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thorne93 · 4 years

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Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 19)

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

Word Count: 2043

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

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

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

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

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“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded as soon as you met at the apartment. “Killing? Really?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you softly said.

“Are you at least a little remorseful?” he asked.

“Is that really what you want to know? My level of guilt? Is that what’s going to make this feel better?”

“Maybe, I don’t know! All I know is the woman I love is a serial killer, and a federal agent and I don’t know how to process this!” he shouted, his eyes wild with anger.

You just sat there quietly while Spencer paced in front of you. You had no idea what to say or do at this point. The truth was out, what more did he want from you?

“How did you even decide you wanted to do it?”

“When I realized it was Dexter, and who his victims were… I realized I wasn’t entirely unhappy with it. Then I remembered how much anger I had for Rochester getting let out and all the other dozens of bastards that were found innocent, or evidence was lost, and I just got so mad that… that I thought he could teach me.”

He stopped pacing to sit in front of you on the coffee table. “Has he brainwashed or manipulated you in any way?”

“No. I did this on my own. I found out he was the killer, and confronted him.”

“And you’re just okay with this? You’re his… student?”

“I like to think I’m his friend. He was very helpful and supportive when you were missing.”

“Oh for fucks’s sakes that right.You brought him to the office. Jesus, you had a serial killer in the building. And you’re calling him your friend? What the hell happened to you down here?”

“You getting targeted by one too many unsubs,” you said in a low voice, solemn lacing every word as you stared at him. “Spencer, I may be a killer, but I still love you with every atom of my body. You’ve been kidnapped, tortured, shot, forced to take drugs, and abused by so many unsubs, I just can’t stand it any more. I wanted some justice for those bastards who did things to you. Tell me you haven’t wanted to kill people before, some of our worst unsubs. Foyett, Scratch, Cat?”

“Wanting to and acting on it are two different things, Y/N! We don’t chase fantasies, we hunt people who actually act on them!” he cried out, his face getting red. “If you didn’t feel bad for what you did, you’d be a lot more defensive right now. Which means you know what you’re doing is wrong.”

“Well which is it? Am I a cold-blooded psychopath, or am I a misguided agent, someone who lost their way, like Elle?” you demanded.

“That all depends on how you felt when you killed them,” he stated coolly.

“What do you want me to say? What? That it didn’t feel good? That it didn’t feel like some sort of accomplishment or victory getting some of these people off the streets? Do you want me to tell you that I feel guilty?”

“Do you?” he asked, accusation in his tone.

“Not particularly no. All I did was skip some bullshit and red tape. You know what it’s like to work in this job. You know how god damn hard it is to watch a killer go free after we put in hours and effort to get them off the streets, they sit on a stand, lie, take plea deals and they’re out in five, ten years, doing it all over again. All the red tape, all the laws, all the restrictions, and for what? So someone can go out and murder a little girl again? So someone can brutally torture a family before slaughtering it? Sorry if I don’t particularly feel any remorse for stopping them, for good.”

“Tell me what you felt when you killed them,” he demanded, almost as if it were a plea.

You threw your hands out to the side, a gesture of giving up. “I...I felt relief, knowing they wouldn’t hurt anyone else, alright? It didn’t feel satisfactory, it didn’t feel sexual, it didn’t feel euphoric. I don’t get high doing it like Dexter does, okay? I just do it as a means to an end. I just do it because the way the FBI works is too damn long with no guarantee, so I took matters into my own hands. I did what every agent dreams of doing.”

Spencer eyed you up and down for a moment, and you couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking. Perhaps he was about to turn you in. Maybe he was rethinking the marriage. Maybe he was finally understanding you.

“Are you worried that maybe getting inside killer’s heads that now maybe they’ve gotten into mine?”

“No, I don’t. You’re smarter than that.”

“Then profile me, Spence.”

He made an anguished, frustrated expression. “Y/N, don’t do this. We’re better than this.”

“No, I want you to do it. What do you see when you look at me? An unsub, or your wife?”

He took a few steps towards you. “I see both, don’t you get that? That’s why this is so hard for me. I understand where you’re coming from, I do, but I can’t justify what you’ve done. As much as I may love you, I can’t pretend this is okay.”

You nodded, your chest getting tighter as you started to feel colder. “I understand that. You do what you have to do, I won’t stand in your way. I never have.”

“But you aren’t going after the people who hurt me,” he noted after a moment of quiet. “You said you were doing this because of the things that happened to me, but you aren’t killing them.”

“You’re right. I’m going after surrogates. You know who I kill?”

“Does it matter?”

“To me it does… Spence, I kill animal abusers. People who use animals for personal gain. People who run unsanitary farms. People who hurt an innocent creature. I honestly do try to do this to uphold the oath we took. I know it’s messy, I know it’s not the way you’d do it, or anyone should do it, but life was starting to feel a little… pointless. I felt like, what’s the point in doing the investigating, going through red tape, following protocol, if all it gets us is a guilty man back out on the streets? I’m not saying we deserve forgiveness or a pass. I’m just hoping you can understand why I did it. I did it for people like you who are just doing their job and wind up victims to sadistic, cruel people.”

He sat there and his eyes drifted down to the floor.

“I watched you turn into a shell of a man in prison thanks to some psycho with a vendetta, and even worse, you came pretty close to becoming what I am.”

He nodded for a moment. “I...That was--”

“I’m not faulting you, Spence,” you assured, putting your hand on his knee. You were thrilled when he didn’t cringe away from you.

“No, I mean, I’m not any better. I laced those men’s drugs with poison. I wanted them to die. I saw them kill Luis and I guess I snapped…I had no excuse to do that.”

You bobbed your head. “Do you see now, how I can do what I did?”

“I don’t know. It’s such a big leap. I mean, I killed because they murdered my friend. You don’t even know these people.”

“I don’t have to know them to know their victims didn’t deserve it.”

“This goes against everything I stand for as an agent, and worst of all, you’re doing it. If you were anyone else, I would’ve called this in by now. But it’s you and I can’t… can’t watch you go through what I did.”

You bit your lip. “I’ll respect any decision you make. If I’m being honest, I told you the truth because having you believe I was unfaithful and losing you that way would hurt a hell of a lot worse. At least this way, I hope somewhere you can find it in you to see where I’m coming from. After eight years of dealing with lost battles, almost losing you, and watching the injustice in this world, that’s where I stand. But if you left me because of a lie, a lie that could never, ever be true, I couldn’t live with myself. You knowing I am faithful to you, that I love you, means more to me than anything else. I hope you can see that.”

“I do. I know the toll this job takes.”

You nodded. “If you can think of it like dilaudid, it’s kind of like that. It’s really an addiction for Dexter, not so much for me, but it is… a bit of a stress relief, to know those people won’t be hurting anyone any more.”

For a moment you two sat there in quietness. The silence killed you, and while the next words out of your mouth were agonizing, you felt they needed to be said, for his peace of mind.

“I understand if you don't love or trust me any more. If you want a divorce while you decide, I would understand. It would kill me, but I would. I just hope you know I honestly did this all to protect other people."

He peered at you, something… kind deep within his gaze.

“Right now… I don’t know what I want. I don’t want to make any rash decisions. Like I said, I’ve tried to murder people too, so I can’t exactly play the superiority card right now. Let me just think on it. I’m going to go back home to D.C. while I figure out what I want to do. You can wrap up your semester here, and then by the time you get home, I’ll let you know what I decide.”

You nodded, your chest tightening. This was it, wasn’t it? He was going to go home, file for divorce, and send you and Dexter off to a maximum security prison.

“What about us in the meantime? Should I not call you or…?”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t want my decision to be made by any emotional attachments.”

“Understood,” you said, fighting the lump in your throat.

“Could you do me a favor though?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t… kill any more?”

“I won’t,” you promised quickly.

He nodded and stood up from the coffee table.

“Are you going to stay here?” you asked as you stood, hugging yourself. This was so god damn painful. Watching your husband treat you like a criminal. No touching, hugging, kissing. No kind or sweet words. No nicknames. Just cold, calculated interviews.

“I’ll be at a hotel, and I’ll leave in the morning.”

“You could always stay here,” you offered.

“I don’t think I can do that,” he said solemnly. “I… I can’t be in the same room with the woman I love, and the woman who kills.”

All you did was nod.

He didn’t do anything but bob his head once, then he ducked out of your apartment.

You stayed awake all night that night, not a minute went by that you weren’t crying. Not because of losing your freedom, or losing your job, or damning Dexter, or failing at just keeping a secret. You could live with all that - but losing your marriage, Spencer… That was the kicker.

The horrible part was that it was worth it though. To know those animals got out safely from those dog fighting rings. To know that those innocent people at that chef’s restaurant weren’t going to suffer any more. As much as it ached, down to your very bones to lose the one man you’d ever loved, the one man who was perfect in your eyes, at the end of the day, people and animals needed saving, and you did that. You gave them that justice.

Now, you had two weeks to live the rest of your life. You wondered what you would do with it.

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#inside the criminal mind #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #dexter #dexter morgan #dexter morgan fic #dexter fic

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theonceoverthinker · 4 years

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When Will My Life Begin? (Fair Game, 15/?)

Summary: Tangled AU. Clover Callows has been confined to a tower for all of his life, and given the threat that his Uncle Tyrian says his semblance poses to his safety, he accepts that fate. It’s the only life he’s ever known, after all. But when he’s offered the opportunity to fulfill his greatest dream after a chance encounter with a thief -- or bandit, as Qrow Branwen insists there’s a difference between the two -- both Clover and Qrow will discover joys that they never knew life could offer them before.

AO3

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Clover took pride in the fact that in the three hours since he left his tower, he’d proven himself to be rather brave. He actually left the tower itself by freefalling from the top by Kingfisher’s line, let himself trust another person to guide him to the lanterns, and even confronted that same person over their roguish past.

It couldn’t be said that Clover didn’t have good reason to be impressed with himself.

However, as he stood in Lil’ Miss Malachite’s, watching his guide get trapped in place by the rowdiest people Clover had ever seen in his life, he imagined he could be forgiven for forgetting all that bravery he’d built up.

Everything was so dark, and everyone was so loud, their voices only slightly blurred by the sound of Clover’s heart all but pounding ceaselessly right in his ears with the force of a falling dictionary.

Damn it, Qrow!

What was he thinking, taking them to this place?

Clover imagined Qrow probably thought he could get him to back out of their deal and give him his satchel back by showing him the exact types of people he confessed to fearing most. Well, the joke was on him, because as soon as Clover picked up on that notion, he made it clear to Qrow that he had another thing coming!

But then Qrow brought up a frustratingly good point -- there were sure to be a lot of other people in the capital that acted like these miscreants did. If he couldn’t handle them here in a small little tavern, what would he do then when he was in the larger town?

It was an admittedly good question, one Clover couldn’t really think about before Qrow was captured and Clover was left to fend for himself.

Either way though, one thing was for certain -- Qrow was a jerk.

However, he was also a jerk who knew his way to the lanterns. Clover knew he meant what he told Qrow: He wasn’t going home without seeing them, no matter what.

Besides, though Qrow was a jerk and a thief -- or rather, a bandit, as he claimed -- the sight before him didn’t feel right.

Clover had overpowered Qrow plenty of times today, both physically through his capture and mentally through his hidden satchel and deduction skills. However, for as many times as he defeated Qrow in just that short window of time, Qrow had never made an expression that was anything like what he currently sported.

As Qrow tried to wrestle out of the tight hold imposed on him, there was a helplessness in his eyes, a lack of hope that complemented the sparks of fear that overran his face. It was nothing like the Qrow he’d spent the past few hours with -- instead, one filled with panic that felt cruelly unnatural.

Even outside of his desire to see the lanterns, Clover couldn’t let whatever was causing an expression like that go on.

No, he had to do something.

Raven seemed to have an idea, signaling her view on what they should do by giving Clover’s collar a loose tug towards the door that led out of the tavern.

To that, Clover shot her a deadpan look.

Honestly…

“We’re not leaving him here, Raven,” Clover stated, his tone frank and definite.

Birds couldn’t roll their eyes, but Raven all the same communicated the sensation without even doing it just before letting go of Clover’s collar.

Clover looked at the sight before him.

People were surrounding the kerfuffle being created by Qrow and his captors. Among the many others in attendance, the group that approached Clover when he first entered the tavern were there.

However, while they were absolutely interested in seeing what was going down, they didn’t seem that excited, or even happy about it.

It made them seem so tired, so resigned, so different than what they were like when he first met them.

In fact, looking around the room, Clover could see that no one really appeared in favor of what was happening, not even the woman -- Robyn, he believed her name was -- who led the group who captured Qrow, nor anyone in that group itself.

Weren’t they at least going to get a reward for this, judging by what their boss said? Shouldn’t that have made them just a little more sold on the task at hand?

Clover had to admit, the attitudes towards such an order even in the face of payment seemed a far cry than what Uncle Tyrian had taught him to expect from situations like these.

Then again, Qrow didn’t have a lucky semblance. He supposed there was more empathy his fellow humans were willing to give those who didn’t have so tantalizing a prize within them.

However, as resigned as he was to think about how he was just an exception to this new revelation, Clover had a thought that he chose to focus on instead: Maybe, he could use the reluctance of those around him to get himself and Qrow out of this mess.

It wasn’t going to be easy, and he had no idea how he was going to pull it off, but he also knew he was going to try anyways.

Looking ahead, Clover surveyed his options for those to recruit for help. He couldn’t tell anything about most of the tavern’s other patrons, but some stood out, namely the group he and Qrow ran into when they first came into the place.

Well, they did want to talk to him…

They looked calmer than they did initially now, but all the same, Clover had only talked to Qrow and Raven since he’d left the tower. Raven was his friend and in addition to the advantages and leverage he held over the latter, Qrow proved quickly to not be dangerous -- a jerk, yes, but not a dangerous one. These guys were going to be different. Not only did he not know them -- and what he did know of them was...a lot to handle, but he was in their territory, and there were four of them against himself and Raven.

Clover gave a glance Qrow’s way -- reminding himself of both his moral and selfish obligation to end this -- and made his way over to the group.

With their attention towards Qrow and his captors, the group paid Clover no mind as he approached. That worked out well enough for Clover, who was still trying to figure out just how to initiate this conversation.

Everything that came to mind sounded so stupid. Why would they help him of all people? On top of barely talking to him, he was just some random guy who ran away from them -- he wasn’t sure he’d be so inclined to help himself either after that. And it’s not like he had anything to offer them for their help apart from maybe a good recipe for bread rolls.

He couldn’t do this. Qrow was going to go to jail, and he was going to lose out on his dream forever.

Could he even navigate himself home from here? It wasn’t like anyone could help him, and sure, he put a few landmarks to memory, but that was only going to get him so far.

Uncle Tyrian was right. He never had a chance of surviving outside of the tower on his own.

So much for his bravery…

Suddenly, someone moving from across the bar accidentally pushed Clover to the side, inadvertently knocking him right into one of the group member’s backs. Clover backed away quickly, but the damage had already been done.

Upon being hit, the group member jumped in place, letting out a shapeless exclamation before slowly turning around.

It was the girl from earlier...the especially loud one…

Clover was pretty sure her name was Nora.

“Ooh!” she said upon recognizing him. “Look, guys! It’s that weird stranger from earlier!”

Immediately, the rest of her friends’ turned around to face him.

Clover knew having the group’s eyes on him was something he should have expected if he wanted to enlist their help, but it didn’t make the actuality of it happening any less scary than it was.

Gods, what he would give for some water right now.

Looks like whether he wanted it or not, that very bravery Clover was about to abandon was going to be thrust upon him.

Lucky him...

“Hi,” Clover squeaked.

He waited for a second, hoping one of them was going to say something.

None of them said anything.

Where were the chatterboxes he’d encountered when he first came in here?

Damn it.

“Look, I need your help,” he said, suddenly finding himself able to speak quite a lot, probably as compensation for how quiet they were. “My name is Clover and that guy they have bound up is my guide and I know he’s a thief or a bandit or whatever and it’s going to be really, really hard to save him with all those people in the way trying to get that reward, but I need him to take me to see the lanterns tomorrow because I’ve been dreaming about them my whole life and this is going to be the one chance I’ll ever have to see them up close and in person. I don’t know if you’ve ever had a dream like that, but this one means everything to me, so will you please help me?” Upon finishing, Clover took a deep breath. He was pretty sure he’d picked up the speed speaking, but he got the sense that he got a lot faster than even he thought he did.

Well, at least he didn’t mumble…

Uncle Tyrian could at least be proud of him for that...once he got over every other rule Clover broke today.

For a moment, none of the four of them said anything.

Clover bit his lip. Had he said too much? Did they, in fact, ever have dreams like that? Were dreams even valued by those outside the tower, or was Clover an anomaly in that regard, only admiring them because they were some of the very few things he had to get himself through the lull of repetitive days and years?

The group’s other girl -- Pyrrha, if Clover recalled correctly -- let out a somewhat despondent sigh.

“We know about dreams,” she said. “We’ve been fighting for ours for years now.”

“But to no luck,” one of the boys -- Ren, Clover was pretty sure -- added.

“W-what’s your dream?” The question left Clover’s mouth before he could even think about it, but he dared not take it back, somewhat because he still didn’t know what to make of this group, but mostly because that question allowed him to pursue an opportunity to experience something that didn’t come by his way that often -- someone else talking about their dreams.

Uncle Tyrian had talked about his dreams a bit -- for Clover to remain safe and happy in the tower for all of his days while he took care of him or for a world that didn’t care about semblances -- but it was always so vague and in the former case, it was a dream that they were actually living.

But to hear someone else, and not just one other but four others talk about their unfulfilled dreams was something Clover never knew he wanted until it was something he had the chance to hear for himself.

“We want to defend Remnant from evil!” Nora called out, raising a large hammer in her hand. Quickly, Clover backed away, intimidated by its size.

Uncle Tyrain wasn’t wrong when he spoke of the weapons of those outside the tower. The hammer that Nora held in her hands could probably separate a man’s head from his shoulders, and Clover needed both of those things intact.

However, while Nora raised her hammer, she didn’t attempt to hurt Clover, nor anyone else with it. She was just kind of showing it off before settling its head back on the ground a few moments later and balancing her hands on the base of the handle. Clover had to admit that once his shock had worn off, she looked like a hero from a book yielding such a behemoth. The other’s weapons, still in their sheaths, looked great as well.

Fighting evil, huh?

“That sounds amazing,” Clover said, unable and unwilling to prevent the smile on his face from growing.

“But the only problem is that the royal guard doesn’t consider us ‘couth’ or ‘soldierly’ enough to fight alongside them,” the final member of the group, Jaune, sadly interjected.

“Even though we’ve got the fighting chops,” Nora countered.

“And the desire to help,” Pyrrha added.

In all fairness to their group, the royal guard -- whoever they were -- weren’t entirely wrong. This team that he’d seen in just those short moments they’d interacted with was unabashedly loud, eccentric, and definitely didn’t look all that interested in following rules. No, they just looked like they wanted to do good for the world as they saw fit.

Clover admired that, and right now, that kind of attitude he needed in abundance to fulfill his dreams.

Perhaps it was the attitude that best suited them towards their own dreams, as well.

“Well,” Clover said, “can’t you just fight without them?”

“Fight without the royal guard?” Jaune repeated.

“No one’s fought outside the purview of the general before,” Ren said.

Clover shrugged. “Is there any reason why you can’t be the first? You already have a team, you said yourselves that you’re willing to face evil, and if you’re as good as you say you are -- and with weapons like that, I’d bet you are -- then there’s no reason you shouldn’t be allowed to be heroes of Remnant in your own right! And if the royal guard doesn’t want you, well, then that’s their loss, right?”

Jaune released a hum, followed by Pyrrha, followed by Nora, followed by Ren.

In front of Clover, the group exchanged looks with each other, their frowns slowly rising until they became smiles.

“He’s right, you know,” Pyrrha said, waving an agreeing hand .

“There’s nothing illegal about it, after all,” Ren supplemented.

“General Ironwood’s not going to be happy about it,” Jaune said, all the while sporting a smirk that all but shouted how little he cared about that.

“Well,” Nora replied, shooting her friend a knowing smirk, “then he needs to write some better laws in the future because the Juniper Jaggers aren’t about to let anyone tell them ‘no’ so easily anymore!”

Jaune, Pyrrha, and Ren gave a holler, and even though he didn’t join in, Clover could feel his cheeks pinch from how big he was grinning.

Everyone then turned to Clover, and this time, he didn’t feel intimidated by the action.

“So,” Nora continued. “How about in return for reviving our dream, we make our first mission helping you save yours?”

Clover smirked. “To that, I’d say, ‘what do you have in mind?’”

Nora signaled for Clover and her teammates to look at Lil’ Miss Malachite, who was presently looking at Qrow with a greedy, sinister gaze.

“Robyn and her team aren’t bad, they’re just following their boss’ orders, but without her, they’ll change their tune quickly enough,” Nora said. “If we can get her away from them and Qrow, then we can unleash our secret weapon and get him free.”

“Secret weapon?” Clover asked.

In truth, he was eager to hear about how the Juniper Jaggers would fight them off.

Did they have a team attack? Did they have an ancient trinket or a powerful weapon to exchange for Qrow’s freedom?

“Yup. You.”

Clover blinked.

There is no way he heard that correctly.

“I’m sorry. What?” Clover questioned, begging to the Gods and his semblance alike that he misheard what she’d said.

“You were able to convince us to help you,” Jaune said. “No reason why you can’t do it with everyone else.”

That begging apparently went unheard.

Stupid semblance.

Stammering, Clover tried to come up with an objection.

“I-I can’t-”

“Sure you can!” Pyrrha said, waving a dismissive hand. “Just talk to them! They’re more receptive and kinder than they look.”

“But you guys know them be-”

“They’re not going to listen to us,” Ren said, interrupting him, though blushing immediately afterwards while whispering an apology.

“For some reason, they think we’re annoying, so they just drown out whatever we say,” Jaune explained.

“But you’re new and interesting!” Nora countered.

“And you haven’t worn people out yet,” Ren added.

“Not to mention, you’re kind of good looking with those muscles of yours,” Jaune admitted.

“And you’ve got a good heart,” Pyrrha finished off.

“Guys,” Clover protested. “I could barely talk to you. I almost wasn’t going to until I got pushed into Nora.”

“But even though you were scared, you did,” Ren pointed out.

“You’re braver than you think you are,” Pyrrha promised.

“And you’ve got what it takes to fulfill your dream,” Jaune said.

“So what do you say?” Nora asked.

Well, it was either do this or lose his dream.

There wasn’t much of a choice to be made, and just like the Juniper Jaggers, Clover wasn’t about to let the world tell him ‘no’ so easily anymore.

His resolve didn’t make the deep breath he took any less shaky, but he nodded all the same.

“Let’s do this,” Clover said, however uneasily.

The team nodded at him before bringing him in close and telling him how they’d distract Lil’ Miss Malachite, as well as how much time they theorized Clover had to work with before the guards arrived.

It was going to be hard -- Clover would dare say impossible.

But he had already done a few things today he never thought would be possible for him. What was one more?

In any event, for whatever bravery Clover either had prior to or garnered today, he knew now that it was about to be put to the ultimate test.

#fair game #clover ebi #rwby #qrow branwen #tangled au #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #lie ren #nora valkyrie #raven branwen

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bleakcreek · 5 years

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If it’s almost the end of the year, and we think i can safely say that this has been an AMAZING year for fic in the rhink fandom! there have been so many incredible new authors, on top of authors that have been around for years who are still writing about our boys, and i wanted to give a little bit of recognition to some of my personal favorite fics written in 2019!

i am not in any way implying these are “the best” fics, just the ones that i’ve personally enjoyed. i’m mostly sticking to either completed mutli-chapter fics or longer one-shots, and i’m limiting myself to no more than one fic per author so i spread the love.

without further ado, my (personal) top rhink fics of 2019. (behind a cut, because this post is very long.)

If You’re Wondering If I Want You To by @ssodangdark Rating: Teen Chapters: 5 Words: 10,234

Summary: “The year is 2006 — you just crafted the perfect away message, The Fray is playing on your clock radio, and you're trying to figure out what band t-shirt to wear to school today. Meanwhile, two teenage boys meet for the first time and navigate their feelings for one another through the songs on one of their iPods.”

this fic is everything you could want in a high school au. it’s sweet, and full of pining, and comes with it’s own built-in soundtrack. i can’t recommend this fic enough. this fic is so sweet, you might get a cavity reading it.

Honorable Mentions: most of em’s other fics are oneshots, so i wanted to feature a longer fic, but i also have to acknowledge her oneshots too! Three’s a Crowd (rhett/link/jessie) and Chris Springs are two of my favorite fics and i would highly recommend reading them.

Don’t Hold Back by @likeaswitchinheat Rating: Explicit Chapters: 26 Words: 86,501

Summary: “Link has a lot of responsibilities resting on his gorgeous shoulders. It’s Rhett’s job to unburden him of all that. When Link is Rhett’s, he doesn’t have to think about a thing. Rhett will take care of him.”

laika is another ridiculously prolific author, and i’m actually ashamed that it took me until a few weeks ago to read this fic even though it’s been finished for months. this fic is basically half shameless filth and half feelings and angst, which is pretty much exactly what i look for in a fic.

Honorable Mentions: i absolutely love all of laika’s oneshots, of which there are far too many to name, but i’ll put myself on blast for my particular tastes by giving special mention to Man Bites Dog and Selfie.

Candids by @captainsourwolf Rating: Explicit Chapters: 8 Words: 19,635

Summary: “Rhett is a photographer fresh out of SCAD. He lands his first gig soon after graduation, just a simple print ad for a high school advertising their new senior class wear. At the shoot he meets in-demand fashion model Link Neal. It's tense from the start. Rhett ends up being his photographer on most of his shoots, and at every single one Rhett starts a collection of candid shots that he keeps for himself, in a box of trinkets he finds comforting.”

i absolutely loved this fic. i loved the premise, and the slowburn and build up, and the tender longing between rhett and link in this fic. i’m such a slut for pining, which is why this ultimately won out over a couple of elizabeth’s other fics, which are also very good.

Honorable Mentions: a very close second for this my favorite fic of elizabeth’s was None Like This, but i ultimately had to give it to Candids because i’m a sucker for that softness. Aftercare and hump a little also deserve to be mentioned, too, if you’re looking for oneshots.

Rhinestone Cowboy by @soho-x Rating: Explicit Chapters: 15 Words: 26,439

Summary: “If he was honest with himself, he could admit the glamour of being on tour for one of Country Music’s biggest acts had clouded his better judgement. He’d quickly dismissed all apprehensions regarding living in a conversion van for three months, instead focusing on the idea of working a stage during a live show, standing in the wings while country maverick Roy Walker played to crowds bigger than the population of the town Rhett grew up in. It was a dream come true for a small town boy like him.”

this fic hooked me right from the first chapter! i was absolutely in love with the premise of rhett and link as country music stars, and this fic did not disappoint. if you like tender slowburn and pining, you’ll absolutely love this fic. it killed me in the sweetest possible way.

Honorable Mentions: for how recently em jointed the fandom, she’s written a ton of fic! Stolen Moments, No Good Very Bad, #Dormlife, and Only For Your Very Space (unfinished) are some of my other favorites from her.

Apartment 69 by @apparentlynotreallyfinnish Rating: Explicit Chapters: 18 Words: 86,501

Summary: “Link has it all figured out. He has a plan for his life. He has a nice girlfriend and a nice job and a nice routine. It really doesn't mean anything that sometimes he gets off on watching men fuck each other. He's just curious. But when a famous gay porn star moves next door to him, his perfect plans start to fall apart.”

appa is one of the most prolific writers in the fandom, so it was really hard to narrow it down to just one fic from her. i actually almost put another fic of hers on here instead, but apartment 69 was the first fic of hers that i read, so i felt like i had to give it the edge over incognito if only for that.

this fic had me on the edge of my seat with every update, and it should be a testament to how much i loved this fic that i was genuinely shocked by how long it was, because i could have sworn it was less than 10 chapters. that’s how quickly i tore through it all.

Honorable Mentions: while i didn’t officially include them, i also want to mention her fics Incognito, I Only Want You to See Me (unfinished), NSFW, Wingman, and Let Me Be Your Light, as well as her entire library of oneshots. she is INCREDIBLY prolific so you can easily spend weeks going through her ao3 page and never run out of things to read.

remember that time in college I found your handcuffs? by @egocentrifuge Rating: Explicit Chapters: 3 Words: 10,435

Summary: “Rhett feels antsy, wants to leave this entire conversation about the fetish gear he found in their dorm behind, but he still wants to know despite his better judgement.

“Okay, the - dom? takes control of a scene. Why wouldn’t the dom just do whatever he wants?”

“Because it’s all about trust, man.” Link’s face is open and sincere in that way he only gets when he believes in something; Rhett can’t look away. “The sub trusts the dom to make it good for them, and so the dom does their best to. It can be a lot of pressure, but it’s - good, too, being able to make someone feel safe and taken care of, you know? For someone to be willing to be that vulnerable…”

Something in the way Link says it trickles warmly down Rhett’s spine, and he puts his beer down.

“Alright,” he says firmly. “Fine. I don’t understand it completely but that’s - that’s fine. As long as you’re both happy or whatever.” There are more questions Rhett wants to ask, but it’s - too much, for some reason. Not just knowing weird kinky details of Link’s sex life, but the way he’s talking about it.

It's twenty years before they discuss it again.”

eggsy has the market cornered on a very particular genre i like to call “porn that makes you cry.” this fic mostly gets the spot because a lot of eggsy’s other fics are much shorter and/or not on ao3, and for purposes of a fic rec, i really wanted to give something long enough to really sink your teeth into, but i an assure you that every single one of their fics should and would be on here if i didn’t limit myself to one fic per author.

eggsy packs an incredibly amount of feeling into a small amount of words, and strikes a perfect balance between hot, angsty, and loving. i cannot recommend eggsy’s work enough.

Honorable Mentions: what of eggsy’s fics isn’t an honorable mention? Reciprocation, You Know What They Say, Men Who Dress Like They Do in California, Reprobates, Unbuttoned, and literally everything on their tumblr (which has a lot of stuff that isn’t on their ao3).

The Murmur of Yearning by @its-mike-kapufty Rating: Explicit Chapters: 35 Words: 108,811

Summary: “When burnt-out professor Link Neal is offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that whisks him to the farthest reaches of the world, he isn't as ready as he thought he would be for the biting cold or the overwhelming darkness of Antarctica. Though at least he'd been given fair warning of those hazards.

The same couldn't be said of his new boss and research partner.”

mike has so many amazing fics that it by all rights should have been impossible to narrow it down to my one favorite, but honestly, this was a surprisingly easy choice. in spite of how much i love every single fic of mike’s, this one was so beautifully written and poignant, and i don’t think any other fic has ever made me cry the way this fic did. it hurts — in the best possible way.

i started reading this fic one evening after work, and was so captivated by it that i stayed up until 3 am, passed out midway through a chapter, then went home early from work the next day (sick! i was legitimately sick!) and laid in bed with a fever reading through the rest of this fic. the last written work i plowed through with that kind of speed and determination was harry potter and the deathly hallows...ten years ago.

Honorable Mentions: truthfully i could just link to mike’s whole ao3 page here, but i have to at least give special mention to You Have (1) New Message for making me sob (and being the first fic of mike’s that i read), Feel Good for being delightfully fluffy and soft, Untethered for being so incredibly creative and exciting and having me on the edge of my seat for the entire month it was coming out, and And Sundowns Mend Rhett for making me feel things, as mike is wont to do.

The Traveler by @the-average-bear Rating: Mature Chapters: 13 Words: 52,712

Summary: “Rhett's on a journey.”

this fic is probably tied with The Murmur of Yearning for my favorite rhink fic of all time, but i had to give The Traveler the edge only because it’s not...quite an au, and while both fics gave me a lot of feelings, this fic focuses on the rhett and link we know and love. it explores what might have been and what could be — and it touches on my favorite genre of fiction, which is sci-fi.

rhett finds himself accidentally traveling between timelines, exploring what his life could have been like under different circumstances. the build up to the rhink content is slow, and while there’s some smut, it’s pretty minimal, so this is a very different type of fic than a lot of the others here. but god, if you want to feel every feeling possible about these boys, if you want to cry, if you want to be overwhelmed by how much rhett loves link (and vice versa)...?

please, please read this fic.

Honorable Mentions: a lot of their other stuff is from pre-2019 so it’s kind of cheating to rec them on a post of the best fics of 2019, but seriously, please read any and all of their stuff.

More Honorable Mentions: i was going to do a lot more, but this list got really long and time consuming and i wasn’t able to do as many as i wanted. but some other authors i absolutely adored this year (in no particular order) are:

Rhincoln | @bloodbros

evenlypaced | @youdidinthedark

cockymclaughlin | @cockymclaughlin

pringlesaremydivision | @pringlesaremydivision

ohmyflavors | (not sure if they have a tumblr?)

LinksLipsSinkShips | @linkslipssinkships

missingparentheses | @missingparentheses

festivalofpudding | @festival-of-pudding

RileyRooin | @rileyrooin

crackers4jenn | @crackers4jenn

TheMouthKing | @themouthking

chronicallyilltrashcan | @chronicallyilltrashcan

#rhink #fic #fic recs #this is incredibly long and it would have been a lot longer if i didn't get tired in the middle of it and decide to be lazy #i'm sorry if i missed anyone #we have so many talented writers i'm sure there are a lot of people i didn't list #but that doesn't mean i don't love your fic

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shadowsong26fic · 4 years

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Lavinia. PLease please please Lavinia. (And also Specter and Infernalis would be cool to learn a bit about.)

Full Name: Lavinia Palpatine Gender and Sexuality: Female; bi Pronouns: She/her Ethnicity/Species: Human; white. Birthplace and Birthdate: She was born on Coruscant, and she turns twenty a week or two before the Battle of Endor. Guilty Pleasures: Probably the closest thing is her baking hobby. It’s something that’s entirely hers. Phobias: As she puts it, she does not like walking into a room unprepared/without the information she needs to navigate through it. What They Would Be Famous For: Well, I mean. She’s Palpatine’s only child. That’s famous right there. And then she earns some fame in her own right once she’s in her late teens/an Adult and starts working towards her own agenda. What They Would Get Arrested For: [redacted for spoilers] or slicing/hacking. See above re: compulsive need for information; she learned how to get into classified databases pretty early on. Her father is aware of it; it’s sort of the...this may be apocryphal, but you know how Spartan boys were punished for getting caught stealing, not for actually stealing? This is in service of what he wants from her, so as long as she does it correctly/subtly/covers her tracks, she can get away with it. But if she got caught... OC You Ship Them With: ...I don’t actually ship her with any of my OCs, I don’t think. I ship her with a couple canon characters, but. Her tastes in men tend to run to older men who are Charming and Clever/sort of sideways thinkers and maybe just a little Devious, but generally good men underneath. Her tastes in women tend to run to women around her age who have vibrant/upbeat personalities and are a bit more straightforward in their approach to problems. ...not sure I’m explaining that right, but she definitely is attracted to different things in men than women. In all cases, though, she tends to be drawn to people who are more gregarious/extraverted/etc. than she is/complement certain aspects of her personality (she uh. Overthinks things. A Lot) OC Most Likely To Murder Them: ...hm, good question. I guess I’d say Druthi/Moonshot, except she’d be more likely to try and capture Lani alive. Favorite Movie/Book Genre: She doesn’t really read a lot for pleasure, more for Research Purposes--for example, to track trends or get a handle on how someone she’s trying to observe/manipulate thinks. But I think she’d like detective novels if she did. Make a game of trying to figure it out before the detective does. Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Twist Endings for the sake of Twist Endings/Shock Twists that serve no other purpose than to be a Shocking Twist. That whole thing about not liking to be unprepared? If you hold back information to feel Clever that’s Cheating and Very Annoying and she Does Not Approve. Talents and/or Powers: She’s got a pretty good memory, and is very good at reading people and tailoring her approach to them based on what she observes and what she wants from them (at least, when it’s for Work, so to speak; she’s kind of terrible at people/making friends on her own). Also, she is a Force-adept, of course, though her training has been very carefully managed--she has not been taught to use a lightsaber and her telekinesis is minimal. In general, she tends to rely on more passive/observational abilities, supplemented by mundane manipulation and the occasional mind trick, rather than a lot of Active Force Use. I mentioned this in my last answer, about Padawan Reshti, but I have this general Concept about how a particular Force-adept’s abilities skew, with things generally grouped into three categories: manipulation/perception of space and/or the physical world; perception and/or manipulation of the minds and/or emotions of other beings; and perception and/or manipulation of time. Every Force-adept has at least some ability in all three categories, but most skew towards one or the other. By both training and inclination, Lani is heavily skewed towards minds/emotions; something like 10/80/10 or 15/75/10. Why Someone Might Love Them: Because she has a strong sense of Duty and is trying to survive in a pretty awful situation without losing all her mental autonomy and, for lack of a better word, humanity. Why Someone Might Hate Them: Again with the self-indulgent OCs, lol. Plus, she occupies a pretty central place in the story/as one of Luke’s closest friends in Precipice, and...well, we’ll see how people respond once her focus and priorities start to expand beyond her father and his expectations of her. How They Change: Without getting too spoilery...well, that sense of Duty I mentioned relates to the fact that she knows full well she was created to be a valuable tool in service of the government/galaxy/Empire. As she gets older and her priorities begin to expand as I mentioned in the last answer, her perspective on what that means starts to shift. Why You Love Them: Because she fits into A Lot of archetypes I love, lol. This kind of driven-by-duty, especially coupled with Politics and Spycraft as opposed to the more Action Girl type thing.

(ETA: I just remembered that a while ago--like...almost two years ago, lol--I filled out another meme about Lani. There are sort of...sideways/oblique/technical spoilers in that and it also talks about a bunch of AUs/spinoffs, but if you want more detailed information about her then you can check it out. ...and now I should probably stop editing this post for Clarification/additional details that you may not even see because it’s been...several hours since I first posted it...)

And a cointoss gave you Specter! So let’s talk about him.

Full Name: Darth Specter; I actually haven’t come up with his name prior to being recruited by Palpatine <.< Gender and Sexuality: Male; I honestly haven’t really thought much about him in a romantic/sexual relationship context? He strikes me as a disaster bi though. Pronouns: He/him. Ethnicity/Species: Togruta Birthplace and Birthdate: He grew up in either the Coruscant underbelly or a very similar slum district on another heavily urbanized planet. He was most likely born there. He’s about sixteen when Palpatine brings him in not long after RotS. Guilty Pleasures: He chooses not to feel guilty about his pleasures, lol. But, given his background and where he ended up, it’s probably something like candy/pastries--sweet food with an element of Luxury. Phobias: Not measuring up. What They Would Be Famous For: Being a Sith Lord/assassin. What They Would Get Arrested For: Theft and likely assault before being recruited; murder after. ...and probably also theft. OC You Ship Them With: None. OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Ooooh, good question. I mean, like...there are Many people who would probably murder him if they got the chance. But then there’s also a question of murder vs. death in combat, so...yeah, I’m not totally sure. Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Action movies. He’s kind of a cliche that way, lol. Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: ...you know, I don’t actually think he has one? But probably villains Wasting Time Monologuing. Talents and/or Powers: Stealth, theft, Violence. He skews slightly towards Physical on the scale I mentioned above, something along the lines of 50/35/15. Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s set up as a parallel to that particular blend of arrogance and low-self-esteem/Need for Validation that Anakin has, which can be either endearing or extremely frustrating. Why Someone Might Hate Them: See above XD How They Change: He...doesn’t really, sadly. He never gets a chance to grow out of this teenage intensity. :( He probably would’ve mellowed out some as he grew older, if he hadn’t died when he did. Why You Love Them: Because he is a clingy needy stabby Disaster with this earnest intensity and, like, I find it endearing, lol.

Ask me about my OCs!

#asked #answered #disneydreamlights #shadowsong writes star wars

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headoverhiddles · 5 years

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Spookshow Baby - Rob Zombie x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: By good luck or connections, you find yourself backstage at a Zombie show, and Rob can’t take his eyes off you.

Requested by @plagued-rat! “Rob and a younger fan meeting at a show and sleeping together or something along those lines.” Hope you like it, hun :)

Notes: The personalities depicted are fictional-- I don’t know them, even though I wish I did.

Is it really that hard to get a beer in this place?

You try to navigate your way through the crowd of people getting their seconds and thirds at the bar when you haven't even had one. You finally get up to the bar, and order your drink. You get a bit of a look from the bartender-- you can't tell if he's judging you, or in awe of you, and honestly? You're okay with either. You'd worn a pretty striking outfit tonight, your favorite that you'd had in the closet lying around for something like this.

It had been an event you'd been looking forward to for months. Your friend Ash has a band, a sort of side project from her main group, called The Haxans. She'd promised you'd be the first to get tickets when they had their first show, and five years later, here you are. Maybe if you had told the bartender you knew the singer, you could've at least gotten your beer faster.

Not only are you excited to support your friend, but her fellow band mate and guitarist, Matt Montgomery, is the current bassist of your favourite rock band. Rob Zombie had been a huge part of your life, since Hellbilly all the way up til now with Celebration Dispenser and the new album coming out sometime this year. You'd never been able to make it to a concert of his yet, as he hadn't played anywhere near you, but you had made no secret of your strong feelings for the front man.

---

You hang back near the tech at the Viper Room, and look around as the band starts their set. This place was said to be a hotspot for ghosts.

"Sweet venue, huh?" a voice behind you asks. You turn, and see a guy in a big straw hat. You feel like the voice is familiar, but you can't really tell with the loud noise.

"Yeah. It's haunted, you know."

The guy laughs. "No kidding." He glances up at the band performing. "That's... kinda fitting."

"Right?" you smile. "Somebody's apparently buried in the basement."

"Jesus. Guess that's why Johnny Depp sold it."

“Or maybe he did it," you laugh, sipping your drink.

"That’s sure a theory. So, what brings you here?" the guy goes on. You're used to the line that guys use on you to flirt, but this guy's still keeping his distance. It's interesting.

"I like their music," you say, "And I'm supporting my friend, Ash."

"Ah, cool. I'm here supporting the other guy, Piggy D. I dig their sound, he's got a great fucking gig here."

"Yeah, totally. Along with working for Rob? Super rad."

"Hm. Yeah." The guy gives a little smile, which you don't see. "See you around, maybe."

"Yeah!" you smile, and when you turn back, the guy's gone. You wish you could place that voice.

---

After the show, you head up to the stage to congratulate your friend. "You were awesome!" you say, giving Ash a hug. She kisses your cheek.

"Yeah?"

"For sure.You guys were both amazing." Piggy D comes over, lifting his guitar strap over his head.

"Hey. Who's this?"

"This is my friend who I said would be coming, (y/n)?"

"Oh yeah." Matt gives a lopsided grin, shaking your hand. "Great to finally meet you. How'd we do?"

"You were great," you assure him. Ash nudges him.

"She's a big fan of Zombie."

Matt's black shadowed eyes light up. "Yeah? Here, I'll send you a pass to come say hi to us backstage. We're playing the area in a couple weeks!"

"Oh god," you blush, "That'd be awesome. Thank you so much."

"No problem." He gives you another smile, then sets his guitar down. "Gotta dash." His eyes ascend over you and Ash. "John, Rita! Thanks for coming!"

Ash pulls you to the side. "Oh my god. You're gonna get to meet him."

"I know." You fan yourself.

"He's really chill, don't worry. He'll love you."

"You think so?"

"Look at you! You're hot as fuck girl, I'd sleep with you if I wasn't taken. He'll go crazy for you."

“Ah. I’m too young for him...”

“You could use a daddy. He’s daddy material. Spookshow daddy for a spookshow baby.”

You smile, and ignore the unlikelihood of that happening. Still-- you've never been so excited.

---

The next Friday night, you find yourself enjoying tickets to the Zombie mosh pit in your home town, backstage pass tucked safely in your back pocket. You're currently waiting for Rob to come out on stage, and are watching the opening band, Palaye Royale.

After the last song of the opener's set, the stage lights begin going crazy, and you hear Rob begin to shout out the beginning of Dead City Radio.

The show is amazing, as you knew it would be. You've never actually heard him talk before, only sing, and when he speaks to the crowd between songs, you can't help but notice how attractive his voice is too. During Get High, Matt notices you, points to you with his pick, and winks.

As everyone cheers after the encore of Dragula and gives the band a good send-off, you slip backstage, coming up to the guards. You show your pass shakily, and they let you through.

"Hey!" Matt calls, and you turn down a long hallway to see the boys coming offstage.

"Best show I've ever seen, hands down," you say, "Other than the Haxans, of course."

Matt laughs, and fist bumps you. Ginger and John walk past you, shooting you friendly smiles. For a metal band, these are a bunch of really good guys. Then Rob comes out, dragging a towel over his face and dreads.

"Fucking high energy crowd!" he exclaims, punching the air as he comes over to you and Matt. "Great night."

"Crowd was on fire. Hey man, this is (y/n)." Matt introduces you.

Rob looks at you for a second, and tilts his head. "Oh yeah. You're the girl I met at the Haxans show, huh?"

You go to say yes, then start to realize how he knows. "You're the guy I talked to!"

"That would be me." He nods, then remembers how much he enjoyed talking to you. It’d be dangerous to see where this went, so after that stunted exchange, he goes to leave. You think of something to turn him around.

"Is that a Creepshow patch?" you ask, finally close enough to his patch jacket to decipher each one. He stops, and looks back.

"Hell yeah. You like Creepshow?"

"Love it!"

"Best one?"

"The Crate."

"Oh, fucking right!" He nods, "I like that crazy hitchhiker one too from the second one..."

"Thanks for the ride lady!" you quote, and he gives a loud belly laugh.

"Damn. You're pretty cool." He rubs his makeup with the towel. "I'm, uh... chilling a bit later tonight at a little after party. Sorry to be a big fuckin' drag, but I'm not one for lots of drinking or anything like Danzig or Manson are. I'll probably bore you to death."

"Then we can be a couple dead people together," you smile, and he smirks down at you.

"Sounds like a plan." He bites his lip, and gives you a once over again. "Follow me."

---

When you get to the party, it's pretty much like he said. He immediately wanders off around the outskirts of the crowd, stopping only to shake a few hands and greet a few people. It's a cool venue-- better than any you'd been to. It's dark, black-lit and monster-themed, with all kinds of pop art and horror memorabilia around the place. It's fitting for the band, and the people who hang out with them.

"Hey, man. Who's the lady?" John whispers in his ear. "Saw her backstage."

"Someone I met the other day. Piggy brought her back."

"She's pretty, huh?"

Rob shrugs, trying as usual to appear noncommittal when in fact he was feeling very committal. "I like her. Figured she may be some fun. Could definitely save me from this party." John shakes his head with a smile, going back over to Rita.

You try and crane your neck to see where Rob went, and are startled by a voice behind you. "Hey, you're the girl from the show, right?" You turn to see that it's Rob's drummer, Ginger.

"Yeah," you smile, "Ginger, right?" He shakes your hand heartily, nearly bruising your fingers with a drummer's grip.

"You can call me Kenny! Hey uh, long shot, do you happen to have a shower curtain anywhere accessible?" You frown, and are about to say no, but Ginger's already sensed your answer by your look of alarm. "No worries, I know who to call for one." He gets out his phone, and starts texting his old boss.

There's Rob. He's hiding in the corner like Dracula, away from the bright lights and people. You walk towards him through the crowd, toward where he's taken a seat on a red couch shaped like psychedelic lips. Rob watches you walk over to him, furrowing his brow. You look fucking good. His breath gets heavier as blood rushes down south. He hasn't wanted a girl this bad in years... much less a fan. Play it cool. She’s young enough to be your daughter, or some shit.

"Dumb party, huh?" he mutters, burying his feelings down deep. You smirk, sitting down beside him and crossing your legs.

"Seems like you really don't wanna be here."

"Well, it's all about the show, you know? What happens afterward is all bullshit, catering to TMZ who peddles articles about stupid shit like drugs and trashing hotel rooms to 15 year olds who read their articles and think that's what being a rock star is all about." You blink. He's not wrong. "But it's uh... it's a lot better with you here." Come on, Zombie. At least try not to be a black hole of negativity for once?

"Don't worry. I'm not really one for parties either. I mean, they're fun sometimes. But sometimes you just wanna be by yourself, you know?"

"Exactly!"

"Or... with someone you'd have a lot more fun with." He glances up. "Wanna get out of here?" you ask, eyes conveying your intentions.

"Let's do it." As you walk toward the exit though, Rob pulls you down a hallway, then out the back door to the alley behind the club.

"You pulling a Lugosi on me, Zombie?" you joke. He smirks.

"You want me to?"

"Are you a vampire?"

He runs a hand through his dreads. "I'm more of a werewolf."

"It's a full moon," you tease, pulling him closer to you. He walks you back against the graffiti'd brick wall, and you part your legs to make room for him.

"You sure you wanna do this?" he murmurs, eyes already falling down to your lips behind his sunglasses. By way of reply, you take his sunglasses off, reach around to stuff them in his back pocket, and bring your lips to his.

Fuck it. His eyes close, and he reaches up to support you properly, urging your to wrap your legs around him as he holds you up. You moan as his ratty jeans provide the perfect grind for you, grazing your inner thighs and grazing where you need him most. His fingers dig into your ass as you reach forward and unzip those jeans, taking out the chunky belt with Svengoolie's face on the buckle.

His head tilts back as you take him in your hand, and fuck, he has to be inside you. You sink your face into his shoulder as he pushes in, and his face twists up. The way he's glaring at you in pure concentration is driving you wild, and the intense eye contact is turning him on too. He bares his teeth, gnashing as he fucks in again rough, making you gasp.

"Ro-ob..." you manage out.

"Whatdya need?"

"That's... ohmygod,that's so good, fuck, that's so good, faster--"

He gets even more rough, almost animalistic as he drops the cool guy act and just goes ape on your body. One of his hands shoves up your top, unhooking your bra with the precision of a master, and dips down to roll the tips of your nipples with his tongue. You cry out, neither of you caring who can hear you. It's as if he's become the demon he performs as, and it's fucking hot.

"Feelin' good, babe?" he growls.

"So good," you sigh, working down on him. He holds you up with one flexing arm as he keeps your wrists pinned with the other, dipping his head down a little again to leave hickies along the juncture of your neck. "I'm close--"

"Come on, baby, come on," he snarls, "Yeah..." You gasp out his name as his heavy thrusts rock you against the wall, tipping you off the edge and ripping you apart.

He watches you cum with the intense gaze of a hellish predator, and pounds you even harder until you're done. When he's sure you're satisfied, he lets you down, and cums against the wall, bracing himself against it with one hand.

You run a hand through your hair, and lean back. "Christ. There are so many puns I could make right now."

"I like puns," he pants, slipping his sunglasses back on, and with them, into his awkward, chilled out self.

"You fuck like a Superbeast." There's silence as you hold in your giggles, and he stares at you, completely deadpan.

"I fuckin’ regret all of this." You let the giggles burst free, and he takes you under his arm, leading you toward the street. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"My torture chamber, for special fans like you."

"I'm not surprised."

"Then maybe, after the torture, we can throw on a movie. Maybe..."

"You got Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine?"

"...Okay, maybe I don't regret this."

He calls his driver, and excitement fills you at the prospect of seeing what his house looks like. Probably as eclectic as the man himself. As the two of you get in, you open your phone to see a text from Ash.

So?????? watchu up to sex kitty

You grin to yourself as you type out a response that's sure to make your friend screech.

Is it necrophilia if I fucked a Zombie...? ;)

#rob zombie #rob zombie x reader #reader x rob zombie #heavy metal #heavy metal fanfiction #bandom #bandom fanfiction #bandom fanfic #rob zombie fanfiction #rob cummings #rob cummings x reader #reader x rob cummings #rob zombie band #john 5 #piggy d #the haxans #ginger fish #not enough fic love on here for the dirty devil man

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magicsmutshop · 5 years

Text

When You See My Base Line - Pt 1

part 1 of 4

Pairing: Jung Hoseok/Reader Genre: Multi-chapter smut Rating: Explicit Word count: ~2500 Warnings: Alcohol, swearing, drooling over Hoseok’s perfect face and body Summary: You need a hobby, so you take a figure drawing class. Hoseok is the nude model. Note: this is my first fic so please take good care of me! Navigation: part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Who is that man talking to Namjoon by the desk? You’ve never seen him before, but as you look him up and down, you definitely like what you see. Dark, wavy hair with blond streaks flops over his finely-drawn eyebrows. The man’s eyes appealingly crinkle as he beamed at your art teacher, showing off a wide, heart-shaped grin. He looks a bit short standing next to Namjoon--but who doesn’t, next to that tree of a man? More importantly, his loose hoodie and baggy yellow shorts reveal swathes of honey skin and lean muscle. He has the look of a dancer, slender but powerful. Your eyes catch on his exposed thighs (those shorts were really rather short, weren’t they?). Damn, those are truly something to behold. You’d never considered yourself a leg woman before, but those yellow shorts are changing your outlook.

As you drag your appreciative gaze back up his body and face (was that a freckle on his top lip?), you realize Yellow Shorts is looking right back at you. You get lost in his dark brown eyes for a moment until it dawns on you that you’ve just been busted checking this gorgeous man out. His smile grows impossibly wider as your cheeks grow hot. Damn your easy blushes.

You quickly break eye contact, busying yourself with digging through your leather satchel, pretending to look for your pencils. Your hands are actually trembling a bit, and you can feel your heart pounding. How can a 5-second eye lock have such an effect on you? Yellow Shorts is still talking to Namjoon, but every time you accidentally look in their direction (who are you kidding? Your stare is drawn to him like you're magnetized), you can feel the weight of his gaze on you.

Suddenly, Namjoon breaks the tension by clapping his hands together, drawing the attention of everyone sitting at their easels. You turn your attention towards your teacher, but out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Yellow Shorts slipping away towards the screen in the corner of the studio. Is he the model for tonight? You could only be so lucky.

“Hey guys, welcome to week three! Glad you could all make it out on this rainy evening.” Namjoon addresses the class, a dimple appearing in his right cheek as he smiles. “By now, you’re all pretty familiar with the drill, right? We’ll start off with 5 minutes of quick warm-up sketches, and then move into some 10-minute poses. 15 minute coffee break at the hour mark, and then we’ll do a 45-minute pose. Sound good?” He nudges his black-rimmed glasses up his nose as your classmates murmur their agreement.

As you pull your sketchbook out of your bag, you think back to how you’d ended up in this studio in the first place.

---

You’d just ended an 18-month long relationship a few months prior. It was a reasonably amicable breakup--no cheating or dramatics. You had just… fallen out of love. In fact, you weren’t sure if you were ever actually in love. Your relationship had quickly fizzled out of the honeymoon stage, so towards the end, you were in a rut of watching bad tv together on the couch nightly, your ex playing Overwatch on his laptop while you browsed Twitter on your phone. Your sex life wasn’t any more interesting--you hadn’t even “Overwatch and chilled” in quite a while. One night, you looked over at him and realized you had no desire to do this for the next 40 years, and told him it was over. He shrugged, barely looking up from his game.

However, no matter how boring it had been towards the end, it had been comfortable companionship, so your apartment now seemed empty at night. Even the stereotypical post-breakup gym routine couldn’t fill the hours, although you had never looked better. You thought about getting back into the dating game, but the selection of men on the apps was, to put it lightly, terrible.

One night, you were out at a bar with your best friend getting wine-drunk and complaining about your boredom. Ashley took a long sip of her drink before looking at you over her glass. “You know what you need? You need a hobby. And no, Twitter and Tinder don’t count.”

“Twitter is a perfectly valid hobby. I’m keeping up on the latest political news and memes! Plus did you see the latest posts from Mark Ruffalo? That guy is a genius.” You drained the last of your glass and looked around for the server. You needed another drink.

Ashley scoffed. “You’re not even keeping up with politics. You’re getting into flamewars with people over the latest episode of the Bachelorette.” Damn. Your best friend knew you too well. She turned her head and effortlessly flagged the server over while checking her watch. Twenty minutes left for happy hour specials. “Hi, can we get two more glasses of the rosé please?”

You resisted the urge to check your Twitter account and incur more of Ashley’s scorn. “What do you suggest, then?”

“My coworker, you know the one that had the breakdown after she walked in on her husband fucking the babysitter?” Ashley paused as the server dropped off the fresh drinks. You nodded--that was a juicy story you wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon. “Anyway, she started taking art classes at the rec center. She does everything from pottery to watercolors. Apparently, her psychologist recommended it, but she loves it. She never stops talking about how healing it’s been.”

You wrinkled your nose. “The rec center? I thought those classes were for kids and senior citizens.”

“She did mention there are a lot of old people in her classes. But get this--the drawing teacher was this really hot Korean guy. With dimples.” Ashley gave you a meaningful look. She really did know you too well.

“Ehh… art class? I don’t know if that’s really my thing. I haven’t touched a sketchbook in years.” You had actually been a decent artist in high school, but had dropped it in college as you got wrapped up in your classes and parties. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you’d done anything artistic, outside of mandatory bridesmaid crafting duties for bridal showers and bachelorette parties.

“Hot. Korean. Guy. With. Dimples.” Wine splashed out of Ashley’s glass as she jabbed your finger at you for emphasis. “Plus, getting some culture could be healing for you. It worked for Jessica. You really need to get out of the apartment more.”

You gently grabbed Ashley’s glass, rescuing the wine from her flailing and promptly. pouring it down your throat. “I’ll think about it.” You weren’t going to think about it. There was no way you were going to take an art class with a bunch of senior citizens, even with the lure of a hot instructor.

Two drinks later for each of you, Ashley was squinting at your credit card, trying to type the numbers into the rec center’s shitty website on her phone. “Boom, you’re signed up. Class starts Monday so you’d better get your supplies this weekend.”

In your rosé-induced haze, what you hadn’t realized is that Ashley had signed you up for a figure drawing class. You were in for a double shock when you walked into the rec center 10 minutes late that first Monday night. The first shock, that the teacher, Namjoon, really was that hot (with fantastic dimples)--and the second shock, that there was a nude middle-aged man posing on a couch on a small stage.

Much to your surprise (and Ashley’s smugness), the figure drawing class really was enjoyable. Namjoon was a great teacher--patient and encouraging--and you’d forgotten how good it felt to create something rather than just passively consuming media. You’d even gotten used to the nudity as you focused on capturing the model in efficient pencil strokes in your sketchbook. Your first few figure sketches were horribly amateur, but you soon got caught up in the art, and the first two classes had flown by. The second week’s model had been a young college-aged woman with the most amazing tiger tattoo covering her back, which had been a lot of fun to draw. You had been looking forward to what week three would bring, but you had no idea what was really in store for you.

---

As you finish setting out your pencils and erasers, you notice motion from the corner of the room again. The hot guy from earlier emerges from behind the screen… and he's no longer wearing the shorts, but is wrapped in a knee-length gray robe. Oh holy shit, he really is the model for the night. One of your pencils goes flying out of your suddenly-clammy grip and clatters across the floor, rolling to a stop in front of Yellow Shorts. Your face bursts into flames again.

His face scrunches up into a warm smile. “Oops! You might need this.” He bends over (don’t look at his ass, don’t look at his ass), scoops the pencil up, and saunters over to your desk. The pencil appears in your line of vision where you're staring fixedly down at your sketchbook. Slowly, you look up and meet his twinkling eyes. His smile doesn’t dim as you stare blankly up at him and the little dimples in his cheeks, but he waves the pencil in front of you again. Your attention caught by his hands, you suddenly notice how long and elegant his fingers are. He wears a silver ring on his middle finger, and a delicate chain on his wrist.

As if in a dream, you finally take the pencil from him. Your hand brushes his. His fingers are warm and dry, but you feel your breath catch at the light touch. He drags a fingertip across your palm as he lets go of the pencil. Your eyes snap up to his, which look decidedly darker. But his light tone of voice doesn’t match his eyes as he simply says, “Here you go! Please use it to draw me well!” He turns away to join Namjoon in front of the stage.

Namjoon chuckles quietly. “Everyone, this is Hoseok, our model for tonight. Some of you might know him already. He’s the dance teacher here at the rec center, but moonlights as an art model in his free time.” A dancer, of course. That explains the muscle. Your blush still hasn’t gone down and your palm is still tingling as you try not to stare at his toned legs. Namjoon turns to Hoseok and claps him on the shoulder. “We’ll start with the 5-minute warmup first, so just change your pose every time you hear the timer beep.”

Yellow Shorts--Hoseok--nods cheerfully. “Aye aye, boss!” He steps up on the stage and unceremoniously shrugs out of his robe, laying it to one side and sitting down on the chaise lounge. All of the blood that had previously been in your cheeks is now rushing down to lower parts as you’re treated to an uninterrupted view of his sinuous body. He’s perfect. His collarbones catch the light as he turns his face to the side, revealing a sharp profile. His biceps flex lightly as he lowers himself down on one elbow, accentuating the line from his elegant shoulders to his narrow waist. A very defined v-line draws your eyes from his lean abs to his relaxed cock resting on one of his gorgeous thighs. You subtly squeeze your legs together under your desk at the sight. Shit, even his dick is perfect. You genuinely think your heart might stop--but what a way to go.

Suddenly, your lustful reverie is broken by the sound of the timer going off, indicating that a minute in the quick sketch period had gone by and it’s time for Hoseok to switch poses. You haven’t drawn a single line in your sketchbook yet. You’re fucked.

read part 2

#bts smut #jhope smut #hoseok smut #hoseok/reader #j-hope smut #hobi smut #hoseok x reader #j-hope x reader

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bitterxweetencounters · 4 years

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The saga continues..

Navigating through life as a single 25 y/o has been..interesting. Although my love life remains non-existent, I will say I’ve had a few encounters in the past month or so which may be worth revisiting.

So two different guys messaged me over Facebook messenger. One was saying hi, and asked from which local I’m from, saying he saw me in a YouTube video (I think it was the CFO News one) where I was featured in, and then proceeded to send me a screenshot of me talking. I clicked on his profile and the guy looked like he was 14 - or 15 years old at most. He was inc alright, but too young for me. And also seemed too filo. Lol. We weren’t Facebook friends so I just left his message “unseen”.

The second guy messaged me after seeing me at our last online Meet & Greet, around a week after he added me as a friend on Facebook. He proceeds to start a conversation with me by asking me how my sister’s food truck business was going. Which I honestly thought was weird at first, but after talking to some people about it I guess it kind of makes sense since that’s all I post about on my feed. Lmao. I didn’t recognise the guy so I thought he was just some random inc person. He also looks kind of old and already married. He gave off major Dad vibes so I kept saying “po” to him. Loooool. Long story short, he tried to keep the conversation going and quite blatantly hinted that he was interested in me. But the feeling wasn’t mutual. I didn’t know the guy enough, and I didn't feel any attraction towards him from what I could see on his Facebook profile. I know its pretty superficial but you know how you just get a vibe from someone’s social media profile of the kind of person they are? Yeahhh, I really wasn’t feeling it with this guy. I showed his profile to one of my girl friends and they agreed we wouldn’t look good together. She said he’d look like my dad if I stood next to him. Which I found hilariously true.

With lockdown ending and covid restrictions easing, I’d been able to go out and catch up with friends. One of them was a guy friend from high school. Now before I go on about the catch up I should explain how we ended up catching up in the first place. I hadn’t spoken to this guy in years ‘cause we sort of drifted due to differences in lifestyle and new friend groups. Just the normal kind of drifting typical after high school. So anyway sometime last November (if I remember correctly) I was at Glen with a group of friends after we finished donating blood earlier in the day. We were standing outside a boba shop after buying some, when I felt someone staring at me from the distance. I look - and its my guy friend sitting down at a table with his friends outside the restaurant adjacent to us. Just as I caught his gaze, he looks away. Now before I go on even more, I should also mention that me and this guy sort of had a thing in high school..? He may have asked me to be his girlfriend but I may have rejected him saying that I wasn’t ready for a relationship ‘cause “I didn’t feel like I was ready” but that I thought he was a cool guy and all etc. I never told him (or even any of my friends) how I really felt about him, but I actually really liked him too at the time. Buuuuut, I knew we wouldn’t work out for a number of reasons. Which is the real reason why I rejected him. I wanted to save both of us the heartache to be completely honest. So back to the accidental encounter at Glen. I was actually so happy to see him. I walked over to him and his group of friends and said hi to him/them. He stood up, gave me a kiss on the cheek and we hugged. He asked me what I was doing there and I told him it was nice seeing him and went back to my group of friends. Later on that night I messaged him saying it was nice seeing him again and that I hoped all was well. We ended up talking for quite a bit over Facebook messenger after that and before you know it, we had a catch-up planned. So we decided that we would chill in the city for our catch up. My friend insisted that we drive to city, and that he was going to pick me up (mind you I am hella out of his way, on the way to the city). It was a heat wave of a day so I may have worn something backless, but nothing too crazy - a little out of my comfort zone, but very fitting for a Friday night at the city. My hair was curled. He called me saying he’s close by and arrives at my place quite on-time (but at the next door neighbours’ house actually lol so he had to reverse to get to me). I got in his car and we talked the whole time till we got to the city. Just caught up on things that have happened since we last caught up, who from high school we still hang with etc. One thing I did notice about him though, different to how he was from high school, was that this time around he seemed hella cynical/negative about people. Definitely filled with more pride, a little more aggressive than I remembered him to be. We had dinner at Shujinko, which is a popular ramen place in the city. He kept offering to carry my stuff for me, like my bag, my bottle of water. We walked around the city streets just talking about life, our past relationships, our heartbreaks. He told me he hadn’t been that open with anyone in a long time and a lot of the things he was telling me he hadn’t told anyone else. He was quite touchy - playfully squeezing my shoulders here and there. Playfully squeezing the back of my neck and playfully had his arm around my neck (both were a bit concerning ‘cause they weren’t as gentle as I would’ve hoped but I tried to brush it off). We got crepes for dessert which we had while sitting down at one of the benches in front of the State Library. The bench was empty but he was sitting so close to me like there was limited space available. Lmao. We sat there talking more about our past experiences with love. It all felt quite romantic. The way we were sitting so close, the gentle summer night air, the buzz of trams passing by, the quiet murmur of laughter and conversation of the people laying on the grass around us. If you didn't know any better, you’d think we were a couple on a date. We joked about possibly bumping into my ex in the city and how we would react if it happened. We sat on the grass (he laid ‘cause his pants were too tight lmao) in the middle of Federation square, and even walked along the Yarra River. As we were going up the stairs to go back to the main street there were some dodgy looking guys that I felt were sort of creeping up behind me so I walked up really fast. He noticed this and told me to relax and not worry ‘cause he was there. This one really got to me and it felt really nice feeling like I was safe and protected. He paid for all the things we ate and stopped me from paying for anything if I ever tried to pull out my card. He let me pay for the parking though and told me I was lucky he couldn’t be bothered getting out of the car. It was funny ‘cause we were worried the parking place might have closed ‘cause we were in the city that late. But luckily it wasn’t. He also kept telling me he didn’t want me getting in trouble with my parents if it was too late in the night already. I kept insisting it was okay. On the drive home we talked some more and he asked me what I’ve learnt I now want in a guy or my ideal guy now. I joked to him that my parents might still be awake by the time I get home, and he asked me if I wanted to just cruise and drive around for a while. I said no but I appreciated it. When we finally got to my house, I remember feeling a little nervous ‘cause I didn’t know what to expect. He asked me if I had fun/a good night and I said yes. “See you in another 5 years?” We laughed. I was low-key hoping he’d say he would be down to see me again soon, but I knew better not to expect or suggest that. As I look down at my bag looking for my house keys, he comments on my hair and asks if they’re extensions. I told him they were real and let him feel it for himself. Yo when I say there was tension-. I kept my gaze down of course ‘cause I didn’t want to deal with having awkward eye contact with him or anything. I found my keys, said my goodbyes and sent him off home. After that, no goodnight message and the day after, no message again. But two days later, he messaged me again complaining that the bluetooth in his car won’t connect to his phone anymore ever since I used it. Our messaging continued again for a week or so, but then abruptly came to an end after an awkward trash talking sesh (don’t even ask).

Okay so maybe I had unresolved feelings for the guy. And yes that may have unintentionally been a date. It reminded me of all the reasons why I liked him in the first place. The chemistry was still there after all these years. Hell did we have chemistry. We got along seamlessly, always playfully making fun of each other, which was a lot of fun. He was so much of what I was looking for in a guy. I knew he was a good person at heart, had values, principles, quite a gentleman/chivalrous, not a player or f-boy (lol), seemed to be an honest person, could support himself financially, had the same sense of humour, hardworking - not to mention tall and had a bigger build than me (I hate feeling like I’m the more masculine looking one in a relationship to be honest). But for reasons, I knew there couldn’t ever be an “us”. Which sucks. It was a nice few weeks though of feeling like I was in love. It always is, till reality kicks in.

#personal #love

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thearcanaartificer · 4 years

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Okay! These are not the next ones I had, but I crunched through this ask list faster. Here is the original post. I will be cutting off my post a bit because I will only be doing half here and half in another post.

Thank you to those that are reading this and enjoying it. If you ever want to chat, I love talking.

OC asks that reveal more than you think.

1. Do they sleep with a stuffed animal? If they have multiple, who’s the favorite?

She has a few. She made a lot of stuffed animals when she was regaining a lot of her motor skills as a way to practice stitching and pattern making, though most she donated to the local orphanage for the children there and a few have been given to her pets. She likes making stylized bunnies, dogs, cats, birds, and teddy bears. Asra had to hide most of her old ones she had from their childhood- even the ones she had made him when he was ten.

Her most prized one is actually one that she found that Asra didn’t hide very well. A black bunny with mismatched button eyes. She calls it Pumpkin (Yes, she had just bitten into some of Sesali’s pumpkin bread when she named the thing). It’s not well put together and the type of stitching that was used is the wrong choice- like a surgeon had sewn it together like they would a laceration- and messy, but the thing is worn and obviously well loved. She felt attached to it from the first moment she discovered it.

She use to chew on its ears a lot when she was first recovering from her amnesia as a from of comfort. She’s stopped since then, but she takes the best care of it since its the only part of her past that she seems to be able to hold on to without headaches.

2. Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child?

Yes to all three! Though she is a bit of a scatterbrain when she’s in the middle of a big thought or job, she’s actually very good at taking care of things. Plants are easy enough, just water them and make sure they are maintained and make sure they get the right amount of sunlight. Boom. Done.

Pets, she has a multitude and some of them are exotic, so she has a few rescues scattered around Vesuvia to keep them properly cared for and has actually hired other Vopels to keep them for her. But she has at least five at home that are hers to care for and she takes very good care of them. Her dog is almost always by her side, her cat is intelligent enough to find her when he wants her company, and her familiar is a bird, so he comes and goes but she always has bones ready for him if he doesn’t want to have to scavenge.

3. Ask them to describe their love interest.

Big dumb, leggy bird of a man.

Okay, she knows he’s not dumb. He’s honestly one of the smartest men she knows- but he does dumb things when left unsupervised! So when she’s trying to describe him in a way that doesn’t give away the fact that he’s Julian Devorak- the wanted ‘murderer’ of the Count- she calls him that.

But if she’s asked to describe her love the right way? He’s a handsome man with the prettiest wild russet red curls of hair, strong nose, and a charismatic energy that will just pull you in. He wears mostly dark colors with at least one flashy bright one for dramatic flair and stands above the rest of the crowd with his height. He may be wearing his eye patch- no he doesn’t need it, its for the aesthetics, thankyouverymuch. He’s brilliant and kind and despite his towering, threatening looking frame, would rather cling tightly to her hand and draw courage from her presence. But he’s brave with or without her. He’s tender and altruistic and plays the part of being confident, but can get nervous and anxious if left alone in his head too long.

4. Do they look good in red?

She thinks she looks good in anything that isn’t predominately white or pastel. So red? Throw in some black or dark greys and yeah, she could work it.

She’d prefer orange though…

5. Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech! Will they give one, and what about?

Yes, she’d give you one. No, you don’t want her too. Hers are a bit complicated and unending and always to the wrong audience. One minute she’s giving some normal speech about whatever the occasion is and next, she’s trying to teach a bunch of drunks the nonlinear properties of the magic realms and how to navigate their way through time lapses, its like the folds of fabric with how they intermingle and touch from one time to another, and the different realms can be tricky based on their patterns and-hey Juli put me down! I’m trying to give a speech about- why are we leaving?!

6. Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?

Old Glory, surprisingly. She’ll take most advice from other Vopel women and even Asra, but she’ll toss out a lot of their sillier ones- like don’t date Ilya (Asra’s). But anything Glory tells her tends to be very good advice (she’s never given her bum advice) and she’s far better with reading people than Odelia and so she’ll just default listen to her on a lot of topics.

She has a long list of who she won’t take advice from, but, to no one’s surprise, she’ll instantly tune out Valdemar’s advice. They rub her wrong and even if the advice is solid, she’ll ignore it because why would she ever want or take their advice?

7. Describe them in three words. Now let them describe themself in three words.

Smol chaotic neutral.

Controlled, chaotic exuberance.

8. Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate them?

The more complicated the puzzle, the more interested Odelia is. She has a deep love for whodunit novels because she loves a good mystery to piece together. Her mind loves puzzles of any sort. Magic and science both have the allure of being a puzzle, especially when she’s working on projects that require them to work in tandem (hence her unique brand of magical artificery). Asra use to bring her little puzzles to fidget with as she reclaimed the dexterity of her fingers and she’d just sit there playing with them- before she could even properly speak again- and figure out how solve them by herself.

9. Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)?

She talks to them. A lot. Her plants are her babies and she’ll baby talk them. Her dolls have ‘personalities’ based on weird things they’ve done (like refused to stay in a particular spot so its persnickety about where its to sit or has fragile stitching so it’s an old lady stuffed toy). And books- she’ll talk to them about their condition or if they fall and land funny. A ‘there you are you sneaky thing’ to books that had eluded her.

But Odelia is a talker and it does help her focus on the here and now (rather than get lost in her thoughts) by talking out loud- even to inanimate objects.

10. What age do they most want to be right now?

The age she is now? She’s not one to daydream about her age or whatnot. She’s in her very early thirties and the world is her oyster. She’s fit and capable and her age is just an unimportant number to her. (especially since she doesn’t remember the previous years before ‘waking up’ anyhow.)

11. They’ve won the lottery. Spend, or save?

Haha, she’s already well off, so hurray more money? She’ll just invest the money responsibly as she did the money she had prior to that.

12. Do they like romance in the books they read (or in the book they’re in)?

Oh she’s a sucker for a good romance. If she likes the two characters, she’s in their corner rooting for them. She likes the wittier ones that banter more than anything. But she does get annoyed by impractical drama. Excitement! Danger! Ah YES! ‘Oh no who do I pick? I’m stuck between two choices!’ Grow up and outright pick. Let the one you don’t choose have a chance to get over you and move on with their life and find happiness (or pick both of them if that is a possibility! Just pick!). Because nothing is worse to her than pulling on the heartstrings of someone you aren’t going to pick.

13. Name one thing their parents taught them.

She doesn’t remember her birthparents. They were never a part of her life. Her birthmother briefly, but, when her magic’s rare classification came to light, she was taken into the care of another to raise and train her in the ways of their magic style. But she has had parents in her life. The most current ‘parent figure’ she has (one she remembers) is Old Glory (a nickname she gave the older woman and uses regardless of if the woman is present or not. A bad habit.).

She taught her through her actions that kindness isn’t reflected out outer beauty. Though most think she looks scary, as gnarled and scarred as she is (has a very mean resting bitch face), her heart is kind and compassionate. She tends to children with the utmost of patience, though tolerates no blatant disrespect. She remembers the names of everyone she’s been introduced to and what was last told to her about their day or life. Volunteers her free time to visiting the less fortunate and charging them no fee for her services. Hard shell, ooey, gooey insides.

14. Would they agree with the term ‘guilty pleasure’? Do they have any?

Oh she has guilty pleasures. A lot of the sweets she buys at Sesali’s bakery are guilty pleasures of her because she buys them by the dozens. Also mystery novels. She will re-read mystery novels she’s already read because she still likes the narrative and the build up to the big reveal. And theater. It’s fun, no matter how obvious the plot is sometimes.

15. What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work?

Oddly enough, she finds sitting down to do her hair or having to apply make up or even more complicated outfits a waste of time. She’s very utilitarian in that regard. A ponytail will keep her hair out of her face so why spend hours learning how to do complicated braids simply because they look pretty?

Don’t be mistaken though. If Portia or Nadia or Julian want to do her hair or make up or dress her up- the time is no longer wasted. They enjoy doing those sorts of things and letting them enjoy themselves, despite how much she doesn’t understand why its enjoyable to them, means the time is well spent.

On her own though, nah. She’d rather do anything else- just throw on some clothes, toss her hair into a pony tail, and get going.

#ask Odelia #The Arcana Game #arcana fan apprentice #fan apprentice #odelia the artificer

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boaws · 5 years

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BOAWS Top Records of 2019

20 – Control Top – Covert Contracts (Get Better)

Sometimes you sit around and you try and think about what makes an album good or why you like it as much as you do and it's not entirely easy to narrow it down to one or two things. Usually there are some distinctive parts or sounds that strike me, but occasionally there are albums like Covert Contracts that bring together a number influences and pull them off quite nicely...and it just simply rips. I guess the three years between their debut EP and this first full-length were well spent refining whatever they were ingesting musically at the time, as what came out is a wild blast of post-punk that spans decades worth of sounds/eras that all fit along snugly next to one another on Convert Contracts. Is it going to reinvent the genre? Absolutely not. But is it kind of dance-able while also trying to smoothly hide that black eyeliner? Yup. It sure is. But it's also really good at doing it too. Control Top - Unapologetic (stream) BUY IT! 19 – Spotlights – Love & Decay (Ipecac)

Spotlights ride the fine line between post-metal and shoegaze, which I'm usually a little weary of because boy oh boy is there a lot of those bands and all those big riffs generally amount to a big old snoozefest. However, Spotlights caught my attention awhile back when their named popped up when playing alongside Hum on one of their many sporadic appearances. Turns out Spotlights weren't too shabby and their album Seismic was a bit of a winner too. They've since released their second album for Ipecac records and it takes the balance between the two aforementioned genres and toes that line even further. Love & Decay tweaks things a bit closer to the metal side of things, but still with some Midwestern flair and creativity in the realm of melody and definitely has the layers to appeal to the shoegaze crowd. Spotlights - Xerox (stream) BUY IT! 18 – Spit-Take – Falling Star (Dead Broke)

Spit-Take have been scattered around these pages plenty of times before, usually good for churning out two or three songs per release that make me appreciate them all that much more. Falling Star would mark their third full-length effort and it's about as consistent of a record that I've heard them release that sees them navigate though a pleasant balance of classic indie-rock/power-pop vibes while also throwing out some very Midwestern-ish clanky emo run throughs (“How”), which is usually always a good way to work your way into my memory. Short and sweet and available on both cassette and LP. Spit-Take - How (stream) BUY IT! 17 – VR Sex – Human Traffic Jam (Dais)

This is basically an alter ego of Andrew Clinco of Drab Majesty, wherein he typically goes by the alias of Deb Demure...here he opts for Noel Skum. I'm taking a guess that it's supposed to reflect the shift into a grimier/noisier side of the dreamy landscape that Drab Majesty typically inhabits. VR Sex contain much of the same undertones of something that Mr. Clinco would be associated with, remaining vastly catchy and rhythmic but now the game is a disassociated future where technology has apparently ruined society and now it gets darker, louder, and muddled in filth. Skum indeed. I'm not so sure the message is as conveyed as the presser would like one to believe, but I enjoy the tunes from a standpoint that it sounds like a slightly more modern Sisters of Mercy, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry or something along those lines. Not bad. I guess Human Traffic Jam will gain another level of appreciation years from now if it ends up hitting the nail on the head and we do in fact find ourselves in some type of Black Mirror episode. VR Sex - Sacred Limousine (stream) BUY IT! 16 – Cave In – Final Transmission (Hydrahead)

The trajectory for Cave In over the years has been one of the more interesting ones. Once a premier metalcore/hardcore band, they pulled the rug out from just about everyone and released their second album Jupiter, which sounded nearly like a different band...showcasing big hooks, melodies, and definitely a large infatuation with space-rock themes. I naturally loved it and was actually kind of excited for some reason when I saw that they had landed on a major label for their third album Antenna. Sadly it didn't go as planned and it was pretty much over after that album came and went without moving the needle a whole lot. Fast forward a handful of years following major label disappointment, the band suffers the tragic loss of bassist Caleb Scofield. The band had been in the process of recording/demoing for their first album in 8 years up until the point of his death and the recordings on Final Transmission are a collection of those. Andrew Schneider and James Plotkin did a nice job in smoothing out some of the rougher edges around what were mostly unfinished recordings, cause honestly I can't really tell in most places and the songs stand on their own for the most part. Final Transmission is, or likely would have been, an album that plants itself right in between Jupiter and Antenna, circling back to some of the spacey atmosphere and guitar tones that fed greatly into both of those albums sound. Possibly the album they would have made if RCA hadn't come knocking? Although it's unknown to me whether this is an actual final statement for the band, if it does indeed end up being that, it's a good'n. Cave In - Night Crawler (stream) BUY IT! 15 – The Bismarck – We Will Never Be Young Again (Self-Released)

The Bismarck have been around long enough to still have an actual website that hasn't been updated in years. As someone who still pays yearly hosting costs for some dumb reason and haven't quite convinced myself not to anymore, I guess I get it...but I know that's gotta be costly. The band is firmly in the PRF rock stable of bands, so that right there should give most of you an idea of what The Bismarck bring to the table. Over a run of what I think is five albums now, We Will Never Be Young Again seems to be an album that wants to prove defiant of its title, coming with full fire and energy and holy shit...anthems? Yeah. A song title like “Fuck You, Let's Boogie” certainly seems like something you could easily write off, but ends up being a bona fide gem of a tune. Solid album all the away around and if it ends up being to your liking, they have a rather deep catalog to pull from if curiosity strikes. The Bismarck - Fuck You, Let's Boogie (stream) BUY IT! 14 – Crumb – Jinx (Self-Released)

First album for the Brooklyn based Crumb and I'd thought I'd heard an EP or something before this, but upon further research, it would appear I hadn't. This introduction is fine enough anyway, wherein they combine that niche of slacker ethos that worked its way through a number of indie bands in the 90's and spin it with a chilled loungy/psych thing. Maybe a tinge of jazz influence here and there, but more or less it sticks to the poppy psych side of it all, leaving for a very breezy and smooth 28 minutes of music. The ambiance, or I guess mood, of Jinx is pretty heavy throughout, likely forcing the album to be something that is relegated to particular times of which it strikes just right, however when it does...it certainly works. Crumb - The Letter (stream) BUY IT! 13 – Razorlegs – Skip Skool (Self-Released)

Latest cassette from this improvisational noise/psych outfit, each side consisting of its own roughly 18 minute long descent into fuzz, pummel and blown amps. Side one is “Transistor Love” and gets things going with a rapid paced drum explosion that contends to outpace the entirety of the track, leaving me seemingly off balance for the duration. There are faint voices coming and going as the track progresses into its squalls of feedback and I'm left to envision that this is to mimic the joys of still using the radio dial (FM mute OFF...no cheaters) and then it promptly ends...picking back up with another steady drum beat that steers pretty much the rest of the track from one critical guitar injury to another. Flip the tape, you have “Skip Skool” and we're off with a death march of drums and the sputtering flare ups of distortion before turning into a full fledged burnt out psych mantra, sounding like it's trying to rip and tear its way off the tape that it was laid on to. Razorlegs - Transistor Love (stream) BUY IT! 12 – Breastmilk – Bliss (Chicago Research)

Chicago Research put out a variety of things this past year that I thought were all very solid in their own uniquely bleak and disturbing way, however Breastmilk kind of wins out of for things to play in the background if you genuinely want someone to be creeped out while being in your house. An interesting take on downtempo, that reaches its grimy fingers into the same head spaces of Throbbing Gristle, Nurse With Wound or the likes. An ebb and flowing bass churn scrapes along for 18 minutes of whatever hellscape this may be, the opener “Transient” using a ring-back tone to voicemail sample to unnerving ability. Not to mention a woman sobbing to the background of glass shattering and various other noises on “Jesus Piece”. Breastmilk provides the soundtrack for the horror, however part of the fun of Bliss is the open ended scenarios of whom and what it's playing for... Breastmilk - Transient (stream) BUY IT! 11 – HTRK – Venus in Leo (Ghostly International)

It sure doesn't feel like it's been roughly five years since HTRK released the excellent Psychic 9-5 Club, but that's the case. Following the death of co-founding member Sean Stewart, HTRK continued forward as a duo and have seen their sound venture further into the electronic world; relinquishing the heavy low end found on early recordings while cold pulses of bass and synth have since flooded over. Remaining consistent has been Jonnine Standish's vocal presence throughout, one that dictates the miscues, misery and loneliness in hushed breathy swoops. On their fourth effort, Venus in Leo, Standish and guitarist Nigel Yang return to the same nighttime introspection of regret, however with Yang's shimmering guitars coming back into play more so than we've heard in quite a while...fading in and out of the background. I kind of miss the heavy minimalism, almost deep-house vibe, that Psychic 9-5 Club had...but melancholy plays out in many different ways...and Venus in Leo seems to be the way HTRK wanted to tackle it this time. No matter, it's still immensely enjoyable. HTRK - Dream Symbol (stream) BUY IT! 10 – Jessica Pratt – Quiet Signs (Drag City)

Funny note, Quiet Signs was one of the first albums of 2019 that I really liked and accordingly I included one of the tunes from it on that respective months mix. My now fiance listened to it and then sent me a picture of the name of the song that was on and simply said “hate this”. Noted. It's OK though, we still love each other. How could you hate something as serene as Quiet Signs? Anyway, Jessica Pratt has been honing in her sound for several years now and took the plunge with her third album to record in a proper studio, which resulted in an album that sounds really far removed from being recorded in a proper studio oddly enough. The sparseness in instrumentation and the dreamlike echoes of Pratt's voice feel like both are in the same room with you, but still somehow a million miles away...or if that I'm not careful enough the whole thing will disappear entirely. It's the indescribable feeling of distance and brief lapses of clarity that make Quiet Signs so beautiful sounding. It comes and goes all too quick however, so I'll be anxiously awaiting the next appearance from Jessica Pratt. Jessica Pratt - This Time Around (stream) BUY IT! 09 – Notches – New Kind of Love (Dead Broke / Salinas)

Was blown away by Notches and their debut record High Speed Crimes around three or so years ago. It was pretty much everything I could ask for in a pop/punk record, bringing plenty of fuzz/distortion and a heaping fuck ton of melody. While New Kind of Love doesn't necessarily register on that same scale with me, it's still a fantastic record from a band that continues to peel off some of the catchiest material within the genre. It being the bands third album and all, it's kind of fun noticing them “growing older” of sorts and moving away from the turned up to “11” mindset. It's about the song now man, I mean it's always been I'm sure, but now it's no longer buried underneath a sheet of distortion. Can't blame them. I entered my listening to public talk radio in the car phase of my life here not too long. Totally feel ya. Give these guys a listen please. Notches - Funny How (stream) BUY IT! 08 – Dry Cleaning – Boundary Road Snacks and Drinks (It's OK)

From the opener “Dog Proposal” Dry Cleaning establishes very quickly that Boundary Road Snacks and Drinks is exhausting. I don't mean that in the negative sense either. The second EP from the UK based post-punk group is merely informing all of you out there that life is just extra fucking exhausting. Because it most certainly is. Singer Florence Shaw takes the six songs on this EP and crams so much of our current day-to-day nonsense in it that I'm basically getting an anxiety attack listening to this sucker. However, the honesty is appreciated and the contradicting jauntiness of some of these tunes is an excellent way to remind that no matter how tired I am that everything else is going to keep rolling as it always has. While there are much bigger issues at hand that Dry Cleaning tackle throughout, it's the debilitation of everything as a whole that Boundary Road Snacks and Drinks really conveys the most. After two excellent samplings from the band, it's pretty terrifying to think of the destruction on my nerves that they could cause with a full-length. Time will hopefully tell. Dry Cleaning - Viking Hair (stream) BUY IT! 07 – Kim Gordon – No Home Record (Matador)

It had never really occurred to me that Kim Gordon had never released a solo album up until this point of her lengthy career. I was kind of blown away by that to be honest. I guess it's just that Thurston Moore seems to fart one out here and there, so I'd assumed Gordon had done the same. However, as it stands, No Home Record is Kim Gordon's first solo effort and completely took me by surprise. Maybe I'd expected it to sound much like her material in Body/Head? I don't know. Or for it to be closer threaded to Sonic Youth? That's unfair, I know, but it is what it is. The good deal is that No Home Record is completely left field of about anything I expected; that takes equal parts no-wave and drags it through the glitch/industrial minefield. Gordon's voice fits right in with it all, adding to the instability and jarring nature of practically everything on this record. I'd never thought I would have wished for a Kim Gordon experimental electronica record, but it's 2020 baby and things are apparently really fucking different now. Fantastic stuff. Kim Gordon - Don't Play It (stream) BUY IT! 06 – Joshua Abrams Natural Information Society – Mandatory Reality (Eremite)

I somehow wish I could have this album playing practically the entire time I'm at work (it's almost long enough), but unfortunately my boss sits perched only a mere few feet away from me to ensure that maximum stress is achieved. Joshua Abrams and the NIC have created an absolutely astonishing collection of work on Mandatory Reality that is likely easier to zone out to than to deliberately ignore. You'll want to, because wherever Mandatory Reality exists, the grass is most certainly greener and I'm frantically waving my ticket to hop aboard whatever space-age craft is going to take me there at any given time. But really more to the actual music, Joshua Abrams and the NIC have laid out 4 slow moving, borderline minimalist, pieces of avant-garde jazz that sooth and calm the bludgeoning attempts of our actual mandatory reality sometimes. It's pretty brilliant and perfectly recorded/captured by Greg Norman. Played on a proper stereo, it's a variety of nuanced sound that demands repeated listens simply on that alone. Joshua Abrams Natural Information Society - Shadow Conductor (stream) BUY IT! 05 – 55 Deltic – You Could Own an American Home (Kingfisher Bluez / Strictly No Capital Letters / Barely Regal)

I love the title of this record so much, because here sometime in the next year we're going to have to start looking for a house and having been through this rodeo once before...I know how utterly dreary that's going to be. The only fun part about it right now, is the non serious part where I'm just cruising Zillow listings at work and seeing the inside of all these cool houses I can't afford. And what better of an idea to center an emo/slowcore record around? In actuality I'm pretty positive that's not what 55 Deltic are even remotely channeling here, but I would imagine there is a definite longing/nostalgia for a time when working towards a successful future was something not increasingly hard to obtain. The songs on You Could Own an American Home weigh heavily through a slow but sturdy pace, that lines up well with bands like Bedhead or Codeine, who both seemed to pull at a lot of the same strings that 55 Deltic are equally bummed out about no longer being commonplace in society. Really enjoyed this one, as it touches upon a lot of the aspects I like about the genre and isn't afraid of getting a little raucous here and there. 55 Deltic - Tangen (stream) BUY IT! 04 – Cherubs – Immaculada High (Relapse)

I guess the rumor of Cherubs signing to Relapse finally came true...albeit for their second album, fourth overall. Not sure why that took so long, but whatever...here we are...Cherubs consuming roster space on the same label that I remember receiving some pretty wild catalogs from years and years ago and lots and lots of pretty bad cover art. Or really good cover art if you were into grindcore. Either way. I guess it makes sense, Cherubs were, and are, fairly extreme in the realms of the noise-rock world, being a band that released one of the true classics in Heroin Man. When they got back together, there was a level of fear that the burden of having to follow that sucker up would be a bit hard to do, but 2 Ynfynyty wiped away any concern of that as I foolishly had mistaken the band as a group of people that would even remotely worry about something like that. The album ended up being nothing short of amazing and sounded like a band that had a little regard as to what they “should” sound like and just made a record that they wanted to. They returned this past year with Immaculada High and did exactly the same thing, producing a record that isn't simply a repeat and pushes their sonic explorations of marrying noise/melody even further into the grandiose murkiness. At this point, I'm calling it good. I mean, this is two more Cherubs albums than I ever thought I would get already, so I'm not really willing to push my luck here. However, if more is to come...then I'm here for it. Cherubs - Full Regalia (stream) BUY IT! 03 – Clear Gash – Replenish (Iniquity)

Knew nothing of Clear Gash when listening to Replenish and still know nothing about Clear Gash. They are from Germany and apparently have a very sparse web presence other than releasing this album on Iniquity Records, which have graciously provided it on their Bandcamp site or in the form of a....CD? Beggars can't be choosers I guess and at least Replenish got out there one way or another. Clear Gash are a bit of an oddity in this day and age, as there just aren't too many people out there really trying to bring murky moodiness of grunge back to the forefront, however that's not too far from what they are attempting on their debut (I'm assuming?) album. It's fuzzy, down tuned and pretty filthy sounding stuff. The interesting part is that they are taking the tone/sound and partially playing it like slowed down hardcore. Odd, but it jams sure enough. The production almost lends a bit of a raw Born Annoying/Strap it On era feel, which is definitely appealing to me. Replenish rips and is a distorted mess of riffage that has sorely gone missing in the past couple or so years for some reason or another. Clear Gash - Ode to Discrepency (stream) BUY IT! 02 – USA/Mexico – Matamoros (12XU / Riot Season)

Considering the players involved that make up USA/Mexico, I would be really really bummed/surprised if they managed to put out a record that was crap. It just doesn't seem possible when bringing together members of Butthole Surfers, Shit & Shine and When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth...three very very fine purveyors of completely fried and distinctive noise-rock. So, it's relatively safe to say that Matamoros falls within that same realm of noise and dives deep into the red at the drop of the needle with the title track opener and spots some extra guitar ugliness from Spray Paint member George Dishner, which seems ridiculous that an extra amount of mangled feedback would seem necessary...but listening to Matamoros one gets the sense these fellas operate in a world unbeknownst of limitations. This then segues right into a grossly heavy cover of Cherubs' “Shoofly” with guest vocals by Mr. Kevin Whitley himself. Even he can't really crawl above the heaping amounts of distortion that USA/Mexico uncompromisingly continue to pour on, as his voice is repeatedly swallowed up by the mass. Matamoros carries on much in the same manner for it's duration. “Vaporwave Headache” cranks up the RPM's some and rips through two and a half of minutes of chugging maxed feedback and alien vocals as a possible representation of a vapor wave song if it were dubbed over on the same cassette roughly 400 times and then played at five times the speed. In the end, Matamoros greatly out performs the bands debut Laredo and is essentially the exact product of which could be expected through this collaboration of sorts. Well worth the risk of potential hearing loss. USA/Mexico - Matamoros (stream) BUY IT! 01 – Possible Humans – Everybody Split (Hobbies Galore / Trouble in Mind)

Yeah, this is my kind of thing. I'll never shy away from bands that want to continue hoisting that Homestead/Flying Nun flag and pumping out those type of jams. Possible Humans have apparently been lurking around Melbourne for a handful of years now, playing shows...etc. However, just towards the beginning of last year put out their first full-length through Hobbies Galore and it's been nice to see it gain some traction over the past few months. Enough so that Trouble in Mind picked up the record after the initial pressing of 200 sold out lightning quick. I got hooked after hearing the sprawling psych flavored “Born Stoned”, which despite being eleven minutes long it makes good on every single second of it, masterfully combining the Homestead or Athens sound with something that could have been an absolutely smoking Blue Oyster Cult deep cut. It quite simply rules and will undoubtedly be the best track I hear for a very long time. Definitely not trying to sell the rest of the album short, because Everybody Split is front to back a fantastic listen and piece of work that encapsulates a general feel/sound so well. If you haven't heard it yet, please make this one a priority. Possible Humans - Born Stoned (stream) BUY IT!

#top20 #bestof

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shipmistress9 · 5 years

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FTLOAP - 39: Once Upon A Time We Had A Lot To Fight For. We Had A Dream, We Had A Plan

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net - AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Part 1: Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11;

Part 2: Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32; Interlude 3; Bonus 1; Chapter 33

Part 3: Chapter 34; Chapter 35; Chapter 36; Interlude 4; Chapter 37; Chapter 38

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Okay, this was a tough chapter to write, though for once not because of the content. Let me tell you about the fourteen days since I last updated. The first nine I had writer's block and couldn't get even one word down for this story. Then followed two days where I was on quite a high and got down 7k words, which is a lot for me. And after that, there were two and a half days through which I struggled again to get anything done, which left me and my alpha-reader with less than half a day for edits. I still can't believe it's actually done by now, and if it sucks... well, then I'm sorry!

In addition, I'm not quite sure of this chapter. It got awfully long, but somehow I feel like nothing happens. I mean, I know that's not true. But still, it feels off. Well, it's something of a bridge chapter, I guess.*sigh*

This week's chapter owes its title to a friend who made me listen to The Rasmus again after many years of not thinking much about this band. And when I listened to 'Sail Away'... well, the very first lines of lyrics of that song just really hit me. They fit so well to how Hiccup and Astrid feel right now.

Also, a special shoutout to @lauracalabresi Thank you for your comments over the last few days, they were a great encouragement! ^^

. o O o .

Hiccup couldn’t remember how he’d made it back to the stables, nor how the night had passed in any specific detail. It was all just a blur of pain and sorrow, of desperation and hopelessness. It was over. Everything was over. It was true what he’d told Cami once, after all, that his entire life only revolved around her. But now, she was gone, and he didn't even understand why. He’d been so sure...

But now, it seemed as if the Gods had abandoned them, if not for that guttering spark in his chest that kept reminding him of her, cruel and unrelenting.

When Eret arrived at the stables, hours after the sun had risen, Hiccup was still sitting in his stall, unmoving, staring blankly out the small window, and registered nothing until his cousin’s broad hand touched his shoulder.

“Hey, Hiccup. You okay?”

Slowly, Hiccup turned to look at Eret, and forced a wry grin to his face.

“Hey. Yeah, I’m just… just tired, I guess. I’m sorry, I didn’t finish polishing all of your kit, but I’ll get back to that today.”

Eret gave him a scrutinising look, but nodded, accepting this explanation. “That’s fine, I won’t need it right away. But–” He paused, his eyes on Hiccup’s injured and bandaged hand. “What’s this?”

Quickly, Hiccup covered the hand with the other one. “Nothing. I cut myself, but it… it’s nothing.” At some point last night, the pain of the cut had eventually registered in his mind, but it was still too dull and unimportant to matter. All it did was remind him of her hands on his as she’d attended to the cut. Probably the last time he’d ever felt her touch… He swallowed, then made an effort to appear normal. “Anyway, what brings you here today? Don’t you need to do some training, or so?”

Eret still looked at him funny, but then shook his head. “Maybe later. But I came here for another reason. The thing is… I’m going to need my squire from now on. The hunts start tomorrow and then there’s the first small tournament in a few days, and… I already talked to father and we agreed that it will be safe enough now to keep these hotheads–” he nodded at the stallions, “– in a separate part of the main stables, now that the herd isn’t there anymore and there’s enough free space. They need to get used to that anyway. So... for the rest of our stay, you’re going to be my squire full time, which also means you’ll have to move; I can’t afford the time for you to hike back and forth to these stables. We could move to our townhouse, where there’s enough space for you to have your own room… but Grandfather’s staying there and...” he shrugged helplessly.

Hiccup needed a moment to wrap his head around what Eret had said. He seemed to be sorry for some reason, but Hiccup actually couldn’t see why. As much as he’d enjoyed the solitude of these outer stables during the past months, a change like this seemed like the best thing that could happen to him right now. It would keep him busy, would keep him from mentally tearing himself apart. It would keep him from remembering all the nights they’d spent here...

And then the rest of it registered. Oh. Right. His grandfather, who thought of him as a failure. Well, he was right, after all, but that didn’t mean Hiccup needed to hear it from the old prune.

“So what else is there?”

“Sharing a room in the squire barracks or the couch in my rooms,” Eret said apologetically, and then hastened to add, “It’s clean! I promise!”

Hiccup almost laughed – out of humour or despair, he had no idea. But he managed to keep the smile up. “The couch will do,” he murmured.

Something like a relieved smile played around Eret’s lips. “I’d hoped you’d say that. Dag and I already organised a trunk for your things and while it’s not an enclosed room, you’ll at least have a separate corner for yourself there. A little bit of privacy. Come, I’ll help you pack your things, then we can get the horses ready to be moved.”

Not having any reason to hold back, Hiccup got to work. His few possessions were quickly tossed in a rucksack – with Hiccup carefully avoiding a certain object hidden between the straw bales least Eret would ask unnecessary questions – before they turned their attention to the horses. All the while, Hiccup felt as if Eret was throwing him weird looks every now and then, but it never became so obvious that he felt like asking about it. To him, it wasn't important, and if Eret wanted to talk about something… well, then he could bring it up. Which he eventually did.

They had just started their way to the main stables – with Hiccup riding Chomp and leading Hunter at his side while Eret rode Squish and led Crusher – when Eret eventually broke the silence. "So… what do you think of these… new plans?"

Hiccup snorted. "What's there to think about?" he asked and tried not to sound as bitter as he felt. "I’m your squire and I would have needed to fully act like it by now anyway. So this is good, a change for the better.” Wrong! “And in case you meant the… the festivities... It's the King's right to entertain his people with hunts and tournaments and whatever else he's planned. It might even get interesting for us.” He forced himself to shrug nonchalantly in case Eret was still watching him.

“Yeah, interesting might be the right word.” Eret let out a deep sigh. “But that’s not what I meant. I mean this whole wedding scheme. I don’t get why Uncle Osmond thought that was a good idea. Or Daniel or my father, for that matter.”

Hiccup’s hands around Chomp’s reins tightened; it made him wince when the cut stung and the stallion snort in annoyance. Was Eret honestly asking him what he thought about her impending wedding? If he hadn’t been in danger to spill out exactly what he was thinking, he might have laughed. Instead, he just said, “Same answer. I don’t think it is my place to question the King’s decision. She’s going to marry one of these noblemen for the sake of the Kingdom. That isn’t really different from what was planned before, right?”

“True,” Eret admitted reluctantly. “But it still doesn’t feel right. And it’s certainly not right for Swanja! From what Snot said last night, she isn’t herself anymore. She lost her spark, her wit. He said she’d tried to appear unperturbed, as usual, but he saw right through her. All this must have hit her pretty hard; she was devastated at her birthday dinner. She wouldn’t even let us help or comfort her, for Odin’s sake!”

He sounded tense, worried, and Hiccup was incredibly glad that they’d reached a narrow path by now that wouldn’t allow them to ride side by side. It meant Eret couldn’t see his expression of soul-deep pain and self-loathing. Devastated… That seemed like an apt description of her the last few times he’d seen her. And it had been his fault.

Everything was his fault! And always had been… If he’d spoken his mind more firmly all those years ago, about not losing their connection to the Kingdom, his father might have stood up against their fellow tribesmen. If he’d acted more like the tribesman their people had expected him to be, they wouldn’t have been so openly against him being the heir to the High Chief’s title. If they hadn’t lost their standing within the tribes, his parents and siblings might still be alive and he would be a knight by now too. He could even participate in this competition for her hand as a ducal heir himself.

The thought was too good to be true, literally, and, unable to bear it, Hiccup pushed it aside. They all had thought they’d been doing the right thing back then, and reprimanding himself for it now, when he knew better, wouldn’t do him any good. Besides, he didn’t even need to go that far back into the past to pin down his mistakes.

He should have stayed away from her in the first place. The idea that, after all the things he’d messed up, his life could change for the better… this too had been too good to be true. Again, he’d made the wrong decision by becoming Eret’s squire just to be able to see her again, and now, she was paying the painful price for his impudence. Oh, he’d thought he’d been right back then, too. But the pain in her eyes last night was wholly and entirely his own fault, and any attempt of his to comfort her was bound to only hurt her more.

There was nothing he could do to help her.

Except…

“Don’t worry,” he heard himself say, oddly calm and composed. As if it wasn’t really him who was speaking. “What was is you said once? The Princess is a fighter. She’s tough. This whole wedding thing took her by surprise, but I’m sure she’ll accept it, eventually. She’ll come around and then you all can be there to support her when she’s ready for that.”

Eret grunted, but didn’t say any more until they’d reached the end of the narrow pass where he waited for Hiccup to take his place next to him. “You’re right,” he admitted, face turning to Hiccup, who was now focused entirely on keeping his feelings locked away as deep inside himself as possible. “But this is still different. Our fathers want her to marry one of us. How can we support her as her brothers when everyone is looking for signs as to who she’ll choose as her betrothed?”

“But maybe that’s the point,” Hiccup replied with a light shrug. “She was to marry one of you anyway, wasn’t she? Maybe it’s time to get over how you grew up like siblings and start seeing each other as what you are. An option. I… I think I know her well enough by now to say that she won’t spontaneously fall in love with one of those strangers her father presented to her. But a love match was never a likely possibility – for neither of you. And I remember what Daniel said on that first night we spent here, your accolade. He said that you would be good for each other, and… and I agree.”

Saying those words felt like a hungry beast tearing at the dead remains of his heart and soul. It hurt! But it was better this way. His own pain he could deal with, but hers? Not so much. And if it wasn’t within his power to help her directly, then the least he could do was send comfort in another form.

As they rode on, Hiccup was aware of Eret’s scrutinising gaze on him, and all he could hope for was that he wouldn’t see how Hiccup felt inside. But he didn’t say anything else until they reached the stables where a group of grooms quickly took over the horses to lead them to their new stalls.

“Hey, Hic,” he eventually spoke again once they were alone. “I know I offered to help, but… Would it be all right for you to get Markor and Cassie on your own? They shouldn’t give you any problems, after all. And I’ll take your bag up to my rooms, and…” he paused, grimacing, then shook his head. “There’s a message I have to send and I need to see whether I can find Dagur. Gotta talk to him…” He ran a hand through his hair, and if Hiccup wouldn’t be feeling so dead inside anyway, he’d be sorry for his cousin. It wasn’t only she who’d gotten thrown into this mess, after all…

But still, it was better this way.

“Sure,” he agreed with a sympathetic smile and a clap to Eret’s shoulder. “See you tonight then.”

On his way back to the outer stables, he wasn’t able to control his thoughts and emotions any longer though. He didn’t cry; after last night he didn’t think he had any tears left, but the pain still returned in full force.

It’s better this way, he kept chanting to himself. No matter how much the thought of her marrying Eret or one of her other brothers hurt, it was still the best option there was. She would have a good life with a husband who respected her as a person and not just saw her as an object, who cared for her. It might not be the right kind of love that connected them, but at least there was some form of affection, enough for her to eventually find comfort in her fate. It was all that was left for him to hope for.

And if she chose Eret… Well, Hiccup did feel sorry for him and Dagur. Even with knowing that their relationship couldn’t last, having it end this abruptly couldn’t be easy either. No wonder Eret had wanted to talk to his lover.

Once back at the outer stables, he concentrated on getting Cassie and Markor ready. It was a welcome distraction, and the familiar motions and the simple affection the horses offered gave him comfort, Cassie especially. She’d been with him for so many years now, had been his only support during trying times, and now easily adapted to his pain again. He took several minutes just scratching her and accepting her rubbing her nose to his chest, until something like a smile was back on his face. Not a happy but at least a content one.

The smile didn’t last long though, only until he entered Markor’s stall. The gelding directly looked up at his visitor, clearly hoping and then being disappointed as it wasn’t who he’d hoped it would be. The sight gave Hiccup a new sting, and he did his best to cheer the horse up by rubbing and cuddling his neck.

“I know, I know. I miss her too,” he whispered, hiding his face against the gelding’s warm fur. It was three days now since she’d last been here – a long time considering how often she’d been here during the past three months. No wonder Markor missed her, especially since he couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t come. “But don’t worry, boy. She’ll get back to you. You’ll see.”

Hiccup let himself feel comfort from the horses’ presence for a few minutes longer, before he got them both ready. He struggled a bit with which saddle to put on Markor, but then decided on the ridiculously decorated side saddle. It was the official saddle, after all, and he would need to ask Eret where to store the unofficial but more practical one.

When he was done, he let his gaze wander through the stables that had been his home during these past wonderful months, and gulped. Leaving this place for good felt like a sign. It was truly over, and their time really had only been borrowed, had never been intended to last.

He was about to leave when he remembered the one thing he’d left here before and hurried back to his former sleeping stall to retrieve it. If anyone was to find it by chance, it would only raise unnecessary questions. Hesitantly, he picked up the small swan-shaped oil pot. His chest was tightening – at the sight, at the memories, and at what it stood for. He’d been so grateful to Cami for this gift, not just because of why she’d given it to him but also because of what else it represented. He’d meant to keep it during the weeks and months of their separation, as a reminder and a promise for better times. The scent of the oil alone would have served to comfort him over missing her. But now? Now, it only hurt to look at it, the cool ceramic feeling as if it was burning his skin. All it did now was remind him of what could never be.

With a low suppressed sob, he stowed it away into a pocket, then left the stables without looking back. He tried to leave it all behind him as he once more rode down the path to the main stables on Cassie’s back, but his thoughts kept whirling around the pot and what it stood for. Why had the Gods abandoned them? He’d told her that maybe they’d been wrong, that they weren’t soulmates meant for each other after all. But he didn’t believe that, not really. She’d been right, he’d felt it too, the connection, their bond – and still felt it! All that had been real! And yet… And yet, the Gods had turned away from them, had separated them without leaving them any hope. Why? What had happened, what had changed?

A whirlwind of thoughts blew through Hiccup’s mind, thoughts that, in a way, added another layer of pain to his battered soul, but that, at the same time, made perfect sense.

It was all his fault.

With shaking hands, he pulled the pot back out of his pocket – leaving Cassie to find the way on her own – and stared at it. They’d gone too far... It made sense, now that he thought about it. This had to be what had angered the Gods. Them ignoring the rules, getting intimate before it was allowed. A part of him wanted to blame Cami for her support, for her assurance that it would be all right as long as they kept to certain rules. But Hiccup knew that wouldn’t be fair. It had been his decision to go further than he’d felt comfortable, than he’d been taught was allowed. He had ignored the rules he’d learned, had given in to his desire. He should have known better!

His breath became ragged as he kept staring at the oil pot and everything clicked into place. Them getting intimate must have angered the Gods. The timing was a clear indication. They’d gone too far, and before they’d been able to break another rule with their forbidden plan to have anal sex, the Gods had put an end to it. The timing was unmistakable.

It was all his fault!

A pained sob tore itself from Hiccup’s throat. Having lost her… that was bad enough. But now, he knew that it had been his own doing, that he should have known better. If he hadn’t been so foolish and selfish… their future would still be in reach.

Hiccup’s hand tightened around the pot – until it cracked. Without a warning, he was emerged in a cloud of intense mayweed scent, and it momentarily rendered him blind and deaf to everything around him. His mind got flooded with the memories he’d tried to hold back – of her smile, of her being in his arms, of burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. Of the flush on her face and her little gasps, of the taste of her skin, of holding her through the night. Of all the things that could never be.

With a pained and desperate outcry, he hurled the pot away. He wasn’t looking, didn’t care where it might land. He only wanted to get rid of it, to never relive those memories again. It was too painful.

But when he heard the splash of water, he looked up after all, puzzled. Without him noticing, Cassie and Markor had paused near the little lake that used to house her swans, and the pot must have landed in there.

How fitting, Hiccup thought bitterly as he watched the waves on the surface getting smaller and fading away. Eret had told him about the swans’ fate, how that, too, had hit her. It felt oddly right that this place now was also where all their hopes, dreams, and plans for the future were buried. Forever.

He stayed for a little while longer, gazing at the now-calm lake, and let the pain wash through and out of him. It was over, and there was nothing he could do but accept it.

He let himself wallow for a little bit longer, then forced every remaining trace of pain into a distant corner of his heart to keep it locked there forever. From now on, he had to function. Be it the upcoming tournaments and other occasions or the possibility of still seeing her regularly in case she chose Eret – he couldn’t let her or anyone else see his pain.

From now on, he wouldn’t let his emotions slip ever again.

. o O o .

A part of Astrid still clung to the hope that she would eventually wake up. Nothing seemed real; not the days she’d spent getting introduced to all her suitors, not the evening meals she was to take in the usual company of her father, the Grand Dukes, and their sons, and not the nights when she lay awake crying or too agitated to fall asleep until exhaustion took over. And now, she sat beneath a neat little pavilion, overlooking the fighting grounds that were decorated for the first of many upcoming tournaments, and still didn’t feel as if she was fully awake.

The whole setting was just… surreal. The sudden snow from the previous week had all melted by now, but it was still rather cool, and the practical part of her mind was grateful for her gloves and the warm cloak she was wrapped in – even as her heart kept recalling the warmer days from not so long ago. Around her, everything seemed dull and bland, colourless beneath the grey sky, except the brightly painted flags and banners everywhere which seemed completely out of place. It all just felt wrong to her. And the fact that the men in the arena beneath somehow believed that fighting each other would gain them her favour was just absurd.

Not for the first time, a pained outcry sounded over the crowd followed by a wave of whispers as one of the fighters fell to one knee and clutched at his thigh. Blood quickly stained his blue-and-green-coloured clothes in shades of red, and Astrid hoped that the blow from his opponent's sword hadn’t severed his main artery. It was quite possible that he’d not survive if it had.

The thought upset her even though she didn’t feel as if there was much left of her to be upset. She’d probably talked to this man during the past days, and now, he might very well be dying a pointless death. And the worst was that, if he died, he wouldn’t be the first and certainly not the last one either.

The first had been an accident during a short hunting trip two days prior. The man’s horse had been wounded by a misguided arrow from one of his companions, and the fall off his horse’s back onto the uneven ground of the forest had caused severe injuries – or something like that. Astrid only dimly remembered how the King and the other men had talked about it during dinner. It had been one of three deaths on that day, and since then, the body count had only climbed higher.

And as much as the small sane part of her mind despised these unnecessary deaths, she still had to admit that they weren’t unusual. Accidents during hunts happened. Likewise, injuries during tournaments weren’t uncommon. Many of the young men who participated considered the event incomplete if they hadn’t gotten a scar out of it. Once she had agreed with that bit of joking humour, but now? Now, she just felt numb.

So it was with a heart of stone that she watched the loser be carried off to the healer’s tent, festooned with Freya’s symbol. He wouldn’t be the last victim of these festivities, that was for sure. But as much as she loathed that thought… it wasn’t what really bothered her.

As selfish and as vile as the thought made her feel, she couldn’t bring herself to care too much for these strangers who had all come to haggle over her future as if she was nothing but a pretty adornment for their household. They had known what they were in for.

Although… with a strong sense of unease, she remembered the half hour she’d had to spend with Thuggory the other day. And even though she tried to forget his words, they still lingered.

“So here we are, Milady Astrid, in a close and intimate conversation, just like it should be. I hope you’re enjoying my company, because you’d better get used to it.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I will never become your wife. There’s nothing you can do to make me choose you!” It had been nearly the only words she’d said for days she actually remembered.

But Thuggory had only laughed. “Oh, you naive and stupid girl. You think I can’t force you to choose me? What if there’s nobody else left? What if I remove every other candidate until you see reason? You will become my wife, whether you want it or not.”

A shudder ran through her at that memory, and she quickly buried it in the depth of her mind. Thuggory could talk all he wanted, and chances were that he’d get himself killed. She didn’t even really feel bad for hoping for that outcome. But even that wasn’t what really concerned her.

No, what truly occupied her mind was the same topic that was ruling her every thought since the moment the King had made his announcement on her birthday.

She could see him standing at the side of the battleground, holding Eret’s substitute shield and sword ready in case his master might need them. It was the first time she’d seen him since he’d fled from her in the armoury that night, and even though she’d known he would be here, the sight of him had floored her completely.

During the last few days, her heart had… No, it hadn’t started to heal, but it had become numb. She’d refused to think about him, hadn’t let her consciousness dwell on what couldn’t possibly be true. He couldn’t have been right! This wasn’t the first time they’d encountered difficulties or misunderstandings, like when they’d first started to get intimate and he’d more or less avoided her for days. Back then, they had only needed some good advice and the chance to talk openly until everything was clear again. This was no different… wasn’t it?

Her eyes were burning, her lower lip starting to quiver, and she turned her attention back to the fighting men before she would burst out into tears in public. It will all be solved, she repeatedly thought to herself. We just need time to work it out.

But deep inside, she knew that this was very different from the little problems they’d encountered before. Because they already had talked. And it hadn’t solved anything. On the contrary, as much as she hated to admit it, the words he’d said to her at the armoury were not ones she could easily dismiss.

‘We’ve already lost.’

Yes, she’d refused to believe those words, but she also couldn’t simply dismiss them as wrong. No matter how much she wanted to ignore them or how much she tried to come up with a solution… she couldn’t find one. Maybe he’d been right after all...

This was another thought she’d vehemently ignored during the past days, but now… Seeing him standing there tore all wounds open anew. No, she didn’t want to believe that their shared future had been nothing but a pipe dream. But arguing against it became harder and harder, especially with seeing the utter hopelessness in his posture. Oh, he might be trying to hide it, to appear unperturbed and focused on his work – but she easily saw through him just like he’d always been able to see through her mask. She could see how much he was suffering, saw the pain in his hollow eyes. He’d said that he still loved her, that their feelings hadn’t been just their imagination. And yet, he’d clearly given up. There was no fight in him anymore, no strength to even consider fighting. He was broken, and seeing him like that broke her, too.

Biting down on her lip, hard, she gazed down at her hands, clenched into tight fists to keep them from trembling. So, what if he had been right? She’d tried her best to find a solution, but everything she’d brought up he’d warded off as impossible, and rightly so. And he who was so much smarter than her, who was able to think so quickly and come up with solutions for every problem… had given up. Slowly and against her will, the realisation seeped into her heart.

They’d already lost…

Once more, she glanced at where he stood and it felt as if her heart was breaking all over again. It was over, really and truly over. Her hand wandered to her chest as if to catch the shards and keep them together, but it was no use. A fresh wave of pain tore through her and it only got worse when she saw him grimace and mimic her gesture, his hand pressing to his chest as if he could feel it too. For a short heartbeat, he glanced up at where she sat and their eyes met. It was like a last goodbye, a last shared moment, the acknowledgement that he felt the same but that that didn’t change anything.

There was no hope left for them, nothing they could do.

. o O o .

The realisation left her feeling hollow, even more so than the pain of the announcement and his words had before. There was nothing left for her. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to hope or to fight for. All that was left to her was a dull and empty future with a man she didn’t care for while always remembering what she’d lost, what could have been. It was a frightening thought, and for two days, it was all she could think about, making her tumble deeper and deeper into her misery, until Ruff put an end to it.

“This can’t go on,” she exclaimed when she spotted the plate of once more untouched tea and biscuits. “I get that you feel horrible and I’m sorry, I really am. But you’ve got to eat! You can’t let yourself waste away just because that boy turned your head and broke your heart. No matter how much you might despise this and how little I like to remind you about it, you’ve got responsibilities.”

Astrid snorted, the only reaction that gave away she’d listened at all with her standing by the window and looking out over Lake Vola’s calm surface. Responsibilities… Yes, that was all that was left to her. Fulfilling the expectations placed on her, marrying to keep the Kingdom stable and popping out children for her future husband until her body gave up. It wasn’t any different from what she’d been prepared for all her life, but where before she’d accepted the thought with a certain composure and even a hint of pride to fulfil this duty, it now only made her feel dreadful. But who knew… maybe she would be lucky; maybe she would end like so many other women and not survive such a life for long…

She flinched when, without a warning, a hand touched her shoulder. “Milady, you’ve got to move on,” Ruff said urgently. It could have come across as cruel and cold-hearted, but Astrid knew her maidservant well enough. Most of all, she was practical. “I know it’s not easy, but you have to. You have a few hours left before today’s hunting party returns and you’ll have to welcome them back; how about you try and get on other thoughts until then, take a break? You could visit your horse; Tuff can escort you there. Or the herb garden? Maybe there are a few plants that already grow, or you could clean it up for the warmer days?”

Swallowing, Astrid closed her eyes. Ruff was right, and she knew that. She couldn’t continue like this forever, like nothing but an empty shell. Eventually, she would have to go on, to get over him. A tiny voice in the back of her mind was screaming at her that this was wrong, that she shouldn’t have to get over him, that they were meant to be… But she ignored it and hoped that, one day, the voice would disappear. So far though, it only threatened to tear her apart – the logical knowledge that they had no chance against the denial still simmering beneath – and she wrapped her arms around herself in a fruitless attempt to keep herself together. Suddenly, seeking distraction sounded like an excellent idea.

“Okay,” she whispered weakly. A slight frown crossed her face as she thought about Ruff’s suggestions though. The idea of visiting Markor was alluring, but even with him now housed at the main stables, he was too tightly linked to all those wonderful memories she tried to forget, and she wasn’t sure whether she could stand being near him yet. No, that wasn’t an option, and visiting the herb garden wasn’t an appealing idea either; it would only remind her of these last few days at the dead royal gardens where she’d been offered like meat to a pack of wolves. But what else could she do?

Something like a small smile tugged at her lips as she remembered another option, another place she could go and hide from reality, from who she was, and where she got treated like a normal person.

“Is Tuff ready?” she asked in a quiet but somehow steadier voice. “I’d like to go visit Fishlegs.”

Ruff reacted with an approving grin. She even went so far as to pack the biscuits and other pastries to take with her, even though Astrid felt odd bringing food Heather might very well have prepared herself as a gift. However, she understood that Ruff’s main motivation was her hope that Astrid might still eat something, so she didn’t say anything, and not even half an hour later she knocked on the door to her friends’ house.

There were grunts and the shuffling of cloth audible, even through the door, but it still took over a minute before a tired looking Fishlegs opened her. When he recognised her though, his face brightened. “Astrid! Now, that’s a surprise. Uh, come in, come in.”

He stepped aside and waved her in, threw a wondering look at Tuff but shrugged and closed the door again when her warder made no attempts to come in as well and instead stayed with the chickens outside. He hurried around on his short legs to which he owed his nickname, and picked up boxes and other stuff to make room for her.

Astrid hesitantly took the seat he eventually offered to her and watched him with a worried expression. “Is everything all right? Is this a bad time for me to visit?” she asked, a little self-consciously. She’d looked forward to coming here once the plan was made, but hadn’t spared even a second to think about whether her friends even had time for her. But Fishlegs directly warded her concerns off with a smile and a shake of his head.

“No, no, don’t worry. We were just taking a nap, but it’s time to get up anyway.” As if to contradict himself, he yawned. “Uh, sorry. ‘s been a tough few days, but who am I telling this… Still, it’s good to see you. How are you doing?”

Warding his question off with a grimace and a shrug, she began to unpack the parcel of treats Ruff had given her. She hadn’t come here to dwell even more on her situation though, so she directly changed the subject. “And you?”

Fishlegs gave a little shrug, then longingly eyed the biscuits. “May I?” He reached for one when Astrid nudged the parcel toward him without a word, and ate it with obvious delight. “Mmh, that’s good. Not sure when I last ate anything.” He took another one, and only continued speaking once it was gone, too. “I’m okay. Tired. Overworked. Usually, I wouldn’t take a nap at this time of day, but Master Mulch insisted on it. He claimed that I’ve been on my feet for over thirty hours – and the fact that I don’t know whether that’s true is probably proof enough. But there’s just so much to do! It’s like these men are actually out on getting severely injured. More than one even asked whether he’d keep a ‘cool scar’ out of it.” He shook his head and helped himself to another pastry.

Or others are out to get them injured, she thought, grimacing as she again remembered Thuggory’s sneer. She shuddered, but ignored Fishlegs’ inquisitive look. “So, what kind of injuries do you have to treat? Mostly cuts, I assume?”

“Aye. Or that’s my job, at least, while Master Mulch treats the more urgent injuries,” he nodded, then intently looked at her. “Do you remember how to treat such a cut?”

Astrid chuckled, surprising herself with the sound. It felt odd, as if her being happy was some form of betrayal. But that was a stupid thought; Ruff had been right in insisting for her to get distracted would do her good. And she also was incredibly grateful for Fishlegs to catch up on her mood so quickly.

“I think so?” she replied to his question, focussing on what he’d taught her. “First, you have to clean the wound, with clear water or maybe strong alcohol. Then you put willow bark tincture on it, for disinfection and against the pain. Depending on how deep the cut is, you might need to sew it shut with a good needle. At last, you cover the wound with moss to soak up blood, put a tight-enough cast around it, and threaten the patient with your eternal wrath in case they don’t give the wound enough rest to heal properly,” she recited Fishlegs’ former lesson – even though the last bit was her own addition. It had the desired effect as it made him laugh and congratulate her on still remembering.

They chatted for a while longer, with Astrid feeling lighter by the minute, until Heather joined them. She looked even more tired than her husband had, and gracelessly slumped onto the bench next to him. At first, she eyed the pastries Astrid had brought with a slightly wrinkled nose, but then shrugged and picked one to nibble on.

“Hey, love. Had a good rest?” Fishlegs asked, then jumped up, startling Astrid. “Wait, I’ll make you a mug of that herbal tea. Astrid, what about you?”

“Sure, why not,” she replied with an amused smile, then turned her attention back to Heather. “Lots of work for you too, I guess?”

Again, Heather shrugged. “Yes, but it’s manageable, all in all. Mostly providing refreshments for those watching the tournament and preparing and preserving whatever them men bring from those hunts. It’s not like the crazy increase of work Justin has.”

Astrid raised an eyebrow at her, which made the other woman chuckle.

“Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking. I say that, but still, here I am, looking as if I’d been up for over three days straight.” She shook her head, a soft smile spreading over her face. “But I still say it’s not the work. I’m just kinda always tired lately. Maybe I’ve caught some bug, or so. It’ll pass.”

Before Astrid could reply anything, Fishlegs returned and placed a steaming mug in front of each. “So, here you go. But I’ve gotta leave you now. I’m sure we’ll get new patients once the hunting party returns, and I need to help Master Mulch prepare for that. Bye, Astrid. Was great to see you again.” He waved at her, bent to kiss Heather goodbye, and left.

Astrid reached for her mug, and hummed. She knew that the brew was too hot to drink it yet, but she could still enjoy the heat as part of the comfort around her, and she basked in it all, in this small sanctuary.

Until Heather brutally tore her back into reality.

“So, you’re getting married,” she stated.

It wasn’t a question, and when Astrid threw her a short baffled look before quickly averting her gaze she thought she detected a strange expression in Heather’s eyes. Pity, determination, and… satisfaction? But no, she certainly had imagined that last one, she thought and shook her head, chiding herself. She, too, was overly tired and exhausted, that was all. “Yes,” she breathed, the only answer she could think of. What else was she supposed to reply anyway? It wasn’t a secret, after all. Not anymore.

Heather watched her for a minute, quietly, and then sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding weirdly formal. “I remember what we talked about some while ago, and… Well, judging by how you haven’t openly proclaimed your love yet and your gloomy mood… I guess the one you had feelings for isn’t someone your father would approve of?”

Astrid pressed her lips shut, her hands around the mug tightening. This was not why she’d come here. She didn’t want to talk about this, about him, didn’t want to think. She wasn’t strong enough for that, not yet. “No, he’s not,” she mumbled weakly. “And-and it’s over anyway.” Saying it out loud, now that she knew it was true, hurt even more, and she hoped that Heather would drop the topic now. But apparently, she wasn’t that lucky.

“I see,” Heather sighed. “Well, again, I’m sorry for you. But this is part of what I meant, you know? When you asked me about how it feels to be in love and I told you to be careful? And it’s probably better this way anyway, that it’s over I mean.” She sighed again. “Gods, I sound heartless. I’d apologise, but what I wan– what I need to tell you won’t sound any better to you.”

Astrid wanted to make her stop talking, to order her if necessary, but she couldn’t find her voice. Unbiddenly, just thinking about him made images and memories flash through her mind, of his shining eyes when he smiled, of his touch when he cradled her cheek, of his warmth when he held her in his embrace. They flooded through her, leaving her powerless to rein them back in, and only Heather’s voice – even as it had caused this in the first place – was able to tear her out of it again.

“The thing is… I know that a marriage out of love is one of the best things that can happen to a person. But you are more than just an ordinary person! You aren’t just responsible for your own happiness, but also for that of your people. And even though I wouldn’t want to begrudge you a love match… I want to ask you to make a prudent choice. Please, think of your people.”

Astrid was trembling, but with the painful memories had also come the numbness of the last few days. As if her body and mind reacted on reflex, shutting down to ward off any harm. “What exactly are you asking of me?” she heard herself ask, her eyes on the little waves on the tea’s surface.

Heather gave a deep sigh. “I… I want to ask you to marry Dagur – or his horse-crazy boyfriend, if necessary. These two… with their impossible relationship and their refusal to marry and take responsibility, they’re a bigger threat to the Kingdom’s stability that those pathetic Malarians who can’t do anything but be an annoying pain at the border. Please, I-I’m begging you. It is within your power to separate them and end this selfish infatuation of theirs that so easily can turn half the Kingdom into chaos. Marry Dagur and give him an heir. It’s w-what the people need!”

There was a heavy silence once Heather stopped talking. To Astrid, it felt oppressive, like a thick blanket smothering everything; every sound, her thoughts, her movements, even the air to breathe. Only slowly, she managed to raise her head and to look at the other woman.

Heather was clearly afraid of having spoken her mind so openly. She was watching her with wide eyes, one hand over her mouth to cover it, the other wrapped around herself in something like a protective gesture. It was a funny sight, in a way. This woman, who had adamantly fought expectations and the people who had wanted to keep her in the place she’d been born into, was afraid of her, a powerless puppet who wasn’t even allowed to choose what she was wearing? It was ridiculous.

But Astrid felt too numb to laugh. Instead, she silently gazed at the woman who she’d thought of as a friend until now. “Thanks for the tea,” she eventually whispered, let go of the untouched mug, and rose to her feet to leave.

In passing, she heard Heather mumble another “I’m sorry!” but she wasn’t in a condition to accept the words.

Tuff looked up in surprise when she appeared next to him, but quickly caught on to her mood after he caught her expression. “Guess that didn’t go as Ruff hoped, eh? What a surprise… You wanna go back?”

Astrid nodded and mutely followed Tuff back to her chambers. And all the while, her head was spinning around what Heather had said.

How dare she? How dare she ask something like this of her? Essentially, it was the same thing the King had asked of her, the same he had suggested. But marrying Dagur – or Eret or Snotlout for that matter – that was insane! How could people even think of this option? It was ridiculous, and wrong, and simply impossible.

. o O o .

No matter how much Astrid tried to dismiss Heather’s suggestion as pure idiocy, the thought kept popping up in her mind at the weirdest of moments. Over and over, she mulled it over in her head, all the reasons why it was a stupid idea and could never work out. It was annoying – but she was still grateful for it. Thinking about this kept her mind occupied and prevented her from drowning in pain. At night, she was still helpless to the onslaught of memories, crying until she had no tears left, but at least during the day she was managing better now. And during dinner two days later, she was even able to pay attention to what happened around her again.

“Hey, Dag. Could you hand me the cheese plate?”

The question came from Snot next to her, and Astrid reacted without thinking as she reached for the plate that stood right in front of her and pushed it over to him.

“Uh… thanks, Astrid,” Snot grunted, clearly perplexed.

She gave him a nod and something like a small smile, then looked around into the astonished but smiling faces of her brothers. “What?” she asked, a little defensively. It wasn’t as if she usually was too proud to help either.

Eret’s smile softened a little. “Nothing. It’s just good to have you back.” She frowned, but he didn’t elaborate and she was grateful for that. She really hadn’t been here lately, had she?

With a low sigh, she reached for a bread roll and the cheese as well. She did it out of reflex, to not get scolded again for eating too little, and only after taking a first bite did she realise how hungry she actually was. Maybe Ruff had been right after all. Maybe it was time for her to accept the lot fate had dealt her and roll with it. As always, the thought came with a hidden, painful sting, but she refused to let it hit her, to even let the tiniest of thoughts about… about this topic reach her consciousness. She might be more composed now, but she certainly wasn’t strong enough for that. So when Eret addressed the older men at the other end of the table a minute later, she happily focused all her attention on their conversation.

“Uncle Spitelout? I know I’m asking this every night, but have you received any news from Daniel today?”

At that, Astrid looked up with real interest now. Whenever Spitelout was at the castle, he happily took over overseeing the royal pigeonry for the time being. She’d never understood his fascination with the birds, but then, everybody needed a hobby, she assumed. It made him happy and also meant that he was always informed about what kind of messages had left or reached the castle through the homing pigeons. And even with how twisted her thoughts about Daniel were these days, she was still eager to hear from him.

However, Spitelout, who’d just pushed his plate away with a clearly satisfied sigh, just gave a little grunt and shook his head. “Sorry, boy, but there still was no answer. The last time we heard from him was a week ago when he informed us that everything goes as planned.” He shrugged. “Beyond that, ‘No news are good news’. Besides, who knows whether your message has even reached him yet? My birds only fly to their nests in Westhill, after all, and from there a courier would have to be sent out to find him and deliver your message – and while we know where the Prince is supposed to be, itineraries in that region can be seen as little more than polite suggestions.”

“Looks like you’ll have to wait until he’s back, son,” Eret II added with an amused smile. “Just be a little patient, he’ll be back in two weeks anyway.”

Eret grunted, but didn’t ask anything else, and instead focused on his overly full plate.

Astrid had watched the short exchange with a bit of apparently obvious bewilderment, so Dagur, who seemed to have caught her puzzled look, now leaned over to explain in a low voice. “Eret sent a pigeon with a message to Westhill, a day or two after… well, after this whole mess started. I read a part of it and it was hilarious; a collection of not-very-nice insults and the repeated demand for what in the name of Hel’s pale tit Daniel had been thinking.” He shrugged, grinning. “To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if Daniel chose not to answer. I certainly wouldn’t. Either way, their next meeting is going to be fun. Chippy was fuming in the beginning, and I bet he’s still not entirely calmed down, though don’t ask me what exactly it was that had set him off like that. He didn’t even tell me.”

She threw a glance at Eret, and the tight grip with which he held his cutlery and the slightly troubled grimace on his face seemed to prove Dagur’s words true. It made her wonder. Sure, she didn’t have the most sisterly feelings for Daniel these days either; his knowing about this plan and not telling her felt like too much of a betrayal. But it made little sense for Eret to have the same reasons for his anger. She didn’t get the chance to further wonder about his behaviour though.

“I’ve got to agree, it’s good to have you back among the living,” came suddenly Snot’s voice from beside her, and when she turned to look at him, he had a wide grin on his face. “And since the kitchen provided us with this dish tonight... May I suggest you try this cold venison? It’s deer prepared after a recipe our chef in Westhill developed, and it is delicious.”

Perplexed, she watched as Snot placed a piece of the rosy meat onto her plate before she could even react. Then she grimaced, and shook her head. “No, thanks. No venison for me,” she mumbled. Snot couldn’t know her feelings there, of course. But she simply wasn’t able to eat any form of venison – or meat in general – lately. Not since her birthday.

“Snot, you really are an idiot, do you know that?” Dagur commented dryly as he reached over to pick the venison off her plate and devoured it whole. The sight made a small amused smile tug at her lips. Good manners weren’t exactly one of Dagur’s strong assets – and probably never would be.

Snot huffed, but didn’t further react to Dagur. Instead, he turned his attention back to Astrid and the cheese plate between them. “I’m sorry, how thoughtless of me. But… well, then how about this?” He cut off a piece of soft cheese with a greyish-yellow rind and held it out for her with a broad smile. “Father and I brought this on your father’s request; he liked it a lot the last time he visited Westhill. It has a rich and piney flavour that only develops when the cheese gets extra time to age.”

Hesitantly and with a slight frown, Astrid accepted the offered cheese, more out of reflex than of real interest. What was up with Snot? It wasn’t as if she didn’t know this behaviour from him; focussing all his attention on one person, being friendly and observant while more or less subtly advertising himself, his family, or his home. But so far, he’d never directed it at her! Was he actually flirting with her? He couldn’t be serious, could he? Surely, he had to be joking, overacting to throw it back into their fathers’ faces… right?

She looked at him, trying to detect something in his expression, a twitch of his lips maybe or an amused spark in his eyes. But there was nothing. Still trying to make sense of Snot’s behaviour, she took a bite of the cheese, but couldn’t help but grimace at the weirdly unctuous taste. “Urgh, sorry, but I think I’ll pass this one,” she said in as polite a tone as she could muster. She kind of appreciated Snot’s attention as it served as a good distraction, but it still left a strange aftertaste.

Hoping he would leave her be now, she wanted to reach for her glass of wine, but sighed when she found it empty.

“Here, let me get you a refill,” Snot directly prompted. He reached for one of the wine carafes at the end of the table, and before she could even blink her glass was filled again. “This one is another speciality we brought from Westhill, and if I remember correctly, you quite liked this one. ‘Rich-yet-not-overpowering berry fruit flavour surrounded with hints of cassis and cherry’ was your description, I think.”

Despite her annoyance at his renewed attention, Astrid couldn’t help but feel grateful, both for the wine and that he’d remembered. She tried a sip, and couldn’t help but hmm. The rich liquid tasted wonderful and made her relax almost instantly. Before she knew how, the glass was empty, and with a low, regretful sigh, she placed it back onto the table. She didn’t want to get drunk, couldn’t afford it, but the idea of getting rid of all her problems, if only for a few hours, was alluring. And the wine really did taste good.

So she didn’t object when Snot got her another refill, and didn’t even mind him directly diving into his next story about all the formidable vineyards they had in Westhill and how much more they could have.

With a resigned sigh, she settled on sipping her wine and tried to drone out his monologue. A part of her tried to reason that he certainly didn’t mean to annoy her into anger with his apparent flirting. Maybe she was just too over-sensitive and strained right now to detect the signs of joking.

Because he couldn’t be serious, right? He couldn’t be actually flirting with her. No matter what their fathers wanted, he was still her brother! But the longer the dinner lasted, the more plain his advances became and the more she wished to get away from him. Snot, like all of her brothers, had always been a source of comfort to her, but tonight she felt the opposite.

His behaviour reminded her of the impossible implication of her marrying one of them. Although, at least Snot didn’t seem to think it impossible, even though the thought made her shudder. Marrying one of her brothers… that was completely insane!

Wasn’t it?

. o O o .

Right...Yeah, it still feels like not much has happened in this chapter, but it's actually been a lot, I think. Many little things, development, preparation...Sorry if it sucks...

And I promise this is still very much a Hiccstrid story!

*jumps back into hiding*

Next chapter

#For The Love Of A Princess #FTLOAP #hiccstrid #hiccstrid fanfiction #hiccstrid angst #romance #Royalty AU #hiccstrid royal au #medieval au #Hiccstrid Medieval AU #httyd #Hiccup and Astrid

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 23)

Word Count: 1793

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

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

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

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

The following morning, Spencer was holding you, a sensation you never thought you’d feel ever again. The two of you were wide awake, staring at the ceiling, not speaking. You’d been awake for about twenty minutes. You weren’t sure what he was going to say, or do, so you just enjoyed this moment with him. You weren’t positive that Spence wouldn’t suddenly change his mind.

“So… what made you change your mind? I mean, when you realized it was Dexter. At some point you went from turning him in, to letting him go, to studying him, to actually wanting to do what he does. How did that happen?” he asked evenly, a bit of confusion in his voice.

You frowned, thinking, chewing your lip. “It actually happened pretty fast. I had an instinct that it was him when I interviewed him. I sort of honed in on him, and a lot of things lined up. I could’ve probably gotten more evidence if I asked for a warrant and involved Garcia, but the evidence I had was enough for me. I was going to call in for a warrant, but suddenly I thought of Rochester, and I just wanted to talk to Dexter. Then, when I realized I wanted to talk to him, I knew I’d have to let him go, but I don’t know… Some part of me wanted to… help I guess, to be like him. Not the unfeeling killer part, but the fact that he was getting away with killing some of these evil pieces of shit - that, that’s what I wanted to be apart of.”

He didn’t say anything for about one minute then he asked, “Who was your first victim?”

“Well, that’s hard to say.”

“How so?”

“Well, Dexter wanted me to kill one of his, to get a feel for it. Basically kill someone that he was going to kill anyway. He let me feel what it was like.”

“And how did it feel?” he asked. You could hear the concern in his voice. Was he wanting to know if you were still in there, his caring and loving wife? Or had you devolved into something that the two of you usually hunted?

“It felt.... Satisfying. Honestly, it felt okay. Not great, not exhilarating. Criminals like this guy were Dexter’s thing. My first victim, the one I picked, was this guy who ran an awful dog fighting ring. Killing him was very satisfying.”

“Was it… easy for you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, very little humor in the sound. “No, I actually froze a few times. It was really hard. I started to panic and Dexter had to remind me why I was there. I knew if I didn’t do it, he’d have to. But I wanted to do it. Even if it was one person that wasn’t hurting something as innocent as some dogs, then it was worth whatever psychological strain I might’ve faced.”

“And did you? Did you ever feel guilty?”

“No,” you said without hesitation. “No, I don’t see any reason for fuckers like that to go on living.”

“That… makes sense,” he commented.

“Really? You aren’t worried I’m the next Dahmer?”

“No, not at all.” He turned and kissed your head and you smiled. “I know you care deeply about innocent lives, I just never knew it was enough to kill someone who threatens that. But… it makes sense.”

“Thank you, Spence.”

“Were things ever… romantic between you and Dexter?” he asked, a bit of worry lacing his voice.

You rolled to face him as you sat up on your elbow. “No, absolutely not.”

“Never? You never kissed or thought anything about him?” he inquired, pressing the issue.

“No,” you informed with a soft smile, trying to reassure him.

“Ah, good,” he said, his gaze seeming to leave the room.

“Hey, were you actually worried about that?”

“Somewhat. The chances of a female-male serial killer team and not forming some form of sexual interaction is rather statistically low.”

The corner of your mouth perked up. “Well, as much as your stats help the team, and as much as I love all the knowledge in your head, this time, your information is wrong.”

He nodded slightly. “Not to mention the fact that you became distant… I thought maybe I was losing you to him.”

“Absolutely not… Dexter and I are… we’re friends, that’s all. It started out as FBI agent talking to a serial killer, then it went to student - mentor, then we went to friends, somehow. I don’t really know how or when it happened…”

To this, he nodded again.

“To be honest, I slightly wondered the same,” you confessed, nervously toying with your hands as you cast your eyes down.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when you found out about me, I was worried that maybe you… well, that you’d go to JJ…”

He peered at you for a moment before saying, “Y/N, no matter what happens between us, I won’t want JJ. I don’t see her that way, and even if I ever did, her behavior surrounding this whole situation would’ve deterred me from ever wanting her like that.”

All you did was nod.

“So we can put this behind us?” you asked.

“That’s all we can do,” he remarked.

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

You were back at work, Spencer by your side, the team welcoming you back lovingly. Well, all except JJ, which was to be expected. Once you got settled into your desk, you went to the bathroom and when you came out of the stall, JJ was standing in the bathroom, her hands on her hips. Her jaw was set.

She was angry with you. Not pissed. But angry.

Inter-team profiling went out the window when she confessed she had feelings for a married man, your man.

“You told Will that I love Spence?” she demanded, clearly distraught.

“I did,” you answered evenly as you washed your hands. “He had a right to know.”

“This is none of your business. You don’t get to tell my husband things I tell Spencer in confidence.”

You shook your hands of water as you looked at her with annoyance.

After you walked around her to grab some paper towels, you spoke. “JJ, Spence told me, it's no longer a secret. It didn't feel right for the three of us to be in the loop but your husband to be left out about you loving another man."

She made a face of utter befuddlement and irritation. "Well you're one to talk, what about you and Dexter, huh? I saw the way you two were. There's no way you weren't having an affair.”

You let go of the paper towels and got so close to her face you could feel her breath. She didn’t back down or flinch, you had to give her that. "You have no idea what you're talking about. Maybe if you stopped scamming on peoples' husbands, you could see what's actually going on around you."

Suddenly, the door opened and you two turned to see who it was. Emily.

She eyed you two before letting out a sigh. “In my office, now.”

The two of you looked at each other before following her. You went to her office and just a few seconds later, she came in with Spencer.

“Alright, I want to know what’s going on, and I want to know right now. We aren’t leaving this room until this is resolved,” she ordered, looking at each of you.

No one said anything.

“Are we going to be adults about this or am I going to have to threaten a suspension for all three of you if you don’t speak up?” she asked.

“JJ told me a while ago that she has romantic feelings for me. That’s why I asked to be placed on separate assignments. I told Y/N and Y/N told Will,” Spencer explained.

“And in the bathroom, what was that I saw?” Emily asked.

“She confronted me on telling her husband behind her back. She then accused me of having an affair with a friend of mine,” you explained.

Emily shook her head and let out a noise of disbelief. “JJ, is this all true?”

She wrung her hands but eventually nodded and cleared her throat. “Yes. I do have feelings for Spencer and I kept quiet for years but then we were forced to play truth or dare and I told him.”

“Then you harassed Y/N, on her first day back?”

“I wouldn’t say I harassed her,” she said, scoffing lightly. “I asked her if she told my husband something private.”

“It’s not my place to get into marriages,” Emily stated, her hands going in the air. “I can’t tell any of you to talk, not talk, yell, or scream at each other. This is between you four. I can’t condone any ill will towards anyone and what you all decide is amongst yourselves. But I do have a say in how this team is ran and when it’s having issues, I have to take action.” She pressed her lips together before speaking again. “JJ, I think it’s best you take a leave of absence.”

“What? Why? I didn’t do anything.”

Emily held her hand up to keep her from speaking further. “I can make it a full suspension if you’d like. I just thought you might like it to be on your terms. Seeing as Spencer and Y/N are married, and your confession is what is making a division in the unit, I think it’s best if you go and sort things out with your husband and your personal matters before you return.”

“This is ridiculous. I can still do my job--”

“Apparently not. Y/N goes to the restroom on her first day back and you follow her to the bathroom for a confrontation. I understand you all need to talk, but it can’t be done on the government’s time. I recommend two weeks and you all can sort your personal matters out then.”

“So, I’m just--”

“On a leave of absence. We will tell the team that you have family matters to attend to and that’s all that we know,” she offered. “As I said, it’s either that or a suspension.”

“I don’t believe this. Fine.” She got up and stormed out.

Emily turned to you two. “I’m sorry for all this. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. Any of you. This is hard. I hope the time apart helps though.”

“It does, thank you for being so understanding, Emily.” You got up and took her hand, smiling at her before grinning to Spencer and returning to your desk.

Maybe now you could rest at work without her breathing down your neck.

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

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#inside the criminal mind #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #dexter #dexter morgan #dexter fic

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