but... I'm Y/N. I'm Rebekah's best friend and, well, apparently your... soulmate."

Kol looked confused, but I held out my forearm with the newly completed star mark, and thankfully he got it. He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his own arm, just as Elijah had done, and his mouth dropped open in shock.

"It's complete... I can't believe it! I was daggered for meeting my own soulmate!"

I couldn't help it; I laughed. The situation was already so absurd, and Kol's reaction just put it over the top.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"This! This whole situation. It's just... it's really weird. I thought I knew what weird meant once I met your family, but I was wrong. This takes the cake."

Kol cracked a more genuine smile this time, and he took a few steps closer to me. I couldn't stop my heart from racing, and I was confident he could hear it.

"So, darling, if you're my soulmate, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? I want to know everything about my beautiful soulmate."

Kol and I stayed in the basement for a long time, just talking and getting to know each other. He was funny, and despite some of the things he said he'd done, I felt safe with him. His smile put me at ease, and I felt happier than I had in a long time sitting next to him down there.

Despite how quickly I bonded with Kol, I kept dancing around the subject of my pregnancy. I didn't want to tell him, although I knew I had to. I just didn't want to risk losing the wonderful new thing I'd found.

"Well, as much as I want to stay down here speaking to you and ignoring my siblings for the rest of time, we really should get upstairs," Kol said finally, offering me a hand to help me up. I took it gingerly, and I literally felt sparks as he pulled me to my feet. We shared a smile, then Kol turned and started heading for the stairs, but I stopped him. I couldn't leave this basement without telling him.

Besides, if my pregnancy changed the way he felt about me, he was no better than my ex. That kind of relationship was exactly what I didn't need more of.

"What's wrong darling?" he asked, looking at me with concern. I took a deep breath, then forced the words out before I could back down.

"I'm pregnant." Kol's eyebrows shot up, but I kept going. I wanted him to know the full story. "I'd been dating this guy for a while, and we didn't plan for it. As soon as I told him, he... he kicked me out. But I'm keeping this kid, no matter what he or anyone else has to say about it. And if you don't like it-"

Before I knew what was happening, Kol had his arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me close to his chest. I was so surprised I just stood there for a minute, but slowly, I relaxed and returned the hug.

"What...?"

"I probably have no right to say this, since I really barely know you, but I swear to you now that I'll do anything it takes to protect you and this child. I'll support you both in any way I can, and I intend to win you over while I do. I never considered being a father before, but... well, if you'll have me, I'd love to try."

I smiled, pulling back just enough to make eye contact with Kol.

"I think I'd like that too."

Kol smiled back as I tucked my head into his chest, and we stayed like that for a long time, neither of us wanting to go upstairs and break the moment. Eventually we had to, but we held hands the entire time, neither of us willing to let go now that we'd finally found each other.

I couldn't rationally know if Kol would be able to keep his promise and turn out to be everything I hoped he would, but somehow I had a feeling in my chest that I knew I could trust. Kol really was my soulmate, and everything was going to work out just fine between us.

Despite all the horrible things Esther did to her kids, I at least had this to thank her for. I couldn't wait to spend as much time as possible getting to know Kol Mikaelson.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Opening Night

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: When Loki scores the lead in a production of West Side Story, the two of you become fast friends. You help convince him to face his fears and invite the Avengers to see the show. Warnings: a bit of innuendo, fluffy, and extremely self-indulgent A/N: It isn’t necessary to know the plot of West Side Story to read this, but I still recommend you guys check it out. They made it into a movie that’s pretty much the same as the stage version. And if you’re interested in the songs I used in this, they’re here and here. Also, idk if this is common knowledge, but a stage manager is the person in charge of tech, set changes, and all that jazz. Theater has always been a huge part of my life, so I definitely wrote this with myself in mind but I hope you can all enjoy too!

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02​​ @frostedgiant​​ @lunarmoon8​​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​​ @lokistan​​ @lowkeyorlokificrecs​​ @gaitwae​​ @whatafuckingdumbass​​ @castiels-majestic-wings​​ @kozkaboi​​ @cozy-the-overlord​​ @birdgirl90​​ @myraiswack​​​ @mythicalgarlicknot​​ @what-a-flammable-heart​ @mlqcikemenmc​

Disclaimer: Picture not mine.

He looked so beautiful up there on that stage, you thought. He almost didn’t get the part either; Auggie, the director, had been worried that putting the God of Mischief in the lead role would be bad for business. You’d fought for him, though, and you’d been right; tickets were nearly sold out once people found out an Avenger was performing. Besides that, Loki was extremely talented, and you were certain no one else could have carried the role quite so well as he had been. It was a definite plus that he had become a very close friend, too. And you maybe, just maybe, had a tiny crush on him.

“It’s getting late,” you said once he finished singing, applauding as you walked out of the wings. Everyone else had already gone home, so it was just you and Loki. He’d wanted to stay and practice a bit more, and as stage manager, you had to stay to lock the place up. “Are you ready to head out?”

He looked out at the empty seats in the audience of the community theater. You wondered why he hadn’t tried out for off-Broadway, or even Broadway itself; he was certainly talented enough. Somehow, he didn’t see it. You could still remember the look of excitement on his face when you officially met him for the first time. How he’d told you he hadn’t been expecting the lead role. It hadn’t been what he’d tried out for, after all. You assured him that in this production of West Side Story, it was a clear choice who should play Tony. Him. Your friendship moved rapidly after that.

“I do not know, darling,” he replied. “Opening night is this week, and I want to make sure I am as good as I can be. If you would like to lock up and leave, I can just teleport home.”

“No. If you’re staying, I’m staying.” He smiled as you put your bag down and sat on one of the wooden blocks you’d painted weeks before. “Don’t you think you should give your voice a break, though?”

“Ah you forget darling, I have the stamina of a god,” he replied with a wink. You averted your eyes, hating where your mind went after that statement. “Besides, I have been resting it at home.”  

“Fine, but I swear if you lose your voice, I’m not helping you break the news to Auggie,” you giggled.

He chuckled, “Fair enough, darling.”

Convinced that he could handle it, you let him play the track and start singing. As he practiced his part from the Quintet, he walked over and knelt before you. You were certain the expression of complete adoration on his face was just good acting, but it still made your heart flutter. As the music crescendoed, he stood up and offered you his hand, taking you to center stage. He kept singing to you the whole time, his hand coming to caress your cheek as was dictated by his choreography. Again, you knew that’s all it was, but the butterflies in your stomach didn’t care.

As the song ended, he didn’t immediately move to turn off the music like he usually did. Instead, he stood where he was a minute more, one hand cupping your cheek, the other on your waist. A kiss most certainly wasn’t supposed to happen here, but you swore he started to lean in towards you. Afraid to break the spell, you didn’t say anything. When the next song started playing, he came out of whatever trance he was in and moved back, clearing his throat.

“Sorry,” he apologized, the faintest of blushes coloring his cheeks. “I just got lost in the song, I suppose.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you replied, rocking back and forth on your heels, disappointed. “It’s fine, I totally get it.”

After turning off all the lights, the two of you finally left, stopping for a coffee on the way home, as had become tradition. You laughed as he told you a story of his childhood on Asgard, animatedly waving his hand about. Waiting for a light at a crosswalk, your phone chimed, and you checked it.

“Shoot. I got to go, Loki,” you informed him. “The copy place finished with the playbills, and I should run to pick them up before it closes. I don’t wan’t to hold you up, though.”

“Nonsense,” he said, changing direction to walk back the way you’d came. “It would be my honor to accompany you.”

You made it just in time to pick up the box, which was heavy enough that you swallowed your pride and let Loki carry it. Since it was cheaper to just fold and staple the pages yourself, you had quite a bit of work ahead of you. Sure, you’d get the rest of the crew to help you tomorrow, but you wanted to get a jump start tonight. You told Loki as much when you’d started the trek back in the direction of your apartment, and his answer surprised you.

“Why not come to the Tower? I can help you put them together,” he offered.

“Oh,” you replied, the butterflies in your stomach returning. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It would be no trouble to have you, darling. Really.” It was already dark out, making it hard to see, but you were pretty sure he was blushing again. “It is much closer than your home. Of course, there is no pressure to say yes.”

You shyly smiled at him. “Thank you, Loki. That’s very generous. I would love to come.”

The smile he gave you could have lit up the whole city, it was so bright. It was probably silly to be so happy that you could make his face light up like that, but you couldn’t help it. That was when you realized that your little crush had turned into something much, much more. You were falling in love with him. You were convinced it was unrequited though, so you wouldn’t say anything. You just hoped that you’d stay in touch once the show was done and rehearsals stopped.

Everyone knew of Avenger Tower, of course, but few had ever been inside. You marveled at the massive lobby as he led you to a private elevator that said “Avengers Only”. It made sense, you thought, that they should have their own if they lived here. And of course it was so high tech that it had to scan his eye to start working. He chuckled a little at the amazement on your face, thinking you looked absolutely adorable.

“Ok,” he whispered as you stepped out of the lift. “I am sure most of the team is asleep by now, so if we just slip past and-”

“Brother!” Thor boomed, cutting off Loki. “There you are! You’ve been gone all day- Oh. And who is this?” he asked, noticing you.

You introduced yourself, and Thor shook your hand with a firm grip. Even though you’d already known Loki for months now, you were still freaking out a little at meeting another Avenger. Really, how many civilians could say they knew not one, but two superheroes? You nearly lost it when Iron Man and Black Widow rounded the corner.

“Hey, Reindeer Games. You made a friend,” Mr. Stark said. Then he wiggled his eyebrows and added, “Or maybe something more.”

“Oh, shove off, Tony,” Nat said, flicking the side of his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

You introduced yourself to the newcomers, and they asked you to call them by their first names. The only other time you’d been this star struck was, unsurprisingly, when Loki had shown up at the audition. You looked over at Loki, who seemed rather uncomfortable. Though you wanted to chalk it up to him just being nervous his two worlds were colliding, you could tell there was something more to it. You worried for a second that he was embarrassed of you, but you didn’t really think it was that either, certain that notion was just your insecurity getting the better of you.

“Well, we should be going then,” Loki said, ready to retreat to his room.

“Oh, come on,” Tony replied. “That’s no fun. Why don’t you guys join us for a drink in the kitchen?”

You were tempted to say yes, but Loki shifted the box in his hands, reminding you of why you were there in the first place. Besides, if Loki wasn’t feeling up to it, you didn’t want to subject him to socializing. Not to mention an evening alone with him sounded absolutely magical.

“No, it’s fine,” you answered, and Loki sent you an appreciative smile. “We’ve got work to do, anyway.”

“Oh?” Thor questioned. “Does it happen to have something to do with the mystery box my brother is carrying?”

“Actually, yes,” you told him with a smile. “See, they’re playbills for-”

“For the show that they are a stage manager for,” Loki interjected, looking absolutely panicked. “That is all. No more questions needed.”

“Oh, that’s so exciting!” Nat smiled. “Are the tickets available yet? Can we come see it?”

“No, sorry, it is sold out,” Loki replied before you could, an expression of utter befuddlement on your face. “Maybe next time. Now, as we said, we have work to do. Alone.”

“Hey, it’s alright, Reindeer Games,” Tony said, winking, and ushered the others away. “I get what you’re saying. You two kids have fun now.”

Loki’s face was burning from embarrassment as he led you to his quarters. Your mouth dropped open at the sheer size of it. You guessed that after the lobby it shouldn’t have surprised you. Besides how vast it was, it somehow screamed Loki. The green furniture with black and gold accents. The numerous floor to ceiling bookshelves that didn’t have a single inch unoccupied. The carefully crafted decor, often featuring snakes subtly carved into it. And you were completely surrounded by his scent that you could never exactly figure out, but was very distinctly his.

You were brought back to reality by the light thud of the box on a table. As you walked toward him, Loki kept his eyes averted, focusing on taking the stacks of paper out. Standing beside him, you worked in silence for a few minutes until you couldn’t take it anymore, and finally had to ask what was on your mind.

“So, uh, what exactly was all that about?” you inquired.

“Oh, they are just very animated people,” he replied with a shrug. “And Stark is, well, Stark, so he has basically no filter. I am very sorry if they bothered you, darling.”

“That’s very sweet, Loki, but I didn’t mind it at all, actually,” you replied, folding the first playbill together. He snapped his fingers and a couple of staplers appeared on the table. “That’s not really what I was talking about, though.”

“Oh? Whatever did you mean then?”

“Please don’t play dumb,” you begged. The light clicks from the stapler filled the silence of the room as you waited for him to reply. When he didn’t say anything, you sighed. “I mean, why didn’t you say you had the lead in the show that these are for? In fact, why haven’t you told them about it already?”

He shrugged and made a noncommittal mumble, focusing on the repetitive task in hopes of distracting himself. You stopped working in favor of resting your hand atop his. It made Loki stop, too, and he finally looked you in the eye.

“Look,” you began. “You obviously don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to; I understand, and I’d never want to pressure you into something that would make you uncomfortable. But I know you bottle a lot of things up, and that’s not really healthy. So if you do want or need to talk... I don’t know, I guess I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”

Then you hugged him. The simple action seemed to startle him so much that you feared it was unwanted and you’d been too forward. But when he hugged you back, you could feel the gratitude in his embrace, easing your worries. It was like he was holding onto you for dear life. As if you you were a lifesaver, and he was adrift at sea. It was a tense sort of desperation leaving his body, you realized, as he sank against your touch. You gently rubbed his back as his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You’d always thought he might be touch starved, but now you could feel it in the way he practically molded his body against yours, obviously trying to make the most of the contact. You wondered if that may have something to do with why he kept West Side Story a secret. Maybe he’d been neglected too many times in his life, now thinking the things he does don’t matter to anyone.

“I suppose I am just scared, darling. Scared that they would not want to come, that they would make fun of me, that I would fail in front of them,” he sighed. “Perhaps it is silly. I am sorry.”

“Oh, Loki, there’s no need to apologize. I meant what I said, I’m here for you.” You didn’t think it was possible, but he held you even closer. “Everyone gets stage fright from time to time. And you’ve never even performed before. Whatever the reason, it’s still perfectly valid and understandable.”

“Thank you, darling,” he sniffled, and you realized he was crying.

Leading him over to the couch, you sat and continued to hold him. You whispered and cooed calming things in his ear. He tried to apologize for the tear stains marking your shirt, but you were having none of that. Everyone deserved a good crying session every once in a while, and you told him as much, encouraging him to let it out.

“Better?” you asked, wiping away the last few tears from his cheeks when he did finally calm down. There were some stray locks of hair sticking to his wet face, and you brushed them away, too.

“Mhm,” he nodded. He looked so fragile in this moment that you wished there was something more you could do to help him. “Thank you so much, darling. I think I needed that.”

You were worried that kissing the tip of his nose would be too intimate an action, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were very happy when he preened under the attention. “You’re very welcome, Loki.”

“I must ask, you are not going to tell them, are you? That I have the lead, I mean.”

“Well, no.” You ran your fingers through his hair as he sighed in relief. “But you should.”

“Do I have to?” he asked, giving you puppy dog eyes that made you chuckle a bit.

“I mean, it’s not required. I think you’d feel better if you did, though.”

“I suppose.”

“From what I can see, they love you, Loki,” you comforted him. “They’re your family, don’t you think?”

“How is it that you always know what to say?” he smiled up at you.

“I guess I’m just magic,” you laughed. He made to get up, but it seemed like it was a chore to tear himself away from you. You gently pulled him back down to you. “You don’t have to get up. You know, if you don’t want to.”

“I do not, but we hardly put any of the playbills together.” Even as he said that, he cuddled into your side. “I feel guilty taking up all our time.”

“Believe it or not, I’m perfectly happy to spend our time like this,” you reassured him, reaching for a blanket and covering your bodies with it. You’d been so concerned about Loki’s well-being that you hadn’t really contemplated the situation you were in. Now you couldn’t help but wonder if this snuggling was a normal thing for friends to do, or if it were a sign of something more. “I’d much rather help you through whatever’s on your mind than put together some playbills. There’s still plenty of time for that.”

“Thank you again, darling,” he hummed as both of you began to doze off, tired from a long day of run-throughs. As sleep claimed you, though you felt it must have been a dream, you swore you heard him whisper, “I love you.”

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

The rest of the week leading up to opening night was so hectic, you barely even had a second to dwell on that night with Loki. It was probably better that way, for if you had thought too hard about that morning, waking up in each other's arms, you were certain your heart would burst from happiness. So, no, it was better that you were focusing on the show.

“Guess who, darling,” Loki whispered in your ear as you reviewed the script in the wings, making sure everything was set for top of show.

“Loki,” you smiled, spinning to face him and throwing your arm around his shoulders. One of his arms encircled your waste. When you stepped back, his other came around from behind his back to present you with a bouquet of flowers. “Thank you so much! I actually have something for you, too.”

You grabbed the arrangement that you’d bought and gave it to him. You nearly melted under his soft gaze as he expressed his thanks. His makeup was already done, accentuating his already striking beauty. A large part of you wanted to lean forward and kiss his plump, pink lips.

“I have some news,” he declared. “I have told my fellow Avengers about the show. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” you asked, cocking your head.

“Well, I left tickets and a note for them to come tonight.” He nervously shifted his weight. “They do not yet know that they will be watching me perform, though. It was too hard to tell them, so I figured why not show them?”

You beamed at him. “That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you. You’re going to do amazing.”

There was a slight hesitation behind his eyes, as if he was contemplating something very carefully. “Darling, there is something I have to tell you.”

“Yes?”

Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, the director burst into the wings. “There you are, Loki. I’ve been looking all over for you. Mic checks in five,” he said.

“My apologies, Auggie,” he replied before turning to you and resting a hand on your arm. “We’ll talk later, ok? Have a good show.”

“Thanks. Break a leg,” you nodded as he left, agonized by not knowing what he was going to tell you. You noticed Auggie giving you a look. “What?”

“I swear, you two better kiss before this week is over,” he muttered, leaving the wings shaking his head.

The remainder of the day passed in a blur, and you could hardly believe that it was already time for the show. You’d peeked out before it started and noticed the Avengers sitting in the front row. Those tickets had been sold out for weeks, and you smiled, realizing that Loki had wanted to invite them all along. He just needed a little push to actually do it.

Before Loki walked out onto the stage, you gave his hand a little squeeze. Despite how nervous you knew he was, he gave his best performance yet. After his first song was done, you glanced out at the audience to see the Avengers already giving him a standing ovation. You could see in his eyes how taken aback he was. He waited around in the wings until your set change was done so you could share in his joy. He gave you a quick, tight hug, absolutely radiant.

The rest of the show went perfectly, and Loki stunned the audience every time he stepped on stage. You were beyond happy for him, especially when he received thundering applause during bows. He came and hugged you again as soon as you finished closing the curtain.

“Loki, you were amazing,” you told him.

“Thank you, darling. And your set changes were flawless,” he complimented you in return. “I cannot believe the first show is done already.”

The two of you talked for a minute more before he had to go change out of his costume. You looked out from the stage a little bit later to see the Avengers hugging him and giving him more flowers than you could count. Even from a distance, you could see happy tears welling in his eyes. It made you grin uncontrollably to see him happy like that.

Later that night, you’d told the rest of the cast and crew to go ahead to the diner to celebrate without you, that you’d catch up later. You wanted to stay behind and touch-up a set piece that some paint had slightly chipped off of. Suffice it to say, you were a little startled when a voice cut through what you had presumed to be an empty theater.

“Always you. Every thought I’ll ever know,” Loki began singing his part from Tonight, walking down the aisle towards the stage. “Everywhere I go, you’ll be. All the world is only you and me.”

You chuckled as he ascended the stairs and took your paintbrush from your hand, setting it down on the tarp. He skipped to his next part in the song and began twirling you around the stage. After hearing so many rehearsals, you knew the words by heart and joined in, singing the duet with him. When you reached the dialogue breaking up the song, you stopped dancing, both panting a little.

“Loki,” you laughed. “What are you still doing here? I thought you went to the diner with everyone else.”

“Yes, well, you were not going to be there yet, and I have not had the chance to tell you what I have wanted to all day.”

“Oh my goodness,” you gasped. “I nearly forgot about that in all the excitement of the day. But you have my full attention now. What’s up?”

“I love you,” he said plainly.

You weren’t convinced that this wasn’t a dream or a hallucination of some sorts. But no, he’d said it, clear as day. He loves you. Loki loves you. It was shocking, to say the least. Of course, it was completely welcome, though. In your surprise, you took long enough to formulate a response that his smile faltered a little. His worries were erased when you kissed him, however. The god responded immediately, kissing you back with just as much passion as you did him.

“I love you, too,” you told him just as simply as when he’d said it to you.

After finishing up in the theater, you exited the building. Once outside, Loki couldn’t resist kissing you again before meeting up with the rest of the company. And, being the fluffy sap he was, he absolutely had to tell you he loved you again, this time referencing the show.

“Te adoro,” he said.

You beamed at him again. “Te adoro, Loki.”

[procrastinatorproject]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek: Picard Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Agnes Jurati/Cristóbal Rios Characters: Agnes Jurati, Cristóbal Rios Additional Tags: Meta, Developing Relationship, my take on Agnes and Cris's relationship, and why i think it works, Minor Character Death (Mentioned), Psychological Trauma

Title Inspired by @regionalpancake‘s glorious Downtime Drabble “You’re Light On Me”

A while ago, a friend confessed to me that they didn’t really understand what Agnes Jurati and Cris Rios see in each other. They felt the relationship seemed unmotivated and forced, and they didn’t really see why other people thought it worked.

I’ve seen this sentiment a few times since the show came out, and I’m not here to tell anyone they have to agree with the show-writers’ choices or like a relationship if it doesn’t work for them. But I recently reread the little essay I sent that friend in reply (after making sure they’d want to read it ;9 ), and I really liked it, so I thought I’d share it here.

When people say that the kiss between Agnes Jurati and Cristobal Rios at the end of Star Trek: Picard season 1 blindsided them, I understand where they're coming from. I think the showrunners could have done more to make the developing relationship between these characters truly obvious, but for me, it didn't feel like the mutual attraction between Cris and Agnes came completely out of nowhere. Let me explain.

One of the big things about Rios’s character I find striking is that he wants to be stoic and cynical and misanthropic, but he just... can't do it. He tries! He's short, he hides behind his books, and he pretends he doesn't care about politeness. But the only people he ever swears at are Raffi, a very good friend, and the holos (which are a whole other matter, because there is all this self-loathing tied up in Cris's relationship with them). Over the course of season 1, it's pretty clear that Rios is rather good at reading people, and he wants to do right by them. He defers to Picard pretty much immediately and Soji looks at him pleadingly once and he decides to put his ship at risk for her.

Rios doesn't want to like people, he just can't help himself. He wants to be annoyed by Agnes interrupting his reading, but I think he finds her quirkiness disarming and charming. It's already visible in the way he looks at her on the bridge, when they talk about paper books. And then they go to the holodeck to discuss Picard's detour to Vashti. Since Agnes is the audience stand-in, she asks a bunch of questions, and instead of being annoyed or short, Cris patiently explains everything to her (after offering her a seat). Later, when Cris asks Agnes what she thinks about his outfit for the Stardust City caper and she says he's killing it, there's a beat there. He seems almost a little taken aback, either by her sincerity, or maybe by realizing he values her opinion. It's yet another thing they connect over it. (Also robot boxing. That scene is adorable)

With regards to Agnes… I think partially, she's leaning into her natural humour and quirkiness to appear non-threatening and not give herself away, but I also have another read on her behaviour. (This may partially be me projecting WAY TOO HARD, or, to put it more generously, applying some lived experience to what we see of Agnes's character, so your take on this might be very different. But this is what I see.)

When Agnes and Cris talk before they go off to have sex, Agnes is making jokes and smiling. To me, that doesn’t read as fake or a ploy to manipulate Rios, it seems real. And then when he asks, really asks, how she's feeling, suddenly there is this chasm of pain right under the surface. For me, the idea that Agnes has this intense psychological trauma and is dealing with it by finding joy in little things, like watering the plants, and reading papers, and flirting with the hot captain by completely wrong-footing him with a comment about her dad... it feels very authentic. And I can see how this guy, who pretends to be all uncaring and edgy but is actually a big softie not very far under the surface, and who smiles at her jokes and takes the time to explain stuff to her and listens to her babble, that's a nice distraction from the horrible things happening in her mind. Not in the sense that she's manipulatively using him, but in the sense that this kind of human connection gives her moments of light and gives her reasons to keep going, even through so much pain.

After Agnes kills Maddox, she is deeply, deeply conflicted over what she's done. To the point where when they’re leaving the Artefact, she basically says "I don't care if the world ends if I don't kill Soji. Let it all burn. I just can't do this anymore". And then here is this man, who's kind and caring and, yes, hot, and at first it's "I just want to feel something, anything, and he's here, he's half-naked, he's gorgeous". And Rios isn't necessarily opposed to a no-strings-attached fling. Because he keeps telling himself he doesn't get attached and he hates people and he's only ferrying them around because they're paying him. So it's a distraction with a woman who is quirky and witty and pretty, but it won't mean anything, and that's okay.

And then Agnes changes her mind, because she realizes having sex with Rios will make things more complicated. Or maybe because she thinks Rios deserves better. Or that she shouldn't have sex to distract herself from horrible emotional pain because that's kinda unhealthy.

So she pulls back.

And Rios, instead of being annoyed at missing out or feeling like she led him on, or any number of things, asks her how she's feeling. In a way that makes it clear (at least to me) that he really cares about the answer. And for a moment, Agnes lets him see the true darkness inside her. Because she can pretend it's about Maddox dying, she can pretend it's just about being a lonely nerd. She doesn't have to tell him how bad it really is, but she lets herself feel all of the bad emotions for just a moment.

And then she kisses him again, maybe to shut herself up or to distract herself, or because she needs the connection. And he doesn't have any illusion about what it is they're doing. He knows she's trying to feel better, he essentially tells her he knows it's a way for her to deal with her devastation, and he's okay with it. Maybe because he knows what it's like to feel hollow and terrified and need something, anything to cling to.

And at this point, I think they're both still telling themselves that they don't actually care about each other. Cris because he doesn't want to care about anyone ever again so he won't get hurt. (Which, again, he fails miserably at, but I think that's how he wants to see himself and why he treats his holos with so much disdain that Emil tells Picard "He doesn't get any nicer", even though we see Rios being kind to all the people on board.) And Agnes doesn't really have the brain space to allow herself to fall for anyone. She's just taking little moments of light and human connection where she can get them. And they both decide to have sex as a one-night-stand, just to make Agnes feel better for the night, just because they're both lonely and in pain. No deeper meaning behind it.

And then the whole tracker debacle happens. It takes three days to get to Nepenthe and by the time Agnes goes into a coma, they're still a couple days away at least. She doesn't wake up until Picard is back on board, which means she's out for a long time. Even though we don’t see much of the medical drama, we can assume she was very much at death's door. So, now Rios is faced with once again losing someone he feels somewhat responsible for. Someone he has actually gotten close to. And I think that moment and the fear it causes him might make him start to realize how much he actually cares about her.

And then when Picard and Soji are on board, they all sit down together and figure out the big mystery at the heart of season 1. And here is another thing Cris and Agnes find out they have in common: Both of their lives and minds got destroyed by Oh's machinations. Cris went against everything he believed in when he covered up what Vandermeer had done. He didn't actively kill anyone, but he feels like Vandermeer's death is his fault. His belief in the fundamental goodness of Starfleet was shattered when they threatened to blow up his ship. For Agnes, this kind of shattering of a truth she had clung to comes when she realizes she wasn't acting on the directive of the Head of Starfleet Security in a black-ops mission sanctioned by one of the most important institutions of the Federation. Instead, she was nothing but a pawn, used by Oh for nefarious purposes that had nothing to do with the greater good. The exact circumstances of their traumas are different, but they were both caught up in the same catastrophe and cover-up and it has marked them in similar ways.

I think this is one of the reasons Rios doesn't blame Agnes for killing Maddox. If anything, he gets more protective of her, e.g. by trying to stop Sutra from forcing another mind-meld on Agnes. You can see this in a more subtle scene, too: when Cris says goodbye to Agnes at Coppelius station, he reaches out to touch her face, but then he hesitates and proceeds with extreme gentleness and care. To me, that reads like someone very, very aware of the other person's trauma and possible triggers (forced mind-meld) and caring deeply about making sure she feels safe and has something good to counterbalance the horrible memories.

And finally, we clearly jump quite a bit in time at the very end of season 1. When our motley crew sets out from Coppelius, the Synth Ban has been lifted. Just imagine the bureaucracy that must have taken! That’s not something that can be overturned in a day. Also, Raffi and Seven have had time to connect, so I imagine in that time, Cris and Agnes, too, will have slowly figured out whether they're compatible and whether this relationship is something they might, very carefully and gently, endeavour together.

Because they have a compatible kind of humour, because they understand what it's like to feel deeply broken but to keep going regardless, because she's witty and quirky and he's caring and kind and they went through a very specific hell together, and they might be able to hold each other's hands as they slowly make their ways towards healing.

I’m going to do a metatextual thing here and quote an absolutely gorgeous drabble by @regionalpancake that, to me, encapsulates one very important aspect of the relationship between Cris and Agnes.

     Your Light On Me  

You’d forgotten just how it felt. To feel like you. A stranger, Last seen aboard the Ibn Majid. Proud, red trimmed shoulders, Bright pips, a polished combadge. You signed aboard, And found A different man signed off. You’re old enough to know, She cannot fix you. You wouldn’t want her to. That’s between Pops and you. That’s your work to do, Not hers. But Agnes? Preciosa. Something in her, Shines a light. Reminds you who you are. You have to find, Your own way home. But god, It’s nice, At last, To find, A gentle soul, To hold the lamp.

 Chapter 74 of Downtime

That. Right there. A gentle soul to hold the lamp. I think for me, that's what the relationship between Cris and Agnes boils down to.

They are broken people in a broken world, but by the end of season 1, they have found that they can hold each other while they try to put themselves back together. And what starts out as a fun, distracting flirtation, then turns into "meaningless" sex to stop feeling lonely and sad, finally becomes the beginning of a relationship built on shared trauma, but more importantly on kindness and charm.

I have no idea whether these two can make it work long-term, but I am very much on board for what we've seen so far, and I hope this can help a bit in explaining why.

NB: After I finished writing this a few weeks back, I remembered that there was a fic that came to very similar conclusions. Upon reread, I realized it essentially hits the exact same points I do here and does so absolutely beautifully. So if you want a truly touching in-universe perspective on this relationship, go and read Love Comes Softly by Be_Right_Back (@smhalltheurlsaretaken, or listen to the Podfic recorded by Thimblerig. I cannot recommend this fic highly enough!      

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

I’m bad at prompts but would love to see varian n Hugo talking abt. More serious things.. opening up tew eachother..angsty fluff

(MARTIE SAID ANGSTY FLUFF HERE U GO BOO <3)

ao3

It’s not like Varian to seek out Hugo.

Despite his initial decision to trust the lanky blond, Varian had his misgivings that were further solidified into annoyances as the other alchemist turned his smarmy act up a few notches into the irritating territory. Hardly a day could go by without Varian being shown up or talked down to by the guy--and always in the most condescending tone.

Today had, in fact, been one of those days--for the most part. Varian had been translating a rune-key to get into the magically sealed temple where Nuru’s next lead was and Hugo had sauntered right in, translated it in under ten minutes, and smugly lead the way in.

Varian kind of wanted to strangle him.

Through the power of Nuru’s glaring at him and Yong’s enthusiastic ramblings distracting him, Varian manges to not kill the latest addition to their group, but it’s only just.

They trek through the winding, stone corridors of the temple ruins, Varian taking notes and Yong excitedly chattering away to Nuru. But as the halls stretch on and don’t come to an end, Varian starts to think that maybe this particular lead was a bust.

Then, it’s too quiet.

Varian turns, about to ask Yong if he’s alright--the child’s murmurings had cut off abruptly mid-sentence--when he realizes that…

Nuru, Hugo and Yong are gone.

_____

Of course they weren’t really gone, Varian realizes lately--way later, after Hugo drags him out of the depths of the inky-black nightmare he was lost in. Nuru, patting his back as he coughs and dry heaves in the bright, afternoon light, quietly explains that the place had a curse on it.

“Nightmare cavern,” Yong says, the only one of them who had been unaffected and, subsequently, the person to get Nuru out who was then able to help Hugo break free.

And then Varian, because of course he was the one deepest in.

“If it makes you feel any better, Nuru started crying when I woke her up,” Yong offers, when Varian finally stops choking.

Nuru shoots him a glare. “Shut up.”

Yong holds his hands up defensively.

Varian tunes them out as the argument escalates. His mind is still focused on the nightmarish horrors he’d be subjected to back there.

Re-subjected to.

Hugo spends the rest of the day being very tentative to Varian. In turn, Varian doesn’t really know how to respond. His mildly antagonist relationship with the blond has him in a place where he doesn’t know how to respond to the sudden kindness.

Hence, why Varian is out in the middle of the night looking for Hugo, who hasn’t been seen since supper.

After wandering around the mostly quiet town for the better part of an hour, he finds the blond, sitting on a slanted rooftop above the town’s apothecary. With a sigh, Varian clumsy climbs up the side of the building, finding his footing in loose bricks and the uneven trimming on the side. It’s nowhere near as graceful as he’d like, considering he almost brains his head on the side of the roof before he even gets on it.

“Hey,” Varian says, once he’s safe on top. He carefully picks his way across the slanted roofing to where Hugo is reclining, arms folded under his head. He glances up in surprise when he hears Varian, eyes unreadable.

“Hey.” His voice is unusually gruff.

Varian settles beside him, stomach dropping when he glances over the edge. Varian’s not one to be nervous around heights, but they are really high up and he doesn’t exactly trust Hugo to catch him.

Maybe.

Hugo had gotten him out of--wherever the hell that place had taken him to. No matter his feelings toward the guy’s general attitude or how much of an arrogant dick he can be, Varian has to give him that.

He could have very easily left him there. But he didn’t, which raises Varian’s opinion of him by a fraction.

A breeze shifts through the town, cutting straight through Varian and his thin jacket. He shivers, wrapping his arms around himself tightly.

It’s a clear autumn night. They’re far enough away from the big cities that Varian can make out the stars, for once. The sky looks different than in Corona--further implementing the realization just how far from home they are.

Well, Varian at least. He’s still not exactly sure where Hugo’s home is. If he has a home.

Something sour settles in the pit of his stomach at the thought.

“Nice view,” he says, instead of voicing any of his many thoughts.

Hugo hums, giving Varian a side-long glance. There’s something heavy in his eyes. “I guess,” is all he says, noncommittally.

Varian picks at one of his nails. “The constellations are different here than at home.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm-hmm. See that one?” Varian points to a cluster of four stars that don’t quite form a straight line. “Should be curved. In Corona at least,” he adds. He doesn’t ask what the constellations look like where Hugo’s from.

Hugo wouldn’t tell him anyway, he’s pretty sure.

The blond isn’t looking where Varian pointed, however. His eyes are firmly glued to the side of Varian’s head. Varian doesn’t want to meet that gaze for some reason, which is ridiculous, right? He, after all, followed Hugo all the way up here, initiated a mindless conversation that Hugo clearly didn’t want to have.

Varian drops his head back against the rooftop and tries not to sigh.

Then,

“Do any of the constellations look the same?” Hugo asks, softly.

Varian bites his lip. “That one does,” he says, pointing to the string of stars in the shape of a shrimp that Eugene crudely dubbed erecticous constellationous. Hugo doesn’t need to know that though. “And, that one,” he adds, pointing to the stars that form a familiar shape. Only a few stars in them were out of alignment, but it was close enough that Varian could pick it out. “The golden flower.”

Hugo glances up at the constellation. “Is there a story behind it?”

“Probably,” Varian shrugs. “Rapunzel never got around to telling me, though, and my dad wasn’t really one for stories. Just knowing how to find the north star.”

“Well, make one up then,” Hugo says. Varian can hear the grin in his voice and rolls his eyes.

“I’m not making up a story about a flower, Hugo.”

“Why, not manly enough for you?”

Varian considers pushing him off the roof for a moment. “No, just enough stories about magic golden flowers for one lifetime,” he says, before thinking better of it.

Hugo lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Get those often?”

“You have no idea.”

A pause, as Hugo waits. “You aren’t going to tell me.”

Varian considers it. “I don’t think you’d believe me,” he says, honestly.

Hugo knocks his shoulder into Varian’s. “Try me, Goggles.”

Varian huffs, sitting up slightly and drawing his legs up to his chest. He wraps his arms around them and drops his chin onto his knees. “You ever hear the story of the sundrop?”

“Something of it,” Hugo says casually. “Magic sun spit falls from the sky, infects flower, somehow gets transferred to magic princess. Coronian story, if I’m right.”

“Yep. Would you believe me if I told you it was real?”

“Varian, we just walked through a hall of mirrors that trapped us in our worst fears. Yong has sentient firecrackers and you can create every kind of cure known to man through the power of science” There’s a pause. “Yeah, I think I can believe that’s real.”

Varian snorts. “Yeah okay. I do really know the-” he wrinkles his nose, “-magic princess.”

“Was she pretty?” Hugo grins.

“She is my sister, thank you very much,” Varian sniffs, not really linking the idea of Hugo being attracted to Rapunzel in any sense. That would be weird, but Varian can’t really pin his finger on why.

Hugo blinks in surprise. “Wait, really? I thought you were like,” he gestures vaguely with one hand, “an only child. You have those vibes.”

Varian has many things to say to that, but he refrains. “Yeah, well, not all family is through blood,” he settles on, instead of picking a fight.

Hugo twitches, something unpleasant darkening in his gaze. He turns his gaze back to the sky. “Can I ask you something?” he asks, after a few seconds of silence.

“Just did,” Varian instantly replies, earning a light snort from his blond companion.

“Varian.”

“Yeah, yeah, ask away.”

“What happened to you out there?” Hugo says, unknowingly asking the one question Varian has been trying to avoid all evening.

Varian’s heart sinks, his good mood plummeting below the rooftop. He shuts his eyes. “Like you said, hall of mirrors with bad memories.”

“Yeah.” Hugo’s voice is soft. And closer. Varian can feel his shoulder and thigh pressing into his own. “Yeah, I just-you didn’t look so good when you came out.”

Varian lets his legs drop over the edge of the roof as he flops onto his back. The stars stare down at him silently. It’s a familiar view--one that he saw many times through the tiny window in his prison cell.

It’s not exactly comforting most of the time.

Varian throws an arm over his eyes. Huffs loudly into the quiet night. “My dad died when I was fourteen,” he says.

He feels Hugo still next to him.

Varian drops his arm. The moon, phased into a sliver tonight, seems to grin down at him. “It was my fault,” Varian goes on, eyes glued to the white splinter in the sky, “and we-we fixed it, he’s fine now. But. Yeah.”

His eyes cut to Hugo.

Hugo is staring down at him. His eyes are wide and filled with an unreadable emotion. He visibly swallows, eyes darting between Varian’s.

“It wasn’t a great time for me.”

Hugo exhales. Lies down flat against the roof, shoulder to shoulder with Varian. “I don’t remember my dad,” he says, quietly.

Varian stays very still, intensely aware that whatever’s happening right now is not likely to happen again.

“I remember my mom though,” he continues. Varian glances at him, his profile only visible in the dim light. Varian can’t tell what expression he’s wearing, can only guess through the intonation of his voice. “She used to sing to me, I think. And she had brown eyes.”

Varian shifts closer. His head is almost on Hugo’s shoulder. Almost.

“My mom was an alchemist,” Varian says, like it isn’t obvious.

“Yeah, I kinda figured that one, blue eyes,” Hugo says, rolling his green ones. “Do you remember her?”

Varian shakes his head. “No, I was too little when she--yeah.”

“Yeah.”

The two of them lie there in silence.

“Hey, Hugo,” Varian says. The warmth emanating from the other boy is both comforting and anxiety inducing. He’s still trying to pinpoint why, but can’t come up with a conclusive answer.

“Hmm?” the other boy tilts his head in Varian’s direction.

Varian could easily get lost in the brilliant green eyes.

“Thanks for getting me out,” he says, instead of something like your eyes are pretty or I want to touch your hair.

Hugo’s face does something complicated. “Yeah, well. Nuru would have killed me if I left you there.” A pause. “Besides,” he mutters, “you would have done the same for me.”

Accurate assessment, Varian ruefully agrees. Hugo might annoy the ever living shit out of him, but he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the other boy out of danger.

“Still,” he says.

“Well. You’re welcome then,” Hugo says awkwardly, looking anywhere but Varian. If he didn’t know any better, Varian would say Hugo looks a bit guilty, but he can’t figure out why for the life of him.

There’s a pause that’s far too charged that has Varian very aware of how closely they’re pressed together.

“Tell me more about the stars,” Hugo blurts out, just as the silence becomes too much.

The twisting in Varian’s chest releases. “Well, that one’s the cat’s eye,” he says, pointing out a triangle of stars directly above him.

Hugo’s eyes follow where his finger is pointing. As Varian continues to point at various stars and constellations, the tension between the two evaporates. But with Hugo’s warm breath puffing almost against Varian’s ear and the sound of his laughter when he says something particularly witty, the strange fluttering in Varian’s stomach gets worse.

He ignores it.

It probably means nothing.

[kerie-prince]

We're Worlds Apart (6)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: language, smoking (cigarettes), mentions of sexual activity (but no actual scenes), Blaise (you know what i mean <3)

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: would y'all be interested if i added a smut chapter? also fun fact! the little date bit where y/n thinks about her worst date is based on my real life experience. only we didn't go to mcdonald's, we went to in-n-out. and it was terrible

(gif cred)

Blaise Zabini.

This man was the walking definition of lust. Flirtatious, smooth, and most definitely a womanizer. He didn’t hide it in his actions and you didn’t care. He could break your heart and have you crying for weeks, but man, if he wasn’t gorgeous.

Blaise Zabini looked as if he was carefully molded by Aphrodite. A man almost too beautiful for the world, and you’re going on a date with him. He nearly knocked the air out of your lungs when he asked to take you out to the fanciest, most expensive restaurant in Buffalo. And who were you to say no?

The whole window incident was completely forgotten. He could see more if he’d like— “Hey Y/N?” Your employee brought you out of your thoughts. A soft blush was on your face as you tried to act like you weren’t thinking of your neighbors’ friend. “Uh, yeah, what’s up?”

“Did you want me to put the crystal beads in the front? They’ve been really popular today.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You had a few more hours of your day left before going back home. You had called over two of your best friends to catch up and help you pick out an outfit for your date that coming Saturday. It was currently Thursday, but in case nothing in your closet was good enough, you’d at least have some time to go shopping with them. Which was probably going to happen anyway.

It was a really good day; it got really busy with customers and the usual nuisance was gone today. But no matter how busy it was, you still felt like time was passing by slowly. In all honesty, what you really wanted was to be able to see Blaise today even if it was for just a minute, just to say hi.

Your last date was six months ago and, well. If it went well, you wouldn’t be attending the date you were going to later on the weekend. It was a horrifying date; he took you to a fucking McDonalds on the first (and last) date, only paid for his own meal, and made weird sexual innuendos nearly the whole time. And the worst bit was that even though it was a terrible date, you decided to give him another shot by texting him saying that you’d like to go to another date and he never texted you back.

Blaise was only going to be around for a month, you know this. And you kinda felt bad for taking some of his time away from his best friend whom he was visiting for, but he asked you out. So, if he’s alright with it you should be, too.

After the store closed, you stayed an extra hour just to make sure everything was cleaned up and ready for tomorrow. As much as you were in a rush, you hated clutter and didn’t want to have to wake up earlier to clean. Most likely, your friends were gonna want to drink a little. Traffic home wasn't great, but once you got home you got exactly what you asked for.

Outside, Blaise stood against a wall smoking a cigarette on Draco’s porch. God, even the way he stands is hot you thought. He saw you pull in your driveway and put out the last of the bud onto the ashtray. Blaise made his way to you and your heart was beating hard. “Good evening, gorgeous,” he said in that mesmerizing British accent. I’d kill to hear that voice in the morning.

“Hello,” you sighed in contentment. He was about to say something before your friends pulled up next to your car. Internally, you groaned. You just had to hope they wouldn't say anything to embarrass you. Without taking the chance, you started thinking of a reason to excuse him back to Draco’s house but it was too late as your friends were already rushing to your side. Act normal, act normal, act normal—

“Hey Y/N, who's this?” Miranda probed. Her voice was suggestive and you caught how she looked Blaise up and down. Bianca, the shyest of the three stood aside and waved at him.

“Blaise, these are my best friends Miranda and Bianca,” your hands gestured to the girls by your side. “Guys, this is Blaise.”

He took their hands and kissed the top of them. “Well, you ladies have a goodnight. I’ll see you later, Y/N.” He winked at you before he left.

Miranda let out a sigh before she spoke, “God, you’re so lucky.” She started heading into your house and pulled out a bottle of wine from her purse. Yeah. I am.

—

Draco has no idea what he walked into.

Santa Marie’s was absolute chaos. There was nearly a horde of injured wizards and witches that he and his team had to help. People filled the waiting room and beds were constantly being changed for the next patient.

The worst bit of it was that no one had any memory as to what happened. “This is a really strong memory charm. Not as bad as how Lockhart was left, though. Any idea who could’ve done this?” Draco worked as he healed one person after the next. He’s been running around with Ian at his side.

“Not really. This is the first time I’ve ever seen anything like this. Hell, this is probably the first time anything like this ever happened at Santa Marie’s,” Ian pondered. It was true. Something like this hasn’t been seen in this hospital. But Draco wasn’t going to sit around and do nothing about it. He became Head Healer at Santa Marie’s for a reason and he was going to prove he deserves this position.

When he found a few minutes to himself, he called his landline at home to let Blaise and Theo know that he might not come home for the night. Theo was the one to answer the call and offered to take Draco some clothes if need be, but Draco already had a bag in his office just in case something kept him there. Guess today’s that day.

“Are you by yourself?” Draco asked.

“Yeah, Blaise left about twenty minutes ago,” Theo confirmed.

“Where’d he run off to? Not like he has other friends around,” Draco chuckled. He used the time to eat a sandwich from the cafeteria vending machine. Wasn't as filling, but he figured it’ll do for now until he would be able to eat an actual meal.

“Don’t you remember? Blaise got his date with… what’s her name again? The muggle, witch one, fuck if I know,” Theo said. That’s today? Draco had forgotten all about it. Of course, if he had remembered, he’d probably be distracted from his work today. Wait, why?

Theo regained his attention by calling his name multiple times thinking Draco had just hung up. “I’ll call you later. Still got loads of work to be done.”

“Hey, do you think they’ll do it-” Draco cut the call off before he could listen to the end of that sentence. Last thing he wanted on his mind while he worked was Blaise doing… things with you. It wasn’t because he liked you. You’re his neighbor and things could get pretty weird. It took months just to get along and have one engaging conversation.

And honestly, Draco still didn't like how you were a Wiccan. He may not understand what exactly it means, but it didn't matter. What would even happen if for some reason, Blaise actually showed you what real magic looks like? That was what really concerned Draco. Showing a muggle magic. He didn't know what those laws were like under the Magical Congress, but under the Ministry it was only allowed to show muggles magic and the wizarding world if it had the promise of marriage or you were a mudbl— muggleborn.

And Draco knew Blaise. His longest committed relationship was probably three months, so marriage is a definite no. Draco didn't know why he was even worried about it, it's just one bloody date. He figured that America made him soft as he stood ther overthinking about literally nothing. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he almost didn't feel Ashley flick his forehead. “Ow! That hurt!”

“I’d be worried if it didn't. You were standing there like a damn zombie. You ready to get back out there?” Ashley sassed. Draco scarfed the last of his sandwich and followed Ashley back to the emergency room. Ugh, I want this day to end.

—

It was the best date you ever had. You weren't in love or anything, but you were definitely tired out. The dinner was amazing and the conversations were engaging and interesting. But it's the events after the dinner that you remember.

Unlike boyfriends and girlfriends before, Blaise took his time with you. Slow, sensual and just perfect. It was quite suspicious, actually. What man is this perfect? There's something up. Weird foot fetish, secret Star Wars nerd. Or worse. Star Trek you thought.

Two days after the date, your best friends drove straight to your house after a single text was sent. There was no way Miranda and Bianca were going to read about the details on a phone screen, no. They wanted to hear the explicit details with their own ears.

“He did what?” Miranda nearly choked on the wine. There was a certain confidence in your aura. You slept with a man hand crafted by the gods and it was the best time of your life.

Bianca sat bashfully listening to your story, but she leaned forward to hear you better. “Little trashy for a first date, but who the hell cares? Ten out of ten, would definitely do again.” You smirked at the end of your corny joke. Your friends looked at each other and rolled their eyes. “Alright, we get it. What now, though? He's only here for a month. What's gonna happen now?” Miranda questioned.

“Dunno. But for now, I'm just having fun. At first, I thought it'd be weird since his friend isn't the most pleasant to live next to, but Blaise is different.” You could only assume they were different, but considering you were getting along way better you figured it was safe to assume they were.

“What does your neighbor even look like? I haven't seen him anywhere,” Bianca noticed. Now that you realize, you haven't seen your brooding neighbor in a couple days. Not that you cared. “Actually, I don't know. Work, probably,” you shrugged your shoulders as you brought your wine glass to your lips.

“Where does he work?” Miranda asked.

“In the emergency room at a hospital,” you answered.

“Oh. You know where?” Miranda kept at it. “No, we don't really talk much. Took me nearly six months to even find out that he even talks, let alone what he does for a living.” Just as you were about to take another sip, a certain black car was pulling up.

From afar, you could see the dark circles extremely prominent under Draco’s eyes and noticed him wearing the same clothes he left the house in a couple days ago. You actually pitied him, but admired him at the same time.

Being a doctor is no easy task, and here was one across the yard working day and night to help people. “Is that him?” Bianca noticed him from out the window. You nodded in response and took another sip of wine.

“I'm moving to England. There's no way that they have this many attractive men. Watch me pledge allegiance to the Queen, I don't care,” Miranda rambled. You laughed at her in response. “You said there's another person visiting him?”

“Yeah, why?” you quirked an eyebrow. “What does he look like?” Miranda looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes. You shrugged your shoulders, “Haven't seen him yet. Never comes out but I think I heard him once in the backyard.”

After a couple hours of talking and laughing, the two best friends decidedly went home and called you once they arrived safely. The night was chilly and the sky was clear. You admired the sunset and the orange and purple hues in the sky from the bench of your porch. If you could, you'd paint the scenery.

The sound of a door opening made you look to the side and saw Draco pulling out a cigarette. He looked around and once his eyes landed on yours, he reached in his pocket for the lighter. Once it was lighted, he took a deep inhale and let the smoke out with a long puff.

“Long couple days?” you asked from across. He took another puff before he started walking to the fence separating your yards. You did the same and leaned against it next to him. “Feel like shit,” he said under his breath.

“You look like shit,” you commented. Draco glared at you and you laughed at him. It took him a couple seconds to drop his glare and then he started laughing as well. When you looked at him, you noticed how his eyes crinkled and how bright his smile was. It was the first time you'd ever seen him like this and it made you feel a bit warmer inside. You remembered how when he'd first moved in, all you wanted was to be friends with your new neighbor and have moments like this.

The silence lasted a while when your laughters died down. He finished the last of the cigarette and stepped on it as you just stood and wandered into nothing. Whether it was an awkward silence or not, you didn't know. But considering you were comfortable, maybe it wasn't.

You looked at your neighbor and reached one of your hands out to him. Draco looked confused, like he once did when you first went to his door and reached for a handshake. He stood still as he expected you to say something. The expression spoke for him so you finally explained yourself, “Friends?”

Draco seemingly thought about it, eyes going back and forth from your hand to your eyes. He then looked at his house for some reason and met your eyes again. Hesitantly, he shook your hand, “Friends.”

This was going to be an odd friendship for sure, but after months of trying, a friendship began.

—

next chp

(っ◔◡◔)っ taglist: @beiahadid @malfoy-styles-wife @fivenightslaughter @juneballoon999 @leydileyla @fangirlanotherjust @originalsoulcollector @opiomancy @lipstickandloveletters @ninacotte @daedric-sorceress @frecklesandfirecrackers @hahee154hq @disartrous @oh-those-barricade-boys @lunalovecroft

[greenbriar-j]

5 times the prince crashed the bookstore

and the 1 time the owner(’s grandson) broke into the palace

-

One.

             The first time was an accident. Sort of. Not really.

             Prince Gabriel did need to buy new ink and maybe a new journal to replace the one Gunther accidentally threw into the fountain the last time Gabe escaped the palace. If he was so pressed, though, he could’ve asked one of his attendants to buy it for him.

             So, yeah, it was kind of an accident. Gabriel donned his “commoner” attire, hiding his immediately recognizable curls under a cap. The clothes he wore were bland, but he had the kind of figure that made every outfit stand out. He snuck out through the window, running to the bookstore to get as much time away from his princely duties as possible.

             It was so boring, all of it. The paperwork, the meetings, the girls.

             Full confession: Prince Gabriel loved girls. Adored them. Thought they were the neatest thing to be placed on the planet. He loved the neighboring princesses, their mother queens, the female attendants – he loved women. He could not for a second imagine kissing any of them.

             Kissing Gunther? That, he’d imagined several times before the guard had caught on and assigned him even more paperwork. Fucking Gunther.

             Not, Gabe grimaced, pushing open the door to the bookstore, fucking Gunther. Stop thinking about fucking Gunther. About fucking. In general. … You’re a disgrace of a prince. At least you’re not responsible for producing an heir.

             Because he was the second prince. Because he was responsible for many things, actually, while also not being responsible for a thing at all.

             “Welcome to Vanilla Pages, how can I help you today?”

             The prince’s head whipped to the sound of the voice. It was not the voice he expected to hear, the almost frail, ever-loving voice of the old Asian lady who’d always been here the last few times he came. This voice was rich, masculine, deep – and, oh, the prince was very, very gay for it.

             “Uh,” he said intelligently. “You’re new.”

             The man smiled at him. “I’m not. I’ve worked here every summer since I was ten. Granny gets a little faint in the summer. The heat and all.” A beautiful hand waved in a beautiful, dismissive gesture.

             Gabe had one thought, and it was this: He himself was feeling a little faint this summer. Somehow, behind the broad shoulders filling out the loose shirt, the scruffy ponytail, the calm yet twinkling eyes, the man was undoubtedly a big teddy bear. “Ah,” he said, again the pinnacle of intelligence towering over his whole kingdom. “What’s your name?”

             “It’s impolite to ask for someone’s name without giving yours first,” the man prompts. “Your Highness.”

             Your-? “The disguise is that bad?”

             “If I say so, will it end in a death sentence?”

             Fuck, fuck, fuck. That smile is unfair. What the fuck. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

             “Then yes, it sucks. The name’s Phuong.”

             “Oh, word? Good name.” I did not just say that. Who responds to introductions with oh, word?

             Gabe could not stand to make any more of a scene. This was fun. It was also very embarrassing. He grabbed a journal without really examining it, checking out and running across the street to the bakery.

             Gunther picked him up there after his own round of flirting with the baker’s daughter. There would probably be a wedding soon. Depending. The guard seemed surprised that the prince turned up on his own, but the prince thought nothing of it. He thought nothing at all.

             Not about the name Phuong.

             Not about those broad shoulders and muscular arms left on full display. The wide, toothy grin.

             Not anything at all.

 Two.

             The second time was a detour.

             “Gabe, I mean this in the most respectful way, but if you do not finish writing a birthday card to the prince of [other kingdom, idk], we will be having a war council within the month.”

             “Gunther, he can’t even read. Why does it matter?” Tossing his head back and stretching his legs out, he acted like the brat he only was for Gunther.

             The guard delivered a withering glare without adjusting his rigid stance. Even the prince has to admit that Gunther seemed to be experiencing physical repercussions for his job. In just a month, the prince had aged his friend by a year, or so it seemed.

             Reluctantly, Gabe held in every protest dangling on the edge of his tongue and penned a birthday note to the two year old prince. “We have to deliver this in person?”

             “Yes.”

             Gabe groaned. He could not think of a prospect he hated more. In a month, he had not managed to gather enough poise to revisit his beloved Phuong at the bookstore. He merely whimpered the name in his sleep, according to an unusually smug Gunter. And now, to be separated by this meaningless trek?

             “To the post, Gabe. Not to [neighboring kingdom].”

             Ever the model prince, Gabriel drew himself upright immediately. “The post, you say,” he repeated regally. “The one three streets away from the bookstore.”

             “That’s the one.” His guard, his best friend, smiled tightly. “I intend to propose along the way, and your stringing this out is not helping my nerves.”

             His royal eyes wider than saucers, Gabe ruffled all of his curls in distress and excitement. “Propose! Why didn’t you say so, you big baboon?”

             “You were sulking, Highness.” Gunther’s smile is wry, only a little amused.

             “I most certainly was not. Agh, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”

             In his rush, he sustained more injury to his hands that day than he had in the past year.

 -

             “So…” Phuong glanced at Gabe’s hands, a quick flicker of dark brown eyes. “What happened to your hands?”

             Prince Gabriel hid the offending bandaged digits behind his back. “A mishap while writing the world’s most useless letter.”

             “Oh?”

             “Its recipient can’t even read. OH!” Without thinking, Gabe grabbed at Phuong’s shirt, tugging in his hasty excitement. “He’s doing it, he’s-!”

             He turned, only to find his face alarmingly close to Phuong’s. Why was the other man looking at him anyway? Did it matter?

             The moment was broken too soon by a holler across the street. “GABE! SHE SAID YES!”

             “OF COURSE SHE DID, YOU BABOON!” He fired back, pretending not to feel the heat rising inside him from the sudden close proximity. “He’s going to look so hot at his wedding,” Gabe muttered dreamily, still clinging with bandaged fingertips to Phuong’s shirt.

             “I have something for you,” Phuong said suddenly. “I wasn’t sure when you would come back, but I have something.”

             It was the best news the prince had heard all day. Seeing Phuong while getting his work done and receiving a gift? Only the gods could provide such a setup.

             He was right, for once, that it was too good to be true. Phuong deposited a box of fanmail in the prince’s arms and turned away without a word.

 Three.

             The third time was a disaster.

             “Did you read them?” Phuong asked after the initial pleasantries had been exchanged.

             “The letters?” Gabe leaned on the counter. “Burned them.” He grinned, but back-pedaled when the joke falls flat.

             Phuong swallowed, then busied himself wiping down the counter. “You burned them?”

             “If I read every piece of fanmail I ever got, I wouldn’t survive, Phuong.”

             “I see. I suppose- No, never mind.”

             While he hadn’t burned them, Gabe hadn’t read them either. He had no reason to read confessions of love from women who didn’t stand a chance with him because 1) he didn’t like women like that and 2) he only had a certain pool of suitors to choose from. This thing he was perpetuating with Phuong… It would burn him eventually. But Phuong was still very, very hot, and Gabe was still very, very gay.

             There was no promise of reciprocated anything from the clerk. He was simply doing his job, and Gabe was just a guy that came in a little too often for a little too long. That was all.

             “What’s this about, then? Was there one I should have read? Is it from your sister?”

             “I don’t have a sister.”

             “Your cousin?”

             “Your Highness,” Phuong looks at him, finally. Gabe doesn’t enjoy it, though. Not the way the address comes out so clinical, so distant. “All the letters had the same handwriting. My handwriting.”

             The prince’s throat goes dry. “What?” He whispers.

             “I’m closing the shop early today,” the other man responds in that same distant voice. “You’ll need to leave, Your Highness.”

             Stunned, Gabe returns to the palace.

 -

             Each of the letters is one sentence long.

I hope this finds you well, Your Highness.

 The stars in your eyes shine brighter than mine, yet belong to the same single sky.

You’re a brat.

Gunther came to the bakery today; I’m strangely disappointed by your absence.

A heartless one, you turned out to be.

The stars in your eyes shine on different continents than mine, it seems.

 Foolish of me to write letters to someone I’ve only met once.

Why do I think of you so often, my most hated daydream?

              There’s one for every day of the month Gabe avoided Vanilla Pages.

             “Gunther?” He calls into the air. A maid scurries in instead, apologizing for the absence of his guard, a different guard trailing in behind her. “It’s fine. Will you bring me some alcohol?”

 Four.

             The fourth time was a mistake.

             The very same night, a very drunk Gabe stumbled through the streets. It would be a prime night for assassination, if anyone wanted to put him out of his misery. A shame that no one did.

             Mindless feet guided him back to the bookstore. Fruitlessly, he banged on the shut and bolted door.  

             An angry Gunther dragged him home, and Phuong was never the wiser.

 Five.

             The fifth time was purposeful.

            “Your engagement was decided today.”

             Hollow-eyed, Prince Gabriel blinked at the captain of his guard – a married man now. The wedding had been beautiful. As expected. “My what?”

             “Your engagement, Highness. She’s a very pretty woman, if it’s any consolation.”

             “It’s not.”

             “Phuong is also in very bad shape, if it’s any consolation. Rea said so.”

             “It’s not.” The words came muffled by the pair of hands covering the prince’s face. It was enough that he felt bad about everything. There was really no reason both of them should feel awful. “Gunther, clear my schedule for the next hour. I’m going to the bookstore.”

          ��  “You’re engaged now.”

             “I’m aware. Betrothed men ought to tell other suitors when they’re off the market.”

             The intention is clear, and Gunther seems upset. Unreasonably so. “Your Highness-”

             “I have to, Gunther. I’m going to make him hate me so he can move on faster.”

             “But you-”

             “I always knew how this would end. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

             He was anything but okay. He was gay and in love and engaged to a beautiful woman who deserved the kind of love he could never give her because he was gay and desperately in love with someone else.

             Each solemn step of the way, he bid farewell to each part of the man he had inexplicably grown to love. Goodbye, beautiful hair. Goodbye, kind heart. Goodbye, brown eyes. Goodbye, biceps; goodbye, thighs. Goodbye, hands. Goodbye, stupid love letters.

             He walked in, announced his engagement to the ground, and fled before he could see the other man’s reaction.

 One.

             Phuong considered his life in chapters.

             They were typically large, vague categories of his life that were boring and tedious to live through. Childhood. Teenage years. Adulthood. Gabe. It was only this latest chapter that made any difference in anything he thought.

             Before Gabe, life was dull. Every day, the same. After him, every day was painful – but the good kind of painful that perhaps would lead to something. The second prince bore the name of the messenger of the lord, and that had to count for something, didn’t it?

             Apparently not. For Gabe to cut him off so quickly… If he had hoped to give Phuong any kind of conclusion about what they were and what they meant to each other, he failed spectacularly.

             After milling around Rea’s bakery for half the day, he finally called in his favor. “Rea, can I… Uhm…”

             “If you wait until sundown, Gunther will come home for dinner, and he can take you straight to the brat himself,” she replied before he finished the thought. “Just tell him how you feel, and if it goes bad, you can have free cakes for a week.”

             “I’ll get fat and unattractive.”

             “Honey,” she said in that pitying tone he’d so hoped to avoid.

             “Can I… Have a free cake now?”

 -

             Prince Gabriel and Gabe were very different people, and while Phuong had known this, it didn’t really dawn on him until he saw it with his own two eyes.

             Gabe – his Gabe – smiled and laughed at everything, had horrible posture because he was always trying to get that tiny bit closer to Phuong, and dressed horribly because he thought it’d work as a disguise.

             Prince Gabriel wore tailored clothes that made Phuong a little dizzy because of how they accentuated a man who didn’t need accentuating at all. Prince Gabriel spoke with authority and walked with it, too. He oozed it.

             Phuong didn’t know if this made his job any easier.

             The moment the door shut behind him, the prince groaned and stretched and stripped off his clothes from the day. He flopped face-first on the bed like a child and immediately called for the captain of his guard.

             “Is it okay that I’m here instead?” Phuong said softly.

             Unexpectedly, the prince jumped ten feet in the air. “Phuong?”

             A complicated series of expressions crossed the prince’s face. He looked like he wanted to be upset, but couldn’t, and in the end, he started to cry, reaching for Phuong with grabby hands and a bleeding heart. What a foolish prince, to wound himself like this, when he really didn’t need to be wounded at all.

             “Your eyes shine with stars that are different from mine, but they share the same sky,” Phuong murmured, climbing into the prince’s bed and pulling him into a clumsy embrace. “If you had read that, I thought you’d have understood.”

             “It’s not the same as telling me upfront. I can’t bank my decisions on I think.”

             “I know.”

             And the prince only cried more. This was all his heart had ever wanted, but it still didn’t tell his mind what to do. Could he afford to forfeit his engagement? Would he have to forfeit Phuong again, knowing what he knew now?

             He didn’t know. He didn’t care yet. It was hard to care with Phuong’s finger sliding through his curls, with feathery touches of lips to his forehead.

             “Gabe.”

             “Hm?”

             “I really, really like you. But I get it if you still have to let me go.”

             Gabe tightened his arms around Phuong. “I won’t. I don’t want to.”

             “Okay.”

Spoiler alert: I have no idea how to actually end this but I believe they figure out their way to get together and live happily ever after bc that was the whole point of this but I really can’t be bothered to write it out whoops

[juuls]

Juulna’s ‘Hold Onto Your Sanity’ Fic, Book, and Music Recs for the 2020 Dumpster Fire... Part 3!

So you just crash-landed behind enemy lines in a war you know barely anything about except that your role seems infinitesimal and insignificant, and dumped into a year, 2020, that already seems fifteen years too long.

Before you drown your sorrows in some fantastic scotch or wine coolers for days (or weeks)… I have a proposal.

That you step back from the flames, tune things out for a bit, and try to forget about the outside world for a while (but don’t forget to vote or I will be very sad at you!).

These fics are meant to take you out of your head (I’m including more plot/story-minded fics than PWP) for the next few weeks or months as the world goes to hell (even more) but of course there are some bits of solid angst in these as there is wont to be in many a fic. Check the tags, read responsibly, don’t like-don’t read, ship and let ship, and please do leave a kudos and maybe even a comment! :)

This is PART THREE.

Check out here for Part One and most of the Marvel fic recs, along with a selection of book recs too. :)

And here’s Part Two, which has the bulk of my Star Wars and Game of Thrones recs, along with Spotify playlists!

Part Three is this one here, all about the Potterverse.

(Not yet complete) Here’s Part Four, filled with even more shippy goodness from all over the Star Trek universe. So. Many. Ships. :D

(Not yet complete) Part Five is Witcher, Man From UNCLE, Stargate: Atlantis and SG-1, Sherlock, Hannibal, and Doctor Who.

(Not yet complete) Part Six will probably be all for my newfound love of Supergirl, along with some Game of Thrones and Marvel ships I skipped, because I gotta stop somewhere with all these recommendations or I’ll be at it forever. Seriously, how much of this stuff have I read!?

But I think we all need some distractions from the world these days, eh? Or something to console us other than internet rage and a barrel of ice cream and/or hard alcohol.

Potterverse

I’ve chosen to pick fics (mostly) off of AO3 for their easy reading access, though HP fics’ golden years were on sites like fanfiction.net and other independent archives like Sycophanthex and others which have closed their doors over the years, sadly. Some of these fics date back to almost 20 years old, or more, amazingly!

For fics on fanfiction.net, I highly recommend using this link (FicSave) to epub/mobi converter rather than dealing with the frustrating app. It functions like AO3′s built-in download button.

SSHG/Sevmione

Rec assistance by @perrydowning​

Second Life by Lariope

Phantom of Hogwarts by Good_Witch

Romancing the War by Pubella

The Poison Garden by turtle_wexler @turtlewexlerwrites

A Light in the Fog by turtle_wexler

Pride of Time by AnubisAnkh

The Savage by MagdatheMagpie

Snape’s Story by Tbird1965

Recognition by jezzie (krith)

Tedium of Time by oneredshoe

Tango by Desert_Sea

Sense and Insensibility by Desert_Sea

Time Mutable Immutable by Grooot

The Twenty by Leyna Rountree

For the Only Hope by ausland @run-with-me-to-the-sea

Bundle of Joy by LadyTuesday

Our Hands Tied by multilingualism

Choose Something Like A Star by TeddyRadiator

Mistress of the Stacks by Ms_Anthrop

A Derailed Train of Thought by Ms_Anthrop

Antiquities by stormcorona

Watch Over Me by @snapeslittleblackbuttons​

Dropped Down into the Unknown by @q-drew​

Delicate Transitions by @morbidmuch​

Lay Me Low by TeddyRadiator

The Savage by MagdatheMagpie

Another Dream by @dragoon811​

A Chance For Happiness by @corvusdraconis​

Breath of the Nundu by corvusdraconis, Dragon_and_the_Rose

Just to Be by Amarti @amarti-writes-stuff​

Hinge of Fate by Ramos

Forged in Flames by @mswhich​

Days in the Sun by bluespring864

Making sure the boy who lived, actually does by Hold_en @hold-enwrites​

The Problem With Purity by Phoenix.Writing

One Step Forward, Two Decades Back by corvusdraconis

The Headmaster’s Wife by Mrs_HH @propertyofseverustsnape

The Master, the Warden, the Headmaster, and the Deputy by mak5258

Cloak of Courage by Wendynat

Hermione Granger and the Intended Vessels by ShawnaCanon

Augury and Ardor by SnapeySnax

Before the Dawn by snarkyroxy

The Love You Take by Subversa

His Draught of Delicate Poison by Subversa

and sooooo many more if you want them just ask, this is both mine and Perry’s oldest ship lol

Gramander (Original Graves x Newt)

A Gilded Cage is Still a Cage by Anonymous

take a deep breath (and let it go) by lincesque @tumbloncat

Roar by @elenothar

Matchmaker, Matchmaker by @prosodiical

Dearly Beloved by prosodiical

Basic Instincts by @manic-intent

Promised by Miss_Lv

Plan G by Aate

Heat of the Chase by argentoswan @wannahearaboutmycats

Newt Scamander’s Guide to Getting Things Done by arthureameslove

Against all Odds by Maril

Where I Belong by Mishafied

He Wants To Say, “I Love You, Nothing Can Hurt You”  by @obsidionwingsofmidnight

Arranged by Miss_Lv

death of a bachelor by gudetama (elementary)

The Graves Identity by Mishafied

you make me feel this way somehow by gudetama (elementary)

The Nature of the Beast by AntiGravitas @absolutelynogravitaswhatsoever

The Knights, the Newt, and the Rose by @yinyangswings

The Wizard’s Cat by @natecchi

The Color of Boom by gypsiangel

Signalling Theory: Blue Coat by @obaewankenope​

Flame by @esamastation​

And The Tag Read Simply: “Pretty” by @funkzpiel​

Aren’t You Gonna Arrest Me, Officer? by JoyBurd

a little bit lost by shortbread @shortbread-fanfiction​

Dramione

Rec assistance by @cuthian​

Seven Times by kerri240879

Her Beauty and the Moonlight by BrilliantLady

The Fallout by everythursday (orphaned and only available on AO3 now, but complete)

The Eagle’s Nest by HeartOfAspen

Turncoat by elizaye @imnotleavinherewithoutyou

The Virgin Conundrum by AkashaTheKitty @akashathekitty

Bad Faith by Morrighan256

Isolation by bexchan @bex-chan-blog

The Serpent, the Witch, and the Broom Closet by bitchywitchy

Silencio by AkashaTheKitty

All You Want by senlinyu @senlinyu

Static by galfoy @heymanticore

What the Room Requires by Alydia Rackham

And We All Fall Down by @rumaan

Ambition’s End by Hanako A

Wait and Hope by mightbewriting @mightbewriting

Rewriting Destiny by mayawrites95 (mayarox95)

Chronos Historia by In_Dreams @indreamsink

A Muggle-born Magic by Musyc @willhavetheirtrinkets

Hunted by Bex-chan

A Second Look by @riverwriter

The Nietzsche Classes by Beringae

This Too, Is Sacred by HeartOfAspen

Bite First, Ask Questions Later by Daredevilsinthedetails, Kaylessi

Nocturnus by In_Dreams @indreamsink

Broken by @inadaze22​

The Green Girl by Colubrina

Lady of the Lake by Colubrina

Rebuilding by Colubrina (really just anything written by @colubrina)

Presque Toujours Pur by @shayalonnie

Can’t Change the Way I Am by @nauticalparamour

Law and Marriage by DragonGrin (formerly TeenTypist)

The Tower Window by @xodramaqueenox​

Unexpected by Emara88

Something Old, Something New by Kate Dessi

Suppressed Emotions by hopelesslydevoted.xx 

Silver Blood by @freyaishtar

When the Day Met the Night by @bex-la-get

Harmony

A Marauder’s Plan by CatsAreCool (Rachel500)

A Step to the Right by CatsAreCool (Rachel500)

Eighth by lorien829

The Catalyst by lorien829

Harry Potter and the Isle of Mists by lorien829

Knife’s Edge by Celtic55

The Black Book by mosteveryonesmad

Awakening by SweetShireen

The Sword and the Snake by bartonfink1974

Dispelling the Silence by Indygodusk

One Year Later: Return to Hogwarts by Twilight’s Inferno

DraHarmony

Fourteen Thousand Galleons by @frumpologist

The Invitation by hot_elf @hot-elf

Love Love Love by MissELY @misselylux​

Changing Scenery by aethling

East of Eden by msmerlin @ms-merlinblack

Turn Back Time by Dazeventura6

Foxfire by @setissma

Come Together by @nuclearnik

The Soul of the Wolves by LR_Earl @fanficbylrearl

Running From Lions by tryslora @tryslora

An Unexpected Family by ladyroxanne21

The Prophecies by jamcreynolds

Drarhinny

Reconstruction by @aldersprig​

Fell From the Sky by BrandonStrayne @brandonstrayne​ (I really love this one, and not just as a Canadian.)

Demons From the Past by pottermum

Drarry

Rec assistance by @newtypeshadow​

Rarely Pure and Never Simple by birdsofshore

Aural Gratification by birdsofshore

Lost Among and Falling by @bafflinghaze

The Corruption Sequence series by beren @berenwrites

Sentinel ‘verse series by elyssblair @elyssblair-blog

Date Blindness by dysonrules

Starts With a Spin by Maxine @serasarahhhh​

Temptation on the Warfront by alizarincrimson

Paradigm by dysonrules

Here’s The Pencil, Make It Happen by ignatiustrout

Draco Sodding Malfoy by Shewhxmustnxtbenamed @shewhomustnotbenamed

Pieces of What by Jadwiga

Found, Not Lost by inspiration_assaulted

Shared Detention by DadIWriteGayPorn

Dirty Little Secret by Writcraft @writcraft​

19 Years by shilo1364 @whimsicaldragonette​

Morning Suns & Coffee Runs by laugh_a_latte @queer-coffee​

Reus Una by purplepen76

Between Ink and Blood by Candamira

Ginmione

Distractions by @morningsound15​ 

Cissamione

(This seems like it’s a bit cracky, but there’s some good ones, I promise! I sorta stumbled ass-backwards into this ship but really enjoy some of them.)

One Step Left by Cysteine @cysteine

Extinction by @rubikanon​

Blinding Light by @16-pennies​

Somebody Loved by beforeyouspeak

...

..

There. This is much better, isn’t it?

So my challenge to you, if your world is falling, burning down around you in flames... is this:

...if you feel yourself getting anxious or depressed, whether from the news or being cooped up in isolation or bored or on the verge of tearing your hair out or jumping off that roof or grabbing something to go after the dictator-of-the-week.... pause, take a breath, open up this rec list, close your eyes and pick something, and let chance take you somewhere hopefully far away. Let yourself be transported.

Oh, and don’t click on this Google Drive link. Really, there’s not 30+ GB of data on that Drive I’m sharing. Shame. There totally aren’t tens of thousands of books, as many audiobooks as could fit, and a large collection of fanfiction downloaded from AO3 in there. (Also, not all fics have been shared to that folder yet; I’m working on it a little at a time as I download more.)