#morgan deserves a sister

[all-that-glitters-is-goldfish]

Dancing Helaena for you :)

Look at my sweet girl :’)

[cancerian-woman]

📓 What's your favorite plot you're working on now. 📔 Also, I know you adore Bonnie, so I was wondering, do you plan on expanding or adding more Bennett family members?

Right now my favorite plotline to work with would be dear little witch. Outlining what could’ve happened during Bonnie’s travels & life post-season 8.

As for writing Bonnie more family members. I always love doing that regardless of the fic. In another au in my docs. She has an aunt which further explains Abby’s abandonment there. In love lies I gave her a little cousin. The Bennett line is so interesting to create for and the motivation comes from how limited that line is in canon.

[benevolentbones]

Hi ✨️✨️

Emily's sister likes Reid and flirts with him a lot before asking him out and he's all shy.

your type | spencer reid x prentiss!reader

warnings: none really, alcohol consumption, flirting

word count: 1.7k

a/n: hi!! hope you enjoy nervous spencer :) love him. reblogs and comments appreciated <3

half team were sitting around the office, finishing off the last of their paperwork for the night, it was a friday night and a certain member of the team was growing bored of filing away the never ending pile of reports. hotch, jj and gideon had already left for the night, leaving the rest of the team to finish off the workload.

emily leaned back in her desk chair, her red long sleeve shirt complimenting her complexion as she tucked her dark locks behind her ears.

“it’s friday night- we should go out and do something fun. lets go to a bar.” emily spoke, interrupting the sound of keyboards clacking and paper shuffling.

“i agree, let’s get out of here.” derek grinned, standing up from his seated position to have a well deserved stretch, his shoulder making a popping sound as he did so.

“reid, you in?”

spencer adjusted his posture at the sound of his name, his head turning towards his colleagues.

“i don’t know guys- i kind of wanted to read ‘the history of torture’ by george riley scott.” he responded, scratching the back of his head.

“the history of torture? on a friday night?” derek shot spencer a confused expression.

“just a bit of light reading.” spencer shrugged.

“nope, i want you guys to meet my sister, she’s a bartender at this new place down the road. it’ll be fun.” emily stood up, grabbing her bag that sat under her desk.

“but-“

“you can read tomorrow, right now it’s time for you to socialise. morgan text garcia, let’s go.”

spencer found himself sitting in the backseat of emily’s car as she drove downtown, derek sat in the front. penelope had replied saying she would meet everyone there.

“i don’t see why the child locks were necessary.” spencer mumbled, pulling on the inside door handle.

“shh. we’re almost here.” emily pulled up next to bar, there was a group of people standing outside cigarettes resting between their index and middle fingers. clouds of smoke plumed into the night sky, through the hazy air a neon sign read ‘the wine seller’.

emily unlocked the car, stepping out and strutting her way to the entrance, derek and spencer following close behind. in the midst of all the smoke stood garcia, her blonde hair tied in space buns with a blue polkadot dress adorning her form.

“are we ready to party!” she exclaimed, clearly she had already had a drink or two.

everyone stumbled into the bar, immediately a wave of noise washed over them. i’m the centre of it all, people were dancing on each other flashing lights casting rays of colour over their sweaty bodies.

“is your sister cute?” derek questioned emily over the loud music.

she rolled her eyes in response. “you could say that.”

“what’s her type?” he grinned, scanning the bar.

“oh you’ll see.” emily chuckled.

spencer rolled his shoulders nervously, trailing behind emily who was making a b line for the bar. she called out to a girl who was facing the shelves full of liquor.

“y/n!”

you whipped your head around to see where the voice had come from, a grin immediately forming when you saw your older sister stood at the bar.

“emily! finally made it out of the office i see.” you chuckled, grabbing a bottle of vodka from the shelf and pouring it into a shot glass for the man that stood at the bar. he nodded as a thank you and made his way back to the dance floor.

“it’s busy in here wow.” emily muttered, eyes scanning the room as she rested her hands on the bar counter.

“mhm i sure know how to bring in a crowd, what can i get for you and… you lot?” you peered around at the three people behind you. penelope rushed to emily’s side giving you a big smile.

“oh right, this is penelope, derek and spencer, from the bau.” you gave everyone a small smile, your eyes lingering on the taller hazel eyed man who stood awkwardly behind emily.

“i’ll take a pink gin and lemonade.” she shouted over the music, you nodded with a smile and reached for the gin.

derek strolled over to the counter, eyeing you as you picked up a gin glass.

“i’ll just have a whiskey.” he shot you a grin which you returned.

“make that two.” emily added, rooting in her bag for her wallet.

you made the drinks and laid them out along the counter for the team to take.

“and for the cutie in the back?” your voice travelled to spencer who seemed caught off guard by your comment.

“uh- me? uh i’ll have i uh- vodka soda.” he stuttered out, heat rising to his face.

“whatever you want sweetheart.” you shot him a wink and began to make his drink.

emily turned her focus to derek who was sipping at his drink.

“i see why you wanted to bring reid here so bad.” he laughed, and then dragged garcia to the dance floor.

“y/n what time do you get off, will you have a drink with us?” emily asked, taking a gulp of her drink immediately feeling the alcohol’s warmth spread through her body.

“twenty minutes em, then i’m all yours.”

“come find me later!” your older sister yelled out, disappearing into a crowd of warm bodies.

you served up spencer’s drink, passing it to him. he tucked his hair behind his ear before reaching for his wallet to pay.

“don’t worry, it’s on me.” you shot him a charming smile which he returned.

“t-thanks y/n.” he reached for the drink, taking a small sip, before taking a seat at the bar. you raised your eyebrow slightly in surprise, not expecting him to take a seat.

you could tell he was very much out of his element, that everyone had just come from the office. he wore a white striped button up shirt paired with a pair of suit trousers, his tie hung loose around his neck. his big eyes wandered around the room before falling back on you, you had already moved on to making cocktails for a bridal party to his left.

spencer studied your form, your quick movements and ability to multitask in such a busy environment impressed him. you wore a tight black tank top along with a black miniskirt the ended just above your mid thigh, and a small black apron was tied around your waist.

he couldn’t help but stare at your figure as you rushed around the bar, your form fitting clothing showing off every curve to your body, in all honestly he was infatuated.

finally the rush had died down and you were making your way back to your side of the bar to polish more glasses, you noticed spencer’s intense gaze on you and smiled to yourself.

“you like what you see, dr.reid?” you questioned, poking fun.

he immediately pulled his fixed look from your body and up to your eyes.

“i- uh sorry.” he nervously sipped at his drink, feeling embarrassed.

“don’t be, you’re pretty cute yourself.” you shot him a small wink and he felt his face flush.

“so spencer, how are you liking working at the bau?” you quizzed, carrying a stack of glasses to the shelf behind you.

“uh- it’s good, i like that i can help people.” he muttered out a vague answer, which he followed with a question.

“a-and do you like being a bartender?”

you shrugged, wandering back to stand in front of spencer.

“it’s just a part time job, i’m studying criminal psychology right now in college, im in my third year.” this got his attention, he straightened his posture, taking another sip of his drink.

“oh really? that’s so interesting- what do you plan on doing after?” he seemed less anxious now.

“i’m not really sure, might do a masters- it was emily’s suggestion.” you let out a small laugh, spencer longed to hear you laugh more.

“i take it this isn’t really your vibe?” you stated, looking around the bar at people making out and dancing, spencer followed your stare. emily and penelope were in the middle of the dance floor cheering derek on who had now taken his shirt off and was swinging it above his head.

“uh- no not really, i didn’t really plan on coming here tonight, but prentiss- your sister, she kind of child locked me in her car.” he mumbled out, an awkward laugh leaving his mouth.

you pinched your eyebrows, shaking your head and letting out a joking sigh. “she’s trying to set me up.”

“set you up?” he repeated what you had said.

your face warmed as you began to speak, “i broke up with my ex over a year ago and was recently complaining about how i can never meet any decent guys at the bar, because- i mean look.” you gestured to a corner where a group of frat bros were downing their beers.

“and em said she knew someone who would be great for me.” you eyes landing back on spencer.

“you mean me?” he pointed to himself, still somewhat confused.

you nodded. “i mean she managed to guess my type exactly, can’t blame her there.” you now gestured to spencer, his face burning a dark crimson, and it wasn’t the alcohol’s fault.

“i mean i hope you’re single- and i’m not just aimlessly flirting with a taken man. that would be a little embarrassing..” you trailed off, rubbing the nape of your neck, your tank top lifted slightly revealing your midriff.

“i- i yeah i’m single.” spencer couldn’t quite grasp the fact you were flirting with him, on purpose. he honestly thought someone like you would either be in a relationship or have a line of much more attractive men just waiting to take you out.

you smiled at his flustered state, you thought he was adorable.

“well then, dr.reid, would you like to go on a date with me sometime? maybe a café or the park, somewhere not as chaotic as this?” you questioned, you were pretty confident in yourself, which was something that ran in your family.

“yeah…i would like that, a lot.” he smiled at you, you quickly jotted down your number on a piece of paper, passing it to spencer.

your eyes flickered to the watch on your wrist, a smile spreading across your face.

“time for me to clock out, darlin. i’ll be right back.” and with that you skipped off into the back of the bar to grab your things, your heart beating twice as quick.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid

[happy74827]

A New Moon

[Dexter Morgan x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite his gut telling him he shouldn’t, Dexter can’t help but fall deeper into the trap of his own emotions. And the more time he spends with you, the more he starts to realize what exactly those emotions are. {GIF Creds: beautifulguycollector}

WC: 2889

Category: Slight Lime/Spice, Friends to Lovers + Forbidden Love (if you squint) Tropes

Gotta keep this fandom alive somehow 🥲 (also… why are titles so hard to write? That and the synopsis are harder to write than the actual fic)

『••✎••』

You were too good for him. Plain and simple. You were a smart, beautiful, hard-working woman who had goals and dreams. He was a cold-blooded killer. Not to say that he hadn't been there for you, though. The two of you had been friends since… well, a while. A long while.

He couldn't quite pinpoint the moment he started to notice the changes in your relationship. It was a slow, subtle buildup, and the first time you called him your friend, Dexter thought nothing of it. The second time, it made him pause, but not enough for him to consider what the implications of you saying that to him could mean.

But when you said it again and again and again, he realized the meaning behind your words, the affection they held. Dexter couldn't say that he was particularly close to many people. There were a select few he'd consider his friends, but he wasn’t emotionally invested in any of them. And he didn't think he was invested in you, either.

But maybe he was.

Debs was different, and it made him question how much he was supposed to care about someone. But that was his sister, the one person in the world who loved him unconditionally. That reason alone made his relationship with Deb unique. He was sure of that.

The same went with Brian—his brother, as it turned out. And Harrison, his son. Dexter felt things for those people, but they were different. Those were family, the people he was genetically tied to. Of course, he would care about them.

But you weren't family, and yet he still cared about you. It was a different kind of caring. And it was confusing. Dexter had convinced himself for years that he was a high-functioning sociopath, but lately…

Lately, he was beginning to question if that was true. Simple glances from you could bring an unwelcome smile to his lips. And when he heard the sound of your voice, he could feel his chest getting warm. It was a nice feeling, something he'd only experienced briefly with Rita, but then, that relationship was different too.

It was hard to put his finger on it, but being with you was just… easy. And it didn't feel like work. There was no pretending. Dexter didn't have to act when he was around you. He didn't need to try to be someone he wasn't. It was the real him.

It was terrifying.

Because now, as he sat on your couch, watching as you moved gracefully around your small apartment, the feeling was back, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

He should have been home with Harrison, but the little boy was staying over at Debra’s tonight, so he didn't have any responsibilities. The passenger within him didn’t see it as a problem either, considering he’d just recently “disposed" his latest target.

It was nice, Dexter decided, to relax every once in a while. Work and family didn't give him a lot of opportunities to do so, and now that the two were temporarily taken care of, he felt he deserved to be lazy for a bit.

You didn’t have a TV in your living room, so the two of you settled for movies. Dexter didn’t really have a preference for them. He could watch a comedy, action, drama, or horror and not feel strongly for or against any of them.

Apparently, you didn't mind what he watched either because he could see the spark of excitement in your eyes when you pulled out the case for one of the worst comedy films Dexter had ever seen.

He'd seen it before. Not with you, one of the movies Vince shoved down his throat when he planned a night out with him, Angel, and Quinn.

It wasn't his favorite, not by a long shot, but the grin on your face and the way you eagerly skipped to the DVD player, set the disk inside, and closed the hatch made him bite his tongue.

Dexter had learned a long time ago that you were a very expressive person. And even though most of the time your feelings weren't displayed on your face, your eyes told another story. Such opposites to his own, Dexter often found himself fascinated by the light they held.

You had a passion for life that was rare, and it drew him in. It was a quality he lacked, and he could see it in everything you did. Whether it was talking about the newest book you read or making coffee, you put all of yourself into your actions.

It was something that Dexter had never understood. How could you have such a strong sense of self? Didn't it get tiring, having to live up to a standard of being so… so good?

But then again, you'd always been better than him. He might’ve been smarter in some regards, but what was intelligence if it didn't come from a place of morality? You were better, purer than him. He knew it, and everyone else did, too, even if they weren’t aware of how pure he wasn’t

That's why this was so wrong. This thing that had been going on for the past couple of months between the two of you. The subtle touches, the longing stares, the late-night calls. It was all wrong.

You were similar to Rita in some ways. You were kind and compassionate, always looking for the good in others. You had a knack for taking care of people, whether they needed it or not.

Dexter could tell that was your nature, and it was one of the things that initially attracted him to you. All the things he lacked, you had. But that didn't mean that you could replace Rita. He didn’t want you to.

And that was the difference. While he may have found qualities in you that resembled the ones he'd found in Rita, you were not her. Rita was gone, and it was his fault. She didn’t deserve to die, and yet she did. She deserved to grow old, to see Harrison grow up.

She deserved better.

The same went for you. You didn’t deserve a monster like him. The more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that he should stay away. It was for the best of both of you.

And yet he was here. On your couch, watching a shitty movie and drinking the beer you'd offered him. Because, despite his efforts, he couldn't keep his distance from you.

He should've known. When it came to you, Dexter didn't have a choice.

His gaze drifted over to your form as you sat down beside him. You were smiling, your eyes bright and focused on the television. A lock of hair fell across your face, and you pushed it back, the sleeve of your hoodie falling down slightly.

Dexter had never been so tempted to reach out and touch someone in his life.

It was a feeling that had been creeping up on him the last few weeks, and now, sitting with you, watching a bad movie, it was at an all-time high. He'd never craved intimacy. But there was something about you, a pull that he couldn't deny.

It gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. Reminded him of that need with Lila. God, Lila. What a mess that had turned out to be. Another thing to add to his growing list of mistakes.

And yet, the longer he stared, the more he found himself leaning forward. He didn’t register what he was doing until his lips were a hair width away from yours.

You froze but didn't move away. The only indication that you were startled was the widening of your eyes. They bored into his, unflinching. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He was scared. Scared? Yes. That was what he was feeling. Why? He didn't know. Fear was new. It was a feeling reserved for Deb and sometimes his son, but even then, it was different.

But as Dexter gazed at you, so close and so beautiful, the fear melted away. It was replaced by a warmth that he was quickly becoming familiar with. It made his body thrum and his blood rush. It made him feel alive.

You were the first one to make a move. Well, not really a move, just the smallest shift forward, and then you were breathing the same air as him. You weren't kissing. You were just… waiting. Waiting for him to make the final move.

It was like an unspoken rule between the two of you, the power dynamic. He was the dominant one, and you were the submissive. You had never fought against it. You were a people pleaser, and he knew that.

It was one of the reasons he knew this was wrong. Because he couldn't stop, and you would never ask him to. Even now, as he hesitated, you waited patiently. You trusted him.

Why did you have to trust him? Why couldn't you be more selfish, more like him?

But deep down, Dexter knew that it wasn't your nature. You couldn't change, not any more than he could.

So, after another agonizing second, he closed the distance between you.

It was gentle, the way his lips pressed against yours. A stark contrast to the usual forcefulness he applied when taking his victims. No, with you, he was careful. Almost timid.

Your lips were soft and smooth, and the kiss was sweet. Nothing more than a simple caress. Dexter didn’t expect the tingling sensation it would cause, but the slight brush of your mouth sent shivers down his spine.

The kiss was short and chaste, but it was enough to leave him feeling dizzy. The heat spread through him, from the tips of his toes all the way to his cheeks.

Dexter pulled back, and you stared at him. His breath hitched in his throat at the look in your eyes. There was something there, something that mirrored his own emotions.

Was it possible? Was he really capable of such intense emotion?

Maybe he was.

You didn’t move. It was like time had stopped, and the only sound that could be heard was his own uneven breathing. That, and the movie playing in the background, which was forgotten as soon as your lips touched.

The urge to reach out and grab you was there. He could feel the need deep in his bones, in his soul. But instead, Dexter sat, staring. Staring into the eyes of the woman who had somehow managed to break down all the walls he'd spent his life building.

You didn't speak. There was nothing to say. No words could describe the feelings that had surfaced between the two of you. So, instead, you smiled. A simple, beautiful smile that had him feeling weak.

He could have stayed there forever, just looking at you, taking in the beauty that was you. It was a new experience for him, and it was nice.

“Debra is going to be pissed," you finally said, breaking the silence. “I’ll be bullied into telling her every detail."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then, his lips curled up in amusement. It was true. Eventually, she’ll figure it out. Maybe she already knew but was waiting for confirmation. Debra was good at figuring out things, even if it wasn’t the most obvious answer.

His sister was good at a lot of things, like being a detective. And, apparently, being an interfering matchmaking nuisance.

At least she wouldn’t call you the things she called Lila.

The thought made him chuckle, and you looked at him in confusion, but it would have to stay a mystery to you. For what was life without a few private jokes between siblings, right?

You didn’t press for answers, though. You did what you’ve always done and waited for him—waited for him as if it was his turn in Chess.

And he did the only thing he could think to do. He kissed you again. And again. And again. And again. Until he had you pinned beneath him, your arms around his neck, and your breath coming out in heavy gasps.

The kisses were still innocent, just as you were. But he could feel the passion behind them, the hunger. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that. It had been a long, long time.

But the longer he kissed you, the more the heat grew, and soon, he was lost in the sensation. Your hands found their way into his hair, and you tugged at the strands. His heart was racing, and the sound of his own ragged breathing filled his ears.

It was exhilarating.

Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside, and the innocence was gone. Replaced by a desire that left him trembling. The feeling of your tongue against his, the taste of you on his lips, the smell of your shampoo mixed with your unique scent—it was all intoxicating.

The movie continued to play in the background, forgotten as you pulled him closer. The warmth in his chest intensified, and Dexter didn't fight it. Instead, he embraced it. He gave in to his emotions and let himself feel.

He didn’t go too far; he knew you weren't ready for that yet. The craving was there, and it was strong, but the moment wasn’t right. Instead, he satisfied himself by touching your skin, mapping out every inch of it, memorizing the way it felt under his fingertips.

And, when you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, he held onto you, refusing to let go. His eyes searched yours, searching for something. Anything. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but whatever it was, he didn’t find it.

He mostly saw fear, anger, and some regret when he had them pinned down beneath him. Of course, that was usually the case with his victims. Fear, anger, and regret were normal emotions—a reaction to being trapped by their own demise.

Having someone look up at him with emotions on the other side of the spectrum was different. Not a bad different, just... different.

Rita had been the first to look at him like that. Lumen did, too, once upon a time. And Lila, well, her emotions were never consistent.

But you? You looked up at him with an expression that was all too familiar and yet not quite the same. Your eyes were full of affection and desire, yes. But they were also filled with something else. Something he couldn't place.

Something he couldn’t understand.

"Dex,” your voice was so soft, a whisper. He almost didn’t hear it, and yet, he felt it. He felt the way his name rolled off your tongue, and it was like music to his ears.

"Yeah?" he whispered back. He didn’t know why he did that; it wasn't like the two of you were speaking in a library or something. Maybe it was the way the light danced in your eyes, the way the colors reflected off the white walls, casting an ethereal glow.

"I didn’t expect you to be… like this," you murmured. You ran a finger over his cheek, down to his jawline. He swallowed thickly. He could feel his pulse quicken.

"Like what?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Not bad," you replied. Your lips curved up, and his eyes were drawn to them. They were red and swollen from kissing, and it was such a contrast to the pale skin of your face.

"You think I'm not bad?" he said, raising his brows. "I'm flattered."

You shook your head. "You know what I mean," you said. "I just meant that you're different than how you come off. I didn’t think you'd be so... bold.”

He snorted.

Bold.

If you only knew.

"I guess I'm full of surprises," he said, smirking. You rolled your eyes and punched him lightly in the shoulder, only for him to catch it and press a kiss to the back of your hand. It was something he picked up from a movie once, and it seemed to be a pretty romantic gesture. And by the look on your face, it seemed to be appreciated.

You didn't say anything else. You didn't have to. There was nothing else to say. The two of you simply enjoyed each other's company, content to just be together. The movie might've been a failure, but the night wasn’t.

And when Dexter finally left, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Not the type of relief he felt after a successful kill, but the type of relief one feels after a burden is lifted off their shoulders. The type of relief one gets when they are finally honest with themselves.

Rita was gone. Lumen was gone. And although his guilt and shame were still there, his self-loathing and fear were slowly starting to fade away. It wasn't gone, it was never going to be, but it was a start.

A fresh start.

A new beginning.

A new moon.

Yes, tonight was the night that changed everything. Tonight, Dexter Morgan learned that maybe he was more than the monster he thought he was.

[self-made-cages]

Oh JOY apparently now all of my targeted ads online will be for this bloody bridesmaid dress site, so I can be reminded every 5 minutes of my shame and anxiety about this stupid wedding.

[luciantapes]

The forgotten child

Pairing's : fem! reader x peter parker, tony stark daughter! x tony stark, tony stark daughter! x peter parker

Warnings: really sad angst, jealousy, daddy issues, neglect, lmk if i missed anything! :)

Summary: dad of the year award? surely isn't going too him

a/n : I know the gif doesn't really match the theme of this story I just really liked it. I did not reread this so please ignore any grammar mistakes. Also, I'm not sure if i wrote a panic attack correctly but I wrote based on what their like for me. hope you all enjoy!

you really tried not to become the forgotten child, always tried you're very hardest to live up to your father expectations, trying to make him proud in hope's he'd show some form of attention.

always studying to get straight a's even through countless anxiety attacks from fear of failing and disappointing your father.

all you ever wanted was reassurance, and if you ever got lucky enough a "You did a good job" after getting a high score on a test.

but it never came, it would forever be something you longed to hear. he would usually just mumble a small, quiet "congrats" as his mind stayed focused on his work and his eyes stuck to the blueprint laid out on the table Infront of him.

you always tried you're best not to feel jealous whenever your father held morgan, you had no ressentiment towards morgan whatsoever, in fact she was the one that kept you smiling most days. although you couldn't help but feel your heart tighten from jealousy as you watched them have daddy daughter time

you really did try you're best to be happy for your younger sister, but you couldn't ignore that aching feeling. all you wanted was the attention she had that your heart ached so desperately for, but it never came despite your countless attempts.

you we're astound to hear a new avenger had been recruited, you always enjoyed meeting new people. mainly because they gave you attention they didn't even know you craved.

you always seeked to see the best in people, no matter what the circumstances we're. including peter parker, there was nothing wrong with him, he wasn't a bad person in fact quite a good one, and if you weren't so envious of him you possibly could have been friends with the boy. but you watched how peter and your father clicked so easily becoming like father and son.

it made the knots in your stomach tighten as you watched them spend time together, it made you feel as if something was wrong with you, like maybe if you tried harder or changed, he'd give you the attention you deserved.

your mother, pepper always said he loved you just as much as he loved morgan or even peter, but you knew the truth as much as you ignored it you knew. but oh, how you wish he did.

"Mom, I'm home" you called out knowing if father was home, he wouldn't answer you. after not receiving an answer, you decided to look through the house in search of your mother, after a couple of minutes searching you still hadn't found her and decided she probably went out and took morgan with her. you heard talking but it sounded like your father, and peter?? "what's peter doing here?" you wondered. you decided to peak you're head through the door and saw peter and tony standing with their backs faced away from you, working on some upgrades for peter's suit.

"you're a pretty great kid peter" tony told him as he smiled at him patting his shoulder. a wave of jealously hit your chest as you watched them, your throat tightening. "Thank you, Mr. stark," peter smiled cheekily as your fingers clenched into a fist at your side.

"Becoming like my son."

once those words left Tony's lips, your mouth went dry, your head aching as you backed away from the door as quietly as possible, you're breathing picking up rapidly. you quickly made your way to your room, tears forming in your eyes, you walked into your room and shut the door softly as your hands started shaking as you paced around your room quickly, trying to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. you never liked crying, it made you feel weak.

you're breathing came out in heavy gasp as you struggled to breathe. you leaned against the wall coughing as you squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop the words from replaying in your mind.

"Becoming like my son" continuously echoed through your head as soft sobs left your lips, you didn't want to feel this way, envious of what your father and peter had. it's not peter's fault about what your father feels about you so why hold him accountable. he'll never love you, at least not like he loves peter. you can't figure out why? you always tried you're best to impress him, but nothing seemed to be enough for him, it's like he didn't even care about your existence.

you stumbled over to your bed, taking deep breathes as your body grew exhausted from crying. you plopped down on your bed tiredly as you snuggled up against your blanket that was where your pillows we're supposed to be, you grabbed a pillow and hugged it too sleep.

you didn't want to put the blame on peter because it wasn't his fault, but a little piece of your heart blamed peter parker.

a/n: CLIFFHANGER!?!? I decided to leave it for now because I haven't come up with an ending that I thought fit the way I wanted so if you guys have ideas, please let me know. reblog's are highly appreciated, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[bugs013]

“You stayed?”

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Not my pics

Warnings- basic criminal minds violence, blood, hospitalization, nightmares, mentions of suicide, mentions of making out, use of ‘Y/N’ but only a few times, i don’t think any pronouns were used but correct me if i’m wrong! Lmk if i missed anything!

A/N- this is my first time actually writing something so it’s not the best. I wrote this for my sister and she wouldn’t shut up about it so here it is lol. Also I’m dyslexic so if there are any mistakes then please let me know! (I reread it at least 3 times lmao) i’m open to criticism just don’t be too extreme pls lol

When you started at the BAU everyone seemed pretty nice except for one person, Spencer Reid, you weren’t sure why but for some reason you two just didn’t get along. As time went on nothing changed. The team tried to get you two to be friends but it never worked, everyone just got used to it, simple shaking their head or laughing when the two of you would glare at each other or make comments about each other’s ‘bad’ performances.

This case has been horrible, you’ve gotten so many leads but it keeps hitting dead ends, everyone was sitting around the table pissed until Spencer of course figured something out. He started writing on the board.

Morgan noticed first, his brows furrowed. “Whatcha got kid?”

At that everyones heads snap up at Reid and the board, why is he so stupidly smart?, there is silence for a moment as everyone shares some confused glances.

Spencer rambles on about where we will find the unsub and how, it took a minute to explain but soon enough everyone is up and heading to a house where supposedly the unsub will be.

You, Morgan and Rossi go in the back while JJ, Reid and Hotch go through the front. Everyone searches around but no one is in the house, that is until You and Spencer find a way to the basement, Spencer went down the creaky stairs but before you could even make it down two step’s Spencer was hit by the unsub, you point your gun at the man.

“Let me see your hands!”

He points a gun at his hostage’s head, holding her tightly with his free arm. “I’ll shoot!”

You glance over to see Reid was back up with his gun pointing at the unsub as well, geez that was fast.

“She is not who you think she is. You don’t want to kill her.” Spencer said to the man.

“She killed my girlfriend! She deserves to die!”

“She had nothing to do with it, she’s innocent. Lily killed herself Adrian. She was hurting herself.”

“Shut up! You’re lying!” The gun now pointed at Spencer and you can see that he’s about to pull the trigger, as soon as you hear the gun shot you quickly jumped in front of the bullet, you have no clue what came over you but all you know is the pain you felt in your shoulder was brutal. You hit the ground with a loud yelp, you look to your shoulder and see the blood oozing out. “Shit”

“Y/N!” Spencer shouts as he soon fell to his knees next to you.

But then you see the unsub running up the stairs and you push Spencer with you free hand, the other over your bleeding wound. “He’s getting away idiot.” But Spencer didn’t bother moving, besides the rest of the team already had the guy now. He shouts that you need an ambulance and the last thing you remember was Spencer shaking you and saying; “stay with me Y/N.” As your vision then went black.

~~~~

You wake up to the sound of machines beeping around you and the cool air of the hospital giving you chills, the thin blanket draped over you didn’t do much to warm you. You blink a few times as your vision slowly unblurs, then you realize someone was holding your hand, you squint to see who it was and when you realize it was Reid you squeeze his hand gently and his head pops up. “You’re awake?”

“You stayed?” He smiled softly. Then he glances at your interlocked hands, he clears his throat as he pulls his hand back awkwardly. Your brows furrowed and you chuckle weakly. “I don’t mind.”

His brows raised and he gives a bit of a confused look before then speaking again. “Why did you do that?” He asked. “Do what?” You ask, forgetting that you literally took a bullet for him some hours ago.

“Don’t be dumb.” He said before answering your question. “Jump in front of the bullet?”

“Ohh.” You shrug. “The team needs you…” His brows furrowed. “So? They need you too.” You shrug with one shoulder. “Yeah but without you half the cases would never get solved.” “That’s not true-” “Spencer. It’s true and you know it. We sat in that room for hours, days even, constantly hitting nothing but dead ends…until a little nerd finally figured it out and look, we got the guy-” You paused, you don’t remember if they actually got the guy. “Wait we did get him right?” Spencer chuckled softly as he nods. “Yeah, we got him.” You laugh softly. “Good.”

~~~~

It’s been about 4 weeks now since you had gotten shot and the whole time Spencer was by your side, while in the hospital and after. it was nice, but he was only doing it because he owed you, right? I mean you did save him from a bullet. You have basically fully healed now though.

Spencer is over at you apartment, you already told him you were fine on your own but he insisted on staying while you were hurt and he is still insisting to stay while you get over it all too. And while you did appreciate the help a lot you were starting to feel things you didn’t think you’d ever feel for him. The two of you are enemies, the only time you are ever civil is on the field. But now that you have actually spent some time together and got to know each other, you like him. You like him?

You yawned as you adjust your position on the couch, your eye lids were barely open when you heard Spencer speak. “Tired?” You nodded lazily. “Well i made some soup, you should eat before you go to sleep.” He says as he walks over to the couch. “Mmm, that sounds sooo good but ‘m sooo tired…” You said as you forced yourself to sit up. “It’s only 6:40, you can’t be that tired, can you?” You yawned and shrugged as you sat up. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” He gives a bit of a confused look. “Oh, why didn’t you get sleep?” “Nightmares.” You say with another shrug. “Nightmares?” He asked and you nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?” You shook your head and got up, walking towards the kitchen. “Come on, food’s gonna get cold.” You say, ignoring the look of concern that filled his face. He’s worried but he can’t force you to talk so he just reluctantly follows you to the kitchen.

~~~~

Your were still drowsy as you put your bowl in the sink but the food did give you at least a little energy. “Y’know, I still don’t understand how you’re such a good cook, i can barely make grilled cheese without burning it.” You say with a little chuckle, Spencer has cooked some pretty delicious food throughout the past weeks and at first you told him he was a bad cook but then he stopped cooking so you had to tell the truth. He lets out a soft laugh as he followed behind, placing his bowl in the sink as well. “It’s easy, just read some cook books, watch some videos and try.” He said as the two of you make your way to the couch.

~~~~

You lay on the couch, your legs hang over the armrest giving Spencer enough room to sit on the other side, near your head. You were asleep, well that’s what Spencer thought at least but when he clicked off the TV and got up to leave he felt a hand on his own and heard your sleepy, quiet voice. “Don’t go…” His brows furrowed as he looked down at you for a moment. “It’s almost nine-” “please…” You interrupted and squeezed his hand lazily. He was sorta confused but then he sits back down. You put your head on his lap as you start to doze back off. “Thank you…”

Spencer fell asleep confused that night.

~~~~

The next morning you wake up to the smell of coffee and you smile, he really stayed? With a yawn and a stretch you got up and went to the kitchen, seeing Spencer with a book in hand, a random one from your bookshelf, you walk over to him. “Did you actually stay all night?” You ask as you lean against the counter, his back still facing you. He spun around at the sound of your voice, putting the book down on the counter and giving you an sweet yet awkward, soft smile. “Yeah, you wanted me to didn’t you? Besides you fell asleep on my lap so i kinda had no choice.” He shrugs a little and you chuckled. “You didn’t have to stay, you could’ve told me to move.” But he shook his head. “You were tired, i didn’t want to wake you up.” You shrugged but then your brows furrowed as you realized you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night like you have been. “Hey! y’know I didn’t have nightmares last night? I actually slept through the night.” You smiled, thankful that you finally got a full nights rest. “Really?” He says as he pours some coffee in a mug, handing it to you. “Yeah, that’s the first time in like a week.” You say, taking the coffee and saying a soft thank you as well. “Thank you for staying…i think that helped…” You looked down at the coffee in your hand as you spoke. Spencer smiles softly. “Oh, it’s no problem, although it would’ve been nice to at least have a blanket.” He joked, after all he was in an awkward position sitting on the couch without a blanket or pillow, but he was just happy you got to sleep well. You chuckled. “Ah, yeah sorry, the couch probably wasn’t very comfortable.” “It’s ok i’m just glad you got some sleep.”

~~~~

It’s been three days of Spencer staying at your apartment to help you sleep at night and the two of you have gotten pretty close, neither of you were really sure why but somehow him being there helped. It’s now 6 PM and you’re helping watching Spencer make dinner for the two of you. You were having a good time just chatting and laughing. At some point you turned on some music, when a song you like starts playing you smile as you took his hands into your own and make him dance with you. When the song ends the two of you were face to face. Both of you froze as you stare at each other for a moment and then slowly the gap between you closed and your lips met in a soft kiss. You felt like a swarm of butterflies had been let loose inside your stomach. Spencer slowly pulled away and both of your faces were flushed. “Um…” You felt like your heart stopped for a minute, ‘did he hate it? Did you ruin everything?’. You thought until you were snapped from your thoughts by his lips pressed back onto yours. Well there’s your answer. As you kiss back your hands go up to his hair while his hands cupped your cheeks holding your face to his. The kiss quickly grew more passionate as your tongues invaded each other’s mouth hungrily and his hands began to carefully roam your body.

Ping

Both yours and Spencer’s phone went off with a text from Garcia; duty calls!

You groan as you heard the devices, knowing it’s probably work. The two of you separate as you check your phones to see that of course it’s time for work. “Stupid job.” Spencer chuckled lightly as he pulled you in for one more gentle kiss before the two of you ate quickly then headed off to the BAU.

~~~~

(a little bonus cuteness)

On the jet ride back home you were exhausted, you end up falling asleep on Spencer’s shoulder and as Spencer carefully covered you with a blanket and kissed the top of your head JJ noticed, she furrowed her brows at Spencer and he gives a little smile then rest his head on yours and closed his eyes, soon falling asleep as well.

[scarltzwitch]

CROSSING WORLDS, MEETING HEARTS — LOGAN HOWLETT.

❥ Summary: On what seemed like an ordinary night, Logan Howlett and Elena Stark meet by chance in a bar. After Logan steps in to protect Elena from a stranger, an unexpected connection forms between them. As they start seeing each other more often, their relationship catches the attention of the Avengers, who are surprised to learn that Logan is not only from another universe but also has extraordinary abilities and has won the heart of Tony Stark's daughter.

❥ Genre: Logan Howlett x Elena Stark ( Fem!OC )

The bar was full of life on a Saturday night, with laughter and the sound of clinking glasses filling the air. Logan was in a corner, his gaze fixed on the drink in front of him when everything changed. It wasn't the first time Wade had convinced him to go out with his group of friends to places like this, but this time, fate had something in store for him.

Elena was a beautiful young woman, of medium height, with her chestnut hair cascading down her back. Her oval face, delicate jawline, and defined cheekbones were on display. The young Stark was looking for a breather with her friends and her father after a day full of chaos. The world had been hard to recover after Thanos' attack, but it wasn’t impossible, and the Avengers deserved a great rest after saving the Planet and the Universe. Wade Wilson and his group of friends also needed a break after their exhausting battle against Cassandra.

After a few drinks, the Avengers, along with Tony and Pepper—Elena’s mother and now Tony's wife, also known as Morgan's mother, who was Elena’s younger sister—had decided to retire to their respective rooms, leaving the brunette alone, as she had decided to stay a little longer. She loved the place her father had chosen.

Half an hour later, the young Stark decided it was time to go home. She got up from her seat to head to the counter and pay, but unexpectedly, a man approached her with the intention of bothering her and ruining her evening. After trying to make the guy leave, Elena felt cornered. She had drunk a bit too much, but she was still aware of what was happening. Logan, without hesitation, decided to intervene and with his characteristic growl, managed to pull the young woman away from the man who was harassing her.

“She said to back off,” Logan warned as he grabbed the man by the neck, but that didn’t stop him from throwing a punch at the guy's face, scaring him off.

Elena, moved by the situation, clutched her purse tightly and looked at the man who had helped her. She decided to make the first move. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that, but thank you,” she said with a slight smile, admiring the man who had come to her rescue. He was quite attractive, almost too good to be true. Logan merely nodded in response. After that silent exchange, Logan started to leave, but Elena stopped him.

“Would you like to stay a little longer?” Elena asked with a sincere smile. “I don’t usually invite strangers, but you just saved me from a pretty uncomfortable situation, and I feel like I owe you. So, what do you say?” she asked hopefully. Logan looked at her for a moment, as if weighing whether he should accept the offer. He usually didn’t get involved with others, especially someone much younger than him and from a world so different from his own. They returned to the bar, where Elena ordered some beers and a few snacks to accompany them. The atmosphere of the place was still lively, but now, with the company of the man who had saved her, everything seemed much calmer for her. They sat together at a table, and while they drank what the young woman had ordered, Elena couldn’t help but study him discreetly. He seemed tough, with an imposing presence, but there was a softness in his eyes that intrigued her.

“So... Do you come to places like this often?” Elena asked, trying to start a conversation. Logan took a sip of his beer while watching Elena, noticing the interest in her eyes. “Not much,” he replied in his characteristic gruff tone. “Only when Wade convinces me to go out.”

Elena smiled, surprised by the simplicity of his answer. “Wade? The weird guy I saw you come in with earlier?”

Logan shrugged. “Just needed a change of scenery. What about you? What made you stay after your family left?” Elena took a sip of her drink before answering. “I love this place. My father used to bring me here, and it brings back good memories. After everything we’ve been through, I needed a moment of peace.”

They shared a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the noise of the bar. Elena noticed how Logan’s hardened expression softened slightly. “Thanks again for stepping in,” Elena finally said. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there.” Logan looked up and, for the first time that night, gave a faint smile. “It’s nothing. I’m glad I could help.”

Elena leaned forward a bit, showing genuine interest. “Would you like to tell me more about yourself? I have a feeling you have some interesting stories to tell.” Logan looked at her, considering whether he should open up a bit more. The sincerity in her eyes and the warmth of her smile made him feel more at ease. “Maybe. Though I won’t make a habit of it.” Elena smiled broadly, accepting the challenge. “That’s fine. Sometimes, it’s nice to have an unexpected conversation with someone new.”

As Logan and Elena started to see each other more often, it wasn’t long before the news reached Tony. Although Elena tried to keep their relationship discreet, her father always had a way of finding things out, and soon, the word that she was dating someone began to circulate among the Avengers.

One day, while the group was gathered in Stark Tower, Tony, with his characteristic flair, casually mentioned, “So, it seems Elena has a new friend... a certain Logan Howlett.” The mention of the name caught everyone’s attention in the room. Natasha raised an eyebrow, Steve stopped reviewing his reports, and Thor, with his hammer in hand, let out a hearty laugh: “And who is this bold man who dares to court Stark’s daughter?”

Tony, with a mischievous smile, responded, “That’s the interesting part. Apparently, he’s not from our universe according to her. And... he has metal claws. He’s some sort of mutant, I think, like Wanda and Pietro.”

The room fell silent. Wanda was the first to speak, her tone one of genuine surprise: “Metal claws? You mean like a mutant?” Tony nodded, and before they could delve further into the matter, Wade Wilson, who had apparently been eavesdropping on the conversation from the hallway, burst into the room with a mischievous grin. “Oh, this is going to be fun! I’ve been waiting for this moment since I found out.”

Before anyone could comment further, the young Stark walked in with Logan, who was hooked to her, his arm linked with hers as the rest of her friends followed. “Sorry, sorry. He can be a bit... odd,” Elena apologized with a smile. Wanda didn’t hesitate to be the first to hug her, but the rest of the room’s attention turned to the man accompanying her, surprised.

“Excuse me? Who are you, and what are you doing with my daughter?” Tony asked, surprised, with a glass of whiskey in his right hand and his other arm around Pepper.

“Tony, honey. Let him introduce himself, please? You’re Logan, right?” Pepper asked with a slight smile, trying to lighten the tension. Elena murmured a thank you in gratitude, to which the blonde nodded.

Logan nodded without saying much, standing firm. Thor was the first to break the tension by approaching them and giving the mutant a friendly slap on the back. “So... I’ve heard you’re a warrior from another world with much more experience. It seems I have competition—and with claws, I hear. Strange, but interesting. I think you and I will get along well.” Logan barely reacted, but Elena noticed how his lips curved slightly upward.

Steve, for his part, crossed his arms and looked at Logan with a mixture of respect and curiosity. “So, you’re a veteran? Not many can say that in this room.”

Feeling a bit nervous, Elena stepped forward, holding Logan’s hand. “He’s different, but I think he’ll fit in well with us. And well, he’s... important to me.”

Before anyone could respond, Wade interjected with his usual humor: “Of course he’ll fit in! Plus, it was about time this team had someone with a bit more claw—and, by the way, a delightful loudmouth mercenary like me!” Everyone, even Logan, couldn’t help but laugh at the comment.

With the tension now eased, the Avengers, along with Elena and Logan’s group, sat down to chat and get to know each other better, sharing stories and jokes. The initial surprise quickly faded, and while they knew Logan wasn’t what they expected for Elena, they also recognized that he was someone they could trust, especially if he shared a close relationship with Tony’s daughter.

@welcometochilis585

Hi! I'm so sorry for the delay, but I wanted to do my best with this one-shot. It's a way for me to practice with writing, thank you so much for trusting me with your idea. I loved it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

— Lily. 💜

[ranna-alga]

Idk about you guys but I am an absolute sucker for stoic, strong, providing/protective, "macho-macho" male characters absolutely just breaking down when the going gets a bit too tough. Willing to shoulder any burden or battle scars if it means granting their loved ones' safety, but cracking when it gets too much, getting disheveled when things go wrong, when things are out of their control, when they've lost so much that they cannot hold it in anymore. They cannot continue being strong, at least just for now when they just need to decompress.

With that said, Arthur Morgan absolutely deserved to have a good cry. I'm upset he hasn't in the game, at least from what we have seen. Despite how strong and hardened this 36-year-old seasoned outlaw is, he is still a man - a good man at heart (at least in my canon as a High Honour truther).

There is no way he couldn’t have cried on the ship after watching his own father and mentee/lowkey-son-figure die right before his eyes. There is no way he couldn’t have cried when he failed his chance of running away with the love of his life whilst he still had the chance, and having to come to terms with the fact that the last memory she will hold of him will be him making another promise he couldn't keep + that the last piece of her he has left is her essentially writing him out of her life with no time or opportunity to explain. There is no way he couldn’t have cried when the fear of death/the fate that awaited him and his loved ones got too overwhelming for him. There is no way he couldn’t have cried when he started seeing both life and death differently after Sister Calderón's inspiring words in that train station.

He deserved to have a good cry. Arthur, a man living in the American 1890s where there was a certain expectation for men (outlaw or otherwise) to surpress any 'weak' emotion, finally admitting "I'm afraid" was one of the 'manliest' and most human moments we ever see him have, and it was so simple yet so beautiful. The man has been through so much pain as much as he has inflicted it - he deserves a hearty moment of release. To cry, to sob, to wail, whatever. He just needed that after everything.

[cowbeeboy]

Wifey what are your charthur headcannons the people deserve to know 🎤

omg okay here we go super huge post talking abt gay men headcanons.

arthur dedicating PAGES, because one page is just never enough, in his journal writing about/drawing charles. you look me in the eyes and tell me arthur doesn’t write about his feelings for charles in his journal like a schoolgirl in cringe love and then doodles charles shirtless, and you’ll be so dead wrong.

charles making arthur clothes. like winter coats and warm vests for when the weather gets just a bit chillier. and it’s clothes he handcrafted. for arthur. because he loves him. and arthur has a tendency to sometimes not take care of himself in small ways which frustrates charles. because he loves him. (and it’s all materials from their hunts together because duh).

hair. braiding. braiding hair. hair. charles actually cuts arthur’s hair. and arthur braids charles’s hair for him. and yes arthur definitely knows how to braid like cmon he’s a girls girl, and he had three sisters who he lived with and helped raise for the most part.

i, vehemently believe, that arthur morgan blushes like crazy at charles compliments. ESPECIALLY when they’re a little flirty too. he’ll act all dismissive and unaffected about it but his head is low so the brim of his hat covers how red his face got.

and charles? his blush is a different kind. charles blushes when he’s had a little too much whiskey to drink (on those few rare occasions that he does) and it’s the kind of blush that appears from all the thoughts he’s having. you know exactly what thoughts i’m talking abt.

i’m very, very certain they both have fallen asleep, more than once, during guard duty. and charles, the overly responsible man that he is, totally blamed arthur for it later because one) it wasn’t arthur’s turn so he shouldn’t have joined charles in the first place, and two) there’s a sense of relaxation charles finds within arthur’s presence and he cant understand it so its totally arthur’s fault charles fell asleep during guard duty.

take these for now and if anyone is interested in more i’ll do more😼 thank you my gorjus husband for giving me this wonderful opportunity to yap😚

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

So how evil would you say Morgan is?

In Morgan's last post, I mentioned one of the biggest changes in KBASW AU (to mix the anime & game lore...) is Dame Morgan the one who gave Hyness the Jamba Heart.

(I hinted at her ability in this post... when I said she's a black hole, I meant that.)

She was the one who created the dimensional rift that dropped the Jamba Heart at his & the cult's doorstep. Dame Morgan being very well aware that Hyness was in the position of the book of Legend made sure the circumstances a line with everything the book says.

And of course, she waltzes right in (pretending she just happened to pass by), "Could it be the Jamba Heart, and it's chosen you, imagine the great power you can do with that, only you could, this is your destiny... "

And presents herself "as a former star warrior who's become weary lost soul after the war just trying to find purpose." Needless to say, Hyness welcomes her with open arms. The raw power of an ex-gsa-soldier, he couldn't pass up this ...

The events of Star Allies are very different... The best way I can describe is (without spoilers/ this is a reference to Kirby Star Allies' game). The "Story Mode" doesn't happen but Star Allies Guest Star mode is happening... (Minus the boss battles MK & King Dedede since aren't there ... they have someone else to fight ~)

"Where's Kirby & the main gang during this..."

"Forgotten Land" is happening... and when Dream Friends are confronting Morpho Knight so is Kirby in the Isolated Isles (the Extra Mode), Morpho is testing Kirby and his friends all at the same time.

Basically (this Boss battle is happening), while everyone was fighting Morgan snatched the Jamba Heart away. However, one person notices and tries to stop her... Leading to... this zesty confrontation with Zan Partizanne and Dame Morgan.

Keep reading for spoilers~

Zan Partizanne was able to realize that it was Morgan who delivered the Jamba heart to their doorstep once she saw (Morgan) create the dimensional rift to snatch it away.

And as any true villain does... Morgan comes after Zan Partizanne's entire life & entire existence ( as well as the hypocrisy of the cult) and rubs her mistakes in her face leaving no crumbs.

And this is why Morgan's so dangerous. She takes advantage of everyone's very human flaws and calls people out on them... she knows how to play a good mind game. (via. Joker in the Dark Knight)

THE THREE MAGE SISTERS ARE MEANT PARALLEL TO UTHER'S & HIS THREE STUDENTS: Zan Partizanne - Sir Arthur/ Flamberge - Dame Morgan/ Francisca - Sir Nonsurat...

With a very key difference, the Mage sisters genuinely care for one another, Uther's students hated each other. Which is why the blind loyalty they put into Hyness sickened her (at least Uther had class but this bumbling moron's way to scrap at the bottom of the barrel.)

Dame Morgan is one of the most complex characters in the story. (Uther & Morgan's dynamic is basically Azula & Fire Lord Ozai...) She's very much out to get what she deserves, in a sense she played by the rules of the world but it was never enough.

Now she's out to make her own way, rule her own life... TO TAKE IT!

She's evil yes but you get why she's like this.

I also want to explain a bit more her power with the Jamba Heart, and how she was able to negate "insanity..." She's the middle man of the deal... that reaps the benefits. Getting that generated dark heat energy for herself. And it also helps that now she has her own personal sponge for that (*cough* Dark Matter *cough*).

And of course, after this, she departs for Dreamland... And this is where things get really interesting!~

I hope you all enjoyed Dame Morgan aka Morgan Le Faye.

[adhd-roided-red-panda]

I have a gripe to pick with a Phoenix Wright AA character

There is no character in the original Phoenix Wright trilogy I hate more than Morgan. Why? One word, Pearls. I can speak from personal experience that childhood trauma lasts forever, which is what Pearls would have gone through if any of Morgan's plans worked. When I think about Morgan's situation, the thing that makes me unsympathetic toward her is that she did it for Pearls. After all she went through, she chose to do terrible acts like framing her own niece for murder, and even resorting to an attempt at killing her, and not once did she think about what Pearls would think. Pearls loves Maya dearly, so think about how she would turn out to be if Maya was incarcerated or worse, dead. Now think about how she would've felt knowing that it was her own mother who orchestrated the outcome. I don't think Morgan's tragic backstory would have been enough for Pearls to forgive her mother. That's why I hate her. Was what she went through terrible? Yes. But in no way does her past outweigh her actions. And let's not forget, Misty went through the same shit after the DL-6 incident, and on a greater scale, so it's not like the sisters didn't share that in common. However, Misty turned out different. Hell, Misty's whole family turned out different. When we see her for the first time, Misty is breathtakingly gentle. Mia took her mother disappearing with actual empathy, and instead of getting someone killed over it, she took to law to try and take down the person who ruined her mother. Maya turned out to be a stronger woman than Morgan could ever amount to, helping Phoenix take down criminals in whatever way she could. These characters all went through terrible hardships, and because they had a solid rock to lean against, whether it be the fey sisters for Misty, Maya for Mia, or Phoenix for Maya, they all turned out to be strong women in their lives. But Morgan could've had someone as well, however, she was too busy resenting her. Morgan could have consulted Misty, and it's not like Misty would have done nothing, it'd be out of her character if she actually did do nothing. No, Morgan chose to revel in her hate, and that hate blinded her from being a good mother to Pearls, Dhalia, and Iris. She abandoned her firstborn twins and orchestrated a plot where Pearls would've killed her best friend. So, to all the people who get confused about why people hate Morgan Fey despite the backstory, it's because her actions speak louder than her intentions, she happened to have both terrible intentions and bad actions. I'm not saying her backstory is bad, but I don't think it's meant to be a justification for her actions. A backstory is just that, a backstory. Not every tragic backstory is a redemption. If a tragic backstory creates an evil character, and that character's heinous actions reveal them to just be evil, then they're just f**king evil and don't automatically deserve sympathy.

P.S. I know I included Dhalia in the list of Morgan's unbecoming, but I have problems with her backstory too, but that's mostly a writing thing.

[fangirl-writes]

Matters of the Heart

Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!Reader x Harley Keener

Warning(s): Death

Notes: This is pretty short and end kind of abruptly, but it’s been in my drafts for so long and I like it too much to delete it. So, enjoy :)

Summary: It had been 5 years for you and 5 seconds for Peter. So to say it’s a bit of a shock for him to find you in the arms of someone else is an understatement.

When the battle was over and Tony was gone, all Peter could think about was you.

How would you react to finding out your dad was dead? That he’d saved the universe and it cost him his life? It had taken you so long to get reacquainted with him and now he was gone.

And what about seeing him again? According to Doctor Strange, it had been five years. It baffled his mind to think that he’d missed out on five years with his loved ones.

What had changed?

"Where do we go now?” Rhodey asked, standing up and stepping away from where Peter and Pepper were still crouched, trying not to cry.

“Home, I suppose,” Steve replied, fighting his own tears. “I think everyone deserves that.”

So, Doctor Strange conjured up portals like he had before. But instead of leading people into battle, the portals lead home. To Wakanda, to New Asgard, to Clint’s farm, and, for many of the main Avengers, to Tony and Pepper’s home.

When they walked through it, Peter almost couldn’t believe that the rich and fancy Tony Stark had lived in this little house by a lake.

He noticed you sitting on the porch swing. Your hair had changed, along with a few more subtle things that come with time, but he could still tell that it was you. 

What he didn’t know was who was sitting next to you, and why you were cuddled into his side.

You lifted your head when you saw them walk through the portal, getting the guy next to you’s attention, immediately knowing something was wrong.

“Mommy!” A little girl came running out of the house, little feet pattering down the wooden steps.

“Morgan, honey, stay up there by your sister.” Pepper shouted in reply, causing the little girl to pause her movements.

Morgan. Peter thought. Tony had another daughter while he was gone?

“Morgan, come here,” You said, reaching your hand out for her.

Peter felt himself tear up a little again, hearing your voice. He started to realize how long it had been since he’d talked to you and how angry you would be that he went and got himself into trouble again.

The thought almost made him laugh.

You lifted Morgan up, setting her on your lap and pulling her to your chest, whispering something to her so she kept her face hidden.

Bruce walked through the portal next, when Rhodey gave him the okay, carrying Tony’s body.

Peter could see the way you gasped, holding a hand to your mouth. The guy next to you wrapped his arm around you and you buried your head into his neck, crying.

The sight made Peter want to start crying again, too.

“Keep your head down, Morgan,” the guy said, running a gentle hand through your hair.

“Take him over to the barn, please,” Pepper said, barely above a whisper as she refrained from breaking. “Don’t let Morgan see.”

Bruce headed that direction, followed by Steve, Thor, Sam, and Bucky.

Pepper spared Peter a look, noticing how he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“Come on, Peter,” She said, gently, beginning her walk to the deck of her house. Peter followed her.

“Mommy!” Morgan shouted, clumsily climbing off her sister’s lap to run into her mother’s arms. Her face full of happy ignorance.

Peter and you caught eyes and he could see the endless emotions swirling in your eyes when his name rolled off your lips, like you couldn’t believe it was him: “Peter.”

He wasn’t sure what to say, his eyes welling up with tears that threatened to spill over when you got up from the swing and wrapped him in a tight hug.

He hugged you back and for a minute it was like nothing had really changed as you cried into his shoulder.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” you whispered.

“It’s okay,” he replied. “I’m right here.”

Peter opened his eyes to look at the man on the swing. He didn’t recognize him, but he guessed you and he were the same age; five years older than Peter now.

You pulled back from the hug and wiped your eyes. Then you noticed him glancing over your shoulder.

“Oh...” you said.

You walked over the guy and held your hand out. He smiled at you, taking your hand and standing up.

“Peter, this is Harley,” You said, turning to face him. “My fiancé.”

Oh. Oh.

Peter’s eyes shot to your left hand, only now noticing the ring that sparkled there.

Five years.

Peter swallowed hard. “Oh, that’s- that’s great, Y/N. Congratulations.”

The guy (Harley) looked at him sadly, almost with pity. It made Peter’s blood boil for no good reason.

“Hey, I think we need a second,” you told Harley. “Could you go see if mom needs anything?”

Mom. You called Pepper ‘mom’ now. That was also new.

Harley nodded and headed inside, leaving you and Peter alone.

At first, he hadn’t noticed many changes in you. Sure, the hair was different, but you still looked like you.

And now, looking closer, he noticed the five years.

You had more smile lines and small wrinkles around your eyes, and they had a new wise-ness to them they didn’t before. You also carried yourself differently, more relaxed. Like you were no longer afraid to do something that would upset the press because Tony’s your dad.

“I’m sorry, uh,” You rubbed your arm up and down with one hand. A nervous tick that hadn’t changed. “This must all be hard for you.”

“You just lost your dad,” Peter replied. “It’s hard for you, too.”

“We both lost him,” you decided, tears pooling in your eyes. “But I’ve grieved before and I’ll do it again.”

Avoiding the subject of your relationship, Peter asked, “Did Aunt May-”

“Blipped too,” You replied. “Same with Ned and MJ.”

“Oh,” It felt wrong to say ‘good’ but at least he wouldn’t be completely alone like this.

Silence fell between you for a few moments before you found the courage to explain.

“Harley was one of dad’s protege’s, too. Before you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah...from when he got lost in Tennessee. They bonded and dad kept tabs on him ever since. We met for the first time around then, but we’re both attending MIT and found each other there.” You said. “I didn’t really date anyone after you were gone...dad and I grieved you together. You were the only thing we ever agreed on.”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh.

It made you smile.

“But we had to move on. At the time we didn’t think there was anything we could do. The world was changing and we had to grow with it. I went to MIT and met Harley again and we just...connected. I fell in love with him. We’ve been together three years now. Engaged for hardly a month.”

Peter smiled sadly. “I’m happy for you, Y/N, I really am but, to me, just yesterday we were cuddling and watching movies together...”

“I wish there was something I could do...” you said.

That hadn’t changed either. You were just like Tony, always wanting to save everyone.

“Can you hug me one last time? Then give me a phone to call Aunt May?”

You laughed. “The hugs aren’t going anywhere, Peter. I still love you...just not in the same way.”

The two of you embraced and Peter sighed against you. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Hey,”

You broke apart to see Harley standing in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, but Pepper's trying to cook.”

“Oh my god, stop her!” You said. “She’s not cooking tonight. Do we have any frozen pizza?”

You fell right back into a comfortable state when Harley arrived, ready to rely on him for anything. That wasn’t a way you felt when you were dating Peter. He was glad to see the weight lifted off your shoulders.

You passed Harley at the door and he smiled awkwardly at Peter before following you.

Peter stood there for a moment, silently mourning the love he lost, and headed for the barn with the other avengers.

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 15: So Tell Me To Run...

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, First Time Together, Cunnilingus, Missionary, Doggy Style, Handjobs, Mirrors, Party, Semi-Public Sex, Quickies, Unsafe Sex, Kidnapping, Murder, Torture, Betrayal, Attempted Murder, Arthur Morgan Has Tuberculosis, Angst With A Happy Ending, Tags Updated Per Chapter Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay@nn-hh192 @photo1030 @just-pure-trash @julialoopeezz @hqxee @salientseraphph @crypticlxrsh @lorenaloveslewis @tswizzleislike8foot4 @oziozzioslo @tinaaaa5747 Chapter List

The room you were standing in was indeed large enough for you and Arthur.

A four-poster bed sat in the center, big enough to fit you and Arthur comfortably, with room to spare. The rich bedsheets looked soft to the touch, and when you slid your hand across them, a smile appeared on your face when you felt that you were right. You wanted nothing more than to slide under them and fall into a deep, much-needed sleep. But you refrained; you had something far more important in the room right now. 

You turned to Arthur, who still looked a bit sheepish, standing in the doorway like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. A light chuckle left you when you saw the light blush on his cheeks; your sister's observation was the reason for that. 

It had been as she was leading you to the room, a coy smirk on her face from her previous comment. You’d leaned down and whispered to her, asking how she knew. You knew you weren’t subtle, but you hadn’t expected her to pick it up so easily. 

She’d just laughed, shooting Arthur a glance before answering. “That one couldn’t keep his eyes off of you the entire time. It wasn’t difficult to figure out.”

When you’d glanced at Arthur, a tease on the tip of your tongue, you nearly doubled over with laughter when you saw how his eyes widened, clearly not expecting to get caught. “Aw, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me?” 

“He looked like a love-sick puppy,” you heard Ruth grumble, making Arthur turn a deep shade of red. 

It was still hilarious to you that even after everything, Arthur still grew embarrassed about getting caught being “soft”. You found it quite endearing. 

That had been a few minutes ago, but it looked as if he was still recovering. But there was still a fond look on his face; that hadn’t gone away, not even after Ruth commented on it. It was as if it was stuck on his face each time he looked at you. 

He peeled away from the doorway and in a few surprisingly quick strides he was embracing you, broad arms pulling you tight against his chest. You felt him clear his throat before he spoke. “Are you doin’ alright?”

“I should be the one askin’ you that,” you grumbled, tilting your head back to look at him. 

He sighed, and you relented. “I’m alright. Relieved, mostly.

You felt him kiss your forehead, your eyes scrunching shut momentarily. “Good,” he murmured. “You deserve that.”

At this point, you weren’t quite certain what you deserved. You didn’t let your thoughts be known, though, simply choosing to let Arthur hold you. 

“Thank you,” you whispered after some time, barely loud enough for Arthur to hear.

“For?”

“Well, everything,” Arthur scoffed, rolling his eyes, but you saw the corners of his mouth curl up, “but more specifically for what you did in there. For taking the fall.”

You felt him shrug. “It was nothin’, darlin’.”

“For you, maybe. But it means a lot to me. I… I don’t know how they would’ve reacted if they knew what I did. I don’t think they would’ve reacted as harshly as I imagined, if the way they reacted to you admitting it, but still. That was a risk I was going to have to take until you stepped in. You may have prevented that whole conversation from turning bad, so thank you.”

He shrugged again, but this one had less energy put into it. “And I’d do it again, you know?”

You smiled gently. “I know.”

Silence once again fell over the two of you, giving you plenty of time to observe Arthur. The bags under his eyes were worse than they had been hours ago, his eyes even more tired. If you felt exhausted, you didn’t even want to imagine how Arthur was feeling. And during the ride to the estate, as well as the escapade in the woods, a thin layer of dust and dirt collected on him. When you ran a hand over the side of his face, a small streak of clear skin appeared.

“You need a bath,” you muttered, not even realizing you said it out loud until Arthur laughed, which turned into a small coughing fit. Your heart dropped.

“Ouch,” he deadpanned, feigning offense. 

“You’re covered in dirt.”

“So are you.”

“No, I’m-” You were cut off when Arthur took his dirty hand and wiped it across your cheek, just like you had done with him. But instead of cleaning your face, a streak of dirt now adorned your cheek. “Arthur Morgan!” You cried out, laughter making the words less harsh than they would’ve. You weren’t sure where this playfulness was coming from, but you weren’t complaining. It was the first time you’d truly laughed in weeks. 

“Guess you’ll need a bath, too.” For a moment, Arthur seemed to look unburdened as he watched you laugh, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“If you wanted me to join you, you could’ve just asked, instead of wiping your grime on me!”

“My apologies,” Arthur responded, not sounding sorry at all. 

“Well, you’ll be just in luck then, ‘cause I may or may not have asked Ruth to have the bath filled up for you. Us.” You added when he gave you a look. “C’mon, before it gets cold.”

Taking him by the hand, you lead him to the attached bathroom, steam immediately assaulting you when you opened the door. The smell of lavender permeated the air, lulling you into a sense of ease, your already tired eyes growing heavier. The copper tub was indeed filled with hot water, with a layer of bubbles on top.

But you didn’t get undressed. Not yet. Instead, you got to work unbuttoning the shirt Arthur was wearing. A shocked chuckle left him, holding his hands up as he let you continue to work it off of him. “Eager, are ya?”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “For you? Always. But,” you continued when something flickered across Arthur’s face, “for right now, you’re gonna get into the tub, and you’re gonna get clean.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Arthur grumbled, and if you weren’t currently occupied with the last buttons of his shirt, you would’ve had some rebuttal. The garment slipped off his body when you were done, hitting the floor silently. 

Shamelessly, you let your eyes wander over the expanse of his chest, noting the few changes. You could see a few more ribs than last time, and you wondered how long it had been since he’d had a proper meal. A problem for after, though. A new scar cut across his left pectoral, and he shivered when you ran your fingers across it. 

His belt was next to go, followed closely by his jeans, and finally his undergarments. You really did try to not let your gaze wander, but you couldn’t help yourself. And it wasn’t as if Arthur was actively discouraging you from doing so, a laugh rumbling his chest when he caught you. “Now, it’s only fair you return the favor…” you heard him mutter, hands converging on the zipper on the back of your dress.

Upon your nod of consent, he undid the work he’d done a few hours prior, your dress joining the growing pile on the floor. Working with him, you were soon bare as well, his eyes never once ceasing their exploration as if he was seeing you for the first time. There was a heat to them, but you knew neither of you would be able to do anything right now, no matter how much you wanted to. Still, his hands were hungry as they wandered your body, the comforting familiarity of them filling you with a sense of contentment. How you’d missed this. How you were going to miss this. 

You quickly shook those thoughts from your mind. Keep to the present, you reminded yourself. “Bath?” You suggested, hoping that your voice didn’t hint at your inner turmoil. 

Arthur nodded, pulling away only to submerge himself in the copper tub. The noise he made sounded almost pained, but you knew that by the way his eyes fluttered closed, the water felt heavenly. But they didn’t stay shut for long, once again falling on you with unbridled affection, extending a hand towards you expectantly. 

With an almost bashful smile, you took his hand, letting him ease you into the water. It did indeed feel incredible, a barely audible moan leaving your lips, and you reveled at the way Arthur’s eyes widened at the noise. 

With his back against the tub, you settled on his lap so that you were facing him, your arms wrapping around his neck. Stradling his lap, you were sure to keep your hips still, not wanting to tease him. As lovely as it sounded, you didn’t need that kind of intimacy right now. 

Where your hands were, you had easy access to the hair at his neck, already slightly damp from the increased water level. It splashed precariously at the rim; one sudden movement and it would splash over. Neither of you paid it any mind, too caught up in each other to notice your surroundings. 

It would’ve been so easy to fall asleep right there. You almost did, your head bobbing a few times as your eyes threatened to close, but you forced them open. But it was when a sudden and loud coughing fit overtook Arthur that you woke up fully, anxiety once again pumping adrenaline through your system. 

You quickly grabbed one of the many rags that had been set beside the tub, handing it to him as he continued. Keeping your gaze averted as he pulled the rag away, you watched out of the corner of your eye as Arthur set it somewhere out of view, yet easily accessible to him. “Sorry,” you heard him murmur, and you just shook your head at him.

“Don’t apologize,” you whispered. “This ain’t your fault.” Arthur didn’t respond to that, and you just smiled sadly at him. How you wished that he didn’t blame himself for things that were so far out of his control. 

But he wasn’t in a state to hear your words, to believe you. So you decided that you were going to do what you could to bring him any sense of comfort, to distract his mind. Slowly, you began to move backward to sit on the other side of the tub, being stopped by Arthur rather quickly. “I ain’t leavin’,” you reassured, and you felt the grip on your hand loosen.

Eventually, you were able to settle against the other side of the tub. “Turn around,” you instructed Arthur, who glanced at you curiously before complying. “Lean back.” Slowly, Arthur leaned back until his head was right above your lap beneath the water. 

He jumped when he felt your fingers begin to work through his hair, before practically melting right then and there. A soft smile graced his features as he felt you work closer and closer to his scalp, shivering when you began to massage. 

You’re not sure how long you sat there, working out all the knots in both his hair and muscles, Arthur practically falling asleep under your touch. Occasionally, a light cough would overtake him, but it was nothing as severe as the one before. You hoped the steam was helping his lungs somewhat. Because of that, you couldn’t help but feel a small glimmer of hope that there was a way to overcome this. 

Eventually, you reached for the soap that sat on the nearby shelf, working it into a lather before massaging it into Arthur’s hair. It smelled of lavender and lilac, which was infinitely better than what he smelled like earlier. And with the way Arthur sighed, you knew he agreed. 

When that was all washed out, you adjusted him so that he was propped against your chest, his wet hair splayed across your body. It had gotten so long since the last time you’d seen him. You rather liked it, and you couldn’t help yourself from playing with it, which he didn’t seem to mind. 

You reached for one of the various cloths next, and you made sure a decent amount of soap was on it before you got to work on cleaning his back, shoulders, and arms and he let you maneuver him as you pleased. He didn’t make any noises, except for the occasional clearing of his throat and groan of pleasure. 

During this, it was easy to keep your thoughts of Arthur on a leash, not letting any particular emotion overwhelm you. You could block out the facts you’d learned a few hours ago, about the sickness that plagued his body. You focused as hard as you could on the present, about taking care of him right now. You didn’t dare think about the future. 

But it was when he turned around after you instructed him to do so that your fortitude crumbled. The gaunt look on his face was a stark reminder of what was to come, but what made it worse was the pure love he had in his eyes. Even through all of the pain and suffering, he still looked at you like you were the most precious thing, a glimmer of light in a darkened cave. 

You really did try to keep the tears at bay, trying to refocus your mind on cleaning the dirt from his face. The face that had plagued you so wonderfully since the moment you saw it. The face that had seen you through some of the worst moments of your life. The face you saw when you imagined your future. But this might be one of the last times you’d ever get to see it.

It was when you heard Arthur mutter, “Oh, darlin’,” that you registered that the tears had long since fallen.

You tried to force the tears away, your wet hands making your cheeks more damp. This wasn’t about you right now. Cursing under your breath, you muster every ounce of will in your body to cease your tears, but to no avail. You were just too exhausted, and you felt them continue to descend your face.

Arthur didn’t speak, which didn’t bother you too terribly. What could he even say that would make this all better, something that wouldn’t be a blatant lie? So he kept his mouth shut, choosing to speak with his actions instead. A large hand now grasped the side of your face, tugging you close until your head rested against his, and his thumb wiped away both the tears and the streak of dirt.

“What’ve I done to ya?” You heard him mutter, not realizing that you heard him. 

“You didn’t make me fall in love with you, Arthur. That was something neither of us could stop from happenin’.” Falling for you came as easy as breathing. 

“I never meant for this to happen.”

“Do… do you regret it?”

Arthur took a deep breath. “This?” He shook his head. “No. Never. Hurtin’ you, though? I can’t forgive myself for doin’ that.”

“Maybe you won’t forgive yourself,” you whispered, “but I forgive you. Though, there isn’t anything to forgive. I’m not angry at you, Arthur.”

A shaky exhale left him, his shoulders sagging in relief. “You’ve every right to be… but I’m grateful you’re not.”

I want to be angry at you. I want to scream and yell until I’m blue in the face. I want to feel something other than the grief that I’m feeling. The love in my heart is too overwhelming; it blocks out everything else. I can’t turn you into a villain, to make everything feel right. Thoughts ran through your mind, but you couldn’t utter them. Instead, you cover the hand holding your face, and you close the distance between your lips.

A small, surprised noise left Arthur before he reciprocated. It was a slow, intentional kiss, like the melody of a dirge, melancholic and heartwrenching. Unspoked words were said, a confession that you’d uttered already, yet no less meaningful. But it was also a testament that you were both there in this moment. Alive.

You could feel your heart clenching in your chest, your fingers inadvertently pressing down hard onto his hand, like you could anchor him to you. Like you could make him stay. 

It was you who pulled away first, not wanting him to feel the way your lips trembled. The sad look on his face made you realize you didn’t pull away fast enough. Letting out a shaky exhale, you were able to tighten the rein on your emotions, leaning back against the tub. Arthur didn’t have to be told to follow, his head now resting on your chest as the two of you just held each other, words failing. 

The two of you sat in the tub until the water had long since turned cold, and your skin was pruned. You sat there together until you had to pinch yourself to stay awake, not wanting to miss any moment with Arthur, with the possibility it might be the last. But you still didn’t let yourself believe that it was the last time. You couldn’t. 

A powerful yawn overtook you, making Arthur glance up from where he lay. The cold water was also starting to get to you, and you shivered lightly. “Bed?” You suggested, hating the way that Arthur hesitated. “Just for a few hours. You need a bit of rest.” No other selfish reason. 

Arthur finally nodded, stepping out of the tub, and splashing water onto the already-soaked ground. He grabbed one of the towels as you got out, wrapping it around your body before drying off as well. 

The ground was cold as you walked to the bedroom, Arthur choosing to sit on the bed as you rummaged through the dressers for something to wear. Even though it was most likely the guest room, the dressers still had an adequate amount of clothing, and you were able to find a nightgown that you could wear. 

Arthur had slipped under the blankets while you’d gotten dressed, yet you found his eyes were on you when you turned. He didn’t avert his gaze after he got caught, a smile appearing on his face that made you melt. Quickly joining him under the covers, he wasted no time in touching you, pulling you in close until your chests were pressed together. One of his legs hooked over yours, keeping you close, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

You could already feel your eyes falling shut, the heat from his body and the blankets making it an impossible task. But you didn’t try to fight it, not anymore. Especially after you heard Arthur whisper, “Sleep well, darlin’.”

But you hadn’t meant to fall asleep that quickly. 

But you were exhausted, mentally and physically, and with having Arthur back in your arms after weeks you couldn’t stop your eyes from falling shut. It was a dreamless sleep, which you were grateful for, but it was deep. 

So deep that you failed to wake when Arthur slid out from underneath the sheets. You didn’t wake, even as he got dressed, a light cough rumbling his chest. You didn’t wake when he opened the door, or when he shut it. You slept as if the love of your life wasn’t slipping through your fingers.

By some miracle, though, you woke a few minutes later for unrelated reasons. Still waking up, you felt for Arthur beside you. All remnants of sleep left your body when you felt that he wasn’t there. The only sign that he had been beside you was a trace of heat and two pieces of paper on his pillow, covered in freshly dried ink. 

Nausea coursed through you, and with shaky hands, you reached for the letter. It felt like time had slowed down, disbelief and dread and so many other emotions making it so. Your blurry vision became crystal clear when you held the note in front of you, and you’d barely read the first line before you jumped out of bed, the letter crumpling in your hand. 

You didn’t care that you were in only a thin nightgown. You didn’t care that you were making a ruckus. You didn’t care that you were nearly crashing into people as you tore down the hallway. You didn’t care you didn’t have any shoes on as you ran outside, gravel and stones pricking your feet. 

Your head thrashed back and forth and you searched for a glimpse of Arthur, hoping, praying that you weren’t too late. Relief and dread flooded your mind when you saw a familiar hat in the stables, and you watched as he led a horse out of the stables. It wasn’t Bear, oddly enough, but he’d swapped out his saddle so it was on the new horse. 

You didn’t give him a chance to mount up before you were running to him. He hadn’t seen you yet, his back to you, but the horse let out a worried noise that made him look up and turn. You couldn’t determine his expression, whether he was shocked or guilty or something. 

“Are you leaving?” You both knew the answer to that question.

Arthur didn’t respond for a few seconds. “Yes,” he finally admitted. You weren’t sure if hearing the truth hurt worse than whatever lie he was about to come up with. 

“You… you weren’t even goin’ to say goodbye?” You tried to sound angry, but it fell flat, sounding more like disappointment. Like you said earlier, you just couldn’t harbor those feelings towards Arthur. “You were just gonna let me wake up alone? And with only a letter to explain yourself?” God, every sentence that left your mouth made your heart hurt worse. 

Arthur ducked his head, his shame evident. But you didn’t stop. “You asked me not to go far, yet here you are running away from me.”

“I ain’t ‘running away’ from you.”

“Then what is this, then?”

“I have to leave.”

You knew he was right, as much as you wanted to shout at him to stay. You’d get down on your knees, beg with all you had if it meant that he’d stay, even for a few moments. Yet you remained standing, the heavy weight of reality beginning to bear down on your shoulders. But you didn’t let it sink in. “Right now?”

“Right now. I-I can’t… shouldn’t stay any longer.”

“But why? You’re welcome to stay-”

“‘Cause every second I stay I risk gettin’ ya sick. ‘Cause every moment I stay here, with you, makes it that much harder to leave. I want nothin’ more than to stay here, but I’ve got people that need me. The gang still needs me.” I need you, you wanted to say. The words were on the tip of your tongue, but you held them back. 

Arthur sighed, running a hand over his tired face. “I thought that if I snuck out, it’d make things simpler. Easier. I wouldn’t have to see ya, to watch how I’m hurtin’ ya. I wouldn’t be tempted to want to stay. I’d just have to live with a few more days of guilt that I left you like I did.” You went to speak, mostly to say that he was in fact running away, but he continued. “But I’m glad you’ve stopped me. It means I get to see ya one last time.”

Tears stung your eyes, and you shook your head as you took a step towards him. “Don’t say that. You… you’ll see me again.” I refuse to believe this is goodbye. You might not convince him to stay, but you could certainly try and get him to return. To fight with everything left in his body to come back to you.

Arthur didn’t back up, and so you took another step, making him now within arm’s reach. “Darlin’...” he murmured, sounding almost sympathetic. 

“What is it that you always promise me before you leave?”

“That’ll I’ll come back.”

“And have you ever broken that promise?”

“No.”

“So what makes you think that you’re goin’ to now?” You didn’t care that you sounded delusional. Desperate. You needed him to believe that he was coming back as much as you tried to. 

It was Arthur who closed the gap between your bodies, a hand coming to rest on your waist, the other tilting your head up to him. “I’m not… I can’t-”

“Please. Just… please.”

Blue eyes roamed your face, remaining silent for a few seconds. “I’ll come back.” A pause. “I promise.”

“You better, or I…” I don’t know what I’ll do without you. “You better.”

A heavy silence hung over the two of you, making you shift uncomfortably. As much as you wanted to hear him speak, you were dreading hearing him say “goodbye”. So you were content with silence, as it meant he wasn’t leaving yet. 

The hand grasping your chin shifted, moving to hold the side of your face. Arthur pulled you closer, until your hips were flush, and you had to rest your hands against his chest. If you focused, you could feel his heartbeat, still beating strong. But as he breathed, you could feel and hear a horrible rasping sound as his lungs worked to take in air. 

“You… you can still fight this, Arthur.” You didn’t know if you were convincing him or yourself. You knew the situation was dire, and that it would take a miracle for him to survive this, but you refused to face that reality, even as it continued to press down on your body. 

His only response was a quiet hum, before bending his head and pressing a kiss to your forehead. It was a sweet gesture, but not what you needed right now. As soon as he moved back, your hands grasped the side of his face, the letter falling to the ground, and you crashed your lips against his. In the back of your mind, you reminded yourself that he was indeed sick with a contagious disease, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The tears in your eyes finally broke free, running down your cheeks and brushing Arthur’s hand. He wiped them away as he continued to kiss you, the fingers on your waist digging in. When you needed to breathe, you pulled away, and he rested his head against yours. Your own fingers trailed over his face, over his roughed cheeks, the crooked bridge of his nose, the crease between his brow. You refamiliarized yourself with those lovely features, engraining them into your mind, still refusing to believe that this could be the last time you’d see them.

His expression wasn’t what you were expecting, at least not fully. There was sadness, longing, fear, but the almost expectant look on his face caught you off-guard. You realized that he was expecting you to plead, to beg for him to stay, to give him some reason as to not go. In that second, you nearly gave him what he wanted, your mouth parting slightly, the words about to slip out. Stay with me. You wanted it so badly; you needed it more than you needed to breathe. You needed him.

But you knew that if he did stay, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself for his “selfishness”. He wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt of “abandoning” the gang. After all was said and done, he’d be full of regret, and you’d be the reason why. That wasn’t a future you wanted for either of you, one filled with what-ifs and lamentation. And you’d never forgive yourself if that were to happen. 

So you pushed your desires down, down as deep as they could go until it hurt. “Just come back to me, Arthur,” you whispered instead, your heart screaming at your betrayal. “Go do what you need to, and then come back.”

It wasn’t what he was expecting you to say, but something like understanding still flashed across his face. If he was disappointed, you couldn’t tell. You hoped he wasn’t. Did I choose wrong? You could already feel regret, but it was too late now, especially as Arthur pressed one last kiss to your lips before letting go of you. 

His eyes didn’t leave you, even as he bent down and grabbed the letter you’d dropped, returning it to you. Those blue eyes, the ones that had captivated you since the moment you saw them. Even now, they’re still beautiful, shimmering with unshed tears. 

His gaze still didn’t leave, not even as he stepped further away. Away from you. Away from your future together. No. He was coming back. He had to come back. He promised. Or was he just telling you what you wanted to hear?

You heard him mutter your name, the rasp of his voice still music to your ears, snapping you out of your thoughts. He’d gotten on the horse, the one he’d taken from your family, but you didn’t care. He could burn down the whole building and steal all your money, and you’d thank him. 

He uttered your name again, not to get your attention, but just to say it. There was almost an awe-stuckness to the way he said it, and if your heart wasn’t currently shattering into a million tiny pieces it would’ve soared. A soft smile pulled at his lips, and for a second he looked just like the man you’d met all those months ago, free of sickness and burden. 

For a moment, the two of you just watched the other, a sense of finality in it that made you want to weep. You heard as he tried to begin a sentence, but then found whatever words he was about to say unsatisfactory. Eventually, he just sighed heavily, a fond look on his face. 

“I love you, darlin’.”

His words didn’t hit you for a while. Not even as he locked eyes with you one last time, before taking off down the road. Not even when you were left standing alone, the sound of wind and animals falling on deaf ears. It was like you simply couldn’t process them.

But like a switch was flipped, everything hit you at once. The sadness, the anger, the grief, his words. I love you. He finally told you what he’d been scared to say, but you would wait for eternity and never hear those words if it meant he was still here. Regret and misery washed over you like a tidal wave, the weight of it bringing you to your knees. 

Arthur was gone, the only proof of him being in your life in your tormented mind and aching heart. He was gone, and you could’ve stopped him. He was gone, and you were alone again. 

Loud sobs wracked your body, and you knew you were drawing the attention of the guards, but you didn’t care. Let them watch. Let them gawk, laugh, whatever. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. You brought your hands up to your face, only barely feeling the paper of his letter.

His letter. 

A soft gasp left you, and you managed to collect yourself enough to grasp it in your hands. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to be written, but you wanted reassurance. He was coming back. That wasn’t goodbye. He believed he was coming back. You’d have him in your arms again. 

The words were hard to read from the shake in your hands and the tears in your eyes, and his handwriting was near illegible, hastily written, and full of cross-outs. But after a few seconds, the words began to make sense.

My darling girl,

I do not deserve you. I never have deserved you, yet here I am, calling you “mine”. You’re too good for me, too perfect, too kind. A wit to challenge even the most silver-tongued men in the cities. A beauty even the greatest artists couldn’t capture. A heart of gold, which you so generously lent to me. You thrust it into my hands, not caring that they were covered in blood, in filth. You trusted me not to tarnish it, to take care of it, yet I fear I have done the opposite as I so often do. 

Words do not even begin to describe how sorry I am. I would say it until my last breath, and it would not be enough. I never meant for things to end like this, to leave you alone and heartbroken. You let me into your life, into your house (the first time unwillingly), into your heart, and you gave me a place to stay. A place to call mine home. And I return the favor by leaving you when you need me the most. But I need to leave do this. You know better than anyone. You’re the only one who does. 

I should have you know that I meant it. Everything. Every word I spoke to you, every word I didn’t, I meant it. You’re the best thing that ever happened in my miserable existence, a glimmer of paradise in a hellscape. You showed me that this world wasn’t all heartbreak and lies and betrayal. You were are my anchor, the light of my life, my muse, my inspiration to do better. To be better. 

Even on those long days, weeks that I wasn’t with you, I thought of you. Dreamt of you. My journal became filled with drawings of you, something that only made the longing deeper. Even away from you, everything was about you. I wanted to do good for you, to be someone you deserved. To be worthy of your love, your affection, your care. 

My biggest regret is not telling you how I felt. How I truly felt.  I was too much of a coward to say it. My only hope is that I finally grew a pair and told you. If not, and curse my name to the heavens if I don’t, I love you. I have since we sat together on the floor of your living room, when you showed me a glimpse into your life, and I mine. It was your selflessness, your desire to do good that struck me harder than any punch or bullet. And when you fell asleep, your head on my shoulder, you showed me how much you trusted me. How could I not fall for you? I tried to ignore it, but I am nothing if not selfish, and now you are suffering because of it. When I left you that note, after you fell asleep, I tried to write it out, but I couldn’t. 

But I can do it now. I love you, my sweet girl. You deserved to be told that at every possible moment, to be cherished every second of every day. You deserve a life like that, and more. So promise me you’ll find someone. Someone else who will cherish you and love you like you deserve. I want need you to do that for me. I couldn’t bear to imagine you miserable for the rest of my life because I couldn’t keep away from you. 

My other biggest regret is that we didn’t have more time together. But every second with you, every moment, was the best time of my life. You showed me what love, actual love could feel like, and for that, I am eternally grateful. And it was unconditional, too. Never once did you ask me to change, to leave the gang, to be something else. But I would’ve if you asked. I would’ve done anything. 

I may not have much time left, but you do. You’ve got a whole life ahead of you, even if it doesn’t seem like it now. Be angry at me. Curse me, damn my soul, never utter my name again. I’m fine with it all, as long as it’s done by you. But don’t let me kill you. Grieve, weep, do whatever you need to do. But bounce back like I know you can. Please. Even if it takes months, years, decades. Before your time is up, I need you to move on from me. Unburden your heart, find peace. And live your life the way you want to, whether that be taking your brother’s place, or something else.  Just don’t hide. Read, garden, write, whatever your heart desires. But never hide it. 

There are so many things I want to tell you, to put on this paper, but I’ve got neither the paper nor the time. You’ll be awake soon. You are so beautiful, you know? Even though I’ve gazed upon you so many times, my heart feels like it will explode still. I feel unworthy to look upon you, but I can’t stop myself from doing so. 

I don’t know if I believe in an afterlife, or if I’m even deserving of any. But if by some miracle I find myself in a peaceful place, I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait as long as it takes until you’re in my arms again. This is goodbye, darling. I love you, so much.

Only yours,

Arthur

P.S. I’m leaving you with Bear. We both know he likes you more than he likes me. And I know you’ll take good care of him, as he will with you. 

You reread that last paragraph, despite the line crossing out most of the words, again and again, until your eyes ached. A distressed noise left you, and you felt yourself unable to hold your body upright anymore. You fell to your hands, the letter getting crushed under it.

And for the first time, you let reality grip your mind, it’s cold, sharp claws unyielding and deadly. You could no longer feel the pain in your heart, or maybe it was all you could feel. The world around you didn’t exist, coming to a slow stop around you. There was only one thought in your mind: he wasn’t coming back.

Author's Note: for the first time i made myself cry with my writing (it was the letter)

[retromotherfuckers]

If You Win Or Lose

Characters:

morgan winchester (OC), john winchester, sam and dean are only mentioned, will mciver (OC)

Summary:

after the death of the boy she loves, morgan runs away. but nothing lasts forever.

Warnings:

SPN typical alcohol abuse & violence, themes of mental illness, parental abuse, MAJOR gaslighting, character death. please let me know if i missed anything

Word Total:

2,425

A/N:

you don't need to read When The Sun Sets to understand this. this is a one shot within that universe, but it predates that series, and also the show itself

it is of my humble opinion that john was an abuser, even if the show refused to acknowledge that. this is essentially an insight into his and morgan's relationship

so yeah, this one ain't too happy. i don't think i'm capable of writing happy shit 💀

morgan may have fallen in love w a dude but our girl is not straight

italics are flashbacks or thoughts

dean: 19, morgan: 18, sam: 15

Four fingers of whiskey fill and drain over and over. In the shitty hotel bar, she sat up against the decaying oak wall in a flimsy chair. A hazy world surrounded her, everything moving in slow motion. The few other stragglers had no notion of what was brewing in her mind - the darkness that shrouded her eyes, making colors look muted in the small neighborhood. It seemed no one knew how much she depended on the amber liquid to keep things still.

Morgan had been around people all her life, but she'd never once felt a real kind of companionship with them. She knew her brothers cared because they had to; she knew they tried. She just wished that when they asked if life was okay, they'd somehow know her answer was bullshit. That they'd somehow cut off the lies spilling from her lips and just say that they know.

But Sammy was only fifteen. He wasn't old enough to really be able to tell, and if he could, she was the older sister. What she said was what he believed. And Dean was Dean. Not the best emotional support person.  

They never did catch it, and that was the point. As long as she said she was fine, they believe it because that's what they want to hear. They didn't want to know that she hadn't felt like her home was her home in years. Even if that home was the rumble of an engine and cassettes so loud, she couldn't hear herself think. 

They didn't know that she had done things only the lowest of the low would even think of just to keep moving. They don't want to know that the only reason she got out of bed was so she could ease the hangover from the night before. They didn't want to know how hard it was to ask when it was her turn for anything better than this and to keep getting ignored. They didn't want to know that her real reason for living was gone but that his dying wish was for her to keep going. 

"Just promise me you'll try."

They didn't want to know that sometimes she could hurt so bad that she stopped feeling anything at all. That she knew her heart was still beating, but her lungs had stopped pumping oxygen. That waiting for her eyes to stop feeling so heavy while she watched the world spin was worse than actually being a part of it. And even with all that frigid emptiness, there was a widening hole in her chest where a person used to be. And now that he was gone, the ceiling was about to cave in, and all she had left to hold it up was a little white bag and a bottle.

"Where the hell have you been?" The familiar voice broke her from her thoughts, the same that had been repeating for months, on and off, like a scratched record. She didn't have to look up to see who it was. She knew that voice. It's half of the voices that raised her, but not the one who deserved the credit.

She didn't acknowledge him, stuck staring at her drink. His voice made her shiver, and she was too much of a damn coward to face him. "Around."

"Really?" John said, his tone hardening with her one-word response. "'Cause to me, it looks like you ran away and went missing like a child. For. Two. Months."

She took a large gulp of her drink, almost downing the whole thing in one go. She had rehearsed this conversation countless times, waiting for the flash of civilian life to end and for him to find her. But now that it was happening, she felt like a fishing boat in a storm, tossed around by waves of fear and wrath.

Her father's gaze was oppressive, cold, and unyielding. Green eyes cut into her, making her feel like he was staring right through her. She always felt small around him. He had always known the right words to use to humiliate her.

"Let's go," He ordered, not even sitting down. It was like he knew this wasn't even a discussion to be had. She would obey, and that was the end of it. "The boys are waiting."

"Dad," Morgan began, her voice shaky and horse. "I'm not going back."

She could imagine John's lips curled into a sneer as his eyes bore into her. Daring her to defy him more. "You don't get a choice. You're coming. That's final."

Morgan felt a surge of anger. "Why can't you just let me be? I know what's good for me more than you do."

John stepped closer, his face inches from hers. "You belong with your family, not out here alone when we're not there to protect you. I taught you better than that."

It wasn’t praise. John Winchester wouldn’t know praise if it bit him in the ass. He did teach her better than that, and since she’s deliberately not following orders, she’s less than worthless.

She recoiled slightly, the familiar pang of anxiety twisting in her gut. "This isn't about family, dad, it's about-" She fumbled over her words, unsure if she could say it, but hoping for some surge of courage she hadn't had her whole life. "It's about how you can't stand that I'm walking around without you making my own decisions. You just wanna control me-"

John's hand lashed out, slapping the counter beside her, making her visibly flinch and effectively cutting her off. "After everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me? I don't need to control you; you need me to do it. To keep you alive," he sneered. "And the running away from your shit and pretending we don't exist just proves it."

Morgan's eyes welled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. "Everything you've done," Her voice shook as she spoke. "You've done for yourself and your twisted little fantasy of finding the thing that killed Mom."

He grabbed her wrist, his grip like a vise. "Oh, yeah? And what do you think you can do to stop me?" She yanked her arm free, the skin already bruising. His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of doubt. But then his expression hardened, and he took a step closer, his shadow enveloping her. "You're making a big mistake, Morgan. You'll regret this."

She took a deep breath, her resolve wavering. The sooner she got away, the better. "The only mistake I made was not getting out earlier."

As she turned to leave, John's hand shot out, grabbing her shoulder and keeping her still. His voice was low and twisted with fury. The deep growl and the warmth of his breath in her ear made chills run up her spine.

"You think you can just walk away from me?"

Morgan's heart sank into her stomach. It wasn't a threat, but she could feel one coming. Her strength was slipping away, the familiar terror clawing at her mind. She'd never be able to hide from him for too long. Just look at her now, it had only been two months.

She was smart. But John was smarter.

"You're coming home, whether you like it or not." He took her stunned stillness as his queue to spin her around, forcing her chin up to look at him. She'd probably have marks on her jaw from how tight he was holding her. "You're really gonna leave us to fend for ourselves? You're so damn selfish-"

"I haven't been selfish a day in my fucking life-"

Her father scoffed as if that was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Well, by your logic, you're picking the wrong time to start." He got closer if it was even possible, and he looked at her like she was the dirt he loved to walk over. "Will's dead, Mo, and it's your fault. I told you not to go on that hunt alone, but what did you fucking do? You ignored me, like always. When are you gonna learn that you need me? Boy-Toy's not coming back, you saw to that. Stop wasting everyone's time and get over it."

Boy-Toy. That's all John saw him as now. Even though he liked to call Will's parents the closest people he had to friends besides Uncle Bobby. 

Will had been with them for a year and a half when his parents died. They were helping him look for his aunt, the only family he had left. Only problem was they only knew her first name and that she was his mother's sister. So Will, Morgan and Sam searched for his aunt, while John and Dean searched for the demon.

For a while, things were okay. John was slightly more neutral when Will was around, starting fewer arguments and hitting them less. But when he walked in on them hooking up, Dean had to haul her father off of the boy. And then off of Morgan, too.

Two months ago, Morgan was desperate to prove herself to her father. Dean had already completed three solo hunts as a trial run. John wanted to see what he was capable of. Dean surpassed his expectations, as he always did. A rougarou, two vengeful spirits and a vampire taken care of in three weeks.

Will hadn't wanted to go on that hunt without help, but Morgan was frantic. She had to show her father what she was made of, but when Will discovered her plans, he was not going to let her do it alone. 

The air is thick with tension, each step bringing them closer to the lair of the wendigo they've been tracking for days. The forest is dense, moonlight barely piercing the thick canopy above. The silence of the night is broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl.

"Are you sure about this?" Will whispers, his voice barely audible.

Morgan turns to him, her blue eyes fierce and determined. "Yeah! We can do this, I swear."

They press on, the beam of their flashlights cutting through the darkness. Suddenly, a chilling growl echoes through the trees. Their hearts start racing as they tighten their grip on their chosen weapons. They're close.

The wendigo lunges out of the shadows, its eyes glowing with a malevolent type of starvation. Will fires his shotgun, but the creature is too fast. It knocks him to the ground, claws slashing through his shirt.

"Will!" Morgan screams, rushing to him. He struggles beneath the wendigo's weight, blood pooling from his wounds.

"Go!" He shouts, but his words are so garbled she hears her name, like a plea. "It's too strong!"

And Morgan can't leave him; he knows she would never. She swings her machete with all her strength, striking the creature's back. It howls in pain, momentarily distracted. Will uses the opportunity to push it off him, but the wendigo retaliates with a vicious swipe, its claws sinking deep into his chest.

"No!" Morgan drops to her knees beside Will as the wendigo retreats into the shadows. "No, no-"

Will's breathing is ragged, and he squeezes his eyes shut in distress. "Mo... I'm sorry..."

"Don't talk like that," she says, tears already streaming down her face. "You're gonna be okay, you'll be fine. We'll get you back to Dean. He'll know what to do."

Will reaches up, his hand trembling as he gently touches her cheek. His eyes are wet, too, but he quickly tries to hide the pain he's in. He graces her with a smile, but it's gone as fast as it appears. 

"Remember when Dean was giving me shit for how long my hair is?" He waits for her to nod. It doesn't take her so long to react because she doesn't remember. She takes a few extra seconds because she can't figure out why he's bringing that up right now. "You shut him up so fast," he says with a strained laugh. "You definitely liked me first."

Morgan chuckles through her tears, but the light memory doesn't last too long in her mind.

He's dying he's dying he's dying

"But I love you, Mo...please...remember that."

"Stop it. You don't get to say that as a goodbye," she demanded, but her voice didn't have the force to make it believable. "You're not allowed to tell me you love me and then die. It's not fair."

"I'll be okay," he rasps. "Just promise me you'll try. Promise me…" His voice fades from there. He has more he wants to say, Morgan can tell, but he used up all his strength.

"Will, please," She begs, her words cracking. "Don't-"

But Will's eyes flutter closed, his hand falls lifelessly to the ground, and Morgan screams.

She doesn't have it in her to set up a pyre. Will doesn't want that. He says it feels barbaric to him. He came from a hunting family and knew it was to prevent the possibility of becoming was a vengeful spirit, but he’s never wavered. He wants a real burial, like normal people have. He wants his family and friends there; they don't have to say anything, just be there.

"It just doesn't feel right, you know? We should be returned to the earth and all that crap. It's more…I don't know, peaceful."

Hours later, as dawn breaks, she buries him under an oak tree. She stands alone - yet another way she's letting him down. Her heart and mind are in tatters, her tears mingle with the soot. She can't face her family, not after what just happened. She can't bear her father’s inevitable punishment. Or her brothers’ pity. Or the possibility that they hate her for letting their friend die.

With one last look at the makeshift grave, Morgan turns and walks away, the shadows of the forest swallowing her whole. She doesn't know where she's going, only that she has to keep moving.

She looked into her father's eyes and saw the unyielding force of his will. In that moment, she knew she had lost.

Defeated, she lowered her gaze, closed her eyes and barely whispered, "Okay."

John's grip loosened slightly, a triumphant smile creeping across his face. Harder than necessary, he slapped her shoulder in appreciation. "Good girl. Now pack your shit. We're leaving in a half hour."

As Morgan turned towards the exit, she felt the weight of his victory settle over her like a cloak. The life she thought she might have wanted crumbled away, leaving only the cold, harsh reality of her father's world. She walked slowly, each step feeling like a surrender, her heart heavy with the knowledge that, for now, he had won.

[your-average-girly]

Things I think we moved on too fast from in Criminal Minds

Hotch’s abuse

Morgan’s abuse

Morgan leaving

Morgan and his backstory in general (his dad and carl and his sisters and his cousin)

Penelope’s backstory (hacking and criminal history + teen years and parents) and probable abuse (her ex Shane was deff not healthy and either physically or emotionally abusive)

Penelope’s siblings

Reid’s addiction

Reid’s childhood

JJ’s trauma

JJ’s miscarriage

Emily’s abortion

Emily’s undercover past

Rossi’s relationships (being in and out of 3 marriages would have been traumatic in some ways)

Rossi’s daughter!!!

MAEVE!!!!!!!!! I love Maeve and I know that it was really long and brought out but after that storyline she is mentioned maybe twice but she was literally the love of Spencer’s life and she got killed in front of him.

ELLE. OMG i could say so much about Elle including her story line was so sad and she was such a great character and she didn’t deserve what she had and they way she talked about the SA cases and her time before the BAU makes me think she had some kind of different personal connection to it.

I may be forgetting some and I’m also on late season 13 so there might be more but this is what I have for now